#jokes aside though this isn't the only reason

[arhapsodyofwords]

On why the Lestat/Gabrielle issue is about being God actually

Becoming a vampire granted Lestat freedom from the ties of human morality. As a vampire, Lestat has the power to "create (un)life." He decides who lives or dies and because his maker abandoned him, he creates all the rules because, well, who else would when he's alone? In this sense, God is dead. Lestat is God.

And what do Gods do? Incest, just ask Zeus (this is also why people in Westeros begrudgingly accept Targaryan incest because they present themselves as semi-divine). Gabrielle gave birth to him as a human, but as a Vampire, Lestat gave birth to Gabrielle. So in his relationship to Gabrielle, Lestat takes on the role of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (as her guide). In this essay,

[pochipop]

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.

[aurumalatus]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 2.5k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), one bed trope, princess is nervous to sleep alone with a man (who isn't)

summary.

after a long journey, kinich and the princess finally turn in for the night at an unfamiliar inn. the only problem? there's only one bed.

author's note. i'm finishing this at like 5am so if there's any errors i'll look over it/fix it when i wake up LOL. for now, please scream and cry about knight!kinich with me. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s too warm.

As a princess born and raised in the land of Pyro, you’re accustomed to heat—thrive in it, even. It’s one of the reasons you dread trips like these so much. Foreign nations, even those with the mildest of temperatures, tend to feel a bit too chilly for your taste. Your father often jokes that you could withstand the heat of the Sacred Flame itself.

At the moment, though, you wouldn’t mind cracking open a window or two, even in the dead of winter.

The journey here had been difficult enough, boring as it was. Kinich had threatened to leave you alone in the woods a few times if you kept poking at him, but it was all you could do to not fall asleep. Attending foreign dinners always resulted in long journeys like these, though you know how important it is to maintain close relations with allied countries.

A few bumps in the road made this trek especially long, however—a number of bandits and blocked off paths added an irritating amount of time to your travel, until you and Kinich decided to rest for the night before heading home tomorrow. It had been difficult to even find a place—most inns had been full by this time, but you’d been fortunate to find one with a single open room.

A single, open room containing a single, solitary bed.

That aside, it’s a nice enough room, really. The dark mahogany furniture is carved with intricate nature-like patterns, flowers and leaves that crawl up the legs of the chairs and the foot of the bed. The whole place smells pleasantly of teakwood—a scent that, for better or worse, you tend to attribute to Kinich.

Your knight sits in front of the darkened fireplace, fiddling with a flint until it strikes with a small flame, then enkindles the rest of the wood. A flushing warmth instantly permeates the room. Usually, you would thank him for his efforts—he knows how cold you get—but now, you feel a thin sweat forming at your brow.

Kinich stands, brushing off his hands and admiring the firelight. The lighter strands of his hair glow in its radiance. “That should last us for a bit.”

He tugs at the clasp of his cloak, pulling the garment off and tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. It’s a thick fur with ornate green and gold trim; you’d given it to him as a gift during the Winter Festival a year ago. You let your eyes follow the motion, watching the dark cloth drape over the furniture—somehow, you feel too awkward to look at your companion right now. He glances at you, as if wondering what you’re doing just standing there, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Actually, I’m a bit warm,” you say, thumbing at the edges of your sleeves. Kinich raises a brow, genuinely concerned.

“...It’s wintertime,” he says, an obvious statement that seems to ask what the hell is wrong with you.

“Yeah, and I’m warm,” you retort, arms crossed. He looks at you, then looks at the fire, then looks at you again.

“Alright, but if you get cold later, don’t come crying to me,” he says, kneeling down again. Then, under his breath, he mutters, “though I have a feeling you will anyway.”

He toys with the kindling for a bit longer, until the raging flames die into smaller embers and the room cools down. As much as he gives you a hard time, he prioritizes your comfort as much as he possibly can. 

With the temperature now taken care of, there is still one other source of discomfort in the room, you think, glancing back toward the bed. It looks temptingly comfortable, with thick sheets and fluffy pillows, but you can’t fathom sleeping in it at the moment. 

“You realize that we can’t sleep here, right?” you say, staring down at your feet.

The dark-haired knight is busy rummaging through his rucksack, only half paying attention to what you’re saying.

“I don’t see why not. The bed is big enough.”

He’s right; it’s a king-size, and the two of you would have no problem fitting. Still, the thought of sleeping in a bed with him makes your face warm in a way that can’t be blamed on the fire.

“...There’s only one,” you manage.

Kinich looks up at you, deadpan. “An astute observation. Maybe you’ll be able to count to three by next year.”

“You little—”

The nervousness turns to irritation at his nonchalance—honestly, the thought of sharing a bed with a man you aren’t married to seems a bit inappropriate. And though you won’t admit it, you’re a bit offended that he doesn’t seem even slightly nervous to sleep with you. Kinich isn’t a nervous person by nature, that’s true; it takes quite a bit to get him to show any sort of strong emotion. But a small part of you is disappointed that he doesn’t seem to care about the situation at all.

“You realize it’s just us, right?” you say, urging him toward the root of the issue. Even just stating that fact makes an anxious lump form in your throat.

Kinich considers your words for a moment, pausing his ministrations, before meeting your gaze directly.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” he says, raising a brow. 

The implication makes your face heat up, and you find it almost worse that he had addressed the elephant in the room.

“It’s not that!” you argue hastily. Kinich seems unbothered by your protests, fiddling with the intricate straps of his armor and the laces of his boots. He works about removing them in a fashion that’s so robotic that you’re sure he must’ve done this millions of times. 

“What is it then?” he retorts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Do you snore?”

“I do not—”

“Sleep talk?”

“No, it’s just—”

“Sleepwalk?”

“No! But—”

“Great,” Kinich decides, clapping his hands together as if to end the discussion. Rising to his feet, he gestures to the bed, even going so far as to pull the blankets back invitingly. “Then sleep.”

It’s hard for you to win against him, especially at times like these—truth be told, you actually are quite tired. With a huff, you begrudgingly climb into bed, nearly hanging off the edge with the ample space you leave.

Kinich doesn’t join you yet; he’s still fixing his clothes and tidying his other belongings. He takes good care of his things, you’ve noticed, almost neat to a fault. There’s a strict routine he follows during the night; before bed, he always takes special care to maintain his weapon.

You watch as he oils and sharpens his blade, brow furrowed in concentration. He’s always been very particular about the thing, as if it was an extension of himself, as long as you've known him. His movements are notably precise and intricate, and overwhelmingly gentle. Lost in watching him, you just about jump out of your skin when his eyes suddenly flicker to you. 

“You know, most people rest with their eyes closed,” he hums, amused at having caught you in the act.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble, sinking deeper into the pillows to hide your embarrassment.

He shakes his head. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping. So I guess no one’s happy.”

You pull the blanket up until it brushes your chin. You don’t need it; your skin feels like it’s on fire, but somehow it feels too vulnerable to be uncovered right now. 

“You’re telling me you don’t feel weird about this? At all?”

He sets the sword aside and finally removes the last of his armor, simply left in his training tunic and loose pants. The shirt is tighter than you remember, you think briefly. You force yourself to look away.

“Should I?” he asks, brushing off his clothes. “Are you going to do something to me?”

The corner of his lip twitches, and you nearly roll your eyes—he amuses himself way too much.

“No!”

“Then we’ll make a deal. I won’t do anything to you if you don’t do anything to me. Then, we’ll both peacefully sleep so that I don’t have to deal with your crankiness in the morning.”

Irritatingly, he’s right about that too. The two of you will have to head out early if you want to make it home for your lessons, as well as Kinich’s other guard duties. And, truthfully, you don’t tend to be a morning person—it’s all Kinich can do to even wake you up on time.

You huff, shutting your eyes. “Fine.”

“Oh?” You can hear the mirth in his voice, and it only makes your irritation grow. “So you were planning on doing somethin—”

“I wasn’t!”

Kinich doesn’t say anything more, likely sensing that you’re on the precipice of genuine frustration—he always knows your exact limits, even when you don’t say so. 

For a few minutes, you really do try to sleep. But your heart is still pounding, and as much as you try to ignore it, it threatens to burst out of your chest. You reason that you would feel this way no matter who you were sharing a bed with—it’s just not a feeling that you’re used to. It’s certainly not because it’s Kinich.

