#but i enjoyed writing it

[isshua]

Lies and Deceit, The Wrath of the Prodigal

Genshin Sagau Scaramouche x Reader

So a few days back, I posted something about Scaramouche interacting with the Creator during a specific moment in the Sumeru Archon quest Chapter 3: Act 3 "Dreams, Emptiness, Deception." I decided to expand a little on what I wrote, because I love Scaramouche and I don't think there's enough Sagau content regarding him. This is just a short little story I wrote about what I believe Scaramouche would think of the Creator and how he would react to them being in Teyvat. This isn't connected to my mainstream sagau series Messianic Aureation, the Creator in this is implied to be the reader! I don't write self-inserts very well, but I did the best I could with it! Hope you Scaramouche fans enjoy! I can't wait for when he becomes playable :)

Sorry this is so short, I promise my writings usually aren’t this quick lol

The Balladeer did not believe in the gods.

Oh, he knew they existed. It was impossible for gods not to exist in this world. In every part of Teyvat’s culture, gods were evident: this land he called home was ridden with the scars of battles long past that were waged by immortals. Civilizations dedicated to gods rose and fell with the times. Some, like Liyue, remained stubbornly strong in the face of erosion, and though Rex Lapis was no longer seen as the nation’s ruler, he was still worshiped with dedication. Others, like the city of the Scarlet King, were buried beneath the sands of the desert with the death of the god who erected it. Yet there were desert folk who still yearned for the return of Deshret’s reign. Yes, gods had power. Every nation had its own history of gods. The only country that attempted to break this long-standing tradition had been Khaenri’ah, and everyone knew how that little experiment turned out.

Scaramouche acknowledged the power of the gods. He himself had been created by one. But that didn’t mean he respected them. No, he abhorred them, with the entirety of his being. If he could, he would rip the wings of Barbatos off of the Archon’s back and watch with glee as he was rendered flightless forever. He would have pierced the heart of Morax and propped the dragon’s body in the center of Liyue Harbor for all its inhabitants to see-if someone else hadn’t already gotten to the Geo lord first. He would destroy the puppet of the Raiden Shogun and yank his mother out of her Plane of Euthymia with his own two hands so he could execute her in the shadow of her own omnipresent statue. If Scaramouche had the power, he would destroy every single Archon in Teyvat, and then go further. He would topple Celestia. Godhood would be his, and only his, to own. Because he knew that in order to kill a god, one would have to become a god themselves first.

Initially, Scaramouche believed there to be only three betrayals that made him realize the world was nothing more than an elaborate tapestry of lies. But now he knew this was false, for there was a fourth he hadn’t counted on and only realized recently. The fourth to betray him…was you. You, the blessed Creator, the god above all gods, the supreme being who molded Teyvat with their own hands and breathed life into the world that shunned and despised him. He had seen your statues, had witnessed the intense bouts of worship people put themselves through in order to show you their love and loyalty. All for a god who hasn’t shown their face in millennia. The very thought of it made Scaramouche laugh. At least Ei gave proof of her existence through the means of a puppet. At least Barbatos walked among the Monstadters in the disguise of a bard. There were no physical documentations of your existence. No credible writings or pieces of artwork made by your hand left behind for the modern generation to see. Even your statues were up for interpretation; neither one looked the same, as if their carvers hadn’t been able to agree on your exact appearance. The only proof that the Creator wasn’t a hoax were the Vessels. Those accursed Vision holders who traversed Teyvat’s seven nations with your blessing. You controlled their bodies, spoke through their mouths, saw with their eyes. To be a Vessel was to be an extension of the Creator themself. To be a Vessel was to be chosen. It was a sign that one mattered.

His own mother, Ei, was a Vessel. The Snezhnayan brat Tartaglia was one also, as was Barbatos, and the captain of the Crux, and many, many other people across Teyvat, mortal and immortal alike. All with Visions, all as dirty and sinful as Scaramouche himself. Tartaglia and Ei’s hands were stained with just as much innocent blood as his, if not more. And yet, he didn’t have a Vision. He had never felt your inviting warmth. People mocked him and ridiculed him.“Why would the Creator ever bless a Harbinger? Why would they ever show you any sort of favor? You don’t deserve their attention. Your damned Fatui scum, damned to the Abyss, and Their Grace knows it. The Creator has made it clear that you are nothing in their eyes. You aren’t like Childe. You are irredeemable.”

It filled him with rage, because he knew they were right. You had forsaken him. Even on all of the cold, lonely nights when he had gotten on his knees and clasped his hands together before one of your statues, tears streaming down his cheeks as he desperately begged for you to show him some sort of sign that you were there, that you acknowledged him, that you cared about him, not once did you answer, not once did you tell him that he mattered. You sided with the rest and cast him out as a worthless puppet, a weak and vile creation meant to be destroyed. You didn’t believe in him. So, why should he believe in you?

He hated you. He longed for you. He wanted to strangle you, yet hold you close and continue to beg for your validation at the same time. You made him feel emotions that he wanted no business in feeling, and for that, he despised you. You were his fourth betrayal; you abandoned him without even giving him a chance. You taunted him with your ever-alluring warmth and made him out to be a fool every time he was met with failure when he attempted to forge some kind of contact with you. He wanted to destroy you. He wanted to devour you. He wanted to crush you under his heel and prove to the heavens and the earth that you are nothing. He would tear the sky apart if it meant finding you and killing you. Nothing would quell his wrath, not even the distance you had put between your heavenly realm and the world you had created.

Scaramouche knew his time would come. Sooner or later, you will return to Teyvat. With help from the Fatui, he had tracked down any sort of writings regarding proof of your descent to this mortal plane. He waited. He bided his time. No need to rush. He would find you eventually. You wouldn’t be able to escape him once you arrived.

