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#don’t be neutral
minimallyminnie · 3 months
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Have a friend who’s neutral and said when I showed her a picture of dead children in Gaza
“Ew, I did not want to see that.”
No shit. But this is the real world and I told her that Israel is bombing Palestine and she still said she’s neutral. She said that Palestine did things too.
Did the kids do anything?
Did they?
Did the families do something that justified getting bombed? Murdered in cold blood?
EDIT 3/10: She is not my friend anymore in my eyes. I don’t talk to her at all unless she asks me a question but otherwise no.
EDIT 3/12: yes I understand I should not show her images of dead children in case it’s triggering. My apologies. I was being irrational and angry.
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romijuli · 1 year
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It’s not that I don’t LIKE the Fandom Popular Pairings, it’s that I find the assumption that everyone ships them and the general all-consuming nature of said pairings to be kinda exhausting,
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icaruspendragon · 2 months
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something the women in my family are absolutely flabbergasted by every time it comes up is the fact that i don’t own a scale.
“how do you know how much you weigh??” they cry.
“i don’t.” i simply respond.
“you look thinner, have you lost weight?” they ask at christmas.
“i dunno.” i say as i check on the turkey.
“you look bigger, have you gained weight?” they probe, as if my weight rests on their shoulders.
“i’m not sure, but it’s fine if i have.” i respond with a casualness they cannot comprehend.
“don’t you want to know if you’ve lost or gained?” they inquire over cups of coffee and a plate of untouched cookies.
“i do.” i take a sip. “which is why i don’t need to know.”
“we don’t understand.” they say.
“i’ll drive myself mad if i know. it’s been a question i’ve been looking for the answer to since i was in the seventh grade and my weight was the topic of conversation for the first time; the stretch marks on my calves puberty brought being questioned and condemned. and so i started weighing myself once a day. then twice a day. i gained weight as i grew and was told to stop. i got depressed when i was 16 and the weight i gained was more concerning than the scars on my thighs. the critiques turned to compliments during my first year of college when i’d started skipping meals and my body had to feed itself because i wouldn’t. everyday i stepped on the scale and smiled as i watched that number get smaller and smaller. hunger felt like victory. i started doing drugs that took away my appetite and then my strength. and started feeling guilt when my stomach felt full. and suddenly every time i looked in the mirror i hated what i saw. the more weight i lost, the better i was supposed to feel. each remark on another part of my body lost felt like a slap to the face. i was told i looked good but i knew i wasn’t good enough. and so i tried harder. and then i started to get dizzy when i stood. and i ignored it like i’d learned to ignore my hunger. and then one day at work i dropped like the weight that was never enough after i bending at the waist to grab a milk cap from the floor. and when the darkness faded, i was surrounded by panic as an ambulance was called. and then i was tested and prodded and poked because they thought something was wrong with my heart. and the problem persisted but they never found out why. but i’d known all along. and then i left home and its scale behind. and moved into a new home that was mine. so i bought plates and sheets and art for the walls. but i didn’t buy a scale. then every time i walked down an aisle i’d see the them and pause. and i’d think about the hunger i now kept at bay. and even though i didn’t know how much i weighed, i didn’t notice my body had changed. and i’d think about how i hadn’t been dizzy for months. and how i hadn’t fainted for longer. and then i’d keep on walking. and now most days i like how i look.”
“but don’t you want to be skinny?” comes their quiet response.
“i want to be myself in whatever body i have.”
they stare in disbelief. so i shrug my shoulders, and grab a cookie. and i smile at them as i swallow the first bite.
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venacoeurva · 4 months
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You know when you’re falling asleep and a random image or meme blips into your vision? Yeah
-Please do not reupload/edit/use without proper credit and linking back. Ask first.-
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aardvaark · 5 days
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the long way down job is such an important turning point in eliot & parker’s relationship bc they’d both been viewing the things they have in common as fairly negative: they’ve both been told that they’re cold and ruthless and dangerous and they know those things are true. so when they’ve recognised themselves in each other, it’s been a sense of "the thing that’s wrong with me is a lot like the thing that’s wrong with you". and there’s comfort in that, in a way. but now eliot gets parker to see that maybe those aren’t all negative traits, they’re just… traits. neutral. it doesn’t make them bad or good, it makes them who they are. and now when they see themselves reflected in each other, it’s not a reminder that they’re wrong and bad - it’s kinship, it’s familiarity, it’s belonging.
