#begrudgingly accepting affection lol

[tinybunbunn]

…okay making that last flipnote was really fun so I made another 🥹 nose nuzzles <3

[specshroom]

•The Queen of Curses•

Part 1 / Part 2

(Ok So think of this as like a Sukuna wins and everyone dies AU lol. True form! Sukuna. Added the cursed blood bath for no reason. Suggestive, titty stuff but that's it, MDNI, She/her reader, no use of Y/N)

Sukuna didn't rein over the Heian Era alone. It was always him and his lover, burning and slaughtering together. Their love for eachother was well known across the land. People knew not to be fooled by her less intimidating looks (in comparison to her husband) for she was just as brutal and heartless as he. 

All that changed when sorcerers from the era used all they're combined might to seal the Curse Queen inside a small cursed object, formed only from the combined sacrificed corpses of their comrades. 

They knew that the only way to defeat the King and Queen was to separate them and they succeeded. After hearing of the fate of his lover Sukuna flew into a blind rage leading to his own defeat at the hands of the same sorcerers.

One thousand years of relative peace passed with the two lovers separated but still yearning for each other. 

Luckily for the lovers, the ever devoted Uraume never stopped looking for a way to set their masters free. After centuries of searching and begrudgingly accepting a little help from Kenjaku, they finally found the cursed object that their Queen had been trapped in, a simple orb a little bigger than a tennis ball. It made Uraume's stomach turn thinking of such a powerful force being shoved into such a small thing. They carried the black orb with them everywhere while continuing the plot to releasing Sukuna. They found themselves whispering to it, compelled by the obsidian globe. They didn't know if their master could hear but they felt like it was right, like they could almost sense their masters overwhelming aura, compelling them to spill out everything they know. So Uraume spoke to it quite a lot, telling the dark orb and the beast inside about Sukuna's fate, about the new world, about Kenjaku and the plan to free her and her lover. 

The plan that finally comes to fruition. Sukuna is freed, his true form is restored in all its glory and hes wreaked havoc on most of Shibuya just as a warm up.  Uraume kneels before him.

"Master Sukuna."

 They say bowing their head.

 "Hmm?" 

Sukuna hums an acknowledgement, eyeing them with contempt. 

Uraume brings the dark crystal like ball out of their loose robes and holds it up, presenting it to their king. "Now, with your power fully restored we can release the Queen from her containment."

Sukuna stares at the ball in the sorcerers hand and gestures for Uraume to give it to him. He holds it as gently as his colossal hand is able to. It seems to get hotter in his hand, so hot it would surely sear the skin of a mortal. He pears into the orb only seeing his reflection in it, the Curse king nods to Uraume. He places it on the ground and they both step back, arms reaching out towards the orb on the ground.

In unison they both let out powerful blasts of cursed energy aiming right at the cursed seal. Strong streams of power, one white hot and the other pearcing cold, the orb starts to crack emitting a glowing white light. "It's breaking! Don't stop!" Sukuna orders and Uraume grunts but dutifully follows orders. The cracks grow wider and the light shines brighter before it's too blinding and they both cover their eyes as a powerful blast pierces the air.

In the settling dust stands a figure that's all too familiar to the both of them. They both watch as the figure shifts, leaning back and stretching their arms above their head, releasing a groan that is appropriate for someone who hasn't been able to move much in a thousand years. When the woman finally turns to Sukuna she sighs and smiles, letting out a relieved huff. Sukuna grins triumphantly and opens all four of his arms expecting a tide of thankful affection from his lover. When she takes the first few steps towards him her smile starts to waver until it's down to a grimace. Sukuna tenses as her eyes darken. He opens his mouth to ask what's the matter as she walks up to him and-

*SLAP*

Silence envelops the already desolate atmosphere. Sukuna's head is turned to the side, his eyes wide. He blinks before glaring at the offender with a look that could kill. She stares up at him with eyes just as deadly. 

"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME IN THAT FUCKING BALL FOR SO LONG!!?"

Sukuna stares with his mouth open for a second genuinely shocked into silence until that second is over and he responds with equal vitriol. 

" HUH?! THAT WAS YOUR OWN FAULT WOMEN! DONT BE UNGRATEFUL!" 

The two fiery curses glare at each other with such violent intent, the very air around them heats up. 

"WHAT KIND OF SHITTY HUSBAND ALLOWS HIS OWN WIFE TO GET SEALED!"

"YOU CAN'T BLAME ME FOR THAT! DIDN'T I JUST SET YOU FREE?"

"DONT TAKE ALL THE CREDIT YOU BASTARD! URAUME'S THE ONE WHO-" 

As if the women just remembered that the other sorcerer exists, she turns around and there her loyal subject is, kneeling in her presence. 

" Welcome back master, it's good to see you" 

The woman's face brightens up immediately, "Uraume~" She sings running up to the sorcerer and lifting them into a bone crushing hug that would've killed a lesser being. "Oh, Thank you Uraume. My dutiful subject, you did so good." The Curse Queen coos at the sorcerer, squishing their face into her chest and stroking their duel coloured hair. Uraume doesn't hug back as to be respectful of their superior but they don't push back either, just letting their master man-handle (woman-handle?) them. 

Sukuna clicks his tongue at the show of affection and crosses two of his massive arms over his chest. No doubt in disbelief that HIS wife doesn't embrace HIM first after a thousand years spent apart.

The wife in question turns to him with Uraume still in her arms, an irritated look on her face. 

"What's your problem?" 

"My problem is that MY wife is being an ungrateful bitch." 

The benevolent woman stills and Uraume peers up at her from their place, nestled into the cleavage of her loose fitting kimono. The woman sets Uraume down onto the ground gently. She breathes a heavy sigh and in less that a second she's on Sukuna throwing a mass of red hot cursed energy right into his face. He blocks it in time and is able to keep blocking her continuous fast attacks. She gets frustrated and lets out a powerful blast that shakes the earth and forces him to jump back to avoid the blast.

She laughs with relief, finally being able to let out all that pent up cursed energy feels amazing. Her tattoos (similar to Sukuna's but not quite the same) almost seem to glow with the immense energy output being let off from her body. Only the tattoos on her face, neck and wrists are visible but Sukuna knows very well what the rest looks like, having traced every inch of ink with his fingers.

Sukuna takes the opportunity while she's distracted by the pure euphoria of letting her energy loose and comes barreling towards her, she can't react before he tackles her to the ground. He pins her hands down with two of his hands and another goes to roughly grab her jaw.

"Does it feel good to finally let off some steam, Baby?" 

The king of curses teasingly remarks from above her.

"Baby? That's new." She questions with a teasing grin. Her words are a bit slurred from the way her husband is holding her jaw.

"Might as well get with the times." He bites back with an even more cocksure grin. She scratches and kicks at him and bites at his hand. With all her concentration she channels the sheer amount of pent up cursed energy in her body and lets it burst out in a deafening blast that knocks Sukuna off of her. Static reverberates in the air.

In the few seconds it takes for him to recover she takes the opportunity to pounce on him pinning him to the ground. Grinning from her place above him her heavy breaths and beating heart match his. Her crazy, alert eyes meet four others with the same sentiment.

"I missed you so fucking much." Sukuna says before he pulls her by her robes into a deep kiss. The kiss is somehow aggressive and sensual.

Two of Sukuna's massive hands go to her waist and thigh holding her body to his as he sits up. The third hand is on the floor for balance and the last is tangled in her hair pressing her further into the kiss, as if that's even possible. Both Cursed beings are glad that they don't need to breath or else they surely would have suffocated each other by now. 

The queen of curses has never been more pleased by the fact that her husband doesn't seem to know what a shirt is. Sukuna has voiced many times that he wished his wife shared the same sentiments only for her to scoff at the suggestion, although, now she thinks the idea is one of the best he's ever had.

They fight for dominance with their tongues. Still locked in the passionate sloppy kiss the woman unlatches her hands from his hair to slip off the robes she was wearing over a loose fitting kimono. She unwraps the black accented white Kimono, rather slowly in sukunas opinion to let her breasts fall free to the warm air. 

Sukuna releases his mouth from hers, licking his spit slicked lips to stare down at his beautiful wife's beautiful tits.

"Yeah, remember these are mine. Only mine." Sukuna grumbles lowly before smooshing his face right between them, sighing deeply like a thousand year old itch has finally been scratched.

"Aww, is Ryō a little jealous?" The woman preens in a patronising manner while lightly stroking his fluffy hair.

"Poor baby~" She coos, repeating the pet name he used for her. Her teasing only gets a glare and a growl from the beast of a man currently buried in her tits, holding her impossibly closer to his face.

She chuckles down at him, a loving yet menacing look in her eyes.

"Well maybe I should let Uraume- where did they go?"