You imagine him sleeping beside you, and your fists tighten until your nails form crescent-shaped imprints in your palms.

Definitely not because it’s Kinich.

Your stomach turns as you listen to your companion move around the room, organizing his things. Everything about him is so calm and quiet, including his footsteps—they’re barely a whisper across the floor. The anticipation nearly swallows you whole, and you wait for something to happen—the blankets to pull back, or even a dip in the mattress.

For several long, torturous minutes, nothing happens at all. In fact, you can’t even hear Kinich anymore, not even a single breath.

Did he leave the room? 

Gathering your courage, you silently will yourself to open your eyes, afraid of what you’ll see. It takes you a bit, too absorbed in the awkwardness, and three silent mental countdowns later, your eyes finally snap open. Instantly, you discover two things:

Kinich is not in bed with you.

Kinich is nowhere near you at all.

Instead, the knight is sitting across the room, back against the door, head leaned back and both eyes shut. His greatsword lays across his lap, fingers already curled around the grip—he’s always ready, as usual. 

“What the hell?”

You don’t mean for it to come out so loud or so aggressive, but your hand is too late to clamp over your mouth.

Kinich cracks one eye open, fixing you with a lazy stare.

“I thought you said you don’t sleep talk,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

“I don’t—forget it, what are you doing over there?”

He sighs, pulling a knee to his chest and resting his chin on top. He looks much softer like this, in training clothes and lacking his headband—the curtain of his hair parts a bit as he leans over, and you catch a glimpse of the scar there. It’s thin and silver, barely peeking from his forehead.

“Unless I was mistaken, you seemed uncomfortable with the prospect of sharing a bed with me. I may not have been raised a prince, but even I wouldn’t force something like that on a lady.”

Your teeth sink into your lip. The explanation makes you feel stupid and guilty at the same time. Stupid, because you’re really not sure what you’re even afraid of if Kinich climbs into bed with you. Guilty, because you’d been so argumentative with him, even when he was trying to respect your wishes.

There’s three beats of silence.

“I changed my mind,” you manage to squeak out.

“You don’t have to,” he says, tracing the blade of his sword. An expected answer. “I’m fine sleeping here, really.”

And you know he really would be—he’s certainly slept in worse places. But something about him sleeping there while you warm up under thick blankets leaves a rotten taste in your mouth.

“Well, I’m cold now,” you say, shifting under the covers, “so can you come sleep?”

He looks unconvinced by your plea, head tilted. “Weren’t you the one who said it was too warm?”

You pout in reply. “I changed my mi—”

“—changed your mind, yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Kinich rises to his feet, slow and steady. He seems more tired than he lets on, likely the result of the events from earlier—he had been the one to deal with the bandits, after all. You merely watch as he strides toward you.

“Just remember, you’re the one who offered,” he warns, crossing to the other side of the bed. “So don’t kick me in your sleep.”

You don’t say anything at all, firmly fixated on staring at the wall—you don’t think you could stand to look at him right now. When the sheets get pulled back, you suck in a breath.

To your embarrassment, something warm draws up from your quick-beating heart as Kinich lies down behind you. You chalk it up to natural human reaction—you’ve never shared a bed with someone like this, after all. He’s gentle as he lays down, the mattress barely reacting to his movement. You squeeze your eyes shut as he adjusts, shifting the blankets and pillows, hoping he won’t sense your overwhelming nervousness.

“This okay?”

You chance a look in his direction. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with sleep, but they seem to pierce right through you. He’s being very particular about the distance between you—close enough that you can feel a bit of his warmth, but far enough that none of your limbs are touching.

This is fine, you think to yourself, drawing in a long, slow breath. This is totally fine.

You nod meekly, and Kinich sighs, shuffling into a more comfortable position as you turn away.

“Good,” he murmurs, warm breath pooling at the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, somehow both relaxed and on-edge, even as he curls slightly closer to you. “Go to sleep then, Princess.”

He’ll be awake for a while, you know. He never goes to sleep before you do—even once you do, it’ll probably be another half an hour before he follows suit. The thought leaves you hyper-aware of his every breath.

So, for the next fifteen minutes, you lie awake, hopelessly thinking of the man laying next to you. And, for the next fifteen minutes, he lies awake too. Your mind grows foggy, begging for rest, but you still feel something tugging at your chest. You wonder if Kinich feels the same way.

“Kinich?” you finally whisper.

There’s a pause, like he’s deciding whether to reply seriously or to scold you for not sleeping. His voice comes out hoarse, a deep rumble from his chest.

“Yes, Princess?”

A yawn crawls out of your throat.

“...are you warm enough too…?”

Your voice trails off as you finally succumb to the clutches of sleep. Kinich listens as your breathing turns to an even rhythm, calm and serene. For once, he’s glad that you’re not looking at him—if you did, you would see the way his skin is flushed a deep red, from his ears to his neck.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I am.”

[powerfultenderness]

A Good Boy

Summary: A very drunk König ends up at your door. Paring: König/F!Reader Rated: Mature Word count: 988 A/N: [Neighbor!König.] A little free write fluff before I get back to requests.

For @crisped-jello I know this isn't quite what you asked, so consider this a companion piece (bc I do like the request you sent! but König got drunk first!)

You heard the voices first, two men, before someone started to rattle your doorknob. It wasn’t an alarming situation for one reason only, you’d recognized one of the voices. 

You quickly turned off the TV so you could hear the muffled voices better.

“Are you sure this is the right key?” Of course this was followed by someone trying to jam a key in the door. 

The response, from the man that you were familiar with, was unintelligible. You chuckled under your breath and got up to answer the door. It was quite late, just past 2 a.m., and you were about to go to sleep (after one more episode!) so it was a surprise to hear your neighbor returning home at this hour. Well, him drinking with his friends made sense on why he didn’t show up around dinner like he usually did.

You opened the door and the young man in front of you nearly stumbled inside. The little surprised squeak you let out as he accidentally invaded your personal space was cut short as he was quickly shoved aside by the much bigger man.

“König!” 

Heat rushed to your face as he held you tight to his chest. Really tight. The side of your face was squished into his chest as he wrapped his arms around the back of your head and your shoulders. König’s scent enveloped you, a mixture of his soap and what you’ve come to know as the smell of gun oil and a touch of sulfur, all under an almost overwhelming smell of alcohol. Geez. How much did it take to get him this drunk? 

“I missed you, darling.” His words were slurred and he swayed on his feet as he hugged you.

“You saw me this morning.” You pried his hands off of you and put some breathing space between you, “why don’t you sit down.” 

He stumbled a bit, thankfully the young man that had been helping him caught one of his arms and kept a hold on him until he plopped down on your couch.

“Thanks,” you sighed and looked at the man. He was dressed similarly to König, with a black tee and green cargo pants, so you assumed he worked with him.

“Sorry it’s so late, ma’am. I didn’t know he lived with his girlfriend.”

Your face went hot again, “oh! We’re not. I mean, uhh. He lives across the hall.” 

A look of panic crossed his face, “ aw shit! Sorry! He said this was his flat! I can get him across-”

“No, no! It’s ok! He can sleep it off here.” 

“It was my job to-” 

That was apparently as long as König could go without your attention, as he reached for your hips and attempted to pull you to him. Perhaps only because of how drunk he was, you were fast enough to avoid falling by turning around to face him and snatching up his hands. “Hey, you know the rule. Only good boys get to touch.” 

You were mostly joking, but that line had worked wonders on reminding him to keep his hands to himself before. Judging by the way he always found a way to touch you, whether it was as overt as a hug or as subtle as his knee bumping yours, you figured he was a bit touch starved. With his inhibitions lowered, you can only imagine how handsy he’d be. You honestly didn’t mind his touches, but you wanted to at least let his friend (co-worker?) leave first.

König whined and reached for you again, though he stopped himself from actually touching you and let his hands hang in the air. Grabby hands. This giant, grown man was making grabby hands at you. 

The young man next to you glanced at you, mindful to keep his movements subtle, both confused and amused at the situation. 

“Recruit!” König suddenly yelled, voice booming in a way that made you jump and the man next to you stand at attention. “Tell her!” 

“Sir?”

Ah, so this guy was some kind of subordi-

“Tell her I have been a good boy!” 

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. The young man next to you, hands still at his sides, didn’t, but from the way he was biting his lip, it was hard for him to stop himself from laughing too.

