#my only hc is that they all have smooth skin (no scars. no callouses. no acne. etc.) except mills obvi.

[rcdiostcrs]

mills deals with his claiming.

(part one “being claimed”)

triggers: self harm (cutting) mentions, insecurity

Mills didn’t know if he was upset or glad that no one mentioned the wings on his back when he walked back into the dining pavilion. Everything had calmed down and the meal was wrapping up. It was cleanup and break time, but soon it would be evening campfire. And evening campfire would see Mills separated from the family he had built in the Ares cabin. He knew he had to appreciate what little time he had left with his brother while it lasted.

He stood in line with the Ares kids as they walked back to Cabin Five.

When he got to the door, Mills got slammed back by the frame. He raised an eyebrow before realizing that it wasn’t done by some divine power—Ares trying to keep peace away from the kids of war—but rather it was just his wings being a nuisance already. They made him bigger than the doorframe.

The brunette tried to will them away like Eirene said could be done, but they stayed.

Instead of fighting with his new limbs or the doorway, Mills grabbed his new whiteboard and started writing.

He knocked one the doorframe so someone would look at him to communicate. “[Hey, can someone pack up my stuff? I’d do it, but I don’t fit.]”

Owen looked up at the sound. “Sure bro.” He didn’t look too happy about kicking Mills out of the cabin, but that was just how camp worked. Godly relations came before adoptive ones, so Mills had to leave. It didn’t matter that it made Owen’s blood boil—his brother had to leave.

Soon enough, Mills’s late May through early August life was in a suitcase, ready to be moved to Cabin Thirty after the evening campfire. The suitcase was left just inside the door so it was safe from theft (Hermes kids were ruthless and Mills didn’t expect all of them to respect cabin integrity), but easy enough for the winged boy to grab when the time came.

~~

Evening campfire was delayed—no doubt to prepare for the ceremony of getting a camper to switch cabins, the celebration of being claimed.

Mills dared not complain. It gave him more time with his brother. More time with his cabin mates the Ares kids.

“[I don’t want to be claimed.]” It felt like a sin to let the words into the air—like they would get him smited by a god who could give the world peace if her father allowed—but Mills still wrote them and let Owen read them.

The brothers stared across the lake, where an hour previous Mills was gaining two extra limbs and losing his family.

“I don’t want you to be claimed either,” his brother said.

“[If only I hadn’t shown violence. If only I had stayed harmless.]”

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off. “Can’t change the past. Can only move forward.”

“[Yeah. We can only go forward.]”

~~

Even with the delays, that evening’s campfire came.

Mills thought about finding a way to hide somewhere—maybe even leave camp entirely, the Mist would hide him enough. If he hid for long enough, people would forget, he could remove the wings, and he could go back to being unclaimed. He could go back to everything he knew.

“Don’t do it.” Mills didn’t turn. He would know his brother’s voice anywhere and after their last conversation, he expected the other. “Seriously, Mills. You’re either thinking of finding a knife or running away, both of which you haven’t done in months.”

“[You’re an ass.]”

“Sure, but I’m right about this.” Owen sat next to Mills. “Let’s enjoy one final campfire as family.”

Mills stood up after his brother, needing a lift to get stable. They joined the Ares kids in the line to march to campfire. He was handed the banner of Ares, a privilege that usually went to the counselor.

“Come on, Mills. This is the last time we’ll be together. You earned it.”

~~

“Campers,” Mr. D shouted and everyone sat upright. “Before your typically meaningless festivities can begin, we had a camper get claimed today. Hip hip hooray or whatever.”

Chiron grimaced at the other’s tone. “Will a Millstone Parker come to the front? It is time for you to join your siblings.”

Mills made his way to the front, as did the campers of cabin thirty. All of their wings were out and proud and none of them had visible scars or callouses from weapons-holding. Contrast that to his majorly scarred face, his shredded thighs, his callouses from the climbing wall, his inability to speak, his everything. He was not looking forward to it. But he had to deal with it. These were his people now.

“You have been claimed by Eirene, the goddess of peace and one of the Horae. Henceforth, you are a member of Cabin Thirty, no longer one of the unknown in Cabin Eleven.”

“He’s from Cabin Five, jerk!”

“He’s our family!”

“You can’t take him away from us!”

Chiron glared at the Ares kids, an expression that looked awful on him, “Excuse me. No longer one of the unknown in Cabin Five.” While it had been nice to be defended and fought for, Mills really just wanted this to end as quickly as possible.

He walked to the other Eirene kids, shaking the counselor’s hand.

“C’mon Millstone, time to sit with the cool kids instead of the lame Ares cabin,” they said, dragging him to their section of the Amphitheater.

He wanted to defend his cabin mates the Ares kids his family, but with one hand being held and the darkness that would hide the words, he didn’t even bother. He let himself get sat down and tried to enjoy the rest of evening campfire.

~~

“So, where’s your stuff?” the head counselor, a woman who looked slightly older than him, asked.

He pointed to Cabin Five before walking, not caring if the others followed or not. He could carry one suitcase full of stuff. That had always been a perk of being a summer camper.

His stuff was where it was left, letting him just duck a hand in to grab the handle and leave.

One of his half-sisters had stayed with him. “I’m here to escort you to the cabin,” she said, seeing his expression.

He sighed. Whatever. It wasn’t like it was hard to find the right cabin. Thirty was one of the newer ones, so everyone knew where it was. And there was only one with a massive door out of those. Seriously, he could have found it.

“My name’s Harmony,” the other said, skipping along as Mills made his way towards his new cabin. “Yours is obviously Millstone. You go by your last name?”

He glared at Harmony—and of-fucking-course her name was Harmony. It was dark and he was carrying a suitcase how was he meant to answer a question?

“So there’s only six bunks and now there’s six of us! Now I have a bunkmate. I already claimed the bottom, so you’ll have to be on top. Sorry, you’re kinda tall.” She kept chattering, asking questions and giving statements, but the two eventually reached Cabin Thirty. Thank the gods.

The head counselor smiled at him. She pointed to a set of bunks—the bottom one covered in bright yellow sheets and several stuffed animals, the top with standard-issue white sheets. “That’s where you sleep. Sorry, I know there's no choice, but what can you do?"

She shrugged. “Aside from that, I’m Serenity, she / her. I’m twenty, so I’m in charge. You’ve met Harmony, my twin.”

Harmony grinned from her bunk, where she’d sat as soon as they walked in. “Heyo. Also she / her. I’m in charge when Serenity’s got other stuff.”

The smallest of the bunch waved from his arms from a top bunk overflowing with stuffed animals. “Hiiii! It’s so nice to have another guy now! I’m Malcom and I’m ten!”

From below Malcolm, “Name’s Olive, she / they, fifteen.” Her bed had posters galore on the wall and Spiderman sheets.

The final sibling smiled at him from her bed above Serenity, “My names Malina, she / her, and I’m thirteen. I just camp summers, unlike the rest of these guys.”

How had they all gotten names that meant peace? Did Eirene tell her lovers in order to get a scheme going? Or did they all get absurdly lucky?

“Millstone, you never answered my question from earlier. Why the last name?” Harmony asked.

“Were you not paying attention? Chiron said his name was Millstone Parker. It’s not his last name. You’re such a silly goose sometimes,” Olive giggled.

“You have a last name for a first name?”

As they had been talking, he’d managed to get his suitcase onto the top bunk. With his hands free, Mills took out his new white board. “[I have three last names. Millstone Grayson Parker.]” Underneath he wrote, “[Also, I go by Mills, not Millstone.]” He gave an awkward smile. He was so used to making himself scare that even just asking to be called the right name was anxiety inducing.

