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cupids-flyer · 10 months

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Architecturestudent!Armin

Vira note: pls spare me. This my first work on here ♡︎ ill get better as i keep writing🧚🏾‍♀️

Armin falling for you the pretty and smart architecture princess | fluff |

you knew walking into a architecture class in all pink with you’re dark brown complexion would cause a lot of staring but you didn’t care. as you put your bamboo earrings in, your playlist changed the song to The Key by Tems but you paused it till you got into your car and drove to school.

architecturestudent!armin who sat in the back struggling to keep his eyes open in class couldn’t help but notice you the girl in all pink walking into architecture class.

“Princess! I think you’re in the wrong class!” someone yells out to you. “This room 208. Architecture. Is it not?” You say looking at the teacher for confirmation. “Yes you are correct. Y/n right? The only open seat we have is in the back.” “Thanks.” you say smiling walking to your seat.

architecturestudent!armin who is entranced at the way your hips sway as you walk to the only open seat beside him in the back and take out your books

“Hi!” you say smiling “i’m y/n and you’re..” “I’m Armin but call me Min everyone does.” He says responding frantically “thats cutee, well Min i hope we become good friends this semester!” You say cheesin

architecturestudent!armin who was in shock at how forward you were. from you saying “stop being a stranger, move your chair closer” to Give me your number.” which had him shocked “if i didn’t ask i had a feeling i would’ve never got it!” you say chuckling

architecturestudent!armin who couldn’t get you out of his head the way you always where attentive in class, always knew the topics, and always writing notes and sharing them with him. he knew you were a dime and he couldn’t let you slide from up under him. he couldn’t let you go.

architecturestudent!armin who loves drawing so he draws you little doodles in the middle of class. but one day he scribbles fast on the paper and taps your hand urging you to read it. you glance and the paper and do a double take as your eyes get wide. he’s asking to take you out soon. you look over to smile at him while writing a fast “yes” he was so happy he could’ve jumped out of his chair

architecturestudent!armin who calls you because he didn’t understand some of the lesson and as he looks at the picture you sent of your notes. while his face is in the camera you see that he wrinkles his forehead and sticks his tongue out when he focuses. you think it’s a adorable habit but he has no idea at all.

architecturestudent!armin who takes you to a little cafe just to talk and get closer to eachother. you learn that he was the shy type when he was younger and still slightly is but learned how to stand up for himself with his friends help. you also learn that he loves minecraft and use to have one of those creeper jackets and a diamond sword.

“It’s not that funny.” He says with a straight face as you laugh your ass off “I-“ You say trying to catch your breath “im trynna to imagine you with the jacket on zipped up with the diamond sword IN HAND!” you say busting out in laughter. he can’t help but notice how pretty you look to him when your laughing.

architecturestudent!armin who loves seeing and making you laugh. some people may call your laugh obnoxious, loud, ugly, weird. but he found it weirdly adorable.

architecturestudent!armin who calls you almost everyday just to hear your voice. he keeps a note on his phone of all your favorite things and facts about you so he never forgets.

architecturestudent!armin has the patience of a saint. like when you and him where challenged with making and building a modern miniature house structure with 2 tiers and the blueprint just didn’t work together it kept falling and while you got frustrated armin calmed you down.

“BRUH this just isn’t working. Why is the structure not structuring!” you say slamming your hand’s against the desk “y/n its okay.” he says rubbing your leg and his hand on your back “maybe we need more stability on the pillars.” he says getting more stabilizers and the building began to stand up. “armin! you were right! “ you say hugging him. you didn’t know it but armin was feeling more accomplished and comfortable than he ever did before.

architecturestudent!armin who’s parents got him a luxury apartment to stay in invites you over to his apartment to see a project he had been assigned.

“Welcome to my place y/n!” he says while ushering you in with his hand on the small of your back before closing the door. “Min…” you say looking at his beautiful apartment. “this place is amazing” you say with your jaw dropping “it’s nothing really!” he says anxiously with his hand up and scratching his neck “my parents didn’t want me to stay in a dorm. so they got me this place.” he says walking around “you want something to drink?” he says leaning in the fridge and putting out 2 of your fav drinks. “definitely!” you say sitting at the island “so what’s with this project?” you say taking a sip “it’s nothing really i’m just making a victorian style-“ you couldn’t barely comprehend the words coming out of his mouth and you kept looking at his lips. slowly but surely armin started to notice and he felt the same whenever you answered.

architecturestudent!armin who’s so soft for you so when you start dozing off during the project he lets you stay over and sleep in his house saying “it’s to late for you to be driving.” all you can get out is a “mhm” while your heavy lidded eyes couldn’t take the weight and finally closed. what you didn’t know was armin kissed your forehead while you were sleeping wishin you good dreams.

architecturestudent!armin who wakes up earlier than you and makes you a breakfast for a queen.

“Min?” you call out into the house from the room you were in. you smell the aroma of french toast and pancakes. like a spell you let your feet take you to the smell. as you walk into the kitchen you see armin over the stove putting his all into making breakfast. “morning y/n.” he says with a smile looking over his shoulder “minn you shouldn’t have!” you say walking over and hugging him from behind hands around his waist. all he can think is anything for my angel.

architecturestudent!armin who’s been planning how to ask you to be his girlfriend for a while now. asking your favorite flowers getting you a necklace with your name and renting out a restaurant.

“Okay. Open your eyes in…

the gasp that left your mouth was indescribable. there armin stood infront of you with the necklace on display and flowers in hand. the restaurant was empty aside from the musicians playing romantic music. “i want you to feel loved and respected always so…. will you go out with me.” he asks nervously “you made this seem like a proposal min!” you say taking the items out of his hands and setting them on a nearby table then going back to give him a bear hug. “but yes i will go out with you Armin Arlet!”

#aot x black reader #armin headcanons #armin x black reader #armin aot #armin x you #armin fluff #anime x black!reader #black reader #tooth rotting fluff #viras work ❥✰#armin x y/n #armin arlet x reader

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xzho-writes · 2 years

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and so, i confide in parchment and ink

pairings: zhongli, diluc, kaeya x gn!reader

genre: angst/comfort

summary: in which you are separated from the genshin men, and their only way of communicating with you is through words shakily scribbled on a blank piece of paper.

wc: 700, 900, 1k

warnings: slight angst (mostly in kaeya’s), mentions of blood and injury

a/n: i’m dividing these into three parts with three characters in each. thank you all for these past few months, and i hope to be back some time in the future! i’ve also decided to name diluc’s falcon here so i hope you don’t mind :)

directory:

- ✦ masterlist - ✦ series masterlist - ✦ (pt.2), (pt.3)

zhongli

liyue’s most esteemed gentleman heaves a particularly weary sigh as he eyes the delicate slip of paper before him. the quill in his hand tap, tap, taps away at the surface of his office desk in a futile effort to relieve the twinge in his ancient heart.

it’s become a constant feeling, this pang.

a gloved hand rises to ease the pain in his chest, clutching at the area encasing the organ, but it does little to relieve the unwelcome feeling. the words on the parchment are blurred and are nothing more than obscured shapes but zhongli shakes away the tears before they could fall.

a single drop would ruin your letter after all, and you deserved only the very best of what he could give you.

with an aching soul, the former age-old archon flits his tired eyes over his penmanship once more. you always did love his handwriting, never missing the opportunity to compliment his skills whenever you chanced a glance at his works.

the fond memory gives him just enough strength to rise and fetch the qingxin flower sitting at your bedside table- one he had plucked himself after scaling the heights of minlin’s stone peaks. your favourite flower, he recalls.

he grabs his cologne on the way back, too. an earthy scent. homely.

zhongli returns to his desk with the flower cradled in one hand and his cologne in the other. after confirming the contents of his letter, your lover sprays a generous amount of his signature scent onto the paper and tucks it into its envelope, sealing the item carefully with wax. then with extra care he ties the delicate flora to the envelope using a thin chord.

he gives the gift a satisfied nod and carefully stows it away in his inner pocket.

it didn’t take long for zhongli to travel to the nearest postal service, practically sprinting there in an attempt for you to receive his words as soon as possible, desperately hoping you’d send one back in reply.

zhongli went to bed that night recalling what he’d written in his message to you.