She looks around the scorched city landscape looking for her white haired subordinate and as if they heard her words summoning them they appear with a respectful bow.

"I have made the preparations for your bath."

"Thank you, Uraume~"

The woman beams and turns to the man who is still occupied with her tits, he's now picked a tit to suckle on, fondling the other in his rough hand.

"come now Ryo, it's time for our bath." She says curtly and the man groans with his mouth full, absolutely dreading even the idea of his tongue leaving the hardened nipple he's been sucking on. If the two objects poking her ass are any indication if it was up to him they would never get to the blood bath Uraume so kindly set up for them.

She tries standing up and pulling away but the man is latched on tightly, all four arms clutching around her as if they never want to be an inch apart from her again. The more she struggles the bigger the two chubs in his pants grow. She sighs and struggles once more.

"Uraume planned this out very nicely for us, Ryomen. Just do what I say Damnit!"

She pulls at his hair and he bites down on her tit in response, earning a yelp and a harsh smack on the head from her. He laughs, not with the mouth on her tit but with the mouth on his stomach. She peers down at it, as if she just remembered it's there. Without wasting more time she grabs the large tongue crushing it with her grip and tugging on it hard.

Sukuna releases her tit to yell out in pain.

"OW, WOMAN! You should be grateful for every ounce of attention I give you! OW!"

As Sukuna rages, she snorts and jumps out of his now loosened arms. Turning her back to him, she approaches the other sorcerer who's head is still bowed.

"Uraume, would you kindly show me to my bath?"

"Of course, Master"

Uraume stands and bows their head. Holding out their arm for their Queen.

She holds onto Uraume's arm, purposely squishing her still exposed breasts into the sorcerer's side as she smiles down at them.

"I guess we'll have the bath all to ourselves then, Uraume~"

Uraume closes their eyes with a knowing smile and nods in response, very accustomed to the games the two lovers would play with each other, often forcing them right in the middle. Their Queen would often promise that she'd one day make Uraume flustered, something that to this day has yet to occur.

The sorcerer doesn't even flinch at their powerful master fawning over them, stroking their arm and pressing her now marked up tits closer into them as the two walk off towards the bath Uraume prepared.

"HEY!! WHAT THE HELL!?? URAUME!"

Sukuna sits in disbelief at his wife's antics. As if he's only now remembering what a tease she is and has always been.

His wife looks back at him over her shoulder, she shrugs her kimono off her shoulder, exposing her tattooed shoulder to him before turning back to Uraume snickering.

Sukuna huffs and grins, shaking his head. He's so fucking happy to have his wife back.

(AN: I was originally planning to make this smut but... It just got away from me😭😭 sooo... Maybe in a part two? 👀👀)

[zepskies]

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

If you want to read a reverse of this - How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw would take care of you when you're sick, check out this HC by @luci-in-trenchcoats:

How They Take Care Of You When You’re Sick

And if you want even more fluff, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell:

Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

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[robloxmythoids]

Uhhh hi messed up ship headcanons

Taph x 007n7

- Taph loves physical affection and 007 provides it. I think 007 also wants physical affection so he gets it from taph also. 007 learns sign language arc

Chance x Elliot

- chance almost definitely has a lot of dues towards Elliot. Elliot could care less but Chance worries that he's taking advantage of elliots generosity :p.

1x4 and 007n7

- toxic old man yaoi I mean uhm 007n7 can't touch 1x4's torso, so he substitutes things like hugging and snuggling with waltzing and resting his head on 007n7's shoulder. He especially likes kissing 007 on the forehead. 1x4 has done some... questionable things (murder) for alone time (LMS) with 007.

- one sided core 1x4 has a very unhealthy obsession with 007 and often displays signs of affection towards him, while 007 is absolutely terrified and wishes he wasn't the center of her attention.

Elliot x 007n7

- Elliot enjoys teasing 007 a lot, and likes jumlscaring him with hugs from behind. 007 on his part likes having lighthearted arguments with Elliot. Usually 007 wins those arguments lol

Taph x Dusekkar

- Very one sided. Dusekkar likes Taph but more in a mentor apprentice way, while taph wants to make out with dusekkar. More general but taph likes gifting shiny things to Dusekkar as a show of affection. Romantic specifically.

Two Time x Taph

- Two time and taph very much enjoy staring at each other lovingly, but two time is very much two time and taph has shut down all attempts at a relationship. Two time unhealthy devotion core (also very scared of physical affection out of fear of escalation to hurting the other maybe?)

John and Jane Doe

- sickeningly sweet (all I have to say)

Chance x Mafioso

- Mafioso likes spoiling chance, chance is more or less begrudgingly agreeing to it. Both were very stupid when trying to get together and it took FOREVER for it to happen and everyone around them is very upset over how long it took.

Two time x Elliot

- Two time very excited over Elliot doing anything. Very. Too much. Elliot freaked out in a loving way. Two time eats pizza weird and Elliot genuinely considers breaking up with them over this but never does. /hj

Shedletsky x Builderman

- Shedletsky has been in love for ages, Builderman has just realized he likes shed in that way or even just fallen in love. Shedletsky has already accepted the status quo and builderman thinks he's too late to change it.

(THE INBOX IS OPEN! please send some headcanons in!!)

[picopepin]

Ah.... long sadperson rant below... feel free to keep scrolling dsghjdsg

Once upon a time, someone told me I talked too much about a freshly born oc ship in our large but personal roleplay community and that it was getting on peoples nerves and ever since then I don't talk about stuff on main or in a group setting anymore unless I'm asked. (Or in this blog's case, It MUST be accompanied by a piece of art... or Ive wasted people's time.) My parents have also been like this to me, vocally, but that's... different lmfao they are another can of worms.

I don't think about this person begrudgingly - because I think we all get to this point. Look inside yourself and ask if you've ever come -pinches fingers- this close to vagueing in a tag or on anon. Most of the time we are able to not do it! Some people slip, its okay, its human. But it absolutely has affected the way I interface with fandom, with my own content/ocs, its why I rarely text post its why I never blurb except when asked or prompted. It's why I get testy when I feel like my vision is overlooked or misrepresented - which unfortunately happens just as much as I fear it does. That could BE my fault, for not putting my foot down and talking about my creativity analytically other than physical evidence of motifs or whatever. It also applies to why I don't share headcanons for things that aren't my intellectual property. I don't want to be seen as annoying, I don't want to be contradictory when I'm pretty accepting of a lot of headcanons.. most of the time. When we are on the same level of give and take then it never matters anyways, right? Like... I'm not scared of being wrong I literally speak in malaphors on the regular. I'll admit I get a little worn out with the oversaturation of something, especially when its new* because god forbid people get excited about anything, but it's never so personal that I would say "yeah I wish you would stop posting about xyz" lol. As my closest companions have come to know me my typical outlet for this frustration is to draw more of what I want to see instead. The person aforementioned I think... meant well too but... you should be able to notice my ratio of pictures to writing/hyping myself up without artwork is disproportionate. I have a remarkable amount of people that are interested in my things - my ubetellas my mte198x my tobagoverse my furries even haha! Its nice. Im glad I do something that a few people like. Anyways I would love to see an actual therapist about this but yall get to be my audience today. This happens every other summer like clockwork with or without hunger or triggering events lol.

[pilotingdreammsss]

Red velvet anon here to strike again could we get introducing red velvet to your family pure vanilla and house custard it would be so crazy

I have died and gone to hell and Red Velvet Anon is my tormentor /j

W-w-were my other Red velvet fics not enough? Sniffle sniffle... I can't even look at him normally anymore. Look what you've done to me RV anon this is your fault /j

You get short headcanons because I don't want to write RV properly rn...

* ˚ ✦ - Introducing a cookie of darkness to your very 'pure' family is tricky. Both to you and to Red Velvet Cookie as they're expectantly disapproving of your relationship. Convincing them won't be easy either, as they're convinced Red Velvet Cookie has malicious intentions towards you in the relationship. Accusations of 'indoctrination' and 'manipulation' are flung about like arrows.

* ˚ ✦ - Though it's necessary. Red Velvet Cookie either has to leave his beliefs or you behind. To nobody's surprise at all, he decides to ditch the evil group once and for all to pursue a relationship with you and your family. It still is not enough. Hosue Custard is still insistent you court other cookies which they deem worthy of your love. Red Velvet Cookie's affections towards you are lost on them as his roots are never truly erased. It's truly upsetting both to you and to him as you fight, tooth and nail, for your family to accept him as their own.

* ˚ ✦ - Pure Vanilla Cookie is the first to come around to your relationship. He wholly believes in redemption, that all cookies can be redeemed to some point. He is first to validate your relationship. He, too, is first to defend it, too, even if his relatives are unwilling to accept Red Velvet Cookie as your partner. He argues that love is love, no matter what your partner's roots are. The family is more likely to listen to him, even if begrudgingly.

