#i am learning to love my dandelions

[crawthornsharkinson]

One day you're young and doing tequila shots til sunrise and waking up in alleys and the next thing you know you're extolling the virtues of having a wagon every time you take yours to the supermarket because people in their 40s fuckin love a wagon and keep asking you about it and then you go home and clock an exciting bird at the window and wonder how this is what you're doing with your twenties

[soft-serve-soymilk]

This is from lrb but when I say Dism and Siffrin are similar this is the heart of what I mean ✨

[jessamine-rose]

.˚₊‧໒❀˚‧ Laurestine ‧˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)��

Herbarium ๑ Fairytale ๑ Forget-Me-Not ๑ Astilbe ๑ Artifact Set ๑ Viparyas

Aahh I can’t believe it’s been two years since I wrote my Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling longfic!! This epilogue has been in my drafts for nearly as long, and I figured now would be a good time to revisit my favorite fairytale <3

Synopsis:: “While the Captain carries out his mission in Natlan, how does he protect his darling from afar? Her guard is here to provide the details.”

Tw:: yandere, Stockholm Syndrome, invasion of privacy, implied abuse from darling’s backstory, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano

♡ 1k words under the cut ♡

Sender: Sergeant C. Naiad

Note: CONFIDENTIAL

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, it has been eight days since your departure for Natlan.

Your wife is in good health. She rarely speaks to me and the new live-in servants, though she seems to have fully adjusted to our presence.

Below is a record of her daily routine. There may be slight variations depending on her energy levels and emotional state. But for the most part, Lady ______ adheres to this personal schedule.

-

7:00 - Lady ______ wakes up.

7:10 - Bathtime.

7:30 - Lady ______ leaves the bedroom.

7:35 - Breakfast.

8:00 - Lady ______ strolls around the woods, escorted. Occasionally picks flowers.

8:30 - Lady ______ preserves new flowers (if any) and checks on the other flowers in her collection.

9:00 - Lady ______ begins reading her first book of the day.*

12:00 - Lunch.

12:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

15:00 - Lady ______ finishes her first book and arranges it in her personal library.

15:30 - Lady ______ begins reading her second book of the day.

18:45 - Bathtime.

19:00 - Dinner.

19:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

20:00 - Lady ______ finishes her second book or stays up late to finish reading it.

20:15 - Lady ______ makes her request for breakfast the next day and goes to the bedroom.

20:30 - Bedtime.

*Depending on the length or contents of the story, Lady ______ may devote a full day to a single book. Other times, she chooses to instead rest in the bedroom, cook her own meals, or learn the Snezhnayan language through her textbooks and my assistance.

Regarding the last activity, her pronunciation is improving.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Today, Lady ______ read Records of Jueyun Vol. 2.

Based on her expressions, she seemed particularly fond of this story. The day prior, she also expressed interest in continuing Fables de Fontaine and Tales from the Waves.

Once you give your approval, I will place an order for the remaining volumes of all three book collections.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

We have received the garments commissioned for your wife. She seemed pleased with your gift, even going so far as to change into one of the dresses. Specifically, it was the lavender corset gown with off-shoulder puff sleeves.

Later, I overheard the staff praising her—a common topic of discussion, if I may add. This time, their compliments revolved around her physical appearance and your love for one another. They continue to serve her with utmost devotion.

Attached is a candid photograph of Lady ______ in the aforementioned gown.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

During my morning rounds, I discovered a Cryo Whopperflower two yards north of your residence. It was immediately eliminated, and I dispatched agents to eliminate any remaining monsters within the woods.

I have Private Hercyna’s confirmation that your estate has been purged of all potential dangers to Lady ______. She continues to enjoy her morning strolls.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has reorganized her personal library. The servants offered their help, but she insisted on lifting the books and climbing the ladder by herself. Nonetheless, I remained by her side in case of an accident.

Afterwards, she reread Heart of Clear Springs. She then requested a shipment of Dandelion Wine and ingredients native to Mondstadt.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

I have a serious matter to discuss with you.

This afternoon, your wife requested a cup of Love Poem tea. It was served in the living room, and the maid tripped while holding the tray.

I was able to keep the hot tea from splashing all over Lady ______, but she was visibly shaken. Even after I confirmed that neither of us had been scalded, she went upstairs and spent the rest of the day in her bedroom. She explicitly ordered a cold beverage for dinner.