“Oh shoot, sorry Mills,” Harmony said sheepishly. A hand reached towards him. “Apology fist-bump?” The two tapped fists.

“Interrupting whatever that was—” Serenity ignored her twin’s indignant yelp “—how old are you and what are your pronouns?”

“[18. Masculine.]”

“Coolio. Olive, mark it down.”

The younger nodded, stepping to a chalkboard on the back of the door. On it they wrote “[Mills —18, he / him].”

Serenity clapped twice, the cabin’s fairy lights turning off. “Now everyone, it’s been an eventful night. Let’s all get some shut-eye and we can return to meeting our brother in the morning. Sleep tight!”

~~

After an awful night of very little rest, Mills woke with the sun. As beautiful as the sunrise was, it meant that he had spent all night on the roof. The brunet quickly made his way back into the cabin only to be met by Serenity’s stern gaze.

“Where were you last night?”

Her tone made him hunch in on himself, anxiety pouring off him in waves. Mills pointed upwards since he didn’t have his board on his person. And he really didn’t feel like taking the time to collect it from his bunk and write an explanation when she was glaring.

“And the harpies didn’t eat you? Likely story. You were consorting with the Ares kids, weren’t you? And on the eve of Capture the Flag.” She tt-ed, shaking her head. “We’re on Athena’s team once again. Better be ready to crush those losers to dust. I don’t care if you used to be buddy-buddy, you’re with us now.”

That hostility had an air of finality to it. If the counselor wouldn’t accept him, would he ever find his place among the children of peace?

[kon-konk]

Hand headcanons for team Melancholy?

Oh boy, hands! My favorite! (I wrote these down while at work the other day, and have had them tucked away for the past few days.)

Overall, I think Tsubaki would be very big on making sure his subclasses take care of themselves, so he recommends ways to better do so, but won't force them if they don't want to do it (unless it falls into the unhygienic category).

Tsubaki - More or less average sized hands, leaning towards the small end of average. But they're so perfectly smooth and delicate you'd think they were made from porcelain and painted to look like flesh. I hc he has quite strong hands, it just doesn't look like it. His hands feel so delicate that you'd be afraid you're going to break them if you squeeze too hard. They're smooth enough that you'd have to double check that he did, in fact, have fingerprints and it wasn't all just freakishly smooth skin. And they're so soft. Like, his hands feel like you're touching very large flower petals. Uses moisturizer, but his hands are just naturally like that even when he doesn't. Very nicely manicured nails. Also, I feel like his hands are cool to the touch. Not freezing cold, but noticeably cool.

Sakuya - The large end of average size. Long fingers with lightly defined veins. His hands look like they'd be soft, but they're actually rougher than they look. Probably uses moisturizer, but only when he sees someone else using it. Takes care of his nails, but not to the level Tsubaki, Shamrock, or Otogiri do. I hc he has very warm hands. Not like sweaty warm, but like he's just taken them out of his pockets kind of warm.

Otogiri - Tiny, cute little hands. I think her hands would be very strong, and very dexterous. Her hands are rougher than you'd think they'd be, but not quite over the line from soft to rough, and they're covered in the thinnest scars from times her strings have dug into her hands. You can see the larger veins in her hands, but they're not defined. I also think she'd have naturally blushed knuckles. Absolutely beautiful hands. Very well manicured nails. For sure moisturizes. Very neutral temperature hands. Like they're not noticeably warm or cool. BUT they do warm up very fast if she's holding something warm/hot.

Higan - Very large, very rough hands, with very nicely defined veins. Definitely artist's hands. Covered in various scars from art-related incidents, and callouses from paintbrushes and pencils. Does not moisturize. Basically just cuts his nails and goes. Also usually has a smudge of some art product on them. Another with neutral temperature hands.

Shamrock - Man has fucking beautiful hands. Like everything about this dude's hands are damn near perfect. On the larger size, and probably with some notable faded scars from his time in C3. Nicely defined veins. The perfect line between rough and soft. A third with beautifully taken care of nails. I can guarantee you that for the longest time he moisturizes only when he sees Tsubaki do so (which is fairly often), but always carries moisturizer with him (it's the same kind Tsubaki uses just in case Tsubaki forgets his). He's gotten better about this over time, and now carries both a moisturizer he likes and the kind Tsubaki uses. Hands are relatively warm (warmer than Sakuya's, but not by much).

Berukia - Absolutely middle of the road average sized. Very pretty veins, but not much definition except between his knuckles, where they're very defined. They're just barely over the line from soft to rough, but oh my gods why are they so dry. It's not that he doesn't use moisturizer, his hands just dry out quickly. He leaves his moisturizer in random places because he'll use it and sit it wherever he is at the moment, but never puts it back where he got it from. (I hc that Tsubaki will "randomly" ask Berukia if he's used his moisturizer lately to make sure his hands don't dry out too much.) Tries to keep his nails manicured, but I feel like he doesn't go through that effort very often (maybe once a month or every other month), but keeps his nails cut on a weekly basis. Has the boniest fuckin' knuckles you've ever seen. And for some reason his hands are always freezing cold.

Lilac (this is my son, I don't care that he's taller than me, so he gets included) - Little kid hands. Like, they're the perfect size for his body, the proportions just resemble a small child's. He probably bites his nails pretty badly. Also probably only moisturizes when someone reminds him. His hands never seem to be the temperature you're expecting, though.

[movedtopassione-parfait]

La Squadra personal character hcs:

(WARNINGS: mentions of parental neglect, divorce, death, child abandonment)

Risotto Nero:

Risotto is a 7'0 (totally not my size kink showing) olive tan Sicilian guy, abandoned by his parents after he first opened his eyes due to his strange appearance and cared for by his grandmother. (cough cough credit to tenthgrove for the amazing story) Grew up close to his cousin since he had very few people in his life, that's why he was crushed by his death. After getting his revenge he felt like he couldn't return home, and turned to Passione instead. I feel like he's got a thick accent and deep sultry voice (much like the one from the fan made italian dub on youtube!!) His eyelashes are definately long and white, and I feel like he has many brown sun spots like I do! He often bumps his head on door frames, tells a dark joke but nobody knows it's a joke so they just think he's incredibly fucked up, and when he gets into a car you can see it shift from his weight. Has no preference for tea or coffee, he will drink what's available to him. His hands? Big and rough, they're scarred all over and he wears silver rings. Has a few piercings like snake bites and an eyebrow ring. Dick piercings. His favorite food is pasta alla norma.

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto is from Florence, he grew up with his parents there for a bit before moving to Palermo with his mom after they divorced. His favorite memory of growing up is staring down at baby Pesci in his crib. He's 30 years old, 5'9, and has an overbite + tooth gap. His voice is somewhat deep and has an accent, but not as thick as Risotto's. Has a terrible habit of blowing cigar smoke into people's faces, spitting while yelling, and taking way too long styling his hair in that weird triple bun style. Is more of a coffee drinker than tea, he enjoys a good black coffee or an espresso. His hands are very pretty, like slim yet thick fingers and soft to the touch because he moisturizes them with the finest lotions and creams. Sometimes he likes to wear a corset in the privacy of his room, he thinks they're extremely beautiful and he has a collection of really detailed ones. His favorite food is bistecca alla fiorentina.

