#headcanon tuesdays

[staff]

Tumblr Tuesday: Brills!

Hello to all sleuths, dead or alive, demon-tormented or pixie-riddled! You're celebrating the dead boy detectives and their friends and foes in style, and we're so here for it. 

(Spoilers ahead! Please proceed with the same caution you would perhaps employ upon approaching a ghost trapped in the here and now <3)

@masdane:

@meybuyan:

@oldekvitee:

@gh0st-fl0wers:

@leahaart:

@dotswithbrainrot:

@uselessheretic:

@lottiedoesthings:

@royale1803:

@miyunnnaise:

@emeriart:

@vveris:

@call-me-oluss:

@breenanabread:

@lilyznow:

@lorastyrels:

@shamelessly-obsessed:

@gardenveela:

@lottiedoesthings:

@hansoeii:

@vampirictadpole:

[ameliora-j]

ur the only person i trust who can give me a filthy but soft smut of james potter fucking y/n in his ice hockey jersey

i’m honored 🥹

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

content: soft dom!james, cnc, hockey player!james, pr manager!girlfriend!reader, humiliation, degradation, oral (f!receiving), daddy kink, jamie talking to ur pussy, impact play, unprotected piv, creampie, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

“james…” you groan, trying to push him away as he has you pressed up against your desk in your office. “cut it out!” you groan as he kisses down your neck.

“oh baby” james chuckles, shaking his head. james towers over you, and his ice hockey jersey are purposefully tailored to be longer and bigger on him so that they can fit over all his gear—thus causing every single one of his jerseys to be a dress on you. this—accompanied by a pair of thigh high boots—was your signature game day look. “you’re wearing the jersey, you’re asking to be split open on my cock and you know it” he chuckles lowly, nipping at your ear.

you whine, shaking your head as you push him back once more. “stop james. i’m serious, i’m not fucking you” you huff softly.

“uh huh baby… whatever you say” he murmurs, sinking to his knees and pushing your legs apart. he pushes his jersey up over your hips and tuts his tongue, shaking his head softly. “and look at that… you don’t wanna fuck but this little cunt is nice and uncovered for me” he hums, noting that you’d foregone panties—and james knew you expected this.

“my poor girl’s gonna be so cold on that ice tonight” he pouts softly, shaking his head as he rubs a thumb over your slit.

“james!” you squeak. “i’ll be fine” you shake your head.

“hush baby, do your work. ‘m talking to my girl” he chuckles softly. your eyes widen and heat rises immediately to your face as you realize james is speaking to your pussy, not you. “‘s okay pretty princess… i’ll make sure you keep warm tonight” he whispers before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your little clit.

he hums softly, his eyes rolling a bit at the taste before he wraps his mouth around your cunt, wiggling his tongue through your sticky folds. “that’s right princess, knew you wanted daddy” he whispers to your cunt, leaning back and spitting on your pulsing hole. “‘s okay… daddy’s here. gonna clean you up baby. make it all better” he hums to your pussy before diving back in.

“j-james… james!” you moan loudly, reaching back and pushing his head closer to your needy cunt. he chuckles against you, slapping your ass.

“i knew you’d come around” he mumbles, standing and beginning to undo his pants.

“n-no… no james i’m not fucking you! i’m trying to tell you we need to go” you whine, shaking your head insistently.

“yeah princess, i hear you” he nods, running his cock through your slit a few times. “there’s my girl” he groans as he feels your wetness soaking his cock. “it’s okay, i’ll give it to you… no need to cry” he chuckles lowly as your pussy drips down onto his cock.

he groans lowly as he slowly pushes into your cunt, practically whining as he bottoms out. “oh you’re so tight” he breathes, holding your hips.

“j-james… jamie stop” you whine as he begins to fuck you. his pace is slow but intentional, his hips angled to hit your gspot head on each time he slams his cock back into you.

“oh baby, you’re begging me to stop but my princess is begging to cum” he murmurs, gently rubbing your clit as he fucks you slow and hard. “it’s okay pretty girl… if you want daddy to stop all you have to do is cum” he taunts, holding you close to him as he fucks you slowly.

you whine, shaking your head as it falls back against his shoulder. “your pussy is crying for me… squeezing around me. oh baby she wants to cum so bad” he mocks, beginning to rub your clit faster. he keeps his pace slow, but pounds your gspot mercilessly as you cry out his name along with profanities.