I can only imagine the traumatic memories that resurfaced, based on the personal information you have disclosed to me.

From what I saw, it was purely an accident though that does not excuse Lady ______’s distress. I also had the tea checked for any poisons that could be absorbed through the skin.

Attached is the personal file of the offender. Their punishment is at your discretion.

Rest assured, there will be no repeat of this incident.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has received your package from Natlan.

The flowers arrived in perfect condition. She spent the most time admiring the Brilliant Chrysanthemums.

She cried while reading your letter.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ finished preserving her previous batch of flowers.

I was also told that she needs a new notebook for her collection, as her current notebook only has a few blank pages left.

She suggested a trip to the local bookstore upon your return.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, Lady ______’s letter should be en route to Natlan, along with the flowers she preserved for you.

After she gave me the sealed envelope, I checked the trashcan and noticed a crumpled sheet of stationery.

Given the circumstances, I chose not to read it. Instead, I have enclosed the stationery in my report, so that you may be the one to check if there are any secret codes or messages.

-

I hope you like the laurestine. I think it turned out better than the other flowers.

After your mission, what do you want to do? We haven’t traveled to Fontaine yet. The  botanical gardens should be in bloom next season. Or if you want, we can just stay at home. I’m fine with anything.

Please take care of yourself. And tell me if the mission has to be extended.

I miss you.

♡

Read Artifact Set for Capitano’s letter <3

Aahhh I still can’t believe we’ve finally made it to Capitano’s in-game debut. So much has happened since A Winter Night’s Lazzo, and I can’t wait to write more Capitano x Damsel once his lore is available (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

Lastly, I just want to give a shoutout to my beta-reader @diodellet, my mutuals (you know who you are), and my readers!! I rlly appreciate your presence over the years, and thank you for enjoying my work :’>

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @euniveve @naraven @ainescribe @mochinon-yah @navxry @euniveve @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @lucidasara @dulcetailurophile @melody3cherryblossom @avryxlle @lumincryo @pinkislost @tylerxrbtwhp @whispereons @tamikahoshiko

[changetyre]

Ouch II Charles Leclerc x Reader

SUMMARY: One of the things Charles had to learn about you when you started dating was your ability to get hurt with just about anything and anyone who crosses your path.

WARNINGS: short, minor injuries, dizziness, allergies.

A/N: Inspired by me and my proneness to injury which has been on an all-time high this month 🥲

"Tss-" Charles's head popped up immediately at the sound of you hissing, a million scenarios running through his head about how you'd injured yourself this time.

"What happened mon amour?" He rushed over to you watching as you clutched your finger tightly, your face contorted in pain.

"I closed the cupboard on my finger somehow." You showed Charles the small blood blister forming on your finger where you'd pinched a piece of skin.

"Cherie what am I gonna do with you." Charles held your injured finger placing a small kiss on it before bringing you into a hug.

_____

"Oh my god Charlie look!" You spotted at a big dandelion field on one of your walks with your boyfriend.

"Amour wait-" Charles wasn't fast enough to stop you as you happily ran to it. "Just be careful please." he didn't have the heart to stop you as you ran through it.

"Charlie take a picture of me!" You happily giggled as you watched the white fuzz rise around you.

Charles laughed gladly capturing the moment in his phone. It all seemed too perfect.

As you walked the rest of the way home Charles noticed you kept scratching at your hands and arms. "What's wrong my love?" he asked.

"Nothing." He knew you always tried to play your discomfort and pain down.

"Let me see." He grabbed your hand gently bringing your arms into view which were growing rashes. Charles gasped at the sight. "Amour!"

"I think I might be allergic to dandelions." You looked so defeated it tugged at Charles's heart. He was glad you were wearing jeans impeding your legs from rashing too.

"Aww mon bebe." Charles kissed your temple. "C, mon let's get you to the doctor." He held your hand as you left the house once more.

_______

"He's good, and has a lot of potential." You and Charles chatted casually as he washed the dishes while you dried them and put them away.

"He's young though, I'd hate for the same thing to-" You gasped as a plate slipped from your hand, you tried to catch it but it had already broken by the time you tried to save it.

"Cherie you okay?" Charles quickly dried his hands rushing to you.