—

“my greatest treasure,

please forgive how solemn this letter might sound. i assure you, darling, that this was never my intention.

my fingers itch ceaselessly to pull you close but given our current circumstances i am loathe to accept that impossibility. and so, with the loss of my closest confidant, i instead confide in parchment and ink.

how have you been faring on your travels, my love? are you taking care of yourself? enjoying the new scenery?

if in the unfortunate case that you aren’t, i have a little story that i’m sure would humour you: as i was cooking dinner this evening, i was struck with the realisation that i’d mistakenly made two portions of bamboo shoot soup… a dish of mine that i know you quite enjoy- it seems even subconsciously i cannot stop thinking about you.

perhaps this small anecdote might encourage that smile which i love so dearly to adorn your face in my absence.

it pains me that you must be away for so long. is it selfish for me to hope that you long for me just as i yearn for you? if so, then please forgive me. these thoughts refuse to leave no matter how hard i will them to.

despite today only marking a fortnight since your departure i fear that i may not be able to tolerate another week without your presence.

i miss you, my love… terribly so. it’s rather lonely here without your company.

i’d prefer to share all my thoughts with you in person but it seems this is the best i can do as of now. regardless, please remember to eat all your meals which i regrettably cannot provide (you seem to have the hapless knack of forgetting such important things- much to my utter dismay), and ensure you come back home to me safely.

i patiently await your return, my dearest.

with all the love in my heart,

- zhongli.”

diluc

the moon is high in the sky when you hear it- the shrill cry of a falcon. you recognise the sound immediately and jump out of your lonely queen-sized bed, throwing your book aside and flinging the doors of your balcony wide open.

there in the distance was diluc’s feathery companion in all her glory. she spots you instantly and hones in to land at the railing just in front of you, shrieking at your figure and giving her grand wings a restful shake.

“avaria!”

the friendly creature caws at her name, happy to be in the presence of her master’s most beloved. with one finger you reach out to gently ruffle the feathers of her chest in a manner similar to how you’ve seen diluc pet her. you receive quiet coos of content in exchange for your kind gesture and with one extended arm you invite the bird to perch on your forearm.

she happily takes her place atop your appendage and once on your arm you finally take notice of the scroll attached to her left leg.

a letter. from diluc, no doubt.

“what’s this, hmm?” you ask the bird in a curious tone full of mirth.

she all but peers at you with keen eyes and you breathe out, humoured, at her obvious inability to respond to your question.

“thank you, avaria. you’ve done well to fly here.”

carefully unlatching the letter from her leg, you turn to head back inside hoping to feed the wise bird in order to replenish her strength but pause at the way the falcon latches onto your arm tighter with her talons. you realise that she must be itching to make her way back, to inform diluc of her successful delivery, and so you give her a parting kiss to her head instead, petting her chest once more for good measure.

“keep him safe, alright?”

she nips gently at your finger and you can only take it as a sign of both understanding and affection. you chuckle happily at your silly guess, your wishful thinking.

with a mighty cry and the strong beating of her wings, you send avaria off with the careful launch of your arm and watch as her figure retreats into the midnight sky.

her piercing shrieks are the last thing you hear before making your way back to your shared bed, one that feels rather cold with the absence of your lover, tucking yourself into the sheets and lighting a nearby lamp.

you run your fingers over the delicate scroll and smile knowingly at diluc’s elegant penmanship. beautiful and neat as always.

there’s an odd sensation tugging at your heart, a feeling that only ever comes whenever you’re separated from the ragnvindr, and you wonder whether or not to save the letter for tomorrow instead, lest you fall asleep with a heavy heart.

but patience was never really a virtue you possessed in abundance and when it came to diluc’s wellbeing… said virtue was nigh inexistent.

with nothing but the company of the moon, you get lost in the feel of parchment at your fingers and the allure of the darkest ink.

—

“my love,

i hope this letter finds you in good health.

as of writing this message, it’s currently around nine in the evening and i’ve managed to find shelter in one of the many caves here in dragonspine. the bitter cold is incessant and i’m yet again reminded of the blessing that is my vision.

fortunate, isn’t it? this pyro vision.

and yet, despite the heat it provides me with and although my mind is at ease with the fact that you’re home and safe at the winery, i can’t help but wonder how much warmer i’d feel if you were here with me. i’m almost certain you’d be clinging onto my side and whining about how much you hate the cold, face flushed with the bite of frost and unknowingly sharing your warmth with me.

but i should stop with the wishful thinking. it only encourages the longing in my heart and i really shouldn’t have any distractions on this case.

as for my progress, i’ve finally discovered the final location of the abyss mages’ hideout. pesky little things. if i make haste i should be through with this mission by daylight and home by the time you awaken.

i’m fine too, so don’t worry yourself sick with my wellbeing as you so often tend to do. there’s bound to be a bruise or two somewhere but it’s nothing to fret over.

it’s alright. don’t worry.

usually i’d ask you about your day and any troubles you might’ve experienced, as i do with each letter addressed to you, but i’d rather save that conversation for when i next see you.

avaria will no doubt make her way back to you after informing me that you’ve received this letter, expecting you to write one in return, but don’t trouble yourself. as previously mentioned, please save all your thoughts for my return.

i am eager to hear your voice once again. it’s... been far too quiet without your constant chatter to fill the silence. i’d much prefer to have you here, talking to your heart’s content, but i would never jeopardise your safety in favour of my selfish desires.

i’ll be home soon, my love. i promise.

- diluc.”

kaeya

“damn...”

there’s a searing pain in kaeya’s leg. it shoots up the limb, up his spine from where he sits on the ground.

one glance to his left thigh has the captain gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in order to alleviate the throbbing sensation. there’s a gash there. a huge one, so very deep and so very red. his blood stains the fabric of his pants and soils the ground beneath him.

but he does his best to ignore the feeling. does his best not to focus on the over-hanging threat of blood loss. it’s— it’s imminent. it’s bound to be, what with the rate at which his blood pools below him, but he can’t fall into the depths of unconsciousness.

no, not yet.

not when he hasn’t sent you his weekly letter.

he promised, after all. promised he’d send you a letter for each week he had to be away on this damned expedition. for each week he coudn’t be home and by your side.

black dots swim around in his peripherals, but the cavalry captain stifles the heady feeling and instead turns his line of sight towards the right.

a desk. chair. a half-empty pot of ink... and a single slip of paper.

with great effort kaeya manages to rise to his feet. the world tips and twists around him but he manages to grab hold of the nearby makeshift bed.

the man has to actively recall how to walk, reduced to having the coordination of a newborn fawn: his injury was on his left, so that meant...

right leg, left leg. right leg, left leg.

kaeya is thankful for the tiny space of his tent despite having been used to his grand office. it only took a total of four shaky steps to reach his destination. he didn't know if he could manage any further.

a bloodied hand reaches out for the quill sitting in the ink pot, missing entirely at first before finally grabbing hold of the delicate item, the other reaching out for the stray parchment.

it's smeared with red now. he hopes you don't mind.

of course you would, he admits. of course you would, you'd worry almost instantly. what else would this colour mean?

it's not like he could fetch a new piece of paper, though. this would have to make do.

and so, with the final remnants of both his strength and his consciousness, kaeya scribes.

—

there’s someone knocking at your door, three raps against the polished wood.

your ears perk up immediately at the sound and, donning a thicker robe to keep out the morning chill, you make your way towards the entrance of your abode.

a familiar face greets your visage as you peer out of the peep-hole, an excitable smile on your face as you open the door for your guest.

“noelle! what brings you here this morning?” you greet, and the maid gives you a friendly smile and a small wave with her ironclad hand.

something clasped with her other catches your attention.

somethings brown.

“this is addressed to you,” she holds up the item you’d just been staring at. it’s an envelope with your name on it, albeit rather hastily written. “it came in last night.”

“thank you, noelle.”

the favonius maid graces you with another of her kind smiles and bows before taking her leave. with the company of no one but yourself again you close the door and quickly make your way back upstairs and into your bedroom, occupied with the slip in your hand.

it must be something from your lover. from kaeya.

the week had gone by without any signs or news from the cavalry captain. you didn’t worry initially, seeing how he was off on an expedition with the other knights, but as the week began to draw to a close with no word from kaeya you had began to feel rather restless.

but it was alright now. you had his letter in your very palms.

wrapping yourself under your duvet you begin to gently open the envelope. a single pull and the letter glides out and unravels itself before your eyes.

…and the high of anticipation all but crashes around you.

the writing is messy. scribbled. scrawled.

the paper was red. not all of it, only a few dots and a single streak, but the fact still stands.

it was red.

red?

wine, perhaps? if not wine, then some other alcoholic beverage? red water? no, kaeya loved wine- wouldn’t dream of nursing anything else unless completely necessary. red water didn’t exist. so maybe a juice of the same colour? a fruit stain, a food stain, any stain, something that isn’t, couldn’t be—

archons. there’s blood on the page.

your heart drops.

