#ideally through something other than physical strength

[sorrowtainted]

honestly i just want chuuya to have another winning moment tbh. just one would be fine. like... seeing him being used as a pawn by fyodor in the latest chapters just makes me project my insecurities and fears onto him whoops makes me feel so bad for him and i think he deserves it!! just once!!

like proving that he's more than just someone to be used by others... i doubt he'd straight up like outsmart any of the genius characters, he's not THAT smart, but i'd enjoy him acting just once outside their expectations, or like. saving dazai or a main character through his own power, if that makes sense?? i'm pretty sure i'm not putting what i mean into words right RIP

[endursent]

- Biting Cold - Searing Warmth

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , mutual masturbation , blood and injury, hurt/comfort , huddling for warmth , handjob , self-destructive thoughts , NSFW 】

【 note; thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs on through the dark, the overwhelming support means a lot to me and gives my souls strength. please enjoy this much longer piece.

as always, the reader's gender is never mentioned, i avoided describing their genitalia and left it vague so that you can imagine your preference. 】

【 word count; 8.075 | read on ao3 】

He feels slightly out of place among the Astral Express, it’s not that he doesn’t physically ‘fit in’, all of you look different, act differently and portray yourself in very different ways… but Sunday hasn’t been able to see himself as part of the crew despite travelling with you for four months. 

  He feels like he’s made of stone, every movement is stiff and he has to make excruciating effort into every little action, he feels cold and hard, like an observing statue as opposed to a member. 

  There are days where he forgets that cold, when what he has come to recognise as typical shenanigans drags him into situations where he’s either forced to use his brain to solve complex problems or empathise with someone in a situation he didn’t think was possible. Days where he is on his feet and his mind tunnels to the mission at hand. 

  And there are others where there is silent travel, two days of calm traversal through the cosmos where he retreats to solitude and sees the sky get further away behind closed eyes. He tries to write down his thoughts and understand them, understand what his goal has become… the path he has taken leads towards the cosmos, towards discovery of himself as well as the universe, but what does he search for in the distant stars? 

  Is he merely searching for redemption? Should he not atone for the wrongs his ideals did to others? 

  Dan Heng had told him that endlessly searching to right a wrong that has already been done will only wear him down to his bones and bring no closure. That it will be an endless journey of selfish fulfilment, he will never be able to touch every person that was drawn into the dream—and that he should start with the person he can touch, himself. 

  He startles when he bumps into your back, his mind having been completely occupied with thoughts and distracted—as usual. Sunday grasps your shoulder to push himself back slightly as he gives the back of your head a glare. “Why do you walk in front of me? There’s more than enough space.”

  You give a small shrug. “Just making sure you don’t walk into something, think of me like a cushion,” you wave your hand vaguely as you turn back around. The snow is getting deeper as you venture through the woods, at one point in the densest part, it reaches up to your knees as you practically climb forward, raising your knee stomach-high with every step. 

  Looking around, you squint through the all-white forest… there’s supposed to be a research facility out here, at least according to one of the locals that showed the group around. But all you see is snow and trees.

  Sunday pulls his coat tighter around himself, he doesn’t yet have a very varied wardrobe to properly adjust based on the world the Express goes to next… perhaps he should have searched in the small town for an extra layer, the biting cold makes his fingers stiff and toes tingle uncomfortably. His nose is cold and whenever you turn your back to him, he tucks his wings against the front of his face like a shield, hoping his warm breath might give some comfort to his red nose and cheeks.

  Finally, the trees spread further apart and the snow congested less, you take out your phone and unlock it… no signal. Well, at least you’ve been walking in a straight line, it’s unlikely you’ll get… lost…

  You see a line of snow that’s been walked through across the clearing, it’s halfway snowed up again… and it looks exactly like the line the two of you have been leaving behind—but how could it be through this same clearing? You swear you haven’t turned at all since you left the town! 

  Sunday spots it as well and his teeth clench together. “That’s ours… have we been walking in circles?” he, too, was sure the path had been straight the entire time. How could you pass by your own footsteps leading across your current path? 

  You both stand still for a time, the gears in your head spinning, trying to understand how this came to be—does it mean that the way you came from now is wrong? Is left or right the way back. You heard Sunday click his tongue and turn to look at him… he looks terribly cold. 

  Feeling a bit bad for him—and certainly not wanting him to catch a cold, you zip down your thick jacket and pull your arms out of it. Being that you’re the only moving thing in his line of sight, Sunday immediately frowns at the sight. “What are you doing? You’ll freeze if you take that off—” he blinks as you hold the jacked out towards him, and he hugs his own coat closer to himself, lowering his chin under the scarf around his neck. “I don’t need your jacket, it is my own fault that I’m underdressed.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should freeze,” you push it against his chest. “Come on, while it’s warm—we can take turns.”

  Reluctantly, Sunday unwinds his stiffly cold arms from around himself and accepts the jacket, it doesn’t fit him perfectly… but the relief it brings is far more valuable. It’s still a bit warm from when it was wrapped around your own body, and he can faintly smell your scent along the neck of it. You give a smile and reach for the hood on the back, you pull it over his head, the fur lining it tickling his cheeks as his wings get pushed against his head and poke out of it, halo bobbing behind his head with snow lined around its outline. 

  “... thank yo—wh—?” his thanks is interrupted as you poke the feathers of his wings that are sticking out and push them inside the hood before pulling it slightly further down. “Stop—it’s perfectly suitable,” he waves your hand away. His cheeks were red already, but now more so with an embarrassed warmth as well.

  You immediately feel the chill of the cold wind and shake your arms a bit before rubbing them for some friction. “Alright, alright—I’ll leave you be, come on. The sooner we find this facility the faster we’ll be out of the cold.”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound and hunches slightly so that his face is nestled nicely in the collar of the puffy jacket. If you’re to take turns, he should try and warm up as quickly as possible… he doesn’t want you to be cold either. He only accepted as easily as he did because he knew you would hold him down and force the jacket onto him if he didn’t…

  But the gesture resonates with him nonetheless. It would be easy for you to continue in comfort, the jacket doesn’t prevent cold entirely, but it brings a significant barrier to the wind and chill, especially with the hood protecting his ears and neck. Yet you still chose to share it with him… it almost brought more warmth to him than the jacket. 

  You have always been like this, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point… with every offer, every smile and nudge, his chest grows warmer. 

  His sleepless nights were never unaccompanied, you were usually in the kitchen past midnight—once because you ‘forgot to boil eggs for breakfast and are too tired in the morning to do it’, another time because you were simply thirsty, then it was the night before Welt’s birthday and you and March 7th were baking cupcakes at three in the morning. 

  It has become a habit when he cannot sleep, be it because his thoughts will not stop interrupting him, or because the deeds of the past pull his stomach down until he has to use a bathroom or he simply feels restless and has a need to stand and move… to go to the kitchen. It’s a separate carriage from the bedrooms and gives some peace and quiet, once when you were not there as he had become accustomed to, he had taken out his phone to send you a message and ask if you were awake.

  Of course… he didn’t, as his thumb had hovered over the send button, he set his phone down and turned back to his water. Spending the dark hours of the night alone. 

  Not that there is a true night and day on the Express, it operates on a 24-hour cycle where the lights dim and the windows are blocked to emulate night—but Sunday is far accustomed to strange hours or wake and deep sleep. 

  Sunday is once again taken from his thoughts as you stop for the second time, looking around with a focused expression on your face. He follows your gaze but sees nothing amiss, just more snow and now distant trees. The sky is grey and the ground white, the falling flakes of snow blending the two seamlessly to blur the distance between earth and sky. “What is it?”

  With a shimmer, your weapon appears in your hand, sturdy and warm against your cold fingers. “I heard something…”

  Out here? It was a miracle if anyone found you out in the chilled wilderness like this.

  “Remember what those kids said earlier? When we were in town?” your voice lowers, eyes still scanning your surroundings. 

  Sunday nods. “That… we should be careful because ‘kids who get lost in the forest turn into ghosts that eat people’?” he didn’t entirely believe them, it was most likely just a cautionary tale their parents tell them so they don’t run into the forest and get lost. No child will survive for long. 

  “I don’t much like ghosts…” you mumble, the shiver on your skin not only because of the biting winds. Your muscles are coiled, ready and tense… you’re no stranger to duking it out with a monster or two, or even people. But what if you can’t whack it away like you could anything else? 

  Sunday is equally on guard as you are, but less experienced with direct combat. He’s mostly relied on intellectual disputes in the past, as well as planning for conflicts ahead of time where he won’t have to directly face off against something. 

  You see something shift in the corner of your eye—it’s not a whole form, it looks like a misty shape that drags into the snow as it moves. You shift your feet towards it as it speeds towards the two of you. Sunday grasps your shoulder as if he’s about to pull you backwards, but before he can, you swing your weapon—and the misty form dissipates.

  “...” your eyes flicker around to search for it. “Was that it?”

  “I doubt it,” Sunday says quietly next to your ear, his voice clear above the cool brush of wind that’s been chilling your skin. “There,” he gestures to a shift between trees. “There is a flicker of blue between the shoulders, it must be the weak spot.”

  Weak spot, you can deal with that—it can’t be much different from the game machines in Penacony, whack the glowing part. 

  “Be careful if it—” Sunday’s warning went ignored and interrupted as you lift your leg and charge toward the misty apparition. “Wait—!” damn it, he knows you have a tendency for recklessness, but at least let him do what he’s good at and create a plan of attack!

  He struggles to wade through the snow to follow you, unfamiliar with navigating high snow. But he has no chance of catching up with you. You raise your weapon again and raise your hands to swing downwards—but the misty form moves and you miss, the body dissipating again, it’s already a pretty small form, but it’s mostly translucent too, it’s not easy to follow.

  You’re so damn cold, it’s difficult to move as quickly as you usually could. You see Sunday stop halfway towards you and look around for the elusive creature… you’re not sure what it’s capable of, but your prickling instincts are telling you it’s absolutely not friendly. “Come, stay closer,” Sunday calls to you. “It’s less likely to surprise us if we watch each other’s flanks.”

  He’s right. You start to wade through the snow towards him when something moves in the corner of your eyes to your right—the wraith-looking creature seemed more condensed than before, its form whiter as if the falling snow had blanketed its outline and made it more visible. The blue hue in it’s torso flickered and expanded as a sharp shard of ice formed inside its body, it wasn’t wide, but it was long and jagged—and it was facing Sunday, too far from you to be able to get to him in time if the speed at which the shard was made was anything to believe. 

  He seemed to see it as well, eyes widening only slightly in surprise at the sight—his gaze snaps equally startled towards you as you dash towards the wraith. What are you doing!? Sunday calls your name in both warning and surprise, concern clear in his startled gaze, the creature is clearly preparing an attack—you should be falling back on the defensive, and not charging right at it!

  You hop surprisingly easily through the snow, each large step eating at the distance between the threat and yourself. Swinging the bat at it did nothing but dissipate it and let it reappear elsewhere—and you don’t have the body heat or stamina to chase it around for twenty minutes. Maybe if you grab the blue centre, it’ll materialise enough for you to break it. 

  Sunday cursed the high snow, trying to stumble through it towards you as you ran at the enemy. He watched as you leapt at it and tackled it down—surprisingly, the wraith did fall with you, but the way your body jerked as you landed in the puffy snow made his skin itch. 

  As soon as you tackled the wraith down, the shard of ice it was conjuring short forward as if it had been held back by a tight bowstring—and impaled itself in your body. The sudden, violent pain that burst from your torso made you nearly double over in on yourself. But you persisted and jabbed the end of your weapon into the core.

  With a loud crack and sound of shattering, the core broke apart like a light bulb, as if it had been entirely hollow. The misty form dissipated once more, leaving only shards of blue on the snow under you. 

