#mr love headcannons

[clearlydusty]

Game grumps just started playing danganronpa v3, so I might be kaito posting for a while if thats cool with ya'll

[evilmortimerirl]

"YOU UNDERESTIMATE ME RICK C-137 BECAUSE I HAVE A SECRET WEAPON THAT ALL RICKS SHOULD FEAR

A BABY MORTY!!!"

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

"Tf jit got a baby equip dawg..."

"Nahh jit kidnapped a baby..."

[willowandthesagaofgayyearning]

Ever thought about how Mccoy is the type of guy that both Spock and Jim know he loves them and both Spock and Jim outwardly say the words but Bones is never able to say it out loud and regrets it long after both the others are dead and has always regretted it

[r0tt1ngr4bb1t]

I don't regret Using Character Headcannon Generator 😭

[soupmanspeaks]

NO GUYS IM COOKING GUYS GLAMROCK FREDDY BEING ON STAGE WITHOUT A PLANNED ACT AND EVERY ONE SCRAMBLING SO HE JUST IMPROVISES BY JUST RANDOMLY DOING BALLET STUFF HE SOMEHOW CAN VAGUELY RECALL AND HE JUST CONFUSES EVERYONE BY DOING PERUETTES, LEAPS, AND OTHER EN POINTE STUFF GUYS

"freddy, what are we gonna do! we dont have an act planned!"

"chica, trust me, im cooking, trust"

-goes on stage-

"heyyyyy boys and girls! have you ever wanted to see a bear do a Saute?!"

This happens then he gets put in parts and service because he wasn't programmed to do that, somehow a robot just improvised and went against its own code to do ballet (but hey, at least he entertained the masses!)

[jessyurahara]

MLQC- Public Affection

Kiro

The word shy seemed to be missing from Kiro’s vocabulary. He was full of love for you and he never seemed to be ashamed of when to show it, rarely stopping to consider your own emotions or embarrassment. 

If anything, you were the one who started to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of attention afforded to you by Kiro, it was difficult not to be. You would rarely get a moments peace from the constant affection he wished to show you. He constantly wanted to hold onto some part of you. 

There were some days you wished he would just give you one day with a modest, by his standards, amount of affection, so you could feel just a little bit less suffocated. You had grown so accustomed to his constant displays of love, that without him there, you felt isolated. After that experience you learned to appreciate his presence, when he would swoop you up in his arms like there was no one else in the world apart from the both of you. 

Lucien

Lucien really seems to depend on his mood and location. Somedays he wants to hold you close and kiss your forehead without consideration for the rest of the world, and then on other days, his focus lays elsewhere and it slips his mind. He’s responsible enough to understand that there is always a Time and a place for these things, and that didm’t really bother you. 

When it comes to public displays of affection, Lucien would find himself often in a more nonchalant mood about it all, he would slip an arm around your shoulder while you’d be standing around having a casual conversation with your colleagues, and sometimes you would find yourself embarrassed by these interactions. 

His efforts of maintaining a cool composure in front of you were somewhat discarded, he was no longer the cool guy, that wasn’t to say he didn’t try and carry himself like that at times, but he didn’t deny himself the simple pleasures of your relationships; like kissing you under the glistening sunset or holding your hand as you strolled through the moonlit streets. He knew better than anyone that life was precious, and that all too soon, you could lose the person you cared for the most, he didn’t want his lack of attention towards you to be a regret in his life. 

Gavin

Gavin is driven by his want to be close to you, if he feels the desire to touch you, whether in a warm embrace or a kiss on the lips, he never tries to hide those feelings from you. It’s difficult now he has you trapped with him for him to even grasp the idea of suppressing his affections towards you. At first you weren’t even sure if you enjoyed the amount of eyes you would feel travel in your direction from the amount of affection he shows you, but eventually you grew to enjoy the attention from him. 

Gavin keeps you close at all times, a hand around your hip while you walk together, a kiss to your head, a kiss on the lips, it’s all too sweet for you. 

Eventually Gavin just started pulling you away from ever watching gazes of those around, pulling you into a hallway, round the side of a building, into a shaded alley, though this often leaves you looking strange to onlookers in some circumstances it also leaves you looking like two mischievous children about to pull a prank. It didn’t seem to bother Gavin though. He needs his daily doses of affection, and he’ll do anything to get it from you. 

Victor

Victor wasn’t so much one for PDA, not because he didn’t love you, but it wasn’t something he particularly viewed as the most professional behaviour he could exhibit in his role. Most of the time he dealt with people on a business only level, so he communication outside of business anyway for those in his personal life could often leave a lot to be desired, but you were willing to accept that about him, because he’s still the man whom you fell in love with. 

