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the-littlest-goblin · 3 years

Note

ooooooooh for fic prompts, could i request: essek interacting with Frumpkin, specifically playing with him (so as to impress Caleb and earn his favor a bit), but our favorite hot boi most likely did not have pets growing up and is at a bit of a loss with what to do. (bonus: Caleb sees this and thinks it's incredibly endearing)

I think you got everything you wanted. ft. my personal 'here’s how Frumpkin can still win’ headcanon.

----

This was not how familiars were supposed to work.

Essek may not have summoned one before (he’d never really understood the use of an assistant with no opposable thumbs), but he had read enough about the spell to know that this was not how familiars were supposed to behave.

Maybe that was because Frumpkin didn’t technically count as a familiar anymore.

No one knew exactly what had happened, or why. Essek and Caleb had exchanged a number of theories on the matter, but so far the best explanation still went to Beau’s conclusion: “weird fey shit.”

After Aeor and the Somnovem, when they had all finally gotten a chance to breathe again, Caleb had done some sort of ritual to more permanently banish his familiar. Essek hadn’t gotten the full context at the time, but it had something to do with symbolic closure and moving on. The cat was already gone from the Material Plane at that point, but Caleb had wanted to remove the temptation to summon him again, and so devised a sort of reversal of the Find Familiar spell.

However, upon performing the anti-summoning ritual, the cat had appeared in the ritual circle as if Caleb had cast the spell as usual. Only instead of going to his master’s side, Frumpkin had sauntered away from Caleb with a swish of his tail and gone to sit directly at Essek’s feet.

“Hmm,” Caleb had muttered, the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It looks like he has made a choice.”

Ever since, Caleb had been unable to banish Frumpkin, or communicate with him, or give him orders. He had seemingly lost his magical connection to, and mastery over, the cat—Frumpkin was no longer his familiar, as had been the intention. It was just that Frumpkin apparently liked the Material Plane better than the Feywild, and so refused to leave. And since Caleb had let him go, he chose a new wizard to keep him company. For the next several days they had spent recuperating and planning their next moves, Frumpkin stuck with Essek, never straying from his side for long.

But, crucially, he did not become Essek’s familiar, a lesson they had learned quickly enough. Essek didn’t even have Find Familiar in his spellbook. He couldn’t banish Frumpkin, he couldn’t communicate telepathically with him, and he certainly couldn’t give him orders.

So, Essek just had a pet cat now, one which happened to be fey in nature. Stranger things had happened—much, much stranger—so for Essek’s part, it had seemed easiest to just accept this development in stride. At times, he was even grateful for the cat’s presence.

But right now, he was very much not. At least familiars were obedient.

Essek winced against the sound of shattering glass—a sound which was becoming somewhat routine since taking up residence in these new, temporary lodgings with Frumpkin as his roommate.

Essek closed his eyes and took one deep breath before looking up from his notes to survey the damage. His gaze met Frumpkin’s round, amber eyes across the room, looking impossibly innocent where he sat primly on one of the tables which Essek had set up to house his research. His tail swished back and forth where it hung over the edge, acting like a flashing signal to point Essek’s attention down towards the starburst of broken glass glittering directly beneath him.

Mercifully, the beaker which Frumpkin had marked for termination had been holding a harmless and easily replaceable solvent, rather than any of the more valuable or dangerous liquids Essek had lying around in his provisional lab. His fingers curled protectively around the precious vial of liquid dunamis sitting next to him.

“Why?” He let the single syllable of the word stretch out into a long, bone-deep groan lasting several seconds. The question was aimed both at Frumpkin and at himself, and covered a variety of curiosities he had about the situation. Why did Frumpkin feel such a persistent desire to destroy Essek’s belongings? Why had he chosen to adhere himself to Essek in the first place, when he seemed to hold a deep disdain for everything Essek owned or did? Why was Essek incapable of learning the very simple lesson of locking the door to this makeshift lab? Why had he promised Caleb that he would take care of Frumpkin while the Mighty Nein dealt with the Assembly, instead of throwing the mangy beast out onto the streets of Port Dumali as soon as they had arrived at the safe house?

None of these were questions to which Essek was about to get any answers, so he tried another one.

“What do you want from me?”

Frumpkin blinked.

“You are still a fey being. You don’t need food or water, and as far as I understand, providing those two things are the pillars of caring for a pet. So, what else could you possibly need that requires my attention?”

Frumpkin flicked his ears.

Caleb had given Essek a brief overview of what to expect in terms of cat-care, but either he had chosen to leave out a lot of unsavory details, or decoupling from their arcane connection had put Frumpkin through a drastic personality change, because Essek had received no instructions about how to handle the kind of stalemate in which he currently found himself.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but unlike your previous master, I cannot read your thoughts, and your current methods of communication are lacking in clarity.”

Frumpkin’s tail began swishing faster. He broke eye contact with Essek to gaze intently at the row of jars lining the next table over. These were full of various concoctions, including some potentially dangerous acids, the results of Essek’s increasing boredom as he stayed hunkered down in his safe house day after day. He only ever went out for the duration of a Disguise Self to buy food or other necessary supplies; he was too noticeable to amble around the city for leisure, on the slim but ever-present risk that word of a strange drow in Port Dumali would reach the ears of Ikithon or his servants. Essek was under strict instructions to stay as hidden as possible until he got the all-clear from the Mighty Nein. With only the materials to continue his most basic experiments with dunamis, he was growing bored out of his mind.

Essek heaved another deep sigh before reluctantly abandoning his notes and gliding over to where Frumpkin had stationed himself. With a short wave of his hands, the spill vanished and the broken shards of glass floated gently into the trash bin. Then, Essek unceremoniously lifted the cat into his arms before he had the chance to wreak any more havoc, and deposited him outside the door.

Distraction removed, Essek made to turn around and return to his research, this time intending to lock the door to prevent further feline interruptions. But before he could do so, he made the mistake of looking into Frumpkin’s eyes again. The cat’s pupils gleamed, impossibly wide and round, and his tail was still swishing back and forth in an incomprehensible pattern, like some sort of code. A mixture of affection and guilt welled up in Essek, rooting to the spot.

Godsdammit, but he had promised Caleb he was going to take care of his cat, and that meant not ignoring Frumpkin when he was clearly trying to tell him something. Because even if Caleb no longer wanted a familiar to travel around with him, he still loved this damned cat, and also Essek was trying to be less callous and heartless in general.

He thought back to Caleb’s instructions with a fair bit of desperation, searching for some hint of what would make Frumpkin happy. All he came up with was a faint recollection, something about enjoying being scratched behind the ears.

“Is that all you want? Is that what you interrupted me for?” Fighting not to roll his eyes, Essek reached down for a pet.

As soon as he got close enough, Frumpkin lunged.

“Gah!” Essek snatched his hand back, nursing the sting of pain from Frumpkin’s bite. There was no blood; the little demons’s fangs hadn’t managed to break the skin. It could barely count as an injury, but the shock of betrayal hurt more than the scratch.

“What in the Nine Hells was that for?” Essek glared at Frumpkin, then noticed just in time that the cat was poised to strike again. This time, he only had to turn slightly to keep his hands out of harm's way, but Frumpkin wasn’t aiming for the exposed skin. There was a loose thread dangling from the hem of Essek’s sleeve, apparently caught by the previous attack. Frumpkin was intent on it. He flung himself at the thread, grabbing at it with his clumsy paws. It slipped through his grip, and he lunged again without hesitation.

Experimentally, Essek lifted his arm so the thread dangled higher off the ground. Frumpkin took the challenge to heart, leaping to grab it in his teeth before it slipped out of his grasp again, and he landed on the floor in defeat. Essek moved his arm over to one side, and Frumpkin followed with enthusiasm, this time managing to get the thread around one claw. The split second of resistance was enough to tear it from Essek’s sleeve. Frumpkin rolled over onto his back, victorious, batting his prize around in euphoric glee.

A grin spread across Essek’s face as he watched this display of simple delight.

“I suppose you were just bored, too. Was that it?”

Frumpkin responded by biting the string with a vengeance.

An idea began forming in the corner of his mind as he watched Frumpkin playing. Absentmindedly, Essek twisted his fingers and summoned a trace thread of dunamis into his hand, shaping and stretching it into a longer and longer cord of greyish, glowing energy, which he then dangled tantalizingly over Frumpkin’s head. The boring, non-magical string was immediately forgotten and discarded as Frumpkin caught sight of the dunamis toy. His whole body wiggling in excitement, he lunged at the cord again and again, pulling a genuine laugh out of Essek as he bobbed and weaved the magic around, dancing it out of Frumpkin’s grasp. He needed a break from his lab anyway, and this was shockingly entertaining.

---

“Well? How are they?” Just a hint of nerves colored Caleb’s voice, as it did every time they checked in on Essek. The fear that this time, the scry would reveal him not safe and sound on the Coast, far from the Trent’s reach, but somewhere cold and dark and threatening.