  Sunday calls your name again with more urgency, heart hammering in his chest as he finally makes it to you, he bends down to take your shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt? You shouldn’t rush li—” his words stop in his throat once he sees blood padder onto the snow, the red colour a stark contrast to the pure white of freshly fallen snow. 

  For a moment, he doesn’t move, unsure what to do—does he tug you up into a sitting position? Onto your back? Where is it coming from? You’re on all fours already, so perhaps you can straighten slightly. “Let me see, let me see,” his voice is urgent as he sees the tremble of your hands and hears a strange sound, as if a thin sheet of ice was being stepped on. Sunday takes your arm that twitched towards your torso and sees frost hardening on your clothes and skin. 

  As soon as you had physically touched the wraith, your skin began to feel extremely cold, like you were perpetually laid against ice. Your entire torso prickled, but the worse of the pain was coming low in your abdomen, your eyes lower and you see the shard imbedded in your lower left abdomen, it was wider at the bottom and stretched the skin apart and cut your clothes where blood bubbled and dripped down into the snow. It felt like you had drunk ice cold water, the feeling of it leaking down into your stomach—except it was spreading from the ice, and every surface you had touched of the ghost.   

  “Let me see,” he says for the third time, firmer this time despite the small crack of his voice, whether it was from the cold numbing his nose and lips or the creeping anxiety at the back of his mind, it was hard to tell. 

  You gasp and cry out slightly as he tries to right you up, it feels as if the sharp shard in your body had just cut through the entirety of your torso with the small movement, tears bubbling at the bottom of your eyelids from the overwhelming sensitivity and pain. “S-stop—” you pant, voice barely audible between short, quick breaths, as if you were afraid that breathing deeper would hurt more.

  Sunday swallows, he’s not a doctor and though he knows basic first aid, his knowledge of what to do in situations like this relies heavily on the fact further help was on the way—but out here in the snow and wind with no signal… 

  He shrugs off the puffy jacket you had handed to him earlier and he lays it over your back, the biting cold already cooling his shivering body. “I’m sorry,” Sunday apologises quietly, his heart is racing, and though he seems calm outwardly, it’s a very practised and well-crafted front. His thoughts are racing, heart hammering in his chest and cold fingers trembling. All he sees and seems to be able to focus on is the puff of your breath and the drops of blood continuously leaking from you. 

  He’s afraid. Afraid that trying to move you will hurt you further, afraid that it might do irreversible damage—afraid that the damage is already so bad that there is scarce time to act. 

  The wind blows again and a shiver shakes both of your bodies and Sunday knows that just sitting around fretting will do more harm than good. “I am sorry,” he apologises again, more sincerely, because he knows this will only cause more agony. 

  He wraps his arms around you, and hoists you up to your feet. Your breath leaves you as you instinctively try to hunch back down, the stretch of your torso is blinding, your vision almost whites out in pain as you gasp and curse. Sunday apologises for the third time as he tries to drag you with him, pulling your dead weight is no easy feat—he isn’t particularly strong physically, he would struggle to hold Pom-Pom for long. “Hold on…” Sunday says quietly, his breath heaving from the strain of dragging both of you through the cold. “It’s alright, you’ll be okay,” he tries to reassure you, he needs to keep you awake.

  Sunday wasn’t sure he had ever felt so… anxious? Afraid? His skin felt like it was trying to tear away from his body, his hands and knees trembled and his heart clenched with every beat. 

  He is the one who should suffer, not you. 

  “Talk to me, you need to stay awake,” he urges, pinching the skin over your ribs. Sunday doesn’t want to create more pain… but if you fall asleep now, there’s no guarantee you’ll wake up again, and the thought makes his breath tighten. 

  Talk to him? No thought forms in your head, all you feel is pain. You want to throw up, your head is spinning and it feels like your ears are blocked out. “... o-okay,” is all you can manage. You can’t even move your legs to walk with him, he’s taking the entirety of your weight at this awkward angle. 

  “Good,” he peers into the distance. You need shelter—it would be a miracle if he found the town you departed from, or the facility you were looking for. But Sunday doesn’t consider himself so lucky. He looks down at you, slumped against him with sweat on your forehead despite the cold, he tugs the jacket closer to your body, trying to make sure you get some respite from the winds. 

  His legs burn, but he sees a raised part of the earth—there, it must be enough. “Almost there,” he murmurs your name, worry gnawing at his gut. “You’ll be alright, I’ll make sure of it,” he promises, holding you tighter.

  You groan as he sets you down in the small cave you found, your limbs shaking terribly—laying on your back doesn’t feel great, but it’s probably the best position you could be in, it pulls slightly on your wound… but it’s better than being hauled around. Blood has leaked more from the wound because of the movement, and the cold spreading from it, as well as your arms and chest where you touched the wraith has begun freezing your clothes in place.  

  Sunday presses his lips together, this cave isn’t large, but he could immediately feel the relief that the shelter brought. The snow gathered at the entrance shielded you from the biting wind, and that’s what’s most important. He takes his phone out of his coat pocket, his fingers stiff and numb from the cold… no signal, still. It might be the snow and wind, perhaps it will come around if it dies down.

  For now, there’s a far more important matter to tend to.

  Sunday kneels by your side, his throat tight at the sight of your pain. He had never been particularly good at facing the pain of others with a calm and straight face, his deep sense of empathy and compassion makes him wish he could take the pain from you and bear it himself. Not to mention that he’s come to actually care for you, he has never felt himself so shaken like this—not since he had heard of Robin’s injury. Very few instances will shake him so thoroughly to his core as that did. 

  He tugs your sweater up, a small whimper leaving you as more cold brushes against your bare skin. The shard isn’t wide, it’s similar to his thumb, perhaps a bit wider… but he realises the severity of it nonetheless. It’s long, and…

  Sunday hears the cracking again.

  You had only moved your hand, your breath trembling. He looks down at the shard again and sees frost spread from it, it’s cooling your skin and hardening on it—it has to be removed. Everything in his mind is telling him not to touch it, leave it there so that you don’t bleed even more profusely. But if he leaves it in, your skin and body will freeze.

  He says your name quietly. “I need to remove the shard,” he says slowly. Sunday reaches for your hand and holds your fingers in his palm. They’re ice cold, frost covering the gloves and threatening to freeze them in place. “It… it will hurt, and I apologise for having to do it.”

  You squint at him, swallowing thickly. You can’t imagine how it will feel, and you feel anxious to let him. “A-are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he nods, his hand slides up your arm and rubs it slightly, as if he’s trying to create friction and warm your skin. His wings are lowered, sitting against his shoulders as if saddened. He wasn’t entirely sure what the best course of action is, but surely you will have a better chance with an open, but dressed wound and not being actively frozen alive, than you will with the shard still inside of you and trying to actively kill you? 

  It’s a chance you’ll have to take. 

  He takes off his scarf but leaves his gloves on, he doesn’t want to touch the shard with his bare hands. “I will need to remove it slowly to ensure it doesn’t cut you further…” Sunday shifts on his knees next to you, the cave floor is just as cold as kneeling on snow. “I’m sorry.”

  You’re not sure how often he’s apologised at this point, and you’re unsure why he feels the need to, this wasn’t his fault. 

  Before you can examine the thought further, he grips the shard and you gasp—even just touching it makes you panic. “W-w-wait—” your heart races. Don’t, it—

  He pulls gently, and the shard moves. A scream tears from your throat and Sunday’s breath catches. He almost stops, but steels himself. If he stops now, it’ll be worse, he’s already started—he has to finish. He repeats his apologies like a mantra, your body jerks and he uses his other hand to press down on your left hip, trying to hold you still. 

  It only takes a few seconds, but they feel like minutes, minutes of tears and screams, of trembling fingers and gentle pulling. He has to pay attention to his movements perfectly, and has to make sure it doesn’t hurt you further. 

  And when it’s all over, he tosses the shard aside and bundles his scarf to lay over the wound as blood wells in the wound. His white scarf immediately colours red at the edges as tears slip down your temples. Sunday feels a rush of emotions after the ordeal, your screams and tears, the blood. Almost as if moving instinctually, he lays over you and wraps one arm around you, cradling your head into his shoulder as his other still presses against the wound. “I’m sorry, it’s over, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear, his arms shaking equally to your entire body. “Focus on breathing, slowly. It’s over.”

  He tears up as well, the soft wings by his head touch your jaw as he holds you, his breath shaking. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had gotten, and while the danger hasn’t passed—and you could potentially be in more danger freely bleeding as you are, it brings a small relief that the shard it out. 

  Your head spins, the pain has been so agonising, the fear and anxiety of pulling the shard out that you feel like you passed out for a moment. But feeling Sunday so close, holding you so tenderly, as if he were cradling a delicate feather between his palms… your hand that feels less frozen solid slowly raises, as if to return the hug—but your fingers poke at his halo by accident and he near shoots up, wet eyes large. Ah, touching a halovian’s halo probably doesn’t feel good, you think. 

  He blinks a few times and takes a breath. “L-let me focus on your wound, then we need to find a way to warm you up,” Sunday says hurriedly, sitting back on his knees. 

  His mind races as he tries to focus on pressing down on your wound, hoping it starts to clot faster. Your body was so cold, even your neck and cheek. Sunday himself doesn’t feel particularly warm… but he’s afraid that you’ll die from hypothermia if he doesn’t warm you up quickly. Sunday looks up to see that your eyes have slid shut and he feels his heart tighten. “Open your eyes,” he reaches up and pats your cheek with his palm, he says your name urgently. “Stay awake, just a little bit longer, please.”

  He tries to keep you awake with encouragements and small pokes and pats, but your near violently trembling body needs more help. Sunday ties the bundled scarf to the wound tightly with a long ribbon from his coat—maybe this needlessly complicated outfit has its uses after all. He then focuses on trying to warm you up, he places his hands on either side of your arms and rubs them, creating friction. The frost that had built up on your clothes and skin hasn’t spread further, it was likely driven by the shard. Now he just has to warm you up.

  But friction can only do so much, after a time, you’re moaning about it hurting, and as he lifts your jacket he sees the already reddened skin from the cold is raw and sensitive. 

  Sunday’s eyebrows pinch in thought as he does as before. “Let me share my warmth with you,” he utters and lays over you, now using both arms to wrap around you—he doesn’t dare move you into a different position than on your back. He still tries to rub every surface of your skin for warmth, but it’s not retaining heat well enough. 

  “We need to create warmth—” he jumps as he feels your cold fingers slide under his shirt. His stomach is warmer than his hands, and your icy fingers on it makes his entire body shiver. “O-okay,” he doesn’t say more, he doesn’t trust his voice to form fully. 

  This might be the method you need, and Sunday is determined to warm you up in any way you require… though this doesn’t very much help him retain his warmth.

  As your fingers feel warmer and it’s easier to move them, you retreat them from his stomach and slowly raise them to his ears. Sunday blinks at you in surprise as your warmed fingers envelop his cool ears. “What are you doing?” 

  You give a weak smile, you’re still in pain, but you’re more lucid now that there isn’t a foreign object stuck in you. “We warm each other.”

  His cheeks redden slightly as your fingers rub the shell of his ears to warm them, your fingers aren’t exactly warm, but they’re not completely cold either.

  “It won’t be sustainable like this,” he says, still laying over you, just raised slightly with his elbows on either side of your head, his misty breath wafting over your cheeks. “We need to warm faster, more directly.”

  You squint at him, he sounds like he was trying not to explicitly say something, but you had an inkling to what it was. “Like… sharing body heat?”

  His head turns slightly, gaze avoiding you as one of his wings twitches, moving to his cheek as if to hide his face, you’re unsure if it’s a conscious movement. “... for example.”