* ˚ ✦ - It's a begrudgingly slow acceptance into the family. He still gets dirty looks at reunions, and whispers of hopes of you breaking up with him are frequent. Tensions are high for the first few months after his introduction and induction. They tone down the further you dwell into the relationship, as hope begins to fade, and he's slowly 'tolerated'.

* ˚ ✦ - This does not mean he is not trying, however. Red Velvet Cookie tries his hardest to be somewhat presentable with your family, but only to an extent. When they begin to get mouthy with you or him, it's time to leave. Sometimes, he even gets aggressive. It saddens you a little for tensions to be so high between those who had raised you and the one you truly loved.

* ˚ ✦ - Conclusively, it's a fickle matter that's very complicated due to Red Velvet Cookie's beliefs and roots. I'd imagine that House Custard has more than just a problem with you dating a Cookie of Darkness. They'll warm up to Red Velvet Cookie, maybe!

I'm gonna be dead serious here, I won't be writing him for now lol.

[nouearth]

because i love you.

jason todd x male reader.

summary: your birthday is a memory you often ignore. jason is determined to forge a new, unforgettable one.

wc: 3k. genre: fluff, comfort. warnings: domestic!au, crying, descriptions of food.

a/n: happy belated birthday, anon! i know this was late, but i wanted to priortize this over my other requests before it would be even later, LOL. hope you had a great one, and that this was a gift to remember!

request: anon.

“so,” a gruff voice briefly broke your focus from peering through the oven door, but the cookies had seconds left in the oven, so you'd figure a hum to acknowledge jason's presence would suffice.

it was a painful and mundane process to squat and watch the cookie batter form into heavenly, ooey-gooey chocolatey goodness. sure, you could’ve done something to pass the time—finish your backlog of books, or even the tv dramas you promised your friends you would finish soon—but the cookies always came out perfect like this.

once, you decided to do laundry while letting the cookies bake. as soon as the oven rang, the thought of over-baking your perfected recipe of cookies, that everyone had gleefully devoured and expected at every potluck, chased you faster than a wild fox could. to your bewilderment (and exhaustion), a few seconds longer in the oven changed the texture of the baked treats. though no one noticed, even if you insisted that the taste changed as well, it ruined your entire day and since then, you’ve made a silly promise to yourself to never let these cookies out of your sight.

even if your boyfriend was squatting with you, kissing you at the neck now. 

“earth to (m/n),” his lips brushed deep into your skin, and you could hear him inhaling your natural scent. for a minute there, he forgot you were baking, so the smell of chocolate and brown sugar certainly awakened an unexpected appetite in him. it growled. 

“hello.” jason stretched a whisper into your neck, and you chuckled when his gruff voice tickled you, vowels vibrating lowly into your skin.

“someone’s needy.” you turned to finally greet him with a smile, some kind of acknowledgement, and he begrudgingly accepted it with a kiss. it was almost as sweet as the sugar crystals in the cookie batter he sampled earlier. 

two more minutes now.

“guess i’ll have to bake myself into a cookie to get your attention these days,” jason muttered, pressing his chest to your broad back. the heat from the oven radiated in front of you, yet your back felt warmer.

your head leaned back on his shoulder, grinning towards his frown while he tucked his chin in the vacant space between your neck and shoulder. “whoa, are you envious of my cookies now? that’s kind of sick considering you inhale them within seconds after i take them out of the oven—“

“i eat anything.” jason stated dryly, his palms roamed over your stomach to chase his appetite away as if your body and his were connected. his lips found your neck again, adding to the flush of your skin while one hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts to satiate a different craving. your legs slowly sprawled to accommodate his inviting touch, humming. “they make a great pre-workout.” 

and with the close of your legs, access had been denied. “so, they’re not delicious like you’ve been claiming?”

jason widened his eyes, yanking his hand out of your shorts to put his hands up defensively. “wait, no. that’s not— okay, we’re getting off-topic!”

“hey,“ the oven sang, and with a delighted hop, you abandoned your boyfriend on the floor to tend to your long-awaited baked goods. “you’re the one that brought it up!”

the smell of chocolate and sugar billowed in the air when you opened the oven, and jason’s appetite returned like a parasite once the delicious aroma hit his nose. 

it hadn’t been that long since you’ve started baking, but your hobby had quickly become a beloved activity (and expense), and your affection for it was telling through the wear and tear of your oven mitts. you burned yourself a few times when the baking sheet pressed into various ripped holes, but despite jason’s concern, you never found it damaged enough to purchase a new one. besides, it didn’t take very long to learn the pattern of the hot spots.

two baking sheets, filled with freshly-baked cookies, slid onto the stovetop, and you closed the oven, turning it off after. steam rose from the bloomed batter and you marveled at the sight: rustic, crinkly brown doughs that harbored mounds of comfort and nostalgia in one snack. though for some people, in one bite. the smell hits you after, stung your nose with brown sugar and chocolate chips, and you approved the batch with a deep inhale. 

“what did you want to talk about?” a crack of kosher salt was topped to the cookies, adding to the rustic presentation of the baked goods.

“well,” the smell of the cookies pulled him back to his feet, then by your side as he watched the chunky salt enchant the goods to a higher level. “it’s someone’s birthday soon.” though he knew not to, he reached out to sample an edge of the dough anyway.

“careful,” you watched him with amusement and high curiosity, eyebrows raised to inquire him of the taste. though you knew the answer by the time the chocolate hit his tongue, it was tenfold more interesting than the topic of your birthday.  “what about it?” you asked, and he hummed in approval, greed guiding his hand back to the piping hot cookies.

“so—ow,” the heat bit at jason’s fingers and his hand yanked back to immediately flick remnants of the sting off. “didn’t you want to do anything? a party? dinner? you never even told me what you wanted for your gifts.”

“hm,” you took the oven mitts off and directed the draft towards the steam with quick and light swings, then towards jason’s fingers as he began picking at the chocolate that oozed out. “i never took you as someone who cared about birthdays that much.”

“yeah, well,” he blew on his chocolate stained finger once more before pressing it to your smile. “we’re learning more about each other every day, aren’t we?”

“and it’s kind of incredible how you haven’t dumped me yet.” you laughed and licked the bittersweet stain off your lips. jason only joined with a mere chuckle. he never liked it when you talked about yourself like this.

“seriously though,” jason leaned on the counter with his elbow, nudging your waist with a gentle pat. his hair delicately parted to the side, watching you like you were the only one. “what do you want to do? we can do whatever you want.” devouring the cookies was the last thing on his mind now. 

you’re the only one.

“jason,” the steam slowly waft in the air as you averted your gaze to the cookies cooling. salt glinted under the lights, and they have never looked sweeter. “it’s sweet of you and i appreciate it, but…” yet, there was a bitter aftertaste when you nibbled on a crumble. “i don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“what?” his immediate instinct was to hold you, taking you by the waist as if it could protect you from the memory of the past. “how come? did something bad happen?”

“no, no. nothing like that!” laughing it off always helped you alleviate the bitterness of your thoughts. “it’s just…” but for some reason, your throat began to swell when you do.

“just…?” jason pressed his hand to your waist in a heartfelt attempt at squeezing an answer out of you. “come on, i’m at the edge of my seat here.”

you laughed, taking his hand off and then into your own, as you guided him out of the kitchen and to the living room. the sweet smell was dizzying now. plus your legs hurt from the squatting earlier. you needed some place to snuggle yourself into. preferably, your couch. 

“my family could never afford stuff, so it hasn’t been a thing since…” a yawn escaped your lips as you found comfort into the embrace of jason’s arms. his broad chest was a pillow you never asked for, and these days, you found it to be the best solace your head demanded for. “i guess when i was eight?”

“oh,” jason realized, then began stroking the side of your head as an apology. “i didn’t mean to pry or—“

“it’s no big deal.” in between his caresses, you quickly tilted your head back to press a kiss to his palm—a measurement to dispel his worries. “i’ve spent a longer part of my life not celebrating it, so it’s just a norm now! honestly, i didn’t even notice that my birthday was coming up until you mentioned it to me.”

closing your eyes, images of your family appeared in soft, fading blurs. they smiled through gritted teeth, as did you, and sweated through hard labor of work that managed to put food on a table. “and i also don’t blame my parents, if that’s what you’re thinking. i did at first, but shit happens.” 

though, never a cake.

“you really do nothing since then, though? not even cook yourself dinner or something?” the affection caresses spread to your cheeks and the warmth pulled at the corners of your mouth into a smile.

“i did once,” you shifted to connect your warmth to his. in midst, you were reminded that the smell of jason’s cologne will always triumph over the scent of your cookies. “but it just kind of made things sad, to be honest. it felt weird.” 

