someone on twitter is trying to claim that use of an em-dash is an indication of AI-generated writing because it’s “relatively rare” for actual humans to use it. skill issue
Part of me wonders if people who go around accusing others so vehemently of using AI just because they use proper grammar and punctuation are only doing so because they themselves just can't fathom being able to write well on their own. Like, I don't know how all this punctuation works, therefore anyone who uses it is using AI because we are all the same!
It's reminding me of that post about that post about not being able to write 600 words without ChatGPT.
hello? is anyone there? (a clorinde x reader college smau!)
SUMMARY —
college was supposed to be simple.
attend classes. maintain your grades. survive your workload. try not to cry over discussion posts worth thirty percent of your final grade.
sharing a psychology course with clorinde wasn't part of the plan.
neither were the late-night study sessions, the increasingly frequent text notifications, or the way your friends seem convinced you're starring in a romance before you've even learned how to talk to her normally.
fortunately, psychology has explanations for everything.
unfortunately, none of them seem to explain clorinde.
WARNINGS —
college/university au, genshin impact x reader, social media au (smau), texting format, mutual pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, academic stress, psychology themes, late-night messaging, sleep deprivation, occasional angst, misunderstandings, competitive environments, fencing captain clorinde, dancer reader, reader is a psychology major, clorinde is a political science major, lumine is readers roommate/dormmate, more will be added later!
TAGLIST 5/50 —
@yourdarlingdevotion, @opalescentangels, @kittykittykittysilly, @16lohens, @boreaswrites, wanna be added? send in an ask or leave a comment <3
warnings: yearning crazy style, reader and kazuha have gone their separate ways, a man who yearns is a man who earns or something, angst, hurt no comfort maybe?
notes: this made me cry. okay? okay.
pairing: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader
wc: ~570-580
masterlist.
The first time Kazuha realized he missed you, he was standing on the deck of the Alcor.
The sea was calm.
A warm breeze rolled across the water, carrying the scent of salt and distant rain.
Normally, he would have found comfort in it.
Instead, he found himself turning his head toward an empty space beside him.
As though expecting someone to be there.
As though expecting you.
The realization struck him quietly.
Not like lightning.
Not like a storm.
Simply a gentle ache settling into his chest.
A feeling that had likely been there for months.
Perhaps years.
Kazuha let out a soft breath and closed his eyes.
The wind brushed against his face.
For a moment, he could almost hear your laughter.
The memory was vivid enough to make him smile.
You had laughed often.
At his poems.
At his observations.
At the strange cloud formations he insisted looked like animals.
He could still remember the way you would lean against the railing and point toward the horizon.
"What do you think is over there?"
A simple question.
Yet one he had always enjoyed answering.
Because with you, every journey felt new.
Every destination felt worth reaching.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come.
Leaving only silence behind.
Kazuha opened his eyes.
The space beside him remained empty.
The ocean stretched endlessly ahead.
And you were nowhere to be found.
—
Years had passed since he'd last seen you.
Not because of an argument.
Not because of a falling out.
Simply because life had carried the two of you in different directions.
You had your own path to follow.
And Kazuha had never been the sort of person to ask someone to abandon theirs.
So he had smiled.
Wished you well.
Promised that your paths would cross again someday.
Back then, he had believed it.
Now, he wasn't so certain.
The world was vast.
People disappeared into it every day.
Some returned.
Others became memories.
Kazuha wondered which one you had become.
A gust of wind tugged at his hair.
His gaze drifted toward the sky.
The clouds moved slowly overhead.
Ever-changing.
Ever-moving.
Just like the people beneath them.
And yet...
Some things remained.
Certain memories.
Certain voices.
Certain names.
Yours was one of them.
A name he still found himself thinking about whenever the wind grew quiet.
Whenever he discovered a beautiful view.
Whenever he heard a story he wished he could share.
You were absent.
Yet somehow still present in every corner of his life.
It was a curious thing.
Missing someone.
Not enough to stop moving forward.
But enough that every road felt slightly emptier without them.
Kazuha smiled to himself.
A sad smile.
A fond one.
The kind reserved for memories too precious to forget.
The wind shifted.
For just a moment, it carried the faint scent of wildflowers.
A scent he knew well.
A scent that reminded him of you.
His breath caught.
Then he laughed softly at himself.
"You're playing tricks on me today," he murmured to the wind.
The breeze answered with silence.
But for the first time in a long while, Kazuha found himself asking a question.
One he'd never spoken aloud before.
