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jazeswhbhaven · 3 months

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Hehe I see that you're still taking requests, so may I asking for some headcanons about MC who loves to sleep naked, and the Kings (+ Lucifer, and your fav nobles(s) ofc) reactions when they smell the sweet scent coming from MC's room *from 'that' (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)* (yeah I remember like they could smell you miles away and then running to your side like some following puppies)

First, thank you for waiting on this anon. I took a peak at this a while ago and needed some time to think up of fun stuff :o I will do my fave nobles first!

Belial: Jjyu is fucking LOUD btw in announcing "MC IS IN THE FUCKING NUDE" so Belial has to silence him temporarily because yes, he can smell them. He'll most likely knock first and when MC answers naked, he just goes in their room and locks the door. No one else is allowed in >:) Zagan: MC was only stripping down and stretching when they see something stuck on their clothes. A talisman? Ah yes, our boi Zagan put it there. But not sure what it's for, until there's a quiet knock on their door. Apparently, the talisman alerts him when it's removed, and he shows up. But also...the flushed expression on his face lets MC know that he came for 'that' smell coming from them.

Valefor: He just got back from the gym so the overpowering sweat of his own body kinda blocks out MC's scent. But once he showers and he gets a whiff? He rushes over, and he can't help but admit he wasn't aware that MC would be naked but he just followed that sweet arousing scent. But he has to hurry and spend as much time with them as he can, Mammon can smell it too....

Barbatos: Oh, now ever since he found out MC sleeps naked he's made it a requirement for them to be in his coffin. Because he also sleeps naked. And being of that sweet scent coming from them, especially when they're doing something naughty, he senses it immediately and gets naked with them. But they can only be naked together in his coffin where no one else can smell MC.

Dre (Andrealphus): While he can't see MC, his senses tell him they are without him having to touch them. He notices that MC's scent is more potent when naked as opposed to clothed. He'll casually ask, "MC are you nude?" and they can't lie to him either. He can tell, and he can tell if they're just saying no just to get him to touch them, he was gonna do that anyway ;) Stolas: Sleeping naked???? Really? Why...is his first initial reaction because he has a specific pajama set he wears to bed every night. But he's really distracted at the moment though, because he's focused on why MC smells so good, just what were they doing just before he crashed into their room? Can he help finish...? I know that's a lot....but time for the kings! Satan: He figured out MC slept naked within the first couple of days of them being in Gehenna only because he didn't want them to sleep alone. He likes to keep boxers and a t-shirt on, but he likes staring at MC at night as they try to sleep. And nothing is getting past him, the moment they started doing anything to get that sweet smell from their parts wafting in the air, he's right on their bedside trying to get them to say out loud what they're doing. Such a menace.

Mammon: MC has their own room(s) and decided to sleep in the one closest to Mammon's room that was recently added. They get stripped as usual, relax and spread their legs out just a bit, and well, the door crashes down. It's Mammon with just a smile on his face asking if that smell is coming from them, and well they're caught, Mammon has always been aware of their scent, but he wanted to confirm it in case he was wrong, and bonus...MC sleeps naked. Looks like he has to start doing the same...

Beelzebub: Yeah good luck trying to conceal any kind of smell from this devil. He can even tell what toy MC used if at all to please themselves. Also the sheets have the lingering scent on them, and he can tell which bodily fluid it is. And sleeping naked is something he always knew. He's caught them sleeping soundly before, he just didn't want to wake them cause he thought they were so cute sleeping there, naked, and confident. Maybe he'll snuggle next to them, maybe he'll make it to where their scent changes based on what he does or feeds them. That way if it changes again...he'll be aware.

Leviathan: He honestly didn't care if MC slept naked, as long as they stayed in their room and weren't walking around his palace in the nude. But...one night he smells them and orders everyone to stay in their respective areas/coffins while he visits MC's room. He's only mildly irritated that they are giving off that scent because it lures everyone. It should only be for him to experience. (i mean Levi we can't isolate our smells, geez) But he does decide to sleep naked with MC that night, just so his own sweet smell overpowers MCs and everyone is now focusing on how good he smells. Lucifer: MC must have a great sense of pride to sleep naked. But being a former angel, he says that humans used to be naked anyway before being self-conscious about it. Although MC's scent doesn't arouse him as much, it's the smell of their tears that brings him to their room in the middle of the night. Whether it's tears of pleasure or sadness, he's there. And wow, he's also naked. MC wonders, but oh...okay he's bricked up...(prep your holes MC it's time)

*btw I hope you did mean smells from their parts or from them doing some self play T^T because that's what I got from it.*

#whb #jwhbasks❓#whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb satan #whb mammon #whb lucifer #whb kings👑#whb belial #whb zagan #whb valefor #whb stolas #whb barbatos #i'm catching up!#i hope i did this one right #whb andrealphus

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xuterboo · 17 days

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One person wrote in the comments about the uniforms of high ranks. I didn’t take this into account, but why not continue to analyze their images? Moreover, it’s not so easy with the regions

Today I want to dismantle Gehenna

Satan has his own special form, which differs from his region. I would even say this is parallel to what his close demons wear. And these are not just comfortable clothes, but, as one of the cards says, the uniform of a General. My opinion - it looks very stylish

Comparing the shape of the Gehenna demons, one can see a certain style and some decorations: Puffed sleeves, white shirts, black vests, jabot, suspenders and beautiful boots. Have you seen them?? They are gorgeous 👀

By the way, Gehena is the only region where the uniform of the nobility is the same. Only Paimon stands out, everyone else wears the same clothes, with small details, like a talisman on Zagan's horn.

