#*cough*arguments*cough*debates*cough*

[playingplayer2]

This that apparently spark equal amounts of engagement in a conversation in my family, list incomplete:

Architectural design

(none of us were arguing for the same thing and my mother is disgusted (only somewhat kidding) that I don't like domes the way she does and apparently my like "square rooms" is a character flaw (only somewhat serious).)

[avocad1s]

this is a weird thought but I definitely know that in sagau theres some mfs making fanfiction about the creator. Like imagine the creator visiting whatever nation they go to and they just see a self insert book about them. I know some acolytes religiously read them before bed every night (cough yae miko cough)

Note: Not weird at all Anon! I enjoyed this a bit more than I should’ve.

Mostly a crackfic just the acolytes being delulu

Without a doubt there are TONS of books about you all throughout Teyvat. No matter what nation you are in, you will always find what you’re looking for if it’s related to the Creator.

People have wrote books about how you created Teyvat, their speculations on how Visions were made, and even your relationship with all of the Archons. Of course there’s no telling which books are true or not, but it’s about you and they’ll consume anything that has your name in it.

That of course includes fanfics.

The fanfics aren’t openly talked about, many people feel embarrassed and don’t want to be judged by their peers for consuming that content. People who write such content always use a pen name, not wanting to attach their work to their true self.

Despite the embarrassment, these books are quite popular in all seven nations.

The Sages in Sumeru tried to ban them for being exported to their city claiming that are extremely disrespectful and sully the image of you. But that doesn’t stop the books from being smuggled in, many people, even scholars within the Akademiya, own at least one fanfic.

Inazuma is of course the main producer of these novels. Under the guidance of Yae Miko, many people have the chance to have their work published. (Yae has no shame whatsoever 💀) The Kitsune proofreads them all personally and critiques them harshly. Only the absolute best will be coming out of her publishing house.

Liyue, the place where all goods come to be traded and sold, are the ones who get the most exports of these products. Of course they’ll say they are simply for profit, which some of them are, but lots of them are for the Liyue citizens themselves. Even the Adepti read these novels but they always comment how odd mortals are to want Their Grace in such a way. (Yeah they projecting cuz they want you too 😩🙏)

Imagine all the arguments people have had debating whether a fanfic characterized you properly or not. Lmao.

Once you’re in Teyvat the fanfics don’t stop, actually they increase.

Now people have the chance to watch you from afar and come up with even more scenarios they’d like to imagine you in.

You mention your favorite food? They’re gonna write fics about taking you on a date to get that food.

You mention your favorite hobby? Yeah, you get the idea…

Of course they never expect you to find out about these books but it’s not like they’re hiding it. Just imagine how awkward that would be to see a self-insert book about yourself.💀

Now no one is reading these books publicly, that’s way too embarrassing for them, but once the sun is down and everyone is going home to rest once again, that’s when the books come out.

You know how some people need the perfect fake scenario before they fall asleep? Yeah that’s them with these books.

They’ll read to their heart’s content and eventually fall asleep having dreams about you hoping that one day they can meet you and make the fanfic a reality. They’re a bit delusional and the fics aren’t helping 💀

-

© avocad1s 2023

[babybatss-blog]

DOMESTICS

Sirius black x reader, 1100  words

summary: all you wanted to do was cook Sirius some chicken for dinner, but perhaps things don’t always go your way.

c/w: established relationship, alcohol consumption, swearing and crying, argument between Sirus and Reader. Practically just tame, basic relationship angst that turns into fluff :)

The classic casual Friday night is always a big step in any intimate relationship. Stepping out of uncomfortable outfits and delicate table foods into comfy hoodies and junky snacks creates a whole new level of intimacy with a partner, and can be quite nerve wracking for at least the first few instances. 

But you and Sirius are way past that.

On the first date, you stayed the night at his for two whole days. You met his best friends on that second day, and he met yours just four days later. James said you were funny, and Lily said Sirus was smitten. He admired your comfortableness with him while you appreciated his lack of care towards your groggy state every morning, and a week in you both shared your deepest traumas with each other. On some random Wednesday your parents turned up unannounced in your apartment, which is when he met them both shirtless and slightly hungover (though he concealed the latter expertly).

So, two months later it is entirely expected to have Sirius lounging on your couch, watching some Netflix overproduced action show and as you cook dinner. Usually he prefers taking control of the kitchen because he “likes to spoil his girls”, but he did not impose when you insisted it was your turn to give him some love. The kitchen smells like a variety of spices and mouth-watering flavours, and despite the simple dish you are preparing the kitchen looks like a professional chef is making a world-famous meal. Plates, pots and pans are spread around, ingredients spilled on any and all surfaces and your state decreased to completely dishevelled, huffing and puffing at every slight inconvenience to come your way. “This needs to be perfect for him.” You think, anxiously managing every element with not a moment to spare. Unbeknownst to you Sirus has now snuck over, and softly places his chiselled chin on your shoulder as you peer over the cooking meat.

“Looks raw.” He states nonchalantly, arms creeping around your waist. “I know. It’s not done yet.” You explain bluntly, words leaving your mouth slightly more harsh than you intended. But you don’t take them back, as your focus is entirely taken up by the meal in front of you.

Wait, I thought it was done? What’s it meant to look like if it is done? What does it taste like? What more does it need?

He soon releases you, walking away to the bathroom as he calls out. “Sorry for not wanting to be poisoned I guess!” You huff, opting to not fight back in fear of putting too much energy into something that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. You and Sirius are both painfully stubborn when you want to be, and are often laughed at by your friends for getting in ridiculous arguments. Once, you needed to go on a walk and clear your head after the two of you debated which Barbie movie is the best.

As he returns from the bathroom he subtly side eyes the chicken, seeing you have now placed it on a plate ready for serving. Against his better judgment, he calls out, in a half cough half word amalgamation which complains “still raw”. Would it be smart for you to reply? No, of course not! But do you do it anyway? Obviously!

“WELL WHY DON’T YOU COOK THEN MR PERFECT?!” You snap, eyes erratic and wide as you face him. He scoffs, hands placed on the kitchen counter opposite you.

“I’d be happy to, but you didn’t fucking let me!”

”Didn’t let you? I’m not your mother, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Well it isn’t nice if I’m too sick to go to work tomorrow!”

“Relax hard ass, you start work at three!” The argument quickly escalates past the point of reasonable, as Sirius’ arms flail widely about and the vegetables are left to burn in the oven.

In a closing statement you call Sirius a “spoilt brat” and he storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him so he can no longer hear you if you try to apologise. Tears well in your eyes as you look around, realising what just happened truly as your brain finally processes. How can your worst argument be about some stupid chicken? You rush to repair the damage of your distractions to the meal, pulling the vegetables out of the oven as your salty tears fall within. You can barely see through your exaggerated sobs, mad at yourself for all manner of things.

Why did you let his simple comments go to your head? What if he’s right, and the meals a disaster? Will he despise you now for going so off the handle? Is this the last night of your fleeting romance?

You quietly serve up the food as these thoughts run through your head, wiping away gushing tears and snot as you go. Once it’s done, you tentatively go over to the closed door of the bedroom and knock a few times. You hear some shuffles, and the door is opened to reveal an unimpressed Sirus. “Sorry…” You mumble, eyes glued to the wooden floor between you. He pushes past you in silence, grabbing his plate and sitting down on the plush couch. As much as you would like to beg for forgiveness and list all the reasons you should stay together, you don’t deem that important when he pats the space next to him to sit down, handing you a sympathetic yet weak smile. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He finally gets out, eyes drilling into your still shy figure. “I just was trying to help.” “I know. But I didn’t want you to have to worry. I wanted to spoil you; you know?” His hand falls onto your thigh, the other placing the chicken in his hungry mouth. You join him in eating the meal, and reluctantly admit what you wished wasn’t true.

“It’s not fully cooked.” You pout, tears still glossing your eyes. He chuckles, placing his plate down and enveloping you in a hug. “That’s fine gorgeous. UberEats it is.” You pull back and quickly peck his lips, a smile forming on both your faces as you respond.

“Only if it’s Mexican.”

“Deal.”

[boydepartment]

ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ from the start (trips) - nishimura riki x m! reader

inspired by this cover - angst - masterlist - wc 250-300 -> PT 2

riki absolutely hated your tendency to have new crushes almost weekly. you were his best friend ever and something that kept him from going insane. riki always had busy schedules so being able to hang out w you once in awhile helped balance it.

there was just one thing, you were a hopeless romantic and would crush on anything breathing. and normally this didn’t bother him but now for some reason

it was.

it was REALLY bothering him.

riki didn’t know what was wrong with him, he watched you as you started to wash his face, bumming off his products and clothes.

he liked when you both shared clothes, having the same style helped a lot. he liked shopping with you too, how your eyes would light up a bit seeing something. or when you guys went out to get coffee and you’d know his order.

but you were his friend. yeah…

“oh and then she said this thing that was just so funny it had me cracking up and-“

you were ranting about this girl you met in your class, which was weird because riki noted that you mentioned slightly last week that you leaned towards guys which wasn’t a problem for him at all and-

no never mind riki didn’t want to think about that right now.