"I'm fine just ugh, a broken plate." you sighed frustrated as you leaned down to start cleaning up.

"It's just a plate darling you sure you're alright?" Charles crouched down with you.

"Yes I- Oww." you pulled your hand away quickly after trying to grab a large piece of the broken plate. "Oh my god, why?!" You were frustrated with yourself for not being more careful.

"Let me see." Charles pulled your hand towards him seeing the small but deep cut on your palm starting to bleed a lot. "Okay come here." Despite his worry, Charles wasn't fazed with your injuries anymore always quick to jump into action. He grabbed a paper towel wrapping it around your hand.

"It doesn't even hurt just stings a little-" Charles hated the way you always got so disappointed with yourself after getting hurt.

"It's okay amour, just hold it and keep your hand up while I fetch the first aid kit." He kissed your cheek before rushing off.

_______

"and then the next thing I know Steph is on one of the tables grinding on some random dude-" You paced around the living room telling Charles about last night through tears of laughter.

"No way!" Charles laughed with you picturing the scene, hoping he could've been there with you.

"Yes and so Freya was trying to get her down and somehow ends up getting lifted onto the table herself-" you could barely catch your breath between laughter. "You should've seen her face, she was mortified when the dude and Steph started dancing on her-" you wiped the tears from under your eyes.

"What did you do?" Charles laughed more so from your laughter than the story itself.

"Well Freya was looking at me with like this plea for help so I-" a loud thud silenced you. "Fuck-" You cursed as you'd managed to hit your funny bone in the corner of the wall hard.

"You okay baby?" Charles immediately sat up.

He watched you rub at your elbow. "Yeah I-" You stumbled a little making him rush to stable you. "Ooh, I'm a little light-headed."

"You must've hit your funny bone pretty hard." He carried you to the couch with him and your vision went blurry for a few seconds.

"That was weird." you opened and closed your hand as pins and needles filled your arm.

"It's okay baby I've got you." Charles pulled you into his side.

You sighed, waiting for the feeling and lightheadedness to pass.

"I'm sorry." you apologized to Charles as you nustled into his chest.

"What are you sorry for amour?!" Charles cupped your cheek making you face him.

"For always making you worry and not being careful enough, I obviously don't do it on purpose but maybe if I was more careful and-" You started.

"Hey shh-" Charles shushed you with a sweet kiss. "Don't be silly." He hugged you tighter. "I love you just the way you are, injuries and all even if I prefer you never got injured again. It's just the way you are and to me it's perfect."

You couldn't help but giggle. "I love you Charlie." You looked up at him, cupping his cheek this time so you could kiss him.

"I love you more, my injury-prone girlfriend." He kissed you again.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ ON A PILLOW OF

GRASS AND DANDELIONS ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

astarion ancunin x fem!reader

summary: you and astarion take much-needed time to yourselves in a field kissed by the sun. blueberries are the fruit of the occassion, as messy and sticky as they were. sometimes though, messy is a good thing.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, ejaculation, deep-throating (??), a bit of nipple play if you squint hard enough, astarion's very vocal ( i don't make the rules ), astarion licks fruit juice off reader's chest, slight worshipping, not proof-read

a/n: wrote this at two am with a foggy mind and rusty smut skills. but alas, here's a small gift of an idea that refused to leave me. now, i can rest easily, bless.

The sun - a ball of fire in the abyss of the sky - is the brightest star. It burns the surface of your skin in vibrant rays of light, warming you from the inside; and setting you aflame. It wasn’t a foreign feeling, just one you learned to appreciate in the years you’ve been on this plane, a hug without drastic intentions, a heated embrace. Aside from the fruit in your hand; cobalt in color, soft-skinned, ripe, and dripping sour juices. It pools on the surface of your tongue alongside sugary essence once the sharp ridges of teeth puncture through; mixing in with warm spit, tricking down the chin and onto the expanse of your chest, loose, low-cut blouse leaving little to the imagination. 

The feeling you get from it is almost erotic, you think, as your lover laps at stray sweetness making its way to the base of your neck, right under the spot he adored so very much. The wet muscle of his tongue skims across your collarbone, his long, cold fingers hovering above your hip, the other keeping himself steady, hand sinking into the softness of the sheet below. His touches give off a certain urgency although his actions show otherwise. Astarion wants to take his time with you; albeit having seemingly all the time in existence to do so. 

