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firelilyfox · 1 month

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Crush

Dune : Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: None / just fluff

You have a crush on Paul & he might have the same feeling about you

This is my first fanfic on this platform & my first about Dune. Please forgive me for mistakes (English is not my first language)

comments/reblogs are appreciated :]

If you have any ideas what scenarios I could do next then let me know because this is fun!

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The sun was setting as you finally arrived. It was a long and hard day and you are longing for some comfort, but everyone of your friends was busy with drinking and making fun of the believers like Stilgar. Even your best friend Chani was nowhere to be found.

Only he was there. Paul Arteides.

The One. The Voice… or some bullshit like that. You weren’t one of the believers. In your eyes Paul is just a normal human being with a talent for big speeches.

You never really talked to him more than three words because the thought alone made you nervous. Since he joined the Fremen two months ago you had a little … crush on him. And obviously you weren’t really good at smalltalk. Especially when all of your people have eagle eyes on the boy you wanted to talk to.

But tonight he was alone. Nobody paid any attention to him as Paul was sitting in a shadowy corner by a small fireplace, sipping a drink. For a second you wanted to turn away and just going to bed like every other night, but something tells you to do the opposite.

„Can I join you?“ You asked bravely.

Paul looked up with a little smile on his face. „Please do. I’ve been waiting.“

You hesitate for a moment, frowning but you sit down right next to him. „What where you waiting for?“

He chuckled softly. „For someone like you to talk to me.“

„Someone like me?“ You asked confused and watching his smile getting even brighter. Paul has that kind of smile, that makes you want to smile too instantly. All you can hope for is that the flickering light of the fire conceal you’re blushing.

„Yeah. Someone who truly dislikes me.“

You smirked. „What makes you think that I dislike you? Oh, mighty Duke of Arrakis?“

A warm laughter escaped his lips and for the first time ever you really saw his face light up in enjoyment. „Oh please don’t say that. It sounds awful! I only said it because I was in the heat of the moment.“

„I liked it.“

His laughing froze for a moment and he looked surprised. „You liked it? Are you having a stroke or something?“

„No!“ You laughed. „I really liked it. Sure it was a litte … dramatic but in the end you have a talent to bring people together and give them hope. That’s pretty impressing.“

He shrugged his shoulders. „Nah, I’m just good at telling people what they want to hear I guess.“ He hesitated. „Chani told me that you weren’t one of the believers and that you think this whole Lisan al Gaib thing is just bullshit.“ Paul is offering you his cup and you accept to take a sip. Immediately the taste of wine fills your senses. While you process his words you lick some of the wine from your lips and catching him starring at them.

Did you just imagine how his gaze darkened for a second or did that really had an impact on him?

You clear your throat because all of the sudden your mouth got dry again. „You talked to Chani about me?“

A crooked smile shows on his lips. „Yeah I did. I was … I wanted to…“

„I thought you were good with words?“ You say to mock him with success.

„I am good with words! But you have the talent to make me forget what I wanted to say and how.“ His eyes are locked with yours and you are able to feel how your heart skips a beat.

You wanted to say something but your mind were blank. Paul moves closer to you, slowly to make sure that you were able to stop him at any time.

„I like how you unsettle me“, he whispered. You could feel his breath against your lips. „Every time I see you I find new strength. But I never found the courage to talk to you.“

„But you … you always seemed so … full of courage“, your voice was not more than a scratching.

„I’m good at pretending“, Paul swallows hard and his eyes darted to your lips again. „Sometimes.“

„Sometimes?“ You asked.

„I can’t pretend that I don’t want to kiss you right now.“

You wanted to say something, but before you were able to even catch a breath his lips laid on yours. Soft like the morning wind in the desert. His hand holding your cheek and pulling you closer as you gave in to the kiss. Your fingers find their way up his chest and into his curled hair.

A little moan escaped your throat as he intensifies the kiss and as an answer to your reaction, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

„I think Muad’Dib is enjoying his time with the Fremen!“ You two were interrupted by some drunk Fremen men cheering and applauding from afar.

Paul and you are giggling like kids. Both with red cheeks and swollen lips. „Your people like a good show, mh?“

„Only if the mighty Duke of Arrakis is involved.“

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #dune part two #dune movie #dune part one #fluff #paul atreides fluff #dune fluff #timothée chalamet #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you

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cl3fairyyy · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗

summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.

warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!

word count // 4.5k

notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe

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Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues.

His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine.

But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.

Edward is lonely.

His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs.

He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with-

He pauses.

The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword.

The routine is disrupted.

His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections.

The routine is disrupted.

"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.

Back to the routine.

After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job.

To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that.

For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?

The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.

"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice."

She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk."

You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone.

She smiles sympathetically at you.

"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you."

She snorts at your expression and continues.

"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?"

You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat.

"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway."

All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk.

You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.

"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."

Silence.

You giggle nervously.

"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you."

You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second.

Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so.

"Likewise."

With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink.

Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink.

He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction.

He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day.

The routine continues, and he is happy with that.

The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action.

Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.

He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him.

When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton.

But he can't.

He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment.

When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you.

Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon.

Oh no.

Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you.

You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously?

But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.

Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.

He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.

He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time.

Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you.

All of your coworkers, except one.

The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you.

You certainly like him.

You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent.

You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).

It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you.

You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you.

You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!"

You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor.

"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday."

Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!"

His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..."

You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried.

Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.

The routine is disrupted.

The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave.

You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.

You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell.

You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..."

You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great.

"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you."

He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win.

Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away.

You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross."

It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him.

This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead.

You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection.

Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk.

"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to."

You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are."

Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him.

"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?"

Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker.

"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early."

He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly.

"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.

You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink.

"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice."

You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."

After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate.

"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-"

You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music.

You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?"

Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever.

He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps.

Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him.

"Want a hand?"

You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm.

Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you.

It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette.

The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly.

"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to."

He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt."

You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise."

Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows.

"You mean, like a date?"

The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm looking forward to it."

With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago.

The routine is disrupted.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danonation #danocel #the batman 2022 #the riddler

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 7 months

Note

Lisa, Beidou, and Yae Miko with a reader who worried that they are going to leave them / aren’t interested in them.

(Genshin Impact) Lisa, Beidou, and Yae with an insecure S/O

Man one night we go from pelvis breaking shitposting imagines to really sad topics. What the hell even is this blog's posting?

Lisa looks shocked upon hearing S/O's thoughts.

She stays silent for a moment, her finger silently tapping the side of her teacup, politely waiting for them to finish.

(S/O) "-...I know it's unfair of me to think that of you but I can't help but think of it. Why choose me? I must be boring compared to anyone you could've chosen."

(Lisa) "..."

S/O says nothing else as they stare silently, seemingly ashamed that they vocalized their internal struggle to her.

Lisa gets up from her chair before taking them into a gentle hug.

(Lisa) "There are lots of people in this world, S/O. Sure, some of them may be smarter, better looking, or whatever you can think of. But I don't care about them. The only person I'd want to be with is you."

Feeling S/O lean into her hug after saying that, she begins to smile.

(Lisa) "I chose to be with you, S/O. I don't, and I never will regret being with you."

Beidou and S/O drank inside her cabin to celebrate a successful sailing with the crew of the Crux.

However their conversations had gone from stupid smalltalk to a pretty heartfelt discussion.

Although the beer they had helped loosen their tongues, they could think coherently. Which is why what S/O had told Beidou surprised her.

(S/O) "-...Am I really gonna be able to keep up with you and the others? I feel like I'll only drag you down..."

Beidou slams her drink down before shaking her head.

(Beidou) "Drag me down? Hell no, you can't drag me down. The person who matters the most to me could never."

Calming herself down to not scare S/O, she puts her head onto their lap.

(Beidou) "I don't ever want to hear you say that about yourself again. I'm with you every step of the way, no matter what. If you're doubting yourself, then I want you to believe in me. Because I believe in you."

Yae quietly listens to S/O voice their insecurities to her. Their voice was barely a whisper, but her ears were able to pick up every single word.

(S/O) "Someday, you'll probably grow bored of me, right?"

(Yae) "...S/O, are you aware of how long I've been alive?"

(S/O) "...I-I know it's been a few centuries at least-"

(Yae) "Then you must be aware of all the things I have witnessed throughout that time."

S/O quietly nodded. Yae held up a hand before they could speak of.

(Yae) "I do not think you are. I could have simply chosen to ignore you. There are many people who are far more interesting than the both of us, believe it or not. And there will continue to be such people."

Yae moved close to hold their hand, though her expression told S/O that she was completely serious and not about to tease them.

(Yae) "Why on earth would I spend my time with someone I didn't care about?"

They looked like they were about to cry before Yae turned their face towards her and gave them a kiss on their cheek.

(Yae) "I may be alive long after you're gone, but I would not dare to think of the life that could have been without you."

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #lisa minci x reader #beidou x reader #yae miko x reader #lisa minci #beidou genshin impact #yae miko

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marunalu · 5 months

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This is kind of an joke post (KIND OF) so dont take it to seriously. Its just my brain comming up with ridiculous ideas, so feel free to ignore me.

