#blue boar au

[fanelectricboogieloo]

Decided to color this Ivo Robotlink doodle and toss in a Gan doodle as bonus.

[simbasomba]

Fires parents vs fires REAL parents

[jenchan-writingmultis]

For the TWST Fairytale AU could you do one for Rook? I am hopelessly enamored with him

Your radiance or His satisfaction?

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A/n: This was requested last June 6, and I just got to it right now, I'm really sorry that it took so long (╥﹏╥), and wow, I actually half liked this, but the ending was a bit rushed, but here you go! I really hope you liked this one, it was stressful to write but also fulfilling! I wanted to create some kind of trope but at the same time being far away from the fairytale itself. Thank you so much for requesting this!

Pairing: Rook Hunt x Snow White GN Reader, Vil x Snow White GN Reader (One-sided)

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards Warning: A bit of Angst, and creepy behavior a bit from Rook, but he means well! Ooc(?) I hope not. Obsessive Vil (vague, since it’s one sided) Bad French

Ma chère/ Mon cher: My dear (both feminine and masculine) Masterlist ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ Synopsis: Rook Hunt was assigned a straightforward mission:, one simple mission to take the life of a beauty who was claimed by the mirror as the "Fairest of them all"However, he never anticipated becoming captivated not only by your appearance but you as a person as well. Now, he finds himself tangled in quite a predicament. ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Rook Hunt:

When he first saw you, he thought that an angel fell down heaven and he was happy to help! You had a bit of a scrapped knee, most likely from stumbling down the steep stairways earlier. How did he know that?... Intuition of course! And how the scrape looked.

"Ma chère/ Mon cher!" walking to you, he'd kneel, immediately placing a sterilized handkerchief on your wound. "Are you alright?"  You were gorgeous, wearing a yellow and blue outfit, and a red bow, how adorable you are, it makes him want to kiss you!

"Yeah, I think so…" You winced as he began cleaning your injury, though you noticed he was extra careful. He was an odd stranger who had appeared just in time—or perhaps not, since you still fell and hurt your leg.  Rook on the other hand was wearing a simple outfit, something you'd notice huntsmen wear.

"Do be careful" he uses a medical kit he kept in his bag for emergencies. He gently lifted your leg, supporting your knee to wrap the gauze more easily. "Vicious boars are around the forest, who knows what could happen to a lovely person like you" Rook knew that blood is what attracts animals around, an exposed wound like this needed to be treated as soon as possible and he was happy he got to you first before any animal.

You trusted him so readily, allowing his gentle hands to wrap the gauze securely around your injury. "What's your name?" you couldn't help but be curious, you were quite attentive to your surroundings so the fact that someone managed to see you fall, it surprised you.

"Rook Hunt at your expense Ma chère/Mon cher" he offers his gloved hand to you, urging you to take it so that he can easily lift you up for you to stand. You accepted it, feeling his firm grip as he effortlessly lifted you to your feet. The way he handled you made you feel almost like a princess; his hand on your waist, fingers intertwined as if you were dancing in a grand ballroom.

That might have caused you to instinctively step back, as Rook seemed reluctant to release you. If you hadn't pulled away first, the two of you would have found yourselves in quite a compromising position.

"Right" you muttered awkwardly you didn't really know where to go from this, but Rook seemed to have other plans. "By chance Ma chère/Mon cher, will you be willing to help me with my project?"

That piqued your curiosity. "What project exactly?" Rook placed his hand on his chest, his gaze narrowing on you with a predatory intensity. "Nothing much," he replied smoothly. "I simply wish to have the opportunity to observe you."

Usually, he doesn't ask his targets if they're willing to be observed, but your case was interesting, the queen having his focus locked on you, he wanted to know, aside from your beauté, what else do you have?

Well, color him surprised, you agreed, he could see confusion in your eyes, but you didn't even question it, and that's where your weird but pleasant relationship started, he would often come to the cabin where you live with your friends, by friends, the animals you keep around, he even hunts for you! However, you eventually persuaded him to switch to a more vegetarian diet. After all, most of the animals in the forest were your friends, and you couldn't bear to see them harmed.

Rook on the other hand, doesn't even show up normally, he doesn't knock at your door, he sneaks in, seeing you already in bed and he'd grab a seat before placing himself on your side just to watch you sleep, kind of creepy, but he couldn't resist observing the way your expression softened when he traced his fingers along your cheek, as if he were gently petting a small bunny.

You wouldn't wake up catching him in the act though but do expect to see him drifting to sleep while sitting down.

Why was Rook doing this? Well, because he was weighing whether he preferred you in his arms or his hands drenched with your blood; and so far, your beauty and interesting personality got him wanting to witness more of your unpredictability.

After a few months of being around you, helping you with chores, feeding the animals, and learning more about you as a person, he decided to mention to you about the queen wanting your head on a silver platter, the reason? He doesn't know yet, but instead of fearing for your life, you just laughed. "Why would he need my head just because I'm 'prettier' than him?" You playfully hit Rook's arm as if he'd told the funniest joke ever, which made Rook chuckle. He took hold of your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm not joking; unfortunately," he saw you freeze up due to his blatant affection and the obvious gravity of the situation. "he really does want your head," he states. But no matter how serious he sounds; you still find it amusing. How strange of you.

"I still don't see how I'm the fairest of them all; that mirror must be lying," you added, pulling your hand away and rubbing the spot where he had kissed it, even after all these times you've known him, you still can't get used to his sudden touches.

"You don't?" he looked genuinely surprised as he placed his hand on your cheek, gently tracing it to your chin as he lifted it up to make you see him eye to eye. "Why that is hard to believe Ma chère/Mon cher?" he watches your expression turn from surprise into a deep shade of red, you knew what he was implying however that doesn't stop him from continuing, if you really can't see the beauty that you blessed his sight for, at least his words would explain what he sees.

"Whenever I observe you, I notice that the stars in the sky seem to have found a new home in your eyes, Ma chère/Mon cher," he wonders how such a common eye color would look so alluring to him, he guesses everything a person possess becomes vibrant the more they show it or at least the more you show it. 

"You are the embodiment of grace under pressure, handling life's storms with an elegance that is both humbling and inspiring."

"Okay stop!" you pushed him away, feeling like you're being suffocated under the pressure of his love, "That's too much Rook," although you did like the effort and love that he was giving to you for the past months, you can't help but feel off about it, there's more to what this little "project" of his that meets the eye.

Ah, did you notice? The way he observed you; had a different reason than merely knowing you as a friend.  "I apologize Ma chère/Mon cher" Seeing that saddened look in your eyes, you didn't believe him despite knowing that he never lied to you right?

He stumbles from your push, but he doesn't mind. "I hope my words find their way to your heart beauty from afar." He's running out of time with this, his queen was getting frustrated because every week, the mirror only talked about you, the fairest of them all, it was obvious that he wasn't doing his job very well.

"What? Rook what are you talking about" you asked, becoming increasingly confused by his perplexing way of speaking.

"It'll make my heart happy if you thought of what I said thoroughly during my absence" he repeats once more, grabbing his bag from the tree trunk. 'I must leave for now, Ma Cherie/Mon Cher," he says, giving your head a gentle ruffle. "I'll be back in a few days."

And just like that, without acknowledging your protest, he departed, just like how he had arrived.

On the other hand, you attempted to decipher what he said. Was it a confession, perhaps? Or a code of some sort? What was it? it really does direct you more that he loved you.

Rook knew what he had felt when he first saw you; he believed it had been obvious from the start. His intuition had strongly leaned towards the idea of keeping you close, of protecting you from harm, especially from the wrath of the queen. He loves you, yet he also cannot fathom the idea of betraying his queen, what a predicament he got himself into.

That was all he could think about while he made his way back to the castle, the doors opening automatically for him, magic so dense that it made his breathing feel ragged. The moment he reached the throne, the smell of poison was evident in the air, "Roi du Poison" he called out to him, not completely devoid of affection but it was lessened, and Vil noticed that.

"How long will you continue sparing this person's life, Rook?" The mention of his name caused a shiver down his spine, yet he maintained his smile. "In due time beautiful Vil, I'm merely having fun with our prey" he states as he bows down to Vil the moment he sees the Queen stand up.

"This is unlike you" Vil sighed, his robe fluttering as he walks down, holding an apple as it glistens like temptation, even Rook wanted to take a bite of it. "If you continue this seamless cat and mouse chase, I will do your work myself"

"Trust me Roi du Poison," he says as Rook notices Vil offering his gloved hand. Chuckling, he takes the other's hand and plants a kiss on the gloved fingers. "I will do whatever the queen demands, you will not see their faces on the mirror, and you will only see yours"

Rook had observed if his beautiful words pleased Vil, which it did as he pulled his hand off, walking back to his throne. "Tomorrow night, I shall be awaiting good news from you."

"Certainly, Roi du Poison."

What should he do? The moment he went out of the castle, his heart wouldn't stop thumping so fast. He didn't even notice you trying to snap him out of his thoughts when you held his hand actually, he didn't even notice that he had mindlessly traveled to the cabin where you lived, the only time you got him to snap out was when you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look into you, to see you instead of drowning in his worries.

"Rook Hunt!" you called out to him causing him to snap out of his thoughts, what a sight, you, touching his cheeks while squishing it, glaring at him all huffy. "Can't you explain to me the real reason why you decided to observe me?" you asked as his mouth turned into a thin line.

He nuzzled your hand as much as he would love to keep your touches on him forever, he should clear things up before it causes a misunderstanding, he didn't know what he talked about while being in a trance, but it might be connected to what he told you before.

