I may do exchanges on a case by case basis so just shoot me a message and we'll see.
That's right folks. You heard it here. I am going to open up match ups/ship requests for the time being. I dont usually take requests and I am currently very bored. The rules and fandoms will be listed promptly.
If you wish to see an example of my writing, it is in the post right below this one.
Rules:.
Tell me about yourself. Your personality, likes and dislikes, hobbies, etc and I will ship you with someone in your requested fandom. If you would like to send in a selfie you may. I won't post it publically unless you give me permission. :)
The more information the better. It gives me more to go off of and typically results in longer match ups. So if you want to set yourself up for success, do not be shy about telling me a lot.
Stick to my fandoms. Anything out side of the fandoms I list will be deleted.
I don't know how long these will be open but I will close them eventually so make sure they are actually open prior to requesting. Otherwise they will be deleted.
I usually only do one fandom simply because of how long and detailed my matchups tend to be (they can literally get from anywhere between two to nine pages). If you request multiple then just know that the matchup will likely be shorter and less detailed the more fandoms you request. No more than three please.
If you are doing a matchup exchange, I generally try to match the length of the matchup to whatever I got in return. However, I get carried away easily and I do not understand the concept of brevity so take this with a grain of salt 👍
Starred fandoms are those I know a lot about
Specify your gender preference so I can match you with the correct gender. If you don't specify, I will automatically default to a whatever I think would work the best.
Please specify whether you want a normal or "special" match up. More info later.
Also, specify which fandom you wish to request for. I, unfortunately, am not a mind reader.
Fandoms
Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji*
Harry Potter*
How To Train Your Dragon*
Marvel
Into the Spiderverse
Hunger Games
Suicide Squad/Birds of Prey (I can attempt the greater DC universe, however, I am not as well acquainted with the characters as I am with Marvel)
Sherlock (BBC)
Doctor Who*
The Witcher (Netflix TV Show)
Supernatural
Game of Thrones
Arcane*
Specials***
I am also opening special "match ups". Below are the two fandoms you may request for and what a "special" match up entails.
Percy Jackson
- Send me your information like you would a normal match up and based on your personality I will match you up with your Greek God parent. This will include headcanons, claiming, abilities etc.
How to Train your Dragon
Send on your match up information but also include things like your taste in roller coasters, preference for height, speed, etc and I will tell you what dragon would be your perfect companion. This will also include headcanons! :D
Harry Potter
I'll sort you into your house! Be it Ilvermorny or Hogwarts. I could also assign you a patronous of you'd prefer?
Okay so. HOTD is actually incredibly difficult. Not because your personality was hard to place , honestly, you fit the world of House of the Dragon very well, but because half the women in this series are either underage for most of the timeline or dead before the time skip can let them properly develop into adults. Which is tragic for me personally because do you know who I immediately thought of? Laena Velaryon. Because genuinely? She would have suited you beautifully. Adventurous, emotionally intelligent, politically aware without being suffocating about it, open-minded, fiery, independent, fascinated by the unknown, capable of matching your intensity without trying to cage it. She also had enough warmth to balance out your tendency toward emotional self-containment. But alas, the writers robbed me. So I had to work with the surviving cast. Which left me with three major contenders pretty quickly:
Rhaenyra Targaryen
Rhaenys Targaryen
And surprisingly… Alicent Hightower
Though Alicent got eliminated fairly fast. Not because there wouldn't be chemistry. You both bottle things up until they become catastrophic. You both have a tendency to weaponize restraint until suddenly it snaps into emotional violence. You both also crave understanding while simultaneously making yourselves difficult to fully reach. However, she is far too restrained. Disciplined. Focused on an unwavering commitment to duty and responsibility. She wouldn’t be able to quite match your energy in your adventurousness, whimsy, and need for freedom. In many ways, her sense of duty would be your shackles.
Which then left me with Rhaenyra and Rhaenys. And listen. I KNOW you kin Rhaenyra. And I did deeply consider her because of the marked similarities between you two. You are both fiercely independent people who reject confinement instinctively. Both of you carry this underlying hunger for freedom and self-determination that overrides almost everything else. You hate being controlled. You hate being misunderstood. You hate being cornered into expectations you never agreed to. And Rhaenyra would understand that intimately. She would admire your intelligence immediately. Not just academic intelligence, either. Your strategic intelligence and social intelligence. You would stimulate her mentally in a way very few people could. Especially because Rhaenyra is one of the few HOTD women who could genuinely keep pace with your personality instead of being steamrolled by it. The polyamory aspect fits almost seamlessly there. But. There is one massive issue. Neither of you bends easily.
Because underneath your confidence, there is still that fear of abandonment. That tendency toward paranoia when emotionally threatened. The shutting down. The explosions when pushed too far. And Rhaenyra is equally as explosive. The first truly devastating argument between you would not end cleanly. It would become a battle for emotional dominance. Two proud people refusing vulnerability while simultaneously begging for reassurance in indirect ways. Your need for leadership and control would directly conflict with hers. So while I think Rhaenyra would absolutely be the relationship you'd be drawn toward instinctively… I don't think she's the woman who would actually stabilize you.
SO.
With all of that in mind. I am matching you with the woman I think would actually fit you best.
•──⋅☾Rhaenys Targaryen☽⋅──•
Unlike Rhaenyra, Rhaenys would never feel threatened by your need for autonomy. She does not compete for control. She commands respect differently. Rhaenys has already lived through the bitterness of being denied power she rightfully deserved. She has already endured humiliation, political betrayal, grief, and disappointment. And instead of becoming frantic for validation, she became still. Controlled. Sharp. Unmovable. There is something almost terrifying about the way she carries herself. Like the sea before a storm. Calm enough that people forget how dangerous it actually is. And I think you would love that.
Because despite your extroversion and humor and theatricality, you are constantly surrounded by noise. Internal noise. External noise. Anxiety. Hypervigilance. The pressure of always needing to be useful, intelligent, capable, entertaining, and dependable. Rhaenys would quiet that in you with her emotionally intelligent, calm, still disposition. You are someone who gives constantly. Advice. Energy. Protection. Leadership. Reassurance. You naturally become the emotional infrastructure for other people, however, Rhaenys wouldn’t need that crutch as she has already developed her own. She is also one of the only women in HOTD mature enough to handle your intensity without either trying to suppress it or getting consumed by it.
The relationship itself would honestly feel very "power couple haunting a castle together."
You rambling passionately about obscure histories while she listens with this subtle little smirk because she enjoys watching how animated you become.
Once Rhaenys decides you are hers emotionally, she becomes frighteningly protective. Not possessive in the smothering sense. But in the "I would burn kingdoms before allowing harm to touch you again" sense. Which for someone with your abandonment fears would feel both intoxicating and deeply healing. And unlike Rhaenyra, she would know when to stop an argument before it became cruelty. Because you need someone capable of remaining composed when you emotionally spiral. Someone who can withstand your fire without throwing more oil onto it.
There is also something fascinating about the contrast between the two of you aesthetically: you with your chaotic modern glamour. Rings, layered chains, black eyeliner and whatever else fuels your punk aesthetic. And Rhaenys’ elegant, restrained charm. Silver hair braided like armor. Ancient grief hidden behind elegance. A woman who learned long ago that survival often requires silence. You would pull emotion out of her, and in turn, she would pull stability out of you.
But just because she is composed does not mean she is passionless.
People forget that younger Rhaenys was canonically described as bold, spirited, adventurous, even somewhat mischievous. She claimed Meleys at thirteen, adored flying, traveled freely, and very clearly inherited the Targaryen taste for intensity and freedom. She is not a woman fundamentally chained to duty in the same suffocating way Alicent became. She would enjoy your more chaotic side rather than merely tolerate it. She would match your energy in everything:
The late-night wandering.
The impulsive adventures.
The fascination with the occult and the unknown.
And I think you could help her reconnect to that side of herself in her later years as well. You value freedom, curiosity, intensity, novelty, connection, exploration. You romanticize life itself. And Rhaenys, after decades of political disappointment and grief, would probably find that refreshing.
•──⋅☾Relationship Headcanons☽⋅──•
Prolonged dates on dragonback, escaping responsibility, and gliding over the city
Physical affection would be surprisingly grounding between you two. Forehead touches. Hand kisses. Sitting pressed against each other during long evenings. But nothing overt at least in public
You'd sit together in comfortable silence often. This would become one of her favourite things
Getting up to mischief together by pranking officials
The two of you would spend entire evenings speaking by candlelight about history, philosophy, politics, religion, warfare, dragonlore.
You are one of the only people capable of making her laugh loudly.
You are both extremely protective people, which means anyone threatening the other immediately becomes public enemy number one.
She teaches you how to weaponize composure.
Meleys absolutely likes you before she likes most people. ~
Okay so. Kuroshitsuji manga spoilers ahead. Like an aggressive amount.
This matchup was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing imaginable because the moment I finished reading your personality, one name immediately planted itself in my brain and refused to leave. So I am not even going to preamble here and just get straight to the point.
•──⋅☾UnderTaker☽⋅──•
Usually, when I match someone with Undertaker, there’s at least some hesitation involved. Some internal debate. A desperate attempt to steer them toward somebody safer. Not here. No, because the deeper I got into your personality, the more horrifyingly coherent this dynamic became. You are exactly the kind of person Undertaker would become catastrophically obsessed with.
At first glance, I actually considered a few other options, namely Sebastian and Madam Red. But nothing matched quite on the same visceral level.
Most humans fear Undertaker because they sense something fundamentally wrong about him. Something ancient. Unnatural. Like standing too close to an open grave and realizing something inside it is staring back. However, I do fear the sheer uncanniness would merely pique your curiosity.
Because Undertaker is deeply accustomed to being perceived as either a joke or a monster. You would perceive him as a person, which becomes ultimately the most dangerous act of compassion.
You would begin as an oddity to him. A fascinating little creature wandering willingly into crypts and paranormal circles with far too much confidence and far too little survival instinct. The type of person who asks forbidden questions simply because everyone else is too afraid to ask them. He would adore that.
I could see the wide range and depth of conversations the two of you would have: Religion. Mortality. The soul. History. Grief. Hours and hours and hours spent speaking beneath candlelight while London sleeps around you. His eccentric and often unhinged perspective strikes your interest and your hunger for more. Undertaker would indulge every strange interest you possess without judgment. Your haunted dolls? He’d probably start bringing you more. Ancient relics. Funeral jewelry. Preserved oddities from centuries long buried. Little treasures wrapped carefully in black silk like courting gifts from some unhinged magpie.
Which. Respectfully. Is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Because Undertaker does not love gently. He loves the way the ocean drowns. It is all-consuming with depths that extend well beyond just mere obsession.
You are both profoundly lonely people terrified of loss in entirely different ways. Undertaker fears loss because he has already experienced too much of it. You fear loss because abandonment carved itself into your nervous system before you ever had the chance to protect yourself from it. And that energy would compound on each other to a degree that I am not too sure would even be healthy. Because Undertaker would never leave you. That is both the appeal and the horror of loving him. You’d catch him staring at you. Not romantically. Not lustfully. More like he is already grieving you before you are gone. Because no matter how deeply he loves you, part of him will always be waiting for your death. Terrified of it. Obsessed with preventing it. Inevitably consumed by it.
Which means eventually, inevitably, the line between devotion and possession would begin to blur. You would become the center of his world in an almost religious sense. He would preserve little pieces of you constantly. Locks of hair. Jewelry you touched frequently. Notes written in your handwriting. Photographs. Audio recordings. Personal belongings stored away with almost sacred reverence. But eventually, he’d start trying to preserve your flesh. It wouldn’t be long before you just become another one of his dolls to him. Perfect. Unchanging. Eternal. Not human.
Someone to cultivate. To worship until his kissed become posion. Until the fire of his obsession consumes him and motivates drastic actions. Actions you may not entirely agree with. Actions you may not wish for yourself. But by then it is already too late.
•─────⋅☾ Head Canons ☽⋅─────•
He absolutely enables your paranormal interests instead of discouraging them, and probably delights in bringing around genuine frights, monsters, and spiritus to challenge you.
Not that I believe you’d ever be in actual danger. Not with the protection of a reaper. However, I do think he would blur the line between a practical joke and going a bit too far.
You would absolutely catch him watching you sleep at least once, even though he never seems to sleep himself.
His idea of a romantic date is fitting you for a coffin and helping him decorate it.
He respects your autonomy more than people expect (at least before the obsession burns too hotly), but becomes terrifyingly possessive if he believes someone may harm you.
The tension between your desire for freedom and his fear of losing you would become one of the defining conflicts of the relationship. And it is a conflict I can only hope you escape from before he eventually takes that autonomy from you.
He memorizes your habits frighteningly quickly.
Weird serial-killer coded gifts. Dead animals at your doorstep. Human remains wrapped in a black velvet bow. Embalming fluid.
he would quietly remove perceived threats behind your back without telling you. You find your nightly strolls around london to be pleasantly devoid of people.
