#╳ ❛ you soak up the knowledge to fill up space. / headcanon.

[cyanidehog]

Hello! Could I request some yandere Silver the hedgehog headcanons? If not that’s okay, I totally understand. Have a good day!

BLOG'S 1ST request is for my favorite boy <333 thank you for kickstarting off my writing with this ! no spellchecking we die like (redacted)

⤷ “ i swear to you. as long as i’m by your side, you’ll never be harmed. ” [ ♡ 1.2k words -- SILVER + READER. ]

> first of all: worst hedgehog to have after you. he literally jumps through time. whether you are a civilian or an overpowered entity, you're screwed. not in a physical sense—he values your freedom and your dignity. it's just... you won't be able to avoid his advances. silver knows you better than you do yourself. after years of studying you, he'll have figured what makes you snap, what makes you melt, and the little intricacies that weave your past. then he'll drop himself back to a point in time where your relationship was still amicable and he'll sweep you up with a winner smile, using up every detail he soaked up in conversation about your person as a stepping stone.

> how you met is inconsequential. it could've been simple happenstance aided by your curiosity, or thanks to amy introducing you at an event. whatever the reason, you come to know of silver's plights and circumstances.

> silver latches onto you with a hunger because of your care and interest in his well-being. it's not that people aren't welcoming, or haven't been kind to him and blaze, of course not. there's been warmth aplenty in sonic's timeline. what sets you apart are the extra lengths you go to for his accommodation in a world alien to him and the love you display in different gestures: cooking him a sprawling dinner (a banquet of cultures, really!) or tidying up a place for him to crash at if need be; spending hours explaining history and the current state of affairs to a being completely removed from the context of modern society and common knowledge; finding time in your schedule to go places together and make albums of memories... the list could go on. you really tried your best for your friend - silver who'd never seen a tree or a valley or a flower... how could you not?

> you won't ever have fights with him. it's surreal and fantastical. he always, always has a hand in guiding you to a pleasant time. attentive and sweet and teasing, silver knows how to rile you up into feverish delight and how to soothe any nerves and doubts of yours. it's slightly unfair, actually, because at times you wish you could have the same tact and coolness he displays. whenever you express the want to make him happy he gets touchier and more joyful than usual, so you count that as a little win of yours. it is nice to brighten the day of someone who treats you fondly. and the tiny, furiously wagging tail is an endearing sight.

> your like or dislike for physical touch will define how he starts showing affection to you. if you're fine with it, silver won't hesitate to caress your back or shoulder, will lock arms with you on walks, and say goodbye with a peck to your temple. warm and strong hugs will be commonplace. you'll find yourself encased in embraces far too tender and embarrassing to remain cool-headed. and the average distance between you two will shrink every week. slowly but surely.

> if you are averse to it, he'll do his best to keep his hands to himself… though if you fall asleep in his vicinity, he'll slide a hand or two through your face and play a little with your features. it will be innocent enough to sate his need for your warmth. for a while. he'll get into the habit of playing with your fingers or tugging your clothes for attention. might develop a fondness for spaces full of people, if only to feel you leaning on him thanks to the moving multitudes. he'll also steal trinkets or inconspicuous articles of clothing that belong to you. he won't realize it, but not having your touch will starve him terribly, and he'll try to have his fill in other ways.

> you call him silvie and he's about to bust an aneurysm. his face catches on fire to the point he thinks it might be a heatstroke, and the real possibility of him fainting grows exponentially. he gives you a very personal nickname. some inside joke between the two of you. will whisper it only when you are both alone.

> he's devoted? dedicated? invested? in your friendships and emotional health. scratch that. like rotisserie chicken, his brain rotates worries about your daily life and physical and mental health to the point of burning itself to a crisp. he fears not having control over your joys. he gets literally sick ruminating on whether or not you are getting your due sleep, your due rewards, or your deserved love from those around you. he'll be a smidge too sharp on picking up changes in your mood and mentions of acquaintances and buddies and family. he probably has a journal with graphical maps on your relationships and other miscellanea. has filled up the margins with ideas on how to cheer you up and keep everything in check. whatever that means, or entails.

> HAHA if you get sick? if you get sick you'll sooner perish from silver's overwhelming presence by your side than from your illness. it's here that his obsession bleeds through enough to be alerted by. he gets super fussy over who's coming over and what you're eating. feels like it's his duty to schedule your time indoors and outdoors, and to make several lists of activities and meals and exercises for your speedy recovery. will have restocked your pantry and fridge with your favorite snacks and fruits before you know it (how did you know this is my fave, silvie? to which he replies: oh - isn't this what besties are for?) and areas such as the bathroom or your kitchen will be cleaned thrice as fervently. he's going to be around so often that you'll stumble across his toothbrush or his towel neatly organized along with your stuff. and yes he will give a subtle nudge towards the idea of being roomies, and having sleepovers, and movie nights, and so on. he won't be moving his stuff out even after you recover.

> anyway - silver is a protective, obsessive, manipulative and insidious yandere. your needs will most certainly be met when he's around and he'll try to elevate you into a lil pedestal while trying to improve your lifestyle in ways he thinks are the best. you won't have to worry about threats (eggman's or others') because he'll make sure you live in a peaceful and beautiful world. if he ever has to travel to accomplish this he'll make sure to return with a plethora of gifts and stories to share. but he'll worm and dig and root his way through your barriers and reservations until you rely on him, to some degree or other. he'll be... soft and good for you.

> and... you'll never have to know about all the screw ups in a different timeline. if silver has committed a chain of overlapping atrocities trying to monopolize your affection, how would you ever find out? you'll never know the depravities he has executed on others, nor the kind of abnormality he is a slave to. he'll always be just silver to you.

> so please, please, please. don't look at anybody else with tender love in your eyes. don't break his heart and make him crawl on his knees. don't make him screw the world over for a few crumbs of your time, and everything will be just perfect.

[vinterarchived]

*              𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.          the thawing of arendelle is not done in a  day or two.        i highly believe frozen to be based on norway ,  and as such i work with what is familiar to me   -----   meaning the north mountain is galdhøpiggen  (2469 meters above sea).     while it is smaller in comparison to mountains everywhere else in this world, it is still not that easy to traverse in deep snow and darkness .      so that , and by taking into consideration that elsa had not actually been outside in 10 or so years so her stamina is basically shit ,  her trip up into the mountain took at least half a day .                               anna leaves to look for her the morning after .           anna is less equipped for the snowy mountain ,   so it goes a day there too .   time is saved by travelling with kristoff and sven ,     and at the same time i think they too another route than what elsa took ,  so two days of trvelling -  we’re now at day three.    it’ll be day four or five when anna and elsa meet again .       a day , maybe two later hans and his men show up , and she is captured .            she spends at least  three days in the dungeons of her own castle ,  i can even imagine a week  as it takes a while for anna and kristoff to get to the trolls and back .      so there you have it ,  the events of Frozen I is a two-week (-ish )  thing. 

[fiightcrarchived2]

**  headcanon 005.      wolfie’s never been one for sentimentality, nor known for holding onto the past.  ( hah,  her past is the one things that drives her, she just don’t want to admit it. )      but she does carry around a picture of leanne and her.     it’s almost ripped in half, due to being folded and unfolded numerous times,  and you can barely see anything due to fading and wear and tear over twenty years.  but it’s one of her most valuable possessions  -  and  she never shows it to anyone  -  choosing to take it out whenever she’s completely alone only. 

