#cannot believe boops are back

[aquamarineglow]

Boops you

Boops you

Boops you

Boops you

[nicohischier]

[hellverse]

I CANNOT KEEP UP

[karamell-sweetz]

BOOP BOOPY DOOP SHOOBY DOOBY DOOP

[unintentionalseductress]

Hi!! I'm the anon who loves to re-read your fics!

Okay, so I had this idea come to mind about Luke and Kieran and how they are the only ones aside from MC, who are close to Sylus. They know his day-to-day activities. His habits - everything and anything in-between. They know when MC is over and they know how Sylus likes to keep things between him and MC private at certain times.

So I thought of this while at the hospital, but okay, hear me out on nosy Luke and Kieran, who didn't know MC would be staying with Sylus for the weekend. So when they get back from a job, they're on high alert because it's too quiet. So they become curious as to if Sylus is home or not, and so as they reach his room, the door is partially open. They can hear Sylus as they get closer, and they're curious as to who he's talking to. So they get closer and listen in, and they hear him and MC have an intimate heart to heart about their relationship. (Thought of this after the latest Sylus card - Grassland Romance.)

Luke and Kieran are so nosy about Sylus and MC, and their relationship; especially after their antics of getting them closer, and how they tricked MC that one time when she was getting the brooch.

This idea is supposed to be cute and such, but I don't know how to translate it into an actual story 😭

Of Swords And Shovels

Warnings: None! Pure fluff. Summary: Luke and Kieran inadvertently overhear you and Sylus having a heart-to-heart. WC: 1161 A/n: Here ya go anon! Sorry this took so long, but I believe this was the last oneshot request in my queue! I can't believe I cleared it! Hope you like it, I went with a more humorous perspective, but it's still cozy and intimate.

“Man, that was such a bust!”

“Yeah, hardly anything worth stealing there! Boss is gonna be disappointed.”

“You wanna tell him?”

“I’ll flip ya for it!” Luke punches in the code to the base’s entrance as Kieran digs through his pockets for a coin. Once inside, he faces his twin.

“Heads, it’s you. Tails, it’s me. Ok?” Kieran flicks the coin into the air and smoothly catches it. His face turns into a grimace. “2 outta 3?” he asks, only to realize Luke wasn’t paying attention to him at all. 

“Hey! That’s rude ya know-” He’s cut off as Luke holds up a hand to silence him. “What?”

Luke gestures for him to be quiet, then jerks his head down the long hallway that leads to Sylus’s room. “Boss said he’d be having company over. It’s too quiet.”

Kieran strains his ears to listen and hears nothing but silence. “Is he out?” 

The twins hesitantly creep down the hallway, approaching Sylus’s bedroom. They notice a faint crack of light from the slightly opened door, and suddenly, Kieran points to a pair of heels left outside. “The hunter chick wasn’t supposed to visit today.”

“Maybe they’re not hers,” Luke suggests, and Kieran responds with a reprimanding shove.

“Don’t say nonsense. Boss loves her. He wouldn’t cheat on her!” Right on queue, laughter echoes from Sylus’s bedroom, one distinctly deep and masculine, the other more high and feminine. The twins freeze, then pad up to the door, listening intently. 

Daring to peek through the crack, Kieran glimpses you and Sylus curled up on his bed, drinking wine. He quickly moves away, then gives a sharp look to Luke for even daring to think about infidelity. Luke shrugs nonchalantly, and both of them focus on the conversation between you and Sylus. 

“Kitten, by the laws of physics, energy cannot be destroyed.”

“Oh really?” You retort. “Then what happens to your evol when you try to use it on me?”

“It’s not being destroyed then, kitten. You merely absorb it and turn it into sass. It’s like thermodynamics.” Sylus boops your nose even as you pout at his retort.

“Well, I’d rather be sassy than be the reason the microwave hums when you’re mad!” 

Sylus chortles, his chest heaving with mirth, before he reaches over to take the wineglass out of your hands. “I highly doubt that, sweetie. Are you sure you haven’t had too much to drink?”

“I swear, your appliances are going to need a therapist from all the fluctuations going on inside them. They’re going to short-circuit someday, and then you’ll be in trouble when the chef can’t prepare anything.”

“Or, like any good businessman, I see opportunity in misfortune.” He sets the wineglass down on his nightstand and pulls you closer, smirking affectionately as your eyes grow wide at the proximity. Sylus pushes back a stray strand of hair from your face as he gazes at you, his scarlet eyes softening. 

“What opportunity?” you ask as you reach up to cup his cheek, brushing it with your thumb, trying to ignore the rapid thumping of your heart as Sylus turns into your palm to place a kiss. 

“My girlfriend can decorate the kitchen however she likes.”

You huff exasperatedly. “Really? That’s the opportunity?”

“I’d certainly see it that way.” He tugs your wrist to coax you a little closer and you oblige, setting your cheek on his broad chest, your lower bodies coming into contact to snuggle. 

Outside the door, Kieran rapidly motions to Luke that they should leave, but Luke adamantly shakes his head no. He’d never seen Sylus talk like this before; tenderly, lovingly, with warm hints of amusement. It was slightly jarring to hear the feared leader of Onychinus talking in this affectionate way.  He’d known you were different; that you were the one who could possibly help Sylus slow down and smell the flowers, so to speak. He and Kieran had debated things at length, and now he feels awful that he had thought Sylus was seeing someone else behind your back. 

Sylus strokes your hair, the smell of your shampoo filling his nostrils, and resists the urge to bury his face into the silky strands. “Yes, kitten. That’s an opportunity. Because you’ll leave bits of yourself in the kitchen when you decorate. You’ll spend hours putting in thought as to what will look good, what should go where. Hell, you can even hire an architect and remodel the whole thing if that’s what you want. The point is-” Sylus nuzzles your neck and you giggle at the tickly feeling. “It’s an entire room built from your imagination. I think that’s an amazing opportunity.” 

Warmth gathers in your chest, and you slip your leg between Sylus’s, snuggling even closer into him. He smelled like cologne and metal and gunpowder, a unique scent associated only with him. A contented rumble emanates from his chest, and both of you sigh, enjoying the peace and joy of each other’s company. 

“So…you would let me do anything I want? What if I replaced all the cutlery?" You give Sylus a lopsided grin. “Replaced all the spoons with miniature shovels? And swapped all the forks with play-sized swords?”

“Are you decorating my kitchen or planning a murder?” Sylus is smiling so widely that you can see his even, white teeth now. “Although I’m not sure what you’re planning on murdering with such small weapons.”

“A cockroach that dared to sneak into the all-mighty Sylus’s home. The sword is for battle, and the shovel is for the burial.”

“Only you would give a burial for a cockroach,” Sylus derides lightly. “I suppose you’ll light candles and have a wake too?”

“Yes. And I’ll do it in front of the base. A warning to all those who would try to infiltrate Onychinus.”

Both of you laugh again, and this time, it’s the kind of laughter that steals the breath from your chest, holding onto each other so tightly like the other may fall off the bed from the intensity. There was something so sweet about being able to joke with him like this, about knowing he possessed a good capacity for humor. To hear his laugh so wholeheartedly as it erupted from his lungs as you clung to him. It takes a while for the moment to settle down, and when it does, both of you are fighting for breath. 

Luke and Kiran exchange a glance and nod in unison, deciding they’ve stayed long enough. Luke turns to inconspicuously walk back down the hall when a blur of feathers, followed by a raucous caw breaks the silence. The twins look at each other in dread before scrambling to put space between themselves and the door. 

Just as they start to sprint, Sylus’s voice audibly drawls, “Mephisto says we have some unwanted visitors. Shame you don’t have those shovels and swords right now, sweetie. It would have been the perfect way to warm the kitchen.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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[itsvenera]

Hi! I feel so blessed to have found your blog, your fluff is top tier 🫶🏻 Can I please request fluff for Kakashi x fem!reader where they take their son (who looks exactly like Kakashi) to meet Team 7 and they're all enamoured by baby Kakashi and how happy he is with wife reader? I feel like it'd be so cute~ I hope that's an alright request. Thank you so much! 😘

author's note: this is such a cute request and it has been sitting in my drafts for a while, since I have been waiting to be in the right mood for it! It was such a pleasure to write it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you for requesting! <3

If there was anything Konoha did best, it was celebrating.