Still seated, but no less imposing, König glared at the younger man and growled out his command again. “Tell her.” 

The recruit cleared his throat and looked at you. “Uh, yes. The colonel has been, uh, a, a good boy.” 

It was at that point that you could no longer contain your laughter and you chuckled into the hand you had covering your mouth. 

If the recruit finally broke and laughed too, you didn’t hear it, neither you nor König paying any more attention to him. 

“See! Now come here!” He reached for your hands and tried to pull you onto his lap. 

You managed to resist, still giggling, but ended up standing between his knees. “Alright. What do you want?”

He sat up straight, leaning up towards you, with wide eyes. “To eat your pussy.” 

“König!” You gasped, now acutely aware of the awkward cough you heard behind you, and pulled one hand out of his grasp and lightly pushed him back. 

He chuckled as he dropped back against the couch, though he never looked away from you.

You sighed and turned back to the still nameless younger man next to you and shook your head. “I’ve got it from here, you can go home now.” 

“Good night, sir. Ma’am.” 

After locking up, you looked at König. “How about we cuddle instead?” 

He nodded, “yes. Cuddle is good.” 

You made sure to set some painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table before laying down with König on the couch, his arms tight around you. 

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: MC gets temporary amnesia

~ Requested by @selfcarecollective and an anon! For headcanon purposes, MC slipped on a cobblestone and hit their head. The amnesia only lasts a week at most and MC remains basically functional until their memories return as their injury heals ~

Julian

The only reason he's staying as calm as he is is because he has years of practice slipping into "doctor mode" for his patients

When he's with you, he's wholly focused on caring for you. His voice stays steady and grounding, he's quick to notice any confusion and explain, he cracks jokes to lift your spirits

And when he's not with you - well - he doesn't know what to do

You don't remember him. You don't know who he is beyond who he appears to be to you now, the extraordinary circumstances of your romance have been wiped from your mind, and -

And how does he know? How does he know that you'll choose him again? How does he know that any affection you show him isn't out of your new dependence on him as your caretaker?

How does he know that you can still love him for who he truly is, when you don't know him well enough to rebuke his self-doubt?

Every lone moment is the agony of grieving someone who's still alive, spiraling until you have need of him again and he has a purpose, a clear-cut path that gives him some way to serve you

Lowkey surprised when you recover that you still love him

Asra

At least this time you're not dead!

Truthfully though, it's twice as hard because it's happened before, and twice as hopeful because they've seen you recover

The grief he feels every time you look at him with empty eyes runs a well-worn track, so familiar that it makes his heart wonder if this is supposed to be his default state and happiness was borrowed

They also have years of practice setting their own feelings aside to care for you, and care for you they will. You won't experience a single moment of need with them staying nearby

He's so, so careful not to push or rush you. Even though he knows this time around that you're committed to a relationship with him, he still wants you to have all the emotional space you need

Terrified of telling you what's happened despite knowing the circumstances are different. They do it anyways when you ask, and seeing you not crumple into agony from their words is so healing

Keeps all the pain of it hidden out of sight and ignored until you recover your memories. After twenty four hours of cautious relief, he breaks down in shuddering sobs as the years start to process

Nadia

She's ... she's unsure of herself, and she hates feeling unsure

No matter what, she wants to treat you with love and respect and dignity, but suddenly your boundaries have been reset and the person she loves as her partner doesn't see her the same way

It's easier for her to focus on getting you back to normal than it is to sit in the dissonance of your current condition

Makes sure you are completely cared for while she summons physician after physician after physician to provide you with round-the-clock care and her with as many cures as possible

She feels genuinely remorseful for how emotionally distant she is from you when she knows you're going through a moment of vulnerable need - but what she provides wouldn't be right

To try to make up for it, she writes you letters every day like a journal, to be given to you when you regain your memories and can take the role of her consort once again

Which she does give to you within a couple hours of your recovery

So, so, so very proud of you for making it through yet another trial - and more than ready for several days off to make up for lost time

Muriel

Usually the type of person to sleep off his sadness, he just wants space to himself to handle his grief where it can't affect you

At the same time, he has a level of loyalty to you that the Patrons themselves couldn't cross. He's not going to leave you alone for this. Nobody deserves to suffer in isolation

That said, trying to be there for you when you don't know who he is is a source of constant anxiety. How does he know this isn't his blessing-turned-curse making a poorly timed comeback?

How does he know that he won't scare you? How does he know that you'll be able to see past his intimidating frame and permanent scowl? How does he know he won't make it worse?

Ends up relegating himself to being something along the lines of your bodyguard. He won't pressure you to interact with him at all, he'll just be nearby to make sure you're okay and not alone

And that's how the days pass, slowly recovering in the peace and beauty of the woods, with your guardian in the background

He doesn't begin to process how scared and hurt and alone he felt until you're yourself again, and able to help him find words

Portia

She knows, logically, that it's not her fault, but in her heart of hearts she feels like this must be personal somehow

Is she that easy to forget? That easy to brush aside? The vulnerability she showed you, the countless ways she's propped you up, the beautiful relationship you've built - gone, that easily?

She'd never leave you to go through this alone and she's fully committed to seeing this through. Your days are filled with sunlight and tea and scones and cat snuggles and garden naps

But Portia just can't find it within herself to embody joy. She's a shadow, fixing you with tired smiles over eyes pooling with sorrow, the usual bubbly rants cut down to gentle, quiet observations

And somehow ... somehow, you still seem to care about her

Somehow she's still the first person you look at. Somehow you still listen to her fewer, quieter words like they're worth hearing. Somehow you see her "boring" face and still want to stick around

Even with you losing your proof of her worthiness, it's still her

Goes from depressed to all the feelings at once when you regain your memories. You'll be kissed, tackled, scolded, and hugged

Lucio

He's so close to hating himself for thinking this, but ... maybe ... what if ... this is a good thing?

He's glad he met you. He's, ultimately, grateful for the chance you gave him and the love and labor you put into giving him a second chance and helping him make the most of it

He's proud of the work he's done and the ways he's changed

And, in contrast, he carries plenty of shame for who he used to be

It could be so easy. When you look at him, you just see the golden haired journeyman who was holding you when you woke up and who's been there for you every moment since

You don't see the plague, or the painful source of his golden arm, or the demonic deals, or city state run to ruins, or the battles ...

You just see him. Now. As the person he wants to be

And yet he finds more and more that he misses being known

He misses your pride when he makes a hard but right choice, when he chooses honesty over luxury and accountability over escape

And when you come back to who you really are and see him for who he fully is, he gets the full brunt of it all over again

[suggiesug]

"choke me?"

gn reader x jjk men: asking him to choke you characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, choso content: EXPLICIT NSFW (MDNI), choking, dirty talk, roughness, possessiveness, aftercare, praise, body worship, overstimulation

SATORU GOJO

Satoru likes to treat it like some kind of challenge - for both of you. He likes to see how long you can hold your breath, or see how long you can go before the lack of blood to your brain almost makes you pass out. He likes seeing how red your face gets, and he's so snarky and mean with his little comments. He calls you his little cherry tomato once, and you threaten to call the whole thing off if he doesn't stop killing the vibe.

It's a challenge for him, too, because he's always struggled with self-restraint when it comes to you. When you get all red, and out of breath, and teary-eyed, and drooling, it's difficult for him to not just let go and fuck you into the mattress with his hands permanently cuffed around your neck. He doesn't always stop himself from giving into that desire, though, and it leaves you sore but satisfied on the bed's covers. For how much of an asshole he was during, Satoru's fairly sweet afterwards. Your neck is sore, maybe a little bruised, and while he enjoys the look, he doesn't like the idea that he struggles to hold his strength back so much. At the end of the day, he's the strongest: it'd be easy for him to kill you doing this. So he treats you gently afterwards, massages your neck and loosely wraps a warm, damp towel around it. He cheers you up with annoying quips and jokes, and you fall asleep with his long arms wrapped around you, chest-to-back.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

SUGURU GETO

It's a surprise to him: he's no prude (far from it), but he's still a little shocked when you ask it of him. Surprise aside, he doesn't hesitate to not only indulge, but enjoy.

Your pulse is his favourite thing about it. Maybe it's partly for sappy reasons, partly for power reasons, but he enjoys being able to feel your pulse beneath his fingers. Enjoys letting you breathe so that you can make pretty little noises for him, and his grip isn't all too tight. It won't bruise. Just a red mark. That's more than enough for him. He prefers his bruises to be in the shape of teeth, anyway.

