#headcanons | the truth is hidden between feathers.

[eyedthrice]

ok so as my first official post on this blog i figure it should be a shit post bc that matches my brand.tm

modern bran is a total fucking narc on his siblings and has a box hidden in his room of all the texts and screenshots he has hacked into their phones/socials and gotten. you wanna tell mom i'm smoking some pot? watch out sansa , i got proof you weren't at margaery's house like you said. you wanna tell mom i didn't take rickon to the park? be careful robb , i can show dad the pictures of you wasted at theon's party.

[cherryrainn]

striker x anorexic reader please!! headcanons or oneshot, im fine with any. just striker helping out his partner.

hi! im really happy about this one since striker is literally my favorite in helluva boss and i also have anorexia. so i think ill be able to write this quite accurately!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— aching for acceptance

striker x anorexic!reader

this is like my favorite thing i have ever written

your room was filled with a warm glow from the soft fairy lights strung around the makeshift tent. you and striker had spent the entire afternoon transforming the small space into a cozy sanctuary. it was a welcome escape from the chaos of hell, and a brief respite for you, who struggled with your own battles.

striker, with his charismatic yet rough demeanor, sat cross-legged on the mattress, watching a movie playing on the tv. he turned his attention towards you as he heard your stomach rumble loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his keen eyes narrowed, recognizing the telltale sign of hunger.

"hey there, darlin'," striker drawled, a hint of concern lacing his voice. "yer stomach seems to be puttin' on quite a show. you sure you don't wanna eat somethin'?"

your expression tightened briefly, your struggle with anorexia still a difficult journey. you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to confide in striker. but the trust between you was strong, and you knew he genuinely cared.

"no, i'm not hungry," you replied, your voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lie.

striker's eyes narrowed further, perceiving the truth beneath your words. he recognized your struggle, having witnessed it before. his heart ached for you, but he also knew how delicate the topic was. striker had learned the importance of approaching it with sensitivity and understanding.

without pressing further, striker scooted closer to you, his arm wrapping gently around your shoulders. "alright, darlin', i won't force you."

striker gently squeezed your shoulder, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "we're in this together, through thick and thin."

suddenly, a mischievous spark ignited within you, and with a playful growl, you pounced on striker, catching him off guard. his eyes widened in surprise, a fleeting moment of disbelief crossing his features before a light smile blossomed on his face. you could almost hear the warmth of his chuckle reverberate through the room as he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly.

as he held you, his voice laced with affection, he teased, "so i'm just a big fuzzy bear to you?~"

"yeah," you replied with a playful smirk, your weight resting comfortably on top of striker. despite the appearance of exerting pressure, you felt as light as a feather, almost weightless against him. it was a peculiarity that hadn't gone unnoticed by striker, as a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

as he lay there, almost flat on the mattress beneath you, a chuckle escaped from his lips. the sound reverberated through the air, intertwining with the warmth of the surroundings. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, curiosity sparking within him like a dormant flame being rekindled. It was as if he found himself captivated by the mystery of your weightlessness.

"you're awfully light, aren't you?" striker mused, his gaze fixed upon you, searching for answers hidden within the enigma of your being.

as your stomach rumbled once more, a mixture of apology and resignation colored your sigh. you reluctantly climbed off striker, feeling the weight of your struggle returning. "sorry," you murmured, casting a brief glance his way.

striker sat up, raising an eyebrow in response. his gaze softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "i can make you somethin' to eat if you want."

biting your lip, you gave in to his offer, your resolve wavering. "okay... maybe i'll eat something... small," you agreed, already anticipating the aftermath of your actions. the internal battle raged within you, but the relief in striker's eyes tugged at your heart.

he smiled softly, his expression filled with a mix of care and relief. meeting your gaze, he offered a hand to help you up, and you accepted it gratefully. "why don't we go have a look?" he suggested, his voice coaxing and warm.

you nodded, a tinge of vulnerability evident in your voice. "i guess... like i said, something small."

as you walked together, striker's hand rested gently on your shoulder, guiding you towards the kitchen. his eyes flickered with an underlying intention, an ulterior motive that danced beneath his friendly and charming demeanor.

once you reached the kitchen, he glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "what's small but will keep you satisfied?" he asked, pulling you through the hallway.

you sighed wearily, your exhaustion evident in your voice. "i don't know... where did my parents go? also, you don't need to make anything. i'll just have a small snack," you replied, shaking your head.

"oh, did they leave? i hadn't noticed," striker responded, a mischievous grin playing upon his lips. there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he guided you to the refrigerator. his tongue peeked out slightly, a sign of concentration as he began rummaging through the contents.

"hmm... what to fix you..." he mused, grabbing a few items. he pulled out an apple, a slice of pizza, and a jar of peanut butter, his gaze fixed on the assortment. the playful tone in his voice returned as he turned towards you, a grin adorning his face.

"any of these look good?~" he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and a touch of mischief. he seemed determined to find a small yet satisfying treat for you, his genuine care shining through the playful facade.

you regarded the options before you, a mix of gratitude and hesitation filling your heart. with a tired but appreciative smile, you replied, "the apple sounds nice, thank you, striker."

"alright then," striker replied, his voice gentle as he returned the items back to their places. however, you couldn't bring yourself to eat the apple anymore, your appetite fading away in the face of your struggles. striker's observant eyes caught on to your hesitation, and he took the apple from your hands with a sigh of understanding.

without a word, he ran the apple under the sink, washing away any remnants of disappointment or unmet expectations. he then proceeded to search through your cabinets, retrieving a knife and a plate. with a sense of purpose, he skillfully cut the apple into bite-sized slices, his movements deliberate and precise. once done, he settled himself at the table, motioning for you to join him.

you approached him, your weariness apparent in your steps, yet there was a flicker of gratitude in your eyes. striker took one of the apple slices and held it upright, presenting it to you as an offering. his eyes locked onto yours, waiting patiently for you to take a bite.

you leaned forward, your lips meeting the slice of apple held by striker. the crispness of the fruit danced on your tongue, a subtle reminder of the simple joys that could still be savored.

as you chewed, you could feel striker's gaze upon you, a mix of tenderness and concern etched in his expression. with each bite, he silently reassured you that you were not alone, that he would stand by your side through the darkest storms and the quiet battles waged within.

as you finished the last bite of the apple slice, a contented sigh escaped your lips. striker watched you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection and a touch of mischief. he stood up from the table and walked over to a shelf adorned with a collection of western novels you had. with a flourish, he grabbed a worn leather-bound book and held it out to you.

"how 'bout we embark on a wild ride through the pages of adventure, darlin'?" he proposed, a twinkle in his eyes.

you accepted the book with a smile, "sounds like a nice idea, striker," you replied, running your fingers over the weathered cover.

settling on a comfortable couch, you nestled against striker's side, the anticipation building as he opened the book. with each turn of the page, his voice resonated with a deep, rich timbre, bringing the characters and their daring exploits to life.

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

The tale of the Bear and the Princess

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Luke x OC (Julie)

Tag: Mention of abusive situation Hurt Comfort First meeting Fluff

Word Count  3.260

Author’s Note: Here it comes a multichaptered fic, centered around Luke and Julie, prologue to all the Luke fic I have written for those who are curious to know more about their relationship, seeing how it all started, have a nice reading. 🥰

Tag list

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess

@nightghoul381 @william-rex @candied-boys @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty

@ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee              

@maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

This contain my personal headcanons, it is alright if you do not agree with me just do not come at me for them please. Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

Chapter 1 

The first time he met her was by chance, the beginning of a tale that would have enveloped them both destined to make history.

It was a normal day at the village, afternoon was slowly melting into early evening when suddenly something heavy fell on the grass with a thud, it could have been an object for the harshness in which it was thrown on the ground but the feeble whimpering coming from it told otherwise, only when the door slammed shut the figure cloaked in a cape that has seen better days, stood unsteadily on his feet, it was not anger nor disappoint the one painted in the boy eyes but mere resignation, used to being treated that way, much to no one surprise and everyone indifference he was thrown out of his house, per usual, after a pretty heavy fight between him and her mother’s husband, due to the harshness he had scolding his little sister, right now curled with the woman who must have been his mother, but it was sheer clear from the way they treated him that he was not welcomed, no more than an outsider in their family, good only to cause ruckus. 

He slumped his head on his chest stomping away from the ground he was thrown into, carelessly wandering around the forest as he ever did, little by little he reached the border of his village overlapping with another hidden to the view surrounded by the thick forest full of vicious beast he mindlessly walked through, it is not like he was afraid in truth he was indifferent to them, he was used to being hurt from all the strong slaps and more he received from his father so many time, and yet the mere idea the ones he took could spare his sister the pain make him sigh in relief, almost happy for protecting her so well.