The faint glow faded from Jester’s eyes as the spell ended. Looking up at Caleb with a smile, she said, “You’re not going to believe this Caleb, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caleb grinned back at her.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #fic prompts #the pedant in me needs to point out that Essek would definitely be wearing his anti-scrying necklace but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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dead-by-deathslinger · 3 years

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i’m not sure if you’ll be able to write for this and that’s completely fine. but if you can i was wondering if you could write some headcanons for caleb comforting an s/o that had a syncope (basically the medical term for passing out and spasming like you’re having a seizure) it happened to me recently and i had to be hospitalized because of it. i just want the cowboy man to give me kisses :(

I'm not sure how recent this was but I hope you are better now, or if not I hope you get better soon my friend! I did my best with these to the best of my ability. I have never dealt with something like this so I dunno how accurate this will be, but please enjoy and again, feel well soon :))

------------------------------------------- Caleb Quinn (The Deathslinger) || "I've gotcha darlin'" (x GN!Reader Headcanons)

You had been helping Caleb out in his workshop for most of the day, not bothering with trials in the slightest.

Your usual buddies were confused by this, but not enough to go looking for you in the dusty town of Glenvale.

Whilst Caleb was quick at working making gadgets as well as fixing up his gun, he had asked for you to bring a wrench over to him on the bench beside you.

As you stood to grab it and bring it to him, you found your vision going a bit. The next think you know you're on the ground.

Caleb was quick to turn his attention to you as he heard you hit the ground pretty harshly.

You looked a bit pale if he were honest, and he couldn't recall the last time he saw you drink something. In other words, you were extremely dehydrated.

He was quick to scoop you into his arms as you lay there still a moment..

Caleb is patient and calm since this wasn't the first time you had randomly passed out due to exhaustion.

He'd often pester you as well about getting enough fluids in your body. "Ain't good in this heat."

However this time was different as you had felt a jerk in your body, your muscles spasming.

This caught him off guard.

"Darlin'? C-calm down now. Hey!"

He's a bit panicked at first, however he'd never admit that to you.

He held you close a moment once he gathered himself, placing a few kisses here and there about your forehead and cheeks.

"Just breathe sunshine...I'm right here..." He coos in a hushed tone, eventually his calm tone helped you down from your episode.

You're too exhausted to move mostly after.

Caleb had wrapped you up in a blanket, and demanded you drink the glass of water he got for you.

He keeps you close to him for a long while after that...If you hadn't known any better he seemed a bit paranoid and worried about you.

But no matter how much you insisted on being okay he denied your offer to let you be, unless it was to sleep while he was busy tinkering.

He constantly checks in on you, every now and again taking breaks to hold you and place more kisses about your face.

#headcanons for the yeehaw boi #The Deathslinger #Deathslinger dbd #Caleb Quinn #Deathslinger x Reader #Caleb Quinn x Reader #Dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #yeehaw #headcanons dbd #anon asks #gender neutral reader

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red-doll-face · 3 years

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I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

#dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #michael myers #slasher x reader #dbd the shape #dbd killers #dbd survivor #red writes

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arrowflier · 3 years

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😈 horny jail headcanon -- not sure if you're still doing these, but I'd love to see them dance, or Mickey watch Ian dance. Doesn't have to be at a club because I think Ian's past that, but he danced with fucking Caleb and Trevor and not Mickey. So if I can't watch it, then I'll take it in writing, please :D

This old speedwrite is also relevant to your interests!

When Mickey had agreed to going out with some old friends of Ian's, he hadn't realized this would be on the agenda. But apparently EMTs liked to live it up off duty, so here he was, nursing an overpriced beer at the bar, watching Ian grind on his favorite (thankfully female) ex-coworker. His only saving grace was that her partner was in the same boat, waving occasionally to her on the dance floor and sipping a gin and tonic through a straw.

Mickey grimaced into his beer. Okay, maybe that wasn't a benefit after all.

But Ian was clearly having a great time, and that's what mattered. His hair was mussed with sweat and shining red under the flashing club lights, his eyes a green glimmer in his flushed face, arms swinging wildly overhead as he bumped hips with his friend and spun through the crowd in that weird metallic tank top that barely even managed to stretch over his chest nowadays.

He was beautiful, and Mickey would never tire of watching him.

Eventually, though, he had to turn away, if only to catch the bartenders attention.

"Yo," he called out, raising a hand to wave the man down. "One more over here."

The bartender gave a quick nod and went to pull another pint, but before he could slide it over, Mickey felt someone's heated body against his back.

He twitched forward.

"Ever heard of personal space?" he asked darkly, but the low chuckle he got in return was unphased.

"I have it on good authority," a deep voice purred into his ear, " that you don't mind me invading it."

"That right?" Mickey asked, turning his head to meet Ian's eyes even as he pressed back into him. "Who told you that?"

Ian grinned. "Lucky guess," he admitted, and then he was draping sweaty arms I've Mickey's shoulders and trying to sway without pulling him off his stool.

"Come dance with me," Ian pleaded, resting his head on Mickey's shoulder.

"You know I don't dance, twinkle toes," Mickey responded, and he could almost feel Ian's pout in the way that chin dug into his neck.

"I'll dance with you, sweetheart," someone said from two stools over, and Mickey glared.

"Did he fuckin' ask you to?" Mickey growled, and he might have been a little more intimidating without 6 ft of ginger hanging off him.

"Ignore that," Ian ordered, then gave Mickey's neck a whisper of a kiss. "Come on, just one dance. I can't let Sue show me up."

Mickey twisted around to look. Sure enough, Ian's friend and her partner were now grinding away on the dance floor, only an empty glass on the bar marking that he had been sitting next to Mickey just a minute ago. As he watched, Sue dropped and starts twerking against the man's hips, sticking her tongue out in their direction.

"She bet they can be hotter than us," Ian whined. "You know she's wrong, so don't let her win."

Mickey sighed.

"Fine," he relented. "If you really wanna give in to peer pressure--"

"I do!" Ian said, beaming, and already backing toward the floor with Mickey's hand in both of his. "I really, really do," he repeated as they pushed into the crowd.

Ian got his arms up around Mickey's neck again, forcing his to sway as he offered a quick, chaste kiss.

Then he spun around, pushed his hips back into Mickey's, and twisted his hips in a way that probably wasn't legal.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey muttered to the back of his neck. "Not wasting any time, huh?"

"Nope." Ian popped the p absurdly, slid down Mickey's chest and back up. He reached back to guide one of Mickey's hands around his waist, his other arm wrapping backwards around Mickey's neck, and rolled his hips again.

"You dance like a damn twink," Mickey said next, trying to keep up, and then Ian was shifting and sliding down again until he could pull Mickey's face to his own in an awkward, sideways kiss. He licked into Mickey's mouth, sucked on his lip, released him with a nip there as he straightened and pushed back harder into Mickey's chest.

"You complaining?" Ian asked breathlessly as they moved together.

Mickey scrabbled to get hold of Ian's hip, bringing his other arm around to press into Ian's stomach above the waist of his tight jeans. The sequins of that ridiculous tank top scratched at his hands, but he paid them no mind, tightening his hold and getting his mouth on Ian's neck.

"Fuck no," he breathed, and licked at the sweat beaded there.

"Think we won though," he added, tilting his head to where Sue and her date were now making their way to the bar.

"Don't care," Ian said, eyes closed. "Just keep dancing."

Well, Mickey thought, he had promised one dance. And the song wasn't over yet. So he pressed his face into the back of Ian's shoulder, held him tight, and let Ian take him along for the ride.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #a random sue appears with no context or characterization #fanfic

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

One shot based off a Juke headcanon I had about protective Luke. This is for this momentous March 4th JATP trending day. Here’s to clowning with you!

___________

She noticed him there one night. An almost indistinguishable blob huddled out her window, dark clothes blending in with the shingles, the trees- the night.

It was too late for either of them to be up.

Yes, Julie was aware that ghosts had no need to sleep. No bodies meant no circadian rhythm.

But he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Rubbing her eyes and groping her desk for her glasses, Julie tiptoed across the room, mindful not to make too much noise. It was past midnight after all.

She cracked open her window, the slight breeze playing with her hair as she stuck her head out.

“Luke?” she called, startling the ghost.

“Julie!” He all but yelped. Normally cool and confident, Luke Patterson scrambled, limbs moving wildly, “Uh, hey. What are you- What are you doing up?” he coughed then shot her a smile.

Would have been that perfect smile Julie had raved about to Flynn if it hadn’t come off as hesitant, as a ruse. It didn’t push against his cheeks like they were supposed to. If he hadn’t been a ghost, she would have chalked it up to fatigue.

She nodded her head at the door, “I had to go to the bathroom.”

A yawn snuck out her mouth. Luke’s eyes softened at the sound.

“You should go back to sleep,”

Julie looked him over again, noting his attire. A beanie, his torn up jeans, and… that flannel. The brown one.

She shimmied out and carefully sat next to him on the roof, knees pulled up like his was, “Luke, is something wrong?”

“No. Just get back inside,” he urged, shooing her away. And when she didn’t budge, his tone grew a tad bit more authoritative, “Julie, I mean it. Go to bed.”

“I’ll go when you tell me why you’re out here,” She may be tired, but two could play this stubborn game. And as if she was going to bed without figuring out what’s bothering Luke.

His shoulders rose and sunk, “To think. For some privacy,”

It came out as more of a question, as if he wasn’t entirely committed to that story. At Julie’s judgemental silence, he continued spinning.

“Not sure if you know this, but Alex and Reggie?” he leaned in, hands cupping his mouth, “They can be a bit much.” he stage-whispered teasingly.

She raised an eyebrow, “Alex and Reggie?”

“They’re, like, so,so loud. Real annoying. Very hyper,” he said, “Like I tell them ‘Boys, keep it down’, ya know?”

“Uh-huh,”

She wondered if he legitimately thought this was working on her. And Julie thought she was terrible when put on the spot.