[uwuwriting]

Bad day for the pros w/ Bakugou, Shinsou and Todoroki

Request: May I ask for some headcanons of pro hero Bakugou, pro hero Shinso and pro hero Shoto, they had a very very bad day at work, some heavy stuff happened and it was their fault, but fear not! y/n is here to save the day with love, good cooking and cuddles to be their hero. (Fem reader if possible)- anonymous 

I haven’t written for Shinsou in a while, same goes for Bakugou. Shoto is baby, I can never go for too long without writing for him. My midterms are coming up so I won’t be posting next week at all, I’m stressed and depressed and whenever I think that in June I’ll be taking my university entrance exams I wanna wretch. So yeah life is going great. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules 

warnings: tired babies, fluff, some angst, self doubt.

Bakugou Katsuki

-People really have no chill and poor baby is barely keeping it together. 

-He’s minutes away from committing mass murder and man slaughter.

-It’s common knowledge that he has no patience whatsoever and people today seemed to be testing his control. 

-But alas finally this awful day was over and he could go back to your shared apartment and relax, eat something and sleep. 

-Stepping into the apartment he dropped his duffel bag with a loud thud letting out a sigh as he slowly peeled off his jacket and slipped into his slippers. 

- “Katsu?”

-Your sweet voice rang through the halls, your head peeking out from the corner eyes landing on his slumped shoulders and tense features.

-Wordlessly you gently grabbed his hand and guided him into your bedroom. 

-Passing him a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie you pushed him into the bathroom where the tub was already filled with steaming hot water. 

- “Dinner is almost ready, take your bath and I’ll be waiting.” 

-Giving him one last kiss on the lips you exited the bathroom. 

-Almost 20 minutes later he came into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stirred the soup. 

- “Bad day baby?” 

-He only answered with a grunt as he buried his face in the crook of your neck nuzzling his nose in your hair. 

-Mumbling something under his breath you let out a chuckle as you gave him a plate and guided him to the living room couch. 

-Settling down next to him you kissed him again before digging in. 

-Soon enough you were cuddling on the couch, his head on your chest and your hands intertwined. 

-You’re running your fingers through his spiky hair, smoothing down the knots as he goes on and on about his awful day. 

-People really were pushing his buttons today.

- “You wanna go to bed then?”

- “But it’s early for you.”

-Shrugging you got up taking him with you. 

-Once in bed you cuddled again with you being the big spoon since your mans needs some well deserved comfort.

-“No matter how bad your day is I’ll always be here for you.” 

- “I know shitty woman.”

- “Awww I love you too.” 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-He was tired of people doubting his motives. 

-Really it was getting old.

-The mocking and the lingering fear even after five years in the hero industry. 

-His agency had booked another meet and greet so they could do some damage control with the hate Hitoshi was getting and of course he couldn’t bring you along. 

-He was kinda jealous of your day off. 

-Jealous because he wished he could spend time with you and Mochi rather than deal with random strangers changing sidewalks during his patrol. 

-He was exhausted as he stepped into your shared apartment that night, Mochi sprawled on the hallway carpet waiting for his other owner. 

-Awaiting for his belly rubs with open paws, Mochi ignored the dark aura his master was emanating , or he just chose to ignore it. 

- “Didn’t Y/N give you belly rubs? I bet you have been taking my place all day mister.” 

- “You know he can’t replace you, love.” 

-He looked up only to be met with your dazzling smile and bright eyes although he could see the faint signs of sleepiness clinging to your eyelids.

-He could feel your eyes inspecting him and soon enough he would be kissed and pushed towards the bathroom for a much needed shower because you would see how tired and drained he was. 

-He could never get away. 

-It was a power you had since high school and try as he might he could never hide his fatigue. 

-Before he knew it he was up on his feet, capture tool placed on the hanger near the door and slippers on his feet, a kiss on each cheek and one lingering one on the lips. 

-Soon he was soaking in the tub with you behind him massaging his scalp with that special lavender shampoo while humming a soft tune. 

-It always amazed him how you could calm him without using words and if he was being honest he wanted to keep it that way, the silence was always nice and he loved basking in your presence but today he really needed to be reassured. 

- “Why do you stay with me?” 

-Your movements stilled at his words and he could feel your eyes widening. 

- “It’s bad publicity for you, you’ve been held back on hero ratings because people believe that you are conspiring with me in some master plan.” he sighed before continuing leaving you no space to speak. “You could have anyone you want. It would make your life 100 times easier if I wasn’t in it.” 

-You would have never guessed that those thoughts were running through his head when he walked through the door moments earlier. 

-Hugging him closely to your chest you finally spoke. 

- “I fell in love with you and you alone. I would never leave you because some pompous asshats keep saying that you are a villain. Hero rankings can go suck it for all I care along with anyone who wants to call you a monster.” Turning around so now you were straddling his lap you cupped his cheeks connecting your foreheads. “I love you with all my heart ‘Toshi, don’t ever forget it.” 

-You might be a witch putting him under a spell with your sweet words.

-He believed you and with that he relaxed in your grip, hugging you like his life depended on it because in his eyes, it did. 

Todoroki Shoto

-He couldn’t even count how many times he was told he looked like his father today. 

-He couldn’t begin to describe how gut wrenching those comments were.

-One would believe that being compared to the retired n.1 would be a big fit for an upcoming hero but not for Shoto. 

-The first thought that always runs through his head when those words are heard is his mother. 

-The fear in her eyes and how much she hated his left side, to the point of scarring him for life. 

-He begins to wonder if you too look at him with such disgust and hatred from time to time. 

-He knew of your dislike towards his father since you two were in high school and he finally shared his past with you. 

-This undying dislike carried on into your adult life even after multiple family dinners and warm, friendly exchanges with Endeavor. 

-Did you also think he was like his father? 

-Did you see Endeavor when he walked inside your shared apartment at night?

-He got home before you or at least that's what he remembers.

-You found him with his head resting in his hands and back pressed against the hallway’s wall when you returned from your patrol. 

-At first you thought that he was hurt but after he didn’t answer to your fifth call of his name you knew it was more of a mental struggle. 

-Crouching down to his level you slowly pried his hands from his face, giving him a smile once his eyes came into view. 

-Cupping his cheeks, you brushed your fingers over his scar once, twice before leaning in and giving him a little peck on the nose, then on his forehead, then on each cheek, on his scar and last on his lips.

- “Sho my love, what’s wrong?” 

-Your hand was now running through his hair, untangling the soft locks of white as your other still lay on his other cheek, your thumb making small smooth circles on his scar. 

- “Do you see me as Endeavor?” 

-Taking in a sharp breath you stopped your ministrations for a moment before shuffling closer to him and raising his chin so he would finally meet your eyes. 

- “I see Shoto when I look at you. I see the shy boy who wouldn’t sit next to me during movie night in our first year so he wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. I see the boy who overcame his fears and used his quirk. I see the pro hero who has saved hundreds of lives in the three years he has been in the industry. I see the man I’m in love with. So no, I don’t see Endeavor.” 

-He looked at you then, really looked at you. 

-You were smiling at him, one of your sweet as honey smiles while your eyes almost sparkled as they were locked with his. 

-In one swift movement he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you flush to his chest a thousand I love you’s leaving his lips as he kissed senseless. 

- “Now would you like some takeout soba from that place you like or homemade soba with my lovely cooking.” 

- “I wanna actually eat so takeout.” 

- *le gasp*

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[orsuliya]

What’s your headcanon on XQ and Awu first night after they reunited, do you think it goes hot ripping apart clothes of each other or soft tender love making ? Do u see Awu checking every new scars XQ had after ep.50 and maybe kiss all the boo-boo away ?

YES.

It is most unfortunate that the world does not stop even for the most dramatic of reunions. It certainly doesn’t do so for Awu and Xiao Qi, however dearly they might have wished for a moment to simply be, to breathe, to count treasured heartbeats and rediscover the meaning of safety in each other’s arms. Alas! Once inside the fortress, they both get swept into a whirlwind of pressing matters and urgent concerns. Someone has to take care of dispossessed civilians, someone has to instill a sense of purpose into his men, someone has to reassure the children, someone has to think of a plan on what to do next; the list of tasks to be done is never-ending. Even reorienting themselves in this new political reality – and much has changed in Cheng during their absence – takes time and energy both, especially as it turns out that the land they’ve finally stepped onto after long months of drifting in limbo might be less of a land and more of a quagmire.