Pesci:

Is Prosciutto's half brother related by their mother. Pesci is from Palermo, and grew up with no father figure since he left and was no where to be found after he was born, Prosciutto made sure to be a big brother figure to him because of that, their relationship is unbreakable since they only had each other from the start. He's 22 years old, 6'0 and has a blotchy birth mark on his cheek. His voice is neutral, neither high nor deep, but he does have an accent slightly stronger than his brother. Has a habit of chewing on the inside of his cheek when nervous, tapping his feet on the ground, and let's people talk over him even though he hates it (my boy is socially anxious). Prefers tea over coffee, coffee upsets his stomach. His hands are large and slightly calloused on the palms, but very warm and pleasant to feel. Wears dark green lipstick because Prosciutto said he needed something "striking" about his look. His favorite food is caponata.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiaccio grew up as a troubled teen in Naples, often getting into fights at school which caused his grades to fall unfortunately. His parents were neglectful, constantly screaming at him until they eventually kicked him out when he was 19. He tried his best to survive on the streets for years having no where else to turn, barely living in some run down dingy apartment. Risotto found him in an alleyway when he was 25. He's decently tall, standing at 5'10. He has a habit of falling alseep in random places such as the couch or backseat of the car, yelling and ranting about things he barely finds himself caring about, and using up all of the hot water in the shower. Prefers coffee over tea, he likes the caffeine boost which is why he has a slight addiction to red bull energy drinks (if you look in his trash can you'll see cans piled up.) His voice is actually pretty high compared to his teammates, which is why some people (Illuso and Formaggio) call him "Screacher." Hands are medium sized, his skin is slightly rough on the knuckles and finger tips, and feel chilly to the touch. Has a stash of identical glasses in his rooms incase they break on a mission. His favorite food is frutti di mare.

Melone:

Melone is from Florence as well. His parents were also extremely neglectful, but he never picked up on it while growing up. Some of his odd natures like being clingy & touchy, come from lack of attention as a child, he just wants love and a family deep down. He's 5'7 and his eye covered by hair has foggy vision. Has a bad habit of not knocking on people's door/making his presence known before entering people's rooms, working late at night, shouting "Di Molto!" at inappropriate times. Loves tea way more than coffee because of some of the weird health benefits they have. His voice is light and a bit feminine (much like Enmu from Kimetsu No Yaiba). Another one with very pretty hands, slim fingers with well cared for nails, also soft and supple skin. Enjoys cross-dressing very much, not just in the privacy of his own room but anywhere, he'll even dress feminine to lure in targets at clubs and casinos. His favorite food is zeppole.

Illuso:

Illuso grew up in Padua, right near Venezia. His mother was not in the picture so it was just him and his father, until one day when he returned home his father never came back. He already knew his father was wrapped up into organized crime, it was only a matter of time this happened. Inside he blames himself, thought there was nothing he could do to prevent what happened. He covers his grief up with a cocky and egotistical facade to protect his own feelings, but really he just wants someone to give him affection. He's one of the tallest members of the group, being 6'3. He prefers tea over coffee, because he doesn't like the bitterness of it. Has a bad habit of passing through ANYBODY'S mirrors including the bathroom ones, acting like he's superior, and leaving lights on in rooms accidentally. His voice is quite smooth and pleasing on the ears but not actually that deep. His hands are average sized, thick fingers but smooth skin since he also used lotion. Likes to paint his nails, not just black but any color he feels like. Hot pink? Sure why not, fuck it. He likes the sparkly colors too. His favorite food is calamari.

Formaggio:

Formaggio grew up in Padua just like Illuso, with his father in the house. His mother on the other hand, was always out clubbing or partying. Unlike the others, his father was actually a pretty decent influence on him, teaching him the important things in life were the people around you. Because of his father's lessons, he cares for his team like brothers and is always trying to lighten the air by cracking a joke. He's 5'11 and has more freckles and sunspots than the rest since he used to be outside constantly as a child and teen. Has a bad habit of leaning one of his arms on everything next to him (including people), talking with his mouth full, and leaving beer cans everywhere. Doesn't have a preference for coffee or tea since he barely drinks either unless it's coffee in the morning sometimes. His voice is deep, lazy and slow, though its a bit rough when he laughs you could still probably fall asleep listening to him talk. Rough hands, calloused on the palms a bit, as well as a few burn scars on them. Secretly likes to watch soap operas and telenovelas, he'll tell you it's "lame and unmanly" but you'll still catch him crying on the couch eating a pint of ice cream because he was watching the series finale of Rosalinda. His favorite food is rigatoni specifically with red sauce.

no sorlato today guys 😔 but I will be writing theirs in the future, I hope you guys enjoyed this since it's my longest writing I've done yet!! Illuso and Formaggio have the same hometown because they were childhood buddies change my mind.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Dying In The Batboys Arms

reqs: "do you write dark stuff like the boys reaction to the reader dying??? i love your blog btw!" & "Hi could I get some a n g s t"

sooo i'm terrible at angst or anything involving sadness because i ~fall apart~ and give up but for you two i tried my best haha and went for a HC cuz it's easier right? anyways hope you enjoy i cried like twice while writing this but i'm a weak bitch so i had to end them all decently to sleep alright tonight oops

Damian Wayne:

- damian would never let you die, so this would have to be you fulfilling some kind of deal or something unavoidable like yeeting into the speed force or something

- rushing to his embrace one last time and throwing your arms around him

- feeling him shake in your embrace as he whispers "please don't go beloved" and "ill never forget you" reducing you to tears as well

- your last kiss is salty and desprate, like he's trying to remember every moment, every feeling of you

- telling him it's not his fault and that he'll need to move on, but he's too busy promising to find you and save you even if there truly is no hope

- when you leave his eyes are the last thing you see, they were always your favorite and after years of looking at them it felt fitting they'd be the last earthly thing you saw

- as soon as you're gone damian isn't leaving the spot for weeks

- he's basically camped out, hair grown out, cheeks permanently stained as everytime he thinks of you he's crying again- making up for all the tears he held in his whole life

- jon is the only person he'll speak to, and even in that his words are softer than they'd ever been, damian would be to broken to hold his regular facade

- eventually jon coaxes him to return, seeing your belongings unmoved for months

- he'd almost undeniably quit robin, taking up a nickname you called him or wearing a suit in your favorite color, his only driving force after losing you will be the hope you had in him, he tells himself that even in death you're still watching over him forever... it may bit be true but it's the only thing that gives him a reason to keep living and not try to join you

Tim Drake:

- coughing up blood you'd search frantically for tim until he was at your side, crying uncontrollably as he tried to push away your hair matted with blood

- "hey timbers i don't think i'm gonna make it outta this one" you whispered, your hand reaching up to caress tim's cheek, wiping away the tears

- "no, stay with me help is coming i'm right here!" he'd scream spamming the 911 button on his suit as you shook your head "i might be dying but i'm not stupid" his eyes softened at the light smile that traced the lips he loved to kiss

- pulling him down to whisper everything you needed to say all he'd be able to get out it "i can't keep going if you leave me"

- squeezing his hand with every last ounce of strength you reminded him "it's not goodbye timmy it's a see you later, right?" with a soft nod he looked at you, eyes still brimming with tears

- "i've always been so proud of you timbers, don't stop now. see you later okay? i love you" the last words were strangled, but you had to give him something to hang on to as you let go, fading into the pain

- "see you soon y/n l/n ill love you always" were the last words to grace your ears, fading into a dull white noise as you slipped into peaceful bliss, tim's fsvorite soft smile permanent on your lips

- his family found him clutching your limp body, rocking back and forth promising to make you proud, repeated pushing your hair behind your ears because he knows you hate having hair fall in your face

- the strangled noises leaving his families throats as they realized what happened didn't help, neither did dick falling to the ground next to him, and steph bawling into jason's chest. duke had softly grabbed damians hand, both staring at the sky praying to whom ever was listening while bruce pulled tim up and into an embrace

- carefully the family left, one member- and a huge piece of their heart missing. broken at the scene.