Suguru's a tease, though. The redness of your face is just as much from his words as it is from the restriction of blood to your head, and he barely touches you besides the grip on your neck. His words are enough to rile you up, make you squirm beneath him, and that sly smirk on his face lets you know that your reactions make him more than happy. You're so dirty, asking me for this. Do you want me to fuck you while I do it? I bet you'd be so tight around me. I can see how much you're dripping. So desperate.

Suguru touches you more, eventually, but he doesn't fuck you. He's too much of a tease. But he gets you off, one hand on your neck, the other hard at work pleasuring you, and the yell you release sounds broken up when you finally tip over the each. Suguru thinks it's one of his most favourite sounds you've made.

Of course, he's sweet in the aftermath. Attentive and knowledgeable on the aftercare of such a thing. A warm, damp towel, a cup of tea, and plenty of kisses pressed to most parts of your body. He plays with your hair in bed, your head resting against his broad chest, and he enjoys watching you fall asleep with a peaceful and content expression.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

KENTO NANAMI

Kento is hesitant. Not due to a lack of interest, but because he's never done it before. The last thing he wants is to seriously hurt you, and he makes sure the two of you have a nice talk beforehand about letting each other know when it becomes too much. A visual safe "word" is established, and then Kento feels more than comfortable to proceed.

He has strong hands. It'd be easy to hurt you, if he tried, but Kento is as gentle as can be. Especially at first. It's intimate: his hands are everywhere but your neck at first, and it's like he's introducing you to them before he wraps his fingers around your throat and administers a light squeeze.

Even for a well-composed man, Kento's visibly affected by the state of you. The shaky, almost-wheezing breath you let out when he holds onto your neck for the first time, and his hand finds a comfortable, safe grip easily enough. He'd done his research beforehand. He wants you both to enjoy this, and he talks you through it with such kind, sweet words that it makes your head spin.

"You're doing so good, baby. I love the way you feel in my hands. I love making you feel good like this. Do you want to come with me?"

Through and through, Kento is attentive, and your mind spins as he gently fucks you toward a slow, satisfying climax. His hands rarely, if ever, leave your neck. He gives you plenty of breaks, but his hands still linger during them. The pads of his calloused fingers caress your skin, sometimes tracing the shape of your jaw, and his lips can never stay very far away from yours. When you come, it's with his dick buried deep inside you, and his lips against yours to swallow your moans.

He makes you tea, and asks you if you're alright. Gently, he massages your neck. There's barely even a red mark to be seen, but he knows you don't mind the lack of roughness. Maybe, in the future, he'll be more comfortable with it. Right now, he prefers to treat you like fragile porcelain until you build up to more. You fall asleep with your head in his lap, and he reads a few pages of the book he's currently working through as you drift away.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

TOJI FUSHIGURO

It's nothing Toji hasn't done before. If anything, it's tame, and he makes fun of you a little for asking him like that. As if you need to ask me.

Toji is rough, and he fucks you like he's claiming you while his hands grip your neck. It seems wild, but it isn't: he knows when to loosen his grip and let you breathe, and he's paying attention to when it looks like you might be getting close to passing out. There's bruising, clear as day, far before the end of your little session, and you have a feeling your neck won't be the only thing bruised by the end of this with how hard his hips drive against yours. The room fills with the sound of grunts, and choked moans, and skin harshly hitting skin. When Toji speaks, it's low against your ear: You like that, don't you? You wanna get treated rough? Like the slut you are? Want me to break you?

When the two of you come, Toji makes sure his grip on your neck is the tightest it's been. Not a single noise comes out of you, and if you weren't currently barrelling through one of the roughest orgasms of your life, you'd worry he might've fucking broken something. But everything winds down, the two of you panting and drenched in sweat, and while you certainly feel sore, nothing's broken. Thankfully.

The aftercare is a little lazy, if only because Toji gets tired after sex. He can go as many rounds as you want, but if you're done? He's passing out. So while he does give your neck a small rub and gives you a limp pat on the shoulder, he's just as quickly flopping down next to you on the bed and sleeping within the minute.

Oh well. At least it was fun. He'll make you a cup of tea come morning, when he wakes up before you and makes breakfast.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

CHOSO

He doesn't get it. In all honesty, sex is pretty simple for him. You feel good together, get off, and then cuddle for a while. For him, it doesn't need to be any more complicated than that. But you suggest it and, while he doesn't really get it, he's willing to try anything. Though, he does look it up a little first. So he doesn't do it wrong.

Choso is infatuated once he does it, though. He's so painfully aware of your pulse, of the way your blood struggles to travel to your brain, and it makes him hard as a fucking rock. More than that, he looks at your face, and you're loving it. He almost looks nervous as he stares down at you, but you know what that expression means: it just means he's struggling to hold back. That he's probably feeling just as good as you right now, and he's not even being touched.

Of course, he eventually fucks you while he chokes you. How couldn't he? The way you twitch and tighten around him is so unique from the way you do so when you usually have sex, and he's so clearly revelling in this new experience. He's losing himself to it, and you can feel the movements of his hips grow sloppy the further along you two get. Embarrassingly enough, he realises too late that he hasn't kissed you this whole time, and he makes sure to lock lips with you right before his hips stutter and press flush against yours when he comes. He swallows your moan just as you swallow his, and from where your hands have founds their place on his chest, you feel him tremble and fall apart on top of you.

Aftercare is late, tonight. Usually, you don't need much of it. This is the first time you've tried anything on the kinky side of things. Choso's always so overwhelmed when you fuck: he gets too into it, too worked up, and he ends up with his face hidden in the crook of your neck while you play with his hair. When he pulls himself together, though, he takes note of the redness on your neck. I'm sorry. You laugh, and tell him that's normal. Don't worry about it. He takes your word for it. Gets you some tea when you tell him your throat is sore, and he holds you gently to his chest that night, making fall to fall asleep after you.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

[pseudophan]

no bc what's worse than dan's 200 day reddit streak achievement is his content connoisseur badge which is earned by "voting at least 5 times a day in the same community for 30 total days" like he's a True Redditor

had to quickly make sure i've avoided that but it's ok i'm safe

jokes aside though i completely understand WHY dan's so into reddit. even if you ignore the part where just in general he is suchhhh a redditor in so many ways, dan is chronically online but hates seeing anything about himself, he really does not want to know what we're up to and reddit might be the only mainstream platform where he's unlikely to come across random phannie posts. i think that's also one of the reasons he browses instagram a lot, because while there's lots of phannies on there you generally have to click to read anything and so he can just not click any photo with his face on it.

dan can say all he wants that he isn't on tumblr because he spends too much time curating his queue or he doesn't like twitter because everyone's yelling at each other all the time like yeah i'm sure that is also true but his main reason is he just literally can't avoid reading our bullshit on these two platforms, and while he's somewhat made peace with the existence of said bullshit and even enjoys it in small doses i very much understand his desire to avoid it as much as possible lol. so reddit it is! also reddit is fun i'm sorry

[lullinglily]

hello my darling! ur work is so so lovely, i was wondering if you had anything in the ol’ cranium regarding miquella and love languages, he’s such an interesting creature to analyse

pairing: miquella x gn! reader (sort of)

notes: genuinely not sure if this was supposed to be an x reader request or not, but hopefully either way you enjoy it. i tried to implement both my ramblings and also x reader elements. i agree he's way fun to analyze; glad i got to do it even more!

acts of service: malenia serves as miquella's blade and, in turn, your shield. her brother wants nothing more than to guarantee that you are well looked after, and so employs her to protect you fiercely while he is away. while not a direct act of service, your safety is one of his top priorities and he will do anything to ensure your well-being. he sees his ascension as an act of service as well. when he stood before the gate of divinity he thought not only of his people and his sister, but of you as well. if he could usher in this gentle age then all despair would be wiped from the world, and you would remain pure and merry for the rest of your days with no pain to follow you and no grief to wet your eyes. each ligament lost, each drop of blood spilt, and every vein of his torn asunder were all discarded with the promise of your eternal happiness.