Compared to many of the other villages, the Leaf had some form of a festival almost every month. The first Sakura trees have blossomed? Celebration. The war is won? Celebration. The Hokage has a birthday? Celebration. 6 months without any outside threats? Celebration.

For the outsiders these constant festivities were both bizzare and a bit foolish. They could only imagine how much money were spend from the yearly budget, yet somehow the village blossomed economically. The other Kages tried to ask Lady Tsunade more than once in the past how exactly do they manage to do that, but they could never get anything more than a smug smile from her.

You, unlike your husband, loved a good party. During events like this everything felt different - the people were happier, the streets were busier, even the air felt more fresh! You have been waiting for the Spring festival for a while now - not only because you loved trying all the delicious street food, but also because this year you were taking your baby with you.

Being only a few months old, your son was an exact copy of Kakashi. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, even the way he pouted was absolutely the same as your partner. There were times when you sat next to his crib, looking at him for hours, trying to find at least one thing in his appearance that he may took after you. While there were none, you found solace in the fact that he showed at least some traits of your personality - the main one being obsessed with Kakashi, of course.

As you watched your husband gently rocking your child in his arms and whispering sweet words to him, you couldn't stop the smile from spreading wide on your lips. Kakashi hasn't noticed your presence by the door yet, too busy booping your baby's nose and listening to his happy laughter.

He was definitely the favourite parent.

"I can't believe I carried him for nine months and I am still the second best in his eyes", you finally said, making Kakashi whip his head in the direction of your voice. He smiled sheepishly at you, his one free arm extending for you to take.

"You know that is not true, my dove", he tried to reassure you, his attention moving back to the bundle of joy who kept twitching in his grip, "No one can replace mommy! Isn’t that right, little man?"

Almost if understanding his words, the baby turned toward you, reaching one of his small hands toward your face. You immediately melted at the gesture, before carefully grabbing it in yours and lying numerous small kisses on his little fingers.

“Do we really have to go?”, your husband groaned, looking at you pleadingly. If it was up to him the three of you would stay in your house, enjoying a cosy evening just playing and goofing around the living room. With his new role as a Hokage, your time together was limited anyway and he liked to grab any chance he got to spend a few hours with you at home.

“You were the one that promised Naruto you would finally let him see the baby”, you cocked one of your eyebrows and Kakashi immediately shut his mouth, knowing he cannot argue further.

Even since you told Team 7 that you are pregnant, Naruto has shown an enormous enthusiasm about welcoming the baby. He self proclaimed himself “the best uncle to ever exist” and has bought dozen of plush toys and clothes before you even found what the gender is. Both you and Kakashi found this amusing, yet cute, promising him that he would be one of the first people to see your son once he is born.

However, things didn't go as planned and since he was on a mission outside Konoha for the last three months and a half, Naruto was now one of the last people to meet your child. Sakura has asked you countless of times during this period to let her and Sasuke come to your house, but feeling it was unfair to Naruto, you refused every single time.

Now that the blonde was back, however, all three were eagerly waiting to meet the young Hatake.

Kakashi gently passed you the baby, while he went to the corridor to grab the baby carrier wrap he liked to use. One thing about your husband was that he absolutely refused to use a pram.

"It is safer for them to be close to me", he often said, not even hiding his overprotectiveness. Despite your baby already being the village's favourite, he only allowed people to watch him, but never touch him or hold him. It was almost like your son was some kind of a rare jewel, which was so delicate, it had to be admired from a far. And while you found Kakashi's behaviour funny, he was being very serious about it, going as far as to glare and hiss a warning at Guy and Genma every time they tried to pinch your baby's chubby cheeks.

Once the little one was safely wrapped against your partner, you both made your way toward the village centre, where you could already hear music sounding. The streets were flooded with both adults and children, who were all eager to try some foreign food and watch special performances. Every year there were entertainers coming from different lands, performing traditional songs and dances from their cultures. While you knew you couldn't stay for all of them, since you had to put your child to bed quite early, you were excited to see at least some.

You felt one of Kakashi's arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while he shielded your son's body with the other one. While there were none real threats or risk for any of you, the amount of people made the man anxious. You were just about to grab his hand and try to make him relax, when Naruto's loud voice sounded from somewhere in front of you.

"Kakashi-sensei! Y/N! Over here!", he waved his hands energetically in the air, while both Sasuke and Sakura looked away embarrassed from his behaviour. Your smiled at the blonde, waving back, while your husband couldn't do anything else than let out a sigh.

Once you were a few meters away, the Uzumaki ran toward you, his whole face lighting up once his eyes met those of your son. He pushed past you, without even paying any attention to you, before leaning his head close to the baby's.

" Kakashi! That's your twin, dattebayo!", he shouted and moved his finger between his sensei and your son. Kakashi flicked his hand away, glaring harshly at his student. You sniffled a laugh, before you felt Sakura's hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you offered a smile to both her and Sasuke.

"Don't touch, step back and only watch from a distance", Kakashi instructed, his eyes narrowing at Naruto. The blonde, however, didn't acknowledge his words in any way, instead turning toward you.

"Can I hold him?", he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"No!", Kakashi immediately answered for you and you rolled your eyes at your husband, before moving toward the males.

"Of course you can!", before your husband can protest, you gave him a stare and he reluctantly picked up your son from the carrier wrap. He held him in his hands for a few more seconds, eyeing Naruto with suspicion.

"Be very, very, VERY careful!", he said, while passing the wriggling baby to the boy's stretched out arms, "And make sure to support his head! No, not like that... Naruto, I swear to Kami-"

You cut off the white haired male's rambling by wrapping your arm around his waist and placing your head against his shoulder. The Uzumaki was doing just fine, but Kakashi being Kakashi started to panic just at sight of someone else holding your little treasure.

The baby seemed to like the blonde, as he giggled, stretching his small hand toward his face. Sakura, who has been patiently waiting for her sensei to relax a bit, immediately rushed to her teammate's side, uncapable of controlling herself longer. She wriggled her forefinger in front of the child's face, her heart melting once he caught it.

"Hello, little one! I am auntie Sakura!", the baby grinned at her with its toothless smile and she let out an "aww" sound, before turning to you and your husband, "Kakashi-sensei, he really is your exact copy! Y/N, are you sure that's your child?"

You laughed at her joke, before shrugging your shoulders and pressing yourself closer to Kakashi.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every single day!"

Finally tearing your gaze away from Naruto and Sakura, you looked over to Sasuke, who remained frozen in his place. His eyes were focused on the little baby and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but unlike his teammates he maintained a safe distance. Feeling someone was watching him, he turned his head in your direction, his cheeks going bright red once he realized you caught him staring.

"Sasuke", you smiled at him and everyone's attention went to the Uchiha, "Do you want to hold him too?"

The dark haired male gulped, his eyes widening. He nervously scratched his shoulder, his gaze going down to his feet.

"I...", he became silent, stealing one more glance at the baby. You found it almost amusing how he was a fearsome ninja that could take dozen of enemies at the same time, yet he felt scared to hold a tiny human.

Looking over at Naruto, you nodded your head, signalling him to pass your son to Sasuke. The blonde let out a huff, dragging his feet toward his teammate.

"Be careful! And hold the head!", he warned the Uchiha, who rolled his eyes in response.

"I know how to hold a baby, dobe! I am not stupid!"

"Language!", Kakashi warned next to you and you looked up at him, only for him to shake his head. It must've been hard dealing with these two for so many years, yet you knew your husband wouldn't had it any other way.

At this moment, surrounded by so much love and happiness, you felt like you finally had everything you wanted in life - an amazing husband, a healthy child and enormous support by anyone around you. If you could choose to re-live only one moment of your life, it would be this.

"You okay, my dove?", Kakashi whispered and you nodded your head, laying a small kiss on his covered chin.

"Never been better."

Unbeknown to you, all of Team 7 smiled at both of you, admiring how happy their sensei was. After decades of suffering and loss, Kakashi took the leap of faith and opened his heart to you. While he was unsure in the beginning if he was ready to be with someone and have a family, looking back he was glad he did.