- tim threw himself into work, determined to make you proud- but his family would catch him sitting in front of the small, supposedly secret, shrine he'd made in his closet for you, if damian presses his ear to his closet wall he could hear tim softly telling you about his day and what he did that would make you laugh

- months later he seemed calmer, no one could figure it out until dick took the time to ask. tim didn't say much but he held up his left hand ring finger and in a writing dick hadn't seen in months, the perfectly messy scribbles tattooed on his hand said "see you later timmy"

Jason Todd:

- seeing you minutes from death would send jason into shock, unable to move other than sinking to his knees next to you as you groaned with pain

- "at least hold me while a go jaybird" you mumbled through the blood trying to fill your throat. quickly he'd wrap his arms around you

- jason's embrace was comforting as always, you tried to memorize the way the scars landed on your abdomen and his calloused hands tentatively held you like you could break at any wrong move- i guess he was right this time

- "just hold on babe" jason was never good with words was he? with the last ounces of strength you cupped his cheek, bringing his head down to yours "stop talking and kiss me one last time" you whispered

- jason's hands fell to their usual position, one keeping you upright by holding your lower back, his rough hands creating perfect friction with your smooth skin, his other secured to the back of your head, lightly tugging on loose strands of your hair, it was like a puzzle piece fitting together, you melded perfectly to his lips

- the kiss was slow and loving, taking a moment you deepened it just to burn the memory of his passion into your brain before returning back to his loving and slow kisses

- you realized you were crying into the kiss when his rough finger swiped away tears, his lips never leaving yours

- pulling apart to breath and cough jason clung to you "please hold on please" you gave him a sad smile "it's okay jaybird i'm last where the pain hurts that means it's coming soon" you whispered, your hand still on his cheek, feeling the light stubble you always thought was so sexy

- "i love you jason todd, but i've never lied to you and i'm not starting now, this is goodbye babe" you told him bluntly, his face contorting as he pulled you back into his chest "no no no no" were the only words he could think of "i love you jay, it's okay baby" you pulled his lips back to yours until you felt the pain incoming

- "i don't think i've got much longer. hold me?" you looked up to jason who was pushing away tears

- "always" he replied, clutching you to his heaving chest as you snuggled into his embrace, you were sad this would be the last time you got to feel his heartbeat and chest rise and fall, you loved the feeling and knew you'd never forget it, even in death

- "y/n? babe? no" jason realized you were gone, and he lost it, screaming at the universe for taking the one good thing, crying like he promised he'd never, and punching almost everything within a 5 foot range

- his family found him bloody and broken, clutching your lifeless body as he tried to wrap him mind around what happened, he might never get better, the memory of your loss burned too deep and scarred too hard, but if he truly understood your love for him he'd use that love he had for you to drive it towards good, fighting for whatever you believed in most as an homage to you, hoping that when he next saw you he'd get to remember the feeling of you throwing your arms around him like you always did when he did something you were proud of, that desire was the only thing keeping him going

Dick Grayson:

- imagine an impending death with dick grayson, maybe it's a medical diagnosis and hope has run out, or a known death date, whatever it maybe- i think only dick would be a character strong enough to stay by your side through it all

- when it just became too hard to go on you and dock both knew what was coming

- he took weeks off nightwing duties, traveling the world and falling deeper in love, eloping somewhere deep in europe to solidify your love eternally no matter where either of you were

- the day it was finally time you were wrapped up in his clothes, your favorite hoodie and sweatpants that smelled of the warm vanilla toasted marshmallow smell you fell in love with

- you'd catch dick swiping away rogue tears all day, trying to make the most of your time together

- as the final hour ticked down you both let everything off your chests, not that there was really anything left

- nestling himself one the crook of your shoulder you inhaled the warm comfortable scent, willing yourself to never forget it when he whispered "i'm not ready to let you go yet" and it broke the both of you, sobbing into each other's shoulders as time stopped

- feeling death begin creeping in you were curled up in dick's embracing, having said your goodbyes to loved ones, damian especially heart broken he was clutching one of your sweatshirts, one day he'd grow out of it but you assumed by then he'd be over the loss

- "does- do you hurt?" dick asked softly as you soaked in his embrace, feeling his tears roll down your touching cheeks

- "it's not scary when you're here dickie" you whispered, pulling his lips in for one last kiss, as you began drifting away you shifted to rest on his collar bone, inhaling the vanilla scent that had been your rock for years, you were glad it would be the last thing you remembered, the best sendoff you could ask for

- dick watched you exhale your last breath peacefully, part of him was glad your pain was over, but that didn't stop the sobs from escaping

- damian crept in, still clinging to your sweatshirt, hopping up into dick's lap, nestled between you and dick, he'd only done it a couple times but he needed it almost as much as dick this time

- and the two held you together, more family members came and went but damian and dick held your vigil, together they helped each other get up and live, falling into a routine of sitting in the same position, your sweatshirt held in their lap, occasionally they'd raise it and take a trip down memory lane with your familiar smell still lingering on the sweatshirt, and that was all they had of you, but now they had each other. and that would have to do until they saw you again

[behindthestrings]

The Shutara Primer (Part 1 Basics)

APPEARANCES

FACECLAIM

SEX: Shutara is a cis-gender female

HEIGHT: I play my Shutara as being under 5 feet tall (4’9’’-4’10’’ish).  It’s funny, since in the TV tropes page, it describes her as a woman who is tall. But whenever I see pictures of her by people, she’s always shorter than them…and she has her giant fucking okubo on.

Here’s her with Yhwach (Her celestial crown barely even breaks his height.)  And THESE are the shoes that she’s wearing, and still appearing that short.

Don’t get me wrong, you can HC your muses all you want, but my Shutara is actually quite small, even though her presence is so OVERWHELMING that you’ll likely never notice unless you’re one of the very few who she lets in her personal space.

WEIGHT: [how heavy/light are they?]

Shutara is very underweight. Like…even for Kubo’s tiny noodle appendages, her joints when you can see them, are so very fine and tiny!  Depending on how she’s living, she yo-yo’s back and forth between 70 and 75 lbs.  (An unhealthy 15 to 16ish BMI.)  I will release my other headcanons on why she is like this later.

BUILD: [Thin? Fat? Bulky? Muscular? Toned? etc]

She is incredibly thin, but the fact that she has the Oken within her, makes her far healthier than she should be.  She’s chiseled muscle and bone.  Statuesque. Not much in the way of curves, but what she does have is very soft to the touch.

HAIR: [describe their hair, is it long or short? Soft or course? Do they style it a certain way? Do they dye it?]

Her hair of course is very long and straight.  It’s currently her natural hair, though in earlier points in time in her life, she had her hair much shorter, and if she needed to keep up a very, very feminine appearance, she would simply wear a wig made from her own hair.  She prefers to keep it pinned up, but when it’s down.   Hnnnngh.  I am so gay for her.

SKIN: [What colour is their skin? Is it rough or smooth? Is it soft or hard?]

Her skin is very pale and very soft.  Except for her hands.  They are rather rough, from callouses built up from working with needles, and of course in her palms from handling her zanpakuto, which I will get to later.

EYES: [What colour are their eyes? Do they have a distinctive sparkle or do they look kind of dull and tired? Long or short eyelashes? Eye bags? Wrinkles? Hooded lids?]

