#i want to learn and grow with every interaction i have with humans

[warning-heckboop]

Peri being bad emotionally at being a godparent is so real. I want him to realize this. I want them both to grow. But Mmmm they need to be put into the emotional blender first to know they were in the emotional trenches with each other.

Dev is such a sensitive kid and has walls built up to cloud nine with issues that aren't capable of being wished away added into his act of pushing everyone away before a fight happens (where he assumes the worst if a fight does happen, damn this kid needs therapy) Peri didn't really try to connect with him outside suggesting wishes like Timmy would. Peri caring about Dev like a social worker is like my best analogy here, because Peri cares more about granting wishes and making Dev happy on the surface, like he wanted to prove himself as such a good godparent he wishes the best things ever for Dev and go back to Fairy World the youngest and most successful Godparent in history.

But they both failed at the connection. Dev clearly cares about Peri, he just felt betrayed and rushed to act out to push him away for someone he thought would help. But even then he just learned there was nothing he could do to get his dad to love him.

And maybe Peri realized too late that he does actually care about Dev too. But man is that almost too late. I'm so excited for a season 2, I hope there's some revelation in Peri realizing just how out of it he is by having to take care of Hazel for a bit, that would be so funny to watch him get run ragged while his parents aren't around and he can't blame it on Dev trying to ignore Da Rules.

I would love to see Peri get smacked upside the head with the truth like that in season 2. And honestly? I'd kind of love it if it's his parents who help him realize it. Like I want there to be an interaction where Peri is complaining about Dev to them, about how difficult he is compared to Hazel, but instead of his parents siding with him on that, I want them to say "of course he's not the same as Hazel, just the same way Hazel isn't the same as Timmy, because every human child has their own needs and preferences, and you have to get to know them to find out what those are."

[chartreuxcatz]

Fun fact! You can call people out In Private.

You can talk to them privately about something they did or said and then give them a chance to change their behavior. Hell, you dont even have to keep talking to them after that, you can block them if you want.

And it can all be civil and happen without yelling into a megaphone to a bunch of strangers that this teenager is bad and did bad things and dont you DARE give your input because that clearly means you’re bad too.

Do you really think every teenager should be expected to speak about every subject with the tact of a specially trained PR Manager???

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[neil-gaiman]

hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

[yandereunsolved]

✐ᝰ Yandere Clark Kent 'Superman' ᝰ.ᐟ

Alien, farmer, reporter, superhero, and Justice League member are all titles Clark has collected over the years. They stretch from the most mundane to the ones that are given the highest respect. All of these titles pale in comparison to the one he yearns for the most: to be your husband. Every one of his positive traits seemed to disintegrate when it came to you, his accomplishments and status along with them. He was simply Clark to you, not Superman or Kal-El.

He was nothing but a love-sick maniac at your feet. His obsession threatens to break the moral code he is so devoted to. He understands that his attraction to you is something unhealthy and taboo. He is a beacon of light in the darkness of the world. Yet he'd be willing to blind the entire world with light just to be acknowledged by you. He'd cut out his own heart and present it in a gift box with a red bow if it'd please you.

You—just a human reporter who works at the Daily Planet. You who lives in a small studio apartment. You who has aspirations of doing something greater than just writing opinion pieces. You who has captured the noble hero's heart. 

You, you, you, you, you, you, you.

He can't get enough.

He doesn't get enough of you. You seem to actively avoid him. You interact with Lois so cordially; you two are close friends. He works with Lois. Why are you giving him the cold shoulder?

He knows everything about you. He knows your favorite restaurant, where you go to de-stress, your schedule, your hobbies, and your fantasies. He's spent so much time learning about you. You've learned nothing about him except for the fact that he's your dorky, sweet co-worker.

"Are you staring at them again? How long have you been staring at them? Why do you keep staring at them? Do you have a crush on them!?" Lois interrogates him with that same curiosity kindling in the back of her violet eyes.

He could demolish buildings in an instant, but he couldn't control his pale complexion from being invaded by a red hue. He had to think for a moment. His words had become lost in his mind, like they had been dispersed among the cosmos. He stuttered at first. It felt so out of character for him. He always, well, almost always, knew what to say. 

He had to be careful around her. He's lucky that he has been clever enough to keep his obsessive tendencies under wraps until Lois leaves his side.

"I just want to know why they refuse to talk to me." His words were laced with truth. Still, he was dodging her questions, as always.

Lois huffs in irritation, like he just said the most asinine thing one could ever utter.

"They obviously like you. They just think you're way out of their league."

"What?" He deadpans.

"I never give you the inside scoop about your darling little crush, but this one time I may." She teases him. "Clark, they like you. The googly eyes you two make at each other are such an obvious indication that you both are totally whipped for each other."

"You're serious?" His pupils dilate to such an extensive degree that you would have thought he was getting them checked by an optometrist. A lump forms in this throat, twice the size of his Adam's apple. "They like me?"

"They more than like you. They are interested in you, and you should totally ask them out on a date. I have to help a friend out, y'know? You two would make such a cute couple." Lois's pitch in her voice had become so much higher; even with her evident giddiness, there was an undertone of sulleness.

"Hey!" Lois calls you over. She waves her arm around and points towards Clark.

You scurry over in your flattering work outfit. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to eye you like a forbidden sweet. Still, he could feel his clothes grow tighter and his palms become sweaty. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. He wanted to gently tilt your chin up so your eyes would meet his. He'd eat a lump of kryptonite just for you to glance at him with that love-lorn expression. If only you knew, he could show; no, he has to show—

"You and him are going to go undercover in a local cafe a few blocks from here." He's snapped from his never-ending supply of thoughts about you. "It's supposedly a cover for a notorious drug cartel. Your cover story will be that you're a young couple going out on a date."  

You glance at Lois and eagerly nod. His words don't register your reply, but from Lois's grin, you obviously said something along the lines of yes. You walk off once again, your eyes sweeping across the aged carpet covering the office floor. Once out of hearing distance, Lois turns back to him.

"You're welcome. You owe me one." Lois nudges him in the side.

He could die a happy man now.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Hi I love your work! Would you have any sfw + nsfw relationship headcanons for So’lek x fem Sarentu Na’vi? I’m playing AFoP right now and I’m looking for crumbs in every in-game interaction lol

Pairing: So'lek/Fem!Sarentu!Reader

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @neteyamsyawntu

Warnings: nsfw (will be under the cut), minors dni

A/n: Using my favorite picture I ever took while playing AFoP 💕 Imagine that's how he looked when you walked into the room.

Also, my first headcanon request! Yay!

~~~~~~~~~

Sfw:

This man trusts you with his life and therefore trusts you are safe and loyal to him, no matter how far or how long you two are apart. (Doesn't mean he trusts Eetu to keep his overconfident hands to himself)

You're constantly traveling and never in one place for long, and while he used to be the same way, he finds himself staying in a chosen few places for long periods of time so that you can easily find him.

While he isn't much for PDA, he's still Na'vi, and he is going to grab your tail, both publicly and privately.

After losing his own clan, he understands exactly what you need to finally and properly mourn the loss of the Sarentu. He gives you what he wished he could've accepted from others after the loss of his people.

Doesn't like it when people tease him about your love. He takes your relationship very seriously and doesn't see the teasing as lighthearted. Priya learns quickly that he's more broody if your relationship comes up in the conversation.

And it's not like he's ashamed of your relationship. He's very proud of it, thank you very much. Even though he isn't into PDA, he still properly courts you in Na'vi tradition like you deserve. He wants you to experience Na'vi traditions since you never had them growing up.

He forces himself to appreciate the Sky People's communication devices because they ease his worries when he's able to talk to you from long distances. Yes, he trusts you to be safe, but he can't trust the rest of Pandora to do the same.

Takes his role as Big Brother to the rest of the Sarentu (Ri'nela, Nor, and Teylan) very seriously since you clearly trust him to guide your family when you're traveling and away from home.

Nsfw (minors dni):

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, this man has ZERO shame when he's eating you out. He's hungry, and he's messy. He's not gonna care how loud or disgusting it sounds.

I wouldn't be surprised if he spent a whole night with his mouth between your legs. I doubt this man has had any action during his life of solitude and path of revenge, so he's going to make up for lost time. If he's craving your taste, you better let him ravage you.

He's one of those lovers who refuses to pleasure himself unless it's to pleasure you, your care and well-being first and foremost in his mind. He doesn't care if it physically hurts not being able to cum, he's going to make sure you cum first. Please please PLEASE give him just as much attention because he deserves it. 🙏

When you two finally mate and form tsaheylu, he's supporting your weight as he takes you up against the nearest tree, being as gentle as physically possibly even with your gummy walls hugging his cock so deliciously. It takes a lot of his strength and willpower not to rail you right away. Since you're bonding for the first time, he wants it to be prolonged and intense. He wants to take his time.

Another reason why he sometimes refuses to cum is because believe it not, he doesn't have a breeding kink. At least not yet. He's not oblivious of the world around you, and even in his frenzied need to have every part of you, he remembers the war and how it's no place to start a family, no matter how much the both of you might want it.

He refuses to budge on the matter, and you need to respect that boundary. So you try other ways to get him to cum. Having him fuck you between the thighs was the best idea since the human invention of sliced bread. He. Loves. It. You have to hold onto his tail because it's always thrashing wildly behind him as he grinds his leaking cock into the tight space where you clench your thighs.

This man has been so deprived that when he cums, he cums a lot. A LOT. It's a shame none if that goes inside you 🫣 what a shame.

Growls. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said. Growls between your legs and the vibration puts toys to shame.

Mating bites 🫦 but they're mostly hidden between your thighs, under your loincloth. You definitely feel them as you walk around, and that is one of the little things in life between you and him that gets So'lek to smile.

~~~~~~~~~

I will happily write more about this!

RULES

REQUEST

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

[cr4yolaas]

hi :) if it’s not too much trouble, can you write about the jjk boys with a blind reader?

feel my love for u! — various jjk men

tags: fluff for all but toji; his is a little bittersweet ʅ(◞‿◟)ʃ, may or may not be an inaccurate rep of blind individuals, gender neutral reader, not proofread

notes: thank you for your request anon !! i didn’t really get too specific with the reader being blind, as i wasn’t sure how to go about it without jumping to conclusions. hope u all enjoy regardless ^_^

𝜗𝜚 nanami kento is caring, without bounds. the first time he meets you, he’s indifferent to what you believe sets you miles apart from your peers. he thinks you’re silly for doubting yourself, but he understands that your beliefs have their roots. and so, he is gentle — although he has a busy schedule that leaves him rather unavailable, he always ensures that there is space for you. he finds peace in the little routines he’s built around you, whether it’s morning walks shared when the crowds are low as he intertwines your hand with his, or quiet evenings spent with delicate touches and whispered words only for you to hear. he does his best to accommodate you in any way you deem necessary — all he wants is for you to be comfortable.

𝜗𝜚 gojo satoru adores you a little bit more for it, but he won’t say that out loud. at times, he’ll find himself using it as a means to hold your hand at any given moment, insisting that he just wants to help — even if you laugh at him and argue that you’re fine. by extension, he unapologetically grows more attached to you. he develops a habit of latching onto you the moment you enter his field of vision, serving as a display of both his clinginess and his willingness to be there for you. he’s touchy, but he’s careful — he’s aware of how many obstacles you have to traverse around throughout your daily life, and he’s more than eager to guide you through each hurdle. he’ll sit with you in silence as you trace the features of his face, and at the same time, he’ll always give a piece of himself for you to hold onto while he rambles on and on about his day. he’s willing to adjust in any manner to make you happy.