Pulling down his mask, he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against it.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

cc artwork: Pietro Smurra

[hexcrystals]

Hello my dear friends, I am Muhammad Ayyad from Gaza. Our lives are terrible and hideous. My family has nothing left but to hope that you will support and help us. After 10 months of war we are exhausted, desperate, hopeless and displaced. Homes and livelihoods have been lost and gone with the wind. Things drive us crazy and crazy. The lowest level of life cannot be reached. Water and healthy food have become a dream that we must achieve. What makes our lives worse is the constant bombings and killings. That is why I ask in this post to help us overcome these unbearable circumstances and move from hell to safety and peace. Your support can help us be safe and alive, so friends, you can support us either by directly donating whatever you can or by sharing my campaign links so that generous people can know about our tragedy and pain. Remember, your small contribution can make a big difference in the lives of many children whose health condition deteriorates every day. Let their lives change and make them feel happy with your generous contribution.

hello my dear friends, this has been verified as a scam

your old account, @mhammed, links to this fundraiser, which got 2000+ euros. it was never vetted, despite people mistakenly believing it had been because of its inclusion on this post under a list of fundraisers that had not been verified.

your account used to have a link to that fundraiser in the bio, which i can only assume you removed after you got rumbled and closed the fundraiser so you could take the money you'd stolen and run.

except now you're back for more under a new account that is almost completely devoid of posts and has no liked posts from before the start of august, despite the fact that on 1st april you were apparently booping away with the rest of us (more than 1000 times to be exact):

your new fundraiser is almost identical, using the same pictures and very similar text, with a slight alteration in where within belgium the fundraiser is based. it has yet to get any donations and i hope it stays that way.

shame on you for exploiting a genocide for personal profit

[charmedbystars]

bored. (e-42 miles morales)

pairing: e-42 miles x reader

summary: you're bored and who else better than your pretty boyfriend to annoy?

content: no warnings!

a/n: this is just a super short blurb that popped in my brain. i was also listening to sneaky snitch while writing this so feel free to listen to that while reading this lol.

now, you weren’t a high-maintenance girlfriend who constantly had to be out. you were content with staying at home with miles, but it has been like this since summer started. occasionally, you guys would go out to restaurants or walk around the mall, but doing that every day took the fun out of it. 

so it was a normal summer evening. the air conditioning was blasting. the sun was setting. a random show was on the tv just for background noise. well, it was background noise for you, miles was actually paying attention. could you help it though? you’ve been pressed up against miles’ chest for 2 hours just binge-watching the same show. 

groaning out loud and shifting around on miles’ chest is what caught his attention. “you good mamas?” he asked. while shifting around, an idea suddenly sprouted in your head. leaning up to look down at miles, you smirked before going to a neutral expression quickly so he doesn’t get suspicious.

“hey miles… i need to ask you a serious question.”

“yeah was good? everything ‘kay?” he looked up at you in confusion with brows furrowed. 

“yeahh it’s just… do you love me?” 

“what are you even asking ma? ‘course i do.”

“are you sure?” 

“i can’t believe you’re asking me this,” he throws his head back.

“i’m being serious like do you love me three thousand percent?”

“what’s up with that number?”

“milesssss you’re not answeringgg that means you don’t love meeeee,” you whined. of course, you were joking but you wanted to have a little fun and what better way than annoying your boyfriend?

“you seriously cannot be doubting my love for you right now. look at where you are right now,” he gestured his arms around before going back to wrap them around you. “but if you’re asking, yes i love you very much. tu tienes mi corazon, lo sabes.”

“mmm okay miles. i’m taking your word.”

“girl you better be because i got you living.”

“yeah whatever,” you rolled your eyes before leaning back down to lie on his chest and like nothing ever happened, all of miles’ attention goes back to the tv screen in front of you. although the interaction got rid of your boredom a bit, all you wanted to do now was annoy your cute boyfriend. since you just ambushed him with questions, you waited a couple minutes before making your next move. 

what was your next move? poking miles’ face. your finger went up to poke his cheek once. getting no reaction from him, you poked his cheek again causing him to look down at you. 

“is there something you want?”

“no,” you simply grinned at him. aannddd attention right back to the screen. this time you went to boop his nose making a little “boop” sound with it too. 

“you think you’re so cute, huh?”

“well, as a matter a fact, i know i’m cute. no thinking required.” 

“baby, are you sure you don’t want something?”

“well, now that you ask again, yes i want something. i want your attention, i need you to do something. your sole reason for being my boyfriend is to entertain me.”

“oh so i’m just here to play around, huh?” he raised an eyebrow and you nodded with no hesitation. you should’ve thought of a better response than that because now you’re regretting everything when you feel yourself getting flipped around on the couch. miles on top of you now, legs holding you in place while his hands quickly went to your side tickling you. you squealed and laughed and kicked your legs around trying to get him to stop.

“miles stop! ple- AHAHA NO!” your pleading would not make miles stop at all. “miles i- i can’t breATHE,” you yelled and he stopped. you look up at him catching your breath and all he did was stare you down with a smirk on his pretty face. 

“you’re the worst person ever” 

“aww baby, don’t lie. i know you love me and i don’t even have to ask.”

[heretherebedork]

I love these cameos so much because they not only give us cameos they give us important information and show us things that we need to know. Ai Di needs to understand that, before, both he and Chenyi were too close to their own relationship to see what was going on. The space between them hasn't cut them off from each but rather opened the entire world of what they could be open.

But also the masks, the masks, the way they're wearing masks in this scene and the first thing Chenyi does is take his mask off and then kick everybody out to only he gets to see Ai Di. Because Chenyi has realized that he wants to see the real Ai Di, the one he thought he knew but didn't.

I love how Chenyi is constantly capturing Ai Di to talk to him because he isn't going to let this go. He isn't going to let him leave again. He lost him for four years and he's never doing that again.

(But also the jealousy and the way he watches the other two leave holding hands and he wants so much with Ai Di but he needs to know that they both want the same thing still, that he didn't imagine the love they shared even when he was drunk, that Ai Di will still come back to him.)

Ai Di is scared of only seeing what he wants to see. He is terrified that he is going to convince himself that Chenyi loves him when he cannot let himself trust that, when he cannot let him believe that because he will never recover if it's not true this time around. He tried to break their ties after doing what he believed was unforgivable and the idea of opening his heart again is so far beyond him he doesn't know what to do but keep rejecting what he offers.

Ai Di has the most heartbreaking eyes in the entire world.

Chenyi is not giving up. He is determined. He is going to understand what happened and he is going to show Ai Di that he is wanted, trusted and loved and he is going to do anything and everything in his power to do so.

My entire heart is instantly torn to shreds but the way Ai Di ends up hugging Chenyi's jacket when he falls asleep. That isn't being used for warmth, that is nothing but comfort and a desperate reminder of what was and who has always been the most important person in his life.

And then this being instantly followed by Ai Di's obvious PTSD from the prison proving that he's stronger than Chenyi and knocking him over to find his wound and then instantly trying to run away

Ai Di wants to melt into this embrace so badly and he has to keep fighting his own urges and it is heartbreaking to watch because all he wants is to be held in Chenyi's arms but he doesn't not trust anything enough to let himself relax and I cannot wait for the first time he genuinely lets himself relax about Chenyi again. Because he is going to absolutely melt.

Ai Di is terrified because he doesn't know what Chenyi means and he doesn't want this without love, not now just like he really didn't want it back then but was also sure that would be the only chance he ever got.

Now? Now is real. Now is forever. Is this Chenyi seeking revenge? Is this really love? Ai Di is terrified of trusting this and of believing this because he cannot bear to lose this if it's given to him, even for a night.

The way he just effortlessly scoops him up, no hesitation and no work, just boop and now Ai Di is cradled in his arms and Ai Di just freezes because what can he do in this moment? He doesn't really want to escape. He wants this but he only wants this if it means what he wants it to mean.

Ai Di isn't coming back for a one night stand, no matter how much he might mock and tease Chenyi with the idea. He planned on leaving forever and the only way to keep him is to have more than he left behind.

