#some of the transference ones are so funny

[futbolfatale]

Origin Story

Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader,

Summary: You get invited to a Barca game by an Alpha at your school who wouldn't accept.

Tags/Warnings: Dubious consent, Bathroom sex, scent marking,

Note: Only is Mapi the only one in this but there will probs be a part 2 with the rest of the pack.

The only reason I've been writing lately is @insomniakisses who definitely doesn't know I exist but I love their blog.

Something about their writing has inspired me for better or worse.

Wordcount: 1.1K

When you got invited to the Barca vs Real Madrid Game by a girl at your college of course you accepted.  She was in a couple of your classes but all you knew about her is that she is an alpha and is kind of a dick. But you would be crazy not to know how expensive tickets are and surely she can’t be as bad as everyone says. But this girl surely has another motive for inviting you. It will come to light soon as you sit next to each other in the crowded stadium. Her scent is aggressive forward and fills the space around you it's almost like Lily and maybe an undertone of patchouli. Overall not the best when you're already surrounded by unfamiliar scents. 

You can’t help but grow excited as they walk out. Okay, so you may have a major crush on some of the players. By some you mean most but it makes since it’s pretty common knowledge that the different teams are packs. Which makes transfers even more devastating. Even so, everyone knows that Barca has two omegas already which is already more than most other packs. They differently don’t need another which is devastating to you but it's not like you could ever be with them anyway. It’s rare for a Futbal pack to mate with someone outside of the football world.

It’s around 20 minutes in before Maddie, whose name you’ve just learned, takes off her sweater revealing that she is wearing a Real Madrid jersey. “Are you seriously wearing that right now?” You ask incredulously. “Ya Real Madrid is going to win, I promise you. They are the superior team,” she responded as if you were stupid for thinking any different. “Barca is definitely better, they have a stacked roster.” You argue back, growing more annoyed. Most likely due to her attitude problem and overwhelming scent. “Real Madrid will win” She seems so assured of herself as if she can already see the outcome of the game. “That's never going to happen. I bet you Barca will win and If they don’t I will write your next essay for you.”. “Deal”

It's not even 10 minutes later that Hansen scores and you're left with a smile on your face. It’s a good feeling to know your rights. Maybe you’ll pick up a sweet treat on the way home. You deserve it after dealing with this idiot. But it's all worth it for free tickets. “I told you” You gloat but only a little. “They're going to pull through one goal doesn’t mean anything,” Maddie responds sharpley her scent turning sour. “One goal can be the difference between winning and losing” You count to praud her mostly for your amusement. “ You think I don’t know that. I know football better than you.” She growls her fangs obvious in her aggressive state. So maybe you fucked with her a little too much but god it was so funny. “Sorry,” You startle as Pajor scores. You definitely made the right choice when picking a team to support.

By the end of the game, you are bursting with excitement a 5-0 win is crazy. You can feel Maddie seething beside you but it doesn’t sour your mood. As you move to stand at the barricade watching the players trade jerseys and such. Then Mapi Leon comes to your section and you're practically vibrating as she strips off her jersey. She walks closer to you her scent is so strong probably from running for so long. “ Would you like it?” She asks looking directly into your eyes. It's like a shock to your system “Yes” You take it from her gratefully and she flashes a toothy grin. “You so pretty princess” Her voice is so low. “Thank you” You can’t help but blush as she sprints off to join her team.

You gather up your things and walk out of the stadium with Maddie. You are starting to feel overheated and are growing quickly annoyed by Maddie.  Her mood has only seemed to worsen since the end of the game. The heated feeling only grows as you move through the stadium. “I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave.” You split off from Maddie not waiting to hear her response. You have all your things if she leaves you it won’t be the end of the world. You slip into the bathroom and lock yourself in. You lean against the wall and take a deep breath of the jersey. It smells strongly of citrus and has an undertone of cinnamon. It soothes some of the heat under your skin.

You startle as the bathroom opens and someone else steps inside. It takes a moment for their scent to register. Citrus and cinnamon same as the jersey. You open the stall door and peek out to see Mapi standing by the door looking directly at you. “I thought I could smell you in here” She hurried towards you and pushed you back into the stall. “What are you doing” You ask dropping the jersey as she grabs your wrist. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You smell so good” She nuzzles her face into your neck. “Let me have you please” She whispers her accent thicker than before. “You want me but you have Ona if you want an omega” You reason. Sure you want this but you want her to think clearly. “I can and have had Ona but I want you. Once I have had you im sure they will want you as well.” she pushes you into the wall and slides a hand down your pants. Her fingers trace along your cunt through your underwear. “Say yes please I need you” She whimpers into your shoulder tonguing at your scent gland. “Yes. Yes please” you moan rolling your hips against her hand. She slides her fingers past your underwear to rub at your clit. ‘Take me please I need it too bad.”You moan grinding against her. “Shh you can have it see” she slips two fingers inside you with ease. It makes you uncomfotbly aware of how slick you are. It only last a second before shes distracting you by moving her fingers and using her other hand to rub at you clit.