“daddy!” you whine as you gaze at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“oh there’s my pretty princess” he hums softly, smiling lovingly at you as he leans in and gives you a kiss. you whimper softly, meeting his thrusts as you kiss him back. “‘s my good girl. take my cock so well” he mumbles, kissing across your shoulders.

“daddy… i wanna cum” you whimper, your eyes rolling as you clench around him.

“i know baby… i know daddy’s right there” he mumbles. “why don’t you milk my cock baby?” he hums, kissing your cheek. “cum for me… squeeze daddy’s cum from that big cock” he groans lowly.

you let out a long, loud moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as you cream on james’ cock. he sucks in air through his teeth, fucking you through your orgasm as his hips begin to stutter until he paints your walls with his cum. “what do you say baby?” he mocks as he rides out his orgasm, fucking you full of his cum.

“thank you, daddy” you moan quietly, smiling lazily at him.

[tribbles-the-lesbian]

💌Eddie Dear💌 Headcanon

(feat. ⭐️Sally⭐️!!)

So this thought has been stuck in my head for at least a month, soooooooo….

As I was learning French, my teacher would always ensure us that we didn’t need a “French” accent to speak the language, so long as we pronounce the words correctly we’d be fine! He would then demonstrate by putting on a heavy-ass country accent and talked a bit in French (it was hilarious)

This knowledge came back to me a while ago (more like it simply resurfaced) and I immediately thought of our country puppet man Eddie!!

I feel like he’d be fluent in French and speaks it in a veryveryvery heavy accent. But he doesn’t speak it often in the neighborhood since not many other neighbors speak it, so whenever he hears Sally say one of the very few French phrase she knows (feel like she only knows well known phrases like “enchanté” and “je ne said quoi” to sound fancy~) Eddie gets all excited and starts talking to her in French while Sally just stands there not understanding a word being said. But she unintentionally keeps the conversation going by nodding her head/saying “mmm” or “hmmm!” at the right times, thus getting stuck in a loop of one-sided french conversations that she doesn’t understand :)

This is the little comic(?)thing I did to go along with this⤵️

EDIT: I added alt text in case my handwriting is hard to read!!

⬇️sketch version under the cut⬇️

[transaliyahh]

I'm here to suck some balls and ride my true lovers. Need your balls sucked??

Reblog me trans lovers 🥰

[wilstx-png]

*Shares*

[lousirs]

UD headcanons no one asked for!

my motivation has gone to get the milk and has not come back since, SO HEY! who wants to hear some random headcanons that have been microwaving in my head for the past year???

this is going to be a long one...

stuff under the cut vvv

Lou is the kinda guy to only pack nice looking outfits on a holiday. Do they suit the occasion? Probably not. But he wants to look the part every where he goes, even if he's wearing a suit during the middle of summer

He would also be the guy to complain that it's too cold, even though he was told to pack up layers of clothes for a hiking trip, and didn't. But when someone tries to give him a coat, he says "I don't need that, I'm fine!" even though he looks like he's going to freeze over.

He takes the coat not too soon after

On the other hand, either Nolan or Ox would overpack for a trip. Ox because he is basically the fatherly figure of the group, and wants to make sure that everyone has enough food, water, and layers of clothing for the trip. Oh, and he brings a first aid kit as well. Nolan however does it because "What if I didn't pack enough?? What if I need this oddly specific thing??" and packs more than he needs to

Speaking of Ox, he always came off as a character who really enjoys camping and exploring, ya know? He seems like the leader of a scout group who loves to sing campfire songs and tell spooky stories that no one believes. (him and Rhidian would get along well)

LITERALLY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT LUCKYBAT AND OX'S DYNAMIC AND IT'S DRIVING ME WILD. Hello?? A withdrawn and somewhat jaded mayor who is protective of those he's close to with his intelligent, caring and concerned assistant?? That sounds interesting!

I'm sure LuckyBat knows more than anyone else (besides Lou) of what Ox went through. Perhaps he didn't know about the Institute, but he knew ox went through some stuff outside Uglyville. Perhaps that's why he's so cautious to go into the pipe.

(And perhaps the reason why he decides to go to learn new stuff was for the sake of finding out what Ox doesn't speak about?)

Back to the Prettydolls, I always found it interesting that Nolan was able to run the gauntlet despite being imperfect, although Moxy and Mandy, two other imperfect dolls, were thrown into recycling. Why was Nolan allowed to run the gauntlet, huh Lou? Didn't you say that any unideal looking doll goes to recycling, Lou????

Personally, I like to think that Lou allowed Nolan to do training and was like "Haha watch this idiot fail". And turns out Nolan was really good at it (flashbacks to Nolan being buff in the novel). Lou is flabbergasted.

