#like she cant even pick up a delivery

[netzieart]

I was in need of even more relaxation, so please, have this little HuoHuo and Tail doodle

#shes just so cute and silly im. im dead #like she cant even pick up a delivery #poor thang #honkai star rail #huohuo

[doumadono]

does this count as an emergency request?

ive had such a bad period (worst one of my life. my cramps are so bad i cant even sit down.). could you write bf!bakugo when his gf has periods? i have no clue if this would count as an emergency requestt😭

Bakugo & his girlfriend dealing with the period

A/N: I'm sorry to hear that you're going through such a tough time. Dealing with strong period cramps can be incredibly challenging. And absolutely, your situation counts as an emergency, and I hope these Bakugo headcanons provide a bit of comfort ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Bakugo has familiarized himself with the signs and symptoms of his girlfriend's period, and he's attentive to any changes in her mood or energy levels.

Bakugo creates a cozy environment with blankets and pillows, making sure his girlfriend feels as comfortable as possible. Bakugo minimizes noise or disruptions to help ease any sensitivity.

He's on hot water bottle duty, ensuring it's at the perfect temperature to ease those cramps as it's pressed to her abdomen.

Bakugo takes charge of food delivery, making or ordering her favorite comfort foods. "You gotta eat something, even if you don't feel like it, dumbass."

"Take your medicine," he reminds her, setting alarms if needed to make sure she stays on top of pain relief.

Bakugo offers unwavering support, assuring her that he's there for whatever she needs. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll get it."

He provides comforting cuddles but also comes up with distractions, be it a favorite movie, game, or just talking about anything to take her mind off the pain.

Bakugo understands that mood swings are part of the deal, and he handles them with surprising patience. "I get it, you're not being crazy. It's the damn hormones." Bakugo creates a no-judgment zone. If his girlfriend wants to vent about the pain or complain about anything, he's there to listen without making her feel like she's being irrational.

He regularly checks in, asking how she's feeling and if there's anything else he can do.

Bakugo offers to run any errands or pick up supplies. Bakugo, in his own gruff way, tells his girlfriend to "get whatever the hell she wants" from the store to make her feel better, whether it's chocolate, ice cream, or both.

He suggests wearing loose, comfortable clothing and provides an oversized hoodie or sweats if she prefers (of course from his merch!)

He might grumble a bit but ends up giving a heartfelt speech about how amazing and resilient his girlfriend is. "I know it does hurt but look how strong you are, babe."

"Rest up, okay, nerd? Your body's going through a lot. I'll be right here," he assures her before setting up a cozy space for her to rest.

In a rare moment of softness, Bakugo surprises his girlfriend with a gentle forehead kiss, silently expressing his love and support.

#emergency request #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo blurb #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki #kacchan #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo headcanons #bakugou headcanons

[cupid-styles]

WEED/INTOX CONCEPTS IM SO UP !!!!!!

soft plug!h x sunshine reader who buys from him and he has a huge crush on her but shes a little oblivious and he always tries to be extra nice to her and give her more than she paid for in hopes of her talking to him more and maybe one night she buys from him and invites him to stay and maybe smoke w her bc its raining and she feels bad she made him come all the way to her house and they smoke and he cant stop staring at her and its very fluffy and cute

i love down bad plugrry

thoughts?? :D

AWWWW that's so cute :(((( I love the thought of him being a softie!! I actually started writing a plug!y/n blurb awhile ago and I just never finished it, but it was kind of like this where she was just the soft plug instead of him BUT he was still super down bad for her </3333

I'm not sure if the completed blurb will ever see the light of day but here's a little bit of it under the cut!

CWs: weed (obviously) lol

word count: 414

Harry doesn’t actually need any weed.

However, this doesn’t stop him from texting the cute girl who sells nuggets of weed and bundles of shrooms in adorable pastel pink baggies. He met Y/N through friends a few months back — she was roommates with Lena in college and apparently had a knack for making edibles that got you to a smooth high without completely melting your brain. The second she introduced herself to him, with her bright smile and sweet voice, Harry was hooked. 

Stupidly, ridiculously hooked. 

The thing is, Harry doesn’t even like weed that much. He’ll smoke at parties every now and then, but it’s usually just one or two hits from a friend’s joint before he returns to drinking whatever tequila-based cocktail he’s palming in his hand. But she’s so sweet, and cute, and she keeps her drugs in a canvas tote bag that says “support your local public library.” How was Harry not supposed to fall for her?

And yeah, he bought some pre-rolled joints from her a week and a half ago at Mitch and Sarah’s housewarming party — his heart nearly collapsed to his stomach when he saw the adorable strawberry rolling papers she used —��but he misses her. It’s dumb, considering they barely know one another, but it’s a Wednesday evening and he can’t stop thinking about the warm scent of her perfume and the pretty, flushed hue of her lips. 

So, he texts her.

Their entire text thread is filled with Harry being stupidly obvious about his feelings for her, thinly veiled by requests for deliveries and pick-ups. Tonight is no different: Hey Y/N, hope you’re having a good week :) do you think I can come pick up tonight?

She replies almost immediately as Harry drums his fingers nervously on his thigh. His stomach dips when he reads her response. Of course!!!!! :) come by whenever ur free ! 

He swallows tightly when she follows it up with another message: also im making veggie pasta if u haven’t eaten dinner yet! I made too much and it never reheats well! you’re more than welcome to it if u’d like :))))

Typically when he buys weed from her, their interactions are far too short for his liking. They engage in friendly small talk and she giggles at whatever bad jokes he makes, but they’ve never actually hung out one-on-one. The thought makes Harry prickle with nerves, but he knows he’d be foolish not to take her up on her offer.

#bestie asks #plug!y/n

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Super tits?

Wanda x reader :)

Here is the fic you've been asking for.

I didn't put a taglist cause IDK if you'll like it

"Delivery!" someone shouted at the door. You furrowed your eyebrows. Who ordered food?

"Babe!" you called out. "Did you order food?"

"No!" Wanda shouted back, still enjoying her shower.

"Who the hell is this?" you whispered to yourself. You opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. "Hello," you awkwardly said.

Receiving deliveries wasn't your thing. It was Wanda's. So you never knew what to say.

"Delivery from an anonymous person," the delivery man said. You furrowed your eyebrows more. "Anonymous?"

The man nodded. He gave the flowers to you and wrote something in his notes and left you with a typical ‘Have a nice day’.

"Who was it?" Wanda sneaks behind you. "Jeez!" you jumped. "Don't scare me like that!" you scowled.

Wanda chuckled. "Sorry," she feigns.

Your scowl turned to a cheeky smile.

"What?" Wanda asked confused. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Anonymous delivery?" you showed her the flower she ordered. "Thank you" you shyly said, swaying like a kid.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, "I did not order that" she deadpanned.

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes. "Cut the act." you examined the flower and noticed a small letter. "A letter too huh?" you smirked at Wanda. "Very romantic." you chuckled.

Wanda curiously looked at the letter, "That's not my handwriting," she coldly said.

A flower for the most beautiful girl in the world. Get ready tonight ;)

-S.T.

"S.T? Who's that? Super Tits?" you mocked looking at your girlfriend.

"I did not get that for you" she deadpanned.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Then who gave this to me?"

"I don't know" she shrugged. "Maybe your mistress"

You whipped your head to the brunette, "My what now?"

"Guessing I'm always gone for missions you decided to do some extracurricular activities." she coldly gaze at you.

"You don't seriously think I have a mistress" you scoffed.

"THEN WHO'S THAT FROM?" she shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW!" you shouted back. "I thought it was from you. Why would I even say thank you to you if I know it's from someone else?"

"I don't know" she shrugged. "For a cover up"

"It's not from my mistress and I don't have one," you annoyingly said. "I can't believe you're blaming me for having one" you sighed.

"Tell that to the flower" she slammed the door on her way out.

"Wand-" you cut yourself off. "But I don't know who gave this to me" you exasperatedly sighed.

After a few minutes of pondering, someone knocked at your door again.

"I swear if this is another-"

"Did someone deliver a flower here?" Tony asked. You angrily gazed at Tony. "What? What did I do?"

"Is this yours?" you said holding the flower out.

"Yes." he snatched the flower from you. "It was supposed to be delivered at Pepper's office," he said while straightening the bouquet.

"We had a full-blown argument because of this" you panicked. "and you're telling me it's from you."

"Ugh why did they put S.T. instead of T.S." he grumbled.

"YOU!" you paused. "WILL HELP ME FIND WANDA"

You dragged confused Tony out of the compound.

---

You've been driving around the area. Even examined all the crevices of the compound but no Wanda was found.

You hated fighting and you hated when you can't find Wanda anywhere without even a text or a call back from her.

"Tony" you hiccuped. "What's the use of your advanced technology? You cant find Wanda" you sobbed.

You've been wailing and panicking in the back of the car for the past few hours because you cant find Wanda anywhere.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying. Wanda has powers you know." Tony tried to comfort you but it made you sob more.

"I want Wanda" you wailed. You lay down on the seats and rested in a fetal position.

Tony didn't know what to do and decided to spam Wanda with calls. And after the 15th try, she finally picked up.

"FINALLY!" He exclaimed. "Your wife has been ugly sobbing for the past hour. Where the fuck are you?" he grumbled.

"I'm just at the back of the compound." Wanda sighed. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, aside from the fact that she been ranting at me for making you mad about the flower which by the way was mine." Tony pointed out.

"It was yours?" now Wanda felt bad.

"Yes! Now drop your dramatic act and quit messing with my advanced technology." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked.

"At the back of the car and-" Tony looked at you finding you sleeping with worried eyebrows. "She's sleeping"

"Keep it that way" Wanda said.

"Sure as hell don't wanna hear her sob again" Tony deadpanned.

----

"Get in." Tony ushered Wanda.

Wanda hurriedly opened the back seat and found you sleeping with tear tracks on your cheeks, puffy eyes, and a small pout. She slowly lifted your head supporting your neck and shoulders and laid your head on her lap.

She ran her hand through your hair and smiled when you moved and curled up on her tummy.

"So now you're being sweet?" Tony rolled his eyes.

Wanda throw a gaze at the man and all Tony did was ignore it. "You have mind-reading powers and you didn't believe y/n when she said it's not from a 'mistress'."