A sigh escapes your lips involuntarily, airy as the hairs on your arms raise every millisecond that his body inches closer to yours, craving skin-to-skin through the thin layers of fabric. It causes you to straighten your spine, almost as if you were a stick wedged in damp soil, letting it mold further into you, keeping your soul in place. Every single bone within you was practically screaming. They didn’t mind being constricted like this, a small jumble of voices bouncing back and forth. 

It made you chuckle, a sound that had him humming against your skin in curiosity. “What’s so funny, my love?” 

Smiling,  you lock your irises onto a cluster of stray curls above you, hand moving to twist around them - an action that makes him visibly shiver.

“I’m supposed to be feeding you.” 

With a raise of his head, you could see just how big his pupils had dilated, ruby eyes just a shade or two darker than usual. His low-lidded gaze traveled down toward the valley of your chest, a purple tint left in streaks adorning your collarbone; evidence of his affection. “Are you not already?”

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you shuffle about next to him on your side, propping your chin on the palm of your hand, elbow digging into the ground beneath the white linen of the sheet. “No, you’re far too busy being a tease.”

At your words, he chuckled, face dropping to the left side of your neck with such swiftness that you raised your hips further into his at the feeling of plump lips on your pulse point. Although you couldn’t see him anymore, the way his fingers squeezed at your clothed hip told you everything you needed to know.  

“If you wanted me to bite you, all you had to do was ask.”

A breathy sigh left your lips, nails moving from his silver curls down to his back, his tunic wrinkling under your touch, preventing him from escaping. Hot white heat pooled in your lower stomach; a longing to have him touch you in your most intimate of places - desperately. Desire envelops you whole, just like the sparkle of the sun.

“Please Astarion….”

Shivering at the coolness of his lips against your neck, your face grew hot in sudden embarrassment. The organ that was your heart hammered erratically in your sternum as he sucked on your flesh, setting your skin ablaze in a way where it was somewhat painful… a delectable pinch as his fangs pierced the skin.

Astarion was no stranger to drinking your lifeblood, and the act itself wasn’t a rare occurrence. He enjoyed it - no, he craved it as if it were the finest, most expensive brand of wine he had ever tasted in all his years. It satiated his thirst.

His cheeks hallowed as he sucked once - twice more before pulling away, thumbing at the corner of his lip before parting his lips, tucking his bloody thumb into the heat of his mouth. “Delicious…”

Astarion was sure that his body had started to relax as your blood flowed through his veins, sloshing around in the confines of his belly as if he were a drunkard. 

The ridges of your front teeth sunk into the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, and you watched cautiously as he toyed with the edges of his tunic, lifting it to his naval. Slight hesitation embedded itself in his hands before he flexed them a bit, ridding himself of the fabric completely. Despite having been bare in front of you countless times - even if not fully on display, he found himself growing somewhat small under your fixated look, opting to stand and plop himself in a bed of grass a couple of feet away. 

He extended his arms outward, blades of deep green tickling his knuckles, creating an itch that he refused to scratch. Filling his mouth with fresh air, his chest rose before deflating, the hairs in his nose burning. “Sometimes, I forget how to breathe.” 

Lashes fan against his skin as he closes his eyes, his undead lungs trying to find a comfortable rhythm, steady.  You can’t help but admire him from your place, eyebrows unfurrowing from their constant state of distress. 

The light had moved in his direction, clouds changing their position to make way as it shone down on his figure, drawn to him like magnets to metal. It casts shadows on his face, carving out every gentle dip of his abs, the flexing of his biceps as he raises a hand in front of his face, blocking his vision from the viciousness of it all. Instead of irritation filling his undead heart, it was a foreign sense of calamity. A feeling that he held dear for as long as it lingered.

“This feels nice.” 

His ears perk at the sound of your feet crunching grass, alongside the periodic chirping of birds perched on enormous tree branches above. A gust of wind weaved through tendrils of curls, seeping into his scalp, metaphorically dousing him in cold water. For a second, he indulged in the thought of bathing in a nearby lake wherever camp was set up for the night, taking his time to let it take over every inch of his body. 