"I was stating the truth when I told you that I wanted to observe you" he pulls your hands off his cheeks, a faint smile etched on his face. "I genuinely wanted to understand why the queen herself wanted you dead. Besides the mirror declaring you the fairest, I see no reason to end your life simply to claim your throne of beauty."

"Wait… so you're?" you couldn't believe it, were you so oblivious to the fact that he has been nothing but nice to you that you didn't realize that he was sent there to kill you.

"I was sent to take your life" Rook looked unfazed, but you on the other hand, had the look of betrayal, your eyes tearing up while looking at him, catching him surprised.

"What's wrong my dear?"

"You were planning to kill me?" you asked, looking down, seemingly defeatedly, but Rook grabbed your hands pulling it to his lips as his eyes narrowed. "Never Ma chère/ Mon cher!" he protests.

"I could never take the life of the fairest of them all- "

"Is that all I am to you?" your question silenced him as his grip loosens.

"Of course, not"

Rook, while he cherishes different kinds of beauty, whether it was negative or not, he realizes that seeing your distraught was not something he liked. He didn’t know how to explain to you that you were so much more than your outward appearance, he fell for you not only because of that.

"Let's run away" he states, letting your hands go as he had a determined expression on his face. "I do not want him to kill you either, so please"

He would have used his nicknames on you, but this was a dire situation, finally realizing his love for you too. Right, did you manage to understand what he said before? That he loves you?

"But- "before you even got anything out, he gave you a look that shut any protest of yours up. "I assure you, your friends will find their way back to you, no matter what."

"Why are you helping me? Was what you said before true?" Doubt clouded your thoughts. You loved him, cared for him—yes. He was an enigma in your normally mundane life. But he was also the one sent by the queen himself to kill you. Should you trust him again? "Do you have feelings for me, Rook Hunt?"

"I don't just like you, Ma chère/Mon cher," he admitted, his gaze dropping momentarily. It was amusing to see that a man like him would be speechless during the time he was supposed to profess his love for you.

"I love you" like a breath of fresh air, those three words came out of his mouth so casually, it just felt right.

Just like that, he captured your heart, managing to destroy any type of doubt that your brain was manifesting, it felt real, and for a moment you felt like some kind of princess eloping with their prince, which is almost the case with you, except this man was trying to save you from a grueling death.

"What do you say?" Once more, he extended his hand to you, reminiscent of the time he first helped you up. Now, he was guiding you towards a path you never imagined you'd tread.

Without hesitation, you grasped his hand, the horse Rook had used to reach you standing nearby. Both of you were prepared, of course, you said your goodbyes to your animal friends, promising to come back for them once the queen has calmed down. You can't leave them alone.

And during the high time of the night, Rook snuck you out, knowing that Vil's eyes would be everywhere, he also made sure that you were out of sight of any type of magic you were magicless yourself, so it was pretty easy to bypass magic induced barriers without alarming them.

"That lying piece of…" Vil's hand smashed a glass against the floor, as lightning seemed to strike the ground in perfect synchronization with his glare at the mirror, Rook lied, deceived him when he was one of his trusted sidekicks. How could he?

Do you think you can just stroll away effortlessly, avoiding any consequences? How laughable. He'll track you down somehow, and he'll ensure you either lose your position or become his possession.

[comfortless]

syl you can not casually mention blacksmith König and leave it at that!

sighing… ok, yes, i will talk about blacksmith! König more..! ^^

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. violence, physical/emotional abuse, descriptions of injury, death, angst, marriage on the gallows au.

Before König, there was his father, his father’s father and so on. Hardened men who were left to rot on the outskirts of the little village: sharpen blades, birth something from slabs of iron and silver. The work was tedious, but never dull. Scrape, burn, turn and roll- over and over until the smoke rose from the pit to sting at his eyes. Birth by fire wasn’t only in myths of dragons and phoenixes; he witnessed it each time he held pure malice in his hands as his hammer struck. Nothing became something, deadly and cruel. Day and night his life and lungs were filled to brimming with hellfire.

Accidents happen, naturally. No matter how careful he’s been, there’s nothing to keep the flame from entirely taking back after giving so much.

König’s father lost a finger while mentoring him.

His blue eyes were fixed on the man’s callused hand as the freshly smithed blade sliced through the digit like it was little more than a dollop of honey, no blood. There had been nothing but the crack of bone carved cleanly through, then the wet sizzle of meat cooking as it fell into the pit.

His father had screeched like a starved demon then, a barrage of insults tossed his son’s way like little more than passing pleasantries: oaf, useless cur, bitch.

König hadn’t been concerned, he sat on the stone bench looking up at his father and told him so, that he was fine: it had been cauterized, cleansed by the fire.

König lost the same finger that day.

His mother had fallen ill sometime last winter. The last memory he had of her was the look of frailty on her face, how her skin felt so cold and yet she lie dampened with sweat.

The dogs and buzzards had gotten to her grave, but it wasn’t them he felt any of the fire’s malice for.

Just his father.

The villagers didn’t know what became of the blacksmith, but König could recall it every night; how even with his dying breath he had only thought to curse his only son.

So, he wears the hood of the last executioner now, and the people shy away. They don’t like the look of death unless they can participate in it as a divined audience.

The dogs are never hungry, there’s illness all throughout the valley, and sometimes it only shines through in shimmering eyes while the villagers stare and giggle at the next withering soul led to the gallows.

König knows he should be there; like mother and father, his bones should be shared between panting mouths and blood-stained beaks. Sometimes the boars come sniffing too, and he’s always hated them, maybe even more than the birds. They’re ugly and sturdy, squealing and snarling like his father.

The villagers looked at the boars, though, because they were useful. Their eyes were hungry and happy each night the men set out on a hunt, unaware that their sons and daughters lurked in the bellies of the very beasts they starved for.

It’s cold even during the summer months in his shack.

There are blankets, a kitchen, a hearth, but it’s empty. The winter makes its wastelands each coming year, envious of how he can accomplish such with fire instead of ice. He doesn’t need to clean. The ash blackens the wood, cleanses all. One day, maybe, it would scrub him too.

The fire is a womb, but it’s never birthed anything truly alive. Not until her. A wildfire swept the field where travelers had gathered. With their supplies reduced to the very cinders König had come to adore, the surviving members sweep right into this cursed place like it’s a holy temple.

And the fire gave her to him.

König doesn’t know where this woman came to settle from; she isn’t like the other villagers, not even the travelers with their items and skills for selling. There’s still life in her eyes. He watches her as she wanders down the street with a smile on her face, one that speaks of a kindness that not a single one of these people deserves.

She introduces herself to them too, without a title to her name, and all at once any interest fades as the ghosts wander away from her.

His mother used to force him into the church when she was still alive.

She would take him by the hand as he lumbered after her, sticking out amongst the crowd of parishioners who would sing their hymns and stare at him with contempt behind their eyes. He hated going, but he did it for his mother; father was much too busy to spend his time with her and her fantasies. But König learned of angels there, fragile feathered things, all eyes and wings that wouldn’t stand a chance against a blade.

He didn’t think delicate things could be holy until her sweet, gentle smile is cast upon him.

This lady walks right up to him, doesn’t bat an eye at his hood when her lips curl up as she introduces herself. She doesn’t mind the sack of weapons thrown over his shoulder to take to the marketplace— the swords, the daggers, none of it. Her eyes don’t even glance their way; she looks only to him.

Women like this don’t want their homes and beds covered in ash, cinder in place of incense, fire instead of honey. But still she smiles while he says nothing.

König isn’t the only man who’s heart she steals, either.

The village is all gray, smoke and rot except where she walks. Flowers spring up for the coming spring, the deer and foxes are calling out for mates, and it’s all because of her— everyone must know it.

The farmer’s son brings her fresh fruit and whispers into her ear while they pass by his shack on a stroll. The man’s arm curls around her waist so naturally that König can only be reminded of the way that dagger sank between his fathers fingers, tore off a bit of him to feed back to hungry flame. If there were any god above he knew right then that it wouldn’t want him to allow that to happen to her. Not to an angel.

When the rest of the men, dogs and seraphim sleep, König tears the farmer’s boy in two— split down chest to abdomen and left as food for the pigs, right there in the middle of the field.

He doesn’t pray, he hasn’t since the last time he knelt by his mother’s sickbed, but he closes his eyes and breathes out a wish when he leaves that bloodied dagger at her doorstep.

He doesn’t pray, but he weeps when he rallies the villagers to apprehend her. She cries and fusses, face puffy from sleep and hair a mess. There isn’t a speck of blood on her, but the vultures take her anyway. König didn’t want to see her hurt; when her eyes find his, he turns away.

The day of her execution arrives like a festival ceremony. It’s been some time since the last, the scavengers are hungry, so famished he thinks he can almost hear them lick their teeth. There would be no death today, it’s already been decided. In distant places, a single act of devotion is all it takes to save a life, one that the beasts didn’t have the right to take.

The hunger wasn’t always just for death, but for something… a turn and change like steel in fire.

When the angel is taken to her death, rope dangling from her neck like a lead meant for cattle, he steps forward, parting the crowd with an ease. He’s practiced this a time or two in the smoke already, a lonesome and loathing god in the fog. The others scurry from him, looking up at him with pinched brows and bared teeth as if to goad he take her life instead.

Instead, he only catches her eye, smiles and lowers himself on one knee.

[hoe-4-the-clones]

Hantengu clones as Hashira swap AU

Background: Old man Hantengu is a single father with identical quadruplet sons. He lived in poverty all his life and he committed crimes to survive.

His crimes and body count significantly increased when the quadruplets were born. Bro had 4 kids to provide for and he didn't have the best relationship with his baby mama. She disappeared under mysterious circumstances when the quadruplets were still toddlers. Don't ask Hantengu what happened to her.

