#I don't know how I feel about it being canon- but it's silly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lostingrayrain · 22 days ago

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hello hello!! i bought homicipher the day it came out and i'm so in love with it.. but there's no content whatsoever and i'm so sad 😭😭 could you write literally anything for any character.. i just need to see more homicipher content!!! 😭😭💗

I GOT YOU ANON I've clocked in like 20 hours since the release on November 1st omg....

I've been cooking up something for my first Homicipher post.....here's some general thoughts on the relationships/dynamics with the main guys.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: sfw, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Mr. Crawling

He loves you!! He loves you so, so, so much!!!

Do you love him?

He asks you that. A lot. He loves to be reassured that you adore him. And he's always vocal about how much he adores you.

He follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It's honestly so endearing and sweet. He's constantly on the lookout for you.

He also adores physical touch, once he knows it's fine. Other than the little headpats, he likes to touch your legs, especially your calves. In times of rest he's incredibly cuddly and loves to nuzzle into you.

Pet his hair and he'll melt immediately. It's so relaxing to him.

He's usually with you, but when he's not he's often on the lookout for gifts and trophies to bring to you. He just wants to make you happy, in any way possible. The second there's anything you mention liking or being fond of, it's a priority for him to see if he can scrounge it up.

If you'll let him, he'd love to touch your hair. He will play with it and make silly nonsensical braids and giggle quietly to himself all the while.

He's a bit of a chatterbox. He loves to talk to you. Any time he's been away he likes to give you little reports of what he's done or what he's seen. And he wants to hear all about your day or your dreams, too. There's never a time he won't want to hear what you have to say.

Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair

You are so very interesting to him! He wants to study you.

But not hurt you. Normally, he probably would have already dismembered you to watch how your body pulls together again, but since you're friends with Mr. Chopped, he's put aside that urge.

Instead it's been replaced by something else, though he doesn't really understand what it is. He's never felt it before. Or maybe he has? Maybe he doesn't remember? Could you help him remember?

Whenever you’re feeling ill, he finds that he wants to make you feel better. He’s trying hard to learn how to keep you together just as you are.

He’ll get you to lie down when it seems you’re feeling faint, and carry you to bed when you collapse in the middle of an errand. Before he realises it, he's massaging your hair. Think nothing of it. Your head hurts, right? So it makes sense to pet you.

He likes to watch you sleep. He can’t put a finger on why. He likes to tell himself he’s doing armchair research when he’s really just….zoning out.

He's extremely perceptive and observant. He's always checking your reactions to things and events to figure out what you like or don't like, or to try to understand how you're feeling in the moment.

He's the type to politely ask if it's okay to touch you before doing so.

He would never hurt you unless your urges became unbearable, in which case it's self-defense, right? He'll make sure you'll turn back to normal and he'll be there for you every step of the way.

Mr. Gap

He's probably...one of the strangest denizens of the otherworld. You're still not sure if he has a body. But he has helped you on multiple occasions. You've found yourself growing fond of him.

You often see him peeking at you from various holes and gaps. Sometimes he tries to get your attention, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he just watches.

When you find a bag in the underworld, you begin carrying it around with you.

He's usually inside, but sometimes not. You have no idea where he goes.

He'll often bring back little gifts like weapons or food, like some bizarre cat. When he finds out you like candy, he tends to focus on that.

He always asks for your heart before he gives you anything, and you always say no, and he always grumbles.

But somehow you'll always find those same things coincidentally in your path or somewhere in the room after you wake up, if you've taken a nap.

He likes to scope out newspapers and magazines too, and show them to you, especially if they feature himself. He's so proud of that.

Over time, his requests for your heart grow less and less frequent. Sometimes, you forget he used to ask you for it at all, until he suddenly pipes up with the query again.

Is his wanting your heart the same thing as wanting your love? Things to ponder.

Mr. Hood

He's quiet and reclusive but he's there for you whenever you need him.

You need or want anything? Just ask. He'll give it to you immediately with hardly a question.

No harm will ever come to you whenever you're with him, and he hardly lets you out of his sight. He's incredibly protective of you.

He loves to carry you in his arms or on his shoulder, whether you're small or not. It's no bother to him. He's more than strong enough.

Hand touches are so pleasant to him -- whether you're touching his hands, or he's touching your face. He's secretly touch-starved. As long as you don't shy away, he'll continue to hold onto you.

He enjoys quizzing you on your knowledge of the otherworld language. When things are slow, he’ll randomly ask you if you know the names of certain things.

Whenever you both encounter something new during your travels, he’s quick to ask you if you know what it is or outright tells you what it’s called.

He seems a bit self-conscious of having minimal form. What is under his robe? If you don't ask he'll be grateful. He doesn't know himself.

But if you're not repulsed by his anomalous form, that's just -- incredibly touching.

He claims to not understand love, but he'll never abandon you.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe he's forgotten.

But there's something about you that comforts him, and makes him feel safe. Quite paradoxical -- he's the one doing the protecting, after all. But your presence soothes him.

Mr. Machete

He's just looking for a way to not be bored. And being with you -- somehow, it's fun.

Maybe because he's usually alone, so he doesn't often have anyone else to talk to. It's...fun to banter with you, even if sometimes your words confuse him.

It's unquestionable that he's the brawn, you're the brain of this duo. Maybe the beauty and the beast, too?

He's always, secretly, been a little bit of a coward. The second things don't look like they'll turn out well for him, he ditches and flees.

But, oddly, you give him the courage to stand against things or monsters he would have thought were impossible to defeat.

Sometimes, you die -- whether by accident or because something else got to you before he could. But he always sighs and waits for you to wake up again. If you're mad, it's a little funny. You were just too slow that time.

He likes sparring with you. You have to get faster, right? Your weapon is pretty funny, too. So small and yet somehow you manage to not get overwhelmed by him. He's not holding back. He never would. Right?

He likes to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Likes to hug you like a teddy bear, too. You're soft and warm. You feel nice against him.

He's not the type to ask, but if you made any indication of not liking anything, he'd stop. He doesn't want to break you.

Mr. Scarletella

You are his queen. He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You are so fascinating to him. He just can't believe he's found someone as perfect as you. Someone who likes to destroy and kill people, just like him? Immaculate.

You haven't and never will give him your name. That's fine. He can live with that, as long as you're with him.

You've likely given him something else to call you. It's not quite your name -- maybe it's not your full name, and he knows it, because he can't quite grasp your essence. But it's enough to be able to give a sound to the person -- thing -- he likes most in this world.

He likes to say that not-quite name, and he says it often, just to get your attention.

He's fascinated by everything about you -- including how small you are in comparison to him. He loves that he can easily dwarf your form and loom over you. It's exhilarating in a completely different way from mindless violence.

Speaking of which, his favourite thing is without a doubt to commit violence with you. There's a new urban legend steadily growing in the human world, of a pair of murderers characterised by their red and white umbrellas. You're the perfect perfectly awful duo, truly.

Even when he's not with you, he's always somehow got an eye on you. Most of the otherworld residents know by now who you belong to, and they'd never lay hand on the one cherished by the red umbrella man.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mojibake #mozibake #文字化化 #mr silvair x reader #mr silver x reader #mr silver hair x reader #mr crawling x reader #mr hood x reader #mr machete x reader #mr gap x reader #mr scarletella x reader #ask #anonymous

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keerysfreckles · 11 months ago

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reader who has a habit of sneaking out at night to swim in the lake and Luke catches them and joins🤭🤭

YOUR BLOG AESTHETIC IS SOSO CUTE

not-so-secret — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x poseidon gn!reader

warnings: small makeout sesh, petnames used (babe, sweetheart)

a/n: THANK YOU IM IN LOVE WITH MAMMA MIA I HAD TO HAVE MY PFP BE SOPHIE!!!!

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

being a demigod child of poseidon had it's perks at camp half-blood. most campers respected you and percy, considering you two were children of the big three. you had a whole meal table to yourselves. you had the ability to control water (your favorite perk).

ever since you found out who your godly parent was, it's as if you were one with the water. you felt like you needed to be around it all the time. sure it felt silly to admit, but it's the truth.

almost every night when all the campers are asleep, you'd sneak out of your cabin to go to the lake. you were surprised percy never woke up with how creaky the floor boards in your cabin are. you'd alternate between the same three swimsuits and grab your favorite towel.

your routine didn't change tonight as you were on your way to the lake. the moon was full so it made the water sparkle more than it has this summer at camp.

you were quick to take your clothes off, having your swimsuit on underneath, and jumped into the water. you stayed under the water for a moment. you could breathe underwater, you knew you'd be fine.

some poeple meditate or take naps to calm down. this is your version of meditation. it always calms you down from whatever you delt with during the day. the more stressful your day is, the longer you stay underwater.

no one knew about your secret late night swims, and you wanted to keep it that way.

you merge through the surface of the water, and brush any hair that had gotten into your eyes.

a rustle in the woods around you catches your attention. usually there were nymphs jumping from tree to tree at night, but this noise was much louder than the noises the nymphs made.

you're about to speak, but someone stepping out of the woods beats you to it.

"what? you can sneak off without me now? i thought we were a package deal."

you roll your eyes and swim to the edge of the lake, "how did you even know i was out here?"

you stare up at your boyfriend, luke castellan. he was shirtless and in a pair of swim shorts. you giggled, they were bright green with baby rhinos all over the fabric. he held a towel and his orange camp shirt in his right hand.

"well i checked your cabin, and i guessed the only reasonable place you'd be is the lake. you really think i don't know about your little hiding spot?"

you blush, knowing luke knows you better than you know yourself. he sets his things down by yours before canon-balling into the lake. you swim over to him once he merges from the rippling water.

you giggle as he shakes his head side to side, flinging water droplets everywhere.

you two simply smile at each other before he breaks the silence, "like what you see babe?"

you splash him, "you're such and idiot."

you both laugh as he splashes you back. this continues for a moment before he grabs you by the waist. he can stand in the lake, giving him the advantage here. you hold onto his shoulders, before your hands move to the back of his neck.

you play with the dark curls on the back of his neck as he slowly sets you down so your face to face.