“You have the power to poof literally anywhere and everywhere, yet you choose my roof?”

Seriously, out of all the places to get privacy, Luke thought being a couple feet away from her window was enough seclusion.

Again, he shrugged, emoting a ‘don’t know what to tell ya’, which only irritated Julie even more.

She scooted over, getting into his space, but the ghost wasn’t allowing it, bringing up his arms to keep her at bay, and maybe to move her in the direction of the window.

“Luke, enough with the games just tell me what’s going on-” she reached for him and ended up grazing his ever-jerking shoulder. Her hand landed on something behind him.

It wasn’t a shingle or a leaf. Whatever it was, her finding it made Luke’s eyes widen and had him stuttering out pleas to leave it alone.

With cat-like reflexes she wasn’t aware she had at this hour, Julie grabbed it before he could swipe it away.

Under the moonlight, she inspected the item in her hands, confused.

“Salt?” It was the same can of salt that Carlos had tried to use on the boys, supposedly trying to ‘burn their souls out’, “Why do you have this?”

Luke chuckled nervously, “Oh that? Well that’s just… that’s because...” he faltered, “Because…”

He sighed dejectedly.

“Uh, you mind waiting a couple minutes? While I come up with an excuse?” he tried, his usual charm doing nothing for Julie at the moment.

She stared at him, hard and unwavering. “I don’t like it when you lie to me, Luke.”

The ghost deflated. His features tightened, almost pained.

“I never want- argh-” he growled, pounding at the surface before cradling his head, frustrated, “Look, I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Then why do you do it?” her voice warbled as she pressed. He still did this? After all they had been through together? It hurt her to think about, somewhat insulting.

But of course there must be a reason. A good one because whatever he was hiding, it was clearly weighing heavy on him. Much like when he had visited his parents. And when he was suffering from the stamps…

“Something happened,” she surmised.

Luke didn’t want to admit it, she sensed that. But she could sense his resolve breaking, the more she looked at him, looked into his stormy hazel eyes.

Julie inched near him and the moment her hand came up to rest on his shoulder, his whole body shuddered, his breathing becoming less controlled- God, he was falling apart, as if he had spent so long bottled up, the pressure only escaping out now.

He kept shaking his head, refusing to let it happen, but Julie’s hand moved to his other shoulder, pulling herself towards him, her left side locking into his right. He practically melted, and with unplanned synchronicity, their heads rested against each others’.

They sat there, the quietest they had ever been with each other, but the moment screaming something that Julie had yet to decipher.

She thought she could speak ‘Luke’ by now. No two people could engage in something as personal as songwriting without picking up a thing or two on how the other person thinks, feels...

A sort of jitteriness existed in him and all Julie knew was that she just needed to quell it, to calm him down. Her fingers traced patterns into his shoulder, dancing en pointe to the rhythm of her breathing, and soon Luke’s. Slow and steady.

“The night of the Orpheum,” he finally said, “after you left. We were gonna meet you there, I swear we were. But then…”

“Caleb?” she dared to speak his name out loud.

With the way Luke’s form tensed under her arm, she regretted it.

He swallowed hard, withdrawing his head from its comfortable position against hers so he could look at her properly.

“He was here, Julie,” he gritted out.

Her stomach dropped.

Caleb had been here. At her house.

Logically, it was to be expected. He was a ghost, like the boys, able to go anywhere and everywhere. It made sense to come here to get them.

But the fact that he could…The fact that he had...

This man, who could so easily inflict pain, who had no qualms in threatening non-existence to three teenage boys, all because they wouldn’t do what he wanted, had been in her home.

The thought rattled her, and she was almost close to losing her regular breathing pattern. Sensing this, Luke’s hand shot out and coated hers, quick to soothe with guilty fingers.

None of them ever told her this. Of how they ended up at the club before the Orpheum. They must have wanted to shield her from the distress, taking it upon themselves the burden of worrying. Worrying when he would come back. If he ever came back.

“Look, Caleb’s this all powerful ghost. The things he’s capable of,” he shut his eyes, breathing deeply, “I don’t like knowing that he knows where you-”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish, voice cracking. Instead, his hand reached for the can of salt, stealing it back.

Julie noticed it. In the way he held the can, that he didn’t need to open his eyes to grab it; it was instinct. If his palm had been large enough, he could encapsulate the whole thing. He couldn’t be gripping it any tighter.

“But Luke…” she tried to remind him gently.

“I know this doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t burn souls or whatever,” he slammed it down on the roof, “But it’s better than nothing.”

Julie bit her lip, not wanting to ask, dreading the answer.

“Have you been up here? Every night since?”

Luke hesitated.

Oh.

“I don’t spy on you or anything. I’m not a creep or-” he tried, “I just wanna make sure. Make sure you’re alright.”

Julie was at a loss for words.

She didn’t know what to feel. The gesture would have warmed her heart if the visual that presented itself wasn’t so utterly devastating.

The Orpheum performance had been months ago.

That meant many nights of Luke keeping vigil on her roof, outside her room, clutching onto that can of salt like a lifeline, always on edge. Never sleeping, just… sitting there in silence. Anticipating for some attack.

That could drive any person mad.

He didn’t tell the boys either. She knew that. Otherwise they would be up here with him, all armed with their own cans of salt.

Luke bore the burden of worrying.

And he did it alone.

Julie cursed herself for not picking up on it sooner, but there was never any residue of the anxious nights. The electric smile at its full wattage always greeted her when she woke up and visited the studio first thing before leaving for school.

But she should have noticed. Noticed in the way Luke’s gaze seemed to linger on her for a beat too long when he thought she wasn’t looking. In the way he embraced her, squeezing her tight, reluctant to let her go even so she could go to school.

She had always thought it was him relishing in the ability to touch her, never taking it for granted after months of never thinking such a thing was possible.

Finding out why- it hurt. It hurt knowing how much Luke was hurting and he didn’t let it slip once.

All to protect her.

“You don’t have to keep watch, Luke...” she didn’t want to put him through that anymore. Her peace of mind should never be at the expense of Luke’s. She refused.

He shook his head, “No, I do. Because if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-”

“Hey. I should be the one who’s worried. You guys almost…” she stopped, not wanting to dwell...

“Look. you’re who he wants. Not me. I should be the one to be,” she eyed the can of salt “to be standing guard outside the studio, protecting you.”

“We’d never want for you to put yourself in danger. Not for us. No way,”

“Well that’s tough because there’s no way I’m gonna let him take you away from me again,” she cried, desperate.

That gave Luke pause and she realized her mistake.

She had meant to say ‘you guys’.

But also at the same time, she didn’t.

The moment of vulnerability made her want to run and hide, but it was already too late. The damage was done. Luke blinked at her, stunned and sad.

His hand on top of hers shifted, curling around until he was holding it, thumb grazing her knuckles, “I’m not going anywhere, Julie,” he promised, “We’re not.” he corrected for her.

“Well, neither am I,”

It should feel like a lie. What both of them said.

Nothing about their situation was fixed. A promise from a ghost to Lifer and vice versa shouldn’t mean anything. Not when he could leave, cross over to the great light at any time. Not when she could grow old and leave him behind along with the memories of her teen years.

Their interesting little relationship was already doomed. No Caleb required.

But she meant it. And that felt like enough.

Luke meant it. And it was.

She wished she could enjoy this.

Another agonizing silence flowed between them, and soon Luke’s hand left, the echo of his touch chilled by the night. She pocketed both of her hands in her sweatpants.

“How did you break free?” she asked, “You were at the club, right? How were you able to get out?”

Luke smiled, “You called. And we came. Duh.”

She sang. Somehow her singing had summoned them, had brought her boys back to her. It had always been that way sorta. There was this feeling she had ever since she played their demo, that there was something tethering them together.

They always knew where to find her. And when.

At first, it annoyed her. Like, who wanted three new responsibilities?

But now it gave her comfort.

She needed to voice this to Luke.

“You can’t be sitting here every night. It doesn’t help anyone for you to be on edge all the time,”

He opened his mouth to interject, but she kept going.

“I know. I know you can’t just turn off all your worrying. It’s scary not knowing what’s gonna happen,” She sneaked one last squeeze to his hand, “But If anything does happen, you’ll know. And you’ll be here” she snapped her fingers, “just like that.”

“But-”

“For me. Please,” she had to say, desperate.

And she watched as any further arguments died on his lips. She was lucky that it took this time.

She brushed away his bangs before cupping his face. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

That seemed to seal the deal.

“Ok. For you,” he nodded. Then he carefully guided her hand off and he cocked his head towards the open window, “You seriously need to sleep though.”

It was her turn to nod, “I will.”

And with that, they both stood, with Luke guiding her back inside, ensuring she didn’t slip and fall off the roof. Once safe and away from the cold, she hung back, elbows perched on the window sill. Luke did the same from the outside.

“Goodnight, Julie,” he whispered.

She smiled, a first for tonight.

“Goodnight, Luke,”

The ghost returned it, and it reached his eyes this time. He moved to leave but he froze. Pulling out the can, he opened the spout and began lining the entirety of window sill with a small stream of salt.

“Here,” he remarked upon finishing, “Just in case.”

Julie didn’t have the heart to correct him. Him standing guard may be for her benefit, but the can of salt was definitely for his.

“Thanks,” she said instead, brushing stray particles to fill any gaps in her protective barrier.

She watched him poof away before closing the window and crawling into bed and succumbing to sleep.

********

Julie hadn’t seen Luke on her roof since.

