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reiding-writing · 4 months

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Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

acceptable greetings [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: 100% fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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txttletale · 5 months

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how do ml's reconcile with lenin going for a bigbrainhaver hierarchy which just so happened to place him at the tippy top? most of the things he's quoted for writing make a kind of sense in that longwinded academic philosopher way, but, like, russia went from having a revolution against monarchy to having a monarchy, essentially, and what folks do tends to align with their desires, yeah? wouldn't that make everything he said, idk, suspicious?

we reconcile with this because none of this is even remotely true. lenin did not 'happen to be placed at the tippy top' but was in fact elected by the soviets, who worked in a very simple electoral system by which workers and peasants would elect representatives to their local soviet, who as well as administering local services would also elect members to higher bodies. the quote unquote bigbrainhaver hierarchy system in question was as follows:

The sovereign body is in every case the Congress of Soviets. Each county sends its delegates. These are elected indirectly by the town and county Soviets which vote in proportion to population, following the ratio observed throughout, by which the voters in the town have five times the voting strength of the inhabitants of the villages, an advantage which may, as we saw, be in reality three to one. The Congress meets, as a rule, once a year, for about ten days. It is not, in the real sense of the word, the legislative body. It debates policy broadly, and passes resolutions which lay down the general principles to be followed in legislation. The atmosphere of its sittings is that of a great public demonstration. The Union Congress, for example, which has some fifteen hundred members, meets in the Moscow Opera House. The stage is occupied by the leaders and the heads of the administration, and speeches are apt to be big oratorical efforts. The real legislative body is the so-called Central Executive Committee (known as the C. I. K. and pronounced "tseek") . It meets more frequently than the Congress to which it is responsible-in the case of the Union, at least three times in the year-passes the Budget, receives the reports of the Commissars (ministers), and discusses international policy. It, in its turn, elects two standing bodies: (1) The Presidium of twenty-one members, which has the right to legislate in the intervals between the sittings of the superior assemblies, and also transacts some administrative work. (2) The Council of Peoples' Commissars. These correspond roughly to the Ministers or Secretaries of State in democratic countries and are the chiefs of the administration. Meeting as a Council, they have larger powers than any Cabinet, for they may pass emergency legislation and issue decrees which have all the force of legislation. Save in cases of urgency, however, their decrees and drafts of legislation must be ratified by the Executive Committee (C.I.K.). In another respect they differ from the European conception of a Minister. Each Commissar is in reality the chairman of a small board of colleagues, who are his advisers. These advisory boards, or collegia, meet very frequently (it may even be daily) to discuss current business, and any member of a board has the right to appeal to the whole Council of Commissars against a decision of the Commissar.

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

you might notice that the congresses of soviets were not directly elected -- this is because they were elected by local soviets, who were directly elected, in a process that many people have given first hand accounts of:

I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet. As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters. In the towns the “ electoral district ” has hitherto consisted of a factory, or a group of small factories sufficient to form a constituency. But there was one section of the town population which has always had to vote geographically, since they did not work together in one organisation. This was the housewives. As a result, the housewives met separately in each district, had their own constituencies, and elected their own representatives to the Soviet. Here, too, vital interest has always been shown in the personality of every candidate. Why should this woman be elected ? What right had she to represent her fellow housewives on the local Soviet ? In the district next to my own at the last election the housewife who was elected was well known as an organiser of a communal dining-room in the district. This was the kind of person that the housewives wanted to represent them on the Soviet. Another candidate, a Communist, proposed by the local organisation of the Party, was turned down in her favour.

[...]

The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates. At the last election to the Soviets, in which I personally participated, we must have spent three or four times as much time on the working out of instructions as we did on the selection of our candidate. About three weeks before the election was to take place the trade union secretary in every department of our organisation was told by the committee that it was time to start to prepare our instructions to the delegate. Every worker was asked to make suggestions concerning policy which he felt should be brought to the notice of the new personnel of the Moscow Soviet. As a result, about forty proposals concerning the general government of Moscow were handed in from a group of about twenty people. We then held a meeting in our department at which we discussed the proposals, and adopted some and rejected others. We then handed our list of pro¬ posals to a commission, appointed by the trade union committee, and representing all the workers in our organisation. This Commission co-ordinated the pro¬ posals received, placed them in order according to the various departments of the Soviet, and this co-ordinated list was read at the election meeting itself, again discussed, and adopted in its final form.

—Pat Sloan, Soviet Democracy (1937)

Between the elections of 1931 and 1934, no less than 18 per cent of the city deputies and 37 per cent of village deputies were recalled, of whom only a relatively small number — 4 per cent of the total — were charged with serious abuse of power. The chief reasons for recall were inactivity — 37 per cent — and inefficiency — 21 per cent. If these figures indicate certain lacks in the quality of elected officials, they show considerable activity of the people in improving government. The electorate of the Peasants' Gazette, for example, consisted of some 1,500 employees, entitled to elect one deputy to the Moscow city soviet and two to the ward soviet. For more than a month before the election every department of the newspaper held meetings discussing both candidates and instructions. Forty-three suggested candidates and some 1,400 proposals for the work of the incoming government resulted from these meetings, which also elected committees to boil down and classify the instructions. These committees issued a special four-page newspaper for the 1,500 voters; it contained brief biographies of the forty-three candidates, an analysis of their capacities by the Communist Party organization of the Peasants' Gazette, and the "nakaz," or list of "people's instructions," classified by subject and the branch of government which they concerned. At the final election meeting of the Peasants* Gazette there was literally more than 100 per cent attendance, since some of the staff who for reasons of absence or illness had not been listed as prospective voters returned from sanatoria or from distant assignments to vote. The instructions issued by the electorate in this manner — 1,400 from the Peasants' Gazette and tens of thousands from Moscow citizens — became the first business of the incoming government.

—Anna Louise Strong, The New Soviet Constitution (1937)

does this mean that the soviet project was some utopian perfect system? no. there were flaws in the system like any other. it disenfranchised the rural peasantry (although not, i would like to add, to any extent greater or even equivalent to the extent to which the US electoral system disenfranchises the urban working class) -- the various tiers of indirect selection created a divide between the average worker and the highest tier of the executive -- and various elements of this fledgling system would calcify and bureaucratise over time in ways that obstructed worker's democracy. but saying that it was 'a monarchy' is founded in absolutely nothing except the most hysterical anticommunist propaganda and tedious orwellian liberal truisms.

even brailsford, in an account overall critical of the soviet system, had to admit:

Speaking broadly, the various organs of the system, from the Council of Commissars of the Union down to the sub-committees of a town Soviet, are handling the same problems. Whether one sits in the Kremlin at a meeting of the most august body of the whole Union, the "C.I.K.," or round a table in Vladimir with the working men who constitute its County Executive Committee, one hears exactly the same problems discussed. How, be-fore June arrives, shall we manage to reduce prices by ten percent? What growth can we show in the number of our spindles, or factories, and in the number of workers employed? When and how shall we make our final assault on the last relics of illiteracy? Or when shall we have room in our schools, even in the remotest village, for every child? Was it by good luck or good guidance that the number of typhus cases has dropped in a year by half? And, finally, how can we hasten the raising of clover seed, so that the peasants who, at last, thanks to our propaganda, are clamoring for it, may not be disappointed?

