#˛ ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃⠀ ⠀ ‚ ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ to diamonds in her crown.

[dawnbrst]

He's pouting in his little devil costume as he looks up at Diluc. "Why can't I hide in the hay bales and scare people. It's the spooky month!" >:C

@themcst

arms folded over his chest as diluc gave a disapproving frown , brows scrunched .

" because half of the people on the property are elderly and i don't want you causing heart attacks . " he explained .

[motheruin]

He didn't know how to approach this one.

She kept her distance, in general, anyway, but in combination with her naturally unsettling aura and her performance on the field of battle, Dimitri found himself...hesitant.

Still, he reminded himself with a short, reassuring breath, it was a task that needed to be done, and she deserved her due as much as any other.

"Excuse me...er...sister-mother? Lady Eremiya." A good start. He grimaced, turned the frown into an awkward smile. "I wanted to thank you, for fighting for the Lions. You had your choice, and you could have fought for another house - you have my gratitude, you strength was invaluable."

He had seen what the woman had done, had said to Edelgard. It twisted his gut into knots, the imagery she was hearkening, but he stifled his discomfort a moment longer.

"I know that we did not secure the victory overall, but I hope that, should you choose to compete in the future, that the Blue Lions would once more appreciate to have your strength by our sides."

DESPITE THE PREDETERMINED FATE SET BEFORE HER, the bishop was all but numb to the force in which the eagle had knocked her back with. in truth, the ache does not settle beneath her skin until she is far from the battlefield, silent in the face of raised banners, gentle as she handles herself without either guide or nurse. light splits from each wound, flickering through the grime and blood until it tucks itself safely under the broken skin to mend it overhead alike a blanket above a mattress.

eremiya hears him above the thrum of light magic in her ears, not as kind to the clumsiness of his words; repetitive and awkward. all she wishes to stray from as of the battle's resolution. to announce this distrust, as pledging her allegiance in blue was merely the means to an antagonizing end, she does not startle nor bristle, intent on cleaning herself rather than offering companionship.

invaluable strength, yes?

"it did not matter in the end, did it?"

crushing the wings of a house leader to mock the existence of others?

eremiya rises to stand, her gaze dark with an unfaltering apathy when she meets his eyes. raspy and drawling, she utters through a statue's pursed lips, "your gratitude is unnecessary, boy. i did not compete for sport nor thrill. it was simply obligation." as all things are. the existence of the hero-king, clad in blue, meant blending into his footsteps and cape until she found enough satisfaction to forget the apparitions. and she had not.

the boy is given a slow blink, a curt onceover, before the bishop pities him with, "the blue lions are desperate little things, inept in battle." children swinging toys about and wearing paper crowns. "i will stand within your ranks for as long as necessary." because promising a longer, fuller term allows the possibility of trust, and that is not a luxury neither she nor he can spare.

whether he be an awkward prince or a distrustful one, she reads the tense curl of his lips with a voice of her own and, thus, leaves him to wallow in his thoughts.

[kiingsroar]

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 said:

"Your Highness," the nobleman clapped a hand to Leona's shoulder while his other hand held a drink. "Where's that lovely bride of yours? Such a delicate little thing. Though, I'm surprised your parents allowed the marriage to happen." He downed the last of his drink, motioning for a servant to bring him another. "She's no lioness, you can tell. So scared and timid, that one. She'd never be a great ruler. I guess it's a good thing she married you since you'll never be king." The man laughed, sloshing his drink on himself. "I am curious, however" he leaned close to Leona, a wide toothy grin on his face. "What's the little tramp like in bed? Hopefully, she's at least competent there so it's not a total loss." @verreprincesse

                  『 𓆩🦁𓆪 』― Leona was as silent as the grave, a stillness wrapping around him like a shroud when an unwanted hand suddenly settled on his shoulder. The noblemen in this room often acted as if they were oblivious to his royal status, their arrogance flaring like a candle in the dark. He understood well the stakes of appearances, wearing his composure like armor against their intrusions. Most days, he managed to keep his simmering anger in check, but this particular man, with his presumptuous touch, was daring him to snap, testing the delicate boundaries he had fought hard to maintain.

                  Leona was far from foolish; he understood the underlying motives behind his marriage. To him, it felt like a strategic move by his family to anchor him to their expectations, a constant reminder of his perceived insignificance compared to his brother. Initially, the idea of marrying a complete stranger filled him with dread, and he firmly opposed it. Yet, as he spent time with Ella—finding her warm smile and spirited conversations refreshing—his perspective began to shift in profound ways.