Leray and Belial are slightly different. True, I don’t think that small bears and one on the horn will be convenient. But it tastes like Leray

Radically different, apart from Satan, Sitri and Paimon.

Sitri as the right hand of Satan, so it makes sense that it would be different. His shirt is black and his belts are now white. There are cutouts on the sleeves.

Paimon himself is glamorous. I think he spent a week begging Satan to get the king to let him add to his costume. Pink ruffles on the vest and shorts and bows on the belts.

By the way, Paimon is the only one who doesn’t have high boots up to his ass, but heels

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb satan #whb sitri #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb paimon #whb belial #whb gehenna #my thoughts

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deathbecomesthem · 5 months

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+18 ONLY

Eddie Munson x Reader smut | ~1K

*This reader has a vagina.

He doesn’t know, he can’t. How can anyone outside of the skin you’re living in understand the way that you feel. An ache? A desire? A bottomless pit of hunger? True, true, and true - but it doesn’t scratch the surface of the thing that blossoms inside of your gut when you see his face. There is a place inside of you that opened up when his fingers first touched your skin, a wound that doesn’t heal. This love is raw, it is pain, and there is no balm to heal it.

“What are you thinking about?” Eddie’s been quiet for the last hour, nose in The Talisman. You’ve been sitting on the other side of the sofa with your feet curled underneath your ass. Watching the way his eyes scan the page. Watching the way his brow wrinkles every so often. You think you’ll have to read the book too, try to find those places that make him look so concerned.

“I’m just thinking about you.” You tell him, honestly. It’s a new thing, being able to tell him the truth about these things. A few weeks ago, you’d feel heat rise up in your cheeks at that question, and stumble over a response. Not now, not since you’ve been sharing a bed with him.

Eddie closes the book, careful to keep a finger on the page where he left the story. “Me? And what about me, pray tell, has your mind so occupied?” Eddie asks with a shy smile on his face. You can see a bit of pink spread across the bridge of his nose, and his eyes are looking at your shoulders.

You didn’t know how shy he could be. It’s not something you would have guessed about him - that desperate and sweet way he needs to hear the sweet words from you. The way he blushes when you tell him how pretty he is. It’s a shot through your heart every time, thinking that he’s never heard these things about himself before you told him.

“I was thinking,” you uncurl your body and set your water down on the table at your side, “that your face is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I wonder if you’re real.” Eddie dog ears the page hastily, and tossed the book on the floor next to him eagerly.

“I’m real. I’m very, very real. Why don’t you come over here and find out, hm?” Eddie’s voice is low. Your body responds to the change, a ripple of desire moves through your gut. “You, on the other hand, might be an elaborate fantasy my brain conjured up.”

You crawl up him, careful to keep your eyes focused on him. Now, he’s focused on your face, not averting his eyes from your own. You let your knee press into the space between his legs and feel the heat of him. You feel him twitch at your contact between two sets of denim jeans. That place inside you, that wound, begins to bleed.

“Do I feel real to you? Show me how real this can be, Eddie. I need you.” You hear the need in your own voice, and wonder where it comes from. You wonder what it is about this man, warm and firm under your body, that makes you ache this way.

You wonder if there will ever be a time when you can look at him without feeling that need creep up your throat. As if answering that private thought, Eddie’s lips are on your neck, his lips, tongue, and teeth almost touching that urgent feeling. It’s a blur of arms and legs, of jeans and shirts, of underwear and socks.

His mouth against your lips, on your nipples, against your cunt. You’re trying to feel it all, but it moves so fast. The aching need within both of you directing this thing. As it always does. You’ve wondered more than once if there will ever be a time when time will slow down enough for the both of you to spend the time learning your bodies. But not tonight. Not now. Now, there’s one thing that you need. You’re pulling his hair, hard enough for his face to disconnect from your wet cunt. His lips are swollen and pink, and you throb at the sight.

He looks at you, he sees the need on your face. He moves a finger up and down your slit, letting it dance over that hard nub with each stroke. “What do you need, hm? You don’t want my mouth?” He asks, eyebrows pinched.

“I need you inside of me.” You tell him, and two of his fingers push their way into you. Your body rocks down to meet him. His thumb brushes against your clit, a ghost of a touch where you need him the most. “Please.” You rock down again to meet a thrust of his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” Eddie removes his fingers from inside of you, and he brings them to your mouth, “taste yourself, Baby.”

You do, you taste yourself on his fingers. You run your tongue between his fingers. It’s familiar and pleasant. You can feel Eddie’s cock throb against your thigh at the sight of you sucking on his fingers, and it’s a swift movement. He’s between your legs, forehead pressed against your own.

You open for him easily, he fits inside of you like a key turning in a lock. That gash inside your soul bleeds freely while your hips rock together. Your fingers are digging into the meat of his ass while he digs deeper and deeper. His cock searching for that place inside. This is where you belong, this is what your body was made for.