And then, one day, he succeeded. Your presence hit him like a boulder, rocking him back and sending a sensation of burning flames through his core. You were here, in Sumeru-where he was currently preparing to rise to godhood through means of Fatui technology and a certain gnosis he had stolen from the blonde-haired traveler you cared so much about. With the help of his one and only follower, he made contact with your mind and forced a mental connection between the two of you. He found you in a body that wasn’t your own, confused and scared, trapped within a prison of Dendro. The eyes of the young Dendo Archon were your eyes as you stared into space and caught glimpses of his pain and anger.

“I see you,” he said, reveling in the jolt of terror you felt when you heard his voice. His fists clenched and a smirk graced his lips. Electro power pumped into him from the various tubes connected to his back. His mech whirred and hummed while it gained strength, a mighty force of artificial ascension, a man-made god. Mentally, he seized your consciousness in a vise-like grip. He could feel you scream-you were fighting him, attempting to free yourself from the connection the two of you were sharing. But he wouldn’t let you go. He refused to let you go, not after you left him unanswered for all of these years.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “There is no need to fear. The pain will be brief.” You were shivering and crying, but your mind was so weak compared to his, probably from the strain of being shoved into a body that wasn’t yours. He idly wondered how such a phenomenon came to happen: you, the Creator, trapped within the frame of an Archon not even 500 years old. When he focused on you, he caught glimpses of splattered golden blood and weapons pointed towards your true body. Thankfully, Kusanali seemed to have managed to save you from certain death. Good for him, because he was the only one allowed to kill you, and Archons-be-damned, he would obliterate anyone who got in his way.

He was consuming you. You were drowning in his consciousness, your mind succumbing to his own. Scaramouche smiled triumphantly when he felt your dimming fear. “Yes, that’s it. Fear me. Know me. Hear me. I am your downfall, the one you scorned and ignored. Godhood is mine, and you, oh-beloved Creator, will fall before me. Your era is coming to an end.”

You would eventually escape him and return to your own body. But Scaramouche didn’t mind. You were here, and the connection between the two of you was there, tethering you together, whether you liked it or not. Go ahead, run away with your allies, hide from your enemies. He would find you regardless. There was no escaping the wrath of a newly-born god.

#genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin isekai #isekai #scaramouche #sumeru #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #this is super short #but i enjoyed writing it #scaranation assemble #short story

[mac-lilly]

Hotdog and cold dog

Usually, I do not indulge in German!Alex. But this idea had been haunting me for some time. It’s not very original and a bit dumb. But still – enjoy. And big thanks to @onlygenxhere who came up with the term 'Kit Kat' for ... something.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

It’s funny how dying and coming back to life changes one’s priorities.

Before his death, Willie had spent most of his life on the streets. He’d roamed the city on his skateboard; he’d strolled along the beach. He’d done his level best to avoid returning to the latest foster home he’d been placed in.

After his death … Well, he’d mostly done the same. But he’d also fallen into the orbit of Caleb Covington, which had effectively cost him the rights to his soul.

Needless to say, neither his life nor his afterlife had been very pleasant experiences.

So, when fate offered him a third chance, Willie decided that this time, he’d tackle life differently.

That’s why he is here, sitting on a bar stool, watching Alex bustling around in the Molinas’ kitchen as he prepares tonight’s dessert. It’s an incredibly domestic moment, and Willie enjoys it to its fullest.  

The kitchen is a mess, though. The countertops are covered with ingredients and bowls, pots with water are steaming on the stove, and dishes pile up in the sink in a haphazard way. And in the middle of this orchestrated chaos stands Alex, the conductor, wearing a pink apron and holding a chocolate-covered spatula like a baton. Melted chocolate is dripping onto the tiles.

Man, German desserts are extraordinarily complicated, aren’t they?

On the other hand, Willie has been here from the beginning. And from what he’s gathered, Alex’s secret German dessert consists of extremely plain cookies and a lot of chocolate. It looks like an oversized chocolate candy bar that’s now chilling in the fridge.

Willie can’t help it. His curiosity gets the better of him.

“So all of this,” he says, inclining his head to point at a leaning stack of bowls, “for a giant Kit Kat?”

Willie isn’t complaining. Not at all. He likes cookies. He likes chocolate. And he likes Alex … a lot. So, in his books, this dish is already a triple win.

Alex misinterprets his words, though. He turns around, planting his free hand on his hip, scowling.

Damn, that’s way more attractive than it should be.

“It’s not a Kit Kat,” Alex insists sternly.

“But it looks like one,” Willie counters, smirking. But maybe he’s gone too far with his teasing.

Alex’s demeanor changes drastically. His shoulders sag; his face falls. Disappointment crosses his features.

Willie’s smirk vanishes. Oh shit.

“Hey, hey, don’t sulk,” he says hurriedly. “I’m just messing with you, hotdog.” To prove his point, he leans over the counter, reaches out, and snatches the chocolate-covered spatula from Alex’s hands. He licks it clean in a rather seducing manner. “I’m really looking forward to tasting your oversized candy bar.” There’s an innuendo hidden in the sentence, and of course, Alex catches on to it. The effect is immediate and intense. He splutters, and a blush travels up his neck. His face turns crimson – even the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink. He mutters a few words under his breath. It could have been an insult; it could have been German. Most likely, it’s both.

Willie chuckles. Embarrassed Alex is such a delightful sight.

But Willie isn’t a cruel man. They’re going to have much more fun later.  

“So, what’s the name of this dish?” Wille asks to put Alex out of his misery.