                He realized that his true desires did not revolve around the weighty crown of rulership that he had been expected to wear. Instead, what his heart yearned for was simple: acceptance. All he wanted was for his family to recognize him for who he was, without the shadow of comparison to his brother. Throughout their moments together, Ella illuminated aspects of himself that he had long overlooked, helping him see the remarkable qualities that defined him. In her presence, he began to embrace his own worth, feeling a spark of hope that perhaps he could carve out his own path in a world that often relegated him to the background.

             He willingly turns a blind eye to the inevitable scolding from his brother as he forcefully shoves the man against the wall. The glass the man had been holding splinters dramatically, shards scattering across the floor. Leona's piercing emerald gaze locks onto him, a sharp intensity in his eyes that feels almost tangible. As if responding to an unseen force, the winds swirling around them start to shift, becoming charged with an electric tension. He couldn't care less about the man's opinions on himself; those were familiar echoes of criticism he'd grown accustomed to over time. But when the conversation veered toward Ella, a sudden surge of emotion ignited within him, tapping into a deeply buried vulnerability that he couldn't ignore. The words had struck a sensitive chord, and he felt an unwavering resolve to defend her, no matter the cost.

           ❝ I've got a question for you ❞ Leona let out a low, menacing growl, his lips curling into a twisted grin that revealed his sharpened teeth. The eerie glint in his eyes added a sinister edge as he asked, ❝ How long do you think it will take before your entire body turns to sand? ❞ Leona held a grip so tight on the man's neck. His unique magic crackled against the man’s skin like static electricity, its energy swirling around him. As it worked its way into his flesh, the moisture slowly evaporated, leaving behind a parched, transforming patch.

         He watched in awe as his palm filled with fine grains of sand, each particle shimmering softly in the light, a testament to the power of the enchantment at play. ❝ If you want to keep your tongue, you'll keep my wife's name out of your mouth. ❞ He loosened his grip, pulling his hands away as a sense of finality settled in. Carefully, he smoothed out his collar and adjusted his clothes, ensuring every detail was perfect before stepping out of the room, leaving behind the weight of the moment. 

[0nychnus]

blaine, offering out a hand to totally not electrocute him with. “arm wrestle?”

( 🐦‍⬛ )  ⸻  unprompted  :  accepting  ❮ @desiredrivcn .  ❯

brow lifted in curiosity — and suspicion — before he hums .

" alright then , i'll bite , kitten . "

he puts an arm behind his back and he sets the other on the table , leaning on his elbow . he clasps his hand around hers , shit - eating smirk gracing his features .

" ready ? " she may have a trick or two up her sleeve , but so does he .

[lunaverrse]

032 (jimmy & jay)

SET THE SCENE.

aceitando

jimmy & jay : feat. @greencruz 🐉🐯

— Uh, essa poderia ter sido evitada. — Jay resmungou em um tom meio desinteressado, observando um dos lutadores cambalear e cair no chão com o impacto de um soco. Na verdade, estava oscilando muito entre acompanhar a luta que se desenrolava na frente deles e beijar o pescoço parcialmente exposto de Jimmy. Em algum momento do evento, quando os espectadores alucinados do lugar já não se incomodavam nada com quem estava ao redor e se resumiam a vociferar o nome de algum dos malucos que estava brigando, ele também deixou de se importar totalmente com a discrição das coisas. Apesar da faceta de quem não dava a mínima para todas as coisas em geral, lá no fundo ele se preocupava em esconder a identidade dos dois quando saíam juntos, principalmente para não criar problemas para ela. E não é como se Jimmy fosse realmente se importar com isso, era a mulher mais corajosa que já tinha conhecido, ele é que ainda tinha covardia o suficiente correndo nas veias.

— Em quem você tá apostando hoje? Não me diga que é o cara que acabou de cair, por favor. Ele poderia ter saído daquele golpe de quinze maneiras diferentes. — Havia aquele tom debochado na voz dele, mas que as pessoas mais próximas já tinham aprendido a identificar, não passava de impressão, já que o Kang estava meramente se divertindo naquele momento. O boné fundo no rosto ainda dava conta de jogar uma sombra sobre as feições conhecidas, mas era meio ineficaz esperar que ninguém soubesse que se tratava de alguém conhecido pela mídia. Jay tinha alguns trejeitos muito específicos, mas alí, no meio daquele lugar enfiado em uma região periférica para a qual ninguém dava a mínima, era muito improvável que algum fã muito assíduo do Looping fosse aparecer e julgar o fato de que estava ali. Acompanhado da namorada. Que, oh, também era idol. Maldita fosse a hipocrisia daquela sociedade.