Awu manages to complete her self-appointed duties first and experiences a moment of stark realization when it comes to her that until now she has never actually seen her husband’s bedroom in the closest thing he has to a real home. It’s startling to say the least, but our Awu is not a woman who would allow herself to wallow over lost opportunities; she throws off any vestiges of encroaching fugue and orders the maids – in a perfectly even voice, thank you – to lay out the bed and fill a bathtub, if there is one to be found anywhere in the whole province, that is. And you know what, there actually is one! Right there in Xiao Qi’s rooms and equal to any of those found in the capital. This causes some amount of confusion, but the maids are quick to explain that Dawang had ordered it right before he went to war against Prince Jianning. They also explain something that Awu hasn’t even wondered about – although Xiao Qi will, later on – namely how come the new commander hasn’t taken those rooms for himself. That one is actually easy: Tang Jing never moved in, thinking it a futile point with Dawang still alive somewhere out there and the new commander mistook Tang Jing’s bedroom for the lord’s, nobody finding it necessary to disabuse him of this notion.

As the maids flitter around, carrying out their lady’s commands, she pulls one of them aside to help her with all those tight Hulan braids. Hulan things and especially Hulan memories should stay in Hulan, you know. What about the dress, you’ll ask. Don’t worry, that blasted piece of wedding couture will get its due!

Xiao Qi was planning to take a moment to himself, perhaps change his clothes – should any of his things still be lying around - and then go join his wife. What he was definitely not expecting was to find his rooms full of laughter and light, his bright-eyed princess presiding over the commotion with her unbraided hair in a storm of tiny waves. If he was a lesser man, he would have needed to lean against the wall; and perhaps there is a reason why he puts his palm on a doorframe as he takes in the view, feeling the tension of the last six months drain from him with every passing second.

Let’s establish one thing: Ningshuo is home to some very astute maids. The moment the Princess notices the Prince, they make quick work of their remaining tasks and slither out in the most discreet manner possible. Which they needn’t have bothered with, because it’s not like either of the Yuzhangs would have minded… or even noticed.

It’s been the longest six months imaginable and perhaps there are words that need to be said, but some things matter more than words. The moment Awu moves, meaning to go to her husband, Xiao Qi springs into action, catching her hands in mid-air and pulling her up, up, but most importantly close to himself. He would be perfectly content just standing there with his lips pressed to the crown of her head and perhaps her crinkled hair smells nothing like the perfumed oils she used in the capital, but how could he mind that when she’s right in his arms, breathing, trembling and wondrously, miraculously alive. It’s Awu who moves away – which may or may not tear a quiet whine of protest from her husband’s throat – but she doesn’t go far; only as far as she needs to reach up and cradle Xiao Qi’s face in her narrow palms, slender fingers moving in tender exploration over those beloved features, reaffirming what she had already known. This is her husband, her mate in life and death, back in her arms once more. The grave cannot have him, nobody can but her! Every single laughter-line in the corner of his dark eyes, the painfully sharpened slope of his cheekbone, even this new beard of his – and that shall require careful examination, but later, later! - all of this is hers and only hers.

Soon she deems touch is not enough and goes in for a taste, the first touch of her lips breaking him out of his self-imposed stillness. There are hungry lips, teeth and tongues, shared breaths and perhaps a salty tear, nobody knows whose, desperate hands seeking anchor in loose hair and beneath it all an ember of passion suddenly bursts into an unquenchable flame.

Now, you need to remember one thing: Xiao Qi is a well-trained husband, one who never forgets a lesson his wife teaches him and once upon a time she taught him a lesson alright! A lesson on how, no matter the urgency, damaging her clothes in entirely out of question and it’s become so ingrained into him that he still refrains from taking any radical actions even now, when the unfamiliarity and unexpected complexity of her clothing poses a certain problem. Awu, getting progressively more frustrated over every second she has to spend entangled in fabric – Hulan fabric no less! - instead of her husband’s arms, tries to take the matters into her own hands. When that fails and how could it not, what with her so very distracted, she swiftly moves to plan B. At first Xiao Qi is not certain he heard her right as “Tear it off me!” is not something he’s ever heard from his wife, much less in such an insistent tone. It’s only after she assures him that she doesn’t mind, no, not at all, rip it to shreds for all that she cares, that he makes quick work of those confusing overlayers. Incidentally, come morning he will pick this tortured garment up from the floor, as if admiring his handiwork, and look askance at his half-conscious spouse, who will then mumble something about dreaming of destroying the blasted thing herself. It might or might not end up as a pile of ashes, who knows.

Awu shrugs off her top and then, as befits a great believer in marital equality, finds it only right to dive right beneath Xiao Qi’s hanfu with her increasingly insistent hands and itching fingers. Kissing is all good and well, but during the course of their marriage she has discovered many things, one of them being that skinship is even better. What Awu wants, Awu gets. And so in quick order they’re pressed against each other, bare skin to bare skin, so close that one could hardly fit a blade between their joined bodies.

And just like that, in a space between two breaths, Awu suddenly freezes, heart hammering wildly in her chest as her roaming hands still on Xiao Qi’s back. See, there are many things in which Princess Yuzhang takes pride: her birth, her name, her deeds, her husband and her household, but there is one particular point of pride she delights in most of all and that is her secret knowledge of Xiao Qi’s body. She has made a detailed study of every single mark on her husband’s skin, she had her fingers and lips on every single of his scars, she knows their stories, both those told in whispers late into the night and those shared amidst bouts of laughter, but here, beneath her hands are two scars she knows not. Even a fool could tell how close those wounds came to ending his life and Awu is no fool. It’s not like she didn’t expect it, exactly. After all there must have been a reason why he didn’t come for her for six whole months and there was no way he would have escaped unscathed from a battlefield that claimed so many of his dearest comrades. And yet…

And yet this is the straw that breaks her. After six months of being the bravest woman under the sun, of keeping her back unbent and head unbowed even as her heart kept bleeding into the dust of unfamiliar land, she finally cries. It’s not pretty. It’s not dignified. It’s ugly crying at its finest, the kind of crying when your every vein trembles uncontrollably and you throat clenches in pain as if encircled by a garrote of thorns. And so they stand there like two perfect fools, half-naked and crying. At first Xiao Qi tries to dam Awu’s tears in any way he knows how, with a gentle swipe of thumb, with soothing lips and words of love, yet nothing works and then, as the first inhuman wail tears free from her mouth, he breaks as well, unable to do anything but to clutch her desperately, his own hot tears soaking into her dark tresses.

When they calm down – and how could they not, finally together and safe in the heart of Ningshuo – there is little left from their previous fiery lust except for the smallest steady flame, safely banked behind an overwhelming tenderness of heart. Ever so gentle, they finish stripping each other and finally enter that bathtub, big enough for two. Limbs and hair get washed, fears soothed and scars most diligently inspected… before Xiao Qi experiences a startling realization of his own. Just as Awu knows his body in the smallest detail, he knows hers. It’s a husband’s right, nay, a husband’s duty to measure the swell of his wife’s breasts with his palms, to follow the slope of her belly with inquisitive lips and be ever mindful of the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs. Now this hard-won knowledge is like a knife to the heart as it allows him to read the story of those six long months from her body loud and clear; all that stress, fear and grief suddenly made tangible in the alarmingly sharp jut of her clavicles. He hates how fragile she feels in his arms, even as he loves feeling her in his arms at all. A stray impulse makes him try to turn it into a joke about her Aunt’s imminent anger. It doesn’t work, he’s way too emotional for that and so is she, but it disperses the silence, dislodging the last remains of tension born of old, ever-present fear.