If the world could stop, if time could freeze, this is where you would happily spend eternity. Foreheads together, eyes on eyes, bodies fused reaching and searching for something that can never be touched.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff

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greenhappyseed · 1 month

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Aizawa saved Izuku by being a friend to Kurogiri, rounding up his class, arriving at the scene, and delivering the magic talismans of Eri’s horn and the All Might shirt. No quirks. No big smiles. Just quirkless, eyeless, leg less Aizawa being a hero and getting things done. That’s character growth.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 421 #mha 421 #shota aizawa #eraserhead #mha eraserhead

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tcfactory · 6 months

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Today I remembered that Mobei-Jun is roughly the same age-range - possibly even a little younger - than the Qing Peak Lords.

[2400 words, smol bean Mobei and big bro Yue Qi traipsing through the countryside to rescue Xiao Jiu]

So please imagine young Mobei Wu, approximately ten years old, stranded in the human realm after yet another of his uncle's murder attempts and too tired or not yet skilled enough to portal back from one realm to the other without a tear in reality to capitalize on.

And instead of Huan Hua cultivators or any other danger, he stumbles into Yue Qi. Yue Qi who is about fifteen, just got out of the cave and is on the way to try and rescue his Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi would never hurt a child smaller than him, not even a demon one. Especially not one that admits, after some careful coaxing with smiles and sweet treats, that it's his uncle who's trying to kill him. Yue Qi can't imagine someone wanting to harm a child who places their trust in him, anyway please call him Qi-ge. What's your name, little one? All right, A-Wu, not so little. (He is very little. Yue Qi is very tall for his age, but this demon is objectively tiny and maybe a little malnourished too.) What a coincidence, they are both named after numbers. Do you want Qi-ge to carry you for a bit?

Yue Qi figures that the least he can do is look out for this kid until he can go home - A-Wu is very reluctant about specifying what's preventing him from leaving right now, but Yue Qi knows it's best not to push a boy that age - so they travel together for a while. He sticks cooling talismans on the inside of the little demon's shirt to prevent him from overheating or stripping off his (already too few, by the standards of human decency) layers, so for most of the journey he's carrying a halfway dozing little snowball of a child like a backpack. Yue Qi tells him all about Xiao Jiu, bolstered by the little hums Mobei Wu makes to show that he's paying attention.

"Where did you get the scars?"

Yue Qi stops mid-sentence and peers hesitantly back over his shoulder, meeting a pair of incredibly vivid blue eyes. "Scars?" It could be that A-Wu noticed the fading slave mark on his neck.

"En. I can feel them all over." So not the slave mark, then.

"Even through my robes?"

"En. They feel... spicy. Wrong." He crunches up his face as he tries to find the right word. "Like lightning."

It could only be the scars etched over his meridians, still overflowing with unstable qi. Yue Qi hesitates, but figures that demon tales are probably much more gruesome than what happened to him, so he tells A-Wu everything - the sword, the cave, the dark, all of it. It's a relief to put the nightmare into words, even if his audience is a precocious demon child who looks at him with big sparkling eyes like he's telling a tale of glory or great adventure.

"Cool. All for your... Jiu?"

"Yes." Mobei Wu seems to approve greatly of that.

"You are cool. I will help you."

It makes Yue Qi smile. Such a shame this kid will likely grow up to be something bloodthirsty eventually. He's really too cute right now.

----------

Qiu manor is gone, burned to ash, and Xiao Jiu likely ash along with it. Yue Qi's world is coming down around his ears and he can't even hear what the kindly old merchant is telling him about the incident. It's only when A-Wu tugs on his sleeve when the world comes back to focus.

"They found no dead boy. Only dead men. He can still live."

True, he can't give up hope just yet. What Mobei Wu says is really logical - but where could Xiao Jiu go from here?

The old lady finally notices the unnaturally blue tint of Mobei Wu's skin and takes a fearful step back. "...Demon?"

"No!" Yue Qi steps between them quickly, shielding the boy with his body. "My little brother just ate a cursed fruit, that's all! It will wear off in a day or two."

He's been trying to live a righteous life since he joined the sect, but to someone like him lying comes as easy as breathing.

"Oh, that's all right, then. I thought you might be like that horrible demonic cultivator who lurked here before."

The mention of a cultivator - even a demonic one - makes Yue Qi perk up. He makes some careful questions, about the fire and when they last saw the demonic cultivator in the area, where he might have left for, whether he had someone with him... By the time he says his thank yous he's certain of it: if Xiao Jiu lives, he is with this Wu Yanzi.

They regroup on the edge of the city, where Yue Qi hands Mobei Wu a stick of tanghulu and rolls out a map to figure out where the demonic cultivator could be if he's traveling on foot with a teenager in tow. The demon is fascinated by the map, asking all sorts of questions about distances and directions in as few words as possible, his face scrunched up in another frown.

"We should probably get you home before I go after Xiao Jiu," Yue Qi says with a sigh, circling the most likely area. "We are a week behind them and I can't fly by sword yet. I will need to buy a horse or catch a cart if I want to catch up to them."

Mobei Wu growls, then looks up from the map, wiping a sticky hand on his shirt before he points east. "That way?"

"Yes, I think so." Before Yue Qi can ask anything, the ground opens up beneath him and he's falling through a cold, dark void.

It doesn't last long. He lands in a lake with a huge splash, just outside of one of the cities halfway to their goal. Mobei lands on top of the water - did he flash freeze it? Such a cool kiddo - with the map safely held in his arms and a very, very smug little smile.

"So, were you aiming for the water on purpose?" Yue Qi asks some time later as he tries to dry his clothes with a fire talisman.

