#big gold brick headcanons

[demonsword586]

Tartaros pp headcanons! (Just the nobles)

Bimet

- I imagine he is one of the few normal sized pp owners amongst devils. (Still,they are naturally larger than humans,so normal for a devil is still pretty impressive for a human.)

-Anyway I belive he is around 15 cm in lenght .

-You see the charm about this man's shlong is not in size like most people think but in it's shape.

- You see his tip is sharp. This man is a whore. With enough money,you could probably buy a night with him. And as a proper gold digger....he needs a sharp tool for the job.

-You ever saw the part of a flute in which you blow? Yea that's his tip

-Not only is his tip pointy but somewhere in the middle of his shaft he has tiny bumps. They're small and there's not a lot of them...but just enough for you to feel it when he ravages your insides.

-He thought about dipping his pp in gold like he does to his feet but immediatelly stopped after the first try. Mostly because the gold was dropping down way too quickly because of the higher temperature.

-He settled on just wearing a few thin golden cock rings. Also has a simple prince albert piercing

-From all the gold in the air,I woudn't be suprised if he eats it too. After a few years of chewing on metal,his cum got a certain yellowish color to it.

-I do think he cums a lot tho and it's watery...very watery.

-He keeps himself groomed most of the time. If you're serving the richest man in hell as his right hand,you gotta keep a certain level of proper hygene and looks to match.

- Also yes his pp does smell like pennies.

Valefor

- I think he's pretty similar to Mammon. He already works hard to have a body like his. I woudn't be suprised if that applies to his dick as well.

-As you can imagine....big. Not as big as Mammon's meat srick but very similar. Thick,long and hard as a brick. He should register is as a lethal weapon. In and put of the bedroom.

-At least he is aware of his own size,comparred to some other careless nobles. He knows he could actually hurt you and does everything in his might to prevent that,even if it means sacrificing his own pleasure for yours.

-Speaking of pleasure and cumming,he's another one of those breeding bulls. His cum is a bit thick but actually tastes pretty good. The most similar thing to it is a lemon tart.

-Back to his cock. It's a bit more normal whrn it comes to the shape. It's the kind of a penis that is pretty to look at but also scares you with just how big it is. In other words,a teddy bear kind of pp.

-He keeps his pubic hair growing. Of course,he does shave it off every once in awhile. But only when it gets so unruly it iches. But every other time? He just let's it grow. He just doesn't pay too much attention to his hair when he has to put so much work into growing out his muscles.

-But somehow has one of the healthiest hygene routines? Has like 12 diffrent products,all for a specific thing on his body. He's a good boy who takes care of himself properly.

-He does work out a lot tho,so he can't always be smelling like sunshines and manly chemicals. Even after many showers,there is still a small sprinkle of the sweaty smell on him. He is trying to get rid of it since he knows humans are a bit more sensitive about bad smells compared to devils

Eligos

- Small...the smallest penis owner in Tartaros nobility and he is damn proud of it!!!

-He's actually really happy with his size since smaller pps are way cuter than those muscular-looking dicks. It gives him a very cute bulge too!

- It's size is 11 cm.

- Some of his coworkers suggested he starts wearing some more gold but he refuses. After all,ribbons are way cuter than gold and very flexible in their usage too! He can wrap them everywhere even on his dick.

-Has a collection of diffrent types of ribbon fabric,each for a specific part on his body. There is so many pretty fabrics after all but not every one fits more intimate areas. For down there he uses a very soft,silk ribbon.

- Has a very good hygene too. Probably owns a whole cabinet of showering items. My man knows his stuff. He follows Orias's social media and they even give each other beauty tips in DMs. Paimon joins in on some conversations as well.

- Anyway back to his pp! We already got out of the way that it's small. Well it's also really sensitive! Especially on the underside of his shaft and the point where his tip is the sharpest. If you rub or touch him there,he becomes quite vocal. I don't mean those little whimpers but full on moans. When Mammon first heard him,he had to ask later if he was okay and if he needed a headpat. Poor man probably thought Eligos hit his balls or something.

-Speaking of balls,his are pretty small and round. His ballsack is a bit tight which makes his balls appear very adorable,like little marbles. They fit perfectlly in your palm too! Ah,but don't squeeze them,he'll push you away and cover them for a few weeks if he sees you.

-Man waxes. You see those shiny thighs? Yea he wants all of his assets to be like that. Smooth like an infant. He actually does the whole process by himself. Unless there is a place he cannot reach *cough* his ass *cough*

-Overall,a very cute little thing and slightly squishy. The color of it is just as his skin with his tip being a paler pink.

[jmliebert]

bg3 on a beach (modern headcanons)

some little beach-day headcanons ˙ᵕ˙

𓇼 Astarion 𓇼

the one who brought sunscreen with SPF 50

and basically an entire beach bag of skincare essentials— lip balm, hand cream, hand sanitizer, hair comb (gold-plated), facial mist, perfumes….

….a chic umbrella that screams "I don't do tan lines" (you didn’t know umbrellas might be chic? wel, you’ve obviously never met astarion, you poor soul)

struts around in Dior or Armani swim trunks that probably cost more than everyone else’s entire beach wardrobe (taste, darling)

throws subtle shade at anyone who dares to get sand near his setup

𓇼 Gale 𓇼

sitting next to Astarion under the chick umbrella, reading a brick-tome that looks way too heavy for a beach day

loose, unbuttoned shirt flapping in the breeze, looking like he's ready to casually narrate the next chapter of his life

dips into the water only to cool off, then returns to his book (wears a wide brimmed hat while swimming because sunburns are for novices)

brings some fruits, maybe homemade snacks i(f he’s feeling particulary extra)

puts on sunglasses, claiming it’s for “eye protection,” but really so he can unashamedly observe everyone else (astarion observes everyone at the beach as well, but making no effort to hide it though)

𓇼 Halsin 𓇼

totally would have preferred to go to a nudist beach, but hey, what won’t he do for his party?

sunbathes directly under the scorching rays, basking in nature's warm embrace

gives off major retired surfer vibes—minus the board, plus a lot of wisdom about underwater ecosystems

spends most of the day diving, befriending the fish, and enthusiastically recounting his underwater adventures to Shadowheart

as the sun sets, he meditates, he’s body looking positively glorious as the golden light hits just right

𓇼 Wyll 𓇼

rolls in with a cooler full of chilled beer, instantly becoming everyone’s favorite person

the one who’s super into every beach sport there is

performs cartwheels and somersaults, showing off a little (endd up with a head full of sand)

borrows Halsin’s goggles and disappears for an hour or two, only to resurface with a story about an underwater adventure

comforts a crying child who lost their bucket, instantly becoming a hero of the beach

𓇼 Karlach 𓇼

alexa, play starships by nicki minaj

fearless of the sun—probably doesn’t even know what sunscreen is

the most grateful for Wyll's beer, probably cracking open a can before she even sets up her towel (if it's a bottle, she’ll open it with her teeth)

hypes everyone up for a beach volleyball match, whether they want to play or not

dominates the game with killer serves, yelling “BOOM!” every time she scores

𓇼 Shadowheart 𓇼

aka Wednesday Addams on vacation, complete with a black swimsuit and a hat so big it casts shade on half the beach

floats around on an floatie, giving off strong “don’t bother me” vibes

quietly builds a sandcastle that turns out to be an architectural masterpiece (It’s somehow both gothic and impressive)

doesn’t know how to swim but hasn’t admitted it to anyone. Instead, she’s perfected the art of looking mysterious while staying close to the shore

smiles at dogs playing in the distance

𓇼 Lae’zel 𓇼

laughs in the face of sunburn

side-eyes Astarion and Gale applying sunscreen, muttering something about “weakness” under her breath

joins Shadowheart for a few minutes of sandcastle building, then pretends she wasn’t enjoying it

hyper-competitive during beach volleyball, diving for every ball like it’s a life-or-death situation

inevitably gets sunburned, grudgingly wears Gale’s hat, and glares at anyone who dares to mention it

𓇼 Jaheira 𓇼

doesn't have time for this shit

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

the summer is ending, I feel it in my bones, so I just had to write this one hihi

[twola]

Wanted to say I looovvve how you write Arthur! Since you’re taking requests I was wondering if you’d do something like the nsfw alphabet for him or just general headcanons for him? Thank you:)

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. Thanks for the nudge! For reference, our boah is high-honor for this.