There is no more silence as – after some very perfunctory towelling off – he carries her to bed, her too-thin thighs wrapped around his waist. The Princess can be very demanding when she chooses to be and right now she chooses to be very demanding indeed. So demanding that she’s not content to simply wait for her husband to join her in bed, oh no. Her shoulder-blades barely touch the linens before she rises back up on her knees and pulls Xiao Qi down to a sitting position. From there it takes only one expertly executed maneuver to straddle his knees; a god of war or not, he never stood a chance when faced with an opponent this determined.

It’s not like he minds following her orders, he never has, and certainly not when she communicates them in a series of delicious, breathy moans, stopping only to express her displeasure the moment he tries to unwind his arms from around her slender form. She needs to be held, dammit, and she will be held, and she will hold him in turn, never, ever letting him go again, that’s the command of Princess Yuzhang! Any other time he might have smiled at her commanding tone, but not now, not when it’s so deadly serious and when he would like nothing better than to comply and keep complying to the end of his days. Yet he knows his wife as only a husband who keeps to one bed can and there is no way she will be satisfied with simply rubbing off against him, especially when she still hasn’t come once and when in a night this heavy with tension she can easily get off two or three times more.

Awu cries out in protest when Xiao Qi bucks underneath her, somehow turning them around without ever letting her out of his arms and then presses her down onto the bed, effectively trapping her with his weight. She cries out again – for a very different reason – once he gets his hand between her invitingly open legs. But he’s not after her cries, oh no, he’s a much more discerning hunter than that. What he’s chasing are those gentle keens she tends to let out once she’s close to the edge but not yet on it. This time his fingers can’t quite do the trick fast enough for his liking; it’s not an exact science, pulling sweet whimpers out of your wife’s lovely lips, more of an art.

Even Awu can’t exactly protest – not that she doesn’t try – when her husband slithers down her body, much less when he gets his head between her thighs. She still holds him tight, just in case, only this time it’s by his hair. She can, however, protest, when in the aftermath he tries to take himself in hand, head pillowed on the inside of her knee – and isn’t it a marvel how good that beard feels on her skin? He’s hers, thank you very much, so she’ll take responsibility. Which she then proceeds to do to great effect and mutual satisfaction.

If after lying and breathing together for a few minutes he detects the tiniest shiver in her countenance, well, what are those handy white sleeping robes for. Surely, she won’t begrudge him a moment of separation, if it’s for the sake of her health. She does, by the way, she absolutely does and the frown that makes guest on her beautiful face never quite goes away as they resume their embrace, wordly concerns entering their bedchamber against their will. It’s been the longest six months imaginable, not only for them, but for the country as well, and there are words that need to be said.

Once all the necessary words are said, pressing matters of national importance dealt with, promises made and fears assuaged, there is little that will stop Awu from trying to chase away the shadow lying between Xiao Qi’s brows with determined, yet soft lips; and even less that would ban her from taking her due as Princess Yuzhang until the very dawn.

[wri0thesley]

Hello again, dearie~ I'm really enamored with your naga Dio works, if it's alright may I request an oviposition scenario (or headcanons) of naga Dio with small fem s/o? Thank you, and I hope your day is treat you well~

[naga dio stuff is here! this piece can be considered an au; reader is still definitely a member of dio’s cult but a different member to the one in these fics - dio’s breeding obviously works a little . . . differently.] this is my first time writing oviposition but i’ve always wanted to try it >:3 

warnings! oviposition! naga dio! breeding! pregnancy mention! double dicks! eggs! 

Being one of Lord Dio’s most favourite postulants is heady, intoxicating - that, among all those who are devoted to him, he has seen your willingness and adoration of him and you have been rewarded? Being called to your Lord’s bedroom is always an honour. That you were given more than just his words - that he had shown you his appreciation for you to the tune of his tongue flicking over your bare skin, his lengths filling you, his hands clinging to your hips and his tail curling around you to hold you against him after he had been sated? You feel like the chosen one of a God, which you suppose you very much are. 

When he had whispered about how well you had done as you had laid, exhausted, your breath coming in short pants and your hair sweat-soaked against your forehead, you had briefly wondered if perhaps this was a rite of passage. If maybe the other people you passed in the halls of his mansion had been beneath him like this - when Lord Dio had called you to his bedroom tonight, though, and you had been taken there by wide-eyed servants who looked at you like you reflected Lord Dio’s sun . . . you had realised that perhaps there was something special. That Lord Dio had chosen you for something more. 

He whispers your name when the door to his chambers close behind you, a sibilant hiss that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. His voice, low like velvet, travels through you like a caress, and your body recognises it - even as the whisper of scales on the floor as Lord Dio approaches you begins, you feel heat and dampness between your thighs. 

“I have something special planned for you, little one,” Lord Dio murmurs, as you’re encouraged towards the bed - a behemoth of satins and silks, with enough room for even Lord Dio’s impressive tail length. When you had woken up the next day after Lord Dio had claimed you as his own with coils of his tail wrapped around you, you had felt safely cocooned - now, as he urges you to lie down upon the luxurious pillows and his slitted eyes flick up and down your body, you feel rather less safe. With Lord Dio approaching you, his fingers gently pulling off the lush fabrics you’re permitted to wear and his eyes hungrily drinking in your form, you feel rather more like prey. 

You’re surprised to find that the idea of being prey is not unappealing. 

You do not have time to dwell on that, of course. Lord Dio is nothing if not skilled in the art of making you think of nothing but him - and he does that in abundance, as he lavishes your body with the touch of his fingers and the brush of his lips. He teases your exposed nipples to reddened points with a combination of the flick of his tongue and the suckle of his mouth, the tease of dangerous fangs. He rakes claws oh-so-gently over your bare skin until your body is all goosebumps and then soothes the sting with where is soft skin. His hair brushes over your own bare body, making you shiver and shudder - and though he does not kiss you, you do not feel like a toy. 

“Oh,” Lord Dio murmurs, as hands part your thighs at the same time as coils of his tail shift. You feel one wrap around your ankle, urging you to spread further. The shifting of scales is barely noticeable, though, when you feel bathed by the way golden eyes drink up the sight of your aching, soaking sex. Your face flushes to be studied in such a way, but Lord Dio is quick to assuage those fears. A hand trails up your thigh. “No, do not be ashamed of yourself. Your body is merely welcoming its Master. And I am more than willing to be welcomed.”

“My body is yours entirely, My Lord,” you whisper, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Even though he has seen you bare before, you cannot help to be afraid that he’ll not find you pleasing. Perhaps something will have changed. But Lord Dio’s full mouth is curling into a smile, and he lowers his face, breathing in the scent of your arousal like it’s something to be savoured. 

“I know, little one,” he soothes. “And believe me, I will make good use of it. Do you wish to know what I’m planning for you, my darling?” 

His tongue flicks out and you see the pink flash of it - inhumanly long and forked - before you feel it instead, flicking along the length of you, drinking in where your desire is pooling. A hot flash of want goes off low in your stomach, making you arch your back, a whimper of pleasure falling from your lips. You win a chuckle from Lord Dio for that. 

“Yes, you’ll do beautifully,” he praises, lifting his mouth and body away from you. His tongue flickers out again, only to trail across his bottom lip as if he is savouring the taste of you. “My darling. I’ve chosen you to carry for me.”

“C-carry?” You blink up at him wide-eyed.

Your eyes are drawn to where his stomach morphs into scales, and the sheath of where his twin cocks are usually covered - now, they are emerging, glistening with Lord Dio’s own pre-arousal. You feel your body clench in preparation for the sheer size of him - you have taken his lower cock before, which you know from experience is the firmer and one he prefers to penetrate with. You realise that at some point, another section of his tail has wrapped around your other ankle, and even if you wished to move your legs you would not be able to. 

