#ME CRYING LOUDLY

[likemosaic]

“now  i’ve  got  something  i  want  to  protect.  it’s  you.” Also leaves this here from zenos,

howl's moving castle sentence starters. / @aetheryic

a lover's words, and too sweet for her taste. tsuyu's mouth curls in old habit--though she likes to think she's making good progress in diluting her bitter crone's heart down into something softer for gosetsu's sake, the presence of zenos galvus (yae no longer, she supposes, from what news has come to doma in the time since she's become tsuyu) makes all her old wounds flare: including the deep sorrow of a young woman unloved by all in the world, even her only patron. zenos' clear disinterest in a woman who could not fight him had been better than what she was used to. better than her brother's torment, her husband's drunkenness, her father's resentment.

but the cruelty rises too, unbidden, at seeing his face after all this time. the emptiness in his eyes, not unlike her own. "protect?" tsuyu spits the word, her white hair blowing gently in the wind. her heart hammers in her chest, old fears rising up, but gosetsu stands in the distance. tsuyu knows he would never let zenos hurt her. "perhaps this is the tale you spun to your new eorzean compatriots to gain their trust. but i know the truth of who we are, and the monstrous sickness we carry." she turns her face away, as if disgusted, but mostly it's grief, her mouth a tight line of distress. once, zenos was the most powerful man she knew, and cowering behind him was the safest place she could possibly be, but now? where is his armor, his sword, his cutthroat demeanor? worse, what is he thinking about her? white hair, no makeup, a practical traveler's outfit. pathetic, both of them.

"if you're thinking about assisting with the assassins after my bounty, then do not. garlemald is a ruin, now; those men are merely desperate for money. and gosetsu will continue to cut down however many desperate garlean bounty hunters as he must." she levels her sharp eyes at him. "i doubt you capable of the same. nor do you have any sway in your homeland anymore. we are both traitors to our nation, after all, and have been disposed of as such. it must pain you so." but tsuyu does pity him, and her words aren't entirely mocking. does he have his own gosetsu, she wonders? could he stomach the indignity of being loved, as she has? it's difficult to imagine him so.

[m1d-45]

snapshot

summary: short, soft moments with your lover, featuring tighnari and neuvillette (separately) in that order.

word count: ~1k composite

-> warnings: big mention of bugs in tighnari's ! none shown but theyre discussed, as are bug bites. none for neuvi.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

bug bites were common among forest rangers. a special bug repellent was included in every pack, a black bottle with plain instructions. tighnari put effort into making it easy to apply and easier to understand, constantly finding new ways to promote its usage. if gone untreated, even small beestings can become serious. add onto it the fact that he was the one that inevitably had to treat them, and he had every motivation to ensure it was used. he made sure that spares were easily accessible, included demonstrations in training, and emphasized the importance of proper application before every patrol.

so why in teyvat did you keep getting bit?

every time, without fail, you returned from patrol scratching your wrist or ankle or wherever you inevitably got bit. and every time, he had to be the one to drag you to the medical hut. at least if you acknowledged the severity of the situation and brought your injuries to him on your own, that’d be understandable. he understood that the feeling of lotion wan’t bearable for everyone—he was in the process of transforming it into a mist to make it even easier—and he’d be happy to find ways to keep you inside if that was the case. there was no shortage of small chores to be done, and with collei now in full recovery, you could easily take her place.

but no. of course not. that would be too easy. his partner happened to be the most stubborn ranger on the squad, with the worst affinity for bugs he’d ever seen.

“how does this always happen to you?”

you shrug, pulling his mint plant off the shelf and beginning to tear off a few leaves. part of him is proud you at least know the proper treatment, though it’s quickly overshadowed by the angry swelling on your hand. he takes the leaves and nudges you toward the chair, searching his drawers for the rest of the poultice.

“how long ago did you get bit?”

“maybe half an hour.”

“half an-” he twisted open the tin with too much force, sighing. “and you didn’t come back immediately why?”

he can hear the smile in your voice. “it wasn’t that serious.”

“…what color was it?”

“yellow.”

“really?”

“and striped. probably a wasp.”

he didn’t know how you had the energy to be sassy, tearing the leaves into shreds and mixing it into the tin. your eyes were red with tears and you hissed when he spread the medicine over your wrist, clearly in pain. the area around your bite was hot to the touch, and he could feel his ears pull back in worry.