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

genuinely, i think you should take a moment and think about where you learned about the soviet union. have you read any serious historical work on the topic, even from non-communist or anti-communist sources? because even imperialist propagandists have to make a pretence at engaging with actual facts on the ground, something which you haven't done at all -- and yet you speak with astounding confidence. i recommend you read some serious books instead of animal farm and reflect on why you believe the things you believe and how you know the things you think you know.

#ask #barkmoon

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princessbrunette · 4 months

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rafe taking care of the gf while she’s on her pms days <33

this makes me wanna cry bc i literally got my period today n was in sm pain all day hence my inactivity 😵‍💫

idk if it’s just me, but being on my period makes me feel so helpless n subby and like …… i just need to be babied and cared for !!!!

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ `)

being like that with rafe could be a lot of things— depending on how busy he is. he’s clingy, and has a funny way of showing it so he might drag you out with him to barry’s house, and you actually agree because the cramps haven’t fully hit you yet so you think you can handle it. but whilst you’re there, the aches and pains hit you like a sack of bricks whilst you’re sat on the couch curled up into rafes side as he talks business with barry.

“and you got that shipment coming in, yeah? y’not bullshittin’ me?” rafe pins the darker haired man with his intense gaze, ignoring you completely as you huff out your nose like a disgruntled dog, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

“no, country club i’m not bullshitting you. you think i care enough to lie to you? thought you gave this sellin’ shit up anyway. what happened, huh?” barry’s eyes barely flicker towards you, used to your antics.

“i already told you — it’s a personal favour. got people asking me for— hey,” he directs his attention to you suddenly. “whats with you?” he asks, blinking impatiently.

“my tummy hurts. i got my period.” you pout, all tense and uncomfortable. rafe sighs, thinking for a moment as he runs his hand over his chin, directing his attention back at barry.

“get my stuff. i will be back to talk to you. alright?”

you’re surprised rafe cut things short with barry, never usually pandering to your complaints— but maybe he just wanted to get out of there.

he doesn’t really know how to help someone on their cycle, it’s not really something he’s cared to do before you, but he’s learnt a little. he brings you a hot water bottle in bed before standing back, shoving hands into his pockets.

“m’gonna be goin’ back to talk to barry. you gonna be alright here? by yourself?” his eyes glance towards the hot water bottle and you nod sadly, just in pain and wanting him but not having the energy to argue your case. he nods, adjusting your blanket a little. “alright… okay, good. text me if you need anything.”

he leaves, and you fall asleep — a deep one, because when you wake up it’s dark, and rafe is coming back through the door. you keep your eyes shut, not having the energy and you feel the bed dip, his weight beside you. his hand gently passes over your head before coming to caress your warm cheek. “sleepy baby.” he comments pointlessly under his breath and you nuzzle into his hand in acknowledgment.

knowing you’re awake now, he drops his voice to a whisper. “how’s the belly?” he asks and your heart softens at him using the word belly instead of stomach, seeming to pander just a little to your sweeter ways.

“hurts.” you croak, not opening your eyes.

“hm.” he thinks, trying to come up with a solution but comes up blank. “go back to sleep. m’here now, ‘kay?”

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ `)

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

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soulinheehee · 6 months

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Okay, so I read "my body wants you bare" and OMG I liked it more than I'd like to admit, i mean, it's actually rented a triplex in my head and i loved it to much, your writing is so smooth and sweet <3333

Anyway, I would like to ask for a "continuation" (it doesn't necessarily have to be one, i just don't know exactly how to explain 😔), perhaps from Arlecchino this time? Like she's excited about the idea of getting her wife pregnant this time ( and maybe doing it...?)

Ps:: don't feel obligated to write about pregnancy if you don't want to, after all, I know that most authors don't feel comfortable writing about a pregnat reader, so just do what you want to, i have i'm sure it will be incredible

Reader having Arlecchino's child

first of all, thank you so much!!🙏 ngl i enjoyed writing that one more than i would like to admit lol. guess I also have this habit of making everything sweet when it comes to my writing 😭 idk i just feel like everything should be sweet and cute and lovely. love me some tooth rotting fluff with murderous white woman 🥰

i also understand why ppl might be uncomfortable with it, can't say i completely am, but I'm chill about it in some particular cases so i decided to answer 😇

˚⁺‧ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘈𝘍𝘈𝘉!!!

So as was mentioned in the fic, you and Arlecchino are unable to have children of your own, so unless some sort of science or magic is involved, there's no way to do so, and I suppose this is what you were implying, anon.

i also had to do some googling since i wasn't sure if whatever i was thinking about was my fever dream or if it's actually real. I'm still not sure if getting pregnant from another woman is possible in the real world, but let's pretend that it is in teyvat!!!!!!

I still kinda feel like if Arlecchino could've agreed to have a child, she'd just adopt one from her orphanage. kinda see it as "there are so many children under my care that had lost their parents, what would they think if they knew that some child gets to have proper parenting, and from their caretaker!!". Maybe she's afraid playing favorites, but then again, there are Lyney, Lynette and Freminet.

So who knows, maybe the idea of having one of your own had grown onto her over the time, and in the end she agreed to your idea.

well, choose where you want to do the deed: akademiya, institute, or try to find a chill segment of your wife's coworker to help you.

Whichever one that is, there's no question who's getting pregnant, since Arlecchino has important job as a country's official, so naturally there's no time for carrying a child.

So, everything was settled. Arlecchino's stem cell was grown into a sperm that was later used to get you pregnant via IVF. It felt.. strange, as in, it wasn't the usual way people would become pregnant, but it wasn't a bad feeling. And unlike some poor cases where children were results of some sort of mistake or whatnot, your case was planned and serious. You tried so hard to follow doctors' recommendations, and Arlecchino was always there to support you.

When you felt weird, she was buying you all the weird foods you craved for (in adequate amounts and combinations. ain't no way she'd allow you to drink milk after eating fish just cause you felt funky like that). She'd reassure you when you felt down or nervous, and keep you safe from any harm. After what you both went through to get this child, Arlecchino won't let a single bad thing happen to any of you!!! This also includes taking care of your health.