The quadruplets grew up and became swordsmen to pay the bills and their father's bail when he could no longer physically run from authorities like he used to. The Hantengu quadruplet brothers are all the same strength but the have different fighting styles and speed.

Sekido: The weird cycle of problematic dads continues with him. He had Zohakuten with a girl he dated for a while but she left him because of his anger issues. Zohakuten stays with his grandpa while his dad and uncles are on missions. Sekido uses thunder breathing. When fighting demons he's a lot like Sanemi and full on rages at them. The haori he wears on top of his demon slayer uniform is a hand-me-down kimono from Hantengu.

Karaku: He uses wind breathing and he occasionally flirts with demons before killing them. Deadly rizz is real. He's the second fastest after Urogi. He's very skilled but don't send him on missions to the entertainment district. He might get distracted and Hantengu might get a new grandkid 💀. He wears a green leaf pattern haori over his uniform but on warmer days he goes on missions shirtless while the sleeves of his haori are wrapped around his waist.

Aizetsu: Every group of hashiras got at least 1 depressed water breathing user. His sad face often catches demons off guard and mistakes him for a weakling which causes them to target him more. His defenses are pretty good as a water breath user and he easily slashes demons' necks as they come close to him. He wears a blue haori with rainclouds pattern.

Urogi: The man the myth the menace he's the fastest out of all four of them. He created feather breathing, which is derived from wind breathing. Feather breathing is very similar to wind breathing but requires the user to be faster and more flexible. His movements are like a bird as he jumps high and swoops downwards slashing demons necks from above. He goes on missions shirtless no matter the weather. Similar to Inosuke but is more associated with birds instead of boars He wears the uniform pants along with yellow waist beads.

Interactions with the other hashiras (swapped upper moons): Karaku and Urogi would sometimes instigate squabbles between Douma and Hakuji and think it's funny to see the ice hashira and snow hashira argue with each other.

[gee-arid]

ok, sorry if question is a bit long and if you have answered, please put the link for me to see please. Well... what are the names of the heroes? What was each heroe's first choice? (I mean the ladybug and cat holder). I know that Marinette is with the Fox and Ivan with the turtle, but for some reason I think that if they swap it would combine more (I speak more in symbolism, ivan who cannot lie with the "miraculous of lie"). What is the weapon of each carrier? About the turtle and Ivan, I think a purplish blue would match more (that leatherback turtle). What are the camouflaged forms of each miraculous? Do you have the reason why every person has every miraculous?

A big ask, but thats okay! I'd love to answer! Note that some answers like names and weapons are subject to change, im not great with names and im less familliar with some characters than others so, opinions and other ideas are awesome :)

Names and weapons, left to right:

Aliase Rouges (red wings), Cartoony sledge hammer

Veilluese (night light), Grappling hook

Bison? Hyland?, Guitar- its electric but doesnt have to be plugged in..

Adora (play on Adore), Frisbee

Ouroboros, Mirror shield (play on the medusa myth)

Tack (to temporarily fasten something together), Big Needle

Captain Stinger (shortened to Sting), Cutlass

Jockey?, Reins? maybe a whip

Alectryon, rooster body (i guess?)

Jack Rabbit (shortened to Jack), Pickaxe

Ridley (a type of turtle), Detatched shields- Bonus purpley-blue version: honestly it works just as well.

Tora (Japanese for tiger, i think), Sythe

R.A.T (acronym for Rodent Assist Team? idk, funny bit based on pokemons F.E.A.R strat lol, also sounds like a dj name??. also based on his purpose being mostly assisting pedestrians), Glow sticks (almost like a pair of lightsabers, without the deadliness. Basically glowing battons)

Boar, Boomerang (shaped like boar tusks).

Cirrus (a type of cloud, Aroure and Mirelle share the name and the miraculous), Lightning rod/ wind sock

Caprix (Play on Caprine), Chunky roller blades

Gibbon? (a type of monkey), one of those silly stretchy sticky hands

Reasons for each holder are here!

First choices are also listed there, if there isnt an alternative listed, they either had the same idea or no strong preference for a different holder. Regarding swapping holders based on symbolism (i.e. Ivan with the fox, Mari with the turtle) that would be super cool and i may draw them at some point in the future, but wouldn't fit with my au. This is because my bug and cat holders choose them based on preexisting relationships, traits, and talents.

Camouflaged forms are these:

Struggled with Alyas rabbit miraculous tbh, it doesnt quite fit with my au for it to stay a pocket watch anyway (the Rabbits power being swapped from Burrow in a time sense, to Burrow in a dig way) so i guess its normal activated form would be some kind of keychain? Alyas disguise currently is a tamogachi :)

Nino wears the mouse necklace wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Max's snake bracelet turns into a smart watch.

Markovs claw connects to his existing claws, and mimics what claws he already has.

Mirelle and Aroure have similar chokers with the charm changed. Aroure has the lightning bolt, Mirelle has the rain drop. They have the chokers replicated by comission with Marinette so they can swap the actual miraculous between them when needed.

Sabrinas sunglasses are prescription. They could also be just normal glasses, no black tint, when appropriate.

Marcs ring, where rainbow, is iridescent!

The butterfly and peacock are still unavailable to our heroes.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

this is a weird tangent but I saw that one scythe anon and my brain went wild

I cant stop thinking abt Techno and Phil and peeps with weapons or in a universe similar to RWBY. I used to be like super super hyperfixated on the show when I was younger so thinking abt Techno with a weapon like crescent rose is sick as hell and my brains dream come true.

Especially because RWBY has some pretty interesting lore and takes on discrimination for Faunus (aka hybrids!!!)

IDK I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE COOL!!

Syndicate RWBY AU would fucking slap not going to lie.

Their team would be called TRPN (pronounced Trypan, as a reference to trypan blue and other such dyes. Especially relevant since those dyes are used to color dead tissue so you got a cool link to death and stuff!)

They're an all faunus team! Which makes them pretty unique.

Techno is the leader, some kind of boar faunus probably. His weapon is a sword that can change shape and size (broadsword, rapier, big ass anime sword, little tiny dagger, whatever he needs) and uses dust built in kinda like Weiss' weapon.

Phil is a crow faunus, naturally. His weapon is a crossbow that turns into a double bladed scythe.

Niki is a cat faunus (cat girl niki supremacy) and her weapon is an axe that folds into a glock just because I think Niki deserves a fucking glock.

Then Ranboo, I don't really know what kind of faunus he'd be bc of the whole enderman thing. Maybe an albino ferret? I think that'd be cute. His weapon is a huge shield that has kusarigama built into them (think Futaba from madoka magica because she's my girl and she reminds me of ranboo a lot)

[matsukaah]

•KimetsuOlymp AU

After so long cooking, here is my dish delivered to you. This is an AU (alternative universe) involving the Greek mythology of Olympus. I will remind you that the relationships between characters do not follow those of the gods of mythology 🤏🤓

I really liked it, it was fun and I hope it's to your liking, any mistake, spelling or coherence, I apologize ‼️

Maybe I'll write something about it, I just need time, I'm a born procrastinator

●How was it conceived? (and how he is Ume's brother)

(Purahahime is a name invented to refer to Gyutaro and Ume's mother)

The Purahahime was a woman of low status on Olympus, she could live her life without worries, but she craved too much to be praised by a good-looking God. She wanted to impress him anyway, she was nothing extraordinary, so she decided to have a child, even if it wasn't his, if it was strong enough it would definitely attract attention, that all the deities would know its name. She tried several times before Gyutaro began to be prepared, in better words, cursed, with the most diverse plagues so that his abilities would go to the limit, without thinking about what his body would end up looking like. The result of the various experiments, it was already a miracle that he was able to be born, but his appearance was deplorable, like a dark and soft amalgam.

Purahahime didn't see the value in him, she considered killing him, but he was too strong for her unhappiness (or happiness?). Not ending his life proved advantageous, as it worked, the man believed that the reason for Gyutaro's strength was his mother's womb, even if it was grotesque. Thus, Ume was conceived, unfortunately unlike her brother she was born stunning, even as a child deities stopped their work to appreciate her, but she was weak compared to her brother, which angered her parents, neglecting them both.

Eventually Purahahime was killed by the man she loved, he believed he had been tricked into blaming her for his daughter's weakness. Currently he has found other women, not bothering to look at any of the children. Gyutaro initially felt envious, surely if he had that smooth skin or that white hair he would be congratulated just for being born. But she won his heart, since they share the same cruel blue eyes (Gyutaro has them, but normally keeps his haunting eyes, with yellow sclera and green irises with red interior), they are miserable, just like her and him, so that he decided to take care of her.

•What type of role does he perform?

Gyutaro is the God of iron, he would be perfect for a guard due to his strength, but he preferred it this way. Being the most skilled craftsman Olympus has ever seen, his story of suffering, humiliation and hard work teaches that not all Greek gods had that gentle life on Olympus.

●What is his relationship with the others on Olympus?

He detests several people, especially Tengen, the God of wine and parties, he continually throws his festivities that for Gyutaro feel like the ground is shaking, his sensitive ears making his head pound in pain, making it impossible for him to work. Also due to envy, he is always surrounded by his three wives in addition to the countless number of nymphs and goddesses who aspire to the position of “wife number four”, in his words.

Tanjiro, the son of the Sun, just how he screams irritates him a lot, but he doesn't hate him, it's just unpleasant how he always manages to break the divine artifacts that Gyutaro prepares with so much care, the way Tanjiro is always friendly and always smiling is intimidating too , his eyes seem to stare into Gyutaro's soul, he would destroy him if Tanjiro's younger sister wasn't Ume's close friend.