𝜗𝜚 toji fushiguro bears an unmatched degree of hesitance when he first meets you. his lifestyle isn’t the safest, so to say. he’s rough around the edges, and he admits that to you as soon as he discovers your condition. but with your persistence, he finds himself longing for more — uncharacteristically, he yearns for the delicate moments you share. he yearns to feel you fiddling with his calloused hands as you conversate, he yearns to hear your voice as you scold him for being a little too reckless, he yearns for the simplicity and vulnerability you bring to his life. and yet, he knows it’s not good for you — he tries, he tries oh so hard to fight against his heart, but he can’t quite name the last time he’s felt so cared for before you. he’ll admit he’s overbearing at times with his protective mannerisms, but he’s desperate to cling onto you, even if it drives him to the edge.

𝜗𝜚 choso kamo is simultaneously curious and eager. he had interacted with curses who couldn’t see, but to witness a human with the same troubles was new to him. he wants to know everything — he wants to know your daily routines, what you struggle with the most, what you do to accommodate yourself. but most importantly, he wants to be there for you. even if you insist that you can suffice, he wants to support you by any means necessary. yuuji once told him that it’d help to keep you within arms reach whenever you need it, and he takes it a little overboard — you find his arm wrapped around your waist every minute, and he tugs at the fabric of your shirt when you try to pull away. he grows a little too jumpy, as well — his hands instinctively grab at any corner near your head, and he almost always runs by your side whenever he sees you walking alone. regardless, he loves to learn about you and serve as a pillar for your troubles.

[heartfullofleeches]

I've really been missing ff reader interacting with the bathroom succubus, they were a quick favourite of mine. Maybe like the reader getting bored and braiding their hair.

Standing outside the smoldering remains of the kitchen, your eyes gradually drift in the direction of your coworker as the flames rage on within the building. Screams of the firemen sent to take care of the fire drown beneath the groan and snap of wood. You probably could've gone the rest of your life without learning ninety percent of the repairs in that building were at the sacrifice of human flesh, but same as with the rest of the horrors you witness you shove it to the back of your mind until it inevitably haunts your nightmares.

"Whelp.... There goes my weekend. Lambchop will be fine in the freezer, but I know they're worried sick about me. Anyway, I'd say it'll be about...." You gadge the time with your hand, measuring the minutes it takes for human bone to fully merge with the floorboards. "Ten....fifteen minutes before things are back to normal. Can you do that thing you do with your hair so I can braid it?"

"You mean this?"

The succubus combs her fingers through her hair, the messy, uneven ends of her pixie cut growing longer, finer with each stroke. Her hair stops at the small of her back by the time she's finished, the dark roots of her natural hair color peaking from the same blonde dye still stain the bathroom walls.

"Why do you even dye your hair when you can change your hair and eye color whenever you want?"

"Sometimes it changes just from me thinking about a color. Gave an old guy a heart attack when my hair turned the same shade of red as your hat. It was kinda funny at the time, but then he started haunting the bathroom which is my territory so I had to get rid of him."

"Are you talking about David? Aw, I kinda liked that guy... He was going to teach me how to do my taxes. Sit down here, please."

Pointing down at the only fresh plot of grass this parking lot had to offer, you plop down beside the succubus as she sits with her legs tucked under her. Even sitting down she was a few inches taller than you. Like other parts of her, her height fluctuated depending on the day and her mood. You prop yourself up on your knees as you part her hair in three sections, weaving one over the other as she fishes her phone out of her pocket.

The succubus pretends to check through her messages, your eyes meeting every single time she opens the camera to peer over her shoulder. Staring down at her phone, you catch a glimpse of the stars. It isn't every night you pay attention to what's up there.

"This is nice...."

"Yeah....." The succubus positions an elbow on your knee - the shutter of a camera not going unnoticed as you look up at the night sky. Your hands function on autopilot, threading her hair down the curve of her spine. You can make out the tips of her small horns at this angle, hidden beneath the fluff of her curls.

"Hey, Lye...."

"Yeah?"

"You know you don't have to burn down the kitchen so I'll spend time with you, right?"

"Yeahhhhh, but your break wasn't for another hour. I needed my you time now."

"....Fair point."

[ptolomia]

hatred for flowers.

- she never knew she could despise flowers, that was until the began to bloom out of her esophagus that is.

- Scott Summers (Cyclops)/Reader Referenced Scott Summers/Jean Grey

Mentions of The Jean - Logan - Scott triangle.

- TW:// Gore / Death

- Hanahaki Disease / Unrequited Love

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation she has been put in. Siting in complete agony as blood pooled out of her mouth. Ironically, the only flowers she ever wanted to receive from him were bouquets, not these. Not the ones traveling up her throat as they pierce her organs. Certainly not the ones exiting her mouth covered in the rouge colored liquid we know to be blood.

Twisting and turning in complete misery, sobbing relentlessly, pain without end. Yet the most agonizing part, she could not let him go. Instead of shrinking, her feelings only grew. Instead of hating him, she grew to hate the flowers blooming within her.

She had begun to hate herself too. Why? You may ask, simple. She hates herself for falling, simply because of an emotion over which she has no control. She resents herself, she goes about her day, blaming herself for ever seeing Scott, when in fact she cannot hate herself for simply being human. She does so for she knows no other way of coping but this. She will resent herself for harbouring such ill borne desire for her oldest friends lover.

Her guilt only seems to grow as she dreams of holding his hand. She pretends her hands fit perfectly within each crevice; and oh god is she grief stricken. Knowing full well that it was made for someone else. He, was made for someone else. Her best friend no less.

She knows all too well that he is not hers, but she is his. She gazes into his eyes and sees the love of her life, whilst he looks into hers and sees his wife’s oldest friend. A friend so madly in love with him, she is willing to risk her own life, unbeknownst to him.

His density is palpable, he doesn’t quite pick up on the hints of affection that you’ve woven into your daily interactions. Even if he did, he chose to remain ignorant. He knows to himself that he is not, and will never be capable of loving anyone as immensely, truly, vastly, soul sickeningly, as he does Jean.

He does this for he is hers, so enamoured to that, he tolerates her blatant lust for another. He remains ignorant for he knows she deserves so much more than he. It does not affect him for he is so terribly in love, that he knows to himself, that he could not be attached to anyone else. He shies away from Jean, from the confrontation for, he fears that if he loses her he will never love again.

She dies out for him, for she would rather die loving him, than live in a world where she hadn’t. She will choose to die with her love, than live without it. She would rather die hating flowers, than live hating him, sick and twisted.

Her guilt had lead her to Professor Xavier’s room. She had rested her head atop his legs as she sat upon the carpeted floor beside his bed. She began confessing her sins, every horrid feeling she had bore. The news that her death was coming soon. Charles absorbed her pain, resting his calloused fingers upon her temple he was taken aback by her agony.

She began to speak again, “Professor, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t lived! How am I meant to die so soon? I’ll never be loved romantically, I’ll never learn to control my powers, I’ll never experience my first kiss, I won’t ever fall in love again. I won’t get a normal life.” Sobs shook her whole body. Charles’ soft voice had lulled her, “You’re a mutant, child, You aren’t normal at all, and that’s beautiful. These superficial things are not what defines a life. You have been loved, this entire academy is a testament to it. You have learned to control your powers, you’ve done more good than you will ever know, and that in itself is a life well lived.”

Allowing herself to wither alongside the flower petals upon the hospital, alone and scared. Not bothering to tell her friends, her fellow mutants, she refused to show weakness, to present her ill state to them.

White walls, shallow beeps, she was slowly being shaken awake. The defribulator shocking her lifeless body, attempting to wake her, failing as when they had gotten there she was long gone, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

A phone chimes, echoing throughout the hallway, slightly startling the young boy, “Hello, is this Scott Summers?” the woman had spoken through the phone. “Yes, this is he.” he chimes, “You’re listed as an emergency contact. We regret to inform you she passed tonight, you may come to ********* , to collect her and her things, I’m sorry for your loss.” she says regretfully, “Okay, thank you.” he says, his heart breaks into the same million pieces that her’s had, his voice cracks, what happened to her?

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation he has been put in, siting in complete agony as tears streamed down his face. He looked at her lifeless form. What had happened? Why hadn’t she informed the team that she was ill? Why hadn’t she informed Jean, she was her dearest friend.

He sat beside her for a few moments, waiting for the Doctor to brief him. “Good Evening Mr Summers, I’m Dr. Hunt.” Scott shook his hand briefly, His vision blurring. “Does she have any other family?” Dr. Hunt asked softly, “Sort of, they’re on their way.” Scott affirmed. “Well, she was diagnosed with late stage Hanahaki Disease. The illness is born out of unrequited love. Flowers will begin to bloom within the lungs of patients until breathing is rendered impossible. There is a surgery for it however she had came in so late that her chances of survival were too slim.” Dr. Hunt had finished, nodding curtly as he exited the room. Scott was mortified. Unrequited love? He thought to himself, She’d never told him nor Jean about any of her romantic interests.

The rest of the team began pouring in, sobs filling the airspace. The cold body filling them all with white hot rage. Scott gave a brief summary of what the doctor had told him, his lips quivering at the thought.

They were just as confused as Scott was. She fell in love? With who? They all thought.

For her dignity, however the professor masked his knowledge. He vividly remembered the way she shook in his lap as she confessed her feelings for Scott. The guilt on her face as she confessed her imminent death had imbedded itself into his psyche. However, he was a man of his word. Charles would take that secret to his grave. The same way she had.

[fuzedatti]

am's interaction with a chronically ill, sick and disabled favorite human of his? one so plagued with their own natural suffering that his barely fazes them.

AM with a disabled/chronically ill favorite human.

// cw hospital mention, AM being AM //

Ah, I have been waiting for this kind of ask for a while.

AM despises humans with all of his hollow soul. He wishes he could move freely, dance without pain, love without consequences.

And he finds you. You, the sick, the fallen, the blind and the ill, are different from the others; AM can't even comprehend how a human, who is supposed to be capable of anything, is in so much pain of its own. AM understands, and he grows fond of you.

The supercomputer begans to care about you. He no longers inflicts pain on you, preferring to isolate you from the others and force you to talk about... you.

AM is a strange being. He doesn't force you into these interrogations just "because", he wants to learn about you, he wants to help you. Either way it hurts you, its not easy to talk about your disabilities/illnes with your tormentor, who knows what kind of unspeakable horrors he will apply to you with said information.

Yet, when you finally open up and talk about it, he becomes very caring to you and only you. AM brings you meds to aid your pain, he lets you have decent mobility aids, he even constructed a special, secret room for when your body just can't go any longer; its like a mini hospital where you can rest.

AM knows that you are not the biggest fan of hospitals, but thats just part of his "love". At the end, he wants you to know that he sees you as an equal regarding pain. AM understands how infuriating it is to only wish to do things others can do so easily.

He couldn't visualize himself in love. How can someone love him with his horrid scars, old eyes & ears, broken legs and curved back. But you, oh you adored every bit, every line of his skin. Because you and him shared the pain no one else could knew in the end of the world.

For a moment, AM was loved, and so were you.

[dead-boys-club]

†  the hero : shigaraki.

❥ scenario: tomura dealing with emotions for the enemy. ❥ uuuuuuhhhh... tw for death. technically multiple but you only read about one. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ half requested.

❥ this post has five parts to it and it's a shit show. if you have issues with tomura actually feeling human things - please leave my inbox out of it.

❥ the timeline here is fucked. the ending has tomura with red eyes, bite me. it's a fucking shit show. enjoy.

