For those who don't know: Ikumi Nakamura is the woman who was senior artist on Bayonetta, and designed the titular character along with Hideki Kamiya. Their greatest moment of bonding was over their insistence that Bayonetta keep her glasses on at all times.
Nakamura cannot go to horny jail. She is the warden.
I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.
Can you write something about cuddling with Cipher and petting her soft, cute ears?
a little secret!
❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀
cuddling with cipher !
cipher x gn!reader
warnings: none
are we back???
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
your apartment is quiet in the way that only late evenings can manage. the kind of quiet that settles into the corners and makes the whole world feel smaller, softer, and warmer. the city bustles distantly beyond the window, but in your room, there’s only the low warmth of a lamp and the muffled dialogue of a show playing in the living room that no one’s watching.
cipher shows up unannounced, like she always does. one knock, or maybe no knock at all. usually she enters through your window- why, or how she enters this way is a mystery. the first couple of times she materializes in your room, leaning against your doorframe, hood drawn up, and shadows pooling around her, you nearly put a hole through your ceiling. but even then, even in those first startled moments, the two fuzzy telltale ears poking through the top of her hood give her away completely. it’s very hard to be frightened of someone whose disguise is betrayed by something so soft and so utterly adorable.
“miss me?” she grins, stepping towards you before you answer
the two of you end up on the couch the way you always do, gravitating towards each other without a second thought. you’ve come to learn that cipher is not one to enjoy being fussed over. she doesn’t melt for grand gestures or patient waiting. cipher enjoys quiet normalcy, the simple, unspoken assumptions. so, you don’t make a performance when you lift your arm, quietly inviting her to fill the space.
she sits close, snuggling up to you closer than she’ll ever admit, pulls her legs up beneath her, and angles herself toward the television with an expression of mild interest. As the show progresses, she presses herself tighter against you. her shoulder presses against yours, her elbow finds your ribs, and her hands find yours. little points of contact that she arranges with the precision of someone who has thought about this for more than she lets on.
it's been maybe 30 minutes into the show, some sappy drama she had loudly declared beneath her and has since watched every episode of, when you shift your free hand to her hair. it’s not a decision so much as a natural thing, the way reaching for her always is. your fingers subconsciously drift past the soft fall of her hair, and then, gently find the base of one of her ears.
cipher flinches, her hand immediately flying up and wrapping around your wrist.
“what do you think you’re doing,” she says. it is not quite a question. her eyes do not leave the television.
you wait.
cipher doesn’t budge.
after a moment, her grip loosens, fingers sliding down your wrist, quietly granting you permission with a small, dismissive huff.
so you continue.
her ear twitches beneath your fingers, small and involuntary and devastating. the tips of her ears begin to flush a beautiful, faint pink as you continue your gentle ministrations, her head subconsciously lifting upwards into your hand.
“i’m only letting you do this,” she says, very quietly, “because you clearly need the entertainment.”
“mhmm,” you respond knowingly.
cipher scoffs, but her head leans further into your touch, and the hand that was wrapped around your wrist a moment ago finds the fabric of your sleeve instead, holding on with a quiet, telltale grip. her breathing evens out slowly, and then, so quietly you almost miss it, a sound begins to hum beneath her composure. low, soft, and rhythmic- the kind of sound that seems to surprise even her, because she freezes the instant she realises you heard it.
the silence that follows is enormous.
“that,” she says, with a tremendous dignity, “did not happen.”
you open your mouth to respond.
“do not,” she warns.
you close your mouth shut, pressing your lips together very firmly against the smile that's threatening to spread across your face. you resume petting her ears with the same unhurried patience as before, and within a minute the sound is back. this time, it's quieter, more careful, like she’s allowing it in the smallest possible increments and reserving the right to deny everything.
cipher’s ears are glowing pink all the way to the tips now. she keeps her gaze fixed on the television, her jaw set at an angle that signals that she’s trying very, very hard to keep her dignity.