"En. You count distances differently than we do." It's a big lake, allowing a bigger margin of error than portaling straight into the city and getting stuck in a building, probably.

"Smart."

"En." Smug little thing. When he's smirking like that he looks almost like Xiao Jiu.

"How far can you go?"

Mobei seems to think this through, his eyebrows pinched together as he calculates from whatever metric the demons use. "2000."

"2000 bu?" That was a good distance. They could easily catch up to them with that kind of skill, even if Wu Yanzi and Xiao Jiu haven't lingered anywhere on the way.

"Li." Yue Qi chokes on air as he tries to comprehend that distance, but thankfully Xiao Wu doesn't seem to take note of it. "But only in one realm. And only after I eat."

"We'll find you something nice to eat then. What would you like?"

"Meat." A-Wu's smile widens, showing sharp teeth.

"Let's get you some dumplings then. Sounds good?" A-Wu considers it for a long time before he nods.

"En."

Having a teleporting little rascal with him really speeds up the search, even if keeping up with A-Wu's appetite is eating (heh) into his travel funds. Whatever ancestral magic this is, it takes a lot out of the kid, leaving him endearingly dazed and sleepy between jumps. They quickly establish a cover story: the demonic cultivator cursed Yue Qi's little brother to look like a demon, so he's hunting the man to force him to undo the curse. A good sob story always makes people so much more willing to cooperate, especially when it involves a cute child and Mobei Wu is, objectively speaking, cute as a button. Old grannies and grandfathers ooh and aah over him and are quick to point them towards Wu Yanzi's trail.

In the end, they find them much sooner than Yue Qi expects. They walk into a shady looking inn on the edge of a small town and he immediately spots Xiao Jiu, hunkered down in the shadow of a scarred man with a dark mane of hair.

Their eyes meet and everything becomes a blur for a while, his awareness narrowed down to Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi hold him close and murmurs nonsense reassurances into his hair - he's never letting Xiao Jiu go ever again.

Even through the happy fog of the reunion, the sound of a sword being drawn is unmistakable. "Where do you think you are taking my disciple?" Wu Yanzi asks, eyes narrowed. Xiao Jiu spins around, to yell or to fight, Yue Qi will never know, because A-Wu chooses that moment to open another portal and whisk them away. He's getting very used to the feeling of suddenly falling through a frigid void.

It's another lake, this time somewhere much further away. "Xiao Wu, you need to stop opening those underneath people," Yue Qi scolds the unrepentant demon child as he drags the angrily splashing Xiao Jiu to the shore.

There are questions and answers, tears and hugs and no small amount of yelling. They strip their wet clothes off so it's impossible to hide his scars, stark red lines all over his skin, and in the face of Xiao Jiu's anger he caves and tells him everything. While they talk Mobei Wu falls asleep curled up on Yue Qi's miraculously dry bedroll and when they are done they curl around him from both sides too, shielding their precious little helper from the elements.

When the wake up in the morning the child is gone, as if he was never there. He has left behind a string with two beads, cool to the touch from familiar chilly qi.

"A token of thanks? One bead for each of us." Yue Qi suggests.

"Don't be ridiculous. As if a little demon would thank a cultivator for anything," Xiao Jiu scoffs, but he takes one of the beads anyway.

"I hope he gets home safe."

"Think about whether we get home or not! Stupid, soft-hearted Qi-ge. Do we even know how far away we are from your sect?"

Yue Qi can't help but beam down at him, fully aware that he's smiling the awkward, lopsided smile he trained himself out of because his shizun found it unattractive. He missed his thorny Xiao Jiu.

"You are right. Let's go home."

----------

Years later, Sect Leader Yue follows indulgently after his favorite shidi, Shen Jiu deep in the middle of a rant.

"If you are worried about Shang-shidi's safety, you are allowed to say so, shidi," he cuts in with practiced ease.

"Who's worried for that shifty vermin?! I worry for the sect! There is something going on with him and I suspect a security breach." Shen Qingqiu practically kicks down the door of the leisure house, startling the man inside into jumping and dropping the armful of books he was holding. "'Shang-shidi, we need to talk."

"Shen-shixiong, Zhangmen-shixiong, this is not a good time. I'm actually really quite busy..."

"Make time for us."

Yue Qingyuan indulgently follows Shen Jiu inside, noting that Shang Qinghua's eyes keep flickering all over the room, everywhere except towards the closed door of his bedroom. Highly suspicious.

Shang Qinghua is still stammering out excuses and making pleading eyes at Yue Qingyuan to please make his shidi go away. Yue Qingyuan lets him squirm for a few minutes before he interrupts, with his kindest smile.

"Shidi, we are simply worried for your health. Your head disciple reported that you have showed up with more bruises than usual."

Shang Qinghua mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like 'traitor'.

"Shidi," Yue Qingyuan tries again. "You know that you can trust us. I promise that you are not in trouble." Shen Qingqiu huffs, but refrains from commenting when Yue Qingyuan sends him a look. "Please, allow us to..."

A lot of things happen all at once. The bead Yue Qingyuan wears on a simple string around his neck turns so cold it almost burns, and based on the low hiss coming from Shen Jiu the same thing is happening to his. Ice climbs up the walls and the door, blocking their way out of the house. The door to the bedroom is kicked open and good gods that's a very big, very muscular ice demon staring at them with very bright blue eyes.