“You’ll see, little one,” Lord Dio soothes, his sculpted body moving over you, his cock nudging at your entrance. You have no desire to close your thighs - you spread them wider at the same time as his tail tugs just so, and he releases a fluid hiss of pressure at your display of eagerness and deference. “Good. I knew you’d be . . . perfect for this--”

He eases himself into you. Even with your body clearly wanting him inside you, he’s sizeable enough for you to breathe through the sting of his cock stretching you out - but you’re rewarded threefold for breathing through it by the way that Dio’s breath feels cool on your neck, the travels of his tongue over your bare skin making you shiver, and the way he murmurs noises of encouragement as he breaches each new inch. 

It does not take long for Lord Dio to earn the movement of your hips as you search for friction - as his second cock rubs just so against your clit with each rock, you find your breath feeling unsteady in your chest as dim sparks of pleasure course through you. Lord Dio follows through - his pace is leisurely as he fucks you, but that does not at all affect the way it makes you feel. The assured way that he plays your body like an instrument. 

The coolness of his scales and his skin, the knowledge of who it is fucking you, the insistent rub of his smooth, damp cock against your swollen clit - they all converge, and you feel little thrills travel through you and a tightening in your body that makes you bite your lip, trying to stave off the orgasm that is coming embarassingly quickly. 

“Oh, little one,” Lord Dio murmurs, his tone amused, “you may come, if you’re already so needy - perhaps it will make later proceedings a little simpler--”

Biting your lip as warmth washes over you, you have the presence of mind to gasp out a ‘th-thank you, My Lord!’ before the white noise hits and your moans die in your throat, your first peak of the night crashing into you. 

It is not the last.

You come twice more, your thighs twitching and shaking, before Lord Dio’s pace becomes frantic. His hips moving in snake-like jolts against you, you notice that his breath is beginning to be a little more . . . strained. Your third orgasm is ebbing away, your sex feeling soaked and swollen where his cock is still buried inside you, when you feel something inside of you shift. 

It seems almost - if it is even possible - as if his cock has grown just a little, reaching further inside you in a place that you’re not sure any cock has ever truly breached. It hurts a little, but nothing more than a brief discomfort like the first time you had taken Lord Dio’s girth, and your breathing evens out slowly.

Lord Dio’s face turns into something more primal and fierce; at once concentration and terrible pleasure, a grin splitting his lovely mouth. 

You squirm beneath him, but his tail keeps your thighs spread wide. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, though there’s a catch in his breath you’ve never heard before. “I won’t hurt you. You can take my clutch--”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. 

“I--I--”

“Shh,” he murmurs again, and you feel something cool and smooth inside you, further than anything has ever been before. You whimper, but not entirely in pain - as something round passes inside of you to a place that you’re not certain your body is designed to allow entrance to. There’s a moment - a blinding, warm moment where the pressure is almost overwhelming - and then, you’re aware that whatever it is Lord Dio has put inside you is very much inside you, nestling deep in your womb. “Ah. Good--”

Again. The coolness, the roundness, the pressure - but this one passes quicker. You look down to where Lord Dio’s body is pressed inside you and you’re fascinated at how his muscles flex as his cock and ovipositor deposit another inside you, filling you up more certainly. 

“H-how many--”

Lord Dio hushes you as you feel the fourth. You’re not entirely sure how large they are, but only as the fourth - egg, you realise - finds a space in your body do you begin to feel uncomfortably full. One of Lord Dio’s hands sweeps over your stomach and you realise that it’s a little distended - that you’re swollen with the clutch of eggs that your Lord has put inside you. Your breathing feels too shallow.

“One more, little one,” he purrs, and his hips roll slowly, luxuriously, as the fifth egg pushes past the discomfort. He soothes you with his mouth, tongue and lips brushing your neck as a whimper of pain escapes you. You have never felt so full--

Lord Dio pulls back, dragging his cock out of you. Although you know it shifted inside of you - you suppose to allow it to pass the eggs into your body - you’re still surprised to see the tapered head, the slight difference in the thing you’ve had inside you, before he retracts it back into his slit, as it slides out of you and back into him. Your hips rock uselessly, your breath feeling unstable in your chest - and then, his cock is out of you, and you’re at once full and empty. 

Before, his hand had merely stroked across your stomach in a fleeting moment, as if checking that he had fully given you what he wanted to. Now, though, he lays one of his hand-claws over your body protectively, pressing down enough to make you shift and moan at the feeling of being so surreally, strangely full of something else. Something other. 

You know by rights you should be horrified and frightened. But looking down at your stomach just makes you feel proud. 

“You’ll carry them wonderfully,” Lord Dio says, his eyes glittering dangerously - and when he says it, it’s at once a prediction and a threat. “And until then, little one, my darling, my chosen - you’ll have the best of everything.” There’s a smirk on his face as he leans over, his lips brushing over yours. He speaks quietly but intensely, mouth a breath away. “After all. You’ll spend a long time on your back incubating them. You’ll swell and grow beautifully. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t ensure your safety?” 

His tongue flicks out and tastes your lips and you wonder if he is tasting you or tasting the faintness of his own mouth on you. 

“And this,” he murmurs, “is just the first clutch.”

[dansiere]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @breselin, & @citialiin; thank you for the tag! I was planning on stealing it. tagging: @rosiqe, @noirtux, @goldgliitters, @ndeavor,  @reminiscentsky, @battleshell, @ettards & whoever else wants to do this. Just steal it & tag me. -- go wild.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated [loosely affiliated mainly due to the fandom’s size. I am quite open to crossovers of any kind, really even if it takes me a while to open up.]

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [she is one of the deuteragonists; has been around since the pilot & while she has been sidelined during the epilogue, she was usually at least around with her story arc / actions having a huge impact on the overall story as such.]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [I guess so? Then again, that’s an objective statement so I am just? Assuming? I personally find her general aesthetics to be quite amazing; she is a dance battler, graceful & elegant; a ballerina with a classical theme that runs through her design & attitude like a red threat. I have a weak spot for stuff like that.]

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [surprisingly, Pearl is considered to be the strongest non-fusion Crystal Gem according to the show (until Lapis Lazuli comes around). -- I assume prowess wise Pearl is high up next to Garnet & Rose whenever she can actually get her crap together due to having fought countless battles &, most importantly, survived the war in which she fought & shattered opponents thrice her size.]

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. [partially yes, partially no. She is controversial for sure but just as popular. At some point, the show delved deeper into her issues & actually had her mess up quite severely; the fandom’s reaction was so harsh that the showrunners had to interfere by “apologizing for making her human”. Pearl has always been a target for extreme criticism; some of it justified, some just straight down ridiculous.  -- It’s easy to forget what kind of complexity a character can offer when her resolution arc happens literally ten episodes before the show ends.]

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [Pearl becomes Steven’s guardian / mentor after the death of his mother Rose Quartz & can later be considered his stand-in mother alongside Garnet. It is safe to say that her actions have influenced Steven the most, both negatively & positively.]

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO. [she earned herself the title ‘The Renegade’ during the war for being the first (& arguably only) pearl that broke out of her conditioning; she used to be a wanted criminal / traitor to her own kind for 5000 + years until her record was cleared upon the beginning of Era 3 (aka official end of the Gem War). She is still being referred to as ‘The Renegade’ now & then; while she used to be proud of the title she has grown to resent it a lot these days.]