To his surprise, Alex snickers, and Willie blinks in confusion. That’s unusual. But Alex’s gleeful snickers are also one of the best sounds he’s ever heard, sending shivers down Willie’s spine. His nerves tingle. Damn.

Thankfully, Alex quickly answers his question, distracting him from the sensation. “It’s called Kalter Hund.”

Willie tests the words. They are not as unpronounceable as expected. However, he’s convinced he messed up the pronunciation anyway because Alex’s smile has morphed into an impish smirk. And damn, Willie loves it. He loves the way Alex’s lips curl. He loves the way his eyes sparkle with mischief.

What he doesn’t like is not knowing. He’s clearly missed something, so he has to ask. “What?”

“Do you know what it means?”

Willie tries to guess but without success. He shrugs.

“Please, hotdog, enlighten me.”

Alex looks more smug than Willie has ever seen him. There’s a glint of triumph in his eyes that makes Willie’s stomach flutter. He squirms in his seat. Oh, yes, he’s gone way too far with his teasing. And then Alex leans over the counter. He’s so close their noses almost touch. The proximity steals Willie’s breath away.

“It means cold dog.”

There’s a long pause as they stare into each other’s eyes. Alex’s eyes are bright and intelligent and … oh fuck, Willie really, really loves them. He really, really loves him. So Willie concedes defeat. He lets out a strangled sound that’s half a snort and half a gasp. “Smart move, hotdog.”

“Yeah,” Alex confirms, smirking. Then he closes the distance, pressing his lips to Willie’s.

Yes, Willie really loves his new life.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Inspired by the IG account uyenninh. Unfortunately, I can't find the video anymore. But her German BF once served her this delicacy. 😆

#Ha! My first Willex Wednesday contribution! #as I said the joke is a bit dumb #but I enjoyed writing it #julie and the phantoms #jatp #Willex #Happy Willex Wednesday! #Alex mercer #Willie jatp

[jazzyjj]

I genuinely love that smosh's lore is a freeform TV drama in a way.

After a long relationship that they thought would be endgame, Anthony broke up with Ian. However, being the king that he is, Ian continued on for the sake of his children. Though not without struggles, he and his family faced constant ridicule from outsiders and they even lost their home, moving from place to place without clear direction. But fret not, soon he and his kids found a home with a lovely old married couple named Rhett and Link as well as their own kids. And for the next 4 years, the Hecox/Smosh family lived comfortably. Some of the kids moving out, new ones were adopted, and they made great friends with Rhett and Links kids.

And then something happened...

Something insane....

He and Anthony got back together! They'd been secretly rekindling their relationship for some time and eventually announced it to the kids and later the world.

Slowly Anthony is rekindling his relationship with his children and stepchildren and their family is the strongest it's ever been.

Turns out they were endgame

Also apparently they've acquired shared custody of one of Rhett and Link's kids. There was paperwork and everything.

#this is so dumb #but i enjoyed writing it #love story for the ages #smosh

[nicgoldomens]

Back to Eden

The Metatron placed Aziraphale in the garden as soon as he could. None of the other angels even saw him or knew he had been offered the Supreme Archangel job.

The Metatron told Aziraphale he needed to atone for his sins, the first one being giving away the flaming sword and covering it up. There were many other things Aziraphale had done wrong, the Metatron said, sounding very disappointed in him. Particularly on Earth.

Aziraphale would need to stay in the garden alone now to think about all the terrible ways in which he had failed God, day and night, constantly, until he was once again good enough to work for Heaven. Aziraphale agreed that he was indeed an angel unworthy of the name and the light in his eyes dimmed.

The garden of Eden had not been tended for thousands of years, ever since it was left unoccupied. The lush plants and trees were all overgrown and it was easy for Aziraphale to get lost in amongst them. He had the sword to help him cut a path, though no longer flaming, given to him by the Metatron to remind him of his first failure.

He tried to think about how to atone to God but all the thoughts in his head were of how he had failed Crowley. Day and night, constantly, he saw Crowleys face when they parted and the hurt he had caused. Eventually he came upon the now gnarled branches and thick trunk of the apple tree which no longer bore fruit. The start of it all. He aimed the sword towards the tree trunk and began to carve.

When he had finished he sat on the ground, leaned against the bark and closed his eyes. Time passed, hawthorne and brambles grew up and wrapped around Aziraphale fastening him to the tree. He felt the thorns piercing his body but did not move.

Crowley was looking for a place to rest and be quiet. Neither Heaven or Hell were interested in him, a broken demon was of no consequence or use. He was left to destroy himself however he wished. At first when Aziraphale left he had driven all over the world and tried all manner of things to ease the pain, relishing the darkness in his soul which he now felt properly for the first time. But always there was a tiny spark of barely acknowledged hope, ever the optimist even when he knew all was lost. He let his instincts be his guide and when he felt so exhausted he could not carry on, he crept unnoticed back to Eden, where it all began.

The garden was unguarded and he slipped in silently, a faded shadow of his former vibrant self. He followed an overgrown path only just visible through the thickly entwined foliage and came upon the tree. He recognised it instantly though it had no fruit and was covered in thorns. He began to pull them away from the trunk with his bare hands, glad of any sensation that could cut through the numbness in his soul.

Then he saw it. A large heart carved carefully, deeply and precisely into the bark of the apple tree. And within the heart two large and perfect letters beautifully written by a hand he knew as well as his own -

A and C

Crowley's heart leapt with flutters of hope and he pulled away the last brambles to find Aziraphale, punctured with thorns and sleeping the sleep of lost dreams. Crowley sank down next to Aziraphale and held him in his arms until the warmth of his love woke Aziraphale and the light in his eyes returned.