"can i kiss you?" your voice is soft, scared that if you talk louder someone might find you two.

"you never have to ask sweetheart."

you pull luke towards you, causing your lips to crash together. the kiss is full of hunger and nothing but love. you knew you kissed him before you left for your cabin earlier that night, but you'd never get used to the feeling of luke's lips on your own.

you turn your head, deepening the kiss. your bottom lip is in between his, and you can't help but smile into the kiss.

"i love you," you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back slightly, and you could've sworn you saw hearts in his eyes, "i love you."

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x gn!reader #luke castellan x gn reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #pjo #pjo show #pjo series #pjo tv #pjo tv show #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 4 months ago

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You know that feeling when you want to make a good impression and eveything you do feels low-key humiliating

Or when you're just perpetually mortified about every word that leaves your mouth by default regardless of what's happening or who you're talking to like I am—

ANYWAY HERE'S SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT THE BOYS BEING EMBARASSED OR SOMETHING—

Oooh Nooooo

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

Needless pointless fluff with the tiniest bit of hurt-comfort or something

Live-action or anime/manga canon, either or both

I don't think there are any TWs?

Sorry for wasting all of our time with this silliness

Anyway here's some Nu.

Zoro

He just pushes himself much too hard sometimes.

Sitting down and "taking a nap" after training, when he's clearly well beyond his limit.

Or rather "passing out from utter exhaustion with his swords unsheathed across his lap."

It could have ended a lot worse than a rogue wave washing across the deck and a gash on his arm.

Grumbling about how he's fine and doesn't need any help the whole time you're wrapping bandages around his arm and chiding him.

Going silent and tense for a moment when you wrap him in a tight hug and softly ask him to be more careful.

No, he's not blushing, he's never blushed in his entire life, shut up

Hugging you back? What are you talking about?

Gives a little growl of annoyance, refusing to let you go for longer than he's willing to admit, and will probably say it was for your benefit if anyone asks.

Sanji

The old *whoops* with the pepper shaker.

It had already been a long day, he was just trying to wind down in the kitchen.

Trying to season a very simple, very straightforward sauce.

And the entire lid falls off of the pepper shaker, and into the pot, along with a massive pile of ground black pepper.

And he just lets out a groan of defeat, dropping to his knees and letting his forehead fall against the edge of the stove with a weak little thunk.

But no no no, you're already hurrying over to help scoop out the excess pepper, reassuring him that it'll definitely be fine.

Your rush to assist him is enough to make him smile in itself, to let out a small affectionate chuckle as he watches you grimace at the taste the ruined sauce, before you meet his eye and try to fake a smile.

Decides to repurpose the sauce in question, to get back at the idiots that loosened the pepper shaker lid in the first place.

The two of you are left snickering to yourselves while the rest of the crew fights over the nearest jug of fresh water after tasting it themselves.

Shanks

Man could probably drop a knife and sever three of his toes and still manage to laugh it off, what is "embarrassment...?"

Well, it's a little more subtle.

It's having to relearn how to use both a sword and a pen after losing half of his dominant arm.

It's laughing off how his handwriting looks like a child's now.

It's getting mildly annoyed at trying to button a shirt one-handed and simply tucking it into his belt instead.

It's refusing help with simple tasks that could be made far simpler if the stubborn idiot would just let you help already—

It's hearing him chuckle and agree when you call him a stubborn idiot for refusing any help, settling his hand in your hair and pulling you close.

The whole process is embarrassing in itself, but he's got you, and he's got his crew, and that makes it all so much easier.

Mihawk

What on earth could he possibly have to be embarrassed about?

World's Greatest Swordsman, one of the seven Warlords, with a sense of wit as devastating as his blade.

And yet, despite all his efforts to hide it, he's just a big softie.

As if it wasn't already evident from how he allowed Zoro to live after challenging him and subsequently trained him, with the convenient excuse of wanting a worthy rival.

He's going to glare at you with a sharpness that could slice clean through diamond if you suggest out loud that he did any of it out of kindness, much less fondness.

But he's also going to sigh in an irritable sort of defeat when you kiss his cheek and compliment him for finding such a perfect balance between mercy and murder.

And mumble just as irritably about how you're lucky he finds you endearing enough to keep around, begrudgingly proving your point without even realizing it.

Buggy

Lives in a perpetual state of embarrassment that he tries to mask with haughtiness and aggression.

It mostly revolves around the elephant in the room.

The very red, very round elephant in the room, attached to the very center of his face.

The one he might just slaughter anyone for mentioning in front of him.

Who nose what that could possibly be *wink-wink*nudge-nudge**stupidest-pun*

But the second you plant a kiss there and say how cute it is, in a way that makes it clear you're not condescending or taunting him about it, he's too busy blushing and sputtering over his words to remember what he was supposed to be angry about in the first place.

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shepscapades · 7 months ago

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DBHC [Detroit Become Hermitcraft] AU MASTERPOST

This is a compiled list of links to every major dbhc post, including links to art, a list of tags that I use to organize everything for this au on my blog, character tags, and any other content for the au that you may want to specifically look for! I will do my best to update this Masterpost with every new major post I publish, so feel free to keep checking the original post (not reblogs, which will not retain edits) for new content! (Likewise, if you stumble upon a link that doesn't seem right, please feel free to let me know!)

Everything is organized below the read more by an Overview of information about the au and content organized by character. Within each character's section, posts are organized in a narrative chronological order-- NOT the order in which the posts were published. Most characters are organized in groups so links do not appear more than once.

Thank you for reading and enjoying my silly au! It's baffling to me how many people have found an interest in or love for this project, and everyone's support, encouragement, and general insanity means the world to me! <3

OVERVIEW

Dbhc, or the Detroit Become Hermitcraft AU, is an au that started as a joke and very quickly stopped being a joke LKFJGDG It’s called Detroit Become Hermitcraft, but not really because it has anything to do with the base game DBH– really, I only yoinked the android mechanics and inserted them into the minecraft-based world of hermitcraft. It’s an au that starts in Hermitcraft Season 8 (aka, many of the first androids were built for the beginning of s8 in this au), meaning that the seasons prior in this au do not technically have those hermits as part of their history. The Life Series are canon to this au, but like earlier hermitcraft seasons, 3rd Life is missing all of the android hermits due to it having taken place prior to HC Season 8.

GUIDE TO ANDROIDS - An official guide to how androids function, for those unfamiliar with dbh androids!

TAG LIST

#dbhc – any and everything dbhc! #dbhc art – any art, comics, or silly doodles that feature the dbhc characters #dbhc ask – any response to an ask or submission that I answer related to dbhc– could be silly asks or asks related to lore! #dbhc music – any art or asks in which I speak about the music on the dbhc playlists or use the songs as inspiration for art of the narrative #dbhc fanart – any dbhc art not made by me! #dbhc fanfic – any dbhc writing not written by me! #dbhc writing – works of writing that either I’ve done or works that I consider canon to the au! (see below for links to each of these works) #dbhc sillies – these are usually asks I’ve answered that include ridiculous doodles or humorous references to more serious or angsty lore posts #dbhc theories – not a consistent tag, but something I decided to start using for asks that have interesting theories that I don't want to confirm or deny. Also used in general for large theory-based asks/my reactions to them #dbhc mechanics – any explanations related to the way the androids function [i'm still currently in the process of going back through everything and working this tag in!] #dbhc ref – official reference sheets for the characters #dbhc explained – Any major comic that I've broken down into explained details and ramblings!

CHARACTER TAG LIST:

Character tags will be listed as #dbhc [name]. They contain both art of those characters and any mentions/discussions of them from asks. If a character is discussed or shown in any capacity, those posts should have the respective character tags! I believe these are all of the characters discussed/referenced so far:

#dbhc android 24 || #dbhc beef || #dbhc bdubs || #dbhc cleo || #dbhc cub || #dbhc doc || #dbhc etho || #dbhc false || #dbhc gem || #dbhc grian || #dbhc hypno || #dbhc impulse || #dbhc iskall || #dbhc jevin || #dbhc joe || #dbhc joel || #dbhc jimmy || #dbhc keralis ||#dbhc mumbo || #dbhc pearl || #dbhc ren || #dbhc scar || #dbhc skizz || #dbhc tango || #dbhc wels || #dbhc xb || #dbhc xisuma || #dbhc zed

CHARACTER POST LIST

Since Tumblr has a link embed limit of 100, I had to move every character section to it's own post :[ Which is a little annoying, but giving each character group their own post will hopefully prevent any issues going forward as I continue to add to the au without fear of hitting a link limit.

As mentioned above, the below individual posts are organized by Characters or Groups of Characters. Within each section, drawings are organized by NARRATIVE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER (Not the order in which they were posted/published). These links contain links to posts/art specifically centered around the characters they're listed under. All posts that have a collection of characters, moments, or drawings not centered around any one specific character/characters will be found under "Other Drawings!" Stuff from Secret Life, Decked out, and other silly drawings can be found there. Character's are often cameo'd all over the place, so if you're looking for all of the content of a specific character, your best bet is perusing their respective character tag (listed above)! The posts below are to present a better/more cohesive idea of the ordered narrative of each character.

ETHO + BDUBS

MUMBO + CO.

DOC + CO.

IMPULSE + CO.

TANGO + CO.

CUB + CO.

JOE + CO.

SKIZZ + CO.

XISUMA + 24 + CO.

XB + CO.