His wandering had brought him in the rosy village just behind the hills, nestled in a valley surrounded by a thick forest, all sort of fables and superstition circulated on it, despite the bond that linked their villages together, some said it was inhabited by witches and wizards, some that they practised both light and dark magic he never paid much attention to the rumours, even though he must admit the strange noises coming from the messy bushes as the sun set below the horizon and the darkness take hold of it did not do much to reassure him, even more cause the light had long faded covered by the thick foliage of the trees above his head. 

Felicity was its name, pretty reassuring, too bad he felt anything but, the curious gazes of the beast ogling at him gave him goosebumps, not desiring to be in the place of whoever decided to wander in the forest after sunset, like him, mindlessly he scrolled through it, carelessly looking for a patch of grass soft enough to be his bed for the night, his eyes scrolling through the vegetation admiring the busy bees buzzing from one flower to one another, when suddenly a splash of green appeared in his peripheral vision, unconsciously he walked toward it to get a better glimpse of that, there huddled under a tree there was a figure at a first glance someone may have mistake it for a bush but he noticed raven curls billowing in the wind he was to lend his hand to help her to her feet when suddenly he was taken aback as she raise her head, a pair of chartreuse green eyes were staring straight in his leaf green ones, enough to settle disarray in him.

A memory rushed in his mind, he clearly remembered to have already meet her, once during a party at her house he wandered to, she was sitting in an armchair swinging her legs in the air almost kicking it out of boredom to the long talks of the adults, a sense of belonging overcame him as he settled his eyes on her, a strange prickle in his heart he found no explanation as he gently closed the distance with little step, sheepish and a little embarrassed the smile he offered her almost shyly, her smile so tender and pure he swore to protect with all himself, replacing the soft frown curling her lips as she turned to face him, her eyes a delicate shade of chartreuse meeting his bright green ones, staring at her in a daze as she tilted her head to a side suddenly interested by his presence, pushed by a desire to make her happy, without thinking twice, he gave her the bear he used to carry with him everywhere, he would have surely missed him but he could have found another because he far preferred for his companion to stay with her instead, confiding she would have treated him nicely but judging by the excitement when she took it hugging him close to her chest, he knew his plush was in the right hands, her voice sweet like honey as she spoke a single word but worth more than thousand for him

“Thank you.” and then she smiled at him and it was like the sun has dawned for him alone, it was the first time someone ever did, it was bright and warm and he felt all the words he had melt like snow in summer, feeling his heart prickling with a pleasant sensation and a sort of carefree happiness he has never felt, he did not ask her name and neither did she, they were only children at the time and yet he had the sensation his desire to meet her again would have been for once satisfied.

Months flew by and they continued to meet from time to time, speaking no more than few words just basking in each other company, he begin to link her with what he believed to be happiness her smile brightening his day no matter how cloudy it was, sometimes they met at each other houses unaware of the way their families got close but still he could not say he was anything but thrilled to see her again whenever he had the occasion, and the warm smiles she gifted him with told him she loved his company as much as he loved hers.

Almost as if they were waiting for this moment since the beginning, the clogs of the universe start to spin faster, following a path maybe written already above the stars, creating a bond nothing could have sewered forged by the asters for kindred spirits and soulmates, destined to be together.

Now they were both grown up, almost, he acquired a sister and a family of sort, well he did not felt like he was part of but still, and her… she acquired beauty he was sure of it even though they were both still children he could see something charming in her soft features, something he had no doubt would have pushed every boy he knew to do her biddings, but for now she had to settle with him as he rescued her, she was still shaking from the coldness of the wind, he was to approach her when something caught his ear, giving him the chance to notice a rageful dog growling ready to attack, he did not know what to do expect that he could not allow it, not wasting any time thinking it through he threw a rock at it once he caught his attention he started running through the forest, tiredness begin to crept into him he climbed up a tree watching with a triumphant smirk on his lips as the dog barked at him from the ground, until finally giving up and walking away, he did not know how much time passed but when he returned to the ground a light rain had just begun to fall covering everything in sigh with tiny droplets of water still shining under the few light rays of the sunset, he sighed heavily resignated to spend yet another night napping huddled under a tree with its huge jacket as only provisional shelter.

He was to walk away when something stopped him in his tracks, two tiny arms wrapped around his torso while that same honey like voice echoed in his ear, his heart racing wildly in his chest thanking all the universe for making him meet her once more giving him the possibility to save her from that dog, his body moved on its own accord as he wrapped his arm around her form while his hands went to stretch his hood to cover both their heads under it

“Thank you for saving me.” her wide pure eyes looking up at him like he was his saviour, gratitude shining through them curling his lips in a soft smile

“Nevermind it was nothing.” 

“Not for me, that dog was really mad.” 

“Why so ?”

“I dunno, he followed me all through my walk.”

“Weird.” she sighed softly huddling closer to him, her warmth seeping through his skin as they both stood still hearing the soft pit pat of the rain on the leaf surrounding the, her eyes gazing at it like in a daze looking closer she really did look even cuter than what he remembered, her dark curly locks falling on her shoulder in harmonious contrast with her fair complexion, underlined by the emerald dress she wore, simple yet elegant like her, his heart racing faster at the happiness of having met her again words he believed to be too shy to pronounce blurted out of his tongue 

“We … we already met, do you remember ?” he was afraid to hear her answer and yet he was curious at the same time, relief spreading in him as she nodded enthusiastically                               “Yes at my house.”

happiness enveloping him whole as he has always felt when he was with her, feeling bold enough to ask a question that intrigued him far longer than he could say

“I don't know your name yet.” 

“Julie.” she huddled closer to him under its hood, her gaze glimmering with curiosity as she looked up at him 

“And you ?” 

“Luke Randolph.” 

“Luke.” she taste his name on her tongue, it tasted like honey wrapped in her sweet voice like a warm cup of milk in winter, it almost tasted like home, he thought a forlorn shadow feel over his usually bright eyes dripping over his lips

“Oh Luke you must be freezing.” her ever kind voice moved something in his heart, making his eyes get misty as she brushed her fingers on his cheeks drying some tears he hoped she would have mistook for raindrops, he gulped collecting his composure before speaking

“Nevermind.”

“Please don’t play though you may catch a cold in this wind.” she stared at him with concern as she pulled away from him, now that the rain had stopped she had no need for him anymore, that though break his heart more than he could say, even more because he already missed her warmth, her name echoing in his mind forged with the bud of affection, -Julie what a pretty name it was, it really suited her but he was sure that even the most weird names would have sounded just as good on her, he was still in a daze, making sense of his luck, when then she took his hand, he did not know yet but his whole world was going to change for the better.

“I have to return home and you are coming with me.” her voice strangely authoritarian and assertive despite the impression her short stature and tender features gave out otherwise, taken aback by the sudden change he felt his mind numb with questions, but if she did not seemed to mind to bring him home neither should him and so he followed obediently, admiring how she seemed to orientate in that strange tangle of plant, unaware of the fact they had walked some traits more than one time because she did not know the right path herself either.

The evening seems to go by in a blur, the comfort and warmth he meet in that house left him so dumbfounded he could not help but mull over it until late at night, laying in a soft warm bed next to hers, he may have thought all that was a dream, if not for the soft weight of the blankets surrounding him, or her sweet voice eliciting him to pay attention to her

“What were you thinking ?” he shook his head to clear his mind, turning his attention to her fully awake in her bed, reading something that from the cover looked like an illustrated book, 

“Nothing.” he had no words to express himself, used as he was to be ignored or chided for everything, noticing his empty gaze she put her book down leaning over to him 

“You look pale. Are you alright ?” her eyes glimmering with concern as she brushed a soft warm caress on his cheeks making his eyes grew misty at that simple gentle touch he was not used to

“You must have caught a cold, don't move.” she wandered around the room and some noise after she was at his side again, sat on his bed, his old bear had now appeared on the pillow moving him more than one could say feeling his heart burst with all the affection he always yearned but never received in all his life, gently he wrapped his fingers around the bear paw smiling tenderly at the recollection of that fond memory, made even more sweeter by her soft voice  

“Take him.”

“Are you sure I can ?”

“Of course he will help you sleep better.” once she assured he had took the bear in his arms she slide under her duvets looking carefully at him, smiling at his heartfelt words 

“Thank you.” 

“Nevermind.” she settled better under the blankets, their soft voice resonating  in the cozy room.  

“Sweet dreams Julie.” 

“Sweet dreams Luke.”

It was the first time someone ever told him that, usually he would sneak in a made up bed on the floor with the blankets and the pillow he could find in the wardrobe, the little voice of his sister the only one bidding him goodnight and sometimes not even that, having found shelter in their parents bed, leaving him alone and cold on that hard floor rummaging through what has he done to them for being treated so, despised ignored and pushed away much to his dismay feeling his heart used to being treated like some sort of spare son no one wanted to deal with, not part of that same family he should have been, at least in theory, belong to.

Her sweet face and steady breath comforted him that he was not alone, seeing the smile of his bear eliciting him to let himself wander in the land of dreams, maybe if he was lucky enough he would have discovered all that was not a dream. 