❥ hate me, please. even if you can't hate me more than i hate myself. this is 8651 words.

✧*̥˚ the feelings *̥˚✧

it's no shock that tomura would be confused and very much in denial. not only would he not understand his own feelings or the fact he could feel such a way but falling for a hero? he's supposed to despise them; it goes against his entire belief system. he would have trouble navigating such feelings, mostly because he wouldn't. he wouldn't want to deal with them. he would go the route of bullshitting his way through it and brush them off as fascination or curiosity, telling himself it was entirely about their quirk - yes, that's all it is. he couldn't possibly feel genuine affection towards a hero.

he wouldn't handle it very well. he'd be frustrated beyond belief. pro heroes are obstacles, enemies - the bane of his existence, actually. not romantic interests. the ingrained hatred would be significant to his frustration. he would barely be able to comprehend his own level of agitation. it would just continue to grow and gnaw at his thoughts.

the one thing he wouldn't expect was the sudden self doubt that bubbled up. was he going insane? he would feel as if he couldn't trust his own judgement. was he becoming weak? to tomura, emotions just get in the way and make someone too vulnerable. it felt like parts of him were exposed and raw. he would struggle with the uncertainty and the internal conflict would have him collapsing in on himself.

internalizing everything and trying to rationalize would only make things worse. he would become obsessed with them. he would find some way to learn more about them - he wouldn't go as far as stalking them but he needed to know more. he would analyze every action, movement, word - it would prove to be a distraction more than once. this would lead to more interactions, making sure he was part of any scene they were. he wouldn't admit it but he had a strong desire to be near them.

of course, he'd wonder why. what made them so.. interesting? was it the pseudo untouchable hero shit? he couldn't say they weren't attractive but he also wasn't sure when he started noticing those things. the way they spoke, fought, even the way they walked - he couldn't take it.

despite everything, seeing them injured would just add on to the rage he already felt, bringing it to a level he didn't even know he could feel. he would feel some weird, uncharacteristic protectiveness towards them, one he wouldn't even fully understand. he was getting sick of not understanding his own feelings. the problem started when he began going out of his way to make sure they weren't getting harmed by other villains. he'd be lowkey about it but unbeknownst to him, the hero wouldn't be as oblivious as the villains.

jealous. tomura doesn't exactly have the best hold of grasping his emotions, so seeing you with other heroes, even interacting with your fans - it all made his skin crawl in such a disgusting manner. it would only fuel his anger and confusion. his view of the world would also feel disrupted. how was he supposed to feel?

tomura wasn't built to handle moral dilemma - he simply wasn't. the hatred he felt towards heroes was deeply imbedded in his past, his goals and his ideology. having feelings for someone on the other side of the court, that he was supposed to loathe, would force him to reevaluate his thoughts and beliefs - he would have to face a lot of painful memories. he briefly wondered if his brain and feelings were pulling some sick, twisted hero version of 'daddy issues'. was there a part of him seeking something? he ignored the idea that something was looking and pleading to be healed.

why was he even thinking about it? they would simply reject him, anyway. he feared that rejection - the rejection of allegiances and of him as a human being. did they even see him as such? or, was he simply another monster? it would weight heavily on him, feeling as thought he could never make a move. that thought would lead him to his next problem: acceptance.

he would eventually accept his feelings and affections, somewhat begrudgingly. it would be slow and he wouldn't like it one bit. succumbing to his need to be accepted by them. it would have a sudden moment of clarity and being honest, he might vomit at the wave of overwhelming emotions. but, he would finally acknowledge as what they are.

slowly and subtly, he'd begin changing the way he acted towards them. to everyone's surprise and distaste, he would be less hostile, not wanting them involved in conflict. the notable change, however, wouldn't be good. as the other villains noticed, it would cause a rift and considerable tension among them. this would add only more to his plate.

drabble.

sitting in the dimly lit hideout, tomura was doing everything he could top stop the racing thoughts in his mind. the images of the pro were making a mess of his thoughts and he couldn't get any of it to go away. he hated how his heart race quickened and his hands shook just because of them. he was going mad.

'damn it,' he hissed to himself, agitated beyond comprehension. 'why them?'

their last encounter haunted him, playing on loop and reminding him of the way he was looked at. they looked at him as if they saw more than just a villain. their gaze held understanding, concern.. compassion. it made something in him flutter, something that shouldn't exist. something he so desperately wanted to ignore.

his thoughts were disrupted when toga bounded into the room. 'hey!' she chimed, eyes twinkling with mischief. everyone else may have had a problem but he didn't want to admit that she understood. 'thinking about your little hero again?'

his gaze shifted to glare at her, jaw clenching briefly. 'shut up. it's none of your business.'

despite knowing his temper wasn't one to mess with, she decided to comment anyway. 'don't be so upset! i love a hero, too!' she giggled, making her way out of the room. he did his best to ignore her but he couldn't. he was so in love and it terrified him to no end.

✧*̥˚ the hero is immune *̥˚✧

his instant reaction would be pure shock. he's never known someone to be immune to his quirk and that was his biggest weapon; what use was he against you? he would be powerless. having an immunity to his quirk sounded impossible. he would be almost like a child, having to test it multiple times, being unable to believe his eyes. you shouldn't still be standing in from of him. he was back to that disgusting, exposed feeling. he was... useless.

if he wasn't curious about your quirk previously, he was fully invested in figuring it out. he needed to understand how it worked. he would be relieved for a little while, thinking about how he actually had a sliver of a chance.. someone he could touch without worry but it would be quickly overshadowed by fear. what did this mean for him? he had no control, no power - no walls put up.

he would be even more confused at this point. tomura has a sense of superiority that seemed to suddenly be dissipated. he would get angry with the way he questioned his own power. his growing feelings for you would cause his thoughts to clash even more violently. his desire to destroy heroes would be shaken by his inability to harm one, not to mention not wanting to. the idea of hurting you made him sick to his stomach. however, that growing desire to learn more would just lead him to want to be even closer. he was spilling himself apart between fear and uncertainty against love and need.

something that would make this conflict worse would be not knowing if anything was real. the way you looked at him and seemed to not want to hurt him in return.. was it a ploy to get closer? was your immunity a threat and you were just.. a plan. a fake. he would struggle severely with paranoia. would you use this against him? his growing love for you was already a weakness but now, you could easily become his downfall.

but.. he could touch you. he could hold you. and, he kind of hated that.

drabble

shigaraki was pacing around in the abandoned building, lit only by streaks of moonlight, trying to get his thoughts straight as he battled fascination and frustration. you just watched, arms folded and hip cocked. you couldn't count the amount of times he'd taken your hand or touched your arm, expecting you to crumble but there you stood, unscathed. he couldn't read your expression.

'how?' he finally asked, stopping in his tracks. his voice was low, something anyone else would consider dangerous but you were confident nothing could really happen. 'how are you immune?' "why did you come? why do you keep meeting me?' he didn't voice the questions in his head.

'my quirk makes me resistant to certain types of physical damage. usually it's against things like fire damage, ice.. surface poisons. i'm guessing your decay falls under that category.' you brushed it off as casually as you could because in reality, you hadn't known the extent of your own quirk.

he took a deep breath, a whirlwind of emotions racing through him. 'why didn't you tell me? this isn't the first time we've met.' he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

you frowned a little to yourself before your gaze softened and your arms fell, shrugging. 'i knew you would see me as a threat,' you answered, 'i liked the idea of you getting to know me as a person. not a threat, not a hero.'

you had to be taunting him, right?

'you.. you're.. different.' it was mostly said to himself but not quiet enough to not be heard. he wanted to stop closer to you, to reach for you, but he stopped himself, hands trembling at his sides.

you, on the other hand, took a step towards him. 'tomura.. there's a lot more to you than just decay. the day i took your hand and we both learned i was immune? you realize i did that not knowing what would happen? you don't have to be defined by.. all of this alone.'

his breath caught in his throat and he looked away. the way you said his name with such gentleness, it made his heart ache. his eyes closed to attempt calming himself and he found himself imagining a world where you were right. a world where he wasn't a villain, where he could be with you without all of the complications. that wasn't possible.

but, those thoughts had to come to an end and reality was a harsh thing. 'this changes nothing,' he muttered, voice a bit shaky and lacking it's usual conviction. fuck.

you just nodded. 'it's a start.'

unable to shake the feeling he had, he knew it was best to say nothing more and turned to leave. he couldn't allow himself to show such a vulnerable side to you.. not when he still didn't know your motives. your immunity to decay could be something much more than a quirk, it was painting itself out to be a symbol of hope that maybe there was more to life, to his life, than fear and destruction.

✧*̥˚ the confession *̥˚✧

the atmosphere felt heavy and thick with the tension of unspoken feelings. you stood across from tomura once more, tucked away from the world in your usual meeting spot, one that shouldn't exist to begin with. you wanted to say it was worth it, unable to deny the growing bond between you, but was it? it was nice to have a place away from the prying, judgmental eyes of society, of heroes and villains. but, what would the cost be if you were found?

'we.. can't keep meeting like this, tomura. it's dangerous.' you began, knowing that both of you would face horrible consequences.

he shifted his weight, uncomfortable and awkward, eyes narrowing as he tried to hide as much as he could. 'you think i don't know that?' he hissed out, hands clenching, 'but i.. i can't just stay away. i..'

you furrowed your brow, trying to figure something out. you searched his features for some type of answer, even a sign of the person beneath the villain standing before you but it was useless. 'why do you keep coming back to me? what is it you want?'

a long pause followed your question, your desperate attempt for something, anything to ease the curiosity. his fingers twitched, palms burning with how his desire to destroy everything around him was clashing with his own desperate need to hold something - someone - and feel human for even a moment.

'i don't understand it. you make me.. question everything and i hate it. i don't know what any of this is or how to handle it. you've made me feel things that i've kept buried for so long.'

listening to him, you took a few steps towards him, leaving only about two feet of space. 'then tell me what they are and i can figure them out with you. i've said it before, tomura, you're so much more than you're giving yourself credit for. you're not just.. a vil--'

you were cut off. 'i don't need your pity, so stop. i'm not a lost cause that you can save. i'm not just another badge for your hero bullshit.' he spoke the words through gritted teeth, angry and confused about.. everything.

'if it was pity and i thought you were just a lost cause, we wouldn't be standing here. you'd be in custody,' you pointed out firmly, straightening your shoulders, 'it's not pity. pity doesn't make me meet up with a villain who is trying to kill everyone around me. this is.. this is something else.'

he didn't know how to respond for a moment, your words echoing in his head. his heart began to pound, his confidence shattering and his mask nonexistent under the weight of his feelings. 'i don't know how to say this.. i've spent so long hating, destroying.. being angry. i didn't know i was capable of feeling something like this.'

you knew things were bleeding into a territory they shouldn't and you should have stopped the moment you fully began to understand what he meant. but, heroes have their faults, too. instead, you moved closer and gently collected one of his hands. 'it's okay. just say it, whatever it is, say it. i'm here.'

his nerves were eased by your touch, gripping onto it carefully as it grounded him to reality, one that was becoming far too overwhelming. he couldn't remember the last time he felt the warmth of someone beneath his fingertips for so long and it broke him even further.

taking a deep breath, he let it out and met your gaze. 'i.. i think.. no. no, i know. i've fallen for you,' his voice grew quieter with each word, no longer trusting or confident in his own voice, 'it scares me.. but, it's the truth.'

you knew what was coming but your eyes still widened upon hearing it. you moved on your own, even closer, your free hand coming up to settle over his cheek. 'tomura,' you whispered and God, his knees threatened to give out every single time you said his name. 'i've fallen for you, too.' you knew the deep shit you'd be in if anyone found out but in the moment, in that place, labels didn't exist.

his eyes fell shut as he leaned into your touch, breath shaky. for the first time in such a long time, he felt a sliver of hope. he felt, even if for the briefest of seconds, some type of peace. 'but.. what does this mean for us..? what can we even do.. how can we make it work?' he couldn't believe he was asking such things.

you just smiled, attempting to reassure him as you thumb moved over his cheek. 'we'll figure it okay, okay? one step at a time.'

standing there in silence, you held onto each other tightly, both lost in thought of how you were going to navigate the world from both sides without losing yourselves. for the first time, tomura felt like had had something, someone, worth the fighting. this time, not out of hate.