—

"calla lily,

i’m sorry.

this won’t be the prettiest of letters i’ve ever sent you by any means, but i hope it still finds its way to you. i’ve not got a lot of space or ink so please bear with me.

you’re no fool. i’m sure you can deduce my situation with how awful my writing is and the stains on this paper but please don’t worry, alright? it’s just a scratch- nothing our healers and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. it’s certainly nothing i haven’t faced before.

i’ll be okay, dove. promise.

and i’ll be home soon, too. varka and the rest have the situation all under wraps. shouldn’t take too long now. keep the bed warm for me, eh?

i love you, (name).

i’ve lived a lie my entire life, but that’s one thing i’m certain of. dead certain. if that’s the only truth i’ve ever known then so be it. i don’t care.

so please- please believe me. you have to.

take care of yourself for me, and know that no matter the distance between us, i’ll never stop lo—”

taglist

- ✦ @tellerluna-stories , @byeol-ssi , @irethepotato , @roguebox , @umiwu , @pinkuberii , @fiannee

published on 03/09/22

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin fanfic #diluc genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #zhongli #genshin zhongli #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin angst

713 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 6 months

Text

Rockford & Roan Pt. 4

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count:2.8k

Summary: “Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide, police, HTTYD reference, scars

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Case

You take possession of one of Rockford’s spare notebooks, yellow and spiral bound, scribbling down details about the case he’s been asked by the police to help investigate.

7 suicides over the past 8 months

Unsure why the brief lapse during the third month

Perhaps to throw police off potential trail?

Victims are all different ages, backgrounds, careers

Also found dead in different locations across Fox Leap—alleyways, parking lots, isolated spots

No witnesses

No suicide notes left behind

Single commonality: all died by ingesting a cyanide pill

Suspects? None

Police aren’t convinced deaths are connected

Rockford is certain they are

I don’t know what to think

The Invitation

Friday evening finds you job hunting across the internet from the comfort of the couch. It’s another one of the steps of Dr. Odair’s grand therapy plan to reintegrate you into society. Of course, what she failed to mention was that the potential career opportunities for ex-military empaths are few and far between. You lean back against the cushion, resisting the urge to grab your mug of tea and pour it onto your laptop. It’s not the computer’s fault there’s a prejudice against those with mind-gifts after all.

The squeaks of Banjo’s stuffed toy pull your attention towards the dog rolling around on the floor, his beloved plush panda Bamboo held between his paws, teeth gnawing at its leg. Rockford lies stretched out on the white rug nearby, eyes closed, the picture perfect example of tranquility. He isn’t sleeping—you can tell by the tapping of his fingers against his stomach, a song only he knows—but it’s nice to pretend. For all that you’ve pestered him with questions about his job and for all that Rockford has patiently answered each one without even the tiniest thrum of irritation, his bizarre, seemingly nonexistent sleeping schedule is a topic you’ve yet to broach with him.

Brown eyes snap open, startling you so badly it’s a miracle your laptop isn’t sent crashing to the floor. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Rockford’s on his feet and stalking off down the hallway in a blur. You blink, caught off guard, and exchange a look with an equally bewildered Banjo. Should you follow after him or…?

A knock on the front door makes the decision for you.

The prospect of a guest sends Banjo into a tizzy, ditching Bamboo without remorse, tail wagging so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t fly off. You can’t exactly blame him. Other than a quick visit from the landlady to give you your own set of keys and introduce herself— Professor Rosasharn Claremont, an instructor of forensic sciences at the local university with prehensile hair she used to slap the back of Rockford’s head for not visiting her enough—nobody’s knocked on the door as long as you’ve lived here.

You’re not sure who’s brain function shorts out first when you open the door: yours or the unknown man wearing a police badge on his belt. He’s middle-aged, dirty blond hair, a scar twisting along in a distorted line from the left side of his mouth to his ear. A hideous mark, but at the same time intriguing in its uniqueness. You can’t help but think how if it was copied onto the right side, it’d almost look like some kind of villainous grin.

Banjo’s attempt of squeezing between your leg and the doorway to get a good sniff of the man is enough to jumpstart you back into motion. Nudging him away with your socked foot, you tell him to return to his bed, punctuating the command with a firm point of your finger. Only once he sullenly pads away, ears drooped as if you’ve just gutted Bamboo right in front of him with a butcher knife, do you turn back to face the policeman, who appears to have also gotten over his initial surprise.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Inspector,” he corrects with an accent you can’t quite place, almost like a rumbling sort of growl, but despite the harsh sound his tone is polite as he introduces himself. “Inspector Dorrance with the Fox Leap Police Department. I’m here for Tim Rockford.”

His emotions are almost unnaturally steady, like he’s got the internal parts of a clock ticking away rather than temperamental hormones. You figure he must’ve gone through some sort of training course for mood management. Smart. A lawman with a high pressure job, anger issues, and a loaded gun is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Oh, is this about the case?” you ask with far more perkiness in your voice than you intend.

“He told you about that, did he,” Inspector Dorrance says in the exact same instant that Rockford calls out from the depths of the apartment, “Get to the point why you’re here, Kez.”

Kez? You mouth to yourself before opening the door wider, inviting the inspector to step inside. He isn’t subtle as he looks around, gaze lingering noticeably on the few personal items of yours spread throughout the room, before he turns towards the hall.

“Another body’s been found. Abandoned warehouse near the wharf.”

“And?” Rockford asks, still out of view.

Dorrance side-eyes you, clearly debating with himself the legalities of discussing an open case with a civilian present. A civilian he clearly knew nothing about as of two minutes ago. You offer up only silence in response, too curious for your own good to leave without him directly asking.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your roommate emerges from his office, his trench coat gripped in one hand and mouth fixed in an unimpressed frown. He gestures between you and the inspector. “Kez, my current roommate and match, Roan. Roan, my ex-roommate and one of the only competent members of law enforcement in the city, Keziah. Can we get back to the victim now?”

Your eyes widen. Ex-roommate? How long have they known each other? There’s definitely a story there.

“I’m sorry,” Dorrance begins, “did you just say she’s your match? When the hell were you going to tell me this happened?”

“Apparently not,” Rockford mutters. “I was going to tell you when it came up. And it just did.”

“You—” Dorrance cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose.

It really is a credit to Dorrance’s mood management training his emotions don’t even so much as dip or catch fire. Instead, he shoots Rockford a look that plainly says, We’re going to be talking about this later, and then turns to face you once more.

“I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you since you’re his match that underneath this—” he gestures vaguely at Rockford which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Dorrance carries on, unbothered, “—is a giant question mark nobody will ever find the answer to. But if I were to bet on anyone coming close, I’d put my money on you.”

“Thank you, I think,” you say, daring a quick glance at Rockford’s face, which you’re pleased to notice has softened the tiniest bit. “You’ll be the first one I tell if I do.”

For whatever reason, your answer has the inspector immediately smirking, left side of his face stretched tight due to the scar tissue.

“Kez, in addition to being a recurring pain in my side,” Rockford explains, sensing your confusion, “is also a lie detector. Any hint of dishonesty and his gift’ll catch it. Makes him handy in the interrogation room.”

Gifts can be interesting like that sometimes, lining up perfectly with a specific job. A singer with the ability to alter their voice to any pitch, a fireman with an immunity to burns, a veterinarian who can speak to animals–you’ve seen them all. Human lie detector is a new one though, you’ll admit.

Dorrance shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone vibrating with an incoming text. He scans the message, smirk wiped off his face and replaced with grimness.

“Right, back to the reason I came over,” he says briskly, tucking his cell away again. “You know how the victims never leave notes?”

“Yes.” Rockford’s listening attentively, eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“This one did.”

Rockford’s expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch of his brow. His mind though, oh his mind’s the calm before the storm. Something’s beginning to stir awake underneath the surface. Tempted by the reveal, hungry for more details to dig its teeth into.

For weeks you’ve wondered about the depths unknown to your empathy, about what lurks there. You’ve got a distinct, icy certainty crawling up your spine you’re soon to discover another side of your match previously unseen.

“Will you come to the scene?” Dorrance asks hopefully.

“Of course. No point sitting at home when there’s an exciting development going on.” Rockford begins slipping his arms through the sleeves of his trench coat, adjusting the collar to his liking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been down to the wharf.”

“Just try not to piss off anyone, will you? One dead body is enough to deal with as it is.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rockford says with a wry grin. Then, turning to you, he arches an eyebrow, “Well, Roan, you got any plans this evening?”

You think of your laptop back on the couch, numerous job sites still left to be checked.

“Uh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “Not really.”

“Roan was in the military,” your roommate tells the inspector, but his eyes remain held on your face, a speculating glint in them that has you subconsciously straightening up. Almost as if you’re standing at attention. “You saw a lot of violent deaths, didn’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Witnessed several dangerous situations?”

“Worst of the worst. Stuff of pure nightmares.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavier. There’s a crime scene needing to be examined, a case to be closed, and yet everything seems to have slowed down all at once. As if the very air itself has frozen solid. And you realize you’re holding your breath, waiting for something.

“Want to see some more?”

An invitation.

Dr. Odair’s been telling you now that you’ve matched and your mind-gift has become more manageable, it’s time to pick up some hobbies. To go out to more places for fun other than just the library and dog park. No doubt she was probably thinking of safe and relaxing options like chess or badminton or pottery classes at the rec center.

