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#no sarcasm though i love this armor
cicadaknight · 1 year
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love an armor made of belts
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Genshin characters and you putting lotion on their scars
Hiiii. So I have many many scars and this morning while I was putting lotion on I thought, huh wouldn't it be nice to have someone do this for me? To give such a mundane act of care... so romantic! 
Anyways, not everyone has scars like me but all our favorite genshin boys and girls are fighters and that means they have to have some sort of scar! 
Feel free to request more characters for a part two to this! I'll be doing a part two regardless, but if you have a great idea for a character I'll definitely incorporate it! 
Characters: Diluc, Tartaglia, Kazuha, and Beidou. 
part. 2
Diluc 
We all know that Diluc is commonly head cannoned to have a fuck ton of scars. Bro probably doesn't do shit with them either. You'd probably catch him with the incessant itch. Dear god, that is horrible, for you non-scar havers, the itch is nonstop, and when you scratch it's painful like a rash except all burny and dry. Please help him moisturize his scars. He's gotta be in so much pain. 
You've caught him with his hand under his shirt again, the rapid scratching looking frantic as he itches. 
"Diluc," you murmur a hand catching his arm and stilling his movements. "Did you put on your lotion this morning?" 
You watch him sigh, his scratching hand reluctantly making its way to yours instead. 
"No love, I didn't have time." 
"You can't not have time for your health Diluc!" You chastise him gently, though your tone holds some frustration. You're already moving to the bedroom, dragging him along and pushing him onto the bed. 
"Stay." You say with a pointed finger and you move to the connected bathroom, fetching the lotion out of the cabinet. 
Diluc has already taken his shirt off by the time you get back to the bedroom, resigned to his fate. You smile at him in approval and his gaze softens just a bit. 
"You have to be doing this every day," you remind him and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes. 
"I know." He retorts but it lacks the sarcasm and retains the hint of affection he tries to suppress. 
"Are you sure? Cause you can't seem to do it properly anyways." You mumble and he huffs the slightest laugh. You can't help your heart melt every time he does it, even if it's small. You can't help your smile either, as you gather lotion on your fingertips and start to spread it onto his skin. 
Diluc seems to enjoy your ministrations because he lets out a hum in contentment, eyes falling closed as you massage the lotion into his skin. 
You let your hands glide along his chest, spreading across his scars as you admire and recall each one. 
"Thank you, my love." 
Tartaglia
I personally head cannon Ajax to have self-harm scars but I won't mention anything about it here. I think he probably has really erratic and odd scars. The abyss probably had all kinds of horrors with different ways of causing harm. But since Ajax is the type to purposely get himself into a fight he'll most certainly lose, I also think he's the type to purposely let himself get injured for the thrill of it. He would wear his scars as a sort of armor, he acts cocky about them but is actually quite shameful. 
You catch his eyes lingering in the mirror just before you bathe together. He can't help but feel conflicted over the scars he's accumulated. On one hand, he feels proud that he could have survived such horrible atrocities. Gone through hell and come out the other side with battle scars and his life. On the other hand, he now has to live with permanent markings on his body, an equally permanent reminder of the past that haunts him. 
“Ajax?” You murmur, a hand finding its way to his bicep, absent-mindedly tracing the scars that reside there. “Are you alright?” 
Your voice snaps him out of his trance-like state and he once again puts on his cheerful facade. 
“Just admiring my amazing body!” He quips and winks at you in the mirror but you frown at his masked emotions. 
“Don't bullshit me, Ajax.” He all but flinches at your harsh reply. “I know you better than that, love.” 
His mask falls and the man you know returns, a frown adorning his boyish features. You follow his gaze to your hand on his arm and suddenly you know. He must see the realization on your face because he speaks up before you can say anything. 
“You know me better than anyone.” He sighs and his hand comes up to cover yours. “I just don't like them is all.” He doesn't need to state it outright, he knows you know what he means. 
“If it means anything, I like them.” Your words are hushed and he can feel your hand leave his body as you shift away from him. 
“Why’s that?” He asks as you busy yourself looking through the cabinets. 
“Reminds me that you're not perfect. That you have weaknesses just like anyone else. That you're more human than you like to believe.” You say this nonchalantly like it's not the most genuine thing anyone's ever said about him. He watches you emerge from the cabinet with a bottle of lotion and a smile. You let the words sink in as you gather lotion in your hand. 
“I like them because they’re a part of you. They tell the story of how you became strong and how you weren't always that way.” You can't help but hum fondly as his eyes follow your movements. How your gentle hands caress him in a way not even his mother has since he was fourteen. Your hands glide up his shoulder blades, curve around to reach his front, and touch every part he hates. 
“I love them because I love you. All of you.” 
Kazuha
His bandaged hand is scarred from when he grabbed his friend's vision. That shit’s gotta hurt so bad, burn scars are a pain in the ass to take care of too. Especially since they’re so sensitive to sunlight. It makes sense why he would keep his hand bandaged even after his wound has healed. Though it's gotta be so itchy under there. Please be careful when handling his hand, scars like that are painful for years after they’ve healed. (I feel like he would be hesitant to show you it, so the scenario is your first time seeing/taking care of it.)
“Please, can I help you?” You’ve asked him this more times than you can count, always pleading gently to see his scar and getting the same rejection every time. So you don't expect it when his red eyes go dark and he just barely nods.  
“Okay.” He says quietly and you can only blink in shock before gathering yourself and leading him to the bathroom. 
He sits on the edge of the tub and patiently waits for you to find the salve he puts on his hand. Your heart beats faster than you like at the sight of his eyes so far gone. Maybe he's disassociating? You don't bother asking as you settle down in front of him. 
Your gentle hands take his bandaged one, and you look up at him to make sure it's still okay. He nods again and you continue wordlessly, deft fingers unraveling white gauze with ease. It doesn't take long for his skin to be exposed and you take in the sight of his scar. 
It takes a lot to not wince or grimace, the burn has left more scar than skin. The tissue is still red and angry, the texture severely affected in odd pattern-like ways. But you manage to smile sadly at the sight, how much willpower must it take to willingly catch a burning object and hold onto it? To ignore every instinct and cling to something so painful. To say Kazuha is resolute and tenacious would be a massive understatement. 
“Tell me if it hurts.” You mumble, wholly engrossed in caring for him. Your hands gather the salve in your fingers and start to gently spread it across his palm. His arm tenses up but he says nothing. 
The process is short, simply letting the salve sit on top of his skin, not daring to massage it in. He seems grateful for this. It's not long before you're wrapping new gauze around his palm threading it between his fingers. 
“Thank you,” he whispers when you're done, slipping down to the floor with you and hugging your waist. He buries his head in your chest and you hold him there. 
“Anytime, love.” 
Beidou
The scar under her eye patch, I know a lot of people think she doesn't have one but for the sake of this, imagine she does. I think she's probably less forthcoming about the eyepatch because of the scar. Do you guys remember in her hangout how she was talking about her childhood and how she chased a dog to get its food and had to fight it? I feel like the dog probably scratched her eye and left her partially blind and scarred. And that part of the hangout is one of the only times we see Beidou feeling solemn, it’s gotta be a tough memory for her. 
She tells you the story the first time she lets you see it. For once, her demeanor is less than confident, no longer renowned captain of the crux, uncrowned queen of the sea, only Beidou. 
It's very obviously an old scar, not very big or intense. When you see it you focus more on her actual eye, her iris is a faded pinkish-red color, the pupil distorted and uneven. 
“I can still see a little bit on that side but it's all messed up and blurry, so I wear the eye patch.” She explains and you frown at the thought. 
“Did it hurt?” You ask, voice quiet and tentative. 
“I… don't really remember, to be honest.” Her eyes seem far away at the thought. “I just remember being so hungry. It was the only thing I could think about.” 
Your eyes study her expression, one you've never seen on her before. Its sorrow, longing, and pure pain all wrapped up in one. You let your finger trail the length of the scar on her eyelid. The lotion spreads with the motion, smearing white against her pale skin. The eyepatch has left a tan line that would've been comical if not for the sad story behind it. 
“Thank you for telling me,” you whisper, “and for letting me see it.” 
“Of course.” She says. “I trust you.”
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morgana-ren · 10 months
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Astarion in a relationship with Tav slowly but surely gets more used to physical touch as a form of reassurance and comfort. In Baldur’s Gate Astarion gets more anxious, Tav sensing his anxiety holds his hand. It anchor’s him to reality. He gently strokes Tav’s hand with his thumb, it’s small but he’s extremely grateful.
Everyone in the party is chiding Astarion for his sudden change in attitude around Tav though. Especially Lae-zel.
It would take a very long time, and when it happened, it would become a sort of strange codependence. Vampires stand ever at the precipice of an endless, abyssal eternity, and I feel that makes them very susceptible to the traditional and almost primal idea of a 'mate.' You have to have some sort of anchor to reality when you're robbing the mind of its one certainly: mortality. Cazador clearly chose his cruelty and dominion, and I think that and his experience is influencing Astarion to do the same, but he isn't Cazador, and he shows that-- whether he means to or not.
