#//he soffff

[secondflame]

🍑 🍇 🍉 //casually floods you xD also hello! o/

🍑 how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance?  do they spend a lot of time on their hair,  makeup,  grooming,  and clothing?  is there a particular reason why they do or don’t?  

"Ah." Clive raises a hand to the back of his head, his hair even more unruly than it usually is, dark strands matted down by sweat and dirt from a recent scuffle. "Is it that bad? I only just got back from an errand. Ran into some trouble..." He turns his head, gaze averting with the movement and takes a covert, selfconscious sniff of himself, afraid he's not only looking, but also smelling the part.

He thought he could get away with at least turning in what spoils he procured before returning to his chambers to wash up, as he is — for once — not covered head to toe in blood and monster guts at least. However, he clearly underestimated what others would be able to pick up on if his current appearance warrants inquiries such as this.

Brought up as a noble, hygiene and a well maintained appearance were part of his daily life and even nowadays he enjoys a good soak in a bath if given the chance, although an opportunity for anything beyond a quick daily scrub down with soap and warm (if he's lucky) water rarely arises.

He has given up on maintaining any sort of proper haircut years ago, but he does remember that his hair drove some of the servants tasked with keeping him presentable mad with how thick and abrasive it was even back then. Nowhere as soft or easy to tame as that of his little brother and definitely nowhere near the dark silk of his father's hair either.

The latter was why Clive was in a constant struggle to have his own be kept longer as a boy, wishing to emulate his father's appearance, ever regal, never a strand of hair out of place, only for his own hair to be cut shorter again and again whenever it grew past a certain length because it was deemed unruly.

Whether or not the same could be said about his facial hair he hasn't attempted to find out yet, usually keeping his beard closely shaven. He's rarely clean shaven for more than a day or two for lack of time or a looking glass while om the road, but also his face is seldom adorned with more than a stubble for the sole reason of him always having kept it like this. Less a conscious choice and more a force of habit rather than anything else.

As for his garments, there are few items of clothing he even owns, preferring to travel light he rarely purchases new garments unless he absolutely needs to, and what sees the most use of the things he does own is his armor of course, which he treats with great care, checking it for scratches and tears each day. For one, because these clothes are what keep him alive on any given day, but also because they were his father's and therefire hold great sentimental value, too.

🍇 :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?

Clive tenses visibly before giving a heavy sigh in response. "This is rather a difficult thing to speak of. I doubt it would serve as a particularly pleasant topic for conversation." He crosses his arms infront of his chest, shielding himself from any other question that might follow.

As the firstborn son of the Archduke of Rosaria great expectations were placed on his shoulders from a very early age, far greater than they should have been for such a young boy. Not only his parents, but Rosaria's people as a whole expected him to be the heir to the throne, the Dominant of the Phoenix, and when it became apparent that this was not what fate had in store for him, but for his little brother instead, Clive was robbed of what everyone had told him was his purpose in life.

Still, he never resented Joshua for it, but instead turned to another cause immediately, finding reason and validation in becoming the First Shield, seeking a way to earn his way back to the love and affirmation he was previously so readily given by his parents. His mother in particular.

Clive would like to say that his father's behavior didn't change in the aftermath of this development, but the truth of the matter is that even at such a young age he could see the disappointment and the worry for his youngest son in Elwin's eyes, which in turn caused Clive to withdraw from him as well.

Even without taking into account everything that came after that ambush at Phoenix Gate, Clive was marked by these circumstances, and while it may not be as easily seen as the mark or the scar on his face it is something he will carry with him until his dying day.

However, sometimes the lighthearted, bright boy shines through the rough exterior of the battle-hardened man he is today. The boy that used to hide away in his room to read tales of heroes long gone and Gods almighty, dreaming to someday be of the same might but also the boy that once brought a frog home from one of his explorations in the field and laughed uncontrollably alongside his father when the little creature ended up disturbing a rather dull dinner between lords, causing an uproar for a good half hour until it was caught and safely returned to the outside. Yes, the boy that used to look upon his future with such determination and hope but also the boy that was forced to grow up too quickly —

Rarely, when he looks with wonder upon the places where age old stories played out... when he laughs alongside his companions over a particularly bad joke during dinner... when he gets to stop and pet a stray cat during his travels... when he sits leaned against a tree with Torgal's head resting in his lap...when the winds of fate are quiet.

Then.

He feels he is still that boy.

🍉 :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why?  

"Huh," he says, clearly caught off guard. "I can't say I've ever given it much thought." Clive tilts his head, thinking, a hand raising to his chin as he seeks for an answer, likely taking this far more seriously than it strictly needs to be.

He could answer with the obvious choice. As a Dominant of Ifrit, an Eikon of fire, surely it must be summer, with its scorching heat. But then he thinks of early spring, of the days where for the first time after a long dark winter he'd be able to run back outside, Joshua, Jill and Torgal in tow, the last remnants of snow thawing away, making way for a new year, for new beginnings.

And while this is clearly personal preference caused by nostalgia and good memories he'd like to think it's this what suits him best, too, for how many times has he started over since? How many times has he fought for this exact thing? A new morning. A new day.