Can't say I imagine Arlecchino as a person who would play with your belly. Maaaybe if you were silly enough and called for her she'd do something. But she's not talking to your belly no. Don't ask for her to read to the baby. She'll tell you it can't hear anything. But despite that you still feel how gently she rubs and caresses you as you two lie down. So what if she's not the one carrying the child? She's still a woman, and one with children (even if they aren't hers..), she understands competely what you're doing through, so of course she loves and appreciates you.

Whether you want to continue having intimacy or not is up to you. And while Arlecchino definitely isn't going to disturb you, or the child when it grows big enough, you still had your fingers in tact, and Arlecchino's job is full of stress all the time...🤭

The time was close, you noticed newly arrived nurses and accoucheurs in your mansion. Arlecchino didn't know when she'd have to leave you for a mission, she hoped she wouldn't, but just in case she invited them ahead of the time you supposedly would give birth to your child. They were also monitoring your health, so that was a plus.

But soon, the inevitable day arrived. You were scared, and everything hurt so badly, and there were so many people, and Arlecchino wasnt there. Where is your wife when you need her so badly?! The spasms were growing more and more painful, and were lasting for ao long that you were almost passing out.

You were about to give birth. At the last moment, Arlecchino rushed towards you, finally arrived from her mission. She ran to you as soon as possible, taking your hand in hers as she calmed your screams. She cast a threatening glance at the doctors, silently telling them that if they do something, anything that you might find disturbing, they won't be there tomorrow. The last thing Arlecchino would want you to suffer is accoucheur violence, be it a bad word from them or forcing you to agree to some procedure.

After so many hours, you finally gave birth to your and Arlecchino's child. Of course, since you and her are both the same sex, your child could only be the same. You still weren't sure how you would name your daughter, but this could be discussed a little later. During your pregnancy, you still couldn't decide whether you'd give her a snezhnayan or a fontainian name, but you had some good ones in mind that both you and Arlecchino liked.

She. She'll take maternal leave. No way she'd leave you on your own when you're recovering. Expect to wake in a cold bed only to realize that you don't hear your daughter screaming, since your wife is currently busy with her, wanting you to get more sleep to recover sooner.

Overall, I think Arlecchino, despite being strict and demanding, is a pretty good parent who takes care of her family. A very solid option to choose for your child ♡

also ngl I'm thinking lewd thoughts about milf reader with arlecchino, how y'all feeling about this?--

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #(does this count?)#female reader

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yestrday · 10 months

Text

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger— even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt.

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #yandere x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #yester.writes

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runawaymarbles · 2 years

Note

Hii!

I don’t understand what’s going on with AO3 and the election? I’ve been using it for about a year so this is all new to me! Is Tiffany getting elected actually bad?

I hate censorship, so seeing posts about them censoring stuff is concerning but idk how much truth to it there is 😳

I just want to be informed, and understand!

Hi! Welcome to AO3:)

since I'm not sure how much you know already, the background (background as interpreted by me: I am not speaking on behalf of the OTW) is: Ao3 is run by the Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), the nonprofit that also runs Fanlore and publishes Transformative Works & Cultures. Anyone who has donated $10 to the OTW in the last year, and chooses "yes I want to be a member" at checkout is an OTW member. (This is not the same as having an ao3 account.) Every year, there is an election to fill either 2 or 3 seats on the Board of Directors. OTW Members (i.e. people who donated between 7/1/21 and 6/30/22, in this case) get to vote on this.

Most of the time, this election is only really followed by people on fail_fandomanon. Sometimes, it isn't.

Things the Board of Directors does: writes posts to send out to the general public when Things Are Happening (the recent csam attacks, the requests for more antiracism measures.) Writes posts to send to volunteers when Things Are Happening (see prev.) Keeps track of what all the committees are doing and how it ties in with whatever the strategic plan says they should be doing. Deals with the IRS/US laws. Approves large funding requests. Deals with emails that someone else has deemed outside their own wheelhouse. Herds cats. Proposes priorities. Points at something shiny, pats the org on the flank, and says "walk that way, walk that way!! Come on buddy, you can do it!!". etc etc etc.

Things the Board of Directors doesn't do: unilaterally determine ao3 content policy. Let us use the word "porn" on ao3 drive merch. Make decisions that are going greatly affect other volunteers' work without input and some level of agreement from said volunteers.

Anyway. This year, one of the five candidates for the three open board seats is Tiffany G. (More information about all the candidates and their platforms is at https://elections.transformativeworks.org)

Tiffany is a tag wrangler from an unspecified country that is, from context, assumed to be China. The candidate Q&A can be read here. Her answers were a little bit confusing, but she said she wanted to update the ToS policies on 'pedophilic and illegal content' because, quote, "people think we host child porn content and such things... It might... be helpful to clarify that to the public." Further down she said:

a) I support 100% “maximum inclusiveness of content”, yet there is always a boundary to everything. Since OTW is already an influential org, we need to protect our image and hold a better image to the public. I want the public to think of us as an inclusive and socially responsible community. So in general, we have to do something to change. Things like making the rating system more specific and obvious to users will be what I want to do. b) Not really restricting the content being posted. I hope it is like more warnings and ratings for posting work so people know what to expect. And all of these are not surprising to people who do not wish to see this.

I took this to mean "she wants to clarify to outsiders that ao3 does not host csam, is not only for erotica, and update the ratings and warnings system." I don't think that those things are necessary or should be a focus of the org, which is part of why I didn't vote for her.

Other people took it to mean "Tiffany is against pornographic or underage works and wants them to be banned." Some people took this, combined with her nationality, to the conclusion of "Tiffany is a secret plant of the Chinese Communist Party who wants to join the board, get all the ao3 user data, and then have the users from mainland China arrested" (despite the fact that this is not information the board would have access to, if for no other reason than ao3 is blocked in China so anyone trying to view the site from mainland china has to use a VPN anyway.) Some people are upset that the OTW elections committee "allowed" her to run in the first place, because they think that not letting anyone with opinions the current board or elections committee didn't like is an absolutely great precedent to set.

There are a bunch of comments on tw.org, and some in fail_fandomanon, that give more context to her comments in terms of Chinese fandom (though most posters still disagree with her position.)

This got... longer than planned. But to the question "Is tiffany getting elected actually bad" - If my interpretation of her statements are correct, I think it would be annoying, because she does not have the experience I think that being on the Board requires, and focuses on priorities I disagree with. Which isn't to say she'd never have a valuable perspective or ideas about something, but there are four other candidates that I think are much better suited to it at this point in time. If the people who think she is an antishipper bent on censorship are correct, she could probably make life very annoying for the rest of the board-- but considering the rest of them are not pro-censorship, I can't see how she'd have much influence in that direction in the org as a whole.