Also, sincere appreciation for the door that can be easily opened with his foot. A+ design choice.

The exchange of power and the way Chenyi is doing his best to be clear that he doesn't believe Ai Di this was just for fun or a one night stand and showing the he doesn't think he loves their boss any more and he does all of that by pushing Ai Di to the limits because he has no other way to express himself.

And then the way he just squishes Ai Di into this hug and does not let go until he chooses and the way Ai Di is struggling not just against him but against himself. Ai Di is going to be a nightmare once they get together, he is going to want so much of this.

Absolute panic in the face of being serious because, how exactly, do you handle that when you've spent four years trying to get over your love and memory of him?

And Ai Di already collared himself right back up again the instant he caught a whiff of Chenyi's feelings for him, even if he's still trying to convince himself he's lying to himself. But he knows.

Ai Di knows who he belongs to.

[twisted-tales-of-all]

BEEP BOOP ITS ME

Can I request “It’s hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you.” And “ meet me in my dreams and stay for a while.” With Yunho please 👁️👁️

Hello Love <3 don't melt too much reading it mkay?

Pairing: Yunho x gender ambiguous reader Genre: fluff, boyfriend!Yunho, idol!Yunho Rating: G/PG, E for Everyone, whatever you want to call it Word Count: 591 Contains: an absolutely gut-wrenching amount of fluff, a proposal, and a kiss, that's about it

"I don't want you to leave. I miss you so much every time you have tours." You whine at your boyfriend as the day turns to night.

Sitting on the rooftop and watching the sun slip fully behind the horizon, you sigh. Although you've always preferred the night and its glistening stars, this night brings alongside its beauty the reminder that Yunho flies out as the sun rises in the morning.

"I know, bun. Believe me, if I had the choice to bring you without putting any risk on you, I would never leave you behind. Ever."

He turns towards you with an intensity in his eyes you haven't seen in years; one you only witnessed directed at you when he insisted that, if you agreed to brave a relationship with him six years ago, he'd keep you safe from over-attached fans no matter what. You cannot help as your heartbeat speeds up; you cannot move nor look away despite the goosebumps attacking your body and trying to make you shiver. Time halts in the beat of silence before his next statement.

"I would love to keep you by my side forever. In this life and the next. Awake, asleep, no matter the time."

He pauses, but your nerves built up under his gaze cannot handle even the smallest moment of silence, so words stumble out from your lips, "Then, meet me in my dreams and stay for a while. That way, it won't feel so lonely while you're gone in the waking world."

Your comment seems to loosen him up a bit. His eyes soften, and he cracks a smile as a chuckle breaks through his seriousness. Shaking his head at himself, seemingly dismissing thoughts he was holding to himself, he finds his words again.

"Gladly. I'll find you in your dreams and on any other plane of existence we end up in. No matter how long it takes, I will always find you. Whether it's in a sea of people or amongst the thousands of stars above, I am yours so I will find you. So, if you'll allow me, I'd like to leave you with more than just dreams of me."

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box. Twisting his body completely in your direction, he ends upon one knee. Your breath catches in your throat and your senses still as he opens the box to reveal a ring even more gorgeous than you imagined. He implemented every little comment you've made about rings over the past years and added personalized touches that only Yunho could bring to life.

"Y/N, will you marry me?"

The tears clog your throat, and you already lost control of your body moments before his question, so you can't respond despite screaming 'yes' inside repeatedly.

"It is so hard to sit here and be this close to you and not kiss you right now. Even a small head movement will do if you can't speak."

The silly smile on his face gives you enough control to nod vigorously, so he leans over immediately and kisses you deeply before remembering the order he was supposed to go. Backing up slightly, he finds the proper hand and slips the ring on your finger.

"Y/N, you are perfect. I'm so far beyond happy that you're mine."

"I will be yours forever if you let me. As long as you can be mine forever, too."

"That sounds like a deal, and I will gladly shout it out to everyone, my love."

[harmomay]

Being His First Relationship | k.ayato

dividers by @cafekitsune

gn reader

thoma + itto + ayaka are mentioned

Ayato is a man that succeeds exceptionally in many tasks. Be it resolving conflicts, arranging business meetings or even looking after his baby sister. But dating? We'll see how that turns out..

'--.. I can't help but fall for you, Kamisato Ayato.'

His eyes widened before coming back down to show an expression of relief. 'Is that so? Well..' He looked at the floor and chuckled, gaze shyly averting back to your own. 'I'd be lying if I didn't feel the same way towards you.' 

headcannons:

• being the yashiro commissioner, he's chronically tired. despite begrudging himself for it, he tends to put most of his time and energy toward his work (and not accepting help). although, with enough time and reassurance - perhaps even an argument, cough cough - he'll slowly start to put more effort into your relationship.

•  he prefers to court you slowly, to let the both of you get to know each other better and heighten the romantic tension before anything grand. ayato would much rather not be 1 month into into your relationship and realise you both aren't compatible.

• isn't quite familiar with displays of physical affection, however, as your relationship progresses he subconsciously starts to place a hand on your waist whenever you're around, starts anticipating the kiss on the cheek whenever he leaves for a meeting or may even begin a habit of booping your nose when no one is looking. his favourite thing to do in particular is gently pressing his lips to your knuckles while maintaining eye contact.

• if you share a bed, best believe he will hog the covers. it is intentional. he wants to stir you up. deep down its just to start a pillow fight.

• has someone to bring you various flowers from inazuma each week (with a little description of its meaning), or if you're staying with him, has it placed inside a vase at breakfast.

• loves loves loves quiet strolls in the evening, away from all his responsibilities so that he can just be. will melt inside if you surprise him with a picnic.

how his companions would react:

✧. ┊    thoma

"About time-" He mutters to himself almost unconsciously, before realising that yes, in fact, he did just said that out loud. "..to start planning a celebration party!" Thoma quickly recovered, feeling himself let out a sigh of relief when Ayato didn't seem to notice. (he did.)

✧. ┊    itto

"Yo- so you got like- a number 2 to your 'ayatoroo'? My man!" Itto proudly chanted, though his terrible attempt at rhymes and the unintentional poop joke had the Yashiro Commissioner trying not to burst out laughing.

✧. ┊    ayaka

"That's wonderful news!" Ayaka is smiling from ear to ear, clasping her hands together. She wants to know everything! You're practically apart of their family now, and she cannot wait to get to know you more. Though she's more-so thankful that Ayato finally has someone else to tell him to take a break.

Hope you enjoyed todays drabble of Ayato Boyfriend Scenarios! 

Till next time! ヽ(^o^)

[biggiesnails]

Oh boy! Part two ok here we go!!! How does Sunshine Gal snag herself a Tol Whore of a Wet Rat Man without him getting away? Well…

—————————————————————

The set was over and the little lady had picked up her rainbow blanket, folding it neatly and tucking it under her arm. She didn’t question Eclipse standing around while she took a moment to get her things arranged. In fact, she seemed to take it as a sign that they were now, in fact, Festival Buddies. And once she had her things neatly arranged she beamed up at him expectantly.

“Well… where to next?”

Clip… however… hadn’t quite consciously processed the fact that him standing there seemed to imply that they’d be going to the next venue together *on purpose.*

“… … Next?”

She just laughs at his confused expression and tips her head to one side with an endeared expression while she tugs at the high bun on her head and starts to free a cascade of curls that makes him want to take two large steps away lest he jam his hands immediately into the silky mass.

“Of course, silly. Which band do you recommend next? We could go together, if you’d like some company.”

He scoffs and looks away from temptation, scanning the crowds so he has something else to focus on.

“Pfff. Do I look like I need company?”

That makes her laugh too, though in a muffled way that makes it clear she’s trying very hard not to make it seem like she’s laughing at him while taking a moment to comb through the newly freed locks with her fingers.

“No, I suppose not. But just because you don’t *need it* doesn’t mean a little company isn’t nice sometimes. If you’d rather go your separate way, though, maybe I could at least trouble you for a recommendation before you go? A lot of the bands playing in this next rotation are newer indie bands that I don’t recognize. But you seem to be a man of impeccable taste, so I’d be delighted to hear if you know anything about any of them. Good or bad.”