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [it depends on who you ask; Homeworld Soldiers? Well, they despise her; she is a defective Gem & a war criminal. She stands for all that is wrong with the rebellion; I mean a pearl who refuses to serve & calls herself an individual? a warrior? THE SCANDAL!! Some soldiers are afraid of her, call her ‘Rose Quartz’ terrifying renegade’, even. However, in her ranks aka the rebellion, she is being seen as a silent heroine. A celebrated war hero, Rose Quartz’s right hand & sole confidante (some even whisper that there is more between them).]

How strictly do you follow canon?  — uh... well. Not really but... kinda? Steven Universe’s canon is messy & occasionally QUITE inconsistent. -- while it gives you vague details, some lore can best be compared to a gaping void. Thus my reason for partial divergence isn’t lack of good character writing (because Pearl is very, very complex even on screen), but rather inconvenient lore holes & SU’s habit of leaving important facts uncommented, “unshown” or just stuck between the lines. While I don’t mind deep analysis, some of those “buried facts” fly other people’s heads which leads to terrible, terrible fanon takes. -- in order to distance myself from that, I usually take canon & expand it with my own headcanons & metas based on lore / show analysis. I often alter / cut what does not fit my narrative BUT I always root my stuff in actual canon occurrences.

     Sometimes, I just straight down change certain things that canon messed up in my pov. For example, in order to make it explicitly clear that she fell in love & rebelled on her own volition (even if it has been confirmed like ten times by now), my Pearl is around 1500 years older than the original & (in)directly served White Diamond before being handed to Pink (not the only reason for that change but well I will elude on it eventually). She was a default pearl with no customization & usually spent most of her time with organizing matters in the palace until Pink accidentally broke her customized pearl; Pearl was then 'poofed’ & handed over; she possessed a more sensible personality & a strict rule protocol that was supposed to help her “raise” Pink Diamond into the ranks of a ruler. Most other changes are rather minor but very important or essential to my portrayal (for example whenever “A Single Pale Rose” is concerned: Pearl suggesting the “sealing of the secret”, her not wearing the dress from the beginning, her not calling Pink “my diamond”, her arguing with Pink long before the fake-shattering took place, etc etc.); the epilogue series is another can of worms I will get to eventually but lemme just say I didn’t really like the way Pearl behaved / the plot-bound ooc-ness she sometimes yielded to & other stuff. 

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  well, she is a lesbian space rock from a strange universe; whose body is basically a manifestation of light? She is probably the most passionate being you will ever meet. -- if you are looking for a speedrun through human history, she is your gal. If you need someone to beat up some bullies, she will gladly come & smack sense into people; if you want to learn everything about Gemkind, sit down & listen because she won’t stop talking any time soon. 

     By definition, Pearl is a good person; the extreme loyal kind, absolutely & helplessly dedicated to a cause. She wears most of her emotions on her sleeve, comes off as genuinely caring, protective & trustworthy. She is empathetic & observant, she will always be there for you in one way or another. She is smart, loves to read & indulges in the higher arts such as (romantic) poetry, singing, painting, music (violin, piano, bass) & dance (predominately classic ballet / waltz but she has grown rather fond of jazz lately). Her knowledge about Earth & all that lays beyond is vast & if you ever want to see whatever is out there, she is the type to take you on a space tour with no questions asked. She fences, has learned to wield a lance, can engineer very well, has a very peculiar but... sorta adorable kind of humour that can either be hella obnoxious or super funny. There is no in-between. Pearl loves science, baking, housekeeping, ice-& roller-skating & is more than willing to take people along whenever she visits the rink. If you ask her for advice, she will gladly give it; if you need help, she will be the first to raise her hand. Pearl is orderly, has a strong sense of justice & a fierce, dedicated kind of resolve. 

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  Pearl. Is. A. Mess. No questions asked. She is an introverted, nervous, neurotic, grief-- & trauma riddled mess who loves to pretend & rationalize things to death. Her self-esteem is abysmal, she is extremely jealous, obsessive & possessive [to the point where she straight up murdered men just because they dared to be around her girlfriend]. Her mind is a compartmentalized mess of repressed memories & heavy, untreated cptsd woven into it; Pearl lives too much inside her head & gets overwhelmed by her emotions far too easily; she feels too much all at once & lets her temper get the best of her. 

     She is self-centred, does not seem to understand that words & reckless actions hurt people, believes that only she deserves to grieve Rose & willingly destroyed relationships just to soak in her own misery; self-destruction is her forte & she will indulge in it no matter the consequences. She is often high-strung, judgemental, always has to be right, overachieves & overdoes whenever a chance is given. -- she can be petty, arrogant & desperate for validation. --  Needless to say, Pearl is the kind of person that pretends to be fine for years but once she cracks she reveals that she is anything but. -- she cannot move on, hates men, & just is a lot to deal with. Getting in touch with her means you run the risk to get dragged into her mess, whenever you want it or not. 

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  first & foremost, my love for complex, purpose-driven female characters. I am a sucker for the “introvert, plagued lady” type & once parts of Pearl’s past were revealed during Season 1 I was sold. Pearl seemed relatable to me, extremely human & raw in her behaviour. While I love most of the SU cast equally, Pearl just wouldn’t let me go. Her aesthetic is amazing, her past intriguing. -- her connection to ballet & classical music, her elegant & graceful design just spoke to me. 

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  music. music. oh, and music. Poetry, long walks (I am not kidding), analysis, meta & hc writing, discussions with writing partners or my rl partner @rosiqe.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ despite my emo peculiar take on the character, I do hope that people hear her voice whenever they read my replies. ]

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? [ I wish I could post more but I am very, very slow & a perfectionist at heart. -- I try to compensate for my lack of actual hcs by rambling in my tags. Most part of the time said ramblings include personal headcanons or analyses of specific scenes that include personal takes on pivotal situations; while I gather & write them down eventually, it can take me a long time to get stuff done. -- it is easier for me to jus blabber on & on in the tags. ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO [ all my ask replies are drabbles, ngl. ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / SORT OF? [... a sore topic. While I love my headcanons & have gotten quite proud of my writing over time, I constantly doubt myself regarding the “ic”-ness of my responses. I like to believe that I am doing rather well, but I am not confident, no. ]

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. [ it took me a long time to develop my style; while I always struggle to believe in my portrayal I am quite confident in my writing as such. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but in general? I am proud of it. ]

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. / SORTA.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  Well, yes. As long as it is the constructive kind. I love receiving feedback, may it be negative or positive. I will most likely try to discuss criticism with you; aka if you (i.e) tell me that Pearl shouldn’t have (C)PTSD, I will deliver canon proof & state my reasoning for my decision to implement it in my canon, etc. What I will not do is tolerate character hate or unreasonable hate towards my writing. Be assured that I will never headcanon something that has no solid footing in canon.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  ABSOLUTELY. Send me random hc / meta asks, I beg you.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  sure. As stated above, I will probably discuss stuff with you. The chance of me dropping a headcanon however are rather low.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  Hm... it depends on what they don’t like. If it’s my writing, well, why are you following me to begin with?? If it is my take on things... well again, why are you following me? I stated in my rules what you should expect & that I will not water down specific aspects of a complex character. Disliking my portrayal is fine since I know that my kind of writing / analysis isn’t necessarily everyone’s tea but... again, why would you keep following me?

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  um. Not... well? While I will never excuse my muse’s actions, I dislike groundless bashing. In regard to Pearl... well. As stated above, I expected backlash the second I created this blog. Pearl is one of those characters the fandom either loves or hates; her canon relationship to Rose was branded toxic by a ton of people, people call her uncaring, salty, insane & straight up manic, she seemingly has no redeeming qualities, she is a bitch, too perfect (LOL) or arrogant & apparently has no character? I love it when people say stuff like that because... did we watch the same show? Is there a version of SU I don’t know? Please tell me, I wanna see it for myself! Some hot takes in this fandom are atrocious & make me want to commit a crime. 