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hungharrington · 9 months
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personally i struggle with emotional vulnerability so im not really an “I love you” person? the words get stuck and feel unnatural
BUT READER GIVINF STEVE A HANDJOB N THE FEELING STRIKES HER. she just rests her chin on his shoulder and does a cheesy movie-esque love stare up at him, all you know how much i love you right? love you sooo much stevie. you’re perfect and make me feel so safe, so loved, love you so much for all of that. love you love you love you love you whispered in time with the movement of her hand. leaving little sucky pecks on the chubs of his cheeks. acting as if nothings new when it’s all done, idk if he’d point blank ask or imply but just a “:] hmm? oh, i dunno what you mean stevie :]”
BABEY this was such a 10/10 request like…. the way i sent this to at least 3 different moots when i got it…. ur brain…. so have some subby!steve & as always it’s so in love MDNI this entire blog is 18+, i know the request is for a fem!reader but i’ve kept it gn!reader, 1.1k words, enjoy! <3
You don’t think there’s a prettier sight than how Steve looks when you have your fingers wrapped around his cock.
Cheeks bright flushed pink, eyes screwed up, his chest rising and falling quickly, the muscles beneath his tummy clenching and rippling as you move your hand up and down as fast as you please. 
He’s making those sweet noises you just adore so much — little low moans, each breath laced with a keen that you know will turn into a whimper when he gets closer to the edge. All of his noises go straight between your thighs but right now isn’t about you. It’s about Steve.
The couch cushions press into your legs as you shift, rearranging to be closer to him. You hook your chin over his shoulder, you spare hand creeping up his back, slow and soothingly. The wet sounds of his dripping cock sound fucking heavenly, doused in his soft quiet moans, as you curl your fingers into his hair. Raking them through, your thighs press tighter together when Steve lets out a particularly loud moan. 
“Mm, feeling good, Stevie?” You talk lowly, so close you know he can hear you. You press a kiss into his shoulder, nuzzling your nose along down to his collarbone, your hand fucking his cock a little bit faster. Steve keens, fighting to keep his hips still, trying to be good. His hands clench into fists at his sides. 
He’d had such a day and you had offered to take care of him and Steve just wants to be good for you. 
He nods quickly to answer your question, creasing his eyes open to meet yours and you feel his cock twitch at the sight of your adoring gaze on him— chin on his shoulder, hand gliding his cock so perfectly, dropping another kiss on the exposed skin of his shoulder. 
“Yes, fuck, yes— your hand is always so good, baby.” Steve pants lightly, eyes still fixed on you. They drop to your lips and you don’t deny him, pushing up and leaning in to kiss him. He’s messy with it, not quite the usual practice he has and when you thumb over his slit, Steve groans into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, a high whine escaping his mouth, hips jumping up to meet your hand. 
His forehead drops, leaning against yours and you lean in again, your next kiss on his cheek. 
“Good, y’so good baby. You know how I love you, right?” You murmur, nearly cooing, right as you scrape your fingers through his hair again. Steve shudders beneath you, his eyes cinched shut but a whimper still slips from his throat, loud and high. You speed up your hand, the squelching of it getting louder and louder. 
“Shit,” Steve curses, peeking his eyes open. “Y’can’t say tha- that right now or— ah— I’m gonna cum in a minute.” 
“Love you soooo much, Stevie,” you continue like you haven’t heard him, twisting your hand in that torturous way while your other hand strokes down the nape of his neck, your touch soft with love. Steve gasps loudly, his hips bucking again and all his moans melt into soft whimpers. You kiss his cheek again, nuzzling your nose against his as your adoring words pour out. 
“You’re perfect f’me, you know?” You whisper, your thumb teasing his tip again. Steve whines, his chest heaving with his whimpering heavy breaths. You can see his hands flexing, forming and reforming fists over and over. “You make me feel so safe, so loved, Stevie, love you so much for that.” 
“Fuck,” Steve breathes. He sounds so wrecked for you, voice all raspy from his moans. “Fuck, honey- you can’t just— nghm—“ 
“Love you,” you whisper lovingly, your hand twisting into his hair again and tugging lightly. You speed up your hand tugging his heavy cock, heat bubbling in your tummy at how it leaks all over your hand, the head of it flushed bright pink. You kiss his cheek again sloppily. 
“Love you, love you, love you so much,” You say, drinking in his fucked out expression— brown eyes hidden away, pink lips parted in a whine, his blush standing out against his tan skin. Steve trembles against you, breathing jagged. 