Naquela altura, já tinha desviado quase 100% da atenção para os próprios devaneios, que foram interrompidos com uma pequena comoção do outro lado do galpão. Aparentemente, alguém havia avisado a polícia de mais uma madrugada de ilícitos por ali e todos só notaram quando a viatura chegou. Na hora, Jay se resumiu a puxar a namorada pela cintura e correr com ela para a outra saída do espaço, que normalmente usavam naquele tipo de situação. Mesmo rindo do episódio, ele ainda se embrenhou com ela pelas ruas estreitas da região, junto com outras pessoas que estavam presentes e foram pelo mesmo caminho. Só parou de andar quando percebeu que estavam sozinhos e ele finalmente conseguiu para. O primeiro ato foi encostá-la na parede e devolver os lábios ao pescoço da mulher, voltando a fazer exatamente o que havia sido interrompido antes. — Parece que sempre tem um imbecil para estragar a nossa diversão de fim de semana, acho que vou ter que apanhar de você agora. Só pra saber como ia terminar a luta. — Com um sorrisinho no rosto, ele a puxou para o colo e procurou os lábios da namorada. Aquela era uma briga muito melhor no fim das contas.

[codecorazon]

I don’t follow you but your account is very beautiful - random rp blog

 

 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐒𝐎   𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇!!   ♡    its   quite   literally   not   pleasing   and   slightly   messy   but   i   really   appreciate   it !!   i   hope   you   can   come   out   of   anon   and   follow   me   i   want   to   be   buddies (´• ω •`)  

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ‘  𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 ’ (𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲)

                          ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ( @wehavefoundthestars )

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐎-𝐀𝐍𝐃-𝐅𝐑𝐎 on the waves — creaking like a ghost ship, lost in the fog. One man cannot steer a ship of this caliber — but Westley supposes it doesn’t matter, in the end. What’s going to happen to him is going to happen to him, and to his ship. Maybe in the end, it’s where they both belong — torn into pieces at the bottom of the sea. Westley can’t for the life of him tell whether the roaring in his ears is his own blood rushing through his body — or whether it’s the sea, angry beneath them. Until this moment, the captain of the Arcady had no idea what he was capable of — and now, he almost wishes he still didn’t. The blood will take hours to clean from the ship — days, even.

       They’d locked Elio away before the mutiny. Westley supposes that was kind of them. Why should the lover suffer for the crimes of the damned? Westley’s seen it in old pirate movies — where the crew turns on the captain — where the sentence is death. He’s been so afraid of that very scenario that he’s changed every couple of years once finding out that he wasn’t what he thought himself to be — wasn’t human. Safer that way — for him, and for them. A bullet in his gut — a knife across his throat, all very dramatic — bleeding out as he’d been thrown into the stinging agony of the sea as shark bait. But it hadn’t been the sharks that had found him.

     By the time the Kraken had deposited him back on the ship, his wounds were already healed — and black vines like ink, like tattoos, had been snaking up his arms, his hair dripping salt water and his eyes that same haunting shade of red. He could remember it if he tried — what came next, the massacre — a mass grave at sea — but he doesn’t want to try, doesn’t want to remember. Just looks at his hands stained with blood — looks at Elio, chained away and spared from that fate. When Westley looks up at his once-lover, his eyes are crimson. They’d been on their way back to Italy, ironically. To rid Elio of his foolish, idealistic notions that Westley could be what he needed him to be. “I am the darkness. Nothing more,” he says, his voice thick and strained from the saltwater. Blood trickles down the steps that lead into the prison. He could let Elio go — but perhaps he’s safer in a cage until Westley decides what to do with him. He can’t go back to civilization now. “I told you to stay away. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you thought you could love?”

[frostise]

questions for mun: do you listen to music while you write? if so, what do you like to listen to?