“why do you insist on going on patrol?” why do you insist on getting hurt?

“it’s not a big deal.” i don’t care about my pain.

“it is.” i do.

he wiped off his hands and grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapping your hand. your fingers flinched whenever he pulled it too tight. how could you insist on putting yourself at risk like this?

he taped down the end, holding your hand in his. “if it gets too itchy, come back to me, okay?” will you let me care for you?

“of course i will.” i’ll try.

he brought your hand to his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

maybe this time, you’d mean it.

rain was common in fontaine. gutters lined every road and fountains sprayed wherever there was enough room to put one. carved bricks channeled water out of the plazas, every inch of the city designed with rainfall in mind. steep roofs fell over wide awnings, thick greeting rugs in front of every building. when it rained, it poured, though no puddles lay in the streets. sharp lights cut through the dense fog hanging over ivory walls, lighting up the city even when the clouds blocked out the sun.

but the world did not come to a standstill merely because the weather asked it to. boots were sold covered in waterproof wax, many-layered skirts designed to flick off water in a single twirl. fashion was as beautiful as it was untouchable, the very idea of something being vulnerable to waterlog appalling and confusing. who would create such a thing? who would wear it without an umbrella? and, entirely separate from that: who would ever consider leaving the house without an umbrella?

umbrellas were as vital to fashion as they were to the ever-changing weather. they came in every color and shape, made to match every conceivable outfit one could wear. and if, by some miracle, you couldn’t find one that did, there were a plethora of boutiques offering custom embroidery. the steambird was eager to comment on the shifting designs across officials’ umbrellas, trends flowing in and out of their fashion column like the tide. everyone who worked in the court that had stepped outside on a rainy day—which was about as common as the sun rising—had their appearance meticulously documented; unless they refused being in the paper, of course, in which case other less-reputable sources picked up the story instead.

all were reported on, making the front page if not the headline. all, but one.

the iudex did not carry an umbrella. he also declined to entertain any questions as to why, merely stating that simple fact and moving on with his day. his hair clung to his face, even his suit darker with water. he walked down the less crowded roads so he wouldn’t bump into anybody, seeming entirely unbothered by the rain. sometimes he’d turn a palm toward the sky, as if checking that it was still there, and then continue on his way.

you always hated this habit of his. no matter how many times he insisted that he wouldn’t get sick, it was always worrying to open your door and find your lover soaked from head to toe. no water slips from him to your floors, not even from the soles of his boots, the click of his heels and your worried tone the only sound in the house. it was already late as it was, and there was no point to fuss about details at this hour.

“what happened?”

he shed his coat, suspended droplets hovering in the air around him. “the marechaussee phantom were called to mount automnequi; a melusine was badly injured by a rogue mek, and a fisherman had to pull her from the sea. i paid her a visit after work.”

that would explain things. he lets you wipe off his face, careful not to smudge the eyeliner that never seems to fade. already, the rain was beginning to let up, lightening from a downpour. rain in fontaine was as fickle as it was frequent…

“is she alright?”

“of course. the gardiennage provides excellent doctors.”

“then there’s no need to worry.” cupping his now-dry face in your hands, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “she’ll be back in her feet in no time.”

the slightest of smiles crossed his face, his hands keeping yours on him. outside, the skies were clearing, pale blue quickly streaming through the clouds.

perhaps umbrellas would fall out of fashion soon, if rains could cease before they truly had the chance to begin.

[deathblossomm]

Neil shared this soapghost edit on his instagram stories

[contraryclock]

stupid ass Don Quixote ramblings

hi this is my first tumblr post but i really wanted a good place to put this

spoilers for all of current limbus company, including Murder on the warp Express, the Don Quixote book (( kinda )), and a musical (( i'll get there ))

please humor this deranged rant about a character i havent read the source book of

so basically ive had a theory since Don was even teased that she's less so based on book Don Quixote and moreso based on the Man of La Mancha musical which is. an insane thing to suggest but hear me out here (( ive since changed how i word my stance to the much more mild "it will most likely delve into the themes of both works and reference both" because suggesting they would discount the book entirely is TRUE insanity ))

her quote (( from teaser tweets that i cannot find anymore? they seem like they were deleted which sucks )) was "To reach the unreachable star!" or something which is notably not a quote from the original book ((as far as im aware at least?)), and suggests. a lot i think!