You cum twice before Mapi finally lets up. As you catch you breath she is collecting your things and straightening out your clothes and hair. “ Come with me we are having dinner tonight. Please,” she asks tacting on the please almost as an afterthought. “I'll go but I've got school tomorrow and I really can’t afford to miss any more of my lectures this semester.” You explain as the two of you head out of the stall. Mapi stops to wash her hands before leading you out of the stadium.

[aubvrns]

just on time, sweetheart

| wanda maximoff x reader

Synopsis - You were running late because you missed your alarm. Who knew that a simple mishap could be met with connections from the past?

Note - i’m happy so lemme hurt you a bit #sadist

You weren't the type of student to be irresponsible.

You just happened to miss the aggravating sound of your alarm. It was just one of those mornings where your blanket feels much softer than it was when you slept. You bolted through the university halls, your bag bouncing against your back as you struggled to catch your breath. Your alarm betrayed you, and now sprinting to your second period, a strict voice cuts the uncomfortable silence.

"You're late, Miss Y/L/N."

You cursed under your breath and turned around, facing the disapproving gaze of Professor Fury. You had no excuses, not really. No one would believe that your alarm clock had miraculously decided to rebel against you this morning.

"Guidance office," The professor ordered, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

You groaned inwardly. Just great, you thought.

You turned on your heels and dragged yourself towards the guidance office, mood already sour. The last thing you needed was another lecture about punctuality and responsibility. As you pushed the heavy door open, you barely glanced at the person seated inside—until your gaze locked onto a pair of all-too-familiar green eyes.

Wanda Maximoff.

Your breath hitched, like you forgot how to breath. You heart slammed against your ribs, and for a moment, you wondered if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on you. The girl who had once whispered forever into her skin.

The girl who had shattered you. The girl who was now sitting right across from you, looking just as stunned.

A beat of silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

Then, the Dean cleared his throat. "Miss Y/L/N, since you have time to be late, you have time to be useful. Our new transfer student, Miss Maximoff, needs a tour of the campus. You’ll be her guide for the day."

Your blood ran cold.

The Dean continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between you two. "You'll show her around, make sure she knows where everything is. Understood?"

You forced herself to nod. Words were a foreign concept right now, especially when Wanda’s gaze was still piercing into her, unblinking, unreadable.

The Dean dismissed himself, and before you could think of an excuse, you found yourself stepping out into the hallway with Wanda right beside you. The silence stretched, clinging like ghosts.

Finally, Wanda spoke. "You look different."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "To you, maybe."

Wanda flinched, just barely, but you caught it. And for the first time in years, you felt something close to satisfaction.

It was going to be a long day.

-

The tour was hell.

Every hallway, every classroom—they all held the weight of things left unsaid, of a past neither of them had completely buried. You led Wanda through the university, pointing out the library, the gym, the best place to get coffee. You kept your words clipped, distant, careful.

You didn’t want to remember. But memories had a funny way of creeping in, uninvited.

"Do you still drink too much coffee?" Wanda asked suddenly, her voice softer than before.

You clenched your jaw. "Some things never change."

A flicker of something crossed Wanda’s face— regret? Guilt? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t care to find out.

"You were always late in high school too," Wanda mused. "I used to wake you up."

You swallowed hard. "Well, you’re not here to do that anymore, are you?"

The redhead didn’t respond, but you felt her gaze linger. It was the same way she used to look at you—like she saw through the walls you tried to build. Like she still remembered.

You hated it. Because you remembered too.

The remembrance of Wanda’s laughter in the morning, the way she used to tug you closer under the covers, whispering nonsense just to make you smile. You remembered Wanda’s hands, warm and certain, tracing constellations on your skin. You remembered the way Wanda had said, “I love you,” like it was a promise.

A promise that she had broken.

You clenched your fists, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. You wouldn't give Wanda the satisfaction of knowing you still cared.

You didn't.

Not anymore.

-

The tour ended at the courtyard, beneath the massive oak tree where students gathered between classes. It was the kind of place that should’ve been peaceful. But with Wanda beside you, the air felt suffocating.

"You don’t have to act like this, you know," Wanda said finally, her voice quiet.

You exhaled sharply. "Like what?"

"Like I never meant anything to you."

You turned to face her, something sharp curling in your chest. "You broke up with me, Wanda. You fell for someone else. What exactly do you expect from me?"