“Hmm…”

He hazards a peek at her out of one optic. Fans in his chassis whirring loudly, but just barely under the background noise level of all the other people chatting around them as they head toward the next stage to get good seats, even though it’ll be another 30 minutes before they play. And that’s where he manually throttles them at (internal core temperatures be damned) lest his fluster over her sticky sweet smile be discovered.

“Guess I do have pretty good taste. Alright. Well… The Back Stagers* playing on the north stage suck ass. High school noobs with autotune. Not worth your time. West stage wasn’t even worth remembering for this rotation. And if you stick around here you’ll get a bunch of Beatles wanna-be’s.”

((*note: I really hope The Back Stagers isn’t really a band I’m just gonna be making up stuff for the sake of the pretendsies music festival and if every band name I google comes up with a match I’ll be here all week. If the Back Stagers is really a fr band I’m sure they’re lovely!))

Her smile grows, sly and knowing, as he concludes his analysis of the next rotation of bands. “Well fiddle-sticks. Then I guess that means the only stage worth finding a seat at is gonna be the East stage then, huh? You wouldn’t happen to be heading there next, would you?”

“What’s it to ya?” He sniffs, equal parts pleased and panicked that it seems he might have been a little too obvious in which direction he’s headed next. His new friend just gives him a playful smile and reaches up onto her tippy toes to boop the center of his faceplate, even going to far as to *say* ‘boop’ when she does it.

“Then tag! You’re it!”

She giggles while he sputters and flails at being touched unexpectedly on the part of his face plate where the tip of his ‘nose’ is carved, even though that space is really closer to being right beneath his left optic rather than in the middle of his face where a more human nose would be. By the time he’s righted himself, her bouncing curls have disappeared into the crowd and he cannot *believe* he feels half-obligated to follow through on the challenge. He could catch her instantly, of course. He’s all leg after all. But the bristling allergic reaction he has to following through on childish, lame, dumb baby stuff like this (where people can see him) keeps him rooted in place for a few seconds. Dusting off his jacket. Making himself look very busy with getting his hood to lay just right behind him.

And then, and only then. When any soul who may have possibly witnessed him being accosted by such an endearingly cute action has likely moved on… does he finally start walking east. Leisurely pace. Devil-may-care attitude. Hands stuffed in his pockets.

And an eagle eye out for a particular set of bouncing curls headed for the east stage.

He gets there eventually. Not that he was rushing or anything. Because he wasn’t. He just has long legs, and a long stride. And optics that can zoom several times past what any human can. So it makes sense for him to make a beeline for the telltale flash of a rainbow blanket being spread put on the grass a few feet closer to the stage than he might have chosen for himself, but still uncannily close to being in the perfect spot for getting the best audio quality for his mechanical systems to process.

The bastard in him can’t help but saunter up behind her quietly and tap her once on the wrong shoulder, making her turn once to the left before she turns again with a confused expression to the right. But he’s moved, keeping his bean-pole body directly behind her with a cheeky grin. He tap on the left side again, following expertly as she turns a full circle this time with a small noise of confusion. Finally, he taps on her right shoulder, and this time she turns left instead, catching him with a quick jerk of her head in the opposite direction of his tapping. The quick motion *does* allow her to catch him, but he also catches a face full of long curls. And in his sputtering to get the strands out of his mouth, his rays (also caught in the net of silk strands) retract.

“Oh!”

“Pbth! Bleh!”

It’s a chaotic moment that freezes as soon as she hisses in discomfort as his jostling and sputtering yanks a little too hard on her hair, and he instinctively locks his joints. He’d go pale if he could, but he can’t. Instead his rays just retract harder, which ends up tugging her closer as she follows the direction she’s being pulled.

“Ooh! Oh dear! Hang on… I think I’m tangled…”

“S-sorry… uh…” there’s a bit more subtle panicked flailing as their faces are quite close now, and Clip can just barely process the silver lining that her eyes are pinched closed with physical discomfort now that her hair is quite stuck in his rays because if he had to look into her eyes from this close he might just extend his claws and cut the strands right then and there.

“J-just hold still… I’ll… uh…”

He fumbles a bit, kneeling down to avoid pulling more. Then he manually extends his rays one by one, and blindly the two of them work on gently extracting the strands from his internal mechanisms. It’s mortifying, honestly, but once the tugging is down to a careful minimum his new friend just starts giggling.

“Karma sure is quick to act,” she jokes, and Clip rolls his optics.

“Not my fault you have 17 yards of hair, Rapunzel,” he gripes, freeing a few more chunks. She just giggles again and her deft little fingers dip gently and carefully into the open track for his rays to extract the last tangle of hair.

“Maybe the updo should have stayed. My fault for ‘letting my hair down’ for once, eh?”

Clip squeezes his eyes closed at the unfamiliar intrusion feeling quite uncomfortable about the whole affair, and says the first thing that comes to mind to try to deflect around the awkwardness building in the pits of his motherboard.

“You know if you wanted to get up close and personal, you could have just asked.”

… Nailed it.

And ‘Rapunzel’… just laughs again. A pretty blush staining her cheeks as the last of her locks finally pulls free and Eclipse can spring to his feet like he’s been stung by a bee. “To be fair, you started it! You were teasing me!”

Eclipse takes a second to focus on bobbling his rays in and out to make sure no errant strands are stuck in his gears, an automatic scoff on his lips while he tries valiantly (and unsuccessfully) to move the ghost of her delicate hands on his rays and just barely inside his casing into the recycle bin in his programming.

Oh that’s gonna haunt him for a *while…* he begrudgingly acknowledges once it seems clear that there’s a few loose strands caught in the gears. Not anything that’ll cause him harm. Just enough for him to feel it tickling in places he’s not used to feeling things.

He startles at the feeling of a very gentle little touch on his arm, and he looks down at ‘Rapunzel’ with wide eyes while she looks up at him with earnest concern. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He grimaces, and it comes out a little more like a sneer than he means for it to. “Me? Pfft. I’m not exactly delicate, you know. I’ve survived a lot worse than you.”

He internally curses himself, as that does come out a little meaner than he meant. But she merely nods in response and looks relieved that he isn’t hurt. “Oh phew. I was getting worried there for a second. If you’re alright… then… is there anything I can do to make up for getting you all tangled up?”

“You could take me home tonight,” he says before he can actually process the words. And it takes everything he has to keep his internal screech as an inside thought as much as his visceral need to go find a metal pole to bang his faceplate against several dozen times.

His new friend blinks in surprise, processing his words, before bursting out laughing. A real blow to his pride. What little he has. But before he can turn heel and bolt for the fenceline she takes his hands and gives him a painfully warm smile. “Do you not have anywhere to sleep for the night tonight? I didn’t exactly bring a tent or anything with me either, so do you need a place to stay?”

“Maybe…” he admits, deciding he can’t physically bear the thought of trying to say anything more than that for a few more moments. Lucky for him, that seems to be all that needs to be said. She squeezes his hands with a warm grin.

“Well… I don’t really make a habit of inviting men back to my place so soon after meeting. But if you don’t have a place to stay tonight then maybe I can make an exception. Couch surfing has to be better than wet grass, yeah?”

“Not always, but whatever,” he deflects, extracting his hands before her body heat soaks into his joints any further than it already has. “It’s just supposed to rain tonight… so…”

She giggles and waves him over to her blanket, bidding him to join her on it this time. “I can imagine. Fellow like you probably needs to be careful of getting too wet, eh?”

“Nah. Waterproof,” Eclipse responds, grabbing the blanket (with her on it) and tugging it backwards four feet. ‘Rapunzel’ squeals and laughs as he does so, delighted to be along for the ride. And when he lets go to plop down on it, she gives him a breathless smile.

“Satisfied with this superior location now?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

She giggles at his assessment and takes a few moments to put her hair back up in it’s smart bun, a whole process of smoothing and gathering and twisting that Clip ignores purposefully, just in case anyone he knows happens to be here and look his way.

Perhaps he can’t really be blamed if he doesn’t actually remember much from the next set of performers to come up on stage. After all, how could he while he’s dealing with the distracting tickle of a few errant, long strands of hair tangling themselves just a little tighter into his gears.