One of the most notable differences between Man of La Mancha and the original Don Quixote is their tone and attitude towards Quixote. In the original text, he's shown to be a fool who is ignorant to the vastly more interesting world around him, and prefers to instead sink deeper into his delusions of reality equating to chivalric literature. This makes sense as Don Quixote was written as a parody and mockery of the genre

La Mancha is, notably, much more forgiving on Quixote's character, showing that while still a fool, and his insanity often detrimental to those around him, he is still a good person at heart and that he truly wishes to pursue this justice he posits

I usually say it as "Don Quixote is about how reality is beautiful, and La Mancha is about how sometimes one should strive to make reality a little more fantastical" although i dont know if that. is the most accurate comparison. both Don Quixote and La Mancha have a lot of themes and stuff going on

one of the things that made me scream was learning about "Miguel" being written on don's LCB combat spritesheet instead of her listed name

which if you've seen or read a summary of la mancha is a huge alarm bell

In La Mancha, the whole thing is shown as a Play within a Play

Miguel de Cerventes is sent to prison, awaiting trial by the inquisition, and is tasked with defending himself in a mock trial with the other prisoners so they dont take his belongings. His defense is Don Quixote, Man of La Mancha! With the prisoners acting out the various roles he assigns them, and him acting as the leading man, Don Quixote himself!

that was most of the things that made me think "Oh, maybe it'll be La Mancha!" and then this happened

and i sort of lost my god damned mind

because like what if this is miguel... what if shes simultaneously playing out her life as don quixote as a her delusion, and as her dream, but also as a statement...

idk but this isnt JUST about Man of La Mancha bc i think this has a few implications for how don's canto is going to go

In both don quixote and la mancha, they send someone to cure quixote of his delusions

The final thing they try is setting up an act where a "Knight of Mirrors" duels with Quixote, which ends up working.

The Knight forces Quixote to see how he is perceived by others, to see the truth that he is no knight.

ignoring the stuff with vampires and mirrors for a second, i feel like this could be more mirror world shenanigans, where either the knight IS a mirror world don quixote, or is someone who will show her mirror worlds. Whatever that will imply!!! i dont know its exciting!!!!!

Her being absurdly old and powerful, plus bloodfiends having a whole familial adjacent hierarchy makes me think theres a LOT of bloodfiends out there that would want her back

I dunno!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

im insane!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! i just wanted to get my thoughts out before her canto actually happened so i can say that i did indeed have an opinion on this

-limbus assets taken form Lunartique's asset google drive go look at it -text written by me and not proofread

ok thanks bye dont follow me byeee byeeeeee

[medicalunprofessional]

Its you

[elizakai]

guys i need to consume dustyrottencrop (i hate that name) content consider this an invitation to self promote or link/suggest any horror dust farm content, art, fics, ideas, headcanons whatever in the ask box or comments or reblogs or anywhere😭

i will swallow it whole

there’s not enough of them i’m having ship withdrawls

[spoiledskullz]

Wow so glad Welkin is canon to Sonic X

Non-edit version:

[hotmess-exe]

"MY life has gotten marginally better or been unaffected under the current administration, so give the Democrats YOUR vote"

that's what y'all sound like. fuckin entitled. or do none of y'all actually believe in one person, one vote lol

just say that other people's problems, well-being, stability, and dignity is secondary to your fucking comfort under the status quo.

if things are "better under Biden" for you to such an extent that you feel entitled to other people's fucking votes, I got news for ya — you were probably fine under Trump too 🙃

[mellotronmkll]

[greg-montgomery]

pen loved hotch the most out of everyone on the team imo 😶

[wikitpowers]

what if the river damages kit’s comfort jacket?????? i would cry but that would also mean that ty would be able to see kit’s wet shirt sticking to his skin soooo

[party-lemon]

when the celebrity is a genuine actual good person

[dtee-draws]

getting lost

[gomzdrawfr]

Gomzzzzz hello!!! I’ve been lurking in your blog for like, over a year now and I just wanted to say, your art is so freaking amazing and cute....the big cheeks!! I’ve always struggled with confidence in my own work, to the point where sharing anything felt almost impossible (stare at my stuff for hours only to delete them) But seeing you do your thing? I decided to try posting too. Okay it took a while but when I did I was fully expecting it to get like… 2 likes, max. But then YOU reblogged it, and my phone basically exploded. I’m not even kidding—my notifications were wild, and for the first time, I actually felt proud of something I made. It might sound silly and you probably don't know which art of mine you reblog but it really hyped me up and frankly...i found back the feel to draw again. I can't thank you enough for doing what you do, for making cod space a better and nicer place (your reblogs on others are always soooo positive and top tier)