So you know, even long before the latest released chapter I always wondered as a dfo fan why afo married inko, because even if you consider some of the more popular conspiracy theories like the inko shimura or quirk marriage theory, afo NEVER had to MARRY her in the end. So why did he do it?

And after the latest chapter I think I finally got my answer: Dude lowkey hadnt realized that he had fallen in love. 🤣

Okay hear me out. The latest chapter confirmed that afo has no context or grasp what (selfless) love is, because he never experienced it himself. No parents, other guardians or friends to show him what love is or people in generell who showed and teached him kindness. Only a little weakly brother he felt a connection with he didnt fully understand and refused to let go since he was the only "possession" he had. Afo is unable to see the difference between (selfless) love and possession. Its not really something you can blame him for, thanks to the horrible enviroment he had to grow up in. To him possessing something means "love". He wants everyone to live for his sake just like yoichi. In other words he wants to feel loved and wants to love. But since he doesnt understand the difference between love and possession it seems so fucked up to us while for him it is normal.

Now back to inko. I have no idea how they could have meet. Maybe afo had his reasons to lay his eyes on her or maybe it was just a simple coincidence. No matter what it was, I like to believe that inko was not only the first person who showed afo kindness and support without the wish to gain something from him in return (like most of his followers do), but also was the first person who showed him what love (NOT possession) actually feels like.

It could be something incredible simple like touching his hand or his cheek in a caring/loving way and since nobody ever did that (if we consider his jealous reaction when he sees kudou and yoichi "holding hands" which I bet the brothers never did even as children) he would be so confused and wondering why that felt so nice and wants more of it. So he starts to obsess over her, because he enjoyed how she made him feel good (while still not getting what it actually is because he is just a mess 😅). They start to spend more time together while afo tries to find out what kind of miracle she is, what that strange feeling is when he is close to her, why his stomach feels funny and why he starts babbling nonsense every time she tries to hold smalltalk with him. 😆😆😆

So then imagine at one point afo does something kind to her in return (because he is slowly learning from her) and inko gives him a little kiss on the cheek and he is all like: WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPEND??? WHAT DID SHE DO??? WHAT WAS THAT??? IS THAT SOMETHING PEOPLE DO??? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW??? AND WHY DID THAT FEEL SO GOOD??? SHOULD I SAY THANK YOU??? WHY DO I WANT MORE OF IT??? I WASNT PREPARED FOR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!!End result: brain.exe stopped working.

Afterwards he visits dr garaki and rants about all this strange feelings he has recently and believes he is actually sick and garaki is like: dude.... youre just in love and afo reacts like: OOOHHHHH............ and now? So after garaki explains to him VERY cautious that normally two people who are in love with each other would start to live together, marry, get children and always be there for each other afo IMMEDIATELY responses with: I WANT THAT!!! and runs back to inko to propose to her "You will marry me!" (No nos and no buts!)

#bnha #bnha spoiler #bnha all for one #bnha dad for one #inko midoriya #all for one x inko midoriya #all for inko

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genshin-impact-writings · 1 year

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omg I was thinking a LOT about a certain scenario and your event was like a blessing.

I was wondering if you could write Royalty AU with Alhaitam as a royal advisor and reader as the monarch?

You can include but you don't have to: forbidden love + the quote "I love you. You don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know."

Hope I gave you something fun to work with!

Anon, this was the perfect combination of prompts, thank you so much for sending this in! <3 I really had so much fun working on this one! This is my first time writing for Alhaitham though, so I hope he's not too ooc. Have fun reading and stay safe, dear anon. :)

Prompts: royalty AU + forbidden love + “I love you. You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.” (1k followers event: Alternate Universes)

Only you and you alone – Alhaitham x gn!reader (royalty AU)

“The royal family of Inazuma sends their regards. They greatly appreciate your invitation but have to inform you that they cannot attend the festivities this year.” Alhaitham’s voice is calm as ever but over the years, you have come to know him well enough to notice that he’s not happy about their rejection. He has worked hard to finally put an end to the ongoing dispute between Inazuma and Sumeru that started long before you inherited the throne from your parents – and he’s rightfully upset about them still holding onto their grudge.

“That’s unfortunate,” you say. Though there’s only the two of you in the conference room, you’re carefully choosing your words. As the ruler of this kingdom, you cannot afford letting your emotions get the better of you, as it would be highly inappropriate to lose your temper. “I was hoping they’d recognize the opportunity to conclude peace between our kingdoms.”

“They should be honored that you even considered inviting them to the Sabzeruz Festival.”

You sigh. There’s no point in denying that your trusted advisor has a point there. The Sabzeruz Festival is one of Sumeru’s most important celebrations, commemorating the birth of Lesser Lord Kusanali, your nation’s beloved goddess. Getting the opportunity to partake in this celebration is an honor, indeed. Unfortunately, the Inazumans seem to think otherwise. Or perhaps they’re just trying to get under your skin by declining your invitation.

“It is what it is and we have to accept their decision,” you eventually reply and pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s been a long day, filled with conversations and meetings and tiring smalltalk, and you’re exhausted. A part of you wants to excuse yourself to lie down and get some rest. But these meetings with Alhaitham are important, not only because he’s your advisor but also because you genuinely enjoy being around him. You’re both always so busy that these meetings are almost the only opportunity to spend time with each other. And you know that it’s probably selfish and highly inappropriate – but you still find yourself craving his company when he’s not around. He’s your safe haven, your lighthouse in the stormy sea of politics. Without him, you’d be lost.

“Is everything alright?” Alhaitham’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, tone a lot softer than usual. It almost sounds as if he’s worried about you. “We can adjourn this conversation to another day if you wish” he adds when you don’t reply, “there’s not much we can do about these political issues anyways. Not now, at least.”

You’re not ready to say Goodbye to him yet, so you politely decline and reassure him that you’re fine, ignoring the quiet voice in the back of your head that’s telling you to get some rest.

Alhaitham tucks two fingers beneath your chin and gently turns your head, so that he can examine your face. “You look tired,” he says but you’re too distracted by the warmth of his touch and the unusually gentle expression in his eyes to reply anything. It’s good that it’s so late – if someone came in now and saw the two of you like this… you don’t even have the guts to even imagine the outrage that would follow. Because even though Alhaitham’s a member of the royal court, he’s still not of noble blood – and you know that there are people out there who’d jump at any chance to get rid of him and take his position as your advisor.

You have to protect him from them.

You give yourself exactly five more seconds before you pull away from his touch and straighten your back. “I’m alright,” you assure him. “Please don’t worry about me.”

“I’m your advisor, it is my job to worry about you.”

“That’s not entirely correct. Your job is to worry about politics and these stubborn Inazumans and help me figure out what to do with them.”

Alhaitham chuckles. “Well, my advice won’t be any useful if you pass out from exhaustion, no?”

You join in his laughter. Others surely would claim he’s overstepping his authority by saying things like this but to you, it’s comforting to know that he’s looking after you. “Alright, you might have a point there.”

“I know.” His gaze softens. “Leave it to me to figure out a way to solve the dispute between Sumeru and Inazuma and get some rest. You deserve it.”

You’re tempted to ask him to escort you to your room, just to get a few more minutes with him. Instead, you push your chair back and give him a brief nod. “Thank you. Good night, Alhaitham.”

He watches as you make your way to the door. Only when it has closed behind you does he reply, “Good night… (Y/N).”

* * * *

It’s the first day of the Sabzeruz Festival, and you swear, your kingdom has never looked more beautiful. The streets are decorated with beautiful flower arrangements and lights, and the streets are filled with people, conversations and laughter. The smell of delicious food lingers in the air, tempting and full of promises. Everyone looks like they’re enjoying yourself, and that alone is enough to make you happy. You have always cared about your people, sometimes even a little too much, but to you, that is what makes a good monarch. These people are the backbone of your kingdom, and it is your sacred duty to take care of them.

The other thing that puts you into such a good mood is the fact that Alhaitham is by your side as you roam the streets of the capital. He has linked his arm with yours to make sure you don’t get lost in the crowd, and you have a hard time stopping yourself from smiling like an idiot.

You’re aware that you don’t exactly need the royal advisor to accompany you to a festival but he’s much better company than some of the other members of the court. And he gets bonus points for not forcing a conversation on you when you just want to take all the different impressions in. (He also gets bonus points for being so damn handsome but you’d rather bite your tongue off than admit that.)

“It’s such a shame that Inazuma decided to miss out on this,” you say when you pass a booth that sells different kinds of sculptures and works of art. On first glance, you can spot colorfully painted candle holders and plates as well as portraits carved out of wood, showing Lesser Lord Kusanali and various creatures from your kingdom’s folklore. There’s also a portrait of yourself and one of your parents, the late royal couple.

The shop owner bows when he notices you examining his goods, and you smile at him and tell him that his works are stunning before you continue your way to the Grand Bazaar, the beating heart of the capital. It’s a beautiful place, lively and artistic, and by far your favorite spot during the Sabzeruz Festival.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Alhaitham asks. You beam at him. “Very much.”

