harukaboo - Tumblr blog

[harukaboo]

why yes i do enjoy thinking about the 4ggravate men all meddling in each others love lives.

like even Alhaitham who will claim that he absolutely does not give attention to that kind of thing, his friends and their romantic escapades are not his business, he only wants to be left alone. yet, he’s discreetly turning his headphones down while he reads at puspa cafe when he hears you giggling to your friend at how your heart raced when Kaveh looked your way while you were working on his latest project with him as an assistant. Alhaitham rolls his eyes but he may or may not offhandedly mention later at home to his roommate about how you were at the cafe and happened to mention Kaveh, the blonde blushing and stammering on his words as he rushes out to see if you’re still there

or Tighnari who pinches his nose when he watches Cyno attempt to flirt with you, every joke he makes leaves you with a coughed out laugh - Tighnari can see that you like his friend a lot, and so to be honest Cyno doesn’t even need to go through….all of this….to try to get into your good graces. it’s not until after your interesting conversation with Cyno that Tighnari sighs and subtly sticks his foot out for you to trip over and the General Mahamatra catches with you with swift and practiced ease. your breath catches in your throat at how the man holds you safely in his arms and you smile when Cyno suddenly grows a bit bashful, and properly asks you to dinner.

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Robin came home early 🥹 I’m always pushed to soft pity

I did a single pull and said “Robin, my love, please come home” then whispered “I have Sunday” and if it worked 😂

//don’t mind the bad photo, I was excited

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Spoilers for HSR 2.2

I love that Gallagher calls Sunday "Mr. Wings" almost as much as I loved Sparkle's "Chicken Wing Boy"

ALSO baby Sunday was so morbid

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ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!

Forces have been deployed to RAFAH, there are no more safe zones, they have nowhere to go!!

Scream and shout as loud as you can, anywhere and everywhere - we are watching a genocide happen

Your voice matters!!

United States --

Contact the White House

https://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/

Contact your senators

https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

Get on Social Media

MAKE NOISE

(please add more contacts to this if you are in other countries 🙏)

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Requests from Tiktok~!

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[ ###… ] GN reader ( no clothing / pronouns specified ), Royal Reader x Knight / Bodyguard Wrio who is so gone for you, secret relationship type shii, a little ooc on account that he's a knight and you're in public, jealousy (just a bit <3), reader leads when they dance, suggestive-ish ending (up to interpretation), not related to my other royal x knight work

His palms are sweating under his gloves. Gods, he hopes that he doesn't look as nervous as he feels.

"Why so serious, Wriothesley?" You coo, dancing around him with a grace and poise that, while not a surprise, takes his breath away.

Wriothesley tries to keep up, his hand clenching around yours and his jaw tense. The numerous eyes —undoubtedly every single one in this forsaken ballroom— trained on the two of you do him no favors.

"All due respect, Your Majesty," he says, teeth grit, "I don't think it's appropriate to address your bodyguard so familiarly. Some might say it's inappropriate."

You scoff, leading the two of you further into the dance, twirling and whirling around the dance floor as if it were as easy as breathing. "Inappropriate my ass," you mutter, "I don't think anyone'll muster up the guts to tell the ruler of the kingdom what is and isn't appropriate."

Wriothesley sighs, long-suffering, but you catch it— the fond quirk to his lips that he reserved only for you, and your heart soars. Even if his steps are a little unsure, a little less practiced than your own, it's lovely to see the tenseness slowly ease out of him with each second that you two spend in your own little world. Your knight had been looking so dour the entire evening, forced to remain by your side as you met with all sorts of people, no small number of them enamored with you and vying for any attention from you.

He hadn't said anything when the droves of suitors had sidled up to you, pressing kisses to the back of your hand and whispering compliments in your ear and staring at you with eyes oh-so-adoring. Wriothesley had only ever remained at your side, silent as others vied for your attention. He had been quiet, watching out for your safety and ensuring that you were fine, as a good bodyguard should.

Ah, but it hadn't escaped you: how his hand tightened on the hilt of his sheathed sword and the furrow between his brows seemed just a bit more severe. How his jaw was tense as if he were in a battlefield rather than a ballroom, and he was facing an opponent he wasn't sure he could beat.

And so— you felt that a dance was in order. Just to help him relax, of course, no other reason.