"My king?" Shang Qinghua squeaks, his eyes bouncing between the ice demon and his two shixiongs in alarm.

The demon ducks into the room and stalks towards them, every step spreading the ice further. There is something familiar in his face, but Yue Qingyuan is much more occupied by the sight of really quite a lot of uncovered skin and the many, many freshly treated cuts all over him.

Finally, he stops just outside of sword range and almost hesitantly rumbles: "Qi-ge?"

Oh. So that's why he was so familiar. He smiles up at Mobei Wu. "It seems I really can't call you 'Xiao Wu' anymore, can I?"

Mobei Wu huffs, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that could be a smile, and the ice encroaching on the room starts melting. "Mobei-Jun." He raises his hands in a salute. "Nominally, for now. Since yesterday."

He can tell the exact moment when Shen Jiu connects the dots - that the little teleporting rascal that helped Yue Qi track him down through half the countryside is now the Northern Demon King. His carefully cultivated mask cracks and he collapses next to the tea table with a wordless sound of outrage. "Shang Qinghua!"

Their shidi startles, once again dropping the books he just started picking back up.

"Yes, Shen-shixiong?"

"Be a good host and make us tea. And then explain how this,-" With his closed fan he gestures between Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. "- happened."

"It's a long story," Mobei-Jun supplies, taking place next to the table and sprawling in a decadent, demonic fashion.

"That's all right." Yue Qingyuan joins them, briefly running his hand down Shen Qingqiu's tense back to soothe him. "We have the time to listen."

It's an unexpected reunion, but not necessarily a bad one. Xiao Wu was a good kid and when he looks carefully he can still see him in Mobei-Jun, despite the years of stoic frost that settled over his features.

There are much worse allies one could have than the Prodigious Demon King of the Northern Realm.

#svsss #mobei jun #yue qingyuan #shen jiu #I called him Mobei Wu because in this story he's the fifth son #I'm going with the measurements that 1 bu is roughly a meter #and 1 li is 300 meters #so baby Mobei can teleport roughly 600 kilometers and Yue Qi really needs a drink because that's very far #also Mobei is not yet stoic because he's a kid #and he's not immune to Yue Qi's big brother aura #seriously the guy is like a capybara. instantly friend shaped

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meteormind · 1 year

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The Weight is Not the Same

A post about love tokens.

I want to talk about the Christmas gift that Ochako got from Izuku and why it is the perfect symbol of a doomed love.

Izuku didn't choose that gift thinking of Ochaco. He was picking a generic gift for a classmate and friend. That they received each others gifts after a blind exchange and weren't thinking of each other at all when they picked them. In other words, it was random. Much like the IzuOcha pairing would look random and mashed together by coincidence if Horikoshi ultimately chose to pair them as endgame.

Ochaco might carry the doll around the same way she might carry a crush for Izuku, but the mochi that Izuku received has long gone the way of their romantic potential. I shall not elaborate.

Furthermore, the doll is problematic as a symbol for Izuku and Ochaco's relationship. Why?

Because All Might belongs to Izuku and Katsuki.

No, I don't mean that they have any claim on All Might the person, but these two boys have plotted their entire life's trajectory on All Might the Hero. Their entire relationship can be traced back to All Might. They bonded over their shared love of the hero as kids. The only reason Izuku is with Katsuki attending the same school is because of All Might. They share the secret of OFA with All Might and every time their relationship grows closer to reconciliation, All Might is there, watching over them. Their entire spiritual journey revolves around All Might and synthesizing the dual aspects of his heroic nature. All Might is their signpost and their get-a-long shirt.

Now if Katsuki had received the All Might doll--

Oh.

They both carry talismans into battle, but the weight is not the same.

#bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #dekukatsu #bnha #mha #katsudeku #decchan #bkdk meta #bkdk is canon #mha analysis #bakugou katsuki #urakara ochako #bkdk analysis #izuocha was doa and you can pry that from my cold dead hands

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loosingmoreletters · 9 months

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modern cultivation AU but it’s really just slice of life

Lan Wangji opens door, expecting the last of his uncle’s associates. He is, frankly speaking, not quite sure how many of the people visiting him for his birthday are his friends. Much like Lan Wangji, Lan Qiren prefers a small circle of acquaintances. The fact that outside of family, only four of his acquaintances outside of the sect showed up, is a miracle.

Which brings him to the open door and the impossibility standing there.

The man is tall, about Lan Wangji’s size and age, and clad in a leather jacket thrown over a paint splattered shirt and ripped jeans. From his ears hang paper scraps with messy writing, looking similar to those fake miniature talismans you see in every Gusu gift shop.

And, attached to the man and holding a badly wrapped package, is a toddler in a bunny onesie.

Lan Wangji did get eight hours of sleep, but for a split second, he considers whether he is hallucinating.

The man smiles so brightly it’s blinding.

“You must be a-Zhan!” he says much like the aunties did when Lan Wangji was young and opening doors. He half expects the man to pinch his cheek like they used to, but he only picks up his toddler and walks right past Lan Wangji.

“Lan-xiansheng!” the man calls. “You never told me how handsome a-Zhan is in real life! You need to take better pictures with your phone!”

Lan Qiren doesn’t reprimand Lan Wangji for just letting a stranger walk into his house, he doesn’t even greet him. He simply holds out his arms, taking the toddler, and immediately starts scolding.

“Wei Wuxian! Half an hour late again! What is your excuse this time?”