He nods, not quite able to hide the smile that plays around the corners of his mouth. But then again, there’s probably no point in denying that it makes him happy to see you like this. You act like someone has taken a massive weight off your shoulders. It’s good that you finally get some time away from politics and responsibilities, not only because he knows how much you worry about the conflict with Inazuma, but also because he just adores this carefree and upbeat side of you. You’re like a comforting ray of sunshine in an otherwise clouded sky.

Alhaitham is not an idiot – he’s well aware that he’s head over heels in love with you. Others might be convinced that he’s not capable of genuine love, but they don’t know him. They don’t know that he has learned to carefully lock up his true feelings during the years he spent at court where every single word, every single emotion can be used against him. If someone knew how much you truly mean to him, he could lose everything.

And yet, just for a couple of seconds, he allows himself to admire you, to indulge in the breathtaking beauty of your smile and the way you’re still holding onto his arm, although the Grand Bazaar is much less crowded than the streets and you could let go if you wanted to. But you’re not letting go, and that alone is enough to make him wish that this moment could last forever.

But of course, it doesn’t.

* * * *

“Please excuse my really poor choice of words but I have never heard so much bullshit in my entire life,” you say as soon as the door has shut behind you. Only Lesser Lord Kusanali knows how you have managed to keep calm in this farce of a meeting with the envoys Inazuma has sent to your kingdom a couple of days ago.

Next to you, Alhaitham chuckles. “I honestly was thinking the same thing.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Queen Ei might be stubborn and abides by her beliefs and her beliefs only but this isn’t like her. I wonder if there’s something about this dispute my parents haven’t told me.”

“Maybe. Do you want me to conduct investigations? I could get the Matras involved, too.”

You stop him with a wave of your hand. “Later, perhaps. Right now, we should focus on clearing our heads and take a break from politics. Care to join me for a walk through the gardens?”

“My pleasure, Your Highness.”

At this time of the day, the gardens are mostly empty, and so there’s no one to stop you from brushing your hand against Alhaitham’s as you wander around, passing beautifully arranged flower beds that are filled with Padisarahs and Sumeru roses. Neither of you speaks a word, you just enjoy each other’s company and the warmth of the setting sun on your skin. Your hands are touching again, and before you even know what is happening, Alhaitham has intertwined his fingers with yours. He’s still looking straight ahead, acting as if nothing happened, but you stop in your tracks and stare down at your hands. (You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming. Perhaps you fell asleep in that dreadful meeting?)

“Is this not what you wanted?” Alhaitham asks, and albeit his voice being smooth like butter, the insecurity in his words is obvious – at least to you. “I’m just… surprised,” you say. I never assumed you liked me too, you want to add but you don’t. There’s always the possibility that you’re just imagining things. That, and you have sworn to protect him from those who are after his position.

“I know this is not exactly appropriate,” Alhaitham says, letting go of your hand, “and I apologize if I misinterpreted anything. I just-“

“No,” you interrupt him, although you know you probably shouldn’t tell him the truth for the sake of protecting him. But you don’t want to lie to him. Not anymore. “I want this,” you add and reach out for his hand again, “I’m well aware that we could get into serious trouble for this but… all I can think about is how much I want to be with you.”

You pause and take a deep breath. “Alhaitham, what I’m trying to say is: I love you. I have loved you for so long now, andI know I shouldn’t tell you but…” When he doesn’t reply, you begin to panic. “You – you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

“Oh darling. Why on earth wouldn’t I say it back?” The tender, loving tone of his voice is enough to make your knees wobbly, and you fear you’re going to melt on the spot when he steps closer to you and leans in, so that your lips are almost touching. His next words are meant for your ears and your ears only. “I always thought it wasn’t in the cards for me to fall in love with someone. Yet, here I am, so deeply and genuinely in love with you that I can barely put it into words.”

“Show me, then,” you whisper.

It’s like he has only waited for your permission because in the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you. He takes his sweet time, moving his free hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer while you wrap an arm around his shoulders. It’s everything you ever wanted. And in that moment, you’re convinced that something that feels so good cannot possibly be wrong.

When Alhaitham pulls away, he gently rests his forehead against yours. “I would break all rules to be with you,” he says. You let out a shaky laugh. “I’d prefer if you didn’t. There must be another way for us to be together. Perhaps we can-“

Alhaitham silences you with another kiss. “Shh. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You smile. “Okay.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider reblogging, liking and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support!

Taglist: @kaeyas-beloved @caesars-bubbles @the-gayest-sky-kid @ajaxstar

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #royalty au

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

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A Moth To A Flame

Synopsis: The Abyss takes and takes, leaving Tartaglia alone and hurting until you appear to ward off his suffering.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy ending Warnings: Mentions of blood, pain, body horror, allusions to gore, crying, mentions of suffocating and drowning

Requested by @crystalheartzzz and anon: “Hiii, this is my first request so idk howq to do it??😭 so ig I'll go straight to the point?😧May I request for childe with a s/o who has an abbysal form too but its more like a butterfly??? And reader didn't fell to the abbys they just stumble upon a book that explained how to summon a abbysal creature when they was a child??? Or something like thst idk you can just ignore me if this is dumb💀” “Ok imagine Foul legacy with a monster! reader. They didn’t fall into the abyss but they had a curse put on them and were locked away for years and their form has torn butterfly wings and overall some sort of butterfly concept(like how FL’s concept takes more after a moth) FL finds reader in a cave and panics because theres someone right in front of him that has a similar form to him. I wonder how he’d react”