They lived happily ever after in the garden of Eden, Aziraphale passionately eating the plentiful apples now abundantly falling from the tree and Crowley lovingly watching him eat them.

God was the only one to see them, but she said nothing🤍🩶🖤

#I wrote a thing #It was longer than intended #but I enjoyed writing it #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable lovers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley

[pinkafropuff]

[Home for the Holidays] -Emilia

She was singing again. Thanks to how high up she’d gotten, she was sure it wouldn’t be heard by others- she had a knack for producing “static” so that her words would only be heard by her own ears- so long as they did not get too close, or look too deeply. Her spell would make sure of that; with her very specific requirements, it was almost assured that she would be free to express (or not express) whatever she wanted.

“You can only be heard by someone as lonely as I, from a place I am not and am not well known. You will sound only as the sweetest of whispers of the dearly departed, of easily forgotten words and tones.”

It was cold out; it was always cold in Ishgard, but today, up high and with all that wind, she found herself longing for the snow in a way that she did not think possible before. The month, as it were, was the Eorzean equivalent of “December”, and she found herself reminiscing as she cleaned the blade of her lance, carefully polishing even the most minute of details on the shaft. 

It “sounded” like a normal carol. As she thought much about it and cared very little for its tune, the simplest would suffice:

“Oh ay, ay ay, I’m dreamin’

Of a white

Christmaaas~

With every-

Christmas Card I write

May your days,

May your days,

May your days,

Be merry and briiiiiiiiight-

…and may all your Christmases

Be

Whi-i-i-ite-”

She could see her breath when she breathed out a bit too heavily. She was wearing a hat, but…still. There was something chillier about the warmth of ones’ breath against the air in December, and it always smelled like-

….like…

She paused. Mouth slowly opening and closing, she felt a strong tug at her chest. For a long time she ignored it; its warmth began to scald her throat as she held it down, prickling at her abdomen as she swallowed to destroy it in stomach acid, though it was all to no avail. Its taste was like the sweetest juice. She could indulge it this once. Just once. 

“...I’ll…be home…for Christmas…” A whisper. “You can count on…me…”

“Please have snow

And mistletoe

And-”

She chewed the words to make them unrecognizable. “...r..sents under the tree.” One boot to the top of the cathedral, she pushed back just slightly; a modicum of snow slipped off of its sloped top, dropping down onto the empty streets below. 

“...Christmas eve will find me

Where the love light gleams

I'll be home 

…for Christmas

If only in my dreams…”

The only warmth was on her tear-stained cheek. 

“If only in my-”

(She closed her eyes.)

Rustling among boxes of things long forgotten. Static cling against long, red sleeves. Since it’s winter, it’s the perfect time to rummage among old things and pretend they’re new. 

He’s making a mess. He hates mess, so it’s clearly not his favorite part, but he’s so deeply invested in what the mess could be, that [-----] can’t find him in the garage as readily as she’d usually be able. It’s not that big, of course; though it can fit the one car, it hasn’t in years, given the junk of various persons taking up its space. By now, it’s almost like it was never meant for an automobile at all. 

“I found the tree!”

“Daddy, everybody knew where the tree was, we’re havin’ cocoa right now.” It’s a good thing she’s wearing her long hair today. It’s nippy around her neck and shoulders, even with the hat she’s thrown on to keep her warm.

(She reached up and touched her now-short hair. That was one thing she missed, but maybe not much else. For her it smelled of the fakeness she needed to convince them of her personhood. For her it was estrangement. A barb in her skin.)

“They can’t eat or drink nothin’ til I pray-” His voice broke off. “Babygirl, if you’re gonna help me, then help me! Don’t just stand there.”

[----] let out a little sigh. “I’m not that strong. You should ask….I dunno, Robert or somebody.” Not that she didn’t want to try. Though she’d throw her back out too, with the way things were going.

“He at work right now.”

“Then we should wait until he gets home. He’ll be over for the movie at least, and Auntie’ll probably goad him into staying.” Not that there was any guarantee he’d help out. “At least Trina’ll be around to help out by then. Don’t want you to throw your back out.”

“If I do, I got a doctor right here.”

(Her elbows were getting cold. Stupid dragoon armor. A good coat was better than this. How did Estinien survive like this, anyway? The elves seemed French but reminded her more closely of Russians. Tough and tall. Rough, but trying not to be. Or maybe that was French after all. She wouldn’t bother.)

“Doctor Ross is not on call, it’s Christmas! And, because I’m working with the government, I get paid time off!”

(How that would bite her in the ass later.)

“Well, you should get your ‘paid time off’ behind over here to grab the other end of this tree. I know you been liftin’ patients and all that. Ain’t no nurses ‘round here to pick up your slack!”

In the end she’d relented, if only to take the tree box inside. By the time they were done, her mother had already started a fight with her father about his habits- though at least they’d already gotten through the prayer. It was enough to wake the neighbors- which, in this case, were her aunts and uncles not originally keen on showing up early to their collective grandparents’ (and parents’) tree-trimming, house decorating celebration. It was loud but warm, its simmering cooled only as low as time would let it before they all dispersed to their various homes, most of which were apartments in that same building. 

A microcosm in an otherwise crowded space. If she peered into a snowglobe, that’s exactly what she’d see; a big, loud family in varying skin tones, talking and laughing with drinks in hand, whether they be coffee, tea, cocoa, or wine. 

“Nah, no cocoa. Pass me the rum,” she’d said after one too-long shift at the hospital, and her nana had passed it over without much fuss.

“A workin’ woman deserves that much.” 

(“Have fun, but not too much fun.” She’d say.)

The freezing cold is incentive enough to pull her legs in close, arms tightly wrapped around herself as her thoughts rest in a far off memory. 