During the early part of their adventures, Astarion is very heavily masked, or 'chameleoned' around everyone. He has this posh, pompous air of arrogance and flamboyance, and uses his wit and snide sarcasm as a defense mechanism to keep everyone at arm's length. You can see it start to crack when he gets emotional or is surprised, or even just doesn't have things go his way. He is rash, angry, and explosive - feral almost. A fanged creature baring claw and teeth because that is all he knows, and when threatened, he reverts to his true nature, despite that it was forced on him.
For example, when he is trying to inspect his scars and you offer to help and he is surprised, he snaps on you. He is quick to apologize and rescind what he said, but that's him putting that mask back on. It's clear he is very angry and losing control now that he can finally view his situation through an unobscured lens and it's still frustrating.
He quickly realizes that he's shown a crack in his armor and straightens his spine and sucks it up for the sake of the facade. It happens a few times, but it's so, so hard to wear that heavy mask for weeks into months as he travels, and harder still to hide from someone who cares about him when he's spent so long in the dark alone.
Astarion shows fairly early on that he isn't averse to touch— just touch he doesn't approve of. Assuming you do the right things, he'll lie with you fairly early, but he makes it relatively clear that this isn't love. He'll even tell you outright that he'd say it but it's a lie. He is purposefully distancing himself because he doesn't want any distractions, any weakness, any vulnerability.
But this is all new-- so dreadfully, and terribly new. He doesn't even remember his life before Cazador, so in a sense, all he has ever known has been cruelty. Thorns and brambles hardly make for comfort, especially when they're self-imposed. Eventually, he might come to the realization that he doesn't have to go at this alone, and why should he? Eternity is such a long time to spend on one's own.
He gets nervous. He gets anxious. He pushes on but there are situations that blatantly frighten him. He stiffens his upper lip and handles it like he thinks he should-- on his own, with his fear shoved aside in his mind and his goal in front-- but would relenting be such a bad thing?
Taking comfort where he can find it: In the kindred spirit he found on the roadside. Someone who happens to be one of the only ones that knows what he's going through at the moment-- and one of the only people in the world that seems to understand him on some level. Having someone at your side doesn't have to be a vulnerability-- it can be a strength. Two blades are better than one, and life is so much easier when you have someone there to watch your back.
It's a small touch-- gentle and hardly noticeable at all-- just a subtle hand-hold, or a little grasp on the arm; standing closely enough together that you can feel each other's warmth or perhaps a tiny, inconspicuous nuzzle. It means the world to him, when he allows it. It shows him he's not alone-- and he doesn't have to be. When they can't indulge fully in each other far from the fireside of camp, he can take comfort in Tav's warm and gentle touch no matter how far from the light he must stray.
As far as he is concerned, everyone else in their merry band of men can fuck off. He couldn't care less about their opinions. Perhaps they're bitter, or maybe they're jealous and covet what he's found in Tav. Either way, they can drown in their own tears over it.
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fluff-n-cookies · 2 months
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Hey!! I was wondering if you are taking requests.
If you are, then. Couln you please write and Father Aizawa x daughter in which she is like really really depressed and he is sick worried for her?
Thankss 🤍🤍
Hello! thx for requesting! I'm not sure if you wanted a little story like a drabble or headcanons so I'm just going to default to do a mix of both. I also wrote it with clinical depression in mind I hope that's okay.
TW; clinical depression, angsty shit, I wrote about the symptoms of depression here: if you have multiple of these symptoms please consider getting diagnosed by a doctor. Aizawa had depression, fem reader.
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Aizawa never was good with emotions, he was never the one to express his feelings because he never exactly needed to. Aizawa wouldn't exactly talk to her at first, instead opting to see it as her having an off day.
however, the weeks flew by and he saw less and less of her around the dorms, her friends who once talked to forever never seemed to see her anymore, and her smile. her smile had now been replaced with dead eyes and a soul corrupt.
another week, when disrupted she would bite back. her usual reply to the question "how are you today?" was once "wonderfully really!" about now it was either a comment overflowing with sarcasm or a harsh "leave me alone."
she then start to bounce her leg a lot more, scratch her arms, and doom-scroll on her phone like a life line rather than train to be a hero like she would during her previous years at UA or read her favorite book genres.
and the dead look in her eyes told him everything.
he too had that look in his eyes in his life too.
he had the tattoo of a semicolon with a heart to show for it.
it was the dead of night when he finally approached her, the sun had set and the stars that night felt as dull as her mind. the blinding white lights of the kitchen remain on as she wept amongst her sorrows. sleep deprived eyes turned redder than they already are from the sting of her never ending tears.
she did not deserve this.
the air was cold in that room, clammy hands shaking didn't help much either.
Aizawa said nothing when he saw the slight before him,
he had done the same at one point too.
this situation was delicate glass, for the person before him was not the strong girl he "knew". this was the soft, misshapen, confused, and scared blob that no longer had the hard and heavy armor to protect her.
he wanted nothing more to hug her when she looked at him with scared eyes and a tear stained cheeks.
"Aizawa Sensei I-" she started, the voice cracks made it all the more pitiful.
"I came to get water." his voice unwavering, there was only room for one mentally unstable person in that tiny kitchen and he loved her too much to take the position of being the one crying.
he felt bad, he knew that feeling of either being empty or being overridden with that burden in your heart you don't know the name of. a constant reminder of doom that has your heart in a choke hold.
but this was still as fragile as anything.
he poured himself a glass of water,
the tension was thick and odd.
he sat down,
he could practically feel the labored breaths she took, the shaking, the empty feeling in her chest. like she was dying and from the inside out. the crying must have taken a toll on her too for her cheeks were red from the tears.
he sat next to her, sitting in front of her may make her feel like he was going to scold her.
"would you like to talk about it?"
"...please... no... I don't think I can..." it was hard to believe this was the voice of the girl he remembered so fondly as his favorite student.
I suppose even the moon has a dark side.
"okay, you need to though." voice steady like a rock you trust never to crumble.
"what?" her voice quivering.
"It know it's hard,
I know it's going to take a while,
but you can succeed,
just please let me help you."
the room went silent for a moment, he passed you the glass of water.
"drink, tomorrow, you are spending your day with Hound Dog, you don't have to talk with him about this specifically, just talk with him until we can understand what is actually happening. you need someone to talk to. you can bail at anytime."
"what is happening to me though? I- I don't know anymore."
he knew that feeling so well.
"I'm not entirely sure," those words came from his heart. "but I'm willing to help you through it. we can take you to a psychiatrist to know for sure."
"...okay."
Aizawa got up, pushing the glass towards you again, excessive crying often leads to dehydration. and he started doing what his mother would do, he started prepping fruits, in this case it was oranges. he lined them all up on a plate, smiling a little at the thought of waking up from a nightmare as a child and defaulting to devouring blueberries.
he put them in front of you, started speaking as a usual person would, about stupid criminals he had recently put behind bars and crazy super fans that created elaborate photo shopped photos of him and them for social media.
for the first time in a while
the phrase
"are you okay?"
wasn't even mentioned.
for the first time in a while
she felt human.
----------
edit: while writing this I noticed I had a lot of the symptoms, so I went to the doctor and turns out it wasn't just burn out it was severe depression! and asthma apparently...
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Reasons Why I Think TFP Jack is Underrated:
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Welcome to my organized bullet list of why I think Jack is cool. I used to think he was boring too, but now I think he's the goat and here's why:
-He has Main Character Energy, but he's more snarky than most cliche main characters
In fact, he is a petty king:
-He doesn't wanna be on Team Prime at first, but eventually accepts it...
...He then proceeds to BURN Airachnid's ship to the GROUND with a stupid survival kit for babies
-HE DEFEATED THE ALIEN SPIDER QUEEN WITH NOTHING BUT A LIGHTER AND A POCKET KNIFE, BRO
-HE WAS DONE WITH HER BULLSHIT LOL
-Plus he tricked Silas by pretending to beg for mercy, when really, he was stealing his walkie talkie.
-Jack is boring, BUT the fact that Jack has nothing special about him IS his superpower; Miko has the Apex Armor and her brave personality, Raf has genius level computer smarts, and Jack has PURE SPITE. It's beautiful.
-He has zero skills, but he'll figure out how to defeat his enemies anyway, SOLEY because he's tired and doesn't get paid enough for this shit.
-For example, in one of the Titan Magazine comics, Jack literally kicks Silus in the balls
Evidence:
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Iconic✨
Apex armor? Cybertronian technology?