It had been weeks and there was a definite improvement in the way Luke carried himself from then on out. It was miniscule, of course, but Julie could see it in his eyes that he had been receiving the equivalent of a well-needed slumber.

That didn’t stop him from keeping an eye on her from time to time. Though it never reached ‘stationing on the roof’ status. The boy had found a loophole and she found herself anticipating surprise visits by her locker.

She never did say anything about school.

And everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Julie wasn’t sure why it took so long for the fear that Caleb’s visit had instilled to rear its ugly head.

But it did.

And in the form of nightmares no less.

It was the night of the Oprheum all over again, except when she launched herself at Luke, she merely passed through. No magical hug to save them, she was forced to watch as those jolts, those painful jolts, slowly killed them.

She remembered screaming and crying, the looks on the boys' faces when their light had been snuffed out, when they were nothing more than shimmering particles that faded away into nothing, it was something she never ever wanted to see again.

Her body jerked awake, her body sweating and she was startled to find the screams and cries had followed her- her face damp and her throat coarse. Bringing her knees to her chin, the horror of what she had witnessed was still fresh in her mind, and she was sobbing.

In the midst of all this, she barely registered the tugging feeling, somewhere deep inside her, somewhere she couldn’t really place.

Then suddenly, a telltale sound of a ghost poofing in diminished her cries.

“Julie. Julie!” she heard Luke, frantic. His form, blurred by her tears, moved about the room until he was sitting at the foot of her bed. “A-Are you okay? I felt it, I felt you calling-”

She wiped her face with her sweater sleeve, readjusting to reality, “I’m- I’m fine. It’s just-” she sniffled, “I had a nightmare.”

Once Luke’s face came in view, the nightmare image of his disappearing out of existence overwhelmed her again and some wayward tears flowed against her better judgement.

“Hey,” he moved and was at her side immediately, drawing her to him, “Sh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She buried her face into his chest just to make sure. Because forget her. He was okay. Caleb didn’t take him away from her. He was still here.

The tears she was shedding were ones of pure relief.

It had been awful. For a second, she was powerless. She had felt that way when she lost her mom, her sickness taking hold. She couldn’t stop it from taking her mom, and that left her feeling so hollow.

Julie wouldn’t know what to do if it happened again. If it happened to her boys.

She didn’t know how long Luke held her, wiping her cheeks dry with his thumbs and keeping her hair from clinging to her forehead. But somehow during all this, they both had reclined on her bed, the worst of it having passed.

Even when she had stopped crying, his arms still encased her.

“What can I do?” he asked, unsure, “Tell me. What can I do?”

“Just…” her fists curled around his shirt, her breathing steadying and eyes pleading, “Can you stay here? With me?”

He nodded,resolute, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Julie sighed and she was struck with that promise they made weeks ago. And she allowed herself to relax into him.

It should scare her. How much she trusted him. To be there. There weren't any guarantees in life. Not for her. Especially not for him.

But she called.

And he came.

A constant.

And as much as she didn’t want him to worry about her, she knew that she wouldn’t easily be able to not worry about him.

And encased in arms that would phase through others, and even with the threat of Caleb still hanging over their heads, Julie never felt more safe.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this house. Not in this time of 2020.

But he was.

And she slept peacefully from then on.

tagging @blush-and-books and @lydias--stiles (I will sleep now)

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #juke fic #drabble #NetflixWeWantJATP2 #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #juke-box #julie molina #luke patterson #let's say possessed nick isn't revealed yet #angsty #hurt and comfort

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daddy-deathslinger · 3 years

Note

Helo- I was wondering if I could get hedcanons of Caleb and a Trans Male s/o. Both SFW and NSFW are fine I don’t mind either. Please and thank you if you do so.

Hello there! These were fun to make, I hope you like 'em! I'm non-binary myself so I hope I didn't screw anything up, if I did feel free to let me know ❤️ Have a great day!

Headcanons for The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn x Trans Male S/O

Caleb has known a few trans men in his time on the frontier.

Ofcourse, he didn't know they were trans, these things seldom came out and people minded their own business amongst the outlaws of the wild west.

So when he met you and you explained you were trans, he caught on pretty quickly.

He's very protective over you, not because he doesn't think you can't handle yourself, but because you're the only thing bringing him joy in the Entity's realm.

He doesn't want to lose you, and he'd kill anyone who would dare lay a finger on you.

That being said, he teases and messes with you now and then, in a friendly manner.

You remind him a bit of some boys from the Hellshire gang, adventurous and brave.

He'd never let anyone touch his hat, but for you, he can make an exception.

Yes, you may try on The Hat!

If he's feeling extra friendly, he might even compliment you while you're wearing it.

After all, he knows you look way better in it than he does.

If you're ever struck by body dysphoria, trust that he will be there to help out in any way he can.

He doesn't know what it's like, but he'll listen over a glass of whiskey and let you talk it out if needed be.

Will hug and cuddle you until you're feeling better, if you're comfortable with that ofcourse.

#dead by daylight #dbd #the deathslinger #caleb quinn #dbd hc #dbd deathslinger #caleb quinn x reader #the deathslinger x reader

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dweetwise · 3 years

Note

Deathslinger x doctor or deathslinger x oni? Headcanons or fluff for whichever one you choose, I don’t mind :) (happy birthday to your blog!)

oh it’s been a long time since i’ve written sparkslinger! thanks for requesting <3 i made this as a continuation to my previous fic of them, i hope that’s ok!

word count: 1740

Caleb X Herman: Accidental martyr

Since starting his arrangement with Herman, Caleb had to admit that his time in this neverending hell had become a lot more entertaining.

Whether it was getting roped into questionable experiments, late nights drinking cheap whiskey in the saloon, or his own sporadic visits to the old hospital, being around the doctor was a great way to alleviate the boredom between trials.

Unfortunately, that often came at the cost of Caleb’s sanity.

This moment was a prime example of such an occurrence. After Herman had showed up to their latest encounter with a torn jacket and fresh wounds, Caleb was practically forced to play doctor to make sure the man didn't succumb to his injuries.

That didn't mean he had to be nice about it, though.

“Figures ye’d be cocky enough to try to take the bitch out on yer own,” Caleb snarked.

He attempted to clumsily dress one of the numerous gashes marring the doctor’s shoulders; the Entity’s handiwork, no doubt.

“What can I say? I’m a man who likes to push the limits—shit!” Herman hissed out a curse when Caleb tightened the bandage a little too forcefully.

“Don’t do it again,” Caleb growled, masking the uneasy feeling in his chest with anger.

Herman waved off both the threat and concern with a simple "Yes, yes, now get on with it" and Caleb went back to his mediocre job of caring for the wounds.

Since that first night in the saloon, they’d never talked about whatever this was between them. And that suited Caleb just fine; he was a man of few words, and if anything, he should thank his luck that the blabbermouth he kept for company hadn’t deemed it a subject worth discussing.

Apart from a few snide comments of Herman getting his ass kicked by the Entity, Caleb didn’t bring up the incident again.

And he’d probably have forgotten about it completely, if he hadn’t happened to pick up some spare parts from Autohaven a few days later.

“Are you alright?” Philip asked as soon as Caleb arrived at their designated meet-up spot.

“Just dandy,” Caleb drawled, inspecting the Wraith’s latest haul of scrap from the junkyard.

“You don’t have to act tough, Caleb,” Philip insisted, clearly not getting the hint.

Caleb whipped around to give the other killer a properly disgusted look that he hoped conveyed just how little he appreciating being coddled like a damn child.

“It’s okay; we’ve all been there. I understand,” Philip said, giving a look of sympathy that made Caleb’s skin crawl.

“The fuck you on about, boy?” Caleb spat.

“The Entity,” Philip said.

The Wraith flinched at his own words, quickly glancing around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping.

“It… punishes us when we’re not brutal enough or efficient enough,” Philip said, lowering his voice. “And after your leg—there have been rumors, you know.”

Caleb felt the anger bubbling up. Not only did he hate people bringing up his brief time of injury and subsequent uselessness in trials, he also had an inkling of just who had been spreading these specific rumors.

“What kind’a rumors?” Caleb asked.

“You’ve been going to the hospital a lot to treat your wounds,” Philips said. “Herman even had to borrow ointments from Sally, since you’ve been coming in so often.”

Caleb’s eye twitched as he tried to reign his temper. Herman knew damn well that Caleb was insistent on keeping their whatever-it was a secret, yet he seemed to happily gossip to anyone he came across.

“‘Scuse me,” Caleb said. “I’ma need to have a chat with the good doctor.”

When Caleb slammed open the door to Herman’s office, the man didn’t even flinch.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t break my furniture,” the doctor merely offered, not even looking up from his book. “I could hear you stomping here from across the hospital.”

“You,” Caleb snarled, grabbing Herman by the collar. “What did you do?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Herman said, infuriatingly calm even when face to face with a very dangerous and very angry gunslinger.

“Why does Phil think I’m gettin’ beat up by spider-bitch?” Caleb spat. “Why does Sally know I’ve been comin’ here and you need a bunch’a salve for it?”

“Oh,” Herman said, finally getting his point. “That’s not something you should worry about.”

“Try me,” Caleb snarled, tightening his grip around the man’s jacket collar.

“It might be easier to talk without the strangulation,” Herman countered, his voice strained from the pressure on his neck.

Caleb released his hold but didn’t back off, crowding the man against his office chair.

“Then talk,” Caleb commanded.