...Either that or Lou just allowed him to run the gauntlet to watch him fail immediately because "Haha funny" and also "Haha imperfects can't win. Suck it loser~"

Kitty is jealous of Mandy's makeup skills, and often copies her because of it, too embarrassed to ask for advice because she needs to learn on her own. After Lou gets overthrown, Kitty and Mandy help each other out on their makeup and hair

Tuesday is the girl to think that "Yeah I'm smiling, but inside I'm crying" is the deepest thing to ever exist. Kitty bullies her for it.

Also, Tuesday cry-sings "I'm a mess" by Bebe Rexha after Lou denied her 1244th love confession. She will try again tomorrow

Because Kelly Clarkson was pop-rock for a while, I like to imagine that Moxy had a rock-n-roll rebellious phase, and still has a few characteristics from that era of her life

During the scene where Lou is going up the gauntlet lift with everyone else, he is constantly moving about. Winking at Mandy to fake confidence, adjusting his suit...etc. I always saw this has him being nervous, because you know, he's about to expose himself for being a prototype after this gauntlet stuff is over. So I like to think that he fiddles around with his suit when he's nervous. Mainly readjusting the sleeves, tightening his ascot tie and flicking out his collar. Also pulling out loose threads, if there is any.

I thought for the longest time that when Lou's hair got slightly messier, it showed him being more genuine. There is one god damn strand on his fringe that goes from being in place to hanging out, and I thought it showed him losing his façade, very very subtly.

This might be a hot take but I always saw Loundy (Mandy/Lou) as being friends/lovers to enemies. Think about it: Lou and Mandy seemed to have some sort of connection, Mandy (in my opinion) basically being Lou's assistant, similar to the spy girls. She began thinking he was perfect, and they formed a (seemingly) close bond. But over time, as Lou's desperation for perfection increased, her opinion of him soured, and she realised he isn't as perfect as she thought. She kept the negative thoughts to herself, though. Who would believe her? The perfect doll with the flawless looks and endless talents, topped off with a charming personality... Why would he be unhinged? How would he be unhinged?

You know that line Mandy says to Lou at the gauntlet? "You know, Lou.. When I first got here, I thought you were perfect. I couldn't find a single thing wrong with you. But, I can see a lot better now." perhaps that wasn't just talking about the events of the film, as it probably implies. Maybe she knows how terrible he's been for a long time...

That's all I got for now, I may doodle some of these if motivation comes back, who knows..

[everythingwasnormalhere]

if anyone wanna help me and make art to announce @southparktober ? thatd be great (jst if yall want ofc)

youd get credits and all

and itd be you pickin what to draw n all

i just wanna someone to make stuff like the ones for kyle week like "3 days left" etc etc

its yalls choice but ya XD if anyone wants to pls tell :3

[chobani-flip]

"if i sits, i flies"

so for the tuesday tidbit @tiltingheartand tagged me in, this is it: im breaking the rules a bit by posting a tommy headcanon

tommy can fly anything that he can pilot from the inside

buck finds out while they're in bed, enjoying the after-afterglow. he's got his phone out, scrolling through wikipedia and he's kinda teasing, kinda flirting, kinda just running his mouth, naming different vehicles that can be flown

and tommy goes: "yeah, i could fly that" every time. and maybe even: "flown that"

and thus, buck unwittingly talks himself into showing his competence kink and going a second round, because at some point, the idea that his hot pilot boyfriend can control and maneuver those kind of behemoths through the sky????

maybe he whimpers a little bit when tommy confirms the blimp

(it later transpires, perhaps at denny's bday party, that tommy cannot fly a drone. to great comedic results. he promises to buy denny a new one)

idk it might be a fic some day. for right now, i wanted to share my amusing headcanon with a wider audience no-pressure tagging folks i have talked to (and who might not have been tagged yet?) who i hope won't think it's weird of me: @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat @bucktheally @dadvans

[breakfastteatime]

The ceiling that greets Cal when he opens his eyes in not the Mantis. Rocky. Slightly drippy. Sandy beneath him. Sea salt in the air. Is he at the beach? All things considered, Cal has definitely been in worse situations. Like way worse. Like, like... like the actual worst. Right? He's been in worse situations, hasn't he?

BD beeps a dubious affirmative. Then he asks which Cal prefers - being trapped under the ocean on Nur, or being stuck in this cave?

"Secret answer 3: both suck." Cal giggles.

