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Church Propaganda

last one the hand writes, someone says to him "Is that you're nipples?"

sorry but not sorry

boothil wip 👹

best boy

What if i ask u hold out ur hand and then put him in ur palm?

Concept art for Peach in Super Mario RPG, made at a point during the game's design process where a classic fantasy theme (revolving around knights and swords) was considered for the game's aesthetic.

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cupid’s chokehold

pairing/s: cyno, diluc, scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: it’s simple, really. one moment you’re laughing, the light of the sun brightening your features, and the next his heart is beating out of his chest, face warm and breaths short, an almost pleasant twist to his gut when you lean close. you look at him with fondness dancing in your eyes, and he realizes, oh, he might just be in love. or — the moment they find out they love you.

note: this is really just an excuse to write diluc being whipped, also this was supposed to include childe heizou and xiao but i lost motivation so here ya go!

CYNO

He finds it hard to believe that you’d be so incapable of writing a simple essay. You once admitted to him how you only got accepted into the Akademiya through sheer luck, but he didn’t believe it then. The Akademiya is known for its strict rules and thorough examination of every student it takes on.

But seeing you struggling not to plagiarize an essay is truly pushing his patience. He’s not one to snap or bark out harsh words to those undeserving of it — and he can think of no one more undeserving of his wrath than you — but it is frustrating to watch you stumble even at the easiest of assignments.

“I think I’ve got it! Oh, I made a little mistake on the spelling there, but this is the one that’ll blow my professors away! Cyno, can you proofread this for me?”

He’ll tell you later that he didn’t mean it, and you’ll accept it without hesitation with an accepting smile — but right now, the searing sun made worse by the humid weather makes a short fuse even for the most patient of saints.

“If you can’t do something so simple, then I see no point in partaking in this fruitless endeavor. The Akademiya is harsh and has no room for error, you would be better off leaving than continue struggling futilely.”

He didn’t mean to come off so harsh, as if he’s belittling all your hard work and effort and telling you that you don’t belong in the Akademiya. But the damage has been done, and your hopeful look turns into shock at his outburst, retreating into yourself and quickly retracting the paper you’d been in the middle of handing out to him. Your face closes off, clutching your essay close to your chest and darting your eyes anywhere but his general direction.

“Sorry,” you say, awkward and fumbling, resolutely not meeting his eyes, “For being annoying, among other things.” Then, you rise to your feet abruptly. He can see the way your fingers are clenched tightly at your paper, tight enough to wrinkle the edges such that he knows you’ll regret later for ruining yet another paper. “I won’t bother you again.”

Your voice is uncharacteristically quiet, almost sounding choked off. You turn and give him a brief glimpse of your face, and he realizes that you’re on the verge of tears.

He catches your arm just before you can take a step forward. “Wait.”

You freeze, muscles tensing beneath his touch. He instantly releases you after he feels how uncomfortable it must have made you. The silence between you is so tangible he can almost see it permeating the air, cloying and thick and utterly unwelcome.

He parts his mouth a few times, going through every possible scenario where he says the wrong thing that pushes you to the edge and makes you hate him forever. The mere thought is enough to steal him of his breath. No, he can’t have that, can’t bear the thought of a world where you aren’t there greeting him brightly in the morning and being so shameless as you fall into step beside him despite his rank and engage him in idle chitchat. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you before, but he looks forward to that part of his day the most.

After what seems like eons of standing in silence, he finally speaks. But what comes out of his mouth isn’t the apology he rehearsed in his head.

“Why did the bike fall over?”

You turn to him with an almost incredulous look, eyes wide with unshed tears that he berates himself for. Then, hesitantly, you ask, “…Why?”

The response comes naturally to him, years of reading through his notes and making them himself has all but ingrained such information in his mind.

“Because it was two tired,” he delivers this with a straight face, tone flat and completely at odds with the nature of his joke.

You stare at him for a moment, lips parted in surprise at the sudden joke. He sees your grip on your paper loosen, shoulders relaxing, mouth twisting into something he can’t quite discern, and then—

“Pft.” It starts out small, quiet as you bring a hand to cover your mouth, before it dissolves into a full blown laugh, the kind that has your shoulders shaking and eyes closed, head tilted back and the sound of your laughter filling his ears. He’s never considered that laughs could produce such pleasant sounds, so it comes as a surprise when yours makes something in him want to lean forward to hear more. Or perhaps it’s just you.

The light from the sun bounces off your skin, making your expression all the more radiant.

And Cyno? Cyno doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a mesmerizing sight before.