“Very well,” Herman said. “As you may or may not know, our Eldritch overlord closely monitors our performance in trials. However, if said performance isn't up to par, it isn’t afraid to take disciplinary measures.”

“So ya didn’t fight it, it fought you? That what yer sayin’?” Caleb asked.

“In a way, I suppose,” Herman said, still annoyingly secretive.

“So what’s that gotta do with me? And stop fuckin’ horseshittin’,” Caleb said.

“Well, in a nutshell,” Herman paused, as considering how to phrase the message simply enough for Caleb to understand. “There was word of the Entity being more agitated than usual. I concluded it was only a matter of time before it chose you as its target, and as a precaution, I deliberately attempted to draw its ire.”

If Caleb was confused before, he was even more so now. The doctor had… volunteered to be the Entity's pincushion? And for what?

“Why?” Caleb asked, hesitantly stepping back from the man and his unknown motives.

“You’re my patient,” Herman simply answered.

“Oh, like these sorry fuckers?” Caleb said, pointing at a human heart sitting neatly in a jar on the desk. “You wanna cut me up yerself, that it?”

“...No.”

“Then what? Ya get off on bein’ tortured?” Caleb prodded, angry at still not getting a real answer. “Well, what is it!?”

“I don’t know!” Herman snapped, slamming the book shut.

It was the first time Caleb had seen the doctor lose his composure, and on reflex he reached for the empty holster on his hip.

“I’ve spent over a decade studying the human psyche, and I don’t know,” Herman said, moving to stand up. “I have no illusions of morality, yet seeing you in agony over your leg—”

“I was fine!” Caleb rebutted.

“The thought of inflicting more pain on you was simply out of the question. So I offered myself up in your stead, until you were recovered. And then I… just kept going.”

“Hold on,” Caleb realized. “You’ve—for all this time!? It’s been, what, months?”

“Fifty-three days, according to my calculations,” Herman said, so matter-of-fact.

“You’re fuckin’ bonkers,” Caleb said. “That shit ends now! ‘M not about to let you deal with my punishment!”

Herman was silent, for once, and Caleb could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. There was a sudden realization that Herman probably felt the same way that Caleb did, a few days ago when he saw the man badly hurt.

Protective.

The anger slowly released from Caleb’s body, and he took a step toward the doctor in a silent peace offering.

“I’ma big boy, doc,” Caleb said. “Been through shit none of yer experiments even come close to. I'm not fuckin' made o’ glass."

"I realize that," Herman said, sighing. "It wasn't my intention to patronize you."

"Pfft, like that ain’t your goal most days," Caleb shot back, the good side of his face drawing into a smirk.

"Well," Herman said with a dry chuckle. "Not in this particular instance."

An apology was left unsaid, but Caleb didn't want one. Still, he kept unwavering eye contact, waiting for a promise that never came.

"And?" Caleb asked when neither of them were budging.

Herman sighed in annoyance, most likely peeved at having been out-stubborned.

"I will make sure it doesn't happen again," Herman reluctantly assured.

"Good," Caleb said, and then inexplicably felt unsure about where that left them. "So, uh… we good, or…?"

Herman smiled. He usually just grinned, or giggled or laughed like a psychopath, but now he looked stupidly handsome with a smile stretching over his lips and making his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Splendid," Herman said.

Caleb could only withstand another few seconds of looking at the damn smile before his patience ran out.

"Get over here," Caleb said, tugging the doctor closer by his lapels and into a kiss.

They didn't do this often, and feeling the warm, chapped lips against his own, Caleb couldn't help but think what a damn shame it was. After the injury to his jaw that felt like a lifetime ago, Caleb didn't think he'd be doing much kissing for the rest of his days, but Herman never seemed bothered by it.

Large hands settled on his hips and Caleb could feel the dormant energy lying underneath, electricity always at the doctor's fingertips. It was absurd to think that their hands, constantly used for killing and more often than not caked with their victims' blood, could be used to hold each other this gently.

Realizing he was getting alarmingly sappy from nothing more than a kiss, Caleb pulled away from the liplock and reluctantly stepped away from the doctor's embrace. He adjusted his hat in an attempt to hide the reddening of his sickly pale cheeks.

"Alright, now come on," Caleb urged, cocking his head in the direction of the door.

"Are we going somewhere?" Herman asked.

"Yer comin' to Glenvale where I can keep an' eye on ya," Caleb said. "Don't trust ya not to break a promise."

The words came out harsher than he meant to. Luckily, Herman didn’t appear to take it personally, instead going to grab some of his things without any further fuss.

"If you wanted a romantic getaway this badly, you should have just asked," Herman teased.

"Shut up," Caleb said half-assedly.

Watching Herman pocket a jar of an unknown substance, Caleb suddenly remembered something crucial.

"Oh, one more thing," Caleb said.

"I'm all ears.”

“Tell Sally to keep ‘er fuckin’ trap shut,” Caleb snarked.

He received a fit of maniacal giggles in return, and Caleb realized that the sound that once grated on his nerves now brought a sense of belonging.

He still didn't know what this was between them, but he'd be damned if he let it go.

#dbd fanfic #caleb quinn #herman carter #sparkslinger #dbd deathslinger #dbd doctor #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #request

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ray-jaykub · 4 years

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Headcanons on what the turtles would do with their pregnant s/o ? And how would they react when they are in labor?

I know nothing about pregnancy 😕 but i will try... also i rewatched the 2016 movie and like... leonardo and his hot ass voice gotdamn

Leonardo:

•He has always fawned over the idea of children, always wanting a few ninjas of his own to train like his dear old dad. Never thought he would live to see the day of being a father but here he was!

•Y'know the dorky thing dads do where they put their heads to the s/o's tummy and just... talk to the baby, like it understands? Leo does that before bed EVERY night and before patrol Every night.

•Leonardo is pretty basic with name calling, pretty sure he got it out of a baby book. If it's a boy=Caleb if it's a girl=Renae. He was lucky to get the name leonardo instead of something weird like gilbert or something so he wants to make it easy for his kids

•He's like that really calm, stoic oersin when you're in labour but as soon as Donatello asks if he wants to see the baby crowning he fucking faints. Like dead, raphael had to catch him before he broke something. When he sees that baby though... oh he'll sob. Yeah he's crying real heavy, he just really loves you and the baby.

Raphael:

•This shit was not planned. Technically he knocked you up after a real bed breaking night and turns out it was just one of those days your genes become compatible. He's both scared out of his wits and more in love with you all at the same time and it's hard for him to get his duckies in order.

•Speaking of duckies, he totally decorates the baby room. Got pale green walls up and helped donatello make the furniture (although he broke many pieces in the process of making a crib) Raph will scavenge for toys and clean them up for the little tyke too

•His naming skills are a little better then leo's, nothing unique persay but just things that sounded like strong names. If it's a boy= Malikai and if it's a girl= Anastasia (yes because of the movie)

•When you go into labour he's really gentle and patient because he doesn't want you yelling at him. Raphael cannot handle mommy anger like any other parent in the room. It is scary, you are scary, but he loves you so he'll wait by your side. And when it's his turn to hold the baby it's like the first time in his entire life... Raphael is finally at peace

Donatello:

•Hell this motherfucker probably tested you himself. So 9 times outta 10 you both figur out at the same time. Doesn't mean he isn't jumping and hollering with joy though. Literally sprints to Master Splinter first thing to tell him the wonderful news. You will walk in on two wonderful men hugging and crying with eachother and then you'll start crying and it is such a mess

•Brags about the baby. Every chance he gets he will make dad jokes and show the little black and white pictures to everyone that'll let him talk about it. Always talking about how big the babies getting and what y'all are gonna name it. If it's a boy= nethaniel and if it's a girl= Melanie

•He makes toys and furniture for the baby and it's all decked out. Galaxy mobile? Check! Toys that stimulate the babies beautiful mind? Absolutely! Donnie won't expect his child to be a genius like him but he does pray for that chance

•Donatello has been with you through the entire process. From check-uos to throw-ups, he was there. So it would be the greatest honour to deliver your baby. He isn't grossed out by this stuff, he's done his homework and now he's ready. *Cue the panicked screaming as he tries to get ahold of your baby* Donnie will be the first to hold the baby and you'll have to snap him out of it if you want them. He's just so fascinated...

Michelangelo:

•Panic. He's panicking. Mikey is pretty sure he'd be the last person on earth for someone to want a baby with. Hell, he doesn't want a baby with himself! Literally has an anxiety attack, you gotta comfort and soothe this sweet turt because he will need you every step of the way.

•After everything has cooled down, and mikey has gained some of his confidence back, he is instantly on board. What was he thinking? He's amazing with kids... he thinks? Either way please please please let him name your children, you won't regret it. If it's a boy= Jax or calum if it's a girl= Blair or Anaith (forgive him he can't pick just one)

•Looks through all his really old shit to pick out some books and a blanket for the baby. Mikey has to admit that he kept this stuff with him in the hopes of being a daddy so you can imagine the smile that nearly splits his face in half. He is constantly complimenting you throughout the pregnancy, making sure you don't feel down for a second and that what you're going through is natural... even if your farts crack glass

•The only brother whose really chill and cool during the labour and birthing process. Like he's hyped himself up for this sinse the beginning and he ain't backing down now. He'll obviously let you hold the baby first but when he gets them and they open there eye to show bright sapphires he just never wants to let go, he recalls it being almost euphoric

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cranesofibycus · 4 years

Text

a collection of CR headcanons

A week ago I asked for 29 Critical Role headcanons for my 29th birthday. I got 33. Thank you all so much for sending them in, they made that day such a good one. I thought I’d share the joy, so here they are!