  You don’t see why not, desperate times and all that. “Okay, your coat is pretty big, we can use it as a blanket, my sweater too,” he has an easier time taking off his coat by himself, but has to help you take your sweater off. You shiver at first, but as Sunday sets his coat and your sweater over the two of you, and lays closer to you—still wearing a thin shirt—you feel subtle warmth. 

  Sunday struggled to even talk to you as soon as you huddled together, though there were thin shirts separating you, he felt the skin of your arms and collar against him. He’s never been this close to the glimpses of your skin only previously seen from a distance, now he’s close enough to smell you, to touch you. 

  He’s careful not to touch your wound, but keeps an eye on it. Your breaths mingle together and you lay your cold forehead against his shoulder to try and absorb any warmth he gives. Unfortunately, it’s not quite enough to keep both of you warm. He tries to rub your arms again, and you try to breathe warm air on his skin, but the solutions are very temporary. 

  Darkness has begun setting outside, and there’s little light inside the cave. You can still see each other, but it’s clear that nighttime is approaching. You whisper in Sunday’s ear next to you. “You cried for me, earlier.”

  He doesn’t reply immediately, his hands that were rubbing your thighs for warmth halting for a moment. “... I did.”

  “Do you often cry when people are hurt?” you wonder.

  “Sometimes,” he continues to focus on warming you, trying not to think of your lips brushing against his collar when you talk. 

  He hadn’t just cried because you were hurt, because you were in pain… a thought had occurred to him as you screamed and shook as he removed the shard that it might kill you—that his actions might. He had done nothing but stand and watch as you had battled the wraith, he had moved slowly and been unsure how to help you after you broke its core… and he had brought you more and more pain. Even in trying to help, how can his heart not ache? 

  You who have always been so kind and patient, even when he sought to entrap the cosmos. Even when you stood on opposite sides of the grand theatre. You didn’t hesitate to include him, to make him feel welcome as he hesitantly stepped onto the Express. You sat with him during long nights and caught him when he experienced his first warp.

  He doesn’t want you to die, he doesn’t want you to be hurt.

  You seemed to sense that he had fallen deep into thought yet again, you raise your head from his shoulder and he turns his head to look at you. As he does, your cool fingers slowly raise and touch his cheek, it’s warmer than before. “You’re very kind.”

  His lips part slightly, his expression is difficult to read as he stares at you from above, his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your hand, to your eyes again and do a round of your face. He opens his mouth further, as if he wants to say something, but only a breath leaves him that warms your own cheeks. He utters your name and it’s almost too quiet to hear. Slowly, his head lowers and you meet him halfway—his lips are soft, despite not having eaten or had water in hours, stuck in the cold, they don’t feel stiff or chapped at all.

  As if he’d snapped out of a trance, it had only been seconds that your lips touched and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, I should—”

  “It’s okay,” you breathe, hand still on his cheek as you try to guide him back towards you. “You’re warm, and…”

  He doesn’t need more of a reason, he’s been aching to be closer, his arms tremble with the strain of holding back. His body is so damn cold, and the inside of your mouth is warm as his tongue slips between your chilly lips. Your hand that rested against his cheek slides behind his head as he kisses you deeply, your head lowered against the cold floor, only cushioned by the fluffy hood of your jacket. His wings flutter and brush against your wrist as your other hand touches his shoulder. Sunday’s fingers that had tried to keep your thighs warm rise to your hips, one hand dangerously close to your wound. 

  Your mouth opens to warm him, your lips separating for a moment, but he presses on again. “I know,” Sunday assures you, and his gentle tone eases your wariness. “I’ll be careful.”

  His lips part in tune with yours, the sounds of your wet kisses echoing in the cave, his thumbs rub at your hips as if he can’t keep his hands still and the only way to have them put in one place was to at least soothe you like this. Your cheeks are warm from the deep kissing, it’s almost suffocating the way his tongue drags over your lips and traces the inside of them, as if he’s trying to taste every surface of your mouth he can reach. 

  It was too much, the taste of you, the warmth of your mouth and your tight hold on his shoulder and behind his head. He needs more warmth, needs to feel it radiate from you and bask in it like touching a bonfire. Your cold fingers and shivering skin, the frost clinging to your sleeves and collar—he wants to make you warm again, feel your warm fingers against his own, like when you handed him a cup of tea during a long night and your fingers touched. Even the brief brush of another’s skin had stuck with him for weeks. 

  He groans against you and his mouth slides from yours, his lips trailing warmth to your cool jaw and throat, the chilled skin shivering again when he closes his mouth over thin skin between the juncture of your shoulder and neck. Your breath trembles as he worries it between his teeth, tongue gently brushing over the tingling spot once he’s done. 

  “I…” his breath is deep and wanting. “Let me warm you, please. I-I wish to touch you, to ensure you won’t shiver with cold any longer.”

  You nod. “Help me,” the words are pleading on your lips. Your feet are numb with cold and your body has bouts of harsh trembling. You want him to touch you. 

  Sunday takes your lips again with his, as if he can’t get enough of your taste and the feeling of your mouth moving against his, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper as his hands lift your thin shirt to your collar, moving any barriers in his way as he moves the heat from between your lips and to your chest. Your body will quickly warm itself if he stimulates it appropriately, and he intends for the two of you to feel comfortably warm. “Wha—“ you weren’t expecting his mouth to seek there so quickly, and certainly were you not prepared. 

  His lips close around your left nipple, the warmth brought from it makes you inhale softly—but as the texture of his tongue drags over it, you nearly jerk in surprise, your wound aching from the sudden moment. Sunday’s hand holds your hip down on the side where there is no injury, his eyes looking to you from under grey eyelashes. “Please be still, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” his breath fans over the moist point of your chest and you shiver again—for entirely unrelated reasons to the cold. He resumes his attention and you find that ‘being still’ is your greatest challenge today. Every single drag of his tongue, flick and suckle sends sparks through your body, it makes your fingertips twitch where they’ve claimed hold of his shoulders and your thighs flex. The most prominent tingles settle between your legs where you’re desperately trying to will down the rising need for attention. 

  Your cheeks and neck warm—and you make a high-pitched sound as his gloved hand moves to your other nipple, a poke followed by a pinch and his thumb sliding left and right over it makes your body instinctively squirm and tense. “S-Sunday—“ you breathe his name, unsure exactly what you want him to do or don’t, the sensations of his warm mouth and cold glove on opposite sides makes your head nearly spin. 

  “Do you feel warmer?” he looks up at you again, his golden eyes seem to glow in the darkening cave. 

  You nod again. “A little,” you’re still cold, especially on your stomach that’s bare And exposed to the cold air of the cave. Your left hand rises slightly to touch the wing above his shoulder—causing Sunday to tense as he blinks at you. You want him to be warm too, he’s been so diligent in trying to make friction against your arms and thighs, in hugging your coats together and huddling close… “Warm us both, together.”

  He licks his lips in thought. Warm you both at the same time? He can only think of one method. Sunday takes your hands from his shoulders and holds them in his own, he raises them to his lips and blows air onto them before he guides them between your legs—and a distinct warmth emanates from there. It shouldn’t be surprising, having your chest touched and licked like that definitely pools heat there, but the way Sunday’s hands are so careful and his gaze so focused, as if he were unearthing a grand treasure or under an important assignment…

  He buttons open and lowers your pants only as far down as needed, not wanting to expose your skin to more cold air than necessary. Sunday still holds your hands as he lays them over the radiating warmth of your crotch, he doesn’t directly touch you, only using your own fingers as a proxy to slowly slide and rub your cool fingers over yourself. You bite your lip as you twitch under your cold fingers, the stark contrast of temperature making your heart race more than it was already. But it does warm your fingers, the more he moves them. “This might be uncomfortable at first,” Sunday utters as he brings your hands up before guiding them into your underwear—with no barrier between your warm flesh and cold fingers, the temperature difference is even more stark. 

  His own cheeks are red now as well, and he releases one hand from you to lean over you again and bring your bodies closer. “Keep your hands there, move and touch as you can,” he says and fully lets go of your hands. He holds himself over you with his elbow on the floor next to your head—which you instinctively tilt your head towards to rest against, seeking his touch—while his other hand unbuttons his own pants and tugs them down only slightly. “I-if we… do this, then our bodies will warm… and so long as we huddle together, then—“ his body almost jerks as his cold fingers touch his own aching need. “—then th-the cold should subside somewhat.”

  You nod, the movements familiar to you as your breath deepens—you were so sensitive, perhaps it was your cold fingers, or it could be the prelude of having your chest touched like that. This is surprisingly effective, but you still struggle to pay attention to your own pleasure and movements while Sunday is only a hair’s width of you, doing the same. So much of a distraction that your movements stilled, gaze fixed on the way his breath heaved, his head lowered so that his forehead was almost touching yours, his wings raised and shuddering. 

  Sunday seems to notice that you aren’t moving anymore, he swallows thickly and squints at you. “Wh-what is it?” his voice trembles slightly. “Does it hurt?” 

  He’s worried about your wound—and it certainly does ache, but your attention is far from being focused on that. “No… ah, can I… can I touch you?”

  “What?” he doesn’t understand you at first, even though he’s been quite good at reading your expressions and words today. “You… want to touch me?”

  You nod, and your hands leave yourself towards him, your warmed fingers touching his wrists—and his hands almost fly out of his pants in surprise. “I do,” you confirm. “Can I?”

  He seems conflicted for a moment, eyes lowering before he nods. “Okay… I’ll take care of you too.”

  A smile touches your lips. “Alright, I think it will warm us much faster.”

  Your fingers slide under his underwear, his cock is already straining against his underwear, hard and hot to your touch. Sunday gasps as you touch him—your fingers aren’t nearly as cold as they were before, but he still tenses as if you had shoved snow into his pants. You grasp him gingerly, not sure what is too fast of an approach for him, but as his breath seems to slow at your gentle touch, you take it as a go-ahead. 

  With every stroke and movement, his hips twitch—as if they want to move with you but are held back by sheer will alone. Sunday can barely think clearly, all he feels is you, all he smells is your skin, mixed with sweat and blood that stirs something in him. He joins you, his hand touching you in return and immediately it’s like your entire body flares to life, your hand moves faster, careful still—and Sunday leans down again, his lips on your neck kissing and suckling, his cool nose brushing against your warmed skin. 

  “S-Sunday—ah—“ your breath shudders. “More, l-little bit down—mnh,” warmth was pooling in your belly quicker than you’re used to, the flexing of your stomach amongst the pleasure tugged on your wound a little, but the brief pain was just an enhancement at this point.

  He breathes out your name, once, twice—with every stroke of your hand. You don’t feel that you can properly take care of him when his cock is confined within his pants like that, you turn your hand and tug his length out of them—and he springs free to the cold air, making Sunday suck in a breath, your sweater over his back almost sliding off. “Hahh, y-you don’t need to…”

  “I want to,” you assure him, licking your lips as you have much better freedom of movement now, your thumb strokes over the head and Sunday whines. His hands redouble their efforts between your legs, pushing your pants and underwear a bit further down to give himself more room as well. “Fuck, Sunday,” you curse on instinct, the overwhelming feeling of liquid heat searing through your veins causing you to respond to his hands with your hips—you were getting closer, and with every touch and twist on the upstroke you make, he is as well. 

  “Ahh, please,” he presses his forehead into your neck, Sunday’s hips make no effort to cease their movements now, he fully meets your strokes, hips rolling with your hand—he’s pressed down so much that your stroking him against your stomach, his thigh pressing against his hand as he prays to bring you equal pleasure with his own fingers as you are doing to him. He makes a particular movement that you can’t describe—and the tight coil in your stomach that’s been spreading fire through you for minutes finally releases its tension. 

  You cry out slightly, both surprised by the intensity as well as the relief and soothing warmth that surges through you from his fingers and out to your fingers and toes, to your ears and behind your eyes. 