Ume, she uses the pseudonym of several names, but Daki is the most used, she is considered the concept of beauty. Gyutaro loves his sister, but he can't help but think that she was drawn with care by the gods and looks like he was a sketch made by a boar with a brush in his hand. Raising her was a difficult task, but he made sure she lacked nothing, if she felt hungry, would he hunt, new clothes? he steals and sews until she feels satisfied. Even when she blossomed into the beautiful flower she is, she never left her brother out of her life, insisting that he accompany her to parties and speaking highly of him to everyone he interacts with, even if he feels anxious about the attention she brings. , usually hiding on benches behind the pillars, just enjoying wine.

Obanai and Mitsuri, they are always together since they date. Gyutaro likes Obanai, his hair full of snakes managed to make them identify with each other, in addition to the various types of exotic requests he makes, such as pure pure ornaments for his loved one. Mtsuri talks to him when Gyutaro visits Obanai, sometimes trying to marry him, which doesn't work, to the point where he started to reject her, but appreciates her good intentions.

He has some other relationships, but he doesn't keep in touch with them, as he doesn't usually leave his work area, which is also his home.

●How does his body work?

It seems difficult, but the parts harmonize complicatedly, curved horns like those of a buffalo, to protect its bat ears, which are super sensitive to sounds, but this makes its head weigh too much, having to cut them frequently until they grow back to the point of bothering him.

His ears accurately hear everything around him, especially the tinkling of metal, knowing whether or not it is of good quality, he has learned to recognize the sound of people and other creatures and differentiate them. Sometimes they turn them down to muffle the sound, partially working.

His eyes have this monstrous tone, despite having them normal, blue and white sclerae, but they are sensitive and do not see in the dark as he likes, his usual green and red eyes imitate those of reptiles and cats, he hates light, he feels like he is going go blind if you stay in the sun.

Legs are heavy, being mixtures of several types of animals, being fast and strong, but heavy, he avoids moving, as it leaves him exhausted and sore.

An amusing detail is that because of this large amount of blood mixture involving bovine animals, when he feels irritated he unconsciously drags his feet on the ground like a bull

He has a small snake tail, Chioi, a black snake with purple eyes, he has deceptive abilities, disturbing the senses of anyone who looks at him, he loves to pretend to have five heads like a hydra, people's look of terror makes them both laugh.

His blood has a corrosive poison, protect yourself under your fingernails, but if his blood is ingested it will have the same effect.

Gyutaro has a deformed body from birth, but he eats little of everything his body needs, leaving him weak. However, he eats “enough” to stay upright and working.

It's the same things said above, but in image form, I thought it was super cute and decided to keep it🫡‼️

and of course, my oc Matsu no au, they are my babies‼️‼️‼️

[spicechica]

Ernst Robinson x fem reader AU

*this idea has been in my head for a while, ever since I re-watched barbie as the island princess. But, imagine Ernst having a relationship with an island girl and slowly falling for her*

You peaked through the damp forest trees, watching below as you spotted two cuertin creatures that walked and talked, like you. You slowly move up the tree branches, causing the leaves to russell. “Did you hear that?” You stop in place thinking they spotted you, until you hear the loud echoes of crunching twigs and low grunts coming from the bushes below. The two step closer towards the rustling sounds, until it stops…..”Run!” The loud grunt of a large boar emerges from the bushes, charging after the two. 

You quickly follow behind, still staying out of sight, watching as they both struggle to climb up a nearby tree, the boar almost nipping at their feet. You pierce your lips together and blow in the boar's direction, causing it to startle and run away into the large bushes, allowing the creatures to catch their breaths.

“Who’s there?”, one of them shouts. “Please, we're looking for our brother. We got shipwrecked and now we're stuck here…please help us!” You sigh and slowly emerge from the tree, lightly landing your bare feet on the cold wet ground. Not like you haven't gotten used to it by now, your feet were already covered in dirt, bruises, cuts, grime, and any other part of the forest you've explored that day. 

You keep your hand on your pocket sized knife you made from rock and yarn, not sure if you should trust these…People? “A girl.” A young boy, looked to be about 15, short messy hair, and now covered in dirt, slowly steps towards you, while you hesitantly take a step back. “It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Fritz…and this is my brother, Ernst.” You glance over at the other boy. He looked older, about 17 or so, taller, had slightly longer hair than the other, and had these piercing blue eyes. 

“Can you speak…English?” Fritz asked. You slowly nod, continuing to scan the boys up and down like a feral cat.“Could you help us? We're looking for…” As he tries to touch you, you quickly point your knife towards him, the tip barely piercing neck. “Wow…wow, wait…we're not looking for any trouble.”, Ernst said with a shaky voice. “We were in a shipwreck and…”, “Shipwreck?” you replied. “Yes, at the front of the island.” you remove your knife away from Fritz neck and look to the floor. 

It’s been years since you’ve seen another person, and from what he said reminded you how you got here in the first place. You sigh, “You said you needed help, right?”, they both nod. You didn’t know if you should trust these boys, but you had a gut feeling that something good might come out of this.

Both the boys stare at you as they proceed to lead the way, gazing at your unique attire. You wore an old white cloth that you wrapped around yourself and tucked into your sides. When you first washed up on the island you wore an old childs Victorian dress with ruffles all over, but over time the dress became damaged and mangled, and soon you started to grow out of it, to where you could barely fit it over your shoulders if you wanted to. Surprisingly, your hair was pretty neat and tidy, placed in a neat french braid ponytail tied back with vine . Of course, you had no shoes. as you grew out of those as well, so through the years you had just gotten used to being barefoot, and whatever you stepped on you’d just had to be lucky it wasn’t poisonous. “You think she’s from a previous shipwreck?” Ernst whispered. You couldn't properly remember the night of the wreck, but sometimes you could imagine bits and pieces here and there, but most of the time it was a haze. 

“Father! Mother!” Fritz shouted. “Fritz”, his mother called. “Where were you? You were supposed to stay on this side of the island!” His father shouts in a stern voice, his face almost turning red. “Yes, but father we found…a girl.”  They all look up at you, shocked to see a girl your age in this state, and surprisingly alive. “Oh my goodness.” Their mother takes her damp shawl and wraps it around you, trying to cover your body from the boys. You jolt away at first, confused why, you never really cared to notice the changes in your body, or even know what it was like to experience woman hood. So it was clear she was covering you so you would have some decency. “Where did you find her?”, “In the forest, she helped us get away from a boar,” “A boar!” their younger sister shouts. “Oh you poor thing. What’s your name sweetheart?” 

“My name is…is…Y/n.” 

PART 2!??

[rubyblue2005]

Princess Mononoke Au

Kuboyasu, a prince of the disappearing Delinquency people, is cursed by a demonized boar god and must journey to the west to find a cure. Along the way, he encounters Kusuo Saiki, a young human esper fighting to protect the forest, and Lady Teruhashi, who is trying to destroy it. Kuboyasu must find a way to bring balance to this conflict.

Cast:

Prince Kuboyasu, the last Prince of the Delinquency Tribe

Kuboyasu's traveling companion is Kaidou, a blue-white elk.

Saiki, a young esper who was raised by the wolves and feels hatred for humans, but eventually comes to care for Kuboyasu.

Kusuke, a giant wolf god and Saiki's adopted sibling.

Amp, an orange cat that Kuboyasu used to feed with no care for the rules of the village wanders up to Kuboyasu to gift him a crystal dagger necklace.

Lady Teruhashi, the ruler of Irontown who continually clears the forest. 

Hairo, Teruhashi's short-tempered but loyal buff bodyguard.

Toritsuka, a monk and mercenary who befriends Kuboyasu on his journey to the west. 

Aiura, the wise woman of Kuboyasu's village. 

Akechi, a blind boar god.

Metori Saiko, the emperor that employed the monk, Toritsuka.

Chono the magician, an ox driver.

Midori Nendo, the ox driver's wife.

[fanelectricboogieloo]

more blue boar au doodles

more doodles under the read more

and the post frontiers part of the au where logman gets a sword-daughter made from merged components and zonai parts to a old sword logman kept.

[sundove88]

About the Animal AU.

What animals do the Dark Cacao kingdom Cookies turn into?

Dark Cacao- Maine Coon Cat

Dark Choco- Norwegian Forest Cat

Caramel Arrow- Deer

Crunchy Chip- Wolf (Obviously)

Affogato- Siamese Cat

Second Watcher/Choco Chunk- Stoat

Bittersweet Dark Cacao Watcher/Bittersweet Coffee- Cow

Sugary Dark Cacao Watcher/Swirl Choco- Giant Pacific Octopus

Young Cookie from the Mountains/Candy Melt- Blue Ringed Octopus

Swift Dark Cacao Warrior/Cow Choco- Ostrich

Cautious Dark Cacao Watcher/Gianduja Choco- Boar

Gatekeeper Cookie/Couverture Choco- Alpaca

Mysterious Priest/Compound Choco- Malayan Cat

Peanut Butter Choco- Tokay Gecko

Cube Choco- Sun Bear

Affogato’s Disciple 1/Cortado- Bengal Cat

Affogato’s Disciple 2/Galao- Japanese Bobtail

Old Milk Villager/Oat Milk- Bernese Mountain Dog

Young Milk Villager/Rice Milk- Entlebucher Mountain Dog

Motherly Milk Villager/Soy Milk- Great Pyrenees

Note: The Watchers’ Animal forms in this AU were inspired by that one scene in The Emperor’s New Groove when the guards get transformed.