*

“Happy Starlight everyone!” Through the hustle and bustle of the season, Emilia finds herself sitting alone at a table in the back of Revenant’s Toll, her arms and legs crossed, boots resting atop the table. Apparently it’s celebrated as a holiday for children- why, Emilia is not keen on finding out- but she relents that it must be a cultural thing, and otherwise not something she is overly interested in. Alphinaud and Alisaie- despite being children themselves- are passing out gifts to every Scion, which she admits is good of them; with all that money in their family, it would be good to at least be generous. 

A poor facsimile of a thing. But they seemed happy nonetheless. She was a lot of things, but a party pooper was not one of them. No, it would be better to leave, or to brood. Whichever would lead them to not seeing her cry like a stupid baby at the end of the night. 

“Ah, there you are.” It was not an unwelcome voice; she’d gotten used to Alphinaud by now (though not as much his twin, who was still merrymaking with other guests and clearly goading them into sharing their drinks, despite being able to buy her own), and figured he’d come around sooner or later, probably to wish her a nice day or something or other. While it wasn’t a bad thing per se, she was getting tired of putting on her act with him, especially when he’d taken rather recently to grinning in response, as if he knew her dearest secrets. As if he knew her. “I’ve a gift for you, if you want it.”

She gave him a very strong side eye. Arms crossed over her chest, she leaned back further in her chair, enough to (while knowing the wall was behind her) stretch her hands above her and brace them behind her neck in a dangerously careless position that she was sure would tip anyone else’s chair over entirely. “If it’s free, I’ll take it,” she lied. 

“I knew you’d say that,” it was almost a mumble, but he offered her a package nonetheless. “Happy Starlight. I know you aren’t keen on asking for things you want, and you may even have been a bit mean spirited when you said it, but-” He paused, seeming to want her to open up the package. She did not. “..well. I hope you like it, at least. And there is a receipt of sale, should you wish to return it.” 

“Generous of you,” she answered lazily, and though he shrugged at her, he still smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring her former position.

“Well,” he admitted, “I did hear that, with all this prestige, if I cannot afford to be at least this generous it would make me quite the laughingstock.” 

Without wanting to, her lip twitched. It felt like a smile. “Well, blow me over. I guess I’ll accept it then.” And she meant it. Genuinely. 

When he left, there was only a beat or so before his sister came; in her hands was a rather big, vase shaped thing with a big bottom and smaller top (not unlike her own physical frame), that made a heavy, gentle slosh sound- which made her wonder what was in the damn thing. 

“Here,” she said to Emilia, though all she got in response was the doctor’s flickering gaze from her to the gift and back, somewhat in disbelief.

“What is that.” She didn’t ask it like a question, and couldn’t bring herself to sit up at first- but her curiosity got the better of her and she slipped her boots off the table to lean close. 

“Maybe you should open it up…?” It sounded like a hint, but the impatient edge made Emilia grin a little. 

“And if I don’t?” A challenge. Alisaie was easy to challenge, given she never backed down from one, and easy to goad when times got rough. It was her favorite thing about the younger twin- other than her taste for red in her clothing, which Emilia agreed with on principle. 

“Well, then…!” She warned, eyes flashing a bit…but then she closed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Look, you can open it or not if you want, but you’ll miss out on something amazing to enjoy when we go caroling later on tonight.”

“Oh, so it’s a drink,” she murmured, using a delicately gloved finger to pull on the wrapping paper. “What, you made me some koo-” She thought better of it. “...some lemonade from your stand?” Easily the best way to guarantee her intent. 

“Just open it!” 

She did. When fully unwrapped, the bottle glistened with the most beautiful brown, the spirits within shivering just slightly with every touch. With two hands she gingerly handled the container, careful not to release its slim neck from her grip. Rum. Finely aged and beautifully packaged. It must have cost a fortune. “...where did you get this?”

“You said you liked to drink,” Alisaie admitted, “and though I know it’s a bad habit, I just thought…well, it’s not wrong if it makes you a bit happy now and again, is it?” 

Emilia’s lips parted. Her lipstick started crackle against drying skin. 

“Now, you have to promise me that you won’t drink too much tonight instead of hanging out with us, or else I’ll…!” She threw her hands up. “I’ll smash the bottle! I’ll drain every last drop and you’ll see none of it.” Arms crossed over her chest and mouth pulling into a tight sort of pout, she turned her gaze to the side. “Whatever. It’s not my fault Alphinaud picked a coat for his gift. I know mine isn’t as good.”

Something tickled at her eye. It didn’t matter. “What?”

“He already gave you his, didn’t he? He tried to make me feel better about it, but I wanted to get you the coat, since it was all you asked for,” she was so absorbed in her conflicts with her brother that she didn’t realize she’d spoiled the surprise. The gift in question was clearly still at Emilia’s side. 

Suddenly driven by a need to know, she grasped the package and ripped it open. Fuck. He really had gotten her a coat. A really nice coat. A really nice red coat, clearly made to be used as armor in environments where cold was king, where her breath caught on mountain peaks and she was too stubborn to do more than sit out there all night long, to be safe with herself and her tears away from prying eyes. 

These stupid kids.

“They’d go good together if they weren’t so-” She broke off suddenly, noticing for the first time that Emilia’s face had begun to flush around her cheeks and eyes. “...are you alright? You look a little-”

She bolted out of the door with her arm over her face and didn’t stop until she was higher than anyone could see her. 

****

Of course they were kind. They're young. Adults, maybe, by this world's standards, but Emilia knows better than most the difference between eighteen and twenty-four. Between an overgrown child wallowing in debt and a fledgling doctor who'd pulled an entire 12 on her feet. Somehow, the twins were both at once. 