One he'd carried quietly within his heart.
His eyes drifted toward the horizon.
Toward distant lands he had yet to see.
Toward possibilities he had nearly given up on.
And with a wistful smile, he whispered—
"Do you miss me, too?"
final note: literally nothing. i cried and that's about it. this was supposed to be an smau based on the pinkpantheress song but i decided against it and it turned into this instead. wow
when they overhear you talking lovingly about them [genshin men pt.2]
⋗ ft. albedo, illuga, kaveh, lohen, varka, wanderer, wriothesley, xiao
⋗ ~0.3k | fluff | gn!reader
Albedo
He’s waiting rather impatiently. The delivery should already be here, it is crucial to his work. The task at hand demands to be finished immediately, but without the necessary components Albedo can’t continue and his mind runs in circles of frustration and impatience. Similarly, his own steps circle around the room for something to do.
There are quiet voices outside the door suddenly, nothing new, yet in his current state his ears catch the sound and latch onto it. With you as part of the equation, his interest is piqued for the time being. He doesn’t appreciate interruptions while he’s deep in his work, but seeing as there’s nothing he can do, he comes closer to the door.
He jolts back once he can hear the words like they burn him. Frown tugs at his features. What are you even talking about - with whom? Something inside him must be getting messed up and thrown off balance. Something inside of you must be wrong. A chemical reaction going haywire. Why else would you feel like that towards a being such as him? Same as the base of your existence might be… Could you truly…?
The delivery finally arrives. When Albedo opens the door upon hearing the familiar sound of steps weighted down by the package, you jump away in fright. Instead of pointing out it was you who picked this precise location to spill your feelings, he gives you a gentle smile. Then - his lips move on their own, his tongue won’t listen to reason. He invites you inside.
It’s so impractical - he’s not done. This is a precise work requiring his full focus, and while he usually doesn’t struggle with devoting his senses and his mind to what he’s doing, right now it seems to be a challenge. He’s like a magpie drawn to the jewels of your eyes. His hands shake imperceptibly, and yet it’d be enough to lead to failure.
So he lays everything down. It seems his attention and interest is already elsewhere.
Illuga
On nights like this he tends to stay out longer. Both his duty and his curse. It’s cold and especially dark with no moonlight to illuminate the paths and some of the already sparse lights flicker like dying fireflies, soon to be extinguished. They really need to hound Aino into teaching them how to repair the technology, Illuga thinks.
Nonetheless, he makes his way towards home, towards you. The thought blows life into the embers in his chest, spreading warmth through his half-frozen body running on fumes at this point. Only a little further. He’s passing through the gap between the houses when he hears your laugh - and then more. Though he can’t tell who you’re speaking to, one of the neighbours, maybe, it doesn’t matter. It feels too much like a dream.
He clears his throat. He’d love to listen more - he truly would, but it’s rude to listen in on what you wanted to convey privately. Illuga would prefer to hear the rest of what you were to say in person, without secrets and hiding. You look like a rabbit caught in a trap, so utterly adorable that he almost feels bad.
So he doesn’t bring it up immediately. Instead, over the warm soup that’s your dinner, you talk about your days. He holds your hand in his, absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand. You help each other undress and dress again once you’re ready for bed. And only then does he ask, only with you tucked under his chin, cocooned by blankets.
Illuga knows he could fall asleep like this and have the most peaceful sleep of his life, yet he resists the temptation. Instead, every shy confession of yours he meets with just as quiet whispered prayers of love. Pieces of his soul laid bare. With each exchange you bring yourself closer, he pulls you in tighter, as if you wanted to melt into a singular being.
Kaveh
The world is spinning in that familiar, dreamy way. Kaveh is swaying to the music surrounding him. He leans on the railing, looking down at the strangers living their life underneath his balcony. Headache is starting to form behind his eyes, a problem for future him. For now, he feels peaceful. And sleepy. Resting his head on his arms, he feels strength starting to leave him and his body leaning to the side-
Yet before he hits the ground, he’s pulled up and steadied. Another warm body presses against his, familiar and comfortable. He lets himself be guided and maneuvered, though he can’t say why he trusts you so much. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let you see him like this, and yet he’s so tired and weak that he can’t help but crave that care.
Kaven allows himself to be pushed onto bed and cleaned up. As soft as the touch of the wet cloth is, as smooth as the feeling of fresh pajamas is, they’re pushed to the background of his mind. His focus lingers on your words. Are you aware he can hear? Are you aware you’re saying all that… Do you mean it? He feels so pathetic it makes his eyes water shortly before he falls asleep.