A clench of his stomach muscles sends his eyes shooting open, neck craning to stare down at your hand traveling down the ‘v’ of his naval, tracing patterns on the way. Your unexpected compliment was nothing but a whisper in the wind that made the tips of his ears grow as red as his eyes. 

“You’re beautiful.” Leaning down between his wide legs, your sticky lips graced his icy skin, sending a jolt of heat through him, a gasp caught in his throat as you painstakingly peppered his abdomen in an abundance of kisses. 

Astarion was by no means ashamed when it came to eliciting pretty noises in response to your touch; need apparent in the way his head fell back, cushioned by grass and a halo of dandelions, his adams apple bobbing as your fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants.

“Let me worship you Astarion. You deserve to be tasted.” 

He propped himself on an elbow, staring down at you with an expression that could only be described as that of some sort of challenge at your request, his unoccupied hand stretching out to grip your chin loosely in his hands, fingers tapping on the fullness of your cheeks. “Needy little thing.” 

The low tone of his voice caused you to rub your thighs together, trying to soothe the developing ache between them, a feeling you knew wouldn’t go away unless he helped you - until he conjured every single facet of his love and adoration for you to the tips of his fingers. “Who am I to refuse my love’s desires?” 

Loosening his grip on your face, he allowed you to tug at the fabric of his pants, lifting his hips slightly as you shed them off of him completely, fingers dancing up his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his cock that lay hard before you, slightly curved and sensitive. His tip glistened with wetness that formed a waterfall of saliva in your mouth to coat him with. 

It practically begged for attention, some sort of relief that you were more than willing to give by darting out your tongue, bobbing your head down his length, and taking him down your throat as far as you could.

Through spit-covered teeth, Astarion hissed lightly as you palmed him gently, the extra layers of skin doing little to help him catch his breath. It stretched at every tug of your hand, at every bob of your head as you took him further in your mouth, cheeks hollow and mouth wet, shining under mustard yellow hues from the surrounding landscape of the hidden field. 

He was fucking perfect lying beneath you like this, devoid of any sharp remarks, and scandalous comments - just a blubbering mess. A man formed by all things precious, and a subtle sort of stunning. 

“Gods, just like that, pet.” He bucked his hips upward, hitting the back of your throat so violently that you gagged, an encouraging hum causing his cock to throb in the expanse of your warm mouth. 

He could stay here forever, your lips closed around him, cheeks stained with tears, fingers from your other hand tracing figure eights on his pubic bone to occupy yourself further with pleasing him. Even with a brain filled with endless fog, the pale elf couldn’t recount the last time you had sucked him as if your entire existence depended solely on his pleasure. 

Hell, he wasn’t complaining at all. The noises escaping his esophagus were more than enough proof, and you were more than happy to make it known. 

You swirled your tongue around his tip, gathering the taste of him, pubic hairs tickling your nostrils as the tip of your nose made contact with the base of his shaft. His lower stomach couldn’t help but clench tightly, only contracting when your lips widened, jaw slacking as you quickened your pace. 

White heat coiled in his stomach, a sensation so euphoric to him that his back arched slightly, brows furrowing, a chorus of broken, muffled cries leaving his parted lips. He released his seed, spurting his arousal down your throat, something you swallowed without hesitation as you pulled away from him.

Finding the strength to open his eyes, Astarion narrowed them at the white puff of clouds painting the sky above through vibrant leaves, a tingle vibrating throughout his body as you straddled his hips, rocking against him gently as he peaked at you. “Isn’t there something else you crave?” 

The flesh of your mouth meets his pointed ear and his spine grows rigid, then he shudders in anticipation, in desire. His hands are under your blouse before you can utter anything else, following the dip of your lower back as you press yourself against him. 

“I want to be inside of you.” 

There it was. 

The seven words you’ve been wanting to hear ever since he took your hand and whisked you away into the horizon, a basket full of berries that currently sat discarded somewhere around the crumpled blanket, rotting away in the heat.

“I’d rip this off of you if you’d let me.” He whispered, thumbing at your shirt, hair tousled and out of its usual format of precise placement. 

He looked like heaven. He tasted like heaven. He felt like heaven. 

It was a mantra that you repeated in your head as he discarded the shirt that covered the swell of your breasts, nipples perking when he pinched them between his fingers, taking one of them in his mouth almost immediately after as if he were still famished. 