Anyway, I’m keeping myself anonymous because, uhhh, social anxiety vibes and don’t want to overwhelm you;w; but I hope you know how much you’ve impacted people like me just by being yourself. I’m wishing you the absolute best for 2025!! zapping you with my beams to give you braincells for your school stuff

you deserve all the good things fr

-🦈

🥹

CryING iN THE CLUB— (my room)

Shark anon, thank you for the sweetest words, I really needed this today…and I’m so proud of you for finding back the love to draw again. I hope 2025 will be a blast for you too man!! Remember to take rest and have a good year ahead

[doomedkts]

i just want to thank billie eilish for dropping izuku midoriya's theme song.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

He was tired of you being afraid of him. Even recently, when you hadn't immediately fled at the sight of him, you were stiff and tense- well, more tense than a staffbot could be- and wouldn't look him in the eyes.

It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

He couldn't get an answer out of anyone- Sun, the Glamrocks, even the human workers in the Pizzaplex.

It was driving him mad.

He liked you. More than he probably should. But you were so scared of him. And he didn't know why.

That brought him to now- hunting through logs and security feed for nearly four hours, combing through them, searching for clues as to what happened during the time they had been infected. There was next to nothing in his system, which was only more suspect. Obviously information had been there, but he was struggling to find how to bring it back. The data recovery in his processor wasn't working, so he had elected to go through the security offices one by one to see if there was any saved data there.

Aha.

Someone had forgotten to empty the trash on a monitor, revealing a concerning amount of footage and security logs from when the virus was at its strongest. He started scanning through the logs, pausing when he came upon a log simply titled 'Damaged Staffbot'. Opening it, he scanned the text.

'3:46 a.m. Damaged Staffbot found on the second floor of the Atrium near Roxy Raceway. Arm needs to be fully replaced, wires have been torn at the upper arm.'

He closed the log, suddenly feeling a sliver of dread worm its way into his circuits. Another log.

'2:09 a.m. Damaged staffbot found near Rockstar Row. Legs have been ripped off. Total replacement required.'

Another.

'3:46 a.m. Damaged staffbot found near Gator Golf. Hands have been crushed. Total replacement required.'

Another.

'3:54 a.m. Damaged staffbot found inside the basement of Fazbear Theater. Chest has multiple deep gashes, face has been ripped open.'

Another.

Another.

Another.

And then...

'5:57 a.m. Damaged staffbot found near front entrance. Bot has been almost completely dismantled. Major repairs required.'

Robots couldn't technically feel nauseous, but he felt like he was pretty damn close. His metal fingers threatened to crush the mouse in his grip as he stared at the screen.

It was you.

No other bot would be repaired without complaint so many times, no other had the discolored plating over part of your head that you did.

Now he knew where you got it from.

You were attacked.

Multiple times.

You were terrified of him.

He had to know who did this to you.

You already know.

He clicked on the feed of the day of the final log, hands trembling ever so slightly as he forwarded through the feed watching over the front entrance. He saw Freddy and a small child (how was there a child still in the Pizzaplex) running toward the door. Then he saw himself, not far behind, a manic grin on his face, locked on the child.

He swung lower on his cable, releasing and scuttling across the floor, reaching for the child-

Something slammed into him, HARD.

He watched in shock as his past self was sent tumbling, limbs entangled with something. His past self laid limply on the floor for a moment, and he watched as the person that stopped him staggered to their feet- and his pupils shrank in horror.

It was you. Even with the less than quality video feed, he could see the discoloration on your face where your metal patch was.

No.

His past self rose to his feet, gaze locked onto you.

No.

You took a step back.

No.

He lunged, and you were too slow to move. He rammed into your upper body, sending you down onto the floor hard. You didn't move as he loomed over you, grin sharp.

He grabbed your head, and pulled.

He shut off the computer.

CONSUMING THIS LOVING THIS I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEAAAA

ANON PLS I WOULD SACRIFICE MY FIRSTBORN TO U PLS KNOW I LOVE U