Screw that. How about I KICK you in the balls?l
-A true legend
-He's also a mess though, and I relate so hard
-He's so petty he talked two aliens into helping him cheat at street racing to piss off his classmate
-His romantic subplot is treated like a complete joke, and I love that. Normally, the Main Character✨ is awkward, but gets the girl in the end. Not Jack, though. Nope. He just constantly looks stupid in front of Sierra, nothing ever happens between them, and Arcee is just watching with popcorn as his life falls apart. It's hilarious.
Also, if I'm correct, isn't the last time we see Sierra when she sees Arcee's homoform, and thinks Jack has a girlfriend, and then Jack is like "She's my mom😅." And Sierra's all like: "Your mom looks good in leather😐...on your bike😐😐😐😐..." Maybe I'm wrong, but if that's the case, it's funny. Jack is a simp and it gets him nowhere.
-His sarcasm works perfectly with Arcee's sarcastic attitude.
-Also Tailgate is voiced by Josh Keaton (Jack's voice actor) in the flashbacks, so I headcanon that Jack reminds Arcee of Tailgate, and that's why she has such a soft spot for him.
Tailgate and Arcee's dialogue had the same vibe as her and Jack's
Also, it gives more context to why she was so scared to lose him when Airachnid showed up. It would've literally been like losing Tailgate all over again.
-Jack is Team Prime's designated Good Ideas Guy
It was Jack's idea to hijack the spacebridge to send him to Cybertron
It was also his idea to drain the dark energon out of The Nemesis when it came alive and froze everyone
-I'm probably just projecting, he has generalized anxiety disorder vibes
-I feel like he prefers a comfortable, predictable life because he gets nervous easily
-He's always the first to freak out, and overthink, and Arcee always has to calm him down
-And she's so patient with him it's so sweet😱
-I agree the writing behind his existence is meh, and a lot of the cool stuff about him is probably unintentional, but I don't care, so take that!
Anyway, the moral of the story is:
Jack is just an angry little harmonica boy. Leave him alone. He's trying his best😭
Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.
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meta-squash · 3 months
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I love Owen Harper, he's my favorite Torchwood character, but I've always wondered why Toshiko crushes on him like she does. He's a spiky bastard, and he's more prickly and aggressive towards her when she shows affection towards him (I'm talking series 1 Owen here). It never really made sense to me because Tosh is clearly someone who wants love and affection and someone she can be sweet to who will be sweet back. And her interactions with Owen never really seem to quite function in the realm of "I can fix him" or "He'll change for me", so there isn't that sense of romantic ambition there, either. And while her self esteem isn't great, I genuinely do not think it's terrible enough that she'd enter a relationship with someone who for the most part is a shit to her (Mary's manipulation notwithstanding; psychic aliens don't count). So it's always been a bit weird to me that she's so attracted to him and seems to see him in such a soft and rosy light when he's such a bastard so much of the time.
While rewatching Fragments and trying to wrangle the timelines of the main Torchwood team, I think there can be a proper explanation for Tosh's crush. We see in Fragments that the Owen who was recruited to Torchwood is quite different in personality from the Owen we meet in Everything Changes. Pre-Torchwood Owen is gentle and caring and pretty soft-spoken and calm and open. Because of the loss he endured that brought him to Torchwood and also just the nature of the job itself, it seems like he closed himself off and built himself this armored personality of sarcasm and aggression etc in order to survive.
But I doubt that change happened overnight. Tosh was the first Torchwood recruit, and Owen the second (or third? idk where Suzie falls in the timeline), which means Tosh got to see that original Owen personality, the sensitivity and gentleness and all that, though it was probably heavily tempered with grief. So I wonder if Tosh is crushing on the "old Owen", the one she saw at the beginning, before he built himself that spiky personality. And it's not that she believes he can change or whatever, it's more like she believes/knows (because he is) that he is quite sensitive underneath it all and that there might be potential that that softer part of him will return to the surface.
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ineed-to-sleep · 3 months
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Tagged by @seldaryne <3
I'm tagging @alongtidesoflight , @peachshroom , @boghermit to share some BG3 oc info if you'd like! ^^
And anyone who wants to do this, pls consider yourself tagged and feel free to tag me so I can see your oc!
Name: Nawen Farlong
Nickname(s): No specific nicknames, though she does get "darling" from Astarion and "soldier" from Karlach. She's generally more often the one that gives people nicknames instead of receiving them skdhakd Astarion gets "angel" and "kitten" a lot, Shadowheart gets "my heart" and "my love" and Karlach usually gets "general"(a lot of the nicknames she gives were initially meant with sarcasm, but after a while became actual terms of endearment).
Pronouns: She/her
Star sign: Whatever the in-universe equivalent of a scorpio is
Height: 5'3" with the attitude of 6'4"
Orientation: Everyone is game. If she were a romance option, rest assured you could probably romance her, as long as you're being a cunt ♡
Race: Half-drow
Romancing: Astarion, but it's kinda hard to tell unless you spend a long time with them. Astarion isn't 100% comfortable with touching and she's not fond of PDA(she gets all light headed and giggly with physical affection and she hates being seen like that by most people. it breaks the bad bitch fantasy). You could see them occasionally flirting or teasing each other but they're also just Like That with most people, so it's hard to tell if they're really an item. They mostly look like coworkers. Partners in crime if you will.
Favorite fruit: She doesn't really have a particular favorite. She likes melon pies and cranberry wine, so by association she might feel more inclined to like those fruits, but nothing she's too crazy about.
Favorite season: She generally likes fall and spring, when it's not too hot out but not too cold either. Wearing too many layers of clothing makes her feel trapped and constrained, and as much as she likes showing skin, warmer temperatures make wearing armor extra uncomfortable, so middle of the road is her favorite.
Favorite flower: It's a tie between lavender and jasmine- lavender providing one of her favorite scents and jasmine one of her favorite teas. She's also fond of water lilies, graceful reminders of the wetlands she grew up in.
Favorite scent: She's never been one for dedicated worship but loves the smell of incense you usually find in temples. She rarely gets inside temples, but when she does she usually comes out with at least a couple "borrowed" incense sticks. Her favorite varieties are lavender and rosemary scents. Other than that, she likes very subtle perfumes that you can only really smell if you get your nose right up on her neck.
Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Tea. Coffee tends to make her shaky and more anxious, and hot chocolate tends to be a bit too sweet for her tastes. Tea usually helps calm her nerves, so she feels encouraged to drink it quite often.
Average sleep hours: This woman is paranoid and right after popping out of the nautiloid she gets maybe a total of 2-4 hrs of sleep a night. She knows she needs to sleep to function like a human being the next day, but because of a constant fear of attack and distrust for her companions, her sleep time is sectioned and she wakes up several times during the night because there was a weird noise or her internal clock said "ok you've had enough, get up and do the rounds for the 100th time". She always gets up earlier than everyone else. She gets a bit more comfortable as she starts to trust the people around her, but bad habits die hard and it'll be years before she can get an actual full night of rest.
Dogs or cats: She likes animals in general, and her favorites are little mice(quick, can get in and out of places really easily, make for great messengers and easy-to-hide-in-your-pocket pets), but if she had to choose between cats and dogs, cats would probably win, just because they're usually quieter companions and she feels she has more in common with them than with dogs.
Dream trip: She's been to most major cities along the sword coast and is honestly a little bit sick of the place by now. She also has a bit of an aversion to the underdark due to having her differences with some of the locals. Overall, she would love to visit other places in Faerun, maybe farther up north. She's also always been curious about Candlekeep, not because of the endless book collection, but because of rumors of hidden magic and strange creatures living beneath its halls.
Amount of blankets: None at all, if she can help it. Blankets can get in the way if you need to get up quickly in the middle of the night or struggle with an attacker- not that it's happened to her before, noo, nothing embarrassing like that. But she'd rather prevent any mishaps.
Random fact(s):
She gets new piercings on her ears by the beginning of act 3, courtesy of Shadowheart, and helps her change her hair in return.
She and Karlach have the most unexpected friendship and she would probably die for Karlach while Karlach really believes she could fix her.
She's a magic nerd and can often keep up with Gale when discussing the arcane(usually alienating everyone else in the party from the conversation).
She fights with double rapiers instead of double daggers or swords because she understood, from a very early age, how to serve cunt.