The problem though, is that safe and relaxing doesn’t spark a wildfire in your blood, bringing you back to the days where you had a clear purpose to fulfill and problems to deal with head-on. You want another adventure, and here’s one dangling right in front of you, just waiting for you to say—

“Hell yes,” you blurt out, and even without your mind-gift you can tell Rockford’s happy with your choice by the half curl of his mouth and crinkling around his eyes as he asks Dorrance for the address.

The Doubt

Rockford holds the cab door open for you, sliding in after you’ve settled against the plush seat with Banjo secure in your lap. The little mutt’s tail beats a rhythm against your jacket, excited about the trip even if he has no clue the final destination. You’re still not convinced bringing a dog of all creatures to an active crime scene investigation is the wisest move, but let the record show your roommate has a helluva weakness for Banjo’s puppy eyes.

“Keziah’s team of imbeciles disguised as CSIs are wreaking havoc on the scene as we speak. I highly doubt there’s much more damage Banjo can cause,” Rockford had said with an amused look when you voiced your concern. “Besides, no man left behind. Isn’t that the military creed?”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that. (Not to mention, you’ve got a pretty big weakness for Banjo’s sweet brown eyes too…)

The drive to the wharf is brief without too much annoying traffic. Outside, the sun’s dipped out of sight and darkness is enveloping the city, street lights blinking on. Inside, it’s quiet except for a country song playing lowly on the radio. The cabbie’s mood is easygoing if not a little bogged down by exhaustion whereas Banjo’s is a bouncy spring of enthusiasm, nose practically pressed against the window as his eyes struggle to keep up with all the sights rolling past. Still, as entertaining as the pup’s emotions are, your mind-gift continues circling back to the man sitting next you like a homing pigeon.

Nothing’s changed within his mindscape during the journey. The calm, almost eerie stillness from before is still in effect. You can tell he’s thinking about something—the man’s never not thinking—but whatever it is clouding his gaze, furrowing his brow, is not disturbing enough to imprint upon your empathy. It’s moments like this one where you wish you were a mind reader, if only for a few seconds.

“We’re here,” Rockford announces, paying the cabbie his fare.

Scrambling out of the vehicle, you set Banjo down on the ground. While he performs a full-bodied shake, you take in the cluster of police cars and flashing lights and abundance of barricade tape surrounding a warehouse, derelict and foreboding, along the waterfront. The press have also caught wind of the scene, prowling around with their microphones and cameras like vultures. You swallow, subconsciously twisting the leash around your fingers.

You’d wanted an adventure and yet…this is all so very, very different from a battlefield. It’s a whole other form of organized chaos, and it’s terrifying not having the slightest clue how to safely navigate it.

Your initial fears were misplaced. It won’t be Banjo making a mess. It will be you.

Rockford starts forward, clearly eager to get to work, only to halt after five steps when you fail to follow. He turns around to look you over from head to toe, carefully nudging at your mind-gift as he does so, confusion only deepening when he fails to understand your lack of movement. “Is something the matter?”

You bite your lip, glancing nervously once more between the hive of activity and his steady brown eyes. “I don’t think I belong here.”

Rockford stares at you, the glow of the street light illuminating one side of his face.

“Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Your head’s already shaking aggressively before a response forms. “N-no, absolutely not!” you say hastily, frantic to assure him of the truth. You close the gap of distance, hoping somehow being closer will remedy the spiraling situation, but when that doesn’t smoothen out the wrinkles on his forehead your empathy reacts by hurling a tangled ball of loyalty-friendship-safety-contentment straight at him. The most desperate of Hail Mary plays.

Rockford sucks in a breath. You watch his expression spasm, knocked off-kilter, before it settles into something as exasperated as it is fond. This time, the nudge against your mind-gift is firmer, the only warning you get before the ball you’d thrown returns and smacks you square in the chest.

“Oh,” is your immediate reaction, breathless from the intensity.

What was it he had said before? You and him are two halves of the same whole.

And then there’s a warm hand on top of your head, gentle, affectionate, and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. You blink up at Rockford, heart thudding in your chest.

“That’s right. You,” he says slowly, purposefully, “belong anywhere I am. Banjo, too.”

Banjo woofs, baring his teeth in a snaggletoothed grin, and you’d chuckle at that if you had any air left in your lungs. Not for the first time, you cannot help but marvel at your match’s realness. There’s no such thing as perfection, but you think he comes pretty damn close.

“Now you’ve done it,” you aim for humor, but you can’t shake the wobble from your voice. “You'll never know a moment’s peace again.”

“Ah, peace is overrated,” Rockford declares with an unconcerned shrug, hand returning to the pocket of his trench coat. “So, we’re in agreement then. We’re stuck with each other.”

“Mhmm, no take backsies.”

You needed this moment, this reassurance. The doubts you hadn’t even known you carried have been firmly put to rest, vanquished by the proof he values the soulbond tying your lives together just as much as you do.

But despite the importance of this conversation you can’t keep ignoring the flashing lights up ahead forever. Your eyes slide past Rockford, spotting Inspector Dorrance in his grey suit amongst the sea of navy uniformed officers gesturing with his arms.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice where you go,” Rockford says, and it’s clear he’s made up his own mind by the way he turns away from you, resuming his walk towards the scene.

You watch the dramatic flaring of the bottom of his coat with each step, watch the tapping of his fingers against his left thigh, watch as the man tosses one last remark over his shoulder:

“Keep up, Roan. We both know you’re coming with me.”

By the time he reaches the barricade tape, you and Banjo are right by his side. Exactly where you both belong.

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x ofc #tim rockford fanfiction #pedrostories #my writing #my fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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audreycritter · 2 months

Note

2, 20 and 29? <3

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Absolutely, haha

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

It's hard to pick because I like so many of them. Maybe Developmental Milestones just because it's a delight to see how often people belatedly realize it's a pun haha

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

“That’s an exaggeration,” he said distractedly, counting lines on the top paper with the sideways tap of a pen. “Why are you making a list, again?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Selina chided, elbowing him in the side. “We talked about this.”

“If you want Amazon.com, I could just buy Amazon.com.”

“I don’t want Amazon. It’s a wedding registry.”

“We don’t need anything.” Bruce squinted at the paper and scribbled a cursive note in the margin next to a scribbled arrow highlighting a section.

Selina added a bamboo blanket to the list. “That’s beside the point. People will want to get us things and they’ll want to know what we want. And I like presents.”

“I can buy you presents,” Bruce protested, dropping the papers a few inches. He looked at her. “I could buy Amazon.com for you.”

“Stop calling it ‘Amazon.com.’ You know nobody calls it that.”

“It’s the name of the website. We don’t need a registry.” Bruce flipped the top paper and leaned forward to write some more. Selina watched for a second, mesmerized by the fluid script. Then, when he paused, she flicked the back of his head.

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celerydays · 5 months

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What program do you use to make your fanart? Is it on just an average ipad or is there special ones just for art? Your work looks so good! I’m wanting to try digital art but unsure where to start :)

I use the Procreate app for all of my digital art! ✨

It should be available on any iPad 💗 I personally invested for my birthday this past year and I have the 12.9" M2 iPad Pro, but I'll even occasionally use my fiancé's iPad Mini and the Procreate app on there in a pinch since it's so small and portable~

The only real difference is that performance might suffer a bit, the larger an art piece is or how many layers your work has, depending on the iPad. But if you're just starting out, I probably wouldn't find that to be much of an issue!

(More rambling about digital art origins under cut ✨)

There's definitely a learning curve, especially if you're more used to drawing traditionally! It can help to still sketch traditionally (if that's what you're used to) and then upload a photo of your drawing to your tablet to work over digitally (this is personally how I started out and I used to just make little digital doodles by tracing and coloring over my traditional sketches.)

A small doodle from my sketchbook that I traced and colored digitally, from around 2011-2012, I think? Uh, happy Doctor Who day today!

My very first digital art set up was actually a tiny Wacom Bamboo tablet where the drawing space probably wasn't even bigger than my hand, and a super old bootleg version of Photoshop CS2 which was already a version that was 7 years too old for the time (CS5/CS6 was the most updated version by the time I had started on digital art).

Everyone else in my class had the bigger/fancier/professional-grade Wacom Intuos and I remember my professor taking one look at my baby tablet and just going like "how tf are you drawing on that" lmao.

But still! Experimenting and doing little exercises can get you a long way – I would say to approach it with similar exercises you would do as if you were learning to draw traditionally for the first time.

Shade in circles/nail down basic lighting. Gesture drawings. Random scribbles. Just things that help you get used to the feel of digital art!

Test out different textures you can achieve with one brush, then expand it to see how other different types of brushes can behave and add to the experience.

