itsmeimcathy

[introspectivememories]

hc that damian absolutely loves sitting in his mom's lap and talia when she was absolutely sure that nobody from the league was watching them would let damian sit in her lap and tickle his belly and he'd giggle and press his face into her stomach and then they'd fall asleep on the bed together and maybe if damian could work up the courage to ask his mom will ask, "amma do you love me?" and talia would go very still before pressing a kiss to his hair and respond "with everything that i am" and maybe if damian's feeling extra brave he'll wait until talia's almost asleep before asking "do you think baba loves me too?" and talia would reach down to pinch his chubby chubby cheeks and say "he already does. from your ten little toes to your chubby cheeks." and they'd curl up closer to each other and everything will go to hell soon and the cuddle sessions might get rarer and rarer and one day dami will move to gotham but that is then and this is now and right now dami has his amma's strong heartbeat in his ears and her arms around him and a head full of dreams about his baba and everything is okay even if it's just for a little while

[alcoholicweiwuxian]

unsure whats funnier. jinbaos fatal fluff-between-the-ears-ism or zhaocai's expression

[themoderngogoworld]

A less cartoony sketch of what Freya might look like if she was in a more realistic/comic book style! I also wanted to see what she would look like with a more natural hair color, since I always imagined that the blue-haired characters from Ed Edd n Eddy could possibly be a shorthand for black or very dark hair in a pop art sort of way. If that were the case, she'd have really dark red hair!

Haven't drawn realistic faces in a looong time, but this was just for fun!

[gruesomejack]

Rabbit is made to be some Nana's favorite grandson

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinks about missy pinching even’s cheeks until even tries to bite her fingers

[walnutsupreme]

If you have long nails you can just pinch shit like a crab. And make biscuits also

[italiantea]

dog dump

[fatestouch]

“...You were actually a pretty cute kid. What happened?”

“Don’t be mean~. Besides, I have a feeling that you were an even more adorable child than I was~”

“Hard disagree, but whatever you wanna believe.”

[ghostlyfeelings]

i met some new people at the party last night and got invited to their parties so i must be a catch

[bloodtwin]

i just wanna pinch his wittle cheeks tbh

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[rottenpumpkin13]

Hellooo mi dearest Pumpkin, i'm here bc i love your hc about AGSZ, and i love the way your written them <3 but i wanna now, do u have hc for their bodies types??

Bit of headcanon, bit of what I take from canon

Angeal: The most muscular, he bears visible scars from battles and childhood, since he was the most active between him and Genesis and always running around in nature. His weight fluctuated a lot as a child due to food insecurity, and less as an adult when he grew into his body and bulked up in the army—though he still maintains his "pinchable cheeks" according to his mother....and Genesis. He's the strongest swimmer of the three firsts with Genesis being a close second, and possesses the most raw brute strength with ease. He also has exceptional balance, naturally, since he's always fighting with the Buster Sword strapped to his back. Angeal thinks his best feature is his arms while Genesis claims it's his ass and Sephiroth says it's his thighs.

Genesis: The least muscular of the trio, "but only because I have two tanks to compare myself to." He's well-toned and delights in the double-takes and lingering stares he garners when dressed in fewer layers, finding humor in appearing smaller than he actually is and surprising people. He has fewer scars than the other two (pre-degradation). He was a skinny child, is very critical of his body but still takes pride in it despite the way the media loves to compare the three. He loses weight easily but has an appetite large enough for that not to happen easily. He bruises quickly and has less stamina than the other two (but more than the average SOLDIER), but he can maneuver his body in ways out on the field that Sephiroth and Angeal can't. He thinks his best feature is his broad shoulders and his chest.

Sephiroth: He's in the middle ground, often referred to as "the ideal" in terms of muscular build by the media. He's the tallest of the trio, has remarkable endurance, and knows he's objectively attractive, and yet he harbors deep insecurities about his body that he rarely talks about. They stem from feeling like he's nothing but a body to be exploited and used by Shinra, having unconventional features like his eyes and hair, and being painfully aware of how different he looks. His weight fluctuates due to stress, he has really strong lungs and can stay underwater the longest, and is prone to migraines. Sephiroth doesn't have a favorite feature.