“but you celebrated my birthday.” the memories warmed him. “for someone who never celebrated their own, you sure knew how to throw a great party.” laughter, a delicious dinner, and drink shenanigans echoed in passing. “even if it was only us.”

you chuckled at the irony of it all, satisfied that you’ve managed to impress your boyfriend despite your inexperience. 

“well,” glancing up, you then held jason’s doting stare, collected it into your soul, and then sealed it into a vault.

“that’s because i love you.” 

the stroll from your car and to your apartment seized all the energy left in you. aside from carrying bags of groceries, the heavy weight slowly drained your arms of life, the long day of work had a major factor to your exhaustion. awaiting approvals while you were approaching a tight deadline was never ideal, but luckily it got extended, so you can sleep a teensy-bit better tonight. 

grunting, your veins pulsed when you lifted the heavy bags with one arm to punch in the code to your keypad, refusing to be defeated by packs of frozen fruit, greek yogurt, jason’s protein powder, and his mandatory cereal boxes. the beep and green light compelled a satisfied noise out of you and you immediately bouldered into your apartment, stumbling through the garden of your shoes and jason’s, and into the kitchen within a single, hurried stride.

“jase?!” you grunted loud from below, setting the groceries down as soon as the handles pressed into a certain spot in your vein that made you wince. jason’s voiced boomed from above. 

“yeah?!”

as much as you hated it when jason left his soda out, today would be an exception. you downed it in one dreamy gulp, and you could feel your body absorb the sugars, working overtime to churn it into energy afterward.

“can you put the groceries back for me?! i want to go shower!” the kitchen sink alleviated some of that humidity built atop your hands, but you needed it off your body.

“yeah!” jason shouted out. “i’ll be down in a sec!” 

it took you a moment, still high from the amount of energy you’ve exerted within the short amount of time, but the air smelled sweetly familiar. of vanilla, brown sugar, a hint of cinnamon, you sniffed out. 

must’ve baked the cookies i froze for him. you looked around, a sudden desperate need for another ounce of sugar in your body after your commendable performance today. 

and of course, he ate them all.

as soon as you came up the stairs, jason met you outside with a kiss—a password to your bedroom, you’d reckon.

your arms opened up for a hug. “they didn’t have the flavor you wanted, so i—“ but embracing the body of your lover, they were immediately occupied by a pile of your clothes for the night.

“yeah, yeah! that’s fine.” jason began nudging, then pushing you to the bathroom, scrunching his face. “you stink, go shower.”

“wait, why are you acting—“ bewilderment passed you as you stumbled back, and your curiosity was met by more push back, literally. the latter looked nerved, unusually antsy, and that was never a good sign. “jason, are you okay—“

“uh-huh, yeah! yeah, yeah. fine.” before you could even get another question out, the door slammed shut. “wash up! i’m gonna put the groceries back!”

oooookay..?

it took a few beats to register what exactly happened, but all of it was buried to the back of your mind as soon as you started the shower. refreshing and cooling as that soda you downed earlier.

damn, i should’ve restocked on that…

the cold draft cooled your damp skin when you stepped out the bathroom, releasing harbored humidity, and your stress for the day left along with it.

“hey,” your voice echoed while you stepped downstairs, expecting jason to either be on the couch or in the kitchen, most likely eating away at your snacks. “what do you want to eat for dinner—“

“jason?” instead, you were met with complete darkness—well, as dark as it could be while impending dusk approached your windows.

he wasn’t on the couch, entertainment-free. 

you stepped into the kitchen. not there, either. the groceries were put away, but the plastic bags were scattered around the floor. not a single soul, a whisper, or a sound, except for the crinkle of the bags as you stashed them into your recyclables.

either the shower cleared your sinuses, or jason plugged in a new wall fragrance, because the smell was sweeter compared to before. chocolate in its new top note, and vanilla, again, in its base. 

it was strange, you checked the oven. though it was warm, nothing was out of place. then the fridge, nope—jason didn’t stash any leftovers there. once again, catalogued the entire kitchen, suspiciously nothing.

you figured you’ll ask jason about it later, whenever he would come back, but for now, your priority was satiating that grumble in your stomach. as you browsed through your fridge for ingredients after turning on the lights, the cooling air wafted the sweetness away, only for it to return stronger.

and just as quick as the smell of chocolate returned, the lights flickered off.

“what the—“ you turned, and your curiosity was immediately startled by the presence of the missing man. “jesus, jason. where were—“

the only source of light that lit the room came from a soft yellow blur that flickered near jason’s chin. gentle, then not so when he took a step. another waver of light when the draft caught onto the light as he approached you. the light grew bigger, flickered stronger, as if it was connected to your heart and memorized every beat, and the smell of chocolate was pleasantly stringent to your nose.

cake. 

it was a chocolate cake all along, and jason held it with a smile that had been shadowed by the candle. anxiously, you’ve never seen him wore it with a grin before, but it made your heart skip another beat, then two when he confessed.

“happy birthday,” the dark of your orbs refracted the candlelight, yellow and orange light reunited with a wave, several excited waves as if they’ve lost you, and the smoke burning off it cooled the impending wetness of your eyes.

“what— what is this?” your breath hiked, and the candles found it calming, like the sea breeze as it brushed against them—through them. “what are—“

it felt like an eternity since you’ve been celebrated. no, it had been an eternity.

tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt years pass by, heard the cries of a child that received nothing. 

the first year, it was because you were expecting of it. a gift that was never promised, but your hands were bare of nothing. 

the second year, it was hope. something that clung onto because you were promised something. 

the third year. it was denial. it had to be this year, right? you rocked yourself to sleep the night before.

the fourth year. anger. you screamed as if a gift was the only testament in the world to truly display a parent’s love for their child. 

then, the fifth year. acceptance. 

and since, you’ve matured, learned why, and thought it was for the better.

“make a wish,” jason said calmly, breaking you from the spell of your own thoughts.

“what?” you croaked weakly.

years of sheltering your birthday made you clueless, but luckily, jason was here to teach you—to remind you.

“make a wish, then blow.” as much as he wanted to hold you right now, he couldn’t risk his hard work dropping to the floor.

“oh—“ you did as you were told. you wished silently, closing your eyes until another swell of tears were forced to roll out, then blew. 

when jason turned the lights back on, the sight of the cake pulled a laugh out of you. slanted in its position, chocolate smeared all over the cake board, thick icing to cover up the mistakes, you laughed until you wiped tears.

“did you bake this for me?” you snickered, taking the cake and setting it down, because you needed to hug him, embrace him, squeeze him.

“god,” jason laughed, pressed a kiss to your head as he took you in with a strong hug. “if i bought a cake that looked like that, i’d demand two refunds. one for the cake, and one for the happiness they swindled from me.”

“i told you not to, though!” you playfully beat at his chest, the blush on your cheeks pulled a smile wider than you have ever felt, than jason had ever seen. “why?”

“because,” he sighed, then pressed his forehead to yours, holding your damp gaze like it was a prayer. the tension in both your bodies go limp, and he held you closer, worshipping you until he became besotted in your smell, your voice, your gaze, your touch.

“because,” jason repeated, and you held his cheeks, caressing his rough skin.

until even your existence wouldn’t be enough to sober him.

“because i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[leggerefiore]

All this Rocket stuff makes me feel for poor Silver. I really love the idea of S/O being a step-mother figure for him, even after she leaves Giovanni.

Makes it clear to future partners that the kid is a package deal and may drop in on occasion.

Silver deserves good parental figures okay? ;e;

you gave me an idea... so

cw: fluff, not super romance focused, step son silver (? lol)

pairing: Lance/Reader, Past Giovanni/Reader, Silver & Reader (Parental)

Somehow, in the madness that followed Giovanni's disbanding of Team Rocket, you of all people ended up with his son. You, his partner who was almost certainly not Silver's other biological parent, nor really the immediate person most would expect that would end up with the boy. Yet, here he was. With you. In Johto. You were not exactly going to complain, as you had been a bit worried about the boy since you had left the team and Giovanni. Silver barely had any time spent around other children his age and was already growing to accept and imitate that bad behaviour that he was growing up alongside. You knew it was not the best environment for him. Especially when Giovanni would disappear for literal days and leave Silver in the care of you or his right-hand man. The poor boy was desperate for Giovanni's attention in many ways.

You had heard his declaration that he was going to become strong all by himself, and initially refused your aid when he had come to find him in trouble with a police officer. A lie that he was simply going through a rough rebellious phase got him free, and he begrudgingly came along with you. Despite everything, you had been there for him the most out of anyone else in his life. The other Rocket admins had apparently tried to keep him close, but they failed to keep his favour enough for him to remain anywhere within their reach. All their talk about reviving Team Rocket and bringing Giovanni also scared him off, without a doubt. Instead, you found yourself watching over him. He was moody, but it would have been more concerning if he was not.