For proof that even just one brush and not the best/most updated tools can work: these are two of my first more "serious" digital art projects I did in college (with my tiny tablet and mega outdated version of Photoshop) and 99% of the rendering was just done with the "soft airbrush" brush.

But even then, we were taught to create our base sketches traditionally and upload them to the program to work over.

Then one day I decided I wanted to just be able to also do all my sketches digitally and just worked on getting used to sketching straight on my digital program. It was then that besides the all-powerful undo-redo buttons, I started to really make use of the transform/canvas flip/liquify features which I don't think I can live without now lol. (Caveat: I'm now a little too dependent on those features so I keep a traditional sketchbook to do silly doodles in occasionally to exercise my hand because sketching traditionally without the buffer of those digital tools is pretty difficult for me now lol.)

That was a little long-winded, I'm so sorry hahaha. I hope something in this rambling could be taken as somewhat helpful for starting out on digital art!! 💗

#ask #anon #celdraws

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simp999 · 2 months

Text

A New Home Ch. 28

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1k

A/N: Gloves looks so much better this time I hated how I drew him last banner www

Back to the Start! Previous Next

Your smile only widens at the whole 'aren't you the special reserve?' line, knowing what Rider truly had planned. He really was good at this whole deception thing. This match was packed with action, there were many notes to take. Of course, Emperor likely wouldn't fall for the same move twice- but it goes to show what he's best at predicting. This game isn't all about reading your opponent's actions and adapting, it's about reading, predicting, and being able to adapt before actions take place. Guessing properly. Knowing that if somebody fliches towards one direction even a little how the whole following 10 seconds may play out. Seeing it many, many steps ahead.

It was hard to explain, but you believed that you and your team were slowly making it to that point- if not already there. Seeing plays happen before it even crossed the opponent's mind. Seeing their best option, knowing what they're gonna do next, and intercepting.

One thing that was obvious but you realized could be a liability was how diligent and precise they were. There was no room for mistakes- or rather, they were unsure of how to deal with them because of how used to perfection they are. There is absolutely no chaos. They freeze in the face of disarray.

You scribble down a few more notes as the match comes to an end, shutting your manual with a quiet thump. You quickly glance over at Prince who's analyzing his past opponents, slowly going through character development right in front of you. It's interesting to be able to know what's going on behind the scenes and in character's heads as things play out, really.

It's annoying sometimes, though. You can't help but worry about how fake this all feels, or how you might be in a coma or something. It feels too real. Not to mention; what if other characters found out? Canon as well as non-canon ones? Would you be hated? They'd be skeptical at the very least, right?

No, you've done a good job with cover-ups up until this point. Living in Calamary county, running from home- it was all realistic and added up to a good backstory, right? You'd be fine, you're sure.

You rub the bridge of your nose and lightly shake your head before huffing as you stand up. You needed a mental break. If you remember correctly, Goggles and Gloves' battle was next, so that could be the perfect time to relax and possibly have a laugh or two.

Off The Hook announces the quarter finals- wait, weren't these supposed to be the semis? Something must have changed given your team entering. No big issue, things have all gone just as the manga has predicted it, so there's no need to worry.

You make your way out of the stands out to Deca Tower, having to wait a bit for your teammates to catch up. You couldn't blame them, being with their idols; but it seemed the S4 was trailing along once again. Nothing better to do, you suppose. You tease the idea of them wanting to be around you,- Aloha's quick to wink at that and shoot you some finger guns, but is quickly cut off by you saying that surely it's because they're looking forward to more of your... "fun" training. Skull's the only one who doesn't seem to inwardly panic at your words, tilting his head. As airheaded as always, that sweetheart.

You do a small stretch, your body not being a fan of sitting still for too long. You let out a soft groan before going over to the board to remind yourself where the next battle takes place. With one hand on your hip, you trail a finger along the board, looking for your timing. You eventually find it and your team and the S4 are off to watch the next match.

Leo's quick to say hi to Rider and find some seats nearby, and you offer a lazy wave and smile before sitting down. Tasha's surprisingly quick to sit next to Bamboo and begin some small talk. Now that's new. But you're proud of her, not dwelling on it too much. The two keep their voices low, as expected of them- it seems they're talking about weapons or something.

The match begins, and you can't help but smile at all the shenanigans. You forgot how fun and easy-going matches could be; being so used to salty, aggressive, and rude opponents. You lean your cheek into your palm and chuckle at Half-Rim's "four-eyes" comment. He seems so serious all the time, you think it adds to the humor. You enjoy the back-and-forth banter, and even enjoy the shouts from Leo, unsure whether to cheer for Bobble Hat or Gloves. It seems he has some bias towards Gloves, though... you can't blame him, he must be happy to have a "bro" (more of a fanboy-turned-friend, but that doesn't matter now).

"As always, I have no idea if he's amazing or just stupid,"

Ah, so this is when that iconic line was said. Hah, nice.

You look down at the battle before you. Each member has a smile written across their face, and you're beginning to rethink how they could take down Team Monarch. 'Realistically, back in my world, it would make no sense. Those main character powers sure are something. Or, well- Goggles seems to be a very amiable guy, so there's that too.'

You look around at his other teammates, admiring each one and their own strategies.

'He surrounds himself with good people, too.'

You shift from your palm to your knuckles to lean on, watching the battle continue to play out.

'He never did end up swaying Mask, so maybe it's not all about being a main character, but having a good heart? Wonder if that's why so many people follow along with him and enjoy his presence.'

Unbeknownst to you, you have a few pairs of eyes on you for all the same reasons.

Feb.7.24

Next Part

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon #coroika #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga gloves #splatoon manga goggles #splayoon manga gloves x reader #goggles coroika #gloves coroika #emperor coroika #splatoon manga emperor #splatoon manga emperor x reader

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trans-ace-lee · 10 months

Text

Wow Fantasstic Baby

Author's Note: The title is a reference to this song Fantastic Baby - BigBang and was inspired by a post by @ticklishfanart about Tsukishima's milky legs. Warning: This is a tickle fic, so if that's not something you want to see, feel free to ignore this post.

I've read the manga in full twice and own the whole manga set, so I think it's a crime I haven't written for Haikyuu yet. Enjoy this hellhole of a fic that I came up with at work and mostly wrote on the bus to and from work and at work in corners of breakrooms.

Mutuals tag: @otomiya-tickles @italeean @giggly-squiggily @myreygn @ticklygiggles @duckymcdoorknob @jettorii

Tsukishima likes to say that he enjoys massages. Yamaguchi, the bastard, likes to give him back massages during intense study sessions under the guise of trying to put him to sleep.

Additionally, Akiteru refers to him as a stick of bamboo, saying that he needs to learn how to “loosen up” a bit. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he is a stiff person. Since throwing himself into volleyball, his muscles ache all the time, so massages are also welcome to relieve his pain.

And he would like to say he’s enjoying the leg massage that Kuroo had offered to give him, but he’s too busy cackling to pay attention to how nice it feels.

“Really, here?” Kuroo asks while kneading into his calves as Tsukishima debates actually slamming his fists onto the ground. He didn’t even know that calves could be ticklish, let alone garner such a big reaction out of someone.

“Staahahaap,” Tsukishima begs, trying to yank his legs out of Kuroo’s grasp.

He doesn’t need to turn around to know there’s a smirk on the latter’s face. “But this is for your own good.” Kuroo pauses to skitter his fingers from the back of Tsukishima’s knees to just below his butt. “It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish. Plus, I kind of want to keep tickling you.”

Tsukishima fully smashes his face into his arms to hold back a scream.

And to Tsukishima’s utter, utter horror, Kuroo doesn’t miss his reaction.

“Oh? I always thought you had a nice ass, but I didn’t expect it to be so ticklish,” Kuroo says.

The sound that comes out of Tsukishima at the comment doesn’t sound human. “Damn, your ears sure turn red fast, don’t they?”

“Fuhahuck,” Tsukishima replies, giggling like the rattling sound of a snare drum when Kuroo starts pinching all over his ass. He’s thankful that they’re the only ones in the gym. Maybe personal practice was more useful than he originally thought. “Naaahahat there. Stohohop.”

“Not here?” Kuroo switches to spidering along the bottom of his butt, every once in a while, sneaking a hand to his inner thighs. “You sound so happy though.”

Lies. Straight-up lies. He’s not happy, he’s dying. Here lies Tsukishima Kei. Maybe Yamaguchi will miss him.

“Fine. I’ll move,” Kuroo says, digging into the back of Tsukishima’s quads.

In Tsukishima’s defense, he does not shriek…that loudly.

“Is this a good spot too?”

“Gohoho somewhere else,” Tsukishima pleads, feeling a mostly foreign wetness building in the corner of his eyes.

“Hmm? But I did what you asked…All right, I’ll be nice.”

Tsukishima already starts to regret asking Kuroo to move spots since he’s figured out that begging Kuroo to stop is falling on deaf ears.