~ * ~ Abyssal monsters attract one another. To them, the taint of dark, starry magic is almost tangible, urging and whispering to return to the watery depths. It worms into their hearts, settling and rotting into wishes of battle and bloodshed, only quelled by the sharp tang of iron in the air, eating away at their sense of self until all that remains is a hollow husk hungry for something, anything to fill the emptiness. That is how Tartaglia lives, with blood on his hands and a cheerful smile on his face, as the corruption tears away bits of his mind every day. His subordinates praise him, behind his back, as the most amiable Harbinger to work under, other than perhaps Pulcinella, but they’re blessed to have never seen him in the midst of a fight- with a twisted grin and blades almost dancing in his hands, it’s little wonder Tartaglia’s name has become known and feared on the battlefield. It does little to satiate the constant thrum of the Abyss in the back of his head, however, and little by little his breezy confidence and upbeat demeanor become more and more forced, cracking whenever those horrible voices hiss their dreaded desires. Perhaps it was fate, then, that he met you on the same day he nearly succumbed to the raging, stellar waves. You had crept into the bank, quiet as can be, standing stiffly beside the door and observing the elegant room. It was your first time making a deposit- terrible timing, as your nerves were thoroughly frazzled by how many warnings you received from passersby about the Fatui agents and their Harbinger, the worst of all- and your hands had been shaking as you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other and approach the front desk. The receptionist greeted you politely, but didn’t manage to get through a few words before being interrupted by a boisterous laugh, a young man with ginger hair striding through the door and up to the desk. With a flourish he drops a bag of mora onto the counter, coins clinking against wood and fabric as you hastily step aside. The man makes rapid smalltalk with the receptionist, who simply picks up the bag and transfers it to the back, apparently used to his behavior, and the man takes a moment to sweep his gaze over the bank with a satisfied smirk. Your eyes meet lightless ocean blue, and his confident grin fades into surprise and intrigue. Tartaglia stares at you, entranced, head tilted ever-so-slightly as the tendrils strangling his heart begin to loosen, Abyssal darkness shrieking and retreating back into the far recesses of his mind. The Harbinger staggers when he inhales, the air filling his lungs making his head spin as he’s finally able to breathe again. But Ekaterina returns to her position and beckons you forward, and as you move away Tartaglia’s chest clouds with sickening stars, world dulling until it’s faded and washed out and Tartaglia feels like he’s suffocating from an ocean’s weight. You bow to Ekaterina and the Harbinger beside you slouches in a chair, body trembling in an effort to stay sitting upright. The clack of footsteps on tile makes their way over to him, slowly, and the Young Lord glances up and meets your bright, now-curious eyes for the second time today. Tartaglia’s deadened heart beats, once, then speeds up as you stick out a hand and give him a hesitant smile. “Hello.” Tartaglia’s shaking hand slips into yours, and the Abyss fades away once more. The next weeks are filled with bliss as he seeks you out again and again; a Harbor newcomer and the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger are quite the sight to see in the evening. He learns and learns and learns- your name, your job, your favorite food, your favorite color, your homeland- everything coming together into a beautiful, multifaceted existence, and Tartaglia finds himself genuinely laughing and smiling more with every hour you spend together, heart fluttering in his chest at the mere sight of you. Is he falling in love? Perhaps. But he doesn’t stop himself, because to you, he’s Ajax. Maybe it was foolish of him to tell you, a stranger not a few weeks ago, his true name, but when he sees the slow, ecstatic smile spread across your face and the gleam of affection in your eyes, he feels like anything but a fool. In the years since he turned 14, the time since he fell through that crack in the earth, it seemed like he’d forgotten what true warmth was until he met you- and now his heart was set ablaze, a bright spark burning away the thorned roots of Abyssal corruption. He hugs you, a little too tightly, when you call him Ajax, because that’s all he wants to be- just Ajax, without any fancy titles or ranks or responsibilities other than being yours, and when he sees your smile or hears your laugh it almost feels like he never fell into the Abyss in the first place, drawn to your presence and being like a moth to a flame. But the stars, whether in the sky or the sea, despise being ignored. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like- what it’s like to not be able to breathe, to suffocate from sheer pain encapsulating your entire body- until the day he wakes up with a pounding headache and the sound of his own wheezing. Tears spring to Tartaglia’s eyes, his lungs being stabbed and torn apart by night-stained thorns winding around his throat. It hurts to speak, so he can only weep, each inhale sending another wave of pain through his body and ripping another sob from his chest. His skin stings, burns, bright dots dancing in his vision as he helplessly watches his hands darken and crackle, claws piercing the fingertips as they grow. Thick, starry blood drips and stains the covers, and Tartaglia manages to let out a scream of agony before the darkness forces him under and all turns to black. Your walks to the Northland Bank have become routine now, so often do you visit your new love- friend, and the moment you step inside the receptionist- Ekaterina- looks up and nods. But your face falls when you glance around the room and don’t see Ajax, the fluffy head of fluffy ginger hair nowhere in sight. Ekaterina gestures upstairs, waving you away with a tiny smile at the singular flower grasped in your hands, the glaze lily blooming a gorgeous shade of familiar blue. With your cheer restored you jog up the stairs, the spring in your step harmonizing with your idle hums as you stop outside the door marked with an elegantly-carved star- the sigil of the Harbingers, raising your hand to knock. A harrowing shriek pierces your ears and echoes through the hall and you freeze, blood turning to ice from pure terror, the flower slipping from your fingers to the ground. Then without thinking you fling the door open and rush inside, thoughts racing because oh Archons, what happened- it couldn’t be- please, love, don’t be- “Ajax?! Are you okay?!” A monster screeches in his place, pressing itself into a corner and curling into a ball, trying to disappear from view as it covers its face with razor-sharp claws, letting out heart-wrenching wails and sobs. All you can do is step closer, astonishment glittering in your eyes because that’s Ajax, isn’t it? The Abyssal creature awkwardly shoved against the wall is your love, isn’t it? Tartaglia- no, Ajax, the terrified young man from Morepesok- whimpers, the blood from his Foul Legacy transformation splattering from his mouth to the floor. It hurts it hurts it hurts so much- it’s never been this bad before, it’s almost like the Abyss is punishing him for defying it, drowning him, Ajax, in an ocean of stars so only Tartaglia remains. His talons snag on the dips in his mask-like face, an attempt to anchor him to reality as his head fills with eerie singing, everything bursting into fire before his eyes. Claws, gentle and delicate, wrap around his own and pull his hands away from his head, and the Abyss shrieks and recoils when Ajax shakily looks up at an otherworldly creature with eyes the exact same shade as ones he often found himself getting lost in for hours. Yours. Weak peeps and chirps slip from Ajax’s maw, seemingly in shock as you kneel before him and hold his limp hands, carefully tapping your sharp talons over their backs. You let out your own responding trill and brush your knuckles over his cheek, humming in delight when he leans heavily into your touch, crystalline blue eye fluttering shut. Purrs begin to filter from some soft, secret part of him, watching your magnificent form through a slitted eye, fingers trailing idly over your butterfly-like wings. You begin softly preening Ajax’s copper-colored hair, removing any dried blood and tangles until it’s soft as a cloud, and when your claws gently rake across his scalp Ajax croons, melting in your lap and nudging your hands so they’re scratching behind his twin horns. There’s barely even a flinch when you clean his wounds, so overcome with the comfort of you holding him in your arms, not even struggling from his size because you’re just like him- Abyss-touched and trying to survive in a world full of light. Ajax tugs on your claws when you’re finished, lightly at first, then more insistently as the instinct to cuddle and protect and comb your fluff with his talons grows stronger. When you dip your head he pulls you close against his chest, pain forgotten, and snuggles his cheek into your hair with a happy purr, careful to avoid your own horns. You simply slot yourself against him, hands soothingly rubbing the muscles around his cape-like wings, your gentle humming making Ajax yawn wide enough to see all his adorable fangs. Quietly you pluck the fallen glaze lily from the floor and tuck it into Ajax’s hair, and he lets out a flustered rumble, chirps and trills coming out stuttered and sleep-heavy. With a drowsy coo, Ajax gives you a small, affectionate lick on your cheek, and two Abyssal monsters drift into slumber as the sun sets over Liyue, a pocket of warmth against the cold darkness below.

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tired-biscuit · 11 months

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Ugh poor Kiba. I can imagine him doing the most cringe stuff trying to impress a girl.... mainly because the girls in his friendgroup give him the most over the top advice. But he TRIES lol.

i think he’d be a smooth talker once he gets older and gains the experience, but inexperienced kiba definitely would do something like that.

ino and sakura, being the menaces that they are whenever they come along in a duo, would make him pull the most insane stuff just for shits and giggles and their personal entertainment. filling his head with piles upon piles of information he can’t possibly follow along with, much less understand, they try to shake up his look and the way he acts, speaks — even the way he stands.

and he tries to keep it in mind, he really does, even if all he wants to do instead, is keep being him and to flex a little about it like he normally does. and being the stubborn man that he is, he decides to follow the girls’ advice, but to also mix it up a little bit. so he tries to stand taller whenever you come near, silently boasting with his body language alone, but also tries to play off being nonchalant about it because ino had once told him that girls always fall for emotionally unavailable men and that he should try being like that instead if he ever plans to score you.

and as a result, he ends up looking low-key intimidating in your presence; towering over you whilst falling oddly quiet whenever he gets you alone with him. his eyes are dark, jaw clenched, shoulders stiff, and his lips are nothing but a firm line. there’s no fanged grin in sight, the dimples in his cheeks are nowhere to be seen. he has a tendency to be grumpy, sure, but never in an aloof, utterly cold way like this.

to be frank, it makes you uneasy. you’re so weirded out by the sudden switch that you start asking him questions and try your hand in smalltalk in feeble attempt to fill in the gaps of silence that in reality absolutely petrify the shit out of him and which he wants to fill, fill, fill with warm, friendly chatter because he’s good at it — goddammit, he’s good at talking.

and yet, all he ends up doing is grumbling short answers to whichever question you throw at him. he nods or shakes his head as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, even if his palms have gotten so fucking clammy that the sweat there makes him want to wipe them against his pants so bad. he unknowingly builds a wall between you brick by brick by trying to seem so mysterious like this.

and oh god, the entire thing would be even funnier if you were completely clueless about it. like, this man; this poor, lovesick man, who is so obviously head over heels for you in the eyes of others, is nearly lifting boulders off the ground as a means to impress you because he doesn’t know how to talk to you and because the girls said so, and you just can’t believe the mere thought that he’d ever be interested in you.

to be fair, you do have pretty valid reasoning for it. he looks like he’s in pain whenever he looks at you, and turns all weird and quiet as soon as you approach. and it’s valid especially because you know for a fact that he isn’t at all like that around others — you’ve seen him be so loud and talkative whenever he goes out drinking with his friends and you keep sneaking glances at him from across the bar. you’ve seen him bicker with his sister playfully as they walked down the street, poking each other’s sides, and you just happened to be exiting a nearby shop. you’ve seen him hug his mom for mother’s day and even heard him coo at his dog multiple times.

he’s actually warm and passionate and hot-headed and determined. he cares so deeply for the world around him and the people in it, and he has a heart, just… not for you, it seems.

or at least that’s what you think.

#kiba x reader #i know i’ve said it before but MUTUAL PINING >>>>>>#biscuit mail #biscuit drabbles

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kaseyskat · 9 months

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had some thoughts about dood (yes ive settled on that spelling i like it) and missing scenes and stuff anthony would never do because he doesn't like roleplaying with himself and i very hastily wrote them our for your pleasure. enjoy!

It happens so fast.

Sparrow doesn’t even comprehend… everything that is going on. The Doodler talks in a voice that he recognizes from childhood dreams, and the children are talking, and Willy is talking, and then Lark pulls out his gun and is aiming it directly at Normal, and Sparrow is frozen, frozen in place, helpless but to watch and to stare at his twin and shake his head and plead with his eyes and think: this is not how I imagined this fight.

Once, he had dreamed of this fight. It was glorious, the rendition in his head. The Doodler was a mighty adversary, one who wanted to bring a reign of terror and chaos upon the land, and from a young age, Sparrow knew that he and Lark were the ones destined to rise up, bear their arms in kind, fight the Doodler and win.

But the Doodler isn’t a mighty adversary here, it’s just… scared, and alone. Is this really what Lark saw when he glimpsed into its mind?