Zack: He's never had any qualms about his body and rarely any insecurities. He was tall for his age, and developed the ability to fight in any terrain early on from growing up playing in the jungles of Gongaga. He's super muscular and proud of it, since he works out every day. He's the fastest runner among the four, second only to Sephiroth (seriously, the man ZOOMS). His legs are exceptionally strong from all the squatting he does. Zack can outlast the other three without sleep, food, or water, although he'll whine and complain while doing so. His reflexes are incredible, and if you tickle his left calf, he'll sneeze. He doesn't know why. He's scared to find out, actually.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I can't be the only one that finds Nachts little devils super adorable! especially the two with a cat and dog mask/faces, their little imp forms are just too cute! with that in mind how do you think Nacht would react to black bulls member reader-not yet s/o first reaction to seeing his devils is cooing over their smallness and pinchable faces? headcanons perfectly fine please and thank you!

Hello~! I was in the mood for some ... situational comedy with the very adorable little devils. So thank you for the patience, and i hope you like this! ^^

Pairing: Nacht x gn!reader (mostly Nacht's pov) Genre: Situational comedy/general Length: ~0.7k Contains: Nacht being Nacht, annoyed by his devils, reader coos at the devils Casually tagging: @loosesodamarble

Nacht has come to accept the presence of his devils around himself. He had made a pact with them, and they were now bound to him. Which is also why they were constantly by his side. Much to his annoyance.

Or he should say that it had been an annoyance.

Now he was used to them.

He had grown more or less used to the idea that there was always someone watching over his shoulder. Watching what he did. Where he went. At what time. And who did he go with. Nothing was sacred.

Not that the devils judged. They were devils, after all. The line between right and wrong, didn’t seem to matter much.

Unless it came to his sleeping habits or diet, it seemed.

The buggers were more than eager to remind him to drink something else than coffee. To eat something. Try to sleep.

As if his sleep would be restful.

‘It’s the caffeine!’ they’d tell him.

Which would spark that all too familiar feeling of annoyance.

Never did he think that he’d be getting lectured by some devils. They might’ve been his devils, but it wasn’t supposed to affect how they were. Come to think of it, maybe that was it. They were annoying him, precisely because they were devils. They might not have been able to do anything to him, but they could get their fun by annoying him. Not because they cared.

That had to be it.

That’s what people would think. Anyways.

Even the mere mention of devils made most people cower in fear.

And with good reason.

He had learned, the hard way, that devils weren’t something to be toyed with. Something like magical beasts. Lurking in the woods with a sense of danger, but still very possible to overpower.

Devils were the real deal.

...

Where were they anyhow?

Nacht looked around. And it was... eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

No one to blabber into his ear or climbing onto his shoulder...And it was odd. Very. Odd.

“But you’re so cute~!”

What in the devil- he walked around the corner to see you, pinching the cheeks of Gimodelo.

“Oh what an absolutely adorable little handsome devil you are,” you cooed before turning your attention to Plumede. “And so are you!”

The devils didn’t seem... too bothered by the affection or the compliments. They only wiggled away if you pinched them too hard for their liking. Who would’ve thought? That they might enjoy being... shown affection? Attention? Called handsome, of all things?

And Nacht... that poor devil could just stare.

His eyes were widened, and he just... stared.

Because... what-, how does one even begin to think that a fellow squad member, yeah sure a Black Bull, but still! Would be pinching the cheeks of devils and call them cute.

Did you know what they were?

Think they were just some strange house pets?

That seemed like the likeliest option.

“You do know that they’re devils, right?” He asked. He had to ask. Maybe see the flinch of terror that people sometimes had when one would mention something about the demonic.

Your head turned to look at him with a smile, like he would have asked a trivial question. Like what colour was the sky.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied with a casual tone that was so soft. Especially considering the topic. And just... turned your attention back to the quartet and continued from where you left off.

While Nacht... He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it.

Maybe he should have called you daft. Or insane. That you didn’t know what was good for you or... or then... it was something that he wasn’t-, sure how to call yet.

Interesting was the closest that he could come up with; a good enough of a word to use in the circumstances. But... maybe that would be... suitable. For now.

Interesting.

Intriguing.

Get to know you; someone who was so happily pinching the cheeks of four little devils.