[sweetestofchaos]

Blackthorn Prolog | M.YG

Pairing: Crown Prince Dragon!Yoongi x Crown Princess Impundulu!Keena Genre: Soulmate AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Fantasy AU | Fluff Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Hints to arranged marriage | Swearing an oath Rating: PG15

The Vow - Empress Min stops by Prince Yoongi’s chambers and invites him for a stroll in the garden

a/n: Shout out to the great @sailoryooons​ for being my beta and banner maker!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Previous | Next

My Prince,

I am counting down the days until we can finally meet. I pray that you won’t regret befriending me after all this time. The palace is so alive; my trip to your nation is on the lips of every person. Mother is worried about sending me alone, I overheard her speaking with Father about granting me my very own guard. I hope it isn’t Dingani, Father’s most trusted warrior. I have never seen that man smile and he scares me.

I will admit it only to you, my prince. I hope to be by your side for a long time as we lead our nation's side by side, together. What luck has blessed my family to be considered allies to the Min Empire? May many tales be shared of our victories and joys. May the ever-bright sun continue to bathe you in its golden hues.

Well wishes, your friend, 

Princess Keena

Sitting in the window of his private room, Yoongi, the Prince of the Min empire rereads the letter in his hand and smiles. Princess Keena, his dear friend for nearly his whole life, will be at the front gates of his palace within a fortnight. A breeze sends his loose blonde strands of hair swaying around his shoulders and face, making Yoongi smile more. The black scales on his jawline catching the light and creating mini rainbows around himself. The princess’ words echo loudly in Yoongi’s mind as he looks to the blue sky above. Wispy white clouds dance and shift into bumpy bunnies and twisted tiger tails. The sun, large and bright, warms the air and Yoongi inhales the scent of azaleas and camellias thick on his tongue like honey.

A knock at the door pulls Yoongi from his thoughts and he clears his throat, calling for whoever to enter his chambers. Setting the letter in his hand back into a small rectangle shaped box covered in a beautiful mother of pearl dragon, Yoongi closes the lid softly and turns his attention to the door as it opens. Red and gold, blinds Yoongi for a moment before he is greeted by his mother, the empress’ warm smile.

“Mother, what brings you here?” Yoongi is quick to stand and offer the woman who birthed him that identical gummy smile that every bloodborne Min carries. Yoongi walks over and offers his mother his arm, happy when she slips her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Join me in the gardens, it’s a beautiful day.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Sit, I will fix your hair.”

Yoongi allows his mother to herd him towards his dressing table and he sits before her silently. The empress stands beside Yoongi and grabs the boar hairbrush, slowly dragging it through his long blonde locks. She takes her time as she gathers Yoongi’s hair up into a topknot, fastening his sangtawan and manggeon before she places her hands on his shoulders. Her long black claws stand out against Yoongi’s blue gonryongpo.

“My son, such a handsome young fledgling you have become.” Dark eyes sparkle and Yoongi fights the heat that warms his ears and cheeks.

“Mother,” Yoongi whines and the empress laughs while giving him a tight back hug.

“I love you, my son.” The empress pulls away and Yoongi stands to his full height, once again offering his mother his arm. Yoongi leads the way to the gardens, his mother’s personal guard, Dongwook, keeping a short distance away as they walk. The air is warmer outside and Yoongi feels his neck starting to sweat almost instantly. “Indulge me, my son.”

The empress keeps her eyes on the path ahead as she walks beside Yoongi. The dogwoods are in bloom, their petals covering the ground in a soft blanket of white. Yoongi glances at his mother, waiting for her question with bated breath.

“Are you excited about the Princess’ arrival?”

Yoongi scales catch in the sunlight as he lifts his face towards the warmth, and he cannot help the grin that pulls at his lips. The empress watches his expression change with a fondness in her eyes and she laughs sweetly. 

“Have you found a suitable greeting gift?” She questions as they pass by a few servants that stop walking to bow.

“I have. I feel that Princess Keena will feel most welcome by my gift.”

“Oh?” The empress smiles and squeezes Yoongi’s arm lightly. “I am looking forward to seeing your gift. You will do well to remember that the Princess will be very far from home. We want her to feel comfortable during her time here.”

“I know, mother. I will look after the Princess well.”

The empress and Yoongi walk across a turquoise bridge that crosses over the large koi fishpond and into the pavilion. Together they sit in silence and watch the fish swim around below. The empress looks at Yoongi’s profile and reaches out, the tips of her claws running along his jawline scratching lightly against his scales. 

“You will make a fine emperor one day.”

Yoongi turns to face his mother and raises an eyebrow. His dark eyes narrow as he tries to dissect her words. A breeze blows and more of the dogwood petals ride the wind, some caught in the hair of the empress and Yoongi. The empress smiles and pulls her hand away from Yoongi’s face before she speaks again.

“Your father and I won't be around forever. Now is the time to think about settling down and starting your own-”

“Mother.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, not caring that he cut her off. He plucks a few petals from his robes and drops them into the pond before he sighs and scratches at the tip of his nose. Staring out at the water, Yoongi watches the fish below, thinking of what he would like to say next.

“The nation in the west is strong but our alliance with Princess Keena’s homeland makes us stronger. It would be foolish to think that some conflict will not arise but for now I wish not to jinx it.”

Yoongi’s dark eyes flick to his mother’s face and she nods her head softly. Yoongi clears his throat and folds his hands together in his lap, his right thumb rubbing the back of his left hand.

“When the time comes, I will fulfill my duty to the throne. You do not have to worry yourself with that thought.”

“Promise me Yoongi.”

“Pardon?” Yoongi stares at his mother confused. Promise her?

“When the time comes, you must promise me here and now that you will fulfill your duty to the throne.”

Yoongi licks his lips as the hair on the back of his neck rises. There is an air of sadness behind the empress’ words, and it worries Yoongi. Have they already picked his wife? Well, it wouldn’t be unheard of. He is a royal after all, it would be foolish for Yoongi to think he could marry for love. Princess Keena’s endless letters and words float into Yoongi’s mind. His only wish is that his lifelong friend and his future wife will be able to get along for his sake.

“To the ancient dragons who came before and watch over us, I swear it, mother.”

Yoongi’s dark eyes flash a golden hue and his mother’s do the same before she smiles and pats his hand.

[tianasficrecs168]

Kimetsu no Yaiba fic recs

Some of these are juvenile and silly (case in point: "Right here, on my phone", Zenitsu uses flirt: it's super effective!) but I like them.

Also, any reader stuff you see that's on my list is quality - as in, the character that's supposed to be the reader (us) has just enough of a personality that I really just consider this an OC fic with weird pronoun use.

On a completey unrelated note, I'm going to strangle Surveycorpjean specifically. Their fics are so fuckin good omg, I lose my shit every time.

Anyway, you know the drill.

A black dot • means it’s a one-shot

A heart ♡ means it’s focused on Sexy times (it’s pure filth PWP, or like, a plot focused on getting to the porn part lol)

Brackets (…) means it's still being updated/not done/WIP – and I'm paying close attention to it

Esselle: “Fuwafuwa” (Tanjirou/Inosuke) • Inosuke likes it when people tell him he's great at things, because it's true, and they should all acknowledge how powerful he is. But whenever Tanjiro does it, it makes him feel… weird. -- ふわふわ (fuwafuwa) can mean several different things: 1. Fluffy; soft. 2. Light and airy. 3. The way Tanjiro makes Inosuke feel.

Perliegrimm: “Tempura” (Tanjirou/Inosuke) • Inosuke’s habit of ranting to Nezuko is one borne out of the available knowledge that she can’t gossip to anyone- thus making her the perfect confidant in aiding (and concealing) his secret feelings for a certain swordsman. At least… That’s what he thinks. (Not that Inosuke necessarily thinks.)

Horae: “The Boy in the Box” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu) Nezuko didn’t think much of the boy sobbing in the road, until he protected Tanjiro. Tanjiro knew Zenitsu was different when he first met him, and couldn’t help but chase the scent peaches and kindness, literally. It’s only fair that he take care of Zenitsu, after he got hurt protecting him, right? Role Reversal AU: Where Nezuko is a demon slayer and Demon!Tanjiro immediately takes an interest in Zenitsu. Takes place from Nezuko and Zenitsu’s meeting to the gang's recovery in the butterfly estate.

Kinyve: “Right here, on my phone” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu) Zenitsu has a magical device that keeps track of his relationships in real life with cute hearts, kind of like an otome game! Wait, why does Tanjirou have bombs? what do the bombs mean does Tanjirou hate him oh fuck Tanjirou hates him wh-

Kinyve: “Lean on” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu) • Zenitsu's about to get a stiff neck if this guy doesn't get a move on.

 Kinyve: “The Transmigration of Kaigaku Inadama” (...) (SI!OC/Rengoku) Kaigaku thought that was it. After jumping off the bridge, he’d be dead. Or at least, he should be. Instead, he woke up staring up at a dazzling blue sky, the sickeningly sweet scent of peaches wafting through his nostrils, and his head on a particularly sturdy rock.

Bonsaiy: “Worship the flame” (Sanemi/Giyuu) •♡ Sanemi encounters a demon with a pesky lust-related Demon Blood Art in the south of Honshu, and heroically exterminates it before it can make prey of anymore innocent humans. This fic is not about that. This fic is about the aftermath, and about Giyuu finally becoming closer to Shinazugawa. Just... not in the way he probably first thought about.

Bonsaiy: “The troposphere in his eyes” (Sanemi/Giyuu) • Shinazugawa Sanemi, Tomioka Giyuu, and approximately 25 cliché fanfiction tropes.