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐍   ┇   accepting ♡

2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to?

hMM listening to music distracts me from writing sometimes but i do listen to it while i write down my answers. it depends on what kind of vibes the threads give off. if it's angst? then i'm straight up pulling up mitski, IAMX and mareux on spotify. cosy vibes fit right in with françoise hardy in my opinion and if it's romance? well, it's either unloved for the creep factor or a enchanting playlist full of lana del rey ♡

[bbyquokka]

for the kpop asks: 4,6, 8, 9, 20, 21, 26 and 27! ♡⸝⸝

(id say sorry for the amount of numbers but im too curious hahah)

idm the amount of numbers 🩷🧁

[ 4. ult biases ]

jisung (skz) , wonwoo (svt) , hyungwon (mx) , giuk (onewe) , eunho (plave) – I HAVE TO MANY OK ASJDB;PO

[ 6. first kpop group ]

in terms of being introduced to kpop, Girls Generation (this was more of a casual listen. like, dipping my pinky toe in the sea of kpop not knowing the 'consequences' sksks). when it comes to falling deep into the rabbit hole of kpop and investing time, money and energy; exo & bts 🙊🫣

[ 8. fav mv ]

oh boy. uhh... can i get back to you on that one????? (there is just too many that i like and im indecisive AHHHH)

[ 9. fav choreo ]

silent cry + domino. but also crazy form & mx shoot out and – 🙊

[ 20. your playlist ]

uh, i dont really make playlists.. i usually listen to my 'on repeat' on spotify

[ 21. recently stanned group ]

i started listening to txt lately 👀 & ox too.

[ 26. fav vocalist ]

kihyun from mx. idk, i really like his voice :( (and ofc vocalracha heheh)

[ 27. fav rapper ]

sugaa. sorry but he kills it every time

[ kpop ask game !! ]

[dawnbrst]

✄

✄ What is an idea you originally had in mind for your muse, but ended up scrapping? Why?

his original canon was that he was a guardian to the original pyro archon and was the very first phoenix . he would be reborn and follow each archon until he became diluc . i wound up making this an alternate verse because i wanted my blog to be more focused on him being a descendent to the original archon instead .

[motheruin]

“You were well liked,” Hubert says as he hands Eremiya a pin that states plainly ‘likable individual’. “Your cooperation during this study was greatly appreciated. Thank you.”

“As for closing notes, it appears that some of your partners wish to speak with you again. One noted that you are pleasant in conversation, agreeable, and understand the importance of cleanliness.”

HOW UNFORTUNATE. upon being approached, eremiya had begun her retreat and, thus, was forced to withstand a few more moments in the dining hall. with squinting eyes and pursed lips, she mustered the remaining bits of courtesy to respond.

"wonderful," she said, quiet and strained, "there is no need to thank me. i signed myself into the event and, thus, would have to cooperate as necessary..." but still, she acknowledged the appreciation. the pin was taken, gently, and regarded with little interest. not for what it read, no, because she honestly could not read whatever was scribbled on it; the exhaustion blurring her gaze proved all attempts futile.

instead of trying, the bishop kept her focus on hubert's face. "ah. sir duessel." a kind man, truly. within her, she hoped to meet him again, someway darker, where she could truly provide the topic of interest her full, undivided attention. a shame that light despised her so.

"i give my hopes to... to the shadow dragon that those who wish it may meet me again."

and, with that, eremiya turned around and moved to the side of the assigned knight, ducking beneath the cloth that was held over her as they left.

[meatriarchived]

[ run ] - for receiver to run their fingers through sender’s hair + [ twirl ] for receiver to twirl a strand of sender’s hair around their finger | @johnnysslaughter

she remembered being amongst the sea of yellow in front of her, some weeks ago.

when the air had been sweet with fragrant flowers — of golden daisies, taller than she'd ever seen them grow before, with their little faces turning up towards the sun. basking in the sunlight as she was, hundreds of little reflections of that blindingly beautiful sphere that lit their world up.

that warmed her shoulders that day she was last here — with camera in hand, snapping photos of the daisies.

( and of later running past them — in one of her many escape attempts. the sweetness in the air had soured then, when she heard boots catch up from behind, had felt vice grip clasp around arm — she had failed yet again. )

it was just as beautiful of a sight in the evening, all these weeks later, as it had been that day. where yellowed petals now deepened to an orange shade as the sun slowly descended in the distance behind them, behind the tree they rested under. darkening the sky slowly, casting shadows that loomed over petals just as the man whose head rested in her lap now loomed over her in the cells below his shack.

strange it was, that as maria looked out around them — to all the open space ahead of her, the stretch of fields in nearly all directions, they didn't quite tug at her heart as they used to. encouraging her to make a run for it, while he slept.

