#red is still taller. he will always be the tallest

[smolandweirdwriter]

oh let me tell u i am so normal about adaine so here have a collection of some of my headcanons (that i can remember)

adaine starts dressing more "punk" in a sense because she lives with fig (totally not cause shes trying to remove herself from her goody two shoes appearance that her parents knew)

I also think this comes out of necessity as she doesnt have the money to buy new clothes if they get damaged so ends up sowing patches onto her clothes.

Adaine is the second tallest bad kid (after gorgug) at 5'11 simply because fabian is 5'10 and claims hes 6'0 (adaine is having none of it)

Adaine and tracker are still really close even after kristens breakup

She also has chronic fatigue which did not help her anxiety attacks. for most of her life she just believed she was lazy and not trying hard enough due to her parents thinking she was making excuses

Fig realizes at the beginning of Sophomore year that she really, really likes fun colors. She’s sick of all black. She wears bright red skirts and t-shirts of all colors and she smokes her cigarettes and dyes her hair and paints her nails pale pink and is uniquely, wildly, entirely herself. She doesn’t limit herself to a “rocker aesthetic”. Isn’t the whole point of rebellion to be you? 

Adaine’s style has changed so much. Partway through freshman year, she begins dressing as defiantly as possible. Whatever her parents would hate the most, Adaine wears. She borrows Fig’s clothes, which tend to be a bit too short and tight on her, but it’s all black with a leather skirt and ripped fishnets and her mother calls her a slut and her father forces her to go back to her room and change. Aelwyn mocks her for it over breakfast and Adaine stares at her food and doesn't wear fishnets or crop tops again.

(Aelwyn sneaks out that night wearing a similar outfit because she knows what her parents would say and the idea of the look on her mother's face being pointed at her is enough to terrify her to the point of nausea, and she drinks and drinks and drinks until she forgets to be afraid.)

Still, Adaine's style keeps changing. Sophomore Year it's mostly her Jacket of Useful things, t-shirts, and jeans. But as much as she hated being forced to wear the Hudol uniform, she really likes nice clothes. Junior Year she begins exploring more elven clothing: long skirts, vests with collared shirts, pleated blouses, breeches, tall boots, et cetera. She, Ayda, and Gorgug work together combining Wizardry and Artificing on her Jacket of Useful Things so that it can effectively transform into any coat/jacket/vest/etc to go with her outfit. It's perfect as her style is constantly shifting on a daily basis. 

This is just my thought on all of their heights, but here we go:

Riz is shortest, obviously. He’s actually average-height for a goblin, resting at about 3’6’’. 

Fig gives severe Tall Vibes, so much so that people forget she’s actually only 5’3’’. She wears boots that bring her up to about 5’5’’, but she’s still the second-shortest bad kid.

No one will let Fabian let down how short he is. He’s tried changing his diet, stretching, everything he can imagine—he’s still 5’4’’. It’s mortifying. Fig fits into his clothes perfectly.

Kristen has always felt somewhat ungainly, her limbs at different shapes and sizes, and she’d crash into things a lot. She’s always felt too much: too tall, too wide, too much, too much, too much. Junior Year she starts working out and begins getting comfortable with her body. Still, she’s tall, almost 5’10’’.

Adaine is quite tall, but her parents and sister are taller than her, and she’s spent her life feeling inescapably small. Her posture is good, but there’s something to the way she tilts her head, the general way she carries herself, hunching around a too-big orb and clutching books to her chest, that makes her look short and small. Sophomore Year, her confidence grows, she becomes more stable, and most importantly, she eats much more. She uncurls herself, and by the time she finds Aelwyn again, Aelwyn is horrified to see that her little sister looms over her. Adaine is 5’11.

Gorgug hunches over a lot, and it’s actually after becoming an Artificer that he gets better with his posture, because he’s sitting a lot more now and his back hurts if he hunches too much. His actual height is 6’5’’. He’s the tallest bad kid.

My personal headcanon is that Tracker also has anxiety and used to “wolf out” whenever she got overwhelmed. So she understands Adaine very well, perhaps better than anyone else. She understands the way Adaine’s anger stems from her fear, from her lack of control. Tracker helps her find the right anxiety meds and teaches her methods of working through and handling feeling overwhelmed.

When the bad kids see Nara and Tracker again in Fallinel, she introduces them all to Nara. “Ah,” Nara says as she and Adaine are introduced, and Adaine tenses for oracle, the daughter who killed Angwyn Abernant, the oracle who ran away, but what she’s met with was: “Tracker’s little sister.”

Adaine never tells Tracker how much it means. She loves Aelwyn, and Aelwyn loves her, but that love is something that has been asked for by both parties. Adaine never realized before that she shouldn't have to ask. 

[threepuppetguys]

saw this and. yea

[enkas-illusion]

Under The Mistletoe

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: SFW / Fluff

Genre/Theme: Friends to lovers; non-titan au

Content warning: fluff, teasing, language.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events that lead up to a memorable Christmas Eve at the Jaegers��� house with your close friends.

Author's Note: Hello, here’s a short fluffy friend to lovers one-shot with my fav 2D man. Merry Christmas! Thank you for reading <3

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

“Yo, you home?” you speak into your phone’s speaker without waiting for a greeting from his end.

“Yes…?” Eren answers.

“Busy?”

“Nope.”

“K. Come to my place.”

“Cool,” he cuts the call. You place your phone on the sofa before moving the mess, that would soon transform into your Christmas decorations, out of the way. As you clear the floor of all the stray pieces and tiny ornaments, you place the tiny chair near the tall tree in your living room while waiting for your best friend’s arrival.

You hear the doorbell ring about 15 minutes later and rush to open it. You greet Eren with a wide grin as you move to the side to let him in. He takes off his shoes near the door as he enters the living room.

“So, what do you need me for, madam?” He asks as he takes off his mufflers and scarf, tossing them on the sofa.

“Ouch… do you think so little of me to assume I only call you over when I need something from you?” you fake gasp.

“If you have to ask, you already know the answer dummy,” he pinches your nose before walking to the undecorated tree, deciphering the reason you’d called him over. “For this? You’re far better than I am at this arts and crafts shit.”

“Well, I cannot reach the top even with the tallest chair I own… call it the perks of being the taller friend, I’ll always think of you for such things,” you smile at him before blowing him a dramatic kiss.

“Sure,” he rolls his eyes as you lean down to the tree to start with the bottom half of the decorations. Eren sits next to you, playing with one of the tiny red stockings he picks up, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”

“A best friend who makes cinnamon rolls cause she knows how much you love them is a friend indeed,” you try to imitate his voice, resulting in a terrible imitation.

His ears perk up at your comment nonetheless, completely ignoring the teasing tone and only focusing on what really matters.

“Did you really?!” he asks, excited like a puppy when he hears someone say ‘treat’. 

“Yes… There's still about 10 minutes left though. It’s in the oven,” you say as you point to the tree, “So you should probably hurry up.” 

“What a meanie!” he huffs as he fiddles with the ornaments, decorating them on the tree. You laugh as you begin working on the other side at a quicker pace than he does.

A few moments pass by before you hear his voice again, “This tree is so unnecessarily tall… You know, mum said you could just come to our house to celebrate the holidays when I told her you couldn’t go home because of work.”

“That’s so sweet of her… but I still wanted my apartment to look like it’s the holiday season. If I can’t go home this year, the least I can do is recreate some of the warmth and Christmas feels here.”

“Awww, is that why you called me? Cause I’m the star that lights up your whole world?” he says as he holds the golden ornament over his head.

“Not sure about my world but definitely my Christmas tree,” you tease as you check the time. You get up to walk to the kitchen as Eren fixes the chair closer to the tree.

“Only tolerating your bullshit for the rolls by the way…” you hear him complain behind you. You put the oven mitt on as you pull out the batch of fresh cinnamon rolls. You carefully place the pan on the counter, evenly pouring the sugar syrup over the buns.

Your body jerks involuntarily when you hear a loud shriek from the living room. Your heartbeat picks up pace erratically as you run out the kitchen to see what had happened. You find Eren lying on the floor, his right hand holding his left forearm tightly. He writhes in pain when he tries to move his left wrist.

“Ren, what happened?” you panic as you run to his side as you help him stand up. He doesn’t need to explain however – you see the chair with a broken leg lying next to the tree.

“Ugh– Careful,” he hisses as you try to help him straighten his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea the chair would break… does it hurt a lot, I’m so so sorry Eren, if I knew I wouldn’t have asked–” your shaky voice breaks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’d rather have me fall from a broken chair than you,” he gives you half a smile but it’s so sincere that it makes you want to cry even more.

“Let me get the first-aid kit,” you sniffle but before you can rush to get the kit, Eren rests his right hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Get the car keys instead, I think I’m gonna need a little bit stronger than pain relief spray,” he says calmly. On the inside, he’s freaking out, but he doesn’t let it show since he did not want you to panic even further.

Your expressions distort to the point where it looks like you’re in more agony than the man who just fell from a chair. You nod frantically as you go to grab your keys before hurrying out the door to get him to a hospital.

~~~

“Sign it,” he says as he sees you walking into the hospital room where the nurse is fixing a cast around his forearm and wrist, “after all, the artist needs to sign their artwork.”

Eren shows little to no signs of discomfort and you wonder if he’s a psychopath or it’s simply the painkillers working. You open the water bottle before handing it to him as you give another apologetic look – the hundredth one in the last hour since the accident.

“I’m kidding! I’m all good!” He reassures you as he raises the arm up once the nurse is done fixing the cast.

“It’s better to rest for at least 6 weeks if you want to heal properly,” the nurse interjects plainly.

“That long? It’s just a hairline fracture right?” he asks her, confused.

“You still need proper rest Eren!” you scold him as you take his phone, the bag of medicines and water bottle in your hands, not wanting him to carry anything at all.

“I’m fine! This is nothing!” he chuckles, cupping your cheek with his free hand to reassure you. You bring your hand up to his, pulling it away before intertwining your fingers with his.

“Is that all?” you ask the nurse with concern and she nods. “Thank you,” you sigh as you lead Eren out the room.

“The bill?” he asks as you walk out the hallway.

“Paid it already,” you reply.

“I’ll pay you back later, yeah?”  he says as you get to the car.

“No, don’t. It’s my fault...” you murmur timidly as you drop his hand to open the door for him.

“Hey… it’s not. I love how much you care about me but please don’t worry so much,” he speaks, holding your hand once again, squeezing it gently.

“But I feel so bad,” you pout as you move your fingers lightly over his cast with your other hand before looking up at him with sadness in your eyes.

He headbutts you playfully, causing you to finally laugh as he says softly, “Give me all the cinnamon rolls and we’ll call it even.”

~~~

Eren wasn’t kidding about the cinnamon rolls – especially now that he had the golden ticket to get you to make as many as he wanted. Usually, you’d only make it occasionally or if he was upset with you after some silly argument and you wanted to suggest a truce temporarily.

So when you arrive at his place in the afternoon, with a container that doesn’t have any cinnamon rolls, 3 days later on Christmas eve, he acts like a bratty child who had been denied his favourite treat.

“Eren! This soup’s better for you. I’m not gonna let you binge on another whole batch of cinnamon rolls!” you speak sternly. 

“I don’t recall asking for healthy shit. My mood’s craving cinnamon rolls!” Eren slaps his right hand on the table exaggeratedly.

“I cannot believe how childish you’re being. Where’s your mum? She’ll support me…” you shake your head.

“Carla’s out shopping for presents. I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with him on your own,” you hear a voice and turn your head to look at Eren’s father entering the house.

The crease on your forehead that had formed while talking to Eren melts away when you greet his father, “Mr. Jaeger, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. Is my son bothering you too much?” he asks and you see Eren turn red out of embarrassment.

“Not at all,” you chuckle, “There’s no tantrum of his that I can’t handle.”

“Good. I assume you’re staying for dinner, yes?” Grisha asks politely.

“Yes. So are Mikasa and Armin, they might arrive anytime soon,” you reply, the polite smile fixed on your face. 

“Great!” He nods before turning to scold his son, “Eren, don’t trouble the poor girl.” 

Eren shakes his head before his father excuses himself to get to his room, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Poor girl? You’re so creepily formal with my parents. They think you’re the model child and I'm the one who corrupts you… even after all these years!” he snorts.

“Well… I am innocent,” you bat your eyelashes at him, “You’re the devil here.”

He rolls his eyes at you before leaning forward and opening his mouth, motioning you to feed him the soup.

“Your right hand’s fine! Drink it yourself.”

“This is the least you can do,” he says with puppy eyes, waving his cast up in front of your face.

“Ugh… fineee,” you take the spoon, blowing on the hot soup gently before feeding it to him.