---

Wanda felt bad for making you cry and worry. Accusing you of something that you didn't even do made her feel bad that she bought flowers and chocolates while you were sleeping.

"Baby," she whispered. "Wake up"

"Are you holding flowers and chocolates?" you questioned with eyes shut.

"Eh no?" she murmured.

"I want cuddles not flowers" you urged. "And I want to sleep"

"Okay," Wanda giggled complying.

#wanda x nat x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov #wanda my beloved #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #Soft wanda #mommy wanda #scarlet witch

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Overture

. While I am being kind to the show as it is, I cannot push out of my mind the fact that this is still Vivienne Medrano, and while this seems to be an interesting direction the series is considering to take the story, I am lacking any intrigue. Medrano has a knack for interesting ideas, but once executed are often trimmed down from all nuance and then played in the most straight forward and storybook fashion.

Evil existed before and separate from Lucifer

Eve is linked to the root of evil through the animation

Dichotomy of Lilith and Lucifer

Why does Heaven think Hell will rise up?

Charlie is reading the storybook to herself. Aloud. And the reason is because she’s like a child seeking comfort. Also Charlie’s delivery of “Pretty worked up” is just feeling off. Like isn’t this supposed to be a somber moment? Why is it delivered so chipper? The pilot had her crying and singing a lamentation. Downgrade.

Info dump dialogue

“This kingdom was something she really cared about.”

Vaggie’s voice is such a downgrade. She sounds so uninterested.

“Daddy issues by fixing you” So alastor knows about Charlie’s family situation already.

The lineart around Alastor is so distracting. It’s so bizarrely thick.

I wish there was no dialogue

Her dad calls her but she is supposed to have a strained relationship.

I feel like Medrano doesn’t know what Angel Dust is. As in the actual drug. PCP is not Cocaine.

That was the worst segue into a song I ever saw.

“If you dont mind the smell, it’s a happy day in hell.” I hate this line.

Vaggie just never sounds right, does she? Her singing is so nasal dominate it doesn’t sound like her throaty modal voice.

What was the contract? What did it say? Why even have Charlie sign anything if we have no concept of what that is? It is such a rip off from Ariel’s contract in the Little Mermaid that it feels more like an Easter egg than relevant to the story actively being told. You need to show why the actions happening are taking place, you cant just do things and expect us to pick up the pieces for you. Are you trying to get across that Heaven is full of bureaucracy and paperwork? There is no receptionist and no other person in the building until she signs ONE paper. You failed at portraying an overabundance of bureaucratic red tape and it is distracting and infuriating. All I see are the better DISNEY MOVIES that were clearly just plagiarized. Not an homage, not inspired. Plagiarized.

Lucifer calls Charlie to meet Adam. Adam says he knows. So this doesn’t feel like this is Charlie filling in, the way the dialogue is written is that it was specifically planned for Charlie to meet Adam.

Everything has a gradient.

I bet $15 that the Dickmaster portion of Adam’s dialogue was Alex Brightman’s improv. I was not impressed by his Kaiju Dick improv in Oops and this is just as flaccid. Pun intended.

There is a clear discccrepency in talent between Alex and Erika. He has such a smoother voice and range while Erika feels like a Disney understudy where every delivery is pretty much identical to the last. Like the songs themselves are not doing her any favors. They range from bad to mediocre, and even in the better songs, there is always one horrifically bad lyric that just ruins the entire experience.

I like Lute. She feels like Peridot.

RIP Katie Killjoy.

Nifty is cute. The joke for her had a lot of potential of being hilarious but didn’t meet my threshold of comedy due to lacking a feel for Nifty. Imagine if she was in every scene with Vaggie talking her head off and never shutting up. Then when Vaggie is like, “If anyone can sell this hotel, it’s Nifty.” And we had this foundation that Nifty is known for being a huge chatterbox only to then be dead silent when the camera is on her. It would have been hilarious. But we see her once and she has one singular line previous. So it just feels like a cheap visual gag.

As a musical, it is lackluster. I see that Evil is something separate from Lucifer and something he dislikes. Lucifer is said to see free will as a spring of creativity, but humans used it to suck and that killed Lucifer’s love of life. In the meantime, Lilith is empowered by Hell. Hell fuels her sense of freedom, which she spreads through her “songs”. Only for her to just vanish I guess. She just hopes out without a word, Charlie says she must be doing something important over the last 7 years, but no inclination on what important things Lilith would be doing. Additionally, Lilith is said to have loved Hell, like Charlie. So it sets up this idea that Lucifer dislikes Hell or even hates it, while Lilith revels in it. Alluding to their marriage falling apart from this dissonance. At the same time, Lucifer calls Charlie to meet with Heaven, despite the pilot being canon. So we get the impression that Charlie and Lucifer had a falling out (“Maybe dad was right.”) but she doesn’t have much more than surprise at her father calling. Then he just sets up this meeting for her to meet with Adam off screen entirely. It is unclear how this was conveyed, but Lucifer doesn’t believe in Charlie and her meeting Adam has nothing at all to do with her hotel.

But the way Adam talks about the meeting is unusual in that it gives the impression that it wasn’t about Charlie “filling in”, but that this whole meeting was specifically set for Charlie and Adam. This is compounded by how the ending reads like they didn’t know if the angel was dead until that moment. So the extermination being moved up has nothing to do with the angel’s death. Maybe I’m wrong, but this all feels really disjointed.

But Lute really is just Peridot. So much so that when asked what I liked about the episode, I literally said “Peridot”, not Lute. The one good aspect of this episode is another stolen concept from a better show with a more competent creator. But I also like Alex Brightman’s singing. He is very talented and he does elevate the material by really playing with his delivery, but it’s still at best Mid due to the weak lyrics,

3/10

#hazbin hotel liveblog #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel #vivziepop critical #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop criticism #Hazbin Hotel episode 1

[mexhim]

boy next door • p.sh

# • pt.1??

☆ • pairing; neighbor!sunghoon x m!reader

☆ • genre; fluff, romance

☆ • summary; you meet sunghoon while giving out leftover food to your neighbors. thats when things spark between you two.

☆ • includes/warnings; none

yesterday, your older sister had come over because she wanted to throw a gender reveal party for her incoming child. it was fun, you admit, even though you're not much of a party person. no one was upset with the fact that it was a boy, and the food that your mother had prepared was wonderful. however, she did make a lot, and there was a lot leftover.

"mom... why did you make so much food? you didn't even have that many people over." you ask, crossing your arms.

"well, I didn't know that. if they wanted seconds, there was plenty." there were about ten go-to plates that were filled and put into a black delivery bag. "can you do me a favor?" she asks, and you hum affirmatively in response. "you are gonna give out these leftovers to our neighbors."

"oh." normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but considering you live near a dead end and you had one neighbor that you weren't ready to talk to, you were unsure about this favor. "but-"

"ah-ah-ah. you gon' do it." your mother says with a smile. You sigh, walk over to the bag, and put it on your shoulder. luckily, you were already wearing decent clothing to go out with. As you head to your door, your mother yells a 'thank you!' and you respond with a 'yep.'

the next house was an issue. should you skip them? hell no, that's disrespectful. you know what? just do it, you're sure his parents will be the ones to answer, right? you walk up to their door and knock, praying to the gods that he doesn't answer the door. You hear steps and your heart races, really unsure of who's going to open the door. you shut your eyes just before the door opens.

"are you...okay?" your eyes open to see sunghoon, the neighbor you've been seeing around. the one that you cant help but stare at. the one that haunts your mind everyday. you don't know why, but he is so stunning to you, and if you're ever near him, your heart would practically beat out of your chest. it's not like you have a crush on him, well you do, but think of it like a hallway crush. you know absolutely nothing about him.

"oh yeah no, i'm fine. um..." he's looking at you, and i mean straight into your eyes. your gaze quickly averts to the ground beneath you.

"what do you need?" he asks, beginning to lean on the doorway and cross his arms. even with your head down, you can feel his eyes boring into your skull.

"oh, right. my mom made like so much food yesterday, and she wanted me to give out her food to the neighbors.” you respond. your voice is small, and your hands toyed with the strap of the bag. you open and reach into the bag, pulling out a tray full of warm food. you pick your head up and hand the food to him. when you glance at him to see his face, he's still looking at you, and then his eyes immediately lock with yours. quick to react, your eyes immediately drop down to the ground once again, earning a giggle from him.

you don't know it, but he finds it very cute. he's seen you around as well and definitely thinks the same way you think about him. he'd take the chance to approach you, but you seemed to be avoiding him every time he's around, so he respects your space, as he should.

"tell her I said thank you," he says. "are you sure you're okay? why are you so nervous?" at this point, he's reading you like a book. not that he's cocky, but he knows that he's making you act like this, but he doesn't question it.

"it's nothing, enjoy your food!" you turn on one heel and walk away. sunghoon calls out to you but you act like you don't hear him and begin to speed walk to the next house.

you open the door too your home and see your mother on the couch, watching her usual tv shows. “you’re back!” she turned to smile at you. “you finished?”

“yeah”

“oh, by the way.” she begins, sitting up and turning towards you, “i saw you talk to that boy. the one next door.” she grins.

oh dear.

“this is the year my son finally gets a boyfriend!!” She celebrates quietly, humming a tune and clapping her hands.

you groaned and reminded her, “we only exchanged a few words and some food, don’t get your hopes up.” she laughed, earning an eye roll from you.

"alright. whatever you say." she goes to sit back down on the couch. you head to your room, overthinking everything that occurred. fortunately, this puts you to sleep instead of keeping you up.

# • author’s note; im ngl guys i had no fucking clue where to stop this. so if it was abrupt im so sorry. and excuse the no caps thing i like the look of it.

#sunghoon x male reader #sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #rom1writes

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

Chloe doesn't need to be the fandom punching bag

And before anyone tries to say I'm defending her actions in Do You Wanna Hang:

1. No I'm fucking not

2. Like all the characters in the show, she's much more nuanced than the 2017 one-dimensional fanonization a lot of older fans still have lingering on their tongues

Since it's the elephant in the room, let's discuss DYWH a little more in depth. (By all means if the subject matter is triggering to you, skim or skip as much as you need to.)

Are Chloe's actions completely out of line? Yes, I'm not denying that. Chloe does in fact kiss Jeremy unprompted, even after he expresses that he "has to go."