OTHER DRAWINGS [GROUPS/COLLECTIONS]

WRITING WORKS

[x] Don't Let it Reach the Heart (Coming Soon!)

Canon Events. To Me (by other authors!) <3

[x] @tunastime Gear of the Heart, Turning [ethubs] [x] @tunastime Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? [docsuma]

Fanfic Works I consider closely adjacent to canon:

[x] @set-in-stardust [ethubs first kiss!] [x] @set-in-stardust [s9 reset etho re-deviates] [x] @drachis917 [Impulse meets Gem!] [x] @listentothelittlebird [A Visit To Doc's Skyblock Jail]

#NOW REBLOGGABLE!#dbhc #dbhc ref #dbhc masterpost #hermitcraft au

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always-just-red · 3 months ago

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I loved the Drunked Call with Sylus scenario you made! I like the way you write it and I see you accepting request hehe. Can I request about... Sylus, Zayne and Caleb reaction meeting fem!reader, dates or accidentally met (you name it) and they noticed her long hair has been attached with chewed bubblegum? some kid pulled a prank on her before and she didn't even aware of it

Aw thank you so much!! 💕 I did different pranks for each of the boys just to keep things interesting- I hope you don't mind! They're all equally silly haha, and I had SO much fun writing them. Added Xavier and Raf for good measure, too!

It's Just Not Your Day...

L&DS Boys (& Caleb!) x Reader

Summary: It's you against the kids of Linkon City, and guess what? The kids are winning.

Genre: Humour + fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, reader gets a little stressed (and with some of these boys you can understand why 🙃)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

One of the perks of being a Deepspace Hunter is the way people look at you. You’re used to respect: appreciative nods and gestures, wide-eyed admiration. You’re out in Linkon almost every day, putting your life on the line for everyone in the city. You’re a hero, right?

So why is everyone looking at you so… funny?

“Xavier,” you speak in a hushed whisper, tugging at the sleeve of your partner’s uniform. “I don’t like this. Something weird is going on.”

He yawns. “What do you mean?”

Can he really not see it? Sure enough, a businessman strolls past you, his eyes locked on you as he frowns, mid-telephone call. You think he even stumbles on his words. “Just look around,” you whisper again. Someone is watching you from across the street, their head cocked.

Xavier is already looking around. You’re on patrol; that’s sort of the point. But he trusts you, so he follows your instruction: casting his sky-blue eyes around a little more carefully. They narrow. “Sorry,” he says, because you’re usually on the same page, “what are you talking about exactly?”

You fold your arms impatiently. “People are looking at us, Xavier.”

“Oh, I…” he seems to hesitate, “I think they’re just looking at you.”

The words could be romantic, but you don’t get the impression they’re intended to be. He’s implying something. He’s uncertain. “What makes you say that?” you ask, hands moving to your hips.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I think it’s your, you know—” his finger waggles in front of his mouth.

You don’t know. “My what?”

“Your moustache.”

“What?”

Your hand shoots to your upper lip, but you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Xavier is staring, though, so you reach for your phone and turn the camera on yourself.

A black, cartoon-villain moustache has been sketched onto your face.

You gape at your reflection. “H— how…?” you stutter, tracing your new feature. Then a memory of this morning flashes through your mind: how you’d fallen asleep on the train to work. How there were those two schoolkids, sniggering, when you’d woken up just in time for your stop. Ugh. Really?

Wait— this morning?!

“Xavier!” you exclaim, turning to him like you’d just found his sword in your back. “Why didn’t you say something?”

It’s just gone three in the afternoon, and he’s been with you for hours. “I thought you knew,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck gingerly.

“You thought I…” You’re too bewildered, too betrayed to repeat it fully. Worst of all you feel guilty; how the hell can he look so freaking innocent? You turn back to your phone, desperately trying to rub the ink from your skin. It doesn’t budge. It doesn’t fade.

“Are you ok?” Xavier asks.

Of course you’re not ok, you feel like an idiot. Your cheeks are hot and the redness is spreading to the rest of your face as you fail to reclaim any of your dignity. “No,” you spit back, “honestly, Xavier, how could you just let me walk around like I’m some kind of—”

You glance up to discover he’s no longer listening. He’s not even here; he’s over there, talking to an old man who’s sat completing a sudoku. Great. Wonderful. Why not? At least one of you is making a good impression on the citizens of Linkon City.

With your eyes close to watering, you have one last, futile attempt at wiping the moustache from your upper lip. It’s not working. Gods, you’re gonna be stuck like this, aren’t you?

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up to see Xavier, back at your side. He smiles reassuringly, sporting a drawn-on moustache of his own. The ends of it are curled even more theatrically than yours.

“Xavier…” you half-laugh in surprise, your eyes watering even more. “Why would you—? Now we both look stupid.”

“I look stupid,” he corrects, running a thumb over your wet cheek. “You look really pretty, moustache or not.”

Zayne ❄

“What… happened?”

You sit across from Zayne on a picturesque park bench, like something from a postcard: blue sky stretched above, wildflowers sprouting from the grass below. Birds are singing, butterflies are flittering about, and even the doctor looks perfect— unmarred by the first half of his work day, no matter how stressful it’s been.

It’s a fairy tale you covet: a little reunion with the man you love, on the odd occasion where your lunchbreaks match up and he isn’t drowning in paperwork. And it would be a fairy tale, if it wasn’t for you. You— your uniform soaked and your hair dripping wet. The wooden bench has gone damp beneath you; you’ve literally only just sat down.

“Gee, I don’t know, Zayne,” you hiss, face almost buried in your phone, “what do you think?”

Not too far away from you, some kids are locked in a water-gun battle, their shrieks of laughter loud and infuriating. Zayne glances between you and them, making his deductions. “Why—” he starts.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniff, wiping your forehead with the back of your sleeve. “They messed with the wrong person, and we’re gonna make sure they know it.”

“We’re going to?”

“Yeah. Me and you. That a problem?”

You shoot him a glare that sends a shiver down even his spine. “No,” he answers quickly— a survival instinct, uncharacteristically submissive— but his composure returns as you turn back to your phone. “Haven’t you got—”

Another dark look.

“Haven’t we got better things to do than start a war with some children in the park?”

“Not really. Justice is justice.” You shrug before pointing a finger at yourself. “Deepspace hunter.” Then at him. “Cardiac surgeon. Precision is kind of our thing, right? They really don’t stand a chance.” You’re laughing, now: “Gods, I almost feel sorry for them.”

Zayne has been watching your descent into madness with a calmness that does him credit. When he interrupts, it’s gentle. “I don’t think—”

Too gentle; you don’t hear him. “Pick your poison, Dr. Zayne!” Your phone is angled at him to reveal the all-too accessible armoury of an online store. “You’ve got your standard water pistols. Your water blasters.” You’re scrolling and indicating his choices as though you’re the salesman. “This one has two options, single shot or power shot, and— ooh! Look at this one! The AquaJet3000!”

With a soft laugh, Zayne pushes your phone out of his face. He would buy anything you’re selling, although— having seen the prices on your screen— he knows he’d be bankrupt within a week. “Linkon City is fortunate to have you defending it, and whilst I would be honoured, as always, to fight at your side, I was hoping we could… relax. You’re on a break, remember?”

You pout as he peels a wet strand of hair from your cheek. “Justice doesn’t take breaks.”

“Well, justice is going to have to on this occasion, because I said so.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Besides, you shouldn’t fight fire with fire, or water with water. A lot of people look up to you, you know. Me included. So, set a better example. Save violence for the Wanderers.”

It ought to be patronising: him, lecturing you on right and wrong when you’ve already added three types of water-gun to your virtual cart. He’s always so righteous. So collected. So moral. You want to be mad at him, but how can you be when he’s looking at you like that? Like he thinks the world of you, even when you’re plotting revenge against ten-year-olds.

You have a point to make, so you fold your arms and turn your back on him, even though he’s making your heart feel so frustratingly warm and fuzzy.

“I have something for you,” he says quietly.

To hell with the point. “What is it?” you ask, spinning eagerly around.

He smiles as he retrieves something he’d concealed behind him. It’s a small-ish box, pale pink, with patterns printed to emulate white lace. There’s a logo in the centre and you recognise it at once. “No way,” you enthuse, “that new bakery finally opened?”

You’ve both been waiting for months. “I couldn’t resist when I saw it,” he confirms, lifting the lid. Inside sit two unbelievably pretty cupcakes, buttercream icing spiralled high and adorned with sprinkles of gold leaf. Zayne plucks one from the box. “Perhaps—” he offers it to you— “perhaps this can make you feel better? Without us needing to, well… attack children.”

You giggle; it does sound pretty stupid when he puts it like that. “Thanks, Zayne,” you grin, reaching out for your reward. You’re glad one of you is vaguely sensible— those water-guns were expensive.

The cake is an inch from your fingers when a jet of water sends it flying from Zayne’s hand. It lands at your feet with an unceremonious splat, and from somewhere behind you, laughter roars.

The doctor blinks down at it in disbelief, his hand still hovering beside yours. He grieves for a long moment, then looks to you solemnly like you’re a colleague and he’s about to ask for a scalpel:

“The AquaJet3000,” he says.

Rafayel 🎨

“Rafayel, call me stupid one more time, and I’ll—”

You’ll… you’ll… what? He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, his hands frozen when they had just a moment ago been drying the plate you’d handed him. He has some nerve, pretending he’s the victim when he’s spent the entire evening insulting you. This is supposed to be a wholesome moment of domesticity— doing the dishes together before he has to disappear to a late-night gala— so why is he ruining it? Ever since you got home, it’s been: so how was your day, stupid? Hey, stupid, want a hand washing up?

He said he was fine with you sitting out the gala tonight, but maybe he’s not.

“I’ll do this,” you finish, lifting a palmful of suds from the sink and raising them to your lips, ready to blow.