When Armin and Mikasa arrive about an hour later, Eren goes into heavy, exaggerated details while telling the two about how he got the injury. 

“... And then this one cried like a baby… more than I did,” he jokes, pointing your way.

“I was actually crying that my favourite chair of all time broke,” you shoot back dryly.

“Lies, you guys know she’s in denial about how much she loves me, right…? Anyway, the doc said it’ll be another 3 months at least before I’m healed completely.”

“What a drama queen, you’ll be fine in a month’s time!” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You guys bicker like an old married couple,” Armin notes and Mikasa nods in agreement. You’re pretty sure he’s teasing you too but he doesn’t follow it up with a laugh as if it's a serious statement, making you blush awkwardly as you try to avoid Eren’s gaze actively. 

Despite Eren constantly teasing you throughout the night, it’s a peaceful celebration nonetheless. When Grisha and Carla retire to their bedroom after wishing your group ‘a jolly Christmas’ shortly after midnight strikes, the four of you gather around in the living room to exchange your secret santa gifts.

When you get a new set of oven mitts, a mini speaker and a perfume you’d been waiting to be restocked since forever with a note that read ‘Couldn’t decide which one was the best option so consider yourself lucky to get a genie like myself’, you jump up to give Eren a big hug while being careful not to bump into his wrist.

“Was it that obvious?’ he laughs.

“We never could’ve figured out the perfume one,” Mikasa giggles. Your eyes meet Eren’s and you feel your heart skip a beat as you eyes stray to his plump lips for a split second – brushing away the very inappropriate thought you just had about your best friend.

You quickly move away as you change the topic and get Mikasa and Armin to open their gifts. It’s obvious they got each other based on the gifts they'd received.

Eren is the last to open his mystery present. You feel nervous, suddenly second-guessing your entire decision. However, it dissolves just as soon as it arrives when you see Eren’s jaw drop at your gift.

“Holy shit! This might as well be the best gift I’ve received in a while,” his eyes gleam at the signed manga copy by his favourite mangaka Hajime Isayama. 

“It better be! Took a lot of eff–” you smack your hand over your mouth mid-sentence at spoiling your own identity as his secret santa.

He smiles softly, hugging you as he teases, “Thanks Sherlock, it would’ve been so hard to figure out who it was!”

“Oh wait a min–,” you look around the sofa to find the other package you’d gotten him. You leave his side to get the tiny gift, handing it to him with a playful grin. He raises an eyebrow at you as he unwraps it. He lets out a chuckle when he pulls out the tiny cinnamon roll crochet plushie and bursts out laughing when he reads your note with it – ‘This should last you a long time, stop asking me for another batch already!’ 

“Never,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tighter as you stumble in place, feeling the vibrations of his torso caused by his laughter. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your ear before letting go, your skin tingling with warmth at the gesture.

“Oh! Before I forget… mum knitted sweaters for all of you guys,” Eren grins proudly. All three of you basically pounce on Eren excitedly when he returns with the sweaters in one hand.

He hands you yours the last and it's your favourite colour. “Told mum to use that specifically,” he confesses, half-whispering so that only you can hear him. 

You bite your lip and lower your head to keep yourself from smiling too hard. It's moments like these that have you feeling as if the platonic line in your friendship gets tangled with the romantic one.

Eren Jaeger could bully you to death, within his rights as your best friend, but then he'll randomly do something so sweet that it makes you awfully aware of the growing crush you have on him.

“Thank you,” you smile when you look up and your eyes meet. Eren believes that this smile could be the only thing to melt him if he were a block of ice. 

At that moment, he wants nothing more than to squeeze your stupid face and kiss you to his heart's content. He feels a pang in his chest – the intense desire of his crush on you fighting against the rational part of his brain not wanting to spoil your friendship.

When you suggest watching a random Christmas movie, everyone cuddles together on the sofa like birds do on a cold morning. You don't remember most of it since you fall asleep halfway through the first movie itself. Since you fell asleep with your head on Eren's lap, he didn't dare move till the morning – he gladly accepted his fate as your pillow. 