"Spring," he answers at last, oddly satisfied with his answer, smiling slightly. "I think it's spring."

[ishizizzle]

HE'S DOING THIS ON PURPOSE HE Y EXCUSE ME? EXCUSE ME SIR??

[wyvern-flames]

Joshua Rosfield (Little Brother) said: ❝ i'm only managing to stand here on my two feet because of you. i made it because of you. ❞

He was convinced that it was the opposite. When it came to survival, Clive was only alive thanks to Joshua. Indirectly and even directly, he kept the man going for as long as it did -- whether he was misguided or having a bigger, better purpose. It was always thanks to Joshua's spirit, Joshua's presence in his life. If Joshua was standing now, it was because of himself rather than the Shield that failed to protect him.

"You fail to see just how great you truly are -- how great you have always been. Joshua, you are the force driving me, always." He turns to his little brother, sky-blues covered in self-conscious uncertainty. What did his brother think of his failure, he wondered. Did he know how much he regretted that fateful day? Did he know just how hard it was to talk to him without trying desperately to beg for forgiveness?

As if the inner storm was not raging inside him, he places a firm hand over Joshua's shoulder, he has no need for crouching down now... My, Joshua had truly grown... Thank the flames.

"You made it because of who you are. You made it because you're Joshua Rosfield, our protector and savior -- the flame that brightens our road everlasting. Don't ever forget it" His hand releases the shoulder. Of course, he couldn't help but mention such insecurity, after all. "You always were a much better protector than your Shield. It seems some things never change, right?"

♞ @firevow ♞

[catboymoments]

MAKOTOS FACEEEE HE IS •w• HES SOFFFF

He’s just a little guy!

[sabotsen]

fic notes bc I have the brain of a goldfish and will forget and this is the void anyway sooo… Pierrot fics on my blackboard in no particular order:

♣︎ Cuddle fic I promised Artie, soffff t

♣︎ Child!skk fic with Roland bc if I have one for Camu I gotta have one for the clown

♣︎Based off his defeat animation in his boss battle. What is he experiencing that makes him clutch his head and writhe like that?

♣︎ Gift fic, based off his affection lines. Affection 16 (which is the lie?). Affection 12 (“somehow I become picky about your gifts…”) & affection 10 (“I just can’t help laughing every time you pull something out. What? I laugh all the time? Hahaha, I see.”)

[clownsuu]

The husband has been cartoonified

SUN IN DA DRESS

[shatouto]

[bonos-grindcore-sideproject]

I love all four of them but I’m so fascinated by these two faces

[aiiwa]

gojo satoru told me he’s moving into my mind, gonna live here rent free and never leave 😌✨

[ofthepuzzle]

friendships melt Yami’s heart honestly;;;;

[pluviophile-imagines]

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

[crimson-snowfall]

HIIIIIIM

GAWDS HE'S SEXY AND HE FUCKING KNOWS IT DHDGDHDHBDBXNDNS

AAAAAAAAAAAA

SOFFFF

SAD BABEEEEEYYY

AAAAAAAAAA BEAUTIFUL

[modern-inheritance]

I mean MIC!Arya would probably reflex punch me before being like ‘oh. …okay.’ and hugging back because that’s what the original Squaddies would do. Eragon gives really dope hugs, very tight and he wears soft jackets when not near fighting so waaarm and soffff. Brom does too when he gets past the awkward stage, gives shoulder pats when he pulls back. Saphira does a tail curl or very gentle paw scoop, 1000/10 I need one.

…okay the drugs HAVE worn off, but the effects of not being able to take some of my daily meds for the next week are kicking in so…yeah take this.

[sugas-sweetheart]

SOFFFF LOOK WHAT I GOT 🤩🤩🤩🤩

pls im so happy that i finally got a UR(+) card for him 😭😭

HOW WAS THE CONCERT BTW HOPW YOU HAD FUN LOVELY

AHHH OMG CONGRATS SHDJS a lucifer ur(+) we love to see it - at home with u as he should be 🖐🙄

THE CONCERT WAS SO GOOD TY!! MY VOICE AND FEET HURT LAST NIGHT BUT I HAD BEEN SCREAMING AND JUMPING/STANDING FOR HOURS SO IT MAKES SENSE I love that band so much words can’t compreHEND they never disappoint and I loved last night sm :’)

[cantabile-l]

May I present -

CABIN ALPHA DADDY

Those soffff chunky thick knit sweaters you always see Alpha Steve in? Fun fact. Thick knits just soak up and hold scents so much better. Perfect when you're in your idyllic isolated kink-discovering sexy snowy cabin getaway with your sweet omega Bucky. For the Alpha, to continuously smell the intermingled scents of his own and his perfect omega. For his omega to cozy up in when he's all tucked into his chest and still smell them even when (in the rare times) they're not skin to skin. Perfect for cheek nuzzling and soft chaste cuddling (and non-chaste cuddling and more obvs)

Stolen from @the1918 Bespoke's masterpiece. This is alpha Steve discovering his inner daddy while holed up in the winter paradise for softies aka his Vermont cabin.

[askgabrielupdike]

updoot,,, look so soffff,,,, wan' pet...

*He sighs and chuckles*

"Then go ahead anon, I don't mind"