The sun shining through the curtains of the window at his back he was almost afraid to open his eyes and hear the rageful yelling of his father as he urged him to wake up and be useful for once, not feeling lucky enough to see his adorable sister first thing in the morning, let alone hope for his reverie to be real, tentatively he opened an eye then another scanning his surrounding, the room of his dreams was still there, she was still there stifling a yawn engulfed under the blankets, he caressed the bear blissfully hidden under the duvets.

He was still making up his mind about the day before while he admired her eyes fluttering open, slowly focusing on him and it felt as the sun, now high in the sky, had just dawned for him alone when as she smiled at him nuzzling her head in the pillow

“Good morning sleepy head.” a light fairy light chuckle resonated in his ear, a song he would have not turned down to wake up to every day from that moment on

“Have you slept well ?” her question took him by surprise, he nodded but seeing the curious glimmer in her eyes and not desiring to elicit her concern he fretted over to reassure her with a proper answer

“Your bear really helped me ya know.” her carefree smile warmed his heart along her soft giggles

“I am happy to hear that.” her tiny arms stretched in front of her, he admired the light filtering through the curtains drawings figures on her blankets as she stifled another yawn in her hand, followed by him, it was a bit before noon when they finally got up to take breakfast, a whole banquet of honey treats and fruits cakes of all kinds were displayed for them both, mouth watering indeed but it was really alright for him to feast on them ? What if they would have been mad at him for taking advantage of their kindness ?

Doubts lingering in his minds gnawing at his heart, he was about to reply he was not hungry when his stomach growled, he slumped his head on his chest shame washing over him, raising shyly his gaze on her only at her sweet voice 

“There is no need to be shy, eat to your heart's content.” her smile brightening her features, managing to calm down the rush of panic surging in him, he reached to take an honey muffin from the plate at the same time she did, his fingers brushing lightly over hers heat crept up on his cheeks as he fretted over to whip away his hand, admiring a rosy blush rise to her soft cheeks as her fingers withdraw along his, shyness overcoming them both, he managed to control as he took a muffin placing it on front of her before she did the same for him, meeting her gaze as they smiled at one another, before munching away their breakfast, sating their hunger with all the delicious food ogling at them from the table.

Pleasant hours flew by in an instant and before they knew it the afternoon was already peeking at its door, guilt gnawing at his heart when he told her he had to come back, to cook for his sister that is, the soft frown on her lips break his heart more than her words

“I understand.” he brushed his fingers on her cheeks to cheer up her dull smile

“Thank you for everything.”

“It was nothing.”

“Not for me.” her bright green eyes widened as she stared at him disbelief, 

“I am happy with you.” her heartfelt confession warming his heart more than the smoldering sun ever could

“I feel the same.” he took her hand mimicking the gesture he saw in one of the book he learnt to read from, brushing his lips on hers

“I will come back to you, wait for me.” a smile so bright as to put the sun itself to shame light up her features

“Do you promise ?” 

“I do.” 

“Alright then see you later,” her eyes crinkled with happiness as she kissed his cheeks, giggling at his cheeks turning red. 

“See you this evening.”

“I can't wait.”

A soft promise he followed, much to their happiness, as he come back for her alone, looking forward spending time with her as much as she did, desiring to make her happy as she made him, learning everything only to see her smile, their hearts growing closer to one another entangled each day more with affection, destined to become something more than companions, in everything accomplices down for any adventure their minds could think of.

[jcmorrigan]

Your Blakeworther headcanons give me life so I was thinking maybe wing au?

As in they've all got wings? Sounds like fun! Off the cuff, let's go!

-Vincent hides his wings. The crux of this entire AU is that most people aren't afraid to show their wings, but Vincent...Vincent is. Because his are metal. Outward proof that he isn't fully human. He still has to pass as a non-cyborg if he wants to get anywhere in life, so he keeps his wings firmly tucked beneath his jacket. And says that his wings are no one's business but his own.

-Victor's are also metal, but he's open about it. They were replaced along with his arms and eyes. He gets a lot of undue sympathy for it. "Oh, you poor dear, your wings aren't real!" He laughs it off but gets kinda annoyed.

-Albert used to have gorgeous feathery wings with soft pink down. But after he started learning how to work in the dream world, nightmares corrupted him. His true nature is revealed in that his wings have transformed to featherless bat wings tipped with wicked claws. He also keeps them hidden, because it would give away that he deals in demons and nightmares. (Too bad he's just...not subtle and everyone figures this out anyway)

-But all three of them were known for having beautiful wings constantly on display at RMU.

-Albert shows up to pay his old frienemies a visit, the first in years, and immediately knows something is wrong. "Why, Vincent, where are your wings? You were never shy about showing them off before."

-Vincent huffs. "I could ask the same of you, Albert."

-Victor tries to defuse the situation; "I like these better than what I used to have. They fly faster. Makes for better getaways...if you have something you need to get away from."

-Vincent and Albert both resolve that they SWEAR to figure out why the other won't show his wings...because what if the other is just like him? What if he can reveal his secret?

-Victor already knows about Vincent's metal wings, but he has no clue what's up with Albert. He wonders if Albert got them ripped off at some point because honestly that's the kind of chaotic energy he associates with the guy.

-It's Albert who figures it out first. He sees it through one of Vincent's dreams. Vincent wakes up in a cold sweat, he looks to Victor who's snuggled in beside him, then he looks up - into the eyes of Albert, who's staring straight down at him.

-"The accident. They changed you. You're hiding what you are from everyone."

-Victor is awoken by the ensuing BRAWL.

-He tries to defuse the situation as the two of them are fighting it out. Vincent's trying to get to the gun on his bedside table and Albert has brought out his SECRET KNIFE. Anyway, Vincent finally gets the gun, he shoots, Albert instinctively rockets straight upward -

-Vincent gapes. "Albert, the HELL happened to your wings?"

-Albert: "Oh. This? It's...I've always had them?"

-Victor: "I think we all need to talk."

-They hold a conference. Tell the truth of what's happened since they parted ways. And Victor, well, he's fascinated by Albert's new wings, to the point of hovering behind him, asking gingerly if he can touch them, and getting maybe a little too into running his fingers over each sinew. (Best ASMR ever.)

-Vincent and Albert put cards on the table. They're each a different sort of dangerous. Their destinies are now locked - the men with the fallen wings. A grim symbiosis connects them. Each has the power to end the other's reputation immediately.

-Victor finally persuades them all to work together.

-Much of this goes the same way as the prior Blakeworther AUs in terms of them falling for each other and deciding to work together, but here's some extra wing-exclusive fun:

-Victor likes to challenge Vincent to races since their wings are both metal/cybernetic. Vincent always says it's stupid and childish and then puts his all into trying to beat Victor anyway. Ever since Albert showed up, however, they've both learned that nightmare-enhanced wings are WAY faster than cyber wings. He keeps winning the race and they're both flabbergasted.

-If you're walking through the G4 at night and you feel like someone's watching you, turn and look at the tallest building. You might feel relieved when you see the three oddly humanoid winged gargoyles standing statue-still on the highest ledge. But don't get comfortable. Those aren't gargoyles, and they're watching your every move. Especially if you've ever been affiliated with the Myers Corporation.

-Once, a lackey of Monsieur M shot Vincent out of the sky by punching a hole in one of his wings with a bullet. Albert and Victor managed to catch him before he could hit ground and carried him to safety. They agreed it was best never to fly alone.

-Albert does like making up stupid excuses to get the other two to carry him, though. Victor plays the flirt about it while Vincent rolls his eyes and begrudgingly ends up doing it anyway.

BONUS: THE OTHER CHARACTERS' WING STATUSES (because I'm on a roll)

Winston's wings were both broken during his prison internment. They healed back crooked, and he is no longer able to fly. This causes him terrible depression.

Zalmona has sleek black wings that are built for speed. She does loop-de-loops wherever she goes. Actually, the police have been able to find her a lot faster than this because if you see a person doing random flips in the air, that's a hallmark of The Most Wanted Woman in the G4.

Wing dyeing is an art in this 'verse, and Taylor loves it. They have tried all sorts of cool palettes, though their favorite is jet-black wings with red tips.

Vanora's wings seem white, but after she conducted her investigation of Myers, they began to moult away to reveal gray. This has caused her to wonder if the white wings ever belonged to her, and if she is, in fact, a cyborg replica, given that she had such an obvious cosmetic adjustment.

Draco has one wing metal, one wing white feathers. How he got that way is between him and Vincent.

Claude's wings have scales. This isn't a nightmare/demonic quality but rather the reason for it is the same reason he's got blue skin and a tail (willful mutation?).

Why won't Dino ever show anyone his wings...?

[traitorousheroes]

in the hands of a Goddess

Notes: I originally wrote this little ficlet back in June of 2016. Obviously it’s been awhile since I even worked on it, but I figured I should post ficlets in order to get myself back in the writing habit. The basic gist is my personal headcanon that Syldor worked for the Raven Queen before Vax ever did (something to do with Vax’s Fate-Touched status). IDK, I know this probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea (because Syldor is a terrible father) but I like adding a little more nuance to characters if I can. Also, skamelar is an Old English word for parasite, if anyone gets confused. Enjoy!