[suzukiblu]

claybaby!! I love cassie 💖

“Aw, I’d totally fight Achilles for you, kiddo,” Kon coos at the claybaby, and Cassie laughs again and gives him another swat. “Achilles ain’t shit.” 

“Depends on the version you’re discussing,” Cassie says wryly. “The one I know is currently busy being retired from fighting Amazons and living with his reincarnated real estate broker boyfriend and their flying elephant, though.” 

“That sounds like several very interesting stories to tell Claybaby about at bedtime tonight,” Kon says, then coos at the sculpture again as he shapes her ears. Even those are adorably pinchable-looking. “You like Amazonian bedtime stories, kiddo?” 

“Excuse you, she’s a modern claybaby,” Cassie says mock-huffily. “She’s gonna wanna hear superhero stories, obviously.”

[danikamariewrites]

This could be smut or not, but could you do one where the reader is just having one of those days where they just don’t like their body like stretch marks on their thighs and Rhys notices and praises and spoils them?

I accidentally read to many angsty fics and I’m in need of a pick me up lol😅

Perfect

Rhysand x reader

A/n: I went with fluff and left it a little suggestive at the end. I hope this makes you feel a little better.

Warnings: mental health struggles and body image issues

Standing in front of the mirror you hold your dress up to your body. Frowning, you place the sparkly, black garment on your vanity stool. You turn from side to side taking in your body, only dressed in your bra and underwear.

Lately, you haven't been loving the way you look. More stretch marks have appeared on your thighs and butt. You feel like your stomach is a little pudgy and the bags under your eyes stick out like a sore thumb. For the past week, you haven't been very happy with your appearance. You feel like your clothes haven't been fitting right and you've been consumed with negative thoughts about yourself.

This hasn't gone unnoticed by Rhys. Usually, you talk to him about this stuff but you hadn't yet, and he was growing more and more concerned every day. Rhys strides out of the walk-in closet buttoning his shirt when he saw you frowning at yourself in the mirror.

He walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush to his chest. You lean into his soft embrace as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. “What's wrong love? Talk to me.”

You let out a deep sigh through your mouth. “I'm just in one of those moods again where I hate everything about myself.” You meet his violet eyes in the mirror, they're full of sadness. “What do you hate about yourself? Tell me and I'll tell you what I love about it.”

He spins you to face him and you look down. He hooks his finger under your chin so you're looking up at him. Rhys gives you a pleading smile. You know he just wants to make you feel better and be there for you, so you oblige his request. “I have more stretch marks on my thighs and butt.”

Rhys drops to his knees, caressing your thighs, kissing the marks. “I think these are beautiful. They're like like tiger stripes, it means you're fierce.” He says with a mischievous grin. He continues kissing your thighs, giving equal love and attention to both legs. “What else love?”

“I feel like my tummy looks pudgier.” He rises a little, still on his knees. Rhys moves his hands up your legs to trace over your stomach and places them on your hips. He kisses and nips at your tummy making you giggle. “I think your tummy is perfect.” Rhys grabs at you gently, kissing you again. “And even if it is getting ‘pudgier’,” he scoffs, “then that just means there's more of you to love.”

You run your hand through his soft, raven hair as he kisses you a few more times. “Anything else bothering you darling?” You nod, “The bags under my eyes are so bad Rhys. I feel like my whole face just looks wrong.” Tears line your eyes. Rhys stands holding your face in his hands. His face solemn, “Your face is absolutely beautiful. So what if you have bags? I have them too.” You smile at each other.

“Your nose is cute as a button, your cheeks are so pinchable and kissable, gods I just love them. And your eyes.” He stares into your eyes intently. “I get lost in those beautiful eyes all the damn time. I love the way they look at me. Full of love and lust. They're kind and perfect.” You let your tears fall and pull Rhys into a tight hug.

“I love you, Rhys. So, so much baby. Thank you.” He hugs you tighter, nuzzling your neck. “I love you too y/n, darling.” You pull away and he brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “How about we skip Rita’s tonight? And I can show you just how much I love you.” He smirks, leaning in so your noses touch. “I'd like that.” your breath catching, arousal taking over your body. Closing the distance Rhys connects his soft lips with yours.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Bdubs has very big pinchable cheeks. Not soft but very squishy

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