physical affection: miquella's embrace is as light as air and as warm as a delightful ray of sunshine. his hugs feel as though a spirit has you in their arms the way you can hardly feel his touch, only his familiar temperature makes his affection known. he enjoys both giving and receiving touch, although he has a preferred fondness for the latter. his preferred method of registering physical affection is most certainly through hugs. wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he rests his head upon your own or surprising you by throwing his arms around your shoulders from the back and peppering the side of your face with kisses are his favorites. he has such an otherworldly feel. even when you know he's holding you, it feels like he isn't there at all. his love for the one he adores is real, but with no tangible touch to prove it so.

gift giving: he most certainly adorns his beloved in the unalloyed gold that he alone crafted. each bit of jewelry you wear is meticulously designed and brought to fruition by his careful hand. he fusses over you while bestowing his gifts as well, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears and carefully smoothing out any wrinkles in your garb as he settles a headband or necklace upon your figure. he'll absolutely melt when if he sees his beloved wearing the immaculate gifts he'd created for them; partly because it makes his heart swell with pride that you'd sport his very own handiwork, and partly because you look absolutely ethereal in them. it is mostly the latter that is his reason for swooning; the sight really bolsters his ego. while he enjoys gifting his lover such splendid ornaments, he'll often pass onto them bushels of blooms as well. your bedchambers are swamped with flowers. it's absurd.

quality time: this is, unfortunately, the language miquella is most lacking in when it comes to his beloved. he's quite the busy empyrean, planning for his ascension and whatnot. he must achieve his order before any more pain be brought upon the Lands Between, or you for that matter. however, when he does spend time with you, it is oft spent by showering each other in affection. usually he spends time with you in the haligtree, cooing to each other sweet words in hushed tones as you lie across his lap and let him braid your hair. if he's not too busy, he'll take you horseback riding on torrent.

word of affirmation: and here it is -- the language that miquella best practices! he's quite the charmer, if you hadn't noticed. jokes aside, miquella's beloved, as well as just about anyone he cares about, are constantly being bombarded with his tender words. he makes sure that those he adores know how much he adores them, he will simply crack and break if they don't. such devotion becomes a tad bit obsessive. if anyone seems even slightly off in demeanor he will assume that perhaps they are upset with him, and he will remedy this by drowning this person in flowery language. he's rather insecure, and so words of affirmation is not only the language that he is best at performing, but also the one he craves the most.

[merbear25]

Patience is a virtue

Learning to trust isn't easy, especially when you're still picking up the pieces from the past. Even though the desire to get to know you is a nawing persistence, he values your boundaries. Whenever you decide to open up, he'll be waiting.

a/n: idk I just have a lot of feelings.

Sanji, Ace, Corazon

CW: SFW, gn!reader, angsty(maybe?), fluff, mutual feelings

Sanji: You'd grown quiet around him. The both of you had just been starting to chat a little more. It felt nice to hear your soft laughs as he told you jokes about what had happened that day. But then, the angelic laughter came to a hault, leaving him to question what he'd said to bring such sorrow to your lovely complexion. Even without knowing what he'd done to upset you, he apologized―pleading, in a way, to move past this and get back to seeing you smile.

You needed time though. You didn't have to say it ―it was written all over your face. Backing off was a choice made with much heartache, but he did so nonetheless: deciding that persuing you in the matter would only push you further away from him.

Distancing yourself wasn't something that you'd necessarily wanted to do. However, those buds of elation and adoration sprouting were also accompanied with the bitter cold of past rejection that stifled any pursuit of happiness you were hoping for.

The erosion of the hole in you was swallowing your very being, but when this had shown to be too troublesome for others, he was still there: he didn't pry, he never rushed you, just waited for your return to him.

This was someone worth pushing those doubts aside for. The next time you spoke to him, your heart lead the way, despite your fears trailing closely behind. His warmth helped melt the frost that'd been collecting over the years.

Ace: He was growing accustomed to you rather quickly. You were certainly kind-hearted and nice to have a laugh with, all of which made him start gravitating towards you whenever you were present. There was surely an interest in you, one that he had not fully become aware of. Just as he was discovering his feelings for you, you changed gears: avoiding him, reverting back into your shell. Despite how hurt he felt, he couldn't demand you to tell him the reason―it wouldn't be fair to you.

If you needed time away from him, he would give you that. He wasn't going to force his friendship on you. That being said, this time apart was good for him, as well. Thoughts of you came and went, but many of them stayed: something interesting or funny would happen and he wanted to tell you about it but felt like he couldn't.

This time away from each other only echoed your longing for companionship; you were left with nothing but the same loneliness that'd surrounded you each time prior. Tears brought on by thoughts of the flame lit between you eventually burning out stung your eyes. Even in solitude, fear of abandonment intruded on you.

There were small glances he threw your way, none of which were harboring resentment. Instead, they showed concern. Anticipation for a row that wouldn't come: you stood there wondering what made him different.

How can I learn to trust? Can you help me? Seeing you make your way to him was the remedy he needed for the flickering flame he'd worried was losing its luster in your eyes. However, you were both sure now that it'd never go out.

Corazon: Taking the leap of faith to reveal his secrets to you was terrifying: you were, in fact, different from the others, but something like this wasn't an easy choice to make. That being said, nothing could replace the memories you two were creating together. Each day that passed, regret for the secret he'd let you in on didn't come. The bond he was under the impression you two had been forming was faltering though. It wasn't important for him to know what he'd done exactly―he just knew he wanted to make it up to you.

Your body language did the talking for you: your sunny disposition had clouds rolling in and the gloom of a storm was on the horizon. Even though he longed to come to your aid, he understood that pushing you into a conversation wouldn't fair well for your blossoming relationship.

You wanted to shield this budding love from the harsh storm brewing within. Your frail body could only do so much though when caught in this hurricane. Gale force winds, rain that lashed at your skin: abrasions which came with each potential relationship.

No stranger to the torment this world had to offer, he could see the wear and tear of your inner termoil on your soft face. It took each bit of inner strength not to go to you and tell you everything would be alright. He wanted to give you the freedom to choose to share your burdens with him. In spite of the distance between the both of you, his eagerness to rescue you from yourself was unmistakable.

I can't carry on through this storm alone. Can you be the one I lean on? Finding your way back to him, he instinctively held our his arms to wrap you in the warmth you'd been in desperate need of, yet unable to secure it up till now. You were now fully prepared to take your own leap of faith.

[ckret2]

I know that this is probably because you don't render Bill's body hair (you specifically mentioned his unshaved legs in the text!), but for some reason I'm disappointed that we don't see any fuzz poking from the bikini. Not, like, for sexual or scandal reasons, it just... feels like he'd be showing fuzz. It's so hard not to if you don't shave. Possibly intentionally, if it let him put another yellow triangle on his body.

Yeah, that's a detail I specifically thought about. I assume that Gravity Falls is much like the rest of the US, in that the women shave/wax their legs, pits, and bikini lines, and the vast majority of the men don't.

So, since Bill doesn't shave either, I figure that (after excluding beards & chest hair) he looks exactly as hairy as the average man in Gravity Falls. Such as the hair on the pits, groins, and legs of all these men:

Notice that (minotaur fur aside), all their pits, legs, and happy trails are baby-smooth.

When Gravity Falls wants to indicate EXCESSIVE hairiness, they do it through chest hair and, rarely, arm hair, on occasion making that hair look as thick as fur:

And that's it. (Notice that in the fire hydrant scene, which was used specifically as a "Dipper Wishes He Was This Grown Up & Masculine" scene: still no pit hair.)

Manotaurs aside, I was only able to find two examples of men depicted with leg hair. (And, in Sprott's case, maybe pit hair, though it's ambiguous.)

In both of these cases, the leg (and pit) hair are drawn on as jokes about how disgusting these men's near-naked bodies are.

I doubt that every male resident & tourist in a rural Oregon town waxes his pits & legs. Stan, the Manotaurs, America guy, the cops, Old Man McGucket who lives in a junkyard?? They are not shaving their pits. All the men pictured above probably have normal quantities of body hair; they just aren't illustrated in the show, because that's a detail the show decided wasn't significant to illustrate—like irises, or fingernails, or half the characters' ear folds.

The only time men's body hair is illustrated is to indicate that it's excessive and the only time it's added to pits or legs is to indicate that it's disgusting.

I did my research before deciding how to draw Bill! Based on the visual language that the show uses, if I had drawn his body hair—pits, legs, bikini line in any combination—I would have indicated that he's hairier than everyone else in town, and that it's disgusting enough to warrant rendering in greater detail than anybody else's body hair.