Fidgeting with the ends of your long skirt, you bunched the fabric up your thighs, fingers disappearing under the material to move your soaked underwear to the side, throbbing with need. “You know I would if the circumstances were different.” 

Ah, yes, the fact that you two were fucking like rabbits out in the open. A thrill that never ceased to make your heart beat quickly no matter how many times you both found yourselves in this position. 

“Yet you’re letting me take you in broad daylight.” 

It was hard not to smile at that. 

After all, he did have a point.

tags: @tallymonster, @astariongf, @scandalcus

[headspace-hotel]

My Oenothera biennis at home is covered in caterpillars of white-lined sphinx moth. I've never seen one before! I think the caterpillars hibernate underground over the winter and emerge in spring as their adult moth form?

O. biennis is common evening-primrose. It has such a special place in my heart. It was, I believe, the first rescued plant that bloomed for me—I pulled one from a crack in the pavement on the roadside, not knowing what it was, and carefully took care of it until it had grown too big for its pot, at which point I planted it in the front flower bed.

I remember how amazing it was to watch the plant develop pointed buds that opened into large, bright, delicate flowers that were the most gorgeous shade of glowing pale yellow. It was so unlike the rich, heavy, buttery yellows of dandelions and sunflowers and other yellow flowers I was familiar with—this plant had its own yellow, so gentle yet so luminous, almost fluorescent. Each day, a new set of buds formed and opened, beginning late July and continuing into the final days of September.

At last, the plant reached the end of its bright, showy riot of blossoms, and slowly dried up entirely, leaving an array of partially split open seed pods along the stem. O. biennis is biennial, as the name suggests. It germinates the first year, forms a rosette of leaves close to the ground, then the second year, it bolts—rapidly growing its stem upward—and produces tons and tons of flowers until it is utterly spent. As the plant dries out in death, the seed pods slowly curl open, releasing loads of tiny seeds.

The next spring, a strange miracle occurred: Many O. biennis sprouts came up where the seeds had fallen, but instead of creating a neat little rosette of leaves on the ground, they began bolting immediately.

One particularly enthusiastic sprout was already a foot tall by May, and kept growing and growing, to my perplexment. "You're supposed to be biennial! What are you doing?"

But it couldn't be denied—the plants were all preparing to bloom the same year they'd first sprouted. And bloom they did!

The flower bed by the front door was blazing with color.

I saw how people designated O. biennis as a weed—it wasn't compact like the usual garden plants, it grew tall and sprawling like an expansive candelabra of blossoms. It was strong and enthusiastic in spite of poor conditions. But it was so beautiful, I was in love.

I learned that occasionally, O. biennis growing in harsh conditions with low competition, could evolve to have an annual life cycle. Apparently, all the seeds produced by the founding plant inherited this trait.

Yesterday, I visited home and collected seed pods from the one extraordinarily enthusiastic plant that had captured my attention, the one that bolted in spring and began blooming before all the others. I intend to spread those seeds in the goldenrod fields and whatever neglected place a tough plant might thrive.

I feel that the progeny of my one extraordinary plant might be more competitive in areas that are periodically subjected to mowing and bush-hogging. The plants these seeds give rise to could be better adapted to the novel stresses placed upon them in these disturbed environments.

The weakness of O. biennis is that it spreads its seeds simply by gravity and the action of water washing seeds away. Its genetics, however exceptional, cannot travel far. So I am helping it out a little bit, by identifying a plant that has evolved exceptionally well for the stresses of a roadside environment and spreading its seeds as much as I can.

[life-as-gwen]

What do Dandelions know that I don’t?

Let’s talk about dandelions, Taraxacum Officinale. My favorite flower since I was a small child. The flower that nobody liked. As a kid, I loved seeing them growing in the grass, it was so pretty, the bright yellow on the green lawn. I especially loved it when the grass was full of them. I could not understand why people were always trying to kill them.

This was a flower I was allowed to pick, make bouquets with and collect. I remember picking them in the front yard to “save them” from my Dad. The good intention was there anyways.

As an adult, I still like them. I still think they are pretty. But I am a little more philosophical about it. Not that I don’t pick a bouquet when I have the chance.