GUH. PART TWO!

ohfhhfishcjsisjbthis is so silly and cute. I love clip getting embarrassed about being goofy in public, I want to punt him into a wall

Got crazy second hand embarrassment from the hair getting caught, still adorable and funny though. Also the hair fully catching and staying in his head, ough..

Himb!!!

[kidcanines]

"as silly as a lamb, as clumsy as a goat, in the palm of my hand, mine to never share.”

"ah ah, don’t cry lamb, don’t cry…please..”

--DNI NSFW--

♠︎ blows smoke rings in your face and when you scrunch up, boops your nose with a little giggle

♠︎ often grabs you by the back of you collar when you try to run off down sketchy alleyways (that he was going to go down anyways, he just doesn’t want you to run ahead) 

♠︎ primarily calls you lamb. because you are frail and weak but above all, persistent and headstrong just like one. 

♠︎ hates your street clothes. he dresses you in suits, shoes, and other expensive things that remind him of what it would be like to be him when he was young and way less poor.

♠︎ once he decides to pick you up off the streets and take you under his wing, he immediately dumps you in a vat of warm water and just starts scrubbing. you are unthinkably dirty and he cannot deal with dirty things.

♠︎ he doesn’t like it when you cry, in fact, he hates it and doesn’t know what to do with himself. he’s inquisitive though, so he lifts your hair out of your eyes with a gloved hand and puts the tip of his finger on your chin to tilt your face up so you can look him in his eyes. endless darkness meeting a watery baby face.. he begs, pleads you to not let another tear drop. He can’t take it.

♠︎ enjoys being called mama over papa and taking you to fancy places where you can “expand” your palate. it most often ends in a dine and dash but that's nothing new to you. 

♠︎ seeing as he’s known everywhere, the managers can’t really deny him for fear of violence, and so they let him in, take everyone’s orders, and pray for peace. 

♠︎ dances with you. a lot and everywhere. to some imaginary tune he makes up that he hums. he grabs you by the hands on the sidewalk and starts moving them back and forth as he crouches down, down, down, with every shift, obscure humming getting louder and louder until you’re giggling on the street and being spun around by a firm hand on your wrist and another on the small of your back 

♠︎ hates card games. too many ways to cheat. and too many ways to win. the concept should be rid of at worst and completely burnt to the ground at best 

♠︎ he teaches you his business practices. if he’s allowing your presence into his life it has to permeate its very fiber and everything in its existence. not a secret between you two exists.

♠︎ he hates smoking, but is, at the very least, addicted to it. he read somewhere that smoking is bad for a child’s lungs and while not particularly in favor of your endangerment, can’t help himself. he also is a raging pyromaniac and you are quickly taking up that mantle with how often he teaches (and allows) you to set buildings on fire and explode things. 

♠︎ won’t sacrifice you or send you out to do his bidding, contrary to popular belief: he cherishes your innocence and despite touching your face with dirt under his fingers, you remain carefully unscathed. in fact, everywhere he goes, you go, and everywhere you go, he goes. you’re the child wrapped in his stiff coat, the extra two legs not too far behind him. his shadow, waiting and tightly tethered.

♠︎ overly protective of you, believing you're his consciousness come to haunt him, so he protects you. takes care of you. 

♠︎ not actually very touchy, but when you’re in his vicinity his fingers twitch and ghost over your shoulders. almost as if he wants too, but is afraid he’ll corrupt you. Like rain to metal, ready to rust. Water to paper, ready to devour. 

♠︎ despite his adult activities, you're his favorite company to keep. whether it be coloring or watching silly cartoons, there's just something about you that draws him in. of all the lackey’s that he shoots out of boredom, you never make that list. 

♠︎ as said before, he finds you in an alley. rainy day in Gotham and all that jazz. and he passes you up multiple times. over and over again do your eyes meet his for no particular reason other than your staring. until one day he passes up the same alley and you're still there in that position–curled up to shield from the rain and still staring with that leveling gaze– probably got beat up for it if the bruises are telling. from that point on he knows you’re trouble, maybe more than you’re worth, and makes the split decision to grab you anyways. 

♠︎ he doesn’t usually endorse kidnapping, especially not of little brats. maybe it’s because you're overly scruffy and an obviously struggling street kid, or because he’d just decided that it was a good day to take you. or maybe it was because of the way you came. accepting a fate you thought would lead to death one way or another. and in a way you weren’t wrong.

♠︎ from the get-go he was attached to you at the hip. leaning over you to whisper things in your ears. fluttering his hands over your arms. poking you… none of the ways he touches you are very firm (except for when he’s wrapping up an injury you sustained for being stupid.) he’s not touchy, as said before, but he is very helicopter-y.

♠︎ he teaches you how to wield multiple weapons and you find his overly performative fighting style annoying, but captivating- and you say as much. to which he replies with an indignant squawk during one of your spars, only to continue to do more of his schtick. dancing in and out of the way of your hands so you can never get a solid hit.   “Are you sure it’s my fighting style or the fact that you keep missing, Lamb?” 

♠︎hHe takes you to casinos, basements, bars, clubs, alleyways, fire escapes, dumpsters, beaches, subways, food spots, the bottom (and top) of rich and elite buildings, the elaborate underground of seemingly innocent mom n pop shops on the corner of busy streets in the narrows, bridges, rooftops, and anywhere else. all of it, just to find out your limits and what he can and can’t do around you. it’s revealed in a grandiose way, a metaphorical ripping away of the blindfold. the inner workings that keep Gotham’s cogs turning and probably most important of all, what keeps him afloat. 

♠︎ turns out, you’re pretty good at handling the filth of the world! having grown up in it, having come from it. you know more about the navigation system than he’d originally expected, not that he expected you to know at all. it’s difficult weaving through alleyways and sewers and jumping into dumpsters but you make it look like art. an elaborate dance that he watches with barely a mind for anything else despite following you. it was as if, instead of you molding to the filthy city streets, they molded for you.

♠︎ his posture is bad, but he doesn’t like your posture to be like his, so he’s constantly telling you to sit up straight despite being the human equivalent of if a car crashed into a light post. “Do as I say, not as I do..” 

♠︎ hates corporal punishment. would never put his hands on you and hates the idea of someone even insinuating that he has hit you or abused you in any way, shape, or form. It’s what gets one of his “volunteer’s” in trouble and dangling over a vat of corrosive acid.

[volturiprincess]

Day 4: Four Calling Birds

Alec Volturi x fem vamp reader

Warning: mentions of blood and alcohol

Word Count: 699

(Moodboard)

I cannot believe he is actually wearing it, he looks so….normal, so human. And to top it off he looks so handsome like this, messy hair with some flannel pajama bottoms and a black long sleeve. I should have asked him to do this long ago because I would never have suspected how good he would look, it's giving me flashbacks to when he started to wear leather gloves for the first time. He stood in front of me with a slight pout as I stared at him with my lips slightly parted and my eyes thunderstruck. I can't seem to look away or even want to, he's too good to look away from.

“Cara? Please say something, your starting to worry me”

I finally make my journey of staring him down to meet his handsome face, I throw myself into his arms as my hands bury themselves in his dark locks. I look into his eyes with the most smitten look I could muster because I am after all swooning over him. He still has his little pout as I still haven't said anything to him, I trace the contours in his cheekbones, down to his jawline which made his lips part slightly at my touch. I continue to trace any dip in his face to any sharp angles his face has to offer, to outlining his plump lips that are still agape. His eyes eventually closed as I continue to explore his face with my finger, he looks so relaxed and is practically clinging to me as if I were to leave him at any given moment. 

“I'm still waiting”

“Let me finish here first, love”

“Fine”

My hand goes to his exposed neck and deciding to tease I wrap my small hand around it and give him a slight squeeze. He made a fake choking sound as his eyes opened in annoyance but failed to contain it as he laughed wholeheartedly. 

“You little devil, trying to go there this early in the day? Let's go out first then we will see after, hm?”