It took a while for Victor to warm up to the idea that the both of you were legitimately together, it wasn’t even that he didn’t understand the intricacies of being in a relationship but instead it was more the ideals he’d held so long about being the picture of professionalism. He’s unlikely to initiate anything beyond the bare minimum hands holding with yourself unless he is told to, but would certainly not push you away from him if you were to try something, in fact away from being alone he prefers it, it lets him know you want him close to you. 

You could hold his hand, or even kiss him in public and he wouldn’t be embarrassed by it, he just assumes you know far more about the ins and outs of relationships far more than he does, so he simply allows you to take the lead. 

Back to MLQC Headcannons

Headcannons/ Love Letters/ Stories/ Drabbles

[pumpkin-panik]

Headcannons P2

Mr plant is frequently caught induldging in some strawberry animal crackers

Argos really really REAAAAAAAALLY likes strawberry cows

Mr plant likes pumpkin spice coffee, for some reason

Argos despises coffee, unless its 99% creamer

Argos got stuck on top of a piano once and mr plant had to carry him home like a baby because he was spooked

When mr plant sneezes his petals fold in

Argos sometimes gets the sniffles after kissing mr plant because too much pollen

[fanficmaniatic]

Ninjago Last names are so funny to me, like I know we are doing the best we can we what we've got but like...

Take Kai for example, Japanese name, pretty sure is just the word for either Red or Fire. His last name? Well the fandom decided it was "Smith" an English last name for our character that grew up in feudal japan inspired village. To top this, he has spoken Spanish twice, so the common head cannon is that they are at least half Hispanic of some sort. The fandom looks at this and is like "Yeah but we could look more into the village he grew up in for our ethnicity head cannons, a name change is needed" so y'all pick "Jiang" a Chinese last name....

Dear creators, give last names to your characters please, don't make us go through this.

[whereismyhat5678]

okay...IT'S ME AGAIN- (now I will officially come to you in nightmares along with my headcanons <] )

Ahem, okay. I already told you everything I could but..burton. This is the same character about whom I know almost nothing, but... I already like this old man just from the drawings.

Let's start with that Burton is also 60 years old...sorry but I can’t think otherwise. and so burton is also a gentle chubby giant who supports mr. stick no matter what, I think that he is very good friends with gustavo and maybe noisette (he also comes to her for tea party even if the tea itself is terrible) I also think that he used to work as a pizzahead's servant (or something like an adviser and also I think that he does not support the way Mr. dick-*AHEM*, stick, steals Peppino’s money and perhaps Burton even returned Peppino’s money several times.)

Burton is certified (to me and how I portray him) SWEETEST 👏 MAN 👏

He will hug you when you need one, he apologizes (sometimes way to often poor honey-) and all around HE’S ADORABLE-

He’s the sweetest nicest kindest 60 year old big bear 💕💕💕 (And him also being with the other nicest kindest sweetest characters at a tea party PLEASE)

Also Stick and Burton are DEFINITELY doing something- It’s nice that he doesn’t really tolerate the behavior he has towards Peppino (AND EVEN PAYED HIM BACK THAT’S SO SWEET 💗💗💗💗) but he still loves him 💓💓💓

Burton is the best chubby gentle giant, absolutely adorable, we need more of him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏

[m-owo-n]

I KNOW Steddie’s song is basically Head Over Heels and all, but it’s also very common in fics that Steve is a fan of ABBA. So I want to know why I haven’t come across something like this happening:

“So if you had been in the clutches of Vecna, what song would we needed to play?”

“It’s definitely not up to your standard of music, but, I guess it’d have to be Head Over Heels”

Eddie snorts “Knew you’d be a Tears For Fears guy”

“Um” looking at Steve now, he’s blushing “ABBA, actually.”

[ima-ghost-art]

Something about Mistoffelees makes me want to liken him to Yuuri Katsuki???

Like if misto got depressed for a bit and stopped dancing for a while and also eating rice pudding all the time bc it was his favourite, no doubt in my mind he would just be a small Bustopher Jones, and that is perfect to me!

[yourssinfullyquiche]

;

Credits to PG for the image

Hello, all you beautiful people🥰 This is a request for my dear friend @shieriholmes. I'm enjoying getting to know you!

I hope this fic comforts you in your darkest times Lucien x reader Beta: @laxmiree, thank you for helping me! TW: Very angsty, tbh I don't know how to categorize this, the writing style is heavy

-

It happened again. 

The booming voices melding its frequencies to screams, the jarring lashes that strip my confidence and self worth, the angry whispers of words—words with a passion for bitterness and contempt from the very mouth of the one who was supposed to protect me.