Wanda flinched, and you hated that she still cared enough to notice.

"Vision wasn’t—" Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "I thought you never took us seriously.”

"You thought wrong."

The words came out colder than you intended, but you didn’t regret them. Wanda searched your face, your expression unreadable. "I’m sorry."

You almost laughed. "You don’t get to be sorry." And just like that, the dam inside her cracked just a little.

Because the truth was, you had stayed. You had waited, you had hoped. You had watched as Wanda chose someone else, as if everything meant nothing. And now, she was supposed to pretend like everything was fine? Like the past didn’t still dig its claws into your heart?

You wouldn’t give Wanda the satisfaction. So instead, you turned on her heels and walked away. You walked furiously, each step slowly detaching yourself from the past

“Y/N, please.”

You didn’t look back. You refused to let yourself be vulnerable again.

But you knew Wanda’s was on your back, lingering like a wound that had never truly healed. Like an echo of something that still, somehow, refused to fade.

-

The wind was colder than usual, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurried across campus. The weight of Wanda’s gaze still lingered on you like a phantom touch, unwelcome and yet impossible to ignore.

You had thought you were over this. Over her.

You had spent years convincing herself that the past was just that—the past. But the second you saw Wanda sitting in that office, looking at her like she wasn’t a shattered remnant of what they once were, something inside her cracked. Not Wanda looking at her like she regretted it. Like she missed her.

You shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. You weren’t going to do this. You weren’t going to let Wanda drag you back into a storm you barely survived the first time.

As you reached the hallway towards your locker, you heard your name.

"Y/N."

An all-too familiar voice called you. You clenched your jaw before turning, already knowing who you’d see.

Wanda stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting on her feet like she was hesitating. You arched a brow. "What do you want?"

Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "You’re mad."

You let out a hollow laugh. "Mad? No. That would mean I still care."

A flicker of something passed across Wanda’s face—hurt, maybe. "You never used to lie to me," Wanda murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

You inhaled sharply. "That was before you made me question everything that came out of your mouth."

Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn’t comfortable anymore.

"I didn’t want to do this here," Wanda muttered, running a hand through her hair. "But I don’t want to keep pretending either."

You scoffed. "That’s rich, coming from you." Wanda flinched, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty.

"You really think I didn’t love you?" Wanda asked, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Your heart clenched, but you forced herself to stay distant. "I think that whatever we had wasn’t enough for you."

Wanda’s jaw tensed. "That’s not fair."

You took a step forward, and before you could stop herself, the words spilled out. "You left me, Wanda. You left us. And for what? Someone who didn’t even know you the way I did? Someone who didn’t—" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

Wanda’s gaze softened. "Y/N…"

"Don’t," you sternly said.

Because if Wanda said your name like that again—like you still mattered—you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep standing.

"I never stopped loving you."

You clenched your fists. You didn’t believe it, because if you did, it would destroy you all over again.

-

For days, you did your best to avoid Wanda.

You took different routes to class, skipped places you knew Wanda might be, and buried herself in your studies. It should’ve been easy.

But then came the moments in between.

A glimpse of red hair across the courtyard. The sound of laughter that sounded too much like Wanda’s. The feeling of her eyes lingering on you when you weren’t looking. You hated how much space Wanda still took up in her mind.

Even now, as you sat in the back of the lecture hall, you could feel it. The ache of something unresolved. And then, as if the universe enjoyed watching you suffer, the professor spoke.

"You’ll be working in pairs for this project," he announced. "I’ll be assigning the partners."

You barely heard the names being called. You were too busy trying to focus on your breathing. There were at least twenty students in this class. There was no way you would get partnered with her.

"And lastly," the professor continued, flipping a page. "Y/L/N and Maximoff."

Your stomach dropped. The room blurred at the edges as you slowly turned your head, but Wanda was already looking at you.

And the worst part, she didn’t even look surprised.

"I can switch partners," you said as soon as class ended, already standing from your seat.

Wanda caught your hand, feeling her slightly caress your wrist, just like how she used to. "No, you won’t."

The touch burned. Not in the way it used to, soft and safe. But in a way that made you feel like she was drowning in everything she had tried to forget.

You pulled your arm back. "This isn’t going to work."

Wanda tilted her head. "Why? Because you still hate me?"

You exhaled sharply. "Because I don’t trust you."

For a second, something flickered in Wanda’s eyes— hurt, maybe. But then she straightened. "We don’t have to like each other to work together."

You clenched her fists. "Fine. But don’t expect anything more from me."

A small, bitter smile tugged at Wanda’s lips. "I never do."

You turned away before Wanda could see the way that sentence wrecked you. Because once upon a time, you had given Wanda everything. Every piece of yourself.