Shutara’s eyes vary in the light between russets, garnets, and the spectrum of colors between burgundy and brown.  She likes to paint her lids to bring them out.  She wishes she had more eyelashes though.  They’re just kind of stick straight and sparse.  So she tends to wear a lot of liner and mascara to make up for it.

MOUTH: [Big mouth or small? Plump lips or thin lips? Perfect white teeth or crooked, gappy ones?]

She prefers to wear lipstick on her relatively full lips.  And of course, it’s a reminder that she needs to be vigilant.  Keep distance, stay graceful, only eat what you need.  

NOSE: [Big or little? Pointy or bulbousy? Huge, cavernous nostrils or teeny little ones?]

She has a cute little nose. It’s not really obtrusive, and given that her eyes and lips are more of what she features, it’s not something that stands out.

HANDS: [Big or small? Manicured fingernails? Claws? Wrinkles? Visible veins? Bony knuckles? Or smooth skin and soft features?]

I talked about this before, in the texture of her hands, but she always works to make sure that her hands are beautiful and presentable—though she rarely shows them to anyone.  Her nails are expertly manicured, and usually painted a matte oxblood red/burgundy.  But they are small, and still somewhat delicate, even though she’s both a seamstress and a warrior.

I’ve always hc’d that Shutara is rather touch averse and has a bit of a sensory processing disorder.  Until word of god says any different, I just assume that she does have real arms given how a couple pictures look.  But I assume that she uses her artificial ones to take in the world in a way that she doesn’t feel overwhelmed by, as well as the superhuman strength and everything else that her artificial arms seem to have.

FEET: [Big or small? Bony or plump? Trimmed toenails? Claws?]

Small.  Prominent tendons.  Just as meticulously manicured as her hands.

SCARS: [Any visible scars?]

Shutara has many scars from needlework.  But the main scar that she has from fighting is when she took a blade right into her left shoulder in a training exercise when she was young.  It’s faded and healed, but if you’re very careful and observe her fighting, that left shoulder/arm is a bit behind in rhythm, and slightly weaker.  She’s worked hard to hide it, but when pressed to her limits, she can only hide so much.

CLOTHES: [What is their clothing style?]

Shutara prefers Eastern styles of dress, but she enjoys making and wearing any style of clothing that she finds interesting.  She adores being able to have touchable fabrics.  Silks, velvets, velours, satins, etc.  And when she’s not in Captain or Eastern dress styles and exploring more Western styles, you will find her rocking the tallest pair of high heels you could ever imagine.  

[rogerina-deacon]

Could you write hcs of how the boys from Queen would react to your scars? I'm feeling real bad rn and idk.. you don't have to, obviously, but if you do, thanks!

A/N: So I’m not completely sure what type of scars you mean, but given some context clues I’m going to guess self harm scars? If not, let me know and I’ll rewrite this (don’t pay attention to requests being closed for this, if this isn’t what you wanted I’d be more than happy to redo it for you). Also, if anyone reading this is struggling with depression, self-harm, or any unpleasant thoughts along those lines, please seek some form of help and treatment. If you need someone to talk to and relate to, I’m here. I’m not a proper therapist, but I’ve been in therapy for years and am a good listener. But of course, if you can, seek help from a therapist. They can do a much better job than I can.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM

Brian (Three years clean)

When Brian found out you used to harm yourself, it felt like his heart sank into his stomach

His eyes softened and welled as he took your hands in his, moving them to show your inner forearms

“Love, I can’t see them” he noted, squinting to see anything

“It’s been years and they were never that deep, but you can faintly see them if I point them out” You said, and he released your hands as you brought your right index finger to your left wrist and pointed to one

“This was my first, oldest yet most noticeable” You said, pointing out a pale line two inches down from the bottom of your hand

“Holy shit, I can see it… Y/N, love, why did you do this?” He asked, almost pleading as he brushed his calloused thumb over the faded scar, a lone tear escaping his eyes

“Brian, don’t worry about that, it’s all behind me, and I don’t really want to rehash that. I just… figured you should know this part of it, I guess”

“So you don’t want to do this?” He asked, wondering if he needed to be worried about you more than he already was

“No, oh God no! Brian, I’m pretty much over what happened to me. I’ve got coping mechanisms now that work, and my meds control the depression when I do have it. Trust me, babe, I’m fine.” You assured him, making sure he knew that you were doing much better than you were when you created those scars

“Okay, love. But you can talk to me about anything, okay? I am always here for you. Always.” He said, now holding your hands again and lightly shaking them for emphasis

“I know, Bri. Thank you.” You said, nodding your head as it hung, your forehead resting against his

“Any time. I love you.” He said, moving his head to an angle where his lips could reach yours to connect them in a sweet kiss

“I love you too” You replied once he pulled away, and he led you to the couch where you two spent the rest of the day cuddled up together

John (Six months clean, thoughts of relapsing)

When you and John met, it was autumn, so you had an excuse to constantly wear a hoodie

He figured you just got cold easily and never pushed it, and that whenever he tried to take things further and you wouldn’t take it off, he thought you just weren’t ready

And he never brought it up, wanting you to not feel pressured

But months passed, and it was the warmest day yet and there was no way you could survive the day in long sleeves, especially when he had planned a picnic in the park to celebrate the weather

So you figured it was best to tell him that day, and so you invited him inside your flat when he picked you up so you weren’t springing it on him in public

Especially since you were having some thoughts you haven’t had in a while and were planning on asking him for help, and you didn’t exactly want to cry in the park

You were wearing your hoodie, of course, and John was a bit confused, especially since your AC hadn’t been put in yet

“Dear, why are you wearing your hoodie inside?” He said, slightly chuckling as you led him to the couch

“Um, well I don’t normally, but I, uh, I need to tell you something.” You said, and he was concerned right away

“What is it? Have I done something wrong?” He asked, worried he had fucked things up with you

“No, no, John you haven’t done anything wrong. But, um, I did a while ago…” You trailed off, and he seemed confused about this but watched as you peeled off the cotton hoodie, slowly revealing the scars littering your arms

His eyes widened as he stared in disbelief, almost studying them as he looked at the reddened skin, some smooth, others the slightest bit scabbed over as they healed all these months later

“Wait, did you- did you do this to yourself?” He asked, his hand reaching out tentatively, wondering if he could touch them

Nodding, you gave him the okay to brush his fingers along your skin before responding

“Yeah, I um, I was in a really dark place, and this was my way to cope. I haven’t done it in half a year but…”

“But? But what, Y/N?” He asked, noticing the way your eyes seemed distant as you pondered what to say next

“But, um, I’ve been having some thoughts, and I’m kind of scared, John. I feel like I might relapse and I’m scared that I will, that I’ll fuck up six months of progress, that I’ll-” You rambled, but he cut you off, pulling you close into a tight hug, a few tears falling from your eyes and onto John’s t-shirt as he rubbed your back and soothed you

“You won’t. Not with me here to help you. Not with my love and support, not with the love and support of the guys. But if you do, that’s okay. Recovery isn’t perfect. But I will always be here, love, okay?” He said, and you nodded, sniffling a bit as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks

“Now, are you ready for that picnic?” He asked, and you chuckled as you got up with him and made your way to his car, without your hoodie.