BD scuttles away, telling someone else Cal is awake and -

"My words are not slurring!"

"Yes, Cal, they are. You have a head injury."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

He'll show her. "Hey. Hey, Merrin?"

Merrin takes a deep breath from somewhere nearby. "Yes?"

"Could a head injury guy ask you this? Would you rather fight a hundred BD-sized rancors, or a rancor sized BD?"

Merrin whispers something in a language Cal doesn't speak. It doesn't sound like an answer.

"It's a good question!"

"It is a question that suggests you have damaged your brain permanently."

Cal snorts. And pauses. "Is that why I can taste blood?"

"Do you remember being knocked out?"

Cal gives this a good ponder. "No," he eventually decides.

Merrin sighs. "What do you remember?"

"Uuuuum..." Beach trip. Missing kids. Going into the cave. Finding missing kids? "Are there supposed to be kids here?"

"No, we got them out. And then the cave fell on your head. BD and I are keeping you company while Cere and Greez dig us out."

"Sounds great." Cal decides to sit up...

...bad idea. Oh, such a bad idea. Merrin wrinkles her nose as he throws up.

It's about that time that a large boulder blocking the tunnel moves and figures appear in the blinding sunlight.

"Cal! Merrin! BD!" Cere's voice echoes.

"BD and I are fine. Cal is asking about rancors."

"Cere, I gotta ask you something - "

"Perhaps you should send a medic in," Merrin says over him.

"Oh, oh, hey, medic person! What would you rather fight..."

[jellofiishh]

Since Jack Noir stole Bro’s shades after killing him do you think that. that the first Dave saw Bro without his shades was when looking down at his corpse

[ameliora-j]

Could you do a super cocky Niall that y/n does not like? Maybe they meet because y/n works at one of the concert venues that Niall is touring at, and even though everyone loves him, she thinks he's over confident and arrogant, as he keeps flirting with her and dirty talking (he's single in this scenario, of course). Eventually she ends up seeing him in his boxer briefs in his dressing room, and he sees that she's turned on, so he takes advantage and starts working her over with more flirting and dirty talk. And when he has her in the palm of his hand, he dominates. He has her get on her knees and beg for his cock, and he keeps telling her to take it deeper, and he's condescending and patronizing, and he keeps making her admit how good it tastes, etc. :D (Sorry, this is super horny lol. I'm excited for tour Niall!)

ugh i can’t wait for tour!niall sosowmen — i’m gonna start it from the dressing room part kinda hehe ᵕ̈

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

content -> mean dom!niall, cnc, oral (m!receiving), degradation, spit kink, humiliation, breath play, face fucking, slapping facial creampie, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

you sigh softly as you walk through the halls backstage at madison square garden. niall was now fifteen minutes late for sound check—and as the sound manager at the venue—you were tasked to go retrieve him.

you have no idea why everyone is in love with this guy, he’s so inconsiderate of others’ time and he’s too cocky for his own good. he could sense your annoyance with him, thus he’d been annoying you all week. you can’t help but wonder how such a cocky jackass could sell out madison square garden for four days.

you knock on his dressing room door twice before opening it. “horan! what could you possibly be doing that’s making you fif-“ your speech slows as you see him standing in the middle of the room, clad only in his boxer briefs. he was clearly freshly showered as his hair was wet and small droplets of water were still falling down his chest. you swallow thickly as you continue “-teen minutes… late?” you whisper.

niall smirks a bit, he knew you were into him, and he’s finally got you. “what was that, pet?” he hums, uncurling his body from where he was drying his hair. “didn’t quite catch that” he says, turning to face you—the imprint of his cock now visible.

you stammer, your mouth opening and closing a few fines as your throat runs dry. niall chuckles as he strides closer to you. “wha’s’a matter? cat got y’tongue?” he taunts, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“come in” he orders lowly and you nod softly, allowing the door to close behind you. “kneel” he whispers. without second thought, you drop to your knees and look up at him with bright eyes and widened pupils. “i knew you wanted me” he laughs meanly, hooking a finger in your cheek and forcing your mouth open.

he leans over and spits on your tongue, smearing a rough palm over your face. “made a pathetic attempt at hidin’ it, petal” he laughs. he forces your jaw closed once more, ordering you to swallow his spit from a look alone, and you don’t dare disobey.

“i’m going to make you suck my cock… n you’re going to tell me how much you like it… okay?” niall speaks slowly, as if you lack the intelligence to understand what he’s saying to you.

“okay” you say, your voice raspy as you hadn’t spoken in a while.