Drop a line and tell me which one is your favorite!

NSFW Alphabet : Arthur Morgan

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s usually a panting, groaning mess after orgasm, but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s peppering your face with kisses, heaping praise upon you.

“Such a good girl.” He’ll rumble in those low timbres, his deep voice sex-hoarse as he gently wipes his spend from your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur loves the gentle slope - the long curve of your neck. He loves kissing it, suckling at it, leaving marks and bruises as he not so secretly enjoys you having physical signs that you’re his.

He’s not one to think much of himself, he’s known to degrade himself, but if you were insistent on an answer,  he would say his arms. Broad and strong from years of hard living - heaving hunted animals over his shoulder, roping horses, beating men. His arms draw you into the line of his body, wrapping around your waist and keeping you secure and safe.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not an idiot. Not at this point in his life. Having had gotten a girl pregnant and living in proximity to John’s stupidity with Abigail, he knows that the temporary high of spending into a woman wasn’t worth the risk of conceiving a child.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, want, so much, to spend within your warmth, not to pull himself from you jerkily.

If he were another man, in another life, not running in an outlaw gang - he would love to stay inside, to create life within you - to watch you grow and birth his child. If only. If only.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Big, bad gunslinger - outlaw - criminal, god, he would never hear the end of it if others knew how he whimpers as you nudge that spot beneath his testicles, your fingers pressing against that skin, and it feels so good he could cry. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While in his later adult years, he has had fewer partners, in his youth, Arthur was a wild stallion. Rolling into a saloon with a sly smile and a bag full of gold coins from a robbery, working women flocked to him, and he certainly enjoyed their company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Arthur certainly enjoys any way he can have you - and he certainly has enjoyed an array of positions - holding you up against a brick wall in a back alley in Saint Denis, bending you over the table in an empty cabin, watching you gyrate above him- riding him as he fucks up into you.

But deep down, this grisled outlaw is a romantic at heart, though he will never admit it.

He loves the most when you’re underneath him, when he can see your pretty face when you come, when he can spread himself out over you, when you cross your ankles over his hips to draw you in.

In this cruel, hard world, he loves you safe and secure beneath him, where he can shield you from all of its ugliness, if only for a few moments.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur’s sense of humor is notoriously dry, and frankly, it's not brought to the bed, or whatever surface he’s having you on.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, it is 1899. And he’s a man that lives out in the wilds. Baths are hard to come by.

But you do enjoy trailing your fingers along the trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and spreads across his pelvis - straight to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Arthur worships you as the two of you fall into bed with one another. God, he told you he loved you before he slept with you - of course the moment is thick with emotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sure, if a job takes him away from you for several days, he’ll get lonely. Arthur will pull the flaps on his small tent and lay himself on his bedroll, unbuttoning his union suit and taking his length in hand, closing his eyes and picturing you there: the way you whine into his ear. The way you clutch at his shoulders, the way you roll your hips to take him deeper. The way you grit out his name as you’re reaching the edge, the way your cunt pulses around him-

He spills over his hand, moaning as he comes down from his high. As he catches his breath and wipes off his hand before tucking himself away, he knows, he knows, that he will have to have the real thing as soon as he returns to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For someone with a mind-numbingly high bounty on his head, he should not like getting tied up so much.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not that he has many options most of the time, his cot within his tent being the normal spot, but he does love to have you in a big bed, naked and squirming on fresh sheets. He takes you to hotels when he can, enjoying the ability to press you down into a soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing that gets his blood pumping like successfully pulling off a heist. Riding back into camp loaded down with riches, swinging down off his horse, after depositing the take, he will seek you out, taking you hand in his and kissing it gently before walking you back to his tent and laying you down on his cot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He may be a killer, a criminal, a bad person. But he does have a code. He has never and will never force himself on a woman. He would never force you to do anything for him if you said no, even though it would be more than easy enough for him to overpower you.

Fortunately for him, you don’t like saying no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Christ, you wonder as you throw your head back in the pillow, was there anything this man couldn’t do well? He’s between your thighs suckling at your clit, tongue lapping at your entrance, pressing inside you as his warm breath ghosts over your core. Arthur loves diving between your legs, even drawing up your skirts out in the wild and tasting you. And god, is he good at it.

While he likes to give, give, give, he cannot help but groan as you sink to your knees in front of him, babbling near incoherently as you suck his cock until he spills hot and fast down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the setting. If he’s forced to go quickly, it is a brutal, punishing rhythm. But oh, if he’s got you in bed with nothing but time, he savors each slow, long stroke, and the whimpers that drip from your mouth like ambrosia.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite. He’d rather take his time to painstakingly take you apart - to feel every inch of you against him, to see and taste and love you. To give you the attention he believes fully you deserve.

But sometimes, the man just needs to be inside you, sheathing his cock in your warm, wet cunt. With your clothes still on and undergarments shoved to the side, Arthur groans as he sinks inside you, wanting never to leave. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try just about anything - unless it has the ability to hurt you. You hear talk in the saloons from working girls of acrobatic positions that you tell him about while blushing. He’ll try, as long as its not something that verges on dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

“I ain’t a teenager any more.” He’ll grumble, but he always, always, draws you to come multiple times before he actually does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, it's 1899. Besides, he thoroughly enjoys bringing you over that edge with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You wouldn’t say he likes to tease you, but you find it completely unfair when he refuses to let you touch him, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you before he is ready to come himself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Growing up in an outlaw camp, in close proximity to everyone, Arthur knows how to be quiet. But the second he gets you away, whether out in the wilds or a hotel room, he grunts and moans into your ear, his gravelly voice fading into primal noises the closer he gets.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know why he allowed it to happen - he should have been the one teaching you to shoot. Not Javier.  

Or maybe it’s a good idea. He’s not sure how much learning would get done. Not after he’s seen you aim a repeater, tensing against the recoil. 

He’d be bending you over the fence that Javier has lined up empty bottles on, pressing inside of you, his little gunslinger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As much as he’d deny it, Arthur is not diminished at all when stripped of his clothing. While he’s a bit self-conscious about his stippled and scarred skin, you fully enjoy tracing his life’s story with your fingers or your lips.

Arthur is not a small man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, muscular and solid. The first time you fish his cock from his union suit, a flash of panic shoots through you - how the hell were you supposed to take all of this?

You shouldn’t have worried, considering how much Arthur would work you open with his fingers and tongue before sinking into you - the stretch of him entering you never hurts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Now, sometimes unfortunately, much like coffee, Arthur awakens and needs to have you to seemingly function. Sleepy, gentle sex as the sun rises lets him get out of bed on the right foot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even after bringing both of you to orgasm, panting, breathless, he won’t fall asleep right away. He’ll always have enough energy, at the very least, to clean your skin of his spend and draw you into his embrace, winding your legs around each others’, and holding you close until you both fall asleep, completely satiated.