( you could get away, whispers hopeful voice in mind, while he's out cold. you could still try. it's right there. go for it! )

and yet? her body did not follow.

perhaps experience, repeated failures, constant heartache of believing she could get out, that she naively outsmarted him, he had no idea which direction she could have run off in — all of it, repeatedly crushed under heavy boot, ground into dirt. it had all gotten to her, eventually. all those times running aimless through tunnels, finding dead ends and seeing silhouette of him back the way she came, being cast across walls, misshapen like some sort of beast, by the glows of scattered lanterns.

it was pointless, trying to run.

he may be deep in sleep, head rested against her thigh, exhausted from the work he sets out every morning to do around the property. but she's been around him long enough, since he moved her from the cells below the shack to a mattress on the floor above ground, across from his own, to know very, very well how easy, how quickly, he stirs awake.

( how many times had she tried, too, to catch him in such a deep sleep? how many times did she find herself, with carving tool in hand, to stab him in the throat — and every time, he's wide awake, grinning back at her, cooing tease and praise at her simple, clumsy little attempts — at her trying to kill him. )

maria averts attention from the daisies, down to her lap, down at johnny, thinking to earlier in the evening.

he had just stepped into shack, after spending most of the day out. not unusual for her to be left alone for hours. but when he had come back, he was clearly freshened up — hair still damp, clean set of clothes. and he undid the restraint on her ankle, told her to follow him to the house across the dirt road — his mother, or his aunt, whoever she was — to use the shower.

she assumed the woman was gone, considering how he's told her to stay away, stay silent if she ever comes near the shack ( there was a strange, unnerving urgency when he warned her of this, one she didn't think she wanted to test the waters on seeing if the woman was truly someone to stay hidden from or not ).

but maria had taken her time, or as much as his patience waiting on her to finish would probably allow. and when she had finished, and changed into clothes he had left on bathroom counter for her, they left the home again, but rather than return to the shack, he had her follow him across the property, out among the fields, until they came across the tree, and he told her sit before he dropped beside her.

told her to wake him once it started getting dark. and propped head against her — maybe just for the softness compared to the ground, maybe just to make sure the still-damp of his hair didn't pick up dirt.

whatever the reason, they stayed like that for some time, until she heard his breathing settle into calm pattern, telling her he was asleep.

maria's eyes stayed down, tracing along his features, of the scar that snaked down across cheek to eye to brow. along jawline, to lips that were normally stretched into grin, now relaxed into simple line.

he was handsome still, to her. in spite of everything he has done since he took her. since that night, where he leaned onto tabletop beside her, flashing flirty smiles, tucking hair behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine...

her eyes move, then, to the dark locks of his own hair, no longer styled back as he usually has it — but loose, draping along her thigh around his head. and she feels an itch come over her, a curiosity, and she finds her hand raise and — lightly — does she slip her fingers through his hair, slowly smiling at how soft it was, how thick it was when not slicked back, how fluffy — almost like a cat, like juniper...

she glanced to his face, pausing briefly when she catches glimpse of lashes and eyelid twitch, before cautiously resuming. gently and lightly playing with his hair, smiling more as she coils little bundles of it loosely around a finger before letting it lay down flat again.

and she did so for some time longer as the sun continued to lower, idly running fingers through deep brown strands, humming softly to herself ( to him, even, asleep or not ) as the daisies danced around them in the soft breeze — until the cool evening air began to send shivers through her, and her gaze returned down at him, to the small daisy she had plucked off from closet stem and tucked just above ear...

she looks at the sky, as blues had gone and reds and oranges and yellows started to darken to black overhead, before she sighs to herself, knowing she should wake him before it got any darker.

maria gently gives his shoulder a shake, and she waits a moment, until his eyes open, to look up and meet hers.

" it's getting dark, johnny ... you said to wake you when it did. "

[vanltys]

❛ dance with me. ❜ / but in an excited way springthings

“ right now ? ” it comes out in the quietest of whispers, like a secret meant to be shared only between the two of them. in a way, that's how it was. stars in the skies, lights dimmed and lowered into the lull of a dying flame — the dorms were practically silent save for the whirring of electricity and the softest of chatter from its residents. music is playing from the small box evie had gotten from snow white as a welcome gift, though its volume had been increasing over the past hour. “ but it's way past curfew and fairy godmother still does her random check - ins ! ” it comes off in faux - scolding, octaves rising near the end in a hush — such a scandal ! but she was already twisting the volume knob once more before reaching out for allie's hand, carmines tugging upwards mischievously. “ but i'm on her good side now because she loves my designs, so ... ” / @springthings

[lunaverrse]

020, mason & alice.