But might I remind you that the squip is Literally Preventing Jeremy From Moving And Forcing Him To Stay Just A Few Lines Before This.

Should Chloe have kissed Jeremy when he expressed that he wants to leave? No, and we don't know how stubborn she would've been even if she was sober. (Not that the alcohol is an excuse, obviously.)

On the topic of alcohol:

Despite what many animatics would have you believe, the squip is the one that makes Jeremy drink, THEN makes him kiss Chloe. Chloe didn't do that. All she did was hand him the bottle.

The squip made him drink it. The squip is keeping him here. The squip holds all the cards.

"But Chloe continues to harass him!" I hear you say. Well, let's look at the next few lines, shall we?

Hear me out on this: Before Jake shows up, Chloe's ready to give up. Katlyn's delivery (in two river, I cant speak for off-bway and on) is dejected and tired. Jeremy's giving really mixed signals, she never even liked him in the first place (see "you're less cute when you're talking" from before the Japanese section), she only ever wanted to make Jake (and probably Brooke) jealous, plus she's REALLY drunk and probably starting to feel sick from it. She's "had enough."

Jake finally shows up though, and NOW "the fun begins." Cue the fake sex noises and emphasizing that they're on Jake's parents' bed.

Plus, isn't it weird that only AFTER Jake can see her that she goes on top of Jeremy? She's not touching him while she's being loud and obnoxious, not as it's written in the script. (Granted it doesn't say when Jeremy's shirt came off, but only now does she try to make things LOOK incriminating now that Jake's here.)

She never wanted to sleep with Jeremy. She just wanted Jake to think she did.

Should she have ever put Jeremy in that situation in the first place? FUCKING DURR NO SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE. But can we please just fucking remember who the real villain of the show is? Ya know, the one force that actually made it so that Jeremy COUDLNT LEAVE.

The SECOND the squip is down for the count (after it spouts of "WARNING WARNING" and isn't heard from again until after Christine leaves), Jeremy guns it! And Chloe doesn't stop him! Jake is pissed off, mission accomplished! She doesn't need Jeremy anymore!

Chloe's an insecure teenage girl that's afraid of being insignificant so she makes stupid fucking choices. DYWH in particular is a REALLY stupid choice.

I'm not asking you to forgive her. I'm not asking you to listen to DYWH on repeat. I'm not even asking you to like Chloe. Maybe just don't declare her the worst character in the show and make others others feel like shit for playing with her character and making her more than Hot Girl #1.

Chloe is among the least developed characters, even after script changes, so maybe you can't pick out a lot of redeeming qualities. Maybe there are none in canon. That's never stopped fandom from making things up and projecting onto their blorbos.

She's catty, she's mean, she's pretty much written to be unlikable. But she's a terrible actress, she snaps a hanger in half at the mere mention of Madeline's name, she gives Jeremy the Absolute Most Backhanded Advice during VIMH and it's Hilarious in both versions of the script. ("She probably thinks that acne is hot," she a little confused but she got the spirit. "Don't dump her on Halloween," YOU CAUSED THAT DRAMA YOURSELF. Call it gaslighting but it's Literally played as a joke, much the same as her mini rant in the second verse of Smartphone Hour. And while we're talking about it,, the truth literally comes out during The Play when Brooke and Chloe find out that neither of them slept with Jeremy. How much that gets elaborated on off-screen is up for fanfic/headcanon to decide.)

As much as people can see all sides of the squipcident (ie how Jeremy and Michael both went through hell in their own ways) it seems like EVERYONE demonizes Chloe for one (1) scene that had way more squip interferance than it seems like ANYONE will admit.

I can compartmentalize: Chloe fucked up AND she has really funny moments. Chloe fucked up AND she has a lot of societal pressures as a conventionally attractive teenage girl. Chloe fucked up AND it barely holds a candle to the part the squip played in Jeremy's life ON HALLOWEEN ALONE.

She kissed him once unprompted, got on top of him for 3 seconds, and certainly made him uncomfortable. But the fucking squip assaulted him more than Chloe EVER did by MAKING him drink, MAKING him kiss her when he didn't want it the first time, PREVENTING him from moving, and KNOWING that Chloe was going to try and make a move on him IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE and ACTIVELY KEEPING HIM THERE when it surely would've known that there was SOME PROBABLE OUTCOME where he wouldn't be ok with it, if there was EVER an outcome where he would be ok with it.

Why the fuck are squip redemption fics a thing? (That's a whole other rant on its fucking own, but I have work tomorrow so)

#be more chill #mj says shit #chloe valentine #jeremy heere #squip #jake dillinger #i need to go to sleep #bmc #bmc musical #be more chill musical #i meant to stop writing this like 20 minutes ago fucking hell #if yall can thirst for squip after it tortured jer i think i can flesh out chloes character after she drunkenly bumbled around for 5mins

[silentmoths]

No because..this has been stuck in my head FOR MONTHS. Let me set the scene lol A Reader x Zhongli one-shot.

Reader lives in Liyue and has a job as a package/message/etc delivery person and just either runs around doing their job or maybe uses a vision (I personally think Anemo would work best in this case but whatever you think is best!) and is pretty well known and liked in Liyue. Maybe Reader/Zhongli/both has crush on the other. How did they fall for each other? Would they get into a relationship? Smut?

You honestly have free reign of all the intricate details, I trust you! Your writing is PHENOMENAL!! You’re literally so good!! Thank you!!! :))

forgive me for attempting a different style/layout for this one but I feel like it's a perfect candidate!

Zhongli x Afab (fem pronouns) Reader

Fluff, getting together, lil bit o smut at the end ;)

How you meet:

You're just a humble delivery girl, honestly. Between your Anemo vision allowing you to jump much higher than your average person, and your skills with a wind glider (some call you the gliding champion of Liyue!!) you could get around the harbour far quicker than most, which made time sensitive deliveries your main forte.

You run into Zhongli, almost quite literally, when you'd been tasked at delivering last minute inscense to the funeral parlour. Usually it was the ferrylady you spoke to, but she was away today, and in her place stood a very tall, handsome consultant.

You dust yourself off, straighten out, pray your face isn't too red, and hand him the box of inscense required, he gives you his signature and thanks you deeply for arriving as quickly as you had, apparently the director had made a very rare mistake and had mistaken another batch of inscense for the ones required for a ceremony today.

It was no big deal, you even hand him your business card, lest it happen again, you'd always be around the harbour helping people.

How you keep meeting/ the first date?:

It doesn't exactly escape your notice that the wangsheng director seems to be making a 'mistake' with the stock every few days...how strange.

You'd never met her personally, but from what you'd heard prior, Hu Tao, for as eccentric as she was, always seemed to on top of things.

not like you were complaining, you still got paid...and you still got to see Mr. Zhongli. He was always the one waiting for you these days, smiling that same, sincere, warm smile as you arrive, sometimes on foot, sometimes gliding down from the pavillion, it depended on where you'd had to pick up whatever was required.

One day however, as you arrive, he's also recieving another order, huh, looks like he'd ordered lunch in today. He thanks the other delivery person before turning to you with an even warmer smile than usual.

"Ah, (y/n), I am to assume you're here to deliver the white sage?" "That I am, Mr. Zhongli! perhaps you should have Hu Tao double check her stocks..she seems to be making more mistakes than usual." you giggle, handing the package off to him.

"Perhaps, she's currently out at the moment however...would you care to join me for lunch? wanmin resteraunt's finest."

you cant even begin to stop your mouth from watering.

"O-oh, I shouldn't impose..."

"It's no imposition. I had originally ordered extra for the director, until she ran out shouting something about meeting up with Yanfei, so there is entierly too much for just myself."

Little did you know, this would become the beginning of a weekly ritual, eventually, Zhongli did stop making an excuse about Hu Tao, Insisting that you stop and take a short break with him when you could swing it instead.

one you were all too happy to oblige, spending time with him was a nice reprieve from your usual sprinting about town.

Getting serious:

Surprisingly, it's you who works up the nerve to ask him out on a proper 'date' about three months into your usual weekly lunch breaks with him, a grateful shopkeep had gifted you a pair of tickets to see Ms. YunJin's opera, and you'd taken a guess that it might be right up his alley.

Your guess had been very correct.

Zhongli meets you outside the parlour as you finish up for the day, unfortunately you just didn't have the time to get home and change, not with how busy the day had been.

You're so full of jittery energy as you both make your way to the pavillion, it was an unfortunate side effect of your job, everything was always so time sensitive that it took a while for your adrenaline levels to settle for the day.

Thankfully, Zhongli is there, easily looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, his own calm demeanour serving to bring you down a little faster...that and it was just kind of nice to be held.

your penchant for kind touch does not go unnoticed, and you find atleast one of your hands held gently with his own the entire night. He explains the nuances of opera that you'd never quite understood, and you find yourself smitten just listening to him talk, you could listen to him speak on the most mundane subjects and you'd still be enamoured.

He insists on walking you home after the show, it was dark out and he didn't want you running into any trouble. By now your own internal clock was screaming that it was time for bed, you were exhausted, and it was friday, which meant you finally got a couple of days off to rest properly.

Zhongli is, of course, a gentleman. Walks you to your door and waits with you until you can fish your key out and unlock it. You ask if he'd like to come in for some tea, but he declines, insisting you look exhausted, and that he did not wish to keep you awake much longer.

He doesnt pull away when you turn and, on your tip-toes, press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the night, that you hope you could both do this kind of thing again sometime.

Your kiss is returned with a soft, affectionate exhale and a promise.

Getting down n' dirty:

You weren't exactly sure what to expect when you first have sex with him. Honestly in your mind he could have gone either way, either a total gentleman, or an absolutely depraved, kinky creature.

Turns out? he's right down the middle.

He likes watching you squirm as he pleasures you, but despite the smirk and the mean glare, he's also murmuring praise and calling you beautiful, telling you how well you're doing for him.

he tells you to relax, easier said than done when his fingers are doing sinful things to your insides.

you can tell, by the way he snaps his hips as he thrusts into you, that he wants to go faster, to go harder, but he wont, not until you tell him to.

He was simultaniously all over you, engulfing and controlling in the best ways, but also attentive, aware of you and your desires and your pleasure.

It's just a good thing you were secretly a kinky depraved creature yourself, who has no problem begging him to go harder, faster, to leave his marks and to ruin you.