     -- but I digress. I have spent too much time in her tag in 2014 + & I have seen quite the fights over the most ridiculous things; Pearl, in particular, got quite the flack for stuff that eventually got resolved in season 5 [which, again, was way too late but well]. In the end, clowns will be clowns, no matter what you do. I just don’t get why you would follow someone if you hate their character to begin with.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  yes, but please don’t be rude about it. I am German, English is my second language. I am currently learning Swedish / improving my Swedish so mistakes can always happen. Additionally, I am someone who posts her replies in the middle of the night & while I proofread a lot & most likely fix posts after I posted ‘em, some mistakes can still slip through. 

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  ... I like to believe I am but I know that I am overly passionate & I can come off as too strong or too fierce sometimes. I can be too much, I can be too excentric (I’m a Scorpio, Karen); I have strong opinions in regard to my characters & I will not hold them back. I criticise shows mercilessly & I will plough through canon as much as I please. Stans & I usually don’t get along. HOWEVER, I am a meme. I love lame jokes, I am awkward, & sometimes very, very insecure. In the end,  I just wanna talk about my favourite characters & develop sth wonderful. I keysmash unironically, I use old memes unironically. I mean I have been writing for ten + years & I am about to smooth sail post the 24 age border aka I will turn 25 soon which renders me old according to tumblr standards. I am just here to have fun before the staff comes to lock my account down due to my status as an rp-senior. -- yeah... that is the kind of stupid ass humor I mean. I digress but... please, I am an awkward, rambling mess, just hit me up via dms & you will see what I mean. 

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Finn “Firkle” Sinn

out of character info

Name/Alias: Alison Pronouns: she/they Age: 21 Join Our Discord: c; Timezone: est Activity: 6.9/10 Triggers: n/a Password: jimmy can fastpass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Firkle Favourite ships for your character: uhh Fike or Firkmore. Whichever bugs Kyle most.

in character info

Full name: Finn Nyarlathotep “Firkle” Sinn (I hate his canon name, I’m sorry.) Birthday: October 25th, (Scorpio) Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Death (Bisexual), Goth (cis man), “Don’t fucking talk about me” (he/him). Age and grade: Freshman, 14

Appearance:

Standing at the height of 5’7, but subtracting three inches the moment his boots come off. Firkle always wears two expressions, one of constant disdain, or a vacant one. Despite the eerie faces he likes to make, he has a rather pretty face. Heart shaped, large almond eyes, the color the storm clouds before the rain begins to fall, a small, slight turned up nose, a smattering of freckles on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. More often than not, he straightens his naturally wavy black hair, his fringe hangs down, on his right side, past his chin, and the sides are shaved with an abstract design of geometric shapes.

He has piercings, including: a septum ring, a bar through his left eyebrow, numerous cartilage piercings, a bar through his tongue, and his collar bones. He has a total of 7 tattoos, a skull with horns and the word 'death’ over its forehead on his right upper arm; he got it when he was 13 and properly initiated into the cult. An Omega (Ω) on the outer side of his left wrist, “some ghosts are so quiet, you would hardly know they're there” in a small handwriting font on his left thigh above a small ghost line art. He has an octopus the size of a CD on his left upper arm, it holds little knives in each hand. He has a boo from Mario over his left forearm, accompanied by the three life hearts from Legend of Zelda, and the Space Invaders alien.

His body type is thin, though he does have lean muscle from several years of fencing. His fingers have numerous scars on his fingers from years of playing with knives. Pale scars, a very slight contrast from his already corpse-like skin tone. His makeup is usually just dark eyeliner and black lipstick, very rarely does he use any cover-up or contour. In contrast to his minimal effort in his appearance, he has a very decorated taste in clothing. Plain black skinny jeans, plain dark grey t-shirt, wallet with chains hanging from his hip, boots with studs and buckles, and his jackets, always black, commonly leather, have studs, patches, and/or patches.

Personality:

Firkle is a true nihilist, he believes that nothing really matters, and he’d defend that philosophy until the day he died. Though he lacks empathy and is an undiagnosed sociopath, having said that, when he finds someone he wants to nurture and cherish, he does so. He would murder for them, and take care of them through thick and thin. It's incredibly rare that this occurs, and he isn't fond of the majority of the people he talks to. He has a short patience for people he doesn't like, he's snappy and will start roasting people in hopes they will leave him alone. He often comes off as cold and reclusive, but it's actually because he hates talking to people, it makes him emotionally tired; though good at carrying conversation and it's the entirely of his school career, it makes him want to curl up into the fetal position and sleep for a week. Having control over his emotions is something he's mastered over the years and it's rare that he would snap at anyone outside of being tired. Anger, sadness, and even happiness are controlled.

Behavior wise, Firkle is cunning, often lying to cover for himself, and generally selfish. Admitting when he's wrong is something he despises doing, and he will get violent over small, insignificant disputes. Instead of getting mad or arguing, he's more likely to slap someone than to shout at them. (But if they do shout at him, he can get incredibly loud, and he does not take anyone's shit.) He's not selfish in the “all for me, none for you" sense, but he will let someone become a scapegoat as long as it keeps him looking like the Eldritch Golden Boy his cult sees him as.

When he hits his most stressful moments, he grows numb and acts robotic, because the only rational, sanity retaining, thought he can think is that none of this actually matters, and his pure form, the sadistic apathetic asshole he is deep down comes out.

History:

Firkle was born to a single mother, Maeve Sinn, due to the absence of his father after his conception, his mother gave him the name she felt was most appropriate for him, including her own last name. Finn is a traditional Irish name, Nyarlathotep is the name of an Elder God, and Sinn has been the last name in his family for ages. His name rhymes, but he's not fond of being called by his first name. When he was born, his mother was finishing her doctorate to start working full time as an alternative medical doctor. Commonly referred to as the local witch doctor, more accurate name than the population knows.

Firkle was raised by a goth and more or less by the cult his mother belonged to. Spending his earliest years, being laid down to nap on the pews of the abandoned church. By the time he was old enough to start school, the sadist fit in well with the resident goth clique. It took a long time for him to even like them, he betrayed them at gunpoint at one point, and it wasn't until they forgave him unconditionally, that he came to realize that he had friends. Not really his own age, as they were all four and five years older than him, but much closer in age than the group he was raised by.

Spending the next 6 years being numbed to be the most apathetic asshole he could be, in the one place on the planet where everyone was a bit on the psychotic side. Must be something in the water. 12, and in the 6th grade, he spent the second semester of school in the South Park public school system, creating a reputation of defiance early. For his 13th birthday, the following semester, he was properly initiated into the cult, no more sitting on metal chairs, or on the pews, he got to attend the rituals, not just the sermons. Throughout the next year, he became a very active member of the group, attending every sermon and ritual he could, even if it meant skipping out on things normal kids got up to. Homecoming? He was harvesting blood from a sacrifice. Despite how much time he spends at these meetings, they never became common knowledge. He just called it “therapy”, and never went into any details. 

Sample paragraph:

McDonald’s espresso, it seemed like a good idea when he bought it, but as Firkle sat at his booth alone, he came to realize how terrible it was. The taste was bitter and scalding, the way he liked it, but that wasn’t the issue. A gremlin released upon the world was, and it made the young goth livid.

Some punk ass eight year old came running down the aisle between booths, banging his fist down on each one, for no obvious reason. Naturally this caused the craved caffeine to tip over, soaking into a filled page of poetry, rather than into the goth’s blood stream. A great Shakespearean Tragedy. The pools of ashen misery he called his eyes just watched the liquid soaking into his pristine white page for an absurdly long moment, frozen by the thought he just spent three dollars to ruin a twenty dollar bullet journal.