[chokedonaturtle]

my humanized cars headcanons

Cereal Choice Edition

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Strip: he ain’t allowed to eat cereal it makes him hyper. Lynda makes him oatmeal instead and he throws a tantrum every time.

Cal: he ain’t allowed to eat cereal, eats POPS in moderation when supervised (he will eat the entire box)

Lynda: Oatmeal. she don’t really care for cereal.

Tex: Great Value Apple Fritters Cereal (it’s discontinued and he pays $60 on ebay each time he needs another box.) Usually just has Blanton Gold Label for breakfast (it’s whiskey).

Lightning: Cocoa puffs, Reese’s Pieces Cereal, anything incredibly sweet and borderline life threatening. The occasional Cheerio.

Mater: anything you put in front of him. whether or not it’s edible is not important.

Bobby: actually doesn’t like cereal. mostly just doesn’t like milk and won’t eat it dry.

Brick: Frosted Flakes but ONLY the ones that are travel sized. He said they don’t taste the same as the big box. Also says that if they’re bought in the store, they taste different than the ones from the hotel breakfast line.

Sally: Honey Smacks, Choco Chimps. thinks the chimp is cute. drinks a glass of orange juice with her cereal and it drives Lightning insane.

Doc: He’s a doctor and only eats Raisin Bran and Cheerios because sugary cereal is bad for you…………

Cocoa Krispies. he likes when they go *pop pop pop*

Sheriff: he’s a simple man and doesn’t ask for much.

German cereal Vitalis Schoko Müsli Klassisch, Kelloggs ICEE cereal and Peeps cereal. makes Doc cry. who tf introduced him to those.

Sarge: MRE Future Essentials Corn Flakes Cereal #10 Can. man has not shit in six years.

Fillmore: organic gluten free sugar free preservative free strange crunchy objects. no milk.

Flo: prefers granola, mixed with cream and some fruit. makes a bomb parfait.

Ramone: eats whatever Flo is eating. if Flo is not eating he WILL starve.

Red: Honey Nut Cheerios, Apple Jacks….. Gerber snacks for baby. they’re fire and he won’t tell you otherwise.

Lizzie: has literally never heard of cereal, is shocked every time she sees someone eating it. it’s been 40 years of this.

Luigi: Swissli, but hasn’t found a good enough alternative in the US. Cheerios will do.

Guido: Doesn’t care for cereal, makes a real breakfast instead.

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lmk if i forgot anyone i wasn’t looking :p

ta ta !!!

<3

bonus !!

thomasville eats cereal too

Smokey: puts straight granola in milk. adds chocolate chips and maybe some fruit.

River: Honey Bunches of Oats, Honey Nut Cheerios, anything honey flavored

Louise: There’s a discontinued brand of strawberry yogurt Cheerios that she used to love. She swears on her life it existed and the boys like to mess with her and swear otherwise.

Junior: also fucks with Gerber snacks for baby. Prefers apple sauce from the squeeze tube--

is this man an actual child ???

[melanodis]

*EidoLotus voice* M... More...? More Natah...? 👉👈

FR FR i am SO curious about her. What is ur design rationale what r ur headcanons for her please please elaborate... I wanna knoweee

- Leo 🦁

really old doodle ft nimbus (my friend's mimic oc) yayyy

The doodles above don't really do her much justice but I wanted a really quick mockup. She has the little elbow feathers on the sides of her head :)

@leolithe

She's like a fish or some kind of creature to me, at least in her more sentient form.

I do really like the interpretation of her as a system but I don't do it myself because I'm simply not educated enough on the topic nor have much firsthand experience with them in order to comfortably do so.

She also occasionally visits the drifter camp and has a little hangout area in the cave just for her.

Post TNW she's a lot more... loose? Unhinged, even? Faced with the realization that you have free now and can do whatever you want. With how Hunhow sits in the oceans of Uranus it makes me associate sentients with being aquatic so I like to think she just... dives into the streams of the camp or even in Cetus to catch fish to eat. See above image.

More rambling under the cut.

Along the same vein, she also struggles with having to remember she does in fact have free will now. She doesn't HAVE to play mission control 24/7. I imagine outside of the little pod she has on Lua, she has an entire nice little living area all to herself, adorned with porcelain, gold, and many lush plants. Something that even the Orokin would gawk at. A library full of texts long thought lost, many in dead languages from old Earth.

For more rationale towards my design; I wanted her to sort of embrace her sentient nature more, maybe looking kind of aggressive and colorful. Like a bird. But she's a big sweetheart, really.

Doing "human" things to break up the monotony of her previous life. Even something as simple as making tea from a kettle. Ballas' line, "Her kind feel no pain". She wants to prove him wrong so badly. To drink tea, burn her tongue a little and this silly human mistake makes her feel alive. That little flinch and shock down her spine as her nerves recover. Maybe a little wave, "oops".

She's genuinely so tragic. Spending millennia as a pawn just to switch hands multiple times. The deception, the manipulation, the gaslighting. Then finally being freed and just... not knowing what to do with yourself because you can't remember what it was like without being manipulated, by facets of constructed selves in your mind or by external forces. gggggghuhhhhh.

While my Natah still kinda takes from facets of Margulis, it's more of a like, uncanny valley type way. It looks like her but something is Off.

More or less Lotus is used to talking to brick walls. So for someone to actually actively listen to her (and not roll their eyes, shrug it off) and engage in conversation is actually insane to her. Like reading off a script your entire life and suddenly being forced to scramble together your own coherent sentences. Narrating her every thought in her head like the silly machine she is. "Oh god, it's been 2.3 seconds and I'm sweating bullets. She's looking at me. I haven't formulated a sentence. It's been 3 seconds now. She's raising her eyebrow awaiting a response. Um. UM." An awkward grin.

I have taken to kinda smashing her like barbies with Eudico, with what I have dubbed "mom squared (mom²)", two people learning through each other what it actually means to be human. Eudi retelling what it's like to be organic (originally), Natah taking notes. What a "normal" family would've been like. It's all completely new to her but it's so interesting to contrast against her own.

Something cool I found from decompiling her model is that the Lotus helmet perfectly covers the face seams on her sentient form.

Aaaand an excerpt from my notes that I've held onto forever.

-

Something something about Eudi being warm and Natah being cold and comparing that their bodies are both synthetic but completely different architectures. Themes of Corpus technology in sterile white rooms whereas Sentients live and thrive in those warm (colored, i doubt drifting in the dead of space is warm lmao), organic Sentient murex.

It's like. How the Warframes are more or less just tech meat. Sentients too, created by the Orokin, would probably follow the same flavor of design.

"Time and time again, you've had to rebuild yourself with nothing but scraps... why not change things up sometime?"

Eudico shrugs.

"Why don't you? You can be anything you want."

"I guess we've both grown too comfortable in our bodies, then."

"There's pieces of my parents in me. Like my face, that defines me as a person, gives me an identity and paired with a unique voice to match. But that's about all I have left that's mine."

"I think I get it. It would be.. rude, to get rid of those features."

"More sentimental value than anything, Really. Plus, I like my red hair. It's.. quite rare in Corpus society."

And Natah continues to cling onto Margulis, because no matter her form we still see facets of her.

[brokenrecordplayersblog]

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Hello lovelies, I hope you're all okay, I had an idea for Price and a civilian reader.

Please let me know in the comments who you want next.I write books and headcanons so please comment on who do you want to see next.

Please enjoy the fanfic.

