#❪ ⠀ 🐍 ⠀ ┆ FRUIT CUP ( COMPLIMENTARY ). ╱ ooc.

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OKAY small starter call for me to get to after i get caught up on other stuff. no cap :')

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accidentally fucking deleted my plotting call . here it is again. like this and i Will be in your dms (threatening) to plot

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who wants to celebrate pride month by forming a deeply homoerotic and sensual relationship with baizhu. doesn't have to be romantic or sexual but it does have to be erotic and sensual

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pros of dating baizhu:

free doctor visits

eye candy

the most loving and caring partner you could ever ask for

cons

changsheng will constantly cockblock you

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anyway. baizhucore

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not dead again i swear i've been lurking between blogs. just been using all my free time to play final fantasy oops

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ik i haven't been here in a thousand years but my bf ( @linksxinks ) drew a baizhu pinup for me. behold him

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well the plan WAS to commit time theft to work on those starters but instead i got put on a spreadsheet with 2,843 cells

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list of things baizhu is into 😳😏

hand holding

kissing

marriage

romantic candlelit dinners

medical fetishism

long romantic walks on the beach together

endless love and support

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serving cunt at pride ama

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pride icon finally

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baizhu wakes up from top surgery like "where's changsheng? :')" and yelan (who did the surgery obviously) says "who do you think took your tits"

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everyone say happy mother's day to teyvat's hottest single mom

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i saw a man so beautiful i started crying?

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baizhu cured my subacute slayrosing mothercephalitis with a direct injection of cuntibiotics into the cerebrospinal genderfluid

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it had been a few times now in his life where baizhu had composed notes while folding someone else's clothes. his mind held the feeling close, and it grew, painful and slow, while his hands performed innumerable chores — a feeling stitched to the pangs of grief and guilt.

when he found himself doing the same motions of the arm, it was a tiny miracle that it was not yet again a chore of sorting through the belongings of someone in his life that had passed, and the responsibility of folding their clothes falling upon him. it was a tiny miracle that this situation even existed as it did in the moment; another consciousness lifted by the ordinary wonder. ordinary, too, was the ricochet of thought that swooped:

how late it is. how much has changed. how little.

he didn't care to count how many years had passed since his parents' death, it had been about four since his master's, and it was about three days ago that he found qiqi.

in the harbor, it was easy to blot out the dark. the halos of streetlamps were set so close to one another that their amber glow fell unbroken through the city's roads. even in the hills, the constant, conjoined light of the harbor was a lamp of its own, and made it easy for anyone to spot a child walking alone, stumbling as if in a lost daze.

she barely spoke any words to him when he approached her. more grim was the paleness and temperature of her skin, fearing she was on the verge of crossing the mortal coil. absolutely heartbreaking to think of such a fate for a girl so young.

there was no blood, no broken bones, nothing to indicate injury. indeed, her temperature was concerning. but, baizhu quickly noted she was already as cold as a corpse and her limbs moved with a certain stiffness. the girl was already gone, by all means — yet she still moved with life.

she, at first, uttered no discernible words. there was only confusion, deep within her eyes as if puzzled by her very existence. baizhu felt gripped by the mother-urge to hold, to comfort, to shield, but most of all by the urge to recite the magic words that always conjured calm from panic. he bent to find her eyes with his.

"everything will be okay," he eased, "what is your name?"

"qiqi," the girl answered with surprising ease, as if her name was the only thing her mind was able to still cling to.

if she was in this current state, he dared not dwell too long on the fate of her parents, likely long, long gone —

he had heard of the funeral parlor recently discovering the body of a child encased in amber, at least a couple hundred years in age give or take, only for it to then have mysteriously disappeared. the connection of events, the possible reality of what stood before him, made him shudder. he returned to the pharmacy with her tagging closely behind, telling himself he could not very well leave a child all alone.

however, that night he could not sleep for acid-guilt. he laid in the privacy of his bed, quickly coming to hate his selfish arrogance in pursuit of his goal. while he may not be able to rewind his clumsy intrusion into this girl's life, he can control the ritual of gesture.

at dawn, wet footsteps followed his own through the dew-drenched herb garden, where both a crane and the girl watched him scissor stems. the fog was so blue, matching the girl's vision, matching the iridescent tide that licked the docks, now in motion, too.

as he cut more, the girl, qiqi, stepped closer with what was decidedly curiosity. without asking, without any clarification, she took the snipped bundle of herbs and mimicked baizhu's motions of delicately wrapping them in thin cloth.

something almost like a mirage in the morning fog coiled its wispy tendrils around her. for a moment, he felt as if he were looking in a mirror that reflected across time and space. there was a split second he saw himself, a child about her age, parents recently lost, and similarly mimicking the motions of his master.

who was haunting who?