“you’re smug,” she accuses, her eyes still glued to the tv. “i can feel your smugness from here.”
“i didn’t even say anything,” you reject
“you’re thinking loudly.”
you gently scratch behind her ear, and she makes an involuntary sound that is not dignified in the slightest. something small, light and helpless, a soft, uncontrollable noise that slips past every wall she has ever built before she even has the chance to know it is coming. cipher immediately buries her face into your shoulder in embarrassment. she stutters out half-formed sentences in an attempt to preserve some dignity, but she quickly realizes this situation is not salvageable. the purring, now muffled against your sleeve, continues with complete indifference to her now ruined pride.
you feel her fingers on your shirt tighten.
“i hate this.” she informs your shoulder
you press your cheek softly to the top of her head. “no you don’t,” you say, just as softly
a long pause.
“you tell anybody about this,” her voice muffled, “and i’ll make your life very difficult.”
“i know,” you say warmly.
“i have resources.”
“i know.”
“i have connections.”
“cipher.”
she pauses. “what.”
“you’re cute like this.”
her purring stutters. she lets out an indignant noise and shifts as if she’s considering relocating entirely, but her grip on your shirt only tightens, and she does not move an inch.
you resume petting and scratching her ears, her purring returning stronger, fuller, and warmer, rolling through her chest like it has stopped asking for permission. the flush that had been sitting carefully at the tips of her ears bleeds downward, spreading across her cheeks in a way she cannot school away, no matter how high she holds her chin.
“i want you to know,” cipher says, her voice still reaching for her usual polished register, “that i am allowing this. this is a choice i am making.”
“okay.” you respond softly
“i’m in complete control,” she murmurs into your shoulder. there’s no edge left in her voice. it’s barely louder than a breath
“i know you are.”
cipher falls quiet.
the tv plays on, the show long forgotten. outside, the bustle of the city outside is barely audible. the quiet, warm, certain weight of cipher pressed against your side is the only thing on your mind.
you look down at her. at the curve of her ear still warm beneath your fingers. at the flush still sitting softly on her cheek. at the slow rise and fall of her chest, her breathing stripped of its usual performance, belonging only to her and to this room and to the quiet that has settled so completely around the two of you. she looks nothing like the woman who appeared in your doorframe this evening, all her bravado nowhere to be found.
you let the silence sit, your fingers continuing to move in slow, unhurried circles. you are in no rush. you would stay like this indefinitely if cipher would let you, and a quiet, hopeful part of you suspects that tonight, she might.
“don’t stop.” she whispers
“i won’t.”
cipher falls quiet after that, her threats and protests finally running dry, leaving nothing behind but the soft, even sound of her breathing and the warm, steady hum of her purring against your shoulder.
at some point, her grip on your shirt, which had been so tight and so insistent, loosens by degrees. her fingers uncurl slowly, going slack against the fabric. her breathing, already slow, deepens further, each exhale growing longer, quieter, and further apart, until it finds a rhythm that has nothing of wakefulness left in it. you feel the last of her weight give way all at once. her head grows heavy against your shoulder. her body, which had carried even in its most relaxed moments some residual thread of composure, relaxes completely.
you glance down at her. at the slow rise and fall of her chest. at her face, smooth now and quiet, the flush on her cheeks faded to something soft and barely there. at her ears, no longer pink with embarrassment, simply resting.
you carefully, slowly, reach over and turn the volume down on the television until the room is almost silent. then you settle back, adjust your shoulder gently so she is comfortable, and rest your cheek against the top of her head before closing your eyes. cipher sleeps on, unaware and unguarded.
how do people hatewatch things, i can barely find the time to read and watch all the things i actively want to, how the fuck are you putting time aside to watch an entire season of dogshit telly thats just gonna make you mad
Someone on twitter/x called Shenlan a felted version of Xingyun (which ??? Wtf does that even MEAN??) AND called it a crackship so now I'm gonna write stuff out of spite.