“Puh-lease, you bought me this suit. You really think I can’t tell when you’re bluff— hey, wait! Stop!”

You do blow the bubbles at him, and he recoils, holding the plate and dishcloth up to defend himself. He blocks some of them, but not all of them. “Honestly, Raf, if you’re not ok with me skipping out on tonight then you can just say so.”

He puts the plate gently aside. “I mean, of course I’m sad you’re not coming,” he thinks aloud as he sets about sweeping bubbles from his suit, “but I’m ok with it, really. You’ve had, like, a crazy week at work. You deserve a quiet night in.”

Compassion? Really? After you just—? Ugh. “So why were you being so mean, then?” you sigh, taking the cloth from him and dabbing away the bubbles he’s missed.

“Mean?”

“You’ve called me ‘stupid’ like fifty times in the span of, what— three hours?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs innocently. “Because you told me to.”

Huh? You stop what you’re doing. “Since when did I—”

He reaches over your shoulder and you feel fingers on your back. “See?” he answers, bringing a piece of paper in front of you. It looks like it’s been torn hastily from a notebook, and it says, in bold, capital letters: ‘CALL ME STUPID!!’

You take the note from Rafayel sheepishly, your lips parted in surprise. How did it—? Wait. “Those kids!” you exclaim, thinking back on your walk home from work. “Oh I knew they were spouting bullshit when they said they saw a Wanderer!”

Your dish-washing companion doesn’t seem impressed by your lightbulb moment. He’s watching you, confusion etched across his face, but you can see right through it. “Rafayel!” you slap a soapy hand to his chest, “you had to call me stupid that many times before telling me?”

“I thought you wrote it. Pet names can be weird sometimes— I don’t know what you’re into.”

He’s still acting. Still lying. Fine, two can play at that game.

You fall deathly silent, turning back to the sink to retrieve the bowl you’d dropped in there the last time he’d called you your new ‘pet name’. “I guess it suits me,” you mumble, half to yourself.

“What d’you mean, cutie?”

He can call you cutie as many times as he wants; you’re out for blood. You give the bowl another once-over with a sponge. “Some hunter I am. Can’t even tell when some kids are messing with me.”

Rafayel frowns. “Hey, it’s been a long week, yeah? You’re just tired.”

“Tired,” you echo, and you drop the bowl back into the water with a dramatic plop. “Tired? No. I’m exhausted. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, there’s always… something. To make me feel like an idiot. To make me feel… stupid.”

“Hey,” Rafayel tries again, and his voice is fraught with worry. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re not stupid. I’m stupid. I’m supposed to make you feel better and instead I was just screwing around. I’m sorry, ok? Don’t be sad. Please?”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. You don’t give in, not at first, but then you hug him back. “Thanks, Raf. I’m ok— really.” You hear his phone buzz from where he’s left it on the counter. “You should go. Thomas will kill you if you’re late.”

“Nah, he needs me,” the artist chuckles. “You get first dibs, though. You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” you laugh quietly back; your heart not quite in it. “Quiet night in, remember? Go on. Go.”

He steps away from you, though not before planting a light kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home,” he says, collecting his phone and the rest of his things. He gives you another kiss when he’s done, dodging your efforts to shoo him away. “Miss you already, cutie.”

“Go!”

And he does as he’s told this time, no matter how listlessly. It’s sweet he wants to stay and make things better, but he already has— he just doesn’t know it yet. It wasn’t the hug. It wasn’t the apology. You lean back against the counter with a smirk, savouring the view as he leaves.

It might have something to do with the note you’ve stuck on his back.

…

Rafayel retrieves the note the moment he closes the door behind him, stuffing it smugly into his pocket. He’ll have a story ready for you, by the time he gets home, about just how much you humiliated him. About how he walked around for a good hour before Thomas spotted the note and gave him a lecture about his ‘image’.

He smiles to himself; he’s a really good boyfriend.

Sylus 🩸

“You should know better than to keep me waiting, sweetie.”

Oh, great. This is just what you need.

You peek over the saddle of your motorcycle from where you’re crouched behind it. “Hey, Sylus,” you greet. The man is watching you, his arms folded. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, an eyebrow raised sceptically. “What— no ‘patience is a virtue, Sylus,’ no ‘oh please, Sylus, we both know you’ve nothing better to do?’”

You had disappeared behind your bike again, but you steal another glance at him. “Wow,” you marvel, “is this what you did before we met? Have arguments with yourself?”

“More or less,” he smiles dryly, then shrugs: “I’m not bad, as far as sparring partners go. You of all people can vouch for that. Besides, what were my other options? Mephisto?” He laughs. “Luke and Kieran?” He laughs harder.

“I’d rate Mephisto above you,” you add distractedly, no longer looking at him.

“Is that right?” he purrs, and it’s very obvious he doesn’t believe you.

He sounds close— too close— so you stand, re-entering his eyeline so he doesn’t come closer. Gods, this is embarrassing. Those stupid kids; he’s gonna have a field day if he finds out. “Yeah.” You wipe your hands slowly with a cloth, disguising the fact that your mind is scrambling. “The things that bird comes up with, just… scathing, honestly. Emotionally devastating.”

“Oh really?” Sylus tuts. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine where he gets it from.”

You smile back at him, resting your hands on your hips. You do feel bad, actually; you’d completely forgotten you were supposed to meet him this morning for breakfast before work. He’d received no texts to cancel. No calls. How long was he waiting at that sweet little café you’d picked out?

Then again, this morning isn’t really going to your plan, either.

“Something wrong with your bike?” he asks, because he’s already figured out that much. “Besides the usual, I mean.”

Your smile drops. Your whole act drops. “It’s nothing, Sylus.”

“You’ve already stood me up this morning, sweetie. Are you really going to lie to me, too?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Fine. “Some kids graffitied it, ok?”

“This piece of junk? Really?” He toes the front wheel of it, then catches onto the withering look you’re sending him. “Oh no,” he tries again, with absolutely no enthusiasm, “what a dreadful crime against such an advanced, state-of-the-art vehicle.”

Prick. You keep the label behind tight lips as he wanders around the motorcycle to join you, assessing the damage. You’re stood by a bucket of water and the litany of rags you’ve used to try to scrub it clean— each one a testament to your failure. The sight alone makes you want to burst into tears. The skin of your hands is pink. Raw.

You feel cheated; you wish you were at that café right now.

Sylus taps a finger against his cheek, eyes narrowed pensively. They’re spoiled for choice of what to look at: misspelt obscenities, a generous number of crude symbols. All in permanent marker, naturally. “An improvement, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say. No.”

“Art is subjective.”

“Yeah? So is your face.” Not your best effort. Sylus glances up at you, amused. “Shut up,” you dismiss proactively. “Besides, this is my work vehicle. I can’t ride around Linkon on this. It would be—”

“Too staggering a blow to your professional reputation,” he finishes like he’s bored.

“This isn’t funny, Sylus.”

He points at a particularly chaotic drawing of a penis. “It is.”

You smack his hand away. “It’s not.” Your voice wobbles, ever so slightly betraying you. This is serious; you could get in trouble. You stare down at the graffiti, despair setting in.

Keys dangle in front of your eyes. “Here. Borrow my bike.”

“You’re joking, right?” You swat at them. “You really think that’s gonna help? Me— rolling up to work on a bike that costs twice my annual salary?”

“Twice? That’s cute, kitten.”

You glare at him, any guilt you felt about standing him up long gone. “Can you just stop? Being you? For like, two seconds? Please? This is the last thing I need today, Sylus. I’m gonna be late. I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of everyone. And worst of all? I was actually looking forward to seeing you this morning. Before all of this—” you gesture dejectedly at your bike— “all of this shit happened.”

Sylus is looking back at you, his arms crossed again. He does nothing for a few, slow seconds, and it’s just long enough to make you feel like you’re overreacting. Then he leans over, running a hand across your bike, and you watch as the graffiti flakes and lifts, turning to ash under the influence of his Evol.

He brushes his hands together when he’s done, straightening with a hmph and a self-satisfied smirk. Content (more than content— thoroughly impressed with himself) he turns back to you. Your bottom lip has dropped in surprise and he chuckles, reaching a finger to lift your chin. “You can thank me later, sweetie, and I intend to spend the entire day thinking about how you might. Don’t disappoint me, hmm?”

You’re still silent, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re bristling with something other than awe and adoration. He frowns. “Sweetie?”

The second ‘sweetie’ breaks you, and not in the way he wants. You slap his chest, hard; he doesn’t really feel it.

“Sylus! You could have done that the whole time?!”

Caleb 🍎

“Sit still, dear.”

Sit still? How are you supposed to sit still when you’re brimming with rage? Every inch of your body is tense, waiting, yearning for you to spring into action. It wants you to retaliate. It wants revenge.

“I can’t, Grandma,” you whine, crossing your arms as if to hold yourself back. You’re still fidgeting on the chair as she navigates your hair with her scissors. “This sucks. Everything sucks. The only thing that could make this worse is if—”

You hear the front door swing open, then closed. Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

Sure enough, Caleb strolls into the kitchen mere moments later. “What’s happenin’ here?” he asks, dropping a bag of groceries onto the countertop.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Grandma’s giving me a haircut, that’s all.”

“Ok. So what’s actually happening here?” he tries again. He’s known you forever, after all; he can tell when you’re lying.

You swing a foot out at his shin as he tries to step closer. Nuh-uh. No investigating. No sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. “Nothing,” you hiss again. “Gods, Caleb. What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem, pipsqueak.” He uses his foot to push yours away. “At least Gran’s on my side—” his amethyst eyes seek her— “can you tell me what’s going on? Please? Pretty please?”