When you wake up, Kaveh is nowhere to be found. A ghost, nobody is of any help as to his whereabouts. And he wants to keep it that way. Despite being haunted by guilt and his own self-doubt, he remains hidden while his mind races. A cursed circle of awareness and paranoia. You wouldn’t lie, you talk like that about him to his face, to your friends, when he’s there and when he’s not. Why can’t he accept it?
He keeps running away from your feelings until he can’t anymore. And then, and only then, does he run straight into your arms. He throws both of you to the ground, clinging to you desperately. And so the cycle begins anew.
Lohen
Slacking off? Lohen’s lips curl up, a cat who caught the canary. It was a highly unusual sight - after all you knew better than this. You knew exactly what it takes to be a knight of your standing, and you knew that one doesn’t keep their position by standing around talking about the weather.
What’s more - one doesn’t get to keep their life by chatting up strangers. At least not on his watch, not the one that’s his. Still, this isn’t an appropriate place for recklessness, and so he creeps closer, staying in the shadows.
The other guy sounds scared and… something more, is it confusion? Is it anger? If Lohen had to say, it’s the kind of panicked anger a cornered animal might feel in the face of a stronger beast. So he listens intently to your words that follow.
What he hears is so surprising and ordinary that he barely stifles his laugh before he lunges forward. In a second, the dude disappears. You on the other hand - you stand still, as relaxed as before, as if there wasn’t a dagger’s blade pressed against your throat. The edge has already tasted your blood, not enough to make it drip, but enough to make it clear you should be careful about how deeply you’re breathing.
“You’re losing your edge,” he sneers into your ear.
“Me? I’m not the one getting worked up over a love confession,” you huff, “From my lover no less.”
The sting of a cut is there with every word. Yet - yet, the blade stops the bleeding as much as it slices your throat. It’s nothing serious anyway. Nothing he’ll get told off for either, the captain’s already given up trying to understand your spats.
Besides, since the dagger’s not a threat, there’s an opening for you to slip from him with a few practiced moves. And so danse macabre begins, as much a proof of his devotion as a lesson in mortality.
Varka
It’s loud. Almost unbearably so, but Varka is long used to it. It’s just how taverns get after a successful expedition, successful battle - which was it again? He doesn’t quite remember, the booze buzzes through his veins loud enough to erase the memories of everything but victory. The one beacon of hope in the darkness of neverending struggles against the odds.
The air, however, is getting too stale so he finds himself heading outside to fill his lungs with the clean air of the night, warm and carrying the scent of flowers native to his homeland. Just what he needed.
He truly didn’t expect to stumble upon you here - just behind the corner, sitting at one of the tables outside, chatting where the roar inside is just a background noise. And definitely not with someone who’s not him. So he stalks closer, curious what made you leave the party. How foolish he was for thinking he’d leave your mind.
It’s not very gentlemanly of him, but so be it. Hearing you talk like that - that beats a thousand nights of celebrations thrown in his name. His heart pounds harder than it does preparing for a fight. So his strategy is to wait for you to be done talking, and then he struts over, ignores your panicked squeak and your friend’s laughter, and picks you up to carry you further away where it can be just you and him.
Even then, however, Varka holds you, safe and steady in his arms as he rests his forehead against yours. His eyes carry that same tenderness with which he looks at you when you share a bed. He stops, a moment of charged stillness, before his lips crash against yours. He easily takes control of the kiss, purring when your arms wrap around his neck. Gradually, though, the kiss slows down, less hungry and more desperate, reverent. It takes you a moment to realize that what he’s murmuring between each kiss is a thank you.
Wanderer
The sun’s reached its peak in the sky and beams down mercilessly on the city. The people weaving around him glisten with sweat, a plight he’s freed from. There’s no need to rush while everyone seems so sleepy with the sun’s heat.
Without a destination in mind, Wanderer lets his feet take him wherever - to the market, down to the docks. Then back towards the houses, because perhaps he could laze around today and go through some of the academic texts he took out to study.
Yet reaching the humble abode he shares with you, he finds words flowing from the open window, unguarded, and centered around him it seems. He can’t quite stop the poisonous flames of doubt and fear twisting themselves into anger from licking at his fingertips, spreading across his body.