Still, you saw the sweet little boy in him that you had known the longest. Silver was quite desperate for praise and affection. You would praise his little battle strategies he would come up with the pokemon that his father would let him borrow or compliment his grades when he actually did his schoolwork. You even let him nap with his head in your lap numerous times. And, well, you were the only consistent presence in his home life most of the time. It was hectic having to feed two mouths, yet you rose up to the challenge. The idea of leaving Silver alone to fend for himself (no matter how much he may have insisted on it) left you disturbed. He was still a little boy, no matter how many times that he stated he was trying to become a man.

“… Where'd you get that pokemon, Silver?” you asked the red-head when he walked in with a Totodile. It seemed to despise him. Something in your heart already told you the answer. He was his father's child, in the end.

“From a professor…” he grumbled and walked up to you in the kitchen. His dark eyes held a bitter resentment. Though, it was not directed toward you. “I'm going on a journey. I'm going to prove myself the strongest,” he said plainly, not daring to care to ask for permission. You knew better than to try to deny him that anyway. Rolling your eyes, you instead brought a hand to ruffle his hair. From a professor, he said. You had not heard him mention being close to any professors, nor asking to be a research assistant. The truth was more plain to see. You sighed.

“Alright,” you nodded, “Call me, won't you? I'll be worried sick if you don't.” It was best to continue being a person he could turn to in his troubling times. Him coming to you to tell you that he was going out rather than just vanishing was an improvement if anything. He grumbled again at you ruffling his hair, but he did not swat your hand away.

“Fine…” Silver nodded, “I will.”

“And, Silver,” you knelt down to his level and flashed him a serious expression, “Maybe try thanking that professor.”

He swallowed in reply.

~

You stared deadpan at the Indigo League champion standing outside your apartment door with Silver trying to hide behind him, clearly flustered. Lance's smile was bright at you as he introduced himself and pulled forth the boy out from behind him. Silver seemed to refuse to meet your eye. Apparently, something had happened. What it could be was beyond you, but you wondered if it was related to that attempted Team Rocket revival. Archer had contacted you and asked if you wanted in, but you declined. That was all behind you, and the idea of seeing Giovanni again made you a bit irrationally angry.

“I apologise for showing up like this,” Lance was polite in his words, “I believe… You're an adult watching over him, right?” You nodded and moved to let them inside. The champion took your offer. Silver stomped inside and sat down on the couch. You sighed. This was going to be a mess, was it not? Well, you had decided to take on watching the child, so this was on you to take some responsibility for his actions. Granted, you had frequent contact with him through calls. You had heard all about his not-rival rival — some girl around his age who seemed to know just how to get under his skin by being nice. His clearing of the gyms in Johto... You thought you were pretty up-to-date on his goings-on. It seemed not.

“… He hasn't killed someone, has he?” you started off with a joke, mildly concerned with what had actually happened. Lance laughed and shook his head. Silver tensed up with wide eyes. You pat his back.

“No, no, not at all,” he continued, “See, he was asking me to take him as a protégé, and I wanted to get your permission first.” Silver turned his head to glare at the window. You blinked. Protégé? As in training him?

“Huh? Oh,” you wondered if he had been entirely forth-coming with what he had been up to. Another trait from his father. Wonderful. “Sure,” you nodded, “I don't mind, if you would.” There was no doubt that the champion would be a good influence on him. Probably better than you could ever be. “You didn't tell me you were out befriending league members, Silver,” you called out to him.

He refused to move to look at you. Even Lance appeared a bit exhausted by his behaviour. It was nothing new, but he seemed embarrassed even more so than usual. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders amicably and pulled him into your side. “Thank you for taking on my poor boy,” you said like an exasperated mother might, “I know he's a trouble-maker and horribly disrespectful. I hope you can make him an honest member of society.” Silver pulled away from you and gasped, face as red as his hair. Lance barked out a laugh.

“I-I'll try,” Lance stuttered out in between his laughs, “No promises, though.”

~

Lance had become quite close with you following that. You both had exchanged contact information, as he promised to keep in touch with you about Silver's issues. There was a bit more relief that someone else reliable had an eye out for him apart from you. Except… Well, when the champion had learnt that you were quite an experienced trainer on your own, he offered to battle you. This soon turned into a strangely friendly rivalry before blooming into something else. It shocked you when he offered you out to a café in Goldenrod. He showed up in normal clothing, donning a simple jacket over a t-shirt and dark pants. You could not recall if you had ever seen him out of his dragon tamer uniform — personally or professionally.

It quickly became clear that you had been invited out on a date. Part of you felt it was impossible and strange that an ex-criminal like you had caught a champion's attention so thoroughly. You found that underneath the polite and prideful veneer was a very sweet and caring man. He was oddly doting if not a bit confused. You could tell romance was not a forte for him, but his attempts were charming all on their own. There was only laughter when he bought you a Dratini keychain out on a date before, wondering if you would even enjoy such a thing. It was impossible to reject the offering after that. Even when he learnt about your past, he seemed to shake his head.

“You're clearly not the same as you were,” he had smiled while clutching your hand, “And… Whatever you did doesn't matter now. You're clearly working hard to prove that. Be a bit easier on yourself, won't you?”

His words had pierced you deep. All the shame and regret you had felt about your intimate connections to Rocket were gone in an instant. Instead, you wanted to focus on your new life with the champion and watching over Silver. It felt strange… You had not thought about dating anyone since most people were unable to come to terms with your odd situations with the boy, but… Lance did not care. Instead, he was quite happy to help you in caring for him. He was the kind of strong, firm support and authority that Silver had so desperately needed. You almost teared up as you embraced and kissed him. The champion had reciprocated your affections all the same.

~

“Ew,” Silver gagged when he walked in to you, pecking a kiss on Lance's lips as he got ready to head out to the league. The champion cocked up a brow at him. You shook your head in reply as you pulled away. Life had settled down pretty well for you. You and Silver had moved in with Lance after your relationship with the dragon tamer had become serious. A ring sat on your left hand to prove that. The steady home environment and consistent figures in his life had really been influential on Silver. He had stopped disappearing so frequently and came more by night. Your worries had decreased significantly.

An arm was around your shoulder as Lance pulled you into him. “Your uniform isn't proper,” he scolded the boy, who scoffed in reply. School was still not a favourite thing, but he was attending again.

“I don't care,” he grumbled and walked up to you both, “Did you really have to settle on this guy?”

You shrugged, “Could have tried to hunt down your dad if you preferred.” His face scrunched up like his Sneasel's would when smelling something citrussy. You laughed. Lance shot a strange look at you in reply. Apparently, the only thing he could not stand that you had done was actually be in a relationship with Giovanni. You supposed it was pretty bad in retrospect, but you had gotten something nice out of it. Breaking away from Lance, you stepped towards Silver and fixed his tie a bit. “Neither of you can complain about that,” you pointed out, “It's how I met both of you technically.”

Lance seemed a bit uncomfortable with that revelation, while Silver glanced away. You pulled back after finishing his tie. “I mean, I guess,” Silver relented and then gave you an unexpected hug, “Ugh… I love you.” It seemed you were being compared to his actual parents again. You hugged him back and returned his sentiment. He then pulled away to act like he had not just done that. Well, you were glad that you two were back to being closer these days. The flashes of the younger Silver you knew were things you cherished deeply.

“I love you, too,” Lance came up to put a hand on your back and say. You smiled back at him. He then asked Silver about upcoming exams, to which the boy turned pale.

You sighed.

You really did love the family you ended up with.

[riddle-me-ri]

Hi, for the Valentines day event may I request Secret six Mad Hatter with the prompt "The morning after their first night together" and I'm ok with nsfw or sfw your choice

a/n: first true toe tip back into nsfw territory, Secret Six was the easiest to do it with because its blatantly clear he has experience lol, anyways I hope you guys enjoy!

Content Warning: mild sexual content (somewhat non-con but con is given later groping, humping) k

Word Count: 519

Morning After with Secret Six Mad Hatter

Jervis has had more of these “morning afters” more so than he cared to admit.

The begrudgingly waking up, putting clothes back on and carrying on until the next encounter in search for that next high.

Whether it was with one partner or multiple for that night or variation from one to more…it didn't matter…it was all the same.

Last night, however, was an entirely different story…an entirely different experience.

It wasn't transactional by any means. It wasn't some means to an end for Jervis to feel some form of affection or acceptance.

It was something far more intimate and potent.

Jervis turned his head and noticed your sleeping form…

He isn't used to his partners staying for the morning after.