“she can speak!” niall gasps mockingly, and you flush a bit in embarrassment. “open your mouth” he hums, and your jaw drops before he’s even finished his sentence. “what a slut” he laughs, pulling his cock free. he slaps the head on your tongue a few times, and you hum at the taste of his precum. “do you like that, pet?” he hums softly.

“tastes good…” you slur, muffled around the thick muscle of his cock. he gives you no time to say more as he’s shoving his cock down to the back of your throat. you gag harshly, holding his hip as tears spring to your eyes.

“it’s okay baby, you can take it” he mumbles. he holds your hair back in a ponytail, using it as leverage while he fucks your face. the room is filled with the sound of gags and niall’s moans and grunts. your drool is causing a puddle to form on the floor below you. you gagged repeatedly each time his cock pressed into the back of your throat, slurping at the mess you were making as your spit began to bubble at the base of his cock.

niall sucks in air through his teeth, his head falling back a bit. as his balls slap against your chin, you stick your tongue out and lick around them—niall all but whines in pleasure. he swears quietly under his breath, looking down at you and pressing his cock all the way into your mouth, his heavy balls pressed close to your chin. “stick out your tongue” he growls as you gag. you press your tongue against his balls once more and he pinches your nostrils together.

you look up at him with wide eyes, a bit panicked as you fight for breath. you choke on his cock, your eyed rolling back as you let out a whine while niall holds you down. “you can take it baby, your fine. i’ll let you breathe soon” he mutters, grinding against your face and causing his cock to move around in your throat. “oh fuckin hell it’s so tight” he moans, pulling out when he sees your face paling a bit.

you cough harshly, heaving over breaths as tears cascade down your face, your mascara smeared. “tell me you liked it” niall orders, patting your cheek roughly as his left hand strokes over his dick.

“i liked it…” you whimper, shifting on your knees as you pout at him. “i-i really like the way you choke me on your cock… it… tastes so good i want your cum please” you say through deep breaths. niall smirks with pride, forcing his cock back down your throat with no warning.

“that’s a good fucking whore” he grunts, beginning to fuck your throat once more. he holds your face still, using your mouth and throat as if they’re his own personal fleshlights, relishing in the filthy sound of your gags and whines. he pressed his cock as deep into your throat as it’ll go, taking his balls in his hands and forcing them into your mouth as well as you gagged harshly.

“said you want my cum, right?” he grunts, looking down and spitting on your face. you whine softly, gurgling out something that sounded similar to a ‘please’ which causes niall to chuckle. “you’ll get it, pet” he growls, thrusting roughly into your throat a few more times.

you feel his balls swell and tense up against your chin, and he whines as he pulls out, stroking his cock rapidly. “fuck, stick out your tongue” he moans, his hips stuttering as he fucks his hand, the tip of his cock pressed to your tongue. you follow his orders with ease, moaning as the first drops of his cum drizzle onto your tongue. you moan softly at the taste, and the vibrations send niall fully over the edge.

he lets out a loud, throaty moan as his eyes close in pleasure. his cum sprays out in ropes onto your tongue, cheeks, and nose as he lets out a slew of curse words. niall thrusts into your mouth a few more times to ride out his own orgasm before slowly pulling out, breathing heavily as he looks at you.

“you look so pretty covered in my cum” he smirks softly, pushing your hair back. “i knew you would” he winks—noting the first pick up line he’d laid on you.

[hom3landr]

He hears you cry at night sometimes, when you think he’s asleep. You’ll bury your face in his chest as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. It’s usually after he lets something slip about his childhood…about his time in the bad room. The initial flash of pain in your eyes is always brief, quickly smoothed over by a kind word and a hand in his hair. You try to sweep negative emotions under the rug, as though you think you’re protecting him. Self introspection is not something he’s good at but even he knows that it’s because he’s not capable of providing the comfort you need. He’s happy to preen under your hands instead.

But it does start to concern him when he’s being woken up by the smell of your tears more often than not. He doesn’t need to look at the clock tonight to know it’s late. You’re clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. Your face is hot and puffy with despair. His chest tightens as he watches you without your walls up. Why won’t you share this with him? Do you not think he can handle it? (Can he?)

He gently runs his hand down your spine and you jolt like you’ve just been shocked. You wiggle out of his grasp before he can keep you pressed against him. You try to wipe the tears from your cheeks but it’s a sisyphean task as your eyes continue to well and sting. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s from being caught and your insistence on trying to hide again causes the tightness to turn to anger. You owe him the truth. Why is everyone always keeping secrets from him?