  Sunday almost seems to come undone simply at the sight of you doing so, he needs only a few ruts against your tightened hand, instinctively flexed with pleasure, to achieve his own, his entire body jerking and shuddering as a sticky wetness splatters onto your stomach. 

  It takes the both of you a few moments to to catch your breaths, but as soon as Sunday’s thoughts realign to a comprehensive read, he tugs his coat and your sweater that’s slid a bit askew over his back—somehow miraculously not fallen off—to huddle the warms built by your combined pleasures. He nearly jumps when he feels the evidence of his pleasure sticking to your stomach and quickly starts to dry it with his shirt. “I-I apologise, I should’ve—should have turned away,” he stutters slightly, his voice not entirely reliable yet. 

  But you only laugh softly, wincing slightly from the strain put on your wound—the worry in his eyes from only a mere wince makes your chest warm more. “It’s okay. We’re warmer now, and… it was good, you’re good with your fingers.”

  His cheeks redden further—somehow—and his gaze leaves yours, looking at the floor next to your head. “Th-thank you… you did… very well, as well,” Sunday mumbles awkwardly. 

  You open your mouth to speak again, and suddenly both of your phones ping. 

  It’s stopped snowing and the winds have calmed, Sunday fishes for his phone to see seven unread messages from the Astral Express group chat. They’re asking for both of your locations and whether you’re alright, it’s been hours. He sighs in relief and sends your coordinates to them, the sooner you get medical assistance, the better. 

  You watch as he sets the phone aside. “No time for round two?”

  Sunday looks at you as if you’ve sprouted two additional heads. “Round two? Already—? No, you—the injury, if—what?” he stumbles through three different sentences, and you only laugh softly. The halovian lets out a ‘hmph’ and turns his head away from you—his cold halo bumping into your forehead.

  “Next time, then,” you rub the spot between your eyes where the spiky point of his halo smacked against you. 

  A sigh leaves Sunday and he turns his head to you again, a soft, warm kiss blessing the corner of your mouth. “… once you’re healed.” 

[ozzgin]

May I ask, what are each of the yokai harems love languages?

Featuring the six demons and their ways of showing love! Content: gender neutral reader, fluff

[Main Story] | [Character Guide] | [More Headcanons]

Murasaki will mostly show his love through acts of service. He may seem standoffish and cold, but he will always take care of you. If you get sick, he’ll huff and puff about humans being weak and pathetic, all while spoon feeding you some intricate soup he carefully cooked for hours to make sure you get back on your feet; then he'll adjust your pillow with a frustrated sigh, and occasionally check that you’re properly tucked in (with a frown).

In return, I think he’d greatly appreciate words of affirmation. He’d never show it, but he will absolutely blush to himself hours later because you brought up how helpful or smart he is. W-well, obviously. Who else is going to look after you as well as him? Hmph.

Kiritsubo is all about physical touch. He loves feeling your warmth and hearing your heartbeat, to the point you sometimes have to physically remove him off of you. Forget asking for a jacket if it’s cold, he’ll just attach himself to you.

Besides returning his affections, he will absolutely adore the occasional praise. Watch him power up in real time just because you told him he’s doing a good job. He’ll turn to you in the middle of the fight just to ask, “did you really mean it?”, and then continue slaying his foes with a goofy smile on his face. You really did mean it, huh.

Suma enjoys hanging out with you. In fact, it's the highlight of his day. There's nothing better than returning from his training and seeing your little human face. Even better if you happened to join him for a quick practice. Additionally, he's a very touchy demon, but he is painfully aware of the colossal difference in strength and size. Just one brief moment of him getting too comfortable, and you may end up with a broken bone. Sorry, he was really looking forward to that hug.

Unlike the other yokai, Suma doesn't care much for praise. On the other hand, he'll be extremely grateful if you're the one initiating intimacy. This way he doesn't have to worry about accidentally hurting you, and - something he'd never openly admit - he finds your struggles quite endearing. Having to stand on your toes to reach for a mere hug, holding his finger with your entire hand...precious.

Yuugiri has two ways of showing he cares: physical touch and words of affirmation. He's painfully observant and thus particularly skilled at saying the right thing. If you're having a bad day, he will immediately know the cause of your troubles. Within moments, he'll have you on his lap, stroking your hair and soothing you with compliments. "Of course I'm right, (Y/N). No one knows you better than me."

When it comes to himself - you guessed it - Yuugiri will never say no to some praise. Normally he's rather indifferent to sweet words, finding them plain and boring. Anyone else complimenting his looks in ample detail, and he'll grimace in irritation. But it's enough for you to casually remark his kimono has a nice pattern, and he'll be twirling his hair like a maiden all day long. "My, you think so? Maybe I should wear this style more often, huh?"

Sekiya does his best to be useful: bringing you a cup of tea after a long day of exorcising spirits, or massaging your shoulders to release some tension. You sometimes have to remind the anxious demon that he doesn't need to be a servant to earn your affections. Ideally, there would be a lot of physical touch involved, but he often hesitates, clouded by the fear of annoying you too much.

Therefore, any kind of intimate gesture is enough to get his tail wagging. Pair it up with a little praise, and he'll be dizzy with delight. Sekiya loves being acknowledged by you. He'd probably risk his life in a heartbeat just for a headpat from his one and only Master. The poor yokai worships the ground you walk on.

Sakaki loves spending quality time with you, especially if it’s away from everyone else. Whether you’re painting together, or taking a quiet stroll through some graveyard, know he will be having a blast - despite his gloomy expression. Additionally, he enjoys bringing you little gifts that remind him of you. Although his tokens of adoration can be a little…unconventional. Last time it was a polished rodent skull he found in the forest, because it reminded him of your fragile, yet eternal bond.

One quick way to soften him up is by praising his art and poetry; he will immediately crumble into theatrical confessions, declaring that no one else truly understands him like you do. You're his forever muse, his reason to await the next coming day.

[plumpybread]

i've been wondering, what are the culturally defined goals of the various nations (or tribes) in this AU? in real life societies, there tends to be a few goals that are "given" to us in society (for example, gaining financial success or getting good degrees in Western societies). these likely have to change if, for example, Fontainians tend to become too obese to work before long, right? so what do you think? perhaps they're more socially related, or something like that.

also, completely different but similarly related to society at large, do you think someone as obese as Aether saving the various regions is changing their perception of fat as a whole? I'd love to hear what you think! keep up the good work!

Great questions!

Fortunately, the answer is pretty simple, as the nations in Teyvat all have very clear ideals we learn about in the game.

Mondstadt: Freedom

The ideal of freedom lives through and through in the nation of wind. Venti, their archon, believes that people should be free to make their own choices and live their lives without heavy-handed governance, a belief that shapes their culture, where the people enjoy a relatively lax and democratic system. They enjoy festivals, and I found it to be one of the easiest nations to make one of the heaviest because of all this

Liyue: Contracts

As the richest nation, they value wealth and stability most, steming from the belief that contracts are the foundation of society. Trade, commerce and responsibility are all shaped around the ideal of contracts.

Inazuma: Eternity

In Raiden Shogun's quest to preserve Inazuma in an unchanging, everlasting state, strict laws are enforced to prevent any disruption of the societal order, which is why I wrote them to be the most distant from the very obese nations as they remain the most unaffected by the threat of obesity.

Sumeru: Wisdom

Knowledge is almost a currency in Sumeru, and the pursuit of it is central to their culture. The best scholars are either from Sumeru itself or foreigners who went to study at their Akademiya. They know better than to give in to gluttony, which is why they're the second thinnest nation.

Fontaine: Justice

Popularly known for their juridical system and the way trials are treated as theatrical spectacles, justice is the prevalent ideal imposed by Fontaine's Hydro archon. Laws and rules need to be modified periodically as the weights of Fontainians continuously rises every decade, and in this version of Fontaine, I'd imagine justice manifests in the need for fair access to resources and food to maintain their massive sizes or support the thousands who grow beyond hope. Thanks to their domination of the food industry in Teyvat thanks to their rich soils and way too skilled chefs, immobility retirement doesn't have too much of an impact in their economy, especially since each man retiring for immobility creates several job opportunities for others to work as their personal caretakers.

Natlan: War, but specifics depend on the tribe

Natlan is a nation constantly in a war against the Abyss, and yearly pilgrimages are held to find warriors from different tribes to take part in the Night Wars to fend off the Abyssal army. But outside of this, each tribe lives by very different ideals. This wasn't ever really digged deep into in the game itself, but if I had to think of something;

Nanatzcayan: Mining

Sounds a bit random, but most people in Nanatzcayan are fine miners, jewelers, forgers, and general appraisers of gems as they live inside mountains. Physical strength and harmony is needed for them to fulfill their jobs.

Huitztlan: Agility

Living high up suspended over a mountain cliff, they love extreme sports like bungee jumping or mountain climbing, and agility is the most valued skill to have to live the true Scions of Canopy life, which is why wide love handles are seen as favorable as their bodies hug the harnesses they wear while doing their activities much better that way.

Meztli: Leisure

The most sedentary and relaxed nation of Natlan, gaining huge amounts of weight due to poor diets and lack of exercise has become such a norm that it's the encouraged standard. Most people just spend their days taking baths in the hot springs, fishing near the shores, or dancing in the plaza, all if they're not already sharing decadent meals at restaurants and growing fatter week after week.

As for your second, Aether-related question, there could be some potential for that, maybe!

He starts getting chubby in Mondstadt, and becomes pretty hefty after Liyue. I don't think there's much impact for this, he's not alarmingly big or anything and there's people much larger than him everywhere.

It's probably in Inazuma where his size is first a shock to people as Aether is starting to get visibly obese. I can imagine some civilians being curious about him. From that one huge Aether journey loredrop post: "They never said anything to him about it, but some Inazumans envied Aether's carelessness for his body and how he was eating so freely he didn't even realize he had grown obese."

During Sumeru he passes the 600 pound milestone, and his weight starts to become the main talking point when referring to Aether and his achievements. I can imagine a small sentiment growing in some guys seeing someone as heavy as him be able to fulfill his job as a hero despite his clear morbid obesity. Maybe some men who were dealing with their own obesity are inspired by him and learn to be more forgiving about their situation, some maybe even going ahead and stopping to feel guilty about gaining too much weight.

As for Fontaine, I can't really imagine it changing much more than Fontaine itself irreversibly changing Aether. No size is too big over there, but people surely love Aether for giving in so hard into the gluttony and getting so massive so quickly.

His impact would likely be more pronounced during Natlan after Aether has become a walking pile of lard. I can imagine his status as a hero despite his absurd size to have some ripple effects, mostly in Meztli, where I can see the ideal weight for men suddenly spike up thanks to Aether's influence, and seeing his previous visit was Fontaine, open up the doors to import more food from that nation.

[merbear25]

Hello!!! I saw the “what kind of women Mihawk would like” and I was wondering what Killer and Kids type would be! If that’s okay! I hope you’re having a good day/night!✨

Hey there! I’m glad that it sparked some curiosity about Kid's and Killer's type. They really need so much more content, so I’m more than happy to write this for you! I decided to make the reader gn, so hopefully you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy it and have a lovely day/night too. 💜💜

Original ask

CW: SFW, gn!reader, fluff, headcanons

Their type (Killer, Kid)

Killer

He’s fairly level-headed, and although he’s used to being around more radical individuals, he may want just a bit of a break when it comes to his partner.

That doesn’t mean his partner has to be just as calm or calmer; they could be a bit wild at times. In fact, I don’t think he’d necessarily mind that. As long as you aren’t constantly getting yourself into trouble, he wouldn’t mind you being a bit more energetic.

I could see him with someone who is more open about how they feel and what they are thinking. He’s a good listener and observant, so he’d be able to pick up on the little things.

With this considered, he’d appreciate a partner who shows him the same courtesy. Someone who is willing to listen and is patient would go a long way with him.