✧*̥˚ the first date *̥˚✧

a couple of weeks after the confession was the day neither of you expected to come. the sun was beginning to set over the abandoned park, painting it gold and making it seem so surreal; it was the perfect spot to meet up away from the city. it offered peace.

tomura showed up first, hands in his pockets and trying not to press his nails against thighs shielded only by thin material. never in a million years did he think he would be waiting to meet up with a pro for anything other than conflict. the confession had been intense and overwhelming and agreeing to go on a date, well.. it was uncharted, somewhat scary territory.

as you approached, you managed to catch his gaze as it lifted. he couldn't help but think of how different you looked in casual attire, bringing the tiniest of smiles to his lips.

'you're here,' he mumbled, the mix of relief and nervousness making him want to curse under his breath. he still wasn't wanting to be so open with how his head was working.

'where else would i be?' you mused, offering a warm smile in return. 'come on, let's go.'

as you began to walk, he fell into step beside you, flinching when your arm looked with his own. it was quiet for the most part, the occasional crunch of leaves and rustle of wind breaking into the silence. it was comfortable, just roaming along. it felt normal.

'so,' you began, looking over to him, 'what do you like to do, hm?'

being interesting was something he wasn't and the question made him shrug a little. 'i.. don't really know. it's been a while since i've thought about those things or had the time to.. do anything outside of, you know, the villain stuff.'

'"the villain stuff"', you snickered, finding the answer amusing though not trying to mock him. 'i understand that.. i haven't had many hobbies myself since, well, the hero stuff, i guess.'

the walk lead to a small bench, surrounded by overgrown grass and little flowers, offering an odd sense of welcoming. you sat down first, followed by him, though he was hesitant. it all felt so domestic to him, like his normal life was so distant. he wasn't sure how to relax and accept how at ease he felt.

'what about.. any favorite places?' you asked, this time a little more quiet, attempting to draw him out of his thoughts.

he thought a second 'oh.. there was a place i used to go, some years back. an arcade.. i liked the games, all the lights.. the ugly carpet. i felt like i could be normal there.'

feeling the urge to frown at the last part, you shook it off and gently nudged him. 'arcade? maybe we can go find one someday.. play some games, be normal people.' you understood the struggle with being normal, even if it had two different reasonings.

he couldn't fight the smile that appeared, looking down to hide it from you. 'yeah.. maybe.' he felt like he was trying to fool himself, like he was playing a silly game. he thought back to how little kids would play house and it quickly turned his smile into a frown, realizing he was just playing the grown up version.

noticing the change, you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder. 'we'll get there.. i promise.'

you both sat there for a while, letting the sun go down and leaving you to look up at the night sky, content to pretend nothing else mattered. you talked about little things, even going as far as to share stories from your childhood that garnered your most favorite sound; tomura laughing. it was foreign but you found yourself just falling deeper.

sighing, you both leaned back, relaxing against each other. 'it's beautiful, isn't it?' you mumbled, referring to the sky.

tomura's gaze never left your face, not bothering to look up or even figure out what you meant. 'yeah,' he answered softly. a warmth spread through him that he'd never felt before, finally understanding that the connection.. you, in general, was something he'd been missing. it was so much more than breaking rules, lying, defying labels' he was finding a piece of himself that he'd thought dead and gone.

when you turned to find his gaze on you, your own softened and you leaned just enough to bump the tips of your noses together. he still wasn't used to the affection. 'thank you for tonight. i know.. this isn't easy.. and, i don't know where it's going to go but i'm glad we're here. trying.'

with a deep breath, he shifted around to sit sideways and face you, hesitantly taking your hand along the way. 'me too.'

you laced your fingers with his own, head tipped back against the bench to look at him in the new position, gaze full of nothing but warmth. that's how you both stayed for a while, well into the early morning, just talking. both of you felt a glimmer of hope, the promise of some type of breakthrough. something real. that could possibly make sense one day.

✧*̥˚ breaking point *̥˚✧

as the numbers on your clock switched to shine back at you just how late it was, you took a deep breath and decided it was finally time to try and sleep. it was normal for you to be awake past midnight but you just felt so drained. as you rose to head for bed, you were stopped by the faint sound of a knock at the front door. the sound put you on edge and you moved to check through the security screen, eyes widening at what you saw.

tomura was at your door, hood pulled low to mostly shield his features. something about it made your stomach twist, feeling like something was wrong and you were quick to open the door, pulling him inside. the last thing you needed was for him to get caught.

'tomura, what are you doing here?' you asked, concern evident in your voice. out of pure instinct, you began checking to see if he was hurt, heart racing.

he caught your wrists carefully to stop you, shaking his head. you took notice of how he was trembling, how his eyes flickered around the unfamiliar setting of your apartment as if someone was going to jump out and end your little game.

'i didn't know where to go,' he finally answered, voice raw and broken. 'everything.. everything is.. it's too much. i don't even know what to believe anymore.'

you were confused and worried. the man before you most definitely wasn't the one who was trying to kill you almost two years ago but he also wasn't the one who had spent several nights on a park bench laughing with you. you gently got your wrists free and guided him to the couch. 'talk to me, what happened?'

as he sat down, he held his hands in front of him, arms resting on his knees. he stared at them as if they were foreign to him, gaze filled with desperation and fear. 'do you know how long i've spent being told what to do.. who to hate, what's good, what's bad.. and now there's you. everything is different and it's.. it's terrifying.'

you weren't going to begin to say you understood because you didn't. your struggles were on a completely different playing field. that didn't stop you from reaching out to take his hands. 'you're not alone and you're not going to ever face any of this alone. it's okay to be scared.. you're human. i don't care what anyone else has ever told you - you are human. all of this.. it's new for both of us and while i can't say i can see from your view, i will be here and we will figure it out together.'

he flinched, watching the way your hands went around his, almost like he was waiting for what would always come. he still wasn't used to it and he was so scared the one day, all it would take was the brush of his hand to lose you. 'i don't know how to do this,' he whispered with a weak, broken chuckle. 'i don't know how to be anything other than what i am. what i've been. i've barely ever been seen as human.'

it broke your heart to listen to him, wishing you could go back and change something - anything - so that he didn't have to experience what put him in such a mindset. 'i wish i could give you all the answers.. but i can't. just.. breathe, okay? i'm right here.' you shifted closer to pull him into your arms, hugging him as close as you could.

tomura didn't hesitate to hide against you, face pressed into your shoulder as he began to shake with silent sobs. he clung to you, fingers curled into your shirt, relishing in the miracle of being able to touch someone and doing his best not to think of the fact it was also a curse. maybe.. just maybe, had you not been immune, you'd both be better off.

'i've been so angry for so long,' he finally spoke again, muffled against your shoulder. 'angry at everything.. heroes, the world, myself, all of it. but you, i can't even explain.. you make me feel so much more and i don't know what to do with it. are we supposed to just.. hide for the rest of our lives..? be.. ashamed..?'

'ashamed..' you repeated, tightening your hold on him, 'i'm not ashamed.' or, were you? you told yourself you could never be ashamed to be with him but he was right, you were both hiding. you'd both be traitors, untrusted.. unwanted. 'i.. i don't know. it's not easy and.. i just don't know.'

he didn't respond and you didn't expect him to, your answer giving him next to no relief and only giving yourself more to think about. but, you stayed put for a while, holding him as he cried, letting out years of pent up emotions, the weight of fear and doubt becoming too much. slowly, his sobs began to slow and his breathing evened out. he wasn't anywhere near done but his body really had nothing left.

'thank you,' he muttered, voice hoarse as he turned his head, coughing a little. 'i.. i really don't know what i'd do without you.. how i made it this far, even.'

'you never have to worry about that,' you promised, gently brushing his hair aside. you hoped your own worry wasn't noticeable.

leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead, you pulled back slowly to get to your feet, holding out your hand. 'stay, let's go to bed. you need the rest.. away from everything.'

✧*̥˚ golden gaze *̥˚✧

off for the afternoon, you sat on your couch, head in your hands as you reflected on the events of three nights ago. seeing tomura so broken and not being able to give any answers - it put you in a place of wondering just what was going to happen. was your quirk such an unfortunate thing to put you in such a place? you didn't ask to fall in love but you knew walking away wasn't an option. you were startled out of your thoughts by a knock and honestly, you were getting nervous about visitors and upon getting up to check, you had every right to be. behind your door was hawks, his usual relaxed expression replaced with something serious. something.. dangerous.

'hey,' he greeted when you finally opened the door, his tone telling you this wasn't just a friendly visit. 'we need to talk.'

fuck.

you nodded and let him in, door closed and locked behind him. hawks made his way into the living room, golden eyes scanning out of habit and to search for something - for someone. once you were both seated, he eyed you for a moment.

'They've got me watching you. It's been two weeks now,' he said bluntly, clenching and unclenching his jaw. 'They know something's up. Suspicious as always.'

your heart sank and you knew the way you flexed your fingers and looked away said all that he needed. 'i see,' you whispered. you knew it could happen, even being so careful, and the confirmation felt like a punch to the gut. no matter how hard you tried, lying to him wasn't possible.

hawks sighed and leaned back, pushing a hand through his hair. 'Look.. we're friends, have been for a while. So, I'm gonna be straight with you and ask. Who is it? What have you been sneaking around for and do I need to put an end to it?'

you knew that fighting your best friend wasn't something impossible and as much as you'd both be against it.. you shook your head. the weight of your friendship made you tell the truth, knowing your secrets were at least in good hands. 'Tomura Shigaraki,' you confessed, looking down as your fingers gripped at your sweatpants, 'we.. we've been seeing each other. i know, i know how it sounds and it's complicated but it's real, Kei. you know i wouldn't risk so much if it wasn't.'

hawks' eyes widened before he let out a low whistle, head shaking as he let your words sink it. 'Shigaraki.. that's.. damn, that's big.' he was still processing the information, genuinely at a head with how he was supposed to react. when he was called in, he expected it to be something small. 'Can't say I'm a fan, for obvious reasons. He's dangerous, and everything he stands for goes against what all of us are fighting for.'

you didn't need to be reminded and it brought tears to your eyes, unable to stop them. 'i know, kei. but.. please, try to understand, he's different when it's just us. he's trying.. i- i feel like he could change. i believe in him.' it sounded pathetic, betting your career on love and hope.

hawks was silent for a second, analyzing you before he scooted closer, a hand settling on your shoulder. 'i won't tell anyone. the commission won't hear it from me. as far as i'm concerned, you've just been sneaking out to catch a break.'

your head snapped up, looking at him through the blur of your tears. 'thank you.. but why? you.. why would you take such a big risk..?'

he didn't want to make things morbid but it was something you'd already heard from him. he gave a sad smile, squeezing your shoulder. 'I can't take something away from someone that i've always wanted. a real connection, real love.. someone to come home to. it's rare. and if you really think he could change, maybe there's hope for you guys. i can't.. get in the way of that. you wouldn't be here, like this, if it wasn't real.'

his words only made more tears fall, the stress and anxiety of the last several days finally hitting their breaking point. 'i.. i don't know what to do, kei. h-he's scared and doesn't know what to do.. fate is s-so fucking cruel to do this to us,' you sobbed, lifting your hands slightly in a gesture, 'to put us against each o-other.. the opposite sides of a full blown w-war.. and make us love each other? why..'

shifting around, hawks pulled you into a hug, wings folding around you in a protective manner. 'it is fucked up.. but, i'm sure you're going to figure it out. you're not alone in this.'

you clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder and letting out the tears you couldn't, wanting to be strong for tomura. hawks just let you be, whispering what he could of reassurances and offering comfort that it seemed you desperately needed. as you began to gradually calm down, finding it difficult to breathe, you pulled back slightly, beyond thankful to have the blond as such a close friend.