And in the end, it still hadn’t been enough.

-

You had been sitting beneath the old oak tree, headphones in, pretending to study. But the second Wanda sat down beside you, everything inside you tensed. Your eyes didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her. Maybe if you ignored Wanda long enough, she would just disappear from your life.

"Are you going to avoid me forever?" Wanda’s voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness underneath it.

You sighed, closing your book. "I don’t see why it matters to you."

"Of course it matters." Wanda hesitated, then softer, "You still matter."

You clenched her jaw. "Don’t," you warned, turning to face Wanda for the first time in days. "Don’t say things you don’t mean."

Wanda exhaled, looking down at her hands. "That’s the problem, Y/N. I meant everything."

You scoffed, bitter. "Right. You meant it when you said you loved me. And then you meant it when you chose someone else."

Wanda flinched but didn’t look away. "You think that’s what happened?"

You stared at her, feeling something in your chest twist painfully. "Isn’t it?" A silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

And then, Wanda spoke.

"I never fell out of love with you." The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a thunderclap.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as you forced herself to stay still. "Then why?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. "Why did you leave me for him?"

Wanda swallowed hard, looking at you like she wanted to reach out, but didn’t. "Because I thought I had to."

She let out a shaky breath. "You never saw it, but my family was struggling. My father lost his job, my mother was barely holding things together, and I was scared. Vision—he had connections, opportunities. My mother thought if I was with him, I’d have a better future. A stable life. And I was stupid enough to believe that maybe, if I forced myself to feel something for him, I wouldn’t have to lose everything else." Wanda looked away, blinking quickly.

"But I never loved him, Y/N. Not the way I loved you."

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. "You broke my heart," she whispered, voice unsteady. "And you didn’t even tell me why."

"I know," Wanda said, voice thick with regret. "And I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry every single day since I walked away."

You inhaled sharply, gripping the edges of your book as if it could keep you steady. You wanted to be angry, to hold on to the bitterness you had nurtured for so long. But now, the truth sat between them, raw and undeniable, unraveling every wall she had built.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the years of silence and regret— you still loved her. And you didn’t know if you could stop.

"I need you to know something," Wanda said, voice steady despite the hesitation in her eyes.

"I didn’t come here expecting you to forgive me. I didn’t transfer here hoping we’d just go back to how we were. I know I hurt you, Y/N. And if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll understand. But I can’t leave things the way they are. Not again."

You swallowed, heart in your throat. "Wanda—"

"I love you," Wanda said, voice breaking just slightly. "I never stopped."

You felt something inside her shatter. The walls you had spent so long building crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but the undeniable truth of what had always been. You could feel the weight of your own feelings pressing against your ribs, too big to contain.

And then, before you could stop herself, you reached for Wanda.

You felt Wanda freeze, breath hitching as your fingers brushed against her wrist—tentative, testing. And then, slowly, Wanda exhaled, tilting her head just slightly, waiting.

One second, there was space between you two, and the next, Wanda was pulling you closer, warm foreheads nearly touching. You could feel Wanda’s breath against your lips, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," Wanda whispered, voice trembling. "And I will."

You swallowed hard, hands tightening against Wanda’s jacket. "I don’t want you to." And that was all it took.

Wanda closed the distance, and the second your lips met. You felt the weight of every year, every unspoken word, every heartbreak melt into the kiss. It was desperate and soft and everything in between, full of the years you had lost and the love that had never really left.

When you finally pulled away, Wanda rested her forehead against yours, breathing hard. "I don’t deserve this," she murmured.

You sighed, closing your eyes. "Maybe not. But I think we deserve a second chance."

Wanda let out a soft, shaky laugh, pressing another gentle kiss to your soft lips. "Then let’s not waste it this time."

And just like that, the ghosts of what once was this puddle of hurt finally began to fade.

You weren’t sixteen anymore, lying under the stars and making promises you couldn’t keep.

But maybe this time, you would.

Maybe this time, forever wouldn’t be a lie.

[fclsebnnyodair]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

stiles finally gets it. he gets you. 

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

—

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then she smiled—like a menace—patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[peachglazewrites]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: arguing, misunderstandings, alcohol mention 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: smut (mdni), making out, dry humping 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: top!Abby, no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 10,225

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you and Mel come home, and lunch just never seems to go to plan.

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ link to fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠: 2559k

The pain in your leg the next day you expected. The pain in your head, however, is another story entirely. Whatever Owen was making needed to be studied. Nothing has ever made your head throb the way yours is right now, and you barely survived Manny’s birthday party.