It must be a performance, he decides. Nobody would ever talk about him in this way without a reason. Though a conversation with a friend can take many turns, he doubts they should ever get this… personal. You must’ve spotted him, although he knows you lack the skill. But what other reason would there be for your voice to soften like this? For these words to leave your mouth? He feels like you’re sitting at different sides of a confessional. Yet why does he feel like the sinner although he remains completely silent? He grits his teeth.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Don’t you speak like that, don’t you whisper those confessions while holding his face when there’s nothing to gain, too? The off-chance that you mean every word is worse. Doesn’t everyone like that leave or otherwise discard him? Why would you be any different? He cannot let anyone know his feelings, however, he cannot show his weakness or it’ll speed up the inevitable process.
So when you find Wanderer lying in the grass next to your home, he only gives an excuse about why he didn’t come in. He hesitates when you grab his hand to drag him inside.
Wriothesley
He enjoys being where he’s not expected to be. It’s a good way of getting a general idea about the mood inside the fortress, and Wriothesley would prefer to remain on top of things if there was anything that’s causing conflict. So he carries the box of snacks he acquired for the tea break you’re supposed to meet for shortly, having retrieved it himself.
And who does he not stumble upon? And engaged in conversation so deeply that you don’t even spot him, too. Ideas swarm in his mind until he catches a bit of what you’re saying. Then time just seems to stop. He draws back, enough to remain within earshot but hidden from sight. Definitely not so he can lean against the wall of his cover as the world tilts on its axis. Or so that nobody witnesses how heavy his breathing gets.
When you enter Wriothesley’s office later. He seems deep in thought. His gaze is unfocused, staring into the steaming tea as if it held answers to all the questions of the universe. Yet the moment you come closer to his desk, his attention snaps to you.
He offers you his hand, brings you closer and pulls, dragging you into his lap. His head suddenly rests against your chest, his arms hold you like you’ll disappear if he lets go any tiny bit. You’re the safety he’s always been longing for, he realizes. You. If he has you, the whole world can burn.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure him and watch magic happen. The towering figure of a man melts into you, a putty under your touch.
He doesn’t tell you why, or what happened. He simply stays completely pliant. It doesn’t matter if he’s drinking tea or helping himself to a slice of cake, he stays just as he is - leaning his head against you, closing his eyes in pleasure when you knead the muscles on his shoulder. His voice sounds much softer than you’ve ever heard it.
Xiao
When was the last time he followed the steps of a mortal for no good reason? Xiao doesn’t remember. Yet he can’t pinpoint why is it that he follows after you. Maybe because you don’t treat him like others do, with blind respect. No, gentler. Like the face of a rock, caressed by the wind and waves, eroded with time, its sharp edges smoothed, he himself finds he similarly softened towards you. The cravings of gods and mortals, demons and holy beings, don’t seem that different, after all.
He remains hidden, high in the branches of the willow you decide to rest under. Even from high up, he can see how peaceful your face becomes, the tension easing off your shoulders. Why were you so anxious coming here? He’s written off the nervous energy radiating off you as worry about your safety. The slimes and hilichurls of this area can be particularly nasty. But he was wrong.
He freezes, only his centuries of meticulous training and experience keeping him hidden and safe balancing on the unsteady branch. With your head leaned back against the bark, you beg for guidance. Who - Xiao has no idea. His name is all he can hear - his name in the center of the maze of fond feelings you try to navigate. Fond. Perhaps that doesn’t even begin to encompass it.
You talk for so long that you fall asleep in the shade of the tree, slouching against the trunk. Only then does he climb down, watching your sleeping form in a new light, with a new furious storm raging inside of his chest. He crouches down, his hand no less gentle than a falling feather as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Then, he does the unthinkable - he leans forwards and presses his lips against your forehead. You don’t stir, you only smile in your sleep.
Xiao looks around. Where can he hide to accidentally meet you on your way back?
warnings (bold apply): murder, death investigations, mentions of bludgeoning, mentions of violent crimes, crime scene descriptions, autopsies, forensic procedures, discussion of corpses, blood, psychological horror, paranoia, manipulation, false accusations, imprisonment, implied corruption within legal systems, grief, anxiety, depictions of trauma, and themes of predestination/fatalism. this will be updated as the fic continues. please do not read this if you are not able to handle these topics.
pairing: wriothesley x detective/investigator!reader (gender neutral)
wc: ~1,050
taglist (8/50): @chxrry-cxke , @phantomhearts65, @nekobiii , @wriothesleyfan69 , @pjselee , @wriolos , @lunastarjay , @opalescentangels // send in an ask or comment to be added!
masterlist. ao3. previous. next.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
The words lingered in the office like smoke.