“Okay but only because I want to make snow angels with you, my angel boy”

“Angel boy? That's a new one”

I giggled slightly as I booped his nose, his face quickly turned into a dumbfounded look which only made me laugh out loud as his innocent face. He pushed me away playfully as he walked to the closet to get ready for the day. I sigh as I realize he's going to change out of his pajamas. I think I will end up having to buy one of each color of those flannels because he looked too gorgeous to not appreciate it more.

I quickly get ready as I meet him by the door, he interlocks his gloved hand with mine as we make our way outside. As soon as the cold breeze hits us a small smile comes to my face, as we step foot on the snow covered steps. I never knew after centuries of dealing with hardships in my bond with Alec would lead to this, where we are at peace with one another and we finally have a deep love that keeps getting stronger every year. We ended up in an area where there was grass but is now covered by untouched snow, it felt like it was meant to be at that moment.

“So is this what you had in mind?”

“It's perfect”

We lay on the out backs in the snow as we started to make our snow angels, as we stood with ease I drew a small heart between our angels. I smiled up at him as this time he booped my nose, my face turned to a look of surprise from his sudden act of affection.

"Pay back cara”

I scoffed playfully as we made our way back to the castle. We tend to end our Christmas day by the fireplace with our respected wine that is combined with blood. As so that’s how we find ourselves right now, me cuddled to his side, drinks in hand and to top it off he is back into his pajamas that I love so much.

[nshtn]

SITS UP

Wesker to start of course

Extreme logorrhea ahead. I doubt anyone will read this to the end. If you do, you'll get a gift.

How I feel about this character

Fundamentally broken genius of a teleological Darwinist. High-functioning psycho-sociopath. Evil mad scientist trope is my guilty favorite. The only thing they could've done any better was give this man reading glasses.

Some people call him a leather/latex daddy. He does dress like one. I don't think he acts like a fatherly figure, but, then, I've never really understood that connotation - I have no reference.

I want to jiggle his face and boop his nose and tuck him in and listen to him talk about genetics and virology for 17 hours straight without a break. I want to run my hand through his hair like I'm rolling to pet the dragon in D&D without getting incinerated. I want to give him his PG67.

I also want his back-to-back letterbox reviews of every virology movie like or similar to Contagion, including Contagion.

I find him "conventionally attractive". My favorite facemodel is RE5. His nose is so cute and his eyebrows are so thick and gosh, he's got such pretty long eyelashes. He's so cute when his hair peeks forward.

And he is so very, very tired.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Chrisker, Weskennedy, Willsker, Weskrauser, Polystars

Some of these aren't published anywhere but my DMs. ↓

Mossy's Mcbridesker, Feng's Jordsker, a particular friend's TRICELL supercomputer OC x Wesker, Starlight's Lancesker, whatever the hell 'researcher' has with him apparently

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Rebecca and Wesker being friends in DBD is cute. I want them to get in a funfact battle toe-to-toe. They should watch shitty movies together because there's nothing better to do.

Heisenberg, Wesker and pre-tf Radames is the ultimate in-universe nightmare blunt rotation and I'd pay to see it.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Albert Wesker is a child trafficking victim...

...of a cryptofascist biotech doom-cult who would've probably been normal if Spencer hadn't targeted him. To erase his past is to forget his most important character trope: he is manufactured. Everything about his life has been intentionally sown into him to create a perfect weapon that relies on the orders of another to act without question.

Spencer forgot that human beings are unpredictable creatures. There is no way to strip a human of humanity with no trace left behind - humanity is curious of what lies beyond the walls. We are not stateful machines.

I haven't really seen anyone else headcanon him as someone with C-PTSD and I think part of this is media pattern avoidance of assigning these traits to the villains - it's "bad rep". The truth is that C-PTSD is a horrifying condition to experience and the way you come out of it can very much result in sociopathy - in fact, I'd wager it's a large contributor (I suffer from C-PTSD, so this isn't something I'm throwing around for edge).

I portray him as someone who desperately struggles to detach himself from the concept of humanity because the concept of humanity has made such a monster out of him that he doesn't believe it holds any value. There's thorns around his heart to protect it and they have bled him out.

Wesker also has to detach himself from others because he's been raised to follow the directive of people with more influence (in any fashion) than him and, thus, the only safe option is to stand alone. To give anyone that power over him will put the strings back in the marionette. I think he would rather die. I don't reflect this in most of my xreader writing for obvious reasons.

Wesker cannot be "pacified".

There is no shivering little boy waiting for you to save him locked behind his eyes after he kills Spencer. You will learn to love scar tissue and recognize aching need portrayed in shades of violence or you will love nothing at all.

He's not an empathetic man. In whatever you do you must remember that this character lacks the ability to relate to others as an immutable trait. It doesn't forbid you from writing Wesker being kind or doing 'kind' things, rather he does not do them out of the same kindness you connotate with human empathy.

In fact, I need to update my sheets to reflect this.

I'd eat my boot if he wasn't a social Darwinist.

I don't really focus on Epic Umbrella Moments very much for obvious reasons (aside from not enjoying writing them).

On the flipside, Wesker has every reason to establish the School again when he cements himself in TRICELL, especially considering his lofty goals of pushing humanity off the edge in favor of something new (to breed these extremist views), but he doesn't. That's very telling, I think, and it's in direct contrast to his own ideology, and that's very very telling.

At the end of the day, he's just a character.

I just like Wesker. I'll read and love all versions of him. No one version of Wesker is """bad""" - all portrayals are another portrayal to choose from, all characterizations explore something new.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

god i would pay for someone to write his response to the c virus. hey man, some guy took your virus and used it for his crazy tf mindbreak bodyhorror fetish-obsession with your most contentious agent, do you want to kill him? please please say yes

I would also pay for his response to T-Abyss. I mean, a bunch of 'civvies' got ahold of T. Is he disgusted? Is he curious? Does he want to hire them? Does he hate it? Did he use it in Uroboros? Does he think about it? Does it bother him???

Does the A Virus bother him???

I want pre-tf Radames and Wesker to interact. I want to see what they'd talk about. Radames was herself obsessed with Simmons - would Wesker immediately clock this behavior pattern?

Mother Miranda and Wesker interacting would be fascinating. Would it lead to an earlier, different Zenobia? Even Spencer and Miranda meeting and talking (again) would be very interesting.

Come to think of it, pretty much every other BBEG of Resident Evil involves a child - Ashford herself (and later Hidalgo), Eveline, Natalia Korda, even Sherry. Wesker has no equivalent of T-Veronica, E, T-Phobos, or G - he never involves children directly. Why? I wish his psyche was explored because the things he doesn't do even when they would benefit him are immensely interesting aspects of him.

Thanks for reading! Here's his most immutable, important, unforgettable, irrefutable, inarguable trait.

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

boop wrote a chapter of something ig title tbd

Despite all of my best efforts, I cannot seem to recall how I became acquainted with the Lady in Red. I ought to – and yet the memory continues to elude me. Likewise, I do not know what devilish force it was that pushed me towards East Brunswick, Northumberland, nor do I recall deciding to relocate. All I remember is an overwhelming tiredness with the trials and tribulations of London society and an immense and overpowering need to run away from it all, to run as far north as my legs would carry. I bought a train ticket, I believe, and took it all the way, and found myself in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. But still, I mustn’t have seen Newcastle-upon-Tyne fit for my needs, for my solitude and blissful isolation. So, I took a cab from Newcastle, and after some time I found myself in the quaintest little place. Twenty minutes by cab to the sea, twenty minutes by cab back to Newcastle, should I miss the sights of society. It was perfect.

I took lodging in an old inn – the elderly couple that owned it was the picture of North English kindness, and I knew that it would prove suffocating eventually, but it was endearing for the time being – on the second floor. The owners of the building had promised it to me under the understanding that I would be honest with the rent and would treat the place with respect. It was a quaint little apartment, small enough that I shouldn’t worry for cleaning or heating, and large enough that my big-city soul could find respite in its spaciousness. It had a bedroom and a living room, and a kitchen adjacent to it, with a washroom down the hall, really everything I could need. I took off my brown boots, resting them by the stairs, and crept into the living room, my white socks stark against the dark wooden floorboards as I took my new abode in. It really was beautiful in East Brunswick – my living room window looked out onto the town square, and past it I could just see the grass-covered fields that farmers would lead their sheep onto, and past that, the promise of the cold north sea, its salt air floating on the breeze like a child’s lost balloon, or a swallow looking for a warm place to spend the night.