Your relationship would feel less like dating and more like accidentally binding yourself to an ancient entity in exchange for eternal devotion.
Matchups are still closed, but I may do exchanges on a case-by-case basis.
Anyways
~
Let me know if I’m wrong, but you seem like you would unirionically be “the girl who accidentally adopts a celestial menace and then keeps him because he makes her laugh”. You said you’re someone who’s used to being the caretaker, the stable one, the giver, the one who soothes everyone else’s chaos.
Which is perfect because boy, do I have some chaos for you to soothe.
•──⋅☾ 𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ☽⋅──•
At first glance, Gabriel would find you fascinating. Mot merely for your style (which he’d no doubt tease you about in good humor: “Nice corset, sweetheart, what century are we in again?”), but for the pure ease at which he could tease you.
Now, at first? He’d probably annoy the ever-living hell out of you.
This man does not know what “quiet” means.
You’re sitting there crocheting peacefully or humming along to your playlist, and he materializes midair with a half-eaten Snickers and a quip about how your yarn looks like “a goth grandma’s fever dream.”
But that’s how he bonds.
His nature is effusive, loquacious, always performing, but he’d sense in you a kind of grounded curiosity that disarms him.
He’d yap, joke, flirt, and pontificate until you finally smile, until you can’t help but tease him back.
And oh, when you do?
He lives for it.
You two would be pure verbal sparring, a rapid-fire volley of sarcasm and mischief that would make even Cas roll his eyes.
You’d start to see that beneath all that glibness is someone just as lonely and bruised as you are.
Gabriel’s spent eons pretending he’s fine. You’ve spent years taking care of everyone but yourself. And somehow, without trying, you’d start fixing each other.
~
You’d be the only person who gets him to stop running. Not by force. But because you make staying feel safe.
And oh, the emotional part.
You’d think you’re the open book in this relationship, because your expressions betray you, and your emotions spill over so easily.
But when Gabriel finally cracks open that sarcastic shell and lets you see him. See the centuries of guilt, the self-loathing, the ache of loss, it’s going to hit you like a tidal wave.
He won’t do it often.
He’ll joke about it the next day, brush it off as unimportant.
But you’ll remember. You’ll hold that moment sacred.
And he’ll remember that you didn’t flinch when he finally showed the part of himself he thought was unlovable.
~
What makes this pairing so compelling is how your emotional honesty gently erodes his jaded detachment.
Gabriel, for all his charm, hides behind flippancy and avoidance, a centuries-old reflex after too much loss and betrayal.
You wouldn’t have to demand vulnerability from him; you’d invite it by simply being you.
And in return, Gabriel would see you. Not as fragile, but as incandescently human. A trait which he both in equal parts admires and pities: someone who feels deeply even when it hurts.
He’d adore your animated expressions, the way your emotions flit across your face faster than your words can catch up.
In quiet moments, he’d trace the freckles on your skin like a constellation map, whispering stories from the cosmos he’s seen
But the cost of humanity. Of vibrant, burning passion. Of life. Of joy. Of light.
Is time...
~
He had never understood time until he watched it touch you.
And a being such as himself. Eternal. Unchanging. Could never truly be with a human. Something so fleeting. So insignificant.
In the eternal nature of the cosmos, your existence represents a mere blip. Your lifespan compared to his is equivalent to that of a fruit fly.
And I think that would break him
Because he could already feel it. The slow unraveling of your thread in the tapestry of eternity. And though he could smite gods, twist reality, and reshape space... he could not stop that.
He tried, of course.
The first time, it was subtle: bending probability so your heart never faltered, your cells never erred.
The second, less so.
a world suspended in a constant golden hour, where the air never chilled, and the flowers never wilted. A pocket of creation just for you. A place without pain, without decay, without death.
But you noticed. Of course you did.
A prison, even one gilded in luxury and exuberance, is still ultimately a prison.
And when you ask him what he did
He wanted to lie, God, he wanted to, but the words tangled in his throat, choked by the guilt pressing on his grace. So he told the truth, and it broke you both.
Eventually, he would be forced to let you go. Because if there is anything that would hurt him more than watching you suffer, it is watching the betrayal in your eyes when you look at him.
The next time he came to you with an answer, he wore no smile. The mischief had fled his eyes, leaving behind only the hollow gleam of desperation.
He wanted to make you his vessel
You would have full control, of course; he would never take that from you.
His grace would thread through your soul, rendering you ageless, and untouchable. So long as he remained within you, you would never fade.
And he could protect you.
Endow you with power that most mortals would never be able to touch.
But what sort of future was that?
To dwell together not in body, but in spirit? To feel his presence like sunlight behind glass, warm, near, yet never tangible?
And every moment he withdrew to be with you physically, time would resume its cruel march, stealing from you what eternity had briefly loaned.
I will let you decide what your decision would be.
~
To be human is to burn brightly, however briefly.
Mortality is not a curse, but a promise. One to live, to feel, to end, and in doing so, to matter.
Gabriel would not understand at first. Eternity had never taught him loss, not truly. He had witnessed it, yes, but always from afar.
But you… you made him feel it.
And so, for the first time in millennia, Gabriel would stop fighting time. He would stop running from it. Instead, he would learn to live within it, the finite heartbeat of human life, beside you.
There would be centuries where your laughter would echo in his memory, even after your mortal form had faded. He would visit the places you loved: the meadows where you once walked barefoot, the cities that you called home, the quiet corners where you sang to yourself.
He would never forget that you taught him that immortality without humanity is merely existence. And that to love something ephemeral is not a tragedy, but the highest act of faith.
Because in the end, it wasn’t eternity that made him stay. It was you.
Sorry that got sad.
Kind of doomed though when you match someone with something that is immortal.
I guess there are other options? Like you could get yourself turned into a vampire? Because Gabe would absolutely entertain your more problematic diet needs.
But I’ll let that be for you to choose. How much are you willing to sacrifice your own humanity for love?
Arcane, for as well-written as it is, tries to do far too much spread across far too many characters, in a very limited duration. The result of this is a wide cast of seemingly interesting, but intrinsically superficial characters.
I hope no one comes after me for this but it's TRUE.
Any character that exists outside of the Jinx/Vi, Jayce/Mel matrix are left stunted, underdeveloped, and slightly contrived. Unfortunately, I do believe that your match here today is one of the more neglected arcs of the “main” characters. So I will be filling in gaps with some evidence-based conjecture (headcanons).
You have been warned.
•──⋅☾EKKO ☽⋅──•
In a world divided by a quite literal chasm of wealth disparity, yours and Ekko’s paths converge not by chance, but by inevitability as two kindred spirits drawn together by the quiet gravity of shared conviction. Your razor-sharp wit and closely guarded heart were broken down only by his timeworn soul and endless patience. It’s the kind of meeting that doesn’t spark immediate fireworks, but rather ignites a slow-burning flame, kindling the fires of a friendship that could span decades.
In this scenario, you were most likely known to each other since childhood. Reading through your information, you vibe with the kind of hard-edged intensity of a Zaunite native. One who fiercely clawed her way to the top, obstinate in her determination to do better for herself. With a series of contingencies upon contingencies, it is no wonder you were able to force yourself to become accepted by Piltovers, conforming your disposition and style of dress to align with their expectations. But that does not mean you ever truly felt like you belonged. Now you're stuck between two worlds: the one that adopted you, yet still holds you in disdain, and the other you were born into. Yet envy has garnered the ire and disgust of your peers for conforming to the “Pilite” archetype.
Returning to Zaun, perhaps with your fancy degree and even fancier dialect, would feel less like a homecoming and more like a penance. Even Ekko, someone you would have known since childhood, someone who was once a friend, would regard you with an inherent distrust. As though you had somehow betrayed Zaun, and by proxy, him. I do feel he would warm up to you again eventually, especially after realizing that your goals align closely with his own: to make the world a better place. To help to ease the suffering of whomever you can. Eventually, he may even let you in on the secret he’s been building for the past several years.
He isn’t intimidated by your sharp tongue or your tendency to keep people at a distance. He understands why.
He knows better than to rush someone who’s learned that vulnerability often comes with a price. He likely sees a bit of it in himself as well.
His calm steadiness would serve as a dependable anchor against the fires of your own temper and sharp wit. Not to smother you, of course, but to enable you to burn brightly without burning out.
Best of all, he actually listens. He listens to your anger, your anxieties, and your fears. He reminds you each and every day that you don’t have to face them alone. Which seems counterintuitive to your independent nature. And over time, you’ll find yourself accepting it, almost without realizing you have.
I also feel as though you’d fit in naturally with the firelights
I could see you as becoming something of a counselor among the rebels, not because you asked to be, but because people gravitate toward your empathy and your insight
Having a psychology degree to back it would enable you to ease the unseen injuries left by trauma, pain, and starvation. I could see you becoming beloved by everyone in the community for this.
And Ekko would admire that. Admire you. You, with your beautiful dreams and wild schemes A through Z to change things that others call immutable.
Your relationship wouldn’t be built on dependency or neediness, but on mutual respect and resilience. You’d both value independence, understanding that love doesn’t equate to losing oneself. Furthermore, as a leader, Ekko remains busy. He needs someone who can handle their own.
And when the world weighed heavily on you, either during medical flare-ups, exhaustion, or the resurfacing of old trauma, he would simply be there. Not with empty promises or platitudes, but with presence.
He’d make time, even amidst chaos, to ensure you were cared for.
Ekko’s patience is very well-established, after all. It was never stated exactly how many resets Ekko went through to save Jinx from herself before he finally found the proper thing to say to make her stay; however, the implication was in the dozens.
That same relentless compassion would be your anchor.
It’s hard to imagine a pairing more balanced.
There were a few other options I had considered:
Jayce was one of them.
However, his ambitions are his sole, unrelenting focus.
While he also dreams of improving the world, he lacks the human element of connection. You'd always be stuck playing second fiddle to his work... and let's be honest, his lab partner.
Ekko, though, fights for both. His brilliance is tempered by empathy. He understands the cost of progress, and he fights anyway, not for glory, but for people.
Together, you’d be unstoppable. You’d temper each other’s stubbornness, learn to channel your anger into something greater, and teach one another the beauty of patience and trust.
He’d show you that vulnerability isn’t weakness
And you’d remind him that even the boy savior of Zaun deserves rest, laughter, and love.
The romance would be slow-growing. Patient, deliberate, unhurried.
The first time his hand brushes yours, it’s an accident. The second time, it isn’t. Ekko doesn’t demand affection; he earns it, in the way he treats your boundaries as sacred rather than obstacles.
He never pushes for more than you’re ready to give.
I also do not see him as someone who is need of sexual relationships. His relations with Jinx were anything but, and still, they maintained their romance.
Overall, I think Ekko would be a great match for you. I think your desire to improve lives on an individual level matches well with his own. I believe that between the both of you, there is a real chance for genuine systemic pain. Just by focusing on one individual at a time.
This is a matchup trade with @sugutoad
I wanted to try and find someone who... doesn’t suck for you.
Unfortunately, literally everyone in Game of Thrones Sucks Big Time. So I quickly gave up that fever dream. That, combined with your penchant for cocky, “beautifully broken” characters just beckoned in a sea of flags so red, you could see it from space.
So we’re just going to say
To hell with it.
Meaning I needed to find someone cocky and intelligent to match your intellect and keep pace (characters which are not lacking in this franchise), but also emotionally intelligent enough to be reasonably “fix-able” (and suddenly my pickings are rather slim).
So after combing over my options I think I’ve finally settled on someone decent enoughish whilst meeting not just your criterial preferences, but your personality. He’s not actually from Game of Thrones but within the same franchise so I am going to use him anyway.
Without further ado, I present to you, your bae
•──⋅☾Daemon Targaryen☽⋅──•
Daemon is rather infamous for his cocky, aloof, exterior. One which masks something a lot more profound and tender beneath. His inner conflicts and the way he wears his scars (both literal and emotional) make him exactly the “beautifully broken” character that you’d be attracted to. At least on a superficial level.
Your rejection of the rules and regulations from your upbringing dangerously mirrors Daemon’s own rebellious, out-of-control streak. He’s the kind of character who doesn’t play by everyone else’s rules. This is a trait that can feel both familiar and freeing if you’ve long struggled with external pressures. A trait that, when combined, truly makes me fear for what the two of you would be capable of. Your inherent whimsy and far-away nature do temper his ambitions nicely in a way that is more of a safeguard than anything else. I fear someone too ambitious would (as demonstrated in the show) enable him to such an extent that would become dangerous for everyone.
Your dry, sarcastic humor and penchant for clever, sometimes self-deprecating jokes resonate with Daemon’s biting wit. He’s known to deliver sharp, often caustic remarks that hide a deeper, more thoughtful side. This mix of humor and gravitas means conversations with him would likely feel both stimulating and comforting. Something you value given your need for quality, heartfelt dialogue.