Wriothesley's palm is warm when you squeeze it. "You are insufferable, Your Majesty," is all he can say. You have to fight back a laugh.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

Another sigh, but he doesn't deny it.

The dance continues, with the two of you dancing with grace and fluidity. Undoubtedly, as it nears its end, whoever hadn't been made aware of the display in the center of the room certainly had now, and all eyes were trained on the two of you.

And you— much to Wriothesley's fluster— grow bolder with each second that this all comes to a close.

Your fingers twine with his, and your touch becomes lingering and borderline intimate. Your hands are not shy when you hold him, and you press yourself close to his chest. He hears the audience gasp, but cannot bring himself to turn away from you— not when you're so close, when your eyes shine under the chandelier and you fucking smile in a way that he thinks is only meant for his eyes.

"Eyes on me," you say quietly, as if you ever had to remind him.

You twist and you turn and you pull him along, and your bodyguard is all too happy to follow your lead. The nervousness from earlier, the envy and the longing— they all vanish like smoke under your careful touch and the squeeze of your hand in his.

He can see why you've always liked your dance lessons, growing up. It's like he's in his own little world, just him and you.

But all-too-soon, the musicians play their final note and as the music fades you feet still, and the dance ends. You're panting a little, and so is he. Neither of you move for a good, long while, staring at each other as the audience waits on bated breath, as enraptured by this tension as Wriothesley is.

You wink at him and pull away, but before he can miss your warmth, your hand finds his, hidden from prying eyes. You cast your gaze back over the crowd, and smile— and before Wriothesley knows it an applause starts up, and he can hear (even from this distance) the praises being sung by the nobles.

"I'm rather tired from all that, so I'll be taking my leave early," you announce after you catch your breath, just for them all to hear. Before the nobles can begin to protest, can beg you to stay, you turn to Wriothesley and give him a small smile. "Will you escort me back to my room, loyal bodyguard?"

And Wriothesley, heart in his throat, squeezes the had you keep out of everyone else's sight, and smiles back. A smile he reserves for only you.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

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7th Dragon 3 Spoilers

I looked up Yuma on the wiki, cause I was curious-

My guy is 12??? THAGS A WHOLE ASS MAN HOW IS HE 12??

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I started playing 7th Dragon III Code: VFD (spoilers maybe?? Very early game)

Why is Atlantis ruled by fox(?) ladies?? Not a complaint, I love fox(?) ladies, but it feels ill-fitting 🥲

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Bitches be like ‘I’m so tired and sleepy’ and then stay up doing hyperfixtation shit for the next 5 hours

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Hey everyone, please consider buying the 2024 itch.io Palestinian Relief Bundle- it's 373 games, game-making assets, tabletop roleplaying games, zines, and comics for a minimum of just 8 USD! They have a goal of 100,000 USD, and as of the time I'm writing this post, they have 8 more days to reach it.

Link will be in the reblog!

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[harukaboo]

Characters: Boothill, Gallaher, & Sunday, x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: Wearing their clothes

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁

He's so cold.

You could feel his cold metal arms around you, yet the side of his face was against your chest as if he wanted to hear your heartbeat or feel your body heat—just something that could make him feel alive—so at least he could feel something even if it's a little human even if that part of him was stripped from him long ago. 

You were wearing a thin white shirt that he never wears since he’s always shirtless. That alone, got him wanting him to feel and touch you.

“Boothill, are you alright?” 

You asked in a soft tone and rubbed his back while he hugged you tighter before looking up at you, flashing his sharp teeth and smiling at you. “Aah'm good.” Before going face-first in your chest.

You thought he wasn’t feeling too well today, yet that was the complete opposite. He's bright and alive, as usual.  

“If you're fine, then why are you clutching onto me tightly?” 

“Cuz’ you’re warm.” he smiles, rubbing his cheek against your chest without shame or hesitation and you feel yourself blush. He was just cute like this. “but you’re so cold.” 

“Ya didn’t push meh away if aah was that cold for ya”  he grins, going up to kiss you on your jawline before going down to your collarbone and pressing soft kisses there. You shiver at his cold body and the contact he had to offer, but still you held onto him while he had his way with you.

𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇

Looking cute tonight. got the entire set on”

You look away from your book to see Gallagher lying next to you—looks like he came in the room without you even realizing—he had one of those smirks on his face that could be either smug or seductive. “What are you reading?” he asks you, eyes flicking across your shoulder, where the shirt was falling off since it was too big for you.

“Doesn't matter since you're home.” Putting your book to the side and immediately jumping on him. “Want you instead.”  He laughs, pulling you down to lie on top of him. 

 “How was work? You look tired,” you say leaning down on his chest, whilst he rubs circles into your back. “It was alright,”  he says with a sigh,  pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“What about you? looks like you had fun acting like me.” 

“I wasn’t!”

“Why are you wearing my clothes then?” he says, lifting an eyebrow, “they’re comfortable.” “Even the tie?” He grabs “your” pink and tugs it lightly—like how you would when you want his kisses—before kissing your lips, slowly at first then more passionately as he lets go.

“But you love it don’t you,”  You smile,  resting your head back down on his chest. 

“you know I do.”

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

“You're..wearing my jacket?” 

His eyes were wide, not expecting you to be wearing…his extra jacket from your shared closet. What a way to get his attention off from the piles of paper he’s been working on since the morning. 

“Cuz’ I’m cold.” you sigh, walking over to him, and sitting right next to him before wrapping your arms around his, cozying up to him, feeling the warmth just coming off from him and into your body. “If you're that cold then you should go to bed.”

“I’ll go when you go.”

You yawn, pressing your face into his shoulder as you cling onto him like a koala—as if you didn't want him to do work but spend some time with you—hearing his breath hitch watching you cling onto him. He feels bad that he didn't give you any time.

“If you can’t go to bed with me then spend 20 minutes with me,”  you mumble, making him amused by how you cling onto him almost like a cat. “20 minutes together it is.” he smiles, kissing you on the forehead. “I’m sorry for ignoring you,”  he mutters, kissing you again. 

“If you're sorry then make it 40 minutes.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[harukaboo]

“Credit to the artist idk who is it” *NO* Find Them. Make sure they’re okay with their work being reposted.

well maybe you should figure that out before reposting someone elses artwork

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due to popular demand i have brought more merman aventurine

as a bonus dr ratio is having his doctor moments

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Bathing with (yan!)Sunday is surprisingly.. calming.

Of course when he proposed the idea, a colorful string of curses left your mouth, your face scrunched up from the sheer repulsion you felt from that idea. Sunday proposed it in order to "get on more amiable terms with each other", nevermind the fact your naked bodies would be practically pressed together.

But after a lot of convincing, pushing, nudging, and eventually the exhaustion catching up to you from the expeditions into the real dreamscape Sunday would occasionally send you to, you finally caved in.

The water is warm, almost burning, but still warm. The scent of lavender wafts and permeates the air, and Sunday is especially generous using his products with you. He makes you lean against him, your back pressing against his front, his chin resting in the edge of your neck, his soft hands warmed by the water gently rubbing your shoulders and massaging them, as he tells you just how tense your muscles are. He fills the quiet atmosphere with his own voice, talking about all the essential oils he's used, the fragrances you might pick up, the products he's generously lathering into your skin or hair. And it works. The lavender seems to gently untie and loosen all the agitated knots in your mind, the recurring nightmares about the "expeditions" into the real dreamscape finally letting you go of their grasp, the skin of your fingertips finally loosening, as your body relaxes from having been in that fight or flight mode almost constantly.

And you despise it, but you're too tired. You relax against him with a deep sigh, and he only becomes more comfortable, as his hands move down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist, pulling your body closer into his. If it's even possible – his body is more warmer than the water. His soft skin is almost like a pillow against yours, his wings gently fluttering on your eyes to shut. The wet edges of his hair cling to your arm, as he hums in silence.

This becomes, to your dismay, a daily practice. Well.. at least you've found one thing you like doing with Sunday, even if you're quite possibly in your most vulnerable state.

Sunday shifts to grab the shampoo bottle, and gently massages it into your hair, telling you all about his day in a hushed tone, the scent of sandalwood overpowering lavender as he does so.

Your vulnerability is absolutely enticing to him. You probably know it. He won't say it out loud, but he won't deny it either.

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i forgot how fun it is to draw mermen before this thank you