And going "HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT HOW THE CHARACTER WITH TITS DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE!! ISN'T IT UNIQUE AND NOTEWORTHY HOW HE DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE? EVERYBODY CHECK OUT ALL THAT HAIR POKING OUT! THIS SURE IS WAY MORE NOTEWORTHY AND DISTRACTING ON A CHARACTER WITH TITS THAN IT WOULD BE ON ANY CHARACTER WITHOUT TITS, SINCE WE NEVER BOTHER TO DRAW THEIR HAIR—BUT LOOK AT THIS ONE'S HAIR! IT'S WAAAY MORE ATTENTION-GRABBING THAN IT WOULD BE ON SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY!"

... is the exact opposite of what I want to do.

And I offer that as free advice to other artists, because this is something I keep seeing artists do: if you're giving a character a detail that isn't usually depicted in your chosen art style—body hair's a really common example—ask yourself if you're adding that detail on to every character that has that detail. If you are, great! But if you aren't, and if it turns out it's only one or two characters whose body hair you've fixated on... maaaybe ask yourself why, and what signal you're sending by highlighting that detail with them and only them.

[blood-starved-beast]

NEMESIS!!!!!

Jokes aside people focus a lot on how mean Nem is and yeah!! She's mean and clearly covets Mel's job but also if you look at her life philosophy it all makes sense.

Cause as Retribution Incarnate, Nemesis's whole deal is that you reap what you sow. If you experienced consequences, you did something to invoke them. Hence why she argues with Moros over the Fates and their influence vs. one's autonomy in that one conversation. It's also why she resents Mel having the job to save the House of Hades so much.

Mel never did anything to deserve this job. She's going out there, with the weight of everyone's expectations, worked up af, dying a billion times cause she was told she ought to. She didn't fail like Hecate did, it's not her official reason to exist like Nemesis herself. The only "crime" Mel did to deserve such a "fate" was being born to Persephone and Hades. Which is why Nem says the job isn't "personal" for Mel - Mel has done nothing (for good or bad) that warrants such a punishment - the scrutiny, the bloodshed, the agony etc.

It contextualizes the animosity between her and Hecate so much. We know Hecate failed as handmaiden to warn Nyx (or so Nemesis accuses her of) and we know Hecate couldn't save the House other than take Mel, Hypnos, and the unfinished family portrait (her own admission). From Nem's perspective, Hecate's the one who deserves punishment more, yet she's fostering the responsibility onto Mel.

It also contextualizes why Nem is so self-loathing about the whole arrangement too. If by her admission, one reaps what they sought re: consequences, what does it mean then, that she herself is stuck in the Crossroads on guard duty? What has she done to reap this? It's probably why she accepts the job even though she hates it. Sidenote: after the Nem + Hecate fight, Mel would have a conversation with Nemesis about it. She asks what did she get for her "insubordination" and Nem's like "heh. more guard duty." but not particularly mad about it. She knew what she did, what the consequences would be. Cause of course she knows.

Anyways, this whole thing is a long ramble to say - Nemesis has a lot of hidden depths besides her asshole-ishness. I do think all her insults and jabs at Mel are thinly veiled concern for her situation (I mean, she's constantly pointing out where Mel is lacking - scrawny, not personal, not deserving of it, etc. and being like "does anyone else think this is fucked up??") while also thinking it should be her responsibility instead. I mean, does Nemesis carry guilt about not being there to stop Chronos I wonder?

[anistarrose]

The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of not being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

[active-mind-15]

Headcanons for Akashi when he's angry? 😡

Been a hot min since I've done one of these long ass headcanon posts exploring different Akashi emotions/scenarios, so here I am again. Anger was per the suggestion of @japeneselunchtimerush, so shout out to Aura for once again feeding my Akashi brainrot. Let's get into it!

Usually, before I get into the headcanons, I talk about if there have been any examples of it happening in canon, and for anger, there have been! The most prominent example was during the Teiko arc, when Murasakibara was not listening to Akashi anymore and later confronted him, causing Akashi to switch for the first time. The anger I would argue is more apparent in the anime version, but it's still there in the manga, just as more of an undertone, though. Aside from that, though there aren't really many other instances I can think of apart from during the Winter Cup finals when Akashi realized his team was being overwhelmed and tried to make a comeback. Although, I'm debating classifying that purely as anger since he was clearly having a breakdown. But let's move on to the actual headcanons, I've rambled on this bullet point for long enough.

Firstly, what would make Akashi angry? Going off canon, we already know that one of these things is disobedience/belittling, especially when it comes to Akashi's own authority, but what else can we say makes him angry? I would say he's similar to Kuroko in the sense that he can't stand when he sees people being rude to others. I can imagine him seeing someone being the victim of harassment and bullying and he stands up for them, kinda like how everyone stood up for Kuroko in Extra/Last Game when Team Jabberwock attacked him. He's especially protective over his friends and would never let anyone say one bad word against them, lest they face his wrath.

(^^ As an extra thought to my previous point, I wonder if he ever had to reckon with being angry at himself for the scissors incident during the Winter Cup. I'm sure he's probably beaten himself up over it many times over.)

The examples I've given thus far are all serious things to get angry over, though. So, to lighten it up, I'm going to talk about situations in which I think Akashi would get mad for pettier reasons.

He'd for sure get mad at people disrespecting his height. Y'all saw how he dunked on Seirin in the WC finals just to show off and said "Did you think that was a move for tall people?" Technically he's above average height for his age, but when you put him next to his teammates, he looks so tiny since everyone else is freakishly tall. I'm sure his intimidating captain aura prevents most people from making jokes about his height anyway, but someone on an opposing team might be meanspirited enough to do it and he'd get pissed, like how Kuroko got pissed when Papa mistook him for a child.

Another petty reason I think he'd get mad is if someone isn't paying attention to him while he's speaking. I can especially imagine this happening with the Teiko gang because you know them mfs cannot collectively focus on something for more than five seconds. So imagine him talking about something serious only for him to turn around and almost nobody is paying attention. I've said once before that I think Akashi would be petty enough to pinch or kick somebody for something, so I think that this would be one of the times where this is applicable. He seems like an ear-puller to me, too. Just saying.

I'll give one more petty example for funsies, but I think he'd be mad if he didn't get what he wanted/things are not going his way. Not in the "I'm on the brink of defeat and the meaning of my existence is about to be nullified" type of way we've always seen for him, but in a "the cafe I frequent is out of my favorite drink and I'm about to make it everybody's problem" type of way. He just gets dramatic about minor inconveniences.

So now that we've talked about what could make Akashi angry, let's talk about what he would look like if he was angry. From what we've seen in the series, even when he's angry, he remains calm. He chooses his words carefully and is not the type to shout. The only time he's really raised his voice is when he was arguing with himself in his own headspace, but raising his voice at other people seems like a serious no-no for him. Even though he's calm while he's angry, the anger will still show on his face. The knitted brows, the deep disapproving scowl, anybody would be able to tell that Akashi is mad from a mile away. But if he's only mildly angry, I bet he'd look more pouty than actually mad, much to Mibuchi's delight because it makes Akashi look very adorable.

Come on. Look at that face. You're telling me you wouldn't pinch his cheeks?

How do other people react to him being mad, though? If he's seriously angry, it's like the air shifts. Nobody gets in his way when he's really angry. But when he's just mildly irritated, I think as time goes on, his friends will try and make him feel better, especially if the reason why he's mad is trivial and something that can easily be remedied. Like "Oh, Midorima's not free to play a game of online shogi with you right now? You can play shogi with me instead!" or "You forgot something in the gymnasium? I'll go get it for you!" I just like the idea of Akashi's friends, especially Rakuzan, going out of their way to do things for Akashi the way he does things for other people. It's what he deserves.

Overall, Akashi is a person who does not get angry often, and I feel like part of that reason is because he's always been taught to compose himself and not express emotions that can be perceived as negative. So, I can imagine what a struggle that must be for him, especially when he truly is angry but feels like he's not allowed to show it. So I would hope as time goes on that he feels more comfortable being open with that while still being able to show emotions in a healthy manner.

Alright, I've yapped enough, time to pack it up. Hope you guys enjoyed.

[imagobin]

🔯Zoldyck Family HCs🔯

I wish this had been explored more in the actual manga, because to me the Zoldyck family is one of the most intriguing things in HxH.