You wake the next morning to a home cooked breakfast, a cup of tea, some painkillers and Zhongli, still apparently basking in the afterglow of the night before, and more than happy to put you back together.

#Zhongli genshin #zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader smut #silentmothasks #moth is not silent #silentmothwrites

[kettlequills]

c3, snowberry tea

in which nirya's repressed bisexuality drives the plot. on a03. miralda and background serigus/nirya.

During dinner, Nirya always makes sure to get a good seat to watch the faculty table. Sergius isn’t there yet, but Faralda is already, keeping an empty seat beside her. Nirya knows what she is about, and she has no intention of letting her get away with it unwitnessed.

She, technically, can sit there if she chooses, but there’s never enough chairs. Nirya’s move to get the table expanded has been met with confused blinking from the Archmage, and she was far too flustered to be speaking to him personally that she hasn’t pressed it, yet. She regrets it now, bitterly. Tomorrow, she promises herself, she’ll - send a letter, or something. 

The idea of Master Wizard Ervine reading out her letter to a sneering Faralda, who makes some joke and then they all laugh makes her want to walk the College bridge drunk and blindfolded. Maybe - maybe, the next time Aren is downstairs for dinner, she’ll just approach him directly. He’ll have to listen this time.

It is fairly busy tonight, classes having just let out, and eager students throng the hall, winding round the trestle tables with their trenchers piled high and repeatedly blocking Nirya’s view. She restrains herself from hissing at them as she picks at her food, a particularly tasteless fish stew. 

The deliveries must be late again. How Nirya misses good spices and vegetables that aren’t boiled into pallid, flavourless lumps - and anything but fish, endless, endless fish! Still, it is just another little unpleasantry to deal with on her way to the top, when Nirya will really change things. Just like irritating Orthorn awkwardly hovering behind her, talking about something or other in his whiny, stuttering voice.

“Um, Nirya?” He finally notices she is ignoring him and tugs at the back of the chair on the right side, blocking her view of the faculty table. 

“What?” Nirya frowns at him; Orthorn looks vaguely pained, like he always does whenever Nirya bothers to acknowledge him. 

“Can I sit here?” he asks, faintly.

Nirya glares at him. There are at least a dozen other empty chairs around her and even some spare seats with Katarina and Pithi, who are casting pitying looks in his direction and probably would let him tag along with them. Orthorn clearly catches the direction of her thought and flushes up an agonised brassy red. So they’ve done a few group projects when they took Tolfidr’s advanced Alteration class together, and he’s given her a few pages of spare notes when Nirya was busy, doing other things, making sure no one was sabotaging her - it doesn’t make them friends.

“Um,” he starts, “I’m sorry to uh- bother-”

“You should be, I’m sure,” says Nirya sharply, because she has no patience for self-effacing foolishness, and Orthorn goes a further pitiful shade of deep red. 

An idea occurs to Nirya; sitting alone, she’s much more obviously a spy than if she has a decoy conversational partner. She won’t be as unsubtle as Faralda, no indeed! Besides, if she glances to her left she can see Enthir, not at the faculty table either, dramatically regaling a crowd of enrapt students in his latest scheme, and no one ever thinks he is just a research adjunct who has got too big for his boots, who isn’t really any good at magic either, like Nirya knows they think about her, secretly. But she will prove them wrong. She will prove them all wrong, when she’s a Master.

“Fine,” she concedes. 

Orthorn gawps at her, poleaxed. His ears perk up like a little boy’s given his first taste of shaved ice soaked in fruit. “What - really? Are you sure?”

“Obviously,” says Nirya, “Sit here.” She pulls out the chair and then carefully shifts her stew over so she can lean on the table - her consciousness of her impolite table manners ignored, for now - and see past his bobbing head.

“Um, thanks.” Pleased with himself by the upright cant of his ears, he settles down and starts anxiously pursuing a lump of off-white fish around his bowl, sneaking looks at Nirya.

To her annoyance, whilst Orthorn was distracting her, Sergius came in and now sits next to Faralda. The magelights gleam over his bald pate and sparkles of powder in his bushy white brows, some explosion from an unwary apprentice, no doubt. His robes glitter with the aftermath of soul-gem dust; he clearly hasn’t had time to change before dinner. His striking pale eyes glint as he waves around his goblet, one hand brushing Faralda’s shoulder.

Nirya tenses. 

Faralda is pretending not to notice, her hawklike eyes sweeping the entrances like she’s waiting for someone, like she hasn’t got everything she wants right by her side. Nirya scoops some fish stew and nearly misses her own mouth, her eyes narrowed.

“Are you all right, Nirya?” Orthorn asks, obliviously, “You look…”

“What?” she snaps, and his courage fails him. He glances down to his stew, his hands shaking on his spoon. 

“You just seem kind of upset,” he says to his bowl. “Can - I - can I do anything to help?”

“No,” Nirya responds reflexively, “I can handle it myself.”

And she will. Sergius still hasn’t taken his hand off Faralda. She twitches, like she’s just noticed, like she isn’t dragging it out on purpose. Her ears flatten and she says something, interrupting a story he’s telling. He grins, raising his hands up as if in apology - though she is too far to hear the words, Nirya already knows his joking, playful tone, the way his charming grin folds up lopsided at one corner. It’s a devastating look, Nirya knows the effect of it well, making her palms sweat and her stomach fill with butterflies. Pursing her lips, Faralda looks away - playing it hard to get, Nirya thinks, with a rush of superiority, but it won’t matter, because just as she thinks that, Sergius also gazes out over the dining hall, like he’s searching for someone.

Maybe even for her.

Heart pounding, she sits up straight at once, in case he catches her with such a slovenly posture. For a moment, she regrets Orthorn’s presence, aligning herself with a student makes her look so young, not like the dignified scholar with a bright future, already assistant teaching, he sees in her. Presentation is everything. If she wants to be Archmage someday, she needs to mind her image, not align herself with stumbling, weak mages like Orthorn.

Orthorn mutters something. 

“Pardon?” says Nirya, frustrated, and spares him a glance; Orthorn for once is looking steadily at her, though he’s chewing at his lip unattractively. A terrible habit, really.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” he says, and spoils it when his voice cracks. Whatever pale ghost of social graces he had then deserts him and he shovels an overly large spoonful of stew in his mouth and promptly chokes.

Sighing exasperatedly, Nirya slaps his back. Orthorn coughs gratefully and she withdraws her touch as soon as she can. He smells overwhelmingly like mint - yes, he has alchemy for his last class. Nirya has dropped it for teaching prep time. 

“Well, thank you,” she says, awkwardly. The words feel unfamiliar in her mouth, like a different language. He brightens, hardly dims when she adds caustically, “But it’s really not necessary.”

“Just, so you know,” Othorn says, “There’s - uh. Some of us are going down the Midden tonight. If you wanted to come-”

“That’s off limits to students like you,” Nirya interrupts officiously, “Only teachers and associates can go down there.”

Like her, she doesn’t need to say.

“Like me,” she says, anyway, because some reminder of the hierarchy is always good.

 “Well,” he says. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“And if I should hear of any students going into restricted territory, I shall have to inform the proper authority,” Nirya adds, and Orthorn practically wilts.

“Yeah,” he says again, weakly, like he regrets everything. 

Nirya doesn’t need to look over to know that Katarina and Pithi are whispering and looking at them, giggling at Orthorn’s hangdog look. She bites her lip against a flash of fury. No doubt it will be all around the dormitories again; Nirya is a bitch, she’s nasty. Well, she doesn’t care, when she’s just saying it how it really is. They can think she’s as unpalatable as they like, when she’s in charge.

At the faculty table, Faralda is talking to Sergius and fussing with her vibrant curls, probably to draw attention to the perfect, elegant triangle point of her ears. Nirya resists the urge to brush her plain blonde hair over her own; Sergius has never said anything bad about Nirya’s ears, never so much as hinted at dismay at the curving shape of the points. He has better taste than to be taken in by something so, so, common, when Nirya’s good looks outstrips Faralda’s in all ways - almost, she amends self-consciously, but definitely in every one that matters. 

Sergius laughs at something quick-witted and dry Faralda says, but she misses it entirely as the door opens. A gust of cold air shudders down Nirya’s back and the conversation of the tables at the door ebbs. 

“Oh, it’s the Master Wizard,” says Orthorn, anxiously, “Nirya, you won’t really tell, will you-?”

Nirya ignores him, ignores Mirabelle Ervine sweeping past, ignores everything except Faralda suddenly lighting up with her first smile of the night, while Sergius fills her wine.

No, she won’t tell, not that she mentions that to Orthorn, it’ll do him better to have a bit of caution and proper respect for authority here. But Nirya will be busy, she thinks, eyeing Faralda’s bright smile with curdling suspicion in her belly. It’s Tirdas tonight, Sergius won’t be expecting her. The perfect time to sneak in and see if he won’t be expecting someone else, instead.

—

The sun sets on a blustery night, and Nirya nearly turns back half a dozen times before she makes it to the Hall of Countenance. At each stumble, she hesitates, doubting herself, a thousand remembered insults echoing through her mind; paranoid Nirya, frigid Nirya, bossy, stupid Nirya, who never gets the joke til she’s the butt of it. The flash in Sergius’ eyes when he touched Faralda’s sleeve drives her on, despite the cold and the persistent, nagging insecurity. If he is lying to her too, she might just kill him.

The shrieking winds yank with insidious fingers Nirya’s robes as she hurries through the darkness, a sneaking shape with snow-tossed hair pale as bone around her shoulders. Ice slicks the stones like grinning teeth, and the storm moans around her a chorus of ghostly laughter and divine mockery. She trips at the door to the Hall of Countenance, wrestling with the heavy iron knocker. The metal’s intense chill saps the strength from her trembling hands.

Grimly, Nirya sets her shoulder to the door. She’s come this far, sneaking out of bed and creeping in the freezing cold and dark to pursue a hunch. Snakes twist in her belly, their searing fangs digging into her heart with each panicked thump. It feels different, sneaking in tonight. It shouldn’t, but it does.

She has no choice. She cannot turn back, not without knowing.

The door’s creaking hinges wail when she pushes it open. Nirya hisses a curse and bites it back at once, but the sound plumes out of her anyway, traitorous white fog wisping around her lips. The hall is dark, lit by bobbing magelights shining soft blue. She puts her back to the door and eases it closed, soundless with experience. 