Right now, he is certain none of them could ever hold a candle to you…

Jervis shifted himself under the sheets to try and get closer to you–to get that intimate proximity back from the night before.

He could almost take your breath away when he drew his own breath.

His calloused hand slowly rose up from under the covers to come caress the side of your face.

Jervis took a thick gulp, as his mind began slowly coming to terms with what has transpired and the conclusion he's slowly coming to…

This is what he has yearned for all his life.

There is no manufactured or recreational high he could create or replicate that could make him feel as elated as he does now.

Jervis yearned for nothing more…well except for you to wake up, so he can see your gorgeous eyes look into his with adoration.

It didn't take long for his body to physically begin manifesting his deep desire for you and your body.

His oversized back teeth nipped at his bottom lip in uncertainty.

Jervis tucked his head into the nook that was your neck and peppered warm damp kisses.

Just feeling his lips graze your soft skin, it made the hypnotist moan…

Surely, surely you'll forgive him for this, he's told you how irresistible he found you.

This sort of thing was bound to happen now that the two of you have crossed this threshold….

Jervis continued to kiss the contours of your face and body, as his hands touched and caressed whatever surfaces he wasn't kissing.

His moans were muffled by his face, deeply snuggled into your chest, lips occasionally sucking or biting the skin.

It wasn't until you felt the familiar rhythmic motion of what can only be described as humping against your groin that finally caused you to stir awake.

“J-Jervis?”

The man in question raised his head up and finally met yours eyes with his own.

“Ah, there you are, my dear…” Jervis sighed blissfully, all his motions coming to a halt to bask in your attention.

“Couldn't wait, hm?” You inquired still somewhat groggily.

Jervis chuckled nervously. “Not quite dear, see your far too irresistible while I have you here…”

You hummed. “I see…”

You slowly rolled over on your back, taking Jervis along with you.

“Well then, by all means, don't stop on my account..” You winked.

[yellow-faerie]

@elanna-elrondiel here's the first of the three fics you requested! It was a lot of fun because I got to characterise Dírist a bit more (gruff and not quite sure how relationships work but who has accidently started loving this child who's tumbled into his care) and also throw in some Rochind wolf nightmares :)

(I'm obsessed with that wolf lol)

Send me a prompt from this list :)

5 - "I promised I would protect you. And I never break my word."

Dírist had never intended on having children. He was not all that great at relationships in general and had accepted at a young age that that sort of thing - a loving spouse, a family to come home too, a slowly growing pile of descendants - was just not for him.

It had never hurt. Dírist had had his horses, and when the Ñoldor had arrived and settled in his lonely forest to guard against the Enemy, he had had his job of being the High King's glorified tour guide to the area.

Yet a child had managed to crawl his way into Dírist's affection.

It was the sound of a child.

They had been on a hunt - the High King and his eldest son - and Dírist had come too, in order to translate should they come across any of the scattered elves up here who still spoke the older dialect of Sindarin. They had been closing in on the kill, a large stag they had been chasing for some time, when they had heard a scream.

The High King had swerved off course at once, followed close by his son, and Dírist had begrudgingly taken up the rear. Loud noises in these woods had a habit of being distorted and sounding nearer than they were, and Dírist doubted that what they would find would be anything short of grisly.

Dírist thought that that was the sort of stupidity that got you killed.

Yet the boy - for that was who had screamed - had still lived. He was bleeding quite heavily from a large cut around his eye, and was being backed against a thick tree trunk by the largest wolf that Dírist had ever laid eyes on; not that that had cowed the Ñoldorin royalty. Dírisit had gathered that they believed the only thing that could stop one prince of the Ñoldor was another prince of the Ñoldor, or the Dark Lord himself.

Still, it was also the sort of stupidity that saved young elflings from being mauled to death by wolves.

The monstrosity successfully chased away, with an arrow in the neck, both the High King and his heir immediately began fussing over the boy, who stared at them as if they might grow fangs and fur and start chasing him down at any minute.

It had been Dírist who found him sometime later, after the three of them had split up to search, and it was Dírist who coaxed him up onto Lorast with the promise of seeing more horses later, and it was Dírist - after the High King had performed his first, gentle inquisition as to where the boy might have come from - who took the boy back to his chambers for the night.

Dírist had worked his whole life around animals, although horses had always been his preference, and so he knew that expression of cornered fear on the boy's face well; which was to say, he knew the moment he was going to bolt. The prince had gone to their saddlebags to find their medical supplies, and the High King had turned away from the elfling to say something, and the boy had disappeared.

Especially on dark, stormy nights when the nightmares come prowling.

The decision had been made that Dírist, one of the only Sindar in the fortress and the one closest to the king, would take care of the boy until his family's whereabouts could be ascertained and so it was him, when it was finally decided that perhaps his family would be unfindable, who became his guardian. So it was Dírist who gave him a name, since the boy had shown a disinclination towards talking, and though he never used it - at some point, he had come across the name Rochind and that was what he preferred - Dírist still did.

Dírist's evenings have a tendency to run long, even as his mornings are early. His title is as Royal Valet, but his job role is somewhat ambiguous; he cares for the High King's horse and he cares, in part, for the High King, but he also acts as a messenger (a job he often gives to his eager-to-please foster son) and as a translator for official directives to the local populations.

Due to this, he often stays up late so that he might complete some of the work before the next day, where he will inevitably be interrupted by half a dozen people asking inane questions.

That appeared to be a hobby of the Ñoldor.

He's reading over a letter to King Thingol, which the High King had already tried writing in Sindarin, and is ruthlessly correcting it, when a sound rises above the whistling wind and cracking thunder outside.

It comes from the bed that Dírist had tucked in the rafters of his rooms, a whimpering noise like a dog makes when trapped.

He puts down his quill and rises swiftly to his feet, ascending the stairs less elegantly than his ward did until he was awkwardly kneeling in a space designed for someone much smaller.

That someone was crying in his sleep, mumbling incoherently to himself and twisting beneath his blankets. He had nightmares often, Dírist knew, but they were most common when there was a storm outside.

He runs a hand through Rochind's hair, mussed and tangled from his restless tossing, until the boy seems to realise that there is someone there to comfort him and his crying fades to hitched breaths.

Dírist never quite knows when to stop.

No, that's a lie. He knows when he can stop - he could stop now and Rochind would likely sleep fairly peacefully through the night - but he can't help but not want to.

Something in Rochind is terrified of the storm and it is Dírist's duty, as the man who took him in, to protect him until he could protect himself.

Oh but he had grown so much already. It would not be long now until that day came and it leaves Dírist's chest tight with an unfamiliar feeling of almost-grief.

"Sleep well," he says, a little gruffly despite how quiet he is, and starts his awkward descent back down to his desk.

He does not expect for Rochind to sit up, his eyes bleary with sleep yet wildly searching for the missing touch.

"Ada?"

Ah, so he is still asleep, Dírist thinks but still pauses on the ladder, dreaming of the family he never talks of.

His voice is still strange to Dírist's ears, despite the years that he has spent under Dírist's care. He speaks so rarely that to hear him is a novelty and his voice is crackly and rough because of it.

Dírist waits as slowly the sleep fades from Rochind's eyes and he focuses on Dírist's face.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing out of his mouth and he shrinks back against his cushions.

Dírist never knows what to say when someone is scared or sad, especially not children, so his first reaction is to hold his hand out in a peace offering like he would with a wild dog.

"Hey," he says. "No apologies. It's only me."

Rochind licks his lips nervously, his eyes darting across Dírist's face. "I woke you up," he says, each word purposeful in its delivery, and then says again, "I'm sorry."

"You didn't, I was working." Dírist crawls back up the ladder, and then decides to press his luck; very rarely has Rochind spoken so many words to him as this, "do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

Again, he takes a long time to reply, clearly using the time to form his response.

"I was in the woods again." He pauses. "I'm always in the woods. The wolf was following me again, and I could feel it getting closer."

Dírist repeats what his own father said (at least, he thinks it's what his father had said, for his memories of his dad are faint and undefined as it is). "It was a dream, Rochind."

Rochind wraps his arms around himself with a pained expression on his face. "I can still feel it's breath on me now."

Dírist knows that in this attic, there can't be a hulking wolf like the one that had hunted Rochind before, yet he looks up anyway as if it might.

"There's no wolf there."

Rochind's face screws up. "It is, it is," he insists, fingers digging in to the fabric of his sleep trousers.

Dírist opens his mouth to argue, but then realises that Rochind - eyes tightly shut and faintly shaking - won't understand.

So instead, he does something that he has never thought to do before.

He puts a hand on Rochind's knee and says, "I will not let that wolf hurt you. Do you understand?"

Rochind stills. One eye opens.

"You'd do that for me?" He sounds very small.