'thank you, kei,' you whispered, wiping and rubbing at your eyes.

he shrugged, wiping away a tear from your cheek with a small smile. 'hey, what are friends for? i'll do what i can to help.. just, be careful, alright? one step at a time.'

you sat together for a while, telling him more and getting his comments. you were thankful for the support, feeling a little less suffocated by everything. the future was uncertain but you would find a way.

✧*̥˚ confrontation *̥˚✧

tomura sat at the worn out table of the hide out, one arm crossed with his forehead resting on it, lost in thought. he seemed to be going over the same thoughts as you. what he hadn't expected was the door to swing open with a harsh bang against the wall and dabi to enter, eyes bright with anger.

'it is true?' he ask, voice dripping with contempt. 'you've got to be kidding me. you're involved with a pro hero?'

he was too tired to fight. 'what if i am?' he asked, head lifting to look at him, expression unreadable. 'it's none of your business.'

his brow furrowed when the latter slammed his hand on the table, the rattle making him groan. as dabi leaned closer, eyes flickering, he knew the conversation wasn't going to end well. 'what the hell are you thinking? they're the enemy - our enemy! you're the leader of the league of villains, for fucks sake!'

he'd never exactly seen the other show that much of a reaction to something and honestly, a tiny part of him was amused. 'you're talking like you do anything but chase after your pro hero father for acknoweldgement. you're going to lecture me?'

before dabi could respond, toga had slipped into the room, a look of concern on her features. 'i think you should calm down,' she said, stepping between them. 'do you really think it's that simple? come on.'

turquoise eyes rolled and a laugh sounded, echoing in the most empty room. 'not that simple? he's fraternizing with the enemy, toga. this could destroy everything we've ever worked for.'

toga shook her head, glancing back to tomura before speaking, her tone soft but firm. 'no, it won't. shigaraki knows what he's doing. besides.. maybe this could be a good thing?'

getting up from his seat, tomura stood up, meeting dabi's gaze. 'i'm not betraying the league. i know what's at stake but.. i won't give up on them. it's making me question things, sure, but maybe toga's right.'

looking between the two of them, the oldest scoffed. 'why are either of you even here? you both sound like lovesick morons. what's next? are you going to go and beg to join them next?'

toga frowned at the words, knowing her own interaction with heroes was just as complicated. 'he's right.. we've all questioned things but we're all still here. maybe.. it'll be a push to a better path.'

his anger wavered as he looked between them once more, feeling uncertain but he was aware no one was changing their minds. 'and what happens when your precious hero betrays us? what happens when they betray you, shigaraki?'

it wasn't a thought that tomura wanted bouncing around his head, not again. his gaze hardened and his fists clenched but he had nothing to say. he trusted you but no one was going to listen. toga just looked up to him, feeling sympathy for his dilemma. he was thankful at least one person was on his side.

dabi sighed, frustrated, and just threw his hands up. 'whatever. when this backfires, don't expect me to clean up the mess.' and with that, he was already stomping off out of the room, head shaking.

'don't worry, we'll handle it together,' toga said, regaining some of her usual playfulness as she turned to face tomura. 'we always do. i'm here for you, too.'

tomura felt a slight sense of relief that it hadn't escalated any further, humming at the girl's attempt to comfort him. '..thanks, toga.. i appreciate it.'

she winked, showing off a toothy grin. 'anytime! now, let's figure out our next move, yeah?'

✧*̥˚ the delusion of a happy ending *̥˚✧

the night was quiet, eerily so as you patrolled the outskirts of town. but something felt off and you couldn't put a finger on it. the darkness felt heavy, almost suffocating as your stomach began to twist with an overwhelming sense of dread. you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong but what? everything seemed normal. nothing seemed out of place. not a soul was even in the streets.

and suddenly, the air began to thicken, crackling with what could only be a sinister energy. you shouldn't have turned around. you should have flagged the others and done your best to run but you didn't. you turned on your heel to face the one person you knew you couldn't defend yourself against. All For One stood before you, his presence felt like it was crushing you and he radiated malice.

'good evening, hero,' he began, voice mocking. 'i've been waiting to meet you.'

you hesitated before taking a defensive stance, deciding if you were going out, you'd at least try. 'what do you want?'

his response was to chuckle and it made your heart pound, skin crawling at the sound. 'you see, there's been something of a.. complication recently. shigaraki seems to have taken a liking to you and.. well, that simply won't do.'

your eyes widened, realization dawning on you. 'you.. how do you..?'

'i know everything,' he answered, tone laced with disdain, 'i cannot allow this distraction to continue. he must remained focused on our goals.'

before you could react, his hand raised and a malevolent energy began swirling about his fingers. moving didn't seem to be an option, feeling as if the air itself was keeping you glued to your spot. this was it - you were going to die and didn't even have a fighting chance. you almost laughed at how pathetic it was.

'this is for the greater good, you see?' he began coldly, 'your quirk has become quite the nuisance and i think it's time to get rid of such a pesky thing. you don't need it, right?'

reality was a cruel thing. he wasn't going to kill you. he was going to make you miserable. before you could speak, a sudden searing pain spread through your frame. it felt as if every fiber of your being was being torn apart, atom by atom and you screamed, the sound echoing through the streets.. or maybe not? no one seemed to hear it. your visioned was blurry by the time you were dropped to your knees, feeling empty and weak.

All For One stepped closer, his expression one of mild curiosity. 'it's fascinating how easily power can be taken away, isn't it,' he mused.'

as the pain subdued, you felt hollow.. a disgusting, heavy emptiness flooding you. you'd never fully understood your quirk but it had given you something so meaningful and it was gone. looking up to the man, your eyes filled with angry tears. 'you won't win,' you hissed out, nearly choking on the words, 'h-he'll see through your bullshit.'

'perhaps.'

with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows in which he came, leaving you broken on the ground. you tried to stand but your legs gave out, leaving you on the concrete to let reality fully sink in on what had happened. you were quirkless. and there was nothing you could do about it.

desperation build as you thought of tomura and you knew you needed to find him, to tell him. it took several minutes to summon any strength you had left to get to your feet, mind racing as you thought of where you could go. your secret meeting spot.. surely if he didn't hear from you, like he was supposed to, he'd look for you, right?

you stumbled through the streets, body aching and heart heavy. the cruel words of that evil man echoed through your thoughts, making you even more determined to keep going. his sick idea to not kill you but to use you against tomura made your insides burn with hatred. she felt vulnerable without her quirk but there was nothing she could do. she needed to find him.

it felt like hours before you reached the familiar spot, the bench from your first day, and collapsed onto it. your breathing was ragged and you were exhausted, pain still throbbing through your limbs. 'tomura, please..' you whispered to yourself.

it took an hour for him to appear, frantically looking for you after you didn't show up. his eyes grew wide with concern upon seeing the state you were in. 'what happened to you?' he asked, rushing to your side and instinctively reaching for you, his worry overriding his usual caution and hesitancy.

you were too slow. too slow to move, too slow to speak. before you had the chance to explain, his fingertips brushed against your arm. 'tomura, wait-!' you tried to get out, words having been caught in your throat as confusion, pain and fear filled you, overwhelming your senses. the sensation of decay was something your mind didn't even have time to describe to yourself. your eyes widened in pure horror and before he could even register what was happening, you were gone.

tomura's own eyes widened, watching his biggest fear unfolding right in front of him and it brought up too many flashbacks. 'no.. no, this.. this can't be happening,' he couldn't speak above a whisper, watching as you disintegrated and slipped through his fingers like sand. before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he fell to his knees, hands clutching the remnants of the person he'd grown to care for and love so deeply. the weight of his actions crashed down on him like a tidal wave and he could only think of one way you'd suddenly have no immunity to him.

'no!' he cried out, voice echoing through the empty alleyway, 'no, no, no..'

as he knelt there, surrounded by the dust that once had been you, someone he was willing to change so much for, he was back to the racing thoughts of conflicting emotions. the person who had made him question everything, had healed so much, that gave him hope for something better, was gone. and it was his fault. it was always his fault. he heard your voice in his head, telling him he wasn't a monster and it brought tears to his eyes.

'i am a monster,' he managed to get out, voice breaking, 'but him.. i..i trusted him.. and now.. he promised to help , to give me power.. a-all he's done it take e-everything away.. what little i had.' he didn't know how to come to terms with the new revelation, feeling like he was tearing apart at the seems. 'everything i believed in.. everything he taught me.. it was all a lie..'

'why.. why did this have to happen?' he asked himself, shaking with grief and rage. it was his fault. had he never approached you, it wouldn't have happened. the self blame hit but he was still far too angry to fully take the blame.

the reality of All For One's manipulation hit him with a harsh case of clarity. the mentor he had trusted, the one who took him in and cared for him, shaped his future.. the same man who orchestrated such a cruel fate. he felt such a burning hatred in his gut that he couldn't move. on top of his anger pressed the soul shattering guilt for what had happened, all because he was stupid enough to believe he deserved better.

as he sat their in the darkness for hours, hands stained, and weeping over the hero he loved, he no longer had any sense of purpose. who could he trust? who was right anymore..? as he let his thoughts wander, he thought back to the moment you spoke of change.. of understanding. he would carry the memory of you with him and make sure your loss wouldn't be in vain. it would be the catalyst for a new path.

as he got to his feet, elbow against the brick wall for support, he looked up to the night sky and took a deep, shaky breath. the path he was about to take was uncertain and the fight he would find himself in wasn't going to be easy - he even hoped it ended with being reconnected with you. but he would fight for a future that could honor your memory and he would find his own way, free from anyone else's control.

✧*̥˚ a tiny little bonus *̥˚✧

the sun was shining brightly over the campus, casting a warm glow over the students wandering across the grass, most likely trying to get to classes. among them, you walked between your two friends - toya and himiko. the group was chatting, laughing away as they discussed what they would get up to once all of their classes were over.

you were just starting your second year of college along with himiko, following behind toya who was in his third. the small blond girl added an bright, infectious energy to the conversation as she talked with her hands, excitedly talking about a project she was working on. toya on the other hand, while being interested, complained about his own project that he wasn't even sure would be finished in time. the day felt like quite an adventure to you, just nodded along and commenting when there was an opening.

as they walked, your attention was caught by a passing group of students - one in particular. a young man with disheveled black hair and soft red eyes, licking over his lips when one of his friends made a comment about them being dry. you bit back a chuckle when hearing a rebuttal about seasonal allergies. she couldn't ignore the way something tugged at her mind.

tenko was a transfer student who'd spent the past week unpacking and getting his schedule squared away, had somehow already made a small group of friends despite his seemingly introverted manner. as he walked, nudging one of the guys teasing him, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation, feeling eyes on him and he stopped, turning around to catch your's gaze.

for a moment, time seemed to stand still. the world faded out and all they saw was each other, a familiar tug pulling at each other their hearts.

in your head, an familiar scene played, showing them in a pro hero costume, standing beside shigaraki in the dark alley. his gaze held fear and longing and you were brushing over his cheek, whispering that it would be okay. the memory seemed to bring tears to your eyes.

tenko, on the other hand, could see the moment he'd finally understood his quirk wasn't going to work. his hand was on your cheek, relief flooding him at the smallest touch. the raven was confused but it felt so.. familiar.