If the people who think she's doing espionage on behalf of the CCP are correct, then... look, I can't even finish that sentence because I find the idea of the CCP deciding that a) they need to get ao3 user data and b) the way to do that is to run a clearly unqualified candidate in a public board election absurd.

the tl;dr of this tl;dr is that there's a lot of fearmongering going around, and a lot of accusations and hate (and racism. let’s be real a lot of this is racism) directed her way. I don't know her, so I don't know what her "real" opinions are, but regardless of who wins the board election, ao3 is not going to be censored any time soon.

if for no other reason than if the Abuse team was told on top of all their other work, they now had to assess and remove fics reported for being "problematic", they would say "we'd prefer not to" and then proceed to not do it.

It's awesome that people are realizing the board elections and OTW membership are a thing now, though. We kept talking about how to encourage membership, and "running a very dramatic and wanky election" did not occur to us. In retrospect, I don't know why.

#otw #again not speaking for the org #otw elections #the current wank #op #asks #anons #answers

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malleux · 7 months

Text

performance anxiety.

-> lyney x fem!famous singer!reader

-> warnings: mentions of past bad relationship, anxiety, no use of y/n

-> words: 3.4k

[a/n]: this was not supposed to be this long but. not proofread, idk what universe this is in where all of these characters are friends but shut up. i just started writing, gun to my head i could not tell you what happens in this story

Applause. Roses. Adoration. Entertainment.

You craved the effervescence of the spotlight. The thrill of being on stage. Millions of eyes are on you and you alone– coming together for the sole purpose of viewing you.

It seemed a bit voyeuristic, but you couldn’t care less as the final notes of your song rang out across stages all over the country and applause replaced the roaring in your ears. People stood as they clapped, whooping and hollering. All for you.

You stood before them night after night, baring the roughest edges of yourself on the stage for them all to judge. You were vulnerable to every attack possible– verbal, physical, emotional. Yet none occurred, save for the dozens of flowers that showered you every night as you completed a performance flawlessly once again.

It was only after you made it backstage to your dressing room that you finally took a breath. A very shaky, very exhausted breath. Stagehands ran back and forth, putting up props and fixing light fixtures for someone else’s performance the next night, but they reassured you that nobody could possibly outshine you after you had christened the Opera Epiclese.

Your first performance in Fontaine. In your hometown.

“That was amazing!” Your manager burst through the door, a cup of water in her hands. She passes it to you. “One of your best performances yet– not that the others were bad! Quite the opposite, actually–”

“I get it. Thank you.” You chewed on your lip, gazing at yourself in the mirror. You looked frazzled up close with the stage makeup slightly smeared across your face. Not enough for the audience to notice, though. No, to them, you were perfection. “I hope they thought the same.”

“Are you kidding? You were amazing. I bet you made at least ten men think about leaving their wives for you tonight.” You cut your eyes at her, and she backtracked immediately. “I-I mean! Oh, that was such a bad analogy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

It really wasn’t fine, but you weren’t going to make your friend-turned-manager feel any worse than she already does for bringing up the past. You weren’t married– Archons, no– but you lived a fast life that not many were equipped to handle, especially if they were staying home while you traveled Teyvat on a tour.

Your ex couldn’t handle you and your lifestyle, so he handled others in bed instead.

It didn’t sting as bad as you would have expected it to. You couldn’t take the time to grieve, not when there was a performance in Natlan the night you found out. Other performers and those who lived a more nomadic lifestyle had warned you about failed relationships and friendships with those who did not stay close or did not understand the busyness of traveling. You truly believed you were the exception, and now you realize that such relationships are impossible. You chose this life, thus giving up the idea of a simple love. Your friends were your manager and the crew that traveled with you, and that was that. You didn’t stay anywhere long enough to culminate true, meaningful connections with anyone.

“Are you ready for the encore?”

You swiped another layer of lipstick on and fluffed your hair in the mirror before turning back to your manager.

“Born ready.”

—---

Lyney sat on the edge of his seat for the past hour and a half and continues to do so, staring at the dark stage.

His sister keeps a hand near his chair, just in case he somehow leans too far forward and falls out of it completely. She’ll never understand his infatuation with such a famous singer– it’s not like he had a shot with you anyway. Nevertheless, she made sure to surprise him with front-row tickets the minute she learned of your performance at Fontaine’s beloved Opera Epiclese.

Lyney nearly cried in happiness and he’s nearly crying now, praying to every Archon above that you’re going to come out for an encore and that this isn’t the end of your show. The tears almost fall as the spotlight graces the stage once more and music fills the room.

Everyone in Fontaine tried to get tickets for your performance and the most influential of citizens were sure to attend. Furina sat in the VIP box, leaning on her hand as she watched you step back onstage. She was quiet for once, enraptured by your voice. Clorinde was at her side. Neuvillette sat near the twins, seated but smiling. Charlotte and Navia were a bit further back, Charlotte furiously scribbling on her notepad to review the performance. She stopped writing halfway through, though, unable to stop herself from just enjoying the performance. Wriothesley and Sigewinne showed their faces from outside of the Fortress, the former succumbing to the latter’s pleas for tickets. Even Freminet was there, on the other side of Lyney, just happy to see his brother so happy.

And yet there he was, sitting in the middle of the row, front and center. A perfect view. And there you were, in that jaw-dropping dress that sparkled perfectly in the lights, reflecting the same way the stars in the sky shined. Lyney was positive there were also stars in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it.

And when the performance was over, Lyney finally sat back in his seat and exhaled a deep breath– one he had been holding since the minute you appeared onstage.

Lynette looked him over as if to make sure he was okay and happy. She didn’t need any words to tell that he was over the moon. “Are you ready to go?”

“Just– just give me one minute.”

—---

“How long will you be in Fontaine?”

“Probably a week or two, at most.” You hummed, finally eating a snack left for you by the Hydro Archon herself. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’d like to stay a bit longer.”

“Hmm,” Furina’s finger tapped her chin– a clear sign that she was thinking. About what, nobody could tell. “How about another performance before you leave? Many people didn’t get tickets to this first show. You’ve had so many supporters from here since you started. Why not give them a special thanks? Especially me, since I’ve supported you and been your friend for all these years?”

You squinted at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she could be devising in her head. You weren’t a mind reader, and Furina didn’t necessarily all have it going on in her head, so you opted to just ask her outright. “What could you possibly gain from that?”

She reeled back, feigning offense. “Nothing! It’s-it’s just that it’s great for business. And we’re having special visitors soon who may want to see. Totally not because I want to watch it again– heh.”

“What special visitors?”

“Why, the Traveler and Paimon, of course!” Furina clapped, “Yes, yes. They’d love to see your performance.”