The man, Wei Wuxian, only grins. “A-Yuan had to finish wrapping your present! Mine is on your desk, I finished the second reading. The thesis isn’t half bad.”

They keep chatting back and forth, his uncle nearly unrecognizable to Lan Wangji. His brother, coming from the garden, looks just as confused as Lan Wangji feels.

“That is Wei Wuxian?” he asks. “I thought he was… older.”

It takes Lan Wangji a while, but he finally places the name. Wei Wuxian was the name of uncle’s colleague, the new professor from Yunmeng. Uncle had mentioned him sometimes and Lan Wangji had always pictured a man more settled in life. Lan Wangji had spent a few hours searching boxes for his childhood furniture and toys to give away to Professor Wei after uncle mentioned that the man had suddenly gained guardianship over a young relative.

“He is lively,” Lan Xichen commented with an innocent smile.

It seems as if Lan Wangji had to reconsider his plan of hiding in the kitchen until the party ended.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #lan Qiren #fanfic #mdzs fanfic

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moongreenlight · 8 months

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John ‘Soap’ MacTavish who never much considered himself religious before joining the force. Never put much thought toward God or where they stood with one another.

He’d get a flick to the back of his head or a tug on his ear if his father ever heard him take the Lord’s name in vain. He’d still grudgingly put on the same outfit he’d worn for years, reserved for weddings and funerals and church every Easter and Christmas. Sit as still as he could for mass that seemed to drag on for years. Try not to fidget with the buttons on his shirt or set his feet on the kneeler- however tempting it was.

And when he first started trying to join the military, he sat quietly on the couch with his mother and grandmother while they prayed over him for his safety and prosperity. Barely listening, but appreciating the sentiment nonetheless.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish who even years after moving out; still sometimes braces for the sting of his father’s hand when he says ‘Jesus Christ’ on the field, hundreds of thousands of miles away from home. Who still takes his leave on Easter and Christmas when he can appease his family and tag along to church. Still finding it almost irresistible to put his feet up on the kneelers or drop his head into his hands. Who still takes some degree of comfort in the smell of frankincense and myrrh, reminding him of his childhood.

He had never thought much of religion during his time in the service. Knew a lot of soldiers needed the freedom of forgiveness, but he had simply never needed that kind of reprive. Not until Las Almas did the good lord weasel himself into Johnny’s mind. He said a quick prayer. Our Father. The only one he could remember on the spot. The one he’d said a hundred times over at the dinner table. It was a bit shocking to hear the words echo through his mind, like he couldn’t believe he was hearing it again. But for some reason it provided him a shred of comfort.

And after he survived, he thanked God. Mumbled under his breath, but he figured it would be enough to somehow work its way up to the big man. Thank you.

After that, he began to say an Our Father before every mission. Sometimes aloud, mostly just reciting it in his mind. Almost meditative in its routine. Not for forgiveness, he’d come to terms with the fact that he was likely too far gone for that. But for his safety. Like his mother and grandmother had done all those years ago. Every time he prayed, he returned. It became almost automatic. Load up, say a prayer, complete the mission, go home.

Usually when he got back to base, when he was back in his bunk and his body was aching for sleep, he’d thank God once more. Almost friendly in his communications. “Thanks, pal.”

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish who’d recently fostered a relationship with God as more of a talisman of luck than anything else and the demon that attached themselves to him not a heartbeat after his first kill. The demon who has yet to reveal themselves to him, but is always there. Protecting him. Returning him home safely. Who hisses and spits from just above him each and every time he thanks God when it was truly them who had control over his fate.

One reblog and I’ll make them kiss.

#cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #john mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #soap mactavish #Johnny soap MacTavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader

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farlydatau · 10 months

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Sak Yant Thai Traditional Art of Talisman Tiger Leap Tiger Pairs Saffron Yellow Shirt | Sak Yantra Spiritual Tigers Tattoo Tee

#saffron yellow #Sak Yant Tattoo #buddhist shirt #sak yant shirt #thai shirt #muay thai shirt #sak yant thailand #sak yant thai #Talisman Tiger Leap #Sak Yant Tiger Pairs #Sak Yantra #Spiritual Tigers #Sak Yant Muaythai #gift #gift ideas #gifts #bestgift #gift idea #tshirt

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 2 months

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Sword gays showdown, poll for the third place of bracket two

Propaganda:

For Haruka/Sailor Uranus:

She wields the space sword, one three talismans. She's also in a canon sapphic relationship with fellow sailor soldier sailor neptune and later is raising a child with her and another sailor, sailor pluto. Their daughter calls her papa because she's also a genderqueer icon.

For Hikaru Sulu:

1) Okay, first off: Which version am I submitting? Prime timeline (TOS) or Kelvin timeline (AOS, also known as the reboot movies if you're not in the fandom)? The answer is both. Prime Sulu has the more iconic fencing scenes (and is also said to have other sword related abilities) while Kelvin Sulu is canonically gay. Specifically as a tribute to George Takei btw who played prime Sulu in TOS and is famously gay and an LGBT+ rights activist among other causes. The picture provided is prime Sulu but if you've only watched AOS, feel free to vote for him anyway.

I'm not gonna link any videos here since that would probably exceed the scope of the propaganda section but clips should be pretty easy to find. And if you can't, just trust me: The TOS fencing scenes are amazing. The AOS one is probably fine too but it's been ages since I've watched it and I forgot it even existed so it can't have been THAT memorable.