It is immediately warmer inside. Leaning against the reddish shimmer of one of the warming enchantments worked into the stone, Nirya waits, every knot in her body rigid, for the hems of her robes to start to warm, then slowly steam. The steam wasps ticklishly up to her nose, smelling faintly of musty fabric and slush. She grimaces and tries to primp up her limp hair. 

She’s painted her eyelids, her lips, and dusted her cheeks with blush. It’s a subtle look, just enough to highlight her features without being too obvious, just enough to give her face a little help. It has taken hours of anxious deliberating, but it doesn’t look like it. The humiliation of being sent away despite a visible effort makes her stomach squirm with horror. Better by far to pretend she’s above it all. 

One day, they’ll all see, and Nirya will never have to pretend again, she promises herself. One day, sooner than they all think.

Ghosting up the stairs, Nirya hugs the shadowy wall. Her pricked ears swivel, hunting for sounds. The hall sleeps, humming with the ticking turnover of the magicka wells, a hundred-thousand forgotten enchantments whirring in the walls, the distant wind reduced to a sigh through the ice-crusted windows. A bespelled quill somebody forgot to dismiss determinedly tries to scratch words into the stony wall, by the remnant smears of ink, Nirya guesses it’s somebody’s research notes. The diagram is too archaic even for her, and she moves on with only the briefest pause to examine it. Somewhere, a scratchy, disembodied voice croons softly in mournful Dunmeris; Drevis’ dreams of his motherland brought to life by some sleeper-spell. Under his door, strange lights flicker, stirring wistful false-memories of an ash-choked land Nirya has never known. Used to ignoring the odd pulling towards the illusionist’s experiments, Nirya slides past.

She is nearly there. Her steps pick up with increasing confidence; she starts to feel she has already got away with it, and then she hears the worst possible sound.

Faralda, lightly clearing her throat. Nirya stops dead, but the chilling call of her name never comes.

In the silence, Master Wizard Ervine says, simply, “Faralda.”

“... Mirabelle,” replies Faralda.

There is something in how she says the name that Nirya has never heard before. Something she cannot quite put her finger on, something that makes her desperately curious. Something that feels like a crack in perfect Faralda’s infuriating facade.

Nirya glances longingly at Sergius’ silent door. Then she sighs, knowing herself. Stealthily, Nirya sidles round a chilly pillar and, trying to cram herself into the shadow as best as she can, surreptitiously peeks out.

Mirabelle and Faralda are standing by the blue radiance of the magic font. Faralda’s gold skin looks copperish in the cold light and her windswept, beautiful red curls are washed out oilslick-purple. Her robes are pushed up to the elbow, revealing her pallid forearms criss-crossed with fine, glinting hairs. Nirya can see the muscles jump in her forearms when she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. The elegant points of her perfectly-shaped ears drag downwards at indifferent, irregular angles. 

“Won’t you come in for a moment?” the Master Wizard asks. There’s an undercurrent in her voice, a lilt that makes Nirya’s eyebrows raise even as it inflames her curiosity.

Mirabelle is regarding Faralda steadily. Her robes are rumpled and a flyaway lock of hair has escaped her sloppy bun, but she holds herself with the same unflappable, quiet confidence Nirya expects from her. Master Wizard Ervine, no matter how pressed for time, how harried, how tired, looks at the world like there’s a solution to every problem, one that cannot stand against the deep, iron core of persistence and inner strength that radiates from her like heat shimmers from Faralda. 

But Nirya has never seen her smile like that. It is a strange little smile, very calm, nothing but the slightest curl of the lips and a richness in her warm brown eyes that makes Nirya’s palms sweat. 

Nirya shrinks back, intimidated and intensely aware she’s eavesdropping. She feels, suddenly, that while she has had a relatively comfortable intercourse with Master Wizard Ervine, she does not know Mirabelle at all. She imagines Mirabelle’s patient, disappointed face at catching Nirya spying on her, and her stomach clenches over cold and ill. As silently as she can, she rubs her hands on her robes, and hopes she doesn’t see Faralda’s sharp ear twitch at the rustle of cloth.

Instead, Faralda speaks, quickly, tensely, like she might think better of it. “I had better not.”

Mirabelle sighs, leaning one hand against a plain black door - obviously, leading to her room. They are in the enchanters’ quarters. Faralda’s slender, tall frame sways a little. From her crouched vantage point behind the pillar, Nirya sees Faralda stare hard at Mirabelle’s hand, warm colour against the faded woodstain, her brow furrowed like she’s trying to unpick a problem. 

“I am able to control myself,” Mirabelle says, a little tartly, and Nirya frowns. Control herself - how? She presses her cheek to the wall - ignoring the cold - and squints, hoping to catch some flicker of expression that will explain the whole puzzling interaction to her. 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Faralda replies, lowly. 

She means me, Nirya realises. Faralda’s voice pitched rough and deep does something to Nirya, something strange that makes her face flush up hot even as it slides thickly ice-cold down her spine like snow dumped over her head from jeering apprentices. She curls her toes in her boots, but it doesn’t stop the itching, jittery urge to do, to do - something. Something that lodges in her chest, uncomfortable and hard to breathe around, something that surges like heated victory in her veins. 

It’s proof that Faralda sees her, proof that she knows Nirya is a threat to her, that she’s coming up behind Faralda, ready to take her for everything she has. Finally, she’ll see what underneath that distant, fiery mask, finally, she’ll see what Faralda is so desperate to keep from her, finally, she’ll have some proof that Faralda is trying to split her apart from Sergius! And then, and then, Faralda will have to look at Nirya with a bit of respect, when Nirya foils her plans, when Nirya proves she’s just as savvy, just as clever as Faralda and even the Master Wizard, that she deserves to be right up there with them, included in their secret councils and whispering gossips late at night. It’s all she’s ever wanted, and it makes her sick to hear it.

The vindication of being right distracts Nirya so utterly she nearly misses Mirabelle’s reply, but then Mirabelle cocks her head and takes one small, measured step towards Faralda, barely sliding her shoe forwards and shifting her weight closer. 

Speaking softly like she doesn’t want to wake anyone, Mirabelle murmurs, "I want a simple word with you, that's all." 

Faralda’s shoulders jerk in a tight movement Nirya recognises well; Faralda, putting on her mask, preparing for a rousing debate or a catty fight. When she speaks, her aristocratic Alinorian drawl is sharp and clipped.  "And what word may a Master Wizard have for a professor, this late at night?"

"Oh, very well, if it will comfort you, professor," says Mirabelle, amused. The tension draws out of her shoulders and she tucks her fingers against her palms, the sign for disengagement for mages everywhere. Faralda doesn’t smile. "Go sleep - are you on watch duty again tomorrow?"

Mirabelle’s lightness doesn’t seem to relax Faralda at all. Has Nirya caught the end of a telling off? But Mirabelle doesn’t seem angry in the slightest, and Nirya knows all too well the squirming dread of being on the other side of those solid stares, the private horror of all but watching the tiredness engraved under Mirabelle’s eyes dig deeper, all because of her. 

No, the tight, tense line of the shoulders creeping up to Faralda’s ears cannot really be guilt. 

"Well if you're going to stand out here all night torturing yourself, I'm bringing you tea," says Mirabelle briskly, when all Faralda does is jerk her chin. It’s the Master Wizard in her voice again, level and efficient, but the chill blue light lingers on the dimples of her warm smile, unutterably fond as she looks up at Faralda’s taut face, shadowed by the sharp angle of her cheek, turned away from Mirabelle.

"You need rest," mutters Faralda. She frowns, quick and severe, twisting her neck to regard Mirabelle seriously. “You do not sleep enough.”

"Don't be silly. I have far too much work to do." Mirabelle brushes the accusation off with a brief, affectionate touch to Faralda’s arm as she passes.

"I - very well, but - Mirabelle…" says Faralda, completely disarmed and completely ignored as Mirabelle bustles off.

Nirya jerks back behind the pillar, alarm thrumming through her body. Mirabelle passes so close by that Nirya could reach out a hand and caress her shoulder. She digs her nails into her palms and holds so still she barely breathes, heart drumming in her chest. Hidden only by the trick of light and Mirabelle’s path away from her towards the stairs, the near-miss inflames Nirya. Quickly, before she can lose her nerve, she darts out of cover and snakes towards Sergius’ room, praying Faralda is too preoccupied to hear the soft scuff of her shoes.

The affectionate brush of Mirabelle’s hand to Faralda’s arm is burned in her mind, how her hand skated up the smoothness of Faralda’s forearm and lingered in the caress of the robe falling over her elbow. She fumbles with the doorknob and sees it replay over and over in her mind, an odd thudding sensation in her veins and the knots of her belly. She makes it inside without incident, pressing her back to the door and her hand over her elbow, the same place Mirabelle touched on Faralda. Beneath her robes, she itches.

She looks, with some desperation, on the entire reason she has come out tonight.

Sergius is stretched out under the covers, one leg thrown haphazardly over nothing. He snores in rhythmic, whistling breaths through his hairy nose, his skull soft and vulnerable as an egg in the dim light Nirya conjures to see by. Gadgets and gizmos in various states of sawdusty disrepair cover every available surface in his room, a towering maze Nirya has to pick her way through to reach his rumpled bed. It smells of explosions, arcane dust, and man, and she feels something in her shoulders unknot at the familiarity of it all.

Best of all, he is alone. No secret lover has crept into Nirya’s space at his side, if Faralda means to visit him tonight then Nirya has beaten her to it. She is suddenly, overwhelmingly pleased, flustered by her delight, and her doubts seem foolish and insubstantial when he is there, before her. Memorisingly, she stares down at his face and the dearness of the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling in his snuffling sleep. 

“Sergius,” she calls, softly. She touches his shoulder, crawling up beside him. Her heart burns a warm coal in her chest, and she purrs his name again, bringing her lips to his ear.

He shivers in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent the pillow swallows. When he raises his head, his bushy eyebrows are haywire and his striking eyes bleary. 

“Whazzit?” he manages, sleepily, blinking at Nirya like he doesn’t quite recognise her. After a moment, a tentative smile stretches his lips.