A hand breaks their eye contact. “You don’t have to answer that, Grandma.” You glare Caleb down. “The DAA has no authority here.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

Grandma sighs; she’s had far too many years of this. “You know Mr and Mrs. Lee’s children? Down the road? Well, they—”

“Grandma!” You round on her. How long did she last— all of three seconds? You bitterly regard Caleb, your voice dark with resentment: “They put gum in my hair, ok?”

“Really?”

“Yeah." He wanted the truth, didn’t he? “They lured me in with some nonsense about a Wanderer. I didn’t realise until, well, until…” You wave at your hair. “Too late.”

He considers the story, then shrugs. It’s clearly not as thrilling as he was anticipating, because he disappears from the kitchen, leaving you and Grandma in peace once more. The silence is as uncomfortable as it is sudden. You’d expected laughter— a lot of laughter. Teasing. Maybe even a shot at how gullible you are.

You release an uneasy breath, resting your head back on the chair.

“Sit still,” Grandma repeats, nudging you, prompting you to sit up straight. “I’ve almost got it. Just one more… here!” There’s a decisive snip.

“Thanks, Grandma.” You slump again, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re not sure what you’re waiting for. Maybe for the blush of your cheeks to cool, or for a Wanderer to spring out of the floor, killing you, so you can be dead and not so embarrassed. You hear heavy footsteps— Caleb returning— and you really wish the Wanderer would hurry up.

“Caleb…” Grandma’s tone is wary. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

You readjust your head so you can look at him. He’s clutching what must be a dozen rolls of toilet paper; they’re piled up to just below his chin, almost spilling out over his arms. “How about it, pipsqueak?” he asks as he struggles to balance them. “A little team-up between the DAA and The Association— wanna do your part in reclaiming your neighbourhood?”

Now that’s more like it. “Fuck yes! Sorry, Grandma.”

You’re really as bad as each-other. She tuts reproachfully as you leap out of your chair, and she's disappointed, but not surprised.

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #caleb x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #xia yizhou #lads #lnds #l&ds

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bonefall · 5 days ago

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"How big should a Clan territory be?"

For the dozens of people who have asked this over the last couple of years!

This question comes in a lot of forms; "How big are the Clan territories?" "How much space does one Clan need?" "How much land should I give my Clans to exist in?" The answer is a bit complicated, and depends on the type of land, what you're going for exactly, the setting, so on.

But, broadly, there's TWO particular factors at play here; How anthropomorphic you're portraying your warriors, and how productive the land is.

Factor 1: The Anthro Scale

I'm starting with this one because it could you the simpler answer. The Erins write Clan cats like humans in cat bodies, with massive social units and communal living. Realistic feral cats don't act like Clan cats. They are only semi-social, due to domestication.

See, a Clan cat will "share" territory between all of its members, and some Clans have canonically hit populations of over 50 individuals. Real feral colonies consist of "overlapping circles" of somewhere between 2 - 15 cats, most of them related females.

This is relevant because, even in densely populated areas with as much food as they can eat, truly feral colonies will have about 2 cats per 5 acres, capping out at about 15 members. Queens will hang out together and raise their kittens communally, but they will hunt and patrol in their own "circle." These boundaries are violently enforced against outside cats, especially if it's too crowded.

(Toms have circles 5x as big as a queen's, overlapping several territories. They're also considerably less social.)

So, if you wanted to incorporate some cat behavior into your Clan's mindset about how big their territory should be, while still being willing to sacrifice a bit of "realism" for groups over 15-ish members, simply take Clan population and multiply it by 2.5 acres.

30 cats = 75 acres. That's a little under 57 football fields, if you're American, or 50 football fields, if you're European.

Extra reading: How realistic cat territories work. Contains the numbers I'm referencing.

It's also very important to know; feral cat density is completely tied to food availability, the big numbers numbers are for cats whose needs are met. Cats are solitary hunters, and when they feel like they have to work for their food, they become VERY territorial. The density of cats in rural areas can be as low as 1 molly per 15 acres, even lower for toms, and they will leave if hunting is not easy.

THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NOT FEED FERAL CATS. Please GOD they are SO invasive, please do not give colonies food, they still hunt when they're full so you just end up concentrating a ton of predators in one place. They are not warriors with a law against disrespecting food, they are just kitty cats with silly kitty instincts

I have a suspicion that most of the people who are asking the question aren't really looking for a "realistic cat" answer, though. We LOVE our big cat Clans with their complicated politics around here. You're probably wondering how much land you need to feed your population!

Factor 2: Land Productivity

The exact amount of space is going to vary a lot, because it's more about productivity of the land to sustain a prey population than it is raw size. Remember what we learned back in Warrior Bites: Dietary Needs; a 30-cat Clan will need approximately 3 pounds of meat (10,500 calories) per day, which is about 2 rabbits, or 105 mice.

Here's some visual examples of what I mean. This one (1) acre homestead...

Has 20 patches of high-value crops, plus an orchard, AND livestock pens. This territory alone could attract enough crows, mice, rats, rabbits, and sparrows to feed all those cats daily. That's not even counting the humans themselves, who may be friendly enough to the colony to toss them kibble occasionally.

(this is why cats domesticated themselves. Even without the free food from the humans, farms are extremely productive hunting grounds.)

Meanwhile, the Edmonton Mall, which is a whopping five (5) acres...

Would be utterly barren. Best food you're going to get out of this wasteland is the leftovers humans toss out, and maybe the rats and pigeons that scavenge as well. It's 5x the space, and yet, infinitely harder to feed the same amount of cats.

So, the most helpful bit of advice I'm gonna give you is this; DON'T ask yourself "how big should this territory be?" You're starting with the wrong question. Start with a real location, and think about how you'd find 3 pounds of meat a day in that area.

It will be a LOT easier to think about the logistics in those terms, and this will lead you to the waaay more productive (and fun) worldbuilding questions. Such as;

"Where would the good hunting spots be?"

"What kinds of animals would they be eating? What sorts of beasts can threaten them, here?"

"How many of these animals would my 30 cat Clan need to hunt a day to equal about 3 pounds?"

"Where would these animals be getting THEIR food?"

"Is there enough habitat in the area for the prey to breed and nest? If not, is there more land beyond the territory that the prey is coming from?"

"Where would infrastructure like dens, walls, and dirtplaces go? What would these be made of?"

"Are there any neat spots for the cats to casually hang out on?"

"What would make for a super cool arena for my climactic narrative boss fights?"

"Does this area have unique stage hazards that my cats would have to learn to deal with?"

"Which sorts of plants and herbs would they encounter?"

If your Clan is tool-using, like BB!Clans are, then you can ask even more advanced questions. Like, where you'd find kindle for fire, what objects you can use as crafting materials, and what might make for unique trade goods.

Think about other things related to your Clan's biome-- in a tundra or desert, there will be less for prey to eat, so the territory will be large to cope with the low density. If there's a major body of water, they might have a constant supply of aquatic prey from upstream. Hunting grounds might change based on the seasons.

Also remember not to underestimate how fast small animals breed, and how many of them there can be in one area. Even using low estimates, 1 female mouse has 6 pups, 7 x 6 = 42, 42 x 6 = 252, 252 x 6 = 1,452. It takes only 4 months for mouse population growth to get exponentially ridiculous.

Finally, remember that prey can vary. A well run Clan would be able to generally understand when they've been overhunting one particular species, and start shifting gears to lift the "pressure" off that population.

(In my cultural expansions series, this management task is assigned to one of the new roles-- the Head of Hunting.)

#Bones gives advice #Clan Culture #How much territory does a clan need?#warrior cats #How big should a Clan territory be?#This is an answer to like 8 people who have asked this question #It's a MEGA popular one and I totally understand why #It's just difficult to answer in a straightforward way because of everything discussed!#So it took me a long time to be able to figure out how to answer it.#clan territory

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endearng · 1 month ago

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Dearest friend

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: Spencer feels overwhelmed after you confess something when you're tired. His solution is to, well, obviously, pretend it never happened and suffer in silence. That is, until the problem knocks on his door. Well, you, knock on his door. WC: 4.6k Warnings: Idiots in love, mentions of jemily (I love them), reader is bicurious, they don't know how to talk to each other, Spencer is obsessed with reader to the point of watching her (in a healthy way, I promise), he gets jealous, Garcia is a sweetheart but that's canon, I love the team, no use of 'y/n' A/N: I'm so frustrated! I was about to post this fic and then I lost the draft. Tumblr sometimes I hate you Masterlist

Spencer Reid often felt proud of being able to focus on his tasks. After all, that was also what had helped him through the years he spent dedicated to his education. He was quick on his feet to put his mind to whatever he had to do and today was not different; some reports needed to be done and he did it effortlessly. You, one of his coworkers, on the other hand, had a hard time focusing at some times. You felt like you always had to be moving, doing two or more things at a time. Sometimes, to him, even looking at you was overwhelming with the amount of things you tried to do at once — there was one time he saw you talking on the phone with your friend, while sketching something on your notebook and skimming through some details of the case you were working on then. Simultaneously.

One of your favorite objects to fidget with, though, was your necklace. It was a beautiful yet simple accessory: a silver necklace with a small pendant. Spencer noticed that you often had it between your fingers, rolling it, pulling a little to the side, simply holding it or adjusting to keep it out of the shirts you wore. You always had it on, no matter where you were, even if it didn't match your outfit — as he had heard you once tell Penelope. He figured that someone you love must have given it to you. And he felt so jealous.

He felt jealous because he could never give you such an amazing gift, because he felt like he could never be important enough for you to use something he had gifted you at all times. It ached. He was now being tortured for 7 months, 3 days and two hours with a small crush he had developed (or noticed he had) on his cute coworker and hadn't a single clue on how to act on it. Or how to get rid of it.