Maybe it was something in the air urging him to do something but when he saw the way you peacefully rested on him, he felt an intense need of wanting to protect and cherish you forever. Right there, he made his decision – he was going to confess his feelings to you. His love deserved a fair shot. Besides, he figured he'd simply call it a joke and move on if things didn't go his way.

~~~

Your slumber breaks when you hear soft whispers calling out your name. You feel the shuffling movement of your head being lifted up before being placed back down on a soft surface.

“Hmm?” You speak groggily as you sit up, rubbing your eyes as you sense Eren walking away. You check your phone and it’s just quarter to 5 in the morning. You're about to go back to sleep when you hear his voice again, along with footsteps pacing around from one end of the hallway to the other.

“Come here,” you hear Eren’s voice beckoning you from the passage leading up to his room. You want to go back to sleep but get up despite it when you remember he has a broken wrist and might need your help with something. You quietly tip-top to follow his voice, not wanting to wake up your other two friends who are splayed over the sofa, still deep asleep.

“Hey, what's up?” You speak softly when you look around in the dim light of his room to find him. You turn around when you hear the door close behind you.

“Merry Christmas,” Eren grins, standing just a foot away from you, holding a badly plucked green branch tied with a red ribbon over your heads with his free hand. 

“Merry Christmas– what's that?” you mumble as your eyes fix on his hand to observe it closely. It's a Mistletoe – your eyebrows furrow as you look down to his face, expecting an explanation to be written over it.

You feel your heartbeat picking up its pace against your chest. You know what this means yet you can’t believe it entirely. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself by assuming something only for it to be one of his stupid pranks.

You think he's about to headbutt you like he usually does, but he catches you by surprise when he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“You know what this means?” he breathes as he brings his hand down to hold the mistletoe in the space between your bodies. 

This is it! He's asking you to kiss him!!!

Still wanting to play it safe, despite his blatant hints, you nod your head as you speak, “This means I give you a bone-crushing hug.”

His eyes narrow at you as he pulls back, “No… what a chicken. Kiss me.”

Your heart flutters, yet you try to play it cool and tease him further, “What a baby.”

You wrap your hand around his neck to pull his face down to your level. He obliges and you place two fingers to his chin to turn his face to the side. You lean in to kiss him on his left cheek. 

He lets out a soft chuckle as he imitates you, kissing you on your left cheek in return. You giggle as you give him another peck on his right cheek next, resulting in him repeating you once again.

Then comes the forehead and you have to stand on your toes to do it. He leans down to kiss your forehead, you're pretty sure he was about to joke about it but he doesn’t break the intensity of the moment.

Your heart feels like it's almost about to burst out of your chest when you kiss the tip of his nose, followed by his chin, giggling nervously.

You close your eyes in anticipation, expecting the touch of his lips on the same spots on your face but it never arrives. Instead, your breathing halts abruptly when you feel his lips land on your lips.

You pull back quickly and open your eyes to scan his face for any signs of mischief. Instead you’re met with the softest expression, displaying nothing but a kind adoration for you. He brings your hand up to place it on his cheek, smiling at you, encouraging you to dare. 

Without wasting another second, you cup his face with both your hands as you pull him down for a kiss. He smiles into the kiss and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips moving against yours.

Your legs feel giddy and your thoughts feel intoxicated by Eren’s sweet caresses. His free hand is wrapped around your waist firmly and even as you kiss him, you’re cautious about his cast, trying not to accidentally touch his left arm.

You pull away from his touch hastily when you hear the doorknob twist. You both stand next to each other, staring at Armin with a half-perplexed and half-embarrassed look on your face.

“I can’t seem to fi– oh,” he stops when he looks at both of your faces, his half-lidded sleepy eyes suddenly alert. Armin has always been a smart guy – which right about now is making you and Eren look like two deers caught in headlights. 

Armin raises his eyebrows, the grin on his face growing wider. “Don’t forget to lock the door,” he mumbles as he simply turns back around before closing the door behind him, leaving you and Eren alone once again.

Eren’s quick to lock the door before turning around to lean against it, signalling you to come closer with the motion of his fingers. You roll your eyes but follow him regardless, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face on his chest. 

Your hand moves to his pec, feeling around for his heartbeat before resting it there completely. You close your eyes and you soak into the warmth of his body as your best friend/lover places soft kisses on the top of your head. 

Your heart flutters again, filled with happiness to the brim, making you wish you could trap time in a bottle to seal this moment with you forever.

~fin~

[c0la-queen]

Tord Headcanons | The Stoic One

---

Let's start with his physical appearance!

My Tord has pale skin, since he is from Norway and doesn't get a lot of sun.

His hair is naturally that dark brown color that we see in Classic, but he dyes it the caramel brown color from Legacy- though, sometimes he can be seen with dark brown roots when he needs to touch up the dye.

My Tord has silver eyes, and I often describe them as piercing or being able to see through people. I think his eyes are one of the most unnerving parts of Tord, and makes people uncomfortable.

No facial hair- he shaves it if it starts to get stubbly.

Tord is the second tallest in my timeline, standing at 6'4 (I like my boys inhumanely tall). Edd is the only one taller than him and it pisses Tord off to no end.

I like to think Tord has the most athletic build of the group, being the military oriented one. He's not skinny and he doesn't have painfully unnatural muscles like you'd see in magazines. Think more along the lines of Chris Evans or Sebastian Stan. (Also has the juiciest man tiddies) Tord would alternate between going to the gym in the morning and going on morning runs through the neighborhood. He runs more often during the winter, since he's always thrived in cold weather. If Reader also liked working out or was interested in starting, he'd gladly let them join him. I think he'd even teach them self defense if they asked.

Because I think Tord would have some connection to his cultural roots, my Tord has a small tattoo of Yggdrasil on his collarbone, and an even smaller protection rune on one of his wrists. He has a piercing hole in one of his ears that he sometimes wears a simple black stud in; he got it pierced during his emo phase in high school.

Family life:

Tord is an older brother is one younger sister. He practically raised her until he moved out.

His dad was Red Leader before him and put him through intense training. Turned him into a child soldier. Resents his dad for it all.

Only time he ever argued with his dad is when he tried to give his sister the same training- Tord refused to let him.

Worst thing his dad ever did was make Tord do wilderness survival for 3 nights in a Norwegian forest. He was 12.

A Eurasian Lynx managed to find him, but he got away with only claw marks on his back. He's still got the scars.

He doesn't hate his mother, but he's not particularly close with her. Because his training started from such a young age, he spent most of his childhood around his father and other high ranking soldiers.

Cares a lot about his little sister and travels home to see her once or twice a year.

Now, personality:

My Tord is very apathetic sometimes, but mainly is just kind of calm and chill.

He likes to say that he'd rather be with his machines and inventions than other humans, but that's a bullshit lie and he's just being dramatic

Prefers being quiet, doesn't say a lot unless its under specific circumstances or he has commentary to give. He enjoys listening to Reader ramble endlessly, or just have her in his arms while he silently does some task.

He switched from cigarettes to vapes after a while, since its better than smoking and has more flavors available.

Likes energy drinks more than coffee, enjoys the variety they offer.

Actually pretty good at cooking, he'd cook for himself and his sister when his parents were busy with work.

Way smarter than he looks. If he had to take the ACT, he'd probably get a nearly perfect score.

A STEM girlie. He uses the garage as his workshop and spends most of the day there (not counting weekends).

Absolutely has a motorcycle in the garage. He rides it if he's having a low day and needs to get away. Has a special route that takes him the long way through the city before ending up at the cliff overlooking the neighborhood (the one we see in The End). Takes Reader on that route to cheer her up or clear her head. One time they fell asleep on the cliff and woke up to several calls from Edd, Tom, and Matt, who were all scared shitless.

Never gets cold. If someone comments on it, he says its "nothing compared to Norwegian cold." (The others are all tired of hearing that and roll their eyes)

Despite this, he's not dumb. He knows how to stay warm and how important it is. Will scold Reader for not wearing enough layers.

His music taste is so mixed up and wild that nobody can give it a name.

Probably reads the most out of the four, will never tell you what he's reading.

Gets angry about historical inaccuracies.

Not allowed to play Trivial Pursuit because he knows a bunch of random facts.

"Kill yourself." "This is why we can't have nice things."

Likes Super Smash Brothers and can create ass kicking combos for any character in a couple of rounds.

He works as a mechanical/chemical engineer. Works independently by taking commissions for blueprints and fixing machines for people. He mostly works at home in the garage but very rarely has to go to another location. He prefers to have the client talk to him over the phone or meet him.

Likes Liquid Death Mountain Water.

Smokes cigars occasionally, usually on special events.

Smells like smoky wood and vanilla.

Does some art every so often, but not as often as Edd.

Vibes/Aesthetic:

Red LED lights as the only light source

Night so late the entire house is silent

Sneaking out of the house to get candy and drinks at the gas station

Sleep Token playing on the drive

Anime on his laptop

Making battery acid drinks together

Fucking instead of sleeping

Athletic shorts and hoodies

Thigh high socks

Late night drives

Vape clouds and suckers

Trying to stay quiet

Playlist (Based off my Own Spotify Playlist for Him):

Sleep Token

CORPSE

Hollywood Undead

Twenty One Pilots

Kanye West

Childish Gambino

Eminem

Glass Animals

Rob Zombie

[lifeofmarvvel]

Some Facts and Headcanons about the Blythe kids' appearances

Including how tall I think they are in relation to each other and who they look the most like

Jem

We know that Jem has Anne's red hair but Gilbert's curls as well as his eye color (hazel). He's said to be tall, have Anne's nose, Gilbert's mouth (and probably smile), and "the only one of the family who had ears nice enough to please Susan" (RV)

Pretty much, he's a good mix of Anne and Gilbert

The AoGG wikia also kinda roasts him by adding "Although not as handsome as his brother, Walter, or his best friend, Jerry, Jem grew up to be a good-looking young man" (rip lol, why'd they go with 2 comparisons on his looks in one sentence)

He's also decently tall, though it doesn't specify any comparisons in how tall. I'd say probably a solid 5'10 or 11.

Walter

He's considered the "handsomest of the Ingleside children" with straight black hair, and dark grey eyes.

Given that Anne also has grey eyes (though more green-gray, iirc), and the fact that he doesn't look like any known relative, I feel like there's a chance he looks like either one of Walter or Bertha's siblings (if they had any at any point) or one of their parents, his great-grandparents

As for height, I feel like he was always close in height to Jem growing up, only an inch or two shorter. They end up being roughly the same height by the time they stop growing

Nan

We find out exactly who Nan looks like in the series! During Anne of Ingleside, we find out she looks just like her Grandma Blythe. Consequently, she looks a lot like Gilbert, too -- the most of the daughters to look like him, in fact

She has straight brown hair and brown eyes. Her hair is considered silky, too. Anne appreciates the fact that at least Nan can wear pink out of her daughters

As for height, she's taller than Rilla, but still pretty short. Like, Rilla is barely shorter than her. It's a tough victory but she's not the shortest so  ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Di

Anne's mini-me! Di has her red hair and green eyes. Her hair is said to have a "swirl to it" so I'm assuming that means she got Gil's curls as well (or at least some waves).

Since she looks so much like Anne, we can likely assume she's also pretty freckled

I like to think she's the tallest of the daughters. Like 5'8 or so, not too much shorter than Jem. While growing up, she was always taller than Nan but not too much -- Nan just stopped growing first

Shirley

Ah, Susan's "little brown boy" aka brown hair, brown eyes, and a darker skin tone than the Blythe kids who got Anne's Very White skin tone. He looks the most like Nan out of his siblings, and is the son that looks the most like Gilbert (just a slight difference in eye color)

We got nothing on his hair texture but I tend to picture him with curly hair too, probably just because of that "pretty close to Gilbert's mini-me" thing I've concluded

Little siblings have a bad habit of being rude and ending up taller than their older siblings. (I say this as an oldest child who has a younger sister that's a good few inches taller than me.) Because of that, I like to think that Shirley ends up the tallest of the Blythe kids. Idk how much taller than Gilbert that would make him, if at all, but he'd be pretty tall, definitely at least 6'2

Rilla

Rilla is a good mix between Gilbert and Anne, just in a different combo than Jem. She has Gilbert's hazel eyes, Anne's freckles, and "ripely, ruddily brown" which is probably exactly what Anne wanted her hair to be when she was younger. So, pretty much, she started auburn/red-haired and turned more brunette as she got older. The red is probably most visible in the summer sun

There also isn't anything about her hair texture, either. I'd say it's either wavy or the type of straight hair that actually does hold heated curls and hairdos better than others

Rilla is the baby and, unfortunately for her, I picture her as the shortest of the family. She's like an inch shorter than Nan. All growing up she probably said stuff like "I'll be taller than both of you!" to the twins and then. it just never happened. Sorry, girl

Fun Facts (aka all this but reworded exclusively)

Jem is the only son with Anne's hair color; he's the only son with Gilbert's eye color

Walter is the only kid with the grey-side of Anne's eyes. He has the darkest hair in the entire family

Nan is the only daughter with brown eyes

Di is the only one with the green-side of Anne's eyes, making her the one with the lightest eyes

Shirley is the only son with brown eyes

Rilla is the only daughter with Gilbert's eyes

None of the children inherited Walter Shirley's blue eyes (probably since the dark-eyed gene is so strong)

None of the children inherited Bertha's blonde hair

And Grandparent Look-Alikes

Jem and Di, because of their red hair, look most like Walter Shirley out of all of their grandparents. Di probably moreso than Jem

We only know John Blythe has brown hair, so it's also possible Nan looks like Grandma Blythe and Shirley looks like John with Gilbert either looking like John or a mix of his parents

Nan is the only grandkid confirmed to look exactly like a grandparent

Walter is an anomaly so who actually knows lol

--

Anyway, I don't really have a reason for posting this other than, hopefully, as a helpful guide to others and as a way for me to make sure my hcs for their appearances are written out so I don't mix up my thoughts in the future. Feel free to add any hc's you might have involving the Blythe kids and their appearances!