"What did I tell you when I found you? What did I say to convince you to get up on Lorast?"

The other eye opens too. "That you would keep me safe."

"Yes." Dírist fixes his ward with his most serious expressions. "I promised to protect you. And I don't break my promises."

"So if the wolf comes...?"

"I won't let it get near to you."

"And if it comes back tonight?"

"I will be here." Dírist then tries for a smile, only something small (he didn't want to go too crazy this evening), and it seems to relax Rochind even more. "Do you want me to stay up here while you get back to sleep?"

Rochind nods, his own little smile growing on his face, and he lies back down, tucking the blanket back up under his chin.

Dírist sits there until Rochind's breathing evens out, audible now as the storm calms down outside to a gentle patter against the roof.

He's about to descend to his desk again, feeling strangely against it, when Rochind starts murmuring again.

Something like fear suddenly claws at Dírist's throat but then he notices that Rochind looks at peace.

He's not asleep yet, his eyes half open and a slightly amused smile on his face. "The wolf's gone," he whispers, "you kept me safe."

Dírist just smiles back.

[polypomefiore]

!cw for mpreg/omegaverse, teen pregnancy and bullying!

wanted to share more of my hcs on tumblr, so here’s some of 🐺🍎 expecting while still attending NRC

❀ jack and epel weren’t exactly in a relationship…they were horny teens messing around whenever they could, particularly when they should have been studying. it was kind of an open secret they were hooking up, but jack and epel would always get flustered and deny it when it’s brought up

❀ they find out they’re expecting through rook lol, he’s the first to notice epel’s scent/weight changing (which creeps everyone out because epel isn’t even a month along. dude stop sniffing everyone). rook mentions it nonchalantly when he fetches epel from the savanaclaw dorm after his “study” session with jack…it causes quite the scene

❀ there’s quite a bit of drama. their house wardens get involved and meetings with the faculty and their families have to be arranged. everyone is supportive, but epel requests some distance from jack bc he’s unsure what he wants, which jack begrudgingly accepts, but not before assuring epel he will respect whatever decision epel makes. (epel will decide to keep it).

❀ eventually gossip starts to spread through pomefiore due to epel’s roommate noticing his belly growing and the rest of the dorm noticing vil and rook’s increased protectiveness. vil and rook tries to snuff out the gossip for epel’s sake, but it eventually spills out to the entire campus

❀ epel gets bullied. a lot. especially by his dorm mates. when epel’s hormones become at an all time high the bullying starts to affect him more than he’d like to admit. vil and rook try to deal with it, but most of pomefiore thinks epel is ruining the dorms image and wants him gone. epel tries to hide it from jack, but eventually jack catches him crying alone in the bathroom during lunch

❀ jack gets in a fight with someone bad mouthing epel, leading to leona finding out what’s been going on. the bullying seemingly stops overnight, and the bullies won’t even look at epel anymore. but now if jack isn’t around epel, a savanaclaw student is always keeping an eye on him (and helping him carry stuff later on in the pregnancy)

❀ later on, when epel has trouble sleeping in his dorm, yu offers a room at ramshackle so he can properly nest. jack can also spend the night to snuggle/scent epel and also get frisky bc jack’s instincts are going haywire seeing epel pregnant with his pup(s). it doesn’t help epel’s chest is growing too

❀ both of them become somehow hornier. it becomes an issue when they sneak in between classes to “hang out”

❀ eventually when a longer break rolls around, jack and his family visit epel’s village to officially meet him…where they find epel, very pregnant and operating a tractor

❀ their families get along, but jack’s siblings and epel’s cousin become friends pretty quick. they keep asking about a wedding, which always make the adults laugh and jack and epel flustered

❀ epel’s village is already preparing for the baby. they already refurnished a little house for the epel (since his family home is already croweded), complete with all the necessities for a baby, made right in the village. jack’s family is in shock at how many stuffed animals have been made for one baby

❀ i was thinking they’d have triplets, but poor epel..maybe their first is just one, and when they’re older they’ll have triplets. i’m still. it sure yet

❀ rook is probably epel’s strongest support at NRC. he massages every ache and indulges any food craving epel has. it makes jack a bit jealous epel is more than happy to assure him through sex

❀ vil makes sure epel is active and does yoga with him (epel isn’t a fan, but he silently thanks vil when his labor is only a few hours)

❀ the pup is born a bit early near the end of the school year in the infirmary. the louder epel’s cursing and screaming becomes, the more guilty jack feels for knocking him up

❀ jack leaves briefly, asking ruggie to hold epel’s hand…which epel nearly breaks by the time jack come back two minutes later

❀ the pup(s?) comes out with little issue, and when jack sees their pup in epel’s arms for the first time he bursts into tears. and when he gets to hold the pup(s) he’s astonished how tiny they are..they looked bigger when epel held them, but jack could almost hold them with one hand

thanks for reading! that’s all for now but i may come back to this again when i have more ideas, prolly abt jackpel being parents while attending NRC ;)

[spectralgecko]

Now that you mentioned The Railway Series and gave me nostalgia for TTTE-

What if. Edda and Aven as train- *Chosen Arrow sfx*

Heheheheeeee contagious nostalgia-

Also fello ttte enjoyer!

PFFFFT-

Okay, so I don't know that much about the intricacies of trains, but I have some vague ideas:

If we preserve the starfolk factions into a crossover type dealio, then that affects who's what.

- Edda is a larger steam engine that runs an express line, think more on the lines of Henry, Gordon, the Flying Scotsman, etc.

- Aven could be a steam engine or a diesel - if we're preserving lightfolk-darkfolk dynamics, then he's a diesel. Probably smaller model, mostly works in freight and shunting.

- They hate each other at first, insofar as they even interact.

- It turns into banter ever so slowly, and eventually, one day, they realize they actually *care* about each other.

- They're in complete denial about it for a while until they begrudgingly accept it.

Now, I *also* like the idea of Aven being a steam engine, and going on elements, it seems like he'd be the engine and edda would be the diesel, which is likewise fun to explore - shunting engine and express diesel.

I also have a fondness for them both being steam engines, lol.

[randomnameless]

Checking this alt's lines for something interesting, I happened on this instead :

WTF is Rhea saying about time being everlasting for her??

Nabateans have a longer lifespan than humans, for sure, but they're not eternal?

We know Aubin was an old man when Yuri met him, even if we don't have direct confirmation he was a Nabatean. But to imply Nabateans are "everlasting" - that is if someone doesn't slaughter them - is something that wasn't even suggested in Houses or Nopes, but then, I know 10k years of lore are just, that, so maybe they were, or not, idk.

Also, WTF is the "I will return to those days. That thought is what sustains me, even now"???

Sothis even lampshades this, wondering if it's alright to be so obsessed with her, and the "oh of course you should be pleased" is???? Rhea's ashamed of her obsession and her inability to process her mother's death and absence, she isn't proud of it!

The "what sustains me, even now" is doubly WTF, because we know, Fodlan-wise, that Rhea didn't spend every hour of every day thinking on how to resurrect Sothis, she only crafted 12 homonculi in 1000 years, and let Jerry and bby!Billy live their lives out of her reach when Jerry ran away 20 years ago.

The return of the Goddess is one of her objectives, for sure, but she isn't as obsessed with it as those lines suggest.

And the second reason is more, uh, watsonian wise : this Rhea is the one who is hanging out with her mom, so why the "I will return to those days. This is what sustains me" nonsense? She's already living through "those days" with her gremlin, there's nothing to return to, she's already there!

--

In a way, this alt is even more infuriating because it feels like Rhea's own "Adrift" banner : Young!Azura dreamt she had people who were her friends/accepted her, but it was nothing but a dream, it's not the Ascended or even Legendary!Azura who ended her journey with real, and not dream "friends".

Here Rhea reunites with her mom - save that it's the amnesiac gremlin and not the mother she remembers - but her core trauma and issues aren't tackled, this is not the Rhea who survives Silver Snow and can finally have a character arc because Billy decided to marry her else she either dies or fades off-screen*, but, I'd say, a Rhea who "might have reunited with the Gremlin during the events of White Clouds" and even then, it's a bit of a stretch.

But given how Gremlin!Sothis is here, we can't even say this alt is finally Rhea's dreams coming to fruition - because this is not the Sothis who remembers being her Mother, nor acts as one (hell they seem to be closer on the artwork for the soundtrack than in the multiple lines exchanged with this alt!) so it's just... let's say some weird weed induced hallucination she has lol

What's even more annoying is how this TT dialogue implies Gremlin!Sothis knows there's something wrong and disturbing about Rhea's obsession, but instead of trying to tell her to move on and accept the present to build a new future instead of being focused on the past, Sothis drops that point after Rhea gives a, frankly, disturbing answer, and prefers to follow on the topic of conversation at hand, aka, what kind of present Billy'd like.