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It was autumn, the leaves were falling everywhere, as they muted from their bright greens to more rustic oranges, reds and brown hues, signalling that winter was comming.

The woods were littered with leaves, they covered the roads for miles in a sea of red and orange.

It was a sight to see during the day. To witness the calming feel of the chilling air as the leaves fell and how the soft rays of sunlight hit against the trees in the English countryside.

However, now it was dark. And John was driving. It's been an hour since he hit the road, as the landscape shifted from the military base, to large buildings that came shy of touching the sky, to forest for miles.

His heart grew impatient, all he wanted was to be reunited with his lover, to feel their gentle touch on his skin, their soft kisses, the way their arms would hold him at night. He missed it all.

His grip on the steering wheel became tighter as his thumb played with the golden wedding band around his left ring finger.

It was gold with the engraving of maple leaves on it, you had to be really close to see all of the fine little details.

He couldn't wait to go home, to see the love of his life waiting for his return.

Soon he drove through small country roads. His headlights lit the way through the darkness as his blue eyes were fixed on the little drops of rain that crashed against his windshield.

He passed by a few deer and wolves as he drove in complete silence. He didn't bother putting on some music, or turning on the radio, as the thoughts of his partner were enough to keep him company, he was too entisiastic to see his partner.

He took a left turn, near a small chapel of Holy Marie.

Instinctively he did the motion of the cross before before pressing his thumb and index finger to his mouth and letting go.

He continued to drive through that small road, which led deeper into the woods. Until he saw the cabin.

The log cabin he had bought a few years back, to get away from everything. He used to come here when he wanted some time off, away from the stress of the military. Away from people, just him and nature.

But now it was more than just that. It was his little sacred heaven. It was his home, it was where the love his life lived.

The cabin, was large, made of large logs and red bricks and hardwood. It was big, about two stories high, it had a patio that was right in front of the lake and a porch on the opposite end of the house. It had railings made out of metal and hardwood all around the small space, were bushes of wild raspberries and rosehip. That was where he normally parked his pick-up truck.

It was a one hour drive to and from the base. Hidden amongst the tall trees of the forest, away from prying eyes, their neighbours were mostly older couples or war veterans that wanted peace and quiet.

John liked the little community, they would often do collective dinners and breakfast, holidays, birthdays and other celebrations.

It was a nice little place, nice and quiet....

He smiled as he parked his truck. Right in front of the porch. And stepped out, he grabbed hold of his duffle bag and happily made his way up the small flight of stairs that lead to the porch and unlocked the door.

His heart was pounding as he was hit with a wave of warmth and sweet smell of baked goods.

He let out a sigh of content as he took off his boots at the door, sighing in relief that his feet were free. He shuffled to the bedroom. His feet aching, his body covered in dirt and sweat. He still had his gear on but he really didn’t care. There was one thing he wanted. He opened the door that led to their bedroom, slowly in order not to startle them.

And there they were. They were asleep, cuddled up in the blankets, amongst the blankets he could make out a set of pajamas that consisted of one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts.

He felt a smile creep up on his face as he took in the sight in front of him.

He slowly made his way to the bed. Crawling to wrap his big arms around them, resting his head on their chest momentarily.

“Love, darling, honey, pup.”

John whispered every pet name he could think of, pressing delicate kisses to their cheeks.

“love of my life, my pretty little thing. Wake up.”

His smile widened when he heard them mumbling and rubbing their eyes. He propped himself up by his elbows, pressing a kiss to their lips.

“M’ home. Beautiful.”

His smile grew wider as he was meet with their pretty eyes, so full of sleep. It took them a moment to see straight but the moment that saw John laying there. They tackled him to the bed and wrapped their arms around him. Securing him in place as held him close. It didn't matter if he smelled of sweat, gun powered. If he was covered in dirt and blood.

He was home, he made it back home... he made it back to them.

The low rubble of Price's chuckle made them smile as they cried of joy. And once again they shared one more kiss before as they just laid in each others arms.

[ramblings-from-the-ether]

And on a related note, epithet markings like Zoras triangles and Meras irises?

Epithet marking concepts, go!

Molly: Lots of possibilities for her. The stars in her hair turn sickly-green when she uses a powerful move, her button-pupils brighten and glow, maybe even her freckles turn into sparkling green dots as she becomes more powerful. One recent concept I had is green epithet marks going down her face from her eyes, almost reminiscent of tear streaks. They seem to flicker and almost darken her face when she uses her more powerful moves.

Giovanni: High-power Giovanni is always an incredibly fun concept to think about. I think if he were to gain an epithet marking, it would be a large glowing patch on his throat that looks almost like there's magma underneath as he uses his abilities. Alternatively, maybe the soup that Giovanni can make gradually becomes so hot that even he can't withstand it, accidentally burning himself with it, and the burn scars on his skin actually become his epithet marks! They seem to sizzle and smoke when he conjures anything hot enough.

Sylvie: A couple ideas. Sylvie's markings form as spiralling patterns on his arms and maybe around his eyes. Maybe glistening, golden spots start to dot his skin in various areas, looking almost like dust of some kind. After continuous use of Dream Big, maybe green-and-yellow markings form around his neck, arms and shoulders, somewhat reminiscent of Dr. Beefton's coat and clothing. His markings hum softly with ethereal power when he summons forth his dreams.

Indus: Well, the most obvious thing for Indus would be for his epithet marks to replace his tattoos. Or, maybe new markings emerge in the space surrounding his tattoos, piecing together to almost look like a suit of armour! When Indus makes a BARRIER, the markings closest to it creak and converge even closer together, like living armour reinforcing itself to protect him.

Mera: Her irises are a start, but if Mera gets even more powerful, a really cool idea for further epithet markings would be silvery-blue cracks lining her skin, kinda like kintsugi. Maybe she gets heavily injured at some point (either by her epithet or a powerful attack, maybe from Giovanni's critical 13) and the resulting scar forms a spiderweb-like crack that then becomes her epithet mark! The cracks glisten and creak dangerously when she exerts herself too much.

Percy: It's hard to imagine Percy's epithet markings resemble anything other than stone and brick carvings. Rows resembling brick lines, sigils and hieroglyphs, and patterns of masonry forming around her limbs and neck, and possibly even on her face and around her eyes, making her into a living parapet. They spark and crackle with golden lightning whenever she uses her Wizard Towers, and glow with soft radiance when she constructs a Healing Hut.

Ramsey: I found it hard to think of anything for this rat man, but maybe: The gold that forms Ramsey's gilded eye spreads outward from the socket, creating literal gold veins across his face! Perhaps streaks of gold could even form and snake across his body like kintsugi cracks. The gold patterns gleam and dazzle as he activates his golden touch, and maybe even change their colour to that of an alloy when he turns himself to gold.

Rick: We've all seen the void-black lightning that streaks from his eyes when Rick wants to ham it up. His epithet markings come in the form of pitch-black, flame-like patches on his face, streaming from the sides of his eyes. Alternatively, maybe his epithet mark forms as a black, heart-shaped crest or tattoo on his right breast! (the wrong side.) It glows and surges with eldritch power when he uses his magic.

Lorelai: I actually headcanon that Lorelai's little rainbow freckles are her epithet markings, but if she were to get others, I imagine the freckles could eventually grow into stars. They flash and glow in an array of colours when she summons her dream bubbles and mini-bosses.

[sundove88]

My Headcanons on Mega Man’s Robot Masters- Part 4

ToadMan:

He is surprisingly a big fan of rainy days and has a leaf umbrella.

One of his biggest aspirations is to find someone who will genuinely smooch him- aka a “Princess”.