Fun fact: George Takei initially didn't know how to fence and didn't find out he'd have to until pretty late and started taking fencing lessons only three weeks before the filming of that episode (The Naked Time) and apparently "became so out-of-control and boisterous that he had to be separated from the rest of the production personnel, for their own safety" which, in context of what the episode is about, is just absolutely amazing. Truly iconic.

Anyway, considering Star Trek is an important part of queer history (I'm only half joking) you need to vote for Sulu, we all know George Takei is an icon, make the right choice here.

2) When they got hit with the drunk virus he took his shirt off and started challenging people to duels. Iconic

3) This bitch got the outer space disease that makes you silly, and revealed they were gung ho for fencing, and brought out their sabre to just. Swashbuckle. Goes "/oh my/," and is clearly gay and played by a gay actor

#sword gays showdown #haruka tenoh #sailor uranus #hikaru sulu #star trek #sailor moon #star trek aos #star trek tos

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soupandsorcery · 15 days

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Day 13 - Talisman, 763 words

They move to the couch again, keeping a distance from each other. Jamie would have this conversation curled up in Roy's lap if he could, but he can tell Roy needs some space right now, and that's okay.

He can give him that if it means he's going to tell Jamie what's going on in that beard-y head of his.

Wearing Roy's shirt still helps. It smells like him, and it's comfortable. Jamie lets his fingers stroke over the fabric, soft from being worn often, and it's a sort of talisman against the nerves still squirming in his gut.

"You ain't getting any younger, granddad," he teases, gently urging Roy on.

Roy grunts in response, his lips turning up at the corners. "I'm sorry," he says in that low, rumbling voice of his. "I know I'm being a prick. I keep trying to make decisions for you because— Fuck. Because you've got all this fucking potential, and there was no one around when I was your age to tell me not to run myself into fucking the ground or to stop and fucking think sometimes. I guess I got it in my head that I needed to do that for you."

Jamie's quiet for a moment, suddenly overcome with even more fondness for this prickly twat. Always wanting the best for Jamie, but somehow blind to the fact that he's on the list.

"I appreciate it, you know that, yeah? Everything you've done for me, all the ways you push me. Even when you're not letting me have any fun. I know you're doing it because you care."

"I do," Roy agrees softly. "I fucking care about you a lot. Probably too much."

"No such thing, Roy."

"There is," Roy insists. "Trust me. Me and Keeley...It was too much. I cared too much. Wanted to be around her all the time. She didn't like that." He turns his face away, and it's clear how much that still fucks with Roy's head.

"I'm not Keeley, though? I mean, I love her—not like that," Jamie rushes to say. "But she's...dunno. She's got her whole independent boss bitch thing going on, right? She wants to spread her wings and take the world by storm."

"And you don't?" Roy asks.

Jamie hums. Considers. "I do, yeah. I want to keep winning and keep showing off and keep being fucking amazing at what I do, but...I don't wanna do it alone, Roy. I want you to be there for all of it. You ever notice that we already spend basically all day together anyway?"

Roy snorts. "I've fucking noticed. You're always underfoot somewhere."

"Fuck off, you love it. And at the end of the day, I still wanna follow you home.

"You mean that." It's not phrased like a question, but Jamie can still hear the wonder in Roy's tone.

"Yeah, mate," he replies gently. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'm pretty gone on you. That's just...what that looks like for me. You make me feel good. Safe, like. I fucking love how intense you are about shit that matters. Makes me feel like I matter."

Roy exhales in a messy rush, but he finally looks at Jamie again. "You do matter," he says seriously. And then, "I do want you, Jamie. A whole fucking lot. I want you to follow me home, and I want to make you dinner. I want to be able to show you how fucking proud I am of you sometimes, when you're such a brilliant little prick out there on the pitch. I want to fuck you into my mattress again, and make good on your dream of me fucking you over the couch. Hell, I want to fuck you in every fucking room of my house. On every fucking surface."

"Fucking hell, Roy," Jamie breathes, smacked in the face by another wave of need.

"Too much?"

"Fuck no. Not complaining. You're just fucking getting me hot, and I'm gonna be properly pissed off if you're about to try to let me down easy."

"No. No, I want—I want to fucking do this. If you can put up with me being a miserable prick all the time."

He's quoting Jamie with that, and being so fucking open and honest that it takes Jamie's breath away. The worry of the last few days is melting away, and Jamie feels lighter than ever. They're going to work, the two of them, and it's going to be fucking mint.

"Nah," he says, grinning. "Gonna make you a whole lot less miserable instead."

#royjamie #jamie tartt #roy kent #transmasc jamie tartt #noah plays with words #long one for today but they had a lot to talk about!#going to take a little break from these since this is a nice place to rest for a bit #posting something every day is hard!

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

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does Ida care about her hair and what happened to it? Is she pulling a Jo March and waiting to break down later when she’s alone over her hair because she doesn’t want to come off as shallow or vain? She’s on my mind too much 😭

I could and should’ve just answered this lovely ask straight up, with a yes and yes and yes and freely admit the Jo March comparison took me out and beat me up. However, brevity is not my strong suit so I wrote you a blurb as well:

Usual universe warnings apply

| | Showers

The shower room at the stalag was more than a little drafty. Worse than inside the combines with no dividing walls or body heat or the padding of blankets and cloth to make it insulated. Utilitarian, drafty and -once Cleven had shut the door behind him and left them alone- slightly ominous.