:/

We can't have a Sothis who borrows a page from Seteth's wife's book and tell her daughter something like this :

And we can't even have some harmless heroes fluff - like Erinys hanging out with her Manhya even if she knows the Manhya from her world is dead, or Tailte spending time with her children - this alt was designed as "Rhea who is weirdly obsessed with her mom reunites with the sassy Gremlin in Byleth's head who doesn't remember her - even if she does at a certain point in the canon - , and Rhea's so desperate that she's satisfied with this and tries to bond with the Gremlin who - despite wondering where and what her family was doing and missing them in the canon and the spin-off - feels awkward and begrudgingly accepts her affections".

And the entire situation will never be resolved in a meaningful way, Rhea's still creepily obsessed with her mother returning and won't deal with her obsession in a constructive "the past will never return let's move on" way like her brother and niece (?) learnt.

*I'd say Heroes who "finish their character arcs and are the best versions of themselves" are Brave Heroes, so unless Brave!Rhea becomes a thing, this will never happen, but given how Rhea's development in FE16 is tied to Billy wanting to shag her because everything is crammed in that horrible S-support convo even the fact that her mother finally talks to her, we could make a case for Ascended!Rhea who, much like Azura, will be a mouthpiece to sing the praises of the player character.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Oooo how about some more alois headcannons with an older sister figure reader? Boy needs some familial love lol!

he sure does!! I love himmmmm <3

At first (and sometimes in certain moments) he acts incredibly embarrassed by you. He isn’t some little kid who needs to be constantly looked after, you know! He’s an adult! (Or, depending on verse, close to one!) It flusters him in particular to have you treat him, well, like a big sister while other people who aren’t the servants are around. And, occasionally, even the servants. If he didn’t make the triplets stay quiet, they would have quite a bit to say about your coddling him, and he knows it, and he doesn’t like even knowing they’re thinking it!!

Frequently you tag-team with Hannah to figure out how best to handle particular situations. Neither of you have been in his life for very long, but Hannah does have at least a year or so on you. (Again, depending on verse, possibly longer.) As much as you care for Alois, you don’t know all his quirks and preferences yet. Even Hannah doesn’t know them all. Working together is the best way to effectively handle Alois’ behavior so he doesn’t either spiral out of control or turn things round on you. No room for jealousy or competition here, the earl can have two big sisters! Even if he figures out what you’re doing, he’ll probably just begrudgingly accept that you and Hannah together likely know what’s best. Doesn’t mean he won’t fight the both of you, of course.

In private, Alois is far less uptight about being treated like a child or having you take care of him. Without prying eyes around, suddenly he desperately, visibly wants the childhood he never had. He wants the love and affection and security that comes with having a big sister. He’ll let you carry him round the house, he’ll hug you tightly and fuss if you have to let go before he wants you to, he’ll even ask for things like a goodnight kiss on the forehead if he gets comfortable enough. He doesn’t fight you as much if you have to to unpleasant things to make him feel better when he’s sick or hurt. He stops caring what people think, because there’s no one around to give a shit if he’s letting you treat him like a baby.

He likes to watch you cook, particularly if you’re cooking breakfast. It’s his favorite meal of the day, and he asserts that Timber just never gets it right the way you do. He’ll happily sit in the kitchen, still half asleep and resting his tired head on one of the counters, and let his eyes follow your movements. Sometimes he even gives you orders, asking you if you’ll add more milk than that to the tea or whining that you need to go grab the toast because it’s about to burn. Although he might be a bit irritating sometimes, that early morning haze takes away his filter of being cruel to protect himself. He’s just soft and annoying and loving in the way a younger brother is, without any of the unpleasant defense mechanisms. If you start to break his shell enough, he’ll begin to shed those defense mechanisms and just be himself anyway. Keep letting him watch you cook breakfast.

Once he relaxes or if he’s having a bad day, he’ll cry in your arms for a long time. The weight of his whole life has been something he’s carried alone, and it’s heavy, and he just wants to fucking put it down sometimes. Even if he doesn’t tell you everything, he cuddles into you and sobs. He begs you not to leave him, and he says he’s sorry for being difficult so often, and he thanks you for not giving up on him. Quite possibly the saddest thing you’ll ever hear anyone say passes his lips during moments like this: “You… you promise that… you won’t ever stop loving me… will you? Promise me… promise me you won’t…!”

[sushispider1212]

Okay! I think I have a general idea of how Akira and Shigeru’s powers work in the Metaverse, and no, they do not have personas (yet 👀)

So basically Igor and the Velvet Room let the two have a tiny fraction of their godly powers, and that basically translates to the equal amount of power nerfed level 99 persona would have, the two are powerful as hell.

Shigeru and Akira’s powers are basically light and dark, as well as some other powers their God forms have, like Shigeru can use the 7 deadly sins as watered down status ailments/physical attacks, and Akira can use almighty attacks.

Shigeru actually likes making light constructs, if you remember me saying a while back that Shigeru could summon a bird construct, that’s basically it, they summon a light construct of a bird, and Shigeru sends it to help the pt’s sometimes when the two are at too far of a distance.

Akira can work with shadows, like darkness, not Shadows lol, his attacks are more brunt force and power house, while Shigeru’s are more accurate and more hits he gets in.

I’m really bouncing around here because It’s really hard to explain how their powers work for me, but just imagine persona 5 mechanics but they got nothin to summon.

And also, Shigeru 100% awakens to a persona when they go face to face with their godly counterpart in the final battle. Idk when Akira awakens to his…probably either in Shido’s palace or Maruki’s. But Shigeru awakens to theirs because they come to terms with what they did and admit to it, and they finally become “Shigeru Ochida” instead of “Yaldabaoth”

Akira’s is similar, he comes to terms with the fact that he’s his own person now, and is not just a part of Ren, but is Akira Amano instead, and learns to accept that.

Shigeru is also the navi for the duo, and he’s JUST like Akechi during 3rd semester, constantly making sarcastic remarks, insulting Akira whenever he gets knocked down or affected with an ailment (“Did you REALLY just get knocked out?! I KNOW you did not just leave this fight to me asshole! Did you even SEE that Shadow RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES?!”) Akira can get a bit emotional about this, but he refuses to cry about it.

also you’ve probably noticed by now, that i ship these two fucking losers around 75%, I’m a sucker for dumbasses who are forced to work together, and besides, they are forced to share a braincell the moment they go in a 5 mile radius of each other, what’s not to love? If you don’t like that, tell me and I’ll 100% stop talking about them that way 👌 (that sounded sarcastic/rude whenever i say it in my head😔)

Anyways, got any thoughts on this? I definitely know I was all over the place for this one lol

This is actively fueling by brain rot. I love this so much.

The opposing concepts thing, and! The ailments Shigeru can provide works well with his role as the navigator. I’m imagining some kind of sick ass finishing move involving those bird constructs.

Also,

You: *talking about your plans for the end game*

Me: *Looking nervously at the pile of notes for my end game. Shoves them a little bit further under the desk.*

And about the shipping. As of this point in time I am considering Shigeru to be the name shared by our Yaldabaoths. My Shigeru Ochida is a high schooler who really really Does Not Like hanging out with people and begrudgingly helps. Your Shigeru Ochida is the legal guardian who is forced to be in proximity with people and therefore acts different.

Our characters are different in my perspective. You can ship your guy, I will be not be shipping mine at this point in time.

I sure hope this is a cohesive answer my brain is currently a warm soup.

[mothdogs]

💚💧🕷️ for lathander? :O fishy boy my beloved,,

My fishy boy!! 🤲🏻

💚: What things make your OC feel comforted? - He’s not one for physical affection - after most of a lifetime without it, he doesn’t really know what to do with hugs or kisses (tho he accepts them begrudgingly from Azriel.) Comfort, for him, is in fortitude, a secure place where he can be safe from outside meddling/attacks.

💧: Random angst headcanon - He definitely believed his adoptive aunt/uncle when they drilled into his head since he could talk that he was the reason his parents were dead. He used to make a nest of pillows in his bed as a child and pretend that his parents were holding him, and he’d cry himself to sleep almost every night asking for their forgiveness. It’s no wonder he glommed onto first his sword fighting teacher and then later the leader of his Paladin order as stand-in parental figures :(

🕷️: What’s their biggest fear? - Something bad happening to one of his friends (his only friends) Phoebe, Azriel, Lapis, or Kyrah. Kyrah less so because she’s also an ancient god traveling with them in disguise, lol. So far in this campaign none of the characters have actually died or needed revivifying, but when that does happen I think it will be pretty brutal for him

Thanks for asking! Here’s a semi-abandoned WIP of him and Lapis when she was freshly hatched 😌