7 months, 3 days and two hours since you had given him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life. And the most sincere, romantic (but, sadly, fleeting) moment of his life:

The team had been working relentlessly on a case. You were nothing but a puddle of exhaustion, tiredness almost seeping out of you, having read and translated all the journals written by the unsub. Spencer was reading your translations at breakneck speed, as he always did, because at that point you didn't trust your tired mind to come up with any more interpretations. So, after helping the best you could, you busied yourself with staring at him. It was obvious that you'd get caught, of course, sooner or later, but you didn't have the courage nor the will to pull your gaze away from him. You also didn't feel like depriving yourself from the absolute view you had. The way his hair framed his face and the way his eyes (and his hands, oh, those hands were crafted by God himself, you were sure) ran through the pages was suffocating, to say the least. He also had his glasses on, so you'd hit the jackpot that day — had you weak in your knees and didn't even know it. Silly, ignorant, wonderful boy.

You only realized that you had gotten caught when you heard the soft thud of the book being closed. "Is everything okay?" He asked, a little nervous, eyes curiously meeting yours. "I'm halfway through, don't worry,” he said, noticing how tired you looked. “I can talk to Hotch and see if you can go home to get some rest.”

You shook your head, and, then, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you answered him in a heartbeat. "You're around." Then, you gave him the sincerest and sweetest smile of all times, which got his heartbeat going ballistic. He wasn't aware of what was going on within his ribcage, but decided it would be better to cover it by reading, even if he wasn't absorbing anything, really. Not the way he was paying attention to how he was feeling towards you at that moment, anyway.

He felt curious when you reached for his hand, but he didn't dare to look away from the notebooks. With your marker, you scribbled on his palm: You've become my dearest friend.

And that feeling never really got away in the first place, which made him feel uneasy around you. He got so lost whenever you were around that he never got so close to you again, scared that you might do something to him, scared that you might try to show him whatever that was again, that he failed to notice that he had grown a little distant from you. In the middle of his daydream, he didn't notice you approaching him. What he did notice, instead, was your face closer to his than it ever was. "Reid, um, Hotchner said he wanted to talk to you." You announced, voice almost a whisper. To make sure you would be heard by him, you leaned down after placing your hands on his desk. Strangely, he looked right at the pendant of your necklace.

You didn't mean to make him uncomfortable; you purely wanted to make sure he heard you, not disturbing anyone else in the process — there weren't many people in the bullpen, but it made sense in your head nevertheless. It wasn't in your nature to want people's attention solely on you, but something about his gaze made you think twice about it for a moment.

Not having other's attention, of course. Having his attention.

Sometimes, you would have long conversations with yourself to convince yourself to enjoy his company without letting your thoughts about him go a little further. Thoughts of being something else with him, to mean something else for him. You berated yourself over and over for the lack of self-control when you had that answer ready to roll out of your lips some time ago, but you were also blessed by his gentleness of not addressing the situation. Either that, or he was a really dense man whose self-esteem needed a little raising. You still tried to talk to him, of course, but he never seemed to let your conversations go far after that moment — you tried your best to ignore it, but sometimes it made you feel like your presence was unwanted by him.

"Okay. I, um... thank you for letting me know." He answered, glancing up at your pretty face. He almost felt embarrassed for being caught in the act of staring at your necklace (or bosom, if he overthinked it), but, mostly, people were too focused on their own tasks to notice your interaction. Despite trying with all his might not to care about what others thought, he strongly wanted, seeked, even, your opinions and approval. He didn't feel embarrassed because he knew you well enough to tell you wouldn't tease him like the others would.

"Anytime." You gave him a tight-lipped smile, going back to your desk, leaving him hopeful and flustered.

He desperately wished you wouldn't.

After an unusual quiet Friday mainly spent on boring reports, the BAU team decided to go out for drinks to let off some steam. You weren't the biggest enthusiast of drinking, but you enjoyed the company of your coworkers. Plus, it was fun to see them come out of their shell, you included. It was one of the few times you accepted the invitation, coming from Penelope. You had a sweet spot for her, because she was really kind to you and exceptionally welcoming towards having conversations with you. You appreciated her and made that clear whenever you could. And, deep down, you knew you had accepted the invitation because you had hopes of interacting with Spencer by having more time by his side.

Currently, what you didn't appreciate was your lack of filter. A couple drinks in, surrounded by your coworkers who thoroughly enjoyed that more honest version of you, and there goes your sense of embarrassment through the window. The current topic was... well...

"I mean, don't you ever think about it, Pen? Some women are just crazy attractive. Like, look at Emily." You gushed, looking at her. Right beside her, you saw Spencer, apparently gulping. "She is soooo hot. I'm gonna tell ya a secret,” you declared. “I spend some fair share of my time wondering if I want to be her or if I want to be under her." You revealed, sounding so candid that made everyone laugh. JJ glanced at Emily.

"Aw, thanks, baby. But I don't like them young." She chuckled, not meeting JJ's gaze. Huh.

"Your loss. We have very much to offer." You declared in a playful tone — it told everyone that it was all just friendly banter.

"We? You and boy-genius are the younglings of the team, princess." Derek took advantage of the topic to, of course, tease Spencer, who was now blushing. You looked at him, humored by Derek and waited to see his reaction.

Unlike most people, you didn't care about lack of experience in the dating field, let alone if it was Spencer. You thought it was almost sweet, how a grown-up man hadn't had the time to get used to all the sex talk between other grown-ups that happened casually. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was always far more concerned about his family and education and didn't have much time to go on many practices of said subject. You both were alike in that aspect, even if you've had your share of encounters.

Spencer didn't know how to react, so he chose to do what he does best: ramble. "Actually, younger individuals often report higher levels of sexual desire, influenced by higher testosterone levels and fewer health-related problems." He said, earning your attention. Looking at him, you giggled, because he was proving your point with scientifically accurate data. Adorable. "Older adults, though, may experience a decline in libido due to hormonal changes, medical conditions, or medication side effects. However, many older adults still have active and fulfilling sex lives, and some studies suggest that sexual satisfaction can remain stable or even improve with age, depending on emotional and relational factors. But, generally, sex drive can change with age due to various factors, including hormonal changes, health status, and psychological factors."

Even if his rambling often annoyed people, he was now glad for his ability to spill facts like an encyclopedia. If they knew about the thoughts running through his head after your playful banter with Emily, he would be dead. The thought of you having very much to offer was making him feel a little funny, to say the least.

"Thank you, Spencer," you breathed out, unable to speak anything, because your head was filled with thoughts of someone that wasn't Emily. Oh, definitely not Emily. Looking away from him, you gulped the rest of your drink, trying to disguise the obvious something by making another joke. "And, yeah, that's it. When you're done being prejudiced, Ems, you know where to find me," you gave her an exaggerated, ridiculous wink and she rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll be at the bar." And then, left, almost if someone was chasing you.

Maybe it was true.

"Wow. I didn't imagine princess over there to be so unrestrained," Derek said, laughing.

"She appeared to be shy when we first met." Spencer added, not wanting to be out of a conversation that involved you. "She still is, actually. Maybe it's the alcohol. It can make someone feel more relaxed and sociable due to its effects on the brain. It lowers inhibitions by impacting neurotransmitters, which promotes relaxation, and reduces the activity of the prefrontal cortex, the area responsible for self-control and decision-making." He said, unable to turn off his computer brain, still desperately trying to hide how he was actually feeling.

Garcia shook her head, laughing. "Yeah, boy-genius. She basically turns into someone else when she's a little tipsy."

"Okay, but we all know to whom she wants to offer something." JJ breathed out a laugh, looking right at Spencer. Derek promptly joined her banter, clinking their glasses in agreement.

Spencer quickly dismissed them, worried about you instead of being upset that he was, once again, the butt of the joke. Well, one of the parts. "Hey! You can't say things like that about her." He stuttered, tone a little high-pitched, but willing to get his point across. He could tolerate the jokes and the suggestive looks he got from his coworkers, but not disrespect, especially towards you.

"Come on, kid, take it easy. It's just a joke." Emily replied, looking at him once again.

"And, to be fair, it's pretty clear that she has another target." Emily said, grinning. She leaned towards JJ, who only watched the interaction and laughed every now and then.

Spencer tried not to let his thoughts wander too far. From where he was sitting, he could see you waiting for your drink, leaning a bit into the bar counter. Seemingly out of nowhere, a man approached you and you turned to him with a big and surprised smile, quickly engulfed by his arms. Oh. His mind started to go on a spiral of negative, self-conscious thoughts.

Did you know him? How? What if he was your boyfriend that no one knew about? Was he good to you? What did you see in him? If you were in a relationship, he now had a reason to avoid thinking of you altogether, because even if you were out of his league, it never stopped him from thinking about you in a different way, but if you actually had someone, it changed a lot. If it wasn't the case, he was still as hopeless as ever, a million scenarios playing in his head: you talking to that man, liking him enough to keep in touch, going on dates, eventually becoming something more. Not one of the scenarios involved him.

Well, if watching from the sidelines as you kept your life going as he longed for you involved him, then, yes, sure.

Deciding that torture was not getting him anywhere, he quickly drew his eyes away from that direction, not even realizing you had left the bar. When he came back to his senses, you were back. A gleeful glint in your eyes. "Who was that, sugar?" Penelope asked. Thank goodness for her. Or curse her. Spencer didn't know which one to think yet.

"Just a friend from college. We were both TAs during the same time, so, you know... Office hours were also bonding hours." You said, sitting back down, next to Spencer, fiddling with the straw on your drink.

"Just friends?" Emily teased you. Spencer was looking at his glass like it was something much more interesting than finding out about you.

It most certainly wasn't, but he was afraid of the way he would feel, or react, to the answers you'd provide.

Maybe that was the whole reason why he's been avoiding talking to you after his sudden realization. What if he actually let you in and this crush (that already felt a little too overwhelming at times) developed into something much more?