And Lark still has a gun pointed at Normal. Realistically, Sparrow knows that he’s aiming for the Doodler, because that’s what they’re supposed to do, right? Fight the Doodler and win? It makes sense, and yet it doesn’t, because no version of their fight would result in their family getting hurt.

But that’s already happened. Our family is already torn to shreds! Sparrow wants to scream, wants to call out, but he is frozen and helpless and can only breathe a sigh of relief when Normal says… something to Lark and Lark puts his gun down.

He’ll find out what Normal said later. Now, they have a fight to win, and this is one that Sparrow doesn’t feel wordlessly, strangely guilty about.

And he crumples. And he drags himself back to his feet just in time to watch Willy flash away, leaving only the form of the Doodler that Sparrow has pointedly avoided looking at until now.

It could be a regular teenager, if teenagers morphed in and out of time and space, crackling with static energy. For a second, Sparrow comprehends it – the way the Doodler resembles, vaguely, the form that he had drawn when he was ten and wanted to give shape and dimension to the being that creeped into his dreams and spoke to him in whispered tones – before it shifts, and Sparrow only sees himself.

Doodler-Sparrow is small, quiet, big eyes staring Sparrow down as their form flickers from cardigans to dresses, hair going blonde and then dark again, eyes flashing green to amber and back to green. It’s dizzying: Sparrow quickly looks away, taking a deep breath even as it continues to look at him, and look at him, and Scary is reading something but it is still staring at him.

Then, quietly. “Hen?”

Sparrow inhales.

It is no secret that he misses his father terribly. Cutting himself off hadn’t been a personal choice: in fact, he still regularly calls his parents, tries making awful smalltalk, incorporates elements of his life that he liked into his own parenting, does his best for Hero and for Normal. And, and it isn’t like Henry is dead! Just… lost.

That was Sparrow’s fault too, wasn’t it?

“Hen is my father,” he says quietly, watches as Doodler-Sparrow shifts to look more like a younger version of his father staring at him in horror– in the fear of losing him forever, of having already lost him, or somewhere bitterly in between. “Hello… what did the kids call you? Dood?”

They nod, taking a step back as Sparrow steps forwards, wary. Arms curl around them, and its form flickers again, right back to the younger version of himself.

“Dood,” Sparrow repeats, and he snorts, shaking his head. “Alright, Dood. May I ask: do you remember anything of being… with my father? Hen?”

“I…” the Doodler – Dood, rather – takes another nervous step back, and Sparrow is forced to look down at the shadows they cast against the floors of the church to avoid the headache building behind his eyes. “It’s… hard. But I think you were beautiful.”

Despite himself, Sparrow smiles.

“Then I suppose you don’t remember my name,” he says, softly. “But I’m Sparrow. I gave you your name once, a long time ago.”

“The mascot,” Dood breathes, and they nod slowly. “I… is that my name?”

“Dood is just fine, I think,” Sparrow smiles, and he offers his hand slowly, the way he would with Hero when she was younger and unwilling to budge on one topic or another. “I know Normal is going to take great care of you, but I want you to know you can rely on me too, okay?”

He doesn’t know where this came from, except he does, because he just watched his son be held at gunpoint and reflected in Dood’s personage is the person that Sparrow turned away from in favor of what Lark wanted, of what the world needed, and where had it gotten them? His daughter hates him, and his son isn’t far behind. His father withers away and his mother is tired, so tired, and Sparrow has spent a lifetime loving and choosing his brother and it still hadn’t saved him, had it? He can’t force Lark to love himself, no matter how hard he tries, so shouldn’t he choose himself for once?

Dood didn’t deserve this, and they clearly don’t remember much of what Sparrow had once resented them for. Forgiveness is one of the principles of being a lovewolf, isn’t it?

“That… sounds nice?” Dood shifts in place, and Sparrow glances back up just in time to catch Himself looking back, tired and haggard and still so small. “I like Normal.”

Sparrow shifts his gaze. Normal is standing with Scary, gawking at her over… whatever it was she was reading that he’s since tuned out. He’s ditched the mascot suit but still wears the bright blue jersey he’s so fond of, his hair is messy and clearly unwashed, and there’s the smallest wisps of what might be facial hair above his lips, only noticeable when he frowns.

My son. Sparrow smiles. “Me too.”

He doesn’t know what might come next, but he thinks his father might be proud of him for once, and maybe that’s enough. Dood takes his hand, and though the static stings and writhes and whispers, Sparrow can only smile to himself and turn to face a world saved by his son and his friends, and maybe finally find the grace to heal his own inner child in the progress.

#dndads spoilers #kasey writes stuff #dndads #sparrow oak garcia #the doodler #the doodler dndads #dood beloved #i just think. theyre neat #<33333

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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The Smell of Fresh Bread {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Food

Comments: The yeasty, warm scent of bread always draws Pero Tovar close. Even after over nine hundred years. Sending him into the bakery where you are behind the counter.

Writer Wednesday Week 25: 8/17/22 @writer-wednesday

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Bread has always been a staple of Pero Tovar’s diet. There were times that he would kill - literally kill - for half a loaf of bread to fill his empty belly. Of course the bread that he had eaten as a child and then when he was traveling on the back of his horse while he was selling his sword was much different than the artisan bread that are sold today.

He’s old. Nearly one thousand years old although he never really knows how old he is. He never knew what year he was born and his mother died when he was young. But as far as he can figure, he’s a few years shy of a thousand years. The oldest man alive, although no one would ever know that.

His working theory is that because of William Garin, that trip to the Great Wall of China and the battle with the Tao Tei, something happened to cause him to outlive everyone. Maybe it was the explosion that should have killed him, but had just dazed him.

Whatever the case was, he had watched the world change. Rulers, countries rising and falling, modernization of society and the technology that had come with it. No longer having to rely on his horse, his existence is far lonelier without that presence at his side.

Bread could be mass produced. Coming from factories and wrapped up in plastic bags with little twist ties that indicated what day they had been baked. You could find bread in practically any store that sold food and just like it had been back when he was younger - some people lived off of it. Although they turned them into sandwiches now, rather than just tearing off hunks and eating it, or using it as a plate. Hell, in the past ninety-four years, they started selling already sliced bread.

The scent of bread, yeasty and fresh is heavy in the air. Making his nose twitch as it comes up. Inhaling deeply, Pero’s feet start to follow the delicious smell. It’s sweeter than it had been so long ago, but just like he had been when he was a young man, Pero was hungry.

He had followed his nose and his belly for the past nine hundred years. That hunger that always seemed to drive him never went away, no matter how easy it became to have bread or really anything. While he couldn’t go into the trees and pick fruits as he wanted, the variety of food had exploded as travel became easier and the world became smaller.

He hadn’t changed that much. Sure, he was no longer wearing a sword on his hip or the thick, padded leathers that protected him from arrows. He didn’t ride a horse, instead he often drove a car around. Something he could have never imagined when he was back on that wall with the monsters.

He still bears the scars on his body. Testaments of past battles, still has the very deep, dark mark that splits the left brow and shows how close he came to losing his eye. It had never lightened or looked any better over the centuries. His entire body has stayed the exact same as when he had been at the wall. Never aging, never getting old physically.

Because of this, people still warily watch him, sometimes crossing the street so they don’t have to be near him. The scowl that he never managed to lose was also a deterrent for people interacting with him. Not that he wanted a lot of people coming up and talking with him, asking mundane questions about the weather. He doesn’t understand that trend of smalltalk. It’s useless, although he seems to find it amusing when it’s an obvious ploy to start a conversation with someone a person is interested in romantically.

He has watched flirtations and courting rituals change over the years and yet it’s still slightly the same. Never participating, but snorting to himself as he watched young pups make fools of themselves over a pretty set of eyes or a nice set of tits. It was a pity whorehouses had become taboo, they could use some experience on how to talk to women, where their coin opened thighs and most would tell them when they were stupid. The whores of his time weren’t wallflowers. They would eat those boys alive or they would become men. No other option.

His feet continue to move towards the smell. Getting stronger as he walks, hands in his pockets to try to look less fearsome. Right now, he just wants a loaf, hot out of the oven and butter and jam. He’s fallen in love with the different varieties of sweet fruit jams that are available now. Sugar was never a very prevalent thing for him, too costly. Now, sugar seemed to be in everything and the glutton in him loves it.

Pero discovers the shop, tucked into a corner and when the bell tinkles as the door opens, it releases a torrent of hot, yeasty bread that nearly makes him moan. Spices, mixed into the breads or sprinkled on top tickle his curved nose. The raw scent of flour assured him that the doughs were mixed on sight and it’s not just another site that thaws frozen bread and bakes it.

Stepping into the shop is almost like being transported back in time. Heady, earthy and warm. The ovens in the back, beyond the swinging door are not wood burning - and it’s a pity - but it does make the space several degrees warmer than the street.