The wind whipped at her cheeks again. At least in this cold, it wasn't only her eyes that would sting red, or her nose. She could explain it away this way, crouched down in the snow-covered dirt like a gargoyle standing watch for the holy cathedral.

“Run out of children to frighten?”

Her lip twitched at first with some sort of disdain, though for once, she hadn't meant to. When her head turned to see him, he was more or less the same as she remembered; tall, brooding and unbearably pointy. A more or less match for her ire. An easy target.

“‘fraid not. Got kicked outta my hotel.” The cracking of chapped lips curled to one side. She’d have to find a place with better stuff for them later, since that cheap shit was not cutting it. “Why? Ain't you got better things to do than harass ladies, Mr. Dragoon?”

To this, he was silent. The Azure Dragoon only crossed his arms, a heat stewing beneath his helmet. “Unfortunately for you, this is work for me.”

“...damn. Even you gotta work on Christmas,” she murmured, which made his head turn a bit, though she realized she shouldn't have said it. “...it's a holiday, ain't it? What you out here for?”

“You, apparently.”

The words snapped her teeth against each other. It was good that it was cold. Better to be mistaken for the chatter of shivering than something else. When she regained her bearings, she drawled, “...what for?”

“There’s a storm picking up near here,” he admitted with some carelessness, “and some of the children thought to venture out further than they ought.”

Hmph. “You callin’ me a kid?”

“I didn't call you anything,” he answered roughly, “though you speak it well enough on your own.” A single armored hand extended, its sharp fingers not unlike a dragon itself. “Well? What are you waiting for. Run along.”

She kissed her teeth. She had half a mind to argue with him- tease him, goad him, annoy him enough to give her a good fight- but he was right. It was getting colder, and the flurries of snow were starting to get stuck in her eyes (which she rolled enough for him to see, even amidst the furious white). 

Emilia stood, boots crunching in the thick snow as she shifted her weight to one foot and then the other before shoving her hands into her pockets, shoulders slightly hunching in dismay. “Of course, officer,” she said, her voice clear as a songbirds’. “I was gettin’ bored of this spot anyway.”

Then she smiled. A too-sweet smile that made him scowl. Ironically, it amused her enough to give him a real one for free. When she teleported off, Estinien was still standing there, a statue clad in black in an otherwise endless white. When a few moments passed and he was sure it was clear, he headed back into town, the whisper of the wind kissing the back of his neck, its forgotten song stinging near cracks in his armor.

“If only in my-”

The coat was still sitting on the table when she returned, along with the bottle. Alisaie didn’t smash it yet, huh? A stray thought. She snagged the bottle and opened it up to give it a sniff. 

***

The Scions were all gone. Maybe they'd gone caroling without her. Good, was her first thought, though it soured after a moment or so. That wasn't fair or kind. Not that she was given to doing more than one at a time.

Eggnog.

Boots thump, thump, thumping across the floor. The cabinets to the bar burst open as she searched for some necessary ingredients- though most were below her, in what seemed to be a kind of fridge. 

It was good to ride out compulsions like these when they came. Maybe something good would come out it- like the sudden urge to clean a long-dirty room or do one’s taxes just before the deadline. 

Big bowl. Punch jar? Bowl. Regular bowl. “Who gives a fuck?” She said out loud, thrown up beside her head, a careless gesture to pair with her swears. Eggs, milk- shit, they had so many kinds of milk- sugar, heavy whipping cream, (? was that too different than milk?) vanilla (probably), cinnamon (maybe?), salt (oh hell yeah, salt. ‘To balance the flavor’ or something). By the time she was done mixing what seemed like it should be eggnog for at least fifty people, the doors opened faster than she imagined they would. In an effort to cheapen her actions quickly, she grasped the finishing touch: the bottle of fancy rum.

She took a deep breath. She could drink this on her own. She could treat it as a friend for hours, maybe weeks if she stretched it out, if she was good with it, it get her through this godforsaken season, through the empty and spiraling cold while everyone else sang carols and stayed warm to the touch-

-chewing her lip. A little sigh. Time was running out, and she didn’t want to be seen doing it, so. It’s Christmas, ain’t it? She unscrewed the cap and dumped it all in- at least, more than half of it, to compensate for both the sweetness of the eggnog she had yet to taste, and the amount of servings. Clumsily- and quickly, of course- she grabbed the bottle and set it off to the side, hands on top of the bar. When the doors opened, the Scions- both inner circle and outer- filled in, with Alphinaud and Minfilia at the front. 

“Oh! There you are! We were out looking everywhere for you! Alisaie said you had quite a fright-” The blue twin broke off when she glared down at him, silencing any efforts to overdramatize her flight. He cleared his throat instead. “Anyway, what is this?”

Minfilia in particular peered over the bowl. “Mm…it smells quite nice. Is it alright to drink?”

“Is it safe to drink, you mean,” began Alphinaud, though Alisaie elbowed him in the side. The rebuke seemed to come from either side, Emilia, Alisaie, and Minfilia all, so he just shrugged and opted to stop himself before he got skewered by them all. 

“Well, Emilia clearly made it for us,” she wanted to protest Minfilia’s assumption, but found she could not, “so why don’t we give it a try?” 

She shrugged in response. Though she hadn’t thought far enough to get cups, she found them fast enough to make herself one. “...it’s spiked. Don’t drink too much.” Then she poured some of her own. Apprehensive because of the smell (eggs tended to do that to her, on occasion), she took a sip, only to be startled by the pungent taste that was very unlike alcohol. Maybe she shouldn’t have put in that many different kinds of milk?

“...this is…interesting.” Minfilia nodded, though her expression was clearly concealing a rather different emotion. “It tastes very…unique. Yes. Unique.”