I could see him wanting to be affectionate and to be with someone who enjoys cuddling and hugs.

He’d probably be drawn to someone who holds some contrast. For example, they look rather sweet but are interested in horror or they dress alternatively but have a room filled with stuffed animals/loves cute things.

I have this image in my head of him gifting you with flowers on a whim. Not expecting anything in return other than your smile and affection.

A level of maturity would go a long way. Being able to conduct yourself with at least some grace when caught in an argument, not resorting to below the belt actions, would help you earn his respect.

I believe he would enjoy having a partner with a sense of humor, just be sure not to point out his laugh; he’s a bit self-conscious about it, afterall.

Going off the assumption that he’s physically stronger than you, he wouldn’t expect you to fight any battles for him. That being said, having a partner who sticks up for him would be heart-warming.

Kid

Being one to anger quickly, you may think that having a s/o who was his total opposite would offer more stability, more balance. However, I think that’s only true to an extent.

Although it would do him well to have them be just a bit more level-headed, he would do well with someone who was fiery—a fighting spirit, one that wouldn’t back down easily.

I feel like he would value inner / mental strength a lot, probably even more so than physical.

Taking that into consideration, a s/o who has a quick tongue and is bold enough to confront him if his temper gets the best of him, would not only catch him off guard, but would leave him wondering who they really were. 

With his interest piqued, he’d enjoy pushing each other’s buttons, which means that the potential partner in question must be able to hold their own. 

Tease him back! Sure, he’s going to blush and get flustered, maybe ever scold them a bit but the banter is something that would certainly work its way through to his heart.

I imagine there being a bit of an argument between the two of them, and when enough time passes and both have cooled off, they both curl up next to each other. Perhaps there are no sorrys exchanged, but it’s done through physical touch.

Considering how out of tune he is with his emotional side, he might not do well with a partner who’s very open about discussing such things; I could see him stonewalling in that case, which wouldn’t be good for either person.

Someone who could show their feelings more so through actions would probably be ideal for him. That being said, he’s not particularly affectionate either.

In terms of how he would show he cares, I would say his love language would be acts of service. To him, actions spoke louder than words ever could, so if his partner understands that, there would be less problems in the future.

I believe ingenuity would impress him. Thinking outside of the box was a valuable skill, one which he could admire.

[quackerofoatz]

The Beauty of Botticelli & The Beauty of Will Graham ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Hannibal’s first instinct upon seeing Will is how unique and different he is from the usual people he interacts with behind his persona. A way Hannibal also fell for him is with the physical appearance of Will Graham. As seen in the show Will isn't known for his looks but for how he doesn't get along with others. Even in the book, he's given a very so-so description of how he's seen by others as average or “not very handsome” as said by the red dragon in the book.

This is why I am examining the looks and appearance of Will Graham from the show only, as it is its own medium compared to the book.  Will is not an average but an attractive man by looks alone thanks to Hugh Dancy. It was a factor that stuck out to me as I watched the show. With how the light shadows him and his startling pale skin and blue eyes. He reminded me of beauty only found in the paintings of old masters of Europe.

There are a myriad of reasons shown in the show but I will focus on what I see from an outside perspective into Hannibal's interests and thinking mixed in with my own.

Hannibal as we know likes Europe and favors the arts above all, looking through life with a gruesome but academic lens. Will is the personification of all the arts and humanities he holds so valuable. Will’s beauty transcends these periods and fits them. In morals and looks, Will has it all and is perfect in Hannibal's eyes. 

His Vitruvian man, as this user on Tumblr, keenly pointed out. Hannibal is an academic and thinker at heart, he romanticizes Will Graham by his beauty being magnified by his thinking and his deep empathy encroaching on everything he touches. Hannibal's way of absorbing and showing love is embodied in the way he kills and talks to Will through veils of academic conversations with him. Hannibal has never felt nor something strongly other than to kill, which makes his feelings for Will blur in this messy dance of courtship.  

First Will could be examined based on his features and personality, in a way examining him on how most people perceive him. 

Will is a man who stands at average height with light blue eyes. He has a lean, masculine beauty that can easily mesmerize. His eyes, a deep, intense shade of blue, spark with intelligence and wit. With his tousled dark brown curls and strong, angular features, he has soft but masculine features. He has a lean build with pale skin.  He commands attention in a room even with how he speaks rarely to draw attention to himself. He has a scruffy beard along his sharp jaw and an air of unsettledness to most people. It is radiated more by his lack of social interaction and often bored tone of speaking. He is our brooding protagonist with a deep and sensitive soul. He often rocks a disheveled yet charming style. His intense gaze and commanding presence give him an undeniable allure on-screen. A man who feels too much and is wrapped up trying to not let himself drown in it, saving lives.

Will is brave in the face of adversity no matter if it's on both sides or in his field, even as he is chipped away or broken down who he is at his core remains. 

Will has features that were the beauty standard of both the medieval and Renaissance period. The Renaissance and medieval beauty standards for men concerning blue eyes and dark curls varied but were generally associated with nobility, strength, and a sense of mystery. During these periods, blue eyes were seen as captivating and intense, while dark curls were considered masculine and powerful. This combination of traits was often associated with warriors, heroes, and leaders. It was believed that these features suggested a deep, complex persona and attracted attention and admiration.

The beauty standard for men during the Renaissance and medieval periods was influenced by ancient Greek and Roman ideals of masculinity. Blue eyes and dark curls were considered attractive features, symbolizing youth and strength. It can be pointed out that Hannibal has a love of Classic Antiquity.  During the Renaissance, which lasted from the 14th to the 17th century, the focus shifted towards humanism and the individual, and the ideal man was depicted as well-balanced, well-built, and well-groomed, often with light eyes and dark, curly hair.

Pale skin was considered a beauty standard for both genders during the Renaissance and Medieval periods. It symbolized wealth and status, as those who could afford to stay out of the sun had the free time to do so. A pale, blemish-free complexion was seen as a symbol of aristocracy and class. This preference for pale skin can be seen in many Renaissance and medieval works of art, where men and women are often depicted with a light, almost translucent complexion. It was seen to be revered and “angelic” to have such pale skin marking you as an individual of high status and closer to divinity.

Will is a closed-off man due to how others treat him in his field of behavioral science and federal agents. Hannibal is the first that look at Will not as a basket case but as a muse waiting to be molded. As highlighted in my other post Hannibal had a love for Botticelli and his artwork during the Italian Renaissance. As shown in Dolce with them sitting in the Uffizi gallery surrounded by Botticelli artwork.

He wanted Will to transform into the person he should be, into the person Hannibal envisions him to be. As one Redditor noted they sit in between the portraits of Simonetta and Botticelli. I will explain more about the relationship instead of briefly as this user did. 

Simonetta Cattaneo Vespucci was a famed Genoese noblewoman married to Marco Vespucci.  known for her beauty and charm. She was an inspiration to many artists of the time and had a close relationship with the Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli.

Botticelli was deeply smitten by Simonetta's beauty and grace. She was the inspiration for many of his works, including "The Birth of Venus," and he included her in many of his paintings. It is often speculated that Botticelli may have even harbored romantic feelings for her.

Botticelli's relationship with Simonetta Vespucci, the inspiration behind many of his famous works, was marked by a deep connection. Their relationship appears to have been akin to that of a muse and artist. 

Simonetta Vespucci died in 1476 at the age of 21. The cause of her death is not accurately known, but it is believed to be from complications due to tuberculosis. It is said that Botticelli was devastated by her passing and even refused to paint for several months. He later channeled his grief into his works, creating some of his most beautiful paintings as a tribute to his beloved Simonetta.

Hannibal sees himself as an artist, in the culinary arts, traditional, psychology and so on. He has the mind of an artist who paints even the people he kills.

Throughout the show, he is often seen creating pieces of art, whether it be culinary masterpieces or gruesome tableau displays. Additionally, his ability to manipulate people and situations to his advantage can be seen as a form of metaphorical art, as he carefully constructs his plans to achieve his desired outcomes.

Like Botticelli, he sees himself as an artist creating his muse which is Will. Botticelli is noted as the themes in his art are biblical and had a great appreciation for Dante Alighieri.  No matter how grotesque or unethical it is, it's Hannibal’s way of showing affection. 

He is shown to have a deep appreciation and understanding of art and often incorporates elements of art and art history in many of his actions and conversations. He is also shown to have a keen aesthetic sensibility, often using beautiful imagery and metaphors in his interactions. He uses it, especially in sessions or conversations with Will. Additionally, Lecter is depicted as a creator himself, both in the literal sense as he composes music and paints, and more metaphorically as he engages in a creative act in his killings.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s attempts to show love to Will Graham are often twisted and manipulative, as his definition of “love” is different from the traditional sense. Throughout the show, Lecter goes to great lengths to get Will’s full attention and admiration, often in harmful and violent ways. He sees Will as his equal and wants to mold him into a partner, someone who can understand him completely. He continuously challenges and tests Will, trying to break him down to build him back up in a way that is acceptable to Lecter. 

He is shaping his muse to be his perfect companion. To both worship and eat alive in his dark change.  

[disasterfandoms]

Fluffy Alphabet || Donovan Rocker Edition

Anonymous Requested: “i wanted to ask you: could you write a fluffy alphabet for rocker SWAT? Pls”

A/N: Rocker!!! I love him so much, and I’ve written next to nothing for him!

TW: none!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?):

He loves your strength. He is always in awe of how you seem to roll with the punches, how you never seem to crack until you’re home and seemingly alone. He has to be strong for his job, but he’s the first to admit that he has a problem controlling his emotions after a roll out that has gone badly.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?):

He loves your thighs. He loves placing a hand on your thighs, gripping them softly as he drives, or when you’re sitting next to him. It lets him keep a hold on you, to remind him you’re safe and you’re there with him.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?):

He loves when you lay on top of him, as if you’re a weighted blanket. He loves your warmth, as you heat him up by laying on him. He also loves when you can hear his heartbeat, knowing it races just for you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?):

His ideal date is doing a painting session with him. Art is his safe space, and he loves watching you create something, even if you don’t think it’s any good. To him, you both are sharing your souls to each other through paint on a canvas.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?):

Donovan keeps his calm around you. He expresses his thoughts and emotions clearly, and with a lot of thought. He doesn’t want anything he’s saying to be misunderstood, because he hates fighting with you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?):

I think he wants a family, but he’s scared. He knows that his job is dangerous, and he doesn’t want to cause pain to you, or to your potential children. That being said, something tugs in him whenever he sees you with kids, and he hopes he has a chance to have a life and family with you one day.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?):

I think Rocker probably isn’t the best gift giver. He’s more into experiences than items or flowers, but he will give you gifts to surprise you, especially on days where he knows you need something to cheer you up.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?):

Rocker loves to hold your hand. He adores the feeling of your hand in his, your fingers intertwined. He will hold your hand anywhere, at any time. Rocker is a lot of things, but he will never want you to feel as if he’s ashamed of being yours, and letting others know.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?):

Donovan would be a wreck if you got hurt, especially if it was something that could have been prevented, or if it was because of his job. He would instantly be by y9ur side, and someone would have to physically restrain him to keep him away.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?):

He loves to play small pranks on you. I think he’s had to become so serious at work, that his playful nature comes out when he’s home with you. Nerf wars, water guns, spray painting your hair while you sleep, etc.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?):

He loves to give you multiple kisses in a row, all over your face. He loves how it makes you giggle, and it lets him show his love for you. Otherwise, he loves slow, passionate kisses’ especially in the heat of the moment.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?):

He loves to show love by words of affirmations, and acts of service. He will happily go pump your gas for you so that you don’t need to stop on your way to work, or leave you a love note when he has to leave while you’re asleep. He strives to make sure you know how much he loves you.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?):