“she also said this one thing about my hoodie- well your hoodie and-“

“okay okay i get it.” his tone even took him aback, he felt horrible when he noticed you tensed up and turned to him.

your messy hair falling perfectly on your boyish features, the way your eyes looked, the small details on your face. this has been happening a lot, the awkward silences and him staring at you for a little too long. then it clicked…

oh

oh

“i’m sorry- i- i don’t know where that- i’m sorry continue.” riki coughed and looked down at his phone.

he heard you huff and he looked at you again, “i’m not going to talk if you’re just going to look at your phone. in fact you’ve been off this entire hangout dude… i don’t know what the fuck i did to you- god forbid i share about MY day… you get-“

“okay well maybe you’re fucking annoying talking about all your crushes every week, it’s to the point where i tune you out because it’s so fucking irritating!” riki snapped and he now knew where this anger was coming from- jealousy

he watched as your features shifted from anger, to concern, right back to anger, “well fine since i’m SO annoying i guess i’ll leave then.”

riki felt you shoulder check him before walking out of the bathroom, he stood there for two seconds debating.

he could run after you, and risk ruining everything.

or he could stay here in the bathroom and wait till it all blows over the next day- handling it in a very “dude” way. that’s what jake and him do. just handling it the dude way with a quick apology after an argument then it’s over.

but to riki- you weren’t just a dude, you weren’t just one of his guy friends, you weren’t just his best friend, you were more than that.

and before he knew it, his feet were sprinting to the other side of the house where you were slipping your shoes on. panicking he full on tackled you.

“what the hell is your problem?!” you yelled as you hit the floor

“IM JEALOUS OKAY? IM JEALOUS!” riki yelled, holding onto you like you’d disappear

he had no clue what the hell he was doing. he felt crazy- insane even.

he felt you sit up slightly, rubbing your head from the impact and he looked up at you. still holding tightly onto you.

your brows were contorted and confused, you were dazed obviously because of the fall.

“jealous of what, you psycho?!” a small smile started to curl up on your lips, he felt his stomach churn as you kept speaking, “you’re my best friend, some girl won’t change that-“

“no- no it will-“ riki was panicking again, god what was wrong with him?! usually he’s confident and calm what the hell is going on?!

you looked at him again, “riki genuinely i’m not a shitty friend i’m not going to leave you for her that’s a terrible thing for a friend to-“

“i- i-“ he swallowed hard and he did something he is going to regret, he let go of you, he realized just because you said you liked boys, doesn’t mean you necessarily liked him like that, “yeah- yeah sorry… i just got paranoid i guess.”

“stupid.” you laughed and shoved him playfully, you took off your shoes, “since you’re not going to be an asshole anymore let’s finish that movie.” you stood up and riki watched you walk back further into the house. when you turned the corner he turned so he was on his back, he stared at the ceiling.

memories flashed of you and his hangouts, he felt his heart drop.

i guess he’s always loved you from the start

[cigsaftersuh]

૮ neighbor’s argument ྀིა .ᐟ

prev. 𐙚 next

ㅡ my forever only.

jaehyun lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you as you curled into the blankets with a soft, tired smile. the warmth of the night light cast a gentle glow over the room, softening the sharp edges of everything that had happened earlier. his hand absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, and for the first time that day, the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little.

“you know,” he started, his tone light but laced with curiosity, “i’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”

you turned your head toward him, raising a brow. “hm? what’s on your mind?”

he hesitated for a second, then grinned. “ten’s tweet. about, uh… the neighbor argument sounding good as hell. you wouldn’t happen to know what that’s about, would you?”

your cheeks flushed immediately, and you groaned, hiding your face in the pillow. “oh my god, of course he tweeted about that.”

“so you do know,” jaehyun teased, as he tugged the pillow from your hands, grinning mischievously as he plopped it under his head.

you groaned again, “i hate him.”

“c’mon, dandelion, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. spill. what’s the deal with his tweet?”

you sighed, already regretting ever letting ten into your house. “okay, so you remember how you, my mom, and my dad went to get breakfast without me?”

“yeah…” he drew the word out, narrowing his eyes. “wait, is this about those dramatic texts you sent your mom? something about hating me?”

your jaw dropped, and you smacked his arm. “how do you even know about that?!”

“she told me,” jaehyun said, laughing as he dodged another playful swat. “she said you were acting like a brat.”

“well, great,” you muttered, flopping back onto the bed. “i hate this family. all of you.”

“sure you do,” he teased, poking your side.

“debatable,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

jaehyun rolled his eyes fondly, leaning closer. “okay, so what exactly happened? you were texting your mom — what did you say?”

you groaned, already embarrassed. “i might’ve… threatened to cough on your breakfast.”

jaehyun’s laughter burst out of him, loud and uncontrollable. “oh my god! you’re unhinged.”

“i was joking!” you protested, smacking his arm again. “but my mom didn’t think it was funny. she gave me this whole speech about how i’m not a kid anymore and how i should ‘act like a proper wife.’ and then ten overheard her, and that’s why he tweeted about that.”

jaehyun’s laughter softened, his expression growing more thoughtful. “she really said that to you?”

“yeah,” you said quietly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “she made it sound like i was embarrassing her or something. like i’m not doing enough, even though i’m trying so hard.”

jaehyun’s teasing demeanor shifted completely. he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “dandelion,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, “you’re doing more than enough. you don’t have to prove anything to anyone — not to your mom, not to me, not to anyone.”

your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. “i just… i feel like i’m always messing up. like i don’t know how to be what everyone expects me to be.”

jaehyun scoffed, shaking his head. “first of all, screw expectations. who cares what anyone thinks you’re supposed to be? you’re you, and that’s more than enough. honestly, you’re so good at this whole marriage thing, i feel like i’m the one struggling to keep up.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what are you talking about? you’re literally perfect.”

he snorted, rolling onto his back dramatically. “oh, please. i accidentally left the laundry in the machine for, like, three days last week. and don’t even get me started on the whole grocery list fiasco. you’re the one holding this whole operation together.”

a laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself. “jae, forgetting to switch the laundry doesn’t mean you’re bad at being married.”

“exactly,” he shot back, rolling onto his side to face you again. “and teasing you about threatening to cough on my breakfast doesn’t mean you’re bad at it, either.”

you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “i guess.”

“not ‘i guess,’” he said, booping your nose. “it’s a fact. you’re amazing, and i’m lucky you even tolerate me.”

“you’re so annoying,” you grumbled, but the smile on your face gave you away.

“and yet,” he said, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his, “you’re still married to me.”

“unfortunately,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

“take it back,” he said, poking your side again.

“make me,” you shot back, laughing.

he grinned, his arms tightening around you. “i’ll just smother you with love until you give in.”

“fine, fine!” you relented, still laughing. “you win. you’re the best husband ever.”

“and don’t you forget it,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

ʚ taglist - open ɞ

@cstarry @hyuckleberriii @beacauseimmaya @jeongjaeleftbicep @lesuneczka @cryingforjae @ctrlstar @youaremysecretworld @douqhnxtss @dearlyminhyung @jaemnationnn @jaeyunluvbot @nonverdolly @dudekiss3r @rubiiisyeon @jae10velies

[whatsjulietslastname]

expending on the mlm pricefield thing (and i’m not talking about double exposure anymore), i think if pricefield had been one of the first mlm pairing to be openly queer in video games history, it would’ve been way more of a big deal back when the game was released and years later. i also think little to no people would be debating whether their relationship is platonic or not, and people would’ve been way faster at jumping to the conclusion that you were homophobic if you thought they were.

historically, the most popular mlm pairings (i’m thinking johnlock, kirk and spock from star trek, merlin and arthur, all the h*rry p*tter and marvel gay ships) have a way bigger fanbase and are way less denied than the wlw ones (i’m thinking supercop, emma swan and regina mills, betty and veronica from riverdale etc). (for the record, i looked up “queerbaiting” to make this post and have examples, and found like a dozens of mlm pairings and always the same few wlw ones…) AND it is way more socially acceptable to say “those two women have a platonic relationship” whereas, if you do the same with johnlock, for instance, you WILL get an angry twenty paragraphs long reply about how there was nothing platonic about it (even though John Watson married a woman).

my point is not “he married a woman so he wasn’t queer” my point is, whenever one part of a wlw pairing has a boyfriend, or a man who she shows a glimpse of interest in (*cough cough* Warren Graham *cough cough*), it is IMMEDIATELY used as ‘evidence’ that this character cannot be queer since she can be in a heterosexual relationship — which is an argument that, again, you will practically never find directed at a gay ship. and, again, the few people who do use this argument against mlm pairings are called ‘homophobic’.