“You can’t—“ He whines softly. “I’m gonna— oh fuck, baby—“
“You can.” You hush him sweetly, another kiss to his shoulder. “C’mon, you can, Stevie. Wanna see you cum f’me, baby, wanna see you cum while I tell you how much I love you, yeah?” 
Steve heaves a deep stuttering breath, his hands finally moving from his sides to grip at your shirt— his fingers twist in and he tugs you impossibly closer. His face turns to hide in your neck as his whimpers start to catch, hips bucking up uncontrollably into your fist. Sweet whiney noises pour into your skin as his orgasm builds up and up — you sweep your hand along the back of his neck again and say it again, a low loving whisper of “I love you,” and Steve breaks. 
His whine is so noisy as the first stream of cum dribbles from his cock and when you don’t slow your pace, you feel his lips part and his teeth sink into your shoulder lightly. He whimpers pathetically, his top half turned to cling to you while you work all his hot cum from his cock, painting your hand and his thighs with it. 
“Mm, so good, love you Stevie, love how well you did for me,” Your murmurs tide Steve over until his soft whines of pleasure turn to whimpers of overstimulation and you finally release his cock. Your hand moves to thigh instead, giving a soft rub as you try to coax his face out. 
“That was big, huh? You came a lot.” Your gaze wanders to his cum-streaked thighs and you can’t help the tiny giggle that titters out of you — it’s enough to get Steve to lift his face. He’s so pink still that it makes you want to coo at him. He looks only a smidge embarrassed, more blissed out than anything. 
“I told you,” He huffs breathlessly, a lazy smile on his face as his head lolls back to rest against the couch. “You can’t say that and expect me not to…” 
He gestures wordlessly to his crotch and you laugh a little, snuggling back up to him. You kiss his neck, nosing up to kiss his jaw and Steve waits patiently, humming happily when you reach his lips. 
You pull back with a teasing smile, “I know but I don’t expect it to keep working every time.” 
Steve waves a hand, eyes slipping closed as his lazy grin spreads. “Mmhmm, liar. You know what it does to me.” 
His words are lovingly, like he loves that you know what he loves. You kiss his cheek once more. 
“Yeah, I do,” you admit gleefully. “And I love it nearly as much as I love you.” 
Steve’s dick gives a soft twitch against his thighs and he groans, face screwing up for a second. “Don’t,” he warns. He opens his eyes to glare at you but there’s no heat. You grin and kiss him again. 
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mumblesplash · 3 months
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i always imagine scar as having scar tissue on the side of his face that pulls the edge of his mouth up slightly. not enough to look strained or uncanny, not enough to even realize that's what's happening unless you've spent a lot of time around him, but just enough so that it looks like he's constantly, always smirking a little bit
oh man so see this is Interesting, bc you honestly don’t need the scar tissue to even pull much to get this effect, just giving him a lip scar in the right place would make it look like he’s always slightly smiling
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^tried to show what i mean here, literally nothing else about his expression is different between the two images, just that one tiny mouth scar
(imo a bigger scar there would actually affect his expression LESS than this, because eventually your brain goes ‘oh that’s not part of his mouth that’s something else’ and doesn’t register it as much)
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luyo-mi · 4 months
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Them
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zer0pm · 1 year
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Imagine Luis using the communicator to call you. Constantly.
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“Luis? What’s your status?”
“No bueno, my friend. I’m in a lot of pain.”
Your head immediately snaps up at attention to these words. Leon, who answered the call as the device was on his person, shares your look of alarm and nods in understanding to prepare to come to the Spaniard’s aid.
“Where are you?” Leon inquires, maneuvering the communicator between you two so that you can listen in as well. “How serious are your injuries?”
The man on the other line groans, “I’d say pretty serious. Severe, even.”
Filled with worry, you were about to join the line of questioning until his voice cuts you off before you could utter a sound.
“After all… how does one recover from a lonely heart?”
Leon squints, “…What?”
“I am separated from my light- mi luz! Forced to wander these terrifying, dark corridors alone without any source of warmth and comfort!” In the tiny screen, you can see the man waving his arms around with an exaggerated pout on his face. He looked like he was rehearsing a scene of a play or something. Luis notices your face on his end and smiles widely before releasing an over-the-top gasp and calling you by name. “¿Dónde estás, mi luz? I am suffering without you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to choke down the laugh that was threatening to erupt from your chest. Before reuniting with Leon S. Kennedy, your partner in the mission to retrieve Ashley Graham, you were running around the village with Luis Serra, a man you happened to come across while fighting hordes of infected villagers. Initially, you were suspicious of him, but he proved himself to be a man of good character, chivalrously watching your back and using his intimate knowledge of the area and the terrors that creep within to navigate you both through multiple dangerous encounters.