His favorite memory of you is the first night you had stayed at his home, waking up and seeing you snuggled up beside him. It let him realize how much he wanted you to never leave, how he wanted you in his life. He memorized every detail of your sleeping body, hoping to never forget how you looked, or that moment.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?):

Rocker’s worst fear is making a mistake in the field, and losing one of his teammates. He feels personally responsible for everyone he’s in charge of, and it keeps him up at night when someone gets injured.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?):

He hates the feeling of wool on his skin. He hates every time he has to wear his formal uniform, it feels itchy on his skin and it makes him want to rip his skin off.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?):

He loves to call you darling, sunshine, or baby. They seem to roll of his tongue when he’s around you, though he never thought of himself as someone who would use a lot of pet names.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?):

He loves to draw you, especially if you two are having a day in. He loves just being able to relax on the couch, and draw you as your focused on whatever activity you’re doing at that time. He has notebooks filled with sketches of you, in all types of outfits and doing different activities.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?):

The song that describes him the best is “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. It shows his vulnerable side that he can share with you, while also having the anxiety of thinking that it, the love you two share as well as just himself, may go away.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?):

Donovan is as open as he can be with you. He understands that you need that emotional vulnerability from him, but there are a lot if things form his job that he isn’t allowed to share.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?):

It started out as a physical thing. Rocker wasn’t looking for anything serious, he had decided to swore off relationships due to the job, he didn’t want to put anyone through that. After a couple months, though, there was no denying that you two were a match made in heaven, and he would be insane to let you go.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?):

He is instantly there to comfort you. He’ll give you the biggest hug, and then you two would either get takeout or go out and get your favorite foods to cheer you up.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?):

He’s most proud of his accomplishments, both in his personal life and in his career. He’s never one to hide you away, he wants everyone to know that you’re his partner, and that he loves you.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?):

He would fight to the death for you. He hates seeing you in any kind of pain, so if it came down to it, he would take all the injuries he could to make sure you’re okay.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?):

Rocker can read you like a book. He knows how you think, how you’re going to react, and tries his hardest to mitigate any upset the best he can.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?):

Donovan would propose to you privately, in your own home. I imagine that he would get help from the IT techs at work to make a short montage of your videos and pictures of you two, and then propose at the end of it. Then, once you said yes, I feel like he would paint a portrait of the moment to hang in your home.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?):

Focusing on the present is what keeps him calm. He can’t think of the circumstances, or things he can’t control, or it would cause him to spiral. He learned on the job that the only thing he could control is himself.

[k9punkout]

it's that time again

here's my analysis on the Anakt Garden artificial flowers and what they represent to the characters and story overall

the anakt flowers are consistently featured on screen throughout alnst, whether it's in the videos, official art, or the comics. they can't be shown that often if not to mean something, especially in a show as detail oriented and heavy in symbolism as alnst.

okay so there's been this theory running around that these flowers had hidden cameras in them used to monitor the children.

in the artbook, that theory was proven to be true.

so we know now that the anakt flowers are secretly cameras. seemingly innocent and beautiful decorations are used to spy on the children, a testament to the fact that they had no right to privacy, that their lives were not their own.

the fact that mizi ADORED those flowers but had no idea of their true purpose is reflective of her dream to sing in alnst. something idealized and gorgeous, but with darkness residing just beneath its exterior. she sees the world through rose colored lenses and is unaware of the evil that lurks just beneath her favorite things/dreams.

her reality is way more disturbing than she realizes, the aliens are way more cruel and invasive than what she expects, and her love for the spy devices disguised as flowers shows just that.

im not too sure if sua KNEW about the cameras, but she knew about the Snow Thing, so im gonna assume she knew abt the cameras too.

her letting mizi play with the flowers without telling her a thing and even allowing her to craft flower crowns out of them is an example of her deliberate avoidance of the truth behind alnst. through mizi's joy, she forgets about the harsh reality they live in, and escapes through that.

whenever mizi's holding them, the flowers almost look real.

the fact that she lets mizi give her flower crowns and put them on her head, and does the same in turn... she's willingly giving in to the system to keep mizi's blind-sighted joy alive. dooming them both because she can't bring herself to break the bliss.

as for till. he initially began to like the flowers because mizi likes them. till has always liked pretty things.

his talent being floral art, even if the flowers are spy devices... sort of reminds me of one of his coping mechanisms--making art that's representative of his pain.

he takes something terrible or twisted and reforms it into something pretty. something that can be appreciated rather than avoided.

(page 59 of the artbook has a quote referring to till that reads: “When I couldn't sleep because of insomnia, I could only fall asleep by squeezing out my physical strength with creation. I like to doodle, so I doodle anywhere, and I often write poetry (mainly about mizi) to support my emotions.”)

in comparison to many of the other ways till uses his hands (fighting, breaking things, playing loud and powerful melodies, etc), the way he handles the flowers is methodical. gentle. precise and careful.

we're shown his kinder side for the first time THROUGH a flower, too.

he knows his illusion is particularly fragile, so he does all he can to not mar it before getting lost in it. he uses it as a distraction.

till tends to trail behind mizi and sua with flower crowns/chains of his own because he wants to play with them as well, but he rarely makes the move to approach them.

at the end of the day, the false reality, the illusion of purity, is not till's to keep. no matter how peaceful the garden may seem, there will come a period of time when till has to go back. when he must be reminded that his body doesn't belong to him.

ivan never had much interest in the flowers. in fact, he was more often shown breaking them or stomping on them rather than playing with them. (whether that's because he KNEW about the cameras or simply because he wanted to piss till off (or both) im still iffy on but there's that)

ivan has always been the most connected to reality out of the group. he sought no form of escapism, in fact, he frowned upon it (he says mizi's optimism is too much for him at times, and criticized sua for living in a wonderland despite knowing how it will inevitably end. for nurturing mizi's innocence for so long and then shattering it in the cruelest way.)

he fell in love with till, who had no choice but to face reality head on and he relates to sua, who's also had her fate sealed by the society she lives in. he's very honest to himself about these facts.

he doesn't run from suffering, having been exposed to it since infancy. no point in avoiding the truth if it's being perpetually shoved in your face all the time. he keeps it real.

no interest in the flowers, no interest in a plastic paradise. (i could find a way to tie this to that one acrylic stand of ivan eating a flower but i think that's just a silly doodle. nothing SUPER DUPER deep about it.)

(look at him. what is his PROBLEM <3)

as for the overarching meaning, flowers in general tend to symbolize innocence, purity and beauty. by that logic, FAKE flowers would symbolize a fabrication of purity.

a flower that is not only fake, but used as a spying/restriction device, a tool of oppression, symbolizes a prison painted as a paradise--such is the world of Anakt Garden.

[tigreblvnc]

YOUR LIFE IN BLUE LOCK — @nikonautic

BACKGROUND HEADCANONS;

♤ As a kid you had good academics, i’d assume your parents put much care into your activities.

♤ So naturally, selecting a sport/extracurricular was expected as well. Soccer was pushed on to you, but you weren’t against it as you were able to use your creativity in a more physical manner than usual.

♤ Eventually you were scouted by Ego, since he caught on to your desire to make an impact, and wanted to see just how hard you’d work for it.

♤ His answer is a lot.

♤ In bluelock, you met a few people who you connected with. And knew that there’d be more along the line. If there was any place where you could meet people who you felt most comfortable with, it’d be in bluelock.

♤ So you endured and adapted through everything they put you through.

♤ And it paid off!

COLOR AURA;

♤ Yellow.

♤ A nice dandelion yellow

♤ A perfect mix of your socialness, weirdness, and ideals.

♤ You want a color that’ll leave an impact? Can’t think of anything better. The brightness of yellow is often used to balance out other parts, and can often do so on its own, without relying on other colors.

♤ Yellow looks amazing in so many palettes. It can work in many situations, even ones you think it may not look good in. But if you darken or dim it too much, it becomes much harder to appreciate.

♤ Because of that, for yellow to look its best, it must be used in usually similar tints and tones as its surroundings. As long as there aren’t too many mismatches within an environment, yellow can always pop out and support the picture in the best way.

TEAM SELECTION;

♤ Bastard München

♤ With understanding being one of your main strengths, it makes sense that you can quickly gather the details of a situation.

♤ Whether it be emotional or logistical details, both help you understand the whole situation on the field

♤ No one on BM handles failure well, there you’ll be fighting with people with the same underlying fear of losing. Although things may vary between you guys, that will remain the same.

♤ Emotions aren’t something you have to worry about either. BM is the last team to judge you for getting overly intense on field, it seems to be the case with everyone.

♤ The lead players on BM all have incredibly strong goals, and will put almost anything on the line to achieve them, spectacular plays are the expectation.

♤ This I feel you would link into very quickly.

BEST FRIEND;

✦ What a magnificent duo, Niko :)

✦ I'm not only talking about your BFF… but about your overall dynamic, not just with your BFF but with your rival as well.

✦ Not to mention your position on the field.

✦ (Although, I am going to talk about it.)

✦ I think Isagi is perfect for supporting you in your desire to grow and affirm yourself through your successes. It's a strong trait that stands out in your entire description: you seek recognition for who you are through your achievements.

✦ Isagi is very skilled at analyzing and understanding every type of player, as we've seen multiple times in the manga.

✦ And I believe he quickly grasped your intentions, how you play, and why you play that way.

✦ We also know he's someone who performs better in a tandem than alone. I'm convinced that with you, he forms a formidable duo on the field.

✦ He not only helps you achieve your goals but also makes an excellent companion in your growth. It's entirely mutual, as he also learns from your game and personality.

✦ In short, one of the healthiest duos in the lore.

RIVAL;

✦ I didn't choose your rival by chance.

✦ I find that Kaiser is one of those characters who craves recognition more than almost anyone else in the Blue Lock cast.

✦ There's a huge identity quest behind why he plays. He seeks to define himself through his achievements, through his victories. He's someone who wants to be acknowledged for what he can accomplish on the field.

✦ And like you, he has doubted himself a lot. His self-esteem is complex, even damaged by his past. These are things he hides, trying to repair through everything he's building in the present.

✦ Seeing someone else on the field, motivated by similar intentions, could hit him like a lightning bolt.

✦ Understanding someone's intentions because you share them doesn't make that person a friend. This can even spark a rivalry, as a form of ego establishes itself: "It'll be me, and me alone."

✦ At the same time, I also think you’re both capable of recognizing each other's worth. You just don't openly admit it. On the contrary, I even think you tend to hold back from each other in public.

✦ But I know that in private, you both acknowledge that you have a formidable opponent who can teach you, even indirectly, how to surpass yourselves. How to turn weaknesses into strengths.

POSITION ON THE FIELD;

✦ Striker.

✦ The first striker of this matchup series :D Pleased to meet you. 🤝

✦ It's not a position for everyone: it requires boldness, courage, and an initiative that not everyone has.

✦ This position further amplifies the dynamic between you, Isagi, and Kaiser.

✦ You become the eye of the storm during the tense moments of the match.

✦ On one hand, you're supported by Isagi. On the other, you know that the threat of a Kaiser pushed to his limits could cost you the victory.

✦ In this particularly stimulating environment, you can give your best, highlight your qualities, and challenge the greatest opponents.

✦ The emergence of Niko in front of the whole world :)

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | OCTOBER '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[isa-ghost]

If you're still doing Philza headcannons, how about some specifically about Phil, Chayanne, and Tallulah? I miss the kiddos...

qPhil headcanons masterlist

(NOT) SINGLE DAD EDITION LETS GO

Those two are the light of his fucking life ok. If you were someone that had something against him, they're how you get to him. They're how you hurt him. He will do ANYTHING for them. He'll kill his friends, he'll fly on broken wings, he'll die for them. Nothing matters more than those two kids.