From the one I was supposed to trust and seek refuge in. From the one that was supposedly responsible to care for me because we were of the same blood. Yet that phrase is merely an excuse to hurt without consequences because the wounds that bleed from the cuts to my heart festers with the severity of his existence.

My father’s existence. 

So I should be used to this right? I have lived with it all my life. Maybe it didn’t start right away, but the years of experiencing his unwarranted rage has trained me to automatically allow those words to fall onto deaf ears. And yes, it works. Because all I feel is numbness. Numb to the same but hurtful phrases I have been accustomed to. 

But sometimes and that sometimes is today. Those words like shards of blades only pierce, twist and stay lodged further in my already wounded heart. Part of me feels almost ashamed that some nasty words echo in my mind, berating my own trembling heart for its weakness to the blow. Because, I should be used to this right? 

Yet another part of me, the one that laid dormant for so long but now grows almost shyly with the coax of his beautiful gentle voice. That part of me knows—deep within my soul that no child should ever bear to be mistreated in the way that I have been for essentially my whole life.

Yet my trembling heart, beaten and broken, needed a form of escape. An escape from this current spell of unfairness. This bout of suffocating pain, of endless torment, swirling in an eddy with one thought at its vortex—a thought that no matter the appeal does me no good to engage in. And so I run. As fast as I can, with the insurmountable tears spilling like the rain drenching over me. Until I run headfirst into a hard body. 

And there he stands, looking at me with those wide violet eyes, lips in the middle of an apology when he meets my eyes. I stand there frozen despite my insides screaming for me to run, to never show such a vulnerable side to him, to lock away this whole incident in the deepest parts of my heart and to never uncover it. Yet his voice, Lucien’s gentle voice, lifts my head and I look into those equally kind eyes, surprised at the emotion it reflects—confusion, sadness and protectiveness, all that culminates to him gently demanding my story—of why am I alone in the middle of the street in the middle of the night, in the middle of a growing downpour.

“Y/N, tell me what happened?”

And so begins today’s tale of nightmare. I don’t know why he’s asking me. It’s not like he’s unaware. It took quite awhile for me to gauge his emotions and feelings from his expressions, and sometimes I still fumble with them. He’s so skilled at hiding it, but when those thin brows ever so slightly come together and his lips purse into a thin line, and those violet eyes reveal a hint of ferocity in them, I know plain as day it is anger. And yet it all goes away to be replaced with a kind, calm gaze when his voice addresses me.

I wonder what he’s going to say. He’s been comforting me but I don’t know what I want to hear—half of my nerves are still infused with adrenaline, anxious for me to run—part of me feels defeated, it only wants to hide and cry in a corner somewhere. Another part, the strange one, wants to be drenched in the sheets of rain—and the one that makes the most sense only wants me to let go. Of what, I don’t know. 

He calls me but doesn’t say anything, only stands there, his eyes focused on the space above my head in deep thought. Only now I realise that he’s getting drenched in the rain, his umbrella must’ve fallen when I bumped into him. I spot the cat patterned umbrella tossed to one side, getting swept away in the rainy winds. I remember spending time with him at the cat café, buying this very umbrella out of a joke I made about how similar he was to cats. How loving but devious they were. 

The expression he had, so speechless—eyes wide and playful, cheeks tinted pink, all honing in on a ‘how dare you’ expression. It still tickles me to this day. So that’s why my feet carry me towards the drifting umbrella. I hear him shuffle behind me trying to keep up with my pace, and then he goes ahead of me, attempting to corner it—but like a sentient being it flies further away from the both of us.

He chuckles and I can’t help but let a giggle loose because how foolish are we running behind an umbrella in a heavy downpour where the winds clearly have an upper hand. Meeting my eyes as a silent request to stay put, he goes after it and ahead of the umbrella and finally, the umbrella panel falls obediently in his open hands.

Watching him run awkwardly with his long legs after the umbrella like a child, it pulls laughter out of me. And I sink into the feeling, laughing and laughing away, and then those laughs turn into hiccups eventually morphing into cries. My clothed knees bump the gravel road and I can hear myself crying loudly like a child who’s been refused their request of buying a new toy. Unabashedly and freely. Without a care for the world. I feel safe and protected by the sky that cries with me. 

All of a sudden the rain drowns out and my cries amplify the limited space the umbrella looms over me. I make no effort to stop crying, I can’t even if I wanted to. I’m too far gone in the freedom of letting go. Then, I don’t want to. The lavender warmth that I’ve come to identify with Lucien soothes and calms where his arms cocoon me. It’s unbelievably comforting that I melt in his chest further, seeking refuge from the darkness of my world. 