[gumnut-logic]

Scott had blood on his hands.

It wasn’t a new thing. It happened far too often to really be anything out of the ordinary. But it was different when it was his brothers’.

Oh, so different.

Technically, his hands were clean. After all, between his uniform gloves and the first aid gloves, his skin was sanitary.

But it wasn’t.

He could feel it.

Virgil woke the moment his ‘bird’s engines flared up. It was almost predictable. It was actually a good thing. But he hadn’t been coherent, stuck in the moment he last remembered. Gordon was his entire concern and it took every reassuring word and action Scott could think of to calm his brother down.

And behind him, Gordon had slipped into unconsciousness.

Fortunately, the trip was ever so short and within minutes they were on the ground again.

Virgil was still fretting. Scott had to strap his head down to prevent him from moving it, but his brother wasn’t aware enough to realise why.

His distress broke Scott’s heart.

Gordon’s silence just scared him.

But now they were both in expert medical hands. The fact Scott knew the doctor on duty was both a reassuring and ridiculous thing.

But now, alone in the waiting room, he only had himself for company and the images and the beating of his overtaxed heart thudding in his ears.

There were a multitude of things he should be doing - checking in with the GDF, following up on the danger zone, checking in with John, Grandma...Alan.

But for one moment, just one, he let himself sit down on one of those blasted plastic waiting room chairs he hated, and dropped his head into his hands.

It was far from the exemplary conduct of the Commander of International Rescue. His uniform grated against his skin, but he needed to clear his head, calm the panic and reset to face it all again.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him enough to gasp.

Familiar and kind aquamarine eyes caught his as John crouched down beside him. “Hey.”

Scott let out a breath. “Hey.” He straightened and sat back in the chair giving himself space. “They’re going to be okay.”

Voice soft. “I know.” John unfolded again and sat in the chair next to him. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not injured.”

“No. But it hurts anyway.”

Scott’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer that. There was no purpose in answering. It was acknowledged, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Instead, he pushed off from the chair and threw himself to his feet.

He had things to do.

That hand caught his arm. “Scott, wait.”

He turned to watch John stand up and face him. Quiet and calm. “Stay. Eos is managing the rescue. Aunt Val is managing the GDF component. Grandma is on her way.”

Scott looked down at the floor a moment. He needed to be doing something. Virgil’s cries were still bouncing back and forth in his head and Gordon’s silence was echoing. Blood and metal and mud.

But most of all it was the senselessness. He was willing to give his life to save others. He knew his brothers felt the same.

But this?

No one was saved. It was a random fluke of nature. A mindless tornado that could have taken everything as easily as it took the lives of the people they were trying to help.

And no one had been rescued.

His brothers hadn’t even had a chance to start.

It reminded him of an equally mindless avalanche, oh, so long ago.

The blood was sticky on his hands.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” John’s voice was soft as always, calm as always. This was why he was the Thunderbird he was. Why Thunderbird Five worked as well as she did. His brother was his ‘bird.

John’s hand shifted from Scott’s arm to wrap around his shoulders. Hell, the man was still getting taller. Scott wasn’t used to looking a brother directly in the eye and god forbid he have to look up.

He was the eldest, after all. It was fit he be the tallest.

“C’mon, I’ll keep you company.”

And before Scott could protest, John herded him out to Thunderbird Two and her ample bathroom facilities. A shower and his mud and blood-spattered uniform was replaced with a red flannel shirt and a pair of jeans both too big and too short at the same time.

He had Virgil poking him for not restocking his spare clothes since London three days ago.

He idly wondered if the rest of his brothers sported a Virgil voice in the back of their heads.

Scott knew that his, at least, never neglected a smart-assed word at any appropriate moment.

Today he almost welcomed them.

But the shower and the fresh clothes helped clear his head and slow his thudding heart. It didn’t clean the blood off his hands and he still had the urge to scratch them raw. He curled his hands into fists.

Returning to the cockpit he was confronted by the missing hover stretchers, but worse was the hologram playing in front of John.

Obviously, Two’s external camera, he watched as nothing other than a combine harvester attempted to kill his brothers. John played with the controls, flipping the scene back and forth obviously attempting to ascertain exactly how his brothers were injured.

But Scott’s eyes just latched onto that massive airborne machine. A killing machine that tried to take his brothers.

Holographic pixels measured out how close.

Ever so close.

“Shut it off.” His voice was sharp and cold.

John jumped as if caught with his hands in the till and the hologram vanished. “Sorry.”

Scott bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m going back to the hospital.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He just lowered himself through the hatch and strode ever so fast back into the building that held his injured brothers.

-o-o-o-

Two Birds with one Stone

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

8th Day of Christmas

A Supernatural Christmas Party

Summary/Prompt - Going to the Supernatural Christmas Party

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warning - SMUT

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

You’re just putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you feel hands on your waist. Your eyes meet with your boyfriend’s green one and you both smile.

“You’re so sexy, do we have to go to this party?” He asks.

“I flew all the way here to be your date, so yes we have to go.”

He pouts and then kisses your neck. He feels you shiver as the feeling. “You can still be my date right here in this room.”

“Jensen…” you turn around, take his hands and look in his eyes. “I promise, the second we get home I’m all yours. But you’re the colead, you can’t not go.”

He sighs. “Come on then, we’d better go before I change my mind and tear that sexy red dress right off you and throw you on the bed.”

“The second we get back you can.” You bend down to strap on your heels and he groans.

“I haven’t seen you in almost a month and now you dress all sexy and tell me I can’t touch. You’re evil.”

“You can’t tell me how evil I am when we get home later. For now though, take a deep breath, think of anything else and then meet me in the car.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Half an hour later you finally arrive at the fancy venue that Bob Singer hired for the night to celebrate the wrap of filming for the year. You walk in hand-in-hand with Jensen. Once you’re inside he takes your heavy coat and gets it cloaked along with his own overcoat. Leaving him in a simple black suit with a red bow tie and pocket square to match your dress. He leads you through the foyer to a large room where the rest of the cast and crew are already socialising. You scan the room for people you recognise. While you try to visit whenever you can, it is hard with you working elsewhere.

You were a guest star on a couple of episodes of Supernatural last season, that’s when you and Jensen hit it off, but when your character was written out you were forced to audition for other roles. You had hoped your next job would keep you in Vancouver at least, but no such luck. You’ve been filming at a set in LA. Long distance is hard, especially with different time zones and filming schedules, but you both understand that it’s just part of the job. And while you love each other, you also love your jobs, so you just do what you can to make it work.

Your eyes land on the tallest person in the room and his short wife. You both walk over to greet them. Gen pulls you in for a quick hug and Jared follows.

“Hey guys, great to see you again. I’ve missed you, Moose.”

He playfully punches you in the shoulder. “Missed you too Mouse.” Despite being a little taller than his wife, he had taken to calling you that while you were on set. You didn’t mind one bit, he always tried to make you feel comfortable and welcome on set. You actually met him before Jensen, but he came into your life like a whirlwind. He was directing the first episode you were on. Making him too busy and stressed to properly welcome you. But once he was back to simply acting you got to know each other a lot better and things progressed quickly.

“Want a drink, Sweetheart?” Jense asks you with a squeeze of your hand.

“Sure, just a glass of red. Thanks.”

He kisses your cheek and then walks off towards the bar. He stops along the way to greet other cast and crew members. You smile at him. Despite his earlier protests, you know he’s happy he came and that he would regret it if he didn’t. He loves his job and all the people he works with. That was one of the many reasons you feel so hard and fast for him. While long distance is hard, you would never ask him to give any of this up. It’s a family that he’s helped build and you’re just grateful to be part of it.

When he finally returns with your drink he apologises for his delay which you brush off with a kiss before you both do some more rounds chatting with everyone and wishing them well for the holidays.

Eventually a makeshift dance floor opens up in the middle of the room and he looks at you hopefully. He bows down dramatically and holds out a hand to you. “May I have this dance?”

You laugh and nod. “Why of course, kind sir.” He laughs too as he pulls you onto the dance floor. You play around through a few party songs until they slow it down. Then he pulls you close, his hands on your waist holding you close and swaying you to the music as yours rest around his shoulders with your head leaning against his chest. Throughout the song you end up grinding against each other a few times inadvertently. The second the song finishes and the room livens up again he leads you through the maze of socialising people and out to the empty foyer.

He presses you up against the wall and kisses you hard. “I can’t wait anymore, Baby. I need you. Please. I’ve missed you so much.”

You kiss him back and deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue against his. When he pulls back he looks down the hall for somewhere more private, not wanting to expose you in public. He hastily leads you into the small cloaking room and shuts the door before pushing you against it and resuming the bruising kiss. Knowing people will quickly notice the disappearance of someone as notable as Jensen, you reach for his belt undoing it but not removing it. His hands slip up under the hem of your tight dress pushing it up to your waist. He teases his fingers over you through your thin lace undies.

“Already so wet for me, Baby. You need this as much as I do.”

“Please, stop teasing.”

With that he kneels down to slide the offending garment off of you and shoves them in his pocket. Now face level with your bare heat, he presses a kiss to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You moan out loudly before slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, Baby. Don’t want someone coming in here.”

You nod and bite your lip as he goes in again, but this time he slides his tongue along your slit. He then slips two fingers in, down to his knuckle.

“So ready for me already. Even after all this time.”

You nod frantically, not trusting yourself to not be too loud. He stands up and kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You reach down to undo the button and zip of his dress pants. He’s quick to push them down to his knees.

“I need you,” you breathe out.

“I know, me too.” He squeezes your ass and you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses your back against the door. As he distracts you with another deep kiss he reaches down and teases himself against your folds a few times before sliding inside. He gives you a little time to adjust to his intrusion before setting a quick pace. Right now you both just need a release. He’ll worship your body and make slow love to you once you’re in the comfort of his apartment, but for now he just wants to make you cum.

He kisses down your neck as he continues his torturous pace. You feel him start to twitch inside you, so you squeeze your walls against him. Knowing he won’t last much longer he reaches a hand down to rub quick circles on your clit. You throw your head back against the door as you feel that rope inside you snapping. As he feels you squeezing and cumming around him he kisses you to muffle your moans and helps you ride it out before filling you up.

You stay like that for a few seconds while you both catch your breath and then he carefully sets your feet back on the floor. He pulls his pants and boxers back up and secures his belt before handing you back your underwear.

“Meet me back out there in five minutes. We’re saying goodnight to everyone and then going home for round two.”

You smile at him completely blissed out still but you try to compose yourself. You slip your underwear back on and straighten your dress back down over your thighs before running your hands through your hair. You search for a mirror to check your makeup and tidy it up before finally joining him back in the main room. The second you’re close enough he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. You do a round of the room as he chats to everyone and thanks them for a good season and wishes them a merry Christmas. Once you make it back to the entrance he leads you back out the foyer, you collect your coats and then he speeds back to his apartment as safely as possible.

[smallraindrops-blog]

Ooo requests, you say?

Could I request another Achilles x Patroclus x Reader?

If related to Covered in Stardust it could just be Achilles and Patroclus smothering Y/n I'm affection and getting familiar with each other again and telling Zagreus stories of when they were alive, or them just finally getting some domestic bliss? (Fishing with Achilles, medicine making with Patroclus, patching up Zagreus when they can, the occasional spar, kissing, and cuddle sessions)

Or of you'd prefer it to be separate, maybe just little moment of Achilles and Patroclus noticing and falling in love with Y/n, and Y/n being oblivious because sure he loves them but they have each other, no need for some random lovesick third to bother them. (Angst to fluff?)

Dealers' choice!

I like these two very much.

Take your Hands Into Mine

Word count:2.3

warnings: no beta, kissing, some angst, domestic bliss, possible hades 2 spoilers 

Notes: here ya go! Thank you for waiting. Decided to go with the first one if that okay. Mainly a butch of a little shorts but i hope you enjoy them! ^.^

Covered in stardust (part one)

Aim 

(Preteen)

Chiron leaned over your shoulder, his warm hand on your back as he showed you how to adjust the bow and arrow. 

“Remember, don’t hold too tight.” He reminded you before stepping back. You nodded, focusing your eyes on the target before you. 

The wooden boards with rings of yellow and red were worn down by time and use. Countless little marks from weapons chipped away at the paint. Patroclus’ arrow was near the center.

Achilles’ arrow was dead center because of course that jerk would have perfect aim as well. 

You let out a breath, readied your aim…

”Come on! We know you won’t hit it.” Achilles taunted, no doubt grinning like the feral creature you knew he was. “Let's move on, I want lunch while the sun is still out.”

“Shut up. You are a bottomless pit.” You snapped back. Achilles might have been going to say something else but only grunted. You smirked, Patroclus must have smacked him.

‘Good.’ You thought, redid your grip then after a breathless moment, let it fly. The sunlight caught on the arrow head, making it gleam moments before it smacked right next to Achilles.

You stared in genuine surprise before letting out a cheer, turning around to see Achilles’ sour expression and crossed arms but Patroclus was already lifting you up, causing you and him to laugh.

Chiron gave you a proud nod and went over to the target, pulling over the arrows.