“Hm.” You continued staring at her, unconvinced that the legendary Traveler wanted to see your performance. But, you did get to perform again and get a part of the profits. You didn’t see why not. “Fine.”

The squeal that came out of Furina’s mouth was enough to almost break your glass of water– a feat many singers trained to do for years and could not accomplish. Yet, your friend was close to doing it without even trying out of sheer excitement.

She grabbed your hand once you were done changing clothes and dragged you out of the dressing room. You had no choice but to follow as she led you into the main room, where the audience sat. It looked much different from before with the lights on and the chairs empty.

Except for two chairs, three people still present in the opera house.

At the sound of her voice, the three turned around. There was a pair of twins and a younger blonde boy. The twin boy made eye contact with you and seemed to shoot straight up, becoming entranced as he saw you. This was typically a normal reaction for fans, but there was one difference this time.

You were entranced too.

Furina looked at the three and huffed. “Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

“Sorry, Lady Furina,” The youngest boy spoke and motioned to the other boy, whose face was bright red. “Lyney just needed to sit for a minute.”

“Is he okay?” You tilted your head, gently shaking free of Furina and walking to them. Furina gasped and crossed her arms, almost angry that she didn’t have your attention anymore as your self-titled “best friend”. “Your face is hot.”

The twin girl hid her mouth with her hand. “He’ll be okay eventually. I think he got overheated or something. Got all nauseous and dizzy.”

“Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry!” You felt awful– you had told someone that you felt the air was a bit too hot in the audience, but you were brushed off. This just proved that you were right. “You all come with me, there’s fresh water and everything in the guest house I’m staying in tonight.”

You ushered everyone out of Opera Epiclese and into the small building next to it. It was the guesthouse, built solely for performers without a place to stay as they traveled. You were given it for your time in Fontaine and couldn’t be more grateful, especially at a time like this when someone is in need.

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet– as you learned their names were– followed you and a pouting Furina into the house. You offered them all a seat on the couches and chairs before running to the kitchen and grabbing a bowl of cool water and a rag. You sat next to Lyney, who was silent the entire time, and neared his face as you put the rag on his forehead. You were a bit confused at Lynette and Furina’s snickering behind you, but you could only worry about the boy in front of you whose face turned even redder at your closeness.

“Say,” Furina spoke up, “Lyney and Lynette here are performing at the Opera Epiclese tomorrow. Fancy a show?”

“Really?” You looked into Lyney’s eyes, “What do you do?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if he needed a glass of water. “Magic.”

“You’re magicians? No way!” You grinned, “I’ve always wanted to see a magic show live! Furina, I think we should go. I’d love to see more of these two.”

“I do too.” Lynette joined, “We can get you on the reservation list for front and center… unless you’d like to sit VIP with Furina?”

“We’ll both sit front row. Neuvillette can have front row if he wishes to attend.” Furina grinned at Lynette, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out of something as you cared for Lyney.

“Wonderful.” Lynette stands up, followed by Freminet. “I think Lyney just needs rest now, but we don’t live far in the Court of Fontaine. We probably need to head out before it gets too late.”

You nod and hold your hand out to Lyney, who takes a second of staring before taking your hand and hoisting himself up. You both definitely hold on a bit too long to be typical for someone you just met, but exceptions could always be made.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Lynette.” You glance back at the boy at your side. “Lyney.”

“Y-yes.” He speaks. You like his voice. “Tomorrow evening. I’d love to see you there.”

After the three left, Furina stayed on your couch and stared.

You sat across from her, staring back with a puzzled expression.

This was the longest you’d ever heard her be quiet and it was incredibly unnerving. You couldn’t take much more of this.

“What?”

Another beat of silence. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? What did I do?”

“You’ve never done that before.”

“Done what, Furina? I don’t have time for this–”

“Gotten all flustered like that. You don’t even dote on me like that and I’m your best friend.”

“Lynette said that he got overheated during the performance.” You defended, “I had to help him, I felt bad. I told the crew that it was too hot in there but they didn’t listen–”

“You’re stupid.” Before you could retort in offense, Furina leaned forward. “You haven’t been that open and nice since…”

You’re glad she doesn’t finish that sentence– doesn’t let his name leave her mouth. Furina is right and you know it, but you definitely don’t want to admit that. Especially not to her.

“I just felt bad.” She doesn’t believe you and you know it. “Fur, you know I can’t. People can’t keep up with my life. He’s cute, but I’m better off alone.”

Furina looks away for a moment as if to think about what she’s going to say next for the first time ever. “He’s different.”

“You don’t know that.”

“First, I know him better than you do. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with that crew, and I’m the Hydro Archon. I know everyone in Fontaine.” She twirls a finger around her hair– a telltale sign that she’s desperate for someone to listen to her. You want to oblige, but your mind won’t let you. “Lyney understands the life of a performer. Has he traveled? No. But I bet he’d be more than willing to travel with you as like– an opening act or something!” She snaps her fingers as if this is some sort of life-changing revelation.

Your anxiety says otherwise.

“What about Lynette and Freminet?”

“They can go with you!” She says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Lynette is Lyney’s assistant, so she has to go. Freminet would be good with helping with finances or something. Or if you happen to drop your wedding ring in the ocean, he can get it.”

“Wedding ring?”

“Yeah, for when you marry–”

A knock on the door interrupts her and you’ve never been happier. You give each other confused looks before you get up and open the door a crack. Behind it is a face all-too-familiar, and you open it wider.

“I-uh, forgot my hat here.” Lyney, cheeks still rosy, rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“O-oh, of course!” You stammer out, leaving him at the door and finding his hat in one of the other chairs. Furina stares him down in a way that makes him feel like he’s intruding on a very important conversation, but he tries to brush it off as one of her theatrics.

Lyney’s smile returns when you appear again, his hat in your hands, and tries to ignore the jump of his heart as his fingers accidentally brush yours when he takes it. “Thank you so much.” You watch as his figure begins to retreat from the guesthouse, but he quickly turns around and waves. “And I do hope to see you tomorrow.”

—---

Lyney does, in fact, get to see you tomorrow.

Peeking through the curtain, he sees you front and center, sitting in the same exact seat that he was in the night before. Furina is at your side, chatting with you happily and ignoring the questioning whispers of her citizens as they question why she’s on the floor instead of in her box. Their questions cease when they see you.

A bit of jealousy hits him as he sees some citizens ask for your autograph or come up to talk to you, but he can’t dwell on it long before Lynette is behind him.

“Is she here?”

“Yes.” He lets out a nervous breath. “Everything has to be perfect tonight.”

“It will be.” She reassures, “And don’t worry about anything else. I have it all covered. She’s come to see you and you alone, so you just focus on being the best you can be.”