AGAIN, i am not saying that you cannot ship Warren and Max or are homophobic if you do, i’m saying that if Chloe and Max had been two guys, people would’ve been so focused on them, on Max’s diary’s entries, and the two possible kisses they can share onscreen, and the flirting and implications in their relationship, and Chloe’s obvious attraction to Max, that grahamfield would’ve had a way smaller fanbase — or no fanbase at all. and people would’ve absolutely disregarded the fact that you can make Max romance Warren (who is a girl in this scenario). they would’ve seen Warren’s nearly one-sided flirting, and would’ve immediately gone “she (Warren) is in love with him (Max) and he doesn’t give a fuck” (and the kiss in the Two Whales would’ve been collectively ignored by the entire fandom, as is Mary Watson, or Pepper Potts, or Tonks, or Ginny Weasley).

but BECAUSE Max and Chloe are girls, people are still debating whether she is even queer or not by saying “if i make her romance Warren she experiences no attraction towards Chloe and therefore is straight” which is false, because the attraction is HERE. all you, as a player, get to decide is whether or not Max acts on it. and no matter how much evidence there is that Max is indeed romantically interested in Chloe, you will NEVER convince those people, because to them, the moment a woman and a guy interact in a non-platonic way, this woman has to end up with said guy, no matter how queer-coded her relationship with another woman is.

and now that pricefield is broken up, people who would’ve been rioting if it had been guys are calling people who are rightfully upset ‘dramatic’. just try and imagine the reaction of the Sherlock fandom if Sherlock was returning without Watson because “they argued off-screen and decided to stop seeing each other”. those guys aren’t childhood best friends, are never romantically involved, their fandom hasn’t been begging to have a glimpse of them together for ten years, and yet i can’t even imagine how angry people would be. all this fandom was asking was to at least not destroy Max and Chloe’s friendship, and look where we are now.

[radfemsiren]

So I saw this on TikTok live and decided to request to debate, since I saw it was all men and one pick me woman ganging up on and bullying a soft spoken Muslim woman.

Debating on TikTok live for the first time was a fucking struggle lmao, they kicked out the girl for being a Shia, so I had to try to argue while not revealing myself to be an ex Muslim 😅

They sniffed me out right away! Too much empathy and intellect! Something Muslims are not allowed to have. When the pick me Host (she hates women more than any other woman I’ve ever met lmao) brought up a pro slavery Hadith, I asked them, “Genuinely, you’re telling me you’re pro slavery? With your own logic and morality, you are ok with literal slavery??” And they all loudly declared “YES!! Are you questioning the Hadith? What Muslim questions the Hadith?!”

They kicked me out with the swiftness lmao, Islam is not compatible with modern, civilized society 💀 The pro rape, pro wife beating, pro slavery Hadiths they were bringing up to defend their arguments.. it was hard to not out myself as an ex muzzie and just shout “YES, THATS WHY ISLAM IS EVIL BRUH, why do YOU approve of these things 😭” I’m glad I at least wasted their time and ruined their moods lmao, they got really offended by my explicit avatar pfp … they only noticed towards the end and started yelling “What the hell is that ?!” 😂

That’s my husband’s beautiful blue ass, what do you mean 😔

Anyway gonna finish setting up that ex Muslim discord and post it tonight! I wanna think of a way to troll these debates that keep growing in numbers. They don’t have many viewers but there’s so many of them and I wanna keep them down and ruin their evangelizing attempts at brainwashing more people… maybe a funny, slow speaking character to bore and annoy? Stoner muslimah that keeps interrupting to ask what’s the Islamic ruling on smoking weed lmao. She keeps coughing into the mic whenever someone tries to speak 💀

Any other ideas lol?

[rottenpumpkin13]

what would aszc do if Genesis just kinda collapsed one day?

You mean like this?

Amidst Genesis' volatile temper and penchant for dramatics, there was one constant sign of frailty yet to come: his voice. It was a barometer of his health, an instrument he had been taught to play against his will since birth, tuned to the subtle shifts in his health.

The first signs were subtle—a slight quiver where there once was a firm tone, a rasp where there was once resonance, a cough at the end of a sentence that grew tighter with each word. Those who knew him well could detect the shifts, often when Genesis himself remained willfully blind to his declining health.

Genesis would dismiss their concerns with a wave of his hand, claiming it was merely fatigue, asserting he was fine, "can a man not cough in peace?" with a hint of disdain for their concern.

But that day Genesis defied all expectations. He was not teetering on the verge of impending illness, nor was his voice any different than it had been all week—strong and mellifluous, matched by his buoyant mood. He flourished, his laughter reverberating through the corridors of headquarters as he entertained a group of eager third-class recruits with tales of his recent exploits. His cheeks were flushed, his smile genuine and his presence commanding—all observations noted by Cloud, who had only recently made Third, as he entered the training facility.

Meaning it came as a profound shock when Genesis suddenly collapsed without warning, his body convulsing in agony as he collided with the ground.

Cloud's cry for Angeal pierced the air before he even realized he was moving, his knees hitting the ground hard as he cradled his commander's head in his lap. "Someone get Angeal!" Cloud screamed to the other Thirds, their panic matching his own. "Go!" he urged, hands trembling as he checked for a pulse, doubting what he found.

Zack was the first to arrive despite the shouts, having been training in a nearby chamber when Cloud's urgent voice pierced through the din of the combat simulator. He rushed into the scene to find Angeal and Cloud in heated debate over the best course of action. He arrived just as their argument reached its peak:

"We need to get him to the medical facility," Cloud insisted. "It's the quickest way to diagnose and help him."

"No," Angeal countered firmly. "We take him to Hollander. He's been Genesis' physician for years, he'll know what to do."

"Time's running out, guys!" Zack snapped as he stepped between them and swiftly lifted Genesis onto his shoulders. With Cloud and Angeal trailing in argument, they hurried out of the facility.

Sephiroth had been in the briefing room when it happened, deep in discussion with Lazard, when movement caught his eye through the glass. He saw Cloud, Zack, and Angeal rushing urgently, with Zack holding an unconscious Genesis thrown over his shoulder. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran out, leaving Lazard mid-sentence.

He caught up just as they reached the elevator. "What happened?" Sephiroth's gaze flickered between Genesis and Angeal. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Cloud was breathless and visibly shaken, strugging to explain and find his words. "He collapsed⏤out of nowhere," he managed between gasps. "We don't know… he just...went down!"

Sephiroth's thoughts raced as the elevator descended. The sight unnerved him, because he had witness far too many of Genesis' brushes with death to be mollified by their route toward the medical facility.

The urgency with which a team of doctors and nurses rushed to meet them only heightened the tension, the blaring alarm sounding throughout the white hallways as they swiftly strapped Genesis to a gurney. They hurried off with him, leaving the rest of them without answers or any assurance that he would recover.

But Genesis awoke six hours later, disoriented and feeling as if the goddess herself had forced him back to consciousness. Cloud, Angeal, Sephiroth, and Zack were granted entry into the room, where they found him alert, but his attempt at cheerfulness was visibly forced as he greeted them.

Sephiroth wasted no time in asking: "What happened?"

Genesis scoffed lightly. "It's silly, really," he assured, lifting the medical gown to reveal a fresh scratch on his hip bone. "I got nicked by the enemy on that mission two days ago," he explained, his gaze momentarily falling to the injury. "It seems the wound hasn't healed yet, but don't worry," he added hastily, covering the scratch with the gown and attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sure it will."

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if I could request BAU x Male reader who get's shot in the head and the bullet ricochets/bounces off their skull. How'd the team react to thinking reader is dead but someone notices something strange and that they are still alive but losing blood fast??

Warnings: Hospitals, head wound, shot in the head (but it bounces so no one dies)

A/N: Sorry it's a bit short and a bit silly!

"Shit!" Morgan swears, racing towards your body, "Shit, shit, shit, shit," His mumbles as desperate as he begs to a God he's not even sure he believes in that you're okay. But blood is beginning to pool around his knees as he kneels beside you. Then he sees your chest moving and rushes to take your pulse, it's pretty good for someone who just got shot in the head. "Reid!"