When Patroclus let you go, two hands ruffled your hair roughly. You tried to smack them away but Achilles was too quick, a flash of gold then he wrapped himself over you with a laugh.

“Fine.” He grumbled but he was laughing as well, tangling his hand in your hair much more gently this time. His eyes were as perfectly blue as the sky itself. He smiled, his teeth bright as a prideful lion. “I guess you can aim afterall.”

Winter

(Preteen)

It was Patroclus’ idea. 

The tree bark was large enough to hold all three, the wood thick  but you gave it another weary look as all three reached the top of the tallest part of the mountain . 

“Are we sure about this?” You asked as Patroclus dropped the makeshift sled onto the snow. Achilles nodded but it was Patroclus who spoke up. His dark eyes had a near manic gleam in them, letting you know he would not be easily swayed from this.

”Yes, besides, with all three of us on it, it should keep us from flying off.” He paused. “Like last time.”

You winced at the memory of deep bruises and cuts and Chrions’ loud, disapproving sigh. 

It took some time for everyone to find their spot. Right now you were bigger and weighed more but Achilles was already taller and with how much he could eat, it would be likely he would outpace you soon enough even if he wasn’t god-born. 

You ended up in the front, Achilles in the back. Somehow, like always, Patroclus was perfectly right in the middle of you and Achilles.

With a frown, you peered down, suddenly wishing you weren’t in the front. The hill suddenly seemed high as the gray skies.

“If we all push off, we can pick up speed.” Patroclus ordered, his hands slapping into the snow. Achilles let out a loud war cry as you began to panic, “Wait- wait wait-“

Just like all three shot down the steep slope, yelling loud enough to scare off the birds, their squawking loud in the wind. Snow flew around them, becoming like waves as they began going faster and after until everything was blur. 

Then suddenly, the sled caught onto something, a rock maybe and everyone went flying into the snow. You rolled and rolled, until you came to a stop, dizzying gray and brown mixing in your sight.

You tried to sit up but with a moan, you closed your eyes and fell back down.

A body landed on top of yours and you grunted. You scowled and opened your eyes to see that you were nose to nose with a surprised Patroclus. His dark eyes were deep as the night itself but like this, you saw the faint flakes of brown in his eyes, bringing a warmth to the darkness. 

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of his weight on top of you.

Patroclus blinked then sat up, his legs still around your waist and pumped two fists into the air, grinning so wildly he looked like Achilles. “Again!” 

You heard a loud cheer from Achilles who had stopped higher on the slope. You groaned as you covered your face in muted horror.

You were definitely going to be shaking hands with gods of the underworld before tonight at this rate.

~

Fatherhood

(underworld)

Of all the things that could have happened while you were apart from Achilles and Patroclus, you didn’t expect Achilles to unofficially adopt a godling, let alone one that was the prince of the underworld. 

“Lad, watch it.” Achilles scolded, but his warm laugh brushed any harshness away. He grabbed the fishing pole from Zagreus’ hand before the swinging hook could sink into someone’s flesh. 

“Here, watch me. This is how to properly cast a shot.” Achilles shifted on his feet, explaining to Zagreus what to do. 

You bit back a laugh, not wanting to ruin the bonding moment as you settled down onto the soft grass by Patroclus. 

Patroclus nudged you, letting you know he saw it as well, his own dark eyes gleaming in amusement.

“Should we get him a Father’s Day present?” You whispered as Patroclus pressed his leg against yours.

”I think that is Zagreus’ job, not ours.” Patroclus grinned as Achilles ducked away from Zagreus, not letting the prince take the fishing pole yet. You and Patroclus could only watch in quiet delight.

Achilles had been godlike, golden and sharp like the sun, untouched by moral hands on the battlefields with Patroclus as his faithful shadow. You had watched in quiet awe as your strategies unfurled into the deathly weapons you knew they were. 

“Careful.” Achilles warned. He had given Zagreus the pole back and the prince was trying his best to follow Achilles’ instructions, even beating his knees.

Only it went horribly wrong.

“Oh gods, I am so sorry, Sir Achilles.” Zagreus yelped as Achilles prodded at the fishing hook in his cheek. A part of you still expected him to get rageful like he always did when he got hurt.

But Achilles just patted Zagreus’ shoulder, his handsome face twisted into a grimace. “It’s okay, lad. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

Patroclus scoffed, giving your cheek a kiss, his beard pleasurably rough against your skin before standing up. “Don’t yank on it like that, both of you I swear.” Patroclus warned with an eyeroll when Achilles whimpered.

Afterwards, they attempted it again, Achilles’ voice still patient with the apologic prince. 

Who knew that fatherhood would suit Achilles so well?

~

WarHorse

(underworld)

“A bloody horse- you have to be kidding me.” You growled as Odysseus laughed once more. You glanced at Achilles and Patroclus and you knew by their faces that Odysseus for once in his life wasn’t lying. 

“And they fell for it too!” Odysseus laughed, patting you on your back as you grabbed your drink. “They just let us come right in. Like complete idiots!”

“A goddamn horse.” You swore, taking a deep drink before hitting the table in outrage. “A HORSE!”

“See, I told you he didn’t need to know.” Patroclus hissed to Achilles. He only shrugged, waving off Patroclus’ concerns. 

“He would have found out eventually.” Achilles reasoned, kissing Patroclus’ cheek. “Besides, I think he is actually taking the news pretty well. Nothing on fire and he hasn't punched Odysseus in the face.”

”Yet. Haven’t punched him yet.” You grumbled. They stared at you a single moment before they broke into loud laughter. 

You ignored their mocking laughter, ordering more drinks for the group from a passing shade.

A goddamn wooden horse. What the in the hades. 

~

Growth

(underworld)

Getting anything from the surface cost a pretty penny and you winced when you saw the total. You and Achilles shared a glance before both handed over their hardwon coins. 

“With the roots, Patroclus might be able to grow them.” You said, gently lifting up the mint to check over the roots for any sign of rot. In the basket, there was ST. John's wort, sage, yarrow and a handful more of medical herbs. 

Patroclus was the plant expert, not you. You merely obeyed his every command and were thankful for it.

“I hope so.” Achilles sighed as you placed it back in the basket. Thankfully all the plants looked healthy. “I know we don't need it but I think it will be the thing to perk him up.”

Smiles from Patroclus were considerably rarer these days. Not that you could blame him. None of them were young, foolish boys under Chiron's protection. 

Those days were long gone.

“I know that expression.” Achilles warned, giving you a knowing look. You huffed, and began walking down the path with Achilles by your side. At some point, Achilles had learned patience but you knew from his stare that he was waiting for you to speak. 

It was an odd thing, what stays and what goes. 

Achilles was different, Patroclus was different but you still felt like that fool who thought he could defy the gods. 

“I’m happy we are all together once more. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.” You told him with a sigh, your hand brushing against his. “But…”

”It is different.” Achilles whispered. “Yet it is not.”

”Yes.” You agreed.

Achilles grabbed your hand, and gave a squeeze. You returned it.

Once they revealed the surprise gift to Patroclus, he said nothing for a long moment. His lips parted, then he gave a quiet chuckle. 

“You know no one needs medicine, not down here.” Patroclus took the basket, his fingers brushing against the yarrow. His eyes had gone shiny. You and Achilles shared a glance.

”Zagreus.” You said suddenly, “I’m sure he would appreciate it.” 

“Yes.” Achilles rushed to agree, pulling Patroclus closer in for a one arm hug. He and you were both nodding like fools but a beautiful, perfect smile was forming on Patroclus’ face.

“Thank you.” He said with a laugh, kissing Achilles. Achilles hummed, deepening the kiss after a moment, cupping Patroclus’ nape.

“Hey.”  You complained mildly, not really minding the sight. “It was my idea.” 

That broke their kiss and you went willingly when they pulled you closer into the circle. Patroclus kissed you first, his lips soft against yours. Then after that one, Achilles quickly came in, grabbing your chin with gentle fingers, greedy for his own kiss. 

A few days later, the plants were already growing in the gentle lights of Elysium.

~

Plans

(underworld)

When the prince arrived on one of his visits, you couldn’t help noticing his limp. And the fact there was black smoke coming off of him. You took a slow sip of your wine as he limped upward to you and Patroclus.

Achilles was on house duty so it was just you and Patroclus.

“Patroclus, beloved.” You called out over your shoulder, “You might want to get the first aid kit.” You took another look at the prince who looked ready to drop dead right where he was. “And maybe some food?”

Zagreus moaned, swaying to the right then to the left before he fell forward, and you caught the back of his tunic, barely keeping his face from smacking the ground. With a rueful sigh, you chugged the rest of your drink and tossed it to the side before dragging him closer to Patroclus.

Later, with his face cleaned off and Patroclus peering over a deep bite mark on Zagreus’ leg, he was trying to explain his plan. It was heavy hitters and nothing for Zagreus’s natural talent. 

“Did you do anything for speed, lad?” You crossed your arms. “Remember, you aren’t a tank, you need to focus on your speed. Your speed is also your defense.”

Zagreus huffed, “No, my good sir. I wanted to try something new since my father had been trying these different pact of punishment-“

”Pact of punishment?” You frowned. “What in the world is that?” 

“Oh that right. I didn’t tell you.” Zagreus began to explain everything, and you frowned as you listened. Patroclus shot you then Zagreus an amused glance as he stood. 

“Have fun.” He said, brushing a hand down your back before he left you and Zagreus to it. You nodded, waving an absent minded hand as Zagreus kept talking.

“Alright- have you tried…”

~

Rest

(underworld)

The quiet sound of footsteps told you that Achilles had returned from his house duties. You propped yourself on your elbow, Patroclus tucked against your chest, so deeply asleep that not the booming roar of the Hydra could wake him.

Achilles yawned, placing his spear to the side before he began to untie his sandals. His golden hair caught the light, gleaming like sunlight. You took the moment to admire him, the broad shoulders and easy grace.

You covered Patroclus’ ear, even though you knew he wouldn’t wake up and spoke quietly into the peace. ”Welcome home.” 

Achilles sighed, a soft grin on his face as he looked down at you and Patroclus. “Glad to be back.” 

When Achilles finally joined you and Patroclus in bed, you were surprised that he decided to curl behind your back, tossing a heavy arm over your waist. You and Achilles had long agreed that Patroclus was the more comfortable one to cuddle.

His mouth brushed against your nape. You shivered, goosebumps forming. You turned your head, accepting a chaste kiss from him. 

“Sorry for waking you.” Achilles whispered, his voice rumbling through you. “Go to sleep. Or Patroclus will lecture both of us.” 

“Alright.” You agreed quietly. Patroclus sighed in his sleep, tucking himself deeper into your arms. 

Together, they all slept, tangled together like vines. 

[zeroducks-2]

Do you have some personal headcanons about how the speedsters look like, especially in terms of body shape? They vary too much, I have a hard time forming a strong opinion on anyone

Here's a mix of personal headcanons and canon/semicanon stuff:

Barry is small. Not tiny, but there's something petite about him and he's more nerve than muscles. That's how he was supposed to be drawn back then - there was an artist who drew him too bulky and he got fired from The Flash and put somewhere else because he didn't understand the assignment, and was drawing Barry like a macho man. Carmine Infantino wrote a guide on how to draw him and it explicitly says that he's supposed to be petite compared to other heroes. Truly a twink. He should be lean but still look powerful, and of course overall built like a professional runner. He is consistently blond with blue eyes, and I really like the haircut they gave him in the 2016 run, he looks really floofy. I guess sometimes they give him brown eyes but I pretend I do not see (nothing against brown eyes they just look wrong on him).

Wally is tall (probably the tallest speedster), and not as big as the biggest heroes, but he went to the gym and purposefully got jacked so he's muscular enough (this is canon btw). He's therefore considerably taller and bulkier than Barry. Did you know Wally was a brunette in the Silver Age? it's cute to think he had brown hair as a kid and they turned red as he grew up. He has almost always green eyes and I know he's covered in freckles on his shoulders and back too.

Eobard is also tall and very muscular going by canon. I think he's slightly shorter than Wally and with less defined muscles because he didn't train for them to look a certain way, so it's more like Barry's case where they developed by themselves, via both genetics and being a speedster. And no freckles. Considering that he was bioengineered to look good and be supersmart, him being as handsome as he is makes sense. All speedster surely have a certain grace to how they move but I'm pretty sure Eo's next level. When it comes to colors, we all need to accept that they will change from day to day according to how Eobard's feeling. The most common combination seems to be red hair and red or light blue eyes, but sometimes it will be red eyes with a black sclera, sometimes it will be white hair, sometimes it will be amber eyes. I saw him one time with white hair and green eyes. Hell, in the Flashpoint his eyes are a red so light they look pink. Imagine him how you prefer - you'll get used to it and at some point he will consistently LOOK like Eobard in your mind's eye, even if his color palette is skewed.

These are the three "main" speedsters but go ahead and ask about anyone else if you want!

[ao3wasntenough]

Chatter here. Sam gives off cat vibes, I swear he be as unhinged as possible just to cause a problem to prove he still him. Perhaps he even snoozes in odd positions around the base making bots have to tred carefully.

He DOES! And a lot of the “weird” things the bots claim he does is just minor human things he doesn’t even control.

Like he’ll calmly be sitting reading on some bots shoulder before he violently twitches out of nowhere and spooks them bot

Bots who are more paranoid then others often get thrown off or start thinking superstitious things about Sam because he’ll be walking past a doorway/a crate/a bot/ some humans, stop dead (often causing whatever bot to trip over him) and just ominously stare, only his audials (though some report his visior blinking or looking like it’s experiencing interference) slightly moving before he bolts off. Did he see something dangerous? Did he receive an emergency ping?

He’ll “stutter” and repeat words or even just have blouts of his speech just cutting out and when prompted to seek medical attention he gets super defensive (the human urge to strangle your friend when they point out you stuttered)

He’s also always trying out his new capacity for agility and flexibility and often asks taller bots to lift him up by the servos for a “big stretch” as coined by internet studies. Where its alarmingly discovered Sam’s internal structure has a lot of bend and flex to it and he self mimics the sound of human bone air pockets poping (he doesn’t know he makes the noise but red alert has certainly never heard a bot make those noises)

Bumblebee often has to race around the base to find the tallest mech because he and a few others dared Sam to climb somewhere and now curfew is coming up and they can’t tell if he’s ignoring them or fell asleep where they cant get to him

(He gets dared to do a lot of dumb shit)