You’ve never laughed at his jokes, or rather, he’s never seen fit to tell you any of them, seeing as you’ve always been so at ease around him that telling a joke was never necessary. He’ll have to rectify that, he thinks, watching the way your mouth curves up in a smile, eyes dancing with mirth as you finally meet his eyes.

And he’s suddenly struck by the thought of how much he likes seeing you like this — hair mussed from the wind, exhilaration lining your lips, breaths short from laughing too hard, and gazing at him in delight.

And maybe he’s overthinking things too much, maybe the pounding of his heart and the sudden intake of breath is a result of something else, but he wants to believe it’s because of you.

Later, he’ll come up with a proper apology, something a little less joking and a little more serious. But right now, you’re looking at him like he’s the only person in the world, and that’s all that matters.

DILUC

The sun is particularly hot today, bordering on sweltering, but still, you insist on accompanying him in this menial task of picking grapes.

Diluc has always preferred solitude since he came of age, doing things alone and being lost in his thoughts have become things that he finds strangely pleasant, almost calming. But you’ve never been one to settle in silence, always needing to voice your thoughts and fill the room with chatter about all sorts of topics. It’s something he should dislike, all things considered due to his preference for quietness, but you, he finds, have always been an exception to what he considers the norm.

He wonders why.

“And just then, a hilichurl comes out of nowhere and starts throwing rocks at me — rocks! They have crossbows and shields and those battering things, but that one chose to use rocks to attack me! It’s like he thought I wasn’t even worth the effort!”

He idly plucks a group of ripe grapes from a vine, listening to you retell your encounter with a hilichurl that led to you discovering its camp that held a precious chest, only to open it and find nothing but cabbages. You bemoan how it was a total waste of effort, all that fighting just for a few pieces of vegetables you don’t even like.

A small, amused smile flits its way into his lips. It doesn’t escape your notice.

“So you think my suffering is funny, huh?” You narrow your eyes at him.

He turns away and briefly considers the merits of admitting to smiling, not at your plight, but at the various inflections in your tone as you regaled him with your story and the little laughs you let out when you got to a funny part and the way you looked at him with a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of your eyes, reflecting the light from the sun in its near-blinding intensity.

When he turns back to face you, he’s met with fingers on his lips and something small and round being pushed into his mouth. His teeth bites down into it, tender and sweet. A grape, he realizes, meeting mischievous eyes set upon a face that’s full of promises for future teasings and pranks.

The pads of your fingers are soft against his lips. His eyes wander against his will, landing on your lips twisted into a smirk, and his mind conjures an impossibly dangerous thought. Perhaps your lips would feel softer against his.

And then heat is creeping up his skin, searing red across his neck that reaches his cheeks and stops at the tips of his ears.

It’s nothing ostentatious. Not like the stories told in books where they meet each other’s eyes across the room and falter as their hearts beat as one, where they meet in the carnage of a battlefield, offering each other’s hands and knowing without a doubt that they will only ever have their backs for each other until the day they die. It’s not even one where he holds your hand and feels the way his heart leaps at the contact as he realizes what it might mean.

But this is still as meaningful, still as beautiful, suspended in time and carved in stone upon his memories until the winds of time erode it away.

A gentle breeze blows past you, and he catches the barest hint of a scent that consumes his mind and fills it with thoughts of nothing but you and your fingers lingering on his lips and how he’s never wanted to kiss a person more than he does now.

And oh, oh.

It’s a fanciful thought, but he imagines if his life were to become a book, then it should be one with an ending that intertwines with yours.

He considers that, for such a book, it would begin like this — the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Diluc Ragnvindr is in love.

SCARAMOUCHE

If Scaramouche were the kind to think thoughts that would have him put below the pedestal he’s placed himself at, he’d think there must be something wrong with him.

“Did you really think you could have defeated those monsters all on your own? You’re lucky I was nearby, otherwise you’d be nothing but a bloody splatter on the ground.” His words are as harsh as ever, carrying that biting tone that’s labeled him unapproachable and unlikeable to most anyone — that is, most anyone who isn’t you.

He doesn’t understand you, the reasoning behind your actions and words and generally everything about you that makes you so infuriating. It grates at him, not knowing something, especially when that something pertains to you. Though why that would even matter is beyond him.

You smile at him, a sheepish little thing, utterly unrepentant and unaware of the possible consequences your actions could have brought. Not that he cares if anything happens to you. He’d just rather not deal with the trouble of handling your papers should you die under his service.