He has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach as far as a chameleon’s.

BrightMan:

Everyone always looks at him when they get an idea.

One of his common nicknames is “Lightbulb”.

He has an entire book around ideas.



PharaohMan:

When it comes to his punches- he most certainly does NOT hold back.

His living quarters are like he dumped an entire bucket of gold paint and a briefcase of gold bricks into it.

And he also has a pet robotic black cat he calls “Bastet”.

RingMan:

He has a nack for detective novels- Especially Noir ones.

His alter ego is “Detective Gilded”.

And he has a massive Spidey-Sense, aka he always trusts his gut.

DustMan:

Three words- Utter neat freak.

His favorite scents are fresh ones, especially chamomile and laundry detergent.

He really likes cleaning and ensures that the whole area is spotless when he’s done.

SkullMan:

He’s starred in a bunch of milk commercials- because milk is good for your bones.

Whenever he gets angry, his left eye flashes a bright blue- sound familiar?

He can actually take himself apart with as little effort.

DiveMan:

Has a fierce rivalry with PirateMan.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he has a crush on Splash Woman as well.

He has a ton of naval medals somewhere in his living quarters.

DrillMan:

Like his Fully Charged counterpart, he loves playing the piano.

He and Metal Man get into fierce rivalries over who is sharper.

One of his more recent hobbies is collecting gems.

[m00nsbaby]

Requests. ♡

My request are open rn! ♡

Oscar Isaac characters that I can write about: ♡ - Marc Spector. (Moon knight) ♡ - Steven Grant. (Moon Knight) ♡ - Jake Lockley. (Moon knight) ♡ - Jonathan Levy. (Scenes from a marriage) ♡ - Llewyn Davis. (Inside Llewyn Davis) ♡ - Rydal Keener. (The two faces of january) ♡ - Santiago García. (Triple frontier) ♡ - Orestes. (Agora) ♡ - William Tell. (The card counter) ♡ - Will Dempsey. (Life itself) ♡ - Miguel O'hara. (Across the spider-verse) ♡ - Blue Jones. (Sucker punch) ♡ - Nathan Bateman. (Ex-machina) ♡ - Shiv. (Pu-239) ♡ - Cecil. (Revenge for Jolly) ♡ - Leto Atreides. (Dune) ♡ - Nick Wasicsko. (Show me a hero) ♡ - Mikael Boghosian. (The promise) ♡ - Poe Dameron. (Star wars) ♡ - Basil Stitt. (Lightning face) ♡ - Richard. (The letter room) ♡ - Roger. (Suburbicon) ♡ - Abel Morales. (A most violent year) ♡ - Laurent LeClaire. (In secret) ♡ - Outcome 3. (The Bourne legacy) ♡ - Robbie Paulson. (Law & order) Characters I can write about but I may judge you. (I will lol) ♡ - Oedipus. (The Oedipus project) ♡ - St Joseph. (Nativity) ♡ - Anselm. (Big Gold Brick)

Please specify if you are interested in a one shot or some headcanons. ♡

[mccnwake]

HEADCANON: COLOUR AESTHETICS !

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.

BLUE.

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

RED.

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

YELLOW.

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

GREEN.

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

BLACK.

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

WHITE.

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

[im-his-druidess]

Okay but not my mind running wild at that Dean leto and professor Anselm. So like let’s say there two buds from colllege and they live with another professor friend of Theirs who is going through a nasty devoted and could use a some genuine love from a sweet cute girl like you and so you go to their home and meet him and it’s Jonathan Levy 🌚🌝

All the bears burn 😤 like yes hello sirs I am a hole

I SWEAR we are sharing a braincell because I was JUST thinking about Jonathan Levy in this scenario 🥵🥴 

I’m a complete sucker for threesomes so this is right up my alley 🥴🥴

(Based on this post)

Like, you are their cute little fuck buddy turned serious lover who somehow finds yourself regularly bent over Professor Anselm’s desk as he rails you during your free class period or on your knees underneath Dean Leto’s desk sucking him as he goes through his paperwork. It turned into sweet dates and secret naughty love letters slipped into your bag, and waking up in an enormous bed nestled between the two or with them taking turns applying cream to the chafes left on your thighs and breasts left by their beards. So when they talk to you about their close friend, fellow Professor Jonathan Levy who is going through a nasty bitter divorce, it’s you who suggest maybe you could help. You’ve met the man in passing, seen his wild curls hiding sad eyes and you also seen the way those sad eyes lingered on your body on the rare occasions when you bumped into him in the halls, and the answering twin grins you received told you that you gave the correct answer.

That’s how you ended up spread on a coffee table, your clothes scattered around you and your panties hanging off one ankle, with the sad Professor devouring you like the world was ending. His beard scratching against your thighs in the most intoxicating way as his jaw worked against you and the sounds he made were downright obscene. He wasn’t shy and he was messy. 

“Fuck, I missed eating pussy,” he groaned hoarsely against you, making you whimper at his words and at the way he dragged his tongue through your dripping folds as if he were savoring every single drop you gave him, “you taste so good, sweetheart.”

He dragged two orgasms from you with his mouth before he finally sank his cock inside you, the thick delicious stretch of him nearly making you delirious with pleasure, and then he’s moaning in your ear how good and sweet you feel wrapped around him as he drills into you. His beard scraps against your throat and breasts, his touch seeming to be everywhere at once, and you let yourself be swept away by the euphoria that hijacks your brain and overtakes your body. It isn’t until you are laying on the plush ornate rug with Jonathan curled around you, placing delicate kisses over your shoulder and neck, that you realize your other two lovers have joined the room. They are drinking from crystal tumblers and sitting in ornate chairs, talking amongst themselves quietly and completely at ease, and you realize that Jonathan’s body is utterly slack against yours. All the tension that he usually carried was gone and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought that you helped him fuck the stress away.

“Looks like our darling is awake,” Anselm said, peering at you from over the rim of his glass as all eyes shot to you, and you felt warm fingers smooth your sweat damp hair back from your face.

“Glad you’re back. I was worried I was...too rough,” Jonathan murmured softly while pressing an almost apologetic kiss to a bruised bitemark on your shoulder and you cuddled back further into his warm embrace with a happy sound at the slight sting between your thighs.

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you, my friend. She may look sweet and delicate as a flower, but she can take quite a pounding,” Leto said simply, making your face heat at his words, and his dark eyes twinkled as he stared at you and you were positive he was reminiscing over the few times when he had pounded you.

You clenched your thighs together with a whimper, you exhausted body heating up once more, and you felt curious fingers trail down your waist and dip between your thighs. Jonathan hissed a breath when he found you already slick and ready.

“Oh, I know that look. Well then...let’s not keep her waiting,” Leto continued as he finished his drink, slinking down to the ground where you were still curled up with Jonathan who used his grip on your body to spread you open, and Anselm settled back in his chair and openly palmed himself with delight as he appeared to enjoy the show happening in front of him.