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indouloureux · 2 years
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w-what do you think about insecure! steve pretending to still be all confident, with self-assured smirks and sarcasm and popular boy persona…
…and he’s his gf’s first boyfriend and tries to be sort of guiding and showing her how to be in a relationship and tries to be calm cool and collected for her even though she’s makes him all giddy bc that’s his baby…
…then she slowly starts to praise him more and more, she shows him off like she’s so proud to be his, she’s spoils him and kisses him all over and he doesn’t know how to handle this sort of reciprocity !!!
steve isn’t used to being with someone that truly wants him for him ;’( he still has that trauma from how nancy broke things off and how she never said ‘i love you’ first and how she just so easily dropped him and moved on ;’( and maybe one day his pretty girl has been extra affectionate and is in a very good mood so she’s showing him off and treating him like he’s a dream come true and complimenting him more than usual and… she tells him she’s proud of him… and that he’s the best person she’s ever met… and that she loves him so damn much !!! and poor stevie breaks
harmonia you angel you just broke my heart </3 you deserve a small blurb for this. fem!reader
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steve harrington had a subterfuge made of metal, kept in tact by blunt nails. it's a shield; a masquerade. it reigns over weakness—keeps him strong that not even the sharpest knife or a bullet could pierce through.
but you? you could tear that down with one hand, hell even a look so soft and knowing will burn it to ashes and render steve on his knees with tearstained cheeks.
it's true that he never lost his confidence. it's how he got you, anyway. though, if he were to be truly honest, it looked like a knight in shining armor that was a bumbling mess inside and out. yet somehow, you and your dirt-stained gown still took him into your heart.
yet somehow, he still refuses to show his vulnerability around you.
seeing him flex in front of the mirror is something you'll never get used to. steve likes to check himself out, it's a confidence booster. he likes to observe every part of his body and praise himself because no one would. until you came.
you liked telling him he was pretty. and he is. and right now, he needs to hear it.
because steve harrington's not flexing in front of the mirror, he's frowning. at himself.
a white towel hangs from his hips, his dampened hair drips from the previous shower, rolls down his pudgy back. from your view, you can see the tops of his chest hair poke out, but you can see visibly the putridness in his glare, like he wants to burn himself alive.
this, was a sight you're never used to. and you actually don't think you'll ever will.
"hey there, stevie," you say softly. it's loud enough to catch his attention, but not to startle him from your quiet arrival. steve's shoulders slump and he smiles timidly.
"hi, honey," his head only turns to look at you, but keeps his front facing the mirror still.
"took such a long shower,"
"well, i took too long picking the kids up," he answers. "i don't know where they came from but they came inside my car all covered in mud so i had to clean it. then i got covered in mud."
your nose wrinkles, your bare feet padding across the carpeted floor of steve's bedroom. "ew," you grimace. "no wonder why you smelled. thought you swam on some swamp,"
"i don't think there are swamps here, sweetheart," he turns to face you, cradling your head in his drying palms and keeps your face tilting up. your hands settle on his chest. "crazy how this place doesn't have cctvs on the streets but has a portal to another dimension near town. talk about safety."
you laugh and he smiles. it's a harmony to his ears. he kisses your ample cheek, wet but loving.
"kline was involved in it too," you brush his hair away, brown locks darkened by water that air-dries. "fucking government and their never ending corruption—god, steve, you're so handsome,"
tan skin tinged pink from a sudden compliment. steve's hands come down to wrap themselves around your wrist when you trace every feature of his face. it's perfectly imperfect. you love it.
"really?" he teases, eyes narrowing a little. "you so have a crush on me,"
"a big one," you say with feigned seriousness, bottom lip jutting out a little. "a big crush. had it since 1980."
one of his hands rest the back of it on his forehead, too dramatically. "god. the never ending line of swains. i feel like a princess."
"a pretty one, that's for sure,"
"oh hush," he presses his lips on yours this time, hard but loving, the slight graze of his tongue makes something tingle in your belly. "i've got a line of suitors. you're lucky i chose you,"
you giggle. "so lucky,"
absentmindedly, your hands wander across his body like you always do. but when you reach the scar tissues across his torso, steve's hands shoot down to your wrists, only to place them back on his face with a gentle yet nervous smile.
but you can see it in his eyes that he was on the verge of breaking the second he felt your fingertips hover over them.
you know what it means, and you try not to frown upon it. not because he doesn't want you touching him there, but because of what he's probably thinking.
"hey," you settle on his face, though. not wanting to make him uncomfortable. steve relaxes a little into your calloused fingers. "i mean it, babe."
steve kisses the inside of your palm. "mean what?"
"that you're handsome," you smile a little. "you're–you're so handsome, steve. i love- i love your hair, and your eyes and your nose and that–god–that smile just makes my heart burst,"
your boyfriend chuckles shyly. his finger traces the vein on your wrist.
"and this, baby," your palms lather across his shoulder, down his thick biceps and his forearms, 'till you skip his hands and your skin meets his scarred mangled wounds. "this is single handedly, the hottest thing i've ever seen. and i'm looking at your face right now. i've seen your dick, steve. though, i don't mean that your dick is not hot but, you know what i mean,"
like a lighter flickering at the corner of a paper, his metal walls are torn down carefully and you let him melt into your touch.
"i know what you mean, bubs," his speech is muffled with his smushed cheeks. "you like this lump of thing?"
he pulls on it like its gum. you giggle at the sight and he giggles at the feeling. you nod. "it's so sexy, it puts ralph macchio to shame,"
"wow. even i'm offended," steve jests. "but thank you, baby. you're pretty too,"
"not as pretty as you," you kiss his nose.
"i love you," he murmurs. had it not been for the lovesick smile that brightens up his face, you would have noticed the nervousness that wrecks over his eyes.
"i love you more," you lean up to kiss him. steve sighs in relief. "now, bed your damsel in distress, my noble knight. spear her with your sword!"
steve laughs jovially. "i don't think that's how the saying works," but he pulls his towel aside and throws it into abyss. "though, i don't mind spearing my princess."
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missmeinyourbones · 1 year
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SWEET NOTHING
cw: a direct nod to sweet nothing by taylor swift because @ghostbeam put this idea in my head in october and i haven't been able to shake it since >.<
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Touya’s begun to realize that the hole long ago singed in his heart has slowly but surely been mended by you.
There’s something familiarly foreign about what he has with you, this selfless love that doesn’t cut corners or bury hatchets. He’s not used to a dynamic where he doesn't have to give any more than he wants to, let alone any more than he physically can. It's a breath of crisp air that swells in the hollowed confines of his blackened lungs.
He finds that the simplest of moments with you are what sticks with him the most.
Today, he idly watches you prance around the tiny kitchen, organizing spices and scrubbing stained dishes. A day filled with nothing that feels like a whole lot of something in his heart. He leans against the counter in a slump, fully content with watching you do nothing more than exist.
Amongst the silence and stolen glances, you finally catch his eye and the look you shoot him magnetically pulls him closer to you.
“Can we play?”
Even without context, he knows exactly what you're referring to by the twinkle in your eye. And though there’s no verbal response, his silence and raised eyebrows answer your question. 
You don’t bother containing your smile at how easily he gives in.
“I spy with my little eye, something…” you gaze around the room before deciding on a secret object, “green.”
The complete opposite of your giddy excitement, Touya unenthusiastically scans his surroundings.
His eyes lock onto the potted English Ivy that sits in the corner of your hallway. “The plant,” he deadpans. 
“Nope,” you childishly beam. 
He continues his guessing streak with every item in sight that slightly resembles an emerald hue. 
“The dishrag.”
“No.”
“The tree in the window.”
“No.”
“Your coat.”
“Nope.”
“Then, fuck if I know,” he huffs a bit obnoxiously.
The tiny tantrum has you turning your attention back to him. A smile breaks out across your face when you see his brows furrowed in slight agitation. Your finger instantly finds his forehead, caressing the wrinkled and stressed skin. 
“Do you give up?” you whisper into the softness of the touch. 
He doesn't say anything out loud, but the way he bites the inside of his cheek says otherwise.
With a hand softly cradling his jaw, you turn his head slightly to the side before pointing towards the front door. “The bowl.”
By the front door lives a tiny little ceramic bowl, washed out olive in color, that sits on a shelf as a home for your keys. Touya doesn't use it, but then again, Touya doesn't use his key. It's tiny, barely seen from the angle you’re at with the way it hides behind a pot of white lilies and in between your discarded wallet. 
When Touya sees the small dish, he disapprovingly tsks at your choice of item.
“Course, how’d I miss that,” sarcasm stings in his response as his jaw rests atop your head. “And that’s fuckin’ teal, not green.”
You tilt your head up to look at him, and his chin slightly falls and bumps against your forehead. 
“Don’t be a sore loser. Your turn.”
It's taken Touya a terribly long time to realize, let alone admit, that he’s not meant for the blood and armor and pain of it all. His core is liquid, like a melted honeycomb. He doesn’t have to be guarded and prickly around something as soft as you. 
His whole life, he's been pushed to his limits. Make more, do more, be more. And now, he’s enough for you. More than enough for you, just the way he is.
And sometimes, he feels the most worthy of it all in silly little moments like this, over a game of I Spy and his lover’s laughter dancing in his ear. 
With an exhale that's meant to be intimidating—but you both know holds nothing but patience—Touya's expression doesn't change as he scans the room for an object for you to seek. 
“Something red.”
He ignores the fire lit in his core when you pout and insist with a whine that he, “Say the whole thing.”
He takes a deep breath. 
“...I spy with my stupid little fucking eye, something red.”