At eighty-five years of age, he became Her steward.

This was not how his life was supposed to turn out. 

“Skamelar,” he hissed, ducking under the talons of the scowling vampire. The nails scraped against his blade, throwing a shower of sparks into his face. The flash of light made him blink, giving the second strike of the creature purchase against his shoulder. The vampire’s snarl turned gleeful as he brought the bloodied nails to his mouth. 

“Elf,” the vampire replied, sucking his finger clean. “So far from your home. What calls you to my domain?”

“One higher than you,” Syldor replied, holding his twin short swords at the ready. 

The creature tilted his head, examining him. Then, as if realizing a joke, he laughed. Syldor tightened his grip on his blades, before forcing himself to relax. The vampire tried to circle him, but it was easy enough to keep him in view.

“Another paladin, then?” the vampire asked. “Come to avenge your fallen brethren?”

The image of a woman, armored in black plate, came unbidden to Syldor’s mind. Her eyes, dark grey in life but clouded white in death, had stared unseeingly into the morning light. The people of the town, Wrettis, had been all too willing to point him in the direction that the travelling stranger had gone. He had barely passed within the treeline before finding her body, tossed aside like refuse for the forest to claim. 

“She was no kin to me,” said Syldor. 

That, in and of itself, was true enough. He was no paladin, no warrior bound to a sacred oath. Nor was he a cleric, the arcane magic that flowed from his fingers in direct contrast to what they would wield. Priest was not the correct term either, since he wielded a blade with far more lethality than temple service would ever require. The title bestowed on him, however, was one that he could not refuse.

“Then why stand by the body for five days?” the vampire asked, swinging a claw at his guard.

 Syldor blocked it with an ease that did nothing to betray his weariness. The vampire stepped back, the slightest hint of a limp on his right side. Considering that they had been trading blows with neither side earning a significant hit, the limp was from another wound. Perhaps a parting gift from the deceased paladin, or another older wound that had not healed well.

“My Lady commanded it,” he said. 

“Your Lady,” the creature mocked him. “You serve the same patron as her, then. The one she cried to as I drained the life from her body. She wouldn’t stop praying for her intercession. I suppose Her Raven Majesty didn’t care much for her, in the end.”

Syldor struck out at the insult to the dead woman. He scored a graze against the monster’s chest, a line of dark, almost black, crimson bubbling up from the leathers. The vampire snarled, his fangs catching the light of the waning moon. Rather than wait for him to attack again, Syldor rallied and struck. The edge of his blade sunk into the flesh of the creature’s neck, slicing harmlessly in a shallow gash across his throat.

“Even if you spoke truth, I would see you dead in justice for her,” he replied. “Do not mock the dead, skamelar, for their Queen sees you for what you are.”

“And what would that be?” the vampire asked. He reached for Syldor again, only to have his reaching claws batted away by the flat of the blades.

“One who steals life from those who hold it still. One who steals the lives of children in the night, leaving them cold and bloodless in their beds.”

The edges of the vampire’s lips curled up at the charges laid before it. “There are others who do worse than I, elf. Leave me at peace here and hunt them instead.”

Syldor shook his head slightly. The vampire sighed, although the feral gleam in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts on the matter. He dashed forward, grabbing Syldor’s right arm and trapping it between them. His foul breath made Syldor recoil just far enough to escape the fangs that struck for his throat. As he looked down on the miserable creature, Syldor flicked his left hand up, the blade finding purchase again in the vampire’s throat. 

This time there was no chance for him to escape. Reversing his grip, Syldor pushed the blade against the wound. Blackened blood streamed from the gash and splashed on both of them. His strength waning as the blood continued to pour, the vampire released his right arm. He scrabbled at the blade embedded in his throat, but it was a useless effort. Dropping the sword in his right hand, Syldor grabbed his left handed blade, and used the extra power to saw through the remains of the vampire’s neck.

The head dropped to the ground as the body collapsed. The eyes twitched as Syldor watched, before the expression fell slack and the creature truly died. The fact that the creature had not collapsed into a gaseous state in a bid to escape spoke to its youth. Syldor let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping forward as the exhaustion from the fight crept up his limbs. Reaching down, he grabbed the head by the hair, letting it swing in the air. It was more of an effort to get a hold on the leather-clad body, but soon enough he had a good grip on it. 

Dawn was cresting over the farmlands when he made his way back to Wrettis. Those who went to tend the fields fled back towards the town when they saw him. Syldor paid them no mind, dragging the corpse to the temple district of the town. A priestess, robed and veiled in black, met him at the entrance with a small bow. It was the warmest greeting he had gotten since entering the town five, now six, days before.

“I learned of your victory a few hours ago, Steward,” the woman said. 

“I have done as She asked,” Syldor replied as the priestess fell into step beside him. “As I always will.”

She nodded, and he had the faintest idea that she was smiling behind the veil.“Perhaps.”

The rest of their short walk was made in silence. The woman, as most of her fellow temple priests and priestesses, did not seem uncomfortable by the lack of conversation. The quiet was useful to him as well, letting him organize his thoughts and affairs.

Those of Syngorn would wonder at his sudden departure. It had taken less than two days to reach Wrettis from the elven city, but what he had found and the task that had passed to him had extended his leave beyond what was normal. They would question his absence, considering the others that had occurred since his eighty-fifth year. While not prone to gossip, some of the more fanciful of his people had concocted tales of a woman he held dear outside the walls of their city. Instead of denying their claims, Syldor let them talk, allowing their childish stories to cloud the true reason for his leavings.

“Your mind is troubled,” the priestess said as they mounted the steps to the small temple. The body, dragged as it had been across the fields and the city streets, was easy enough to pull into the doors of the temple.

“It is nothing to trouble yourself with, my lady.”

“I will always listen if you have need, Steward,” she said. 

Syldor stopped, watching the woman as she continued to walk forward. Her gait did not falter, but now that he was paying attention, he noticed that her footfalls made no sound against the stone. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as she came to a halt before the altar. She turned back towards him, her face hidden behind the veil. Taking a deep breath, Syldor forced himself forward. 

“He was a stablehand,” the not-priestess told him as he laid the body on the altar. “Thom was his name. He used to ride and break the horses for one of the stables in Wrettis, until one of them broke him. It shattered his leg like glass, and he lost his one true joy in life.”

Syldor looked at her from the corner of his eye. The not-priestess had her hand cupped against the vampire’s cheek, the gesture almost looking like pity that echoed in her voice. With a sigh, she dropped her hand and lifted her head to look at him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She chuckled, and again Syldor got the impression that she was smiling at him. “My Steward, do you not recognize me?”

“My Lady?” Syldor said. Again, the feeling that the woman behind the veil was smiling at him. 

“You have done well, my Steward,” the Raven Queen said. “And you have done more than I would have asked.”

“I fulfilled my duties.”

“Your duties did not include standing watch over the body of my warrior,” she said. “And yet you did anyway.”

“There was no one else,” he said. 

“And yet you could have pushed the duty onto one of the priests, but did not. Your compassion reveals itself in the strangest of ways.”

“It was my duty.”

“As you say,” the Raven Queen acquiesced. “Your duties have been fulfilled. You are free until I have need of you again.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Syldor said, bowing at the waist. 

By the time he glanced upwards, she was gone, leaving nothing but a single raven’s feather on the breast bone of the corpse. It was the work of a few minutes to light the pyre, and Syldor watched the creature’s corpse burn, even as his mind turned towards home.

[bitofthisandthat]

@dragcnsden | @ducktales-wco-oo said: ( 📂📂 - Glad  and  📂📂- Gabby :'3 )

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have...

❡ Gladstone is very good at remembering everyone’s name, not just making up nicknames for them; but  if he doesn’t like you, he purposefully gets your name WRONG. He knows damn well you’re “Tim,” but he’s going to call you “Alfonso,” or something SO off that you’re insulted every time. And he won’t make up a new name every time, nope, you’re Tim, but he’s gonna call you Alfonso over and over until he never sees your face again. He won’t even BOTHER with a nickname if he doesn’t like your vibe or knows for sure you’re an asshole. He’ll give a nickname to a stranger if he likes their groove and thinks they’re cool, over someone he hates.

❡ When Glad’s in a sour mood that can’t be shrugged off in his usual “eh, whatever” way, or he can’t be distracted out of it by flirting or compliments, ( or whatever other “light” means of entertainment he can escape into ) he binges on gory, badly-acted, cheesy special effects-filled horror movies from the 70s and 80s. It started off being an “ironic” thing he did in high school  with various crowds he hung with ( another HC another time ). But over time, he got obsessed with The Evil Dead series; ( relating to Ash’s humor, etc ) and really into the artful stylized Italian horror flicks. So now, when he’s in an unshakable BAD mood, he holes away into a vintage theater, grabs his drink/s and sinks into a seat inside of the sparsely filled theater, and watches whatever terrible horror film/s from that era he can get to. He definitely looks out of place in his fancy clothes and slick attitude, of course, but when he doesn’t care. When he’s done with his little double-headers at the grind house, his mood is level again, and he skips out of there back on track.