“Ass, inner thighs, or hamstrings?” Kuroo asks.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes or yell in frustration, Tsukishima settles on trying to compromise some more. “Thahaat’s not fair. I’ll piihick somewhere else. Ahahanywhere else.”

“Anywhere?” Kuroo hums, “Sorry, but you picked the wrong choice, my dear.”

My dear? Wrong choice, his ass. Tsukishima decides that he will be getting Kuroo back tenfold after this is all over. From what he’s overheard when Hinata babbles, Kenma should be willing to deluge Kuroo’s worst spot or spots.

He hopes it is spots.

The thought of revenge stops at the feeling of fingers scribbling all over the back and inner parts of his thighs and all around his ass. He’d like to think, but it tickles so much that he doesn’t register that the loud sound he hears is coming from him.

“Awww,” Kuroo coos, “Was that a snort I heard? Who knew you could look so pretty underneath that constant frown, especially in those cute little shorts.”

Tsukishima curses the volleyball shorts they have to wear. Right now, he’s wishing that they were just a tad longer. The electric feeling shooting up and down his legs leave him paralyzed.

Even if he wanted to pull them away, the thought of doing so is almost physically painful, so he can only lay there and laugh until he can feel tears dripping down his face. He doesn’t bother begging or pleading and just sticks to crying.

Part of him thinks laughing so hard for so long feels nice because he hasn’t laughed that much since middle school. Sometimes he finds himself chuckling when Yamaguchi makes funny faces when he’s thinking or snickering every time he looks at Kuroo’s bed hair and when Kuroo smirks at his opponents from across the net. Maybe he even laughs when he sees Kuroo messing around with Bokuto and Akaashi.

Oh.

Well, shit. Tsukishima figures that laughing and maybe tickling is okay with Kuroo and Yamaguchi. But only them.

When he's tickled by Yamaguchi it reminds him of being a kid, before everything that happened to Akiteru. Okay, he might consider being tickled by his brother in the future. In all his pessimism and cynicism there's hope in there somewhere. That bright-eyed kid is still a part of him.

With Kuroo, he finds himself melting. It's warm and sends clouds of floating, fuzzy sensations to fill his head and heart.

Home. The feeling of home he decides.

Kuroo's dexterous fingers are both torturous and comforting. It takes nearly every ounce of willpower in him not to beg for more instead.

…What is wrong with him? Beg for more?

There are a couple of spots on Tsukishima’s butt that have him shrieking. It’s a high-pitched sound, reminding him of a younger, more innocent him. And, yeah, nope. He can forget about thinking again.

“I think I like this spot,” Kuroo says, pinching and wiggling his fingers in Tsukishima’s inner thighs.

Tsukishima slams his legs shut and traps Kuroo’s fingers in between them. He cackles even harder than when Kuroo was tickling his calves when this ordeal first started. “I dohohon’t,” he babbles.

“Look at you.” Tsukishima can hear the mock sympathy and slight pout in Kuroo’s voice. “Is someone too weak to handle a little tickling? Poor thing, taken down by a couple of fingers.”

He wants to push Kuroo’s hands away, but he settles on covering his face instead, not bothering to wipe the fresh set of tears out of his eyes.

“That cute face of yours is so red right now. It’s very pretty looking.”

His face heats up more at the comment. Besides volleyball, he’s not the kind of person who goes outside. Although he knows it might be nicer to study in a park or outside a café, he prefers the comfort of AC in his room or in a library. He feels pretty. So pretty. He’s been approached by girls or, more or less, Yamaguchi has been approached by girls, saying how handsome he is.

But for some reason, when Kuroo says it, it hits so much harder.

Tsukishima is ripped out of his thoughts by fingers dancing on his hamstrings midway down his thighs. More high-pitched giggles spill out of him as he grows weaker and weaker by the second.

After a few rounds of Kuroo dashing from each spot and sneaking a couple of swipes up his feet that leave him flinching despite feeling like putty, small hiccups break through his laughter which has almost gone silent.

The tickling stops almost immediately. Tsukishima takes the chance to roll over and somewhat flop on the ground with all the grace of a beached whale. Gasping for much-needed air, he shuts his eyes until the moisture dries from his face and his breathing evens.

Although he's flushed and tired, there's this buzzing feeling in his head. He's washed in a glow that spreads from his heart to the rest of his body. A small smile graces his features.

It's softer than normal. Different from the smirk he wears during volleyball matches or the bored one that stays on his face during classes.

"So…" Kuroo starts, breaking the silence, "Since I've gotten a chance to touch that ass, can I have a chance to have all of you?"

A snort bubbles out of Tsukishima's nose, which turns into another laughing fit.

Kuroo wives his left hand in front of Tsukishima's face. "Still feeling ticklish there, giggly?"

"That was awful. If the rest of your pickup lines are that terrible, I can't imagine the rest of you." Kuroo’s smile wobbles a bit. "But luckily for me, my brother's advice to loosen up and make more bad decisions has grown on me, so I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Tsukishima chuckles once more when Kuroo feigns to punch him in the chest. "Y-you aren't allowed to scare me like that," Kuroo replies, helping Tsukishima sit up.

A soft smile works its way onto Tsukishima’s face as he says, "Well, I guess you're just going to have to get used to me getting you back for teasing me all the time."

Kuroo only smirks at him, and Tsukishima has to resist the urge to kiss Kuroo silly.

Wait what?

"Oh Kenma," Tsukishima sings, snickering when Kuroo’s face morphs into a mortified expression.

He starts full-on laughing when Kuroo bolts out the gym door with a see you later that ends in a note that rises at the end in a pleasant high-pitched tone. Tsukishima wants to hear the sound again once he gets his revenge.

#tickle fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #kuroo tetsuro #jin's fics #jin writes #kurotsukki

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hathaway-hayes · 30 days

Text

Sunday Bested

I admired them as they went about their Menial tasks in suits of silk. Sunday bests amidst the concrete, the dust, And broken shards of Bamboo: The broken mirrors of The broken memories of the Broken histories upon the Broken backs of not so broken Families, The brethren left behind atop Tea-brimmed Mountains.

This was one more saga prerequisite a newer dynasty – Witness the Wives huddled plowshares, The daughter scribbled arithmetic And sons, assumed saviors to legacy. Witness this Rice ridden bowl, This chipped Henan ceramic And witness the hours yet to endure.

Behold the back of Chen.

I could only stand in awe, In observation of the Dirtied –The unscathed, The soiled – The smoke amid pear peelings, The so very tired – that one more nail, Soiled, with scratch and Sliver of blood, a sanctity upon brow; While I and my tie, freshly pressed, Almost gleaming with a stolen prestige, Seemed far more dirty than any hand prior – Hand cradled hammer, Hand hugging thumb, Thumb atop nail, atop iron or impaled heart as This, “commoners,” blood wept, And for a first time, Far from, no, for the fields of his father.

- Hathaway Hayes (2008)

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maigo-san · 1 year

Text

"Kamado-sama..." his husky voice could drown Tanjirou in black water, but he knew the archangel bled gold.

"I thought I was your boy, Rengoku-san," Tanjirou whimpered almost adjuring; even though it was the older man that was under him leaning his head on Tanjirou's dark knee, not the other way around.

"God is asleep," Kyoujurou whispered, fox eyes pure magnet, "can't I revere you on my day off?"

Tanjirou gulped, a hundred years and he was still not used to this kind of attention.

"But they never slept," he mumbled, glancing to the side and wishing the void had other furnitures.

He thought hell would be rowdy and crowded, but he was mostly alone. Idling in his stupid castle and its never-ending filth. He supposed it was fitting as hell was a place of torture. He did not think it was in the form of inconvenience like not being allowed to clean or having his hyperosmic nose constantly disturbed by the eternal yet mildly awful stench.

He had to give the angel credit as he was the only fragrant and pristine thing in this underworld, yet he never complained.

If his skin was not biting cold or coarse, his cheeks would be rosy and bouncy from the tooth-aching smile he made as Kyoujurou danced and sing in that bass-baritone voice. He wondered if it was familiar to them, where they could just enjoy the still time in each other's company.

"Yes..." Kyoujurou smiled, this time his eyes dipped like partial eclipses and they glossed under the low light of his lair.

"That is why they trust you to take care of me."

Deja vu, a shadow of memory he didn't know he had. Because he knew they were not real.

Kyoujurou died before Tanjirou could say goodbye. The whole universe watched and laughed at Tanjirou's pathetic wail.

"Is that what you really think, Kamado Boy?" Kyoujurou's voice was gentle like satin.

"Inside me, the sky wept with you and smothered the flames. The tears that touched the ground birth life again, anchoring me to the ground with their stems and leaves. My corpse was an osmosis of your spirit and strength."