Jester

At some point, for funsies, Artagan tied Sprinkle's life force to Jester's, so the weasel has her hitpoints (@iisuikyouii)

Jester's Spiritual Guardians make tiny rainbow poops. (@kaarchin)

Post-campaign, Jester writes her own wildly successful smutty romance novel. (@the-littlest-goblin)

Sprinkle is just the tiniest bit magical. I don’t know how or what kind of magic, but he is. (@the-littlest-goblin)

Jester is much older than we all think. (anonymous)

Beau

Years in the future, teenage TJ runs away from home to visit Beau at the Zadash Cobalt Soul. He ends up going back eventually but they have a very nice bonding weekend where she teaches him how to throw a proper punch and tells him he doesn’t have to take over the family business if he doesn’t want to. (@the-littlest-goblin)

At some point when she’s much older Beau will need reading glasses but she will refuse to wear them, much to Caleb’s annoyance. She will place books on the other side of the table in the library and squint really hard “SEE, I DON’T NEED GLASSES. THIS IS FINE” (anonymous)

Veth

Veth loves being back in her halfling body but sometimes she misses the freedom of being seen as a feral goblin and getting away with all kinds of “nasty” behavior. (anonymous)

Luc has a level in rogue by the time he’s ten. (@the-littlest-goblin)

Veth taught Caleb how to braid her hair so now it has become their morning ritual. (anonymous)

Caleb

Caleb's mom had a difficult pregnancy and birth, which is why he's an only child in a farming community (@iisuikyouii)

Caleb is like 5'4" and the only people in the group shorter than him is Veth and somehow miraculously Jester by like half an inch (@ishti-ishti)

When the blumendrei were at school, whenever Astrid and Caleb went on dates Eodwulf would end up going with them and it was just a thing, because they didn’t realize they were in a polycule. (anonymous)

There is a librarian at the Soltryce Academy who often wonders what happened to the kind, blue-eyed, red-haired boy who ran about the stacks, piled books high on his table like The Candles of the Shimmerward. A stronghold of a mind sat in their shadows, but awe, wonder, and ambition showed on his face. He'd leave, often in the company of 2 of his classmates. That made the librarian happiest. A mind like that belonged in the light. (@swagsolidarity)

Caduceus

Caduceus cooking for people to bring them closer together is something he picked up from his Aunt, and is one of those "third kid" gifts - something for him to stand after Colton and Calliope. (@iisuikyouii)

Caduceus Clay is aro ace!! (anonymous)

Caduceus has secret therapy sessions with Sprinkle. (anonymous)

Fjord

Sabien is Fjord’s former lover and that’s part of the reason he’s desperate to find him. (anonymous)

If Fjord had made it to the Soltryce Academy he would’ve become Trent’s newest pet-experiment, possibly training with Eodwulf (anonymous)

Fjord is not from Wildemount (but he’s not an alien either lol) (anonymous)

Yasha

Yasha actually has a lovely singing voice and a knack for music and her low performance score is because she sings too quietly for anyone to hear and she makes really weird and off-putting faces when she's focusing on an instrument. (anonymous)

Zuala made the first move with Yasha, because Yasha was as horribly awkward with her as she is now with Beau. (@the-littlest-goblin)

Molly

Lucien/Molly has at least some recollection of his time as Molly, and the Tomb Takers have hired the Bad-Luck Bandits to aid them at this time. (@cattatra)

Vox Machina

After c1, Percy and Keyleth get a set of mirrors enchanted so they can have fantasy facetime chats whenever. His hangs above his desk so she can see him and out to the grounds through the window. She takes hers on walks while they chat and shows him the gardens or her sun tree, or sometimes they just kinda virtually hang out while they work. (@a-case-for-wonder)

I can imagine Keyleth and Caduceus hitting it off and becoming nature-loving buddies that meet up for tea (taking my wholesome headcanon and making it kinda sad: they're both much more long-lived than their parties so they can take solace in each other) (@flowersforvex)

Misc

The big bad end boss is Tharizdun; we are SO not done with that guy yet and since two the shackles are in Rexxentrum and Whitestone it actually makes sense that VM might be occupied elsewhere while we see the MN's point of view. (@flowersforvex)

Yussa is a client of Marion's, but he also has agoraphobia so they're erotic pen pals. That bathtub was his gift to her. (@swordshapedleaves)

The gods walk among Exandria. (@alan713ch)

If Essek ever gets the option to be consecuted he refuses since he never wants to live without the M9 and he knows already he'll be doing that for at least 1000 years and he doesn’t vibe with it. (@adira-trek)

Essek is ace (@the-littlest-goblin)

Reani and Fen do eventually get married. (@the-littlest-goblin)

The housekeeper that the m9 hired basically moved into the Xhorhaus and has been living it up there rent-free. One time Essek went by and found her chilling on the rooftop garden. (@the-littlest-goblin)

Everyone in the m9 is either autistic or has ADHD or both. (@rwbypro)

#critical role #cr headcanons

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groovymothwrites · 3 years

Text

Caleb Quinn (the Deathslinger) - Headcanons

These are some headcanons that I have for the Deathslinger from Dead By Daylight. As always, these headcnons will be the base for anything else I write for the character. Enjoy!

Word count: 276

- Caleb has been at the end of a lot of bullying in his life. In his time, the Irish were made fun of and discriminated against. He is very proud of his Irish heritage.

- Despite his appearances he is a smart man, just not in the way of reading and writing. Caleb works best with metal, and can create genious machines for killing if given enough time. His most prized possession and his favorite weapon is, of course, Death to Bayshore. He had the pleasure to kill the man who wronged him with it.

- Though he grew up in America, Caleb has a habit of switching into an Irish accent every now and then. He doesnlt necessarily talk, but when he does (mostly when he gets frustrated or angry) he slips into an Irish accent.

- Like most cowboys he likes tobacco. Caleb is a much bigger fan of chewing tobacco than cigars or anything of the like. And just like a cowboy he’s gotten very good at spitting tobacco.

- He sees the trial as a game, but also a way for him to test out his inventions. Caleb’s mind is constantly thinking of different inventions he can create or what modifications he can make to Death to Bayshore to get the most out of killing survivors.

- Caleb became such a good shot by praciticing. For his birthday one year his dad got him a BB gun after begging and begging for one. He would like up cans, glass bottles, or any other trash he could find on the fence and practice, pretending it was the kids who would bully him.

#dead by daylight #dbd #caleb quinn #the deathslinger #groovymothwrites

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theoriginalladya · 4 years

Note

As for the brillant headcanons of yesterday. Can we get E sharing a drink for Hackett and Anderson?

From this prompt list.