❡ Gabby’s head feathers/hair grow REALLY fast, and when they plume too thick/long, you see the color variances of both her genetics, the green and brown iridescence from her peahen blood is more prominent in speckles between the firmer, variegated golden brown and whites of her eagle blood; basically, it’s mottled, of course. She does like it even if it’s not in “perfect” patterned markings, but it’s also way too distinct and if she were to wear it like that while working, fellow mercs and enemies would recognize her all the time. She needs anonymity, and full earth-toned plumage across her body to head does that. And yes, as stated before---she mainly crops her hair for practical purposes because long hair/head feathers = an easy pull handle for an opponent, and she’s way more aerodynamic with a ‘pixie’ look...Sometimes if she’s on hiatus or vacation and she doesn’t want to be recognized as “the McStabberson” she will let it grow out to its multi-mottled length. But as soon as she’s contacted for work again, off she cuts it.

❡ Gabby likes to THINK she’s able to hold her liquor, but she is....basic at best. Whether it’s because of her muscle tone ratio, or that she’s “one of those people” that does tea cleanses and wheatgrass shots all the time, or just her mystery genetics, she cannot drink as much as people that party all the time. She will still drink hardcore-high proof stuff like she’s strong and sophisticated enough for it, and declare loudly that she’s “FINE!” but truth is, she’s not, and is gonna be a mess. And of course, she is an embarrassing/revealing drunk after 2 or more. So if she has any hidden attraction for someone in the room, she’s gonna spill about it. She does KNOW this about herself, even if she doesn’t like admitting it. Which is why on the job? Not drinking. XD

[prehistoricalcats]

Demeter asks: 2, 5, 6, 14, 16, 17, 22, 25, 29 (I love Demeter can you tell? 😄)

I would have been able to answer this on actual Demeter day, but Tumblr went down right when I was trying to post this last night, so it's a day late

Hell yeah! Let's do this! Demeter lovers assemble!!!

ahem but first let me put in a trigger warning for domestic abuse and child abuse

Even if that sort of thing is upsetting to you, you should still be able to safely continue reading if you skip questions 5 & 6

2. Who do they look to for guidance?

Depending on the nature of the issue, usually either Bomba or Deut, and also an elder OC I haven't discussed in detail yet named Hildebriar

5. What is a secret that they have?

This is the trigger warning one! From here to "End TW" contains discussions of abuse

Okay you ready for some controversial headcanons?

She was abused by her father as well as several of her older brothers, and she had at least two abusive intimate relationships before meeting Macavity.

Mac himself didn't actually physically abuse her, but he abused a lot of other people in his life during the time Demeter was with him, and he terrified her because she knew what he was capable of.

The Jellicles (except Bomba whose time with Mac overlapped Demeter's) think he must have smacked her around, because they recognize her behavior as typical of an abuse victim. She knows it's wrong to let them think that, but she's too ashamed and afraid to admit that her own father hurt her.

(Mac, for his part, recognizes that he treated her poorly, even if it was better than he treated most people those days, even if it was better than whoever hurt her before, it's no excuse, he knows he was a jerk and that associating with him was terrible for her mental health, and it's something he regrets deeply)

6. Would they trust anyone with their secret?

Bomba knows it wasn't Mac that hurt her, because she was already hurt when she joined the gang. But she doesn't know about her father.

Demeter wants to tell someone, but she's so ashamed. She thinks Bomba and/or Munk should be the people she tells, but she would probably actually find it easier to talk to Deuteronomy about it. Compassionate, empathetic Deut who doesn't have a hateful bone in his body.

While she loves Munk and Bomba dearly, and they love and support her with all their hearts, her shame is so great that she feels if they knew the truth they wouldn't love her anymore, and losing their love would be devastating.

But she can't imagine Deut ever rejecting or judging someone over what happened in their past (especially if they did nothing wrong, no matter how much they feel like they did).

End TW. You should be able to continue safely from this point

Okay so we've opened up with some pretty heavy thoughts. Time to move on to more lighthearted stuff!

14. What is something that never fails to make them excited?

Roller coasters. You'd think she'd be terrified, but she just loves them. Huge adrenaline rush, and that sort of "safe danger" kind of scary that feels super good (for some people anyway lol). Theme parks in general would be one of her favorite places, if it weren't for the crowds. Theme parks on a slow day? Ultimate day out 👍

Same goes for horror video games, for the same reason. PT, Silent Hill, Resident Evil, Slender, she's a big fan of all of these. This doesn't carry over to most horror films though, except sci-fi horrors (Alien is one of her favorites). She tends to prefer suspenseful mysteries when it comes to getting a thrill from film and tv.

16. What is the most romantic thing someone has done for them?

You mean aside from putting their own life/safety at risk to save/protect her?

Well once the she went walking in the woods with Bombs and Munk. By and by they got tired and sat down to rest a while in the shade of a tree. Cuddled up between her lovers, Demeter soon fell asleep.

When Munk and Bomba noticed they decided to try to have a surprise ready for her when she woke up. They took turns watching over her and gathering flowers. Munk also waded into a nearby stream to retrieve up some smooth shiny pebbles that he spotted, and Bomba picked up every bird feather she saw.

Then together they arranged them into flower crowns, with the tiny pebbles as gemstones and the feathers as ornaments. They scattered the leftover flowers around on the ground.

When she woke up she saw them both grinning at her, wearing the strangest flower crowns on their heads. What kind of flower crown has rocks and dirty old feathers in it? She giggled and asked what they'd been up to while she was asleep.

They pointed out the crown on her own head, which was even more ridiculous extravagant then theirs, and she noticed the flowers scattered around her, and she realized this was for her.

Her heart melted. She just about cried she was so moved. She had to explain to her (now very concerned) lovers that she wasn't upset, in fact she couldn't be happier!

The flowers have long since faded away, as flowers do, but she still has the feathers and pebbles, kept safe in a little tin box she keeps near her bed.

17. Who is their favorite person(s) to spend time with?

That's easy. Bombs and Munk. Her angels 💛����

Outside of her romantic interests, though, she has rather a unique friendship with Mungo. No I can't explain it, and they can't explain it either. Somehow they just click ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mostly they kid around, goof off, act silly, and make dumb jokes when they hang out. I guess Mungo's easy-going sense of humor helps Demeter loosen up and enjoy life a little more

22. How indecisive are they?

Hmmm mildly. She sometimes struggles internally with important decisions, but little things are usually pretty easy.

One thing's for sure, she couldn't decide between Munk and Bomba. Good thing they love each other too! They have a perfect lovely three-sided romance because none of them could choose between the other two (nor were they remotely interested in choosing)

25. What is something they think they’re bad at, but are actually pretty competent at?

Fighting. She's braver than she gives herself credit for, and stronger than she seems as well. And damn is she fierce when she wants to be 💛

29. What do they do to relax?

Draw. A lot. She especially loves drawing people, and especially her loved ones. She has pages and pages and pages of sketches of Munk, Bomba, Deut, Mungo, the kittens, and the rest of the tribe. And she draws landscapes and horizons and just general scenery stuff, especially her own home and places around the Junkyard, and sometimes she draws objects, but she never arranges them in still-life, just draws them as is

She also draws things that trouble, her for therapeutic purposes. If it's something that bothers her enough she'll destroy it, but she's held on to quite a few sketches of her brothers, fire, Control officers, thunderstorm scenes, Mac, and other things she doesn't like, hidden away within the pages of her sketchbooks. She always destroys the drawings of her father though

She also plays piano, and while not all pieces are very relaxing to play *cough Liszt cough* she especially loves to play Chopin (her favorite composer), even the difficult ones, but especially the nocturnes

But for maximum relaxation, she loves to spend time just lounging in either Bomba's or Munk's arms, or ideally both. Many an afternoon she has spent half asleep in their arms, soaking up their warmth, maybe listening to one of their heartbeats, just perfectly content

[mizu-writes-kumo]

Personal voltron headcanon of mine: black paladins get angel wings when the black lion chooses them. And even when they stop piloting the lion, they still keep them. Only when you betray voltron do you lose them, like zarkon. Just imagining shiro with wings or if lance got picked as black paladin with wings.

This is BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT SO DAMN MUCH!

Shiro with big beautiful black wings with white tips at the end of the feathers (that turn all white in the end). Like big and massive, cause he's a big boy he needs a huge wing span to fly, so like each win is like ten feet long. And all the Paladins are like amazed by them the first time Shiro comes to breakfast with them (though he's crazy awkward and clumsy with them at first, totally hits everyone with them at least once a day for like a week, but they are all cool with it). And I imagine its kind of a painful process, just spurting wings, but like Black Lion helps ease the pain cause she knows. And Shiro can fold and hid then away (so its like he does have them out all the time, kind of like most angels in shows) but they takes a while for him find a comfortable way to do it, so for a while the wings just out.