Roger (Eight years clean)

“C’mon, love, we’re gonna be late!” He called to you in the bathroom from the bedroom

You were currently sat on the toilet just staring at your arm, squinting as you looked at the just barely present scars

“Love, what’re you doing-” he started, entering the bathroom

“What’s so special about that arm that you have to stare at it while you use the toilet?” He teased, walking closer before crouching next to you

“Oh, nothing, just let me wash my hands and we can go.” You said, rushing to stand up and pull up your underwear

“What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange?’ He asked, moving to stand behind you at the sink, his hands trailing down your arms from your shoulders, trying to gently move your forearms so he could see what was so interesting

“I don’t see anything, love. Have you finally gone mad?” He joked, smiling at you in the mirror

“Rog, don’t joke about that.” You warned, and his face turned into that of a confused puppy

“What’s going on with you?” He asked, and that was the straw that broke the camels back for you

“What’s going on is that I’m not a fan of when people use ableist slurs in their jokes, okay.”

“Ableist… what? Love all I’m saying is I don’t get why you were staring at your arm, no need to-”

“Rog, I have depression. You know this. ‘Mad’ is a term used against people with mental illness. I don’t like when it’s treated lightly.” You explained, though you were still all over the place to him.

“I don’t get how this explains your arm-”

“I used to cut myself, Roger.” You said, face blank and tone cold, your words shocking your fiancee into a state of shock

“Y-you, you what? Why did I never know this?” He asked, stepping towards you

“Because it’s a part of my past I’m not proud of. I did it, but I don’t like that I did it. I’ve been trying to suppress it, but I could still see the scars on my arm so I guess I just froze.” You explained, plopping down onto the bed with a huff

Roger just did the same, laying next to you at the edge with his legs hanging off the edge

“You know I love you, right?” He said, and you just dryly chuckled, taking his hand

“I do, Rog.”

“And you know I’d never intentionally say something to upset you, right?”

“I know, Rog.” You said, squeezing his hand in emphasis

“Wanna spend the night at home?” He suggested, his thumb reassuringly brushing your hand

“What about Freddie’s party? You know he’ll throw a fit next time he sees you if you don’t show tonight.”

“Well screw him, I want to spend the night alone with my girl and he’s just gonna have to deal with him. Besides, it’s been awhile since he’s been mad at me for something besides my drumming, so I guess I’m due for it.” He said, the two of you laughing as he pulled you into his side, your leg throwing itself over his waist to get as close as possible

But he soon adjusted to to lay at the top of the bed and dragged you with him, the two of you not caring to change out of your party clothes and opting to just cuddle and fall asleep like that.

Freddie (platonic) (Struggling to get clean)

Keeping secrets from best friends is always hard, but it’s even harder when your best friend is so good at reading people you’d think he’s a mind reader

He could tell your mood as soon as he saw you, so of course you couldn’t hide your depression

But luckily no matter what you wore he couldn’t see the scars on your upper thighs, all your jeans, dresses and skirts covering them

Until one day he wanted to catch his friends in candid moments with his new camera, and decided he wanted to give you a Marilyn Monroe moment, turning a fan on that made your skirt fly unexpectedly, giving Freddie the perfect view of fresh cuts from the night before

���Darling, where did you get those?” He asked, putting the camera down

“Oh, um, you know how my cats get-”

“Cats aren’t that persistent, dear, nor are their claws that wide. Now, care to tell me the truth?” He asked, sounding like a disappointed mother who just smelled booze on her child’s breath.

“I, um, well-” You started, not sure how to tell him

“I know you did this to yourself, though to be honest I din’t know why.” He said, alleviating some pressure from you

“I guess I just feel like I deserve it…” you said, looking down

“No one deserves that, and you know it. Only the most horrendous people do, like rapists and murderers, and you are neither, my dear.”

“I know, I just-”

“No need to explain, I understand that your depression gets the best of you. But now that I know how shitty it makes you treat yourself I’m gonna keep an eye on you. Every day, you’ll show me your thighs, and I’ll-”

“Fred, that’s not necessary-”

“Y/N, you are cutting yourself, it’s necessary. Why don’t you come live with me? That way I can-”

“I don’t need that, Freddie! I don’t need you hounding me and guilting me into stopping! What I do need, though, is your help and support in getting clean. Can you do that?” You asked, taking his hand

“Of course I can, darling. I just worry, you know. I don’t want to get a call from some hospital and think I didn’t do everything I could.” He said, tears ready to fall from his eyes

“You won’t, Freddie.” You assured, tears ready to fall from your eyes as well

“Now, I think I have another idea for a candid photo of you. Just, stay there.”

“Freddie, don’t-” You said, but it but then he already had the camera up to his face and was adjusting the exposure before taking the picture

The shot he had gotten was of you, sitting on the couch, hand up blocking your face, skirt of your dress pulled up, revealing you scars

“I think I might have an eye for edgy photography, love” He announced before going back to the couch to sit with you, where you just sat and talked for the rest of the day.

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[nozomijoestar]

Wrote NaraTrish having fun, confessing, and comforting each other bc they’re so great as either friends or a couple

*This isn’t for nasty pedo thotties or prudish infantilizing thotties, both sides of the discourse shut up 1-2 year gap max is fine and no one should ever sexualize minors with or without adults, this is for well adjusted people who recognize teens can explore sexuality and romance without showing sex or being disgusting fetish ty 

Anyway I made like 3 Aerosmith song references if you can find them cool keep on rockin (extra bonus if you know what the allusion is at the final paragraph and line) also bisexual hc for both