Grenades: - “So full of love (I could barely eat)” (Sanemi/Giyuu) • “...Do you think I’m a bad cook?”  A gust of air pushes its way through Sanemi’s open mouth. “What?”  Tomioka flushes- no, he blushes, ears and cheeks dark- and looks away. “The ohagi. Was it bad?”  Sanemi was expecting Tomioka to kill him, or mock him- but this is so, so much worse.

Bloodsbane: - “Warm Body, Soft Breath” (Tanjirou/Inosuke) “What are you two doing?” “It’s just cuddling, Inosuke.” The strange eyes of the boar mask tilted back in the Kamado siblings’ direction. “What’s cuddling?”

Novashyperion: “There’s Room Here For Two” (Inosuke/Zenitsu) • Inosuke has no sense of personal space, and Zenitsu learns that the hard way. It becomes a lot easier as time goes on. - 3 Times Inosuke used Zenitsu as a bed/pillow, and 1 Time Zenitsu did the same.

Glueskin: “They say there’s good grief” (Sanemi/Giyuu) but how can you tell it from the bad? or, giyuu begins the painstaking process of trying to remember how to be a functional human being.

Favspacetwink: “Peace in your violence” (Sanemi/Giyuu)♡ • “Mmnh - mmnh - mmnh-” “Better keep it down, Tomioka,” Sanemi breathes in his ear. Giyuu groans into the hand covering his mouth. “What did I just fucking say?”

JuniRiceBall: “Rip and tear” (Sanemi/Giyuu)♡ • For a mission, Tomioka Giyuu has to borrow one of Shinazugawa Sanemi's yukatas. Too bad it causes one of them to overheat.

Neoqueenserenity: “Jealous of the Moon” (Sanemi/Giyuu) • "Shinazugawa, I'm not taking your last name unless I'm getting something out of it." Before he realized what he'd said out loud, he noticed the wind pillar's face contort in rage. “WAIT NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT—” He ducked on instinct, barely missing the fist aimed for his skull. Or: Giyuu and Sanemi are sent on a mission together to take down a demon who targets brothers, and they pretend to be siblings. It does not go well.

Orenji: “Home is with you” (Sanemi/Giyuu) • Sanemi’s face crumples. “Fuck,” he says, huffing out a short laugh, throwing his head back. “You’re gonna make me cry. I hate you.” “You don’t,” Giyuu says, confidently, fondly. “You love me. Just as much as I love you.” (Giyuu has never believed in fate, but meeting Sanemi again hundreds of years later seems like the Universe is giving them one more shot to get it right.)

Pinkichor: “Comfort of a Storm” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu) • Zenitsu’s entire body seemed to drop like he was exhausted without the will to take another step. “Tanjiro...doesn’t your blanket smell good enough? It’s certainly less weird.” Tanjiro wrapped his arms around Zenitsu, shaking his head, pulling cloth with the movement. “This is better.” Zenitsu tried his very best to walk forward with Tanjiro affectionately attached to his back, but Tanjiro picked up his feet when Zenitsu did, and the only thing he succeeded in was bringing Tanjiro to his chosen futon.

Frogsterz: “To be special” (Tanjirou/Inosuke) • “Shut up!” Inosuke wants to scream, but then he realises Tanjirou absolutely must not wake up and settles for a death hiss, hands curling against his sides. Stupid thinking stupid foresight stupid— “I don’t think about those kinds of things! They’re a waste of time! And pack means family!" “Well a pack doesn’t have to be blood-related, I don’t think,” Zenitsu flops onto the grass and stares at the sky. “I think having someone to love would be a very nice thing to have, you know. The whole—not being alone thing, not being given up on thing.” (Or, Inosuke is special to Tanjirou. Tanjirou is special to Inosuke. They've really got to work on their communication.)

 Frogsterz: “Christ, just hold still” (Sanemi/Reader) There are many things that after a year of being in the Demon Slayer medical corps you’ve gotten used to. The stench of ash and blood in the air. The sight of half-eaten, half-chewed bodies strewn across the floor. Applying tourniquets, lopping off limbs when they’ve been beyond saving, patching up the lightly and the grievously injured. You can handle just about anything now. But this? This asshole who keeps running away from you and your attempts to stop him from fucking bleeding out in a forest? He really pisses you off.

Kenmagoesblep: “Human manners 101” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu/Inosuke) • Being an uneducated feral boy, Inosuke gets thrown off, confused and overwhelmed over the smallest, stupidest things. It’s really embarrassing. So, while they’re not obliged to do any of this, Tanjiro and Zenitsu have this nonverbal agreement that they’d do their best to teach Inosuke some basic human knowledge. Building pillow forts, however, doesn't qualify as such, yet here they are.

StrawBunni: - “Zenitsu uses flirt: it's super effective!” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu/Inosuke) Sensing that the conversation is done, Zenitsu pushes away from the door and continues heading towards the roof, thinking through what he just heard. Flirting to get what you want, huh? Would that actually work for someone like him too? or High School AU where Zenitsu decides to try and use flirting to get Inosuke and Tanjiro to follow the dress code and ends up with two boyfriends instead, which for some reason he didn’t see coming.

Redyarns: - “Acoustics” (Zenitsu/Tanjirou) • “Well,” Zenitsu sighed, finishing the wrap and tucking it with a good pull. He needed to thank his Gramps for teaching him how to treat minor wounds. “Be more careful, okay? You’re the best one out of all of us, we can’t lose you to a minor demon.” “I love you,” Tanjirou said, and it came out breathy, like he hadn’t meant to say it. Zenitsu snorted and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Love you too,” he said sarcastically. “Huh?” Tanjirou said. “I love you too?” Zenitsu repeated slowly, now getting confused when Tanjirou’s sound became sour with disappointment. “Uh, right? We’re friends? We are friends, right?” He said, suddenly nervous. “Yes, of course we are,” Tanjirou said immediately, and though there was still that sharp twang of sourness in his sound, at least he was smiling. Weird. *** Five times Tanjirou confessed and one time Zenitsu got it.

Kagshina: “Ignite” (Tanjirou/Zenitsu/Inosuke) • Inosuke’s chest clenches without explanation. Whatever this feeling is, he doesn’t like it. Tanjiro’s not supposed to cry. Tanjiro’s supposed to be strong, like him. He punches Zenitsu’s shoulder. “Why the hell is Tanjiro crying?! That’s supposed to be your thing!” (In which Inosuke witnesses affection and there’s lots of crying.)

xtwilightzx (blackidyll): “Daybreak” (Tanjirou/Giyuu) • Giyuu is asleep on his side, head turned towards Tanjirou, close enough that Tanjirou would barely need to stretch to touch him. Tanjirou just looks— —and the wonder sets in slowly, like dawn gradually seeping colour into the darkness of the night.

Surveycorpjean: “Killer Downpour” (Inosuke/Tanjirou/Zenitsu) Once again, the world feels so small, and Tanjirou’s heart feels so big.

[dingleshartbeaufoy]

— 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

[masterlist]

hannibal lecter x will graham

rated t - 4k words

tags - au, age-re, developing relationship, hannibal loves will, little will, cg hannibal, bathtime

warnings - none!

— will slips into an unfamiliar mindset. he knows nothing except for how bad he needs hannibal, and how bad he fucking loves forests.

(pls read on ao3 if possible 🫀)

[banner by reveriesources]

Will Graham did not grow up in Michigan.

Not like that was any sort of consensus or widely held belief, though, because it wasn’t. Many times, the subject of Will’s origins either sparked passionate debates, or merely circulated as rumors. A woman from the intelligence branch vehemently asserted that his accent was distinctly ubiquitous; thus, he grew up across several states and developed the default American lilt. A man from the services branch said he carried himself in such a way that connoted what he dubbed as white-trash DNA (even though Will swore to God he heard that line used in Joe Dirt). Clad in thrift store aesthetics, with fishing as his sole hobby, he surely came from a state with far different culture than Virginia.

Curiously, nobody ever bothered to ask, which was the remarkable thing. They figured Will wouldn’t tell them if they tried, and they were right. He absolutely would not. The matter of his background was entirely too intimate and entirely too personal. He might as well tell them his exact address and then paint targets on his vital organs.

For the record, though, he did not grow up in Michigan, New York, or Idaho. His formative years were spent in many places but he was born in and spent the bulk of his childhood in the backwoods of Louisiana, with the snakes and ‘gators and muskrats and loblolly pines that made bushes in Heaven (as his father used to say).

He lived in a ramshackle shack in Hammond with his father and the few friends he made at school (those friends being the only friends he’d make across all schools he would ever attend. He left his social life sitting in the boatyards somewhere in Wisconsin). He got to school by seven in the morning, and class started at eight. There were three classrooms, one for ‘stories’, one for ‘letters’, and one for ‘numbers’, which was their equivalent of history, English, and mathematics. Will was what they would consider a sufficiently educated student. He could read Oliver Twist sooner than any of his classmates could, but he couldn’t socialize as well, couldn’t play rugby or kiss a girl (or a boy, for that matter).

After one lethargic and muggy night, hotwiring cars and chugging beer, he had retreated to the sticks behind his house to decompress, a moment of sheer desperation and experimentation. He found it was the last place he’d ever felt he belonged in.

It didn’t take him long to teach himself the names and classifications of all the remarkable flora and fauna of the bayou, but that was before he went into criminal science. Crawfish, bluegill, the elusive nutria, and the stately American alligator all became members of his zoological repertoire. The blue herons who pierced the northern sky with their elegant wings and pointed beaks. The boars who squealed and thundered across the brush. Will could identify and spell each of their names, tell you their unique behaviors, along with at least one assorted fact about them— he couldn’t make a career off of that, though, so he dropped it. Grew out of it like a ratty hand-me-down cardigan.

