#ft my personal headcanon that Chris uses to get into fights a lot

[greenand-blue]

Chris smells like the forest, woody, earthy, with all the force of an early spring monsoon. Green tea with milk and honey, dirt and sweat and the faint iron of blood from bruised knuckles and scraped knees and busted lips. The clean scent of the hand lotion he uses to desperately soothe the screaming calluses on his palms from climbing everything in sight that he swears is unscented. The quiet understanding and security of a library. Middle shelf liquor and willingly bloodying your knuckles for the ones you love. Spitting blood in the sink at 2am and praying no one sees it. The restless whispers on the wind of “let’s go”. The sharp scent of the middle of the night, right before it snows.

Chris Kratt smells like adventure.

Martin smells like the ocean; salty and sweet and inviting and dangerous all at the same time. Chocolate ice cream and vanilla lattes and a foraged meal in the middle of nowhere. He smells like the grace and patience and protectiveness that can only come with being an eldest sibling, the glue that holds everyone together. Dirt and sweat from the trail, the spray deodorant he only bought because it had a kraken on the label. Clean linen and little bits of everyone else, parts of his family rubbed off onto him from the constant hugs he offers. He smells like it’s his god given right to seize every day he’s given. He smells warm, like hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. Watching the sun set over a calm ocean, feeling safe.

Martin Kratt smells like home.

Aviva smells like lavender, fresh and wild. She smells like oil and metal and that fruity body spray she shares with Koki that the two insist on stocking up on whenever they’re in Germany. Black coffee and espresso shots and energy drinks, she smells like too much to do and not enough sleep. Gears turning and a fire burning in her belly, a desperate fight to make sure her hard work will one day pay off and her legacy will be remembered. Constantly striving to be better; a better inventor, a better friend, a better human. The same hand lotion Chris uses, but she is humble enough to admit that it smells like fresh cut grass. Pride and confidence and the skills to back them up.

Aviva Corcovado smells like innovation.

Koki smells like a wood stove, fiery and passionate. The fruity body spray she shares with Aviva, mixed with mocha lattes and the sweat of weightlifting. Hair oil and silken bonnets. The exhaust her computers spew out. Brown liquor and fried food. Hot maple syrup served at a diner with waffles and strawberry lip gloss. The scent of being unafraid to throw a punch when her family is in danger; never starting fights, but always ending them. She smells like getting the last laugh and blackmail and always having something on someone.

Koki smells like family.

Jimmy smells like freshly baked bread, warm and inviting. Hearty meals wafting from the kitchen, welcoming his loved ones inside to rest after a long day. The warmth of a wood stove. Old Spice deodorant and sickly sweet clouds of the best weed, which no one knows who he gets it from and he refuses to tell, but at least he’s willing to share. Stone washed denim and green apple shampoo and new converse sneakers and fearful curiosity. Skateboard decks and scraped knees and Neosporin and band-aids from one too many falls. He smells like talking your way out of a fight, immediately getting help when someone’s hurt. Chocolate covered kettle corn and movie nights and vanilla bean frappchinos.

Jimmy smells like togetherness.