You and he became close quickly, forging a strong bond during your time together, made easy with the man’s charisma and light-hearted nature. Even in the constant face of danger, Luis would twist the dark ambiance to his playful tune, often making you the muse of his antics if not for the sole purpose to tease a smile upon your face. So what he was doing now was not at all surprising, but the confused and incredulous look upon Leon’s face was priceless.
Just as you were going to point out that it hasn’t at all been that long since you two have separated ways so that you can help Leon relocate Ashley, the blond agent beside you drops the call with a push of a button. He then throws an inquisitive glare your way.
“What?” you ask.
“Do I dare even ask what the hell that was?” Leon shoots back.
You ponder his question for a moment before answering, “Honestly, it’d save you the headache if you didn’t.”
With that, Leon drops the conversation with a sigh before taking the lead to move on. Little did you both know, it wouldn’t be the last time Luis would call.
The second time he calls, he asks how you and Leon were progressing. And just like the first time, Leon answers, reporting that you were busy cracking at a difficult door puzzle while he kept watch.
“Whoever designed this castle was a real asshole,” the agent comments.
“Agreed,” you sigh. “And whoever took the time to reset these puzzles is an even bigger asshole.”
Luis’ voice chimes in through the static. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I am a brilliant man, afterall. Let me have a look, por favor.”
Thinking nothing of it, Leon walks over and faces the screen of the comm to you and the door so that Luis can see what you are working on from behind before you reset the puzzle. You then explain how you got stuck and your theories on what the possible solutions could be. While doing so, Luis hums after each pause, his face showing that of absolute concentration. After you finished and a moment of considerable silence passes, you engage him.
“Well?” you ask. “Any thoughts?”
Luis lifts his hand from his stubbled chin, “Just one.” He points at you, his voice lowers to a husky growl.
“You look particularly ravishing from this angle.”
You were grateful that Leon hung up before Luis can see the blush burning hot on your cheeks. After some time, you managed to solve the puzzle and proceed with the mission although Leon was none too happy with the Spanish man for wasting both of your times.
The third time the communication device goes off, you offer to take it from Leon.
“It’s probably him again. Why don’t I handle this one?”
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I still don’t trust him and you don’t need the distraction.”
Instead of being offended at your partner practically casting your professionalism into doubt, you reason with him. “C’mon, Leon. It could be serious this time.”
“Highly doubt it.”
However, more time passes and the device is still beeping. The sound echoes off the walls in taunting pings to the gnawing point where it was practically imprinted into your brains. When Leon couldn’t handle it anymore, he sighs in defeat and pushes the button. Again, he doesn’t hand it to you and greets the dark-haired man himself with an irritated frown.
“This better be good.”
“Depends on your definition of “good”, mi compadre.” Luis too wore a grimace, his voice void of his usual humor. “I’ve relocated one of my hidden caches and uncovered the suppressants you will both need to slow the growth of the plaga within your bodies.”
“Well, damn. That sounds like great news to me.” A wave of relief washes over Leon’s face, probably because Luis finally shared something worthwhile. “So what’s the catch, then?”
“Catch is- there are two different kinds of doses. One dose is a simple needle injection. That will be for you, Leon. Pero, the other…” he trails off, eyes casted with a faraway look while the adam’s apple in his throat bobs. Whatever was on his mind seems difficult to swallow let alone speak aloud.
Curiosity evident in Leon’s expression, he prods him further. “What is it, Luis? Is the other dose dangerous to administer?”
“It can be. The application process has a high probability of being rather intensive. For both the receiver and the administrator.”
You join in, “What do you mean?”
It was only until the words left your mouth did you realize what you just waltzed into.
Upon hearing your words, Luis’ expression changes like day and night, the somber frown flipping into a mischievous smirk. “It is nothing you can’t handle, mi amor. I’m certain. Only that it requires you and I to exchange bodily fluids in-“
Never before have you seen Leon hang up so fast, his hand covering his beet red face. You couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment, disgust, or fury for falling for the Spaniard’s antics once again and concluded that it was all at once.
“Let’s… ugh… Let’s just keep going.”
You didn’t put up a fight at the order, fighting off your own set of emotions that stirred from Luis’ shameless teasing. However, not even five steps were taken and the walkie talkie beeps. Leon was livid.
“For fuck’s sake, what now?!”
“Catch you at a bad time, Leon?” A deadpan feminine voice comes through the comms and you swear Leon turned several shades paler.