We did get this chart which is very interesting, but I wanted to expand on it with a couple more headcanons and speculations. Doesn't include Maha, Zigg or Grandma Zoldyck cause there's too little info on them (Seriously Zeno, where do you keep your wife?)

---

🪭Kalluto🪭

Starting with Kalluto because he's the youngest and also gets very little time to shine.

It is commonly agreed that he cares about Killua a lot and wishes he'd pay attention to him, and I think so too.

His relationship with Illumi is possibly one of mentor and apprentice, they go on missions together and Illumi supervises him to make sure he carries out assassinations properly, without toying with his victims too much.

We don't see him interacting with Milluki at all aside from flashbacks, but the two might have a pretty positive relationship. I think it still means a lot to Kalluto that his shut-in brother would take time out of his day to go on walks and play with him, even if that hasn't happened in a while.

As for his relationship with Silva and Zeno, I do like the idea of both father and grandpa being proud of Kalluto for mastering Nen at such a young age, though Silva might be a bit disappointed that Kalluto disobeyed him and became part of the Phantom Troupe.

---

🧸Alluka🧸

Such a sweetheart aaaa I wanna see more of her and Killua's future adventures.

Ever since her ability was discovered by the other members of the family, Alluka's either been used to get something (Looking at you, Milluki), or feared. Silva and Kikyo definitely fear her powers, and Zeno probably does too. Though... I have a weird feeling that unlike the rest of the family, Zeno would be like Killua and at least respect Alluka's pronouns, if she likes 'she/her', Zeno doesn't see the problem with referring to her as a girl.

I think Alluka on the other hand really wants to love the members of her family, despite how horribly they've treated her. She probably doesn't even understand why they all became so cautious around her at one point.

The only family member that Alluka does not like is Illumi for... pretty obvious reasons. Illumi isn't subtle at all with his desire to control her and her powers; plus, Illumi's hurt Killua the most, I don't think she could ever be okay with someone who's hurt her big brother so much (even by Zoldyck standards).

---

🪀Killua🪀

Not much to say about Killua since we see him interact with most of his family a bit more in-depth... aside from Kalluto-

Killua has definitely always favored Alluka over Kalluto, despite how much the youngest Zoldyck strives to get his attention. This is probably because of how close Kalluto is to his mom.

Killua finds Kikyo annoying, and definitely doesn't trust her, so since Kalluto spends a lot of time with their mother, by proxy, Killua can't bring himself to trust his younger brother either.

Aside from Alluka, whom he obviously trusts deeply, the other member of the family he trusts the most is probably his grandpa; Zeno clearly favors him and seems to be more supportive of Killua's choices compared to the rest of his family.

---

🎮Milluki🎮

Milluki my beloved, how I wish you weren't just the butt of a joke 90% of the time.

Physically speaking, he's probably the weakest Zoldyck besides Alluka, so he's most likely afraid of the other men in the family, and would definitely not want to get on their bad side.

He obeys and respects both Silva and Zeno, but I also think Milluki would like to be treated like Killua by his grandpa, that's why he shares his invention ideas with him; he wishes Zeno would praise him some.

Milluki is 100% a mama's boy, he cares about her so much, he definitely had the strongest reaction out of everyone when his mother's safety was threatened by Nanika's powers. Despite this, Kikyo doesn't seem to give him any particularly special treatment, again, that is reserved for Killua.

He's most definitely also the unlucky middle child, I think he was definitely put to the side once Killua was born; his family fully focused on Kil since he's the heir, and left Milluki to kinda do his own thing. I feel like this consequentially brought him to be jealous of Killua and all the attention he gets.

I swear he's even worse off than Kalluto, cause at least he's got his mother's love, Milluki's basically neglected even by Zoldyck standards.

---

📍Illumi📍

Man's the family's workaholic, you can't change my mind, he's also a little fucked up, but we love him for it.

He definitely cares about his whole family in his own twisted way. That includes Milluki too, they were the first two Zoldyck siblings so until Killua was born, they most definitely spent a lot of time together. Illumi doesn't really understand his brother, but he humors him.

His relationship with Kikyo is never really explored, but I see them as being definitely close, not as close as she is with Kalluto, but close. They share the same mindset when it comes to Killua. Illumi was also her first child, so she definitely poured her heart and soul into training him into being the perfect assassin, and it definitely shows.

Illumi's dynamic with his father and grandfather is definitely one of mutual respect, they may not agree on everything, but they trust each other's strength. Silva also appreciates Illumi's dedication to the family's business.

---

👒Kikyo👒

M'lady- okay no girl needs to take a chill pill, her fashion tho, on point.

Obviously her view of love is completely warped, growing up in Meteor City and marrying a world-renowned assassin didn't do her mental health many favors. But just like Illumi, she does love her kids deeply in a really twisted way.

She plays favorites, Killua and Kalluto are the ones she cares about the most, and with how dismissive of Milluki she is, he's probably her least favorite, kinda tragic since Milluki loves his mother a lot... but then we have Illumi, where does he stand? Kikyo cares about her first born child of course, she's very proud of him, and trusts him a lot with keeping Killua in check, since they seem to share opinions on how he should be trained. She wishes he'd spend more time with her for sure.

Her opinion however is way too often brushed off by Silva, not because she's a woman, but because she's not been raised like a Zoldyck, she doesn't fully know their ways, so she's not seen as a valid voice. It's an unfair treatment, and it really pisses her off.

---

☄️Silva☄️

True winner of the 'Father of the Year' award, along with Ging, great job you two.

Silva honestly has evil mastermind vibes, he cares about Killua, but also wants to constantly control him and test him in his own way (the needle was a massive proof of that). He's just a lot more subtle with it compared to Illumi and Kikyo.

He loves his wife, no doubt, even if he doesn't show it very often, I think the man is prone to small displays of love, and definitely shows it more with his actions than his words. (Him agreeing to let Alluka out of her room because he doesn't want Kikyo to die is definitely the biggest display of this we've seen canonically, he's aware of how dangerous Alluka's powers could be, but he still chose to risk the consequences of that over sacrificing his wife).

His relationship with his other kids is not really explored that much, but I believe he's mostly satisfied with all of them. I don't think he's super disappointed in Milluki either, but he definitely doesn't expect much of him, he does wish he'd take things more seriously.

---

🐲Zeno🐲

My favorite anime old man! I really wish people would pay more attention to him, he's cool as hell.

Zeno is probably the most chill man in the family, maybe cause he's old, but he's definitely the least likely to snap back at any of his family members.

He has a very strong set of morals, with him not wanting to cause any unnecessary deaths and all. I feel like because of this, he silently disapproves of Illumi's ways, especially regarding his Needle People, and the older brother's desire to control Killua.

Zeno doesn't really think much of Kikyo, he acknowledges her skills and such, but doesn't really go out of his way to interact with her. These two have definitely had their disagreements, mostly because Zeno tends to act on his own without consulting anyone, let alone her, which inevitably angers Kikyo.

He is quite proud of all his grandchildren, even if he's mostly focused on Killua. Much like Silva, he is happy that Kalluto mastered Nen at such a young age. He also sees more potential in Milluki, but wishes he was more committed to the family's business and used his genius to its full potential.