SET THE SCENE

aceitando

Mason & Alice : feat. @farewellnevrland🌸

Não era uma grande novidade que Mason não tinha grandes habilidades em analisar obras de arte ou qualquer coisa do tipo. Assumir isso assim, sem pensar demais nas consequências, era um risco que ele gostava de correr. Como é que um ourives, um homem que trabalhava diretamente com a criatividade, poderia assumir tão facilmente uma coisa daquelas? Bom, ele não via problemas. A não ser que quisesse impressionar uma garota, como era o caso naquele exato momento.

O Museu Nacional de Arte Moderna e Contemporânea era um lugar magnífico, repleto de história e cultura, e fazia parte do tour que os dois estavam percorrendo, nas cidades em que passavam. Entre museus de história, de arte e demais temáticas, ele sempre notava o interesse dela pelas pinturas. A mulher tinha um entusiasmo de se admirar, caminhava pelas salas espaçosas e sempre parava para observar alguma peça histórica ou obras de arte em exposição. O inglês tentava acompanhar de perto, mas admitia que era difícil se mostrar um cara de bom papo naquele tópico.

A situação mudou um pouco de figura quando chegaram perto do famoso Portrait of a Beauty, o pequeno quadro que ficava em um canto mal iluminado do museu e que não oferecia muito alvoroço aos que não conheciam o êscandalo de falsificação mais famoso do país e que envolvia não apenas o próproprio museu e uma grande artista coreana, como funcionários de alto escalão do governo e outras figuras públicas. Mason só sabia de tudo aquilo por meio do avô, diferente dele, um grande apreciador e conhecedor das artes e que havia contado tudo o que sabia sobre o caso. Munido de informações e disposto a chamar a atenção da mulher naquele dia, no maior estilo curador de arte, o Kwon cruzou os braços sob o peito e, alguns segundos depois, apoiou o queixo entre o polegar e o indicador da mão direita. Um legítimo apaixonado pelas artes, não?

Ali ele ficou, por longos minutos, imaginando que estivesse impactando algo ao redor com sua postura. Foi apenas quando virou o rosto para fazer um comentário espertinho, e que havia sido devidamente ensaiado nos últimos dez minutos, que notou Alice logo ao seu lado, parada e admirando o mesmo quadro com uma expressão que denotava o maior dos interesses. Apenas o olhar dela já era mais profundo do que todo o circo que Mason havia armado ali, e ao ourives, restou uma risadinha meio sem jeito, meio resignada. Ele relaxou um pouco o corpo e se aproximou dela, passando o braço direito ao redor de seus ombros, em um gesto que se pretendia muito mais confortável e acolhedor. — É lindo, não é? — Tinha ensaiado um tanto de palavras mais complexas para dizer, mas já tinha entendido que não havia necessidade nenhuma, o que bastava era o sentimento que ela colocava no momento e em cada nova visita que ele tentava proporcionar diariamente. Se Mason estava pensando em impressionar Alice primeiro, mal havia notado que ele mesmo já tinha sido impressionado há muito mais tempo.

[0nychnus]

blaine, yoinking his glasses: bitch

( 🐦‍⬛ )  ⸻  unprompted  :  accepting  ❮ @desiredrivcn .  ❯

" my , you're a very naughty kitten , using such vulgar language . quite rude , as well . " as she took his glasses , he was quick to snatch up her phone with ease .

" let's see what you've been up to ~ "

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ( 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐭? 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 ):⚽𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐨𝐧-𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭; 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜—𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 ��𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐛𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞: 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

                                ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? ( @seaprofound )

       𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. ♡ I will be the first one to admit that I’ve gotten absolutely abysmal at one-on-one communication, which is sad, because it’s really limited my ability to make friends and interact with people I regularly make heart-eyes at on the dash (yourself included). It wasn’t so bad a few years ago and I spoke to lots of people pretty regularly...and I’d honestly like to get to that point again. I think a large part of it is that my living environment changed for the worse and health / stress has been very hard on my everything, but most especially my anxiety / social anxiety. It’s something that I’d like very much to do better at for everyone’s sake — as I enjoy plotting too when my singular braincell is functional! 

     I suspect this is the reason why I’m not interacting with a great many of my mutuals and I very much appreciate your honesty about it. As for your being busy right now, no worries — I never have any intention to rush my friends / writing partners. I definitely understand that life has its phases of busy and not busy and stress and no stress and I never want to put pressure on anyone to do more than they’re comfy with. But, yes, I’d like to plot soon and talk more, and comfort is priority when interacting. I promise I’m working toward being a functional human person — this year has just started with a bang. I hope that your busy is the good kind though. ♡