You crave a partner who’s charismatic, a bit cocky, and deeply passionate, someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind. Daemon embodies this intensity. His relationships, though turbulent, are fueled by a fierce passion and loyalty. This intensity, coupled with his occasional tenderness, could provide the balance of fire and solace you seek. Your own vulnerabilities could be met with an understanding that runs deep beneath his rough edges. He’s the type of person who, when you peel away the layers, shows a capacity for care.
Jumping into the headcanons of it all
Because this is a mess
Really, really, messy.
Trying to justify it within the context and canon of the show
You run a clever scam.
The likes of which is wholly, uniquely, creatively you
You arrive not as a noble, but as the handmaid to a well-respected religious leader. One who has proven himself to possess quite the inclination toward the law and a disarming charisma, capable of swaying even the most stony-faced judges. Famously speaking on the behalf of lower-standing members of the court. Where, traditionally, such rankings would be hastily discarded and punished for crimes they did not even commit due to their standing. Especially when accused by a member of higher standing. He gave them the opportunity to defend themselves by representing them and speaking on their behalf.
Except. There was one small... minute detail the pair of you neglected to mention
You are the true brains of this operation
You are the one spending hours pouring over the law books, over past historical precedent
You are the one carefully constructing arguments. Providing airtight reasonings. And manipulating the letter of the law in your favour
It’s just that.
No one would take a woman seriously on these matters. Much less one of seemingly irrelevant descent.
So you found a partner. Someone willing to be your voice. Your face. Someone with the charm you did not possess. Someone with the reputation and respect that proceeded yours.
It was initially a business venture. Brokered under the agreement all funds would go 50-50
And it was one that proved alarmingly lucrative
The two of you eventually began to travel with it. This well-intentioned scam of yours. With you posing as a mere hand maid to attend to your chosen front. Because that is all you could really do as a women in your society.
In your travels, you amass fame. Influence. Money. Enough to settle you suppose. But you do enjoy being able to speak up for the voiceless. The ones who would be unfairly punished otherwise.
What you never anticipated, however, was your fame rising to such a degree that you are called to the capitol itself to advise on the matter of the civil war that brewing between factions
To help determine which heir to the throne is the “proper” one in the eyes of the law
Well, not you specifically
The face of your operation
But basically, it is entirely you though
Which is a daunting task in of itself
Not to mention risks the provocation of ire from both parties
Really, its a lose-lose situation
If you choose to side with Aegon, you risk a death at the maw of a dragon
If you choose to side with Rhaenyra
Well. It’s literally the exact same fate.
If you choose to ignore your summons and make a run for it.
More or less the same thing.
Naturally. You stall as long as you are able. Trying to think of a reason to get out of this current predicament. Regardless of your true feelings on the matter. Burying yourself in the books and historical texts, desperately seeking some answer. Some way out. But your deliberation time is numbered. You can buy a few weeks at most. Before the courts will start demanding answers.
It doesn’t help that the prince is making eyes at you from across council room tables.
In that sort of hungry way
You suppose it was your fault really. For not expecting the rather notorious womanizer for taking it further.
You see. Daemon had always prided himself on being the keenest strategist in the room, the most cunning player of the game. He saw deception for what it was before most had a chance to blink. That was why, when he first laid eyes on you: quiet, observant, and far too clever for a mere handmaid, and his instincts flared.
His suspicions were confirmed when he intercepted a letter. Meant for your partner, it bore intricate legal arguments far beyond the grasp of any average advocate. The writing, precise and methodical, carried the unmistakable trace of your hand. He knew, at that moment, he had uncovered something deliciously scandalous.
Instead of turning you in, Daemon chose confrontation.
You found him waiting for you in your quarters. Forward and without the slightest concern for propriety.
Daemon took his time, circling you like a dragon assessing its next meal. "You’re the one doing all the thinking, aren’t you? Your so-called ‘employer’ is just the puppet. You-" he pointed a finger at you, "-are the true power behind the name.”
It took everything in you to keep your expression neutral. To deny it outright would be useless. You were caught. The only question now was what Daemon Targaryen wanted in exchange for his silence.
He isn't a patient man. He didn't make you wait long.
"I could turn you in," he mused, tilting his head. "You’d be burned alive for fraud. Or worse." He let that hang in the air before his smirk returned. "But I won’t.”
"In exchange for my silence, I have but one demand. Eight dates. Four weeks.”
Just the right amount of time until you were to supposed to present your, or rather your partner’s decision to the court.
"I find you fascinating, little viper. And I think I’d enjoy having your company without the pretense of politics and scheming.”
There wasn't much you could do to resist him. So, you ultimately agreed. You supposed he could demand much worse things from you than dates. Much. Worse.
Each date possessed some new challenge. Something daring:
Slipping into the streets of King’s Landing, dressed not as nobles, but as ordinary folk, he led you into the heart of the city’s underbelly. The lively chaos of Flea Bottom was a world away from the rigid rules of court, engaging in the debauchery of the ordinary folk.
Daemon didn’t ease you into things. No, he wanted to see just how much nerve you truly had.
Another date involved taking you straight to the dragon pit. Caraxes, his monstrous, sinewy beast, awaited. You had heard tales of dragon riding (who hadn’t?) but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Daemon, ever the reckless one, made sure to push the limits. Sharp turns, sudden dives, the kind that made your stomach lurch into your throat. He delighted in the way you cursed at him, your usual sharp tongue turning breathless and unfiltered.
By the time you landed, your legs felt like jelly, and Daemon was grinning like a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself. "Not bad," he mused, offering his hand to steady you. "I expected more screaming.”
But he could be tender, too. Truly a whirlwind of a man. It was hard to tell exactly which version of him to expect. The blithe, rebel-without-a-cause? Or someone softer? More tender. Truth be told it was thrilling.
Another date consisted of a luxurious picnic up top a grassy hill by the beach, watching the sun slip below the horizon, staining the sky with bloody, fiery hues.
~
And therein lies your dilemma
You have 8 dates.
8 dates to convince Daemon to take you and your partner away from here.
8 dates to prove to him you're worth the risk.
Otherwise?
You will be forced to deliver your decision and regardless of your answer, both you and your partner will perish
TW: Suggestive themes, sacrilege, possessive toxic relationships, mild body horror
SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA ABOUND AHEAD
Okayyyy
So this was really difficult for me. And not for the reasons you might think.
I narrowed it down to three immediate options pretty quickly
Gregory Violet
Joker
Undertaker
From there it was an uphill battle.
At first, I was really leaning toward Gregory. I think your shared fascination with the macabre would complement each other beautifully. He would support—if not outright enable—your more dubious experiments, and he’d entertain your theories with the quiet, unwavering attention of a man utterly captivated.
He would gift you things, though his offerings would not come in traditional forms. Art, poetry, the remnants of his fixations. He would sketch you compulsively, your presence seeping into his mind until you occupied every untouched corner of it. An almost all-consuming reverence.
But there was a problem.
You said you would never make the first move. And Gregory? He is a ghost of a man: distant, drifting, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind. He would admire you from afar, obsess over you in silence, but approach? No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Which then left me with Joker and Undertaker. As far as I can tell: Undertaker is what you’d want. But someone like Joker would be what you need.
With Undertaker, you would find fascination, intrigue, mystery. But also something cold, something closed off. You are both guarded. Both drawn to the darkness. And while that could forge something powerful, I fear it would ultimately be destructive, toxicity spurned from obsession rather than love, curiosity turned to corrosion.
Superficially, you’d get along with ease. The teasing, the laughter, the constant dance of wit and flirtation. But beneath that? The truth of him is buried deep, hidden beneath layers of artifice and mischief. To unravel him would be exhausting. And even if you succeeded—if you peeled back every carefully constructed layer—you would find something surgical. Far more sane than he lets on. Precise. A mind as analytical as it is twisted. Which, to be fair, I think you’d find stimulating.
But love?
Love, for him, is not separate from obsession. And his attachment runs so deep that you would never truly escape it—not even in death.
Someone like Joker would be much better suitable for a relationship.
He is warm where the others are cold. Open where they are closed. He would make the first move, effortlessly, easily, filling the spaces you leave empty. He is kind. Tender. Someone who would encourage communication, and make you feel safe in expression rather than study. He would match your wit, your humor, keeping pace with you in a way that feels natural, effortless. He would challenge you in all the right ways, keep you grounded while still embracing your darkness, because lord knows he has enough of that himself.
He wouldn't be as inclined to enable you as the others, however, he clearly isn't bothered by death 💀. And would be willing to go to any amount of extremes for you.
However, after reading your bio, I do believe I know who you'd pick if given the option between the two.
The red flags, right?
Really, it's your funeral.
Pun intended.
So without further ado, I will finally present you with your bae.
•──⋅☾Undertaker☽⋅──•
Ooooh, but this is a mess.
A delicious, twisted, entanglement of fate and fixation
I don't think he'd make the first move unless he somehow formed a foundational obsession with you
And if he did
You'd hardly even know
He would observe. Linger. Threads of his presence stitched into your life so subtly that by the time you noticed, you were already tangled in his web.
Perhaps you're part of a long-lost branch of the Phantomhives, ones that deviated from the family long ago, moving to a faraway land generations prior. Which would explain the obsession
Not that you'd exactly be aware of this
Moving back to London to pursue your academics for the first in generations
Blissfully unaware of the absolute shitstorm you're about to find yourself in the center of
The first gifts would arrive in increments. A scavenger’s tribute left at your door: wilted flowers sewn delicately into the fur of some long-dead creature, bones polished to an almost reverent sheen.
Like a cat bringing its master a fresh kill.
Like. Thanksssss
I think these instances would accumulate over the course of a few years
Scattered petals left in your bed
Small metal tags
Perfectly cleaned bones of small
Furthermore, you feel extremely lucky from the way you've managed to avoid danger
The city is dangerous, but you? You are untouchable. You've never once had an issue walking its streets. Even after dark.
The shadows whisper of a guardian angel. You joke about it. Laugh. Never once considering that angels do not linger in graveyards.
It would be years before you finally meet. An orchestrated accident, as all of his games are. He couldn't stay away, not when you’ve already become the center of his world. Not when his vision of immortality has found its muse.
Because he couldn't bear to lose his new fixation
Hoping to extend his experiments regarding immortality to you
So he doesn't have to endure losing another love
A love so colored by his twisted obsession with death that you might find yourself losing your own humanity in the process, gradually giving up pieces of it until you are hardly recognizable from another one of his dolls
Oh but you'd be beautiful though
There would be no hunger, no exhaustion—no need to eat or drink or sleep. Only the steady, rhythmic tether to existence in the form of blood.
You would be perfect, every imperfection erased with a surgeon’s precision, preserved in a way that neither time nor decay could touch.
Unshackled by the constant neediness that plagues even the original Ciel
Almost... Vampiric in your perfection. And your hunger for blood.
Caught in some eternal purgatory of undeath
And if such an agonizing existence sounds enticing, then who knows. Maybe you truly are the perfect match for the Undertaker
And you would be loved. Oh, how he would worship you.
A love like wildfire: fierce, consuming, unrelenting. Rooftop waltzes against the backdrop of a city in flames, embers catching in your hair as he twirls you through the ruin he would set ablaze just to see how the firelight dances in your eyes.
Moonlit picnics among the solemn stone obelisks of the graveyard, where the dead slumber and only the two of you remain awake. There is no need for food, no hunger that mundane sustenance could sate. Instead, he brings you what you truly need: your measured ration of blood, presented with the same reverence another man might offer wine.
And beyond the iron gates of your mausoleum kingdom, Undertaker’s following of religious zealots watch you in, fevered awe. To them, you are a revelation—exalted, untouchable. A divine being sculpted by His hands, the embodiment of immortality itself. The desperate and the wealthy alike kneel before you, clinging to the promise of eternity, blind to the truth that you are just as much a prisoner as you are their savior. A promise of eternal youth the Untaker made to them to form his cults but never truly intended to keep. Not for them. Never for them. They are unworthy. Not like you.
His love is a prison. Kept on a tight leash. Propped up pretty and poised in a gilded cage. As if the adornments were sufficient enough to distract you from the realities of your entrapment. A devotion so suffocating, so absolute, that it unravels you thread by thread, stripping away the remnants of your former self until there is nothing left but what he has made of you. He would keep you close. Too close. Should your new body fail. In case someone else sets their sights on you. Because you are his magnum opus, and he does not share his creations. His creation will not be stolen. His darling will not be lost.
Your name would be rapture on his tongue; a honeyed poison. The sweetest kind of ruin. A melody only he is allowed to sing. You're perfect. He says. Beautiful. A goddess given human form. He worships readily at the altar of your flesh. But you are also a prisoner. Condemned to a fate which you may never leave.