Mel woke you up a little later than planned, the two of you sleeping through the shrill ringing of the analogue alarm clock set by your bedside, buried too deep under piles of blankets and a very affectionate Shepard-mix to hear it. The sun had already started peeking above the horizon line, sending warm rays of light across the room, battling the frigid air.

The two of you got ready in a hurry, not wanting to be back at base too late in the morning. You were scheduled for work in the afternoon, but were more concerned about making it back before the morning shift change than anything else. It was much easier to explain away your absence to the night-shift skeleton crew who didn’t really care all that much, rather than the day shift workers who felt like they had something to prove. At least that’s what Mel said.

The trip back to base was rougher the second time around, an unfortunate side effect of your dual hangovers and the straining ache in your leg muscles. It felt like your calf was going to rip in two any time you flattened your foot, which was no help when it came time to jump across balconies or crawl through crumbled walls. Mel was patient as all hell though, offering an elbow for you to latch onto when it got especially rough.

You’d definitely need to rest before work today, maybe see if you can make one of those heated pads Abby had. A hot shower will help somewhat, and god, do you need one, anyways. You’ve smelled the aquarium plenty of times on Mel before, but the way you can feel the salt and musk clinging to your skin and clothes is another thing altogether.

You make it back to the gates around nine o’clock, just after the morning shift change. Mel takes the lead in signing you two back in, curving the prying questions of the patrolman at the station, a man you don’t recognise, but Mel clearly does. She slides the clipboard back to him with a forced smile when she’s done, tugging both you and Alice along behind her.

“They’re always so nosey. It was so much easier when we could plan around when Olivia was on duty,” Mel murmurs to you, walking up the stone path to the kennels.

“What happened to Olivia?” You ask, looking behind you, back at the guard booth.

“Got transferred out. I think she’s at the Serevena now.” Mel shrugs, unlocking and holding the gate to the kennels open for you and Alice.

Alice is an angel as you sign her back in, waiting patiently by Mel’s feet as the two of you talk to Aaron. Eventually one of the trainers comes by, clipping a lead onto her harness and leading her away, probably off to be bathed. She smells almost as much as you two do, the scent clinging to her thick fur.

“I miss her already,” you sigh, watching Alice trot off, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as she pants.

“You spoil her too much,” Mel chuckles, holding out her elbow for you as you broach the stairs.

You slip your arm through hers, linking them together. The extra support is nice as you make your way up the stone steps, helping you take some of the pressure off your leg as you pull yourself along. “That’s funny, because I don’t think anyone else is taking their dogs out on mini vacations to abandoned aquariums.”

Mel’s eyes roll, a smile playing at her lips. “Alright, keep walking.”

You take it slow on your walk back to the room, shifting your duffel bag from one shoulder to the other to help balance the weight across your body, your limp becoming more obvious. You’ll definitely need to sit today at work, which isn’t ideal, but that’s just how life is for you now. No use trying to fight against it.

Mel trails behind as you walk down the hallway, pushing past the doors leading to the residential suites.

“It’s not that bad.”

“That’s because you’re used to it. I can still smell the algae, like it’s stuck in my nose.” You wrinkle your nose, scrubbing it with the back of your hand.

“Hey, you were the one who tried climbing that fake coral,” Mel says, raising a brow at you when you turn around, walking backwards to talk to her.

“If I wasn’t supposed to climb it, then why did it look so climbable?”

You bump your back into the next set of double doors, pushing it open with your hip. “You just hate fun.”

“And you love complaining,” she retorts, stifling a laugh as you wave her off, stepping into the hallway and letting the door close behind you.

“Hey--!” Mel’s voice muffles as the door clicks shut, separating the two of you. You snicker to yourself, leaving her behind to continue down the hallway to your room.

Well, you would, if there wasn’t someone standing in front of it already.

She’s wearing a pair of belted cargos, dark green long sleeve tucked into the waistband. Her pants are rolled at the ankle, high enough to fit her dark combat boots, the brown leather having been freshly waxed. Her signature braid hangs over her shoulder, the tail brushing the middle of her chest.

Abby.

The keychain burns in your back pocket as you slow to a stop, a pleasant warmth blanketing you at just the mere sight of her.

Abby knocks once more on your door, tilting her head close to the wood, listening. She chews on her cheek as she waits, sighing when there’s no response. Her forehead butts against the door for a moment, eyes closed, before she’s pushing herself back and turning away.

“Kind of hard to answer when I’m not home,” you say, smiling at the way her head whips up to look at you.

The little pout her lips were pressed into smooths out, twitching into a soft smile at the sight of you, eyes roaming your figure. Her shoulders drop, almost in relief as the tension seeps out of them. She takes a couple of long strides to get to you, hand already reaching out for your own, your name tumbling from her lips.