(Excuse me while I make this some Shance content) Also I imagine his wing care ain't great at first, until Lance does it one day (cause he bored and like noticed a crooked feather...or seven) and then it sort of become a thing between them, because it felt good and stuff. And Shiro always goes to Lance for the places he can't reach, cause like Keith has no finesse and tears good feathers out. Allura is has moments, but Lance is consistently good and he makes it really relaxing even if its like three in the morning and he's half struggling to stay awake.

Keith has all black wings and smaller then Shiro. And its like the same thing all over again when he gets them. Except Lance yells at him across the room about wing care like right off the bat, but he ain't touching his mullet-ugly wings.

Then they find Kuron, he had Shiro's wings, but their not really right, and like feathers are falls out, all around not good stuff. And Allura just kind of attributes it to Shiro losing his connection with (because she does know how Zarakon lost his) and just general miss care by the Galra. But then Black accepts Kuron as her Paladin, and Kuron gets real wings, the white tips are a little smaller but no one thinks much of it. Lance helps with the wings and the headaches, and its like Shiro never left. And then you know...

I imagine Black Paladin!Lance's wings would be a deep brownish color, or just a general brown with some black patterns along the tips, similar to like a falcon or hawk. And are like a similar size to Shiro's, but still smaller. Like he is both a goon and sweetheart with them, cause he figured out two new limps really quick. They make him rather expressive and such, and like if he hugs you, so do the wings. But he will so be the biggest little shit with then if you piss him off.

Now I'm to take this and a little AU twist I got after reading this (oh and it's Shance again), where Lance is basically a fallen angel (still with wings, Falling didn't take then away). So Shiro gets his Black Paladin Wings and everything and it's a mess. And Lance is like willing to offer a helping hand as he sees Shiro struggle constantly with them. That and he is horrified by Shiro general wing care, which in turn is tanking his comfort levels. Cue Lance trying to help him, but not reveal his status as an ex-angel. It helps, just not a whole lot, Shiro still really struggles. So Lance is basically like "screw it" and unfolds his hidden wings one night while helping Shiro to show him how to do something, which is a complete surprise and Shiro is like "wait are you a Black Paladin too...what does this mean?!" But Lance just tells him the truth about what he is and how he's had wings his whole general existence, so he knows a thing or two about them. And Shiro gets the hang of his wings more with Lance's help and visual aid of how to best to do things, like how to use them in a fight. The team has no idea about Lance, they just think Shiro is figuring out his wings, until something happens and Lance reveals his own wings for one reason or another.

[lovehotelreservation]

jealousy anon here to resubmit!! along with gray saber kamui and conrad can i ask you to do jealous lukas forsyth and python too?? ALSO DONT STRESS CHELL YOURE DOING GREAT WITH YOUR HEADCANONS!!

AHH BLESS YOU DARLING ANON!!! ; u ; You are so kind and ilu!!!

As mentioned in my initial post, I shall add Berkut here as well~

ALSO I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THE HECK THIS TURNED INTO BASICALLY 8 MINI ONE-SHOTS BUT ALAS I DO HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

Wondering what he must have done to have Lady Luck frown so deeply upon him, Gray would only be seeing green as he watches you and Alm train–and no, he is not referring to the color of his childhood friend’s hair. Priding himself on his swordsmanship–which he feels could rival with, or even surpass the aforementioned leader of the Deliverance by a few notches–he would feel a deep, burning jealousy over you not only spending time with Alm, but looking so awed by the technique that he demonstrates to you. 

Before he knows it, he’s storming off to the designated training grounds at camp, dragging Tobin and/or Kliff along, thinking it would be better to work out his frustration this way–certainly better than approaching you or Alm and saying/doing something out of stupid impulse. Besides, if anything, seeing you and Alm train would offer plenty of encouragement for him to hone his swordsmanship. Though, if Tobin and/or Kliff are there, he would find a peace of mind once either of the two inevitably confront him over his sour mood, which would most likely occur after a particularly aggressive training session.

When he’s completely alone and exhausted from spending nearly the entire day giving it his all, his body would stiffen when he hears the curious tone of your voice calling out to him. Immediately, he would straighten out his posture, puffing out his chest while sporting a cocky grin as he waves you over. “Hey babe! How’s it goin’? You should’ve been here earlier ‘cause you missed some a-ma-zing sword handling–hell even Alm couldn’t have pulled some of these tricks off” However, when he sees your apologetic expression, matched by the way you would say “I heard you were upset.”

Expect immediate denial, an overcompensated jovial smugness that attempts to ease your worries and cover his wounded pride. However, considering how much he insists that you come to him whenever you’re feeling down and to be as open as possible, he definitely didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Letting out a sigh as his shoulders slump down, he would look at you with a sheepish grin as he remarks, “…Well, not that you mention it…”

Upon coming clean, he would confess, “–so just looking at Alm, seeing how happy you looked being with him, I just thought ‘Well, what more can this guy have? I mean, isn’t hero of Zofia enough?’ But I know that ain’t the way to look at things, especially when it comes to you.” Letting out a bittersweet chuckle, he would joke, “Maybe I should’ve worked on my attitude instead of my swordsmanship. I’m sorry, babe. You’re way too good to me and Alm’s my friend, not my enemy.” His arms parting open for an embrace, he would look at you with a genuinely apologetic eye as he asks, “Can ya’ forgive this handsome fool of yours?”

For Saber, the tavern is a sanctuary in which he may seek comforting pleasure in the form of a frothy mug of ale. On this day, however, he only found a pestering jealousy that gnawed at him throughout the night. Gulping down drink after drink, he cast a wary eye towards where Jesse had led you off to strike up conversation, flirting with you heavily while not-so-subtly hinting at joining him in his room later tonight. As it stands between both you and him, your relationship was still up in the air–remaining on the more casual and physical side–and he knew it wouldn’t be right to put some sort of claim on you. However, the more he sees what looks to be you falling susceptible to Jessie’s charming advances, the more he simply cannot stand, which prompts the following to occur.

As Jesse was about to go on about the dexterity of his fingers, he would be interrupted by an amused Saber pressing a firm hand upon his shoulder. “What’s this now about dexterity? This before or after you fumbled and dropped your sword while we were fending off those damn Terrors yesterday?” While Jesse would huff and immediately try to fluff up the truth, you would notice Saber lingering close by your side, a dominative air exuding off of him.

Eventually, it comes down to Saber and Jesse agreeing to settle things in a friendly yet competitive spar. Considering that the latter would have been waiting on his sword to have been forged into a much more fortified weapon, he would have left you and Saber alone, but not before winking at you with the flirtatious remark of “Your handsome rogue will show you what he’s made of, sweetness~”

“Thought he’d never leave,” Saber would mumble under his breath, shaking his head with slight exasperation. At your amused quip of him looking quite pleased, he would only smirk in return, his eye half-lidded while he looks your way. “What can I say? I may be too old to tolerate a lot of bullshit that youths get up to, but what won’t change is once I have my sights on something, I don’t let go so easily–money be damned.” Seeing your astonished expression, he would chuckle, bringing a hand to cup your chin as he would then purr, “And you can damn well bet that I’d fight any man who would even consider having you.”

Leon may have eyes only for Valbar, but nothing else ever goes unseen by him, especially with how watchful his vision is. For instance, on this particular afternoon at camp, he could tell that Kamui was feeling some sort of way, if only because the sellsword’s eyes were open wide. As opposed to being shut, his eyes were practically bulging by how he was boring holes into the back of Atlas’s head. The behemoth of a villager was currently standing behind you, his hands secure over yours while he taught you the proper way to chop wood–oh, and wielding an axe correctly, should a dire situation call for it

Noting the tense, rigidness of Kamui’s form, an amused grin would slide onto Leon’s features–it was clear that he was seeing green, considering he had a not so hidden crush on you. Though, knowing his friend’s laidback, almost non-confrontational–until money was involved of course–personality, Leon knew that Kamui would just be wallowing in his own frustration and not doing anything about this situation. Which, in that case, would make for an utterly boring spectacle. Chuckling to himself, Leon would proceed to fetch a feather and paper in hopes of spicing things up.

As for you, your arms would be feeling weary from repeated use of the ax. However, you can’t help but smile over Atlas looking so happy as he picked up and marveled over every chopped log of wood you cut together, just before he carried them away to bring to Mae and Boey, with the two wanting to practice their fire magic. Though, whatever sense of ease you felt would quickly turn to alarm by Leon’s cry of “Look out!”. You would barely fathom the arrow that whizzes right for you, especially by how quickly you hear the panicked grunt of your name before you’re suddenly pushed to the ground, warmth enveloping around you protectively as you’re drawn close to Kamui’s chest.