Leon’s “informant” tipped you off on Ashley’s last sighting and you two wasted no time moving to catch up to her. After fighting another wave of plaga, tensions were running high. So when you two were rushing to navigate around the courtyard, the communicator goes off once more and that became the last straw for Leon. Already fuming, he waited to see the Spaniard’s face on the device before verbally popping off.
“Luis, I swear to god. If the reason you’re calling is to talk about how miserable and lonely you are or make some dumb comment on a certain someone’s assets, I am going to literally throw this walkie talkie off the ramparts,” Leon snarled, his frustration unrestrained. “So I dare you, Luis, I fucking dare you to speak. And it better be god damn important!”
For a moment there was only white noise, then a familiar thick accent finally comes through.
“… I was going to say that I can see you two across the courtyard,” the man reports candidly, “and there’s a swarm of monsters coming in at your three o’clock.”
Sure enough, a horde of giant mutated insects were zooming towards you and Leon. Amidst the countless gunshots and death cries of your enemies, you can hear your fellow agent beside you cursing colorfully to the high heavens as well as the sound of hysterical laughter further in the distance.
When it was all over, the communicator was beeping again. Leon didn’t even bother answering. Instead, he tosses the device over to you without so much as a word or making eye contact. The brief exchange almost made you laugh as you press the button and are greeted by a familiar handsome face whose grey eyes lit up instantly at the sight of you.
“I think you broke the poor man,” you say with an amused, pointed look.
The expression you see in the tiny screen was that of feigned innocent confusion. “¿Perdon? Whatever do you mean? I thought I did my due diligence in warning you two of imminent danger.”
Your ears pick up an irritated groan followed by harsh stomps moving away from your position. You can practically imagine smoke coming out of the blond’s ears as he created distance, muttering an excuse that he is going to check the perimeter. If not for your respect for the man, you would have rolled over laughing.
Shaking your head, you return your attention back to cause of your partner’s grief. “Alright. Now that’s it just the two of us. What did you really want to say to me, Luis?”
“Nada,” the Spanish man shrugs, throwing you his signature charming grin. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
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riaki · 4 months
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arcade date w childhoodbsf!gojo, who doesn’t go to your school, except even though the arcade is emptier than it usually is, there’s still enough stragglers for ur egotistic bestfriend to feel the need to show off. n so he pledges to win u every single thing u want on sight— whether it be that silly little plump cat plushie smushed between mounds of stuffed animals that caught ur eye, or the keychains in the gacha capsule dispensers that he knows he probably shouldn’t attempt since they’re just rigged like everyone knows— but the way you were eyeing them with stars in your irises makes it so much harder for him to resist. after all, he can’t resist you either— so he empties his wallet on those evil machines anyway.
it’s all fun and games; the prizes in your arms are stacking up like fuzzy icecream scoops in a waffle cone, and although gojo gets more jealous of the stuffed toys than he’d like to admit— he likes seeing the way your eyes light up when you smile like that, so he toils at the games until his arms are sore from shooting hoops and his hair is a frazzled mess from all the times he’s ran his hands through the white strands. it’s great to hang out with him after so long— growing up together has always made you close, even though going separate ways after jr high, so time flies when he’s around. ur so engrossed in winning a game of streetfighter against him that neither of u notices when the cute guy from ur school shows up and slides a hand onto ur shoulder, from which u immediately lose to gojo due to the distraction. ofc gojo likes to toot his own horn whenever he wins n so he jumps up from his seat in excitement— until he catches sight of that bastard who dares lay a hand on his best friend.
and so it dials up a notch— gojo works his ass off trying to prove himself to u, caught in this secret competition with this irritably good lookin guy who’s clearly out to steal u from him. ofc he won’t have any of that. but you’re completely oblivious— bless your sweet heart, so the reason ur childhood bsf gets so angry all of a sudden is completely bewildering to u. is he mad at you…? were u not good enough at street fighter for him???? and so by absolute mistake u dump gojo and ur school friend together at a machine ‘for a game against a more suitable opponent’ and skitter away to mind your business elsewhere— and win those cute keychains u saw earlier to match w gojo.
and obviously gojo doesnt take kindly to that— but instead of acting like a normal person and letting it slide, he vows to beat ur friend’s ass (‘in the game’ ofc..) as an act of vengeance, more for himself than for u. but he’s never gonna admit that to your face, is he? much less the way he so desperately wishes for you to notice his overwhelming feelings; the fluttering in his chest he gets whenever he’s around u that your school friend so helpfully points out while they’re duking it out in a game of tabletop hockey. apparently, ur friend has no interest— it’s a free game for gojo. but he can’t seem to work up the nerve to tell u, even when you offer him the keychains u won with ur blood sweat and tears; the reason you were gone for so long in the liminal space of the arcade, and the reason his tiny, itsy bitsy harmless crush turns into something much more staggering, a stake in his heart that only drives deeper everytime he sees the lonely keychain hanging from his school bag and is reminded that you’re nowhere near him. he’s never gonna be able to say it to ur pretty face, and ur scumbag new ‘boyfriend’ hanging around u knows it too.