Spencer's there in seconds. "I think it ricocheted off his head," The paramedics, who had just entered the room, furrow their eyebrows and rush forward, quickly confirming Spencer's suspicion.

Hours later, you woke up with a headache from Hell. Your first instinct is that you're badly hungover, but you don't remember last night. You push yourself up from your bed, squinting at the light. You must have left a light on or something because it was ridiculously bright. When the idea of opening your eyes seemed less painful, you opened them..

Penelope leans over, clearly wanting to give you a hug but not wanting to overstep, "How are you feeling sweetie?"

You furrow your eyebrows at her, "Who- Who are you?"

You watch as their faces drop, panic setting in. "I'm sorry, that was cruel," You laugh, wincing at the pain in your head.

"And that was karma," Emily responded.

"I'm okay," You answer, Penelope gives you a look, unsure as to whether to believe you. "You're Penelope Garcia, Knower of All Knowledge."

"Okay, he's okay," Penelope declares.

"Except I genuinely cannot remember what happened, did I drink a lot? Like a lot, a lot?"

"Nope," Morgan answers, "An unsub shot you in the head and it bounced off."

"What?" Your jaw drops, this must be a joke, but then you turn to Hotch and his expression is serious and everyone else isn't telling Morgan not to joke. You lift a hand up to your head, and a thick bandage covers it. "You're joking."

"Unfortunately not," Hotch says.

You're silent for a moment, trying your best to process what he had told you, trying to drown Penelope and Morgan out as you think it over. ('Maybe that wasn't the best way to tell him!' 'But I summed it up nicely!' 'Look at him! You've broken him!').

"Are you okay?" You look up at JJ.

"I got shot in the head." JJ nods, "And it bounced off."

"Yep, like your head is made of metal or something," Morgan says.

"It bounced off?"

"It just- pew-" Derek pushes a finger towards his head until it pokes his forehead and makes the motion of it flying off.

"Okay, everyone wait outside," Hotch declares, seeing the panic on your face. It takes a moment, but soon enough it's just you and Hotch. "How are you feeling?"

"This is a lot."

Hotch nods.

"I nearly died."

He nods again.

"It bounced off my head, Hotch. Bounced."

He nods once more.

"What the fuck."

He huffs a laugh at that one.

"I'm gonna have such a cool scar," You realise. "What if I'm dead and this is just the afterlife?"

Hotch gives you a look before he stands up and opens the blinds, giving you the view of Emily, Penelope, Spencer, and Derek all in a heated debate (cough, argument, cough) whilst JJ and Rossi try their best to calm everything down. "This your idea of an afterlife?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm in Hell," You joke.

"You and me both," Hotch snorts.

[eff4freddie]

2 Sweet 4 Me | Part Three

Dieter Bravo x AFAB Reader Words: 2.5k Minors DNI

Part One Part Two Epilogue

Dieter knows he fucked up, knows he lost you, knows it hurt and that he deserved it. But if its the way things had to be, the way they were always going to be, predestined as he is, apparently born under a vengeful and unforgiving star, then why does it still fucking sting so much?

This is a love story.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, lots of swearing, angst

The thing about wrap parties is that if you never let yourself get attached to any of the people you work with, it doesn’t hurt when its time for everyone to go. Dieter hated wrap parties, mind already on his next project, if not his next score. He didn’t care to really know anyone, their hopes and dreams or whatever. The way people clambered over each other to feign sadness that their two and a half months together were over, the way they promised to stay in touch just to immediately lose everyone’s numbers, the way people looked through him, plotting how to get the dregs out of him, how to carve up whatever was left. He used to be able to stand it, when he knew he had you to go home to.

He hadn’t dared call you since his late-night Ambien confessions. Part of him wanted to see if you’d call him, if you’d miss him now that you’d heard his voice again, and a larger, wiser part of him knew you wouldn’t, that you shouldn’t, that maybe you and him could debate whether he was good enough for you, but there was no argument that he wasn’t good for you. He’d seen the way your eyes had hollowed out the longer you stayed with him.

Fuck, it still hurt though. He felt the fist clenched tight in his chest, always feeling breathless and slightly panicked at the idea of being alone. You. Without you.

Rudy convinced him to go to the wrap party anyway, that it was important to be seen, then basically held him hostage, refusing to come and pick him up for at least an hour. Dieter had downed one vodka tonic and watched the minutes tick by before he could slip away again. His next job started in three weeks, was shooting in LA, and the studio had let him keep Rudy. Dieter liked Rudy, his dad-vibes weirdly soothing at the end of a long night. Rudy judged Dieter, but only ever fairly.

‘You got a few weeks off from me, my friend,’ he said, from the front passenger seat, because he felt like either an invalid or 100 years old sitting alone in the back. Rudy had let him sit there so long as he promised not to fuck with the radio. Dieter had sat on his hands.

‘You going to keep yourself occupied, Sir?’ Rudy asked, and Dieter shrugged.

‘Might do.’

‘I mean, you gonna keep that nose outta trouble?’ Rudy asked again, and there was that paternal care Dieter realised he’d been missing for most of his childhood, soaked it up now in case Rudy ran dry.

‘Might do,’ Dieter replied, grinning.

He’d just learnt to carry on without you, he realised. Hobbled, but moving. He checked his phone less, sometimes forgot to even look at it for hours on end. He hardly ever cracked open your left-over shampoo just to pretend you were still in the room. He didn’t catch himself reaching for you over the cold mattress at 3 AM anywhere near as often.

--

He nearly dropped his keys. Rudy had dropped him off at his gate so that he didn’t have to back up the driveway, and Dieter had been staring at the night sky, his head fully thrown back as he walked up his garden path, so that he didn’t see you sitting on his stoop until he was nearly standing on you.

‘Baby?’ he said, and you lifted your face to him as he reached for you, pulled you up onto your feet and into his arms, your little coughing sobs reverberating up his neck and bouncing around his skull. ‘Oh, my sweet thing, what?’ he asked, and you cried harder into his skin, your fists raised to his chest, almost like you were trying to hold him away while he pulled you in.

‘It’sjustbeensuchashitday,’ you said, and he reached down to pull your face from his so that he could examine you, turning your face left and right in the porchlight.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and you sniffled, avoiding his gaze, staring instead at his hairline. You wanted to reach up and run your fingers through it, tug on it as he settled his head between your thighs.

‘I…’ you started, and you stopped, because you didn’t know where to start, how to explain, that you had just wanted him, that nothing even really all that dramatic had happened, just fucking Kevin in your fucking office fucking up the finance reports again so now your project was $60k over budget because he can’t add up tax despite being a fucking accountant, and the CEO’s EA had been a bitch to you about trying to get a report signed off after the deadline, and you’d had to settle a couple of bullshit microaggressions between your colleagues because they were incapable of communicating like fucking adults, and your boss had given you a weird vibe all day like she was waiting for you to fuck up just to point it out to you, and the fluorescent lights had given you a headache again but you weren’t able to get an appointment with the optometrist to get those blue light filtering glasses things you’d read about on Instagram for another two weeks, and God sometimes your body just felt fucking wrong and there wasn’t any reason for it, really, except that putting your body against his made it right again.

You paused for breath, exhaling slowly, looking up into his face. It took you a moment to realise you’d spoken it all, out loud. You felt the heat explode on your cheeks at the revelation.

‘Oh, baby,’ he said, and he held your face in his hands as he planted a warm kiss on your forehead.

‘Can’t turn my brain off,’ you said, miserable.

‘You want me to help you forget?’ he asked, heart racing, caught on your words like a rag on a barbwire fence; made it right again, made it right again, your body against his made it right again.

You stared up at him, your eyes red and bloodshot, skin wet with tears. He held you there, in his gaze and in his hands. You weren’t sure you could speak it into existence, if you should. You nodded your head instead.

And then you were in his arms again, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you, carrying you over the threshold and down into the den, his sunken couch appearing beneath you both as he sat, placing you gently to straddle his lap, laving at the skin behind your ear with his tongue. You gasped, your skin on fire and your body shivering, your clothes too tight, his clothes in your way, as you scrabbled for the hem of his tee and pulled it over his head. There, the expanse of his warm, golden skin. The smattering of hair on his chest, his nipples straining in the cool air. You wanted to lie down on it, feel it under your cheek and your palms, taste every inch with your tongue. He was panting, sitting with you perched on his lap, leaning back and looking up at you, his eyes wide as he waited for you to tell him to stop.

You leant forward, biting into the flesh of his shoulder, the urge to mar the perfect landscape of his skin too great. He sucked a breath in through his teeth, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, hard and straining under his light cotton pants.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he muttered, pushing you down harder onto his lap and dragging you across it, the heat of your cunt intoxicating. He could smell you again, your perfume and your shampoo and your arousal, your little gasps in his ear as your clit grazed his thighs. ‘You miss me this bad?’