Thank you for all of the lovely prompts you sent! Here is the first of them, set in the world of Caleb Shepard. This actually combines two of those headcanons from yesterday .... oops! ;)

~~~

The bar, a dive in one of the seedier Wards, is crowded when he arrives but it is open. From the looks of things, it didn’t suffer too badly from the geth attack, or, if it did, it was cleaned up quickly. Whatever the case, it appears as popular as ever with a line that extends out the door and down the street. He walks up to the door and the bars on his shoulders speak for him, guaranteeing no wait time, and he enters.

The place is packed. Humans and turians, asari and salarians, plus a few he is not as familiar with; but all who are here have one thing in common. They all wear the uniform. Soldiers and sailors, the lot of them.

A table hidden away in a far back corner is his destination. It is mostly framed by shadow, but there is one figure sitting alone. He takes a seat and finds two glasses next to a larger bottle made from some kind of dark, opaque glass. Ah, the good stuff. Shrewd eyes lift to meet the dark pair sitting across from him and he nods his greeting and appreciation for the choice. Words are not spoken, but none are needed and his companion pours two fingers worth in each glass. Quietly, he takes one, lifts it. A quick inspection reveals the deep rich tones of the amber liquid even in this light. Definitely the good stuff.

Blue eyes meet brown. “Sláinte.” Their voices wrap around the foreign word together before they each take a sip.

Anderson is the first to respond, eyeing his glass and giving it an appreciative nod. “That’s … smooth.”

Hackett nods in satisfaction as he evaluates his own. “A good choice.”

Anderson chuckles. “You’re not going to believe this.”

Anderson turns the bottle so Hackett can read the label more closely. One brow arches as the date and the distillery become clear. “I sense a story somewhere.”

“Indeed.” With a sigh, the Councilor takes another sip, savors it, then swallows. “Shepard gave it to me,” he explains. “As a ‘thank you,’ or so he said at the time.”

Snorting softly, Hackett takes another sip. “Must’ve been one hell of a favor.”

A smirk curves at Anderson’s lips. “For recommending him to ICT,” he clarifies, “but that came later. He hated me from the moment I showed him the acceptance letter. It was right after Akuze, you see.”

Hackett winces. One hell of a story.

“Anyway, after he made N7, he brought that to me. Told me to save it, that we’d share it after his first ‘big mission,’ or some such nonsense.” Anderson sighs and shakes his head. “Opportunity never arose. Years later, when boarded the Normandy, he asked if I still had it. Once he made Spectre, he promised we’d share a glass once Saren was caught. That defeating him was a mission worthy of the bottle.” His voice fades and he stares down into his glass. “And now …?”

Hackett’s lifts his glass and tilts it toward Anderson who follows suit. “You had a better connection to his past than I did,” he reminds his friend after another drink.

“Yeah.” Another sigh. “Maybe. Do you remember Connor O’Reilly?”

Hackett shakes his head. “Should I?”

“Back in our early days, but after Shanxi. Quiet, soft spoken, one hell of a lieutenant.”

Hackett reconsiders, the hint of a memory teasing him a minute or so later. “I think I remember.”

Anderson’s smile shifts from grim to warm. “He is Athair Connor now,” he explains. “Took to the cloth after leaving the service. Decided he wasn’t cut out for war and would rather save souls instead.” He downs the rest of his drink. “But that didn’t stop him from sending Shepard my way.”

“I’m glad he did.” Hackett follows suit. The moment he sets the glass upon the table, Anderson is filling both again. “Have you told him?”

Sorrow fills Anderson’s dark eyes once more and he shakes his head. “I’ll do that in person,” he murmurs. “When I can get away from here.” He runs a hand over his face. “What did you think of him?”

Hackett frowns. “Of who? O’Reilly?”

“No; Shepard.”

Hackett runs his fingertips lightly around the squarish top edge of the glass. He’d only met Shepard twice in person, each time with Anderson present. How would he describe the younger man? Quiet. Unassuming. Independent. But there had always been something in his eyes. A fire of some kind, a spark. A burning ember, always banked, ready to flare up when necessary. “One hell of a soldier,” he finally replies.

They lift their glasses and the soft clink as they touch echoes around them. “He was that, I agree,” Anderson says. “To Shepard.”

The bottle isn’t large, and it takes less than an hour for them to work their way through it with somber reflection on a man who died far too young. They part ways outside of the bar, and Hackett is halfway back to the docks when his left wrist vibrates. He pulls up his omni-tool, prepared to refuse Anderson’s second request to have dinner with him and Udina later. He is surprised to find the message is not from the Councilor.

To: Admiral Steven Hackett, Systems Alliance

From: Dr. Liara T’Soni

RE: Our mutual acquaintance

Admiral,

You do not know me, but I assisted Commander Shepard during the hunt for Saren. My name is Liara T’Soni. I am Benezia’s daughter. I was with the commander when the Normandy went down. Though I do not have proof of it yet, the situation may not be nearly so dire as it seems …

(Also on AO3 here)

#minific prompts #ladya writes #mass effect fanfiction #Steven Hackett #David Anderson #Liara T'Soni #when the muses attack #thank you so much for this!#painterofhorizons

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the-littlest-goblin · 4 years

Text

I just wanted an excuse to describe my headcanon for Essek’s hypothetical Nascent Tower room.

______________________________________________________________

For the life of him, Essek could not place what spell Caleb is preparing as he meticulously sets out the cat figurine and the stained glass pieces. These are not components for any magic Essek knows of. Could he be about to witness a Widogast original?

As the glowing doorway shimmers into existence, it pings a distant memory of a powerful conjuration spell he once read about. He has never had any use to learn it himself, rarely in a situation where he could not simply teleport back to his own, corporeal home in Rosohna, but he knows of the skill it takes to cast.

Essek looks from the amber archway to Caleb, who is already making to walk inside. Pride and melancholy war in his heart as he watches Caleb disappear through the door, the Mighty Nein following in a line after him.

They have grown so much more powerful, all of them, from the ragtag group of mercenaries Essek first met, but he can measure Caleb’s progress in an exact way that he can’t for the others. This level of spell was certainly out of his range even as of their most recent dunamancy lesson. It is extremely impressive magic, and his personal modifications doubly so.

With an inexplicably pounding heart, Essek steps through the door himself.

He was right to think that Caleb added his own flair to Mordenkainen’s work. Instead of the mansion promised in the original spell’s title, Essek finds himself walking into what is unmistakably the ground floor of a grand wizard’s tower. Though, rather than being truly circular, Caleb’s tower is nine-sided.

Essek can’t help but chuckle to himself as his mind counts the walls almost subconsciously, noting with awe the stained glass murals depicting the different schools of magic. He lingers on the ninth, eyes locked onto the beautifully rendered beacon shapes representing dunamancy.

He feels eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare check which of the Nein have noticed his entrancement.

“It is late,” Caleb’s voice declares, and Essek peels his eyes away at last. “I’m sure we are all tired. Perhaps we can do a full tour in the morning, but for now.” He steps into the center of the room and, without preamble, beings floating upward towards a hole in the ceiling.

The Mighty Nein follow suit, apparently accustomed to this practice, and Essek follows their lead.

As soon as he thinks it, he begins floating up to join them. Though the sensation is exceedingly familiar, he can’t help but be impressed by the ingenuity. He as well has always found staircases to be an unnecessary hassle.

Caleb stops them on the fourth floor of the tower (something tells Essek there are five more above), where three doors branch off from the center nonagon.

Each door is decorated with an insignia: a scarab beetle for one, a bouquet of lilacs on the other, and a silver dodecahedron carved into the third.

“The guest room!” Jester gasps. “Aw, Caleb.” She smiles at her friend, and Caleb givers her a small grin back.

“Here.” With a nod to Essek, he walks over and opens up the third door, waving a hand for him to enter. “Willkommen. I hope it is to your liking.”

The Mighty Nein follow Essek as he goes, seeming eagerly curious to see the room’s contents.

Inside is a sparse sort of sitting room, scattered chairs and tables, Dynasty in design, pushed up against the walls. One table holds a stack of five books. Three titles are in Common, but Essek only recognizes one of them. The other two are Zemnian.

The grayish stone and polished floor, Essek recognizes from his home. The light in here is dimmer than the rest of the tower; the globules glow more silver than amber, reminiscent of moonlight.

“Come, come.” Caleb leads him through another door, his own enthusiasm now apparent. Whatever tensions still remain between Essek and the Nein, Caleb is clearly proud to show off what he’s made.

The sight of the next room sets Essek’s eyes wide. It’s a research space, small but serviceable, like a compacted version of his laboratory at home. Dark-wood desks provide ample writing space, each equipped with stacks of paper and pots of ink. There is a chalkboard against one wall for working out equations, and a stately bookshelf on the other side. Essek catches sight of a few of the titles - they seem to all be academic texts, reference books of magic and esoteric tomes on science and alchemy.

He barely has a chance to take it all in, words of praise and gratitude on the tip of his tongue, before Caleb is already opening another door and waving him along.

This is the bedroom. It is simply furnished, with a four-post bed dominating the space. The nightstand and wardrobe are all Dynasty design as well, although the large golden bathtub is a less familiar style. Essek wonders, is a bath in the bedroom customary in the Empire?

But his attention is quickly drawn up, away from the furniture. He had, at first glance, registered the walls and ceiling as being painted a dark blue-black, but he realizes now there is more to it than that. The color is richer, deeper, perfectly mimicking a real night sky in the subtle variations of its hue. Dotting every inch is a mural of stars, and it doesn’t take long for Essek to determine that the constellations match up perfectly with reality. As he studies them, they seem to twinkle and wink, as if he were gazing up at a perfectly clear night on the material plane.

Up in the corner shines the red-purple crescent of Ruidus, and next to it, another silver-tinted globule takes the place of a full Catha.

It takes a few minutes for Essek to tear his eyes away from the lifelike mural that surrounds him in all directions. When he finally looks to make eye contact with Caleb, he realizes his jaw his hanging slightly open.

Caleb is smiling at him. It is not by any means an unguarded smile, but it is a smile nonetheless.

“Gute nacht, friend. We will see you in the morning.”

#critrole #critical role #cr spoilers #essek thelyss #my writing #I promise I'm working on the prompts (thank you by the way to everyone who sent one!!!!)#but I was thinking of the description last night so of course I had to write 1k worth of fic surrounding it #me still constantly thinking about the hot boi even after the second half of that episode? it's more likely than you think #actually it's probably exactly as likely as you think

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dead-by-deathslinger · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could you write pre-entity!Caleb falling in love with a fem s/o he meets while his gang is around the town she lives in? Thank you!

Ooo this should be fun- MAJOR HEADCANON TIME WOOP

also sorry if this is bland- my writings been a bit iffy lately ^^;