“Red?” you perk up in interest. Almost nothing in your line of sight even resembles a shade of the scarlet warmth. You gaze around the apartment a few times, trying to find an inkling of crimson that could serve as a guess.
“Yup,” Touya smirks triumphantly, knowing he’s selected something foolproof to lead to victory, “red.” 
“The soap?” he hears you ask. His head turns to the sink where a peach-scented hand dispenser sits by the faucet.
“That’s pink, you moron.”
Unphased and determined to find his item, you turn to the garbage can where an orangey-tinted chocolate wrapper peeks out from the corner of the lid. 
“That candy wrapper?”
“You colorblind or something?”
“There's nothing red in here!” you defensively throw your hands up by your sides. 
Touya’s hand finds your waist as it soothingly trickles up and down your sides. 
“Give up?” he returns, leaning against your forehead. 
A frown pulls at your lips when you mumble out a tiny, “Yeah.”
Touya smiles to himself. He brings a calloused thumb to your lower lip and you think it's to make fun of your pout. But it’s not—he gently rubs over a tender spot on the sensitive skin that slightly stings where he brushes against it. 
“Your lip,” he states, before lightly pulling it and crinkling his eyes at the objection that slips from your throat. “S’all chapped.”
With a furrowed brow, you trot over to the nearest mirror as Touya trails behind you. He’s right. The tiny cut sitting on your lower lip is swollen with the slightest amount of dried blood embedded in its cavern. 
“Oh yeah,” you notice in the reflection, “guess I must’ve bit it in my sleep or something.”  
Touya hums behind you. At first, it's a noise of agreement, one that lets you know he’s listening. But as he continues to wrap himself around your frame and sway the two of you back and forth, he finds himself mindlessly humming a tune.
The melody doesn’t sound familiar, as in a song you’ve heard or a rhythm that he’s hummed before. But it feels familiar, like a comfort only he can bring you with the simple vibration of his voice. 
You let him hold you there for a while. It's peaceful, safe, until your perking up in his hold and turning to face him. 
“That's cheating,” you suddenly realize, referring to the silly little game and his choice of red object to seek. You point to your dried lip, “I can’t see that.”
He places a delicate kiss on the cut before cooing, “Don’t be a sore loser.”
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sunnyy3d · 5 months
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Hi again
Ok so I am currently obsessed with Matt smith and Alex Kingston so I wanted to know if you would write a 11th/river/reader fanfic where the reader is a companion that just started travelling with them but for some reason she is immortal and always finds them but she doesn’t totally understand how the meeting keeps happening between them all so she just jumped from a new tune where she was happily married to the doctor and river but now she meets river/melody who doesn’t know her yet and she gets jealous bc she over heard them talking about another girl(her just younger) and it leads to the doctor having to explain to her that they aren’t at that time yet and river gifts her a journal so she can write down where and how they keep meeting hopefully this makes enough sense and you would want to write it I just want some fluff/cuteness along with confusion on time travel
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Timeless Love| 11th Doctor x River x Reader
A/N: Requests open! (Obviously)
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God, I'm so nauseous. Will I ever get used to that? I really wish that I had my own TARDIS; it'd be so much better than a vortex manipulator. The Doctor calls it "cheap and nasty time travel," and he's not wrong. Of course, I'll never let him know that, though.
I let the dizziness subside before opening my eyes. I'm facing a wall? I've gotta go through the checklist. Okay, first is smell. It smells... old? Like antiques and dust. Why is smell first anyway? The second is hearing. I hear sirens, which leads to the next part: sight. To go with the sirens, I see a red flashing light coming from a bulb farther up the wall. That's always a good sign! Last but not least, the 360. Well, it's more like a 180, but that's beside the point. I spin only to find a gun pointed at my head. My smile immediately drops, the excitement of being in a new environment being replaced with dread. What have I gotten myself into this time?
"Oi, don't touch the fez! Wait, no, don't take it," I hear from behind the brute holding the gun.
"Don't listen to him. Please take the fez," I'd recognize those voices from anywhere. Especially the sarcasm... It only makes sense that they're around when I find myself in trouble. I can't let myself get distracted; this is a life-or-death situation. Just do what The Doctor taught you. Be rational and observe.
Peering past the gun, I see a creature I've never seen before in my time with The Doctor. This thing is enormous, at least a foot or two taller than me. They (it?) have on a suit of armor--similar to what would be found back on Earth-- that obscures its face. Maybe it's a security guard? It would make sense, considering that behind it are glass cases that hold artifacts.
Regardless, this creature's sheer size means I can't fight it. At least not successfully. That throws all of the self-defense skills River taught me out of the window. I really wish she was here. Oh wait... she is. I'll just have to play the innocent card. It shouldn't be hard, considering that I am innocent. I put my hands up beside my head as a sign of surrender, careful to go at a speed that's not threatening. "I just got here, I swear. I have no idea what's going on," I reason. I have a feeling that it's not gonna work well.
"Oh, look who it is! Where have you been?" Looking past the guard, I spot The Doctor and River being led in by another guard.
I sigh, "It's not what it looks like."
"It's exactly what it looks like!" The Doctor interrupts with his stupid smile.
"Honey, can you shut please? I kinda have a gun in my face right now," I plead.
"Oh right..."
"Excuse me, sir?" River distracts the guard in front of me.
"We're going to have to ask you to put that gun down. Darling, you might want to duck." Without even thinking, I follow her instructions. I trust River and The Doctor with my life. What kind of wife would I be otherwise? Being stuck between the wall and the fight, I have no choice but to crawl away.
I'm hiding behind one of the cases when The Doctor comes around the corner, disheveled and panting. It's a good look at him. His hair is messy before he runs a hand through it and flashes his signature smile. God, I could kiss him. But now's not the time. We're in the middle of a fight. I say we, but I really mean River. "What are you doing?" I yell.
"I could ask you the same thing!" Loud shots hit the walls around us. I peek around the corner and see two more guards have shown up as reinforcement.
A bullet flies past my head, and I quickly take my retreat behind the case. "Look! We'll have to save this conversation for after we get out of whatever situation you got us into this time. River needs help." The Doctor gives me an offended look.
"River does NOT need help, no thanks to you guys," she says sarcastically.
The Doctor and I come out from behind the case. "What are you guys even doing here?" I ask with my hands on my hips.
"Uhh... we're picking something up," The Doctor answers nervously. I nod, my lips drawing into a thin line as I give him a skeptical hum. It's probably not worth questioning, and I probably won't get a straight answer.
"And you are?" River questions, looking me up and down. Even after being with her for a while, I still get butterflies when she looks at me like that.
But the butterflies are scooped up by my confusion. "What do you mean, River? We've been-"
"SPOILERS," The Doctor interjects. "If you'll just give us a moment, please?" I nod as he drags River away. They huddle together with their backs facing me. Clearly, I'm not supposed to hear this conversation, but it doesn't stop me from trying. Unfortunately, they're just out of earshot, so I can only hear a few words.
Focusing on their conversation, I piece together some parts. "She's... beautiful... amazing... younger... she's like..." The Doctor explains with expressive hands. Occasionally, River glances back at me with a smile.
Who are they talking about like that? It has to be someone special. Why else would they keep it a secret from me? More importantly, why is River saying she doesn't know me? Has she had her memory wiped? Clearly, The Doctor knows who I am, but he's also acting weird. What has happened to our marriage? Did all of the intimate moments that we shared go down the drain? All the adventures forgotten?
I'm so lost in thought that it takes me a second to realize that they've finished their conversation and have started walking back towards me. I quickly stand straight, suddenly incredibly self conscious. I cross my arms and frown, "So, who's this mystery woman and why did you have to talk about her in secret?" I know my words reek of jealousy, but I can't help it. We've been married for so long, and yet here they are talking about some other woman.
The Doctor sighs, thinking about how he should respond. "We were talking about you. I know it might not make too much sense right now, but River and I aren't in the same timeline as you."
"This is actually my first time meeting you, I'm afraid. Though I'm sure it won't be the last," River looks me up and down with a smirk. I blush and look away. Even if this is her first time meeting me, she still has to flirt.
Everything is starting to make sense now. All of the times when The Doctor or River thought that they had done something with me but hadn't. Or when they'd forget simple things. It's not that they forgot; it just hadn't happened to them yet. Why didn't I think of this before? And why hadn't they explained this to me earlier? Why does time have to be so complicated?
"This happens all of the time with me and River. It's honestly quite annoying to figure out," The Doctor chuckles.
"You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. Things are starting to come together now. That explains why you guys are so confusing sometimes. Sorry, extra confusing sometimes." The couple laughs before River holds up her finger, saying hold on and grabbing her bag off her back. She rummages through it momentarily before letting out a small 'aha.' I look at The Doctor with my eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He only shrugs. River pulls out what she was looking for. I see a look of recognition flash across The Doctor's face before I can tell what it is.