Wire racks are stacked with bread. Nothing in pretty little cellophane bags or behind a glass counter. Yes, the counter separated him from the bread, but it was all tantalizingly on display. Bagels and loaf, some covered in seeds and nuts, dried onions and some chunks of garlic permeated the filling with strings of sharp cheddar. He even spotted fat blueberries dotting some and one loaf was pink, obviously a strawberry bread. Loafs of every shape laid on the metal racks, cooling and he wants every one of them.

His eyes are focused on the breads, so much so that he doesn’t see her. The white apron wrapped around her hips is practical, even if it doesn’t quite stretch wide enough to cover the ampleness. Wiping her hands and foregoing swiping at the almost charming dusting of flour on her cheeks, she only captures his attention by bending down and getting between him and his target.

“May I help you?” You ask, having repeated yourself four times before you had finally stepped in front of the racks.

Pero startles, not an easy feat for one as normally aware as he is. Jumping slightly and frowning even more than his resting face portrays until he gets a good look at the woman who spoke to him, you.

You’re….lovely. Thick set and pretty, eyes bright and filled with slight amusement at his expense right now. His own expression easing when he sees the evidence of a flourly hand brushed over your skin, possibly wiping away sweat or some irritant and leaving behind a smudge on clear skin.

Attraction, painful and swift, rides through his belly and shocks him. It’s been years since he’s felt a pull towards anyone. Keeping himself apart so he doesn’t have to break anyone’s heart when he inevitably doesn’t stay. Nearly one thousand years roaming the earth and Pero Tovar had still never managed to plant roots.

“I-” He had gone back to Spain two years ago, immersing himself in the language so that his accent had sharpened. If he was gone for too long, he seemed to lose it and it was the last remaining thread that he had held onto from his tumultuous beginnings. Unless you count the dagger that had never left his side, even when he had laid down his sword. “I followed my nose.” He blurts out.

You laugh, light and obviously charmed by the ridiculous comment. Making him shuffle and pull his hands out of his pockets so that he can reach for his wallet. No longer carrying a money pouch on his belt, wallets were where tiny plastic cards were kept. Not gold nor silver. “That’s good.” You promise him, grinning as you look around the shop. “That’s what I wanted. For people to be drawn in by the smell of fresh bread.”

Nodding, Pero looks up again, still startled by those eyes you have. Watching him and he can’t look for too long. Sliding his own gaze behind you as he wonders if you are spoken for. There wasn’t a ring on your finger, but that didn’t mean much when you work with your hands. Another surprising thought. “I want something.” He tells you. “The best you’ve got.”

Humming, you turn around and pick up a loaf, round and crusty looking. It’s dark, indicating it wasn’t made with the white, highly processed flours that are used in baking today. It has chunks of wheat germ and oat in it. His mouth waters when you turn around and pull it up to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent. He’s not hungry for food as your eyelashes flutter in delight and you let out a small sigh of happiness at the pleasing smell.

He’s about to speak when you open your eyes. Smiling at him as you turn and walk to the small stand where you reach for a plate, a small crock and a pot. Putting them and the bread on the tray as if you know he was going to stay and eat it. He’s too bemused, or maybe bewitched by the sway of your hips to even ask what you are giving him.

Only when the tray is pushed over the counter towards him does he remember payment. Pulling out a card and thrusting it towards you in order to let you charge it for his treat.

He freezes, eyes widening when you shake your head. “For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge.” You tell him. “Eat and remember.”

MasterList

#writer wednesday #pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar the great wall #pero tovar fanfiction

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sheirukitriesfandom · 9 months

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Ye Big Olde Savos Aren Headcanon Masterpost

(Super long post under the cut)

Short biography

General information:

- Savos is an only child.

- He was born in 4E 5, making him 194 years old by Skyrim time (Elven ages are ugh, but according to the UESP, 200 is old for a dunmer…)

- Savos was born under the apprentice, thus making the month of his birth Sun’s Height.

- He is bisexual.

- He was born in Winterhold and grew up among the city’s large dunmer population.

- Knows Winterhold-dialect Dunmeris, Tamrielic, Nordic, and a tiny bit of Dovahzul.

- His parents owned a tailor shop.

- He's a second generation immigrant to Skyrim. His parents came to Winterhold shortly after the fall of Baar Dau (I imagine there was a short period of growing volcanic activity before Red Mountain blew up for good), fearing further consequences of the impact. His grandparents lived in Morrowind until their death.

- He has been to Morrowind on several occasions (and he has met Neloth). He has also been to Cyrodiil.

- Savos is not very religious; he was raised to believe in the reclamations, but over the years it has become a matter of “Whichever deity is willing to listen”. However, he does practice ancestor worship in a sense; he regularly leaves a little offering for the dead of the Great Collapse (which included his parents) on the shore below Winterhold.

- Also, due to the nord/dunmer cultural mixture of his hometown, exclamations like “Shor’s bones!” are just as much a part of his vocabulary as “Azura curse you!”.

Appearance:

- He is fairly short for a dunmer (1,68 metres); he’s just a tiny bit taller than Mirabelle.

- Savos has a Lichtenberg scar (a souvenir from Morokei) running from just below his clavicle all the way to his hips. He’s extremely self-conscious about that and will lash out at anyone questioning his explanation of “magical accident”.

- He has a barely noticeable bald patch (a scar) from when he got hit by an icicle when he was a student.

- He doesn't care much about anyone's looks, including his own. He's clean and knows when to look presentable, but he cares more about being comfy than looking good. Has exactly one outfit for special occasions.

- He's in average shape for his age and lack of physical activity.

Social:

- Savos does not like dealing with people in positions of authority. Serious talks with Jarl Korir, for example, are his personal nightmare.

- Although Savos is an introvert through and through, he is not necessarily shy.

- He is not a good public speaker. Even when he was still a teacher he could not capture the crowd. However, those students who still listened would get clear and easily understandable explanations and instructions.

- Savos’ “Love language” is spending time together.

- Savos enjoys giving physical affection but is terrible at receiving it. It’s not that he doesn’t like it (he’s probably quite touch starved), but he has trouble accepting that someone could care for him.

- For that reason, he’s usually the big spoon - even if his partner is taller than him.

- Savos does not like smalltalk a lot.

- However, if someone captures his interest he has no problem chatting until the early hours of the morning.

- Despite some different opinions about his leadership, Savos still gets along with everyone in the faculty.

- He does not trust Ancano and finds him annoying at times, but the previous headcanon includes him as well.

- Savos is a fairly sensitive guy and it’s easy to tell whether he’s happy, sad or angry. However, he’s often dishonest as to why.

- Savos is one of those people who’ll always promise to do something “later” and then forget about it. Mirabelle often has to remind him of his duties - much to her annoyance.

- Savos is not the type to make enemies (at least on purpose). If he has nothing nice to say to someone, he won’t say anything.

- Although it rarely happens, Savos can hold a grudge (and for a long time, too).

- He and Viarmo are close friends (and spent a night together once)

- Mirabelle Ervine was his student and he is still very close with her.

- Savos is good friends with Tolfdir and the two sometimes go fishing together.

- He's oblivious to Kraldar's "interest" in him and views him as a good friend.

- In fact, Savos is incredibly dense when it comes to flirting.

- Although Savos doesn’t engage with the students all that much, he still feels a sense of pride whenever he hears about their accomplishments.

- He also loves J'zargo’s shenanigans.

- There are some days where he’ll lock himself in his chambers and not open the door to anybody. The rest of the faculty knows to leave him alone on “one of those days”.

- Savos tolerates some crookery as long as it serves the college. For example, although he isn’t happy about Enthir’s business ventures, he realizes that having someone who can procure anything away from the normal supply lines is indeed quite beneficial.

- I like the idea of him being the nephew of Fathis Aren, the court mage in Bravil during the oblivion crisis. Given Fathis’ area of expertise and the possibility of their lifetimes overlapping, it’s not unlikely.

- Savos is not good at comforting others. He’ll let them pour their heart out to him, he’ll listen, but he doesn’t really know how to react afterwards. However, no matter how poorly he may express it, his sympathy is usually earnest.

- He is, however, very good at keeping secrets.

Skills & Knowledge:

- After the battle with Morokei Savos obsessively researched the dragon cult and its priests. Over time he’s come to understand (but not speak!) a tiny bit of Dovahzul.

- Since his conjuration magic was anything but useful against Morokei, Savos picked up restoration magic as soon as he returned to the college.

- Savos toyed with necromancy when he was an apprentice, intrigued by the promise of immortality. After what he did in Labyrinthian, he’s never used a spell of that sort again.

- Savos is extremely skilled with wards and even (re-)discovered different types of wards by combining restoration and conjuration (think of something like ESO’s barrier and bound ward spells).

- He is a good healer and possesses a decent knowledge of anatomy.

- While Savos is not a physical fighter, he still knows how to keep someone from knocking his teeth out (thanks to Hafnar).

- Savos is an average alchemist.

- He can talk backwards, much to the annoyance of Ancano or anyone else he decides to mess with. He also has a talent for deciphering drunken gibberish.

- Savos’ interest in magic, particularly conjuration, was caused and fostered by his uncle and Savos always looked forward to his visits.