(That was, admittedly, a very weak argument that he’ll chastise himself for later. A Harbinger would have more pressing work to do than handle every paperwork about a dead subordinate. Not that the fact about him handling your papers upon your death was untrue, only that it’s only your paper among his countless other subordinates who’ve died that he’ll bother doing.)

Your mask fell off somewhere in the middle of that rather pathetic fight. It’s a breach of protocol to not be wearing your mask while on duty, but Scaramouche chooses to ignore that particular rule. He’s a Harbinger, he’s the one who decides the rules. Having to order you to go fetch your mask to put it back on would be a waste of time and effort. Much more efficient to simply speak this way, he reasons. It’s most definitely not because he wants to see your eyes and the myriad of emotions that pass through them. And even if it is, it’s only a way for him to better read your expressions and discern whether you’re lying or not. He can’t have anyone betraying him the Fatui.

“I apologize, my lord. It seems I’m still unaccustomed to my new uniform.” Your voice carries a sort of lilt to it that makes it more tolerable than most people he’s ever spoken to. It’s not a compliment, lest his mind go against him and begin creating false narratives, it’s an observation rooted in fact. The sky is blue, the stars are false, and your voice isn’t unpleasant to listen to.

He does frown at your explanation. “Unaccustomed? It’s hardly that different from your previous uniform.” He would know, of course, he spent hours watching you in it. Not that he was watching you simply for the sake of watching, no, never, he was merely criticizing your choice of color scheme and the scuff marks and dried blood that never quite went away no matter how many times you washed it. You’ve complained to him enough times about it in a way that no subordinate should to their lord, but he was in a good mood then, so he let it slide… among countless other things he let slide.

You pull at the collar of your uniform. “It’s a bit constricting. I think they may have gotten my measurements wrong—”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “And you didn’t think to tell me? What use would I have for a recruit who can’t even move properly because of a tight uniform?”

“Well, you did tell me not to bother you anymore with my inane concerns, so I figured you wouldn’t want to hear about this…my lord.” The last part is added almost as an afterthought. He decides to let it slide.

He does recall something along those lines, sometime when he was in a foul mood and had no patience for your presence and the contradictions it brought in his behavior. He remembers being lost and dumbfounded the next day when you turned to leave after giving your report instead of lounging on his office’s couch and telling him about your day and the gossip you recently heard. He hadn’t actually meant for you to stop talking to him, but he was too proud to say so to you, which resulted in a week of silence on both parties. It was completely unbearable, but Scaramouche would sooner cut his own head off than admit it.

“Fine. You’re allowed to speak such drivel to me again, since you clearly can’t function without any sort of assistance from me.” It’s easy to twist the situation as if you’re the one who’s been dying to talk to him normally again instead of the other way around.

You laugh beneath your breath, something bordering on a giggle — a giggle, of all things. The last time someone had the audacity to giggle in his presence was…was a long time ago. Something he won’t dwell in.

“If you insist, my lord,” you say, an almost teasing twinkle in your eyes, and Scaramouche has never been more grateful exasperated that you aren’t wearing a mask. Who do you think you are to show such an emotion like happiness in front of him?

He’ll let it slide though. Just this once.

“Let’s return to the camp. I don’t want to be seen any longer with you looking the state you are now.” He deliberately ignores the fact that people will only see the two of you together once you’re back and not at this lone clearing. You turn to place your mask back on and he lets you. Wouldn’t do much good to have others see your face and plot whatever nefarious schemes their minds will cook up, like talking to you or, gods forbid, flirting with you—

And then he stops, completely frozen in place and unable to hide that shock that bleeds through his carefully crafted mask. He’s lucky you’re standing behind him, otherwise he’d have to kill you for seeing him in such a state. Not that he believes he’ll be able to go through with it, but the thought is needed though not necessarily appreciated.

He turns to you after he’s gotten ahold of his expression, eyes scanning your features and, with an almost sickening lurch in his stomach, finds that you’re not exactly unpleasant to look at.

Your hand reaches out for his arm with worry, and he nearly reels his hand back at the sheer audacity you have for assuming he is someone who needs worrying for but—but.

He rather likes the feeling of your fingers brushing against his skin.

So he lets you close your hand around his arm and look at him with through a mask he knows harbors a concerned look behind it. He nearly laughs at the notion of someone being concerned for him, but alas, you’re such an anomaly that even he can’t bring himself to mock even the worst trait you possess.