Yet, as you stand beneath the weight of his gaze, as his hands trace over the perfection he has carved you into, the real question remains:
Hello! Welcome to my cabin assigner! I’m Bea, your friendly neighbor Cabin 10 counselor.
Are you unsure of your godly parent? Do those online tests just not feel right?
Or maybe you already know your parent, but want to see if I can guess it? Well, this is the place for you!
જ⁀➴ What to comment
- You find yourself stranded in a dense forest with nothing but your wits. What are you doing first?
- After hiking through the forest for seemingly hours, you see something out of the corner of your eye. What is it?
- Finally reaching a clearing in the forest, you spot a few drachma (currency of the gods) under a bush. What are you doing with it?
And of course; describe yourself a bit! Your defining traits, your fashion sense, favorite activities, romantic preference, pronouns, name, etc! If you know your MBTI type, comment that as well. Anything about you will help me better guess your cabin. ♡︎
I'm not sure if this is still relevant but it seems fun to do anyhow
1. Assuming my cellphone is dead or missing. Seeking a water source is my number one priority. Preferably a river. Many settlements were built by rivers (for obvious reasons) so there is a strong chance that if I find a river and follow it, I will eventually stumble across some kind of civilization. And if not, then at least I have a reliable water supply.
2. Probably an animal. Like a bird or squirrel.
3. Pick them up because I am magpie coded and attracted to shinies. And also probably pocket them. They may be useful later and im not one to ignore a sign. I think in the Percy Jackson canon, I can also use them to call the fate's taxi? Which would. Uh. Definitely get me out of the woods (and likely also send me to an early grave but f it we ball).
Other traits.
I am currently studying medicine with the future goal of using it to support my true passion of traveling. Doing locum tenens work globally to provide health care to remote locations. That being said. I am more right brained than left brained. Which. Doesn't mix well with stem but you know. Ya girl wants that bag.
Hobbies wise. I joined a circus briefly and developed a very er specific skillset. I can do contortion, aerial silks, trapeze, and aerial hoop, which I still do as my primary mode of exercise. I also draw quite a lot. And write. Hiking, scuba diving (I became licensed at the age of 13 and DEFINITELY broke some laws cave diving when I was 14), skiing, etc. I inherited a tarot deck from my mother and have since found a lot of joy in the mystical side of things (like I said. Magpie coded. I will eat your crystals. Not literally. Amethyst is toxic when subermeged in water).
My fashion tends to vary a lotttt. Some days I'm in a more gothic mood with darker colours and chokers. Other days I tend to lean more towards dark academia. And other days I'll throw on pastels. But I do take a lot of care into my outfits and makeup for the day. I over dress on practically every occasion. But my overall preferred aesthetic seems to be somewhere between dark academia and im not really sure how to describe it. Gothic boho?... not Gothic but, astrology, crystals, spell jars and stuff? If that makes sense? I don't believe in it. I just think it's neat. And pretty. With an emphasis on plants. Love my house plants.
So yeah. That's it. Anyone's welcome to try and assign me a cabin, heh.
Let me know if I am wrong but.... are you a Dean Winchester girlie by any chance?
Idk that’s the vibes I got from reading over your blurb.
That being said... I am not sure he is the best fit.
Mainly because y’alls love languages clash hella. I can’t see Dean enjoying physical displays of affection to any extent (especially if it is public) and validation and compliments from him are exceedingly hard to come by.
He is more likely to insult you than praise you for.... Anything really.
You would have to thrive off playful banter and keep a tough exterior because Dean would accidentally just take it way too far. While also being okay with never actually hearing him say things like “I love you”. Or anything that indicates he actually cares.
So I don’t think this would be a super healthy or satisfying relationship. (Obviously besides the fact that Dean, in of himself, is a flag redder than Mars but sometimes we need to be a bit delusional to fuel the soul).
So, if not Dean then who?
Well, without further ado here is your mans.
•──⋅☾CASTIEL ☽⋅──•
Right so, I knew immediately off the bat it was either going to be Cas or Sam. Both of these men are more sensitive and willing to listen. Both would try to take an interest in the things you like and would not disregard them as fanciful or frivolous (looking at you DEAN). But ultimately I strayed more towards Cas than Sam.
Cas is clueless. We love him, but it is true.
That being said, he does try his best. He would not understand wtf you are talking about, but he would delight in the way your eyes light up when you begin to speak about something you are passionate about.
The sheer joy that these topics bring you would be enough for the man to be enamored with what you are saying.
Just be prepared for a lot of questions.
Because like I said, he is clueless.
I chose Cas over Sam mostly for this reason, actually.
While I am sure Sam would do his best to take an interest in the things you like and listen to you when you speak of them, he is much more grounded. I could see him being “too busy” and not devoting his full enrapt attention to you. So you may end up feeling like he is being dismissive of you.
~
Moreover, you and Castiel are very similar in your self-sacrificing tendencies. Which, I suppose would compound a pre-existing issue. But I also think it means you will take care of each other.
He would do whatever he can to make sure you are taken care of, even at his own expense. And you would do the same for him in kind. As a result, both of you serve each other in a way that is completely selfless and wholly dedicated.
Which I think is very sweet.
But I could see this getting toxic if taken to extremes. So please set boundaries.
~
Another reason I selected Cas for you.
You said that you enjoy emotionally unavailable men.
Well. Here you go.
As an angel, Castiel expresses very little external emotion.
Especially earlier-seasons Cas.
He is very objective and collective. Which, I suppose would make communication easier. But it would be difficult to rile him up about anything.
I do not think he would get into many fights or disputes for this reason.
But I could also see it being very frustrating.
Trying to coax even the smallest amount of emotion out of this man would be like pulling teeth.
Especially if you are already frustrated with him?
Imagine trying to scold him for his recklessness and disregard for his own life on a past hunt and he just stares at you blankly and hits you with the “Okay.”
Like, dude.
Some amount of concern for personal safety would be nice????
Also, it is just really hard to argue with someone who agrees with everything you say.
Perhaps most hypocritically, I could see him getting genuinely pressed if you acted with the same disregard for safety.
Your self-sacrificing nature reflects his and he would not be happy about it.
Probably would scold you for your disregard for personal safety.
And if you try to point out the hypocrisy in his argument he will just get even madder.
Mainly because he cares. Buit does not really know how to express it.
And he does not care if he dies.
But losing you?
Somehow, that is so much worse than death.
~
I also think your feistier side would be so cute with Castiel’s deadpan countenance and inability to grasp sarcasm.
He would try to learn from you.
But it would come out like a boomer trying to use Gen Z slang.
And you are all just staring at him like “Oh, hunny. No.”
I think the two of you would play off each other very well.
Similar to how Dean and Cas do in the show.
He would not get ANY of your references.
But that is okay because you will force him to get them.
Please educate this man.
Although he WILL try to also make references. And it will come out super awkward.
Again he is trying.
Many date nights for the two of you would likely consist of movie marathons/netflix binging. As it is your sacred duty to update the funny angel man.
Just wait until you have to explain to him what a Dashcon Ballpit is 💀
~
Cas strikes me as the type who is silently touch-starved.
But he would not know what to do with the affection.
You could run up to him and wrap your arms around him and he just tenses up.
Not because he does not like it.
But because he does not understand how to react.
He eventually learns to crave it and will pout if you don't hug him enough. Not that he’d say this.
Okay okay but like. Imagine...
~
Castiel hasn’t been doing too great. He carries the weight of a silent storm, his once calm and reserved demeanor eclipsed by shadows of turmoil and despair. His temper is short, his eyes are defocused and cloudy. He hangs around like a mere shadow of his former self, the fading embers of a dying flame drenched in self-doubt.
And you have no idea how to help him.
You are biding your time, your lithe fingers flitting across the worn pages of the novel, tracing the well-traveled path of smudged ink. The world beyond your book seems to fade into obscurity. Each word, each sentence, is a lifeline to a reality untainted by the chaos that threatens to consume your life in the real world.
The clamor of metal against concrete shatters the fragile illusion of peace. Alarm rips through your spine and you immediately spin around, instinctively reaching for one of the blades positioned by the reading table.
And there he stands, a disparaged silhouette against the threshold of the doorway. Castiel is leaning against the wall, his iconic trench coat stained with a mystery liquid you would rather not question. His usually-tousled brown hair clings damply to his forehead. His eyes are half-lidded and hollow, haunted by specters of a past he can never reclaim. They wrinkle ever so slightly in the corners as he squints against the dim mood lighting of the room.
The two of you remain there for several moments, merely regarding one another. It is hard to get a reading of the angel’s deadpan visage and your expression is tinged with concern. You open your mouth to speak again but Castiel interrupts.
"Cas?" you call out, the syllables hanging in the air like an unanswered prayer, but he offers no response.
He awkwardly shuffles forward, his movements hesitant and disjointed, staggering and leaning against the table with a shaky exhale.
With a trembling hand, he reaches out, his palms are clammy and cold against your wrists. The acrid scent of alcohol bathes your tongue. He pulls your arms up and gently lowers them around his neck then stoops forward, standing there, head hanging.
Without words, without preamble, you understand.
“You want a hug, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
The words are mumbled so quietly even you can barely pick up on them.
A frown tugs at the edge of your lips but you do not hesitate. With gentle hands, you enfold him in your embrace. He leans into you, his weary frame finding solace in the warmth of your touch, resting his forehead against your shoulder in silent reverence.
~
Okay, depression is over.
But like.
The same thing would apply to kissing.
He has no idea.
Not a clue.
You will have to train him.
But it works out because he is not about to be upset or offended by it. He will readily take your advice and apply with exuberance.
Sometimes too much exuberance.
Either way, it makes him infinitely better than most men.
Let me know if I am wrong but.... are you a Dean Winchester girlie by any chance?
Idk that’s the vibes I got from reading over your blurb.
That being said... I am not sure he is the best fit.
Mainly because y’alls love languages clash hella. I can’t see Dean enjoying physical displays of affection to any extent (especially if it is public) and validation and compliments from him are exceedingly hard to come by.
He is more likely to insult you than praise you for.... Anything really.
You would have to thrive off playful banter and keep a tough exterior because Dean would accidentally just take it way too far. While also being okay with never actually hearing him say things like “I love you”. Or anything that indicates he actually cares.
So I don’t think this would be a super healthy or satisfying relationship. (Obviously besides the fact that Dean, in of himself, is a flag redder than Mars but sometimes we need to be a bit delusional to fuel the soul).
So, if not Dean then who?
Well, without further ado here is your mans.
•──⋅☾CASTIEL ☽⋅──•
Right so, I knew immediately off the bat it was either going to be Cas or Sam. Both of these men are more sensitive and willing to listen. Both would try to take an interest in the things you like and would not disregard them as fanciful or frivolous (looking at you DEAN). But ultimately I strayed more towards Cas than Sam.
Cas is clueless. We love him, but it is true.
That being said, he does try his best. He would not understand wtf you are talking about, but he would delight in the way your eyes light up when you begin to speak about something you are passionate about.
The sheer joy that these topics bring you would be enough for the man to be enamored with what you are saying.
Just be prepared for a lot of questions.
Because like I said, he is clueless.
I chose Cas over Sam mostly for this reason, actually.
While I am sure Sam would do his best to take an interest in the things you like and listen to you when you speak of them, he is much more grounded. I could see him being “too busy” and not devoting his full enrapt attention to you. So you may end up feeling like he is being dismissive of you.
~
Moreover, you and Castiel are very similar in your self-sacrificing tendencies. Which, I suppose would compound a pre-existing issue. But I also think it means you will take care of each other.
He would do whatever he can to make sure you are taken care of, even at his own expense. And you would do the same for him in kind. As a result, both of you serve each other in a way that is completely selfless and wholly dedicated.
Which I think is very sweet.
But I could see this getting toxic if taken to extremes. So please set boundaries.
~
Another reason I selected Cas for you.
You said that you enjoy emotionally unavailable men.
Well. Here you go.
As an angel, Castiel expresses very little external emotion.
Especially earlier-seasons Cas.
He is very objective and collective. Which, I suppose would make communication easier. But it would be difficult to rile him up about anything.
I do not think he would get into many fights or disputes for this reason.
But I could also see it being very frustrating.
Trying to coax even the smallest amount of emotion out of this man would be like pulling teeth.
Especially if you are already frustrated with him?
Imagine trying to scold him for his recklessness and disregard for his own life on a past hunt and he just stares at you blankly and hits you with the “Okay.”
Like, dude.
Some amount of concern for personal safety would be nice????
Also, it is just really hard to argue with someone who agrees with everything you say.
Perhaps most hypocritically, I could see him getting genuinely pressed if you acted with the same disregard for safety.
Your self-sacrificing nature reflects his and he would not be happy about it.
Probably would scold you for your disregard for personal safety.
And if you try to point out the hypocrisy in his argument he will just get even madder.
Mainly because he cares. Buit does not really know how to express it.
And he does not care if he dies.