You would've been dead long before that document predicted.
A dramatic statement.
The kind of thing you'd expect from a novelist, not the administrator of Fontaine's most infamous prison.
You stared at Wriothesley.
Wriothesley stared back.
Annoyingly calm.
Annoyingly unreadable.
Eventually, you broke first.
"That's concerning."
"That's one word for it."
"You say things like that often?"
"Only when they're true."
You hated people who answered questions without actually answering them.
Unfortunately, Fontaine seemed determined to place them directly in your path.
You crossed your arms.
"Start explaining."
Wriothesley leaned back in his chair.
"I was hoping you'd say please."
"No."
"Fair."
The Duke sighed.
Then reached for one of the folders stacked beside him.
Unlike the others, this file appeared old.
Very old.
The paper had yellowed with age.
The edges were worn.
A layer of dust clung stubbornly to its cover.
You frowned immediately.
Court records weren't supposed to look like that.
The justice system preserved documents meticulously.
Something this deteriorated should have been transferred to archival storage decades, if not centuries, ago.
Wriothesley slid the file across the desk.
You opened it.
The first page nearly made you drop it.
Date of Creation:
Four hundred and thirty-seven years ago.
Your eyes narrowed.
"...What?"
"Keep reading."
You did.
"Case Number 01872.
Missing Person.
Status: Unresolved.
Investigator Assigned:
(NAME)"
The room fell silent.
Slowly, carefully, you reread the line.
Then a third time.
The words refused to change.
"Investigator Assigned:
(NAME)"
A ridiculous coincidence.
It had to be.
There were thousands of people in Fontaine.
Shared names happened.
Except—
Your stomach dropped.
The identification number matched.
Your employee registration.
Your departmental classification.
Every detail belonged to you.
You looked up sharply.
"This isn't funny."
"No."
Wriothesley's expression remained serious.
"It really isn't."
You turned to another page.
Witness interviews.
Evidence logs.
Search reports.
Everything appeared legitimate.
Every signature.
Every stamp.
Every approval seal.
Authentic.
Impossible.
You weren't four hundred years old.
At least, you were fairly confident you weren't.
The case continued for nearly sixty pages.
Then it ended abruptly.
No resolution.
No conclusion.
No indication of what happened to the missing person.
Only a final note.
"Investigation terminated due to the investigator's disappearance."
Your hand froze.
The room suddenly felt colder.
You read the sentence twice.
Then three times.
Investigator disappearance.
Not death.
Disappearance.
A subtle distinction.
One that bothered you far more than it should have.
Carefully, you closed the folder.
"Where did you get this?"
"The archives."
"The archives don't contain records this old."
"They do if you know where to look."
Of course they did.
Nothing about this investigation could ever be simple.
You rubbed your temple.
A headache was beginning to form.
"Tell me this is the only one."
Wriothesley laughed.
A short sound.
Almost sympathetic.
Your stomach sank.
"How many?"
"Thirty-two."
You stared.
"Thirty-two?"
"Thirty-two investigations."
Silence.
Then—
"Featuring me?"
"Featuring you."
You immediately stood.
Pacing felt necessary.
The alternative involved screaming.
The office suddenly seemed far too small.
Thirty-two investigations.
Spread across centuries.
All assigned to someone who apparently shared your identity.
Impossible.
Utterly impossible.
And yet—
Every instinct you possessed was screaming that the documents were real.
You'd spent years examining evidence.
Years learning how to spot forgery.
Nothing about the files felt fabricated.
That was the problem.
If they were fake, you could explain them.
If they were real—
You had no explanation at all.
Wriothesley watched you pace.
Patiently.
The bastard.
Finally, you stopped.
"How long have you known?"
"A few months."
"And you didn't think to mention it?"
"You were busy."
You blinked.
"Busy?"
"Trying to solve the mystery."
The response was infuriating.
Mostly because he wasn't wrong.
You exhaled slowly.
Then pointed toward the folders.
"Tell me everything."
The administrator's expression darkened.
For the first time since you'd arrived, the amusement vanished completely.
"I can't."
"Can't?"
"Not yet."
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
The urge to throw something increased dramatically.
Wriothesley continued before you could object.
"Because I need to know something first."
The atmosphere shifted.
Subtle.
Immediate.
The room suddenly felt less like an office and more like an interrogation chamber.
His gaze settled on you.
Sharp.
Focused.