She catches his hand and presses it to her face, relishing in the roughness of his calluses against her skin, the smallness of his human hand in her long, spindly elven one. She wants to press his fondness into her body and eat it, consume it until it’s a ruddy part of her, inextricable from her flesh. He squeezes her sharp chin, swiping his thumb over her lashline, where tears have clumped up ready to fall. She is remorse personified, her heart turning over itself overspilling and rotten through, she is a stupid girl, she is everything they say about her, for doubting anything at all.

“Did I get the day wrong?” Sergius’ voice rumbles around in his chest. She strokes his chest to feel it vibrate, dragging her fingers through sprigs of curly hair. He is very warm against her chilled skin. His vitality pumps through his chest like a drum. “I thought it’s Tirdas.”

“It is,” she admits, bashfully, “I just had to see you.”

She fears briefly he’ll press, and she will have to speak aloud her torrid, terrible worries, but he doesn’t. Instead he blinks, slow and sleepy like a startled cat, and asks, “Y’right, Nirya?”

“Yes,” she says, and then bends to kiss him. 

He accepts her lips with lazy, lordly composure, but his eyes are drooping. He is half-asleep already when she sits up, sighing. His eyes are closed, so at least he doesn’t see the tears that she hurriedly swipes away before it can ruin her makeup.

“Tomorrow?” he mumbles without a shred of shame. Idly, he pats her hand on his chest. She can feel the strength in his wiry body, even lax and heavy with his interrupted slumber.

“I suppose,” says Nirya, a little disgruntled but without rancour. She dusts a gentle, farewell kiss on the bridge of his proud nose and eases herself up, careful not to disturb him. 

She needn’t have bothered; Sergius stays where she leaves him, sprawled out and breathing deeply. There is a faint smile on his lips, like a man who slips at once and easily into pleasant dreams. Nirya does her best to match it as she carefully opens the door a crack, listening intently. Her body is warm and flushed with girlish pleasure, the simple joy of validation and doubts dismissed. She is still quick to draw her eye back from the crack in the door when she hears the rapping of Mirabelle’s footsteps.

Mirabelle’s shape swishes past, carrying two steaming mugs. In the brief flash, Nirya spots her tired face and sees Mirabelle’s hands are shaking where she holds the cups. Tea splashes over her brown wrist, burning her skin. Mirabelle doesn’t even flinch, her dark eyes scanning the shadows for the professor she’s left waiting. Nirya exhales slowly when she has gone past, and nudges the door open a hair more.

“Here,” Nirya hears Mirabelle announce softly, “Your tea.”

A pause, then Faralda’s surprise. “Peppermint?”

"Snowberry is for our mornings," Mirabelle says, firmly. "Though, peppermint is an early tea, too. How you drink it at all hours only the gods will know."

"Thank you," Faralda says, quietly enough that Nirya almost misses it. 

"You're welcome," Mirabelle returns, in the same intimate manner. 

There is a brief, telling silence. Her ears twitch and strain. She wishes she could see them still; Nirya is certain there is something very interesting happening, something that will only give her an edge. She wonders if it is not about her at all, but something else, something even more illicit.

Gently, Mirabelle adds, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"I won't," says Faralda. Stolid and resigned, her flat self-denial makes Nirya clench her fists. She sounds like she regrets it even as she says it. It’s irritating. Faralda is better than this, Nirya knows she is, she has to be better, or she’s not worth beating at all. 

"Goodnight, Faralda." Mirabelle doesn’t sound upset, though. Her voice remains even, if slightly fond. Nirya scrunches her robes in her hands and glances back at Sergius, dozing contentedly. Something in her heart twists. No, she recognises that tone, understands it in a terrible series of interlocking revelations that have her mind spinning. 

"Master Wizard,” replies Faralda.

She waits for the sounds of retreating footsteps, then gives it an extra minute or two for good measure. Then, certain she has evaded all discovery, Nirya eases open the door and slips out. She straightens up, mind full of the snippets she has gleaned. She finds herself smiling, wolfish. Another seamless infiltration of the Hall of Countenance, and she has learnt new gossip to boot; gossip no doubt worth a pretty penny of social currency, if she ever chooses to share it. If she doesn’t keep tucked under her ribcage, next to her flighty heart, the fact that Master Wizard Ervine and the Destruction Professor have … something going on. 

You’re not perfect after all, she thinks, You’re just like me. Except Nirya would prove to everyone, anyone, some day, that she is better still.

A single word shatters her glee.

“Nirya?!”

Nirya’s body locks up in sudden horror and she whirls round. Faralda is staring back at her, mouth ajar, equally as shocked to see her as she is to be caught. There are still lingering traces of blush dusting Faralda’s ears and cheeks. She holds the teacup out from herself like it’s a stave, a defensive weapon, and Nirya feels a brief, stifled flare of warmth; Faralda’s fire, hastily banked. The slightest brush of her magic against Nirya’s core makes her shiver head to toe, but she draws her shoulders back proudly, like her face hasn’t flooded with guilty red.

Officiously, Faralda does the same, her chin tilting harshly and her shoulders setting into a straight, forbidding line. The teacup she still holds ruins the foreboding silhouette somewhat; the white china cup is small in her long hands, sized for humans, and there are periwinkles flashing blue between her violet-tinted gold knuckles. Her sharp eyes drill down into Nirya like hot motes of firelight from searing torches.

“Mistress Nirya, this area is out of bounds at this time,” Faralda says, cuttingly, like it will distract Nirya from her still-visible blush.

“Professor,” she returns, with an insolent smirk. Faralda’s ears quirk back, vexed. “Don’t worry, I was just leaving.”

“Whatever you were doing here in the first place, I should not like to know, as business is to be conducted in the daylight hours,” Faralda says superciliously. She has a very fine nose for looking down at Nirya, despite their near-equal height. It is straight, long, and slightly pointy, and makes her gaze absolutely withering when she wants it to be. 

Stubbornly, Nirya clenches her hands into fists until her nails cut into her palms. She hates it when Faralda looks at her like this, like she’s some irritating, misbehaving student, some errant girl caught out of place and out of bed. It turns her guts to water and her spine to fire, and the angry hissing between comes out of her mouth, all spite.

“You think you’re any different? You think you can tell me what to do? What were you doing?”

She ladles her voice with insinuation, and Faralda flushes at once. Her lip curls off her teeth. “Adjunct,” she begins, and Nirya scoffs. Her heart is beating quickly in her temples, her breath is shallow in her lungs, she feels incandescent and alive, adrenaline a high behind her teeth. 

“Had a … private question for the Master Wizard?” she drawls, taunting, and the heat shimmer haloing Faralda’s glorious curls thickens like a summer storm. Faralda’s eyes flash, lightning; Nirya feels electric.

“How did you - you spy!” she snaps, incensed, “I have tolerated your rudeness, but this invasion of privacy is a step too far-”

“Oh, like you’re any better than me!” Nirya cries as the bubbling inside of her erupts, “You think I’m some stupid rube, some country wizard! But you’re jealous! You’re jealous of me! I bet if I had your fancy training from Summerset, I’d be just as good as you-! Better!”

“Jealous?” Faralda looks so baffled it hurts like a slap in the face. “Why would you ever want to go to Summerset?”

“You just don’t think I could succeed there because I’m not like you!” Nirya flares. Traitorous tears sting at her eyes but she blinks them away. She won’t cry out of the tumultuous mix of emotions that can only come out as anger, not now, not ever! And certainly not in front of Faralda!

“I’d pray you’d never have to go to that cesspit, though Divines know you have the will to wear down anywhere you’d like!” Faralda says crossly, “Nirya, I thought you were prouder than that.”

“I am!” Nirya shrills, confused, pleased, and furious enough to weep. 

“Good!” Faralda spits.

An impatient, bristling silence falls as they both stand there, panting. Nirya swipes roughly at her face, forgetting her makeup and then hissing when she sees powder on the sleeve of her robe. Her shoulders sink. She can’t bring herself to look at Faralda, not when she looks like such a state, not when crippling awkwardness and shame revolt in her stomach with the heaviness of lead.

Faralda sighs. It’s a deep sound, a release of built-up pressure and irritation, one that musters despite herself a contrary flicker of indignation in Nirya. When Nirya glares up at her - and how rude, that Faralda is just a little taller than her - she finds Faralda reclining back against the wall, long frame sinuous and the teacup held seriously against her sternum. She sips from the tea, eyes burning down at Nirya, and Nirya has to glance away again, a hot flip in the pit of her belly. She grits her teeth against a wave of prickling frustration, at herself, at Faralda, at everyone. It’s not fair.

“I shall not say a word of where I saw you tonight, adjunct, but I advise that you leave. The storm outside only grows angrier,” says Faralda. 

“Like you don’t know why I was here,” Nirya mutters rebelliously, still not quite able to raise her eyes all the way to Faralda’s face.

“I do not, and I try very hard to keep it that way,” Faralda replies, with the measured intensity of somebody trying very hard to not be snappish. “What another does not know cannot hurt you - an element of discretion some folk of Skyrim can seemingly only aspire to.”

Nirya rolls her eyes. She doesn’t believe her, the hot, wormy feelings inside of her won’t permit it. Bitterly, she bites back, “You’re lying.”

Faralda exhales - not quite a sigh, not yet, and turns away. “Good night, Adjunct.”

She walks away, and with each step the bubbling within Nirya grows. She has to speak, to say something, to release the mounting pressure, something, this isn’t how it ends tonight - “Where are you going?” Nirya blurts.

Pausing, Faralda’s cheek is lapped with cool blue light, her eyes shifting as fire as she glances over her shoulder. Nirya’s armpits gather sweat. “To bed,” she replies, clipped and tart, “Like you should, seeing as we both have classes in the morning.”

Nirya speaks quickly, too quickly for her mind to process the words she says and demand to know what the hell she is doing. “You should ask her what that word was about, professor.” Faralda is rigid, her eyes widening, but Nirya isn’t done digging her own grave, “Offers - opportunities like this don’t come always. One day it’ll run out, and then you’ll just be alone again.”

Wincing, Nirya draws herself up straight; Faralda’s gathering ire at the reminder of her trespass shifts the air humid and crackling and the tips of Nirya’s ears cherry-red. She is quiet, waiting for Nirya to finish in disbelief at Nirya’s audacity, so Nirya keeps going, casting about inside herself for a hint of self-assurance, smugness, so it sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, like she doesn’t care, like she’s above it all. 

“Anyway, you may as well give up any advantage you have over me now, because unlike what you might be used to, here, we judge on merit,” she intones, self-importantly.