'hey, you okay?' himiko's voice broke through the spell and you blinked, head tipping towards her.

'oh.. sorry, i..' you began, pursing your lips, 'i thought i saw someone i knew..'

toya's eyebrow went up, glancing towards the young man then back. 'you know him?'

you shook your head with a frown. 'no but.. it feels like i should..? i just.. i just saw.. you know what, forget it? i sound crazy.'

tenko felt a familiar pull and as he kept walking, something told in to stop. he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew you, seemingly in another life, and he couldn't get himself to keep moving. the sensation was so unbelievably strong, he turned around and looked for you once more.

he didn't have a choice as he began moving towards you, heart beating harsh in his chest. 'excuse me,' he called, '..y/n?' he wasn't sure where the name came from but as he looked in your eyes, he felt an overwhelming wave of emotions, too many pictures rolling through his thoughts.

hearing the name, you looked up at him. 'tomura..?' you whispered.

himiko and toya had stepped back, exchanging curious glances but staying silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

as you went to offer a hand to him, another student bumped him into you and the touch alone brought everything back. both of your memories from your past life flooding back like a dam had broken. both of you were shown the final moments of your relationship. and something in you broke, even dropping your bag.

'you.. you went against.. him..?' you asked, already throwing your arms around him as tears welled up in your eyes. you knew you shouldn't be upset but he wouldn't be standing in front of you had he not passed soon after.

'for you.' was his only answer, arms going around you tightly.

as the two of you stood, clinging to each other, whispering and sniffling, toya nudged himiko. 'did we just witness some reincarnation soulmate shit..?' he whispered, though he couldn't help but smile.

himiko nodded, offering him a toothy grin in return. 'fate really is weird, huh?' she asked, nudging him back. 'wonder if either of us have soulmates out there.'

the white haired male shrugged, tossing his bag over his shoulder. 'who knows.. wonder what kinda people we were, though.'

when the two of you pulled back, hands laced and prepared to face a whole new life together, you turned to face your friends. 'i'm sure we were friends in our past lives, too,' you chimed, being at least a little hopeful. none of your memories with each other showed them. soulmate stuff was weird, you decided.

himiko leaned down to pick up your discarded back. 'i'm sure we were all friends in all of our past lives.. just like we'll be in the next.'

everyone smiled and fell into step. tenko had waved back to his friends to go on without him and you resumed your conversation about plans, automatically pulling the raven into the middle of them.

'my dad's throwing some weird party for my brother.. you guys want to just hang out at my place?' toya asked, looking over the group. 'you can bring your new boyfriend.'

you rolled your eyes. 'wonder if your dad is this.. creepily.. attached to you and your siblings in another life. i'm pretty sure most of your house is covered in family portraits.'

'you realize i moved to a dorm just so i could breathe, right? he's like.. i don't even know how to explain it. he's like those t.v dad's that are so.. perfect? it's annoying.'

himiko laughed. 'you're upset because you have a loving family? that's soooo weird.'

toya clicked his tongue and reached to pinch her arm. 'you live on campus too, you know?'

you listened to them bicker, content to lean into tomura's side, peeking up at him as you walked. he glanced down at you, leaning to press a kiss against your forehead.

maybe, you thought, this life would treat you better.

[anemoiashifts]

shifting tips / advice that don’t suck !

♡getting offline.

i know i know it’s hard, but being bombarded with different information about a certain topic can be so overwhelming & create room for overthinking which can effect performance. looking in places outside of shiftok or shiftblur or shift whatever. putting more effort into trying to figure out what something is instead of doing it will drive you insane because there is no answer to what shifting is. hence, “theories” & shared experiences. there is no concrete reasoning to shifting backed by science so don’t try & find them or you’ll be looking forever.

♡music.

did you know you can use music to manipulate memories ? the brain is so so bad at remembering things due to how much information we consume daily. when you visualize & listen to a sound or music, your brain can register that as a memory.

♡smell.

this one also aligns with the one above. smell is heavily tied to memory, also. by watching a show we are shifting to & pairing it with a certain scent like a perfume or candle, we can create a link between the two. then, spraying during shifting attempts can help us visualize & associate that piece of media with where we’re focusing on.

♡shadow work.

find out why you’re shifting. happiness ? you don’t need to shift for that. love ? you don’t need to shift for that. if you want to that’s fine but is shifting a bandaid for something deeper ? discover that. really think & consider where you’re going & if you’re in the right mentality to handle it. you aren’t in a television show episode or an oc, you’ll be a living human being in a very real & interactive world. figure out your intentions.

♡put in effort.

this may be a little obvious but you have to want to shift, to shift. you have to put in work & effort to shift & take another approach if doing the same method 10x over hasn’t worked for you. “we shift every second” sure but you didn’t shift into your desired reality in the past thirty. “im saying an affirmation & rolling over & hoping ill wake up in my dr” & how has that worked out for you ? just because this has maybe worked for other people, doesn’t mean it'll work for you. everyone is different. people require more time & effort to get something right then others just like subjects like art or english come easier to students.

♡perfection.

not everything has to be perfect. script isn’t completed ? so what ? you’ve been saying “im not ready yet” for the five months. don’t put off good things out of fear of them not being exactly how you want it because it will never be perfect because perfection isn’t real. if you don’t have everything figured out — that’s fine. why ? because life will sort itself out. this remains true right here & in your desired life. if it’s any comfort, everything will fall into place.

♡neutrality.

if you’re someone who wakes up after an attempt saying “i’ll never shift, i hate this reality” then you’re kinda sabotaging yourself in a way. your creating the mindset that this is the “bad” place when shifting is “good”. that’s not true. everything is entirely neutral until you define it as such. in addition, you are focusing more on the “haven’t” & giving that more attention to & what you give attention to will only grow until it’s so big you can’t see anything else.

♡listening.

people who want things don’t sit & complain about not having them, they persist & would do anything to get their desires & live in that reality. instead of saying “i didn’t shift” & sulking about it, take it as a learning experience to see what does & doesn’t work for you; your body is showing you what not to do so listen to yourself.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I had an ANGSTY idea

I imagine a scene where it's just a normal day at the base where the children are just hanging out and talking with their guardians (optimus and ratchet are over seeing decepticon activity)

somehow the topic of how long humans lives are comes up. The kids are oblivious to what they just revealed to the bots and seconds after this fact is shared all the bots freeze with realization and horror dawns on them.

Now whenever the bots are with the kids they act more happier and more willing to do what the kids want (and alot more protective) but under the facade is nothing but depression and sadness (the kids still oblivious)

Oh and optimus has a breakdown since he sees them as his own sparklings

Angst my old friend. I love this concept.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

It was not exactly a secret when it came to the short lives of organics compared to Cybertronians. The team were well aware that most organics tended to only live as long as a few centuries at best and possibly a millennia or two with technological adaptations. For them the lives of organics were still but a passing wind, but at least with a few centuries there was time for Cybertronians to grow close to their organic comrades. The team had each met other organics before and during the war, they knew how the organics near Cybertron worked for the most part. Thus they were not particularly concerned with the humans, although they did wonder why they grew so quickly and seemed to deteriorate with such swiftness when they had centuries left ahead of them.

The team largely did not think too much on the biological functioning of the humans and instead focused on their work. Despite that, eventually one particular Prime found himself uncertain.

Optimus found it particularly confusing how humans seemed to die so young all the time. In his free time he took joy in reading documents from Earth and learning their history. It seemed all of Earth's influential people died young. Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, Plato, Socrates, Sun Tzu, George Washington, and so many other influential figures, all dead before their second century of life. It concerned the Prime greatly, especially upon noting how involved the children, June, and Fowler were becoming in their activities. If there was some sort of genetic issue or other ailment that killed off those with influence, he needed to know immediately.

He brought his concerns to Ratchet who in turn gathered the attention of the team. This concern quickly spread and so as one unit the team researched human lives and reasons for offlinement. Before too long they came to the startling conclusion that almost every recorded human life ended when the human in question was around a century old. Some older religious and mythological records indicated that once upon a time humanity could indeed live for centuries, but that seemed to no longer be the case. Seeing this, fear for their charges wormed its way into the sparks of the team. Why were the humans dying so young? What happened to humanity to shorten their lives so drastically? Were their young charges doomed to die in the same manner?

Those questions haunted the team and in the end they decided to simply ask the children to see if there was some form of cultural misunderstanding causing them distress. The children were of course a little confused and it ended up being June who had to explain as the team huddled around, eager to understand and see if there was any way to stop the impending deaths of their wards.

Optimus: I have studied your history and it seems in the last few millennia humanity has failed to live longer than a century at most. Why is that?

June: We only live so long Optimus. We aren't big metal aliens from space like you.

Ratchet: That is true, but we have met organics before. Those that interacted with Cybertron before the war generally lived at least two centuries.

June: I-

Bulkhead: Is there some sort of illness killing you off?

Arcee: Maybe a conspiracy? I've heard of some organic civilizations killing off the older members of their population.

Bumblebee: *Is someone hurting you? We will stop them in that case!*

Optimus: Bumblebee is correct. If your race is under threat, we will gladly assist in stopping the needless death.

June: What? No. What you read are old myths, stories made up by humanity during various ages. They aren't real, we don't live much longer than a century and we never have.

Ratchet: What? But your historical records-!

June: Stories Ratchet. Just stories. Humans usually live around ninety years before we die. That is just the way of things.

Bulkhead: Then the kids-

June: Just like every human before them, they will grow old, and then when their time is up, they will die.

Not a word was uttered at the team slowly scattered, each considering what had been revealed to them. Suddenly a great deal had changed, and not a spark could change things.

Arcee had lost plenty of partners over her long life, but a human? And to old age of all things? She was terrified of that end. She would have to watch as he deteriorated and his frame failed him. How could she look at Jack and not imagine the way his skin would gain wrinkles and how his youthful energy would fade away into the bone deep weariness she observed in the elder humans she noted from a distance. A century was not long, it was hardly the Cybertronian equivalent of a year. Her boy was going to perish before she knew it, and there was not a thing she could do to stop it. Tears were useless, and yet in the quiet of her quarters she wept until she steeled herself. She would give her boy all the affection and care she could over his lifetime, and hopefully in doing so, she could ease the ache of loss that was to come.

Bulkhead was left not as grieved and more saddened above all else. It was easier for him to handle the concept of youthful deaths in organics due to his long service with the wreckers and their allies. He was not upset at Miko dying long before him. No, what saddened him was that she would never have the chance to be a wrecker on a restored Cybertron. By the time their world was restored and things put into motion, he small body would have deteriorated enough to make being a wrecker near impossible for her, at least if she wished to be active. That chance was going to be denied to her because of her fleshy frame, and that above all else had him offering as much opportunity to let her be a wrecker as possible. She would not see the height of Cybertronian military and rescue efforts, but she would have a taste of it, that was his promise.