Evaluating.
"When was the first time you noticed them?"
You frowned.
"The files?"
"No."
A pause.
"The repetitions."
Every muscle in your body stiffened.
Wriothesley noticed instantly.
Of course he did.
His expression didn't change.
But something flickered behind his eyes.
Recognition.
You hated that.
Because it meant he already knew the answer.
You looked away.
Toward the rain-streaked window.
The ocean beyond.
The question lingered.
The repetitions.
You hadn't told anyone about them.
Not the investigators.
Not the archivists.
Not the judges.
Nobody.
Because they made no sense.
Because they sounded insane.
And because admitting they existed made them real.
The first had occurred three weeks ago.
A clerk entering your office.
Delivering a report.
Leaving.
Then entering again.
Repeating the exact same conversation.
Word for word.
Movement for movement.
As though the previous interaction had never happened.
You'd dismissed it as exhaustion.
Then it happened again.
And again.
A witness repeating a sentence twice.
A newspaper headline changing when you looked away.
A clock skipping several minutes forward.
Tiny inconsistencies.
Small enough to ignore.
Large enough to haunt you.
Slowly, your gaze returned to Wriothesley.
His expression told you everything.
He knew.
Not only knew.
Expected it.
The realization sent ice down your spine.
"How?" you asked quietly.
For the first time, Wriothesley looked genuinely troubled.
Not concerned.
Not cautious.
Troubled.
The distinction mattered.
Because if someone like Wriothesley looked worried—
You should probably be terrified.
His eyes shifted briefly toward the ancient folders stacked beside him.
Then back to you.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than before.
"Because every investigator assigned to those files reported the same thing."
Silence.
The rain hammered against the windows.
Somewhere deep within the fortress, machinery groaned.
And suddenly, for the first time since this investigation began, you understood something.
The court records weren't predicting crimes.
They weren't predicting deaths.
They weren't predicting the future.
They were documenting something.
Something hidden.
Something that had been happening for centuries.
Something watching.
And somehow—
It had finally noticed you.
final note: hi guys!!! alalalala sorry for so few updates this past week :( i was traveling literally all over texas every day and had no time to write ANYTHING so hopefully this is okay T^T thank you for your patience!
warnings: kaveh needs a nap okay, kaveh vs furniture (furniture wins), probably ooc but i wrote this in one sitting, it's probably bad and cringe but i don't care let me have fun, fluff
pairing: kaveh x gn!roommate!reader
masterlist.
The first thing you noticed about Kaveh was that he never slept.
At least, that's what it looked like.
Every night, long after the lamps of Sumeru City had dimmed, a single golden light remained burning from the drafting room.
And every morning, without fail, Kaveh would insist he was perfectly fine.
"You look exhausted."
"I'm inspired."
"You haven't slept."
"I closed my eyes for several minutes."
"That isn't sleep."
"It counts if you think about it."
You stared at him.
Kaveh stared back.
Then he promptly walked into a bookshelf.
It wasn't the first time.
Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last.
"You see?" you sighed.
"I'm fine."
"You just lost a fight against furniture."
"The bookshelf moved."
"The bookshelf has been there for three years."
"Exactly. Suspicious. Did you do it?"
You laughed despite yourself.
Kaveh beamed.
And there it was.
The dangerous thing.
Not his beauty.
Not his talent.
Not even the way that half of Sumeru seemed incapable of talking about architecture without mentioning his name.
It was that smile.
Warm enough to melt steel.
Bright enough to make you forget your own thoughts.
Entirely unfair.
You hated it.
You adored it.
Mostly the second one.
Never the first.
Probably.
—
This evening, the rain arrived without warning.
Dampening your attire without mercy. How rude!
One moment the streets were crowded.
The next, merchants were scrambling to cover their stalls as water poured from the heavens.
By the time you reached home, you were soaked.
The front door opened before you could reach for the handle.
Kaveh stood there.
Hair tied back.
Sleeves rolled up.
A dish towel draped over one shoulder.
You froze.
He blinked.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You look..."
You gestured vaguely.
"...domestic."
Kaveh's ears immediately turned pink.
"I always look domestic."
"You absolutely do not."
"Whatever, I made soup."
"You're proving my point."
"Just come inside."
The smell hit you immediately.
Fresh bread.
Herbs.
Something simmering gently on the stove.
Home.
That's weird.
Home?
Not the building.
Not the walls.
Not the furniture.
Him.
You watched Kaveh move around the kitchen.