Autobots who recharge outside are prone to finding they’ve been joined by Sam sleeping on their hoods or in their trays or roof. Joining them in the sun. And bots were informed of the human rule “if a creature falls asleep on you, you cannot move” especially one as fickled and touch resistant as Sam. There’s an on going tally chart keeping score on who Sam’s fallen asleep on. Optimus has a strong lead with him often finding his trailer a good off the ground place.

Ultra Magnus felt so pressured to leave Sam asleep on his hauler he took him with him across to another base

[p0ltergeistinyourroom]

South Park Headcanons :))

Kenny McCormick ;)

- sells magazines as a black market business at school and has Clyde as his best buyer

- Listens to hyper pop

- has a dirty blonde mullet

- cannot afford a haircut so cuts his own hair

- has a massive crush on Marjorine and flirts with her a lot even though she is clueless

- shortest out of his friends

- any pronouns

- would do ANYTHING for 10 dollars

- really close to his siblings and very protective of them

- drummer of the band

- not popular but well liked

- not good at school but surprisingly smart

- Probably high most of the time

- most popular band fandom ship is kenjorine

- always breaks his bones and saves his casts

Marjorine <3

- transfem

- deals with cartman’s crap but in the end stands up

for herself

- best friends with Kenny mccormick

- likes reading and hello kitty

- favourite colours are blue and pink

- wears light makeup

- good at drawing

- her mother divorced her father and Linda became a better person

- taller than Kenny

- works at Claire’s

- probably autistic

- listens to Mitski

- follows back everyone

- band Artist

Kyle :)

- germaphobe

- slightly paranoid

- has a complex hair routine and spends an hour trying to flatten it down

- supports his friends and is the most responsible in the group

- first to get his driver’s license

- transmasc

- still close to his brother Ike

- Still Stan’s sbf

- has matching profile pictures with Stan and has friendship bracelets

- band bassist

- writes some songs

- has freckles on his nose

- has a crush on his sbf but will not confess (or will he?)

- dry humor and is extremely funny to his friends

- got a growth spurt over the summer and is really tall

Stan marsh :)

- still depressed but goes to therapy

- band guitarist, lead singer and writes most songs

- dyes his hair a LOT

- Campaigns for causes on his instagram

- probably a vegan

- responds to fan mail a lot

- has a large crush on his sbf but doesn’t know what to do about it

- openly bisexual

- has a good fashion sense

- still good friends with Wendy

- wears nail polish

Eric Cartman

- still bigoted and an asshole (unfortunately)

- still bitter about Heidi

- smells of cheesy poofs and Mountain Dew

- never got his drivers license and begs people to give him rides

- second tallest in the group

- has a lot of acne

- online troll

- getting banned is his hobby

Jimmy Valmer <3

- Has braces

- shaggy hair

- Does comedy shows for charity

- backup singer in the band and plays the drums with Kenny

- sometimes looks on Pinterest for interesting costume ideas to make an entrance to his shows

- dramatic and likeable

- loves his band

- will become a comedian

Clyde Donovan

- good friends with Kenny

- dumb but funny

- great at football and basketball

- wears baseball jackets all the time

- sends dumb memes all the time

- fan of skibidi toilet (this pains me so much)

- Friends with Scott malkinson

- flunked math

- surprising rizz

- always buys magazines from Kenny

Wendy testaburger

- raging feminist

- still wears berets but adds pins to them

- leader of the debate club

- cheer captain

- works at a fancy restaurant

- good friends with Stan

- buys band merchandise to support the band

- donates to charity a lot

- has a tiny crush on Bebe

Bebe Stevens

- has amazing wavy blonde hair

- spends loads of time on TikTok and Pinterest

- watches loads of hair, nails and makeup tutorials

- tans easily

- best friends with Wendy testaburger

- likes Wendy a teensy- weensy- eensy bit

- kind of a feminist

- has 40 k instagram followers

- good cheerleader

Red

- likes red racer

- is dating Kevin stoley

- skater

- has long hair

- wears beanies

- usually nice person

- uses 💀 as a laughing emoji

- Craig tucker’s cousin

Craig tucker

- autistic

- loves space and red racer

- watches red racer with Red

- has red racer merch

- dating Tweek

- has shoulder length fluffy hair

- usually calls Tweek honey, mi amor , etc

- still flips people off a lot and has a shirt of a middle finger that Tweek got him

- has braces

- really empathetic towards Tweek

- dry af texter

- Works at the coffee shop with Tweek

Tweek

- trying not to drink coffee (hard challenge though!)

- dating Craig tucker

- trembles a lot

- bites his nails and stationary

(In the canon he has ADHD so it’s not really a headcanon(

- wears Craig’s hoodies

- surprisingly tough but anxious and paranoid

- does boxing 🥊

- never brushes his hair so it’s really knotty

- works at the coffee shop

- usually calls Craig dude, man, bro , etc

Tolkien

- known for hosting all the parties (classic teen au)

- calm mom friend

- normal person

- voice of reason

- will probably become a lawyer

Scott Malkinson

- Has a crush on Clyde

- Stands up for himself

- has fluffy hair

- Friends with Clyde

- wants to become a filmmaker

- gets beat up a lot

[sing-me-under]

Just wanted to share some little headcanons for the Robins’ first uniforms. Here’s more:

Dan Mora’s Dick Grayson Robin. He’s exactly what I think of late teens Robin 1. Have you seen the tactical pixie boots? And the fact he added pants to his uniform after a certain event that would not have gone as terribly if he had pants to begin with lol

Dick was forced to wear black for exactly two months until he learned how to fight with a cape on to Bruce’s satisfaction. Bruce absolutely was not letting Dick run around completely unprotected so it was either wear the black tactical suit or wear a bulletproof cape.

Jason didn’t initially go by Robin until after Dick gave him explicit permission to use it. He was just wearing the only armored uniforms that fit until he designed his own.

For a good while, Gotham just thought that Robin was de-aged or it was a time travel thing.

Jason eventually changes to his own uniform when he’s 14. It’s the red jumpsuit and black cape.

Red-haired Jason Todd propaganda

Tim went out in the original Robin uniform when he was 12 to save Nightwing and Batman. Bruce reluctantly allowed him to become Robin after, sending him overseas to train for about a year. He’s 14 when he makes his official debut in a uniform designed just for him.

Gotham determined that “Robin” was actually a series of clones upon Tim’s Robin debut. No one actually knows how many Robins there have been.

Tim and Cass have always been the same size. Their wardrobes are essentially interchangeable. Cass has absolutely wore Tim’s Robin costume at least once. It’s kind of scary how identical they look when they style their hair in just the right way (even though Cass is like 3 years older)

Tim added the spikes to the metal arm bracers when he’s a little older (post-War Games).

Stephanie’s Robin is essentially just Tim’s Robin uniform of the time but altered for a taller, feminine body. I still wholly believe that Stephanie is Dick’s height. She also started the trend of colored dominoes. Her “handmade” Robin costume when she confronted Bruce was just one of Tim’s uniforms that he left at her place.

Tim’s Red Robin uniform was literally just Jason’s Red Robin.

Tim’s unternet suit. Please. DC, I beg of you. Give him back his funky beak mask.

I have a lot of opinions on Tim’s costumes.

There’s something funny about Batman’s robins debuting a little older each time, and then Dick ruins the trend with Damian.

Damian was eight when he arrived in Gotham. Before Dick gave him Robin, Damian didn’t have (nor need) a vigilante name, but he did go out in a blend of Dick’s old gear and what remained of his league uniform. Damian wore the full OG Robin uniform exactly once. Barbara is the only person in the world who has a photo of it, and it will remain in her highest security file until the end of Time.

Unpopular opinion? but I like Damian’s canon designs. He was Robin to Dick’s Batman. He shouldn’t need to be Dick Grayson.

Damian cycles through a few variations of the red-green-yellow uniform.

Dick and Damian were tall as kids. Jason and Tim were short as kids. Jason and Damian are the tallest adults. Dick is of fairly average height. Tim doesn’t stop growing (albeit very slowly) until his early 20s, and every day he thinks he’ll have a growth spurt. He levels at around 5’6” (almost 5’7”)

[delopsia]

Babydoll | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,200 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex, vibrating plugs (used on the reader), a bit of voyeurism, and Rhett fucking you against the hood of his truck ❤ with a big bonus of tall! Rhett. He's roughly a foot and a half taller than you, regardless of your height :) I sincerely hope that the anon asking about Rhett using toys on the reader has a fun time with this one.

The entire Abbott family runs large. You'd known that from the moment you laid eyes on them, how the crowd had parted like the Red Sea as soon as the Abbott brothers appeared from around the corner. You still remember the shadow that was cast over you when Rhett stood next to you, so tall that he didn't even realize you were there until he'd bumped into you.

It comes from Royal's side; he always prides himself on that particular notion; you wouldn't be surprised if you found out they descended from fantasy giants entirely. Poor Cecelia has already warned you that they're born big too. 

After a year and a half, you would think you'd adjust to the sheer size of Rhett, but even as you lay eyes on him now, you can't help but find yourself struck by it. Among the many advantages his height provides, he's a damn beacon in public. Lost? All you have to do is look for the tallest man around. 

There was one instance where he tagged along with you and some of your friends on a shopping trip, and you'd all gotten horribly lost. Until someone sent a text saying to gather by Rhett, and one by one, you found each other. Rhett says you look like a bunch of ants, but you know he gets a kick out of watching it happen. 

"Don't tell me that you managed to lose me," chuckling, Rhett comes to a stop just a few feet in front of you, and even with this distance, you still have to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. 

You're going to need a chiropractor. 

"Only for a minute," you step toward him, standing on your tip-toes to meet him for the kiss you know he's quietly wanting, "did you find what you were looking for?"

"I have now," and he's barely able to dodge the light smack that was meant to land on his chest. "Kidding," he lifts the bag he's holding, "they had one bottle left of my cologne."

A high-pitched beep rifles through the air. A shop's anti-theft sensors going off, but that knowledge doesn't strike you until after you've attempted to jump out of your skin. Rhett chuckles, his arm sliding around your waist as he places himself between you and the door. You already know what he would say if you asked why he's doing that, 'just in case.'

"Haven't found anything you like in here?" He asks, has to raise his voice to be heard over the still-beeping security system.

Aimless, your eyes flicker about the room for the umpteenth time. Traveling over never-ending displays of bras, panties, and delicate lingerie that come in every color and material you could ever dream of. Things that look cute until you get closer and see their price tag or realize that they're just not meant for your body type. 

Ironic that you're in one of the biggest lingerie stores you have ever seen, and yet you cannot find anything more than two pairs of buy-one-get-one-free panties. 

"Not as much as you'd think," with a sigh, you lift your hand to show what you've scavenged, "I can't find much that would look good on me." 

Rhett's eyebrows raise, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

"If you think you can find something, be my guest," you and your wallet are content with these two things, even if your ego has taken a little bit of a hit. 

Turning, Rhett's eyes flicker about the room, scanning, and if you listen close enough, you think you can hear those gears turning in his head. Searching for something that he's inevitably not going to find, you've already combed through these isles twice.

Beckoning you with a finger, he starts walking. 

Advantage number two of Rhett's height; he sees things you don't.

Even from a distance, you hadn't seen the babydoll that he ultimately leads you to. Simple in design, with an open front and a dainty bow that sits between the cleavage. It comes in a variety of colors, but the one Rhett hands you is your favorite color. You know that's by no mistake. 

"It's soft?" He offers, almost as a justification for his choice. Though if you think about it, you're pretty sure he's only mentioning that because he's verifying to himself that the material won't make you uncomfortable. 

He's been wary of material ever since Perry bought Rebecca lingerie for her birthday, the cheap scratchy kind that you find on a clearance rack. You heard Rebecca yelling all the way from where you were in the barn, sneaking the horse's some sugar cubes with Amy.

It's surprisingly soft; even as you trace the seams with your hands, you can't find a sign of anything that would make you uncomfortable while wearing it. There's a matching panty tucked along with it, equally soft and matches so well that you almost hadn't realized it was there. 

But...

"I don't know," you frown, still looking at it, "I'm not sure if this is going to look good on me."

Someone is trying to step past you, forcing Rhett to step closer to you in order to let them by, his chest unintentionally bumping against your shoulder. Only serving his next intentions, it seems, because his hands cradle your cheeks, drawing your head up to meet his eye, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

He says it with such confidence that for a few seconds, you catch yourself believing him. But insecurities cannot be washed away with a simple arrangement of words. The roots are in deep, you're both aware of that, but that has never stopped him.

You peek down at it again, fumbling with the material to find the price sticker. Surely this can't be cheap—

Rhett covers the tag with his hand, blocking the numbers from view, "don't you worry your pretty little mind about that."

He tilts his head toward the fitting rooms, wordlessly asking you to at least give it a try on. If there's one thing he's figured out about shopping for clothes with you; it's that you never know until you've worn it once. Thinking for a moment, you run your hand over the material once more. It is cute...

"Alright," lifting up the underwear that you're still holding in your hand, "but you'll have to hold these for me." 

They just about disappear as Rhett takes them from you, suddenly minuscule when compared to his large, calloused hands. Lord, you're never going to get used to that. 

Everything about this man is big. From his hands to his smile, his horse, and his old flannels that you like to steal whenever you're given the opportunity...

"Y'alright?" Shit.

Shaking your head free of wandering thoughts, you nod, "yeah."

The fitting rooms are empty, devoid of any employees or customers. If it weren't for the large 'open' sign that you step past, you'd almost think they were closed. 

Although he very well could follow you into the room, Rhett settles onto one of the chairs, content to wait there until you call him over. Big blue eyes follow as you step into one of the small rooms. 

Sometimes you wonder if he's not just an oversized golden retriever. 

The baby doll is even softer than it was on your hands, hugging your body so gently that you already loathe the idea of taking it off. It's flowy, falling to and ending at your upper thigh. With an asymmetrical hem that gives it an almost whimsical feel. 

Knuckles lightly knock on the door, once, twice, pause, then a third time. "You get lost in there, doll?"

Spinning to get a better look at your reflection in the mirror, the babydoll flowing with the motion, "I feel like Tinkerbell."

"Tinker who?" 

Sliding the deadbolt back, you open the door just a few inches, peeking up at him but not quite letting him see the rest of you just yet. "What's the password?"

Slow, as if unsure, he leans down and pecks your lips. 

Well, that wasn't what you meant for him to do, you were hoping for a simple 'please,' but you'll take it. You don't have it in you to tell him that you weren't asking for a kiss, not when he smiles so proudly to himself.