He's not typically a very physically affectionate person. But to the kids? Suddenly he's a cuddler. Suddenly he's head kisses and carrying them on his hip just because he can. Suddenly he's braiding hair and painting nails and playfully tormenting them with tickles. They flip a switch in his brain.

Nothing could ever make him waver on how proud of them he is. Both of them. Chayanne so brave and strong, stressed to the teeth like his dad but persevering like a true warrior. Lullah is so loving and open, even in the face of so much pain and adversity. She's been through so much, largely alone, and yet she still has the strength to smile and be silly after everything. Ideally he wishes they would've never experienced any pain at all, but Quesadilla says Damn You All

Chayanne & Lullah can make him laugh until his stomach hurts, and they can do it faster than friends he's known for YEARS. Lullah especially is the queen of comedic nonverbal timing. All it takes is a certain look with a slow turn after Phil says something stupid and he's Dying.

His favorite thing is when either of them fall to pieces emote bc smth stupid happened. Or whenever they Orange Justice after smth fucked happens.

Listen. LISTEN. Don't be fooled by this man. He LOVES adventures with the kids. He loves them. The reason he refuses to venture out with them or go dungeon raiding with them super often is because survivalist brain is like if the worst happens, the Feds do not have your back. If you lose the kids you have nothing much to live for on this island. Do not risk their lives, even if it sounds fun.

He fucking loves watching the kids talk to the other eggs. The constant taptaptaptaptap of signs being placed while they chat together makes him giggle. He also loves watching them just crouch and silently communicate.

Dude Rose's love for the two of them makes his heart so full. Like legit the first time she told him "they're under my protection" he nearly cried. And not just from relief that they'd be safe from EK.

And related: Oh my GOD does he fucking love the term "fledglings" for them. It's SO CUTE. Rose was so right for that. Something about it drives home the thought of "these are MY kids" even more. He just 🥺

Chayanne's mask reminds him of Techno's boar one sometimes and it makes him wanna cry /pos. If Chayanne ever mentions being guided by Techno's spirit to fight EK Phil will never recover

He loves this "new era" of Lullah, between her cutting her hair short a while back and now dying it + changing her hat. It feels like she's getting more independent despite everything and considering Phil used to have to Really hover around her to help her out, he's the world's proudest papa about it

He's told them stories about all the hardcore gods (that he knows of) at this point. Rose bc ofc he did. EK bc he kinda had to. The others bc at this point he's expecting them to poke their heads around at one point or another too. Chayanne loves Blaze. Lullah still loves Rose the most. She's gone on a rant about "Papa how the fuck is Ocean Overlord a god when he fumbles things so badly???" He wishes he knew, Lullah.

He wants to take them on a flight so bad it hurts. Literally. He's more angry EK fucked up his wings maybe permanently bc he robbed them of that than he is that EK did it to spite him.

He really really really hopes they do hatch some day and become lil dragon hybrids bc then he can watch them fly and teach them how to do it well (the best he can while he's grounded) (he might get a little envious)

He fucking LOVES sparring with the kids. He goes easy bc he's insanely skilled and experienced compared to Two Literal Children but they catch on and improve So Quick and it makes him so unbelievably proud and excited to see them demonstrate their skills in a real (hopefully non-lethal) situation.

[pocketramblr]

Can I ask for 5 headcanons of an au where Izuku's quirk is "soulmate", which lets him use the abilities of his close friends, including their quirks? Its up to you how the quirk defines close friends

1- the rules of Izuku's quirk are thus: he may use the abilities of his soulmate, including their quirk, as long as he has been in physical contact with them in the last 24 hours. Soulmate allows for single use at a time, and that person must be in a reciprocated close relationship of affection and understanding for it to work. He cannot use the abilities to hurt the soulmate- and if they try to hurt him, that means they are no longer someone he can get abilities from.

2- For a while, Izuku just thought he had Inko's quirk. Then two things happened. First, Izuku suddenly used explosion one day, and delightedly turned to Katsuki, who was stunned, wary of the copy. Second, Inko went on a birthday retreat for a couple days. The day Katsuki turned on him for to stop him bullying another kid was the day Izuku realized he could no longer use explosion or attraction- at least he got the second one back. It was a dramatic week for him, and Inko took him to a specialist when she got back.

3- Izuku never takes a soulmate for granted again. He's horribly aware that they can leave him easier than he could them. He really only has his mother, and while he's great at using her quirk, he isn't sure if he'll be able to forever- she wants him safe, would she let him be a hero, and even if he is, would he need to stay with her, rely on a touch a day to borrow her quirk? What if something happens to her? So he makes many contingency plans for just in case, and he keeps practicing both.

4- when All Might saves him, Izuku asks if he can manage as a hero if he's just borrowing other's quirks. Toshi is like "<.< Hey what do you mean, borrow?" And Izuku explains. Now, Toshi's gotten plenty of letters from kids, from lonely kids. And when Izuku explains that he only has his mother, and even then, for how long, Toshinori realizes part of what it is. He tells Izuku not to worry, because he will find more people to love him, middle school just isn't the ideal environment for that. Try for a hero school, he seems like a sweet and smart kid even if he's reckless, he'll meet like minds there, friends, soulmates. He'll have more people to rely on than just his mother, and if she's a half decent mother, she'll love him forever too. (He does not say Izuku could do it alone, or without a quirk. Just that he won't be alone, doesn't need to worry about it.)

And then Izuku throws himself in danger for a soulmate who rejected him, and super strength rips through him as his and Toshi have the same brainwave.

5- All Might offers him OfA anyway- to have as his own, and not need to worry about losing it, ever. Izuku trains. He gets into UA. True to Toshinori's words, he does make more friends and more soulmates, using Zero G at the USJ.

Though, OfA and Soulmate have a weird interaction.

One, it seems to go both ways- Toshinori's time doesn't decrease anymore as long as Izuku's been in contact. It doesn't go down until Kamino, when the spark goes out beyond what Soulmate can fuel.

Then, everything is normal for months... Until the joint training, when Black Whip tendrils burst out of Uraraka's arms, because... Well, One For All quirks can be shared, and it goes both ways.

[cheolsfae]

Thanks for the readings, can u also do hyunjin ideal type please

*Disclaimer: For entertainment only! Please don't take this seriously!*

Past: 9 of swords (reversed), knight of wands (reversed)

Someone who isn't anxious about where he is or who he is with. Someone who loves him but in a more relaxed way than just completely filled with obsession and passion. Like a slow burn type of romance. He wants it to be at a comfortable pace nothing rushed. In his eyes, Rushed = terrible wreck.

Present: justice, page of pentacles

He wants equal give and take. He wants to shower his significant other in gifts. I think this could be his love language. He wants to be given gifts as well, duh his love language. He doesn't want things to be unbalanced. What he gives out he feels he deserves to get back. Which is good! Boy knows his worth!

Future: 5 of cups (reversed), strength

He doesn't want to be disappointed in this relationship. He wants something strong and solid. Something that can withstand the storm. Not someone who is willing to sit around and sulk over a silly little argument they had. He wants someone who he knows is willing to work through the tough times and not dwell on them

Bottom of the deck: the emperor

He wants serious commitment. He wants someone who is as all in as he is! He wants that type of connection. Something that goes beyond the physical. I get the feeling he has scorpio somewhere in his big 3. could be his venus but anyway, something deep and not just surface level!

Zodiacs: Aries, Libra, Leo

*Oracle cards in use!

[ilynpilled]

another thing with denying jaime agency is that a lot of his character is initially constructed around what his physical power means when it comes to choices that he makes. physical strength and combat prowess, violence, is a specific form of power that he has over others and can choose to extend to other parties. it is an integral aspect of every power dynamic, be it with his king, his sister, the rest of society etc. the knight is also an examination of power and responsibility. that is why their oaths are constructed around protecting the weak. it is what’s so interesting with the kingsguard too, especially aerys’s. they are the most skilled in combat and physically powerful people in the room. they had a form of power to act and prevent what aerys kept doing. and they are on a leash through oaths, law, order, obeying authority, and a status quo, a different kind of power that functions to give the man with a crown, in this case a tyrant, absolute power. you are sworn to obey, not to judge. you have to abide by your role. that is also what makes him eventually killing aerys and breaking these oaths so transgressive and threatening to the westerosi paradigm. his motivations and the circumstances aside, jaime in specific killing his king as a member of his elite guard undermined westerosi order and framed power as something that resided with the man with the sword and not with the man with the crown or even the lords with bannermen and armies who won the war that they started. it breaks these constructs apart with the precedent it sets. and on top of that, he gets away with it because of his status and relationship to tywin, which is also a scary precedent in the eyes of many. it is huge when it comes to westerosi order and class stratification, but it is also threatening in general because, yes, it does make him a loose cannon in the eyes of other people. and yeah he stagnates and falls into cynicism and begins to reject ethics and law in a dangerous way and ends up abusing that physical power and causes real harm to people who do not deserve it. he does embody a dangerous kind of anarchy that is the product of the flawed and dysfunctional social order that he experienced with a front row seat with the absurdly cruel tyrant that was systematically enabled. everything was reframed in his head. if there is no justice and order you can have faith in, who cares? he doesn’t fear death, and that is combined with the belief he can cut through anything now, he has the power to do so. be it a king, a lord, or virtually any power over him when it comes down to it. how much can a crown be worth…? he even argues to brienne that robert tearing the realm apart with his war is worse in a pragmatic sense. he rejects the existing laws, ethics, and moral constructs of his society that have a monopoly on violence because he is disillusioned with them, and he operates solely by his twisted reconstruction of morality (also obviously affected by his trauma) that atp primarily revolves around love for his family, especially cersei. he chooses to become the sword of his loved one, having lost faith in the purity of everything other than this delusional idealized relationship that is the only thing that is sacred that remains to him. and ofc all of this is another layer that makes george stripping him of this particular power through his maiming so functional in causing crisis.

[self-loving-vampire]

Incest... we love incest over here, but we all have our own ideas about it and reasons for liking it.

For me specifically, it actually has little to do with the idea of it being a forbidden thing, and as I have said in other contexts I don't actually think blood relations are important to me one way or another.

If anything I think more people need to realize that their relatives can treat them horribly and that they are not obligated to put up with it just because they're related.

What I like about it is more in the realm of ideals and roles.

What I mean by this is that "older sibling" and "younger sibling" are specific character types in my mind, and when people play these roles the resulting relationships and dynamics are appealing to me.

An ideal older sister, to me, has the following traits:

1- The older sister is supportive. She is a source of comfort when the younger siblings are stressed, generally more so in the style of an experienced and well-meaning friend rather than a therapist.

2- The older sister has a bit of overlap with the MILF character type in that she's an older character who takes care of her younger sisters, guiding them, teaching them, taking care of them, and sometimes also literally feeding them.

However, the much closer proximity in age means she's more socially involved in her sister's life than their mother would be, and often has more relevant life experiences and more compatible interests as well. She's more of a "cool older friend with a couple of mom traits" than a "mom lite".

For example, an older sister character is expected to do things like introducing her younger siblings to cool video games or play with them, while it would be more unusual for a mom character to do that (at least in my generation, things are changing!)

The older sister also typically has a much more significant role in the larger plot.

3- Older sisters are strong (not necessarily physically) and wield that for the protection of their younger siblings. This includes anything from literally fighting the younger sibling's abusers to something like a Kohaku/Hisui situation.

Overall older sisters are a combination caregiver/mentor/guardian but crucially they are also approachable and youthful, maybe even a bit mischievous, teasing, or horny.

In contrast, younger siblings tend to have the traits of being more openly affectionate, energetic, and inexperienced. However, they often still have more of a "main character" role and more of a journey to go through compared to their more competent older sisters regardless.

So an older sister starts out strong, but by using her strength to protect and nurture her younger sister she can make her strong as well. Possibly even stronger than she is. She not only empowers younger siblings, she adds them to her own strength in the end and they may catch her when her own strength finally cracks.