"Yes," you answered. She sent you a questioning look. You laughed. "Yeah, okay. I kinda... liked him," you chuckled. Spencer's stomach dropped and he looked right at you. You looked back at him, but quickly looked down, bashful. "But I had no idea of how to talk to him, so I mostly talked about school in general. We'd also walk home together when it got too late, sometimes. Oh, and he was also in a relationship with another girl, so there was that." You finished. You were trying to look at everyone while you spoke, but you found it incredibly hard from how intensely Spencer was looking at you. You had your fidget toy of a pendant in your hands. He sighed quietly.

"His loss, princess." Derek chimed in, looking at a girl that was checking him out earlier. You chuckled.

Spencer didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, oh, well. It happens to the best of us. "Yeah, he gave me his number. I'm really glad because I remember that I genuinely enjoyed spending time with him," you said, sounding sincere. He instantly thought of the guy from the bar.

"Ooh, that's nice, princess!" Penelope answered. "Are you planning on calling him?"

You looked down at your coffee, thinking. "I might, yes." And that was enough to fill his brain with images of you having a good time with someone that wasn't him. And he didn't like it one bit, but it wasn't a option to tell you how he felt. He felt delusional for reading so much into that single moment that you shared a few weeks ago.

He couldn't focus on anything else that day. Hotch had to check on him.

After working the courage needed to call your friend, you ended up being invited over to his apartment to catch up with him and what he was up to lately. You didn't have hard feelings (or any, by the way) over what had happened in the past, but you were scared that he might still see you as a lovesick college girl, so that's why you took a little longer than necessary to reach out for him. He didn't, though. And you were so grateful for that.

"Good morning, princess! You seem happy today," Garcia commented after seeing you enter the bullpen with a bright ‘good morning, guys’ rolling off your tongue. You smiled at her. She was leaning on Spencer's desk, right next to the genius, while they shared a conversation with Derek.

Spencer was getting ready to say something when you appeared, so he shut his mouth. You looked exceptionally good that morning. Shit. "Oh, yes! I had good company yesterday," you answered genuinely, but your face fell after their expressions changed, suggesting you were doing something else.

"Oh, did our lovergirl finally get some action?" Derek laughed as you finally reached them.

Your cheeks reddened, embarrassed. "No, Derek," you pushed him playfully with a shy chuckle, "I called my friend, the one from that night at that bar. I went to his apartment to catch up. I was really happy to see an old friend."

"I like seeing old friends," Spencer blurted out, catching everyone's attention, including yours. To be honest, he didn't even think through what he was going to say, but he couldn't deal with the nagging feeling of you talking about spending your night with somebody else. "I, uh, it's great to see old friends who truly know you, that must have made you feel really comfortable. It's nice to see them."

You gave him another sincere smile and his heart nearly stopped beating. He was so thrilled by your reaction that he didn't even have the time to feel embarrassed for butting in your conversation. "Yeah, it is, Spencer," you agreed. "To be honest, I mostly spoke about you guys, since we basically live together now," you chuckled, "and he said that he was happy to know that I found another family." You finished, rolling the pendant of your necklace between your fingers.

"Aw, you're a cutie." Garcia gushed.

"Don't go all soft on me, lovergirl." Derek teased.

"Well, it's true." You simply answered, now standing next to Garcia, basically sitting on Spencer's desk. He desperately wished you'd stay there all day long for him to watch you. In a totally healthy way, of course.

The next week came to an end sooner than you expected, plently of work to do and you were exhausted. You were tidying up your desk when you heard Morgan. "Hey, princess, you're leavin'?” He asked you. Sometimes he gave you a ride to your apartment, but you were going over to your friend's apartment again to watch some movies.

"Sorry, Derek, I already have plans." You declined, politely as ever.

"Alright. Have a fun time with your college boyfriend!" Before you could answer, he dashed out to the elevator, where Garcia was probably waiting for him. You rolled your eyes at his antics, but smiled to yourself either way.

What you failed to notice was that Spencer was there with you. "Oh, hi, Spencer. Didn't know you were still here," you gave him a small smile.

"Hi! I was just leaving," he answered, quietly.

Truth was, he felt undeniably defeated by the thoughts of you and said 'boyfriend' plaguing his head; Morgan's comment only rubbed salt in the wound. Sensing that something might be wrong judging by his tone, you stretched your hand out to him. "Come on. It was one of those weeks." He took your hand in his like it was second nature.

Neither of you seemed to remember — or care — about his germophobia. Holding his hand, you both walked to the elevator. His mind got a little quieter with your touch, like nothing else mattered. "So, um, how's your relationship going?" He asked, out of the blue. He instantly regretted it; knowing about it would make his skin crawl, but he asked in hopes that it wasn't like that and that you actually meant what you told them about the guy being just a friend.

You shoulders shook with laughter. His heart felt warm. "So you heard and believed in Morgan," you mocked him a little. "It's not a relationship. We're just friends finding comfort in each other because we knew ourselves in times when things were a lot simpler. It's kinda nostalgic." You stated. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were in a relationship.

Even if you felt like he was out of your league, you'd still leave all your doors open.

Spencer felt like he was taking a gulp of fresh air for the first time in forever. To hear you, the person who unknowingly (and probably unwillingly) held his heart in her hands, was not dedicating her own to someone else, was exhilarating. He tried to bite back a smile, ultimately failing. "Oh, I see." He answered, voice nearly cracking. "I'm glad you have that." He couldn't say anything else because the comfort he felt wasn't enough to pour his heart out to you.

As you entered the elevator, it felt like it was the first time your profiling skills worked on him, your judgment no longer clouded by your feelings for him. The moments you shared lately, the comfort of holding his hand (he had not let go of yours yet), the satisfied expression never leaving his face once you revealed the nature of your relationship with your friend... It all clicked. But you were terrified of rejection, so you swallowed down your feelings for him, like you've been doing for what it seemed like forever.

If only eyes could speak.

"Did you know that I had feelings for you back then?" You saw the color leave your friend's face, so you laughed a little. "No, I don't see you like that anymore! I just, well... Do you think you could help me? I'd, uh, I'd like some advice." You saw him relax and take a sip of his tea.

"About Spencer?"

"How did you know?"

"When you talk about him, you're always a little too passionate," he revealed.

"So...?"

"You didn't change much, you know? You're still the same nerd from all those years ago — not that is a bad thing, don't get me wrong," he grinned when you scoffed, "but you need to be a little more obvious. More explicit. To the point.”

"We're friends. I'd hate to lose him," you confessed. "But it all got so weird after I said something little, but stupid,” you sighed. A pause. A sip of wine. “It was the kind of thing that's meaningful if you dig into it, you know? He didn't talk about it, but it feels like he shut me out for a moment. I keep thinking about it and I miss him so much, even as a friend.”

"Have you actually talked about it with him? You know, to him?" He asked. You froze. “People can't read each other's minds. You are friends, of course, but the environment you usually share suggests otherwise,” he argued, “So, is it better to speak or to die?”

Then, it clicked. Again. The moments you two shared, despite not being blatantly explicit, told you that he had, that he must have, a spot on his heart for you. When you held his hand and he not only allowed you to, he didn't let go of you either. Those longing, stolen glances that you pretended not to notice when you were doing the most ordinary things. The willingness to listen to your rambles about mundane topics — you were sure the genius wasn't even interested in pop culture or whatever happened to a random celebrity that week.

"Sorry, I… I have somewhere to be."

Out of breath, disheveled form, messy hair and feeling like all the oxygen on Earth couldn't possibly be enough for you from running the five blocks to your friend's apartment, to Spencer's, you knocked on his door — soft thuds, a rhythm that you often performed as you tapped your fingers on your desk, for example. He knew immediately that it was you.

Spencer opened the door, surprised, confused and, most of all, happy to see you. “Hi. Are you okay?” He inquired.

That question was all it took to make the barrel holding your tongue go to hell. “I'm in love with you. Oh, God. I-I didn't mean to be so unrestrained and I know that I look insane right now, but... Um. You have no idea, Spence,” you breathed out. “You have no idea what it's like to wake up and immediately think of you. What it's like to leave work and be sad over it because it means that I no longer get to see you on that day. Do you know how insane it is to feel sad because you're leaving work?” You laughed, sounding like a maniac. “There's so much I want to say to you and I feel that I'm always running out of time when it comes to you, because you're always a step ahead of me, hell, you're always a step ahead of everyone,” you joked, trying to make the situation lighter. He looked dumbfounded, only looking at your face, incapable of saying anything else. You took it as your opportunity to get everything off your chest. “And it makes me crazy because I want to know all about you and what you're thinking about because that's how love works, I guess. At least I think it's like that because I think about you all the time and I worry about you and I want you to like me as much as I do you. You have no idea, Spencer.”

He stood there, speechless. The elevator door opened and a couple walked out of it. His apartment complex only had two apartments per floor, door to door. You totally forgot how to function after rambling about your love for the doctor (with, perhaps, an audience), but you had a mind of not occupying the space they needed to get to their door. So you scooted over to the nearest wall, adjacent to Spencer's door — it was so awkward. The couple greeted you both with small smiles and then entered their own apartment. Looking back at Spencer, he was glancing straight ahead, at the couples’ apartment door. You sighed, defeated, beggining to feel uncomfortable with his silence.

“I came here because I took some stupid advice on telling you how I feel,” you said, voice quiet as an effort to make yourself so small that you'd disappear and never remember this situation ever again. Holding tight to the pendant. “I wanted you to know because you deserve it, Spencer. To have someone... who does know you and loves you the same.” You added, softly, having enough courage to look him in the eye, now that you had his attention back. “I know you, right here and right now. And if there's more, that's even better.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Almost owlishly. You stood there, not knowing where this was going. You opened your mouth and looked away from him, ready to apologize, to tell him to forget all about it and dash from the building. When you did so, he pulled you in for a kiss: it was messy, teeth clashing, because you weren't expecting it and he almost missed your lips. When you realized what you were both doing, you placed your hands tentatively on the back of his head while he found his on your waist.