You are truly the most vexing person he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Perhaps if you keep touching him like this, he’ll let that one slide too.

brought to you by zhongli's beautiful spear kick, acquiring xiao, and wanting to draw cyno and raiden (who i also have) all at once

rub-a-dub-dub

B O O T H I L L 🔥

The curse of No Cussing

(For context, Boothill cannot swear...he says nice things instead 😂)

boothill from hsr :3

SAVE A HORSE!!!!

hm............................

٩(´•⌢•｀ )۶⁼³₌₃

✮ rainbow rose

౨ৎ lyney x reader. fluff, gn!reader, based off of his story quest iirc or the archon quest i cant remember, flirty lyney — wc: 1171

notes. live laugh love lyney

“y/n, do you remember what rainbow roses meant in terms of magicians using them in their performances?” charlotte asks you on a relaxing stroll through the city of fontaine.

you looked at her and tilted your head, unsure of where she was going with this. “um, something about romantic… stuff?”

“passion and romantic encounters,” charlotte quickly corrects you before she suddenly stops, holding both of your hands in excitement. “lyney gave you one if i’m not mistaken?” you nodded slowly and charlotte squeals. “you know what that means don’t you? lyney definitely has a crush on you!”

you froze in your place, processing what charlotte just said. you let out a laugh. “don’t be silly, charlotte. he just gave me one to, um, express his gratitude for helping him in one of his magic shows.”

charlotte gives you an ‘are-you-serious?’ look, letting out a sigh. “y/n just because i’m a reporter doesn’t mean i’m oblivious to romance! look, i’ve covered a lot of romance articles and i can tell when someone’s in love with a person.”

“charlotte,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “lyney and i are just friends, nothing more. him giving me a rainbow rose doesn’t mean anything more! he just decided to change the flower he’d be using in his magic tricks to rainbow roses. besides, weren’t you the one who told him magicians usually use rainbow roses in their flower-related tricks?”

“okay, fine, i’ll drop it.” charlotte raises her hands up in surrender. “but if he does have a crush on you and you guys develop into something more, do let me know. i’d love to get news on the famous magician’s love life.”

you slapped charlotte playfully on her forearm, continuing your stroll with her.

it wasn’t just five minutes later that charlotte saw lyney walking just a few steps away. “lyney! what’re you doing here?” charlotte calls out to him, nudging your ribs to catch your attention. you let out a painful yelp, sending charlotte a quick glare before your gaze softens, seeing lyney walking towards you, an adorable smile plastered all over his handsome face.

“ah, charlotte and y/n, what a pleasure it is to meet you two here,” lyney greets. “what are you two doing here?”

charlotte looks at you expectantly, basically saying ‘come on, answer him!’. you quickly cleared your throat, fixing your posture. “oh, um we were just walking… around. how about you? what’re you doing?”

“oh me? i was just grabbing a few supplies for my magic show this afternoon,” lyney responded, showing you the bag he’s holding. “speaking of magic shows, do you guys want to come later? i can reserve two seats for you,” he says, a glint of hope flickering his eyes. “front row.” he quickly adds.

you and charlotte look at each other before nodding in agreement. “sure! we don’t have anything planned this afternoon so we’re free. plus, today’s charlotte free day so it’s great timing.”

lyney gives you a big smile. “great! i’ll-”

“lyney, come on. we have to go back and check on all the props,” lynette suddenly appears behind lyney, scaring all three of you. “hi charlotte, y/n.”

“lynette,” lyney says with a huge sigh. “you have to stop doing that. you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“don’t be dramatic. we really have to go, lyney.” lynette says before she starts walking away, already expecting lyney to follow behind her.

“sorry, i really have to go,” lyney apologetically says. before he leaves, however, he takes off his hat, pulling out a rainbow rose from inside. “for you.” he hands you the flower and leaves, not giving you a chance to say anything.

you blankly stare at him until his figure was nowhere in sight.

“oh. my. god!” charlotte exclaimed, breaking the silence. “he gave you another rose! y/n come on, this can’t be a coincidence!”

you stared at the rose in your hands, a small smile appearing on your face. “i don’t- shut up, charlotte.”

charlotte gives you a knowing look, smirking slightly. she nudges your shoulder, quietly telling you to continue the shopping spree.

four hours later

it was time for lyney and lynette’s magic show to start. you and charlotte arrived at the court of fontaine fifteen minutes earlier, so there were no audiences yet. lyney was talking to one of the staff members on stage before he noticed you. 

his face brightens up when he sees you. “you guys made it!” he says, jumping down from the stage. “these are your seats by the way. front row.” lyney points at the seats right behind you and charlotte.