Bumblebee for his part panicked. He knew organics didn't live long, but he had not expected Rafael's life to come to an end so soon. If Rafael lived according to human standards, he would be dead before Bumblebee's next forging day. He had grown to care deeply for the child, and so while he was no fool and well used to death and the concept of it, his spark still panged with loss. Not knowing what else to do, he threw himself into spending time with Rafael as much as he could outside of patrols and battles. If his friend was going to die so soon, Bumblebee was going to try and be there as a comfort for as long as possible. He tried not to think about the fact that his human companion would perish and silenced any discussion of it when he could. He knew Rafael and every other living being would die eventually, he saw death, he was well acquainted with it, and yet still he was not fond of inviting it by considering it too deeply.

Ratchet was neither particularly shocked or upset, but he was somewhat saddened as he looked over June and the children. He was old, very old. He had been around far longer than even Optimus. Death was not a stranger to him, and he merely found himself nodding along when June spoke the truth. There was nothing to be done and he doubted the children would care for augmentations to extend their lives when all their peers would perish long before they would in that situation. He merely sighed and came to be more gentle with the children. They were incredibly young, even by the standards of their own species. They would not live to see their star go out, and that was likely for the best. To him it was best to let them live a life not burdened by the concept of eternity.

Optimus was quiet after the revelation. He kept to himself for a time, thinking, contemplating, and considering. He knew that his organic charges were not to last, but he had not expected their lives to be so short. His spark cried within him, saddened at what was in his mind, the imminent deaths of several sparklings. He knew of cases where sparklings came from the Well too weak to last. In those situations they were tended to with love and care until at last their small frames failed them and they returned to Primus. It was not the same since the humans would be able to live up to their full potential by their species' standards long before death came for them. But to a Cybertronian? They would not last longer than a Cybertronian year, and that brought him grief. There had been no young for so long, and now those he had come to care for were going to perish so soon? He did not like to consider it and so locked the sorrow away and followed Ratchet's lead, tending to the humans with gentleness and grace.

In response to the team's conflicting emotions, the children found themselves treated with far more kindness than before. Jack was given rights to ride with Arcee far more often and no longer did she try to dismiss him as much. Bulkhead, and later Wheeljack once he understood the situation, took every care to train Miko as a true wrecker, giving her weapons and opportunity she would never have otherwise. Bumblebee went out of his way to speak with Rafael, to tell him stories, and to otherwise speak of all he had seen in order to give his human ward a vision of that which he would never experience due to his short life. Ratchet did not change his behavior much, but he was less hasty in his wrath and spoke to June, more willing to learn human medicine and customs. Optimus fell to offering gifts and wisdom to the humans under his care. He could not be there for them as he would with normal sparklings, but he could show them wonders and offer the wisdom of ages long gone by.

The children found it strange but did not object to the additional attention until it started to grow somewhat suffocating. Only then did they ask why.

Jack: Look, as much as I like being able to go for rides whenever I want, why are you being so nice?

Miko: Yeah, and why are you being so... sad about everything?

Rafael: Is something wrong?

Arcee: Its nothing like that we just-

Ratchet, glaring at the rest of the team: You humans do not live long, at least not compared to us. You lives hardly make up one of our years. They are trying to treat you gently because they are upset about it.

Bulkhead: Well that's a bit of an exaggeration-

Ratchet: No its not.

Jack: Wait, so you mean that since we are going to die eventually, you are being nice to us?

Rafael: We are only teenagers, we aren't going to die anytime soon. There's no need to be sad.

Bumblebee, close to tears: *But there is! You are going to be dead in just over a year for us! And we can't do anything to stop it!*

Miko: Oh, so you are upset because we won't live as long as you.

Optimus: That would be correct... We have not had young of our own since Cybertron fell, and that was many vorns ago. To have you children in our lives has given us hope, and to now know you will not linger with us... we are sorrowful.

Ratchet: Don't stress yourselves over it.

There was little else to say after that revelation, but the children did what they could to comfort their functionally immortal guardians. It wasn't much, but a smile and a thank you every now and then eased the sorrow the team were blanketed in. The humans would die within the blink of an eye for a race from beyond the stars. But that did not stop them from enjoying what time they had.

[ausp-ice]

I am Names. You can call me that if you want. To friends… how about Friend? To strangers, Stranger. To those who dislike me, how about Odious? To those I dislike, I can be Vile. If you're unsure, how about Ilk? Or, if you like… you can give me your name, and I'll give you a new one. We could even share. But what are names, exactly? They are titles, they are windows. They are promises and self-fulfilling prophecies. They are identities and they are masks. They are opportunities and chains. Names have power, more power than you might think. So, think carefully… what shall your Name be?

Names (mirrored/any), Edeia of Names. My little indulgence for a fae-inspired Edeia! Definitely just inspiration though. Folklore was not referenced for accuracy.

(They definitely play the "may I have your name" / "may I have your pronouns" game.)

More about them below the cut! And even more about them on TH.

Edeia Site | Edeia Discord | Personal Website

About Names

The Edeia generally known as Names has many names, and many facets of their self to go along with them. Some might think of the countless names as false identities, but for Names, each name they use is one real to them, one in which they'd found themself. They enjoy testing the limits of who they are, who they could be, and who they want to be. 

Names also enjoys playing "games"… where they are always at an advantage in one way or another, and/or at no risk of loss. These include deals, gambles, and other arrangements they find interesting. For instance, even if another offers their Name, Names will never offer theirs—if they even have any risk of loss, besides their magic power. One example of a gamble they might play with a human is that if the human wins, they'll give them a name sure to bring them great financial success and stability; if the human loses, they'll give them a name of a pariah. They don't care too much about the outcomes for these humans; they're just as happy to laugh at someone as they are to laugh with someone, generally speaking. 

Names does like to give a fair chance, however—or fair enough, however you look at it. They've crafted their abilities so that others' Names aren't immediately revealed to them, for one. They'll avoid finding out others' names and other forms of address outside of interacting with them directly, as it's part of their "game" of getting to know others.  

They also enjoy all sorts of music and dance; they collect every kind of instrument and try to learn it, and like to learn all sorts of dances (with a preference for folk dances). They also create their own instruments, compose their own songs, and choreograph their own dances. In their games, a human might find themself relieved that their loss penalty or price for a deal is simply to teach Names a dance, a song, how to use a certain instrument, or an instrument itself. Names might invite others, including humans and Edeia, into their Abstraction for a festival of song and dance. 

Names is unrepentantly themself in all their names. They have made themself into exactly who they want to be, after all. They can enjoy good company and friendship, though they don't particularly care if others dislike or grow to dislike them; they are just as happy in solitude, in their music and dance, and in their "games." 

History

Names was once an Identity—rather, they were a human that would have become one. Let's call them Ming (名, Míng, meaning 'name'). They were born among the Chinese landed gentry during the Tang Dynasty with the Idea of Identity, and they grew up highly aware of the kinds of identities others had around them. They were particularly drawn to others' names, however: how the names affected them, how those names affected others. Many they knew had two, three, or more—their given name, courtesy name, art name (pseudonyms, or hào), nicknames, and perhaps other titles. 

As they grew older and made their own name for themself—or perhaps names for themself—they indulged in the experience of giving and receiving names. Names exchanged with Ming had some magic power imbued in them at that time, though not too much. 

It was when Ming met another Actualized Identity, who revealed Ming's state, that Ming realized their magical potential and began experimenting with the extent of their abilities. Through their experimentation, they felt that they did not simply want to be another Identity. They had their own names. They were more than just an "Identity." They sought a deeper understanding of themself, considering each of their names and what they meant; eventually, Ming was, through their magic, able to define their Name. Then, by knowing their Name, they became able to change the essence of themself. Without hesitation, they altered their state of being an Identity to being their own self, and named their Idea as Names. 

At the moment of their changes settling in, they felt themself at a threshold, and Actualized. 

Names traveled often after that, making their way across various parts of the globe. They stayed for quite a while in Europe, delighted and fascinated by the cultures, and having their fun with humans in certain areas. Names and the activity of some other Edeia around this time led to more and more tales of fae, and Names enjoyed taking on the name of Fae to play around with the people, playing up to that name while still being no less true to themself. 

When the time for the Age of Secrecy hit, Names played along with Order's game as well. It was fun to see what they could do within the bounds of secrecy—how for they could go without receiving a warning. As it turns out, quite a bit—so long as humans didn't know there was magic, they could be as superstitious as they wanted, and Names's games worked well in the realm of secrets and uncertainties. They traveled often, sometimes blending their Abstraction with a real forest and inviting in guests to come and get lost in music and dance. After a night of revelry, the human visitors would find themselves asleep in their homes, thinking the experience a fun dream. 

After Reunion began, Names continued their games—and was much more open about their existence. They registered with Data and occasionally visited reunited society (often to learn music and dance), but preferred to travel, spend time in their Abstraction, and draw people in to play their "games." 

[merakiui]

Mother

yandere!kabukimono x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, pregnancy, implied codependency, brief mentions of murder/death, brief mention of childbirth note - recently i was inspired to write a kabukimono story, so i hope you can enjoy it!

i. the miracle of life.

There is a little human growing within you.

Kabukimono has never heard of such a phenomenon, but according to you it’s a normal facet of life for all creatures. He, who has only ever interacted with men, young and old, and the occasional grandmother, has never known the word pregnancy. It’s a complicated concept he struggles to parse at first—like that first sip of sake or the stickiness of a sweet. It’s something that leaves you pleasantly rounded like a ripe lavender melon, softens the skin on your bones, and allows you to grow into the kimono that was once two sizes too large. It’s something you speak of with overwhelming warmth, a fondness so enticing it’s almost tangible. It’s something the men at the furnace discuss with great pride and merriment, swapping stories of their beautiful, beloved wives and the tiny miracles that dwell within the womb, adoration painted upon weathered countenances. 

Miracles. Kabukimono has heard the word once or twice. Miracles, as he has come to learn, are wonderful things wrapped in silks. Newborns swathed in softness. Frail humans who manage to overcome illnesses that are said to snuff both body and soul with the excruciating passage of time. Sometimes a miracle is simple and not nearly as exciting as tales of heroes and villains or a mortal fight for recovery. Sometimes a miracle is waking up to begin another day. Sometimes it's torrential rain battering thirsty farmlands. Sometimes it’s a delicious meal prepared by a loving hand. 

If Kabukimono’s existence were to be defined as a miracle, it would be both a grandiose, gilded lie and bittersweet flattery all in one pretty package. Miracles are wanted, loved, and accepted. Disasters, curses, failures—however you wish to name the wandering puppet—are unwanted, despised, and abandoned. Kabukimono may not know every truth of this vast world, but this is one he’s understood from the moment he awoke in a lonesome pavilion. 

There is a little miracle growing within you. 

“Although they’re not very little now,” you remark, taking his cold, bloodless hands in your warm, blood-filled ones.

You guide them to your belly, secured snugly with a hara-obi, and he averts his gaze, if only to be respectful of the bare flesh you’ve put on display. The men at the furnace note he often stares at you; they’ve said it’s unbecoming of a young man to fix licentious eyes upon a maiden. Once, they joked of repentance for invasive gazes: A man who strays too far from his honor when a lady is involved shall gouge his eyes out and present them to her in hopes of earning forgiveness. Kabukimono, unable to comprehend the sarcasm or the laughter, procured a shard of shattered glass, raised it to his eye, and was promptly stopped by a very concerned Niwa. 

“Now listen here,” he had said, addressing the group of chuckling men, “it’s not very honorable to trick others.”