You would feel heat rush to your own face as you feel his hand rest upon your back, his voice worried and his eyes gazing down at you with concern. “H-Hey, you good? You’re not hurt, right?” Though you assure that you’re well, he wouldn’t feel inclined to let you go just yet, holding onto you for a few more minutes before he lets go to help you up, all the while he chews out a sheepish looking Leon. As this occurs, however, your eyes are drawn to the nearby pile of chopped wood, with one of the blocks sporting the arrow that had been lodged into it. Though, most curiously of all is the note that seems to be attached to the arrowhead.

While Kamui was ready to go approach Leon and scold him upfront, he is stopped by sound of your voice. “Yeah? What’s up?” he would query while spinning around to face you, only to pale when he sees you holding up a note that contains the message of “Kamui looks to be down~ Maybe you could do something about it? I think you’re the only one who can cheer him up!” that is written in Leon’s stylistic cursive handwriting. Hearing the archer practically cackle with glee from afar, he would feel his face grow hot and red from embarrassment. Though he would feel anger towards Leon, he would find it impossible to do with you standing right in front of him. Thus, it would be his turn to express sheepishness while he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah…about that…”

Save for his family and befriending Valbar and Leon, this is the first time in a while since he has felt some form of romantic attachment, he would confess after leading you to a more secluded area in camp.  As for his jealousy–not just between you and the cheerful tenderness of Atlas, but with the flirtatious mannerisms of Jesse, the rouge charm of Saber, the elegant sweetness of Conrad–he would mention how he felt inadequate by comparison. “Being a nomad ‘nd everything, I’ve gotten used to just moving around aimlessly. But then you came around, and suddenly…” Slowly, his eyes would peer right into yours, his gaze shy yet affectionate. “…all I wanna do is just stay wherever you are, even if–hell, especially if it’s just the two of us.”

Saber may have an eye patch, but Conrad dons a mask fitting for a gallant knight, especially the one who is fully and utterly devoted to you as your lover. Still, he cannot help but feel antsy whenever he sees you eagerly listen in one Saber’s countless tales from his mercenary days right by the fire set up for tonight’s camp, of which are peppered in with excessive profanities and the casually uttered yet filthy recollections of previous one night stands. Your boyfriend would be aghast how you could stand to listen in on every sordid detail, let alone look entertained by it all. Alas, he would begin to compare himself to the likes of Saber, wondering if cool ruggedness exuded by the mercenary is somehow more appealing than the valor and heroism showcased by the one knight you could always rely on.

However, as self-conscious as he become, he wouldn’t allow himself to wallow in pity. Instead, he would spring to action–literally, by the way he hurries over to where you and Saber are, right as the latter was stroking his chin fondly while recounting a wild night at a Mila. You would feel alarmed at first when he announces that he must speak with you, urgently. Considering that he would be wearing his mask as he does this, you assume that something serious is at hand and are quick to follow him–but not before bidding Saber farewell, who only waves with an all too-knowing grin on his face as he sees Conrad immediately reach for your hand with a firm grip.

Your lover would lead you to the furthest part of camp–or even beyond to a nearby forest clearing/flower garden. Your questions about what was so urgent would be met with responses that–while vague–are spoken with assurance, even if you could catch glimpse of his face reddening, with a blushing, flustered face being his tell-tale sign for whenever he was fibbing. At last, once the two of you are completely alone, he reveals what he was in such dire need of your attention: his hands cupping your cheeks so he may eagerly capture your lips with his.

The neediness he would express is unlike the mindful delicacy he often showcased to you, if just to abide by his role as prince and night. However, when your lips part, there would be a small yet satisfied smile on his face as he hums, “My apologies, my darling. I simply couldn’t resist from stealing a kiss. It is rather scandalous for a knight of my caliber to do so, but still quite alluring, no? Especially compared to that of a mercena–! A-Ahh my mask!” The air of confidence surrounding him would immediately falter as he take off his mask, thereby exposing the deep scarlet hue that has swept over his face. Unable to hide his expression or his insecurities regarding this matter, he would come clean about and apologize for his jealousy, all the while his arms wrap tightly around you in a needy cling.

Upon your forgiveness, he would be overjoyed and relieved. Though, should you decide to keep his mask for yourself, he would do his utmost best to remain dignified as he requests it back while refraining from letting out childish whines. Admittedly, this does give you the upper hand for when the two of you prepare to turn in for bed tonight~

Composure. Composure. Composure. While Lukas often lamented over being seen as calm and collected to the fault of seeming cold, seeing his older half-brother attempt to court you would be the one time he would be in desperation to gain hold of his bearings–especially knowing that his brother is only doing so to show him up while trying to seize some of his post-war glory. The thought of companionship never seemed to be of crucial importance to him, especially before heading to war. But that all changed when his association with the Deliverance led him to you, a close friend of Clair’s. As you initially joined to ensure the safety of your dear friend and the well-being of your fellow Zofians, the passion you exude would just be so irresistible to Lukas, believing that the two of you complement one another perfectly.

Though, the conflict between his views on romance would have caused him to refrain from speaking up on his feelings. Until Forsyth, Clive, and Clair catch wind of this and do everything in their power to match the two of you together. Even Python makes an effort to play Cupid–literally, by the way he shoots love letters forged by Clair at either you or Lukas. The interventions of your friends aside however, the two of you eventually fall for one another–feelings revealed after an exhaustive, vicious battle against a Rigelian squadron with you and him desperately seeking out one another in hopes of the other’s survival, culminated in a needy relieved kiss.

Thus is Lukas’s tight shoulders and strained smile upon bringing you to meet his family, both out of his own desire and out of formality between nobles that were to wed. While thankful that the callousness of his brother brought him to the Deliverance–and therefore, you–he simply would not stand for the shameless pursuit of his older sibling. Watching his brother ask to “hold and inspect the hands of a gorgeous war hero”, insist on giving you a personal tour around town alone, boast how he could spoil you far more than his ‘ruffian of a younger brother’ could ever do and more are what picks apart at this patience piece by piece.

It isn’t until his brother–having grown tired of you skirting around and denying his pursuit of you–becomes so so bod propose to see the finer points of your physique up close over tea is what pushes him far past his limit, especially when he sees your appalled expression. Standing abruptly from his seat, his voice would be eerily calm yet sharp, his tone lower than usual as he rebukes, “I do believe that is no way to speak to someone who risked everything just to protect you, brother–nor will I–the true betrothed–sit idly by and watch you disgrace my fiance, regardless of your seniority over me.” Turning to you, he would offer his hand and a gentle gaze as he smiles sweetly. “Come, darling. I have a far more enjoyable way to spend this afternoon.” Ignoring the hissy outburst that would surely come about from his brother, he would lead you out the room.

Dinner would prove to be quite interesting, as no one in his household–whether family, friend, or servant–would not have seen either of you for the rest of the day, up until when the both of you show up. What would be notable is how…unstable you appear to be as you walk to the table, with a calm and tranquil Lukas happily guiding you to your seat, not to mention how attentive you seem to be with making sure your hair obscures your neck as best as you can~

As opposed to the serious, no nonsense mentality shared by the veteran members of the Deliverance, Python continued to carry himself in a more laidback yet approachable manner–something that you made you drawn closer to him. While this did earn the ire of his fellow soldiers–especially Forsyth–it at least helped the new and younger recruits to feel more at ease while they gave it their all to protect Zofia from Rigel. Still, even his apathy knows limit.

This especially holds true when–after a rigorous battle–he was attempting to mend some strain in his side with a few firm pats of his fist. Though you were a healer, he couldn’t resist the grin tugging on his lips at the thought of some ‘special’ treatments you could administer beyond just magic. However, as he made his way over to the medical tent at camp, his smile faltered and his eyebrow raised over you fussing over the injuries of Gray and Tobin. While his eyes tend to be half-lidded out of laziness, his perception as an archer cannot be fooled. By the way Gray is dramatically lamenting over the excruciating pain on his chest and thighs while Tobin is…trying to do the same, he can tell that the two are hamming it up for your attention, for your touch. A touch that–as an annoyed look etches on his face–is meant for him.

Knowing you, you wouldn’t doubt the both of them, especially since you doted on them as the young new recruits. And they–seeing you as a pretty nurse to receive tenderness that both craved–were eager to make the most of receiving your attention. While flattering on your end, he supposed to himself, it needed to be made clear that your healing touch was not to be taken advantage of. By them at least.

Thus is why Tobin and Gray’s wanton call for your touch immediately stifled upon Python slinking up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder while his arm wrapped around you protectively. Eyeing the two with a knowing glare, his gaze only became amused once it shifted over to you. “Hey nurse, once you’re done with the kids, mind patching me up– Ahh shit…!” With a wince, he would immediately release his hold on you to instead clutch his side. Seeing your alarmed expression, he would resist from looking smug as you quickly give him your full attention–but not before giving Tobin and Gray one last look over until you sent them off.

Once the two were gone, he would waste no time to shrug off his armor and shirt, all the while eyeing at you mischievously as he would drawl huskily, “Finally. Now then–how’s about you come kiss me better, darlin’? I got some wounds that only those pretty lips of yours can heal.”