The door behind you opens, just enough for Mel to slip through.

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, wriggling her duffel through the gap as the door shuts behind her.

Abby stops, steps faltering at Mel’s entry. Her hand slips back to her side, your fingers twitching as she pulls away from you. Her eyes are trained over your shoulder, no doubt to where Mel stands in the doorway.

It’s quiet. Tense. Nobody is moving or saying anything, and you feel the air of the hall get thicker and thicker as the seconds go by.

You startle when Mel places a hand on your shoulder, gentle and kind. You didn’t even hear her approach.

“I’m going to go shower,” she says, voice level as she looks at you, ignoring the other person in the hall.

Abby’s eyes flick to the hand on your shoulder, and you can see the cogs turning in her head as she stares, brows furrowing. You know this look, the one she gets when she’s unsure, confused.

“Okay, I’ll meet you down there in a bit.”

Mel nods, squeezing your shoulder as she walks past. She doesn’t spare a glance Abby’s way, looking down into her pocket to fish out her keys, taking her time in unlocking the door and disappearing inside the room.

The soft click of the doorhandle catching snaps Abby out of her thoughts, blinking them away. You fiddle with the strap of your duffel in the silence, moving to lean against the wall next to you, leg aching.

You break first.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Abby says back, face relaxing as she looks up, taking you in.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” She meets you at the wall, leaning her shoulder against it. Her hand comes out, and as if there was a magnet connecting you, you reach out too, hooking your index fingers together. “I came by last night to see if you wanted to come over, but nobody answered. Thought you were asleep, so I figured I’d come by this morning, but you still weren’t answering.” She looks you up and down, a small smile on her lips. “Now I know why.”

“Sorry,” you apologise, sheepish, squeezing her hand. “I should have left a note or something.”

“Where did you go?” She brings her other hand up, reaching across to swipe a thumb against a smudge of dirt along your jaw. “You leave base?”

“I—”

You’re interrupted by the door opening again, Mel pushing through with her shower caddy in tow. Abby tenses, hand falling from your cheek. She nearly steps away, but you keep your grip on her hand, pulling her back to you.

Mel locks up behind her and leaves the opposite way, making a point to turn her back to the two of you.

“I was out with Mel,” you say once Mel leaves, pushing through the doors at the opposite end of the hall.

Abby raises an eyebrow, letting herself be pulled closer when you tug on her hand again. “And you’re alive?”

You huff, a small smile playing on your lips. “I survived, yes.” You cup her cheek, feeling her smooth skin under your palm. “I don’t want to get into it here, though. But maybe if we got lunch? Tomorrow?”

Abby leans into your hand, lips pressing back into that little pout. It’s horribly cute.

“Why not today?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was whining, but Abby Anderson does not whine. Or so she says any time you tease her for it.

“I have work in a few hours and want to shower and rest beforehand.” Your thumb sweeps over her jaw, across her bottom lip where it juts out slightly. “Need to give my leg a break.”

A small kiss is pressed to your thumb, then a dull pressure as Abby nips at it.

“And this is why I’m saying tomorrow,” you scold playfully, dragging your thumb across her bottom lip. “I have a break in my shifts tomorrow, so you’ll get me for a couple of hours if you want to come over. We can grab some food, and I can fill you in on everything.”

You lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to her pursed lips. You’re both conscious of being out in the hallway, so you pull back all too soon. Abby still pushes back in for another quick peck, hand coming up to wrap around your wrist, holding it gently.

“Okay,” she sighs, breath fanning over your palm. “Tomorrow.”

⸙

Lunch doesn’t go exactly to plan.

You’d met Abby down in the caf, making small talk in line as you waited for your turn to order. Chicken noodle soup was on the menu today, the perfect meal for this particularly cold day.

Your soup now sits forgotten on the dining table, cooling off in the bag Abby used to transport it back to your room.

You also sit on the table, perched on the edge, Abby standing between your spread legs as you kiss.

One of your hands is caught up in her hair, the other pressed behind you, holding you up as Abby leans over you. She’s got a hand on your lower back and the other holding your side, thumb smoothing along your ribs. The kiss is slow, languid, feeling each other as your tongues touch, exploring.

Soft sighs and quiet moans occupy the space between you, the air getting heavier with your warmth. She feels so nice to touch, broad but soft, angles that curve and smooth under your hands. She’s lovely and beautiful and you want her as close to you as possible.

You shift towards the edge of the table, clenching your thighs around her own. Her hand snakes down from your lower back to hold one of your thighs, picking it up and pulling you closer. She hooks it up around her hip, and you can’t help the sigh that tumbles from you lips at the friction. There’s a warmth blooming between your thighs, a low thrum that has you melting against her.