You could only nod, the electric shocks between your thighs pushing the words from your head. You felt his hands travelling, coming around to your front, pulling your top off, lifting the cups of your bra to hold your tits in his warm palms. No one had touched you like this in so long, not since you’d attempted a one-night-stand to see if you could fuck Dieter out of your life for good, and failed at both that and achieving orgasm.

His lips on your collarbone, his cock pushing up against you pussy, your hands in his hair. You’d thought about it, remembered it, conjured it alone in your bed with your fingers in your cunt, and none of it had been anything compared to the real thing, to the smell of him, to his scraggy beard dragging across your skin as he kissed you, hissing in pleasure as you rutted against him. He moved his hands again, sliding them up your thighs as you sat perched above him, sliding them under your skirt and over the cloth of your underwear, groaning when he felt that you were already soaking the fabric.

‘Dee,’ you whimpered, and you moaned when he pushed it to the side, slipping a fingertip against your clit, rubbing tight little circles that he knew would set you on fire. He chuckled to himself, satisfied and impatient in equal measure, as you gasped, your cunt so hot under his touch. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not, if he’d finally cracked and was just straight up hallucinating. He wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead, couldn’t account for the events as they were unfolding but just going with them, the pull of his cock guiding him towards you without any consideration as to the consequences.

He didn’t want to give you a chance to reconsider. He slipped a finger inside, all the way to the knuckle, pulling you to him in case you slipped from his grip as your back arched. It was like when you’d first got together, when you were crushing hard on each other, before things had got complicated and sad and sour. Before he’d been neglectful, before the lies had doubled and tripled, before the house of cards he built for the both of you to live in came crashing down around you. He felt it then, the nostalgia and the belief that maybe if you just kept fucking like this, kept pawing at each other, kept up the desire and the need, that you could get back on track, that he could keep you, the idea of it spurring him to switch places, pushing you sideways and onto the couch beneath him as he fumbled to release his heavy, aching cock from his pants.

You lifted your bum as you swept your underwear off your skin, opening yourself up to him as he devoured you, brown eyes trained on your cunt and the need for him leaking out and dribbling into the fabric of the couch. He swiped it with his thumb, lifting it to his lips for just the smallest of tastes to tide him over. You closed your eyes, the heat of it so much you felt the need to turn away, and he reached out and pulled your chin towards him again, locking you into his gaze.

‘Don’t turn away from me, baby,’ he said, leaning forward and positioning himself at your entrance. You watched him, entranced, as he pushed. ‘Never turn away, want to remember your eyes on me, want to remember all of it.’ You gasped, the sharpness in Dieter’s eyes, the focus, reminding you of how present he could be in a moment he determined worthy of his full attention. A little bloom of hurt emerged, one you had carried for months, knowing that he could seemingly turn off his care for you on a dime. You wondered, briefly, fretted, why it was that you had started failing to win it, why he had looked at you this way less and less as time wore on, why he had given up on you, why you had let him, why you had stayed for as long as you had, and then he pushed fully into you, groaned as you took him fully inside you, pitching your hips to grind your clit onto his hipbone, and you forgot it all for a second, obliterated with just the feel of him surrounding and inside you, just the taste of his sweat and the curl of his hair around his forehead, a little crown of thorns visible only in the dark as he crouched above you.

‘Dee,’ you said, and you heard the heaviness in it, the sob of it, as he pulled out and crowded himself back inside, brought himself home and you with him, seated himself inside your flesh. He leant over you on his elbows, cradling your head in his hands as he examined your eyes, the pleasure coursing through him as he saw the catch of your bottom lip between your teeth, felt the weight of it between you, crushing you both as he eased you open, felt the quake of the foundations as you entwined yourself around him, fresh tears on your cheeks as you grabbed for him, drew him in tighter, gasped and groaned and stretched your spine to try and contain it, all that he was drawing from you.

‘Baby,’ he said, a choke in his throat as he caught something rough behind his teeth, recognised it as the loss of you, the grief, no more heard than felt the crashing wave threatening to wash you both away. ‘I know,’ he whimpered, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he continued to seesaw into you, the joy and the thrill of it mixing with the sadness, with the terror, with the pain. ‘I know, baby, I know, I know,’ he mumbled, feeling that you were right there with him, that you were both standing over the cliff edge, knew that once you pulled him over, that once he took you with him, there would no clambering back to the ledge, that this was a goodbye as much as it was a coming home, that he wouldn't get to keep you because you were never his to possess, that you were with him now but that it would be the last time, that you would be gone the second your body hit the ground.

You felt it coming and you did nothing to stop it. Neither of you did.

--

He didn’t watch you dress, couldn’t bring himself to. He tucked himself back into his pants and stopped there, unable to bear putting his tee back on, covering himself when he had bared it all for you so readily and so recently, wanted to expose the nerve to the biting air for just a couple of seconds more. The world had slotted back again, into misalignment, where he realised now it had always belonged.

You didn’t have words, slipping first from his arms and then from his home in silence. You didn’t want to savour the moment, didn’t want to look back to examine and imprint the details in your mind. It was over now, whatever had been crowning was birthed. Nothing now except for the cleanup, for the clearing away.

At his gate the weather turned, an unseasonably cool breeze pushing your hair into your face and teasing the skin where your tears had tracked just minutes, moments, a lifetime before. You felt the chill of it there on your cheek, something new blooming underneath, something worth protecting. You reached up to warm it with your own hands.

Taglist (and massive thank you list!) @harriedandharassed @readingiskeepingmegoing @missladym1981 @misstokyo7love @ghostofzion @dieterbravobrainrotclub @the-feckless-wonder @swankyorange

[bluberryfields]

"What the hell did you just do?"

Part 2 of whatever. Continuing on with Tadfield Manor scenes, we get to the infamous "Wall" scene. I know it has been analyzed by many so far, but that's never stopped people in the world of literary analysis from spewing their own thoughts on well-reviewed texts. Also, I just want to.

Okay, so once they enter the manor building and see the management training branding, Crowley decides to "help out" and make all of the paintball guns into real machine guns. He snaps his fingers and points double finger guns at the passing "soldier".

Aziraphale is dumbfounded. "What the hell did you just do?

Such language, Angel! And no physical reaction to it like Crowley did when he said "Heaven's sake" in E6. Huh.

Crowley, meanwhile, is thoroughly pleased with himself. They want to battle? He's happy to oblige.

This plus the scare in the courtyard lets us see Crowley enjoying the few perks of being a demon. It's fucking adorable.

Aziraphale cannot comprehend how Crowley - who just miracled a stain away on his coat because it bothered him - could do something so thoroughly evil. And with a jaunty step!

If Aziraphale had pearls, he'd be clutching them so hard.

To which Crowley takes the opportunity to once again point out the flawed binary system of morality. We the audience will see this argument again in the Body Snatcher minisode, so it's fun to see how these two keep having the same old debates throughout time just with different causes with which to start from.

Pointing out hypocrisy while slinking down a hall? Crowley, you delicious tramp.

Aziraphale is still thoroughly horrified, but Crowley concedes with a sigh that everyone will, in fact, be fine. To me, his tone is a mix of disappointment at him not being quite as much of a bastard as he paints himself. He can't really hide his true self from Aziraphale.

I love how he can't stop moving his body. Snakes gonna slither.

Then here is it. The big moment. Smug little Aziraphale feels the need to mention how nice Crowley is underneath his demonic persona.

We now know that this is a reoccurring exchange, where Crowley must defend his title of Big Bad Demon in front of Azi's kind compliments. There's serious consequences to Crowley being labeled "nice" and Azi knows this by now. So why does he keep bringing it up? To provoke Crowley? To finally break him into admitting Azi is right? It's not like Azi can protect Crowley from Hell's wrath, but he pushes anyway.

I thought Crowley was the shit-stirrer in this relationship.

And now my favorite part. Sister Mary shows up and rightly implies these two are about to nail each other through the drywall. But when she recognizes Crowley, he stops her in her tracks.

The sass! It's off the fucking chart! Only an Angel could withstand such a display!

Aziraphale just straightens his clothes and lets the sass go unchallenged because he's still has a bit of self-preservation instincts left.

So I already talked about the "Luck of the devil" line from Aziraphale here, but it truly is a fun moment in the context of the whole scene. Crowley is worked up from the "nice" comment and Aziraphale's seeming refusal to stop analyzing him.

Horny Aziraphale is sassy and Crowley looks like he wants to bite through a door frame.