"Here," she holds out a book. It's a royal blue and has squares on it like the TARDIS. It looks naturally worn, its deckled pages ready to hold a story. "I have a smiliar journal. I use it to keep track of my encounters with this idiot. Maybe you can do the same?" She suggests with a warm smile.
From this distance, I can see how young she is. Though she doesn't look much different, her eyes tell a different story. They have more youth to them, more innocence. Let's be honest: River has never truly been innocent. But she is more innocent than the River that I know best. I smile as I take the journal in my hands. It's perfect. It'll be easy to carry around, and it is absolutely gorgeous.
So much has yet to come for The Doctor and River, both terrible and happy. And even though I have lived through things that they haven't, they have lived through things that I haven't. This book will hold stories that cannot be shared with the ones I love the most. If I were to share it, it could ruin everyone's timeline. Time is a delicate balance of... wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey... stuff. Okay, I'll admit that wasn't the most eloquent I have been, but it'll have to do.
With a smile, I look up at my husband and wife (well, future for them), "Thank you. I have a feeling that I'll be using this a lot."
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chishiyae · 10 months
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Hey! If you’re taking requests, may I request e42 miles morales x reader dating headcanons where the reader is a witch? Maybe one that uses dark magic but is such a nice soul and bubbly?
— UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] e42! miles morales.
𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ┊e42! miles morales has a s/o with witchcraft skills. dark magic, in particular. their personality, on the other hand, is the polar opposite; bubbly and sweet.
a/n. — ahh i know i got the witch part down, but idk about to bubbly s/o part .. apologies for not getting this done sooner <3.
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E42!MILES already has his own secrets. and by secrets, i mean the fact that he’s the prowler. it's kept hidden from you so you don't get engaged in something that could harm you. though, when you told him about your own secret (one similar to his), he felt more at ease about telling you his. that's exactly what happened a week or two later. he figured that having your own "superpower" meant that if anything awful happened to you (because of him being the prowler), you'd be able to manage it better than if you didn't.
he also figured that because you possessed these powers, you’d willingly apply them to his suit… i'm talking about full-on magical armor. he'd suggest it after buying you something, too. saying it’d act as a "thank you gift."
you pointed out that your procedures sometimes had effects and that it'd be better if his suit stayed the way it was because (truthfully) there was nothing wrong with it, but he said he trusted you.
if you didn't cave then, you probably would’ve after a month of complaints and nagging. he can be very persistent.
once you gave his suit the advances he wanted, he’d start flashing them to you as if you hadn't done them yourself. for instance, “baby, you see that? that gives me a better grasp on things,” while giving a demonstration. and you're just smiling while letting him have his moment because he'd respond with sarcasm if you interfered.
despite his use of your powers, he makes an effort to offer you as much attention as he can. i mean, miles believes your personality is far more interesting than your abilities. you're as much a contrast to him as you are to your skills; lively, friendly, and loving. from that list, he’s only one thing: loving. and only to you and his mother. but he feels that's what drew him in — the fact that you had the things that he needed more of. he wasn't used to affection, so he warned that you take it slowly throughout the talking stage (this included not holding hands). slowly, he grew accustomed to romantic affection and began to initiate it himself before asking you out.
from there, it was pretty much the trope of you talking and him listening (don’t worry, his rambles happen too). you’re the golden retriever and black cat duo. the cheerful and reserved couple. if you're not sure what any of this means, here's an example: you'd probably say something like "sorry ‘m being so loud right now." and he'd cut you off with "nah, you’re good. i'm not bothered." he loves to see your naturalness, so he encourages you to keep doing exactly what you apologized for.
you're ready to explore new areas of your terrible excuse for a city, and he'll be your bodyguard. saying that he'd be by your side no matter what powers you had since backup is needed no matter what. furthermore, he'd feel compelled to beat the absolute shit out of anyone who made you feel uncomfortable or nervous on the streets.
people would have a lot to say about your relationship at school, especially because he gives off bad boy vibes and like i’ve mentioned, you’re the complete opposite. so, he feels the need to make a statement about you as well. let people know you're not only taken, but also his, by keeping an arm around you at all times. warn people not to disrespect you because he doesn’t play that.
if you were to use the abilities you have to be a vigilante alongside him, he'd be against it since "you don't even know how to interrogate properly." so you'd have to practice with him to show him you can.
lastly, he takes every effort to console you when you’re experiencing problems or a sad incident with your magic. your magic has surprise complications at times, reminding you of why you're hesitant to use it. lowering your mood. when you confide in miles, he won't ask you any questions until you're ready to talk about it. it was enough for him to be your shoulder to cry on until then.
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© 2023, CHISHIYAE
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quinn-pop · 5 months
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About metadede headcanons (it's not much of a headcanon more like how their relationship evolved and my headcanon timeline about the Kirby games)
•They were friends since childhood.
•They stayed as friends until Dedede declared himself the king of dreamland, they were traveling through stars until that and meta didn't wanted to stay in one star for the rest of his life and wanted to go adventuring through space.
•They still give each other calls and hangout, but as the time passed (and dedede started to change aka get cropted by power) those calls and visits became fewer and fewer until they didn't talk to each other.
•After that the first time Meta heard about dedede was due news that said king of dreamland stole all the food. Meta realized the power went to his head back when they were still hanging out, but he didn't think he would stood that low.
•Because of that meta knight figured out the best thing to do was to dethrone dedede, he wasn't planing to give dedede any massive punishment at worst he would send him to dangeon for a few months until he learned his lesson, but when he got out he wouldn't get his throne back.
•Meta knights revenge happens and after that Kirby informs dedede about the events and he says he will think about it.
•When it's time for Kirby's adventure, king dedede against his better judgment gives one of the star rod pieces to meta because he trusts him.
•Due to that Meta and Dedede starts hanging out and Meta realizes that Dedede has changed for the better (in my headcanon dark matter trilogy happens between superstar and adventure).
•After that they become friends again and fighters 2 happens.
Now for some non-timeline related headcanons:
•Meta likes to sit on top of dedede's head to feel tall.
•Dedede can pick meta in his hands.
•Dedede doesn't want anyone to know that his possessions has left an affect on him so he doesn't talk to anyone about it, luckly ,even tho meta is terrible at picking up on social ques, noticed something was wrong and talked to him about those things and made dedede feel better.
•When they were children Meta once gave Dedede a rock that he thought was pretty cool, and Dedede said "Yes, I will marry you" since he was told rejecting an offer from a friend was rude.
•In things where meta needs to have normal sized arms compared to dedede (like hugging dancing etc.) he uses his wings.
Sorry if it is too long.
not too long at all! thanks for writing all that!
it’s really interesting to me just how popular the childhood friends headcanon is, considering there’s not much canon basis for it (not that that matters.) it’s a really cute hc though and i’m always happy to see it
definitely always love the star rod thing. it’s interesting that even back then mk and dedede were kind of cast in the same light, y’know? that being a point they connect over makes a lot of sense—your timeline is a lot different than mine here, being placed after romk, but it’s pretty cool that dedede would trust him with that even after that. adds a layer to it.
anyway i drew a couple of those headcanons just for funsies
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i do think meta likes to be held, just probably not in full armor and where everyone can see him lol. it’s definitely a little awkward given their sizes though. holds like burger…
i’m not really a childhood friends metadede believer but imagining their dynamic is pretty fun? especially if we’re adding the Spanish speaking mk hc into this. i guess for some reason i imagined dedede as a little more shy here? just not quite broken out of his shell yet…no pun intended. they can have shenanigans together or something
and dedede only accepting meta’s “proposal” out of courtesy is so funny lol. i can imagine him going home after this and being a little upset because now he feels like he has to marry him. i’m sure the conversation that followed that was very fun /sarcasm
poor meta must’ve been very confused ^^” ah but the irony…
it’s just a very endearing concept to me. cute :>
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TDP rewatch: autistic Soren?
I spent a lot of time going along with everyone else saying that Soren was a big dumbass. And for that, I would now like to apologize. I don’t think Soren’s dumb. I think he’s autistic. 
As an autistic person, I feel bad for not spotting this earlier. But, like Soren, I do have a tendency to believe what I’m told, especially when everyone is saying the same thing. And this may not be canon, ever, but that’s okay. I see Soren in a new light now, and I know that light. (Gods, S3 is really gonna wreck me now)
He doesn’t get sarcasm. He takes Rayla’s “obviously” sarcastic comment at face value. He’s also not good with metaphor, taking a long time to grasp “butter them up.” Once he’s figured out what he should do--lie about the king--he does a very bad job of it because the emotions he needs to embrace to sell the lie aren’t familiar to him.
He’s very good with rules. A father who needed a son who was rooted in the narrative of strength could easily have trained an autistic child to bind himself within those rules form a young age. It’ll be very hard for Soren to question rules that he consciously chose to follow himself.