Unexpectedly, Faralda smiles. It’s only a rueful, tired quirk of her thin lips, but Nirya stares at it and feels a pain swell several sizes in her aching chest. Tingles run down from the centre of her spine to her extremities, and Nirya vaguely hopes it’s not some heretofore unknown seizure issue. She sucks in an unwieldy breath and tries to look proud. 

“So we do,” she says, kindly. It’s unbearable. Nirya wants to throw an arcane bolt into her smug face. “And so I hope to have much to fear from you, one day.”

“You already do,” Nirya lashes back, and then she turns on her heel and leaves so quickly she can only pray it doesn’t look like fleeing. 

While she goes, though, she throws one last curious glance over her shoulder to see Faralda, still hesitating, square her shoulders and knock once on Mirabelle’s door. For some reason unbeknownst to her, as she slips back out into the storm, Nirya smiles.

#my fic snowberry tea #faralda #nirya #mirabelle ervine #miralda #skyrim #tes #college of winterhold #elder scrolls #sergius turrianius #this beast took me an age to finish

[impending-day]

Why Three Legged Dog by The Bengsons is a DL!Pearl song, an essay

hello, people of tumblr. i propose to you this.

i will be touching on the following points throughout this essay:

the dog metaphor

the dependency of another person

various other lyricism examples

the vocal quality

1. The Dog

if you cant tell, this song is called three legged dog. the singer, abigail, talks about being a dog caught in a trap (could be interpreted as the life series, or the specific soulmate aspect. more on that later). there isnt much more to it. shes a dog caught in a trap, and shes gonna chew off her foot to get free.

2. The Trap

her soulmate, scott, left her. and she never got over it, no matter how hard she wanted to, thanks to the soulmate mechanic. she was left hurt and stranded, forced to make do with the situation she found herself in.

now for some lyrics:

When we met, I broke in pieces And half of me went into you When you go, my shards will scatter Half of me is dying too

this is peak double life pearl. absolute peak double life pearl. she lost part of herself seeing scott and cleo team. she actively hurt herself, just so scott would hurt too. but in that, the same applies. when scott gets hurt, so does she.

I'm supposed to just keep walking I'm supposed to just move on No, I can't breathe without him l'll be nothing, yeah, I'1l be nothing yeah Oh when he's gone, when he's gone

she makes it her mission to mess with scott. she practically goes insane messing with scott. shes stuck like glue to him, even when he kept brushing her off for someone else.

l'Il be a pile of salt I'll be a river of salt

same as before: she doesnt get over his betrayal. at all. she holds that grudge- she holds lots of grudges- until the end of the line.

3. Other Lyrics

if im being honest, for these i dont have reasons. take them as they are. they fit.

I'm a dog in a trap I'm gonna chew off my foot And leave it behind Leave it behind in the ashes and in the soot

kinda fitting. you see it right.

I can't do it anymore I'm not strong enough for this I never, I never said that I could Well I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I Can't I can't I can't I can't I'm sorry

more on this in the fourth section.

I could leave this pain, I could leave this pain behind I could leave this behind Erase, erase my mind, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna rip my flesh I'm gonna, I'm gonna set myself Free! Free...

4. The Delivery

abigail is an incredibly talented vocalist. the track begins with her singing in a rather reserved way, but once she starts talking about the pain of the trap, the intensity picks up.

i would love to note the delivery of "i'd be a three legged dog." she says it three times in a row, and each has its own emotion. the first is ruefully factual, the second is the weight settling in, the third is cracking under the pressure.

and then comes the "i can't do it anymore" lines. theyre delivered in a way where you can hear the pain shes going through. its almost difficult to listen to because of how raw they are. they only get more unhinged when the other party is mentioned, such as the "half of me is dying, too" line.

she sounds desperate to "leave this pain behind," especially in the "erase, erase my mind" line (one of my favorites). and once she does, theres a moment of pause. the acknowledgement that she set herself free in one way, but part of her remains stuck.

thus, the "i'm supposed to just keep walking" lines, all the way to the end. shes still so bitter to the person who did this to her. she laments becoming a three legged dog, though it gave her freedom.

overall, one of my favorite vocal performances of all time.

and with that, my essay concludes. thank you for reading 🫡

#trafficblr #traffic series #double life #double life smp #dlsmp #dlsmp pearl #double life pearl #pearlescentmoon #double life analysis #dl pearl #dl pearl analysis #the bengsons #song essay #Spotify

[chaoticstrata]

WIP Zaberial

This is something that I had started before writing anything for Aketho. I cleaned up a few things for it, so hopefully, it doesn't read like a mess, lol I'll probably be writing more for Zabe in the future, but they'll be more one-shots than a series. --------------------------------------------------

Zaberial sighed softly as he hunched over his desk, working through the ship’s current supplies and budget. He’d love to punch whoever told him there’d be no paperwork as a smuggler, apparently they didn’t have other mouths to feed on their ship. With the addition of Guss to his crew of misfits, they were in need of more of everything and then some. The Mirialan groaned and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face—maybe he could get Akaavi to smack him over the head a few times so he could forget how to do math and then ask someone else to do the budget…

When the door to his quarters opened, he almost jumped for joy. Finally! A distraction from the numbers!

“Captain, there’s a call on the holo for you,” Risha said as she entered the room.

“Oh yeah? Did they happen to say who they were?” Zaberial asked, picking up his coffee to take a sip.

“He said his name was Leland.”

Zaberial choked on his drink.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he managed to get out between fits of coughs, looking back at her with wide lavender eyes.

Risha looked highly amused as she crossed her arms, hips canting to the left. “I’m not. I’d ask why you look so shocked, but considering the man has your face I’m going to take a wild guess that he's your sibling.”

“Yeah,” the captain replied, making a face. “He’s my twin brother…and I’m pretty sure I know why he’s calling…how pissed off did he sound?”

“On a scale of one to ten? I’d give it an eight,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck me,” Zaberial groaned, running a hand down his face again.

“I can’t help you there. We’ve long since established we are better friends than lovers,” Risha teased, smirking as the captain got up.

“Har har,” he grumbled, walking past her towards the common area. He put on his best smile as he stepped up to the holoterminal. “Lee, big bro, what an unexpected surprise! How have you been?”

“Don’t even with me right now, Zabe,” growled an older Mirialan, the deep baritone of his voice echoing around the commons. “Why in the hell do you have a hundred million credit bounty on your head? By Rogun the fucking Butcher of all people!”

“And here I thought it was from Rogun the Cuddler of Kittens, thanks for clearing that up,” Zaberial quipped. He winced when his brother crossed his arms and glared at him further. “Look, I can explain,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Believe it or not it wasn't my fault…for once.”

“Oh, this oughta be rich,” Leland said, gesturing with his hand for the younger man to continue, “Let’s hear it.”

“Right. So, I had this gun run to Ord Mantell….” the smuggler started, detailing his failed delivery to Vidu and how his ship was stolen by the slimebag Skavak. He followed it up with the other wild deliveries he made for Risha before concluding with meeting Nok Drayen and finding the old gangster’s lost treasure. By the time he finished his brother was rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“That’s pretty much it in regards to Rogun,” Zaberial said, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for his brother to respond.

“I can’t believe you lost Pop’s ship,” was the first thing out of Leland's mouth.

Behind him he could hear Risha snicker while he saw Corso try to hold in laughter. Zaberial glared at them both before turning back to his brother.

“Ok, one, it’s my ship—I bought it off of Mom and Pop when they retired. In full, I might add,” he growled, “Two, I didn’t lose the ship, it was stolen. And not only did I get it back, I made that thieving scum sucker pay, thank you very much. And three, that is what you took away from that whole story? Really!?”

His brother just smirked and shrugged.

“You ass. If I did that to you when you told me about winning the Great Hunt you’d have thrown a hissy fit,” the captain scoffed.

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

Zaberial couldn’t help but smirk at the offended tone in his brother’s voice. “Uh huh, sure. That pout says otherwise.”

“I am not pouting,” Leland argued.

“Tell that to your lower lip,” Zaberial snickered.

“You’re seeing things,” his brother growled, waving the captain’s comment away.

“Uh huh, right, sure,” he said before raising his voice so the young slicer he knew was there could hear him. “Hey Mako, I’m not seeing things, right? Leland’s pouting?”

“He’s pouting,” she confirmed from off holo.

“Mako!”

“Ha! You’re the best!” the captain cackled before addressing Leland again, “Please tell me Mom and Pop have adopted her already.”

“They’re working on it,” Leland said in all seriousness, “They’re still trying to convince her to let them.”

“She should!” Zaberial said in encouragement.

“I still don’t see why they would want to,” Mako said as she stepped into frame. “I’m no one special.”

“You kidding!? You’re a gem, Mako,” the captain said with a wide grin. “Besides, I always wanted a little sister I could team up with against Leland.”

The bounty hunter sighed and shook his head, “And suddenly I’m starting to have second thoughts about this—one younger sibling is bad enough.”

“It’s not like that would stop us from teaming up on you,” the slicer pointed out.

“True, it would just be official,” Zaberial tacked on, snickering when the older man had a very ‘done with it all’ look on his face. 

#strata wip #swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor smuggler #bounty hunter #zaberial #leland

[ldfanfic05]

Scream 2

(Scream 2 x Male! reader)

As you cleaned the last table in the new restaurant you worked at, your boss came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, can you close up for tonight. I need to visit my family..” He said, chuckling.

“Oh, sure!” You smiled and took the keys. You’d be left alone for tonight until you go home.

As your boss left you played the radio walking around and cleaning.

*ring, ring*

“Hm, I thought we were done with delivery’s for tonight...” you said while groaning. Picking up the phone.

“Hello, Garry’s Pizza Palace! How May I help you?”

....

Silence...

“Hello? Sir, Mam’m? Is anyone here?”

“Hello, Y/N...”

You stayed still, you recognised that voice. That horrid, seething, unsettling voice.

You quickly grabbed a knife from the kitchen and held it close to you.

“I’m not playing any fucking games this time...” You said through the phone.

“Don’t be like that Y/N...” You heard a knife run across come sort of surface over the phone. You hung up quickly and ran out of the restaurant.

You stopped right in your tracks.

Garry, your boss. He was hanging from a nearby lamppost, his intestines wrapped around his own neck.