He grabs your wrist harshly and rougher than he intends to and your squeal of pain makes him withdraw like he’s been burned. It’ll only bruise but it reminds him of how unequal the power balance between the two of you is. You don’t look angry at him. You just look sad and numb and that’s somehow worse. He doesn’t know what to do and the angry flame burns brighter in his chest at how unfair everything is. Your relationship is perfect so why can’t things just be happy for once? Why does it always end this way?

Despite nursing your sore wrist, he can see your expression soften. He knows this look. You’re about to put on your mask again. You’re going to sooth him until he’s cooing under your touch and he forgets all about it. He doesn’t want that. You’re constantly ripping away his walls and exposing that raw aching weakness inside him. You cradle it like it’s a fragile bird. He could tear your arm from your body like ripping apart wrapping paper but he can’t make you trust him the way he does you. It doesn’t matter if he’d only be able to handle it with clumsy hands. At least it would be something honest.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “I didn’t mean to wake you up”

“Why are you crying?” He demands. Your shoulders slump at the harshness in his tone. There’s a split second where he hates you. He fucking hates you because you’re supposed to be different.

“I love you. I love you so much that I don’t know how to handle it sometimes,” You confess weakly. It’s true. You aren’t lying.

His brow furrows in confusion as tears continue to roll down your cheeks. You’d just told him you loved him. Loving him wasn’t supposed to make you sad. He opens his mouth to reply but you gently hush him. His teeth clench in annoyance but his response dies in his throat.

“It’s not fair. Any of it. I want to help but I can’t. I can’t change anything. You tell me these horrible things and I can only sit there and run my fucking fingers through your hair like that makes what happened to you better. I watch you be cruel. I watch you hurt and hurt other people. It’s just one huge fucked up cycle and the sad thing is that I’m terrified that one day you won’t need me anymore. You come home with blood on your hands and my first thought isn’t to worry about the person that blood belongs too.” You choke out your confession, finally allowing your pain to surface. Homelander recognizes this emotion but it isn’t the one he expected. You feel guilty, as though you blame yourself for the havoc he wrecks. Oddly, it hurts less than he thought it would.

He understands guilt, even if he’s not sure he’s ever truly felt it. He’s protected from it. Slowly over the years it had been beat out of him. Knowing that’s what has you so distraught makes him chuckle. It’s such a human emotion. Your guilty conscious is comforting to him. You wouldn’t feel guilty for the actions that he commits if you were planning on leaving him. It’s flattering really, that you suffer for him so. It is a form of love in itself. He certainly prefers it over fear.

You’re panting heavily in the wake of your confession, body tense as you prepare for his reaction. He knows you aren’t scared, just prepared for battle. He gently reaches for your injured wrist, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the already swelling bruise. You sigh at his caresses, relieved that there will be no argument tonight. You follow his lead tentatively as he tugs you against him.

“Babe, I don’t know how to break this to you but you look like a fucking chipmunk when you cry.” He laughs, holding you tight against him even as you angrily try to shuffle away.

“I bare my soul to you and that’s how you reply?” You huff, the sadness in your voice is replaced with righteous anger. Good. Homelander considers anger to be a very useful emotion. It easily hides all the unpleasant ones that hurt a little too much to think about. That’s how he’s survived so long. Anger is healing…or at least it’s a band-aid to keep the wound from leaking. Not that he has ever needed a band-aid or had an injury that needed tending. He just knows that anger and cold calculated spite feels comforting, like a warm (blue) blanket around his shoulders. He can give that to you.

“Also, you got snot all over my suit so you’re gonna owe me for the dry cleaning bill.” He ducks his head to avoid a swat. He forgot how cute you are when you’re angry. It’s like watching a kitten hiss and spit.

“You’re an asshole!” You wriggle and pound on his chest but he refuses to let you go.

“Mmmhmm but you love me. You can’t take it back now.” He purrs against your ear. You grumble, caught in your own trap. It’s not like you’d be able to deny it anyway. How could you not love him? Even when it hurts you, you press on anyway. It almost makes everything he’s endured worth it…almost.

You don’t cry at night after that, even if the emotions are still bubbling under the surface. He doesn’t know if it’s because talking helped, or you simply became more clever about hiding it. It doesn’t matter anyway. You love him. You love him and he loves you. This love is immolating and painful but beautiful. If he’s being honest…he’s glad to know that you’re as raw and undone as he is. He promises himself that he’ll be as careful with your weakness as you are with his. He owes you that much.