Lyney has never been more grateful for his sister than he is at that moment. Sure, it was one thing when she accepted his schoolgirl crush on a famous singer, but when she was actually here, at their show, watching him, she was the best wingman in Teyvat.

He peeked out of the curtain once more, his breath catching in his throat when he sees you looking directly at him. You wave and send him a soft smile and Lyney can feel his entire body heat up. He’s determined and ready for this show to start.

And with a short countdown, it does.

In most performances, Lyney keeps his eyes above the crowd. It’s an illusion many performers learn– don’t look directly at anyone specifically, it’s easier to quell the anxiety of thousands of eyes being on you, judging your every move. He knows you do this tactic as well, getting to witness it firsthand last night as you wowed the crowd from the very stage he was on tonight. He wondered how he could possibly be equal to such a wonderful performance and his mind gets a bit louder as doubts start plaguing him. As quickly as they come, however, they disappear.

Lyney looks at you.

You’re dressed beautifully, hair and makeup done simply as if to bare the real you. Oh, how Lyney longs to know the real you.

You think it’s a funny coincidence when the first rose comes to you. Just a chance that a draft happened to send it directly into your lap after Lyney throws it into the crowd. Same with the second rose, that he passed off to you personally as he walked by after doing his switch trick with the box. You realize it’s not just some happenstance when the performance ends and you are left with a bouquet of roses in your hands, your face hot as Furina teases you.

“Rainbow roses have special meaning in Fontaine, you know.” She grinned. You swatted her away.

“I know.” You huff, “He probably uses those in every show to make the little lucky audience girl feel special.”

Furina opens her mouth to speak, but a voice from behind speaks up before she can. “I normally use Romaritime Flowers, and only pull one out of my hat, but I thought tonight I could do something a little different.”

Lyney prays you aren’t uncomfortable when you turn around– the adrenaline of the show is the only thing driving him to speak to you steadily right now, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he got rejected. He’s pleasantly surprised when you do turn around and your mouth is slightly agape, your cheeks darker than usual. He did his job.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Keep them, they’re yours.” Lyney places his hands on yours to push them back when you go to give him back the bouquet, but he doesn’t remove them when you clutch the flowers to your chest. “This is my official offer– let me treat you to dinner.”

You turn your head to give Furina a look, but she’s long gone. You make a note to curse her out later.

“Lyney, I want to accept your offer. So badly. But I just know it won’t work.”

Seeing Lyney’s face fall almost makes you want to take it back, but you can’t. You can’t get hurt again.

“Please,” His voice has gone soft, “How do you know that?”

“It’s happened before. I’m just protecting you. I’m going to be gone soon and you can forget about this little infatuation–”

“No!” Lyney blurts out but quickly composes himself. “You’re not protecting me, you’re protecting yourself. I’m not whatever man hurt you in the past. I’m a performer too, I can handle all the things that entails.”

“Lyn… This is only my third country on my tour. I have so many more left, I’ll be gone for a very long time. It’s not fair to ask you to wait for me.”

“I think I get to decide what’s fair for me.” You don’t respond, looking away. Lyney takes your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “And I think that me waiting for you is a fair trade if it means you come back to me in the end. Please, ma chérie. Consider it.”

You took a breath, weighing the options as seriously as the Oratrice. You think back to your conversations– the ones with your manager, the ones with Furina. Finally, you meet his eyes fully. Lyney hasn’t looked away, a softness in his eyes that you were not expecting.

“Let’s go to dinner. I’ve been thinking of hiring an opening act for the rest of the tour anyways. How do you feel about that?”

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dteamain · 1 year

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i think now is a good time to talk about bystanders and if/how we should hold them accountable

in this particular case you can argue that many of these cc's may not realize the racism that this mod is promoting. as white gamer dudes most them have probably seen this portrayal of tribes over and over again not only that but i doubt anyone of them has ever been educated on the stereotypes of tribes and native peoples in any country. they don't realize the discrimination many of us face simply from this disgusting symbolism that has been used since colonization started.

however the fact that we can blatantly acknowledge that a good majority of people don't even recognize this as something insanely racist goes to show just how relevant this conversation is. if these mobs had black face not a single person would hesitate to shut this shit down. not a single one of you would be saying 'well idk maybe they didn't know it was racist' it simply would not happen. as indigenous people we often settle with the fact that most racism towards us is not noticed or talked about to this day. we sit here as the biggest elephants in the room day in and day out and it's just not fair.

no i don't think most of those cc's understood how racist this mod is i don't think they would mock my culture in such a heinous way if they knew that's what they were doing and that's why it's important that they are made aware and scolded for this behaviour. they SHOULD feel bad for participating in this racism and it SHOULD stop them from ever doing this again.

they aren't horrible gross people but what they did is and they need to know that. i'm not mad that they stood by when it happened but if they stand by after they have been made aware i will be.

as for the couple of players who were actively role playing colonization to a insane degree well they can go to hell

#rant #qsmp

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matan4il · 5 months

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Daily update post:

The number of murdered victims at the music festival was thought to be over 260. It has now been confirmed to be over 360. IDK if this updates the total figure of victims in the massacre, but if it doesn't (meaning, if this is just identifying which victims were killed at which scene), it means almost a third of the civilians slaughtered by Hamas, were killed at that party. Young people who just wanted to dance, enjoy life and celebrate peace.

This picture from Gaza yesterday shows Hamas terrorists (you can see the RPG one of them is carrying) walking down the street escorted by kids, who are being used as human shields.

And another Hamas terrorist admitting that this is an intentional tactic used by the organization:

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A post shared by יוסף חדאד - Yoseph Haddad (@yosephhaddad)

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A Brit reporting from Israel:

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A post shared by Lee Kern (@leekern13)

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The Iran-funded Houthis in Yemen have kidnapped a ship for being "Israeli." It's likely rented by an Israeli company, but it's been confirmed that there are no Israelis on board this ship. This incident is a clear escalation from Iran's proxies. The ship was traveling from Turkey to India with an international crew of 22 people, meaning all of their countries are now involved.

UEFA refused to hold a minute of silence for the Israeli victims at the start of a match between the Israeli and Polish youth national teams in soccer, despite the fact that it's customary to do so when terror attacks take place. The youth teams decided on their own not to play during the first minute of the game. Might I add, the Israeli national teams include Arabs.

You might remember that I posted about 12 years old Liel Hezroni being pronounced dead a few days ago. It happened after the evidence showed there was no chance for her to survive what the Hamas terrorists did in the murder scene where the rest of her family's bodies were found (when it's known that she was with them), and despite no body of hers having been identified. Today, remains of a body found by archeologists (employed to help with the ashes of the massacre victims) were confirmed to be hers, and now she can at least be given a proper funeral. May her memory be a blessing.