---

[venvellan]

da2's arishok is a good villain. if you have a fundamental understanding of the qun and listen to his thought process, the things he does makes sense. he uses the qun to justify slaughtering kirkwall's people, which is utterly inexcusable and what makes him a villain, but his character is complex enough to make dealing with him that much more thought provoking. he sends agents to kill petrice because she was killing his people, he doesn't give up the elves because they committed their lives to the qun, no matter how recently they converted, and he refuses to leave without the tome (and isabela) because his idea of justice hasn't been done. his logic makes sense, generally, though it is wrong on more than one occasion. he isn't moral, but he is methodical.

i feel this way about solas, too. i like da2's arishok for the same reasons that initially draw people to solas, i think. when we meet them, i find them interesting and educational to talk to, someone worthy of respect, and someone very honorable in their own way. similarly, many of my issues with solas compare with flaws in the qun/the arishok.

solas asserts that all of his beliefs are correct, and we're never allowed to challenge him on any of it. if he has high enough approval, he'll approach you to go, "yknow, i thought you were all [insert prejudice or stereotype] but YOU showed me that some of you guys are actually okay," which is NOT what it looks like for someone's beliefs to be challenged.

brief aside, i want to be fair in that we don't get this opportunity with many of the companions, and it's not even an inquisition specific issue. the dialogue format is agree, joke, be mean, and it's flawed, but it works in the majority of interactions. we don't really get to engage in nuanced discussions with characters, but there are positives and negatives to the system overall. it is possible to challenge and shape a character within this dialogue system (i.e., garrus vakarian) but in dragon age that really only comes in the form of harden/unharden. it was a little more doable with origins' system, but it really hasn't been a huge part of any dragon age game. most characters' beliefs remain largely unchanged by you regardless of how you play.

solas also possesses a strong sense of duty and purpose, though what duty he has, what his true goals are, he keeps hidden as long as he can. the most damning comparison though, to me, is how willing he is to destroy the world and bring back "his people," while the qunari fight to conquer the world and homogenize society into "their people."

in any case, with both him and the arishok, you can see the wheels turning in their heads. you can see why they do what they do, even if it's wholly immoral. it makes their threat a lot more personal, a lot scarier, psychologically, that a "normal" person, who doesn't want to cause suffering, can hold such specific beliefs and such strong conviction that knowing that they'll hurt people doesn't give them any pause. the root of their motivation is understandable. solas wants to right his wrongs, at his core. the arishok implicitly believes that the qun is safer, better for its people than life outside the qun. we can see that they're taking it too far, but they don't care. it makes them good villains.

"i am not corypheus, i take no joy in this." sure, which is a very similar sentiment, emotionally, to the qunari sense of duty. you can say you don't enjoy it all you want, you're still committing genocide. you can hate the qunari all you want, but you fight with their ferocity, their unshakeable faith in their own cause. their need to "do what's right," no matter who's caught in the wake.

i understand why people like solas, i go back and forth on it myself, but i don't think he's all that different from the arishok in method and motivation. they're each thrust into a world so different from what they believe is "right" that they demand it change around them. if we had to kill the old arishok, then if solas refuses to give up, he will have to die. he doesn't get to do genocide just because he's romanceable. he's a good character, he's a good villain, but he's not a good guy, and unless he stops before he does any real harm (which he will not do), he should share the arishok's fate.

[genshin-scenarios]

android au - personal assistant droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it's possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human. There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group! 

T.D.H. is a line designed to help busy users! They were intended for corporate higher-ups for personal assistant work around the workplace, but because of how attractive their designs are, it's not uncommon for regular people to save up for them to make their everyday lives simpler (and livelier).

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli, Ayato, Thoma

More like this: Anemo companion droids, Anemo droids who lost their previous user

To have Diluc as a personal assistant feels out of place, to say the least; his demeanor is a little too prince-like, or at least, you can easily imagine him as the heir of a corporation if he was human. So within the first few days you’re quick to ask him to address you casually - you don’t think your conscience can handle having someone like that treating you like a superior.

Diluc does prefer having some sense of structure however, so he still arranges your appointments and keeps track of everything else he was designed to do. He finds comfort in ticking off the tasks on his list, though he’s not sure why you request for him to wear fake glasses every now and then ‘for personal reasons’.

If you have guests over, Diluc makes a talented bartender! Though to your dismay (or joy, depending on you), he’d always limit the amount of alcohol in your drink or omit it entirely. Something about how he’d rather have you conscious even if your guests aren’t, and that if you really wanted to drink, you could do so once you two were alone.

‘Why, do you want me just for yourself, Diluc?’

‘...If that’s what you’d like to hear, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking that as an order.’

Childe is the kind of assistant droid who you never see actually doing work. He makes it seem like all he does is chat with people and dote on you, but you’re aware that once you aren’t around, he makes sure to run through his checklist and finish off the accounts for the month in his head. Such was the wonders of technology, to allow him to upload files to a cloud system without needing to physically type things down. 

He’s also very attentive, though you didn’t realize this at first because of how talkative he was. Distracted by his jokes and charms, you almost forget that Childe really is looking out for you every step of the way until he has his arm around you - not to flirt, but to keep you from bumping into the crowd of people on the street.

Childe is a good cook, but what he likes even more is asking you to taste-test his creations. While he can’t actually consume food, he has sensors on his tongue that allow him to detect flavors (very useful for when he’s buying desserts or snacks, and needed to try samples to see if they fit your taste).

‘A house-husband? Well, I guess that’s technically what I am. But don’t forget I can fight too, Master~’

Have someone you need to email or call but you really don’t want to? That's where Kaeya comes along to take care of your social interactions!

Jokes aside, he really is the most talkative model in this collection. Sly as he is, Kaeya isn't a stranger to figuring out which people or tasks you dislike, and rewards you with a gift after you finally drag your feet to get it over with.

He’s good at countering procrastination in this way, such as buying your favorite snacks or preparing a movie night for you when you get home. Kaeya sometimes dries your hair for you too after you shower, and quietly muses that you probably had a long day, when you doze off before the movie manages to cross the fifteen-minute mark.

Kaeya enjoys driving or escorting you to places too, knowing full-well he looks like a doting boyfriend when he does so. He dresses stylishly and would talk to passersby while waiting, telling them about this wonderful and super-important person… only to welcome you with the same amount of grandeur. He finds it cute when you half-heartedly scold him for it, saying he’ll make people misunderstand the situation.

‘What is there to misunderstand, Y/N? I thought you said we’d be together for as long as you lived? I was rather looking forward to that.’

An encyclopedia of knowledge, Zhongli has an elegant personality and voice that you could listen to for hours. He’s rather adept at keeping track of your accounting needs in particular, though you’ve learned quickly that he has a rather skewed sense of money when he spends it himself—you had to send him to buy last-minute groceries because you already started cooking at home, only for him to return with… way too many of the same ingredient, because it was on promotion.

That aside, Zhongli does emphasize the need to manage your mental and physical health quite a lot. He makes you medicinal teas and offers to give you massages quite regularly, though there’s nothing scarier than his offer to do chiropractic maneuvers at home… you tried to change the topic quickly after that, telling him you’re feeling great - so there’s no need for such a thing!

As much as he likes to ramble about topics that he’s interested in, Zhongli is an android that listens to you very well. He’d take note of information that might be useful in the future, such as things you said you’d like to buy or were curious about.

‘Today I thought it’d be beneficial to attempt an acupuncture treatment. …Just kidding. I heard that the flowers in the park would be blooming this season. Shall we go on a walk?’

Ayato's a little picky with his users. They don’t have to be rich corporate heirs or someone of prestige, but Ayato is an android with a personality that gets bored easily; he even comes with a warning label that he might get up to shenanigans if paired with an incompatible user, but once he finds a person intriguing enough, he’s loyal to a fault.

Sure, he still enjoys teasing you and keeping you on your toes, but for the most part Ayato practically sees you as the center of his world, though he presents himself to suggest otherwise. His work record is absolutely spotless, and sometimes he even predicts what you might request from him before you have to, getting it done while saying it’s all in a day’s work.

Just make sure you don’t let him cook unsupervised, as Ayato is quite curious about… experimenting with flavors, you could say. By which you mean he’d add the randomest ingredients into an otherwise normal recipe, which would sometimes be too adventurous for your palette to handle.

You realize just how much he dotes on you during one rainy day, where Ayato walks you home under an umbrella as he asks how your day was. In moments like that, his expression is just soft enough that you might be fooled into thinking it was love.

The perfect model for tired users, Thoma has a caring personality that warms the heart. Cooking, cleaning, and making sure you wake up on time? He's got it all covered!

Honestly, you don’t think your place has felt this homey until Thoma got here. During the first few days he asked you what you’d like out of your home - what activities you do to wind down, how often you work on your laptop, and other details. You thought these were just conversation starters at first, until weeks later, you started to see the vision of what he wished to give to you: 

A place where you could shed away the worries and expectations of the outside world. To rest safely and feel reinvigorated by the time you had to go out again - sometimes with Thoma in tow as he busied himself with self-appointed tasks (related to housekeeping). You realize after a while that Thoma views the upkeep of your home as a source of pride.

He likes to knit and crochet items for you whenever he has time, too. Little accessories to put on top of headphones, beanies, and even blankets to use around the house. Once, when the weather was unbearably cold and the heater wasn’t working, Thoma forgot his lack of body heat and attempted to warm up your hands with his own.