But losing you?
Somehow, that is so much worse than death.
~
I also think your feistier side would be so cute with Castiel’s deadpan countenance and inability to grasp sarcasm.
He would try to learn from you.
But it would come out like a boomer trying to use Gen Z slang.
And you are all just staring at him like “Oh, hunny. No.”
I think the two of you would play off each other very well.
Similar to how Dean and Cas do in the show.
He would not get ANY of your references.
But that is okay because you will force him to get them.
Please educate this man.
Although he WILL try to also make references. And it will come out super awkward.
Again he is trying.
Many date nights for the two of you would likely consist of movie marathons/netflix binging. As it is your sacred duty to update the funny angel man.
Just wait until you have to explain to him what a Dashcon Ballpit is 💀
~
Cas strikes me as the type who is silently touch-starved.
But he would not know what to do with the affection.
You could run up to him and wrap your arms around him and he just tenses up.
Not because he does not like it.
But because he does not understand how to react.
He eventually learns to crave it and will pout if you don't hug him enough. Not that he’d say this.
Okay okay but like. Imagine...
~
Castiel hasn’t been doing too great. He carries the weight of a silent storm, his once calm and reserved demeanor eclipsed by shadows of turmoil and despair. His temper is short, his eyes are defocused and cloudy. He hangs around like a mere shadow of his former self, the fading embers of a dying flame drenched in self-doubt.
And you have no idea how to help him.
You are biding your time, your lithe fingers flitting across the worn pages of the novel, tracing the well-traveled path of smudged ink. The world beyond your book seems to fade into obscurity. Each word, each sentence, is a lifeline to a reality untainted by the chaos that threatens to consume your life in the real world.
The clamor of metal against concrete shatters the fragile illusion of peace. Alarm rips through your spine and you immediately spin around, instinctively reaching for one of the blades positioned by the reading table.
And there he stands, a disparaged silhouette against the threshold of the doorway. Castiel is leaning against the wall, his iconic trench coat stained with a mystery liquid you would rather not question. His usually-tousled brown hair clings damply to his forehead. His eyes are half-lidded and hollow, haunted by specters of a past he can never reclaim. They wrinkle ever so slightly in the corners as he squints against the dim mood lighting of the room.
The two of you remain there for several moments, merely regarding one another. It is hard to get a reading of the angel’s deadpan visage and your expression is tinged with concern. You open your mouth to speak again but Castiel interrupts.
"Cas?" you call out, the syllables hanging in the air like an unanswered prayer, but he offers no response.
He awkwardly shuffles forward, his movements hesitant and disjointed, staggering and leaning against the table with a shaky exhale.
With a trembling hand, he reaches out, his palms are clammy and cold against your wrists. The acrid scent of alcohol bathes your tongue. He pulls your arms up and gently lowers them around his neck then stoops forward, standing there, head hanging.
Without words, without preamble, you understand.
“You want a hug, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
The words are mumbled so quietly even you can barely pick up on them.
A frown tugs at the edge of your lips but you do not hesitate. With gentle hands, you enfold him in your embrace. He leans into you, his weary frame finding solace in the warmth of your touch, resting his forehead against your shoulder in silent reverence.
~
Okay, depression is over.
But like.
The same thing would apply to kissing.
He has no idea.
Not a clue.
You will have to train him.
But it works out because he is not about to be upset or offended by it. He will readily take your advice and apply with exuberance.
Sometimes too much exuberance.
Either way, it makes him infinitely better than most men.
Okay I actually probably need to put some trigger warnings in this one. So without further ado...
TW: Mentions of sex trafficking, trauma, implications of pedophilia, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.
•──⋅☾FINNICK ODAIR ☽⋅──•
I won’t lie, my intentional reaction said Cinna. However, I placed that thought on the back-burner while I sifted methodically through the other characters in case I found one that I felt suited you better. And I am glad I did that, because I did find someone better.
Finnick Odair.
Initial characterization of Finnick exemplifies him as a careless casanova, infamous for his routine and seemingly habitual trysts every time he visits the Capitol. And for most of the book, that is all that is known of him. Flirtatious, shallow, flighty, definitely not someone I think you would keep in company of.
However, later on it is revealed that Finnick’s womanizing, ego-centric tendencies are a defense mechanism installed to protect himself from the emotional turmoil of the role of sex worker forced upon him by President Snow to appease influential Capitol women. Mind you, he was fourteen. The horrors of his circumstances cannot be understated.
Beneath his philandering veneer, he is someone who is deeply wounded, accustomed to being used for his body, and craves genuine human connection and conversation. He needs someone who appreciates him for him, and not just the physical pleasures he can give them. Bro literally just wants to be seen as a human being instead of a sex object for the first time in his adult life and I do not blame him.
I believe this is where his relationship with Annie comes into play. She was someone who was deeply empathetic, intelligent, and intuitive. Someone who saw Finnick for who he really was. Possibly the only person who saw him as such. And based on your description of yourself, I believe you would fill his role beautifully.
You see, you aren’t just smart. You are observant. While I still feel as though initial impressions of Finnick would be lacking at best and straight up antagonistic at worst, I think that with the more time you spend around him, the more you’d be able to see flickers of something deeper beneath his facade.
And I think you’d be the only person to see and understand this. I think your skeptical nature would feed into this as well. You would refuse to accept that he is as hollow-minded and shallow as he presents himself to be.
The way his easy-going smile falters whenever he thinks no one is looking. The mild contortion of his facial features into a brief pained expression when someone insults his promiscuity. This wincing lasting mere milliseconds before it is completely replaced by a lackadaisical smile and a casual shrug. The way his shoulders sag, as is burdened by heavy emotional weight when he thinks that no one else is around. The strained sighs he emits whenever he feels as though no one is listening- as though no one is paying attention. The way rigidity spreads into the muscles along his back and shoulders whenever President Snow’s name is so much as mentioned.
No, there is definitely more going on here. And given your quiet, analytical, and observant nature, I think you would definitely notice. I also think that you would wish to pursue this deeper, if only because you touched on how much your value deep connection.
Once you and Finnick start talking, I think he would be hooked. And I think he would open up to you much faster than normally would, perhaps to his own chagrin. You are so full of life and compassion. The way your eyes light up when you start to infodump on your favorite subjects. You are different. You don’t see him as an object. You aren’t cowed by his flirtations and attempts to keep you at an arm’s length. You genuinely just want to get to know him. The two of you would have such meaningful conversations, skipping over idle chatter and frivolous small talk entirely because that is just the kind of person you are.
And just like that, it would be over for the poor man.
You represent every single thing he has lacked in life: genuine connection, empathy, and companionship.
You would become his new Annie (assuming in this scenario, Annie was either killed in her games or lost herself to the point of no return).
Finnick would not be super receptive to your self-deprecating sense of humor, wishing you could see the beauty he sees in you. I think he would call you out on it and make some flirtatious comment sultry enough to make even the most stoic blush. He doesn’t know what else to do so he defaults to his usual tactics of flattery. Although, this time it’s different. This time he actually means it. He’s just genuinely trying to help.
“My dear, if it is beauty you seek, you need not look further than a mirror.”
~
“I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before,” Finnick would fix you with a level-gaze, his seafoam green eyes unwavering and uncharacteristically serious, “but you are very attractive.”
You could attempt to retaliate, uttering something along the lines of “you aren’t too unattractive yourself.” To which he would merely laugh, his broad shoulders shaking under the exertion of the momentum.
He’d flash you one of those smug grins of his. “Oh. I know.”
~
Freaking Finnick.
Perhaps you were from District Four and met him briefly before his games, then were forced to reconcile with the stark juxtaposition to the boy he was prior to the man he ultimately became.
Or Perhaps you were a victor from a previous Game who met him during the Quarter Quell and saw something in him no one else could, only to be wrapped up in the rebellion’s plot.
Either way, I do think it would be good news for you.
If you were a fellow Victor rescued by the rebels, perhaps you would have a chance at saving Finnick, or maybe it would lead to you sacrificing yourself in his stead.
If you were the “special someone back home”, the Capitol would likely kidnap and torture you for leverage over Finnick as they did Annie. Finnick would likely still perish, spending his last breath viciously attempting to rescue you.
But either way, I think this would be a huge point of contention in your relationship. Finnick absolutely would NOT accept you going with him to infiltrate the Capitol with the Mockingjay. I’ll let whether or not you end up listening to him be up to you.
As often it goes with the Hunger Games, I believe that this story is likely to end in tragedy. Although, it is not without a small chance of hope. Maybe you can act differently, maybe you can be the person to provide Finnick with the happy ending he deserved but was ultimately denied.
This is a matchup trade for @fourtyfourcatss. Regular matchups are still closed. Without further ado…
•──⋅☾Cabin 6 - HECATE☽⋅──•
I won’t lie. I struggled with this one.
I think a large part of it was the fact that I wanted to sort you into Athena’s cabin however, I had just done an Athena matchup so I was slightly biased against doing another. Oop.
Honestly, it mostly came down to Hecate and Athena for me. After much discussion with a few of my mythology buff friends I eventually settled on Hecate and here’s why.
You see, Hecate is a very tough parent. She expects a lot out of her children. She expects them to dutifully study and hone their craft to meet her high standards. As a result, those who are more likely inclined to cabin #20 would be those who are intelligent, bookish, and most important studious.
You may be able to see where I encountered some issues here.
Bookish, intelligent, and studious are all core characteristics of Athena’s children as well. That, paired with your ambition made it very difficult to distinguish between the two. So with such a degree of overlap between the two goddesses and their parental strategies (and the sheer scarcity of canon information on Hecate), I had to extract from the original lore.
Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, I got the vibe that you were more intellectually inclined than athletically. At least, there were few mentions of sports or physical hobbies in your interests category. I figured that you would have included them if you found them to be an important enough characteristic of your personality or if you valued them at the same level as your intellectual pursuits. Athleticism seems to be in more of Athena’s domain than Hecate’s.
Also, I think another key distinguishing factor is how you think.
Athena’s children think more rigidly and tactically. They are focused on that which can be physically observed and oftentimes will outright reject the notion of things that extend metaphysically. Basically, if they cannot see, taste, touch, or smell it, it does not exist. This more close-minded albeit scientific approach to life allows them to be extremely knowledgeable but also can impede on natural creativity.
Conversely, Hecate’s kids function with a certain degree of flexibility which ultimately promotes their creativity. As the goddess of liminal space, Hecate places heavy value on creativity, thinking outside the box, and decision-making. Hecate’s children are emotionally complex and knowledgeable individuals whose understanding of the world extends into spirituality. They are willing to embrace the unexplainable, willing to acknowledge and work with the metaphysical aspects of the world that someone from Athena’s cabin would simply refuse to acknowledge.
Think of it like the Hermoine Granger VS Luna Lovegood style of thinking.
I think your mention of intuition is what really prompted me to consider placing you in the latter category of thinking methodology. A strong intuition and inner-directional sense is a core aspect of Hecate’s children. I’d even go so far as to call it the most important aspect shared by all of her children.
Hecate is the goddess of crossroads after all, helping others make decisions when they come to a metaphorical crossroads in their lives is a core part of her mythos. I imagine this innate directional sense would extend to her children as well.
•──⋅☾Belief Manipulation☽⋅──•
I am going to be a bit more brief with this one as I went a bit overboard on the cabin sorting. I had a lot to say LOL.
Okay, so this is a fun one. And probably one of the most potent powers I have dealt out so please make use of it wisely.
I think you would have the power of belief manipulation
Those with belief manipulation must be of unwavering conviction themselves lest they lose themselves to the potency of their own abilities. But beyond that, they must have a clever tongue and sharp wit.
Their logical, well-disciplined minds have the ability to shake the foundations of a person’s belief, manipulating it and changing it to suit their narrative. This makes it one of the most powerful abilities one can possess.
Belief systems are so deeply ingrained in a person’s psyche that the manipulation of it can change who that person is on a fundamental level. So much about what someone says and does is motivated by the beliefs they hold. To change that is to change them.
Sure, you can use this ability for hijinks and scandals such as making a famous politician believe themselves to be a dog on national television- or you could use it to topple nations and shatter the foundations of societal framework.
The choice is up to you.
Weaknesses:
Must be in the sightline and earshot of the desired target. Earlier stages of this ability even requires physical touch.
Difficult to undo once done.
Certain limitations are present as a belief can be dispelled if physical, tangible evidence is presented to the target suggesting something contrary to the instilled belief. However, this depends on the target in question as some people are more susceptible to unquestioning faith than others (it is not easy to change people’s minds).
This is a matchup trade for @sugutoad. Regular matchups are still closed. Without further ado...