[xcreepypastaheadcannonsx]

🔪Jeff The Killer & Homicidal Liu Headcanons🔪

~~~~~~

-Okay so Jeff, contrary to popular belief, is really short lol

-And I mean like 5’3 short, he was always super small compared to Liu - and was picked on a lot in school because of it

-But in school he wouldn’t let people pick on him for very long, he was most definitely the type of kid to needlessly fight in order to assert dominance and not look like a punk

-But he also just liked to do it!

-Jeff grew up an extremely angry kid, he’d fight, verbally attack people, throw things, threaten

-While Liu on the other hand was a tall quiet kid. He was the oldest, he read books, played video games and chess - and just wanted to be left alone.

-Oh yeah Liu was like 16, while Jeff was like 14 or 15

-In my headcanoned version they’re presently 27 (Liu), and 25 (Jeff)

-And while Liu was quiet, he understood humans and how to manipulate them amazingly

-He understood what to say, how to act, how to feel and how to cater to people in order to earn their trust

-So he could, of course, get stuff out of them lol

-He’d tell Jeff “look man, you don’t gotta beat the shit out of the teacher because he gave you a bad grade - just suck up to him and manipulate him, it’s much easier” and Jeff of course was like “Nah I ain’t doing that! Didn’t know I had a pussy for a brother”

-Jeff had an extreme distaste for his brother, he never liked him lol

-He thought of him as a weak, snobby goody-goody who never could have any fun

-(“fun” meaning illegal shit obviously)

-And while he was most of those things he definitely was not weak lol - they both were extremely strong, just in different ways

-And Jeff was too stupid to see it

-In Jeff’s mind - Liu’s sucking up = big gigantic pussy syndrome

-And god forbid Jeff take a blow to his own ego by acting like a “pussy bitch”, even if it’s a smart move to make

-All and all Jeff was, and still is a stubborn idiot

-When it came to Jeff and Liu’s parents - Liu was the favorite

-While Jeff was getting in trouble on the daily, fighting and being ignored and looked down upon by his own parents - Liu was getting all the attention and praise, continuously spoiled and shown off

-If any child could fly over the roof and shit gold eggs in their parent’s eyes, it would be Liu

-Jeff sucked at math and English, he hated reading

-Whenever he had to read out loud he acted like a little pisser for a bit, and then would try - failing miserably in the process

-after being corrected a few times by his teacher and other classmates he’d become enraged, throw his chair and desk and leave in a huff

-after awhile the teacher wouldn’t even ask him anymore

-it’s a win I guess?

-And of course Liu had no trouble with both, imagine Jeff coming home:

-“Fucker, help me with English.”

-And of course Liu is like “fine”

-Even though he found it annoying to have to help his brother who struggles so much with reading, he also found it to be comedy gold when he couldn’t even pronounce “Europe” correctly

-And the feeling it gave Liu to correct him was just amazing, anything that made Liu feel smart just filled him with such smug pride

-These tutoring sessions always seemed to turn into a physical fight between the two brothers, Jeff always starting it of course

-Liu usually winning

-Presently Jeff is a wide dude, built like a brick shit house

-Specifically wide with muscles, he has the physique of a body builder, very puffy cartoonish muscles - not extremely pretty looking

-He still suffers from small man syndrome, still extremely angry, still compensating for many things

-He hasn’t become anymore intelligent lol, he’s just become older

-He’s still impulsive, violent, crass, impolite

-But the only respectable thing about him is that he’s honest about who he is. He knows he isn’t the smartest, he knows he definitely isn’t a saint, he hides in dank abandoned houses - drinks like a fish and does hard drugs for the thrill of it. He murders and terrorizes, he tortures, he destroys.

-but he just can not muster a single fuck

-Liu is the complete opposite

-It’s funny, Liu and Jeff could not be anymore similar. They are two sides of a coin, they are both homicidal maniacs who want to fulfill their selfish needs. They don’t feel a single thing except the animalistic impulse to destroy, feed, and procreate. The only difference is one’s a liar, and the other is honest.

-Liu is so scared he’s going to taint his seemingly perfect appearance

-He kills and tortures as well - just behind closed doors.

-The amount of skeletons in his closet could fill 12 cemeteries, the things he’s done would make his parents role in their grave

-Yet he lies and puts on a persona of a smart, soft spoken man who cares for the people around him. A man who says he despises murderous lunatics, when he’s one himself - and usually worse than the other ones he condemns!

-That’s why they’ll never get along, they have no respect for each other

-Liu will always look at Jeff as a dirty, feral dimwit and Jeff will always see Liu as a cowardly liar.

-Anyways, Liu’s full first name is Luis

-Jeff is the type to visit Liu while he’s drunk just to fuck with him

-Liu is a spitting image of his father, both him and his father have very soft, kind features.

-While Jeff looks very much like his mom - either he has a constant scowl on his face or has the most evil smile imaginable

-Jeff just looks like he burns down buildings

-Jeff has crooked ass teeth

-When you think of Liu - think of Patrick Bateman. “I want to fit in.”

-God Liu is so boring he prolly listens to smooth elevator Jazz

-Jeff would listen to the noisiest shit

-like, if this guy had access to the internet and understood it he’d prolly listen to anime speedcore/soundcore

-Like he would listen to this^^^

-And he would fucking love it

-Also Jeff would be so, so problematic

-He’d prolly say the most offensive, ignorant shit just to get a rise out of people

-Anything to start a fight, anything to give him a reason to hurt people

-But I feel as if he’d be extremely misogynistic, like actually

-Would not at all be surprised if he genuinely hated women

-He’s on par with a rabid animal

-And even now at 25 years old, NOBODY LIKES HIM! Even the creepypastas that know of him are so fucking annoyed and/or completely put off by him

-They can’t even really use him for anything, and even if they could, would it be worth it to listen to him?

-He’s also that kid in middle school that’d show people cartel videos

-and Liu HATED it, totally despised it

-He’d be like “what the fuck man?! Cut it out”

-God forbid his reputation be tarnished by his brother

-Legit Liu would not give two shits if he wasn’t his brother, maybe he’d condemn it if people around him were doing the same

-But he personally does not care about social justice or people in general

-He’s just too self absorbed to

-Legit Jeff would be /pol/ on 4chan

-He probably frequented 4chan

-Oh Liu is so fucking big into Facebook

-He’d probably repost some of those stupid inspirational minion memes up on his page as if he was a middle aged mother

-This man is a “live laugh love” type

-If only people knew

~Olive🐰

[maddenleftchat]

I absolutely loved the Techno one shot you wrote and was wondering if I could request something similar? Maybe a role reversal, as in the darling is a mortal but yan!Techno is a deity of chaos/blood? It can be headcanons of how he "met" the mortal and took a liking to them or anything you'd want to write, really! I just really liked that idea.

Thank you! I'm glad so many people liked it! And I love this request ❤️

Triggers: gore described in detail, swearing, degration (not the kinky kind), god complex (?), And moderate yandere like behaviors. Please be careful when reading.

Enjoy

-Technoblade-

I have a feeling Technoblade would be a lot more... aggressive and mean than normal Technoblade would be.

Like, he would want you to bow to him instead of him bowing to you.

But I think a just as equally aggressive and stubborn darling would suit him best.

How would you two meet?

~

Technoblade, a rough translation to "Blood God" from African origins.

Also translates to, "The immortal blood king," and "Never dying master of blood."

He was a ruthless god, known for starting wars just to cure his boredom.

To him, humans were just like a game of chess.

But here's the thing…

Chess is a boring game if you don't have someone to play with.

And Technoblade was growing bored of single player chess.

And a bored god of chaos is a no no.

That is when he came across you.

Technoblade had decided to come down from the heavens to walk among the land of mortals.

He usually didn't do this, as he'd prefer not to walk with peasants.

But, in a desperate attempt to cure his boredom, he decided to take a quiet walk in a big forest.

Meanwhile you were running with a bag full of little goodies from a nearby village.

You were running from the angry villagers and an iron golem.

You were glancing behind you, and weren't paying attention to the god in front of you.

Once you saw you had lost the villagers you looked ahead, only to be met with white shirt, and a little bit of a males chest.

You slammed into the god, and you were the only one to end up on the ground.

Technoblade looked surprised for a second before looking down at you.

Your bag had spilled open and all your little treasures had flown out.

Gems of emeralds, gold, and some pieces of iron were on the ground.

Technoblade kneeled down and picked up a brick of gold.

But before he could even stand up, your hand quickly grabbed the gold that he was holding.

Neither party was gonna be letting go of the gold.

After a small grunt left your lips you spoke, "Hands off boar! That's mine!"

The blood god scowled at your comment.