Abby strays from your lips, slowly working her way down your jaw, smirking as you tilt your head to the side, giving her room to mouth at your neck.

“Abby…” Your nails dig into the wood of the table as she slides her tongue along your pulse point, sucking the skin into her mouth. “C-Careful,” you stutter, voice hiccupping as she moves on, grazing her teeth over a particularly sensitive spot. “Don’t leave more marks… embarrassing at work.”

“Nothing they haven’t seen already,” she murmurs, pinching the skin between her teeth.

A moan hitches your breath as you grip the hair tangled between your fingers, tugging. Why was that so hot?

“M’being serious.” You pull her up by her hair, butting your foreheads together. “Not where people can see.”

Abby’s smirk widens, pressing her lips back to your own as her hand wanders back down your thigh. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“S’okay”, you laugh, gasping as her hand gropes at your ass, using it to pull you impossibly closer. You sling your other leg around her, hooking your ankles together behind her, dragging her in to kiss her deeply.

The thumb that’s been brushing along your ribs inches slowly higher, and she can feel the way your breathing picks up under her palm. You bite back a noise when she runs it along the underside of your breast, sparks blooming and tingling down to your fingertips. She doesn’t stop there though, continuing higher and higher until she’s circling your nipple, feeling it pebble and harden through the cup of your bra.

“Oh,” you gasp, pressing your chest against her own, seeking more of the featherlight touch. Abby hums, hand shifting to cup you properly, thumb and forefinger slowly working you over.

You can’t help the hitch in your hips, the way you grind up against her. Abby groans into the kiss, pushing it past your lips, shuddering at the friction. She presses forwards, using her height to pin your hips to the table, starting a steady roll against them.

The way you have your legs spread wide to fit her already has the seam of your pants digging delicious up against your cunt, Abby’s shallow thrusts adding to the pressure.

You’d give anything to lay out on this table and let her have her way with you, but you’re not so far gone yet to realise that’s probably not a good idea.

“We should—” A particularly sharp hitch of her hips has pressure focusing on your clit, a moan interrupting your sentence. “S-Should move to the bed… Mel will kill me if we…” you trail off, words dissolving into a soft whimper.

𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ link to fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[bweeeb]

SHE

Summary: When Mattheo and Theodore really fill you up for the first time they guarantee that you will never get hurt.

warnings: English is not my first language. It's very short, nothing special. Maybe a start to something if you want.

Maybe you were the problem.You definitely weren’t the problem.But what if you were?For an entire month, you hadn’t dared to lower your head, but every time you entered your dormitory or prepared to step into a crowded room, the air emptied from your chest.You felt like you were walking in circles—this was supposed to be a better year. By the Gods, every time your parents asked in letters about new friends and school activities, you bit your cheek so hard that you tasted blood, just to gather the courage to lie to them.You had left Ilvermorny because of the exclusion the girls always subjected you to. Your only friend had been transferred, leaving you alone with the terrifying feeling of never having a moment of peace in that place.Hogwarts was supposed to be a good school, a place where you could make new friends and have fewer blackmailers around. And yet, two months later, there you were, your books thrown to the ground along with a frog conjured by one of the Slytherins.— Hahaha, wow, thanks, that was really funny. You muttered with no emotion in your voice as you knelt down, using one of your books to swat away the slimy frog and gather the rest of your things.

— Are you complaining, you freak? I could shut that little mouth of yours right in the position you're in. One of them said, stepping closer and gripping your hair tightly, making your eyes water from the pain.

— She’s not even that ugly. I think I could actually get hard looking at her like this.Another one of them said, laughing along with the others.

— Fuck off, stop touching me.

You growled, feeling the tears spill involuntarily down your cheeks.— I can’t believe you’re a Slytherin—you’re a disgrace, that’s what you are.

Voices in the corridor started echoing closer.

— Hey, what the fuck is going on here?The Italian accent gave away Theodore Nott from his very first word.

— Just stay out of this, man.Another voice, and it was obvious that Mattheo Riddle was the one with the rough, uninterested tone.

— Dude, she’s crying.Your whimpers were loud

—there was no way to deny it.

— Some cry, some scream with joy, I don’t decide that.Mattheo said, rolling his eyes.

— Come on, Mattheo, stop being an asshole.

— Shit. Hey, girl, are you okay?Mattheo stepped into the corridor and saw the malicious faces of the three Slytherin boys. But if it had been just any guys, Mattheo might not have immediately known something was wrong. But with that trio, something was always wrong.

— Fuck.

Riddle muttered, approaching with Theodore at his side in long strides. — You idiots, let her go.

— Stay out of this, Nott.