I found myself sitting down on the couch and observing that very window, thinking about why I left London. Thinking of Ophelia Roux.

Perhaps the greatest curse and blessing of London in those times was the incredibly high crime rate. It meant that it was not safe to leave the house after dark. And it meant the world had the unique chance and opportunity to meet the Lady in Red, with her scarlet gloves, her ruby-red boots, her crimson cloak, and her burgundy shawl. She was London’s very own international scandal. Our very own, locally based, serial killer. But she was peculiar, the Lady in Red. She would kill her victims with a toy pistol, a tiny little thing, made of white alabaster that shined in the dark as she killed bankers, insurers, politicians, CEOs, and on occasion, other killers. A righteous vigilante, they called her. The Angel of Islington, the Westminster Devil, the Lady in Red. Ophelia Roux. The price on her head was enough to feed a small African nation, and her avid followers were obnoxious enough to kill the King, if they deemed so fit. She was like a ghost, haunting London and haunting my life. 

At this time, I did not yet know what I would soon become far too knowledgeable of – that East Brunswick had ghosts of its own, and that my beloved Lady in Red would prove the least of my tribulations.

As I said before, I do not recall when I became aware of the Lady in Red. I do recall, however, when I first saw her myself. The eve I found myself closest to the pearly gates I have ever been in my life. Indeed, I have seen the Angel of Islington, like most Londoneers have. But I – I am different from most Londoneers. I have seen her face. Just once, no more, at the charity ball she made her debut. I do not know how it is that I found myself with my head underwater, someone might’ve pushed me, or perhaps I pushed myself. I do not know. What I do know is that she - in all her chivalry - saved me, pulling me from the depths of that fountain, thoughtlessly placed in the centre of some ridiculously rich philanthropist’s grand hall, where I found myself by some cruel accident. She had panic in her eyes, those beautiful eyes hinted with the slightest gold, and for a moment I believed I saw an angel, the Angel of Islington. Then she turned from me, shot that ridiculously rich philanthropist in the chest with a bullet from her toy pistol, and disappeared like smoke into the night. I do not recall if I was questioned by the police after the entire affair – but if I was, I am certain I told them the truth – that the Lady in Red was undoubtedly a hero, that the philanthropist surely deserved his comeuppance, and that I did not know who she was. Regardless – you see why I had to leave London, yes? It was all becoming a bit much for myself.

The morning turned to after-noon, and I came to the acute realisation that I had spent several hours in my living room, watching the town. I got up with a sigh and walked over to the brown boots that I left by the stairs, sliding them on and making to leave the apartment. I had just moved to East Brunswick, might as well get acquainted with the town itself.

You might think me mad for this, and if I were you, I’d most probably think the same of myself – but when I went to walk downstairs to the inn below, I could’ve sworn I saw something red, flashing in the corner of my eye. I turned to investigate it, and it was gone, nothing but a shadow in the dark. But I could’ve sworn–

Emily?

Emily, is that you?

…

I stepped out of the inn and took a deep breath, smiling at the freshness of it all. The clean, northern air of East Brunswick was a welcome change from the miserable pollution of central London. I sighed, content, and walked downtown, towards the town center to scout out East Brunswick. The cobbled streets seemed to invite me further down, the amber-tinted trees on the sides beckoning to quicken my step as I passed streetlamps with missing persons posters plastered all over. I directed my step to the farmer’s market, hoping to buy some vegetables for dinner. I found what I was looking for fairly quickly, approaching a burly man with an impressive mustache, who regarded me with equal measures contempt and curiosity from behind his stand. I smiled politely as I walked over.

“Good day, sir.”

“Hullo.” He scrunched his nose, making his colossal mustache twitch to the side in an almost comical manner as he crossed his arms on his chest. “Yer must be the newcomer.”

“That is right, sir.” I nodded. “Just in from London. My name’s Azuro – Michelle Azuro.”

The man let out a hearty chuckle. “Yer one barmy southerner if yer came ‘ere, Miss ‘Zuro.”

“Why’s that, sir, if I may ask?” 

He sighed. “No-one comes to Brunswick just ‘cause, Miss ‘Zuro, the town’s cursed.”

“Cursed?” He nodded, and so I continued, my interest piqued. “How so?” He shrugged.

“Yer seen the posters, Miss ‘Zuro?” I nodded. The farmer smiled softly, almost sadly. “This town isn’t a town of livin’ folks. It’s a town of ghosts.”

“Alright, Mister Jones?” A young man, around my age, approached the stall. He was tall, lanky almost, with a face covered in freckles and a toothy grin. “Scarin’ off the foreigner already?” Mister Jones humphed.

“It ain’t scarin’ if I’m tellin’ ‘er the truth, lad.” the man frowned, his mustache contracting above his pursed lips. “Brunswick is cursed. Father Doyle said so in ‘is sermons.” the younger man rolled his eyes, the grin on his face unmoveable.

“Yeah, cause I’ll believe the word of a man dying of brain cancer. Think for yourself sometimes too, Mister Jones, it don’t hurt.” The man turned to speak to me. “Sorry for him, Mister Jones is part of the more… superstitious part of East Brunswick. Got the best veggies in the country though.” He extended his hand to shake. “Name’s Jake. Jake Collins.” I took his hand gratefully.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Mister Collins.” I smiled. “My name’s Michelle Azuro.”

“You sure sound like a southerner, Miss Azuro.” Mister Collins laughed.

“How so?”

“Oh, don’t take it to yourself – you just sound a bit funny, is all.” He nudged Mister Jones in the ribs with his elbow. “Oi, I bet she’d get along with the nut.”

“Pardon?” I furrowed my brow. Mister Jones humphed again, walking off somewhere, muttering something quietly to himself. I turned to Mister Collins.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in any mean way.” He quickly corrected himself, with a sort of panicked expression on his face. I thought to myself that he mustn’t be used to talking to people his age, to people that came from society. “Just… there’s this guy… calls himself the Archivist, he does.” Mister Collins chuckled. “He’s a right nut-job, but a bonny lad all the same. I think the two of you would get along.” I smiled reassuringly.

“He sounds interesting,” I said. “Where can I find this archivist?”

“Oh, he has an office not far from here really.” Mister Collins leaned forwards, his shirt brushing on tomatoes as he did, and he pointed to someplace further down an alley to the left. “At the end of that street. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Mister Collins. I shall go check it out, as it were.” I bowed my head to him and turned. “Good day to you.” He waved after me, and I thought to myself that I should enjoy being friends with a boy like him.

(I wouldn’t ever be friends with anyone like him, I wouldn’t let myself, not again, not again, not after Emily–)

The walk to the Archivist’s office proved quite short, and just as Mister Collins had said, it was hard not to notice it once I did. The building it was in was the only one standing on its lonesome, with its purple and green storefront windows and hand-painted sign reading – “The Archivist’s”. Could not mistake it for anything else. I walked up to the front door and pressed the handle down, expecting the door to swing open. It did not. I stepped back and took another look at the storefront window, where I just noticed a small message, painted on the glass, that read “Please knock.” I tilted my head, interest piqued, and walked back to the door, doing just as the glass required.

After a few seconds (or maybe it was a few hours, that I cannot confirm), I heard steps, and the door swung open. Behind it stood a tall man, with brown hair and a brown, grown-out beard, and amber eyes (almost gold, like the Lady’s), who looked at me, surprised.

“Good day sir.” I smiled. “Are you the Archivist? I was told to find you.”

He blinked, before stepping aside and beckoning me in, a warm expression on his face. “Please, come in, Miss. Tell me your story.” I entered, grateful, and for some reason, I felt the strange urge to tell him everything about me. Everything I knew, everything I endured, everything I had known, everything I had forgotten, and about that name, that name I always remembered but could never recall, and I wanted to tell him about Emily, and oh, Emily, where are you, where are you, I can’t find you, Emily–

And then, my world turned dark, and I felt the urge no more.