- He is a quick learner but not very studious, which made him an average student. It was his skill with wards that caught the previous archmage’s attention.

- Although he grew up in a tailor shop, he can't sew at all.

- He's a terrible cook.

- Laments that he doesn’t know telekinesis but never actually sits down to learn it.

Attitude, Hopes And Fears:

- Savos is scared of lightning

- Savos tends to be pretty laid back when it comes to pranks and mischief as long as it doesn’t hurt students or staff.

- Savos is quite conflicted about his position as archmage. On the one hand, he’s proud of his station and wants to use it to improve the college, but on the other hand, he’s fully aware that he wouldn’t have gotten the title if Atmah and his other friends were still alive. Not to mention that they died under his leadership.

- Savos is both an optimist and a hopeless idealist. While this combination lets him believe that he can eventually lead the college into a better future, it also often blinds him to reality.

- In his youth, Savos dreamt of travelling the world in search for ancient knowledge - a dream shared by his friend Atmah. After Labyrinthian he buried any aspirations of adventure.

- Ever since Labyrinthian, Savos has trouble with nightmares. He often stays up late.

- He’s tried several methods to help him sleep, such as stuffing his pillow with lavender - a scent which clings to his hair.

- The easiest way to piss him off is to bring up politics.

- Savos rarely gets seriously angry but if he does, he tends to act irrationally.

- Overall Savos is not a brave man. Standing up to Ancano when he took control of the eye was perhaps the bravest things he’s ever done. It was also the most reckless he’s been since Labyrinthian

- He is crippled by a fear of repeating his mistakes.

- He’s well aware of some of his flaws (his lack of social skills, too lax attitude) but denies others, particularly those related to his past failings.

- In Savos' opinion, a three-headed man-eating horker could apply for a place at the college—so long as it has the aptitude and keeps the man-eating in check, he'll be okay with that.

- He's got an ego the size of a peanut and it's easy to make him doubt himself.

Taste and Favourite things:

- Despite having tried many different beverages from many different parts of Tamriel, his favourite alcoholic drink is still a good mead.

- Savos has a sweet tooth which he doesn’t get to indulge all that often save for the honey he puts in his tea.

- Ever since his first trip to Morrowind, Savos has had a fascination with bugs and as a child, he always wanted a Nix-hound. He got a Nix-hound plushie instead.

- In fact, Savos likes many creepy crawlies others tend to find disgusting. Spiders, worms, bugs, scorpions — he thinks they're fascinating.

- His biggest hobby is gardening, which later led to an interest in alchemy.

- He used to be interested in archaeology (more Atmah’s hobby than his own, still…), but the expedition to Labyrinthian put a damper on that.

- His favourite food are honey nut treats, though his dad’s fish soup is the one he misses the most.

- His favourite colour is pine green, followed by the deep dark blue of the ocean.

- Savos enjoys going for a walk along the shore every once in a while.

- He is an avid reader with a preference for nonfiction, travel logs in particular. They're good for dreaming oneself away from bleak old Winterhold…

Random Headcanons:

- He’s a blanket thief.

- Savos has two standard sleeping positions: rolled halfway off the bed and blanket burrito.

- Savos is a cheerful drunk overall. However, he also becomes quite reckless if inebriated.

- Despite having lived in Winterhold all his life, he is not at all good at dealing with the cold.

- Savos is a clean but not very orderly person and the chances of finding anything in his quarters without asking is slim.

- He is an absolute night owl and has the bad habit of sleeping in his favourite chair rather than his bed.

- Savos is not good with children. He likes them all right; he just doesn’t know what to do with them.

- However, he does stand by his opinions. In fact, he can be quite stubborn.

- Savos still has that plush nix hound mentioned above. It’s in… well-loved condition.

- Savos was the type of kid who'd always try to get out of doing chores. He spent most of his childhood playing in the streets with the other kids of the crafter's quarter. He remembers that time fondly.

- He had a very good relationship with his parents that continued into adulthood, despite their disappointment about him joining the college rather than taking over the tailor shop.

Savos Dadcanons

- Okay so first off I can’t see Savos planning to have kids. The college is no place to raise a child (neither is Winterhold, for that matter) so if he became a father, it would be by accident. As such, I think he’d be happy but also very, very worried.

- However, when he gets to hold his kid for the first time he just turns into a joyous puddle on the floor (like, not literally, but his knees would be very weak and he’d shed few tears).

- He doesn’t really know what to do with children and that really becomes apparent when he has to handle the baby. But damn he’d try. He has probably read every book on childcare the arcanaeum has to offer, though granted there may not be too many of those.

- He’s overall not one for random silliness (I can’t see him making faces at the child or making babytalk, for example) but he’d smile and laugh a lot more around his kid.

- Also cuddles. At first Savos is a little scared of handling the child bc it’s so small and vulnerable, but eventually he’d enjoy holding the them.

- He’d try to teach his kid as much as he possibly could, though not through books and dry teaching. He’d definitely show his kid the garden or venture out into Winterhold at night to watch the stars. In a modern AU he’d absolutely be the dad building a baking soda volcano who’d then be almost as excited as the kid when the volcano explodes.

- There aren’t many children in Winterhold so Savos would be concerned that his child can’t make many -if any- friends. At some point he considered summoning a friend for them before realising that that’s a horrible idea.

- He’d continue his own dad’s bedtime story tradition.

- Savos would be a bit of a worrywart though; he’s lost so many students already so he’d definitely try and shelter his kid a bit. He’d teach them wards as soon as possible.

- He’d absolutely encourage some mischief.

- In fact, I don’t think he’d be a strict parent at all. It’d fall to his SO or Mirabelle to teach the child some boundaries.

- As a healer, he is entirely unfazed by anatomy and awkward puberty topics. For example, he can give his child The Talk just fine, they just shouldn’t ask him how things feel\taste\etc. He’s a very private man and would get flustered at having to reveal things about his love life.

- He’d always stay a bit insecure about his parenting skills though, even when the child is all grown up. Is he a good dad? Did he raise a responsible adult? Did he prepare his child for all that’s out there? Late at night, he’d wonder.

- At any rate, Savos is by no means #1 dad, but he’d grow into it and he’d always be there for his child, even in case of potentially massive fuck ups.

Savos Adult Headcanons:

The NSFW alphabet

#elder scrolls #skyrim #savos aren #my headcanons #long post #Savos Aren

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mariekavanagh · 1 year

Note

re: Regulus becoming a Prefect getting overshadowed by Sirius’ amazing yet unsatisfactory OWL results—

I can totally see Regulus quietly thanking Kreacher for the elf’s loving congratulations while Sirius screeches, “I’D LIKE TO KNOW HOW YOU DID WITH A GHOST FOR A PROFESSOR!”. Orion gets so worked up about his son suggesting he didn’t get ‘good’ grades (God forbid Orion Black wasn’t one of the best students of his year in every subject he took) that he stomps to his study, rifles through his filing cabinet (because he’d file not only his kids’ lives in chronological order, but also his own), and emerges triumphantly with his OWL results to show Sirius a perfectly acceptable E for HoM. Walburga haughtily claims she got an O but that she burnt the results of her OWLs after graduating, so Sirius shall simply have to take her word for it. Because he’s really pissed that he actually does, he claims that she’s lying, and before long a lot of doors are slammed and Regulus’ shiny Prefect badge is slipped into a pocket, to be forgotten about by the family.

(Regulus ends up working himself to the bone for his OWLs, desperate to be better and do better. Watching Sirius breeze through school with all the ease of a genius with a photographic memory — so many professors keep comparing them — causes envy and pain so intense that when they do speak for more than stilted smalltalk, he hisses that he’s glad Sirius ran away because everything is much better now. It’s not true, because they’re miserable, but he tells himself that the brief flash of hurt on Sirius’ face feels good)

Poor Regulus, he tries so hard to match his brother and earn his parents' praises and his big moment is still overshadowed by Sirius. I sometimes imagine Orion in a somewhat similar position with Lucretia - an elder sibling who is far less interested in studies but still manages to effortlessly achieve better grades. Except in History of Magic. It was Orion's favourite subject and one which he excelled in. Such was his passion for the subject that he was extremely disappointed that his eldest son and heir failed to live up to his own achievements. Typical Orion, focus on the one slip up rather than the otherwise flawless grading sheet. He ought to learn to pay more attention to Regulus. He may not be as academically talented but he worked his absolute socks off to earn top grades in History of Magic, better than Sirius's.

#orion black #regulus black #sirius black #the black family #the noble and most ancient house of black #black family headcanons #harry potter headcanons #asks

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thepunchingbag · 1 year

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Mical and Visas BFF Headcanons

Their friendship started when Mical caught Visas stealing his bandages/antiseptic/kolto injections from his medical supplies. Visas expected anger and she braced herself. But he wasn't angry, simply curious. She remained silent as Mical asked if he could help somehow; until he simply offered to give her what she needed if she only asked (and it would help to know the issue, so he might know what medical aid to provide). Then it became a regular thing, her visits to the Med Bay for supplies, Mical attempting to make smalltalk before she scurried away back to the shadows. Over time, she begins trusting him enough to actually help with wound care - and Mical is able to stitch the deeper scars too. He's a good listener. Even when she reveals extremely dark moments in her life, Mical remains calm, soft-spoken and kind; she finds his presence therapeutic.