"Boar? And what makes you claim this as your own thief?!"

"I ain't no thief! I just am permanently borrowing these items! Don't act like you haven't ever raided a village boar!"

"I am not a boar! You stupid human! Has mankind really gone down this low?!"

"Oi! Why do you talk like some god?!"

You yelled at Technoblade to keep him busy while you sneakily began to gather the other items that had fallen out of the bag.

But Technoblade is no fool.

He saw what you were doing from the start, he just found you entertaining.

So he played along.

But your little yell war continued.

"I am a god!"

"Yeah right?! Of what? Little fuckin piglets!" You mocked him.

Technoblade's hand clenched in frustration, bending the brick of gold with it.

Your eyes quickly widened and you made fast movements to stand and back away.

"W-what the hell?!"

Technoblade smirked, "Do you believe me now?"

A bead of sweat greeted your forehead as it slid down your face.

"Yeah...sure thing. God of pigs!" You said and made a run for it.

But Technoblade didn't chase after you.

No.

He simply watched, and little did you know; he was going to keep watching.

~

Poor reader.

You caught his attention with your stubborn and bold words.

He was unsure if you were just stupid or brave beyond all hell.

Either way, you interested him.

And that was your fatal mistake.

~

Technoblade god, would watch you. He would work his magic to make sure your little thief self was safe.

But he would also slowly manipulate the world to make you more and more isolated.

There is one thing that hasn't changed between normal techno and god techno, and that is his want for you to rely on him.

But God Technoblade is so much worse.

He wants you to rely on him for everything.

Get up in the morning? Let him carry you out of bed to your wanted destination.

Need a bath? Let him wash and bathe you. Don't worry he won't do what you don't want...no matter how much the voices plead him to.

But...if you make things too difficult for him, he will make you pay.

If you constantly struggle when he holds you or cuddles you, or if you don't eat the food he cooks.

If you act ungrateful, he will make you rely on him.

How will he do that?

Well... he'll cripple you.

Blood God will make sure you can never move again.

Or at least on your lower half.

He will painfully break every bone in your legs starting from your feet upwards.

He'll make sure you cry and struggle.

He'll mock you:

"Oh now you're crying for my help."

"What's wrong little thief, can't handle the pain? I thought you talked all big."

"After this...I'll be the only one who can help you."

"Do you want my help now? Is that what you want?"

"I didn't think a lowly thief would be so ungrateful for this great message I'm giving them. Or maybe it's a bit too rough?"

You'll have to listen and feel the crack and shattering of your bones.

So...it's best not to struggle.

~

But don't worry, if you're a good darling, life will be full of riches.

But don't let the thought of the punishment ruin your fun little personality.

You can still tease him and all, just don't struggle physically, okay?

Now if you want to know how to make his man melt in your hands, while he is holding you ask him to read to you.

Or ask him a bunch of questions about war strategy.

Ask questions about the different god lore and which parts of it are true.

Ask him about past stories (tread carefully with this one, mainly stick to funny little light-hearted topics.)

Just be interested in him.

It'll make him feel good.

Or even better?

Play a game of chess with him.

It doesn't have to be serious, he actually prefers it like that with you.

~

In short: you're playing a dangerous game...when you catch his eye. And remember... DON'T STRUGGLE

Word count: 1068

_________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

[artsy-hobbitses]

Ooooh!!! Ratchet or Cyclonus for the character ask? I’d love to hear your thoughts on them!

RATCHET

First impression

I FUCKING LOVE HIM. How much do I love him? I took his Humanformers design, made him into a whole OC and got an A on an incomplete script (I HAD TOO MUCH TO WRITE AND TOO LITTLE TIME) I wrote for him in college scriptwriting class. A LOT of this is thanks to Straya on Deviantart, who was my introduction to Humanformers and at that point also ran a Livejournal where she played Ratchet as a character, and a lot of her work informed me about his general characterization. I didn't work with him as much as I would like to back then! She was considered sort of the ur-Ratchet Fanartist among TF artists back then, so I settled on making Hound my 'signature' TF to make (humanformers) fanart of ouob

Impression now

I LOVE HIM EVEN MORE????? The only reason I don't draw him as often as I should is because if I let myself, NO ONE is going to get any screen time EVER. Honestly he's probably one of the big gems of the franchise and for damn good reason, he's pretty much the TF archetype for "Grumpy old bastard man with a heart of gold". If you hate him, I don't trust you lol.

Favorite moment

You think he needs a body to serve burns this hot? You absolute fool. Also if this isn't the gold standard for Balls of Steel I don't know what is, this fucker clearly does not fear death and will fistfight god on a dime.

Idea for a story

There's something minute I think, that Bludgeon said about him having hurt Ratchet "In ways only a doctor would know" or something like that, I'm paraphrasing. It was a tiny bit, but I want to take that, and make it an entire thing where Ratchet is actually badly damaged from what Bludgeon did to him (In my humanformers version, he will sport several skin grafts bc part of the torture included flaying, and this will be a homage to Dr.Blackjack, one of the characters I take some inspiration from for my version of him) and has severe PTSD he has to work through from it (as well as a now insane tolerance for pain that makes him worryingly blithe to what he puts his body through) which takes years. I want him to face Bludgeon again with the most I LIVED BITCH grin you could muster, scars and all, because you fucking tried buddy, you tried to break him and you failed, and he's going to make an exception to the Hippocratic Oath just for you.

Unpopular opinion

-Umbrella opens to shield from tomatoes and bricks- I think he and Drift should be portrayed closer in age 8V.

Favorite relationship

Him with Prime and him with Drift!

Favorite headcanon

He had deadly aim with his medical utensils and his Kidney Dish throws are legendary for their precision. The Lambo Twins swear he can round corners with it.

[softluci]

hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more

for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z. 

for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar? 

that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]

trendy 

the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about. 

trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do? 

you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone. 

what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here. 

at least, you assumed so. 

how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking. 

d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.

hey, you texted, can you help me with something?

his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need 

how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?

lololol, it’s not possible :p

a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.

don’t lie. 

a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh. 

“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.” 

just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response. 

a vpn and a proxy site. 

a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster. 

can you set it up for me? 

after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed. 

levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions. 

click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself. 

you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more. 

“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.” 

you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.

once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs. 

what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you. 

for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm. 

you blinked. 

you’ll trigger the what? 

i’ll trigger the fucking What? 

levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.

roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^

yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.

you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible. 

of course bestie :] ily

ily2 normie -_- 

in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.

you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world. 

a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind. 

your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms. 

after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea. 

you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.” 

and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it. 

levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway. 

come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed. 

you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were. 

yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something. 

boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included. 

walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form. 

you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone. 

you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up. 

there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”

human intuition is a wonderful thing.