[starrystevie]

it’s the routine soft intimacies that come with living, breathing, existing with someone for as long as they have.

it's when they hug and steve knows his arms will always find a home around eddie's waist, his face finding solace in the crook of his neck, his lungs full of eddie as he takes in a grounding breath. it's eddie's arms always slung over steve's shoulders when they embrace, pulling him in like he needs him close and they both know it's because he does, his lips pressed to the crown of steve's head as a reminder that he's there.

it's when they want to hold hands and they know each other's tells. they know that steve will bump shoulders then elbows then backs of hands before lacing their fingers together, thumb rubbing wherever it can reach in a steady rhythm. they know that eddie will trail fingertips over the veins in steve's wrist to feel his fluttering heartbeat and then dance his fingers down to clasp around steve's, pulling his arm over his chest so steve can feel him breathing.

it's when they sit in the living room to watch tv and the arm chair is steve's and the couch is eddie's until it's not because suddenly it's halfway through family feud and steve crawls between eddie's legs to lay against his chest like clockwork. it's when they have cleaning day and the kitchen is steve's because he hates how eddie loads the dishwasher and eddie dusts because he knows steve won't pick things up, just dusts around them. it's when they go to the grocery store and steve pushes the cart, checks things off the list, and eddie looks over produce to make sure they aren't too brown for steve.

it's the little things that can go unsaid because they've said them enough or lived them enough or some mixture of both where there's comfort in simplicity. steve knows when eddie wakes up and makes coffee immediately that it'll be a good day ending in dancing in the kitchen with cool tiles under their bare feet. eddie knows when steve wears that sweater with the blue on the trim that he needs a little extra support, a hand through his hair and a kiss on the cheek, a whispered forever promise in his ear.

it's learning how to love someone the way they want to be loved. it's adapting and giving to take and taking to give and intrinsically being what the other needs. it's steve and eddie, who alone are great but together are better. it's them, knowing that steve will always wrap his arms around eddie's waist and knowing that eddie will always sling his around steve's neck and knowing that when they always take in a deep breath full of the other, it's because they're home.

[tiedsh0es]

she could fix him but in a platonic besties kind of way

[doodles-kit]

HorroDay Headcanon

Getting to listen to Tuesday's voice lines. The fuel for the crack ship lit up more.

Because I can see these two just hanging out in the motel, with Tuesday telling Horropedia about the weird ass shits that happens in the motel. Then Horropedia has that mesmerized daze look while attentively listening to her.

[hekateinhell]

Can Armand fly? Like does he have the ~Cloud Gift~ so to speak, or does he not? I can’t remember..

And he doesn’t seem to have/use the Fire Gift too right, or am I wrong?

Armand’s powers are so interesting to me, the way he can make life like illusions like no other (at least I can’t remember an Anne Rice vampire making that kind of illusions, maybe I’m wrong) is somehow so ‘compliant’ with his character.

I remember when Daniel is about to be turned, Armand creates this illusion for him and Daniel’s description is so haunting for some reason, like he can actually smell the flowers, he can see the stars, he can pick a leaf from a tree and he even sees Armand’s damp footprints on the ground(!) Imagine being able to conjure up an illusion like that.. jeez

And he seems to have been able to do it when he was a younger vampire too, right?

Like didn’t he draw mortals who were ready to die from their homes with some kind of illusion, so he could feed on them? (That is also so compliant with his character for some reason now I think about it)

God, he really is SUCH a good character I can’t get over him. I need to have his name tattooed on my body (like Armand definitely tried to convince Daniel to do. ‘Daniel, can’t you get this tattoo of my name on your arm? I want to see how it is done :3’)

Armand does have the Cloud Gift!

The very first mention of Armand being able to fly is in MtD, where Lestat seems rather surprised to realize that he can:

The steel buttons of his [Armand's] denim jacket were icy cold, as though he had come from some far worse winter in a very few moments of time. We are never entirely sure about each other's powers. It's all a game. I would no more have asked him how he got here, or in what manner, than I would ask a mortal man how precisely he made love to his wife. ~ Lestat, MtD

Unrelated but I'm always so thirsty for any insights as to how vampires view their relationships to each other within vampiric norms, and I think it's fascinating that even two vampires who've known each other for so long and have such a complex, intertwined history as Armand and Lestat do don't really know how powerful the other is and it would be taboo to ask. Scandalous!

Thank you to @thecactifindahome for reminding me that Armand actually has known how to fly for quite a while!