He doesn’t understand the shifting of loyalties. First he’s a loyal Crownguard, and then he’s supposed to detain Callum because his dad asked him to? Soren’s genuinely confused.
He still chooses to protect Callum when the assassins attack, even shoving him to safety from Runaan’s arrow, because those old rules of loyalty to the royal family haven’t been shifted.
He’s also slow to react to the arrow striking him. He takes precious reaction time to study it closely. He’s probably never seen a Moonshadow assassin’s arrow before. It telescopes in three places. It’s green. It probably smells faintly of poison. Soren’s possibly also never been shot before. All these physical details are hitting him at once, all with equal force, and it takes him a moment to sort through them, process them, and remember that the arrow means the assassins have arrived.
He spends time and effort trying to speak others’ languages, but he doesn’t always get it right. He knows Claudia’s nose trick but he can’t perfectly replicate it. He misinterprets Rayla’s angry intent as personal interest. He really tries to connect with his dad by offering his “see-saw” comment (which is actually right on the money as far as the show’s themes are concerned). 
He’s oddly focused on the difference between a prince and a “step-prince.” Not in a mean way, though. He thinks it means he’s paying attention to small details, which people often like. Not particularly in this case, though.
He really does just want to fit in. He does whatever Viren says because he wants to be accepted, not just as Viren’s son but as a not-weird, not-useless person.
Claudia’s the one who makes the jokes. He happily lets her lead on the mission to Mount Kaelik and has no ego attached to being in charge of her.
He’s really awkward with his brotherly feels when he calls her “weep-ridden” and offers to help by punching Callum. Autistics can struggle with language, especially in unfamiliar emotional territory and under stress.
He hyperfocuses on being a Crownguard, though, which is why he’s so good at it, and why he’s in charge. He does nothing but train. He loves being a Crownguard. He knows that role inside and out. He knows when to order men into position, and he knows when to shut up and hand the king his sword.
He insists that sweeping the leg is not a thing, though, because it’s outside his training. None of the Crownguard instructors taught him that, and so it is outside the rules. 
When he votes that Corvus is a traitor and gets Claudia to vote with him, he’s reinforcing the rules that he learned. The black-and-white shield on his armor isn’t just an indicator that he’s straddling the line between good and evil and will one day have to make a choice. It’s showing the way Soren sees the world: everything is either inside the rules, or outside them. Soren doesn’t see gray areas. But he might learn to very soon.
He’s cheerily cold-blooded about lopping Runaan’s head off and trying to kill Rayla because empathy is a strange animal for autistic folks. Sometimes it’s really high, and sometimes it’s nonexistent, even within the same person. Between a low empathy for elves and his Crownguard training, Soren legitimately doesn’t see any problem with killing them, even at the age of 18.
He knows the rules on how to deal with dragons: you fight them. And he gets a whole town torched. He was entirely unprepared. But his ego wasn’t in this fight. He freed Corvus because he understands that a Crownguard’s job is to protect Katolis, and that includes the townsfolk. And he admitted his mistake to Claudia because filters are hard under stress, and the truth just pops out like that.
When he’s paralyzed, Soren has no ego attached to remaining a Crownguard, either. His hyperfocus has broken. He was growing increasingly stressed by his dad’s secret mission. And he immediately seeks a new hyperfocus: poetry. He gives it a shot, and he’s terrible at it. He hasn’t actually internalized any poetry rules yet. He’d become a good poet pretty quickly, if he had the chance. But Claudia came to heal him instead.
As S2 ends and the siblings head home together, Soren has no plan anymore. He has no rules for what’s gonna happen, and he can’t anticipate Viren’s reaction but he expects it’ll be bad. He asks Claudia for help in understanding what his parameters should be, because that’s a long trip home, and that’s a lot of time spent worrying over scenarios that he has to consider because he can’t narrow it down--every possibility is a legitimate possibility to him.
[unfinished tdp meta]
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CONGRATS ON 1500 MARIIII. you deserve all this and more, i’m so proud of you, baby.
i would like to be paired with theo and stiles (romantic) 🥰🥰
i’m black with brown eyes, i’m 5’0, curly hair (when i actually put in the work for it 😭), and i have a small mole on my jawline. i think you know my body type 😭😭
i love poetry, music, reading, watching the sunset, i wear silver jewelry all the time, and my favorite color is royal blue. i love animals but im terrified of spiders and clowns. im usually in shorts, skirts, or dresses if it warm. i hate the winter.
i think my favorite trope right now is friends with benefits to lovers 🤍
THANK YOU SWEET GIRL 💕💕 I love you jaybear💕
Teen Wolf; Romantic Match-Up: Stiles Stilinski
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stiles couldn't help but be intrigued by you from the moment he first saw you in the school hallway. your love for poetry, music, and the silver jewelry that adorned you like a talisman set you apart from the other students, drawing his attention in a way he couldn't quite explain.
with late-night study sessions and shared playlists, your friendship quickly blossomed into something more, even if both of you refused to see it. but as the supernatural threats in beacon hills grew, so did the bond between you, forged in the heat of danger and the glow of friendship.
the chemistry between you and stiles was undeniable. he found solace in your presence, reassured by your unwavering loyalty and quick wit, even as his own feelings for you deepened amidst the chaos unfolding in front of you.
despite the undeniable chemistry between you and stiles, both of you danced around your feelings, afraid to acknowledge the growing attraction that simmered beneath the surface. stiles attempted to bury his feelings beneath a facade of sarcasm and humor, but he couldn't deny the depths of his affection for you. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn't explain, his heart yearning for the warmth of your touch and the comfort of your presence amidst the chaos that surrounded you.
but as the darkness of beacon hills threatened to consume you both, a rift began to form between you, fueled by fear and uncertainty. words were left unsaid, misunderstandings left unresolved, and before you knew it, the bond that had once felt unbreakable began to fray at the edges.
it wasn't until the nogitsune's reign of terror descended upon the town, with stiles becoming possessed by the dark entity, that everything came to a head. tthe void Stiles emerged as a formidable threat, his actions tearing through the fabric of your reality and leaving devastation in his wake.
in the aftermath of this defeat, with your friends still reeling from the chaos and destruction left in its wake, you and stiles found yourselves confronting the truth of your feelings in the midst of the turmoil. with the weight of your unspoken emotions pressing down, you bared your souls to each other, laying bare the depth of your feelings in a moment of raw vulnerability.
Song: Darkside by Grandson
Harry Potter; Romantic Match-Up: Theodore Nott
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theo was initially drawn to you by the aura of mystery that surrounded you, your love for poetry and music adding to your enigmatic charm. he found himself captivated by the way you spoke of the world with such depth and emotion, drawn to the silver jewelry that adorned you like armor.
your friendship with Theodore started innocently enough, bonding over shared interests in literature and music. but as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars emerged in the night sky, something shifted between you, a spark of attraction that neither of you could deny.
even though you weren’t officially his, theo found himself becoming your protector, offering you comfort and reassurance whenever you needed it. he admired your strength and resilience, your willingness to face your fears head-on, even as his own feelings for you continued to deepen.
the transition from friends to friends with benefits to lovers was gradual, a slow burn fueled by stolen moments and lingering glances. it started with late-night conversations that turned into passionate entanglements, each touch igniting a firestorm of desire that neither of you could ignore.
theo cherished the way you looked in your royal blue uniform, the color bringing out the warmth in your eyes and the softness of your skin. He found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of your magnetic presence.
despite your initial hesitation to dive into a romantic relationship, his unwavering presence and protectiveness gradually wore down your defenses. you found solace in his arms, reassured by his steady support and the depth of his affection for you.
theo’s admiration for you only grew stronger with each passing day, his love for you blossoming like a rose in bloom. he cherished the moments you shared, from stolen kisses beneath the stars to whispered confessions of love in the quiet of the night.
your mutual love for poetry and music became the soundtrack to your burgeoning romance, weaving a tapestry of emotion and desire that bound you together. you found refuge in the lyrics of love songs and the verses of passionate poetry, each word a reflection of the depth of your connection.
Song: Friends by Chase Atlantic
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astralisbelle · 1 year
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Dead Man's Hand 2 - What's The Catch?
Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu
chapter summary: Mando learns of a sabacc tournament with a lucrative prize... and a costly catch.
note: no reader in this chapter, but we're setting the story up!
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gif by starsallhavenames
The Mandalorian tosses the three pucks onto the white marble desk before him. “Just delivered the bounties to your men,” he says.
He addresses the wealthy man sitting behind the desk, older but well kept. His gray hair is neatly combed back, his fingernails have nary a speck of dust, and the gold robes that wrap around his shoulders and body are perfectly fitted.
The casino owner flashes a practiced smile, cold and purely for ceremony. “You work fast, Mando,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Bring the Mandalorian his money. And a small bonus, as a treat!” The butler at his side bows and excuses himself from the room. “While you’re waiting, Mando, I was hoping to tempt you to stay for a couple of days.”