There appears to be a disturbance in the Forsyth. Particularly when he overhears you offering praise to the new Deliverance recruits from Ram Village as you help them train. At first, his heart is touched while he sees you–the love of his life–dote on Kliff, Gray, and Tobin, in the sense of watching these youths adapt to being part of the army and, perhaps, seeing you do the same to the family you would build together. However, that tender feeling is extinguished when he sees a smirking Gray exclaim “Hey, watch what I can do…!” before cleaving a target dummy in one swift and smooth motion, followed by your genuinely awed expression and surprised “Wow Gray, I’ve never seen anything like that before!”

That impressed look on your face. Immediately, Forsyth would immediately try to recall all the times when you made that expression for something he did, especially when it came to fighting. While many memories come to mind, they don’t have the same impact of your bewilderment just now, which in turn puts him on edge, his fingers twitching for his lance to earn that same awe from you as well. Glancing back at the four of you, he would only become even more anxious when Kliff and Tobin–seemingly riled up from Gray’s showboating–appear to try and impress you as well with their own fighting capabilities.

Despaired at the thought of him even possibly being seen as inadequate in your eyes, he would spring into action, literally by the way his voice–far too loud and squeaky–calls out your name as he sprints onto the training grounds, lance in hand. With every single decibel of volume he could muster, he would declare, “Stand aside, boys! Let me show you the true, ultimate form of a warrior!”

What Tobin saw was some kind of pole vault maneuver. What Gray saw was the ‘How do you do, fellow recruits’ guy flying and flailing through the air. What Kliff saw was that overbearing, loud-mouthed adult tumbling to the ground. What you saw was your lover injuring himself after trying to pull off an intricate version of a maneuver known to lance users as Tempest Lance. What Forsyth saw–even as his body wracked with pain, his muscles strained and swore–was that gorgeously astonished look on your face, even if it was far more worried than he had ever seen it before~

Despite the pain experienced that afternoon, the fact that he got to spend the rest of the night in your care–both to heal his wounds and his pride–with all of your attention focused on him made his embarrassment all the more worth it~

With Fernand’s recruitment into the Rigelian army, Berkut rarely had any disputes with the former member of the Deliverance. The two shared ideals, especially when it came to respecting the rigid class system currently set in place throughout Valentia. Still, it would be inevitable that the two would clash, even if it was mainly one-sided. After all, was it not clear that you belonged to him?

Berkut was ever haughty and pompous when he introduced you to Fernand, of how only one of fine nobility could result in such an exquisite yet fearsome soldier in the Rigelian army. Fernand was immediately drawn to you, if just because you hailed from a noble family as well, among other similarities of being upper-class. Compared to Berkut, who was actual royalty, he found it easier to speak to you, especially since–up until now–he was the very enemy that Rigel was looking forward to defeating.

Fernand being drawn to you certainly did not go unnoticed by Berkut. While he knew you would dare not stray from him–albeit an empty threat that would crumble if because he would be clinging to and begging you to not leave while angry, hot tears stream down his cheeks–he still cannot help but feel threatened. Perhaps this was all merely the behavior of a spoiled prince, but since when did he let the perception of others–especially those below him in status–affect the way he carried himself? Furthermore, it did not help that you were drawn to his stories from his time spent with the Deliverance, along with insights into Zofian culture and how nobles there compared to those of Rigel.

What would be made clear to Berkut is that he needs to set a reminder, an example of who was the prince around here, of who your heart belonged to. However, this couldn’t be done passively–if by Fernand happening to catch sight of a few little red marks adorning your neck and collar bones. No, instead, it would have to be something that would forever imprint itself in his memory. 

This all eventually results in Fernand looking to invite you for a friendly chat over tea. He would enter your study, making his presence known as he steps inside, only to become utterly speechless, his voice left a stammer and his face a deep, hot shade of scarlet at what he sees transpiring upon your desk. Immediately, he is stammering out his whole-hearted apologies both to an equally flustered you and a smirking Berkut before he quickly makes his exit, shutting the door behind him. “Victory is truly sweet, no? You would agree, don’t you, my dearest?” He would hum haughtily before turning his attention back towards you, his gaze full of desire as he purrs, “Though, none could even begin to compare to the taste of your lips.” Chuckling darkly, he would proceed to indulge himself further~

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Where I Tell You:  Chapter 3

I purred? Yuuri couldn’t entirely believe that, but the idea that Dennis would lie to him about it made no sense. What would lying about purring accomplish? If it was the truth, so be it, and if it was a lie, then he would inflict punishment. Maybe carding. Or worse.

He knew quite a few things that could be worse. He rather looked forward to being able to inflict them on someone at some point. He’d never met anyone who could take all that he could dish out, though. Someone strong enough not to die if Yuuri frowned their way…

Yuuri continually promised himself that he would. It might take until the invasions began and he could explore other dimensions for his future plaything, but it would happen.

For right now, he wanted to get the proper wing oil and get his wings taken care of. He could feel the itch starting to rise again and he’d already enjoyed being without it.

There were several small stores scattered throughout Academia which provided for the students’ needs and desires. Multiple card stores, of course, that usually specialized in one particular type or other of cards. He patronized one that featured Plant-type cards in particular.

But this store that he swung into now wasn’t a card shop. Here all the varied needs of the Fliers were taken care of, especially for wing care.

Dennis looked around at everything, taking a few steps near one of the counters. “You need all of this?” He asked, wonder tingeing his voice.

“Me, personally? No.” Yuuri gestured for Dennis to follow him. If all worked out the way that he hoped that it would, he would send Dennis here for wing oil in the future. Best that he know what to get.

He came over to a small display, one that carried examples of all kinds of feathers or wing samples – as well as a sample jar and a clean cloth. Yuuri pointed to the jar and the cloth.

“Dip out some of that, rub it on the leather piece there. You’re going to do that to the dry spots, so I want to show you how it’s done.”

Dennis eyed it for a few moments before he obeyed, looking rather nervous as he did. Yuuri expected that. His wings twitched in anticipation of having a proper cleaning and moisturization. His sort of wings needed so much more care than some of the other types.

He enjoyed taking care of his wings. He couldn’t strike terror into the hearts of others if his wings dried and flaked.

He watched with a careful eye as Dennis picked up the sample piece, the most likely places where dryness developed marked clearly on it, and started to rub at them with the cloth.

“Not so hard,” Yuuri reprimanded. “That would take some of my scales off. Keep it easier, like you did before.”

He could tell Dennis had talent as a wing-tender. He wasn’t going to let him waste it. Especially not when he could be Yuuri’s wing-tender.

Would be Yuuri’s wing-tender, as long as he didn’t screw up too many things. Yuuri quite liked the way Dennis’s fingers soothed the various itchy places on his wings. Whether Dennis wanted to be his wing-tender wasn’t even an option.

He kept a careful eye on Dennis’s work, correcting him here and there, then once he was satisfied, he carried a vial of his favored oil and a new cloth up to the main counter. The student behind the counter – one who didn’t do all that well in classes and needed to work here – quickly processed his purchase.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?” She asked, not bringing her eyes up to look at Yuuri. So far as he cared, that was quite proper. She could barely figure out the differences between attack position and defense position. He was one of the elite of his class and Professor Akaba’s personal right hand.

“No.” He gestured for Dennis to follow him as he headed out, considering where to settle for a good wing care session. He wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to bring Dennis back to his quarters just yet.

The top. Every rooftop in Academia had been set up to welcome those with wings, be it as a place for them to visit easily or to get from there down to their personal quarters. Sometimes even both.

“This way.” Yuuri guided Dennis to his own building, keeping his wings close to his body as he made his way up the stairs. He hated using stairs anyway, but until his wings were in flawless shape, he wasn’t going to risk straining them.

Dennis kept his mouth shut the whole way up there. Yuuri approved of that; he’d already seen how Dennis entertained himself and he didn’t really feel like hearing a lot of babble and blather. He wanted his wings taken care of, first and foremost. Once he’d seen how well Dennis could really do as a wing-tender, then he might consider letting him talk about something that wasn’t dueling or Yuuri’s wings.

Maybe. If he could find something to talk about that could actually catch Yuuri’s attention. He wasn’t yet going to rule out just keeping Dennis around to care for his wings.

Up on top of the building there were several benches spread out to take advantage of the sunlight, with artificial pools here and there, hidden in the shade of carefully tended trees in long pots of rich soil. Platforms stretched out in odd spots as well, where people could perch and take off again. Several of these were used to teach younger students how to fly.

Yuuri had made use of them several times over the last year as he built up his wing-strength and spiraled outward, enjoying the time by himself. Now he settled onto the bench closest to his favorite take off point, then turned to Dennis, the oil and cloth set on the bench next to him.

“Rub the oil into my wings. Just like you did at the store,” he ordered, spreading his wings out so that Dennis could get to all of them. He didn’t bother to offer any threats about what would happen if Dennis hurt him. He thought that Dennis would understand without him having to say a word.

To Be Continued

Notes: And here we are finishing this one. I’m making progress!