— So that means I can punch you, then.Before even getting a response, Mattheo punched the guy holding you hard, knocking him to the ground.

— What were you planning, huh?Nott asked, threatening the other two boys, who started shaking their heads while Mattheo kept hitting the one on the floor.

— N-nothing.

— W-we swear, w-we don’t want a-anything to do with that bitch.

As soon as those words left one of their mouths, Theo clicked his tongue against his teeth and punched the guy in the face, giving enough time for the other one to run away.

— Don’t. Talk. About. Her. Like. That.

He said, pausing between words as he increased the force of his punches.

— You and your friends better not even look in her direction, do you understand me?Theo heard Mattheo say to the other guy, gripping the bloodied collar of his shirt. As soon as the two ran off, battered and bruised, both boys turned their gaze to you—fragile, wide-eyed, clutching your books tightly.

— Thank you. You whispered, embarrassed, and quickly got up from the floor, wanting to get away from there as fast as possible. Then, you disappeared down the corridor, still under the watchful eyes of a very intrigued Theo and Mattheo.

— Dude, how many times do you think this happens?

— I’ve seen her around once. Should’ve paid more attention. She’s cute.

— No one fucking touches her.

— Not anymore.

[arsuf]

[sysig]

Hazing (Patreon)

[floorpancakes]

douwata playlist is up!!! ive re ordered the songs so there's a sense of linearity and it isnt super jarring, and added some extra songs, altho ill probably add more later and some NECESSARY songs (like booo! by tokotokop and gin no ai kin no ai by ske48 are sadly absent, pls look them up tho i promise theyll hit different)

hope yall enjoy!

[bmpmp3]

My sudden onset and inexplicable obsession with genbu in the past year is really fun because I'm developing a lot of tuning skills that apply to literally no other voicebank and will never apply to any others again

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[unorcadox]

made a 7 part edit series tonight that'll probs just trickle out over the next few weeks, won't be labelled as a series, but consider this proof if you notice the pattern

edit: omgg for the first time in several months, i actually have a slight surplus in total edits. i've been scraping by for literally all of the summer, but maybe i can finally get a decent backlog again :D

[saym0-0]

grahh i need to remind myself to Not Involve myself in fandom space in this fandom. look at pretty fan creations thats it. im guilty of kinda posting about the fandom (see: this post) but i need to put it somewhere yk. idk everyone is so negative sharing their opinions on other peoples headcanons,, im going back to my complex roseblings/esmp1 centric multiverse that i havent properly posted about even tho its fully how i see the characters. what am i even saying im not tagging this post i dont want people to find it

oh my god guys do NOT open tags i reached character limit on most of them AND got to all 30 tags

[potatoesandsunshine]

skyrim paper anon here, this was for my Modern Interfacing class in our vr module so i got to call out how Todd Lied when making the vr version vs how he lied differently for the special edition it was fun. also realized that all the examples i gave of interactions within the game are about stealing shit so we'll see what my 70 year old prof thinks of me after that. btw drop the link for the fic it sounds fun!!

that sounds like a really interesting comparison! i've never played anything in vr but surely skyrim is up to the task for a seamless player experience! i did give in and get the special edition when lockdown first started and i had to glitch through a door by holding a plate at one point bc the quest was broken :) Todd... he's truly one of The Liars of all time XD he will never outrun the tell me lies video edit. "it just works" sir it does not.

the fic isn't finished yet but i'll definitely make a post about it when it is :) and it'll probably wind up on my ao3 (friendly_ficus). the premise is basically Hieronymus Lex's No Good Very Bad Day. a glimpse at the offscreen prologue:

hero of kvatch: wait. you want me to steal hrormir's icestaff

methredrel: yes. this is part of five simultaneous thefts designed to sow chaos throughout the imperial city. it is absolutely vital that you complete this mission so we can get lex out of our hair. are you up for the task.

hero of kvatch: hrormir's staff. the icestaff. the icestaff of the former arch-mage, hrormir. the one that's leaning against the wall gathering dust in the current arch-mage's quarters.

methredrel: yes. this mission is dangerous, but outcry from the mages guild is vital in our plan to destabilize—

hero of kvatch: let me go get some robes. i'm about to be hilarious

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

All, der real

Me: they sure are perfect...damn

****HugeP***Hugo*****Hugo now ok**

This message has been brought to you by NASA.

"Take your girth from the Seventh Seal"

[technicolorxsn]

tried sony music's "aqcuire unknown properties" thing hoping it would give me track numbers so I didn't have to keep doing it manually (it doesnt) but I found out it has no idea what genres these songs are

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

What level of down bad is "Abusing your powers as an Akademiya employee to keep tabs on your crush's library loans"? Just asking for a friend.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