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lyomeii · 10 months
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a little hug!
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->warnings: yandere themes(?), lante himself.
->request by anon! Request for Yandere Claude, Yandere lante and Yandere Regis Adri Floyen about their wife hugging from their back, when they tried to turn their back the Wife still hiding on their back giggling. I want something fluffy TVT
->a/n: fluff! your wish is an order, anon :) everyone loves a good and sweet headcanons to bright the day, so hopes you enjoy it :) also I will post another writing today, finishing all my requests.
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CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA
-> knowing that you’ve been hiding from him since morning, claude was ready for a small surprise coming from you, he knows that. so when you finally hug him from behind after his work hours, he can’t help, but feel happy.
-> it’s been a while since he felt loved, so claude is always looking forwards for moments like this with you. maybe next time, he will manage to have an entire day just with you and athanasia.
LANTE AGRICHE
-> he almost killed you. initially, lante thought that you were an assassin hired to destroy him, but when he felt your soft hand against his chest and saw the smile on your face, he got calm.
-> as much he wanted to scold you from doing such thing, he let you continue to hug him for a few more minutes, after all, his office’s door is locked, so one can easily catch him smiling due to your simple actions.
REGIS ADRI FLOYEN
-> hearing the sweet giggle coming from your lips made his rough day at work become better. so regis hold one of your hands and place a kiss on it, a way to show how much you are important to him.
-> he drop his worksheet on his desk and turned around to hug you back. with his head above yours and his arms around your, regis can only wish to this moment to last forever.
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@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost
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camgoloud · 1 year
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colin: i’m gay
ted, radiating youth pastor energy: you know who else played for the other team?
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balasha7sanbardo · 7 months
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please please please PLEASE do me a favor and unfollow me if you have a problem with me dump posting about palestine or if you’re pro-israel/a zionist or neutral about what’s going on. I’m not gonna stop and you have no place here.
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idliketochill · 16 days
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Drew this a while back but never got to post it, happy birthday to the drift king RTGame!🎉
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kyupidos · 27 days
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04/02/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland
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<3 stood still, when we first metヽ( ・∀・)ノ_θ彡☆Σ(��� `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ・∀・)ノ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘eels are covardes—hence how the tweels are when it comes to romance.’
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characters. octavinelle : floyd leech , jade leech ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, pre-relationship, romantic fluff
📡 _a/n. ‘the tweels could never be flustered’ this, ‘the tweels are slick when it comes to romance’ that.. i choose FREEDOMMMM!!
f. leech
— it’s a sure fact; eels are cowards, and with no exceptions, as is floyd. think him as intimidating, scary, a mereel who’s more than willing to terrorize a few people if it seems fun enough. but deep down, he’s very much a coward. at the very least, that much is true when it comes to who interests him most—you. he can’t recall exactly when you caught his heart, like a fisherman after some catfish for his dinner. but he knows for a fact, and remembers how all of a sudden you sent his heart a flutter. maybe, so long as you’re attentive enough, you’ll notice the way he tries ( and fails ) to hide his mushy smily face that makes it ever so obvious how much he truly finds himself infatuated with you, the way he at times twiddles his thumbs when you joke together like he wants to say something more, but his nerves leave him to back down.
— after all; despite their frightening features, especially floyd all things considered, eels are cowards. oh, but that’s alright, because even if he can’t seem to spit out even the words ‘you’re real nice lookin!’, at least there’s the true fact that, lo and behold, you’re capable. go ahead, be physically affectionate with him, tease him a bit so long as he’s in a good mood, just return the favor of romance. all of it, are things he absolutely lives for. especially when it comes to physical affection, even just a teasing hand hold is enough to get him flustered and looking away from you, albeit with a pout.