So, obviously, I've spent way too much time rewatching these scenes, but I do find it so interesting how we see so much of their relationship on display within just a few minutes. The different personality traits to draw them together while also pushing them apart.

The way Aziraphale knows how to work Crowley, who in turns knows how to indulge appropriately. (*cough* bullet catch *cough*)

The way Crowley happily taps into his demonic toolbox to spread a bit of chaos without actually causing serious harm. (*cough* Job *cough*)

The way Aziraphale reflexively tows the party line of Heaven even in the face of Crowley's demonstrations of humanity's instincts. (*cough* all of time *cough*)

And basically the way they bring out the best (and sometimes worst) of each other. Some might say they're a team. Or a group. A group of the two of them.

[kennahjune]

HI OMG HELLO

Just a little obsessed with the whole “projecting my interests onto Steve” train I have going so here ya go—

Steve who has an interest in mythology of just about any kind but specifically Greek Mythology because “holy shit everyone’s gay.”

Steve’s hosting the usual Saturday hangout at his house because it’s the one time everyone’s schedules line up. He’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, Robin on the floor to his right and Dustin to his left. Everyone else is spread among the couches and armchair, squeezing together in a way that seems more uncomfortable and over heated than the Devil’s asscrack.

Dustin was going on a ramble about something science-y. Robin and Mike would cut in occasionally with their own arguments and begin a whole new debate. Steve wasn’t paying much attention though.

His focus was on Eddie, who was staring intently at the living room window. Specifically the one that held his mothers flower vases.

When there was a break in the argument where everyone caught their breaths and gathered their thoughts, Eddie struck.

“What kind of flowers are those?” He pointed at the light yellow vase with a complicated floral pattern.

Steve paused and debated answering. He knew it was a trap. The flowers in that vase held a long story— one that everyone in the room would be subjected to hearing if Steve couldn’t help himself.

But Eddie was looking at his expectantly, Dustin tilting his head in curiosity, and even Mike eyeing him with a genuine wonderment.

So, Steve naturally conceded. “They’re hyacinths.”

Argyle whistled lowly. “Pretty name.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah well— they get their name from one of the prettiest people in history. In my opinion anyway.”

That seemed to pique everyone’s interest. Bad move on Steve’s part. At this rate, he’s gonna crack and go on a rant. Nobody wants to listen to his rants.

“Who do they get their name from?” Will asked, pulling his feet up to sit crisscross on the armchair. Mike was sat right next to him on the seat, squished into the arm but making no complaints. Mike nodded at Will’s question, as if agreeing that he also wanted to know.

Steve shifted and pulled one leg to his chest, resting his arm on it and fiddling with his hands. He avoided eye contact with just about anyone, before cracking a little more and looking at Robin.

With the nod she gave him, Steve felt himself break.

“They get their name from the Roman Prince Hyacinthus.”

Nancy hummed and took a sip from her Coke. She waved her hand as if urging him on. Steve continued.

“Um— well Hyacinthus was a Roman Prince beloved by all, including the God Apollo—“

“But isn’t Apollo a guy?” Mike interrupted. Looking over, Steve saw the pure curiosity and something that looked like hesitation on his face. Next to Mike, Will looked equally if-not-more hesitant but also very happy (?).

Steve allowed himself a small grin and nodded. “He is indeed. Hyacinthus is actually the first openly gay Greek character that we know of.” Steve’s smile brightened at the grin that made itself present on Will’s face and look of pure endearment on Mike’s.

“Anyways— Apollo fell in love with Hyacinthus but so did Zephyros, the God of the West Winds. Hyacinthus chose Apollo over Zephyros, however. And one day while Apollo and Hyacinthus were being all couple-y or whatever in the fields and playing discus, Zephyros took advantage of the winds and sent a discus spiraling straight at Hyacinthus and it ended up killing him on impact.”

He paused to take a breath, the story taking hold of him. Steve could feel the rush of excitement at finally talking about it— this story was his favorite and the next part always got him.

Among his break, he looked up and started at Eddie’s eyes on him. Of course, everyone’s eyes were on him, but Eddie’s shone with such a fondness that Steve felt himself having to do a minor breathing exercise to calm his heart down.

He cleared his throat with a cough and picked up where he left off, tilting his eyes down and keeping them on his fidgeting hands.

“Well— um, it was typical ‘if I can’t have you no one can’ fashion but the death shook Apollo to his very core and after trying everything in his power to get Hyacinthus back he finally gave in and grew the hyacinth flowers from the grass wherever Hyacinthus’ blood touched ‘to keep him in the sun where he belonged’.”

And with that, Steve looked around at everyone in the room. El’s eyes were filled with wonderment. Sitting next to her, Max looked shocked— though, at the story or Steve, he was unsure.

Jonathan had a small smile playing at his lips as well as Nancy. Argyle gave him a thumbs up and a “cool”.

Mike and Will were both seemingly buzzing with excitement and joy, Steve could see it in their eyes and on the matching grins they wore.

Dustin and Lucas— the latter sitting behind Steve on the couch— we’re both grinning at Steve and talking over each other, trying to tell him several different things at once.

But over the chaos surrounding him, Steve’s eyes were drawn to Eddie’s. Doe eyes filled with fondness and endearment. Steve’s grin turned to a bashful smile and he was quick to turn away.

He instead focused on Dustin and Lucas, pretending to not notice when Will followed Mike to the kitchen. From the knowing glint in Jonathan’s eyes, he also knew what was happening. They shared a snort and cheersed their Coke cans.

When the night was over and Steve was fresh out of mythology tales to tell the Party, everyone began leaving.

Mike, Will, and El left with Jonathan and Argyle. Nancy drove Robin, Dustin, Lucas and Erica as well as Max— who was spending the night at the Sinclair’s.

It was when Steve went to clean the living room that he noticed he never saw Eddie leave.

Instead, the metal head was standing by the window in the living room. The same window with the hyacinths. Steve furrowed his brow in confusion and walked over.

The moment Steve was within reaching distance, Eddie pulled him into his side. Steve let out an ‘oof’ sound, and caught himself on Eddie’s chest. Rather than pulling away from the other, Steve made himself comfortable and settled into Eddie’s side with his head on his shoulder.

“I love hearing you ramble,” was the last thing Steve heard before Eddie kissed him soundly.

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 4: Underappreciated OC

While I have plenty of OCs that I don't talk about enough (simply because there are a lot and the day only has 24 hours) let's focus on Cilmi today! ( @dreamieparadise I'm tagging you because Cilmi info drop)

Cilmi is Varia's librarian. He hoards knowledge like a dragon and while he's generally a pretty rational person if you mess with his library or his best friend René, then there's hell to pay! (Death! Death to the intruder!)

When he was a teenager one of Cilmi's many cousins told him about the Varia library, a leftover from before the Mafia took over the castle. Ever since then Cilmi had been obssessed with gaining access to all these books, just rotting away, unloved. They needed him! What would assassins know about proper archive maintenance? Nothing! So Cilmi planned and prepared and schemed. And after a few years he sat in Chief's office, holding a two-hour presentation on why he would be the best possible candidate for the librarian position. Meanwhile Dan zoned out after the first ten minutes and was just using the lecture presentation as a way to relax for a bit (Cilmi has a soothing voice). At the end of the talk, he just said: "Look, kid, I'm too busy to care what's going on with the library and clearly you know your stuff. So... just get cleared by Mammon, don't make a mess for me in the future and the library is all yours. My assistant will handle the paperwork." On the one hand Cilmi was elated to get the position but on the other hand... He never got to use all his arguments! He had been prepared for a full-on debate but Chief didn't even ask questions? Disappointing. Anyways, Mammon confirmed that Cilmi had no ulterior motives and after dealing with Dave's puppy like excitement at a new member (*cough* victim *cough*), Cilmi signed his contract and the waivers and became the first Varia librarian. Soon after René joined Varia Housekeeping, because he couldn't handle being separated from his best friend. It didn't matter that he wasn't suited for Varia's version of excitement, he'd rather face that than go out and make new friends. He only needs Cilmi, no one else ಥ_ಥ (René has extreme attachment issues).

A rough sketch of Cilmi and René under the cut 🫡

I can only offer this analogue sketch for now since I don't really know how to draw texture hair digitally but it shows the gist of his appearance. Pretty sure I mentioned it already but Cilmi is Somali, his hair is black and his eyes and skin are dark brown. I haven't fully settled on an age yet but currently I have it at 19 or 20 but this might change in the future.

Also bonus René! I'm actually not a hundred percent decided on his design yet but it's something in this direction. Once again, only a rough analogue sketch because it's honestly what I prefer for designing characters, the flow is better somehow.