You step back from the door, allowing it to open on its own.

As soon as Rhett's eyes land on you, they start to crinkle with a soft, dopey smile. Always so mesmerized by you, no matter how many times he's seen you like this. He fumbles with the door as he steps inside, too focused on you to pay attention to the deadbolt that he's blindly fiddling with.

"What do you think?" Offering him a dainty spin, enjoying the way the material brushes against your legs as it settles. 

His eyelashes flutter, "would you object to me buying you one in every color?" He's reaching for you, but he catches himself before he can so much as brush his fingers against you, hand falling limply to his side.

"No," reaching for his hand, "but I think your wallet might." 

Gently, you lift his hand from his side, guiding it to settle along your waist. Blunt nails trail along your sensitive skin, light but firm enough to keep you in place as he steps closer. 

For the briefest of moments, your eyes meet, flicking back and forth between each other's lips with such hesitance that you aren't sure if he's wanting to kiss you or if he's marveling at how you look. 

Tentative lips press to your forehead, then drop down to the bridge of your nose, the scruff of his chin brushing against your skin as he presses a kiss there too. He drops lower, mere centimeters away from your lips, as he hesitates, looks into your eyes once more. 

Reaching up, you gather a fistful of his hair and pull him down to meet you, swallowing down his surprised grunt. The force of it has him stumbling, pushing you backward but never once breaking it, even as he backs you into the wall so quickly that you feel yourself start to stumble. 

The hands holding you by the waist don't let you fall, they never have, and they never will.

Tracing along the curves of your body as he kisses you, open-mouthed and slow, tauntingly so. Completely unyielding to how you try to urge him faster, gives you no choice but to kiss you so slowly that your head starts to spin in, struggling to breathe through your nose. Molding together so wonderfully, despite your differences, like he was made to do nothing but hold you in his arms and kiss you like this.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, voice hoarse against your lips, "don't know why you'd think anything different."

Your reply is cut short before it's even formulated inside of your head, distracted by the unmistakable sensation of a jean-clad thigh pressing between your legs. Your head falls back against the wall, lungs burning as you pant for a breath that you can't seem to catch. On their own, your hips writhe, squirming against his thigh until there's just enough pressure between your legs to have you gasping for more than air. 

One hand grasps you by the neck, holding you there as he nibbles at the meet of your jaw, "that's you go," he drawls, "I know you like my thigh, sweetheart." 

It's hard to focus on moving your hips when he's soothing over your reddened skin with his tongue, chuckling so deviously when you let out a little frustrated grunt. 

"Does my baby need help?" Twitching his thigh upward, satisfying that ache between your legs, "hm?" The most you can offer him is a nod, suddenly unable to formulate the words to voice a simple 'yes.' 

All of a sudden, Rhett's stepping back, pulling you along with him until you're situated in the center of the room. Like a toy, he takes you by the hips. Spinning you around and pulling you against him, giving you no choice but to look at your reflections in the mirror, chest so firm and solid against you that it feels like a wall. 

"Rhett—"

"Just look yourself in the mirror, sweetheart," he tells you, husky, "I've got you." 

He dips down between your legs, cupping your sex in his warm, large hand. With his middle finger, he traces up and down the outline of your folds, pressing gently against your entrance when he passes over it, the thin material barely stopping him from entering. Up and down until you feel yourself starting to drip from his taunting. 

Kisses press into your temple, "is this what you want?" Pushing against your entrance, gracing you with only a ghost of what it could be. You're nodding your head instinctively, pushing your hips toward his touch. "Use your words, doll."

"Please," your voice strained, struggling to keep quiet; these changing room walls are thin; one wrong sound and someone could catch on to what's happening. 

Luckily for you, Rhett's not on one of his 'louder' benders, and you can already feel him pushing your panties to the side, one finger dipping in to feel you. Swirling around your clit, once, twice, before slipping back down and finally easing inside. 

Such a simple touch makes you shudder, squirming against his chest as you watch through the mirror, slowly being spread open by his thick finger. It's already curling, searching for a spot that makes you jolt as if a live wire has touched you. 

You can practically feel his smile as he leans down and squishes his cheek against yours, "look at you," he says, meeting your gaze in the mirror, "takin' my fingers so well."

The sight you find in the mirror is just obscene. Not only from the way his veins bulge in his forearm as he fucks you with his finger but also from how far he has to crouch down to your level. 

Just a few pumps of his finger before a second one eases inside, your body still stretched from last night, soft walls yielding so easily. A sight that you can only barely see, the thin material of the babydoll concealing what Rhett's hand is doing between your legs. 

"Rhett," keening as his thumb presses against your swollen clit, not moving, merely letting you feel him touch you there. 

"What is it, darlin'?" He whispers, lips so close to your ear that you feel them brush against the shell of it, "do you need more, hm?"

Those thick fingers press against the little rubbery spot along your walls, deliberately stroking it over and over. Enough to make your thighs start to shake, squeezing tight around his hand as he continues to fuck you on his fingers. 

But it's not enough, no, no, you still need more. "Want your cock," you mewl, "please."

"Oh, baby..." pressing a kiss into your cheek, "I wish I could give it to you, but we're in public."

On their own, your hips twitch toward his hand, a frustrated grunt slipping from your mouth, "mean." 

You don't expect him to pull his fingers out from you completely, shimmering in the light as he draws his hand from your clenched thighs. A protest is already boiling up on your tongue, but he holds up a singular finger before reaching into his coat pocket. Plastic rustles, and then...

...there's your vibrating plug, the bright pink one that is just a hair longer than the other ones that you own. 

In the back of your head, you get a sneaking suspicion that he's planned this, but it's hard to think too hard about it. Not when he nudges it to your lips, silently asking you to wet it. Parting your lips, you allow him to nudge it into your mouth, tongue swirling along the underside. Your jaw aches from the stretch of it, unused to the size. 

Rhett doesn't let you play with it for long, and you don't miss the hardness you feel against your backside, straining against his jeans. It seems that just as you grow used to the weight of it against your tongue, he's drawing it away. Sliding the thick tip between your folds as he guides it to your dripping hole.

"Be a good girl for me," he coos, "and I'll let you have my cock when we get home." 

The sensation of the toy breaching you has you gasping, clamping a hand over your own mouth to muffle the noise that you find yourself making. He's pushing it in so slowly that you cannot think of anything but the way it stretches you, centimeter after centimeter until it's bottoming out.

As soon as it's in, Rhett straightens back up, pressing a kiss into the top of your head, "good?" 

The most you can provide is a nod because the 'yes' that forms on your tongue comes out as a mere whisper. But that's enough for him, doesn't press you any further on it.

You're thankful that he helps you out of the garment you're trying on because it's growing increasingly hard to focus when the toy inside of you presses so sweetly against the sensitive spot inside. Rhett's nothing but caring, helping you step back into your original clothes and tucking everything back into the right places. 

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" He tells you before you can even begin to protest; yeah, he's planned this. 

You forgot that you had a grocery run planned for after the two of you left the mall.

It's been so long since you last went shopping that the pantry has become a barren wasteland, devoid of everything but ingredients like flour and sugar. The two of you have been eating out for a solid week to avoid going to the grocery store. There's no way you can avoid this, not without going hungry until the next time you leave the house.

"What's got you looking so upset, Princess?" Rhett asks, shutting the truck off. 

"I forgot we had this grocery run," you didn't mean for it to come out so pouty, but by the time you realize your tone, you've already said it.

From the driver's seat, you think you see Rhett melt just the slightest bit, smiling sweetly as he leans over to give you a kiss, "'m sorry, darlin'." 

The first time he does it, you're meandering through the dairy section. The slightest waddle to your step because the thick toy inside of you makes it hard to walk as you normally would. When all of a sudden, you feel it buzz to life.

Your whole world comes to a screeching halt, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling, shit, shit, shit, you forgot Rhett had an app on his phone to control this stupid thing. 

"Havin' trouble, there?" He asks, placing a hand on the small of your back, "hm?"

Just as quickly as it came on, the toy shuts off, leaving you throbbing and aching for more. Would Rhett protest if you asked him to fuck you in the bathroom? 

"Mean," is all you can reply, still yet to open your eyes, "you're so mean." 

Rhett chuckles, hand dropping to lightly squeeze your ass, "you love me for it."

He gets you again while you're hunting down your favorite frozen foods; one minute, you're walking just fine, and the next, you're clamping a hand over your mouth as the toy starts to vibrate. And as if he's completely innocent, Rhett sidles up behind you, "feel good?" He asks, sickly sweet. 

Thank God there's nobody else in this aisle. 

"More like torture," grumbling under your breath; these frozen peas are so cold that they're starting to hurt your hand, but Rhett's left the cart a few steps away. The toy shifts with every step, just barely stimulating your clit; it's only four steps, but by the time you place the food in the cart, you've found yourself panting, clutching the edge of the metal cart. 

Again, the toy shuts off, and you're left aching for something that isn't even enough. 

You're waiting in the checkout line when he turns it on again. You don't even see him touch his phone, and you're so caught off guard that you can do nothing but lean into him and hope your legs don't quiver right out from under you. Such a frustrating feeling that offers you so much stimulation but not enough to make you cum.

"Gonna have to stay quiet, darlin'," Rhett murmurs, looking down at you with such fondness that you're surprised he doesn't have comical heart eyes. 

To anyone else, you merely look like a sleepy girlfriend, resting your head against your cowboy's chest as he holds you by the waist. With nothing to do but wait for this line to move up. 

"Don't suppose I can get you to wear that little baby doll when we get home?" That experience feels like it was a millennium ago. 

You shake your head, "it needs to be washed." 

The devilish smile on his face is so big that you can feel its menacing presence. "And it's going to need to be washed after I'm done with you, too."

It's a miracle that you get out of the grocery store alive. 

---

There's traffic going back home. Cars lined up for what feels like miles upon miles, not budging. You're lucky if the truck moves a foot every few minutes. It's so dark outside that you can't see far ahead, either; there's no hope of figuring out why traffic has stopped the way that it has. 

"You alright?" Rhett asks because you keep squirming around in your seat, incapable of finding a position that doesn't drive the toy further up inside of you. It's not that you dislike it, but...

Shaking your head weakly, "it's starting to hurt." 

His face changes so quickly that you don't even see it happen; in the time it takes you to blink, his expression becomes washed with concern. It's not hard for him to figure out that it's the toy that's hurting you, too. It felt good at first, but now it's pressing so hard against your walls that they're starting to throb with something that isn't pleasure. 

Pushing the console up, he beckons you closer, "'m sorry, baby," peppering your cheek with feather-light kisses, the kind that tickle and force a smile on your face, "do you want me to take it out?" 

"Please." Just like that, he's urging you to part your legs, just far down enough that his warm hand can slip between your legs, disappearing under your skirt.

"Shit, baby," now it's Rhett's turn to be gasping, "you're soaked."

The toy twists inside of you as he fumbles for purchase on the material, so slick that he can't get a very good grip on it. Slowly but surely, it eases out of you, leaving you to clench futilely around nothing but air. There's a plastic bag stored in his jacket pocket; you can only assume that it's what he carried the toy in because that's exactly where he places it. 

"Better?" He asks once it's put away. 

Whining, you sink into him, "I guess." It's more of a disappointed tone than anything; you can't help it; you're sore, still needy for something that seems never to come. 

But it's hard to be bothered for long because two long fingers dip inside of you, stroking shallowly, filling you back up just a little bit. Not trying to make you cum; just there to soothe the ache of being empty.

Traffic starts to move, and the closer you get to home, the more Rhett's fingers start to move. Thrusting in and out of you with the wettest noise, brushing against your abused and sore sweet spot, never directly pressing against it. Your hips are squirming on their own, conflicted between wanting more and wanting him to stop because fuck, you want to cum so bad that it's all you can think about, but home is still so far away. 

"Rhett," you plea, jolting as he turns a finger against the gummy spot inside of you, "can't you just pull over and...!"

His jaw wires tighter with every noise you make, the muscles bulging under the effort. He's thinking about it, considering. God, why did you decide to rent a house that's even further from town than his family ranch? You're only just now starting to pass the land, which gives you roughly ten minutes before you arrive home. 

The truck slows as Rhett retracts his fingers from you. Even with the headlights on, you can only barely see the tiny dirt road that he turns into, the rest of it completely concealed by the darkness of the night and overgrown grass. Just as the main road becomes lost in the rearview mirror, the vehicle comes to a stop. 

"Can't believe you've got me wrapped 'round your tiny little finger like this," he mutters, the door creaking open; then he turns, offering you the softest of smiles, "come on." 

You have no memory of when your feet hit the ground, but suddenly you're stumbling toward the front of the truck, guided along by Rhett's firm grasp on your wrist, fingers still wet from being inside of you. 

"Look at you," placing his hand between your shoulder blades, Rhett pushes you down against the hood of the truck, "God, you're just drippin' for it, ain't you?" 

Just barely, you're able to turn your head, cheek pressed against the warm vehicle, as you peer back at him, "Rhett." 

"Hold on, doll," it's hard to miss the sound of his buckle clinking as he opens it, "I'll take care of you, I promise." 

Just as he says it, the blunt tip of his cock bumps between your legs, making you jump. He repeats it, slapping his hard length against your needy cunt once, twice, thrice. On a normal day, he'd tease you with it a little more, but there's no room for teasing right now, not when you've been aching since you left that mall.

Even with his fingers and the stretch of the toy, it still feels like you're being split wide open as his head slides inside. It's obscene how big he is, how slowly he enters you, always feels like the first time all over again. Agonizingly slow, inch by thick inch. The hand between your shoulder blades forces you to stay put; can't wriggle back and get him in faster, can't squirm away; the only thing you can do is take it. 