— really, he tries ( and still fails ) to tease you back, but when it comes to you, it really doesn’t seem to work, does it? “boo, shrimpy..you’re no funnn..” he’ll pout, and he pouts even more when you just giggle in response. what’ll be the ticking point though, for him to sum up his courage and confess to you? that’s where a gift comes in—some shiny jewelry, specifically speaking, a necklace. surprise him from behind and put it on, maybe let your touch linger around his neck. especially then, you can take the time to adore his ever so flustered face.
— he can barely keep in his sheepish delight, so mark his words, by after school hours he’s hunting you down over to ramshackle; albeit you get there first, so despite his nervousness telling him to run away, he knocks on your door, forcing himself to with his other hand. thus when you finally open the door, he proceeds to immediately envelop you in a hug, and pay attention to the way he kept the necklace on, as it clinked softly against your bodies at the quick movement. “eh, shrimpy..you like me right? that’s why you gave me this pretty stuff?” he’ll ask, head nuzzled into your neck like he’s scared to see if you reject the notion, so go ahead and pat his head and tell him outright, that you love him. so floyd summons bravery once more with his toothy grin, and gives you a peck on the cheeks in his glee.
j. leech
— when the jaws open wide ‘n then it gets all shy, that’s a moorayyy..and that’s also jade. indeed more reserved, though still as menacing as floyd, and yet so long as you push the right buttons, it’s rather easy to get him flustered. as equal a coward as his brother, but his usual smooth, calm-face helps him a bit, though he clasps a clenched fist to keep himself from trying to hold your hand in case you’d rather not and his eyes dart around when he tries to make eye contact with you. maybe he’d be good at hiding his feelings, if not for the way he hitches when you give him even the slightest of affection, like grabbing at the fabric of his sleeve to take him to eat lunch with you.
— he can go ahead and try to be suave, especially with his “do be gentle with me”, but well and goodness believe that he goes to bed kicking his feet and giggling like a high school girl whenever you act smoothly in reply. at the very least, your blatant honesty with your compliments and praise evens out with his cowardice that causes him to suck in a breath, leaving him without the ability to come up with a smooth comeback. give him some time to lessen his fluster, to keep up his reputation as the ‘humble, gentle’ mereel his first impressions leave him to be.
— and goodness, how he’s left with a flushed face whenever you give him princess treatment, run your fingers through his hair and offer to feed him food when he teasingly suggests it ( and his mind is like tv static..he didn’t expect it, but he really, really enjoyed it!! ). but to finally get the feeling across so he feels comfortable enough to know his love is requited .. you’re going to have to be direct here, and ask if he’d like to have dinner with you at ramshackle. at that point, no matter how impressive he may have been in hiding his shyness before, he’s just barely keeping himself together from stuttering when he agrees, his sharp teeth showing just barely then.
— for just one last time, feed him some food as you eat together, in comfortable silence before jade finally collects himself once he realizes you truly aren’t just teasing him, that you really did ask him out on a date, which he was brave enough to accept. maybe he lets a nervous chuckle before he takes hold of his utensils, still barely able to look you in the eye, unsure of how he managed to gather the bravery to do it even just then. “for you to treat me ever so kindly like this..” and just a slight quiver in his voice which he berates himself over, “by any chance..have you taken a liking to me?” and that, then, is when you can confess—ask to kiss him if you’d like, his stomach will do twirls sure; but he’ll say yes.
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m1d-45 · 6 months
Text
ink, ink, ink
summary: overworking yourself all on your lonesome? not on the northland bank’s watch.
word count: ~1.3k
-> warnings: the name and title of a harbinger not shown in game. yeah.
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept
< masterlist >
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you slumped over your desk, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. a headache pounded behind them, the words on the documents before you losing all meaning.
it was late. later than you’d normally be up. later than what’s healthy. but the stack of unfinished files was barely as high as your nail was long, and you knew you could finish it. you just had to finish it tonight, and then you could have the next week entirely stress free. no more paperwork, no more forms… nothing.
you honestly didn’t expect being the creator to be this stressful, though you probably should have. you weren’t bothered about day to day activities, but with your permanent residence under construction, your opinion was required for everything. fabric samples for the sheets—inazuman silk or liyuen?—and tiles for the floor, or would you prefer to have rugs or carpet? the flowers in the front, gold or jade for the inlays, what style of plates or mugs? tea or coffee or both? would you like a garden in the back to rest in? please provide measurements for your clothes, as well as which nation’s style you preferred. please and thank you and we’re honored for the opportunity to serve.