The twins got their own cups (though Emilia thought to keep an eye on them, given their ages; legal or not, they were comparatively young) and Alisaie wrinkled her nose delicately at first, before retching back into her cup. “Ew! What is this?” It burst out from her with a bubble of laughter. “It tastes like…like spoiled milk? With rum in it.”

“Let me try,” Thancred pushed forward, and before they knew it, everyone was grabbing a cup of the eggnog, though Emilia herself leaned back and cupped her hand under the elbow holding her own glass, sipping slowly as she closed her eyes.

“This is awful,” her brother agreed, though he was laughing too. “What is this made out of? It’s not…spoiled, but it tastes like-” His eyes searched the ceiling before they closed, fist to his chin as he lowered his head in thought. “Like flavors fighting for dominance?”

“We shouldn’t judge it too harshly,” said one voice, obviously noticing her off to the side. “I mean it’s- I mean the rum is good!” 

A ripple of laughter washed over the small crowd. Not wanting to upset her (though there was no way she could be) they kept the banter light after that.

The nearly empty bottle caught her eye. She turned away and pointed her gaze at Alisaie. “You still goin’ out?”

The red twin stood up straight. “Wh-I mean you-”

Her brother slid in beside her. “Of course we are. It’ll be cold, though, so you could bring some of this if you were willing to join us…?”

Of course she would. She was young, after all. “Nothin’ better to do.” She swirled her swill around in her cup. A waste of expensive rum. She smiled to herself, enjoying what felt like a smart little secret. ‘Sides, I should take that coat out and see if I need to take it back.” 

This seemed encouraging to him, somehow. “Mayhaps with a little more drink, you’ll even sing some carols…?”

“Shut up, kid.” Was her answer, though more than one Scion noted that it was not a “no”.

#merry christmas! #this is a long one I'm afraid #but i enjoyed writing it #emilia #emilia chen #ffxiv #fic

[ohnoitsthebat]

Almost finished with this Zacchio fic. I'm going to attempt to beta it myself, then I'm tossing it into the void and letting the cards fall where they may.

#i've never written one before so idk if people will like it or not #but i enjoyed writing it #and it was written for me and my girlfriend anyway soooooooo #zacchio #ralph macchio #william zabka #my writing

[sometimes-iwritestuff]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor Characters: Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El, Lionel Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Lex Luthor, Alex Danvers, Eliza Danvers, Jeremiah Danvers, Otis Graves, Jack Spheer, Kenny Li, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Slow Burn, Swords & Sorcery, swords and pretty girls, Action, Magic, Princess Lena Luthor, Knight Kara Danvers, Good Parent Lillian Luthor, Good Parent Lionel Luthor, Good Sibling Lex Luthor, Lena's a little shit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

Do you like Avatar? This isn't Avatar. Like Merlin? Not that either. Supergirl? Couldn't be further from the show.

However, it could be classed as a combination of all three.

When their kingdom is attacked, the Luthors find an orphaned child in the wreckage. Lena and Kara grow up to be best friends but, in a world torn apart by war eventually, they have to be separated in order to fulfill a prophecy outlined centuries ago.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #medieval shit #could be fun #idk #but i enjoyed writing it #sometimes i write stuff

[roanawayspoons]

One day, when we weren’t quite sure we were living in exciting times yet, Vanis was pulled from their needle work by a knock at the door.

It took a moment for their vision to right itself, as they had been hunched close over their needle work for quite some time, before their eyes focused on the door. Then a few more moments for the reality of the knocks to sink in, their mind eager to go back to the cloak they had been working on for Helene, before they stood and moved to the door.

Peeking through the peephole in the door, Vanis initially saw no one on the other side. Blinking, they forced their attention to the present, and away from their plans for the cloak.

They could hear, faintly, breathing on the other side of the door, confirming their suspicion that someone was there.

There! Their brain crowed , triumphant in the proof their instincts proved correct, when the person shifted and their invisibility faltered for just a moment, the things seen through them not quite lining up with reality.

Vanis worried at their thumb for a moment, considering, before curiosity got the best of them and they stepped back to open the door. All of this having stretched across the vast expanse of a few lingering seconds.

The-figure-who-wasn’t-there was not quite as steathly as they seemed to think they were when they snuck into Vanis’ home while they made a show of looking for the person who had knocked. They had felt distinctly the brush of a cloak against them and heard the briefest intake of breath as they snuck past them.

Playing at mild confusion, Vanis shrugged before closing the door and moving to the kitchen that was tucked into the corner of their small home.

They could hear soft footsteps moving around the room, the brush of hands over objects and knickknacks on the table near the window, while they made themself busy filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to heat.

While the heat slowly excited the water in the kettle, Vanis turned to lean against the counter and look out into the room. To a stranger, they seemed lost in thought, but those who had known then a while would’ve said their was a distinctly predatory weight to the stillness of them.

Their eyes tracking the-figure-who-wasn’t-there as they made their way through Vanis’ small two room apartment, the second room much smaller and dedicated to cleaning oneself. The-figure-who-wasn’t-there had made their way from the table by the window to the bookcase, a dangerous place to be nosy.

Vanis’ younger cousin Talib had been poking around their bookcase one evening, uninvited, and pulled the wrong book out. They had found her sprawled on the floor groaning when they rushed back from the bathroom. It had been an amusing story to tell her friends at a her party that year.

Unlike young Talib, the-figure-who-wasn’t-there could see the precariousness of the books, and avoided touching them. Vanis was surprised by the approval that hummed through them, despite the invasion of privacy.

The shriek of the kettle pulled Vanis from their quiet contemplation of the intruder, though the way the invisible shape had wavered for a moment at the sound pulled a small grin to their lips.