In case you still think the world is treating Israeli victims fairly, here's a small reminder of how much our lives don't count... When we're putting up posters of our kidnapped women and kids, people feel comfortable ripping them down.

Hamas is claiming the death of a third Israeli hostage in captivity. They claim he died of a heart attack. Yeah, that might happen to an 86 year old kidnapped and tortured. And if that's what happened, then it's still murder.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Instagram

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ummmlife · 8 months

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Poor, sad, miserable teen!Nanami

Warnings!: post Haibara's death Nanami ; teen nanami ; angst (?) ; fluff (?) ; nanami×reader ; she / her pronouns reader ; reader is Nanami's (check on the translator) senior (aka Gojo's age) ; headcanon, drabble, idk, i wrote. if something doesn't makes sense, my sincerest apologies for not knowing how to speak english properly 🫠

We already know that teenage Nanami was a very pessimistic and unsociable person. While our adult Nanami is an exemplary person who knows social norms well and follows them perfectly, teenage Nanami was not like that. He was trained to be an adult from the young age of 15 (I assume because of Itadori's age).

But what events happened to turn Kento Nanami from an inexperienced (emo) teenager to an exemplary adult?

Tragedies, that's what happened.

In our modern society we know and understand that child labor is something inconceivable and even illegal in many countries, I mean, it is written in human rights. So we could assume that Jujutsu society operates the same way... Hahaha no. Good grief, if that were so there would be no such thing as manga/anime (Akutami you're cruel).

Why would we believe that in a society commanded by conservative and traditionalist elders, who (and this is my thought) surely rejoiced when Japan was a colonizing empire during WWII, would protect children? In this cruel world you learn to survive, and burdened with the curse of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer you have no escape.

So Nanami, against his will and coming from a family of non sorcerers, is forced to settle in this rotten society.

If being a sorcerer is a very low possibility, probably much lower than winning the lottery, it would not be difficult to expect that in a single class there would be one or at most three Jujutsu students. This was the case with Nanami and Haibara. Two kids with completely different personalities and motivations who, by the vagaries of the universe, ended up in the same situation together (and with the same fate awaiting them. Crying).

Nanami, yes, was a pessimistic, introverted, grumpy teenager, but at least he had Haibara with him who, even if he never said it out loud, gave him hope that maybe and just maybe being a sorcerer wasn't so bad.

Hell only knows the pain and despair the death of his only friend caused Nanami.

To be born into a faded world only to meet a rainbow and then have it snuffed out by a typhoon, yeah, it wasn't easy. Nanami could even understand why Suguru Geto, who by the way Haibara was a fan of, decided to become a Curse User. For Nanami himself the temptation was so much, so palpable and easy to choose. But he knew that: 1. Haibara wouldn't have liked it, 2. Following Geto's path would have mentally exhausted him more and 3. He couldn't afford to hurt more fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers.

That is why Nanami was only looking forward to his graduation day, but silently. He wished to simply disappear, not only from the Sorcerer profession but also from this world.

Nanami was lost, mired in depression and no one seemed to care. If everyone was so busy minding their own business then he had to mind his own life as well. Go on missions alone, study alone, fight alone, eat alone, live and wait to die alone.

— "Are you sleeping well? I notice you're more exhausted than before."

Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought, maybe he mattered to someone: his senior.

Another sorceress a year above him, a classmate of Gojo and Ieiri. A sweet and caring girl for whom, at some point when Haibara was still alive, Nanami felt loving feelings for her begin to surface.

— "Yeah... I'm fine."

Lying is bad but worrying others is worse.

Nanami was eating lunch, alone as usual, a sandwich he made himself. Sitting on the stairs outside the school listening to the cicadas and the sound of the leaves on the trees moving in the soft autumn wind. His senior sat beside him, in complete silence, knowing full well that Nanami is not a big fan of social interactions.

— "I hear you've perfected your innate Cursed Technique..."

Still, she tries to dialogue with him. At least a little bit.

— "Yeah…"

Nanami might feel uncomfortable, but the closeness of his senior makes him feel calm, it makes him feel peace.

In a world where children are forced to live and think like adults in life and death situations, the company of someone who is at least a little more mature is comforting.

— "I miss him too, you know? Haibara."

It hurts, it hurts so much. Nanami stops eating as he feels his stomach twist with the memories of that fateful day when Haibara was killed because of a mistake by the adults, they sent them to their death and it was all because of a mistake. Nanami closes his eyes and breathes in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

This has happened before, indeed, it happens every night. Nanami hasn't been able to sleep well since the Haibara incident, having no one to comfort or hold him when he cries his soul out before trying to sleep.

That's why the moment he felt his senior's delicate hands bringing his head to her shoulder to comfort him it completely threw him off. It felt good, warm for the first time.

— "If you keep holding back you're going to end up hurting yourself even more."

That sentence alone was enough to make Nanami completely break down in tears. It was the first time in years feeling comfort from someone in such an intimate and satisfying way.

Nanami cried, hugged and clung to his senior as he had never done with anyone before, only maybe with his mother when he was a child. He couldn't contain himself when he felt her lips gently pressing against his crown of his head, it was like a dream.

— "Can I ask you not to leave?"

It was so embarrassing but so necessary for him to ask that. Her senior's soft and sweet smile was like a gift to his aching heart.

— "I don't plan to go anywhere."

*sobs* Emo Nanami, so cute ‹𝟹 must protect!!!!!

#jjk nanami #nanami headcanons #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #teen!nanami #nanami drabbles #nanami angst #nanami fluff #nanami headcanon #teen nanami #. bibi's writing

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laguezze · 11 months

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PAC: Characteristics of your FS

This is for or all the people with intention to marry or have a long term relationship. Next up will be a soulmate characteristic PAC. I decided to split it in two to get more details!

Now onto the PAC!

Here are the piles!

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 4

Ready? Let's go!

Pile 1

This person is a rebel. Might be a bit hypocritical about it. Like they might come from money but decide to live out their best broke musician dreams while still living in their rich dad's apartment that he bought for them. That's just one case example, take it as it resonates.

This person loves to keep appearances, they love to be in control of how people perceive them. I'm seeing they want to be taken seriously.

Long, messy, brown, curly hair. Middle part is possible.

North America, Australia, Oceania, Hawaii, UK.

Dainty eyes?, Blue eyes, light eyes.

Not too defined features but also not ugly. Might be what people call "medium ugly" for some of you. Nothing too shocking about their features.

Musician, plays guitar, indie music taste, 420 friendly? Nirvana (the band), big social life, plaid shirts, leather jackets, bad boy persona, baddie aesthetic, motorbike, cigarette, old school lover, 70s aesthetic and fashion.