you knew they meant well. you were never talked over or dissuaded, and the envoys from the nations you visited were always impartial in their descriptions. they knew you loved teyvat as a whole, and even if you had a preference for where to stay, you wouldn’t abandon the rest of the world for that one place. so they advised you about weather and the local wildlife, politely waiting when you stopped to let a crystalfly land in your hand. the people of teyvat were kind, accepting your answer with a smile and a bow, only wanting the best for you.
you suspect they knew your answer from the beginning, but nobody brought it up. it was nice to see the nations, and you never regret your final choice. especially not now, when the thought of your lover being so close to you gave you the strength to pick up your pen.
just a bit more, then you can go rest. lie down and be welcomed with warm arms, for he’s certainly long retired by now.
did you want a wardrobe, closet, or both?
would you like curtains around your bed?
how many pillows? what kind of blankets?
a tub combined with your shower, or separate?
blinds or curtains for-
knock, knock, knock.
you blink. you look up. by the time you’ve set down your pen and it’s registered to your tired mind that there’s someone at your door, the person in the other side calls your name in a soft voice.
a voice that you instantly recognize, automatically inviting in. a voice carried in the chest of a harbinger, but one that looks at you with adoration all the same.
pantalone closes the door behind him softly, barely the slightest click heard as he locks it. “when you asked to work in my bank, i had assumed you would be doing so responsibly,” he says, voice quiet. his eyes are low, shadows sharp from the candles lit on your desk, but you know he’s checking the clock the same way he knows you have a headache, silently reaching to pinch out the flame of one of the candles.
your headache eases a bit, and he wipes the ashes from his gloves on a handkerchief.
“is work-“ you wave at your desk, at the cluttered sprawl of invitations and letters across it “-not responsible?”
“at this hour?” his head tilts the slightest amount, and your already fragile will to keep working crumbles. “the only responsible thing to do this late is rest.”
you don’t fuss when he comes around to your side of the desk, sweeping your papers into neat stacks. you just lean against his side, watching as he quickly tidies everything, down to throwing away the napkin you kept on hand for ink spills.
you weren’t used to their fountain pens when you first got here, needing assistance to simply check boxes for a to-do list without the ink bleeding everywhere. your regrator was by your side even then, kindly walking you through the proper form and pressure. he’d been the one to teach you the code used within the fatui as well, and had gifted you the very pen that laid at your desk for your birthday.
the room dimmed again, smoke rising from his fingertips as he pinched out another flame.
“come now.” his hand pats at your shoulder gently, and you sigh as you straighten. he pulls you to your feet easily, bringing you a step closer than strictly necessary. with a neat flourish, he takes his jacket from his shoulders, wrapping it around yours instead. you don’t protest as he helps you put it on, nor as he removes his gloves, flexing your hands to absorb as much of the warmth from the leather as you can.
“won’t you get cold?”
he smiles, his hand warm as he raises it to your cheek. “i was born in snezhnaya,” he says simply, “you were not.”
he puts his hand around you and extinguishes the last candle, this time directly with his handkerchief instead of his hand. he walks you out of your—his, really—office, locking it behind him with a key he tucks away just as fast as he brought it out.
once you arrive at your shared—his, again—quarters, he sits you on the bed, letting his hand linger for a moment to ensure you stay there. you wait as he moves around the house, bringing you water and food, making sure you have at least a bit of each before handing you a painkiller.
when you try to take off the gloves, he stops you with a hand over yours. there’s a thin papercut over the side of his thumb. “not yet. your office was cold, and you’ll need the dexterity.”
“won’t they get dirty?”
“then i’ll have them cleaned, or simply commission another pair.” onyx tumbles over his shoulder as he takes out the tie from his hair, running his fingers through the dark waves to check for knots. “you are my priority. not them.”
once you’re finished with your food and are adequately sleepy from the warmth of his coat, he coaxes you to stand once more. this time your proximity is not of simple selfishness, but because your head keeps drooping and he’s afraid you’ll nod off where you stand.
he removes his coat and gloves as reverently as he put them on you, tossing them to a chair to stay close to you. he lets you remove your socks and shoes then tucks you in with a kiss, glancing back at you the entire time he removes his own. it’s endearing to see you try to stay awake to wait for him, his chest warming at the clear sight of your affection.
eventually he does join you in bed, reaching out to pull the blanket over your shoulder on instinct. your hand fumbles for his, squeezing once. “thank you.”
your heart is in your ears as you watch him lift your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. he pulls away with a smile, brushing his thumb over your fingers. “anytime, my lord. now please, get some rest.”
his glasses are left on his nightstand and your responsibilities were checked at the door, your eyes long closed by the time he settles you against his chest.
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