•──⋅☾Cabin 6 - ATHENA ☽⋅──•
Reading through this, there was a constant voice in the back of my mind whispering “Athena” over and over again. I still pursued other options in the interest of not being basic because it almost felt too obvious. I entertained Nemesis for a long while, actually. Your inclination to hear out everyone’s opinions suggested a strong sense of justice and moral prolificity towards fairplay. That, paired with a blunt disposition and dry sense of humor really meshed with the goddess. You vibe like someone who is unabashed in calling out other people’s bullshit which is something that I felt carried strong Nemesis undertones.
However,
You know who else is known for possessing a strong bullshit detector? Athena. Furthermore, if your inclination towards ensuring others opinions are heard and considered stems from a desire to foster understanding and deepen perspective rather than merely in the name of justice and equality then I think that would actually make it more of an Athena trait.
Also your disregard for rules and structure is not very characteristic of Nemesis’ cabin simply because I feel as though those campers would respect rules (unless the rules directly went against their strong moral convictions) and crave a more structured, organized lifestyle.
Lastly, I think the one line that really sold me on it was your desire “to be the best”. The only cabin capable of outcompeting Athena’s is Nike’s and I did not feel as though your desire to win was quite that strong (willing to sacrifice relationships if it means being right/winning). However, that one line put you solidly in Athena territory for me. Your status as a Slytherclaw and an INTJ (characterized by prioritizing logic, reason, and organization) further cemented the notion.
All of that being said, I still get pretty strong Nemesis undercurrents from you so I would not be surprised if you were a legacy from Nemesis, or would be extremely close to the large majority of people in Nemesis’ cabin.
Like most of the other campers in your cabin, the RBF is quite strong. However, upon looking past outward appearances, there is a shared sense of camaraderie that is pervasive throughout the cabin.
A healthy amount of competition too.
Everyone is constantly pushing each other to their fullest extent, striving to be the best.
But in a way that doesn't involve tearing your competition down.
Because it is a sisterhood, you know?
This doesn’t apply to the other cabins.
Where capture the flag or inter-cabin competition is concerned- y’all are ruthless. Not quite to the extent of Nike, as a willingness to admit defeat is a core part of wartime tactics, but it can get pretty nasty.
Also, unlike Nike’s cabin, y’all are far less rowdy.
There is an understanding regarding the importance of quiet spaces to study and grow. Therefore strict quiet hours are in place at the cabin. This makes it the best possible retreat to study, read, or simply unwind after a stressful day of social interaction.
I can’t see Athena’s cabin being a party cabin to any extent (you’d have to go to Ares’ or Aphrodite’s for that).
Great friends with Hecate’s Cabin.
Whilst never mentioned in the books, there is a very similar dynamic between Athena and Hecate and I feel like the children of each goddess would get along.
The emphasis on academic success and high parental expectations is strong in both cabins.
As a result, I could see frequent trips between both cabins as study buddies or training partners. With Athena’s cabin focusing more so on the athletics and Hecate’s on the academics. This forms a symbiotic relationship in which both cabins assist and support each other where the other lacks.
Because nothing screams “gifted kid burn out” more than hating to study but also hating getting anything below a 90 on a test.
Being traditionally designated as the “smart kid” and coasting through school and tests due to your intelligence having never properly developed studying methods and then emotionally shutting down when academics start becoming actually challenging because you’ve internalized your intellect as a key personality trait resulting in a pervasive sense of imposter syndrome and inadequacy is so Athena-coded.
But I digress.
Also there are some major perks to having witchy friends.
The occasional pig-transforming spell or levitation potion goes a long way for hijinks and other rule-breaking, mischievous activities.
An adrenaline rush for sure, and a good way to absolutely traumatize the other campers.
They know they shouldn’t mess with either one of you.
Also, on the topic of breaking the rules.
Dress code who?
Yeah, you and the Aphrodite kids are not following the dress code. Ever.
Truly that neon orange is atrocious.
And dress codes stifles creativity and squanders individualism, regulating students to being part of a collective as opposed to embracing their unique self.
Or something like that.
If you and the rest of your cabin mates put your minds to it, you could write the single most convincing appeal to revoke dress code restrictions, get the signatures of every camper on campus, and deliver it to Chiron all neat and packaged with a wax seal.
And if that does not work, simply not follow it.
As a form of protest, of course.
They can’t punish all of you if everyone is doing it.
Alright. I have been seeing a lot of “x Miguel O’Hara” spiderverse content recently so I decided to add my measly contribution to the pile.
Although, I have to wonder if anyone will be interested because this is “x OC” and not “x Y/N” so I guess we will find out lmaooooo.
This takes place about a year-ish prior to the events of ATSV (honestly the timeline is extremely unclear). So without further ado, this is the story of how my spidersona joined the spider society. lmk if you want part two...
~~~~~
(she looks so wonderfully judgmental, I love her)
TW: gore mostly. Cyberpunk 2077 vibes (is that a TW? idk). Canon compliant (I think). Is bad Spanish a TW? Look, I’m trying my best.
Miguel is investigating an anomalous occurrence on Earth 1342 but encounters some unexpected interference in the form of a spider-person who seems to be working for the bad guy. Witty banter and hijinks ensue. Not sure if this qualifies as enemies to lovers because the flirting is pretty mild. But sure.
A Hero For Hire : Part One of (?)
It was supposed to be an open and shut case.
Get in, secure the anomaly, get out.
Unfortunately, fate is a cruel mistress and things seldom work out according to plan.
Earth - 1342.
Year - 2089.
Miguel was scouting the expansive, sterile building from a balcony a few terraces away. The astringent odors of antiseptics bathed his tongue, detectable from the large Alchemax laboratory even at this distance.
Despite this dimension's proximity in year and technological prowess to his own, the two could not be any more unlike each other.
While Miguel's home world was a pristine, shining beacon of scientific innovation and social progression, this world bore unmistakable signs of untempered capitalism and corporate corruption. Neon-lit arteries pulsed with vibrant lucidity, casting an iridescent glow upon the restless streets below. The sleepless silhouettes of humanity hurried amidst a symphony of flickering lights and perpetually wailing sirens. The cityscape stretched before him like a mesmerizing tapestry of steel, glass, and unfettered product placement. Futuristic advertisements flickered and morphed upon gigantic holographic billboards, selling the empty promise of personal fulfillment via unregulated consumerism.
Unlike the brisk, clean atmosphere of his home dimension, the air here felt heavy and dirty in his lungs. The pungent odor of gasoline and pollution plagued each inhale, causing a discomforting rattling within his chest.
Beneath its flashy, neon veneer, the city of Novus York masked a much darker underbelly. Corporate giants loomed like monolithic gods, their towers piercing the skyline. Here, power and greed walk hand in hand, and morality often yields to the whims of the corporations.
It was one of the more dangerous universes currently on his radar. And as such, Miguel had insisted on this retrieval being a solo mission, unwilling to risk the safety of the others. Even so, this universe hadn't quite figured out the fundamentals of multiversal travel. Alchemax was experimenting on the anomalies they find by chance following the super collider accident in universe 1610. Miguel couldn't allow this line of experimentation to continue lest he risk another accident. It shouldn't have happened in the first place and therefore cannot be allowed to persist.
The retrieval of the captive anomaly and the subsequent destruction of any data collected should have been easy enough.
Should have.
It wasn't.
It never is.
Miguel heard the mechanical whirring of robotic limbs before he saw their approach. With sudden ferocity, a tremendous force struck his chest, propelling him through a nearby window. The shattering of glass created a whirlwind of sharp-edged fragments that tore into his suit, leaving a trail of crimson in their wake. His back found resistance against the brick wall within the building behind him, slamming into the weathered stones with a powerful thud. His shoulder clipped against the fire alarm, smashing through the box and triggering the loud droning ring. Misters overhead deployed, sending a spray of water showering down into the hall. Pain surged through him as the shards of glass burrowed into his clothing, each inflicting relentless stings that jolted up his spine.
Desperation fueled his reflexes and he managed to seize one of the menacing mechanical spider limbs that loomed above him. Blood leaked through his hand as the bladed weapon punctured his suit, causing a static fizzle of colored particles to glitch along his fingertips.
He could feel her breath ghosting across his cheek as his assaulter pushed him harder against the wall. One of her mechanical limbs impaled straight through the stone by his left shoulder, gaining purchase among the concrete. Her lips were peeled back in an awful hiss. The mask hiding Miguel's face concealed the intensity of his emotions, but he knew that the same fierce determination reflected in his opponent's visage mirrored his own. A third mechanical limb raised above her head, poised to strike through his heart. Miguel yanked down on the limb within his grasp, jerking her toward him. He slammed his head against her face, causing her grip on him to slacken. Momentarily disoriented, she stumbled backward. In one swift motion, Miguel seized the opportunity, delivering a powerful kick that sent her hurtling through a nearby door and tumbling into the hallway beyond.
Without hesitation, Miguel leaped through the fractured doorway. He tucked into a roll as his shoulder came in contact with the linoleum below, allowing the momentum to assist him in regaining his footing. His arm blades glinted malevolently in the dim light, and with decisive precision, he brought them crashing down upon her. The collision was cataclysmic, shattering her body into hundreds of reflective shards that scattered and dispersed into the night.
What the hell?!
That was not normal.
Agonizing, fiery pain surged through Miguel's shoulder, eliciting a guttural howl that echoed in the corridor. A substance that looked suspiciously like webbing had been set ablaze and attached to his back. Desperately, he tried to dislodge the fiery webbing, his hands futilely grappling with the sticky, burning mass. Even the water raining from above did little to avail the fire. Instead, it further exacerbated the situation. The water caused molten flames to drip down the contours in his muscles, singing the unstable molecule fabric of his suit. Despite glitching, the suit adapted quickly, actively repairing itself in the process.
“I'm afraid that water isn't going to do much for you here, darling.” Her taunting tone hardly registered in Miguel's pain-stricken mind. “ Thermite causes class D fires."
Miguel slammed his back into the wall, peeling off the webbing and smothering the flames at the cost of scorching his suit even further. He finally had a moment of reprieve, his head snapping up to her.
She sat leisurely on the ceiling, adhering to its water-slick surface with her fingertips. All of this confirmed his suspicions. She was a kindred spirit, a spiderman variant like himself, yet this newfound knowledge left him with more questions than answers.
She tilted her head at him, her full lips parting into an easy grin. Elsewise, her face was entirely obscured by an enigmatic mask that perched delicately on the bridge of her nose. Neatly tucking her mechanical bladed limbs at her sides, she spoke with a casual tone, “you’re new. I haven’t seen you around before.”
Miguel's frustration boiled over, exasperated by the apparent lack of injury on her pristine suit. "How are you... I stabbed you!"
“Yeah, that was rude.” She purred, dismissing his concern with an almost playful disregard.
“You’re the rude one. You attacked me!” Miguel’s eye markings narrowed in annoyance.
Her tone was nonchalant as she replied. "And you're trespassing on company property, in employee housing no less. I'm just doing my job, dearest. No hard feelings." Rising to her feet, her cascading russet brown locks fell gently in front of Miguel’s face, emanating a scent of vanilla and cinnamon shampoo that mingled in the air.
“Yeah.” Miguel scoffed. “No hard feelings.” The uppercut came with little warning, but just as before, the second his hand made contact with her, she shattered into fragmented pieces and vanished.
“Ay, coño!” Miguel cursed loudly and spun around, haunted by the sound of her laughter. He whirled around, desperately searching for his attacker. He noticed her skirting by at the edges of his vision. And then again across the ceiling. And again by the door. How many of her were there?
His eyes darted around, trying to track her multiple doppelgangers dancing along the periphery of his vision. Suddenly, flames erupted once more, and searing pain erupted through his suit as the webbing landed across his shoulders once again.
He didn’t have time for this.
With an enraged scream, he tore at the webbing, lobbing it into the hallway beyond.
His movements, now frenzied, mirrored the untamed fury of a wild beast unleashed. Laser webs surged forth, seeking their true target—the spider woman herself—. There were numerous misses as many of them instead flew through her illusory dopplegangers. His claws quickly followed as he attacked with the ferality of a wild animal. Eventually, one of his webs found the true spider woman, wrapping around her ankles, she fell under the might of his retaliatory strikes. With lightning speed, he shot a web, anchoring it to a nearby wall, then propelled himself with a tremendous force, soaring across the room in a single bound. His descent was swift and unyielding, as he slammed his feet onto her form with fierce determination. She crumpled under the assault, her voice strained with pain.
He wasted no time in digging his claws into her shoulders. His talons pierced clean through her suit, causing blood to well up along her skin which stained the edges of the white fabric. The water pelting down upon them from the sprinkler system mixed with blood, pooling beneath her in trickles of dark maroon.
With an abrupt hiss, the spider woman retaliated. One of her robotic limbs raised above her head and struck down on Miguel, just below his calf. There was a loud, resounding popping sound that sounded akin to a gunshot followed by a sensation of blinding hot pain. But Miguel was too far gone to be deterred, he grabbed her by the throat.
“You’re supposed to be one of the good guys!” He snarled and slammed her into the ground.
She clawed helplessly at his wrists. “Ugh, you hero types and your binary ethics." Her voice sounded strained under the pressure of his palm digging into her trachea. Miguel was courteous enough to ease up on her windpipe to allow her to formulate a complete sentence: an action which he would quickly come to regret.
"You must be so naive if you think that the world is truly that black and white." She coughed and tilted her head back. Her lips parted with an eerie creaking sound. Her jaw unhinged, distorting her previously delicate features. The skin alongside her cheeks split, blood oozing up from the freshly torn wounds which curled up in a vile, bloody grin. Thousands of needle-like fangs protruded from her red-stained gums and she lunged forward.
Miguel instinctively recoiled in aversion, his hands slipping from their ironclad grip. This sudden displacement of weight allowed the woman to shift underneath him; her hips snapped upwards, unbalancing him. He pitched forward, rolling across the floor on his shoulder to swiftly regain his footing. However, as he attempted to stand firmly, his knee betrayed him, buckling under the strain. Hissing in pain, he braced himself against a wall, turning to meet the gaze of his attacker.
It was as if nothing had happened.
She leaned lackadaisically against the wall, her demeanor composed and unblemished, not a trace of injury marring her pristine appearance. Her perfectly manicured smile exuded an eerie poise. Her coat draped gracefully around her, defying the onslaught of water that surrounded them by remaining completely dry. Her hands rested gracefully in by her lap, exuding an air of serene composure.
"What are you?" Miguel seethed.
He couldn't tell what was real and wasn't around her. Reality itself seemed to bend and warp around her, collapsing upon itself in a writhing net of twisting delusion. However, she never registered as an anomaly. She was not the one he was after. It made no sense. Why was she protecting it?
"I'm no less human than you are." She countered evenly, tilting her head. "And I'm not your villain."
"You sure?" Miguel commented dryly. "Because delaying me while the company you work for unravels reality itself seems like a pretty villainous thing to do."
"Wait." The smile fell from her lips. "Come again?"
"Is that not what you're doing here? Working for Alchemax?" Miguel's patience was running thin. He crouched low, muscles tensing as he prepared to attack.
"Whoa. Hold on. Time out here, big fella." The woman's robotic limbs sheathed themselves into a small metallic pack located between her shoulder blades. A gesture of peace. "Why are you here again?"
Miguel hesitated, uncertainty plaguing his movements. "I am here to detain and remove an anomalous asset from this universe to preserve the integrity of the multiverse."
"You're aware of how you sound right now, right?" The woman's tone was incredibly dry and disbelieving.
"I don't have time for this." Growing more frustrated, Miguel attempted to brush past her, but his body betrayed him. His right foot met the floor, and with searing pain, his ankle gave way, causing him to stumble and crash against the hard ground with a loud grunt.
The woman’s smile was semi-apologetic. "Yeah. Uhm. I severed your calcaneal tendon. You're not going to be walking anytime soon, dearest." The woman crouched by him, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, enveloping her in a soft, halo-like glow beneath the humming fluorescent lights. "Means you have plenty of time to explain to me exactly what you are trying to achieve here."
Miguel glared up at her. As much as he hated to admit it.... he needed backup. Pushing himself up against the wall, he reached for his wrist only to find the metal gizmo absent from its usual location.
"Looking for this?" The woman chided softly, holding up the precious technology tauntingly between two fingers. "I copped it off you when you were choking me out. Thanks for that, by the way. Everyone's going to believe I'm into some very kinky shit when the bruises surface."
Miguel lurched forward, extending a desperate hand toward the device. "Give that ba-" He could hardly even finish the sentence. Searing, white-hot agony shocked through his entire system, frying his nerves in a splattering of bright colors. His arm twitched grotesquely as the glitching ravaged his body, sending his head abuzz with prickling needles of torment.
"Oh. That looks painful." The woman mused, a curious tilt to her head.
Groaning, Miguel pushed himself up once more from the floor. "You don't say."
The spider woman cooed, flipping the device over in her fingers. "Does this doohickey stop you from doing that?"
"It's a gizmo." Miguel corrected.
Her smirk took on a cautionary edge, "it's going to get smashed if you keep talking back."
"No!" Miguel attempted to lunge for it again, but she deftly darted out of the way.
"I'll give it back if you behave." The flirtatious lilt in her voice was unmistakable. "Tell me who you are and what you meant by the whole multiverse spiel." She tossed the cuff up in the air, catching it with ease.
Miguel glared at her, the half-moon markings on his mask narrowing into hate-filled slits. "Why would I bother with some common Alchemax goon?"
"Goon?" The woman echoed. She chuckled. "oh, no, hun. I don't work for Alchemax specifically. I'm an independent contractor. They hired me to secure the perimeter."
Miguel stared at her incredulously. A hero for hire? The concept was unbelievably laughable.
"I can feel your judgment from here." The woman acknowledged, her smile faltering. "My student loans aren't going to pay themselves off."
"But Alchemax?! Of all the shady, obviously evil corporations-"
"Look. I'm not proud of it either." She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "But moneys really tight right now."
Miguel rolled his eyes. "I hope the money is worth the destruction of the universe."
"Yeah okay. About that. Why is that happening again?" She continued to fiddle with the watch, easily slipping her small hand through the opening and settling it across her wrist.
"Stop that!" Miguel snapped and launched a web at the device. The glowing thread projected straight through the woman's abdomen and affixed itself to the wall behind her.
She paused and looked down at the laser webbing that still remained within her incorporeal form. "Oh. Well that's embarrassing." She chuckled.
Miguel practically quivered from ill-suppresssed rage. "Where are you?!"
The woman's illusory form flickered and then reappeared a few feet in front of him.
"I'm around." She reached out. Miguel instinctively flinched away from her touch, however, it phased right through him without so much of a tickle. "But as near as I can tell, you have an expiration date without this little watch thingy and I can sit here all day. So. Talk."
Miguel resented everything about this situation. He sighed, shoulders slumping. "My name is Miguel O'Hara and I lead an elite taskforce dedicated to the security of the multiverse-"
"Love that for you." She cooed. "But what does that have to do with me and Alchemax?"
"Will you just.... stop talking and let me finish?" Miguel bit back.
Amidst the rhythmic cascade of water from the sprinkler system, her illusory persona drifted upwards, giggling softly. At that moment, the relentless stream of water ceased, finally allowing a small moment of reprieve from the incessant pounding of water from the sprinkler system.
The wailing of sirens drew even closer, signaling that the time frame of sanctuary here was rapidly dwindling.
Miguel exhaled in irritation. "When a being is pulled from one dimension into another they don't belong in, their mere existence threatens the canon."
"Canon?" The woman echoed.
"Established events required for preserving the integrity of the timeline."
"Oh. Fate." She mused softly, still fidgeting with the gizmo.
"A drastic oversimplification, but sure."
"Doesn't predestination have severe negative implications on the existence of freewill?" She questioned.
"I-" Miguel groaned, "do you want an explanation or do you want to philosophize?"
"Alright. Putting that existential crisis on the back burner." The spider woman shrugged. "How do you know that breaking canon causes universal collapse?"
"Because it happened to me." Miguel's head tilted forward slightly, the tension along his shoulder easing.
"You did what now?"
"That doesn't matter.” Miguel’s tone was brisk as he evaded delving into the specifics. “All that matters is that I broke too many canon events and now it's gone. An entire universe. It's all gone."
"Holy shit." A frown tinged the edges of her lips. "That's really traumatic.... I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Astute observation." Miguel commented with a deadpan tone.
"No, I mean it." Her usually humorous tone fell into a sympathetic murmur. Miguel found it unsettling, as if her empathy threatened cut through his defenses. She was an enemy. “And now you're going around making sure that it doesn't happen again."
"Yes. Which is why I need-" once again, the glitching racked his body, causing him to contort and contract, battered by the rolling waves of pain. "-the gizmo."
The woman didn't seem to be considering his words. "How long have you been doing this?”
“About six months now.” Miguel answered boredly.
She paused, looking contemplative. “And these people in the wrong dimensions"
"Anomalies."
"-yes, sure. These anomalies. Do you kill them? Or do you have a way to send them back?"
"We send them back."
"And Alchemax has one. Which is why you're here."
"Almost burst a vein figuring out that one, didn't you?" Miguel commented impassively.
The woman huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "That's a lot of smack talk coming from the man with a severed achilles.”
"Yeah. Thanks for that,” Miguel quipped sarcastically.
"Consider it payment for choking me out."
Miguel regarded her with a deadpan stare. "Those two things don't even remotely equate.”
She barked out a laugh. "Stop making me like you."
"No. You stop-” He didn’t allow himself to finish that sentence. “Fine. Just give me back the gizmo." He extended a hand out toward her, despite knowing that both she and the gizmo she currently possessed were illusory. The meaning behind the gesture remained the same.
The woman hummed softly. "I will. But then what do we do next?"
"I apprehend the anomaly. You stay out of my way." Miguel dug his talons into the wall, using the extra purchase to heave himself up right.
The illusion did not look impressed. "Limping like that? You won't get really far. I'll deal with it. It's my mess. I'll clean it up."
"You're untrained and sloppy. You will be doing no such thing." Miguel pushed forward, using contact against the wall to pull himself along.
She chortled. "If I'm the sloppy one, then you must be really embarrassed right now."
"Cállate!" Miguel growled. "You fight dirty."
"I fight to survive." She replied softly, her sudden seriousness in her tone drew Miguel to a brief standstill. "I got this. I'll bring back your doohickey as soon as I am able."
"It's a gizmo!"
"Yeah. Okay." The illusion flickered and then vanished.
Miguel let out an outraged roar, slamming his fist against the wall "La chica estúpida se va a matar a sí misma." He grumbled.
Merry Christmas! I figured, what better way to celebrate Ciel’s birthday month than with a match up!
I match you with....
Ciel Phantomhive!
This one was a struggle, but not for reasons you'd expect. I knew almost instantaneously that you two would be perfect for each other. The only issue is that, well, he's a child. And ageing him up is a morally grey zone for me. I oscillated between him and Undertaker to be perfectly honest because I find both to be rather fitting. But there were a few idiosyncrasies with Undertaker. For example, I am not sure you would have a steel enough gut to be hanging out with him in a putrid room smelling of formaldehyde and rot. As a nursing student, and having witnessed many classmates run out of the room to puke, I can promise you that it ain't a great smell.
So I'm breaking my one rule and ageing Ciel up. And it is important you heed that going into this.
But I digress.
First of all, your aesthetics mesh perfectly. Someone of Ciel's station requires a lady who is capable of maintaining her image and preserving the reputation of both her and her lord.
As such, a lot of pressure is placed on you in terms of appearances. Everything down to the amount of skin you are permitted to show on your ankles must be considered.
It is a very constricting lifestyle to say the least. But since you already gravitate towards similar aesthetics, the transition would not likely be as jarring.
Ciel never quite did grow out of his childhood stature, despite anxiously waiting for a growth spurt that was never to come. It was almost as though his growth was stunted by another entity entirely.
That being said, he was able to creep up a few extra centimetres. With the addition of heels (fun fact, heels were initially invented as part of men's fashion), he is able to comfortably surpass you in stature. Which is well and good because let's be honest, his fragile ego would not take kindly to be shorter than his lady.
He dislikes it when you wear heels. Not that he'd ever say it to your face. He'd just start making snide, passive-aggressive remarks.
~
Ciel is known to be very intimidated by confident, bold, and well.... intimidating women. Although this fear is more likely to manifest as spite or anger than cowardice, it is important that he isn't threatened by your presence.
And I don't think he would be.
You two are kindred spirits in your introversion.
But what really gets him is that er of mystery.
What kinds of secrets lie behind those clouded blue eyes and hushed lips?
The Queen's Guard dog can't help but start sniffing around.
The aloof persona you uphold intrigues him.
The early days of your acquaintanceship is spent with him asking increasingly prodding questions.... and probably having his butler dig around your past. You poor thing won't be able to catch a break.
Yes, there is intelligence behind those blue eyes. And intellect Ciel recognises in himself.
A quiet contemplation and silent observance.
You're not like the others.
If only he could crack your shell and see what you truly think.
~
Suffice to say, you figure out that something is off about the mansion staff, the butler especially, very quickly.
You're also smart enough to know to keep your mouth shut about it.
Silently questioning the "miracles" the butler seems to perform.
The queen's guard dog has a reputation that precedes him. A reputation for making people vanish. And you don't want to be another lost name in the newspapers.
Of course, this only leads to more probing on Ciel's part who has a suspicion that you know something. He isn't aware to what extent your knowledge lies, though.
He dismisses his feelings as a "matter of security" and claims his interest in you lies only in the fact that he perceives you as a potential danger. Much to the teasing of his annoying butler, who is completely aware of the real reasons.
Humans really do live with their hearts on their sleeves.
~
There is an unspoken and rather one-sided game of chess that unfolds between the two of you. Ciel fighting to gain the upper hand and you refusing to participate in the interest of preserving your life.
A kind of cat and mouse that the butler seems to take twisted pleasure in.
But things start to warm up eventually.
You befriend the servants first, because they are far less prickly.
Except the butler. Because he gives off these really bad vibes. You can't quite put a finger on it. It's unnerving. Just looking at his face throws you right into the uncanny valley.
You and the other servants share some tender moments.
You gently coach Bard on how to cook: much to the chagrin of the militant butler, it works. Together you are able to bake an unburnt, edible muffin.
You and Finny loudly singing in the garden
You helping Mey Rin to read and write
These moments catch the eye of the Earl of the manor. Your gentle, compassionate patience starkly contrasts everything else he has experienced of humanity and is an undeniably alluring trait.
Even he can't help but warm up to your kind temperament.
You two juxtapose each other perfectly.
You are the optimism to his nihilism.
A soothing voice in the dark and constant figure of comfort and kindness.
You two balance each other out. You encourage him to see the beauty in the world, as he has been blindsided by the dark.
~
Sebastian despises you.
He's spent years cultivating a perfect soul to feast upon, seasoning it with grief and misery.
And then you have the nerve to waltz in and ruin it all with hope.
Vile, disgusting hope.
The stench of it ladens your soul, almost masking the tantalising innocence within.
He needs to ruin you. To break you off from Ciel so that you can't continue being a positive influence on him.
There is just one tiny issue. His master has ordered him not to harm you in any way, emotionally, physically, or psychologically.
But Ciel didn't say anything about Sebastian not being allowed to manipulate Ciel into hurting you himself.
This matter requires discretion and a gentle touch.
Naturally he resolves to seduce you.
Because if he can lure you into his bedchamber and set up a situation in which Ciel catches the two of you, Ciel would never be able to trust you again. And the heartbreak would only add to the deliciousness of the pain.
I'll let you decide how this one plays out. Do you have the willpower to resist the charms of a demon?
~
The other servants, however, have the exact opposite reaction.
Clearly you and Ciel are perfect for one another.
So they start to scheme and put together a plan to get the two of you together.
Naturally, it goes horribly wrong.
Likely due to their sheer incompetence.
The perfect date had planned for the two of you as unwitting victims goes awry.
It's really awkward.
But it's also when Ciel realises that he has begun to develop feelings for you. Well. He had a long time ago but he seemed to be stuck in a river in Egypt.
Denial. (Hah!)
So I guess, in a way, it kinda worked?
~
The thing about Ciel is that he is an entitled brat.
And I mean this in the most loving way possible.
But he is.
When you first begin courting he will mistake his place at your side for ownership over you.
He will try to dictate what you eat. Who you talk to. How you dress. The company you keep. Everything down to the way you do your hair.
All in "your best interest"
It stems from abandonment issues.
Everyone he ever loved either died or left him. By being overly controlling, Ciel is trying to ensure that you stay.
Because he needs you to stay.
You'll have to shut him down real fast.
This may be one of the first times you reveal your independent, stubborn side.
A side that scares him.
You aren't just an agreeable caregiver.
You are a human person with desires and needs. And you are fiercely independent.
Years ago, such an attitude would have caused Ciel to feel intimidated and thus spiteful. But now, he learns that he respects you.
And so he begins to allow you to help with cases.
Your analytical mind proves to be incredibly useful.
You two become a crime-solving duo, largely regarded as unstoppable by the underworld.
A lady Detective.
What a preposterous notion!
Just watch out for the butler. A demon's patience for its prey is infinite. And he is waiting...
~
You hailed from an influential family, one of money and prestige. And as such, you were fortunate enough to receive an education.
To add onto your fortunes, your parents believed in educated women so you were permitted to attend University.
Of course, your fortunes only lasted so long and as a woman, you were soon expected to marry and mother children. Whom you married was entirely not up to you.
Suitors were called in and thus the courting commenced.
But you were problematic. Your hobbies, while many were befitting a lady, were not all acceptable.
You’d often return home with twigs in your hair and a scrape on your knees from taking fall while out romping through the woods. Many of your dresses were torn from such excursions.
This habit was completely unacceptable.
Paired with your independent nature, you scared off many suitors. Probably because you truly did not want to marry any of them.
And when faced with the choice of remaining in the family and marrying a stranger, or running away, you chose the latter.
You managed to get decent work as a private tutor. You taught your passions: language and literature.
You were eventually hired on by a University as in-house Governess to the student body. Many students saw you as their peer due to the lack of age differentials between you and them.
~
I was at this job that you met Ciel. You remember well the first words Ciel said to you, or rather about you. “you really think this child can help you?”.... Yeah he is never going to live that one down
You see...
Whilst sitting at your desk, going over an essay with another student, the dean of the school opened your door, holding a disgruntled sophomore by the collar of his shirt.
He looked around your age, a leather eyepatch covering one of his crystal blue eyes.
He hardly spared you any recognition and instead turned back towards the dean with a petulant expression, “you really think this child can help you?”
Child?!
You were fairly certain you were older than him.
“Miss [NAME] has an incredibly bright mind and can assist you in your conjugations.”
The dean promptly shoved the rude man into your room then turned on his heel and left.
Scoffing, the navy-haired student practically kicked the other student from your room and deposited himself in the chair mumbling something about how annoying it was that he had to do this a second time.
Second time?
He had been to college before?
Oh, boy.
This one would take some work.
Some talking led you to believe that he was a transfer student of some kind from a fancy private school in the classier districts.
He also immediately recognised your last name and was incredibly curious as to why you left your family behind.
He found your reasonings to be frivolous and ultimately pointless.
It was a long hour of you trying your very best to not lash out at the pompous student.
And then, as the days progressed, you began to notice stranger circumstances surrounding the boy who introduced himself as Aouli:
Disappearances of fellow students he was reportedly close to. All of poorer families and social outcasts.
His own inexplicable absences.
Comings and goings at the most peculiar times in the night.
A new, handsome professor he seemed oddly familiar towards.
That new professor really got on your nerves. Everything about him down to the skin he wore seemed fabricated. You were also the only female staff member not totally besotted with him.
He and the student definitely had something going on. At first, you wholly assumed it was some form of bribery for better grades, an injustice which you could not stand.
So you resolved to gather proof to ensure that such unfairness would not continue.
You eventually gathered between eavesdropping and snippets of conversation that the two of them had been sent here by someone for some reason. And that only deepened your curiosity.
Your snooping would prove to be nearly lethal.
You got too close to the truth.
One night, as you were tidying up your desk, something came forth from the dark and a blanket of fabric was pressed to your lips.
You tried to scream but all sound was muffled by the intrusion of cloth. And then your mind began to grow hazy, you felt yourself wash away with the pulling tides of sleep. And you were out.
As a dim light began to filter through your bleary vision, you realised with a jolt that you were no longer in your office.
Your wrists ached from the persistent sharp pain of rope digging into your skin.
Your head pounded as your body struggled to fight off the effects of the drug.
You were being held in a dark room, several other students, mostly of poorer standing were huddled together, held captive along with you.
The stench in the room was putrid, a horrendous odour of decay and the metallic tang of dried blood.
“You should have kept well away from what doesn’t concern you....”
The voice... you recongised that voice....
Swinging your head rapidly to and fro, you managed to swivel back and face none other than the dean of your school.
You had assumed that Aouli was the cause of the disappearances you had been noticing, but it seemed you were wrong.
Entirely wrong.
The sound of shouts and bullets filled the air, causing a pitched ringing to snap through your ears.
Emerging from the dark Aouli strode forth, cane in hand. Behind him, like an ominous shadow, the dark professor loomed. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim, something you initially wrote off as a trick of the light.
“Ah, Dean Bennet. What a completely expected “surprise”.” Aouli’s voice dripped in a venomous sarcasm, the smile plastered on his face seemed all too sinister to be genuine.
“Brat! I knew I should have expelled you long ago!” The dean raised his firearm, pointing it towards the bluenette.
You were not entirely sure how Professor Michaelis managed to cross the room in such a short time. It seemed that he was standing far opposite to Bennet, and then he was across the room. His hand grasped the barrel of the gun, his gloved finger pressed against the nozzle. Then the metal began to contort, bending upwards with each painful creak. Having successfully bent the barrel into uselessness, the professor took a step back, placing a hand over his heart.
“Now, now, is that any way to treat an earl?”
“Earl?”
Aouli took a step forward, still boasting that all-to-malicious grin. “I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive and by orders of the queen you are under arrest.”
Phantomhive. You had heard that name before. A toymaker. But you had also heard whispers of another name. The Queen’s Guard Dog.
Aouli.... Or really Ciel, must have been sent to investigate the disappearances. This is why he has gotten so close to the potential victims. He had managed to find the exact pattern you already had in the types of people who disappeared.
But why? For what reason?
And how did the professor LITERALLY JUST BEND THE GUN IN HALF?
You didn’t have too long to process.
Chaos broke out.
Dean Bennet struck Ciel with the damaged gun and made a break for it. He plucked a student up from the floor, bringing a knife to the girl’s throat threatening to kill.
If he thought that action would have spared him or bought him some time, he was wrong.
Ciel commanded Professor Michaelis to “take care of it” and with the response of “yes, my lord” the professor attacked.
With a splatter of blood, two bodies hit the floor. Both of the girl and Bennett. His dying screams haunt you to this day....
And that was it.
Your binds were broken and law enforcement was called.
You gathered from eavesdropping that the school had fallen on hard times. With no further options and a passion to continue the learning, Bennet had been slowly picking off poor lower-class students. The black sheep that no one would miss to harvest their organs and bodies and sell them to nearby medical facilities for research purposes.
It seemed that the corruption ran deep.
Having been through such a harrowing experience, and witnessing the lack of empathy and morality of both Ciel and his butler, as you later found out, you were wise to avoid any and all things Phantomhive.
But of course, fate had other plans for you.
Your paths would cross again and next time, you may not be so lucky.
Aphrodite's kids are way more OP than Zues' or Poseidon's kids and I am going to prove it.
TW: drugs mostly, overdose
I looked up the kid's powers and omg no one told me they were this powerful. They can literally make someone drop dead with love. Don't believe me? Here me out.
Aphrodite kids can canonically control love. Amokensis. And love is essentially a chemical reaction of a mixture of pleasure hormones such as dopamine and oxytocin in the brain. The reason why drugs are so addictive is because they hit your brain up with lots of dopamine. That is why being in love with someone is physically addictive and many people demonstrate withdrawal symptoms after breaking up.
Okay, so we've established that Aphrodite's kids can essentially get people high in command by hitting them up with abnormal levels of oxytocin.
Now what happens if someone were to take too much of any drug?
Exactly.
Aphrodite's kids can literally make someone OD on love.
~
And if that is not enough, they don't even need cbarmspeak to turn the world around them into mindless slaves. They can get people addicted to their magic. So addicted that they would be willing to do anything, absolutely anything for another hit.
I'm officially headcanoning that this is how charmspeak works.
Im a little lazy introvert, my sing is Taurus. I really like begin(?) alone, but also sometimes I like hang out with friends. I think that Im usually acting funny when Im with someone I know. I love spending my time alone, with listening to music, drawing or just thinking. I have high hopes but Im not really ambitious...I may be sometimes a bit impulsiwe, when Im with someone I dont know or in new place Im getting really awkward or shy. My psyche is weak, so Im getting sad easly, but I don't show this or Im trying not to. I love drawing, listening to music, reading, animals especially cats.
-Idk what to put here... Sorry for bad english but its not my national language. -
You're English is quite understandable, my dear! It is amazing that you are making an effort to speak it! I've dedicated four years of my life to learning Spanish and have come out of it having gained essentially nothing. Although, I blame it on our shitty schooling system. Ahem. But I digress. Without further ado, your...
Super Power Matchup
Your power directly reflects your hands-off and introverted nature. With the ability to manipulate objects with your mind, you are the envy of all lazy souls. You have the power of telekinesis.
Those with telekinesis are often sharp-witted and intuitive. They feel deeply and are able to use that feeling to manipulate their surrounds. While it is a well known ability, there is no denying its usefulness.
On a domestic scale, a telekinesis user may never need to leave the comfort of their bed ever again. They can be cooking supper whilst sitting on the couch watching Netflix. Any out of reach item hoists itself up and drifts towards their lackadaisically extended hand.
In a combative sense, a telekinesis user could render their opponent useless with a single flick of their wrist, dangling their attacker by the ankles. They could also choke someone to death with their mind. Perhaps, if they are more creative, they could crush their victim's spleen.
Weaknesses
Telekinesis is like a muscle and has to be exercised. It takes a lot of energy to throw around cars. You have to build up to it. Meditation is a great way to do this!
Lack of use will cause the power to deteriorate
It requires a lot of focus to keep a telekinetic hold on an object