Pile 2

This person is very much hypocritical, they don't know what they want in life. Very much lost with their career and family life. You might help guide them.

They definitely have unconventional dreams like opening up a tea shop, or flower shop. Which is fine, but I'm seeing they want to do that for the wrong reasons. Very easily manipulated person, it'll be frustrating for you to see. But they'll get better with your help probably.

Probably from any capitalist country. Take that as you will.

Light eyes or medium eyes but not dark. Downturned eyes.

Short hair, pixie cut, wolf cut.

Wears bandanas, baggy clothes, long skirts, hippie style, boho aesthetic, activist. Necklaces and bracelets, lots of jewelery in general.

(sorry it's a bit short, your person wasn't too specific with the looks but rather with the personality)

Pile 3

You guys got yourselves a romantic, old school, kinda person. They probably listen to music from the 50s and 60s and jazz, lots of jazz. Might love to take things slow and smooth. Doesn't like running late to things and is always calm and early. Very collected person, never a hair out of place. Always is composed. They might have been different before they met you. They probably were chaotic and funny before they met you but something happened that made them this sophisticated, chic person. You might need to bring the fun in them back, I'm hearing. Might be a judgy individual.

Latinx, Hispanic, Southern Europe, North America (East Coast)

Brown eyes, very deep set eyes, intense gaze

Short hair, very short for men, curly hair, either Brown or dirty blonde.

Long eyelashes, very pretty features. Either small nose or large nose, no in between; defined face, high cheekbones.

Medium height, slightly muscular.

60s, 50s music and fashion, coffee and tea lover, might be a cook or love to do it, kitchen lover, architecture fanatic, probably loves house decor and renovation, secretive, mysterious, romantic, candle collector.

Pile 4

(idk i swear this is not Hozier themed, there's just something about him present here)

"imagine being loved by me"

This persoooon omg. So pure hearted. Truly has the best intentions at heart. They literally are sunshine personified. They radiate light, like their smile lights up a room and they always look clean and cheerful. The type of person everyone likes. No one ever dares say anything negative about them and if they do, it's because of jealousy.

They might have a lot of pretty privilege that makes this effect happen. Like if this person was a 6/10 (conventional attractiveness scale) their personality wouldn't be as appreciated. But because they're so beautiful inside and out, it shines through. I'm getting they realize this privilege and it rubs them the wrong way sometimes but they won't fight against it because it's helping them with their goals.

North America, Sweden, Finland, etc, Northern Europe and UK.

Blonde hair, short hair, curly hair, honey hair.

blue eyes, light eyes, almond shaped eyes

Bunny pretty (that one TikTok trend ifykyk), slim, short, cherubin look (if you don't know what that is, think cupid angel type of beauty), white clothes, flowy dresses, short eyelashes, defined jawline, big smile, straight teeth, bunny teeth, cardigans.

Hope it resonates for all of you!!! 💕

#tarot readings #tarot #free readings #tarot blog #free tarot reading #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pick a pile #Spotify

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matthewkniesys · 11 months

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i know it won't work - trevor zegras

summary: You let go of Trevor but why can't he let go of you? You know it won't work so why can't he see that? You're only trying to save each other from more heartbreak than necessary. You just want him to be happy.

a/n: this is the second fic in my good riddance by gracie abrams fic series. you don't have to read the first one for this to make sense. so this is my first song fic so please be nice. idk if i did it right. everything in bold is the song lyrics. i recommend listening to the song but you don't have to. i really do love this fic so hopefully yall will too🫶

pairing: trevor zegras x gn!reader

warnings: angsty and some swearing

good riddance fic series

The last year has been hard for you. Nobody ever told you how hard graduating highschool would be. Everyone paints graduating as this big celebration. You're never warned of the hard choices you’ll have to make and the people you’ll lose. The one person you never expected to lose was your childhood best friend and boyfriend of 3 years, Trevor Zegras. And you could never have predicted that you would be the one walking away. Not him.

I left you there

Heard you keep the extra closet empty

In case this year I come back and stay throughout my 20s

Your body is drained of any energy. Moving into your dorm room has sucked any will to do anything for the rest of the day out of your body. You’re excited for the new chapter that University will bring to your life but you’re also mourning the loss of the life you had before. You feel like a different person since everything in your life did a complete 180 a few months ago.

Leaving Trevor was probably the hardest thing you’d ever done. You didn’t just lose your boyfriend that day, you also lost your best friend. It was what needed to happen though. It was this one day when he made a comment about how he would follow you anywhere and give up hockey in a heartbeat that made you freak out. You had to cut ties. Trevor loved you in an all consuming way. You loved him in a nostalgic kind of way. In the way that you two had been best friends forever. You loved him but slowly you were realizing it wasn’t in that same romantic way his love for you was. It was not purely but more platonic. You couldn’t ever see yourself marrying him and so even though it hurt both of you, leaving was the right decision. If only Trevor could understand that.

Picking up your phone to check social media, you see you’ve got a missed call from a friend, well she’s probably your best friend now, since you walked away from Trevor. You choose her number from your recent contacts and let it ring until she picks up.

“Hey, y/n, how are you? Are you all settled in?”

“I’m good. It was a real tight fit, to get everything in the dorm but it worked out. How about you? How’s your dorm? I can’t believe we are literally on the opposite side of the country now.”

Your friend laughs, “ Yeah, it was quite the tight fit here too. The dorms are tiny. But I’m doing good. I’m excited for classes to start.”

You pause for a second, wanting to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of your mind for weeks now. You wanted to know how Trevor was. Trevor and your friend had always been close. When you walked away from Trevor you didn’t want them to have to end their friendship so they still hang out.

Stuttering, you ask,” Hey, um how’s Trev doing?”

“Are you sure you really wanna know?” Yes, you are sure. At this point you feel like you need it as much as you need the air you breathe. You can guess he probably isn’t doing great, you aren’t either but you need to hear it from someone who knows.

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna be honest with you.” She pauses. “He’s fucked up over you. You walking away from him really came out of the blue. He blames himself. He thinks he did something wrong.” Hearing that he thinks it’s his fault breaks your heart. All he did was love you with all of himself and you couldn’t reciprocate that.

“I-fuck. Why couldn’t I just love him back? It’s what he deserved and I couldn’t give it to him.”

“Y/n, it’s okay. In the long run this will be better. At least neither of you will be stuck in a shitty relationship. But if I’m being completely honest I think Trevor still thinks you’re gonna come back. Like you’re gonna realize you made a mistake and change your mind. You probably don’t wanna hear this but he keeps the extra closet empty. You know, just in case you decide to come back and stay for good.”

Hearing that, shatters your heart into a million pieces.

What if I won’t?

How am I supposed to put that gently?

And down the road