"Your hands are a lot bigger than mine. That's friggin unfair. I'm a guy!" Trish giggled yet the only irritation he felt aimed at himself. He knew why that was. How he once scrounged a year eating trash; no home or bed and the eyes of wolves reflected in anyone else. When he would tell her however remained uncertain. It brought only shame. "Narancia there's nothing wrong with that. Look, you're covered with callouses. I'd never get one in a million years." She smiled and separated their hands to trace along his. Her finger ran along his lifeline; a patch of skin on his left palm mangled by scars. He didn't know what quick thing he should say. His boyish eyes were too dazzled by how smooth she was by comparison. How nice she smelled. The way he carried himself just didn't cut it. But now wasn't the time to think, Trish was speaking. "If you're worried about looking manly I think you're already there. Halfway at least." Narancia groaned and hung his head. The bravado he clung to deflated. She touched their foreheads. Their hands returned to their laps. No hesitation bothered Trish when she stroked his cheek. He moved to rest his head against her shoulder. "You really think I'm doing a good job Trish? This whole thing, this fuckin mess...Your life in danger...Your asshole dad-" "I said before to all of you. Even if I have to die by the end; I won't meet it without knowing who I came from. I'll see this through never running away." She felt him sigh and lean against her. She'd flooded confidence into what she said. It was conviction. Not just because she believed it, or because facing one's problems defined responsibility. Courage propelled Narancia forward; eased past his turbulent indecisiveness whenever he wasn't under threat. Buccellati breathed such a thing as if it were life energy. Without her full awareness that will had a hand in shaping her, when exactly she couldn't say. To think the same man she might regard as a true father often disregarded Narancia being wounded short of death- that gnawed at her. To Trish, risking his life being part of the job didn't justify some callousness. Whether she loved Narancia as a man or a comrade he mattered beyond being ordered. When she realized he'd gone awfully quiet she embraced him. He was so small despite being an inch taller. A minute passed before anything came from him. "I was so scared. Following everyone- I was so so scared. Buccellati's never been wrong; but when I had to make up my own mind I froze. That's awful...I owe him everything but I froze. Why couldn't I just be ready to die for him and come along to begin with?" She pet his hair and leaned against him closing her eyes. He felt coarse, even a bit sweaty. No one could remember the last time they'd taken consistent showers. Yet the longer she felt his heart in silence the more she didn't care. Only he could do that. Of the talkative bunch Mista was a friend; but his fault lay in the ways he bore himself down. Asserted himself a bit too intensely. Narancia had been different from the start. Thus by her book he got away with less. Most importantly he was the easiest to talk to. He could be loud and quick tempered at insults- then soft spoken the moment he grew unsure in himself, or unsure at saying the right thing on his mind. Even if he didn't always understand, he knew how to consider what others suffered. Not once could Trish remember him speaking to her knowingly with ill intent. So she held him thinking, grasping in her mind for any smart sounding solutions. Anything Buccellati might say as much as it annoyed her to admit it. Ultimately that proved fruitless. No one else but Buccellati could be him after all. Instead she said, "No one is glad to die Narancia." He tensed up. Trish pulled back and looked him in the eyes; spoke directly to his heart. "No one's glad to die even if they say they are. They'll hate it right to the moment it happens. I think you were right to hesitate. That's not an easy choice." "Hmm...if you say so. Giorno gave me hope what I chose was right y'know; he's that kinda guy. I gotta figure out how to do that for me. And I guess also...the stuff you said about not giving up on finding things out..." Narancia fiddled with his hands. Mussed his hair. Buying this much time to think in conversation set off Trish's suspicions. She raised an eyebrow; that was her tell. "I thought you were a lot like me. But you don't just do things on whims, so I guess not. Sorry." The room inside the turtle grew quiet only for a pause. Trish broke it with a laugh light as air. Immediately Narancia's grim mood was wiped away by a panic. He spoke as she kept laughing. "Did I say something dumb?" Trish wiped a tear from her eye and fell calm. She had such control of her emotions sometimes he could always tell where one had stopped and the other began. Emotion through his mind took on the unguided frenzy of a storm. The idea of control, like obeying authority he didn't choose, slid off him no better than oil on water. "No no Narancia just silly. You can empathize with someone without being them." "Empathize? What's that mean?" "Means you can understand what someone feels. You understand it and share it. Usually if you've gone through similar things." "My mom died when I was younger and my dad could care less about me too. That's why I emp...empi-" "Em-pa-thigh-ze." "Yeah that. Empathize." "That's alright Narancia I get it." She wouldn't press him for more. That would come in his own time on his own terms. Not knowing everything didn't make the pang in her heart less real. "Dads suck huh?" They laughed. They didn't know if it was to mask hurt or dry humor or both. Though it felt sudden but certainly wasn't, now Trish wanted anything to change the mood. She stood up and Narancia's eyes followed in constant interest. No one needed to say anything for him to mimic her. "I never showed you my Stand did I? You were injured." In an instant every feature of Narancia's face glowed excitement. He made exaggerated gestures and talked almost twice as fast. The others could find it annoying or immature but she saw endearing. "You didn't you have to show me! What's its name? Lemme see lemme see!" "Settle down Narancia I'm not going anywhere." Trish stood still and shut her eyes. She breathed a deep breath. Her concentration would've faltered if it weren't his eyes watching. A trick she's formed was to focus on an idea of her father. How she'd hit him back. The rest came easy. "Spice Girl." A feeling on her skin like a buzz when you come close to an electric current swept over her. Behind her, from her a shimmering humanoid figure emerged. Despite all the attention it took to summon Spice Girl appeared in an instant. It matched her height and build; that was where the similarities ended. It's skin was pinks and reds and rare whites. The eyes were catty and yellow; all emotion reserved to observe the world. Symbols marked its head, kneecaps, and shoulders. Though he never finished elementary school Narancia thanked Fugo for learning to recognize them. They were equation markers. Addition and division. Something akin to a tunic with narrow rectangular gaps covered its chest. A tiny skirt resembling a Centurion's at the end of that hid the groin. It said nothing yet stared at him; peered into him as if seeing not his body but Aerosmith. Trish opened her eyes; shifted from looking lovingly up at her Stand to enthralled Narancia. His naturally big eyes gave him the wonder of a child. That she always found cute. What hitched her breath came seeing the gentle fascination, the pride for someone else, the way he stared as though it were the only thing he'd find tender. She moved to walk closer toward him and found him doing the same. He remained entranced until they gently collided. Finally his eyes fell on her again; their sweet emotion unchanged. In one of those rare contemplative moments he spoke soft but genuine. Forever genuine. He didn't know any other way to be. "It's really nice Trish. Way cooler than Aerosmith. It looks like it always knows what to do; that's you all the way. Looks strong." Suddenly her face grew red hot; her first blush not from embarrassment. If Narancia noticed he didn't say it, but he probably had. "What can it do?" "It makes anything softer. Like rubber. And that-" She rose her hand and clenched it the way Spice Girl had done at its awakening. "Makes them stronger than diamonds." Spice Girl punched the floor in a blink. The rug beneath them stretched like gum. Narancia stares down trembling ever so slightly. The fabric had appeared to melt into a reflective puddle. Shifting his feet produced a rubbery squish. It consumed him faster than quicksand. Before they could sink knee deep as the ground gave way, it was undone. He sighed and caught his breath. Little by little his composure returned. Though he would never be endangered at her hand such strength made anyone nervous. Spice Girl returned within Trish. They were within arms length. "Pretty crazy huh? I'd never have believed it till it appeared." Narancia nodded dumbly. When she took his hands again he swallowed hard; looked her head on. He had a knack for reading into anything if he applied himself. Right now it washed away under the racing of his heart. There was an energy to her expression he'd never seen on anyone. A look he once imagined Fugo might wear. His body tingled. Trish spoke uncharacteristically sheepish. Paused in places where he thought she'd be firm. Her thumbs brushed along his and it gave him a chill. He didn't want to pull back. The last bits of his rationale struggled to give answers. Was she sick? Did she need to lie down? More importantly how much longer did they have alone? What would he tell the guys? Buccellati? "Narancia I...uh well...this might be weird but- have you ever kissed someone?" A pause. His memory skipped in disbelief. "W-What?" "Kissed someone. Anyone. On the mouth." "Like how my parents used to?" Trish laughed into a sigh. "Yeah like that." Narancia scrambled to undo the burned out engine his thoughts became. He was growing way too hot. Hot the way he sometimes did dreaming of Fugo, or some magazine model, or...Trish. Those nights he'd wake up covered in sweat and dazed. The feeling crashed its way into the present faster than a plane. He couldn't meet her eyes. "No. You'll probably say it's weird but I used to...imagine that with Fugo. N-Not all the time! It would just happen and I couldn't do anything about it." "Oh? Really?" "Yeah. It's stupid cuz guys are supposed to think about girls. And that kind of stuff with them..." If he were looking he'd see some of Trish's fire dampen. She didn't let it reach her voice. "Do you still think of him that way?" "No! N-No...not since he left. I mean I can get why but, he abandoned us when we needed him." His eyes flit to her again. "When you needed him. It's made me real confused; angry too I guess." "Well it's not weird. Not to me. Don't tell anyone but sometimes I've thought of girls too and-" Trish grew fully red in the face again. Even she couldn't finish that sentence. Narancia gasped; his expression lit up with something not painful. "So you get it then! I thought I was the only one. Boys and girls...I don't think I care which." "Right? I don't think I could choose either. But my real question is-" She leaned closer letting him hear her heart through her pulse. He didn't need Aerosmith to tell her breathing went fluttery. It made him want to lean in. "Have you ever wanted to kiss me?" Wordlessly he held her. The spinning indecisiveness that had him tail diving righted itself. He stared at her with his mind made. The tiny gasp she gave at the move solidified his resolve. This wasn't a dream. "You should've just asked me that in the first place." "Eh? So you-" "To be honest I thought you'd never ask or do anything. I'm not the brightest guy at this stuff." "Sorry..." "It's alright." "Really?" "Yeah." Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart. "Ah-" Their eyes shut at the brush of their lips. Neither needed direction or would've taken any from anyone but themselves. He felt Trish wrap her arms around his neck; pressed all of herself against him the way he did her. Slowly she pulled him down with her fingers in his hair. Kissed him stronger when they knelt in sync. The feel of his touch along her jaw electrified them both. Affectionately he brushed her hair behind her ear. No longer than seconds passed each time they separated into another kiss; shallow  or meaningful. One after another. The thought of being caught with one look into the turtle from above meant nothing to their roaring hearts. How long it'd been before they separated they didn't know. They sighed against each other. Trish was the first to smile; to giggle in that mystical way Narancia couldn't explain but felt. He kissed her forehead; hated to let go. "Trish I lov-" She put a finger to his lips. "You've already said it for now. Just hold me. I wanna know you're really here." "Ok...ok." They laid on the rug embracing all the while. When she leaned against his chest and tickled his neck at each breath- that was a home. A place only they had. She tilted his chin and he gave it gladly; blushed at the kiss on his nose. At this distance he felt her heart through his. He rested his cheek atop Trish's hair. "Are people always this warm so close?" She asked. "I dunno. Never checked." "I guess we found out anyway." He heard the sleepiness in her voice. She grew heavier against him; relaxed into his shape. He looked down to find her eyes closed. Trish wrapped her arm tighter around his waist. He returned the favor as she slept. Narancia felt himself tire. Trish was the warmest heat he'd ever known. It could rage for him like a furnace one moment, then be gentler than sunlight. He blinked hard and fast. Never took his gaze off Trish. To hell if he was tired. He didn't want to miss a moment. Never one to deny his impulses he kissed her eyes. She made a soft noise against him. Like dusk to dawn the present became the past. The need to rest his body weighed upon him began to win. Before he could drift away his mind showed him a fleeting image. He was alone again. Damp and dirty and his bandaged eye burning. Two years ago that kind of night blended into the next without end. He'd clutch his only blanket tight; his only comfort against death or cold or despair. Narancia glanced at Trish a final time. The helpless boy of then rested into the arms of his blanket, his safety. He'd never slept so soundly.