Tanjirou listened to the jingle of his bamboo earrings. Kyoujurou had dug it from his grave and Tanjirou didn't even know he had it before, barely catching on to whatever three seconds memory God returned to him every few weeks.

What a jerk.

But Kyoujurou was ecstatic to see him and had been going down to earth and sneaking into his old homes to steal his belongings. Journals, pictures, scribbles.

He knew there was no way God did not know... but he supposed it was quite entertaining.

So Tanjirou affixed them on Kyoujurou's ears and suddenly, he felt something in him cleansed and purged. He sort of understood how the universe worked.

"Of course. I will always take care of you, Rengoku-san," Tanjirou smiled, raking long nails in yellow silk.

Tanjirou died after he sliced his own head clean as the cursed blood had fully transformed him. But the next time he woke up, he found himself in hell.

Where a vacant throne awaited.

He didn't understand why all of this was happening. But he supposed he deserved it, as Nezuko was not with him and he was sure she was safe somewhere else on Earth.

Yet, he found life still desirable, despite the pain it only caused. Thus he broke both heaven and hell to search for just the scent of life he didn't even know where that knowledge came from but he just had a strong feeling in him that he could not satiate until... he reached the archangel's chamber.

He had thought about it. He could take Kyoujurou with him, every pluck of a feather dim his light and Tanjirou knew fallen angels were fine to stay in hell as long as they wanted or just cease to exist when God found them nugatory.

But he was exhausted, despite all the powers he owned now.

He felt ill just from resisting, just from being angry, just for feeling betrayed.

He might as well not feel anything.

But before anxiety ignited the rage back, he let the empathetic angel embrace him. Shifted his horns, wings, and spines back into his puny human-like body and let the large wings envelop him with the first warmth of rebirth.

He didn't understand what God wanted but he didn't mind the cruel universe now.

As long as Kyoujurou was here.

Alive and loved.

a/n: this is for the week 5: 🎲rentan village event, which was part of a weekly prompt event in the rntnvillage tag. I got no. 2 Cursed Blood

this is also part of my rntnrn angel/demon au

#rntnvillage #angel/demon au #rentan #kyotan #tankyo #tanren #tw spoiler #late ik but im determined to try them on cuz im currently short on idea #kny flashfic #flash fiction

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sinelanguage · 1 month

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and for the museum of the day i was Considerably more excited for: the National Museum of Modern Art!! splitting this into two parts for my sanity, main exhibit first

one thing that impressed me about this museum was the overall presentation of descriptions used. a lot of art museums will present some information and context to the piece, but the national museum specifically tried to encourage people to read the text (metaphorically) and engage in Thoughts. it was pretty neat to look at a piece then see what specific emphasize the museum curator wanted to put on something.

For example, Nakanishi Natsuyuki’s piece Compact Object was described like this:

Fish bones, a rubber ball, a clock, seashells, hair.. this egg-shaped object seems to be packed with the contents of a garbage can. Or is it a time capsule, capturing a fleeting moment during a certain era? Nakanishi staged performances by bringing these clusters of everyday objects into public spaces, such as in the streets and on trains. His intent seems to have been to carry a microcosm of the world in his hands rather than to produce a sculpture that sits on a pedestal.

which, imo, does a decent job at explaining the intent but also promoting people to think about the intent going into objects on a level a bit further than just “here’s what this means.” this was pretty consistent in the museum’s presentation, which I really appreciated.

The other thing I thought was incredibly funny was this fucking. diary entry they had on display. keep in mind i was dead on my feet in this museum writing down notes to post to my tumblr blog and then read kishida ryusei’s diary from 1923:

Woke up around 10 o clock with a slight headache. Not surprising since i was up unttl three last night talking with Senge [Motomaro] and others, and that's why I overslept. Took a bath after breakfast. Got on the 1:49 pm train to Tokyo and then a taxi to Shintomiza. The play was about to start. My seat was excellent. Sendai Hagi is a famous kabuki play, but it was the first time I had actually seen it. The scenes performed were: the Bamboo Room, Cooking Rice, Under the Floor, The Showdown, The Scar. All of these were fascinating. I's not often these days that l immerse myself as deeply in kabuki as I did this time.

me, two museums in, feeling a profound kinship with this artist from a century ago writing a diary entry about his hang over but going to tokyo for three plays. as i write notes in my phone about art. incredible.

For actual pieces though there were quite a few:

Kayama Mayazo, Waves in Spring and Autumn thought this piece had a lot of really neat spins on some classic imagery (mountains, seasonal trees, waves/water). I especially liked the details of the waves breaking— the waves themselves were this even, looping/fluid lines but the edges were crashing with noisy scribbles

Komaki Gentaro, Bricks and a Squirrel: this is one of those “can’t explain myself”. the bricks had a very weird wood grain pattern, paired with a squirrel in this frightening black orb, completely surrounded. sometimes ur just a squirrel in an orb

Nomiyama Gyoji, The Withered: i like organic things in weird, inorganic messes. this was like, a rat king but with branches, and it was confusing to look at. enjoyed it a lot.

Kodama Yasue, ambient light - sakura: this is exactly what it says on the tin but for what it is it works really well. it’s just the impression of looking up at Sakura blossoms through sunlight, and man is it effective at it. I think in person this works better just for the size and detail of it- it captures the feeling of looking up through foliage very well and was very pretty to boot

Takanashi Yutaka, Hongo: Mansada Parlor, 6-17-1 Hongo, Bunkyo-ku from Machi imo all of takanashi’s photos had this very lived in quality to them, like a photo taken of a place that feels deeply familiar and like home. The collection overall has these deep colors and contrasts with mundane settings and a large amount of visual objects/interest, so it made the feel of the piece really nice (photos here)

overall: really solid, probably doesn’t beat the contemporary art museum but that’s just because my taste is what it is. for an art museum though, i really appreciated the approach and curation

#personal #sineposting

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ticklish-n-stuff · 2 years

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Hello! Could you write Lee!Tomioka switch!Tanjiro and Ler!Nezuko?? Obv when u got the time :3

You're late!

I originally was gonna decline this request as I'm not sure how I would write a fic within the Demon Slayer universe but then it hit me. There's the Academy spin off that's much more wholesome and goofy and more my taste. I did read the first 3 chapters of the manga when it came out and I really liked it so I thought why not make this fic within that universe instead. There's no dead people or people missing any limbs (I'm still coping after a certain train incident LMAO), it's just them doing silly stuff. I do apologize if you don't end up liking the approach I went with. Depending how well this fic does I might write more for them in the future.

Also I changed the prompt up a bit. Hope you enjoy~

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Giyuu x Tanjiro x Nezuko DS academy (platonic)

Lees: Giyuu, Tanjiro

Lers: Giyuu, Tanjiro, Nezuko

Warnings: Tickles!

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School was about to start at any moment. Tanjiro and Nezuko were rushing with all their might over to the school gate before they got in trouble. If they were even a tad late they'd be met with Giyuu's wrath and that's no fun. Just when they tought they were in the clear, they were welcomed by an angry Giyuu, his infamous bamboo stick in hand. "You two are late" he said sternly "I assume neither of you have an excuse at hand".

Tanjiro quickly tried to come up with an excuse to get out of that mess "W-we uhh... NEZUKO RUN!" he suddenly yelled out as he wrapped himself around the teacher's waist to prevent him from moving. If atleast Nezuko could get to class then that was good enough for him, he would gladly sacrifice himself.

"What are you doing you braHAT?!" a strangled laugh escaped Giyuu when Tajiro accidentally squeezed at his hips. He quickly caught onto what happened and started squeezing with purpose.

"Nezuko I've got him distracted! Go run now!".

The demon girl quickly bolted on out of there, but couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving her brother behind. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to see a cackling Giyuu with Tanjiro clinging onto him for dear life. It was actually kinda funny to witness the stoic hashira laughing so wildly. "GYAHAHAHA! ST-STAHAHAP IT!" he tried smacking Tanjiro with his stick but his skull was too thick to even budge.

"Never!" Tanjiro kept on squeezing at the ticklish hips as if his life depended on it, which it did.

"THAHAT'S IT! YOU'RE SOHO DEHEAD!" Giyuu decided to play dirty and gave Tanjiro a taste of his own medicine by squeezing at his sides.

"GAH-! WAHAIT!" he squealed as he instantly folded on himself. Wrapping his arms around his sensitive torso. But Giyuu managed to keep squeezing at the tickle spot with ease.

"Not so tough now" he said with his usual stoic expression, as if he wasn't just laughing his head off a moment ago.

"AHAHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT! I'M SAHAHARRY!!!" Tanjiro screeched in laughter as he crumbled down onto the floor, Giyuu following him with ease.

"Consider this your punishment for being late" the water hashira proceeded to scribble along the younger one's tummy, making him squeal and shriek in ticklish glee.

"NAHAHAHA! N-NEZUKO HEHEHELP!".