Both of them grow powerful in the Force and use it regularly, unsettling even other Force sensitives. Due to his temple upbringing, I headcanon that Mical doesn't have any qualms using mind tricks/"reading" people's thoughts; always for peace and harmony and all that, of course, but he's not above using those techniques to achieve his goals (Atton is disgusted somewhere in the background). If Mical catches an opponent mentally unawares in combat, he crawls into their head and convinces them to flee. Visas can turn the air electric if she's furious - she may remain deathly silent, but the area around her will crackle with Force energy. Or the room's temperature will drop to freezing. She's also incredibly uncanny at detecting upcoming events - she's not clairvoyant exactly but she gets incredibly accurate hunches. Together, Mical and Visas can make an incredibly unnerving pair.

They're incredibly comfortable in each other's space. Sometimes they meditate together for hours, sometimes they silently just hang out (Mical reading a book on his datapad, Visas practicing her Force abilities, hovering various objects in the room with her mind). When they do talk, oh boy, they talk for hours and hours on pretty wide-ranging subjects, from Sith vs. Jedi philosophy to Katarr mythology to "What did you think of the soup we had for dinner?" Visas was extremely taciturn with Mical at first, but over time, he's earned her trust and she enjoys their chats. To be honest, she's still rather quiet around most of the crew besides Mical and the Exile.

Visas is extremely protective of Mical. She's very irritated with how passive he is in combat - Visas wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but a part of her grudgingly admires his mercy. However, if Visas thinks he's in danger, she goes into full demonic Sith mode and will salt the motherfucking earth if her cinnamon roll friend is hurt.

They're both tall. I thought the post that said Mical had to be taller than Atton was fucking hilarious - and now I just imagine Mical as this 6'5 giant beanpole. Visas is statuesque, once she's no longer slouching and hiding herself in the shadows (she's accustomed to hiding from Nihilus, it takes her awhile to relax around the crew). Standing upright, she's the tallest woman on the ship, maybe only a hair shorter than Mical. And, together, they can physically make an intimidating pair. Mical is the gentle giant but Visas 100% uses her height to intimidate others if she deems it necessary. Even when the Exile just takes Visas and Mical along on missions, they can end up unintentionally unnerving other people, these two gigantic Force-sensitives looming in the background.

Headcanon that Mical is always making a pot of tea. The man is constantly brewing tea, drinking tea, he's mad for tea. He likes his tea malty, with a drop of honey and cream. He used to only make one cup, but now he's always sure to make another cup for his friend. She likes it strong, no sugar.

#visas marr #mical #mical the disciple #kotor 2 #headcanon #atton rand #star wars

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kosmic-arts · 7 months

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The Great BBS Headcanon Text Dump

i have a bunch of bbs character headcanons id like to get out my system. im going to start with eraqus because i think he's boring asf. (plot twist: theyre all boring asf) anyway, wouldn't it be cool if eraqus' intentions and motivations were more obviously grey from the getgo? he loves his kids sure, but he just doesn't make for a good father. his priorities don't lie with them, but rather how best he can mold them into effective soldiers. eraqus hasn't really moved on from the first keyblade war, and has kind of occupied himself with trying to restore the old keyblade order, and figuratively go back in time. i think it would be more entertaining if there was more friction between eraqus and terra from the start. terra is also boring asf, and i want to rewrite him. i imagine him as being more of an openminded guy by default. he likes to question things and doesn't always do what he's told. he likes to know the whys and whatfors, and if it doesn't makes sense, he's going to argue. terra doesn't really plan things out, and is a lot better at just improvising solutions. he just kind of goes with the flow(haha do you get it). i like to imagine that terra out of everyone would vouch the most for ven to be allowed to go on missions with him and aqua, rather than being cooped up at home. i think terra and eraqus would butt heads on this a lot, and terra would eventually start to see through eraqus' reasoning and become a bit more aware that he and his friends are more tools than children to eraqus. i think it would be cute if terra maybe promises to take ven with him to search for more keyblade wielders after he becomes a master. even if eraqus objects, once they hold the same rank and title, eraqus will have no choice but to listen to him. terra wants ven to see the stars and get to make friends, and even if ven isn't as strong as the rest of them, he'll always protect him! on the flip side- aqua. if it weren't for all the drama she goes though, you too would realize just how stiff and boring she actually is. i want to rewrite her, she has so much potential.... aqua is a know-it-all? smart, powerful, follows orders without question; the model soldier, and eraqus doesn't do a good job of hiding his favoritism towards her. although they're mature enough to handle the connotations, it does create a bit of a rift between aqua and terra. aqua is super protective over ven- she babies him, but is unknowingly stunting his growth even further because she can't bear to let him out of her sight. it's something terra and aqua argue about a lot, as terra is more inclined to let ven learn and get hurt and actually do things on his own, while aqua wants to protect him from everything. in opposition to terra, i like to think aqua is an excellent planner- always 20 steps ahead and is highly resourceful, but when the plans fall though, aqua cannot handle the subsequent disaster. she finds comfort in rules and order, and really struggles to function off a script. even around strangers, she cannot do smalltalk and genuinely struggles to socialize, especially in large groups. shes a lot more shy than youd think! comparatively, terra is a lot more easygoing. terra and aqua press at eachother a lot, as their ways of thinking are completely at odds. still, they fill in for a lot of their own deficiencies which allows them to both have room for conflict but also still come together, because ofc, theyre the best of siblings and they all want the same thing: become keyblade masters, protect the worlds from darkness, protect eachother- and most of all, ven.

speaking of ven. it took ventus some time to recover from getting his heart cut in half, but he should've sustained lasting consequences. i mean like, a person's heart is basically their soul. kind of a big deal, right?? i like to imagine ven probably had worse stamina, poor health, and maybe even his physical growth was stunted. think of like, an extension of how roxas was towards the end of days when xion was draining his powers. ven probably couldn't train as frequently as terra and aqua, and as such, lagged behind significantly in his progress. eraqus probably tried for a while to see if they could work around ven's condition, but over time would give ventus special lessons maybe to help him strengthen his control over light; being essentially pure of heart, albeit by artificial means, ven has strong light powers by default and i think eraqus would find that invaluable to nurture especially since the prospects of ven ever becoming a master was becoming more and more of an impossibility. by the time terra and aqua were getting ready to essentially graduate, i feel like eraqus would throw in the towl with the keyblade training and have to break the news that ven would never be a keyblade master. wouldn't that be crazy?? i imagine that ven probably put two-and-two together on his own, but has been trying as hard as he can anyway because he's afraid of being left behind and becoming nothing more than a liability to his friends... eraqus would be particularly protective of ven, out of love of course, but also because ven's unique condition and subsequent light powers make him an especially effective as a soldier. ven is essentially doomed to become a princess locked up in a castle, but as much as he keeps asking for a chance to leave, he's gradually starting to lose faith in himself and doesn't really have the courage to leave home anymore. and thats why ventus should've been kidnapped by vanitas in the beginning of the game instead of chasing after terra, and then wandering around like an idiot for his entire 10hr route. wouldn't it have been fun and made the plot more urgent and maybe more parallel to kh1 if the gang were searching for ventus the whole time? rather than ven being analogous to sora, he really should've been representative to kairi. vanitas couldve easily snatched ven at the start of bbs when terra is about to leave, and hell, maybe from the getgo eraqus is like- "it must be xehanort: terra, aqua, if you see him run tf away hes evil because darkness." it wouldve been a much smarter move for the characters to have been made aware of xehanort's evil from the start, because us the players were aware of it from the start. its silly to watch the characters get stringed along for a whole game on a plot twist you already know is going to happen. it also wouldve opened the doors for xehanort to really show how cunning and manipulative he can be if manages to convince the characters to his reasoning, despite them knowing hes bad. it would be even better if xehanort was convincing enough to even get players to at least be like "hm well he has a point 🤔". that would make him a little scarier i think. also. wouldn't it be more interesting if like, terra at first worried when his heart starts to lean towards darkness, actually learns to control it and be more comfortable with it. just. by himself? wouldnt it be more fun and a bit more obvious instead of mildly implied that terra's heart is so much stronger than xehanort expected, and terra just masters his darkness all on his own??? it would be cool. i like xehanort being an evil mastermind, but i want to see him fuck up sometimes?? he severely underestimates terra, and pays the price- losing his entire sense of self when he tries to bodysnatch terra and they effectively tie in their battle against eachother and their hearts merge or whatever to become ansem. xehanort fucked it up! would be cool... anyway. i just wanted to get all my thoughts out my head. istg bbs is so boring and mediocre i drives my brain crazy trying to fill in a blank canvas.

#kingdom hearts #kh #kh bbs #birth by sleep #ramblings #ventus kh #aqua kh #terra kh #eraqus kh #kh headcanons #kh theory #kh analysis

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