[since-im-already-here]

Permit me to remind you

 Part 2 

Art by Zitszy - found on pinterest

“My darling, permit me to refresh your memory.”  

-

Just as he was about to close the gap between you, finally placing his hand upon your cheek, you hear a faint bell ringing. The bell attached to the corner of the kitchen wall jangled with rattled chimes echoing throughout the kitchen.  Miss Kaya is in need of assistance, which means you would not have adequate time to discuss what transpired between you at present.

“Miss K-Kaya?” you nervously stated, shivering slightly at the warmth of his hand leaving your face.

“I must continue my duties,” He stated, trailing his hand slowly down your cheek before slinking away from you, “I will see you in my office later.” Your blush hurried to swell your cheeks at the thought of what is to come from meeting in his office after hours, watching him fix his collar and turn to walk away. 

Coughing gently out your fluster and composing yourself,  he halted his footfalls, tilting his head to glance at you over his shoulder. Once he shamelessly raked his eyes over your body for any injury or affliction: he noticed you were simply masking your successful fluster, he smirks and pushes up his glasses with the palm of his hand.

Once Klahadore was out of sight, you let out a sigh and moved yourself from the kitchen; just as Sham came into the kitchen to start on the amassment of dirtied dishes. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Once concluding your business with Kaya, bringing her a simple glass with cool water to aid her respiration, you find yourself back in your room. You mentally debate the positives and rebuttals of meeting with Klahadore in his office. On one hand, you really want to meet with your boss, and the thought sparks your body alight with shivers of anticipation. 

But on the other, you don’t think it’s a very sound decision to make. He was your boss, you a subordinate beneath him. The thought of ‘beneath him’ sparked another shudder to spring from the crown of your head to your toes. You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought, reprimanding yourself for thinking in the more positive light, as opposed to seeking out the negatives in the argument.

If you were to have a relationship with him, even just physical, it would shift the whole dynamic of the workplace environment. The status-quo would be forever changed. 

Would it be for the night only? Would he wish to bind himself to you completely, physically and mentally? Did he simply desire to reprimand you for igniting your curiosity by pressing your lips to his? Did you truly desire such a relationship?

Walking over to your vanity, you pick up your hairbrush and begin to harshly rake at your hair with a firm hand. As you continue to brush out your hair, your thoughts spiral through your head: like the rainwater collected on Kaya’s mansion roof, shooting down the metal catchments and filling the dam to the point of bursting. 

“Get ahold of yourself, idiot,” you cursed at yourself, your eyes meeting your own within your reflection, “It was just a kiss. An insignificant kiss. A kiss that you should not be dwelling on for so long. It is unbecoming of a woman such as yourself-.”

Breaking you away from your swirling thoughts: a quiet rap of knuckles meeting your door drew you from monologuing aloud further. Thinking it was Sham coming to check your room for forgotten tea cups, you hastily call out to her. 

“Just a moment Sham,” You turned your head away from the mirror to throw your words over your shoulder, “I’m just getting ready for bed-.” 

“-So, you did choose to disobey me?” The purr of a warm, sly voice answers your call in return.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch the door handle rattle and rotate. As it began to turn, the door milliseconds away from flinging wide to reveal the cause of your grievances; you hastily thrust your body into motion, moving quickly to slam yourself against the door. No thoughts in your head came to you, other than a brief fear of reprimand flooding you to spring to motion. The voice behind the threshold of the doorframe chuckles in a dark rumble, the audible smirk elevating his line of questioning.

“Are you sure you want to play this game darling?” His voice ticked up in his distinct quirk, an almost playful smirk springing over his vocal tone, “I was only coming to talk,” you heard the sound of his gloved hand tracing the wood of the door, sliding down the frame as he spoke, “But we can play if that’s what you want.” 

White hot heat floods through your body at his words, the panic in your eyes and harsh beat of your heart thumping against your ribcage. Leaning your back softly against the door, you closed your eyes as you focussed on the words you desired to relay onto him.

“Klahadore please,” you whimpered through your whispered words, “Just give me this night to think, I'm still not too sure of what we were-... -what we are doing.” Your words almost convince you, but the waver in your voice as you cried your plea sounded a bit too desperate. Too needy. 

“And for that reason I was hoping to speak with you, Darling,” He withdrew his gloved hand from the wood and hovered it just above the grain, “Open the door. I promise not to touch you, if that is what you truly want.”

The head of fresh blood rushes to your cheeks as you imagine his hands on you again: the firmness of his grasp, the tender embrace of his lips oscillating with your own, the brush of his dark hair over your forehead meeting with the cool metal of his spectacles-. 

Your thoughts were drawn away from themselves once more at the rattle of the door handle beginning to move again. You shook your head, reopening your eyes as you hardened your resolve to focus on this heavy conversation. Would it hurt so much to just let him in? 

Turning to face the grain of the door, you hastily made your decision to allow your boss permission to enter your suite. Moving your feet slowly backwards, the door opens to reveal the darkened silhouette of the man of your affections; the man who held you so tenderly nights prior, the man who was your boss.  

You attempt to calm the rise of your beating heart as you see him, the patter rattling harshly and causing your breaths to fall from your lips in anxious pants. He was exactly the same as you saw him last: raven hair slicked back to reveal his spectacle-clad face, his work suit just as immaculate and neat as they were mere hours prior. 

However, his aura had changed. There was something new lying beneath the surface. His grey orbs held a mystery behind them that propelled more anxiety to rise in your features. His pupils were slightly dilated, his lips only subtly parted, and his breathing was heavier and more unbridled as he drew in heaping gulps of the air surrounding you. He almost looks flustered.

Pushing his glasses up from his nose with the heel of his right palm, his eyes flutter down to your body and assess every dip and curve of your body beneath your sleepwear. The bob of his Adams Apple at halting where more skin was exposed to him than within your regular uniform had your heart rapidly beating further, prompting you to shield your body from him to conceal it beneath your forearms. 

Seeing you in your night attire seemed to only fluster him more. The heat in your face and the way your lips parted as you took in heavy breaths propelled his own heavy and deliberate breathing to further plague him. 

Clearing his throat, he began an attempt at trying to speak - but it seemed he couldn’t quite find the appropriate words to relay onto you. His sly manipulation for you to open the door depleted the last of his energy reserves for the night, his workload catching up to him at last. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you huffed out a breath and shook your head of any last thoughts holding you back.

“Klahadore, is it really appropriate for us to be meeting this late?” you glance at the hanging grandfather clock in the corner of your suite before drawing your eyes to return to his, “And in my bedroom of all places?” He sighed softly before stepping closer to your body, his hand elevating to reach for you. You swiftly stepped back, clicking your tongue in playful reprimand.

“Uh, uh,” you shook your head, “You said you wouldn’t touch me.” A shaken and growl-like sigh fled from his lips, his eyes finding yours once more and softening as he joined them with you. You cocked your head innocently to the side, uttering a simple, “Let’s just talk, please.” 

It is at this moment that you became suddenly aware of how truly little was shielding your nudity from his body. The sheer material of your nightdress clinging to your every curve, the outline of your body clearly seen on your quivering flesh. You quickly drew your eyes over your chest first, noticing the dip in fabric and the sheerness of the material before joining your eyes with his - wide and panicked. His eyes were heavy, continuously and hypnotically drawing below your collarbone with his breath shaking, before they snap back up to your eyes. 

Moving his hands back to his sides and stepping around you, he finds your plush and dimpled chaise at the end of your bed. The velvet material latches to his trousers as he sits upon its surface, patting the space beside him to beckoning you to join him. 

“If you desire me to sit by your side,” you arched your brow up and held your arms folded across your chest, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, given my attire.” You began feeling self-conscious at the notion that this was not only the first time he’s been in your room, he had never seen you in a state less than professional in your attire. 

Usually you are strong willed, firm in your ways, and set on making sure Kaya is happy as well as cared for. but right now you feel small in his gaze. Weak to his advances, you want to give in, sit next to him and let him engulf you completely but you are still unsure of what that would make you, what that would do to your somewhat flirty friendship.

“Look at you, timid and shy as a mouse, come here to me” He asks somewhat politely but his eyes tell you that he isn’t leaving much room for debate, his stare wanting you to fight back, wanting you to just try to defy him again. Just as you did in the kitchen.

“Klahadore i-“ you begin but are, rudely, interrupted.

“I know dear mouse, you just want to know what it meant hmm? Was it just to let off some steam? Was I toying with you? Trying to put you in your place after disobeying me?” The minute he started taunting you the minute that fire lit in you again, just as it did when you were being shunned in the kitchen 

“How dare you? Coming into my chambers at this hour, speaking to me like I'm beneath you?” As you begin to fume with disgust you realise this is exactly what he wants you to do. He wants you to get frustrated, he knows that’s the only way to get complete control over you. Get you frustrated and upset, then begin his advances with his touches and his kisses, demanding control over your body and syphoning your frustration into lust for him to relieve you of. You have to admit it was indeed working because, even though you have discovered his intentions, you still want him to do it.