(Pre-Entity) Caleb Quinn (Deathslinger) x Fem!Reader || Gang stuff

The Hellshire Gang. You had only really heard about them, never seeing them in action up close. Determined to trap any outlaws for a pretty penny, or so you were told. You would always see the gruesome stories in the paper. Each capture of outlaws seeming more violent then the last..but at least they weren’t killing anyone. Or at least you would tell yourself, in hopes that they were to ever come to your town. You knew that one of the members of the gang, due to hearing about him nonstop, Caleb Quinn, more commonly known as The Deathslinger, was making quite the name for himself. The papers described him mostly using his prized weapon. They stated it as a normal shotgun, but with a sharp harpoon and bayonet at the guns end. When fired, he could simply reel in is prey. Granted this caused great injury but you assume it was getting the job done. The paper made him sound more intimidating and scary that you would like to believe. “Paper only tells lies bigger than itself.” You’d like to tell yourself upon seeing news that was hard for you to wrap your head around.

You left your cozy home, strolling down the dusty streets. You decided after working as hard as you have been, why not go for a quick drink? You head over to a quaint little Saloon in your town. Granted it wasn’t anything special but hey, it brought in some interesting folks. You carefully enter through the doors and you decide to sit beside a few folks occupied at the bar. A few very obviously checking you out but, this wasn’t anything new to you. You hop up on a bar stool ordering your usual small glass of whiskey. It wasn’t long before you were a few drinks in and you nearly choke as you see several, quite handsome, cowboys come into the bar. Their clothes were slightly dusty and bloodstained but they didn’t seem to mind as they were probably here just to rest up for the night and settle down with a few drinks. The bar was quite lively around now so not to many people took notice of them.

You slowly set your glass down as you caught sight of who you could only assume was the leader, the one that you had been hearing so much about. There stood Caleb Quinn. His faint blue eyes scanned the place for a moment. . You snap back to reality catching yourself staring at him. You knew this was impolite but, you had to be honest with yourself, he was quite the looker. As much as you’d love to keep starting, you didn’t want to be someone on their list to capture. You turn back to your half empty glass in front of you, tracing shapes along the bars counter. Your loneliness, however, would be quickly stopped as a tall figure took a seat beside you.

You glance only to look to him, a bit wide eyed. You feel your face flush as you quickly look back to your empty glass. “Evenin’.” He spoke in a low husky voice which sent a chill down your spine. You peek up, to see that he wasn’t speaking to you. You don’t pay too much attention to what he was saying to the bartender, but you didn’t seem to care as you continued to study this handsome fella beside you. His subtle grey hair lays a little past his shoulders some. Granted it seemed a bit tangled and what not but you move past that, looking more to his face now. You freeze as you look to his eyes, they were a cool icy blue, the brim of his hat shadowing them some. A long scar follows from his cheek to his chin. You shudder a bit at the thought of how he got that. His face seemed gentle yet you knew that in a moment, that gentleness could be easily shadowed by anger and possible bloodshed. You’re quickly stuck in place now seeing that he had moved his gaze to you. “Somethin’ the matter little lady?” He raises a brow.

You swallow hard shaking your head. “N-nothin’.” You quickly comment swirling the little bit of liquor left in your glass. “You uh, from around here?” You question, looking into his eyes again. Their icy color had you trapped, forcing you to look at nothing but him. “Just travilin’.” He explains, “Needed a place to stay ‘fer the night.” You nod slowly with a small smile creeping to your face, “Well...I’m glad you could stop by here.” You had always said this to any new faces you saw, but this time you had meant it. You catch him smiling some, and gosh did this just make you melt more, “Seems like quite the nice little town.” He comments with a shrug, “You got a name?” You internally facepalm, how could you forget to introduce yourself?!

“Y/N.”

“Caleb...Caleb Quinn.”

He took another quick swig of his whiskey, the glass hitting the counter with a small clink. “Pleasure to meet you, Caleb.” You now find him admiring your face some as you take your last little sip. You feel your face flush, “Something catch your eye, Quinn?” You smirk a bit, granted you were never good at flirting, but it never hurt to try. “Well...’yer quite the wildflower.” He comments, only causing you to blush more now, “I quite admire pretty things.” He smirks some, noticing how flustered you were getting looking at him. “Th-thank you..” you mutter out, still unsure how you were speaking to a man like him.

He turns his attention back to the bar tender, “two more please, sir.” He calls, his voice sending another shudder down your spine. It had edge to it yet, it was comforting in a way to you. He seemed like one to handle his liquor well as he had rather quickly finished his drink, yet it didn’t seem to have kicked in just yet. “I-I’m willing to pay.” You offer placing a hand on his arm. He shrugs, slightly swatting a hand, “I won’t mind it none. I gotcha covered.” He smiles, not seeming to shove you away. For someone as violent and dark as the papers had described, you had begun to question if this was the same guy. You quickly move your hand away from his arm, your blush never leaving your face as you quietly apologize under your breath. “’s fine, flower.” He coos, looking to you with a smirk.

This man, bad or not, he knew just how to make you melt. You giggle softly, tugging on his duster coat’s sleeve. “Now what’s that about, hm?” You smile as he meets your gaze. “Just thought it would be somethin’ fitting to call ya.” He smirks. You weren’t sure where this smiling and nickname calling would lead...but you had a feeling that something good was to come of it.

#the deathslinger #deathslinger dbd #preentity #caleb quinn #deathslinger x reader #caleb quinn x reader #dbd #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #headcanons for the yeehaw boi #kinda #yeehaw

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virgil-is-a-cutie · 5 years

Text

Descendants AU! Miraculous Ladybug Headcanons on How They Look

Headcanons on how the next generation look like because @kassi-chan sent me these

Part 1

Cleo

Has curly blonde hair with a few black streaks bc of Chloé being Queen Bee

When angry though her hair is all black with a few yellow streaks bc of Chloé being akumatized as Queen Bee

She has blue eyes but they will turn yellow sometimes

Is 5'1 tall

Has a small scar on her thigh from her and Sammy messing around a bit

Most of her outfits are yellow and black

Looks kinda like Chloé but with bangs and a small mole on her right cheek

Has a birthmark on her wrist of a small bee

Since Chloé tried to raise her right as best she could with limited sources and how crazy and bitter everyone became in the isle she has a soft heart

She's sassy but is kind

Alister

Kind of looks like a male Alya, but has ginger hair and green eyes

5'7 tall

At first he had brown hair but after he was brought back to life and Sabrina took him in they dye his hair red whenever they can get some hair dye

Has freckles and a few moles on his face

His hair turns orange when angry similar to Alya's hair when she was Rena

Quiet and very much the opposite of Alya

Sammy

Is 5'6

Has wavy red hair going past her shoulders

Has blue eyes

When angry her hair turns pink and the whites of her eyes turn pink as well similar to Sabrina on her 2nd akumatized state

She turns invincible when she wants which is great for her with how dangerous the island is

Wears the poka dotted outfits similar to Sabrina's 2nd akumatized form

Her personality is somewhat similar to Jay's. She's overprotective of Cleo

Gabe Nate Agreste

5'1 tall

Has blue eyes that become a dull blue when sad which is constantly

His hair is wavy and a odd mix of blonde, red, and black

Has multiple scars on his body, the largest one being on his back

When angry his hair turns purple

He kind of has powers but they're a weakened version of the butterfly miraculous

He can sense anger and sadness

Which...well gets overwhelming for him in the isle

He's shy and timid with his friends but acts emotionless in front of his father

Lie Rossi

Really hates his name

Like...a lot

Doesn't help that those who were close to Marinette glare at him

Has olive green eyes which he hates, they kinda glow whenever he lies, whe does not do often and when he does he's wearing glasses or looking at the floor

Has chestnut brown hair that reaches his shoulders, bangs that almost cover his eyes with a bit of white tips

Can change to another person if he kisses their cheek which he refrains from doing or when someone touches him

This poor child is so touch starved

He tries not to let Lila touch him since he can sometimes end up looking like her

If he concentrates enough he can create illusions but they're very blurry

Is 14 years old

Very skittish and scared (so basically him and Gabe are Carlos)

The Dupain-Cheng Twins

They of course have their mother's last name since Luka took Mari's name

Identical twins

Facial structure is close to Mari's, but their hair differs

One has blue hair with red tips (Mey-Rin), while the other has black hair with blue tips (Lilith)

Both have Luka's blue eyes

Both have freckles

Mey-Rin has the ability to be extra lucky

Lilith has Luka's power to go back in time

Both can take someone's voice

Mey-Rin is very calm and collected while Lilith is hyper and easily excitable

Both wear somewhat identical clothes but with their respective colors

Both don't like the isle, think it was dumb

The Tsurugi Twins

....Adrien took Kagami's last name

Ash and Kaoru are their names

Both have somewhat the same facial structure as Adrien's

They have wavy blue hair with blonde streaks (I changed it)

Have goldish brown eyes

Identical twins

Ash is strict and doesn't understand puns and such similar to Kagami

Kaoru acts more of a mix of Chat Noir and Adrien

Both wear black and red

Caleb

Blonde with a few blue streaks

Green eyes

6'1 tall

Is 16 years old

Really nice and polite

Total opposite of his older half sister

Now for the other kids of the other good guys

Juleka and Rose

When they decided they wanted a kid they used a sperm donor

Juleka volunteered to carry the baby

They had a boy

One blue eye and one copper eye

Black wavy hair with blonde streaks

His name is Jacob Rey

Is a pastel goth

Pretty much can make any perfume to be able to make anyone follow his command

Which he doesn't like at all

His hair becomes dark pink when he's angry

And his skin is a weird mix of light pink and green as well when angry

Is shy and timid but gets easily hyper

Nino

He had a girl

Her name is Natasha

Curly brown hair

Brown eyes

Can create bubbles to trap things

Skin turns blue when angry

16 years old

She's easily excitable

5'10 tall

I might make more later

Tag list: @vixen-uchiha @maribat-archive @mystery-5-5 @thebananathatwrites @let-me-perish @bluerosette23 @chibiphoebe @lenoreofraven @maribug-adrienoir @luciferge

Follow me to see when I make more random ass Miraculous Ladybug au headcanons.

#miraculous lb headcanons #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug #descendants au #descendants x mlb crossover #idk warnings #non except description of scars #some names are from anime shows #bet you cant figure out from where #mari's kids name were legit genna be misa or mello and light #i have to fight the urge to make them have twins #i just....really likr the idea of twins #i know this isnt how genetics work but...hey look at descendants mal didnt get horns or wings which in aus i love dearly #but shes half demigod so she should be blue (which explains descendants3) bc of hades #im ignoring how genes work and making them a sonewhat a good mix of the two #....tbh im like descendants where if i make an oc based on my fave otp i gotta mix their names or have a name start with the first letter i #their parents name

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