[thirstyforred]

a lot of bold the statement things with Nam that i found in my drafts

elemental tag

RULES: Bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations [or modern au here]

AIR: I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE: I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls • I play an organized sport • I love dogs • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers• I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER: I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm • I want to travel the world • I sleep past midnight most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors not words

EARTH: I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued advisor to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER: I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I can always smell flowers • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

BOLD WHAT APPLIES TO YOUR MUSE. (ITALIC IS FOR MODERN AU SETTING!)

Body

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight.Overweight.

Height

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm.171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

Skin

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Moles. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

Eyes

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Violet. Pink. Green. Gold.Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

Hair

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Afro. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Jaw length. Mohawk. Dreadlocks. Box braids. Faux locks. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows.Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

Tattoos / Piercings

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Face tattoo. Hand tattoo. A few here and there.Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings.Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretched out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

Cosmetics

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Nude lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears war paint from time to time. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up.

Scent

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Fur. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Metal. Rain.

Clothes

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic.Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop.Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie.Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colors. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor.

Shoes

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

CHARACTER STATS

(bold all that applies. italicize leaning. strike former.)

WEALTH  —  [fck, i now have to write full post about my Aen Elle hc’s?? because this section was werdly hard]

$  financial.  // wealthy /  moderate  /  poor  /  in poverty ✚  medical.  // fit / moderate  /  sickly  /  disadvantaged /  disabled  /  not applicable ✪  class.  //   upper / middle-working /  poor  /  slave  /  unsure ✔  education.  //  qualified  /  unqualified /  studying  /  other ✖  criminal record.  //  yes, for major crimes  / yes, for minor crimes  /  no  / has committed crimes, but has not been caught yet

FAMILY  —

◒  children.  //  has one or more children /  has no children /  wants children  /  verse dependent ◑  relationship with family.  // close with sibling(s)  /  not close with sibling(s) /  has no sibling(s)  /  siblings are deceased ◔  affiliation.  //   orphaned  /  adopted  /  disowned  / raised by birth parent(s) /  not applicable [i mean... elves]

TRAITS ��+  TENDENCIES  —

♦  extrovert // introvert // in between ♦  disorganized  // organized // in between ♦  close-minded  //  open-minded //   in between [Tir na Lia is so much diffrent place] ♦  calm  // anxious // in between ♦  disagreeable  // agreeable //  in between ♦  cautious  // reckless  //  in between ♦  patient //  impatient // in between ♦  outspoken  //  reserved  // in between ♦  leader  // follower // in between ♦  empathetic //  indifferent  // in between [she got a bit more empathetic in Witcherlands] ♦  optimistic //  pessimistic // in between [more like realistic] ♦  traditional  // modern // in between [what does it even mean here?] ♦  hardworking  // lazy  // in between   ♦  cultured  //  uncultured  //  in between   ♦  loyal  //  disloyal  //  in between ♦  faithful // unfaithful  // in between [there’s no faith - only Spiral]

BELIEFS  —

★  faith.  //  monotheist  / polytheist  /  atheist  / agnostic  / it’s complicated ☆  belief in ghosts or spirits.  //  yes /  no /  don’t know  /  don’t care [would be hard to fight with them if she didn’t believed in ghosts] ✮  belief in an afterlife.  // yes  / no /  don’t know /  don’t care ✯  belief in reincarnation.  // yes /  no / don’t know / don’t care ❃  belief in aliens.  //  yes /  no  /  don’t know  /  don’t care [more like invanders from other worlds] ❀  philosophical.  //  yes  /  no  /  sometimes

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION  —

❤  sexuality.   /  heterosexual /  homosexual  / bisexual /  asexual  /  pansexual /  demisexual /  questioning ❥  sex.  //  sex repulsed  / sex neutral  / sex favorable ♥  romance.  //  romance repulsed  /  romance neutral / romance favorable [there were two (2) guys in her long, long sluty live] ❣  sexually.  // adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced  /  curious  /  inhibited ⚧  potential sexual partners.  //  male  /  female  /  other  /  none  / all ⚧  potential romantic partners.  // male / female /  other  /  none  / all

ABILITIES  —

☠  combat skills.  //  excellent  /  good  / moderate /  poor  / none ≡  literacy skills.  //  excellent /  good  /  moderate  /  poor  /  none [Nilfgaardian and Elder Speech are rubbish, and how even come up with Common?..] ✍  artistic skills.  //  excellent /  good  /  moderate  / poor /  none ✂  technical skills.  //  excellent  / good /  moderate /  poor  /  none

HABITS  —

☕  drinking alcohol.  //  never  / sometimes /  frequently /  to excess ☁  smoking.  //  never /  sometimes  /  frequently  /  to excess ✿  other narcotics.  //  never /  sometimes /  frequently  /  to excess [fistech is a thing for a reason...] ✌  medicinal drugs.  //  never  / sometimes  /  frequently  /  to excess ☻  indulgent in food.  //  never  /  sometimes /  frequently  /  to excess $  splurge spending.  //  never  /  sometimes / frequently /  to excess ♣  gambling.  //  never /  sometimes /  frequently  /  to excess

Negative OC Traits

Bold always or almost always applies. Italic occasional or situational.

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful