#and will express those emotions in ways that might feel foreign to most humans

[bottombaron]

whenever i think abt writing Nandor and i get going thru a series of sequences of him behaving like a well-adjusted, caring, adult i have to stop myself, backspace several mental paragraphs and remember that he's basically a semi-captive lion being observed in a nature documentary and he functions on 92% Id

[inukag-archive]

We’ve got you covered, anon! Hurt/comfort is a well-loved trope in the InuKag fandom, so to keep this list at a reasonable length, we limited ourselves to one story per author. However, there are a few authors who specialize in whump and have several more stories within that category that you might enjoy. We added ** after their handles so that you know to check out their author pages for more! 

P.S. If anyone is craving the reverse (injured/sick Kagome with Inuyasha caring for her), you can find our recommendations here!)

Gif by fic-finder @lostinfantasyworlds​

Paralyzer by @splendentgoddess​​ ** (T)

While traveling just the two of them, an unexpected attack leaves Inuyasha temporarily paralyzed. Can his pride survive having to rely on Kagome for aid? And how will he react to her getting all emotional when running away isn't an option? Inu/Kag WAFF

--

Kintsugi by @soliska​ (M)

AU. Failing to be chosen as her village's miko, Kagome had resigned herself to a humble life. An unexpected summons returns her to the city where she's forced to reconcile the taught virtues and the spiralling, warped reality created by those that abuse their power. She holds the key to repairing the fracture between humans and youkai, and the freedom of her new hanyou friend.

--

Free Falling by onyourleftinheels (T)

All Inuyasha ever wanted was to protect Kagome. He would slay the most dangerous beast to impress her. He would fall from the moon if it meant he could catch her. What Inuyasha doesn't realize is that sometimes a physical fall leads to much more.

--

The Scent of Winter by Camudekyu (T)

Winter smells like promises. Spring has to return.

--

Freezer Burn by @kstewdeux​​ ** (NR)

No summary provided.

--

Freak Attraction by @artistefish​ (T)

A birthday outing to see a foreign circus turns into a nightmarish mistake when Kagome stumbles upon a circus of a very different nature and meets a sideshow freak with dog ears and a human heart. [Also be sure to check out the sequel Freak Attraction: Seven-Man Circus (T) for even more Inuyasha whump!]

--

The Way You See Me by King Baka (M)

‘If I transform again, with these claws of mine…I might even tear you up, Kagome.’ For the first time, Kagome must face Inuyasha’s full-youkai transformation alone. Will she be able to reach him, or will Inuyasha’s worst fears come true?

--

Blood and Bandages by Aryndiel (T)

Kagome comes home to find Inuyasha badly injured and reacts in a way that surprises her mother. Mrs. Higurashi wonders: who is this strong, unwavering young woman who looks like her little girl?

--

Rock Bottom by @lavendertwilight89​ (E)

On the night of Inuyasha's weakness, he is attacked and ends up at death's door. Kagome works at the hospital he is brought to and ends up locked in the room with him as a full youkai. Will they be able to get along? Will Inuyasha survive?

--

Brownie Points by @elkonigin​ (T)

Kagome forgot how dog-like Inuyasha could be.

--

Skin by Neisha (T)

Somewhere in her subconscious she could still feel the warmth of his skin under her fingers, and the soft beat of his heart beneath her palm.

--

Claw Marks On My Heart by VampireWriter144 (T)

Inuyasha is left weakened and severely injured from a fierce battle. Kagome is determined to take care of him whether he likes it or not. Interesting situations arise and emotions are expressed.

--

Mocha Latte by KittyKatz (T)

Just a little bit of chocolate can take all the bitterness away. A wounded Inuyasha wakes up in a stranger's apartment and experiences a warmth and acceptance he's never had before. Intended to just be a series of dribbles that can hopefully be just a little bit of chocolate in your day! [T for language]

--

How Does Your Garden Grow? by @dawnrider​ ** (M)

An Ingary-esque AU: Kagome, the newest generation of caretakers of the Higurashi House, finally starts to feel like her garden and business is thriving with the help of her friend Jinenji. Their routine is thrown off by the arrival of an injured visitor who does not want to be found...

--

Hurt by supernovagirl99 (T)

When our favorite duo gets injured, Inuyasha comes out a little worse for wear. Can Kagome save Inuyasha? Who could have done this to him?

--

The Last Stop by @banksdelivers​ (T)

In a world where demons are ostracized by society, Inuyasha has only his pride and the clothes on his back to his name. When Kagome offers him a place to stay during the approaching storm, will he take a helping hand?

Or, that story where Inuyasha is a stubborn idiot and Kagome has to rescue him.

--

Won’t Let Go by TheDiamondSword400 (M)

Kagome struggles to care for Inuyasha when he becomes sick after being injured in a fight.

--

Last One Standing by @lazy8blog​ ** & @mamabearcat​ (T)

Petty fights usually don't seem so petty anymore once you're faced with the possibility that they might be the last fight you'll ever have.

--

A Kiss to Make it Better by @ruddcatha​ (T)

When Inuyasha is injured during a fight, Kagome takes care of his wounds, bandaging them, and follows an example set by her mother. How does the silver haired youth react to the unexpected gesture, and how does he return the favor?

--

Have Faith in Me by AlondraDina (T)

Takes place after episodes 124-126 of the anime, where Naraku kills Kikyo and Kagome almost gets possessed by The Infant. On the way back to her home, Kagome and Inuyasha get caught in a Spring storm and take shelter in an abandoned hut. There Kagome discovers that Inuyasha has been hiding an injury from her.

--

Another Kind of Promise by @fawn-eyed-girl​ (T)

When Inuyasha is unconscious for several days after being viciously attacked by a scorpion yōkai, he has flashes of memories, of moments of Kagome caring for him. While he is out, he has a realization that, when he comes to, he must make clear to her.

[moony-chu]

Status: Currently Sobbing

Genre: fluff to angst

Summary: You watched them get intimate with someone else. As their lover, you were heartbroken. Cue break-up montage

Characters: Albedo, Raiden Shogun

Spoilers: Raiden Shogun's real name

Note: Sorry Raiden's is a bit shorter. I have a harder time writing for her 😅

writing under the cut <3

-> Albedo

Albedo never quite understood human emotions. It was just a foreign concept to him. He didn't spend all to much time thinking on it, deeming it unimportant

That was until he met you at least. You had managed to wriggle your way into a heart that even he didn't know existed

You were his muse. His light in the darkness. The fire to his ice. The...well you get it

The way his heartbeat would pick up around you, the way his face would heat up, the way he couldn't help but smile, all this was new

He spent hours researching about what this feeling could be, and came up with only one result. Love

You, on the other hand, was feeling the exact same things, except the obliviousness to what the feeling was

You've been in love with Albedo since what feels like forever and honestly who isn't. Ever since your good friend Sucrose introduced you to him at least.

The confession was a bit rocky, considering that it was Albedo who did it. Instead of the classic 'will you go out with me?', it was:

"You bring out the strangest yet most pleasant feeling in me when you're around. Most seem to describe it as love. (Y/N), I think I'm in love with you."

You then explained that he is indeed feeling love and that you accept his feelings

Your guys' relationship was a sweet one. Albedo spoiled you relentlessly. He would give you random kisses on your cheek, lightly brush through your hair, draw you whenever he wasn't busy with some project, etc.

But most of all, he would praise you

There wouldn't be an hour that passed by that you haven't been complemented when you're around him. They could be anywhere from generic to outright flattering.

Perhaps this is way it hurt so bad when he slowly drifted away from you

He stopped giving you those small kisses. He stopped brushing through your hair. Heck, he even stopped informing you of when he was going to be in Mondstadt

At first, you figured it was because of some huge project he got himself caught up in. You brushed it off as that too, not wanting to seem selfish

When you caught him drawing Kaeya naked however, your heart shattered

Irrational thoughts ran through your head as you spent the next few hours crying. What could you have done better? What did Kaeya have that you don't?

A lot. The answer was a lot. You knew Kaeya had a lot more charm than you did. He always had

After a bad decision to approach Sucrose on their relationship, your heart broke even more

Sucrose had said that they had always been close. It had obviously been said in a way to help ease your worries, but it did the opposite of her intentions

You approached Albedo the next time you saw him in Mondstadt. You yelled at him, asking what made Kaeya so much better. If he had fallen out of love with you. Why he had even decided to stay with you

Albedo stood there silently. His face didn't hold any expression as you screamed at him

This only confirmed your suspicions in your mind

"We're breaking up Albedo."

With that said, you walked away, holding in your sobs

You couldn't help but feel the slightest hint of disappointment when Albedo didn't follow you. A small part of you might have wanted it to be false, for it all to be a misunderstanding. But that part of you was gone

You'd move on eventually. At least, that's what you told yourself. However, it didn't stop you from sobbing into the pillow he had gifted you long ago

-> Raiden Shogun

Ei never spent all too much time interacting with the people of Inazuma. Her limits were set to the heads of the Tri-Commissions, Yae Miko, and you

It was certainly puzzling how the owner of a small sweets shop had gotten even remotely close to the shogun

Even you didn't quite know how it happened. One moment, you were striking a business deal with a shrine maiden. The next, you're standing in front of the Shogun herself

Apparently, that deal you struck (which involved lots of dango) was for the Shogun

With that, you became the Shoguns very own sweets supplier

Ei found herself growing rather found of you over the weeks. She started looking forward to seeing you, not just her sweets

Her confession was as straightforward as straightforward can get

"(Y/N), I am in love with you. Will you go out with me?"

Your answer was obviously yes

And that's how you and Ei became the talk of Inazuma the first time

You both treated each other very well

You helped Ei with stuff involving the public & cooking

Ei would let it be known that you were her lover, so you got special privileges

But most of all, you two loved each other

Or so you thought

You knew that Yae Miko and Ei had history. You knew that they were and had been good friends. And you were fine with that

When you found them in a situation that wouldn't even be happening if they were friends, you were as equally shocked as you were heartbroken

Yae was most literally climbing on top of Ei; their faces mere inches apart

"I-I can't believe you lied to me like that Ei. We're over!"

You cried out, leaving the scene as quickly as you had stumbled upon it

You left the palace like building looking like a mess. Tears were streaming down your face. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying. The robe you were wearing was barely enough to cover you, let alone stop the cold breeze from reaching your skin (its like late at night okay)

You approached Yoimiya's place with a heavy heart. She was the closest friend you had at the moment

She let you in with open arms without question

You spent that night sobbing into her shoulder, not processing the raging storm happening outside the window

[saturns7ringsinspace]

OC Character Post #1 

Ash Rivera 

General

Ash Rivera - Fraxinus  (her native name)

Age: well 😗… just a couple thousand years old

Race/Species: Aeon/Alien (working on a world building post about this soon)

Birthday: none established yet probably won’t be established for some time. (Or until I finish world building her planet)

Gender: Cis Female

Sexuality: Asexual, Biromantic

Job: Lead Doctor in the JRs medical division 

She’s a magic user/ her magic is pink 💗

Appearance 

Face shape: round

Eye color: dark purpleish 

Skin tone: fair caramelish tone

Hairstyle: (my fav thing about her) two fairly thick braids in front with the back usually down but sometimes in a bun or ponytail, wispy/blunt bangs

Hair color: Light-Ash blonde (get it?!) 

Body type: curvy, what’s considered round/apple

Height: 5’8

Weight: 150lbs

Clothing style: colorful, joyful (outside of work) very feminine I suppose, on the job still pretty joyful scrubs and a white coats lots of pins and accessories tho

Other features: dimples, tooth gap 🥺

Personality

Positive Traits: 

Happy, knows how to makes others happy, always in a cheerful mood and successfully impacts others with her positivity (this makes Dream very fond of her)

Helpful, being a doctor (I hope I mentioned that) she heals and offers good advice 

Mom friend, she’s supportive, protective, sweet, gentle, mom qualities 

Strong, emotionally and physically 

Good at stopping arguments 

Sees the good in almost everyone

Her healing magic is strong and controlled

Negative traits

Her willingness to make everyone feel good and happy can sometimes be exhausting but she suppresses those emotions which is definitely unhealthy 

She’s not necessarily toxic with her positivity, all she wants is to be kind because of all the injustices she’s witnessed, which is why she joined the JR in the first place

Her being the mom friend her protectiveness can become .. overbearing at times

Her strength is one she feels she has to keep up for others she has to be the strong one while everyone else might not

Can be a bit naive at times because she’s foreign to earth

her sweetness is her greatest strength and her greatest weakness

Control over her over forms of magic 

Likes

Being kind

Knitting/Crochet 

Reading

Practice new healing techniques 

Practicing her magic 

Spending time with friends/family

Making new friends 

She is very open to trying new things

Sketching, not too good at it just a hobby

Prefers spicy foods

This lists can go on and on she likes a lot of stuff especially from earth

Dislikes

Rudeness (lil tussles with ink)

Lying

Unreasonable Violence

Star Wars movies (don’t attack me pls)

The cold 

Being underestimated 

TikTok street interviews

Snakes 

Hobbies

Crocheting

Knitting

Embroidery 

Reading

Makeup

Sketching

Beach Stuff

I’m sure there’s more

Health

Mental Health

Complicated, it’s good but I mean everyone has their moments of course. As I mentioned, she’s happy but it’s a bit draining. she doesn’t hate being happy but it can take a toll when she believes she has to be happy for everyone else too.

Physical Health 

I feel like she’d be very underestimated because of her soft and gentle appearance but she’s very physical strong and healthy. Her people have different bodies and they work differently than a human’s would.

Phobias

Snakes; she can’t wrap her head around how Finch likes them so much.

Not being able to be strong enough (mentally, emotionally, physically)

Not fitting in, this one is 50/50, she cares about fitting in with humans and their culture but isn’t afraid of expressing herself in her own unique way.

Hygiene

It’d be very hypocritical of a doctor especially lead doctor to have poor hygiene so yeah of course she has a good hygiene. Smells like honey! 

Additional Info

Relationship Status: Single (for now 😈, I’m gonna write the most beautiful romance between her and Lord Dream and there’s nothing you can do to stop me 🥰😊🫶🏽)

Education: This is a plot hole she’s a doctor but education is never established.

Family Issues: A LOT BUT THIS WILL BE REVEALED IN HER ARC WHEN I HOPEFULLY START OFFICIALLY WRITING THE AU.

[kimsgoeun]

💞💞💞💞💞 Give me all the love languages!!!

@cass1x1

julian

the love language my muse receives love in Words of affirmation and quality time. (I feel like he lacked these growing up so he does tend to respond positively to it 🥲)

the love language my muse expresses love in Probably acts of service for the most part. Mostly because he was raised to go out of his way to help others, but he does like being able to do things for the people he cares about. 

how demonstrative my muse is with love He’s not the most demonstrative about it. He’s definitely more on the subtle side, like it’s more of a natural reflex rather than something he’s doing specifically (hand brushing over someone’s back, leg nudges when you’re sitting together, etc). If he is being more demonstrative, it’s probably because he’s lowkey jealous but is too flustered to use his own words lmfao. 

one random love-language related headcanon He’d make an effort to show he cares in whatever love-language the other person requires, but would struggle mostly with anything words of affirmation wise. Because he’s used to being very matter-of-factly when he’s speaking, it always feel awkward/foreign to him to be more emotional/sentimental in what he’s saying. 

miles

the love language my muse receives love in Quality time, maybe? Or maybe words of affirmation. For Miles, I don’t think he’d necessarily care what form it came in. 

the love language my muse expresses love in Acts of service and gift giving. Because he’s usually so busy with work, he tries to make up for it with things like that.

how demonstrative my muse is with love When he has the time and is there and present, he does his best to show he cares and is invested in the relationship. It probably seems like he’s overcompensating/ingenuine since he is busy all the time, but he does mean to be genuine about it. If anything, it might be harder for the other person to see if that way if they aren’t okay with his work schedule. 

one random love-language related headcanon He would probably design a landscape for someone, or add a special detail for them into his work depending on the project. Expressing himself through his work would probably be the easiest thing for him to do. 

noah

the love language my muse receives love in Words of affirmation and maybe quality time. A lot of the time she confuses physical touch for love, because that’s easier for her to get, but she wants someone to know her inside and out. To have any kind of lasting impression on her she needs to see that someone’s words matches their actions and she needs to be with someone who isn’t exactly with her simply for sex. 

the love language my muse expresses love in Definitely physical touch. It’s easier for her to express love through that. But I do think she also likes giving gifts (if she actually likes the person). Nothing big, but one of those “I saw this and thought of you” kind of things. Or! She’d try to dress them lol. 

how demonstrative my muse is with love She wants to show it more than she actually allows herself to. She’s hesitant to be truly vulnerable with someone else and tends to end up being kind of superficial/shallow in terms of the love she expresses to others. 

one random love-language related headcanon Noah craves genuine human connection, but tends to just take it in whatever form she can get because she doesn’t want to feel alone. Of course because of that, it tends to make her feelings harder to figure out.

zara

the love language my muse receives love in Acts of service or gifts. She just likes knowing someone was thinking of them or that someone went out of their way for them. It makes her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. And if she gets little gifts/trinkets, they totally line her work desk or her shelves at home. 

the love language my muse expresses love in Physical touch and gift giving. Zara would enjoy sending over-the-top gifts to whoever she’s with. She can be cheesy with the way she goes about romancing someone and definitely doesn’t mind pulling all the stops out for them. And then Zara is naturally very affectionate if she knows the other person is okay with it. She loves hand holding, hugs, and cuddling. 

how demonstrative my muse is with love Super much! She loves love and loves being able to express it (big or small). She doesn’t see the point in hiding it, and even in rejection she takes it as a learning experience. 

one random love-language related headcanon Aside from being very flowery and flirty with her words, she does want to genuinely support or hype the ones she cares about. She will give you all the positive affirmations you need until you believe what she’s saying. 

[princelevnikolayevichmyshkin]

"As noted earlier, the brain develops in a use-dependent manner. Neural systems that are used become more dominant; those that are not grow less so. As a child grows, many systems of the brain require stimulation if they are to develop. Furthermore, this use-dependent development must occur at specific times in order for these systems to function at their best. If this “sensitive period” is missed, some systems may never be able to reach their full potential. In some cases the neglect-related deficit may be permanent. For example, if one of a kitten’s eyes is kept closed during the first few weeks of its life, it will be blind in that eye, even though the eye is completely normal. The visual circuitry of the brain requires normal experience of sight in order to wire itself; lacking visual stimuli, the neurons in the closed eye fail to make crucial connections and the opportunity for sight and depth perception is lost. Similarly, if a child is not exposed to language during his early life, he may never be able to speak or understand speech normally. If a child doesn’t become fluent in a second language before puberty, he will almost always speak any new language he does learn with an accent.

While we don’t know whether there is a fixed “sensitive period” for the development of normal attachment the way there appears to be for language and sight, research does suggest that experiences like Virginia’s, in which children are not allowed the chance to develop permanent relationships with one or two primary caregivers during their first three years of life have lasting effects on people’s ability to relate normally and affectionately to each other. Children who don’t get consistent, physical affection or the chance to build loving bonds simply don’t receive the patterned, repetitive stimulation necessary to properly build the systems in the brain that connect reward, pleasure, and human-to-human interactions. This is what had happened to Virginia. As a result of transient and fragmented caregiving during childhood she just didn’t get the same degree of reward—pleasure, if you will—from holding, smelling, and interacting with her baby that most mothers would.

Both Laura and Virginia still bear scars from their early childhoods, however. If you were to secretly observe either mother or daughter, you might find her facial expression vacant, or even sad. Once she became aware of your presence, she would put on her social persona and respond appropriately to you, but if you paid close attention to your “gut” you would sense something awkward or unnatural in your interactions. Both can mimic many of the normal social interactive cues, but neither feels naturally pulled to be social, to spontaneously smile or to express warm nurturing physical behaviors such as a hug.

Though we all “perform” for others to some extent, the mask slips easily for those who have suffered early neglect. On a “higher” more cognitive level both mother and daughter are very good people. They have learned to use moral rules and a strong belief system to tame their fears and desires. But in the relational and social communication systems of their brain, the source of emotional connections to others, there are shadows of the disrupted nurturing of their early childhoods. The nature and timing of our developmental experiences shape us. Like people who learn a foreign language late in life, Virginia and Laura will never speak the language of love without an accent"

- "The Boy Who Was Raised As A Dog" by Bruce D. Perry, MD, PhD, and Maia Szalavitz

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

helloooooo!! can i request some headcanons for the demon brothers with a MC that is Non Binary but is afab and insecure about being afab and doesnt feel like they are Non Binary. platonic or romantic either one is fine. thank you. also Jaehee is a Queen period.

I haven’t had Mystic Messenger installed on my phone for like a year and this blog is mostly, if not exclusively Obey Me rn, but I refuse to change my url because it remains true. Jaehee is the best and deserves the world <3

Also don’t mind me casually throwing in some Devildom/Celestial Realm gender headcanons as an intro~

Warnings: Mentions of gender dysphoria, internalized transphobia, insecurity gang rise up. I’ll try and keep it more general since this is meant to be a comfort/fluff piece.

The Brothers With an Insecure (AFAB) Nonbinary MC

As a whole, the Devildom doesn’t really do traditional gender. The variety in demons’ and fallen angels’ appearances makes for such a diversity of body types that markers of femininity and masculinity are easier to disregard. It’s commonplace to provide one’s pronouns along with their name when meeting someone new, and any changes in a demon’s presentation are noted with little more fanfare than a new haircut.

Even angels don’t really get preoccupied with gender: in fact, as MC discovered one day while talking with Luke and Simeon, most barely grasp the concept of what a gender is. Simeon had mentioned that this occasionally resulted in him forgetting the genders of his characters, resulting in TSL being extremely popular among transgender and nonbinary fandom communities.

But MC is not from the Devildom, nor are they from the Celestial Realm. They’re from the human world, with its reductive views on bodies, presentation, and identity. A year in the Devildom can’t erase a lifetime of cissexism.

Some days, it wears on them more than others.

Lucifer

Lucifer is always aware when MC’s self image starts wavering

As someone who has fought tooth and nail to remain true to himself, he understands the struggle of facing resistance to this

But the idea of it coming from within is somewhat foreign to him

Nonetheless, he’ll do anything within his power to make MC feel better

Will calmly, but firmly assert that MC is the only one who can determine their identity

It’s not about how they were born or raised, but who they know themself to be deep down

If it’s their gender dysphoria making them feel invalid, he’ll try and minimize it however he can

Need a different RAD uniform? No problem. Worried about being perceived a certain way? Anyone who stares at MC for too long or even dares to make a comment about their presentation is getting the Lucifer Death Glare.

Physical/body dysphoria? The Devildom has tons of temporary and permanent solutions for that, they can try whatever they’d like

It is vital for the success of the exchange program that all the students feel comfortable and well-accommodated

Also MC is very dear to him and he hates to see them suffering

Mammon

As soon as he notices MC is upset, he is READY TO FITE

Who’s been messing with them?!

What? They don’t feel like they’re really nonbinary? Are they questioning again, or—

Oh. Oh…

Well that’s stupid! What do you mean you don’t “look nonbinary”?! What’s there to look like? Humans are so weird about this stuff, look: you want to know what someone’s deal is, you ask! And their answer? That’s it! End of story, there ya go!

It’s not so simple in the human world, MC tries to explain

Mammon huffs and mumbles something about how it should be, but he can see this avenue isn’t making MC feel better

It seems whatever junk ideas the human world has about gender really gets into people’s heads…

Well, whenever Mammon wants to take his mind off of something, he opts for something exciting! Hitting the casino, making new plans that’ll definitely work this time, maybe even try and pull a prank on one of his brothers…?

But if MC just wants to cuddle and watch some mindless TV or play video games he doesn’t mind doing that either…

Leviathan

Levi knows, without fault, every single TSL characters’ pronouns and identities, if and how they change through the series, and between different media adaptations

He can (and will) list all the nonbinary characters like a gender Pokemon Rap, with special attention on those who match MC’s presentation and/or AGAB

(Not that AGAB is essential or even always available information, but dysphoria is not a rational creature, and Levi is very familiar with irrational emotions)

Would MC say that any of these characters aren’t really nonbinary because of how they look or how they started out? Then why are they any different?

But if something about their appearance is really bothering them, he might have a solution

Cosplay

Well, sort of

Crossplayers use all sorts of techniques to masculinize or feminize their appearance when necessary, and Levi’s pretty familiar with most of them

So if MC wants to try some out to see if it makes them feel more comfortable, he wouldn’t mind showing them! You know… if they’re… interested…

Also double-checks to make sure it’s okay that he calls them his “Henry” and assures them that it’s about the character’s role and personality, and not some sort of gender-based comparison

Unless... they like the comparison? andwouldliketocosplayasHenrytohisLordofShadows??

Satan

Who said this to you, MC.

Names. Now.

Boy gets frothing mad when MC explains it’s a societal and cultural problem, not an individual one, that fuels their insecurity.

If they don’t want to hear an hour long rant about the rich history of human gender expression and identity, they need to cut him off fast

If he could maim the concept of transphobia, he would

But alas, this is not a problem that can be solved (entirely) with violence

So he has to find other ways to show his support

Ask him about any notable trans, nonbinary, or otherwise gender nonconforming figures from human or demon history. He’ll happily tell MC all about them.

But, at the end of the day? In his opinion, there’s one person that shines above the rest

Someone who braved the longest odds, who persisted against the fiercest enemies and even turned them into their closest friends

Who saw others at their worst and sought to bring out the best in them…

*stage whispers* He’s talking about you

If there’s anyone who’s going to believe in the right to self determination and the irrelevance of your origins to your present identity, it’s Satan

And if anyone ever does try to tell MC that their doubts about themself are true?

Just give him their name and don’t ask questions

Asmodeus

So they’re worried about being too feminine? Is there such a thing?

If that’s the case, they can be “too feminine” together

Asmo’s gender nonconformity has earned him praise all throughout his life, so the idea of being ashamed of such a thing is alien to him

But he does know what it’s like to have an audience who expects a specific image from you

And the fear of disappointing them

But gender isn’t a performance

Well, it is, sometimes, poor choice of words: but it’s a performance for you

Asmo presents the way he does because it’s what makes him happy, same with the rest of the brothers

MC shouldn’t be any different

If they’re looking for a more masculine wardrobe or just want a change of pace, he’ll happily help them find clothes that make them feel more comfortable, but his main concern is that they know they’re free to wear what they’d like, act how they’d like, and it doesn’t change who they are

Whatever image they want to make of themself, he can get them there, but only if it’s because they want it, not because it’s what they think they’re supposed to be like, okay?

Beelzebub

When MC first confesses to Beel that they feel like they’re not really nonbinary because of their body, he kinda looks around and gestures as if to say “really? Down here?”

Has MC ever noticed that RAD doesn’t have gendered sports teams?

Yeah, if they separated people by something as irrelevant as gender or Diavolo forbid, sex, people would get seriously injured or worse

There are so many ways to be a man or a woman or a nonbinary person, and they’re not always what you’d expect

Some of Beel’s best teammates and scariest opponents look and act nothing like you’d expect them to

If they’re feeling disconnected from their body, Beel is totally down to work out with them, keep them grounded in all the good their body does for them and that they can do for it

And yes, also the good food their body lets them experience

He also definitely reaches out and gives their hand a lil squeeze if he ever notices them feeling down while they’re out together

He cares for them a lot and just wants them to be happy at the end of the day

Belphegor

Oh yeah, that’s one of the stupidest things about the human world

Belphie remembers being mistaken for a woman a lot when he used to visit the human world, and how confused he was when people got into such a tizzy over his gender

Why waste all that energy on something that doesn’t matter? If you must know, just ask the person and be done with it

It doesn’t matter what they look like

MC is MC

If they say they’re nonbinary, that’s good enough for him

If they don’t want to be touched, especially in certain places tiddy pillow naps, he might get pouty, but he’s all bark and no bite, he’ll respect their wishes

His approach to making MC feel better is more geared towards normalizing their identity

If he accepts it as a fact, then maybe they’ll catch on that people will respect them if they know what’s good for them?

Also, if they hear him mumbling about correct pronouns and punching transphobes in his sleep… No they didn’t. He’s not dreaming about them, he swears...

[vampireinterview]

It has come to my attention that some of you have not been made aware of the fact that Plato was well known for being a Destiel shipper, in addition to the fact that he also wrote some philosophical works on the side. Let me explain.

Plato was an Athenian thinker whose real name was Aristocles (Plato most likely comes from the Greek word for ‘broad”, he might have been so jacked that people nicknamed him for his wide shoulders, which is irrelevant to the topic at hand but I’m collecting receipts on my hypothesis that all hellers are physical beheamoths). His work regarding the philosophy of love can be interpreted through the lens of the Deancas love story, which can potentially lead us to discover the very essence of what makes Destiel so impactful and universal, so bear with me, I’ll make it as introductory as possible.

Plato’s Symposium is a dialogue which contains the philosopher’s basic view on what love can be. The influence of the aforementioned text has been so strong that even those of us who are blissfully unaware of its contents have heard of the concept of “platonic love”. It is with great disappointment that I have to inform you about the fact that the way in which the term is colloquially used can be considered quite removed from the core idea of what Plato’s love is supposed to be about. Commonly people utilize it to refer to a non-romantic and non-sexual emotion towards an individual. However, even though the extrasensory love was the end goal, it was never too far distanced from the earthly, carnal desire that was supposed to lay the foundation for greater experiences.

One of the most illustrative elements of the Symposium is no doubt the Love Ladder metaphor (also known as Diotima’s Ladder of Love, the Scala Amoris); Plato believes the act of loving to be a part of the process of initiation into the non-material world of ideas. Every step of the ladder helps one approach the transcendence of one’s soul, and so we can single out six steps to immortal absolutes:

1. The first step is developing an appreciation for a particular person. It’s a very much carnal (though not necessarily conventionally sexual) desire for beauty of a specific individual. According to Plato only through the love of the physical can one love the non material. The visceral infatuation with another’s body is often strongly rooted with the self-hatred of one’s own aesthetical poverty: within the carnal love we seek to find that which our own body lacks. The desire between Dean and Cas doesn’t have to be seen as strictly sexual, as the appreciation of beauty does not warrant a conventionally erotic subtext. This sort of fascination with the flesh is most noticeably highlighted in the many “eye sex” scenes in seasons 4-5, and is later brought up by Hester:

The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost. 

2. The second step stems from the appreciation for all physicality derived directly from the love one has for the lover’s form. It’s fleshed out any time Dean finds beauty in the dark times, where he would have never found it before or when Cas sees humanity through the lens of the love he has for the beauty within Dean Winchester. This step is all about finding the allure in everybody, not in spite of but rather because of having fallen for a specific person’s material form.

3. The next step is a love which transcends the physical and teaches an individual to feel affection towards the souls. The attraction one can experience in relation to that which is non material is precisely what takes the function of the driving force behind both Castiel’s and Dean’s decisions in season 6 and onward (arguably even much earlier for Cas? or even Dean? Maybe we’re talking about season 4?). As evidenced by the apparent lack of attraction Dean experiences towards Jimmy himself, he must have already moved on to this stage (the Cas he loves is not just the vessel he inhabits). Castiel on the other hand feels heavily infatueted with Dean’s spiritual allure (even when he’s physically on the verge of a breakdown, he’s still beautiful, still Dean Winchester). 

4. It is only then that one can find love for the institution. If one worships souls, then one also has to worship the product of those souls: and, sure enough, loving humanity led Castiel to love its structures and ethical systems and be willing to die fighting for them. In the later seasons he exhibits fascination over all the little rules that guide an average human’s life (which is especially fleshed out in his season 7 dialogues, where he contemplates all the small details of the societal structure, ie: how important is lipstick to you?, maybe the human institutions should ban its production). Same can be said of Dean: the customs and traditions of other people are subject to his affectionate protection in the later seasons, which sets s6 and onwards Dean apart from the early seasons Dean who cared mostly about his blood relatives. The found family arc was for him a process of growing attached to the order of life which was previously foreign to him, and him learning to navigate functioning within a big family structure and an organization (the last one is physically manifested by his move from a chaotic life spent at random motels to living at the bunker, property of the institution of Men Of Letters).

5. Then comes the deep appreciation of knowledge. Now, it is widely disputed whether what Plato meant should be strictly narrowed down to just one kind of knowledge (in many English translations you might encounter the word ‘science’, though used in the ancient sense). The process of gaining knowledge is often equated with the understanding of ideas in Plato’s work, therefore we’re going to stick with that. The act of loving the process of discovering both the external and the internal world is a strong factor which pushes Dean to self examination, or the examination of the inner psyche. It is that pursuit of knowledge that is the very coronation of his entire character arc: the realization of his role within the story (”I’m not the ultimate killer”) which was directly derived from the act of loving Cas.

6. The final stage of platonic love is reaching the love of the very concept of Love. Once again, interpretations vary, but for the sake of the argument, I’ll clarify that: the discussed kind of love transcends both the body and the soul. An individual is in love with Beauty, not just one of it’s physical or spiritual manifestations. In my opinion, this stage is extremely well depicted during the 15x18 confession scene, for it is a kind of love achieved by Castiel. He is no longer just in love with the body or soul of Dean, he’s also in love with the sole idea of loving him. He quite literally states that he’s fallen in love with the idea of just being, just saying it, just falling in love. 

Upon achieving this state, he transcends his material conditions both by leaving the human world (his move to another dimension - the Empty - could be just an illustrative manifestation of the transcendental move of his essence) and giving birth to a new world order. The way in which he later on goes to rebuild Heaven and give birth to a completely new, structure of the universe is in line with a concept that Plato ties into the finale step of the Ladder - pregnancy of the soul. At one point in Symposium he describes Diotima saying that:

That in that life alone, when he looks at Beauty in the only way that Beauty can be seen--only then will it become possible for him to give birth not to images or virtue (Because he’s in touch with no images), but to true virtue (Because he is in touch with the true Beauty).

What is the christian equivalent and personification of the true idea of Virtue if not the abstract concept of Heaven? The moment Cas creates a new portrayal of Virtue he finishes the Ladder. It could also be argued that the true pregnancy of the soul was actually finished when Jack ascended to the status of God: an entity which belongs to the realm of ideas and is perfect by its very nature is birthed through Castiel’s love (which can be traced back to the feelings he has for Dean Winchester).

And it is the fact that Dean’s arc got stuck on the fifth stage of the Ladder that causes me so much pain. He dies before transcending and experiencing the non-temporal and non-relative feeling of love that one can gain only through the admiration of beauty itself. His life was cut short and his soul has already left the mortal, physical world, therefore he is forever unable to experience the feeling of loving Love and Virtue so much that his soul gives birth to an unbreakable idea.

In conclusion: if you ever see somebody say that Dean and Castiel’s relationship is platonic, just agree. It is very much so platonic in the sense that through their carnal and spiritual desires they’ve manged to (nearly, in Dean’s case) transcend their material conditions and reached the divine aspect of ideal Beauty and Virtue, rooted in a love that’s so deep that it’s perfectly able to redefine the structure of one’s existence.

tagging some people who have vaguely expressed interest in acquiring the third eye:

@cryptcas​ @futureheadnerd​ @doctorprofessorsong​ @sinnabonka​ @theangelwiththewormstache​ @absoluteheller​ @fivefeetfangirl​ 

[cleewii]

relationship hc’s

pairing: xiao x reader

rating: e for everyone

warning(s): none

I do NOT permit the reposting/uploading of my work. or the usage of my writing in other works of entertainment. not even with credit.

- okay so, to put it bluntly, Xiao is a hard man to love, and he himself finds it hard to....well.... love. 

- he’s spent centuries keeping to himself and to his work as an adeptus protecting liyue. his mind full of his past sins, and the screams of those he was forced to kill, all of it weighing heavily on his heart

- which is why he is the way that he is.

- mortality is not a concept he’s unfamiliar with, in fact, he could be considered an expert as he seems to find himself witnessing the very definition of mortality more often then not

- and because of this, he avoids mortals, and doesn’t go out of his way to interact, or to stick around

- which means that it truly, i mean truly, takes someone special to worm their way into this adeptus’ heart.

- and once you’ve managed to do that, your stuck with him

- he’s choosing to ignore your mortality, because he wants to love, to understand this seemingly human emotion

- and learning something new takes time, and patience

- and that’s all you need when dealing with this man

- he’s not going to be super expressive about the way he feels about you, and you shouldn’t expect loud, extravagant, declarations of his love

- he’s a silent lover, preferring to just let you talk his ear off about anything, and he treads these things very lightly

- physical touch especially

- he knows how human relationships typically work, but he’s not human, and that’s something that he takes into consideration constantly

- he’s so so afraid of harming you, of causing you any sort of pain, because his hands have harmed so many, they’ve taken the lives of hundreds

- if you were to be added to the mountain of bodies he’s responsible for, he would lose himself to the darkness once and for all

- and so he’s careful, extremely so, and will often opt for light touches and other simple means of expressing his affections

- a hand on your shoulder when your speaking solemnly, his pinky just brushing the side of your palm when your next to him

- expecting a lot of affection from him won’t do you much good, because it’s something foreign to him, and so he explores these possibilities with care

- after some time you’ll being to notice that his touches, although light, linger

- you’ll find that he, despite his better interests, hesitates to pull his hand away after brushing a strand of hair away from your face, wanting nothing more then to feel your soft skin against his fingers

- his eye’s stay glued to you for just a second longer then usual, taking you in and memorizing every detail of your face

- although he’s silent, and sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s really listening to you, he always retains whatever information you’ve shared with him

- when he does speak, he’ll sometimes reference something you’ve told him in the past. even if it’s long ago

- and he always catches onto the way you seem to smile whenever he does this

- “what are you smiling about? i remembered...? remembered what?.....that? well of course i’d remember, you always have my attention when you speak. don’t doubt that.”

- he’s definitely a worrier

- also he’s incredibly protective (you know, considering his entire purpose is to protect, it makes sense that this would bleed its way into his relationships) although it’s not something he makes very obvious

- if you’re out later then usual he’ll get a little anxious, golden eye’s darkening at the thought of you in trouble

- “were they attacked? what if they’re in danger? lost?”

- the minute he see’s your face again, he washes over in relief, visibly softening at the sight of you in perfect condition

- and he’s just a little touchier then he’d usually be

- if you were to come back beaten and bruised you’d only be greeted with a “stay here” before he’s vanished before your eyes, his mind set on finding whatever/whoever harmed you.

- if you really wanna get a hug out of him, it’s best to try after he’s just spent a minute worrying about you

- having you in his arm’s quells the anxiety he was feeling before, and he let’s himself relax into the embrace

- you just being near him brings him peace of mind

- call me crazy, but i know this man likes a good hug or two, even though he acts dismissively towards them

- he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in them that often, but when he does he’s enjoying every second of it

- his hand presses against the back of your head, burying you into his chest, and his strong arm wraps around you so protectively

- he just radiates safety, security, and strength. also he smells faintly of almonds and nature which is nice.

- yes, hugging him is pretty great

- kisses with this man, although very rare, are wonderful

- his hands always cup your cheeks, so softly, as though he were in the presence of the most fragile of chinas

- when you pull away you can catch the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks

- but don’t tease him about it, or he might just disappear before you can utter out another word

- but regardless, he enjoys the way you feel against him

- knowing your still there, right by his side, makes him feel sure

- sure of his decision to love you

- sure of his decision to open up his heart

- and his body is a comforting warmth against yours

- he even find’s himself longing for you against him again once the two of you have pulled away

- but he pushes those feelings aside, because he’s still afraid.

- he’s always thought he’d be alone for as long as he exists. never once had the thought of falling in love with someone crossed his mind

- but the way his heart beats just a smidge faster when you’re around

- the way his pupils dilate when they fall upon your figure

- he would never let another human get as close to him as he allowed you

- and all of it just proves how much he loves you

- and love, although something he’s completely unfamiliar with, is something he finds himself truly enjoying

so to sum it up....he’s not the most affectionate guy in the world, and he’s a little on the quiet side, but that only makes the moments when he does choose to express his love so much sweeter...

[missskzbiased]

Betting Big

Summary: As the one and only Seo Changbin, you would never think that you would be willing to pay for someone to go out with you. At least not until you met her. To be honest, not even after you met her but here you were now… Agreeing with splitting the money from a bet that you never made… And all this for what? Just to get a chance to make her fall for you

WC: 1,5 K

Genre: Romance, Fluff

AUs: High School, Fake Bet

Pairing: Seo Changbin X Fem! Reader X ???

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   // Tag List

Warnings: none

Notes: This is in “Changbin’s POV” although written as Self-insert

This is going to be a miniseries, I guess. I’m not sure how many chapters I want to make. I’d like if you guys could vote on this:

Minho as BFF to lovers for the Triangle

Han as Friends to lovers for the Triangle

No Love Triangle at all

                                                        ///

     Everyone but you wanted to be the popular guy.

     Not because you were above things like wanting to fit on the wild battlefield that high school was or because you didn’t need people’s approval to feel like a whole person, and even less because you hated being under everyone’s eyes… No. You were petty enough to admit that you loved the attention. The reason why you weren’t like everybody else was that you were the popular guy that everyone wanted to be. That’s right… You were what every single one of those kids wanted to become and you didn’t need to do anything to have your way.

     At least, that was what you believed exactly thirty seconds ago.

     The silent pause following your invitation wasn’t expected, and neither was the way her judgmental eyes scanned you from head to toes. There was this foreign feeling of being embarrassed, and that sudden urge to shrink and hide from the crowd that you didn’t allow to show on the surface. You were too cool for this. So you settled for clearing your throat, leaning on her table in what you hoped to be a flirty way, and glanced at your friends’ table in search of some sort of silent moral support that you were so in need of right now.

     You could say that you weren’t the most subtle human being in the world or else her eyes wouldn’t have snapped right to where you were looking at. As the bunch of overly stealthy people that you definitely were used to be with popularity clogging your better judgment, the four of your friends stared right into her eyes; the expression of a deer caught in headlights plastered over their face. If you had any hopes of not humiliating yourself to that strange girl in the corner ─ who you happened to have a big, fat crush on for at least one year now ─, they were immediately crushed by your own best friends.

     Very well.

     At least, it couldn’t get any worse than this, right?

     Then you learned the valuable lesson of not speaking too soon.

     “You want to go out with me?” That wasn’t the kind of incredulous tone that was meant to hide one’s excitement… It was more like that bewildered contempt that one cannot hide at all.

    She couldn’t even process the fact that you were bold enough to believe that the mere thought of dating you could ever have crossed her mind… And once more, the humiliation hit you like cold water coming directly from an angry, merciless waterfall. Was that how normal people felt in their daily lives? Jeez… It was so much better to be popular! How do those kids even handle that? Definitely not the life for you.  

     Your internal rambling had you missing the slow shift on her expression; rejection dissolving to give way to some kind of resigned interest: “How much?” She spoke up in curious confidence, and you must have been too lost on your thoughts because you had no idea of what she was talking about.

     “Excuse me?” You blurted out ever so eloquently.

     “How much is into this bet?” She asked as if it was the most reasonable thing in this world, and the lack of response had her scoffing, to further prove your point, “Really? You expect me to believe that the most popular guy in school would come all the way to my table, conveniently under his friends’ eyes, just to ask me out on a date with no second intention?” She raised her brows amusedly, chuckling at what seemed to be the best joke she had ever told anyone “Right” She huffed, crossing her arms and tilting her head to take a better look at you.

     That was the moment of the truth.

      You could either tell her that she misunderstood everything and explain how much you really liked her ─ which would put everything at risk because she clearly didn’t believe you could like someone like her ─ or you could play along with it and score a chance to win her heart on a date.

     The answer seemed to be pretty obvious to you.

     “Yeah, right” You laughed dismissively, pulling out the chair so you could sit down beside her. There was no sign of resistance in her face; moreover, there was a shimmering curiosity dancing in her expectant eyes, “You totally caught me…” You admitted grudgingly, shrugging to show her how much you didn’t care about it. Fun Fact: You actually did! And you would very much appreciate her to know that… Damn it! What the hell were you getting yourself into?! “So… Should we split it?” You suggested nonchalantly ─ just like the smooth son of a bitch you were.

     “What about fifty-fifty?” She proposed shamelessly; face twisting in a funny expression that tried to say that she didn’t care about it either but giving it away that she did, “How much is in for me? Like… A hundred bucks or something?” She leaned back on her chair before shrugging, not willing to admit that she was interested in this.

     “You’re good” You chuckled while nodding in agreement; mimicking her as you leaned back on your chair, “Sounds great, right? Getting a hundred bucks to date this hot stuff here?” You grinned as you gestured at yourself, getting nothing but an unimpressed look from her.

     “Look, Changbin…” She began hesitantly “If we’re going to make this work, it might be better for you to let me do the talking, okay?” She smiled sarcastically, looking at you with a mix of… You weren’t even sure what. Was constipation considered a feeling? If so, she looked constipated by your existence, “I’m not gonna lie… I want the money, and as long as we don’t have to do anything stupid like kissing or having sex, I think I’m in” She simply agreed while looking into your eyes.

      She had such pretty eyes… The most beautiful eyes you have ever seen… The type of eyes to hold so many emotions that you couldn’t help but wonder if those would ever be directed at you. Right now, you could see they were. However, the usually captivating trait wasn’t that heartwarming now… Not when there was nothing but pained resignation in them… Not when they made so damn obvious that she didn’t like you back… Not when they shift to sheer excitement to the sound of someone else’s voice.

     “Hey” Was the single word that brought her to such a state of happiness; eyes twinkling and a genuine smile cracking on her face as she looked to the guy talking to her “What’s this?” He asked while gesturing to the both of you before squinting his eyes in suspicion “This table has always been our, shortie, fuck off” He scoffed; sitting down as if it didn’t even cross his mind that you could stand up against him.

     “Short—?!”

     “Shut up, Minho” She rolled her eyes, even though you could see the amusement in them, “He’s here to ask me out on a date” She clarified nonchalantly; eyes attentive to his reaction.

     “Of course he is” He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief while poking his food.

     “I am” You stated seriously while boldly offering him The Look, “Is that a problem?” You arched your brow in a silent challenge.

     “I don’t know…” He dropped his fork; eyes connecting to yours with such a murderer intention that for a second you considered just playing it off as a joke “Is that a problem?” He asked back, studying your face.

     Thank Lord you were a proud Leo or else the “No, Sir” on the tip of your tongue would have slipped just like that from your mouth. Instead, you just returned his glare, choosing to be silent so you would not show him how much he scared the shit out of you. The silent battle was promptly cut off by the damsel in distress herself, a not-so-subtle kick under the table that had Minho wincing on his seat.

     “No, that’s not a problem” She stated firmly enough to end the discussion “I’m going out with him” Even though you were aware of that, it still made your stomach flutter.

     “Okay” He said bitterly; lips twitching slightly “So that’s not a problem” He forced a smile, picking his fork and scrambling his food mindlessly.

     “Great!” You offered her a bright smile, too excited to hide your true feelings.

     “Great” She stated monotonously “So… See you later?” She arched her brows as if to say that it was time for you to walk away.

      “Of course” You agreed promptly “I can walk you home later… So… We can arrange the details” You suggested hopefully, and she seemed to embrace the idea.

      “Sounds like a date” She smiled.

     “Yeah” You chuckled; rubbing your arm before waving at her and heading to your friends’ table.

     Well… Getting a date: Checked.

     Having your feelings reciprocicated: Hm… On progress?

     First confession meeting any of your expectations: Hell no...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   // Tag List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Dancer Xiao? I’ve never heard of that but to be fair, I don’t really get out much. Cat Xiao Dancer tho 👀 This is valid and I fully accept it. I wrote a University AU a while back and if I ever make a part 2, I’d love to brainrot on this dancer idea. Speaking of, since I just started another royalty/mythos AU and I think this idea could slide into that.

Alright let me crack my knuckles a bit. You’ve got my brainworms running.

---

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ] 

[ Genshin: Royalty AU ]

[Masterlist]

Note: The royalty and mythos AU aren’t completely connected together. But I am definitely taking ideas from each other.

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @aetherazor @youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav @eva-0403 @blanktide @aaaaalona @castinluckgamer @hanniejji​  

---

Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Xiao was born and raised in the Huan tribe, a clan where its members were born with feline features, but it was an isolated group that was purposefully hidden away from human eyes. While most of the world was friendly towards hybrids, the threat of poachers and trafficking was still high that most hybrid clans hid away from the outside world. There was a misconception that hybrids could bring someone good luck or blessings so they were always hunted down to later sell to wealthy royals. In the case of the Huan, they had the ability to scare away misfortune.

Due to the old traditions and customs the Huan tribe carried, all males were raised to become warriors that could defend the tribe should any corrupted mage or human arrive to capture them. Therefore, Xiao was handed a spear before he even knew how to say his name properly. But surprisingly, Xiao was quite adept at the spear and learned quickly how to use it. He was flexible and nimble on his feet, being able to dash in and out and use his spear as a third extension of his arm to quickly disarm other peers his age. Making sure his tail kept his balance and his dilated eyes were focused on his opponent.

Perhaps it was the overconfidence the clan held in him or how lax the rules had become with the fall of poachers that the one moment Xiao strayed too far from home. He was suddenly enveloped in a pink gas that irritated his eyes and made his limbs drop dead. A mysterious green haired man appeared from under the ground, dirt and roots pushing aside to reveal him, as he smiled sweetly down at the growing Xiao. That sick smile was the last thing Xiao saw before he was knocked out.

When he awoke, he was suddenly thrown into an entirely different land that he wasn’t used to. The Huan was hidden away deep inside a cave of lamp grass that gave the entire area a slow blue glow. High up in the mountains where the air smelled of fresh mint. But there was too much orange and red that Xiao had to close his eyes from the bright and vibrant colours. His cat ears twitching at all the loud noises of people yelling about numbers and products. The stuffy air that was slowly choking him. Xiao tried to pull himself up only to see dendro bindings incasing him and he was still feeling the affects of that gas. He sighed and flopped back and tried to flex his arms into a more comfortable position as he tried to calm himself down. His tail slowly curling around him. Xiao only had a small break before the doors to his cage was suddenly thrown open and he was quickly yanked out of his cage onto the ground. The same mysterious green haired man smiled and nodded at him before turning back to a strange man wearing a mask, dressed in armour, and welding a spear.

Everything was happening too fast, before Xiao could get his bearing he was hauled up and dragged into a strange building and pushed into a room with several woman. There seemed to be a silent conversation he was missing before the woman pushed and pulled him every which way. Shredding his clothes and washing his skin and ears until he was rid of the grime he had been stained with from his “trip”. He was highly uncomfortable with all these foreign people touching him and dressing him but in his drugged out state he couldn’t do much besides trying to bat away hands when they were too forceful on his tail. Until he was finally dressed in a stiffy outfit with a too high collar, he heard it was called a Changshan from one of the woman, and was he lead to a private room and told to behave or else he would be killed on the spot.

At least Xiao had a chance to breathe. To take in his surroundings and bask in the peace and quiet. To think of how he could possibly get out of this situation. He knew how to fight, if he could get his hands on a weapon that those guards had, he might be able to escape and find a way to return to Huan. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, remembering what his teachers taught him, and opened them determined only to flinch back when a girl his age was already standing in front of him. While Xiao knew his yellow feline eyes were intimidating, this new girls scarlet eyes felt as they were crushing him this invisible pressure. Xiao quickly bit his tongue before it could let out a warning growl and subtly wrapped his tail around his leg in comfort.

It wasn’t until the girl stepped back and sat on a couch that Xiao realized she wasn’t alone. The same guard from before was beside her but his eyes were closed. Directing his attention back to the scarlet-eyed girl, she almost seemed amused at Xiao’s hybrid features. The cute twitches of his ears and nose, but she leaned back and gestured for Xiao to go on. Xiao just stared blankly at her, was he supposed to do something? He was only told to behave lest he be killed but he felt like he was missing something important. The girl tilted her head further and asked if he had any talents, if he knew how to dance perhaps?

Xiao didn’t know the first thing about what dancing meant to this kid, he was raised to know how to weld a spear. He was aware that weapon dancing was a thing, the Huan would always celebrate victories in hunting through spear dancing, but was he even allowed a weapon?

Xiao’s eyes darted towards the guards spear as he pointed towards it. The girl’s scarlet eyes seemed to light up in understanding, Xiao just noticed that her pupils were flower shaped, as she reached over and tugged at the guards sleeve.

“Hand him the spear,” the girl said as she pointed at the weapon in his hands and then back to Xiao. The guard just stared at her incredulously as the cheerful demeanor the girl held suddenly vanished as her face scrunched into an disgusted and annoyed expression. She reached over and yanked the spear out of the guards hand before tossing it to Xiao who scrambled to catch it before it ended up stabbing him in the foot.

“Was that so hard? You may go now. Bye bye!” she said as he proceeded to push the man out despite his protests, “Don’t you have anything important to do that isn’t here? Just go stand outside or something. Are you saying I can’t defend myself? I might poison your food if you say that you know!”

As she basically threw the man out and closed the door. She pattered her clothes down and re-adjusted her hat before turning around as she grinned at Xiao. Returning to her seat on the couch, she crossed her legs, folder her hands on top of her knees, and laid back as she nodded for him. 

“Now, go on. I’m interested to see what you can do. Impress me kitty.”

Xiao could feel a very thin thread inside him snap at the nickname but tried to keep his emotions in check. His teachers always said he had a short fuse and one day it would get him in trouble. He was in an unknown place, surrounded with enemies, and he could feel that the drug wasn’t fully out of his system. So he stepped back to give him more room as he twirled the spear in his hands. It was similar to the Qiang spears he used back at home. Xiao breathed in deeply, breathed out, as he took his stance and raised the spear in front of him. The girl began clapping a tempo as he twirled and danced with the spear. Stepping in and out and thrusting the spear forward. At the last second, as he was twirling the spear over his shoulder, Xiao’s eyes dilated as he rolled the weapons off his neck and into his hands and thrusts it at the clapping girl. It didn’t surprise anyone when the girl’s grin turned wider as she kicked her leg out to knock the spear out of Xiao’s hand before she caught it. The girl simply studied the spear, the weight of it, before turning her gaze back to Xiao. He was standing with his arms crossed and looking at her unimpressed.

"Excellent performance," the girl nodded as she laid the spear on her lap to clap for him but when she didn’t get any change from Xiao she slowly stopped her clapping, looking at him confused. 

“Why did you send that man away if you knew this would happen?” Xiao questioned. If her flower pupils didn’t give it away he could feel in the air that she was the same as him. A hybrid of some sort. 

“Only an idiot would do something like that so I wanted to see if you would actually do it! You’ve managed to impress me which means you get to live,” the girl clapped her hands once more as if that was something Xiao should be happy about, “Isn’t that nice? One more day of freedom, well until Zhongli get’s his hands on you. Then you might be in a little trouble...”

“Wait hang on. What is going on? Where am I and who is Zhongli? Who are you?” Xiao quickly intercepted before the girl could go off on another tangent. Could he get a quick five minute break and have someone explain what the hell was happening? Didn’t this girl know he was basically drugged and kidnapped? Should that be something that communities deemed as wrong?

“Oh you poor Kitty. No one bothered to explain anything? This week is Golden week where everyone in Liyue is trying to tie the knot. Zhongli has preferred taste and as his trusted advisor, Hu Tao, it’s my job to select the most eligible spouse,” Hu tao nodded to herself after finishing her explanation. There was a beat of silence as Hu Tao blinked and looked back at Xiao. His ears and tail were stiff as a board as his mind was slowly processing the information. He blinked at her. Once. Twice. Before proceeding to pass out.

---

This is not what you asked for and yet I still delivered. I just started writing and it became gay. I don’t even watch dramas but if this isn’t a plot to one. I’m going to be very disappointed. Every time I write Cat!Xiao it’s another drama. Feel free to sub anyone out for reader. I just wanted to stick to the lore and AU.

If you’re interested in the terms or the “lore” behind this AU. I added a read more below:

Disclaimer: I am not a Chinese historian so there is probably something wrong here.

Huan (讙)

Found on the Yiwang Mountains, a cat with the same build as a small mountain lion or lynx, except it has one eye and three tails. According to ancient depictions, the Huan cat has the uncanny ability to scare away misfortune.

Qiang

The most common long-handled spear used by Chinese soldiers. It is one of the earliest known battle weapons and was known as “the king of a thousand soldiers”.

Changshan

Similar to what Xingqiu wears, Changshan were introduced to China during the Qing dynasty. Changshan were a formal dress for Chinese men before Western-style suits became common in China. They are traditionally worn for formal pictures, weddings, and other formal Chinese events.

Adepti vs Yaksha

The Adepti and Yaksha are two different social classes. In this mythos AU, your worth and reputation is based on your celestial powers. Adepti are people that are reincarnations of celestial beings and can change into their animal variant.  Meanwhile, Yaksha’s are people blessed by celestial beings. They only have the animal features and are weaker in terms of power. Yaksha’s are still powerful compared to a human but due to the misconceptions in Liyue, Yaksha’s are treated as possessions. Yes, this will change (if I write more on this AU) because equality is hot.

Hu Tao

To be fair, I originally wrote this as Zhongli talking to Xiao but it didn’t really make sense to me. Her role and relationship to Zhongli is similar to the genshin lore where she’s a massive headache to him. But Hu Tao knows how to do her job and is one of the few people that talks back to Zhongli that he appreciates her existence. She still has to walk the line carefully lest she actually offend him and get herself killed. She admires people like herself, people that aren’t afraid to stand up for themselves or surprise her, and she has a lot of fun pushing people to reach that state. She’s not very well liked because of this.

Zhongli

I’m going to say it. I fully believe Zhongli used to be a piece of shit before he met Guizhong. Maybe not intentionally but he doesn’t understand emotions or what empathy is. In this AU, he has some amount of capability to express himself except they are all entitled because he genuinely believes he is the strongest. He’s not inherently evil, just very trapped in his own world and understanding, and everyone is too scared to correct him. Besides Hu tao of course. 

Baizhu

He’s a questionable doctor that works beside Zhongli. Just so long as Zhongli doesn’t poke his nose into his experiments, he doesn’t care what Zhongli does and vice versa. But because Zhongli is technically his boss, he’ll go and do some dirty work for whoever peaks Zhongli’s interest.

---

This entire AU is my call out post for Mihoyo to drop more lore bombs. If you won’t give me the lore then I’ll write it myself. My request box is still closed but at this point, if you give me something to think about I’ll probably write it. 

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[mandoinevarro]

An Overdue Debt Part II

Part I here

Words: 3.6k 

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut but make it soft, oral f receiving, face sitting/riding, body worshipping?maybe 

a/n: took me two months to get around to this, but here it is, friends! Remember to wash your hands before getting frisky 

I haven’t tasted you

The last embers of the Mandalorian’s words shine weakly, long extinguished by the cool current in the Razor Crest, but alive and playing back again and again and again in your head as they snake into your ears and climb lazily up to your tired psyche. Eyes closed, you unwrap their meaning slowly, word by word, until their underlying implications suddenly drop like rocks on your chest and snap you awake more effectively than Mando’s gentle slap against your leg. The dark is less forgiving when you open your eyes and sit up on the cloak. It only allows you to make out a humanoid outline. The heavy fog of your climax and burning arousal dissipate little by little, letting your senses to crawl back to you, but you’re still dazed and struggle to steady the relentless punching in your chest.

Maker, what did he do to you? Admittedly, you had never really grown accustomed to the Mandalorian’s ardor. Every night he’d come to you in hushed desperation, hard as sin, and in pursuit of physical solace that you were more than happy to provide; and every night he’d break you to pieces with sudden outbursts of pleasure and passion that you didn’t previously know possible. But tonight. Tonight was better. Maybe it was how softly he spoke to you, the reverence with which he explored you, or the airy confessions that you’re only half sure you heard. Regardless of the cause, vitality pumps through your veins and drowns your heart in the certainty that the Mandalorian sees more in you than a simple stress reliever. Although what exactly you are to him, then, you can’t be sure.

It’s the only thing I’ve wanted.

A shudder runs down your spine when you hear metal clank against the floor. Stars, you wish you could see what he’s doing; what he’s planning for you next. The stain on the front of his pants was hard to miss, so it’s not like he was left unsatisfied. You fumble with the ends of the overused cloth, as you listen carefully to the rustling of fabric.

All he said was that you two weren’t done yet and left you sunken in darkness, shoveling into his words for nuggets of clarification in anticipation and some anxiousness, suddenly feeling a little too naked and squirming at the uncomfortable stickiness of the leftover arousal between your thighs. Suddenly remembering that your employer has now opened you as far as you’ll go, touched you in your most intimate places, heard you moan, pant, and growl his nickname. Only thing missing is…

I haven´t tasted you.

Somewhere in the gloom a shape straightens and grows bigger and taller and wider as it approaches you, ghost quiet. Towering, it loses some stature as it kneels in front of you. A few quiet seconds pass by, before you feel the feathery touch of naked fingers brushing your eyebrows, tracing the skin like it’s porcelain, and hesitantly resting more of their weight on your face when you don’t pull away. Their rough pads trail down over your eyelids, down your cheeks, rub gentle circles there that make the hair on your arms stand up, and finally settle below the curve of your jaw. Lukewarm, shaky breath blows on your nose as you feel the promise of warmth approach you, and a mouth brushes over your lips. They part slowly for him and Mando’s follow, taking only the edge of your flesh between his lips. And then…and then he only holds there, tense and seemingly afraid to go any further.

It’s…it’s a little awkward. A bit anticlimactic. Mando is not moving and he seems so nervous you fear that if you do he’ll retreat. You can’t even feel the warm puffs on your face anymore. Maker, is he holding his breath? Are you? Should you touch him? Should you give him space? You should lean into him. Or maybe you—

He pulls back. In one swift movement, what small semblance of a kiss you shared is gone. Your heart hides in your chest.

“I’m…I’m sorry it’s just…I don’t…” a disembodied voice whispers, as you try to focus on the words and not on the fact that this is the first time you’ve listened to his natural speaking voice. The first time you’re allowed to hear the rough, beautiful baritone. And he’s using it to apologize.

“Hey,” you coo, reaching out with your arms but finding more space between you than you expected, “hey, what is it?” You shift to your knees, dragging the cloak with you as you blindly shuffle forward, until your knee finds foreign flesh that shivers and jerks back before you can feel it properly. “You can tell me.”

A low sigh swims in the dark. “I want…you’re—I just…I just want it to be…to be—good.” The low voice in front of you vibrates closer now, but it’s so quiet it might as well be light years away. “You…you always, um, help me and I want…” A pinch in the cloak makes you look down, where you can hear Mando settling his knees. “…want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.” The contour of his head hangs low.

Maker, how can you tell him? How can you let him know that you’d take him any way he wanted, in any place and time he wished? That you long for whatever closeness his physical and emotional barriers will grant you. That “good” doesn’t even come close to what he offers every time he allows you to feel him, to care for him, even if it’s only in a context of seeking a distraction from his daily perils. Basic lacks the vocabulary to express just how much you yearn for any piece of him he’d be willing to reveal you, that much you know.

Your hands rub the fronts of your thighs, noticing how the skin reacts and prickles at the long silence and the cold. He reminds you of the stray animals that sometimes roam backwater planets; those creatures that flinch and bear teeth at the sweetest of words, too familiar with cruel voices to hear anything but danger in human speech.

Maybe you don’t need to say a word. Maybe you can show him, instead.  

You set your hands forth slowly, aiming for where you think his face is and sucking in a yelp when you feel him grab your wrists abruptly. It’s on instinct, you suppose, but he still holds you there for a quiet moment, not letting you go but not pushing you away either. So you wait, cradling your heart in your hands, holding your breath and wishing he’ll trust you enough to let you talk to him this way. Not a word is uttered, but you hope he can hear you silently echoing the question he asked you earlier. Can I touch you?

Little by little, he guides you forward, loosening his grip on your wrists. You extend your fingers, blindingly searching for contact in the artificial midnight of the hull, until they finally meet soft skin. It’s the tiniest brush, but the man inside the Mandalorian gasps and leans his forehead into you, dropping your wrists. Yes.

His permission pulls your heart out of its hiding place, grants it courage, and sends both of your hands down his face. They meet at the space between his eyebrows, where they feel a light frown, and two fingers skim lower to bend along the arch of a hooked nose. As your other hand falls over closed eyelids, your two fingers reach his cupid’s bow, where warm, rapid exhalations sweep over them. The digits find the plush lips you met earlier, apparently much more relaxed now, because they give as soon as they feel you. The lightheadedness that comes with pushing your fingers into his mouth and having his wet tongue caress them is apparently mutual, because Mando groans deep in his throat and grips your sides to pull you closer. While he eagerly tastes your fingers, your other hand falls to his shoulder, and it’s only then that you realize he’s naked.

“Maker,” you think you gasp—maybe. It’s hard to tell when the skin underneath your palm grows progressively warmer the closer it gets to the center of his chest. His fingers dig into your hips and yours climb the steps of his sternum, until the apple of his throat bumps into them in a downward bob. Your palm explores higher, tracing the protruding veins and ligaments as it wraps around a thick neck. Before you can stop yourself, you give it a tiny squeeze that makes Mando growl and suck harder.

Stars, you can’t wait. You pull your fingers out and take his head between your hands, forcing him closer to you until your lips meet.

The kiss is anything but awkward this time. Mando opens his mouth fully for you now, unafraid and too hungry and worked up to be careful with you. He frames your whole face with large palms, holding you steady as he licks the walls of your mouth, demanding and thirsty for every drop of your spit, as you try to keep up with his restless pace. The tip of his tongue trails the edge of your teeth and your head spins, lost in the dark but so, so, at home in the haven of his oven of a mouth. He groans into your throat and drops his hands to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. The skin-to-skin contact of your breasts against his abdomen pulls a moan out of your mouth, makes you rub against him without realizing it, as your nipples catch on the ridges of his skin. His erection presses and pulses against your stomach, as hard and thick as you remember from all those nights of simple, rough fucking. Only now you’re pretty certain it would go inside you with way more ease. You try to stimulate him with stunted up and down movements of your belly, but the very first brush has him groaning and shoving you back to lay down on his cloak.

“Teach me,” he croaks above you, sucking on your lower lip. “Show me how to lo—how to…touch you.” You writhe underneath, feeling how new slickness leaks down your thighs. Stars, a part of you just wants to get up on all fours like always and beg him fuck you or use you or take whatever he wants from you. But you know that is not what he means. And it’s not what the two of you need right now.

Instead, you grab one of the arms framing your head and guide its hand to your chest, where it goes limp and waits for instructions. You guide it down to your breast, where your hand frames the back of his and beckons him to squeeze. He obeys and gasps, pulling the fat a little roughly. Maybe it’s your mewl that encourages him and gives him some initiative, because his fingers drag lower, following the heat. It’s all you can do not to buck your hips when he halts at your mound.

“Lower?” he whispers.

You nod your head frantically, until your remember that you’re both plunged in complete darkness. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, lower. Mando, please.”

Maker, Mando has a good memory. A marvelous one. It only took him touching you once earlier to learn what gets you going. He pleasures you better than you would, thick fingers drawing rings around your bundle of nerves while pushing in and adding more and more pressure with each circle.

“Like this?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious, “This gets you wet?”

“Mhmm.” It makes you more than wet—it gets you soaked. You arch into the touch, wondering if it’s the considerable bigger size of his fingers compared to yours, or the pressure or just the fact that it’s Mando himself who’s so invested in your enjoyment that has you close, sososo close.

“Fuck. Fuck, get on top of me.” The words only register when he pulls his fingers away and chilly air sweeps over your slit. Your attempt to catch your breath and senses is interrupted by the hands on your waist that flip you. And with that quick movement, his waist lays between your wobbly knees, which shift in confusion before Mando is gripping your ass and using it as leverage to move your forward. You’re unsure of where exactly he’s taking you, until he brings you to a stop and repeats, “I want to taste you.”

Trembling thighs framing either side of his face, you reach out blindly and brace yourself against what feels like a storage box. His breath floats up against your wet folds, cooling and heating them at the same time. You squirm at the sensation; whether it’s more arousal or nervousness you can’t be sure. Stars, you’re both so vulnerable like this. You opening and offering yourself to him in a position that you know won’t let you see what he does to you, while he places an invisible, loaded blaster on your hands and pushes it to his temple, trusting you to hover over him, press against his mouth as much or as little as you want, or walk away if you wish. Leave him to the black loneliness of the hull.

Not to mention the blatant obscenity of the position. Maker, where did he learn this?

Calloused hands grope around your thighs, up your ass, with caresses that feel starved, as Mando adjusts the height of his head until he’s directly under your slit. His face shifts beneath you and you jump slightly when the end of his nose accidentally brushes your clit. At least you think it was an accident, until you hear a looong inhale.

Mando moans as he smells you, grabbing your hips and pulling you down until his nose nuzzles your inner lips. “S-stars,” he gasps, “stars you smell…fuck, it—it’s…” He shoves you down on top of him—his nose practically inside you at this point—and starts rubbing the bridge against your folds, up to your clit, and then back down again, breathing in lungfuls of you all the while. Somehow, his moans are louder than your pathetic little whimpers, even though it’s his nose making you see stars.

You rock your hips into the sensation and—Maker, it’s almost embarrassing—you’re pretty sure you’re close to climaxing. A balloon swells in your belly and you don’t want to cum so fast, but you still chase it. You still bear down on him trying to pop that balloon and it feels so good and he keeps groaning and you’re breathing hard—

Suddenly, he pulls away, sucking on the inside of your thigh and sinking his teeth into the flesh before you can complain. “Tell me how,” he reminds you lowly against the space between your thigh and your lips. You whimper at the lack of contact, searching frantically for a clue of what to say, because all you genuinely want is him. To please him is to please you, but how are you supposed to—

A light flickers on and illuminates the haze in your brain, reminding you his words; reminding you that he was the one who put you in this position.

“Put your mouth on me,” you pant, white-knuckling the edge of the storage box to try and not plummet on top of Mando at the image of what you just asked.

“Good,” he hums into your cunt, his hands pulling handfuls of your hips like he’s never felt bare skin before. “Fuck, I can tell you’ll taste as good as you smell—better.” The way your chest swells with the most minimal of praises should be a little worrying, you suppose, but it doesn’t matter. Not right now at least, when facial hair scratches your inner thigh and your Mandalorian sucks on one outer lip of your cunt. You both moan in unison: You at the dizzying sensation of his mouth working your swollen heat. He, who knows. Maker, who knows what he’s moaning about, but you’re glad he does, because it sends strong vibrations into your clit that make your eyes roll back.

Without warning, Mando’s hot tongue darts out and presses flat against your folds, licking one wet wide line from the very back of your pussy to your clit, groaning against you the whole time. The muscles in your legs immediately turn to jelly and fall lower against him. Fuck, if you thought his fingers were good, this feels glorious. Thick arousal seeps out of you in concerning amounts, soaking his mouth and chin, and you’re about to apologize when he slurps—hard.

Stars, stars, stars, it’s like he’s drinking from you, sliding his tongue against the flow of wetness that he both drains and stimulates out of you as you hold on to the edge of the storage box and frantically search for something to anchor you to sanity. Naturally, you fail, especially when he engulfs your whole clit into his mouth and sucks on it as if his life depended on it.

He sucks away your self-control, your body rebelling against you and deciding it’s as good a time as any to cum on Mando’s face without giving him the courtesy of a heads up first. You stammer through apologies cut off by mewls, cut off by more apologies, but they all eventually distort into sobs when he keeps sucking, licking, tasting. Either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because his tongue doesn’t relent; if anything, it grows bolder. It takes you a second to catch up and figure out why you again feel on the verge of a climax. When you do, though, the sensitive muscles of your pussy try to jerk away from his mouth, try being the keyword here, because his vicious grip on your hips locks you in place.

“Do it again,” he grunts into the side of your thigh, where he cleans the cum that dripped down with his tongue. You’re on the verge of tears.

“W-what—I c-can’t…”

“You can. J-just—stars—just cum all over my face again, you pretty thing. Let me feel it again.” The torturous stimulation sets a delay on your thoughts, but you’re not too far gone to perceive something desperate in the words. Something wanton and ardent, but secretly heartbreaking that reminds you why you’re here. It’s a plea.  

Taking a few long breaths, you settle back down shaking to grant him access to the crease of your cunt once more. Mando doesn’t waste a second, opening his jaw wide and submerging into you eagerly. Knuckles rigid on the box, you can already sense a scary gravity drawing you lower and deeper into the dreamlike fever of the Mandalorian’s mouth. He uses all of it too, licking long stripes or placing open-mouthed kisses on the swollen flesh. You’re so overworked at this point, that it takes as little as the tip of a finger up your hole to have you cumming again. Tears fall down your face, contorted in a silent frown.

Big hands work as your crutches, running up your back and down to your thighs in an elongated caress that—probably because of your endorphin-induced wishful thinking—you read as pure devotion, far too much for two people who’ve only known each other for a few turbulent months. Those hands holding you dearly paint a stark contrast to Mando’s mouth, which waits patiently for your legs to stop spasming, only to return even more passionately to the shelter of your heat.

–

Things come back to you slowly after it’s over—after he’s done.

Hands on your lower back. A sweet kiss to your thigh. A shift in gravity. Fabric brushing your skin. A sturdy chest beneath yours. Strong arms that wrap around your middle. The robust smell of sex and sweat, but also soap and trees once you nuzzle your face against a flushed neck.

Mando hugs your exhausted body against his in the dimness, running a hand on your hair before grabbing a fistful and gently bringing it to his face, taking in its scent. Your heart leaps at the gesture. This battle-hardened warrior, this injured soul that’s seen too much and suffered more finds it in himself to hold you carefully with no aim or concern.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs into your hair.

An insolent I love you immediately pops into your head as a reflex, as natural and involuntary as kicking your leg when the right nerve of your knee is hit. I love you, I love you, I love you. But, even though the gloom offers a sheltered enough setting for confessions that couldn’t be made under judging light, you still bite your tongue. Instead, your fingers languidly draw a tactile map of your Mandalorian’s face, tracing every dip and small scar, trying to store all the details for when a sun comes up somewhere and the helmet goes back on. Mando hums when you smooth your palm against his cheek and raise your head to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, hoping the message will translate and he’ll understand it in this physical language of yours. I love you.

He responds with a kiss to your temple.

Fighting a futile battle against sleep, you wonder what he’s trying to tell you.

–––––––––––

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[yanderenightmare]

BNHA HEADCANNONS

WHAT TYPE OF DARLING?

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon hinting, stalking, kidnapping, abduction, Stockholm syndrome, abuse, drugging, ableism

FOREWORD:

People fall in love with contrasts. We fall in love with qualities that somehow survive what seeks to destroy them. We fall in love with small creatures who somehow seem colossal in the measurements of confidence. We fall in love with hope in places where there shouldn’t be any strength left for it to be held onto. We fall in love with those who dare spare compassion for even those that might not deserve it anymore. We fall in love with those who’s curiosity seeks adventure even when the outcome might be fatal. We fall in love with those who stand their ground, refusing to budge, break or bow, despite the terror they face. We fall in love with those that stick to their ideals, morals, ethics even though the world constantly tells them to join the corruption. We fall in love with humble creatures facing worlds that have shown them nothing but cruelty. We fall in love with the survival of passion overcoming pure torture. We fall in love with contrasts. We fall in love with constant wars.

BAKUGO KATSUKI CONFIDENCE DESPITE INFERIORITY

It might sound shallow and materialistic, but what Katsuki attracts to first and foremost is femininity. He enjoys the esthetic contrast between his tall masculine rough self and someone dainty, delicate, defenseless. Something in dire need of protection. Something in dire need of him. However, that’s far away from ever being enough for the hero to fall in love. What Katsuki needs is a good challenge. He doesn’t feel fit, content with or deserving of his prize if he hasn’t worked hard to achieve them. It’s about stimulation; that feral desire to hunt and catch prey. Which means, he much rather prefers chasing above being chased. Because of this, Katsuki carries no interest in quirkless individuals. He doesn’t view them as equals, much less rivals. They are unworthy of him, in some sense. But… quirkless individuals who still have the audacity to pretend to be his equal… now that, that intrigues him.

When it comes to his darling: her quirk, or lack of one thereof, plays a large factor in why Katsuki first pays notice to her. It’s something between endearing and maddening: how she, without a quirk, can still go about with the confidence to act as though she’s unbothered by it and somehow live her life while still portraying as the sun itself. It’s infuriating to some degree: how she can make him feel like Icarus when she smiles his way. How she makes him feel inferior but somehow blessed at the same time.

As explained: despite it acting as a brief relief to satiate his ego, inferiority usually disgusts Katsuki. But, there’s something about her and her ambition, that just makes the whole display so mouthwatering to perceive. He admires her tenacity and aspiration, even though it’s futile. It’s inspirational just as much as it’s adorable. Somewhere inside him he feels the need to protect that light, meanwhile he also feels the sadistic urge to squash it, or, at the very least, prove that he has the power to. That’s were his sadistic narcissism comes to play. He has always had an odd lust for putting people in their place, their rightful place. To him: it portrays as a constant reminder that he himself is superior. This sickness only grows deeper, festering in Katsuki’s heart. Where her dependence of him, even though it’s mostly unfounded, could only be described as pure rapture. Katsuki just loves and craves feeling needed, not caring if it’s unwanted or not. In his eyes she was made to be ruled, made to be taken care of, made for him and only him. He adores how little power she possesses in the world, and the idea that he is the only person who can properly protect her from it all has become absolutely riveting.

Katsuki’s usually indifferent towards people’s attitudes, only ever judging people by their strengths and weaknesses. But, this girl, in all her inferiority has managed to create contradictions upon paradoxes within his mind. And, because of this, she poses as the ultimate challenge. Though he would never admit it, mostly chalking it down to her being whimsical and naïve, he quite admires her perseverance. How her spirit survives what her body cannot, as though she was built to break, only to come back even stronger than before; like a phoenix from the ashes and rubble of what his quirk left behind. If anything, her endurance only proves how much they truly belong together. Who, if not her, could ever handle him in his darkest hours?

KEYWORDS: feminine, vulnerable, delicate, confident, aspiring, perseverant

DABI HOPE AMONGST DEPRAVITY

Small, plump and grabbable females is what attracts Dabi, but it’s never enough to make him linger for too long. Dabi enjoys his females shy, because he knows that those are the ones that are the most sensitive; emotional, loud. Alike Katsuki, Dabi enjoys contrast. He’s scarred, he wants someone untouched. He’s the devil incarnate, he craves the embodiment of innocence. He much delights in seeing that timid type of lust in those otherwise chaste eyes. But, whence he’s destroyed that chastity, there’s not much that beckons him to stay. It takes a lot more for him to fall in real love.

What intrigued Dabi even further than her physique and innocence was his darling’s act of charity. Her need to help, her belief in the goodness in humanity as opposed to his obvious abandoned hope for the world. She looked at people with a mission, seeking the tragedy behind the wrath, the beauty behind the madness, refusing to let go of her hope as opposed to seeing the truth. Oh, how adorably naïve she was.

It was a strange type of strength he no longer possessed, no longer seeing the point in wasting his energy on, yet… seeing it displayed so easily in someone else, especially when her eyes were locked on him, was something gratifyingly pleasant and warm; a kindness he felt undeserving of, yet… not possessing the reserve to refuse, not when she was so intent of indulging him. It was a sanctuary that reminded him of a grace he was never blessed with having; something he could only describe as home.

That childlike hope and innocence, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He needed to hoard it all to himself. Besides, she needed him as much he needed her. As everybody knows: innocence is so fickle and easy to influence. She was deeply in need of guidance and so very eager to please. Dabi appreciates loyalty, he’s not one to enjoy struggling with his darling. And with someone as sweet, innocent and sensitive as his darling, it will be very easy to enforce. And now, with those large doe-eyes directed toward him, he could say it was worth it. He so adores the chaste disbelief displayed on her face each time he introduces her to some new type of sin. The swirling, spinning, drooling storm brewing in her eyes, all under the crushing weight of paradise. She’s too good for him. He knows that much. But… that’s what angels were made for, wasn’t it? To save damned souls like his, risking becoming damned themselves in the process? She was surely sent his way for a reason. She was made for him.

It only seems right in his eyes: that a sweet and innocent creature like her craves the corruption that only a sinful being like him can bestow upon her. She’s probably been waiting for someone like him all her life. She might not understand it yet, but Dabi can see it clear as day. She’s so wide-eyed and hopeless. Looking at him as though he were a God of some sorts. She kneels so easily and perfectly for him as well, you cannot tell him it isn’t what she was made for. To please him. To love him. Leaving her morals and ideals and firsts on floor all for his pleasure.

KEYWORDS: sensitive, emotional, shy, timid, innocent, naïve, sweet, caring, soft, loyal

SHIGARAKI TOMURA COMPASSION FOR THE WICKED

Tomura cares little for appearance. He destroys everything and anything he touches, no matter how ugly or how pretty. Esthetic has nothing to do with real life and therefore something idiotic for anyone to appeal to. Besides, for someone to draw his attention they have to be more than just pretty. For Tomura to truly notice someone, they have to be special… rare. For Tomura to give anyone a second glare he has to feel like he’s meant to, it has to feel like fate; unrivaled destiny. Otherwise he’s wasting his time. And along she came; his destiny. Looking at him with those large doe-eyes; gazing past the ugly and seeing the tragedy instead, not as though he were some monster, but as though he were nothing more than human. It’s a kindness he’s so very unused to; a memory forgotten and buried beneath the rubble of past hopes and wasted dreams. The feeling of hummingbirds in his heart was so extremely foreign and strange and scary in a way, but welcoming at the same time. And, when she bestowed this grace upon him, he couldn’t simply just let it go.

Finding out she’s equipped with a quirk that goes hand in hand with his quirk only solidifies his delusions even further. His past doesn’t help her case either; not when it aids his steadfast resolution on the fact that she’s always somehow belonged to him. Tomura was never spoiled as a child, which is why he truly feels like he deserves her, and cannot bring himself to feel guilty for hogging all her love for himself. She really doesn’t do herself any favors either, not when she comforts him in his fits. Her in her fatal compassion. How she sympathizes with his troubles; his deadly quirk, his callous life-view, his woeful past. He’s never had anyone understand him the way she does. He’s been neglected all his life. It feels so oddly deserved and heavenly to have someone express concern, affection… love… all for him. He feels as though he’s been refused the sun all his life, only now feeling the warm embrace of the light it grants without it seeking anything in return. It’s baffling. To the point where he might just argue he’s been dead all his existence, up until the point he saw her smile, heard her laugh, felt her warmth. He doesn’t ever want to feel like he’s dying again, not when she poses as life itself, not when she’s already caught firmly in his iron-grip.

Tomura’s never been thoroughly interested in anyone. He finds most people completely mediocre and boring and unworthy of his attention. Humans were, in his eyes, a wretched, greedy, despicable type of creature. But… she, despite being human, bares a heart of pure gold. That’s humanity, he came to conclude. That urge to help, to comfort, that feeling of kinship, that lack of bloodlust and cruelty. She’s so human it reminded him of what humanity really is. Humanity beforesin. Human; without sick ambitions, without twisted ideals, without demented morals. Unlike the world. Unlike him. She’s golden.

It’s no good being as caring as her in world such as this, especially not if she’s going to be as generous with her affection as she so is. Tomura becomes addicted, dependent, rather quickly. And why not? He has the means to make her stay and the means to murder anyone who dare defy those wishes. So, he’ll remain dependent on her golden touch and her golden words. It would be impossible to let her go now, when she feels like pure absolution against him.

KEYWORDS: affectionate, compassionate, caring, thoughtful, sympathetic, considerate, generous

SHINSO HITOSHI CURIOSITY DESPITE PERIL

Hitoshi cares little for pretty things. Mostly because he doesn’t like wasting his time. He’s never been one for believing in the soft pleasures of the world. Love, being one of those things, has always been a fairytale unworthy of his attention, unworthy of his words. But, of course, there are times where even he feels lonely. And, though he enjoys being alone, no one enjoys feeling lonely. But… Hitoshi’s ever the stubborn guy. He will not bend to the pathetic pulls of his heartstrings. No, if he’s ever going to fall in love, love better come to him. And, that’s exactly what happens. A magnitude of expressive emotions that demand his attention takes him by the nape of his neck, storming his heart into surrender. She’s obviously oblivious to her effects on him, but he rather prefers it that way. Studying her in her natural state.

She’s so very colorful; as in quirky, flamboyant, creative, artsy. A plethora of a thousand devastating, split-second passions. She’s everything he didn’t even know that he wanted, needed in fact. A woman of substance, a woman who breathes chaos. Both to balance out his grim resolution and sobriety, but also to… feed his insatiable gluttonous need for control, because… chaotic, brazen and wild minds are the easiest to exploit, when at the same time they never dull or tire or break. Bendable and therefore mendable.

What more humored Hitoshi, when first meeting his darling, was her fearlessness, or perhaps recklessness; that strange type of unrivaled curiosity that seemed to outweigh any viable threats of danger; gullibility. The fact that she just spoke to him so effortlessly, trusting him; carelessly, despite knowing of the nature behind his quirk. How she so blatantly became his friend, with no ill will or scrutiny in her personality or attitude toward him whatsoever. It’d been so long since he’d come across that same type of idealism and good nature; that childlike innocence. To say that it took him by surprise would be an understatement. He didn’t know what to make of it at first; if to believe it was downright foolishness or daringly haughty and playful. How she held herself so carelessly around him, coaxing him instead of walking on thin ice like everyone else did. Just… talking to him. Talking and talking about nothing and everything, as though she wasn’t in any type of danger whatsoever. Talking to him as though she had nothing to fear. Talking to him as though he weren’t a threat. Talking. Just talking.

Her compulsive behavior and knack for taking risks works so well with his desires. Where she´s incapable of controlling herself, he would love to do it for her. But… there’s more to it than just that. She’s so good at talking. So much so he hardly wants to take advantage of her answers. She’s like a treasure-trove that hands out their treasure willingly. Not just responsive, but talkative on her own and unreserved with her words as well. Even asking questions of her own; curious and invested. In him? How could he pass her up?

It’s true it didn’t pain him as much as he probably would have wanted it too when he betrayed her trust. But, despite Hitoshi not being delusional, he still manages to blame her for it. He argues she must have wanted him to take advantage of her. She knew every step of the way what could happen when she answered his questions time and time again, yet she never took any safety measures to avoid it. That carelessness. It was almost as though she was coaxing him, teasing him, begging him to take control. Why not oblige her wishes?

KEYWORDS: foolish, reckless, careless, compulsive, frivolous, colorful, creative, passionate, brazen, haughty, responsive, trusting, gullible, curious, playful, adventurous, expansive, unreserved, talkative

TAMAKI KEIGO DEFIANCE UNDER INTIMIDATION

Keigo’s a simple guy. A simple guy with simple desires. He likes pretty things, plural. He collects them. Pretty things upon pretty things upon new pretty things. And because Keigo’s popular with the public, he doesn’t exactly need to chaseanyone in order to get what he wants. People come to him. He will have someone one night and move on to someone else the next day. Which is why being pretty isn’t enough to make him thoroughly interested. For him to become invested, the pursuit has to pose as a challenge. A hunt, and not just for any pretty little thing, but for a pretty little monster.

As explained: Keigo’s a simple guy. A simple guy with simple goals. However, when one of his supposed simple goalsturns out to be a much harder goal than expected, causing a ripple in his otherwise perfect streak, it’s enough to drive the bird… let’s say… a little bit kooky. What Keigo hangs up on when meeting his soon-to-be-darling is her uniqueness, or… rather her reluctance. Her defiance. That wrinkle between her brows in her otherwise gorgeous face. Something so pretty, so petite, so small, but so very hostile and beastly at the same time. So very feisty and stubborn and defensive. Batting off his charm as though it were the plague. Protective of herself despite his reputation, in fact: seeming irreverent over his obvious status. Viewing all his efforts as though he were setting some type of trap; animalistic in her ways too, never feeling like polishing her brash attitude even when regarding him of all people, one of the top five highest ranking heroes. Looking through his seemingly harmless flirtatious nature and seeing something that alarmed her. He quite enjoyed it all.

She’s just so different from the rest of his pursuits. She’s a game he can’t seem to win. It’s frustrating, maddening even, yet somehow it is the only thing that makes him feel alive. The outright rejection should have been humbling, should at least have been accepted, but Keigo saw no reason to back down, he only saw reason to try harder. Which he did.

Life had become boring lately, being one of the top heroes. He has everything. Or… he had everything. Her defiance is refreshing. It acts as a reminder, his animalistic instincts kicking in. Finally feeling the odd yet pleasurable thirst for hunting simmering through his veins. He’s used to tapping into that raw impulse when catching villains, but he had yet to experience the carnal desire for finding a mate. It soon becomes a little overwhelming. A little domineering. Fending off his better judgement. It’s easy to forget how wrong it is to take pleasure in her tears, when the smell of fear has scented the air. It’s easy to forget how twisted it is for him to enjoy seeing her cower away from him, when it’s so easy to win the fight.

He’s a predator, she’s prey. In a way… it isn’t really wrong at all.

KEYWORDS: hostile, defensive, stubborn, feisty, reluctant, rebellious, irreverent, liberal

MIDORIYA IZUKU ALTRUISM IN THE FACE OF CORRUPTION

Izuku finds ways to appreciate every physique he comes across. It’s all in the details; minor, minuscule details. Both flaws and perfections alike interest him to a near clinical degree. However, because of this knack for observation, most people, in all their peculiarities and intricacies, still tend to blend into one. But, there are exceptions: heroes. Izuku’s been drawn to heroes all his life. Admiring their strength, their sense of justice and honor. Herodom is something he’s always aspired to become. Something he wished to achieve. Which he did. What Izuku seeks now is a partner with those same aspirations. Izuku can only find love in kinship. With a person similar to him. It’s a twisted type of narcissism he cannot bring himself to describe, one probably adopted from Katsuki, through many years of having a festering sick adoration and glorification of the childhood friend, one which ultimately resulted in Izuku mirroring more and more of Kachan’squalities, however in a much more demented fashion.

Unlike the others, Izuku’s been hellbent with the idea of sharing his life with a significant other. And he’s nothing if not a planner, he’s been searching for his perfect darling for years. And there wasn’t much, if anything, that would change his mind once he found her.

Just like he once was, his darling is quirkless, but still prop-full of that unrelenting ambition. Selflessness as well is another attribute as to why she was chosen. He is a bit of a sap for nostalgia, you see. She reminds him of his young self. That type altruistic generosity without expecting anything in return. She’s so innocently and hopelessly idealistic; dreamy… naïve. He finds it endearing in some sick sense: how the world chews her up and spits her back out again. He’ll want to deny it. But he can’t resist the sadistic enjoyment found in her struggle. He feels the need to save her from herself, because he knows better than anyone that her kind-heartedness will only get the best of her, like it did him in the end. He won’t let the same fate befall her. He’ll have to be a bit selfish with her though, despite it being the exact thing he’s trying to defeat. He needs to be selfish in order to protect her. It’s in both of their best interest really. The world won’t drink her dry, there’ll be more for Izuku to cherish and she’ll be safe and sound and perfect forever.

He can’t help his less appealing sides. Despite how much he loathes feeling those disgusting self-righteous desires, despite how unwelcome those thoughts are… he can’t seem to rid himself of them. It’s frustrating because he truly loves his darling, he wants to protect them, to cherish them, but on the lesser charming side of himself he feels superior, where instead of them belonging with each other, she belongs to him, for him, where she has no right to refuse his wishes. Because he’s achieved the title of God, and she’s still human… his human, his doll.

KEYWORDS: sense of justice, heroic, honorable, selfless, altruistic, ambitious, dreamy, idealistic, silly, awkward

CHISAKI KAI HUMILITY DESPITE HARDSHIP

Kai is corrupt, hypocritical, established, impatient, entitled and most of all white-gloved. Love seemed too hopeless a goal for a guy of his stature and perfectionism. But, alike with Hitoshi, chaos seemed to sweep him into a whirlwind of graceless, peaceful wilderness. A pull so vehement he couldn’t simply ignore it. At first, he dimmed his interest down to the simple fact that she was quirkless; clean. Quirkless people are a minority. Not only is she a treasure fit for the yakuza boss, but she’s also spared the ghastliness and depravity and corruption of carrying a quirk. But, her lack of quirk soon dimmed in the light of her other qualities. For the more he observed the more he unraveled about the chaotic nature of the beautiful creature he’d found.

Opposites attract. This is true for everyone, but not as literarily as for Kai. Not only is she clean in the sense of being quirkless, but also in the sense of being humble and sweet; lacking in sin. Her morality hits him as a surprise, it being refreshing in a sense he hadn’t ever felt before. He is so very used to taking what he wants with zero regard towards anyone or the possible consequences of his actions. What worse: never even once feeling content or satisfied with his reaping. Serving himself and himself alone has always been Kai’s mindset, where he never once expects anyone to act any differently than him. Humans are greedy creatures after all, yet… his darling seems overly at peace with her life, rather preoccupied with her surroundings to even so much as think about her own desires. He finds it enraging at first, but then peculiar, daunting even, and then endearing.

Their differences exceed his expectations time and time again. Where he is the epitome of modernity, hygiene and laundered health, she was the embodiment of wilderness. Where he was white-gloved, she was green-fingered. Unafraid of getting her hands dirty with soil; gardening. A pastime he was thoroughly disgusted with, yet she seemed to do it with such ease, such effortlessness, such peace, such happiness. He was astounded each time he saw how delicately, respectfully, she treated her surroundings, unlike him who trod as though he owns the very earth beneath his feet. Her life was messy, but she seemed to have no qualms with the fact. Quite the opposite actually; thriving in her chaos, appreciative of what little she had. He came to understand that it wasn’t so much her life that was messy but she herself. Her, in all her clumsy, forgetful and graceless peace, was in desperate need of correction, guidance, restraint, something he would eagerly fulfill her with in his determined and stoic reform. She’ll be the peak of humanity once he’s done with her. Though it proves difficult due to her forgetfulness and lack of heed, none of his lessons ever really sticking. But he comes to adore that quality as well, knowing full well her intention is not to anger him. If anything, her oblivious nature and childlike negligence only calls for his protection even further.

Kai isn’t usually a curious guy, especially when it comes to singular human beings, but he quickly discovered, or came to the conclusion, that his darling is far from being any regular human being. She is his opposite, his polar opposite. Humble, pure, passionate, everything he is in dire need of. She will complete him, she just needs to accept that.

KEYWORDS: humble, earthy, peaceful, disorderly, chaotic, messy, disorganized, graceless, grateful, appreciative, clumsy, forgetful

TODOROKI SHOTO PASSION TRANDSCENDING SORROW

Shoto had no thoughts containing that of love or attraction. Being a rather platonic guy in any relationship he ever ventured, never feeling any carnal desires or things similar to it. His appetite for such things rather quenched in light of the ruins that make up his parent’s marriage. However, once he met her, he knew instantly. Embers of a dying fire finding new life. She was perfection; messy, clumsy, zany perfection. She possessed everything he didn’t have. That type of lustfor life that always seemed to slip past him. It’s mesmerizing to behold someone so drunk on living, it distracted him from feeling so empty. Perhaps she could teach him? Perhaps she could share? Share some of that passion she possesses, that wild, vivid, fervent, unrelenting, brazen, wanton passion.

Shoto’s just so taken aback, as though swiftly swept off his feet, faceplanting into a rainbow-tinted world, a world so intense and so very loud. It was so perplexing, the amount of energy all cooped up into that small being. She reminded him of a storm, yet she was far from being violent or deadly. She was just so bubbly, so very livid, as though life were a constant parade.

He knew he loved her once their first encounter let up, feeling as though he’d been robbed of something, something he had no problems being robbed of.

He’s used to people having ulterior motives, but everything about her intense, unabashed, completely earnest dorkiness was so very honest. So candid and cheerful in her queries, jabs and jokes. And though he might not have understood half of the jests she came with, the sound of her laughter more or less made up for the fact, ever pleasant and euphoric as it was as she boldly cracked herself up with her own tales and even finding an immense form of amusement in the slight shift of his otherwise plain features. Question upon question leapt from her mouth, about his appearance, his past, his thoughts for the future. He’d half the mind to tell her she was his future, but he managed to contain himself. Seeming patient when she didn’t quite extract a response from him, happily helping with explaining anything he might have had questions about too, never once finding his curiosity odd, never once passing judgement. She droned on as though they’d been friends for a lifetime.

Now they’d be each-others for the rest of their lifetime. He’d make sure by mixing their natures, marveling at how she reacts to him and his quirks. He finds it quite educating, how her spirit never seems to break, but rather bends or resurfaces even stronger than before. It’s beautiful. She is so colorful, breathtaking, so much so it makes him appreciate breathing. Everything she does is executed with the outmost maximum effort, never doing anything half-way. He wishes he had the same drive, the same fire, but he remains so cold and lifeless compared to her. When she laughs, she cries. When she screams, she dances. When she moans, she sings. He wishes he could imitate the same spirit she carries.

He’s envious of her, but… at least she belongs to him now. All her passion being his to devour. Besides, if she shares her hearts secrets to unlocking passion, there’s no end to what he can teach her regarding what it’s like to suffer.

KEYWORDS: cheerful, optimistic, spirited, passionate, colorful, droll, comical, clumsy, silly, whimsical, zany, honest, candid, forgiving, helpful, patient

[tenthgrove]

An (Incredibly Loose and Unfounded) Analysis of Dolcio Cioccolata

Content Warnings: Typical Cioccolata behaviour such as murder and manipulation. One mention of suicide. Discussion of child abuse.

(A/N: I do not know much about psychology, nor do I pretend to. Instead, I'm essentially going to be listing out headcanons of educated guesses about his motivations and behaviours based on his canon actions.)

Cioccolata is one of the most rightfully despised villains in the entirety of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Beyond his egotistical, rotten behaviour around other characters, the reason for his notoriety arguably lies in the disturbing reality of his evil. He isn't motivated by a cartoonish desire for world domination or an explicable feud with our protagonists that could really only arise in fiction, but a simple, sadistic desire to observe the suffering of others and revel in the power it gives him. Although he is in possession of a highly lethal stand, his weapons of choice are natural tools. Medical tools. He scares us, because his evil is grounded in reality.

One of the most perplexing things about Cioccolata's behaviour is the inconsistency in his demeanour. Despite initially appearing to be a flat, one-dimensional incarnation of pure sadism, he has a number of highly distinct moods that, despite their diversity, are all recognisably his. There's the manic joy that usually comes to mind when you first think of the character, but there are also moments of uncontrolled anger, fear, and even calmness.

It's the fact his emotional exterior can change very suddenly that makes it so unnerving. Notice how calm he initially appears when he carves into one of his victims during his backstory segment. Until the point he breaks into a sickening smile, there's not even a hint of a twitching lip to indicate his usual sadistic joy at doing what he loves.

There are other similar instances, such as occasions where he suddenly bursts into emotion during his fight with Giorno, or interacts very inconsistently with Secco.

One possible explanation for this behaviour is that he treats his life like a grand piece of drama in which he is the star actor. You know that trope of the actor character who's just a bit too full of himself and takes his performances to an obnoxious level of serious? That's how Cioccolata treats his whole life. It pleases him to turn every word, every expression, every movement of his limbs into the work of an intellectual genius, something the audience in his mind will clap and cheer for as he enters the scene.

Unlike Kira, a more major villain who follows the similar role of a serial killer who at least some of the time follows 'realistic' urges and methodologies in his crimes, we don't have anything in the way of an explanation for Cioccolata as to how his murderous urges arose. Nonetheless, I believe there are most likely some similarities between the pair.

Some might assume that the sheer brutality of Cioccolata's crimes would point towards a highly traumatic childhood, with abuses to rival the fates of some of his victims. In real life, while it is common for serial killers to have had such childhoods, they don't usually create the behaviour patterns seen in Cioccolata. Such killers often lash out against specific groups, women being a common target especially if the killer was abused by a maternal figure. As far as we know, Cioccolata has no specific target demographic other than the incredibly broad category of 'the weak.'

Additionally, we know from canon that Cioccolata was able to seek voluntary work at a home for the elderly at the tender age of 14, and judging by what he got away with, was clearly trusted by the institute's staff a lot. This would point towards Cioccolata having a family life that at least externally appeared respectable, and left Cioccolata stable enough to hide his deviancies where necessary.

The backstory I have created for Cioccolata is a middle-ground between a childhood of abject misery and trauma, and a childhood of perfect normalcy (in which Cioccolata's evil would have arisen purely from nature).

It begins with Cioccolata's birth to a teenage mother, hailing from a wealthy conservative Italian family, and a foreign tourist who had already made his getaway months ago. The circumstances of the birth brought about great shame that caused the mother and child to be severely chastised by the rest of the family. Within a few years, the shame brought the young mother to a breaking point and resulted in her suicide, beginning Cioccolata's fascination with death.

After this, Cioccolata's life continued roughly the same. He did not mourn his mother as the pair never properly bonded and his grandparents continued to treat him with the same coldness. That was until, around the age of 10, it became undeniable that Cioccolata possessed a profound innate genius, and would likely go on to be incredibly successful. Suddenly, the boy was showered in praise and encouragement, teaching him the crucial lesson that love is conditional, and only owed to those who are strong.

On this subject, we arrive at the most tantalising question of Cioccolata's psychology, that being whether he is truly capable of love. The short answer is: yes. His love for Secco is genuine in the context of his own behaviour, and if he were to have lived a full life it can't be ruled out that he would have experienced love of some form again. Everything we see of Cioccolata's relationship with Secco points to a genuine love, from the way he apologises for throwing one of the sugar cubes too far to his heartfelt goodbye over the phone. Even if their relationship is unhealthy, Cioccolata has goodwill towards his companion.

The issue that then has to be reconciled is how Cioccolata is capable of this kind of companionship when the vast majority of the population are nothing but lab rats to him. In short, Cioccolata's morality is whatever he wants it to be. He is the ultimate worthy being and hence, if he cares about someone, he can break the rules of his philosophy to do so because, if they weren't deserving of it, why would someone so important as him have feelings for them?

You can take this back to the point about Cioccolata's life being a performance to him. We already know the fascination he experiences with fear, so perhaps he has similar curiosities about other emotions, like love? Perhaps having someone like Secco fills him with a grand sense of poeticism, as though he is the misunderstood hero of some acclaimed play, playing out the scene of a beautiful romance against the backdrop of a bloody tragedy.

If there's one thing to be taken away from this, it's that Cioccolata's entire existence, his whole world-view, is built around his self-importance. A fairly moot point, now it comes down to it, given everything about the character's actions, but it's interesting to see how this profound egoism plays out in his more subtler interactions. Perhaps it's not only the realism of his crimes that makes him so terrifying, but also the realism of the particular way he regards his fellow humans like dirt. If you survive him, it's for his pleasure.