You screamed, your horrified scream filled out the whole neighbourhood.

*ring, ring*

You looked at the phone ringing, tears streaming down your face. You threw the phone across the room, breaking it into pieces.

But Ghostface didn’t give up.

*ring ring*

Your phone buzzed from your pocket, you slowly pulled your phone out of your pocket and you answer it, your hand trembling.

“Hang up the phone and I I’ll gut you like your sorry boss!” Ghostface screamed through the phone.

You sobbed and nodded, still holding the knife.

“Now I want you to phone Sindey...Don’t even call the police because I’m watching you, right now...”

You shook and hung up, phoning Sidney.

“The person you tried to reach is unavailable at the moment, please contact the number to try again”

Voicemail played through the phone as you lowered the phone, sobbing.

Ghostface appeared behind you and grabbed you, attempting to shove your head into a burning hot stove, the fire only burnt your cheek a little but still hurt like hell.

You kicked him off you and slashed him with the knife, sprinting out of the restaurant, screaming.

“HELP! HELP! THE KILLER! HES BACK HE TRIED TO KILL ME!”

Luckily there was a police station near you and you didn’t waste a second going there.

Hours later..

You sniffled as Sidney ran over to you, hugging you tightly.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer! I cant believe he’s back...” She said

“It’s okay... But...I thought Billy and Stu were dead?” You questioned.

“They are...There’s no way they lived..” Sidney said softly.

You lowered your head and looked at your phone.

*Unknown number* *missed call (4)*

“Im so dead...He’s after us...Again...” You whimpered.

“Let’s go home...I can stay over at your house..Only if you like..” Sidney chuckled softly.

“Yeah...Sure...” You smiled weakly as you got up and walked with Sidney to your car.

You started to drive until you noticed something on a tree. “What the..?”

“What is that?” Sidney asked.

“I have no clue...” You said and got out of your car, walking over to the paper on the tree.

#male reader #fanfic #gender netural #scream #scream movie

[sunshinemellow-fic]

i get sushi super often at this little sushi place across the street from my apartment bc work makes me feel like trying to drown myself and i wouldn’t eat otherwise and tonight i finally dragged myself there to pick up takeout at like 10 after a day of staring at a stupid set of numbers that would not improve no matter what i did to them and no one else was at the restaurant bc it was about to close. and the family who runs the restaurant was just hanging out at a table and the mom was holding her son who was like 4 (?? i don’t know how to tell how old children are) but then they saw me and they were like omg hi!! and the mom let her son pick up my plastic bag of sushi and said “would you like to do a delivery” and her son was like yes! so she carried him over to me while he carried my sushi and she was like “say hi to [insert my name]” and i took the sushi from him and i was like “good job!!! thank you for my delivery!!!” and then the mom and the dad were like have a good night and now i’m home in my apartment crying over my sushi and i cant even put into words why bc im just drowning in this very specific very melancholy very bittersweet kind of feeling

#idk just having someone smile when they saw me at the end of the day and then letting their son hand me my food idk i just felt really human #in a way i guess i dont usually feel lol #human connection is so important why am i so bad at it #rambles

[omohole]

the worst thing about bad pain days isnt even the pain. its that i cant do anything. i usually end up going hungry on days like today because i Cant get food. i cant stand long enough to put together a meal, i cant bend down to get anything (a lot of our easily accessible stuff is on the lowest shelves of either the fridge or our cabinets), i cant go down the three flights of stairs to pick up a delivery. it doesnt help that my mom, the only other person i live with, is almost entirely indifferent to any kind of pain or sickness ive ever dealt with and thus leaving me to be entirely independent and self-sufficient in my weakest moments. shes too busy to get me something to eat, even off the shelf. shes too busy to help me get my laundry, or to take out the trash, or even to just walk to the bathroom. if i want something done, i have to do it myself or it just isnt happening. theres no support for me to lean on when im hurting.

#vent #chronic pain #sorry for the bummer posts #i just want to eat and move and live #my moms always been neglectful. the pain in the first place is a result of never getting medical attention as a kid when i needed it #so this isnt anything new #it just sucks that it keeps happening #anyways. probably no sandwich post today on account of 'i cant do it'

[shamehaversoffontaine]

quest for the 4* hp% sword: musings on kirara, nilou, bountiful cores

predicting ascension mats is a silly hobby but it is my favorite. i knew since she was a nekomata, that she'd probably have some connection to the other inazuma cats, so her mats would either be naku weed or amakumo fruit, as those are what grows on seirai island where asase shrine is. further more, so far only raiden uses amakumo fruit whereas both yoimiya and kuki use naku weed, therefore. amakumo fruit. and i was right!

ive just noticed how many hp scaling sword users there are (nilou, kuki, layla, fucking benny even, and now kirara) with no (non-5-star) hp% sword. at all. every other weapon type has some kind of option for their characters (though youre probably not gonna raise the recurve bow just for a couple extra points on diona's shield)

3.7 weapon is an EM bow which sounds great for tighnari, melt ganyu, and thats it.

the fontaine craftable weapons better include an hp% sword. this is getting ridiculous. hp is kinda hydros thing so it's not a stretch.

gonna give nilou 2p millelith/2p that new set for dehya. right now at level 79/80 (where shes going to stay until after i have kaveh raised) with 4p millelith hp/hp/hp/, shes at 42k. (with hydro resonance)

i dont know if the hydro her tranquility aura confers counts as a 'hit' for millelith, but it doesnt matter because the priority is squeezing as much out of her a4 as possible, which means hp hp hp hp. i have about 109% out of a possible 400%, and i dont think you can get that full 400 without key of khaj nisut. but. i'll get as close as i can. and then in 3 weeks i'll get kaveh and it'll be more.

right now, with a. get this. EM barbara 700-ish because i havent quite finished getting the gilded that i'd had couched on razor for kaveh. we're doing about 24k bountiful cores. nahida doesnt actually work too well with nilou because you need to like. i think it works better if nilou and/or someone else is doing the wetting and the dendro side of the equation is the one making the reaction. they say kaveh doesnt apply enough dendro on his own to do it, but we'll see. theyre both better in multi-target, so, multiple auras.

shame theres no good way for crowd control with nilou. swirl preference means youre always picking up hydro anyway. i was hoping there would be more, like. dendro constructs, like how the samachurl has his little vine walls.

and it seems like. the team right now is nahida/nilou/barbara/[tignari or yaoyao]. barbara, currently being built entirely into EM, is not healing quite enough, so i gave my lvl 50 yaoyao her maidens for extra heals and extra offfield dendro. it has been working quite well.

so. when i get kaveh, the gilded that's on barbara will go to kaveh, and it will be kaveh/nilou/xingqiu/yaoyao??? i still havent decided on baizhu. kirara has thrown a huge wrench into my decision. express delivery big wrench. it will eventually be kirara in the fourth slot. if we cant keep up heals which between kavehs own healing and xingqius little bits, i might switch out for barbara. and then theres. well. kokomi. i need to figure out kokomis kit i never know what im doing with her when playing with trials and stuff. then theres ayato, and then fontaine will probably bring a few good hydro characters, including fucking focalors herself, so. who knows. there are possibilities. and if kokomi or ayato come up on a rerun before we know what wet goodies lie in wait in the land of steampunk courtroom drama.

3.7 apparently has a new yoimiya chapter so there's 1/4. it also seems to be inazuma centric, though, so. gulp.

[greentrickster]

@someoddmix  #lmao I can just imagine cyrus and cynthia pointing at each other like the spiderman meme #hhfjajf and if cyrus tells her about dialga and palkia checking in and him apologizing #i dont think she'd know how to process that but I think she would be like #'oh! that's good? glad it's all worked out' thumbs up to cyrus #hahahaha giratina blessing his phone!!! #brilliant!!! #pros: indestrucible  cons: cant deconstruct =( #yessss important answer!! stylish giraphone! #FRIEND SHAPED FRIEND SHAPED FRIEND SHAPED #cyrus is so right giratina IS friend shaped #giratina just going on little field trips with their favorite human #so good!! #hahaha giratina explaining things to palkia and dialga like #okay I know how this looks but hear me out guys #he's my friend now. for real

Palika and Dialga: Well now we know you’re lying - you don’t have friends.

Giratina: First, rude. Second, who was it who saved your sorry butts from this guy a few years ago?

Palkia and Dialga: :( :( :(

Giratina: Look, this is my first friend ever and you two owe me, don’t screw this up!

Palkia and Dialga: Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Cyrus: (watching this go down with no clue what any of them are saying)

Eventually Cyrus starts getting texts on his giraphone (because neither Palkia nor Dialga will deign to speak directly to him) and he gets his telling-off and the apology happens. Texts are also how he talks to Giratina when they’re in Distortion World, to let them know when he can visit, or to request their help to make a delivery.

As for meeting Cynthia, she very much does do the jaw-drop-and-point stance from the meme, because she’s in Galar right now and Cyrus is supposed to be in Kanto, what the heck-?!??

Cyrus: (holds up package) I’m making a delivery, from Blue.

Cynthia: What??!??!?

Cyrus: Actually I guess it’s Professor Blue at the moment, since it’s lab notes.

Cynthia: I- Cyrus, why and how are you here???

Cyrus: ...I told you, I’m making a delivery. And Giratina.

Cynthia: Giratina.

Cyrus: Giratina. Very large pokemon. ‘Friend-shaped,’ if you listen to Red. I think you’ve heard of them.

Cynthia: (trying very hard not to blue screen of death, but, like... what is she supposed to do with this???)  ...you’re actually friends with them? Even after what happened at Mount Coronet?

Cyrus: (primly, and now heading towards Professor Magnolia’s place) Yes. And I’ve been forgiven. (giraphone dings a message alert and Cyrus checks it briefly) I’m being tolerated.

Cynthia: (oh so very confused) Oh. Well. That’s good. I guess. Good job.

Cyrus: Thank-you.

Cyrus then goes and makes his delivery before going to pick up the snacks Giratina requested from Galar to give them on the return trip. Cynthia, meanwhile, returns to her hotel room and screams into a pillow for a bit because this is just so freaking confusing and what the Distortion World, literally, what, why, why is this her life-???

#pokemon cyrus #red blue and cyrus too AU #pokemon cynthia #giratina #pokemon #pokemon diamond and pearl #pokemon brilliant diamond #someoddmix