your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh. 

huh. 

the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.

you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.

what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something. 

you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it. 

well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨. 

[tulsa-trash]

Bob Sheldon Headcanons

WARNING(S): Mentions of alcohol abuse, physical abuse, death; got angsty towards the end there god damn—

Has an older brother named Gordon who moved away to go to law school, they’re a little over 4 years apart. They were never really close, due to their father creating unnecessary competition between them since they were younger. He doesn’t like talking about him much.

Mr. Sheldon would always compare Bob to Gordon, saying that Bob “ought to be more like his big brother instead of screwing around all the time.” Overtime Bob grew to resent his old man a whole lot.

Mrs. Sheldon is a chain smoker, she tried her best to hide it from the family but eventually Bob found out. Most of the time after she gets into a fight with her husband, she locks herself in one of their bathrooms, opens the window, and silently lights a cigarette as she stews by herself. One night she forgot to lock the door and Bob walked in on her. He promised he wouldn’t tell dad.

He tended to favor his momma over his daddy, she spoiled him more and he felt she was always easier to talk to than dad.

His parents have a decent age gap, his mother being eleven years younger than his father. They’d known each other since they were kids, his dad was best friends with one of his mom’s brothers growing up.

Being spoiled rotten with tons of cash throughout life has its pros and cons. Despite always coming off as cocky and entitled, deep down bob hated being a soc. At the age of 18 he already had all the money, nice clothes, popularity, and dr*gs he could ever want, so why even try?

He had no goals for himself, didn’t want to go to college, didn’t want to work, he could really care less about all that. He had a tuff car and he was dating one of the hottest gals in school, that was all that was important to him.

He met his best friend, Randy, in kindergarten. They went to catholic school together, they’re parents even get along well. Both of their childhoods were spent visiting each other’s houses and going to family cookouts often.

His dad forced him to join a baseball league in seventh grade, even though Bob expressed he didn’t like it his dad made him stick with it for a few years. He was eventually kicked off the varsity team his sophomore year in high school for excessive drinking, along with constantly butting heads with his teammates and the coach.

The only good thing he got out of baseball was watching Cherry Valance preform with the cheerleaders at his games, that’s how their relationship started.

He’s secretly blind as a bat, but he refuses to wear glasses. Bob found out he desperately needed glasses in the third grade. once all the kids in his class seen him with those thick-brimmed, magnifying glasses it was all over. he was teased ruthlessly to the point where he just stopped wearing them and never put them on again.

“What happened to those god awful goggles, Sheldon?”

“Psh. They were fake I wore em as a joke.” 😅

^ That forced him to sit in the front of class a lot so he didn’t have to struggle as much to see the board. Even though the poor b*stard was blind the entire time, it made him used to getting called on by the teachers and chatting with his classmates. He was one of the most popular boys in town in no time.

Mr. Sheldon slowly became an alcoholic as his boys grew up. He went from one glass of scotch at night to taking a shot immediately when he wakes up in the morning and being plastered by the afternoon. Usually he’s a sluggish drunk, but god forbid he gets to drinking when he’s mad.

His old man was terrifying when he was both intoxicated and livid. He never put his hands on his wife but there have been multiple drunken episodes where he either destroyed sh*t in the house... or he’d beat Bob.

If you were to ask Bob if he would rather get hit with a belt or his dad’s hands, he would pick the belt. Even the metal part hitting him was no where near as painful as his father’s closed-fist strikes with his gold rings. If Bob had a good buzz on it numbed the pain a bit, so he tried his best to be hammered before he got home most nights.

His mother never stepped in or said anything about it, she’d clean up her husband’s mess and go to bed. The next morning the family would act as if it didn’t happen. They had to maintain their pristine reputation of course, wouldn’t want the neighborhood to know both Mr. Sheldon and his youngest son had drinking problems. Bob eventually couldn’t even stand his mom anymore. He hated them.

Mrs. Sheldon hated herself too, and her husband. She knew her baby boy was f*cked up because of them, the guilt ate away at her every day. Deep down in her heart she knew her son was drinking and causing trouble because of how he was brought up— how he was being treated at home... and she did nothing about it.

The mixture of bullies at school and his own personal bully at home molded him into being the arrogant and angry a*shole we’ve come to know. No one would be able to hurt him if he just beat them to it and hurt them first... right?

One night things got really bad, Bob’s report card came in the mail while he was out on a date with Cherry. His daddy was displeased, to say the least, 3 bold F’s sat on the paper.

“That no good son of a b*tch is lucky he ain’t home.” Mr. Sheldon spat as he slammed the report card on the dining room table, his wife visibly flinched.

When Bob got home that night he was already fired up, some greasers were trying to make a move on Cherry and Randy’s girl, Marcia, at the Nightly Double. The last thing he expected when he got home was to see his mother sweeping up broken glass while nursing a busted lip and a black eye.

They held eye contact for a long moment, neither of them said a word. His mother looked at him with so much pain, so much regret in her eyes, tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Bob turned around and left wordlessly.

He picked up a few of his friends, stopped by the liquor store, then began to look for some trouble. He immediately drove to the east side of town to look for some greasers to mess with, and after only fifteen minutes of cruising his eyes landed two younger boys from the drive-in earlier that night.

“Jackpot.” He slurred to himself as he turned his car onto the grass and pulled up to the park.

Whoever wasn’t helping Bob restrain the greaser he was drowning was beating the second boy in the grass. Every now and then Bob would pull the kid out of the water only to shove him back in almost immediately. He held him under the water, the cold liquid splashed everywhere managing to soak everyone near the fountain but he didn’t care... he couldn’t feel a thing.

The other greaser was shouting, his pals continued to egg him on as he continued swing the greaser’s head back and forth wildly under the water. He didn’t even know what anyone was saying, he wasn’t paying attention, all his focus was directly on hurting the individual in his grasp.

Red. Everything was fine until Bob noticed the water was changing colors. His ears were ringing, all he could hear was the faint sound of footsteps rapidly getting lower and lower, farther away. There was no more yelling, no more voices.

“Did I k.ill him?” He thought to himself, immediate regret and fear flooding over him.

He let go of the kids shirt and fell over with a soft thud, a sharp pain erupted from his torso. His hand lightly touched the left side of his ribs and there it was... warm, red liquid coated his fingertips after he pulled his hand away. It was then he noticed the other greaser, the tan boy frantically pulled his friend out of the water and laid him down on the cold concrete.

“P-Pony? Ponyboy?” He shook violently, his right fist held a switchblade tightly. “Oh god... what did I do... what did I do.”

Bob watched him slowly sink to the ground, his back resting against the side of the fountain as he began to sob. His eyes flickered to the unconscious kid, Ponyboy. He didn’t understand how his body went from hot to cold as fast as it did, the reality of the situation was crashing down on him like a ton of bricks, he knew he was going to die.

He looked up at the sky and took in a strangled breath before wincing in pain. To his left he noticed his flask— his dads old flask, it was his eighteenth birthday gift. The thought of his father’s proud face as he handed it to him that day made Bob sick. He reached for it, the cold metal on his palm soothed him a bit. He weakly unscrewed the cap and went to take a sip, only to realize it was empty. Johnny watched him the entire time with a horrified gaze, but Bob didn’t seem to notice.

“Damn... that’s a shame.” The Soc grumbled to himself.

He tossed it, making it land a few feet away in the grass. His attention returned to the starry sky, a light feeling crept its way in his chest. He couldn’t tell if that was just him dying or if it was something else, but after eighteen years of being in this world his finally took the time to stop and look at how beautiful the sky was for the first and last time. He was scared, he didn’t want to go so soon, yet at the same time... he was relieved.

“Wow...” Bob sighed, “Ain’t this something else.”

His vision began to blur, tears— or was that also death? He felt the salty streams creep past his eyelids and run down the corners of his eyes. He was ready.

With one final breath, he passed away. His eyes never closed, he died looking at the stars.