Complaining about measurements.
Muttering about ingredients.
Trying —and failing— to pretend he wasn't checking every few seconds to make sure you were warm enough.
Something tightened in your throat.
Before you had time to consult it, dinner was ready.
Tonight was unlively. Nothing much to do than play around with the tablecloth tonight.
"Kaveh."
He looked up.
You reached across the table.
Took his hand.
Simple.
Easy.
Dinner was mostly quiet.
Silence.
More silence.
The room became very still.
It's pretty quiet, just in case you were wondering.
The aforementioned rain tapped softly against the windows. It had calmed down by now.
Kaveh stared at your joined hands. They were still together.
Then at you.
Then back again.
Something inside him shattered. He really adores you. It hurts.
Not painfully.
Relievedly.
He was staring at you, seemingly distracted as you play with your hair.
A few more seconds pass and pretty soon, you're staring at the corner of your dining room.
"You seem lost."
"What?"
"You're doing your thing where you stare off. Cute."
"Just cute?"
He blinked. He had to backtrack a couple sentences.
The realization hit him first.
His face immediately turned scarlet.
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Oh."
A wonderful symphony of "oh"s played out before you absolutely lost it.
You couldn't help it.
You laughed.
And somehow that made him even redder.
"Don't laugh!"
"Interesting. Only cute?
"Excuse me?"
"How disappointing..."
You sigh dramatically.
Kaveh buried his face in his hands.
You reached over.
-you slap his shoulder. just kidding-
As you're gently pulling his hands away, his eyes met yours.
Warm.
Hopeful.
Terrified.
Tired.
The distance between you disappeared slowly.
Like silk slipping through careful fingers.
Like starlight finding its way through a window.
Soft.
Patient.
Certain.
You both approach, feeling his breath on your lips. You stay there for a moment. It feels a lot less like "I'm about to kiss my crush" and more like you're competing in the world's hardest staring competition.
When he finally kissed you, it felt less like the beginning of something.
And more like coming home.
Exactly where you'd both been trying to find your way all along.
final note: this was actually changed so much last minute because i hated it omg. sorry if it sucks i promise im usually okay at writing. hope you enjoyed alalala <3
you may also address me as neptune, should you wish. any designation is acceptable.
• she/they
• feminine and neutral terms are welcome
• interested in becoming mutuals? please contact me through my ask box or via dms! i love talking <3
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒.
• i am an 18-year-old writer drawn to basically anything some might deem as "creepy". this ranges from nighttime strolls to forensic cases.
• english is not my first language. please be patient and understanding regarding any mistakes that may occasionally appear within these records.
• writing is one of my greatest passions, and i deeply appreciate every request submitted to the archives. responses may take time, but new documents are always in preparation.
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒
• when not tending to the archives, i can usually be found writing music, practicing an instrument, or baking.
• i love meeting new people and making friends. despite being rather shy, i am always happy to chat.
• i enjoy writing poetry and have considered opening a separate archive dedicated entirely to it.
notes: hi! this is my first actual fic ever! i do deeply appreciate likes and reblogs as i work on this. also, this fic will be cross posted to ao3, so once i figure out how to get that working, i will link it on this masterlist. thank you for your continued patience and understanding! THIS IS A REUPLOAD ONTO MY MAIN, AS MY BLOGS ARE BEING RECONSTRUCTED.
updates: i have updates planned weekly, hopefully every saturday. however i am INCREDIBLY busy later this year and may not have time to update it as much. i apologize!
warnings: murder, death investigations, mentions of bludgeoning, mentions of violent crimes, crime scene descriptions, autopsies, forensic procedures, discussion of corpses, blood, psychological horror, paranoia, manipulation, false accusations, imprisonment, implied corruption within legal systems, grief, anxiety, depictions of trauma, and themes of predestination/fatalism. this will be updated as the fic continues. please do not read this if you are not able to handle these topics.
special thanks: @opalescentangels for a lot of work on this!! she can never get enough thanks for everything she does for me! also a huge thanks to @lonelykrow for helping with beta-reading and editing!! your work is appreciated SO much!!!!! and a huge thanks to everyone who reads this and supports our work <3
pairing: wriothesley x detective/investigator!reader
taglist (7/50): @chxrry-cxke , @phantomhearts65, @nekobiii , @wriothesleyfan69 , @pjselee , @wriolos , @lunastarjay // send in an ask or comment to be added!
— this blog primarily contains genshin impact content.