Busy taking out two cups, and making themself hot cocoa in one, Vanis missed the-figure-who-wasn’t-there’s reaction when to them asking, “Coffee, tea of cocoa?”

They did not miss, however, the sudden stillness in the air, and glanced over their shoulder to see the invisibility just settling after the-figure-who-wasn’t-there had whipped around towards them.

Vanis hummed thoughtfully, “You strike me as a coffee sort of person,” as they moved around the kitchen, looking for the bag of instant coffee they kept around for guests. Several guesses later, they found it in a cupboard above the fridge, “Aha! There it is, though I’m not sure about it’s quality.”

The-figure-who-wasn’t-there seemed to still be froze by the bookcase as they brought a tray over to the coffee table, and settled in their chair once more.

“You’ll have to make it yourself I’m afraid, I never took a liking to the taste and so never learned to make it.” Vanis explained, comfortable with the silence even as their eyes were steady on the-figure-who-wasn’t-there.

A pained noise was made, as slowly a hood was pushed back and broke the invisibility of the enchanted cloak. Not the best spellwork they had seen, but certainly not the worst either. “How did you know I was there?” The-figure-who-now-was-there asked, frustration clear in their tone, and posture as they sat down on the couch. They kept a good distance from Vanis, seeming aware now that they had underestimated them.

#daily drabbles #my writing #writblr #fantasy #not sure where exactly this is going #but i enjoyed writing it

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

#i often wonder about how many things would be considered classic or high art had they only received the marketing #how many short films that were made for class could have been the most powerful thing you'd ever seen? if you'd seen them? #“you know the greatest films of all time were never made” etc etc #but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though #i think about this one furry i used to follow on insta who had the coolest worldbuilding ever. it's been years. #thought prompted by that sketch of nimona from ten years ago that was just for a character design #posted to the creator's tumblr and now it's nominated for best animated feature film at the oscars #and by the genuine emotional reaction a fan comic made me feel. how much work had gone into it. how beautiful it was to me. #idk what to tag this but i hope whoever needs to hear it does #writing #writer #fandom #fandom culture #artist

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

#writing this my brain was like: what if he actually likes it? #what if he likes people openly criticizing him in ways nobody actually does to Adrien agreste? #because Adrien Agreste is perfect and can do no wrong. maybe he enjoys being insulted or something #and then I remembered chat noirs multiple breakdowns about feeling unworthy and yknow what yeah I don’t think he likes it LOL #do normal people actually fall asleep when they lie down #if you can’t tell I recently decided to make my random ml musings your guys’ business instead of keeping it to myself #hope you enjoy

[crazywolf828]

To all my writers who have a tough time with smut terms and not knowing which ones to use, I have found the holy grail for us.

This reddit user, who I've recently found out is @kjscottwrites here on tumblr, took a poll of 3,500 people and went really in depth with asking their favorite terminology, along with actual pie charts on what the readers preferred to see in their smut.

Check out their post with the link to the Google doc here!

#hope yall enjoy😌 #share to save a life because god smut is so hard to write😭 #fics #fan fiction #fanfiction #writing #writing tips #smut #write #don't mind me #i dunno what else to tag this as

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

#I have 1 person like that with my jn and 1 person like that with my joshaz and their aggressive acclaim means I’m writing more 😂 #I mean there’s a few more of y’all too and I have said before I enjoy niche but big passion #I’d rather share in those with the handful of genuine enjoyers of Very Specific ships and dynamics #it’s what makes fandom so memorable and fun for me #anyway #rebloggable

[dotcie]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis 🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before 🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character 🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? 🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate 🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? 🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing 🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here ☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them 🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

#hi hello i made an ask game for writers #hope someone out there enjoys it!! #:') #you can ask me too <3 #ask game #writers on tumblr #writers ask game #writer ask game #author ask game #fandom ask game #writing ask game #game #emoji ask #ask me anything #tumblr game

[sant-riley]

[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]

(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))

Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.

Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3

Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)

Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!

Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.

Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.

Price:

Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.

John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.

John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.

John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.

A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.

If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.

He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.

The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.

The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"

Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)

He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.

Ghost:

Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.

Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.

Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.

However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.

Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).

He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."

Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.

He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.

On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.

Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans

This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.

Soap:

Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.

Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)

Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.

Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).

I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-

Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.

You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.

Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.

He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.

Gaz:

Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.

His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.

The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"

When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.

I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.

He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.

He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.

Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.

He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.

#im so tired oh my god #i hope yall enjoy kissing yall on the forehead #ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #kayla writes <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price #gender neutral reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #call of duty headcanons

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

#oi oi don’t steal my tags i see u 🫵 #svsss #mdzs #moshang #hualian #bingqiu #sqq u spoilt brat #binghe is def the best cook out of the three gongs i’m not saying this lightly #we know lwj can cook from the extras and i can only assume hc can cook bc the only thing he CANT do is write BUT: #xl enjoys cooking so ofc hc is gonna let him express himself culinarily #and wwx is a spice fanatic weirdo who wants to go live his m!lf dreams into the sunset #lwj will not get in the way of that #sqq however is perfectly content having bingmei cook his meals forever and never stepping into a kitchen #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #mo dao zu shi #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #wangxian #mine #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #wei wuxian #lan wangji #xie lian #hua cheng #shang qinghua #mobei jun

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

#this is very silly #i just wanted to get it out of my drafts #i’ve had this thought for a while but #i decided i didn’t want to write a whole drabble so now you get this #kento being inexperienced at dating & not enjoying it is very special to me #and so is him having a cat tehe #selfship coded i suppose bc reader is me but it’s not that obvious i hope #beloved kento 💋 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #nanami x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #jjk x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami x gender neutral reader