“Oh i do like that look on your face, little mouse, i’m sure the situation that we had in the wine cellar that night is weighing on you hmm?”, He folds his hands in his lap and leans back on the chaise’ backrest shuffling himself, legs spreading as he gets comfortable.

“No, it’s not weighing on me at all” you lie, eyes dropping to the floor then back up to him, his smirk. Bastard.

“No? Then why didn’t you come to my office? Instead you hide yourself away like a little mouse running from a cat” 

“Would you stop calling me a mouse!” you huff, your arms unwinding themselves from your chest and moving to grip your hips in anger. 

“i didn’t come to your office because it was getting late and you were still busy with your duties, i already told you before my working hours begin between the time my lady rises in the morning, and concludes once she is settled for the night, and i did not intend to stay up the night waiting for you to grace me with your presence!” you pant heavily after your words escape your mouth in a hurry. 

“oh? But was it not my orders to do so?” he challenges “just as it is now my orders for you to come and sit down” Your brain must have turned off for a second because you feel your body moving towards him and before you could stop yourself he moves forward and collects you, sitting you down beside him, and turning to you.

“Klahadore, what do you want from me?” taking a deep breath to calm yourself,you surge forward and grasp his hands tightly with your own

 “i respect you greatly, and i should not have engaged with you in such a way, Klahadore i’m sor-”

“There’s no need to apologise my dear, if i didn’t want it, i would have stopped you. I apologise for teasing. I do want to clear the air” raising his hand to your cheek, the invitation to touch you granted by your hands grasping his not a moment before seems to be consent enough for him. 

“As much as I do like teasing you, seeing you get frustrated was a highlight of my day most days, your willingness to bicker with me…well” he stops himself from going any further with that thought and begins another;

“that night was a particularly bad night for Miss Kaya, and i do worry for her. I needed to remove some stress and you were so willing-” Hearing this made you move away, his hand falling from your face,

“is that all it was to you? A release of stress? Well I'm glad it didn’t go any further than it did” you feel your eyes start to well with tears as you stand to walk to the door, waiting to usher him out. Instead as you stand and turn from him, he grabs your wrist and turns you to stand between his legs, your other hand immediately rises to your face to hide yourself from him.

“Let me finish, please Darling” his other hand reaches towards your face, to remove your hand, but you turn so slightly to hide yourself. The hand on your wrist removes itself to find a new home at your waist, drawing you closer.

“Look at me”, it sounds like an order but it’s really a plea, nobody wants to talk to a brick wall. Holding back your tears, you face him again. 

“You were so willing, to help me” he took a deep breath, prompting you to do the same,

“I had a lot of tasks so fulfil that day, days of unfinished dishes were piling up, Sham and Buchi were nowhere to be found - then you swoop in, offering to some soup up to Miss Kaya for me” he sighs out his breath “giving me a fresh breath of obedience that i just had to reward”

You go to move your hand out of his grasp to cover your ever heating face again, feeling another wave of embarrassment wash over you 

“shh sh sh, come here” you squirm as he pulls and you’re falling into his lap, legs swinging between his knees and hand landing on his chest. His hands begin to wander but stop when they reach your inner thigh and begin squeezing gently. You feel his breath on your neck, you stifle a moan as he begins whispering into it. 

“I would never use you, everything i want to do to you - i want you to be begging for it”

You start to think to yourself if it is actually embarrassment or that other red hot feeling. His hands are caressing your inner thighs but never moving above them, subtly teasing that he wants you to start begging for him to do something, but not saying he will. 

The confusion of the day, and the workload, finally weigh on you and you feel your body relaxing under his touch. Feeling the sudden mood shift, Klahadore brings his outer hand and begins rubbing up and down your back,

“My poor little thing, the day finally catching up with you? I suppose the threat of a formal reprimand got to you, hm?” his words aren't really being taken to mind as he pulls he stress from your body with just his hands, 

“Just relax for me i’ll make you feel better” it doesn't really register in your mind as you're being pulled to your feet and walked over to your bed. Already dressed for bed your body doesn’t feel the need for resistance, but you feel yourself objecting vocally as he situates himself onto your bed after tucking you under your covers,

“What’s the matter now darling?” he doesn’t move from his spot on your bed, sitting on the edge but close enough to touch you.

“No, it’s nothing, just tired I suppose” a headache starts to form, “but I don't want you to think I'm pushing you away or trying to avoid-” you begin to defend yourself.

“No pushing away, just sleep for tonight little mouse, perhaps another night we can play hm?” He swiftly moves himself up, standing over you, ready to leave the room but you grasp his hand before he can do so.

“Perhaps just one kiss Klahadore? To say goodnight?” you see him smirk at this as he leans down to give you a light peck, that you quickly deepen, wanting to feel him flushed again.

“Just a goodnight kiss my darling”, he moves away towards your door and makes a show of blowing out your dim burning candles on your vanity.

He says one final goodnight to you and closes your door, You faintly hear his footsteps leaving. Your headache worsens as you think to yourself. Perhaps you have been working too much lately, but if you were sick, surely the pot of tea you shared with Miss Kaya would help.

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

Apprehensive tag list @fanaticsnail @writingmysanity @sordidmusings

-

[lady06reaper]

kyle broflovski x reader academic rivals PLLSSSSS rivals-friends-lovers like headcannons

OOOOOOOOOOO

yes.

Kyle x reader hc of academic rivals to lovers trope

first of all, to explain the photo this is how he would look at you anytime you'd beat him at ANYTHING academic

I feel like he wouldn't see you as threat... at first

but then that big test that he spent night and day studying all the notes for comes up, and he gets a 99.5%

YOU GET A 100% AND HE IS FURIOUS

asks your tactics and strategies for studying and remembering the information

you invite him over for a study session *COUGH* date *COUGH*

thats where things get interesting, like he starts to fall for your intellect more than your looks (he prefers brain (( ;) )) over beauty)

if one of you one-ups the other, its just a back and forth battle of who can get the highest score on the next test or project

I can see him being in debate club so if you are too be prepared for the massive blow out drag out arguments that continue even after everyone else has left

and they're over the most stupidest things ever

"The toilet paper is supposed to face the toilet"

"No, it faces the sink you imbecile"

always partners for group projects

after a few study dates, he actually asks you out on an actual date, which is really just you two spending the night at Bennys guzzling coffee studying for the test that is legit in 3 HOURS

after that, you two both get 100%, and thats where he decides to pop the question

"(Y/N), will you be my official study buddy?"

heres where it gets relationship-y

im sorry, but if yall studying theres gonna be a reward system

like every question you get right you get a kiss or if you get one wrong you have to purposely get that question wrong on the test

study dates turn into cuddle sessions to relieve stress before the test or presentation esp. if you have anxiety when it comes to things like that

if you don't feel like studying for whatever reason, that boy will drop his studies for your needs

like yes both of your academic careers are important, but you're more important to him than a letter grade

i feel like during a test one of you will get distracted by the other and it gets hard after that to focus

really you both just want the other to try their hardest and get the best grade yall can get

I hoped you enjoyed it anon! thank you for being my first request!

[tntduopolls]

examples below the cut

op 1:

"no no you dont get it, if the free market has no restraints, then its just monopolies, and then were all fucked anyways, dumbass!"

"when the FUCK did I say anything about not penalising monopolies??"

"oh, I dont know, say, when you FUCKING RUN ONE????"

op 2:

"no, wilbur, we cannot have less trains because 'they make you sad'"

"have you considered that they make me sad."

op 3:

you know how they are, bring up a clip on youtube

op 4:

"techno isnt that dangerous, look at him! he sleeps with a stuffed animal!"

"yeah how bot you look me in my eyes- sorry, EYE, SINGULAR, when you say that?!"

op 5:

"did you seriously just forget our first kiss???"

"well im SORRY that I was too high on YOUR weed to remember!"

op 6:

"face it, Q! without me, you would have been dead meat!"

"wilbur, im not getting you another co- WHOA WHOA WHOA YOU MEAN POGTOPIA??? YOU WANT A FUCKING FIGHT??? ILL GIVE YOU A FUCKING-"

op 7

"no, I'm not just like you, because I'm not going to make your mistakes!"

op 8

"just do the damn taxes wil."

"darling. you run, the government. cant you just tell me how much we owe?"

if anyone else has examples, please share! (please please I have a wife and kids and please)