Or maybe that was just the mood, hanging about like a malevolent spirit, shining in late evening rays through the slit windows high above, altogether too wide a space and too bright a light for the awful task of stripping and washing and making an inventory of hurts like theirs.

Ida for her part would have rather done it at midnight by torch light, just enough visibility to wet her cloth and find the soap. She already knew -as much as she ever wanted to know- what had been done to her. It was over, and any lasting bruise and scar noticed and remarked on was like bringing it all back into the present. That’s something you did for nice memories, photographs of whoever was “home” stashed in a locket hung around Lemmon’s neck, homemade sticky smells wafting up from Croz’s footlocker -a last piece of melting fudge from the plate Jean had sent over. That’s the sort of talisman you kept around, rubbed at, sniffed, turned over in your mind again and again like a physical thing, like a Crucifix represented an all powerful, ephemeral, removed savior.

You didn’t rub your bruises if you wanted to forget them. You didn’t comment on your friend’s cuts if you wanted her to forget either.

Feeling this collective dread, they all just mulled around for a bit, flicking on faucets and drinking eagerly from the icy stream. Acting shy like they all hadn’t been showering together and living atop each other for ages. There was prevarication in the air and Ida knew she needed to put a stop to it, make an effort to lead, but she hardly wanted to see what was under her clothes herself.

In the end it was Tallulah -Lt. Smith- who took the first step back from the sinks and shucked her clothes with an impressive display of casualness. Knowing a thing or two about rhythm and the effectiveness of a slow, steady build, Ida pushed her own throbbing face out of the cooling stream and followed suit. Soon it caught on, each doing their damndest to be uncharacteristically discreet and efficient.

“Can’t undo these shit-ass buttons.” she heard Maureen hissing beside her while she was braving the shock of a frigid soaked cloth between her rawed legs.

Ida dropped the bloody rag in the sink and flung her hands out to disperse the extra drips. “Come here.” she muttered, eyes lowered on the offending buttons and Maureen’s poor, swollen hands that looked more like paws than the graceful, skilled instruments they’d once been at her bombsight in the nose of her plane. “I’ll do them till you get your fingers back. You might need one or two of them set, you know that? That middle one’s going in the wrong direction.”

“I thought it looked wacky.” Maureen agreed, holding it up for inspection. “Gale wouldn’t stop asking.” she went on.

Ida focused on sliping buttons through their holes and answered steadily as she could, “And he’s likely to keep asking.”

“Doesn’t he know.” Maureen whispered, suddenly sounding very hurt, confused, petulant even.

Ida paused with Maureen’s shirt undone, the dingy plain, military issued bra in view -Ida envied her the possession of it, she’d lost hers with her jacket somewhere along the way. “He knows.” She answered firmly, meeting Maureen’s eyes with assurance, “But he’ll likely keep asking.”

“He wouldn't answer about his face.” Maureen said, turning round and letting Ida help tug her arms out of the sleeves.

“I think you know what happened there.” Ida was implacable.

“But-“ Maureen bit her lip to keep from getting loud, “-but what else?” she threw at Ida over her shoulder, “Why? What else did they -why would they do that to him?”

“And now you know why he keeps asking what he already knows.” Ida pointed out, coming back to her front and bending to unlace Maureen’s boots. “They’re probably all standing out there asking each other the same. Doesn’t do anybody any good. The details. It’s the apple of knowledge, leads to nothing but a sick fascination with what hurts you.”

Maureen had always been a rambunctious, animated figure in Ida’s life. Her anger came easy and was obvious, as were her loves. And if something didn’t make sense to her she’d rail at it or about it until God answered. She had teased Ida and John about it, that if they’d just come over to the Protestant side, they’d have a direct line to god and a whole lot more fun. Ida didn’t care about doctrine or fun right now, she cared about Maureen not trying to make a philosophy out of what she’d endured, or rope-in Gale to mull it over until they both went nuts. Ida wasn’t going to order her not to talk about it, but she could hint that details would hurt Cleven more than help him.

Here and now at least.

Maybe there was some moment waiting for them after all this when things could be said, horrors swapped like every other hard memory told in the officer’s lounge.

For herself, Ida doubted that day would ever come.

“I think your head might need stitches.” Maureen said in lieu of a response, puffy sausage fingers running gently along Ida’s throbbing and freshly washed scalp. “You’ve got a big gash here. It’s still bleeding.”

Maybe it was the gravity of bending over to tug off Kendeigh’s boots but Ida suddenly felt a pooling in her eyes, stinging tears after hours of dried out watchfulness.

God! She’d been ready to die, to be put down with a bullet in the head like their family coonhound when he got rabies.

Not this, not that replaying memory of her face suffocated in the Kommandant’s thigh and the slicing pain of the shears that went on forever, the way the blood burned her eyes so badly when she stood back up, the way he dared call her ugly when she had spent hours before wishing those other men found her abhorrent. Ida’s eyes were burning again and three damning droplets fell to the dusty toe of Maureen’s boot.

Ida made certain to swipe her thumb over the evidence as she tugged it off. “Luckily my brother is good with needles.” she joked softly, rising and turning Kendeigh toward the sinks, “Those fingers are useless, Candy. I’ll wash your hair.”

💋Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for. 🤓 :

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#mota #masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota oc #those who can #twc blurbs

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