I cry for myself, for the pain I go through, for the pain I have to go through, for the pain that my father went through because I wonder what would’ve happened to him if the idea of rejecting his own daughter is easily embraced by him.

I feel his large hand pat my head. “I may not fully comprehend your pain but I know that no child should ever be the subject of their parent’s wrath. It’s okay to feel hurt and angry—it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel lonely like the world’s against you. Your feelings are valid.” His hand rests on my nape before hugging me tighter.

“I can’t tell you that it’ll stop—I don’t believe in propagating convictions that I don’t fully know. But what I do know is that “flowers survive the harshest of winters. You will too.” 

Then with a whisper of promise, Lucien’s hands cradle the back of my head tenderly. 

“And I’ll be right here with you.” 

A sense of relief flows through amidst the downpour surrounding us, amidst the chaos the world brings, amidst all the troubles and terrors that haunt me knowing that I’ll not be cast aside. Forgotten. Or unloved. 

I feel my lips slowly tilt in a smile...

-

A/N: Thank you for reading!❤️

I was so nervous writing this only because I was afraid of getting Lucien's personality & actions right. But I loved how it turned out.

It's an important request and I'm glad I wrote it. To anyone who's reading this, I hope you find comfort in this piece Delve into my world

© YOURSSINFULLYQUICHE 2022 — no part of this writing shall be plagiarised, translated or reposted in any way. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated~

[littlelioncub43]

Since we're talking about love languages 👀 what's Bobby's? I'm thinking quality time since he's also a very busy man

Aaaaah, Bobby, my beloved! I forgot about him! I missed him. Thank you for bringing him up 🥰

Receiving: You definitely called it: quality time. Just being around you is nice, even if he doesnt say it. Also, acts of service. Do his laundry without him asking? Cooking him dinner? Laying out the new package of rope he ordered? Those are sure fire ways to win him over and get him all gooey for you. He likes feeling supported and encouraged.

Giving: physical touch. He is big on PDA and showing you that he loves you. He's possessive and wants to show you off, but underneath it all, he just loves touching you. If he had it his way, he would have you in his lap every single day for the rest of his life. Quality time, again. He likes spending time with you, when hes not working, of course. He keeps you away from his work as much as he can.

[r0tt1ngr4bb1t]

I think Argos is the "Yipeee" kind of Autism creature while Mr. Plant is the "WAAA-" kind of Autism creature (If u get what I mean.)💀

[soupmanspeaks]

I know angst and stuff is probably how it would go down but like wouldn't it be so funny if like Glamrock Freddy like, gets all his memories as Michael back and like after he processes it all he takes a good long look at his spike bracelet adorned arms, bright turquoise nails, pierced ear and cool sharp teeth, and looks around in his greenroom and is like "woah......" "THIS IS ACTUALLY SICK LETS GOOOOO-"

[spookyblazecoffee]

Teen Wolf headcannons (Martin and Holloway family)

Lydia’s dad has an older brother and a younger sister. Mr. Martin’s name is William, his brother’s name is Milo, and his sister’s name is Billie

Milo, like Mr. Martin himself, didn’t get the Banshee gene from their mother, but their sister did.

Milo had a son, and a wife, Emma. His wife died while giving birth to their son.

After Milo’s son was born he didn’t want to keep him after the kid had killed Emma. (The kid didn’t actually, Milo just thought that he did.)

Billie took Milo’s son in, and moved out of Beacon Hills to live with her girlfriend, Jolene (she named herself this), and her girlfriend’s dad, Robert, in Oklahoma on Robert’s farm when the boy was five.

Jolene and Robert’s last name is Raven

Milo had taken his wife’s last name, Holloway.

Milo’s son’s name was Nolan.

Nolan grew up calling his aunt “Mom”, he knew she was his aunt, but he didn’t care.

When Nolan was a year old Billie and Jolene had a daughter named Ally.

Billie, Jolene, Nolan, and Ally moved back to Beacon Hills right before Nolan gets introduced in the show.

Billie and Jolene got married as soon as possible.

Nolan had gotten the Banshee gene, just like Lydia did, but it wasn’t dormant in him like it had been in Lydia for some reason.

Nolan grew up doing Archery (since he was five) and Gymnastics (starting when he was four and stopping when he turned fifteen). He started doing Lacrosse in fifth grade.

Robert (Jolene’s father) was bitten by an alpha werewolf, so Jolene was born a werewolf.

Ally didn’t get the Banshee gene, but she was born a werewolf, like Jolene.

Robert is an alpha, because he ended up killing the alpha that bit him.

Nolan’s middle name is Rayne.

AND EVERY ONE LIVES, except for Milo he died, and his wife. ALSO MONROE, and the war, NEVER HAPPENED!!!