Even ignoring dramatic stuff like that, though, I really like the bonds that form from the daily interactions between these types of siblings. The younger sibling is cherished, the older sibling is adored.

[9800sblog]

Mingi ideal type thank you!

mingi tarot reading

ideal type - personality and appearance

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? 6 of cups, ace of cups

this is the longest one I've ever made but bare with me, mingi is my favorite person i pay attention to him the most, so I have more information memorized.

personality

the world reversed - mingi wants someone he can take care of, someone that has one or many issues in their daily life that he can help with. shy, messy, anxious, insecure, angry, he loves those things because he wanna be the one to "save" them, help them get on their feet with strength. he doesn't want someone that is too worldly, he wants someone that wouldn't mind staying inside a lot, someone that doesn't have as hectic of a schedule as he does, someone more anti social, that don't have many friends (he literally said that he preferred quiet, anti social, nerdy girls when he was in school, he doesn't want someone with a big personality).

4 of pentacles reversed - he's said he likes jealousy and here it is, he wants someone who is extra possessive of him. he also wants someone who is curious and open to his input in their life, who isn't so defensive and stuck in their way. he's also expressed his preference for being a provider, so his ideal type is maybe someone who earns less than him and probably a stay at home partner/parent. someone he doesn't need to touch or be around physically to feel their presence. someone that knows the appropriate times to be selfish or selfless, but specially altruistic when it comes to him. someone like him, who has many different interests but when they pick something, that's it for life.

7 of wands - loyal as fuck (like the anime your name, that level of loyalty), he's probably the type to tell you you can't have any guy friends or wear a certain outfit and he wants someone who will comply easily. someone who is desired and that he needs to be possessive over, but that will literally fight every person that likes them. someone that protects him over any and everything, that takes care of him no matter what. someone incredibly confident that can stand their ground, persevering, courageous, strong and capable.

8 of wands reversed - mingi is a very shy person when he's around someone he really likes (check him meeting jongkook vs any other celebrity, for example), he wants someone that won't give up on him even if he's too slow, too nervous, giving confusing/conflicting messages, someone who will understand and stick with him even if no one else does. shyness is a trait that's present in all of these cards, this time mystery is also coming through, someone he needs to win over with time, that only he understands, someone who makes him feel proud of himself when they open up and tell him stuff (if he has someone in mind, it might be someone who speaks a different language). again, he may not be interested in those who are too energetic and do a lot in their day, someone more introverted is more comfortable and fun for him. as an entp, his ideal type is definitely introverts. 8 of wands also signify anger, irritation, mingi is someone with very strong opinions, he may want someone who can share his frustrations and hatred over specific things, or at least who won't judge him.

appearance

my sister was listening to enchanted by taylor swift in the other room when I got to this part, mingi just wants love at first sight, someone enchanting, dreamy, magical, who will leave him starstruck and shocked, as if it's meant to be.

6 of cups - he loves height difference, he may think it's cute if they look innocent and younger. very delicate and feminine. tanned/golden skin. very natural, he prefers simple, comfortable styles, soft makeup or none, and no cosmetic procedures, like someone that doesn't live in the city, down to earth. very much like rory gilmore.

the star reversed - very much a casual style, very natural, probably someone that doesn't fit the beauty standard. someone that knows how it feels to be considered unattractive, someone that's had a glowup, someone with hidden beauty (can go from messy to superstar). mingi has expressed his concerns many times, it's not surprising if he wants he wouldn't feel pressured to look like a star for, someone who wouldn't make him feel like he needs to change to be beautiful. not flashy, more conservative (mingi has called out atinys wearing showy outfits in fanmeetings before), someone that covers up and doesn't wear many accessories (just check out his outfits when he isn't filming)

page of cups reversed - he honestly does not care, he's a hopeless romantic, he loves to have rose colored glasses, as long as it's his person, he would find them beautiful and sexy no matter WHAT. he is very innocent in this matter. however, he may like legs and a flowy hair, soft and girly aesthetic (spring, flowers and water is a consistent theme in these cards). he prefers someone who has a more serious look, he's said he liked the serious and quiet kid in the back of the room. a toned down, less creative, just a very casual and comfortable style (he dresses a lot in street style and even more in the original grunge, so he's probably attracted to that too).

☆

since mingi is obsessed with anime, I thought I'd show some characters that match because it's honestly very similar and he loves to base his aesthetic on things he's seen on tv

in his head, this is him and his person

taiga & ryuuji - toradora!

komi & tadano - komi can't communicate

ponyo & sosuke - ponyo

rory and jess - gilmore girls

I could not leave this show behind

[nicklloydnow]

“Nietzsche attacked idealist morality. He ridiculed kindness and pity, revealed the pretense and unmanliness hidden in humanitarian sentimentalty. Like Proudhon and Marx he insisted on the beneficial side of war. Quite distant from the political parties of his time, he happened to set forth principles for an aristocracy of "masters of the world." He praised beauty and physical force, had a distinct preference for life's risky, turbulent aspects. These straightforward value judgments, distinct from liberal idealism, made the Fascists claim him as one of theirs, led certain anti-Fascists to see him as a Hitler predecessor.

As Nietzsche realized, the near future would see the exceeding of conventional limits opposed to violence and the clashing of real forces in conflicts of outsize proportions, clashes that would violently and materially bring all existing values into question. He pictured the woes of a wartime period that would be of unprecedented harshness, and he didn't believe we should avoid such miseries regardless of cost or that those trials would surpass human strength. To him even catastrophes like this seemed preferable to stagnation, to the lies of bourgeois life, to the banal happiness preached by a herd of professors of morality. In principle, he posed the question of whether authentic value exists for humankind, whether prescriptions of conventional morality and traditional idealism obstruct the coming of that value, and whether life will overturn conventional morality. The Marxists similarly understand moral prejudices—understanding them as opposed to revolutionary violence and yielding to some sort of preeminent value (the emancipation of the proletariate). Though different from Marxism's value, the value proclaimed by Nietzsche isn't less universal—since the emancipation he wanted wasn't that of a single class relative to others but the freeing of human life under the example of its best representatives—compared to the moral slavery of the past. Nietzsche dreamed of a humanness that, far from fleeing its tragic fate, would love and embrace this fate to the fullest, a humanness that would no longer lie to itself and would raise itself above the social slavishness.

This sort of humankind differs from the present-day kind, which is normally confused with a function that's only part of human possibility. Putting it succinctly, this new humanness would be integrally human and freed from the slavery that limits us. Nietzsche had no desire to define such a free and sovereign humankind, halfway between modern humanity and a super-humanity, that is, superman. Appropriately, he thought when something is free, you can't define it. Could anything be more vain than designating or limiting a thing that doesn't yet exist? It's up to us to will it! To will the future is to recognize the known as to be surpassed. With this principle—a primacy of the future over the past to which he remained loyal—Nietzsche becomes as disconnected as possible from what is despised by life under the name of death, or by dreams under the name of reaction. Between the ideas of Fascist reactionaries and Nietzsche's notions there is more than simple difference—there's radical incompatibility. While declining to limit the future, which has all rights according to him, Nietzsche all the same suggested it through vague and contradictory suggestions. Which led to confusions and misunderstandings. It's wrongheaded to attribute definite intentions to him regarding electoral politics, arguing that he talked of "masters of the world." What he intended was a risked evocation of possibility. As for the sovereign humanity whose brilliance he wanted to shine forth: in contradictory ways he saw the new humankind sometimes as wealthy, sometimes as poorer than the workers, sometimes as powerful, sometimes as tracked down by enemies. He required of the new humankind that it possess a capacity to withstand adversity—while recognizing its right to trample on norms. Still, he distinguished this humanity on principle from men in possession of power. He recognized no limits, and confined himself to describing as freely as he could the field of a possible.

This said, if "Nietzscheanism" has to be defined, there isn't much reason to dwell on the part of this doctrine that assigns all rights to life as opposed to idealism. A rejection of classical morality is common to Marxism, Nietzscheanism, and National Socialism. The only essential is the value in whose name life asserts these higher rights. Once this principle of judgment is established, Nietzschean values are seen as opposing racist values within a context of the whole.

—Nietzsche's initial stance develops out of admiration for the Greeks, the most intellectually developed people of all time. In Nietzsche's mind everything is subordinated to culture. While in the Third Reich, a reduced culture has only military might as its end.

—One of the most significant traits of Nietzsche's work is its glorification of Dionysian values, that is, infinite intoxication and enthusiasm. It's no coincidence that Rosenburg's Myth in the Twentieth Century denounces the cult of Dionysus as non-Aryan! . . . Despite hastily repressed inclinations, racism admits only military values. "Youth needs stadiums, not sacred groves," asserts Hitler.

—I already talked about the opposition of the past to the future. Strangely enough, Nietzsche designates himself as a child of the future. He himself linked the phrase with the fact of his not having a native land. And actually, our native country is what belongs to the past in us. It's on this and this alone that Hitlerism erects its rigid value system, adding no new value. Nothing could be more alien to Nietzsche, who—against the world—asserts the total vulgarity of the Germans.

—Two official precursors of National Socialism prior to Chamberlain were Nietzsche's contemporaries, Wagner and Lagarde. Nietzsche is appreciated and has been pushed to the forefront in the propaganda effort, but the Third Reich doesn't consider him one of its teachers in the same way it eventually does the other two. Nietzsche was a friend to Richard Wagner but broke off, disgusted by his Francophobic and anti-Semitic chauvinism. As for the pan-Germanist Paul de Lagarde, a single text removes any doubts on that score. "If you only knew," Nietzsche wrote Theodor Fritsch, "how I laughed last spring reading works by a self-important, stubborn sentimentalist by the name of Paul de Lagarde . . .”

—Today of course we're aware how anti-Semitic stupidity functions in Hitlerite racism. There's nothing more essential to Hitlerism than hating Jews. Opposing this is the following rule of conduct of Nietzsche's: "No friendship with anyone implicated in this barefaced hoax of races." Nietzsche asserted nothing more wholeheartedly than his loathing of anti-Semites.

I have to insist on this last point. Nietzsche's fate was to be tarred with the Nazi brush. Certain hypocricies have to be dealt with for that reason. One was perpetrated by the philosopher's own sister who survived him and lived on till very recently (she died in 1935). When November 2, 1933, arrived, Mrs. Elizabeth Foerster, born Nietzsche, could still recall the difficulties that arose between her and her brother—difficulties stemming from her 1885 marriage to the anti-Semite Bernard Foerster.

A letter in which Nietzsche reminds her of his disgust (he refers to it as being as pronounced as possible) for the man whom she chose to be her husband (he calls him by name) was published through her efforts. November 2, 1933, in the house where Nietzsche died, Mrs. Elizabeth Judas-Foerster received Adolf Hitler, Fuhrer of the Third Reich. On that solemn occasion she attested to the family's anti-Semitism by reading a text by . . . Bernard Foerster!

"Before leaving Weimar to go to Essen," reported the Times on November 4, 1933, "Chancellor Hitler paid a visit to Mrs. Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche, the sister of the celebrated philosopher. The elderly lady made him a gift of a walking stick once belonging to her brother. She invited him to visit the Nietzsche Archives.

"Mr. Hitler listened to her read from a memorandum addressed to Bismarck in 1879 by Dr. Foerster, the anti-Semitic agitator who protested against the incursions of the Jewish spirit in Germany. Taking Nietzsche's walking stick in hand, Mr. Hitler strode through the crowd to great huzzahs."

In 1887, addressing a contemptuous letter to anti-Semite Theodor Fritsch, Nietzsche ended this way, "So then really, what do you think I feel when the name of Zarathustra issues forth from the mouths of anti-Semites?"“ - Georges Bataille, ‘On Nietzsche’ (1945) [p. 169 - 173]