“Another job?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Not interested.” The butler returns with the small chest of credits, handing it to Din. Just before he can turn and leave, the owner raises his hand to make him wait.
“Hear me out, friend.” Din bites on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything, but he is ready to reject the owner again. “I’m holding a sabacc tournament here in a few days. The buy-in is exactly the amount of your bonus.”
Din sighs, hoping the modulator masks the irritation in his voice. “I don’t gamble for credits. I hunt.”
The owner laughs. “And that’s where it gets interesting. The grand prize isn’t credits.” He fans his fingers together, making a bed for his chin as he leans forward, that empty smile turning into a sinister smirk. “Five ingots of beskar steel.”
That turns Din’s head and makes his heart start. One ingot of beskar was already something of a small fortune, but five? He hadn’t seen that much since he met Grogu. Imagine the armor he could make for Grogu, or donate for the foundlings. He had to get it; this is the Way. “How much?”
“I’m sorry?”
“For the beskar. How much? Or what’s the job?”
The owner bursts into laughter, sitting back in his chair. “Sorry, Mando. Not for sale. If you want that beskar, you’re gonna have to win it. Oh, and… one more thing about that. If you do decide to enter the game, you won’t be able to wear your helmet. That would be cheating.”
Din is thankful in this moment that the casino owner cannot see the look of pure vile that colors his expression. His muscles tense and his fist curls, tightening the leather around it. For a few moments, he weighs his options. Even if he was willing to remove his helmet… he unfortunately knows that he’s garbage at sabacc. Perhaps he could steal it, but robbing a Canto Bight casino would require a whole team that he trusted and more planning than he had time to put together.
He needs time to think. Without another word, he takes the credits that he’s owed and turns on his heel, walking away. The casino owner says goodbye, but Din ignores him.
What to do…
When he settles back into the pilot seat of the Razor Crest, he looks over at Grogu sitting tight and waiting for take-off. “You know how to play cards, kid?” he asks. Thankfully, at this point, Grogu is used to his sarcasm and respond merely with a wide stare. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Though, he supposed finding a stand-in for him wouldn’t be the worst idea, if he found someone he could trust.
---
“You know how to play sabacc?” Din asks Greef.
Sitting across from him, the High Magistrate strokes his chin in thought. “I’m decent,” he says. “I can win a couple hundred credits on a good day.”
“How would you feel about entering a tournament in Canto Bight?”
Greef pauses for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Then, he tosses his head back and cackles, causing Grogu to tilt his head in confusion. When Greef notices that Din isn’t laughing with him, his smile drops. “You’re serious?”
Din wishes that he could massage his temple right now. “The grand prize is five ingots of beskar. But I need someone that isn’t me to win it.”
“Why’s that?”
“No helmets are allowed.” He pauses. “...And I’m lousy at sabacc.”
Greef clicks his tongue. “I’d be wiped out clean in a few turns at a tournament like that.” He sits up. “I might know a few people who could potentially help you.”
“Do you trust them with your life?” he asks point-blank. Quite the confrontation, he knows, but obtaining the beskar is a matter of life or death for him. Greef makes a thin line with his lips, hesitating.
“No.”
Din stands up with a tired sigh. “Then it’s fine. Sorry for taking up your time.”
There just has to be someone else. He knows that he isn’t the most popular man around, but there has to be one person that he trusts and is good at sabacc. Unfortunately, there does not seem to be enough overlap in those two. Maybe, he could let the tournament play out and then steal it from the winner? No, too risky.
Then, it hits him.
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slusheeduck · 2 months
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85?
85. "You're not going to fall, I've got you." "Give me a boost." It took Falerin a moment to register what Astarion had said, and when he did, he merely gaped at him. "What?" Astarion nodded upward. "A boost. Help me get up so I can get the lock on the window. That's our easiest way of getting inside." Falerin's stare didn't abate for a solid minute, and he shook his head. "I'm not doing that. I can't do that. I've never..."
Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's not hard, love. Just interlace your fingers, and I'll do the rest."
Fal frowned at that, then looked around. He sighed, interlacing his fingers and stooping down. "Fine. We should have brought Karlach."
"Probably, yes, but what a fun date night this is. And I always love when you're my partner in crime." Astarion set his foot in Falerin's waiting hand, then held his shoulder as he pushed up. "Well, shit."
"What?"
"You're too short."
"I'm too short? We're the same height, you ass!"
"Please, I have at least two inches on you. Let me down."
Falerin huffed, but carefully leaned down to Astarion could step down. The vampire clicked his tongue, hands on his hips as he looked up. Falerin crossed his arms.
"So...do we need to find another in?" he asked. Astarion squinted at the window.
"I don't think so. Get me up on your shoulders."
Falerin blinked. "No. I can't do that."
"You can. Here, we'll do the same as before. I'll hook my legs on your shoulders, and you can lean against the wall for support. Easy."
Falerin worked his jaw as he stared at Astarion, who looked utterly confident in what had to be one of his top five worst ideas during their adventure. Finally, he huffed.
"Gods, you're lucky you're pretty." He sent Astarion a flat look, then interlaced his fingers. "All right, go on."
Astarion once again stepped into his hand, but this time his other leg hoisted itself high to hook over Falerin's shoulder. Fal quickly reached up, grabbing Astarion's ass as he fumbled his second leg over Fal's other shoulder. With a lot of grunting, up Astarion went.
"Don't drop me," he hissed as they wobbled.
"I'm not! You're not going to fall, I've got you," Falerin assured. "Though you're heavier than you look. I've got a heart condition, remember."
"Not with that tadpole in your head you don't. Lean back."
Falerin did, and that seemed to work. Somehow. Astarion made a quiet, pleased little noise. "There, see? Perfect. Now just to get this open."
Fal sighed, rolling his eyes, and did his best to stand stable. His hands were practically glued to Astarion's ass, keeping him as steady as he could, and his eyeline was almost entirely consumed by his crotch. An idea struck him, suddenly, and he realized that he had a great opportunity for revenge. He looked up.
"Astarion, love, are we good to have sex again?'
"What?"
"I want to know if you're okay with it. You know, after the graveyard."
Astarion, working intently on the lock, huffed and rolled his eyes. "Do we need to discuss this now?"
"I just want to know."
Astarion let his head thunk against the windowsill before he answered. "Why yes, dearheart, rest assured that unless I say otherwise, every advance is welcome with enthusiastic consent," he replied, voice sing-song with how much sarcasm dripped from it. "There. Happy?"
"Very. Thank you, love." With that, Falerin chose violence, and he buried his face between Astarion's thighs.
Astarion wheezed in a breath, just barely managing to clamp his hand over his mouth without taking out an eye with his lockpick. Cloth armor, clearly, had been a mistake today; yes, it was great for movement, but it also meant he could feel every press of Falerin's lips and tongue as he mouthed against his cock through his trousers. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, intending to hiss out a "What the fuck are you doing?" down to him, but a particularly hard kiss to a particularly sensitive area sent his hand right back to his mouth.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't very good. It was awkward, and the fabric was too thick for anything really stimulating. But the whole experience: the precarious position, the location, the fact it was while Astarion was meant to focus...that was, admittedly, really doing it for him. And Falerin, bless him, would not stop until he either asked or came--or, possibly, when his jaw wore out. Whatever came (ha) first.
Astarion tried a few more times to work the lock, hands shaking and breath coming in ever-quickening pants. But as good as he was, there was no way he was going to actually be able to pick a difficult lock like this. He finally settled on resting an arm against the windowsill, face buried in it to quiet any potential noises, and awkwardly thrusting his hips as best he could against Falerin's mouth with the very little leverage. Luckily, he didn't have long to make a complete fool of himself--in just a few short minutes, he bit into his sleeve, fangs digging into the fabric, as he shuddered through his release. He breathed hard, unnecessarily, as his head swam.
Most impressively, through all of it, Falerin indeed had not let him fall.
But there was no lockpicking to be done. Not when Astarion's limbs were so loose and had laundry that very much needed doing now. He waited until he caught his breath, then carefully swung a leg off of Falerin's shoulder, somehow managing to catch himself as he dropped down beside him. He gave the warlock a flat look, especially in the face of Fal's shit-eating grin.
"That was...the stupidest thing I have ever done," he hissed out, still breathless. And Falerin, damn him, only smiled in return.
"Mm. Think out your plans next time, love," he said, leaning in to give him a kiss. "And maybe bring an accomplice who'll be a little less tempted by you." He yawned suddenly, stretching and walking out of the alleyway. "I'm exhausted! Let's head back to the Elfsong."
Astarion stared after him, then--walking with a tremendous grimace and awkward gait--followed after to hiss, "If we ever get married, I am divorcing you the minute it's official."
"As is your right. But in that case, I'm getting Gale in the divorce."
Ask meme
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