"Good girl," he breathes, "just breathe and take it for me; you're almost there." 

The further he eases in, the tighter wound you become, like a spring under too much pressure, every muscle, and fiber in your body frozen. But then he's bottoming out, hips flush against yours, and it punches the breath from your burning legs.

"Aw," pressing a kiss into your shoulder, "baby, you're shakin'." If it were anyone else, you would think they were poking fun at you, but this is Rhett. The man who would give his left arm to have you exactly like this, the man who loves to ruin you so nicely that nothing else can satisfy you. 

He's drawing out of you all the way, leaving just the tip inside, groaning at the way you clench around him. Then, slowly, he sinks back in, just a fraction faster than before, fuck, you're so full that you can't think straight. 

Again, he repeats it, that same steady, deliberate motion that makes you feel every fraction of him enter. Stretching you out even further than he did on the first thrust inward, and you just know that you're going to be sore once he's done with you. 

"You better hold on," Rhett warns, right into your ear, "don't think I can't hold back with this little pussy," he draws back, only to snap his hips right back into you as if to emphasize his words, "just beggin' to get fucked."

Stars sparkle in your vision as he does it again, pushing you further up the hood of his truck. You're scrambling, searching for something to hang onto as he does it again and again. Until he takes pity on you and removes his hand from your shoulders, grasping yours instead, pinning it to the hood. 

The action changes his angle just a hair, and on the next pass in—

"—Rhett!" You cry, "fuck, there, there, there, please, there."

True to his words, his pace changes, the truck rocking with each heavy thrust into your dripping pussy, his plush head hitting your sweet spot just right. Quick, unrelenting, no time to recover from each pass over the soft spot, stimulating it over and over. Your eyes are only half-lidded, pliant as Rhett fucks you just as you'd hoped he would.

"This what you needed, hm?" He hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, "your cowboy's thick cock in you?" 

Wickedly, his hips come to a halt on their next pass in, not pulling out. No, he only pushes harder, forcing you up onto your tip-toes to avoid him taking you right off the damn ground. You can't help the pitchy whimper it works out of you, fluttering weakly around him. 

Then he's moving again, jumping right back into that same damn pace that punches the breath from your lungs with every motion. The world around you growing fuzzier with each pass of his head against your sensitive, swollen walls; you're close, but you can't—can't reach down between your legs—

"Gonna cum inside this tight little pussy of yours," it's not a warning; it's a promise, "pump you nice and full until you're beggin' me to pull out." 

All you can do is kick your hips back toward him. Oh, does he get the message because he reaches right between your parted legs, where his cock is still pumping in and out of you. The pads of his fingers drawing tight circles into your swollen, neglected clit. They don't even make it three circles because all of a sudden, you're cumming right then and there.

Your body goes taut as it wracks over your body, quivering and gasping for a breath that you can't catch as he fucks you through it. Eyes rolling back, can't process a single thing other than the way Rhett's cock rams into your pulsing cunt and how good it feels.

"Sensi—ah!" Limbs growing tingly as he keeps going, hitting every oversensitive spot he can possibly find, "Rhett—Rhett please—!"

His hips stall. 

The first splash of cum inside of you has you jolting, so sensitive that you can feel every spurt of it as he paints your walls pearly white, and it just keeps coming. What little space left inside your cunt, now filled with him as he swears into your shoulder, crumpling down on top of you as he comes down from his high.

For a moment, the only sound in the air is the dance of your heavy breaths, intertwined so wonderfully that you can't tell what is coming from who.

Then, Rhett starts to chuckle, "damn, girl, didn't even let me get you home first."

"Your fault," smiling, you lean into the kisses he's peppering with, "you're carrying me to the shower, too, Cowboy." 

You don't need to look to know that he's rolling his eyes, "of course, babydoll."  

[sleepershell]

Some General Marauders Era Headcanons

NOT canon compliant (I don’t care about jk shitface’s canon lol)

Regulus Black (the main character as far as I’m concerned)

~ French, I mean cmon the Black family motto is toujours pur for gods sake. He absolutely speaks French. Other than that, they can be traced to German (Walburga’s side) and English heritage.

~cis bi boy (sapiosexual?)

~ c-ptsd, depression

~ messy curly medium-length hair, long nimble fingers, one of those people with a few lovely moles in choice locations, slutty waist, angular jaw, kind of set in eyes, not tall but a bit taller than Sirius

~ most dogs freak him out (lol oof)

Sirius Black

~ french (& English, German) ofc.

~ amab queer, omnisexual mlm

~c-ptsd, adhd

~ wavy long black hair, also a slutty waist, not very tall, squinty eyes, latently a little muscular

~ big believer in a leather jacket

James Potter

~ I stan desi Potter. But also love the idea of Euphemia being Greek per her name so Jamie boy is part Greek and part Pakistani on Fleamont’s side. He only speaks English but has some terms and things from both Greek and Hindi.

~ cis bi guy

~adhd

~ needs glasses ofc, I imagine he’s super nearsighted.

~ super messy hair, lean and muscular, medium tall

~ red converse wearer

Remus Lupin

~ Welsh, English, and Portuguese. He speaks only English.

~ amab, queer, demisexual?

~ anxiety

~ chronic pain from wolf injuries

~ scarred all over, light brown hair, tan, he’s the tallest, skinny but not lacking muscle, limps sometimes and often needs to stretch his sore muscles, hairy!!

~ always wearing a sweater

Peter Pettigrew

~ English & German. Speaks English.

~ cis, bi

~ anxiety, definitely does self-soothing movements

~ fat !! no skinny wormtail in this house, wavy blonde hair, the cutest cheeks known to man, callouses on his hands and no one can figure out why

~ asthma

~ loves naps

Pandora Rosier

~ Another family who absolutely must be fluent French speakers. So I think they have some Afro-Caribbean on one side and the other is very much originally French. Speaks English and French.

~ cis fem, pansexual, demiromantic

~ autistic

~ hair is super light blonde and looooong in dreads, light blue eyes, brown skin, quite tall and thin, all her features are super delicate and lithe, she’s kind of otherworldly tbh but she certainly doesn’t act so she’s got quite the mad scientist competitive streak

~ amazing at charms

Evan Rosier

~ Afro-Caribbean, French, English. Speaks English and French.

~ he/they, omnisexual (and by that I mean he fucks everyone ha-hey)

~ super light blonde hair either cropped or in a protective style, brown skin, light brown eyes, braces, dead average build, but still suave af don’t be mistaken everyone wants this kid, not hairy

Lily Evans

~ English and Scottish, speaks English.

~ cis gal, questioning but likely demisexual

~ fat!!, straight-ish red hair ofc, freckles, green eyes, cute small chubby hands, radiant smile

Barty Crouch Jr.

~ English, speaks English and all curse words in every language he could get people to teach them in.

~ queer amab bisexual

~ I won’t begin to try to dissect the workings of Barry’s brain but depression could be a start

~ eidetic memory

~ needs reading glasses? but like most of the time they’re not on him or they’re broken. so he just like uses his crazy big brain to just remember stuff or else he mostly never reads outside of studying times

~ brown hair but whenever he gets the chance he buzzes or dyes it green for fun, stick and pokes and self done piercings, tall but not Remus tall, lean muscular, hairy ass legs

Dorcas Meadowes

~ Ethiopian and English. Speaks English.

~ cis girl, sapphic

~ dark skin, black hair often in long braids, dark eyes, athletic curvy build, long fingers

~ literally prodigy herbologist, also amazing at potions and divination

Marlene McKinnon

~ Filipino!!!!!!!!!!!! speaks English and Filipino (maybe some of another regional language of the Philippines).

~ cis girl, sapphic

~ adhd, depression

~ lactose intolerant

~ short queen, freckles, dyed blonde but def experiments with color and cut, usually straight or a little wavy, muscular but it doesn’t really show she just seems kinda thin, some stick and pokes, several ear piercings

~ wears red cowboy boots, studded belts, low rise, cut up t shirts, hats

Mary Macdonald

~ Brazilian on one side and South African & English on the other. Speaks English and Portuguese.

~ cis girl, bisexual

~ ehler’s danlos syndrome

~ wears her dark hair natural curly, curvy, average height, belly button pierced, huge gorgeous smile, adorable button nose

lol

Severus Snape

~English and Polish. Speaks English.

~ cis, hetero

~ depression, anxiety

~ straight long black hair, pale, Remus tall, fairly average weight, dark eyes, strong nose

~wears mostly black

~ amazing at potions

[sunnyisinsane]

seven several-sentence sunday. Day

Thank you @bcbdrums ! :D I uh . Got carried away . Whoops .

The sound of creaking is occasionally heard through the silence.

My view is focused on one thing though, that man, hand gripping the screw in his head. He's gotten taller since I last saw, Spirit was the tallest man in the "group". I was always forced to be around his friends, what luck that they're all faculty of this damned academy. The sound of a leg bouncing is also here, it's familiar and annoying. I'm not focusing on that though, I can see him in the corner of my eye and I wish I didn't, I've grown to hate the color red because of him. My focus is on the freak nonetheless. Nobody has said anything, just sitting silently at this table. There's stitches all over it. Suddenly, to my right he clears his throat.

"Maka's been good, she's top of her class, she's becoming a great meister!" The man exclaimed nervously.

"I don't care." I glare at my ex husband, he bites his lip, making those stupid panicked noises before looking down, nodding. I was hoping that'd be it until a different voice speaks up.

"Figures you wouldn't care, I mean...when was your last visit?" He smirks, the stitching on his cheek gets pulled back freakishly from the movement. I stand up from my seat.

"You have no right asking that! I needed to get away from this asshole over here! Mothering isn't easy!" Spirit gulps, looking at me after I say this loudly. Stein just stands up as well. "How could you know? You've never done it." He says, blankly, still smiling. As if this is funny.

"Oh, please, you couldn't even take care of a mouse! Honestly it's a wonder Spirit moved back in with you! He only did it because he needs someone to give his pathetic ass a purpose! He's only here because I left!" I slam my fist against the stitched table. .

Stein scoffs, "Spirit's a grown man, he does what he wants. You should know, you clearly couldn't please him or keep him in line."

I gasp, horrified, before I can say something Spirit stands up, embarrassed.

"Stein!"

We both don't acknowledge him, continuing on.

"Spirit is a spineless whore!"

"Kami!"

Stein snorts, but shrugs.

"Like I said, he's a grown man, he can do what he wants. It's his choice to stop acting like a child though." I cross my arms, glaring at Stein as he says this. "Okay guys you're just being mean to me now." A sad voice says underneath everything.

At this point Stein and I have gotten closer, emphasizing our words as we speak, both of our hands on the table as Spirit looks at us pitifully.

"Well he chose me over you! You're just a danger to everyone! I'm the one with the daughter with him!"

"how's that going for you?" Stein grins, looking around the room, as if to emphasize the point that Spirit lives with him again.

"I can see your soul, Stein. You're anxious, you're getting defensive and worried! You act so high and mighty but I can read you, way better than anyone could!" I say, grinning, looking at his soul, my words are true too. Stein may be able to give quick responses but he's always been threatened by me. The man's smile drops, he glances away, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Guys! Please, let's try getting along! Why don't we try resonating?" Spirit says, putting a hand between us. We both get caught off guard. It's silent for a moment before I move away from the table.

"You're so naive, so stupid, if you think I'd ever resonate with Franken Stein!"

"I'd say the same about you," Stein says as he lights his own cigarette. Spirit frowns, pouting. "That has to be the stupidest idea you've had yet." The stitched man shoots a look at Spirit as he says this.

I get up, towards the door. "For once, I agree with Stein here." Spirit's about to cry and Stein just smokes his cigarette quietly.

Then I leave.

Yeah I went a bit overboard there .thanks for the @ again bcb :D I didn't proofread this btw anywho uh

@takeyourcyanide , you . You write . Hi. I am TAGGING you btw you don't have to actually . Do these .

[citrenecult]

Hi. Do you have any head canons about Leshy? It is very interesting to learn about him in your view

SHRUBBERY TIME LET GO

Leshy

-Of course he is the youngest of the Bishops and is labeled the baby of the family by literally everyone. He’s significantly younger, a few billion years younger than Narinder, the second youngest, while the other bishops share between a thousand and a million years apart (other than Shamura, who’s been around the longest.)

-Was the most carefree, mostly due to the fact that he’s still a child god. He’s rebellious, mischievous, and all around goofball. Playing pranks are his specialty and he often is accompanied with Narinder when he is planning his next move. Unpredictable, like chaos intended.

-He is a pyromaniac and an arsonist. Can and will burn down anything if given the chance. He set Anchordeep on fire once and has since been banned from accessing any of the exploding jellyfish. Kallamar is still confused about how Leshy managed to set the underwater temple on fire.

-Leshy’s red-green colorblind.

-Leshy is also aroace!

-He is very observant and has always been able to pick up on the other bishops feelings and emotions. He wants his siblings to be having fun and be happy so it made it his job to cheer them up.

-Likes music and dance. He’s not graceful by any means when he dances but he’s having fun and that’s all that matters.

-Cannibalistic. When he was a newly born god he killed and ate a rouge god that roamed the lands of the Old Faith. That’s how Heket found him, eating another god. He proudly proclaims that he’s Heket’s favorite and looks up to her.

-Likes to maim and kill but is average at wielding weaponry.

-His always hungry. Even more hungry than Heket is. However, he has a poor spice tolerance. Heket keeps her food safe from Leshy due to dosing everything she eats in spicy chili flakes.

-He saw Narinder was stressed and pulled him along on a heist to steal one of Shamura’s spell books. They were successful and started playing around with it but neither knew how to properly wield the spells, which ended up in a disastrous. Narinder clawed Leshy’s face due to a mind-altering spell and Leshy lost half his sight. It was traumatizing but Leshy forgave Narinder easily. Little did he know that it was the beginning of the end.

-Leshy is really unlucky…

-Heket was the second to be attacked by Narinder, and Leshy was the one to find her with her throat slit. This would also be the incident where he lose the other face of his eyes, as Narinder gouged them out.

-Leshy couldn’t sleep at all after Narinder’s betrayal, but he had no one else to turn to. Kallamar was locking himself in his temple and Heket was always busy tending to Shamura’s job while Shamura was recovering. He simply had to endure the sleepless nights. He would rather be tired to deal with the nightmares.

-He felt the need to prove himself useful to his siblings. He grew up quickly and began taking on more and more responsibilities in the Old Faith, which stressed him out immensely but he pushed forward so he didn’t seem like a burden.

-It was thought that Leshy would grow to be the tallest of the Bishops but because of the stress he was under his growth was stunted, and he never grew any taller.

-Planted camellia everywhere in Darkwood for Narinder. He hates the flower now, but he doesn’t have the heart to uproot them.