“thank you for reserving these seats for us, lyney.” charlotte shows her gratitude. “oh, before the show starts, mind if i go buy us some snacks and drinks? it’ll just be a minute.” she gives you a wink and you know she’s up to something.

“oh do you-”

“i don’t need help! you just accompany lyney here before the show starts. you know how nervous he gets.” charlotte says before running off.

“hey- charlotte!” you exclaimed, watching her figure disappear. “um, sorry about that lyney… she can be quite a handful when she isn’t in her work mode.”

“oh, that’s fine. you seem really close with charlotte,” lyney says. “how’d you meet her in the first place anyway?”

“huh? oh it was in mondstadt. a pretty long time ago, actually, now that i think about it” you let out a chuckle, remembering the adventure you had with her. “um, so back to your show! are you prepared? are you nervous?” you asked him in a teasing tone.

lyney rubs the back of his neck. “is it that obvious? yes, i’m nervous. today’s show is… pretty important to me.”

“hm? isn’t every single one of your shows important to you?” you asked, confused. “what’s the difference between this show and the other shows?”

lyney’s face suddenly flushed red. “oh, um, you’ll- you’ll see later when the show starts. i’m not spoiling anything.”

instead of questioning him further, you let him be. he obviously won’t reply to any of your questions. charlotte eventually comes back with 2 garlic baguettes and 2 bottles of fonta.

“hey! the line wasn’t super long for the- what’s with the awkward silence?”

lyney clears his throat. “i have to go backstage now. i’ll see you guys when the show starts.” he gives you a quick wave, running off.

charlotte has one eyebrow raised when you look back at her. “what just happened?”

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i asked him about his show and he just suddenly got embarrassed. i mean, why is he so embarrassed?”

“hmm,” charlotte hums, placing down the snacks and drinks. “maybe he’s doing something new? i mean, everything he does is new but maybe this one is super special.”

“i guess…” you mumbled. people started entering the court, so you and charlotte sat down on your seats, patiently waiting for the show to start.

lyney’s show was amazing as per usual. he’s managed to awe the audience with just a few tricks, and you can’t help but feel proud of him.

it was the end of the show, and lyney had only one act left.

“alright, for this last act, i’m going to need an audience member to come up and technically help me with this trick,” lyney starts, and most of the audience began growing excited, hoping to be picked. “instead of using the number generator we used last time, i’ll be picking from this hat.”

“ah, all the numbers inside here are written by lynette so i did not make any cheats.” lyney makes sure to confirm, lynette silently waving behind the curtains. 

he pulls out a piece of paper from the hat and as soon as he sees the number written on it, a smile appears on his face. “row a, seat number 5.”

beside you, charlotte lets out an excited gasp, shaking your shoulder. “y/n it's your seat number!” before you could even process anything, the spotlight shines above you. charlotte pushes you to stand up, and seeing many eyes staring at you makes you feel nervous.

“y/n,” lyney whispers loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head to see him giving you a smile, his hand stretched out in front of him. “it’s okay. don’t be nervous. this trick isn’t dangerous at all, i promise.” you nodded, taking lyney’s hand as you walked up the stage.

“okay, this last trick is a simple hat trick,” lyney takes his hat off, placing it on a table that has a cloth covering it right in the middle of the stage. “as you can see, it is an empty hat, nothing inside of it. just a regular hat,” you looked inside of the hat and true to his words, it indeed was just a normal hat. “y/n, if you would please take out a piece of paper from inside the hat.”

you hesitantly placed your hand in the hat, searching for the paper. surprisingly, you found a small hidden compartment just on the inside of the hat. you took the paper out of the compartment, showing it to the audience, who were in awe with just a simple trick. the paper was folded into a small piece, but lyney stops you from opening it.

“next, please take a flower out of my hat.” lyney instructs, and you placed your hand back into the hat, searching for the flower. to your surprise, you find lynette under the table, opening the top part of the hat to hand you the flower (you honestly almost laughed at the face she was making but you kept it to yourself). 

it was another rainbow rose — three to be exact. when charlotte sees it her eyes lit up, taking out a notepad to write something down. as someone who doesn’t know much about flowers, you don’t understand why the audience started squealing in excitement. you looked at lyney in confusion but he doesn’t say anything to you. “and that is it for my last trick! thank you all for coming to my show!” confetti popped out of the machines in front of the stage, marking the end of the show. “y/n, open the paper.”

you did as he told, and when you read the note, you were immediately flustered.

3 rainbow roses = i love you <3

wanna go on a date with me? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Sleepy Bunny..

Finally. I’m home.