The bayou, for all of its danger, made Will feel safe and childish. Childish . That was the kicker, because he didn’t need those support mechanisms in his adult life. A hefty dose of Klonopin, sure, but that was it. Forever. He no longer needed all the things he might have needed as a boy. He ignored the urge to drive down to Louisiana and- he dared not to say it- play . He especially neglected the playful tug at his wading pants while he was river-fishing. He didn’t need those things. He didn’t. He smothered them with a pillow until they stopped struggling.

(He came to learn that his brain had no jurisdiction over his heart, and when his heart was telling his legs to move in the direction of the secluded forest that hugged the riverbanks, well, that’s a far greater force than any gross motor skill).

His father used to berate him for his filth when he returned home after his little outings, but it was always with a degree of fondness and was nothing compared to the prejudice he faced at school, even from his friends. Smelling of bog water and humidity. His father, probably, was used to the aroma. It was his house too, after all. Now, though, Will was bigger. He could take a shower and wash his clothes and it would all be fine, even if that didn’t ring true during his younger years. He didn’t need somebody else to do those basic things for him, to lead him by his hand until he could walk on his own; to run through the forest was enough, to laugh like he did when he was eight and thriving and ignorant to his plight, even if he did feel it creeping in.

You can only ignore your heart for so long. The strange instincts you didn’t know you had.

He was putrid, for a lack of better words. Dirt caked his pants and face and tangled in his hair, strands plastered to his forehead with sweat. He could , theoretically, clean himself up. Go right home and handle this like a big boy, like an adult, which is (ironically) exactly the same sentiment that landed him on Hannibal Lecter’s doorstep like a stray dog.

“Will?” Hannibal says, dressed in one of his more casual suits (casual being a comparative word. He is always done up in his most impeccable dress). It’s three in the afternoon and the sun is sizzling above, only accentuating Will’s musk; Hannibal notices as well, and his nose scrunches unpleasantly despite himself. Will briefly notices that Hannibal seldom emotes so vividly, but the observation seems as though it’s only being broadcasted to him, rather than conjured up in his own mind

“Is everything alright?”

Will only hums and rocks back and forth on his heels, hands wringing the bottom of his shirt anxiously, beads of sweat sweltering on his temples. Hannibal watches him with a sort of knowingness that feels contemplative, experimental. Will is only able to tell this by the way Hannibal’s eyes glaze over and he seems to look straight through Will as if he were a specter. This isn’t the first of these occurrences, either; Will has slipped into a more youthful mindset accidentally only twice before, once at a crime scene and once at Hannibal’s office. Where the world seems bigger and Will seems far, far smaller. In a way, it comforts him. In that same way, he is terrified.

“You look disheveled,” Hannibal says, and his tone is less chastising and more alarmed, perhaps impressed at the absurdity, perhaps concerned. “Why don’t you come in?”

Will nods and ambles past Hannibal into the foyer, immediately intimidated by the openness. Simple, compact spaces always brought Will comfort. He’d feel enclosed like each wall was an angel extending to him their protection. In a space as grand and vast as this, he feels exposed. Hannibal comes up beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, as unexpected as it is grounding.

“Come,” he soothes, guiding him into the considerably smaller dining room- it’s still magnificent, but the ceiling is lower and there’s more to fill the negative space. Chairs and fireplaces and vases lined along the wall, paintings dotting the space above. Hannibal leads him to a seat at the end of the table and sits him down; Will breathes a sigh of relief at not having to decide where to sit, or what is appropriate, trivial a matter as it is.

“‘M makin’ your chair all dirty,” mumbles a displeased Will once he’s squirmed into being comfortable. Hannibal leans over him, producing a handkerchief and wiping away a smudge of mud from Will’s cheek.

“Chairs can be cleaned. Besides, you seem distressed. Do you care to tell me what happened?” He takes a seat perpendicular to Will, arms folded on the table, back straight. Ever so perfect is the good doctor.

“Was… in the forest,” Will says, tip-toeing around the word play because people like Will simply do not play. What was I doing, then? “And, and I don’t… I can’t-”

“Would you like me to help you clean up?”

Will gnaws an angry bruise into his lip, his green eyes boring apprehensive holes into his lap. One part of him- one that’s big and broad- says that he’s wasting Hannibal’s time, this is unprofessional, this is embarrassing, and a perversion of his time. The other- much smaller and meek- just wants to be clean, and for a bygone reason, wants Hannibal to be the one to assist. Maybe it’s Hannibal’s professional status as a therapist that exudes an impression of compassion and care, something parallel to paternity. Instead, maybe it was Hannibal’s unique understanding of Will that invited him to bare his throat, his mind, his insides. He nods, and Hannibal returns it. His fate is sealed.

“Very well. Come with me. Have you a change of clothes?” Hannibal asks, letting Will trail behind him up the tall, curling flight of stairs. A red and golden carpet is sprawled down the length of the stairwell, following its curve. Will shakes his head and grabs a handful of Hannibal’s blazer rather than the railing, surely wrinkling the expensive wool. If Hannibal minds, he doesn’t show it.

The space between his mind and the world is where he has curled up and built his temporary solace. It’s blurry inside, and Will has to hang on tight to his surroundings in reality; ornate light fixtures hanging from the ceiling and antique paintings with macabre themes, boasting opulent golden frames. His penchant for music seeping into his interior design, with sheet music scattered about in a decidedly orderly manner as if he had purposefully tried to replicate the chaos of a mess.

The observation is gone as soon as it comes, like second nature, and Will can let it be washed away by the calm stream of his thoughts, for it is too hazy in this depersonalized state of his but hazy like a sauna. Warm and bare.

The bathroom door flings— no, is gently pushed— open and Will is relieved to not be immediately blinded by fluorescent lamps and bright tile. It’s paved in dark marble, while Victorian-style arches and moldings adorn the walls and ceiling, as intricate as their counterparts in the foyer. The fixtures seem vintage, gold and shining, and the countertop is a deep mahogany. A freestanding clawfoot bathtub sits at the end like the fountain of youth. A receptacle for indulgence.

He’s especially grateful for the dim, gentle lighting as if he is having his cheek tenderly caressed rather than battered and bruised. A lavish robe hangs from a hook beside the counter.

“Come now,” prods Hannibal, coaxing Will into the bathroom. Will saunters in nervously, and Hannibal brushes past him, retrieving a towel from the cabinet and laying it on the counter, smoothing it over with his hands. Will collapses onto the toilet seat— he’s overheating in his clothes, the fabric is too thick and heavy, and his skin oppresses his bones, threatening to rend him to the ground. His breathing picks up pace and he squirms uncomfortably, beginning to punch at his arms weakly.

Hannibal’s voice pierces through the fray. “Do you need help getting undressed?”

Will whines and curls in on himself; his hair is too dirty, unpleasant and sticky on his head, he feels too big for his skin, he isn’t used to the smell in here, and his head is caving in on itself– he fears his bones may bulge through his skin and tear free. He thinks he may die. He’s pretty sure he’s dying.

Suddenly, though, he isn’t, and instead he’s having his wrists restrained by either of Hannibal’s hands and he’s crouching beside him, careful not to make eye contact. Like a dam, keeping everything in, gentle yet formidable. He keeps it all in . Hannibal is taller than Will, if not just by an inch or two, but the slight difference in proportion is just enough to make Will feel small. Or maybe he’s imagining that. Right now, it doesn’t matter which.

“I know you are nervous, Will,” Hannibal hushes, thoughtful to control his tone of voice. “But I need you to use your words, alright? I cannot help you if you do not tell me what you need.”

Will nods, and Hannibal wipes away the tears that Will hadn’t even noticed had ever formed.

“I need help,” Will mumbles, hardly even audible. Hannibal graciously settles for this answer with nary a frown and slots his hands under Will’s armpits, pulling him to his feet. The green field jacket is shucked off first and falls stiff to the floor. Then comes his olive button-up, carefully unbuttoned and discarded along with his coat. Will begins to fidget when Hannibal unclasps his belt.

“No need to be anxious,” Hannibal says. “You are safe here. Nobody is going to judge you. We’re going to get you cleaned up, alright?” He places a careful palm against Will’s cheek. He’s testing the waters– has been all night. Drawing the line in the sand a bit closer each time the waves wipe the last one away. Will isn't sure where he stands. He can only hope Hannibal will help him figure it out. “Won't that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” Will easily agrees, and lets Hannibal remove the rest of his clothes (he catches a subdued sneer at the khaki color of his chinos, and doesn’t quite blame him. He isn’t known for being the best-dressed man in the world).

“There you are,” Hannibal remarks, and deposits the pile into a nearby hamper. “We can clean those later, alright? Wait here while I run the water and find something for you to wear.”

“You’re leaving?”

Hannibal smiles reassuringly. “I am, but only for a moment. Should you require me, you need only call. I’ll be here.”

Will is left alone with the bubbling, dated sound of the faucet as it fills the ceramic to its brim. He hears the distant creaking of old floorboards, the hum of the water heater. For such an extravagant house, it has touches of real, common humanism in its walls. A thin thread that connects Hannibal to every other person on the planet, as detached and withdrawn as he sometimes likes to act. Will’s hands are folded in between his knees, and he’s leaned forward a bit as he waits for Hannibal to return. He feels warm, peaceful, cared for, and a trifle exhausted. Discontent. What is it that’s holding him back?

When Hannibal returns, a pair of ambiguous silk pajamas are draped over his arm, and he places them atop the towel delicately. They’re a muted beige and capture all of the light in the room, little as that quantity is. Nicer than anything Will would choose to wear. Hannibal turns off the faucet and the warm water falls still, steaming gently billowing in the air. Droplets of water periodically drip from the faucet.