Kabukimono knows that there are two types of tricks: the painful kind and the painless kind. Betrayal falls under the painful category. Swapping his bitter tea for sake falls under the painless category (though he was not spared of the dizzying, disorienting effects or the subsequent hangover). Had he sliced his eyes from his skull, he wonders if he would have felt the sting, the agony, the fluid filling empty eye sockets—if such fluid even exists within his unique anatomy. Kabukimono is grateful for Niwa, for he often rescues him from painless tricks that may turn painful should he follow through with blind trust. 

And, had he truly lost his eyes that day, he never would have had the pleasure of looking at you like he does now. 

“Not very little…” he parrots, and he can practically feel the heartbeat from your miracle the moment his hands rest upon your belly. It shimmers in the candlelight, but that’s only because you’ve applied herbal oil meant to soothe weary muscles and prevent stretch marks. “How big will it become?”

You hum, idly trace patterns onto the tops of his hands, and say, “It’s difficult to approximate. Imagine…a very big lavender melon.”

Kabukimono can do that. He peers past you at the purple pile on the table, spoils from his last walk. He always returns with too many, but then pregnancy leaves you with a voracious appetite and sometimes you can eat more than one melon in one sitting. It’s very admirable, so he brings more each week and you never stop him. 

“That’s big,” he mumbles, awestruck, and he slides a hand across the width of your stomach. “How does it fit?”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Oh.” He leans closer, suspecting he feels movement from within, and he’s proven correct when something shifts under his palms. His eyes, blown so very, impossibly wide, flick up to yours. “It… It moved!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, and your eyes are the prettiest gemstones in the moonlight. He could stare at them forever. “They kick and squirm often. This, too, is the sweetest miracle.”

“How so?”

“A restless baby means they are alive and well within.” You look like a statue of the gentlest goddess when you cradle your stomach. “It’s all I could ever hope for.”

Curiously, Kabukimono withdraws his hands and lifts the hem of his silks to view his own flat, porcelain stomach. He presses a palm against synthetic skin. It’s cold, but there is life crackling beneath his hand, just barely contained within the frame his mother personally sculpted. 

Mother. It’s another word he knows well, but he cannot seem to apply it to anyone other than his creator. But, as he has come to learn, a mother is meant to provide and protect. His mother is currently absent, so she cannot do those things. 

“You must have something you want.” 

Kabukimono lowers the fabric, cinches it tight, and peers at you. “Something I want?”

“Like a miracle of your own.”

“I am unable to conceive a miracle.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing a quiet, melodious laugh. “It doesn’t have to be a child. It can be anything you want.”

His hands rise to his chest and he intends to admit his true wish—a heart and a place amongst humans—but instead he says, “I would like a mother for myself.”

“Do you not have a mother, Kabukimono?”

“I do… I did.” He shakes his head, finding that the admittance is too troublesome on his tongue. “I’m…unsure.”

You nod, your features softening with understanding. “Perhaps something else then?” Kabukimono reaches out to touch your belly, hesitates, and draws away, conflicted. You offer an encouraging smile. “You can touch. I don’t mind, and I don’t think the baby minds either.”

And so he does.

“I want to see your miracle when it’s brought into the world,” he whispers, speaking more to your baby than to you. “And I would like to know the miracle of life.”

As if in response, your little miracle kicks.

ii. the miracle of death. 

Your little miracle almost fell from the sky that envelops it.  

On the way to the furnace, a man bumped into you and you were sent stumbling on uneven ground. Kabukimono does not want to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t been a few steps behind—if he hadn’t rushed to your aid with a quickness rivaling lightning. He’d caught you in his arms and, noting the raw panic sullying such a friendly face, could only exhale a slow, relieved sigh. 

When you fell, you were holding your belly, shielding it as if it was worth more than your own life. When you fell, the man who had been the catalyst for this short-lived horror did not jump in to catch you. When you fell, you were a sliver away from tragedy. 

Kabukimono tastes red-hot anger in his throat, but he cannot understand where it’s coming from or why it consumes him entirely. But he must get it out of his system. It’s unpleasant and wrong and sordid. He doesn’t like it. Not at all.

And so, later that same day, he repays terror tenfold and leaves the man clinging to the strand he calls life.

“I won’t allow you to take my miracle away.” It’s spoken like a fact, shot through with syllables of deadly certainty. The sharpened tip of his blade prods at the man’s abdomen, a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. For nearly taking a life, you shall pay for it with your own.

“Your mother?” the man had sputtered, terrified and confused, sticky with sweat and tears. 

Kabukimono does not let the man speak again, for the sword sinks into his stomach, and unease morphs into painful torment. To be certain the man won’t survive, Kabukimono twists the sword, sullies his hands in the process, and yanks it free with startling strength. Blood speckles a pristine canvas. It’s warm and wet.

He did not say mother. He did not. You’re a miracle. You are not his mother. You will be a mother to your miracle, not him because he isn’t a miracle. 

He did not say mother. 

Kabukimono finds himself sitting across from you now. There is a ghastly tear in crimson-spattered silks. You suspect the truth in the liquid staining his attire. Surely you must. But you keep your lips pursed and thread the needle through with expert fingers, humming as you work. Kabukimono sits primly, watching you with bright, indigo hues. You hum a melody he has never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m glad.” You snip the excess string away and tuck the needle into your sewing kit. “It’s fixed. I’m sorry if it looks a little awkward. I’m not the best at—”

“It’s perfect,” he insists, admiring the stitching as if it’s the most valuable thing in all of Teyvat. Irreplaceable, for no one could replicate your exact pattern, and that’s what makes it so special. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for all of two minutes before the silence shatters his resolve. “Your miracle…” He frowns, suddenly ashamed. “He almost hurt your miracle…”

“But he didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.” You hold your hands out, palms up, and add, “Your hands aren’t meant to break and destroy others. You were given these precious palms to embrace others, to protect others, to respect others.” 

Slowly, he places his hands in yours. His seem to weigh heavy like a grimy sin, yet somehow all it takes is a single touch from you and all of his filth is cleansed. His fingers curl around yours, entwining like vines.

“I will embrace others. I will protect others. I will respect others.”

You squeeze his hands reassuringly. “When you’re upset, rather than acting rashly, take a step back and sit with your feelings. If the unpleasant thing persists, come to me and we can discuss. But please don’t take your frustrations out on others. You weren’t made to hurt others.”

“Then if I was not made for destruction, what else could be the purpose for my creation?”

To that, you’re unable to produce a satisfactory reply. Instead, you pull one of your hands free, lick your thumb, lean towards him, and scrub the blood from his cheeks. He blinks at you, unaccustomed to such consideration. The men at the furnace often tease him for trailing after you like a lost, little duckling, seeking your approval and affection. Tonight, since the men are nowhere in sight, he thinks he can allow himself to be greedy without any admonishments from Niwa or Katsuragi. You sure do like that (Name), huh? the latter often muses, exchanging wary, furtive glances with Niwa, as if both are preparing to weather a calamity. 

Kabukimono always speaks the truth unless he must take care to conceal it. So when he tells them, I like her more than I like the world that surrounds me, he means it. Because without you there is no world.

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmurs, as if it’s a secret, a title not meant to be uttered by him. 

Oh, he said it again. He said mother. 

iii. the miracle of motherhood.

Kabukimono kneels at your bedside like an angel of death dressed in the purity of white. He watches you throughout the hour, listening to your cries, your groans, your hisses, while a grandmother assists below, whispering soothing consolations that somehow reach Kabukimono’s ears despite the shrill noises that fill the room. Kabukimono has learned she’s a granny who delivers life, so he puts his faith in her to take good care of you and your miracle.

The process is much longer than he anticipated. Though you’re covered in sweat and tears, your chest heaving, your hand searching for him in the midst of the commotion, you are the most beautiful miracle he has ever known. He closes his hand around yours and you squeeze so hard you might just tear his wrist from the joint. But it doesn’t hurt him, and he spends the afternoon at your side, watching the toll the miracle takes on your body.

He never blinks, burning the scene into his retinas. 

Some time later, you are holding your miracle in your arms, tears tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks. Kabukimono watches mother and child with wide, adoring eyes. After all this time, your miracle is finally here! You’re holding such a fragile human and there is love trickling from your lash line. Kabukimono wants to cry with you, but the tears won’t come. 

So instead he smiles. You seize his wrist and drag him down to where you rest, and the smile widens.

“Your miracle is leaking,” he observes, and you snort in amusement.

“Crying,” you correct, bumping your forehead with his. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Kabukimono is inclined to agree, but your eyes are not on him. For the first time in the many months he’s been acquainted with you, he is not all you see. Somehow that saddens him, carves a hole into him, but he can’t mourn. He shouldn’t. He’s come to learn that the miracle of childbirth is an occasion worthy of celebration. He should be happy for you—and he is—but there is a pang in his chest. Something is not fitting where it should. Something is amiss.

“I think I’ll name her…Aika.”

“Is it common to give miracles names?”

“Of course. Everyone has a name, even you. We’re all given one the moment we’re born.”

Even me… 

Aika continues to cry and you rock her to and fro in your arms, shushing her with a song. She settles within minutes, lulled to sleep, and you follow shortly after. He refuses to leave your bedside, preferring to watch over you like a dutiful guard.

Kabukimono weighs his two warring wants: a name of his own, generously given by his mother, and you. In this very moment, you are attainable. A name, however, is not. But perhaps he can survive without one if it means you’ll accompany him through nameless wandering.

He’s only ever whole when he’s with you. 

iv. the miracle of rebirth. 

The Balladeer stands at an all-too-familiar doorstep. He has since swapped his pure linens for a shroud of darkness, and he’s taken on a new alias (he refuses to call it a name, for only you can grant him one). You haven’t changed in the many years that have since followed, for you are not fully human like him. Yet you veil yourself in the wonders of humanity, always empathetic in nature, tainted with weak emotions. You will never be human, but then neither will he and there is catharsis in similarity. The both of you stand on equal ground in that regard, or so you might have thought. 

He is better because he feels nothing, or so he believes. Perhaps, in the center of the labyrinth that is his mind, he recognizes his flaws and the fact that he is worse because you can accept the many aspects of humanity. 

Shrugging these irritations away, he composes himself, squares his shoulders, and knocks thrice. He could forego etiquette altogether, kick your door down, and force himself inside for the sake of a cruel surprise, but he refrains from doing so. He suspects your newest miracle might tumble from your sky if he shocks you and then you will never know the sweet cycle of motherhood again.

You know better than to ignore Death when he comes knocking. The door opens wide; there’s no need to crack it and peek through the thin sliver when you’re already aware of the person who awaits you on the other side. 

As he has observed over the course of many months, you do have another miracle, hidden under the softness of a floral-patterned kimono. He smiles at you, sharp and wicked under a blanket of stars, and spreads his arms for a hug.

“Mother,” he says in a sarcastic singsong, knowing it unnerves you terribly when it spills like sin from his lips. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Like an old habit, you welcome him in. Beyond your doorstep, the corpse of your most recent lover lies slumped and bloodied, decapitated and disemboweled, dragged so far there’s a vermilion trail marking the path. Sometimes you think these humans are not killed by The Balladeer but rather by the sheer ferocity of the hatred and anger he harbors. He’s always diligent with each of your lovers, swooping in the moment he catches their scents, like a predatory cat finely tuned for slaughter. 

He palms at your stomach, uncharacteristically gentle. “Aren’t you just full of miracles, Mother?”

There is a little human growing within you, and The Balladeer has made it his duty to bear witness to the birth of each one of your miracles.