By my own will, and with the first explosion of my blood in the light of the morning sun, I had been driven upwards, as high perhaps as I could go. For centuries I'd known how to climb to airy heights and how to move there, but I'd never pushed it to a conceivable limit, but with my zeal for death, I had strained with all my available strength to move Heavenward. My fall had been from the greatest height. ~ Armand, TVA

Armand also has the Fire Gift, which is first noted in PL:

“You go to New York, my friend, and Armand will burn you to cinders,” said Killer. “Oh, not Benji or Sybelle, no, and maybe not even Louis ... but Armand will do it and they won’t bat an eye. And they can do it too. They have Marius’s blood in their veins, those two. Even Louis’s powerful now, got the blood of the older ones in him. But Armand is the one who kills. There are eight million people in Manhattan and four members of the Undead. I warn you, Antoine, they won’t listen to you. They won’t care that Lestat made you. Least I don’t think they will. Hell, you won’t even have a chance to tell them. Armand will hear you coming. Then he’ll kill you on sight. You do know they have to see you to burn you up, don’t you? They can’t do it unless they can see you. But Armand will hunt you down and you won’t be able to hide.” ~ Killer to Antoine, PL

Armand has always been incredibly powerful — even a newborn vampire — which I think is due to a few different factors:

Marius ensured that Armand received plenty of his blood during his turning

Prior to making Armand, Marius hadn't created another vampire since Pandora, some 1,500 years ago so the power in his blood was very potent

Marius's blood was so powerful to begin because of the regular infusions he received from Akasha, so the vampires in his line do tend to be powerful and gifted

This accounts for Armand's early strength and Mind Gift abilities (spellbinding and illusions).

Seeing as the Cloud Gift didn't come until after QotD, I headcanon Armand received a blood power-up from Marius (or perhaps another of the old ones, similar to how Maharet offered Louis her blood). Vampire powers evolve with time/age, surviving a burning, taking the blood of a much more powerful vampire.

Age gave him the Cloud Gift, and following his suicide attempt, Armand did drink from Lestat — so the combination of the burning and Lestat's blood likely contributed to him developing the Fire Gift soon afterwards.

Armand is also telekinetic:

I have most-powerful abilities to cast spells, to dislocate my vision, and to transmit my image over distances, and to affect matter both at close range and matter which is out of sight. ~ Armand, TVA

And last but not least, he may have the power to astral project although I don't believe it's explicitly spelled out but even as a mortal, he has an out of body experience witnessing himself dying, and later on when he's recounting his suicide attempt in TVA, he says this:

That is, having fallen on the roof, burnt and in unspeakable torment, I might have sought a desperate mental escape, projecting my image and my strength into Sybelle's apartment long enough to kill her brother. It certainly is possible for spirits to exert enough pressure on matter to change it. So perhaps that is exactly what I did-project myself in spirit form and lay hands upon the substance that was Fox, and kill him.

However, he doesn't actually believe that that's what happened in this particular instance, but it's the possibility that he is, in fact, powerful enough to do so. Armand was already so unique and "different" as a mortal child and adolescent (I would call this neurodivergent but that wasn't a term in the 15th century or anytime shortly after), that it makes sense his powers would be easily amplified and exceptional in their own right.

Re: his hunting style, it's described by Lestat when they first meet as:

He [Armand] had learned to summon those who truly wished to die. He had but to stand near the dwellings of mortals and call silently to see his victim appear. Old, young, wretched, diseased, the ugly or the beautiful, it did not matter because he did not choose. Dazzling visions he gave, if they should want to receive, but he did not move towards them nor even close his arms around them. Drawn inexorably towards him, it was they who embraced him. And when their warm living flesh touched him, when he opened his lips and felt the blood spill, he knew the only surcease from misery that he could know. It seemed to him in the best of these moments that his way was profoundly spiritual, uncontaminated by the appetites and confusions that made up the world, despite the carnal rapture of the kill. In that act the spiritual and the carnal came together, and it was the spiritual, he was convinced, that survived. Holy Communion it seemed to him, the Blood of the Children of Christ serving only to bring the essence of life itself into his understanding for the split second in which death occurred. ~ Lestat, TVL

Definitely within character, I agree :') for a character that to me reads as having been passively suicidal for most of his life, there is a bittersweet irony and perhaps even a misguided sense of mercy behind it.

AND YES YOU SHOULD ABSOLUTELY GET AN ARMAND TATTOO I WANT ONE SO BAD!!! character of all time, love of my life, etc etc you guys already know!!!!!