Hearing her brother's ticklish screams, she quickly rushed over to help him. She snuck behind Giyuu and scribbled her long nails up and down his sides.

"PFFT! AHAHAHAHA!" he screeched in surprise laughter as he quickly clamped his arms down his sides.

"Y-yeheah Nezuko get him!" Tanjiro encouraged as she scribbled all over the hashira's ribs and armpits, sending Giyuu into hysterics.

"NAHAHAHA! STAHAHAP IT!" I wouldn't be surprised if the entire school heard Giyuu's obnoxious laugh. He fell to the side as he tried his best to curl up on himself, he was too ticklish for this. Once he saw an opening, Tanjiro grabbed Nezuko by her hand and they both quickly went to their class. Leaving a tickled out Giyuu laying limp over at the school gate.

"You're the best Nezuko!" he praised her as he rubbed her head affectionately before entering the classroom. They had math class with Sanemi, hopefully he won't scold them as well... or force them to do math homework outside.

Later that day, Rengoku happened to walk by the school gates, where he noticed Giyuu laying all limp on the floor. Panting as if he had ran a marathon. "What happened to you?".

"I don't wanna talk about it..." Giyuu's face softly flushed as he curled on himself once again, remembering the embarrassing situation.

"Y'know, earlier today I heard someone laughing all weird and obnoxious. Apparently that young Kamado and his sister were tormenting a teacher...".

"Gahh don't remind me!" Giyuu bursted out as he quickly got up, trying to do anything else in that moment.

"Awe come on, I was just teasing!" Rengoku snickered as he happily followed behind him, he definitely wasn't gonna let him live it down.

___________________________________________

Ngl this was a lot of fun to write. I can't sleep so decided why not write it now. I think I will write more for demon slayer in the future ^^

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goddesstrolls · 3 months

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Raknos sat up in bed, and rubbed the sleep from one eye with his palm.

He gave his vision a moment to adjust, and shuffled off the futon. The tent was warm from the setting sun outside, but the temperature would begin to drop as night fell.

Still half-asleep, he knelt before a low bamboo table ready with an unfurled, blank scroll and a pen. It was already dated at the top- All he had to do was write.

It was a careful practice he had built over sweeps of trial-and-error. He didn't like to feel rushed to find a blank scroll or stall trying to pull the current date out of his bleary thoughts. He prepared each dawn for the evening ahead as part of his bedtime ritual.

Raknos began to write- Scribbling down half-thoughts, every detail he could piece together of his dreams the day before.

From the eye-level of a small beast, he crept through the undergrowth and chased a fox. He became a troll which shot the fox with a bow and arrow. He held the dead fox in his hands and brought it back to everyone else, their faces and forms shifting and reactions unclear.

He walked down the hill, wood smoke rolling over the caravan from somewhere. Raxsir yelled something indistinguishable from his side, and he turned to speak to the aggravated rustblood. Kidlat and someone else were nearby- He knew they were a jadeblood, but in the dream he did not turn to look at them. Gohira, perhaps? ...No, they were shorter...

Raknos could not coax any further details from his mind, his thoughts slowly sharpening and scattering his hazy dreams like breaking the reflection in a still pool of dark water.

He got up, lifting the scroll carefully so that any wet ink didn't run and taking it with him to a small altar. He laid out the scroll, and then set about lighting a fire in the tiny wood stove nearby and re-made his bed.

He had asked many, many times to be left entirely alone during the hour at dawn and dusk that he spent in his private quarters. By this point, he more or less got that much; a quiet reprieve during which he could fulfill his rituals and meditations.

Raknos knelt in front of the altar and lit a stick of incense. Not for a spell this time- This was just a habit for his focus. He re-read his haphazard notes, tugging back those details of his dreams that would return to him.

The fox dream was clearly not prophecy. It jumped focus too much, details and present trolls uncertain. He thought it through, and then set it aside.

The following dream, walking down the hill... The images were sharp and defined in his mind like a memory, and he held them in his mind like trying to cup water in his hands. He'd gotten quite good at it, over the sweeps, infallible and shifting as the troll memory was.

This was likely prophecy. He recalled the entirety of it clearly, with no real struggle. The only hitch was the jadeblood he'd known to be at his side. A stranger, perhaps. Or, perhaps a sign that it was not prophecy.

With this uncertainty, Raknos followed the trail of his instinct. His gut told him it was prophecy. Sweeps of having these dreams and then seeing them play out, time and time again, helped him pinpoint them in some way or another.

It didn't seem to be anything important, but that was no reason to dismiss it. If he couldn't identify even the most minor dreams of prophecy, Raknos feared he would dismiss the dire ones.

Just as he had in the past.

#raknos ic #raknos abbitt #raknos writing #bastdrabbles

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frog-writes-for-fun · 2 years

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Hello everyone! This was written as part of the unofficial underrated hermits week project by @boop-ity! Thanks for asking me to be a part of this!

Curiouser and Curiouser

c!Zedaph x gn!Reader

Summary: Your husband is a scientist, and you’re his assistant. One day, he asks you to step into the experiment, and something stranger than either of you expected shows up in the results.

Notes: Established relationship (married), set in Season 8 of HermitCraft, scientific experiments, mentions of loud noises, reader has superpowers (kind of?).

Ever since you learned of Zed’s plan for the season, you claimed the role as his assistant. Not that there was much competition, as your husband wouldn’t have even considered asking anyone else.

When he decided to start experiments on his fellow hermits, you were happy to help with the proceedings. You set up the test chamber and helped to come up with the various parts to the examination, right beside Zedaph the entire time. When he (inevitably) asked you to be one of the subjects, you were more than happy to oblige. You didn’t expect your results to be anything unusual, especially with how arbitrary the tests were designed to be.

How wrong you were.

It started out the same as any other experiment, and you dropped into the testing chamber without ceremony. Soon, Zed’s voice came through the speaker system you’d helped to set up.

The first test was nothing simple item association, and you came up with suitably reasonable items, certainly nowhere near the strangest of answers.

The first unusual thing happened when Zed asked you to create an automatic system. With the materials provided, you figured it would be simple to make an automatic bamboo farm, much like those of previous subjects. Once the structure was completed, you began to lay out the redstone dust. Somehow, though, an observer was not in the provided items, despite you being pretty sure that it had been there for the other experimentees.

“Well, this kind of throws off the plan.” With a slight grumble, you began to painstakingly pull up the strips of redstone dust. Without a power source, you couldn’t even set up a simple loop.

As you thought power source, something twitched in your fingers. Instinctively, you jerked back from the wiring in time to see a red glow emerge from your hands. The wiring began to spark, and you only watched in shock as the circuit whirred to life under your fingertips.

Turning to your husband, he looked just as stunned by this development as you were. After a moment, he began scribbling at his clipboard, adjusting the microphone by his mouth before speaking over the intercoms again. “Fascinating! I take it from your reaction that this hasn’t happened before?”

You shot him a small glare, even you couldn’t help but smile at him. “Zed, you know this hasn’t happened, just as well as I do. You’ve been there every time I’ve done redstone. That’s your specialty, not mine.”

Despite that… unusual event, the rest of the tests seemed normal. At least, until Zedaph asked you to make as much noise as possible using only the items in the chamber with you.

Immediately, you were drawn to the minecart. You’d heard enough people complain about how loud they could get. If only you could get it moving quickly… Kneeling down, you rearranged the track to make a loop rather than a squiggle, then looked around at the other objects. What could you use to power the minecart so it would move on its own?

Again, you felt a trembling in your fingers. Glancing back towards the iron cart, the red glow was back. Sparks flew from your hands to the cart, shooting down into the wheels and the track, and jolting the minecart forward.

The minecart shot forward at a speed that made you jump back with a yelp. It was certainly loud, and a screeching came from the wheels, which were skidding along the tracks at a speed that was just a bit too fast.

Clapping your hands to your ears, you stepped back. A pressurised hiss came from somewhere to the side, and you turned to see Zed moving quickly towards you, the glass wall that had been separating you still sliding to the side. Stepping toward the device you’d created, he took his pickaxe and broke a piece of the track, stopping the cart just as swiftly as it started.

He turned towards you, and the half-panicked look on his face melted into something of reassurance. “Are you alright, darling? You’re shaking.”

You looked down at yourself. He was right. “I hadn’t even realised!” Smiling gently at you, your husband spread out his arms. You practically melted into his grasp, wrapping your own arms around him. “I was not expecting these results when I agreed to be one of your test subjects.”

He let out a chuckle, the vibrations carrying more than the sound as you pressed into his chest. “Well, none of the hermits are exactly normal. I suppose you’re just a bit curiouser than we realised.”

#frog's fics #frog writes #zedaph x reader #zedaph x y/n #zedaphplays x reader #zedaphplays x y/n #c!zedaph x reader #c!zedaph x y/n #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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