— expect frequent discussion of fictional characters, headcanons, writing projects, and occasional author rambling.
— i enjoy interacting with mutuals, but i can be shy when initiating conversations.
— asks, comments, and messages are always appreciated.
— spoilers will be tagged whenever possible.
— this archive contains fluff, angst, and dark themes. please read at your own caution. warnings will be given.
— i do not mind minors interacting with me or my sfw content. please do not read any of my nsfw content. i have warned you, and it is no longer my fault if you read it anyways.
𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.
— writing updates may be slow depending on motivation, work, or real-life obligations.
— i occasionally disappear for periods of time and then return with several thousand words. do not be surprised or worried.
— unfinished projects and works in progress may appear throughout the archives. some works i may show as wips might not appear again, as my co-author and i have to think about whether or not it will gain recognition. please be understanding.
— i am always happy to receive feedback, reactions, and tags on my work. i do have my own beta-readers and authors, but i am more than willing to accept CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. do not be unnecessarily rude.
𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄.
— be respectful to other visitors.
— harassment, discrimination, or unnecessary drama will not be tolerated.
— please remember there is a real person behind this archive.
— kindness costs nothing.
thank you for reviewing the court regulations...
your cooperation has been entered into the record.
i just realized that before people think that my works are getting stolen or something i should probably say that it is in fact still me (aka cherii, aka @cheriiiiii and @cheriiiberiii)! i changed my blog and layout/theme/etc because i like to change things up every once in a while!! i will continue posting my works as usual!!
i have changed my main from @cheriiiiii to @viviolettee and my side blog from @cheriiiberiii to @violettegarden !
warnings: local duelist outsmarted by cat distribution system, she wants to name the cat "pistol", fluff, clorinde is probably ooc but i also wrote this one in one sitting, established relationship, lowercase writing
notes: this one is for me and the like. one other clorinde fan. in the world. its probably just for me but that's okay right
pairing: clorinde x gn!reader
wc: ~386
masterlist.
you knew something was wrong the moment clorinde arrived home early.
not because she looked injured.
not because she seemed upset.
but because clorinde—champion duelist, feared across the nation, and possibly the most disciplined woman you'd ever met—was standing in your doorway holding a tiny orange kitten.
you blinked.
she blinked back.
the kitten meowed.
"...clorinde."
"yes?"
"why do you have a cat?"
there was a pause.
"a situation occurred."
"what kind of situation?"
another pause.
"the cat followed me."
you looked down at the tiny creature.
it looked up at you.
it was currently sitting inside clorinde's coat as though it owned the place.
"and?"
"and it refused to leave."
"clorinde."
"yes?"
"that's your cat now."
the look of horror on her face nearly made you laugh.
"it cannot be my cat."
the kitten immediately climbed onto her shoulder and began purring.
you failed to hide your smile.
clorinde looked deeply betrayed.
"you find this amusing."
"a little."
"i am being held hostage."
"by a kitten."
"exactly."
the kitten rubbed its face against her cheek.
for a brief moment, clorinde froze.
then, very carefully, she reached up and scratched beneath its chin.
the purring somehow became louder.
your heart melted.
because clorinde was always so composed.
so controlled.
so perfectly put together.
but right now she looked utterly helpless.
"you like him."
"i do not."
the kitten meowed.
clorinde immediately adjusted her hold so it would be more comfortable.
you raised an eyebrow.
she looked away.
"...that proves nothing."
"of course."
"nothing at all."
the kitten curled up against her neck and promptly fell asleep.
silence filled the room.
you walked over and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"you know," you said softly, "he picked you for a reason."
clorinde looked down at the sleeping kitten.
her expression softened.
just a little.
just enough for you to see.
"perhaps."
you smiled.
"so what's his name?"
"he doesn't have one."
"yet."
another pause.
"...perhaps pistol."
you stared.
clorinde stared back.
ultimately, clorinde wins your guys' staring competition.
"you want to name your cat 'pistol?'"
"it's fitting."
you laughed so hard you nearly doubled over.
and for a brief moment, hidden behind the sound of your laughter, you caught the faintest smile on clorinde's face.
it was small.
rare.
precious.
and somehow softer than the sleeping kitten in her arms.
final note: in honor of the new clorinde theme, have this last minute writing! take that!! hope you liked it because. i did. and that's what matters okay. sorry it's all lowercase! whoops! get used to it because most of my oneshots might be like that sorry guys <3
origamiaround
kaledo-art
stormborns
jacobvanloon
andulkaphoto