Hell, I might write Shenlan x Reader and make it even gayer. Poly AND reader ship?? Their head might explode.
Yes. Eevee is on there twice. Honorary mention for 2nd Favorite is Vulpix but I really need to mention Gardevoir soooo..
The personal story? I once got a female Gyarados, named her Shrimp, laughed about it for 5 minutes and kept her in my party. That's it. Now I need a Shrimp on every playthrough.
#excuse me but are you telling me that the Apollo pic is made with the help of the SUN and the Artemis one with the help of the MOON??? #that's actually so poetic i want to cry
@gorandomshesaid wait i need to sit with this one. wait.
Reblog if you’d rather give yourself papercuts between each of your fingers and then rub hand sanitizer all over your hands than use generative AI to write or draw anything ever
Friendly reminder that the intro to Lion King….the non english bits leading up to the “circle of life” is not random yelling in *Africa voice* it is an actual language, Zulu, spoken by 10 million people, it is the most widely spoken language (out of 11) in the country of South Africa (1 out of the 54 countries in the continent of Africa, the continent home to somewhere between 1500-2000 languages and around 3000 distinct ethnic groups)
this isn’t to say that you have to friggin learn the language to sing along with a disney film, it just means that you should be mindful, respectful, appreciative and respectful. don’t be yelling out whatever noise comes in to your head when you hear it
The lyrics before the english comes in…in “circle of life”
Nants ingonyama bagithi baba [Here comes a lion, Father]
Sithi uhm ingonyama [Oh yes, it’s a lion]
Nants ingonyama bagithi baba [Here comes a lion, Father]
Sithi uhm ingonyama [Oh yes, it’s a lion]
Ingonyama [It’s a lion]
Siyo Nqoba [We’re going to conquer]
Ingonyama Ingonyama nengw’ enamabala [A lion and a leopard come to this open place] (repeats)
[queue English lyrics]
I would like to further add that language has there own cultural nuances so something that can sound extremely meaningful in one languages may not sound as majestic when translated to another (I know this as someone who has an understanding of 5 languages and speaks 3 of them fluently) so if you are thinking “oh it ain’t that deep they are just yelling: the lion is coming!” dial it back
Worth noting that “lion” and especially the word Ingonyama is a very respectful word to talk about a Zulu king, especially in praise. It’s so heavily associated with royalty in isiZulu that a different word is used for an animal lion - Ibhubesi. This isn’t just announcing the arrival of an animal, it’s celebrating the arrival (or coronation?) of the king
I would also like to state that the song “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” is an extremely washed out version of the original song “Mbube” by Solomon Linda, a South African musician. It was appropriated by the west and he never received credit or money for what became an extremely famous song. His family eventually received a small sum from Disney for the song but again, not much considering the history of the song. There is a documentary about it right now on netflix.
one of the most annoying feelings in ADHD is the can't-get-started-with-anything feeling. like, your ADHD is screaming you have to do something. you can't just rest, resting isn't a thing. even if you are resting, it's by doing something.
but nothing works.
you try to watch something, it's not right. you can't.
read? can't read right now
play? nah none of these games seem fun
make something? ehh, you're not feeling any of these projects right now
social media? it's boring or worse right now, so... find something else
it's like you're not moving but it's because you're too tense to do anything, just vibrating in place
The actor, 86, will be most remembered on this website for the "Chuck Norris Facts" memes of hyper-exaggerated competence.
Outside of movies and memes, Norris was a longtime conservative activist: pushing back against LGBT inclusion, fearmongering about peaceful Muslims spreading "sharia law", arguing against states teaching evolution in schools, feeding the "birther" conspiracy that Obama was not a US Citizen, spreading a conspiracy that the US military under Obama was going to put Texas under martial law, and supporting Donald Trump.
germansingergirl
izzy806
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