“I have so much to tell you.” He said. Relief flooding his body, love crashing into him like a tidal wave, warmth spreading on his chest. Pulling away from you just to look you in the eye with the most serene and loving and sincere expression. Holding your pendant between your fingers, he finished, "I'd like to start by telling you that you are and always have been my dearest friend. And that I have given you a free hand to my heart from the day we met. I was already doomed then.”

His eyes held truth enough for you to know that he also loved you.

Aaaand... that's it! I hope you enjoy it, my darlings! Let me know if there are any mistakes, please.

Feedbacks are highly appreciated <3

Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #mgg #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #bau team

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lady-phasma · 2 months ago

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Armand N$FW Alphabet

I’m trying not to make these what I want to do to/with him but they are headcanon. Note: I headcanon him as omnisexual so the below works with all genders.

Warnings: I don't really think I need to put this given the title but MDNI. Mentions of sex, implied trauma, just graphic in general.

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Armand is kind and soft afterward. No matter the scenario he will check on his partner’s emotional state and offer them comfort if needed. As for himself, he won’t ask for it but sometimes he needs it (especially after anything D/s related). Although he’s usually pretty chill and relaxed afterward, at times he can be energetic and chatty. The more intense, the more chill he will be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

This is heartbreaking, but I don’t think Armand would have a favorite of his own. He’s not vain in that way and is really insecure. He does like to show off his tiddies though. As for his partner: eyes. I think he would be enamored with the eyes of all his partners.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A lot. I’ll throw in some weird TVC headcanon I’ve had for over 20 years: vampire cum is pale pink. It’s a blood thing, like their tears. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this stuff. Armand cums a lot. I mean a lot. (More detail under S below.) He’s indifferent to it with his partners as long as they climax, he doesn’t have a cum kink but it’s turned off by it either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

All of them! But seriously, maybe that he enjoys being a switch. I think Armand is much more Dominant with women, but not always. He’s very into whatever his partner is into and adjusts easily. It’s a secret because he wants to be whatever his partner needs, but he also truly enjoys the fluidity and flexibility of being a switch within the context of D/s.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Very experienced and very talented. No matter what parts his partner is rocking Armand has experience. He’s very open-minded about sex and, although maybe not particularly laid back, he has learned a lot in his time. He doesn’t like everything, but he has probably done it at least once.

F = Favorite position

As with most things, this will depend on Armand’s partner. However, he really enjoys being on the bottom and watching his partner if at all possible. Even when he feels Dominant with his partner he enjoys being underneath them. I don’t know that he has an absolute favorite, but he wants to be able to see his partner.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Armand is very serious most of the time, but not uptight during sexy times. Silly things happen during sex and he’s probably experienced it all anyway. There’s no point in making his partner nervous or embarrassed. He’s not going to be giggling during the act, but he will certainly laugh when appropriate.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is so well groomed! Series canon shows us that he cares about his appearance. He is nothing if not fastidious. His pubic hair would never be neglected and it definitely matches the drapes and his glorious chest hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment?)

Armand enjoys intimacy to a degree and depending on the circumstances. He needs it more than most. It doesn’t have to be deep, but it has to be present. He is highly attuned to his partner’s emotions at any given moment so he requires that connection. Unfortunately, he doesn’t require the same attention in return. He is deeply invested in his partners and their mental/emotional state during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This act is all about efficiency and need for Armand. It’s not a self-love situation. It’s also not perfunctory exactly. He enjoys it and needs to do it. But he doesn’t light candles or watch porn. If he feels the need it’s possibly because his partner isn’t available or in the mood. It’s not a harsh affair, but it’s not going to take very long. I want to watch this so badly!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I’m going to skip the general D/s stuff because I have a couple posts about his D/s interests here and here. He’s definitely into degradation for himself (but would find it difficult to do to a partner) and he’s very into praise (for both himself and his partners). Probably his biggest kink is hands, touching and being touched (see W for more info about this). Vampires have naturally perfect manicures so their hands are generally pretty sexy, but the act of touching communicates a lot for Armand. Suck on his fingers, scratch your nails down his back, let him reciprocate, or just a soft graze of the back of your fingers against his cheek, hands might be his biggest turn on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his own home or domicile, for sure. He needs to feel safe to let his guard down completely. He doesn’t care where, but he will be most present and relaxed in his own space (or that of his partners). He does enjoy a little public action and isn’t above public displays of affection. However, he can be himself most comfortably in a safe, familiar place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I interpreted this two ways: Armand gets excited by seeing his partner get excited and that he gets turned on by words as much as physical touch. Praise him, tell him how beautiful he is, how much you want to do to him and what (or what you want him to do to you), tell him how much you truly desire him and he’s ready to go. But watching his partner react to his words/touch makes him horny in a different way entirely. He can’t get enough of watching their eyelids flutter or them bite their lower lips involuntarily.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Hard limits would be “dirty,” human bodily functions. He’s too old, too fastidious, too him to be into any of that. He doesn’t enjoy being restrained or tied up. If his partner holds him down a safe word can trigger immediate release, but the time to untie knots, etc would take too long and he’d have to use his strength to break them. That doesn’t interest him. Pin him down because he lets you overpower him? That’s sexier anyway.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Armand loves giving oral! He is enthusiastic and talented. Not only does he get completely engrossed in the act, he likes to use it to overstim his partners if they really enjoy oral. He likes receiving as well, but is usually less focused on his on enjoyment than that of his partner. In light of that, if his partner is submissive or just enjoys giving, he will happily receive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like most things, this depends on the mood/vibe of the situation, but Armand is typically slow and sensual if he’s in charge. However, slow and sensual doesn’t exclude rough this alphabet is from a template so I wanted to point that out. Whether he’s in charge or not, fast and hard can be a lot of fun for him, but maybe likes that best when he’s submissive.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Armand loves spontaneity in his sex life. Anywhere, anytime. But if the quickie turns into something more, that’s fine by him. He likes to flirt and imply, goading his partner into initiating the quickie even if he won’t initiate himself. He especially enjoys quickies as a surprise. He doesn’t mind if it’s in public or private, quickies are fun and add interest to his sex life.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So many. He likes trying new things with people. He enjoys pushing his boundaries and helping others push theirs (with consent). If he doesn’t enjoy it he won’t do it again. He definitely enjoys acts that are taboo or unconventional because he’s beyond such human notions at this point. Excitement is difficult to experience after 500 years. He’s not a thrill-seeker in general, but he does like novel and experimental sexual exploits.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Forever. I headcanon vampires as having a short refractory period and Armand is no exception. If he is turned on by his partner he is turned on and insatiable. He’s rarely pushy (though he can seem needy), but he will always be ready when they are. He is motivated by his partner’s pleasure so if he finishes first he will bound back quickly to satisfy them. It’s not a stretch to imagine him going all night with very little downtime if he paces himself. Can his partner handle it though?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Armand doesn’t own that many, but he enjoys using them when his partner does. He would happily use them on his partners if they wished, delighting in pleasing them. There is a shyness about him that might make him reluctant to have toys used on himself by a partner since that requires an amount of attention that can make him uncomfortable. He quickly relaxes and gets past this with the right partner/circumstance and can enjoy the occasional toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He isn’t a fan of physical teasing (like edging), but loves to flirt. Drawing out the pleasure for his partner or himself is fun for him, but rarely to the point of it being uncomfortable. All of his flirting is used to heighten what will happen later on, so teasing once that has begun doesn’t serve him. He wants his partner to feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Armand is very quiet. Sighs, moans, small groans are his love language. Whispering a command/consent or encouragement or his partner’s name in his silky voice is enough for him. He doesn’t need to be loud or overly vocal to let his partner know how he feels, but he can’t help but moan and praise. He’s not going to scream your name, but he will let you know when you’re being good for him or taking him so well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is obsessed with touch/physical affection as validation. He needs to be perceived as desirable and having his partners touch him in any affectionate way is crucial to him. (Even if that affection comes from D/s or CNC.) He needs affirmation that he's beautiful and wanted.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

See gif above. Also, he’s uncircumcised. He has a very proper and polite cock.* It’s as beautiful as he is. It’s not terribly long (maybe 6-6.5 inches/15-16.5 cm) but has a nice girth. Did I mention it’s beautiful? Fairly even in tone with a head the color of his fingertips. Let’s not neglect his balls, though. They are small-ish and tight, accentuating his overall length. Very prim and polite as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This completely depends on his partner and their moods. He can be insatiable to the point of neediness if he’s enamored with his partner. If they aren’t upset with him, his libido is genuine and turned up to 11. If they show the slightest bit of disapproval he has a tendency to use sex to manipulate them and gain their approval/affection.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As I mentioned in A, he will be energetic after if it was a fun, quick, light-hearted event. But if it was an intense scene or emotionally heavy, Armand will be drowsy and relaxed after providing/receiving the appropriate aftercare. Unless it was very close to dawn he probably wouldn’t get incredibly sleepy, but he would definitely be chill and calm after.

Note: yes, some of these headcanons/traits are a result of his trauma, if you feel compelled to point that out, go for it, but please don’t assume I wasn’t aware of which are poor coping mechanisms and maladaptive as I wrote them. I didn’t invent him, I’m just obsessed.

*Thank you Stephen King for that term. Polite, college boy cock is one of my favorite descriptions.

This is the alphabet template I used.

#vampire Armand headcanon #Armand headcanon #doing Lestat and Louis soon #iwtv headcanon #the vampire armand #armand #assad zaman #iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #armand x reader #kinda

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