Letting out a long overdue huff, he starts to sop up the remaining fluid. All of the pretty poetry pictures he had hoped to obtain were lost to time now, dumping the hardly used notebook in the trash with the napkins, he heads off towards the nearest location with any hardcover journals available. Doubtful any would ever be waterproof, the goth was still resolved. His mind void of any emotional attachment to the event further than the major inconvenience it happened to be. He had to draft the artwork his writing was before he could ever dream of posting it for his whole school to see, and now he was going to write a new poem. One called McDonald’s Espresso.

Headcanons:

-He plays violin. -He has a total of 0 expressions when anything happens, he just keeps this blank look on his face like he’s some sort of robot.

Anything else: I love you gays.

[darkgeniius-blog]

♟      *   i've lived inside this mental cave.   throw all my emotions in the grave.   /   musings. ♟      *   my black heart beats in crimson and clovers.   /   character study. ♟      *   you soak up knowledge to fill the space.   /   headcanon. ♟      *   everything is grey.   his hair.   his smoke.   his dreams.   /   aes. ♟      *   you're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece.   /   portrait ; old. ♟      *   and then you decided that purple just wasn't for you.   /   dyn ; severus & lily. ♟      *   neither one of you sees the natural boundaries.    you're the best of friendsˑ   /   dyn ; severus & lily. ♟      *   grow into gardens the caverns you found in me.   /   zodiac. ♟      *   grow into gardens the caverns you found in me.   /   likes. ♟      *   grow into gardens the caverns you found in me.   /   memories. ♟      *   grow into gardens the caverns you found in me.   /   anatomy. ♟      *   grow into gardens the caverns you found in me.   /   soundtrack. ♟      *   you try to be tough.   but your armor’s just not hard enough.   /   portrait ; young.

[vinterarchived]

*  HEADCANON 001.                                                      THE FOG.

                                         the only reason elsa and anna could actually enter through the fog is that they are the children of iduna,    and as such the spirits of the forest recognized her in them and let them through.     also the only reason blood of iduna was allowed through was bcause of her saving agnarr ,  despite the war between arendellians and northuldra.

[fiightcrarchived2]

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

      i think, in some way or another,  all girls like flowers.      she can absolutely appreciate the gesture behind flowers, and she finds them pretty   —     but they won’t win her over in an argument.     as for faves ;   she loves wild flowers.  and especially daisies.    

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

      more times than she likes to count,  but especially from those close to her   —  jackson ( father )  being the main event.       in return she’s broken her share of both hearts and teeth / noses / jaws .

   still accepting  ;                                                   v-day questions.             ➝      @xxaustralianwerewolfxx​

[fiightcrarchived2]

    WHAT  IS  YOUR  TYPE  ?   [ ENNEAGRAM TEST ]

*REPOST , DON’T REBLOG TAGGED BY : @freckledsnack s !    ♥ TAGGING :   @ofarquitenens && @hazedsea && @plcunton && @viciousheart && @pianomxn && @herheroics && @courageousones && @impiae && @fangedeath && @honeyedhowl  +++    YOU !

Enneagram Type 8   ---   The Challenger

Taking charge, because they don't want to be controlled

People of this personality type are essentially unwilling to be controlled, either by others or by their circumstances; they fully intend to be masters of their fate. Eights are strong willed, decisive, practical, tough minded and energetic. They also tend to be domineering; their unwillingness to be controlled by others frequently manifests in the need to control others instead. When healthy, this tendency is kept under check, but the tendency is always there, nevertheless, and can assume a central role in the Eight's interpersonal relationships.

Eights generally have powerful instincts and strong physical appetites which they indulge without feelings of shame or guilt. They want a lot out of life and feel fully prepared to go out and get it. They need to be financially independent and often have a hard time working for anyone. This sometimes necessitates that the Eight opt out of the system entirely, assuming something of an outlaw mentality. Most Eights however, find a way to be financially independent while making their peace with society, but they always retain an uneasy association with any hierarchical relationship that sees the Eight in any position other than the top position.

Eights have a hard time lowering their defenses in intimate relationships. Intimacy involves emotional vulnerability and such vulnerability is one of the Eight's deepest fears. Betrayal of any sort is absolutely intolerable and can provoke a powerful response on the part of the violated Eight. Intimate relationships are frequently the arena in which an Eight's control issues are most obviously played out and questions of trust assume a pivotal position. Eights often have a sentimental side that they don't even show to their intimates, such is their fear of vulnerability. But, while trust does not come easily to an Eight, when an Eight does take someone into the inner sanctum, they find a steadfast ally and stalwart friend. The Eight's powerful protective instincts are called into play when it comes to the defense of family and friends, and Eights are frequently generous to a fault in providing for those under their care.

Eights are prone to anger. When severely provoked, or when the personality is unbalanced, bouts of anger can turn into rages. Unhealthy Eights are frankly aggresive and when pushed, can resort to violence. Such Eights enjoy intimidating others whom they see as "weak" and feel little compunction about walking over anyone who stands in their way. They can be crude, brutal and dangerous.

Female Eights are far more likely to mistype than male Eights, as many of the traits typical to the type Eight personality have been discouraged in females. For the most part, however, it is other types who mistake themselves for Eights. This is especially common in male counterphobic Sixeswho fail to recognize that their agression is a cover for a very deep seated anxiety. Sevens too, are prone to mistype as Eights, but Sevens lack the intensity of focus typical of the type Eight, and while both Sevens and Eights have high energy personalities, Eights have a physically based energy whereas the Seven's energetic pattern has a nervous, mental quality to it.

wing in 7 :                                                                                             Type 7 - The Enthusiast Pleasure seekers and planners, in search of distraction Sevens are essentially concerned that their lives be an exciting adventure. They are future oriented, restless people who are generally convinced that something better is just around the corner. They are quick thinkers who have a great deal of energy and who make lots of plans. They tend to be extroverted, multi-talented, creative and open minded.

[fiightcrarchived2]

here’s a little tidbit no one asked for :     wolfie is not a cake person.   honestly,  she doesn’t really like cake.   brownies works.   but not chocolate cake, red velvet, vanilla ...  nor cinnamon buns.  cheesecake, maybe.  but it has to be almost otherwordly. 

[fiightcrarchived2]

THIS JUST IN :    apparently woofie doesn’t like cinnamon buns.

[vinterarchived]

in verses where a talking , walking snowman is   --- well ---   weird ??     olaf is elsa’s cat and he looks like this.

this would me marshmallow .   he’s a berger swiss blanc shepherd .

[fiightcrarchived2]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE & DETAILED PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Repost with the information of your muse, including head canons, etc. If you fail to answer some of the facts, add some other of your own. When you’re done, tag 15 other people to do the same.

NAME: Amelia “WOLFIE” Hunter

AGE: 30 SPECIES: human GENDER: female ORIENTATION: bisexual INTERESTS: weapons,  good booze, hunting PROFESSION: hunter BODY TYPE: tall-ish and lithe EYES: forest green, with small golden-ish flecks if you look closely HAIR: golden blonde,  lighter streaks after being in the sun over time SKIN: light, tans easily though, and light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheekbones HEIGHT: 170 cm COMPANIONS: going by general main verse : no one. ANTAGONISTS: alive ? the butcher.    generally ?   jackson hunter, aka. supposed to be father. SMELLS: coffee, gun powder, blood, cigarettes and alcohol, and some sort of fresh scented body spray - when not hunting. FRUITS: any, doesn’t really have a favourite. DRINKS: coffee and whisky ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? YES ! SMOKES? yes DRUGS? no DRIVERS LICENSE? yup

RANDOM HEADCANON *  wolfie was seven when she shot a rifle for the first time.    it was a rare occasion of a family outing to the local fair and she hit bulls eye three out of four times, despite the fact that the rifle was rather big and heavy.

TAGGED BY: @deamonical

TAGGING:  anyone who hasn’t done this !!