“Do you need me to help you in?”

Will doesn’t think his legs would support him if he so much as tried to stand on his own. He runs the heel of his palm over his eye tiredly and stretches his arms expectantly towards Hannibal. Hannibal gives him an affectionate smile and guides him into the bath.

Will is used to the thrumming of high-pressure water against a tile basin. Will is used to heavy, exerted breathing as the heat fogs up the space, and suddenly enclosed areas aren’t as comforting as they are entrapping. Here, though, he is being tenderly delivered into the warm water and sinks into it, fighting the beckoning pull on his eyelids. It’s like he’s being lulled by a soothing, benign god of luxury and sleep.

“There you are,” Hannibal muses, and takes a seat on a stool beside Will’s head. “Just relax. You’re alright.”

He retrieves a red loofah and onto it squirts a quarter-sized dollop of body wash, an unobtrusive fragrance of pine. It’s nothing like Hannibal’s own scent, but Will isn’t in the right mindset to be suspicious about why Hannibal already owned soap that was so uniquely Will, tailored to his likeness. Curious, maybe. Is it okay to be curious? As he’s about to bring the loofah to Will’s skin, he hesitates.

“Loofahs encourage circulation and exfoliation on the skin,” he explains after a brief moment of silence. Will tilts his head. “Alternatively, they’re breeding grounds for bacteria. That’s why I replace mine regularly.” He extends it to Will, who touches it tentatively.

“However, the material can be very scratchy and harsh. Do you feel?”

Will rubs a leaf between his fingers and immediately recoils, scrunching his nose. Hannibal removes it at once, but not before he submerges it under the water to rid it of its contents.

“Very well.” He leaves it on the rim of the tub. “Would you like me to find something else?”

They cycle through rags and sponges, different textures and materials, until they settle on a washcloth that's just plush enough to not irritate him, but stimulating enough to remind him of where he is.

Pleased to have pleased Will, Hannibal runs the cloth up and down the length of Will’s left arm, then the right, asks him to prop his right leg up on the rim of the bath, and then the left. Drags it about his stomach, his thighs, and the sensitive parts of his neck that make Will need to suppress a giggle.

Will doesn’t feel like talking about why he was playing in the woods in the first place, why he keeps whining instead of speaking clearly, why he feels so spoiled and idle, all in the body of a grown man; Will Graham, to be exact, to whom life did not afford such luxuries. He especially did not want to discuss why he sought out Hannibal specifically, or why Hannibal was so immediately receptive. And so he didn’t, because he didn’t need to. For once, by God, he didn’t need to.

“I know it’s uncomfortable for you,” Hannibal says as he tilts Will’s head back and pushes his hair away from his face, letting a glass of water cascade through it. (He always had a special way of reading Will’s mind, and it’s always impressive before it becomes just short of uncanny). “Being dirty, and then wet, all in somewhere unfamiliar. Clothes you’ve never worn, scents you’ve never smelled. But I assure you, you’ve got nothing to worry about here. There is nobody that needs saving. Nothing that exists outside of this room.”

He rakes his hands through Will’s curls, fingers catching on dense locks and tight knots. Will leans into his grasp, shoulders resting against the back of the tub. He doesn’t register Hannibal rinsing out the shampoo and then the conditioner, nor a gentle tapping at his bicep.

“It’s time to get out now, Will.”

Will whines.

“Don’t be petulant. Come now, let’s get out.”

“Don’t wanna leave,” Will says tiredly, hardly pronouncing his vowels.

“The tub or the house?”

“House,” he yawns.

“You can stay in my home for as long as you’d like, Will. I just need you out of here, okay? Could you do that for me?”

Will nods slowly, wishing he could fall asleep here and be done with it. But Hannibal is making a request of him, and he’s already burdened him so greatly, both in this night and in generally dragging him into his own issues; he shouldn’t reject him. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he shouldn’t, either out of moral obligation or out of fear of slipping further into whatever this was. He never cared before about whether he came off as rude or impolite.

Granted, though, that was before, and before he wasn’t being bathed by his psychiatrist while he had mini-meltdowns.

He allows himself to be assisted into standing and then dried off from head to toe with a plush microfiber towel, exquisite and soft. Will could drown in the sensation. The water in the tub is murky and brown as it swirls down the drain. Hannibal doesn’t bother to ask Will if he needs help dressing himself— he needed help the last several times, after all— and takes the liberty of doing it for him, buttoning up his top and slipping on his bottoms, long and loose and airy. Cold against his skin. They're a bit big on him— Will wonders if this was on purpose— and hang off of his frame, giving the impression of a child playing dress-up rather than an adult clad in their own bedtime garb.

Hannibal meticulously dries his hair, pausing occasionally to comb through it with his fingers and fluff it back into place. Unnecessary, time-consuming. Will basks in the strange sensation of being worthy of such attention.

He remembers very little of the rest of the night, save for Hannibal leading him down the hall and into a room with a large bed in the center, being sat on the edge, feeling as if he craved something he could not yet have. Feeling the exhausted arms of his heart reach for Hannibal as he bid him good night and disappeared. He left the door cracked and a sliver of light spilled through. Will had never been so afraid of the dark before.

When he wakes, his clothes are folded neatly on the nightstand and his shoes are waiting beside the front door, all impeccably cleaned as if he had bought them brand new. He gets dressed and leaves before he can smell breakfast wafting through the many rooms and it’s midnight when he returns home, for he had spent several hours driving in a straight line. He’d stop for gas, keep driving, run out of gas, and the cycle would repeat until the large Tennessee Welcomes You sign bid him back to reality.

His dogs sniff him curiously, his feet and his legs. He no longer smells of fish and offensive cologne; rather, soft pine and woodland, something that would sit on the highest, highest shelf at Bath & Body Works. Something Will likely wouldn’t choose for himself but suited him anyway.

Will almost doesn't recognize his scent either, feeling foreign in his own home. He does notice, however, how his clothes and body are as clean as they had ever been. Not that Will is unkempt, reeks every day, or doesn’t take care of himself. He, most days, simply isn’t as on top of it as his peers, and especially not Hannibal. (He also seems to attract the brunt of dirt and grime like flies to a glue trap; perhaps that is why everybody around him is so well kept in comparison to him, there’s no dirt left to sully them).

He removes his work boots in a daze, hangs his coat on the hanger, and takes a seat in the center of his couch, as he absentmindedly scratches Winston’s head, or perhaps Buster, or another dog he’d (regrettably) forgotten the name of. As he lays in bed, splayed on his back and covers thrown off, he briefly remembers he has an appointment scheduled tomorrow evening with Hannibal. Dragging a hand over his face seems to be the only appropriate reaction.

They can discuss the events of the night then. Of course they can. And Hannibal will have all the answers for him and then things can go back to the way they’ve been. He can tell him he needs to get his behavior in check, stop snapping at people, and keep a handle on his sense of reality. Hannibal can tell him, and he will listen. He always does.

That comes later, though. Tonight, Will is fatigued beyond the point of comprehension and doesn’t fall asleep so much as pass out, the feeling of being pampered never quite wearing off.

[cloudninetonine]

I like your. Mess au but could you please give the nicknames and corresponding games of all the gannons I'm getting just a tiny bit confused on who is who.

Okay this is fair, I was trying to introduce all the men one by one but I understand even then its still pretty confusing so

The Hero of the Tide (Tide), he's villain! Wind's Hero counterpart. He's the oldest of all the Ganons and he's basically a grandad in personality. (Wind Waker)

The Hero of Nature (Nat) is villain! Wild's counterpart. He's the youngest. Similar to Wild's he's got a great likeness for nature and loves exploring and just being a daredevil in general. Also like Wild he's the cook of the group. (Seeing BOTW only really has cooking optional) (BOTW)

The Hero of Eve (Eve) is villain! Twilight's counterpart. He's the scholar and the one who deals with more technical stuff and very knowledgeable so he usually makes the plans. (Twilight Princess)

These are the guys that have been properly introduced, now for those that haven't been properly introduced yet.

The Hero of Kings (King) is villain! Time's counterpart. He's the second youngest, a broody guy and is the guy who tried to interrogate Player when they initially joined the campfire. (OOT)

The Hero of Soldiers (Solly) is villain! Warriors' counterpart. He's a loud guy with a huge love for fighting and is the best physical fighter of the group. (Hyrule Warriors)

The Hero of Betzalel (Betzy) is villain! Four's Ganon. Hes friendly with the Minish and can be found covered in them. He also looks like a giant bokoblin (he wears a cape) (Thats all I got for him ATM because I don't think JoJo has explained Four's timeline so I don't know how to work him in? If anyone knows more please help) (Four's Sword Adventures)

The Hero of the Oracles (Oracle/Orca) is villain! Legend's Ganon. He was the first to be cursed with his pig like appearance (he's dark blue in colour) by the villain and is one of the ones more versed in magic (similar to Legend) (A Link to the Past)

The Hero of the Famine is villain! Hyrule's Ganon. The second oldest, he still is embedded with the curse so he also has a big like appearance (he's a light blue with chopped ears) and is more closed off. He's also a blacksmith. (The Legend of Zelda (first game))

The Hero of the Pestilence (Pes) is villain! Koridai's Ganon. He differs from the other cursed ones, brown in colour and is more expressive. He talks in rhymes and riddles and is one of the more magic inclined. (Legend of Zelda CDI)

The Hero of Power is villain! Courage's Ganon. Once again, he differs from the others cursed looking more boar like that anything. He's the most powerful with magic in the group bot to mention a giant man child despite being the second oldest, tied with Famine. (Legend of Zelda animated series)

AND THATS ALL THE GANONS I HOPE THIS HELPS :D