Think about the dandelion. This is a flower that yearns to live and grow. “Damn hard to get rid of” as my Dad would say. We dig them out by the roots or poison them, and still they come back, spotting the grass with little yellow blooms. We put cinder blocks over them to make a sidewalk and they will pop up in the cracks. It’s like they don’t know, or don’t care that they are under attack. They are just doing their thing.

When it is time for them to die, there is no ugliness, no hard pieces to hurt your feet when you walk barefoot on the lawn. They just change to a white, soft puff ball, and when the wind is just right, their seeds and their DNA are blown up in the air. Wherever they land, a new flower will grow.

What if we had even some of these qualities? What if, in a world that thought we were ugly and unwanted, we could see our own beauty? What if we had the strength to stand up and come back from our defeats, as beautiful and strong as we were before? What if obstacles in our path were simply things we needed to either go around, or go through? What if when we were old and done, we sat at peace, knowing that our lives had meant something and we were leaving a legacy?

I believe that in recovery we have a responsibility to keep learning. The knowledge we get from sources such as AA, NA, OA, Smart Recovery, counselling, therapy, social media, podcasts etc., is invaluable. We would not make it without these resources. But sometimes can we learn lessons and be inspired by the simple things right in front of us, like a silly little flower? from flowers that have been there all along?

[squiddy-god]

Crashing Winds

venti x reader soulmate AU

Fjekekekeke more re-uploads (I'm going crazy) thankfully the 6 page nuvi smut is a light at the end of the tunnel (I know many of you where very excited for it lol) no beta, no prof 🎻🤏

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

CW : bit of angst if you squint, fluff, soulmate timer AU

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Venti had long covered up his soulmate timer, thousands of years counting down yet he never cared. The anemo archon had never liked the concept of soulmates, sure someone destined to love you was sweet to most "but what is love if demanded by fate?" He thought to himself, words echoing in his head. 

It was a warm day, birds sang their songs of joy as the wind caught their wings; the sun filtered rays through the large tree that the Bard stood under. It was the first time in so long that he looked at the timer on his wrist- 00:00:00 written on his skin. His lips quirked upwards as his eyes shone brightly even in the shade, perhaps his joy made him cruel, but he had denied fate, escaping the chains that once bound him to another. "Ehe, finally~" He sang as he spun around "freedom" It came out like a whisper, a hopeful plee for this feeling to stay, to not drift off like dandelion seeds. 

The snap of a branch caught his attention as he peered over to the God statue sitting in front of the tree. And there you were, sat on your knees with your head hung low as if ashamed of something. "Lord Barbatos is there something wrong with me? " You muttered, venti's eyes widened as he listened in, curious about what was the matter. "Why don't I love them? No matter how long I stay I can't find the love I should feel" You gripped at the fabric on your legs, knuckles growing lighter as your grip persisted.  "Why can't I love my soulmate? " Eyes downcast and shoulders tense you sat there. 

"Now what's a bright traveler like you mopping here? " The Bard sang. You jolted back, landing on your butt as your arm flew up in front of you to grip your chest. "Ah! You startled me! " He only laughed, his airy voice ringing out. "Why don't you come drinking with me? Maybe the sweet taste of wine will help to lift your spirits~" He said wistfully as you stood up. 

Your hands fumbled with each other as your gaze shifted out to the vast fields of windrise. "I'm sorry but I've met my soulmate-" The way your beautiful eyes darkened in a veil of sadness when 'soulmate' left your lips made the bards heart sign in sadness. "No no! This is just a friendly drink between friends!" He said, whisking you away as flashing his soulmate timer. 

The drink was fun, jokes cracked by an enthusiastic bard as he plucked the strings of his lyre. It was the most fun you'd had in ages, all your worries drifting off as his music seemed to carry them. "Hey, Bard? What's your name? " A cheeky smile etched onto his face "venti! And you dear traveler?" You chuckled "y/n!" You stated, taking another sip from your glass. 

The heart works in mysterious ways, yet still you wondered if you could even love. "Am I broken?" You asked yourself looking into the mirror, eyes stained red from your tears and worry. They were kind, a gentle person who seemed to love you fully, yet every touch from your soulmate sent no sparks through your heart. 

Three years of love not returned, you wondered if your heart could feel- "how can my heart work if it can't love the one person it's destined to? " You wondered. 

You saw others walk through the mondstat streets hand in hand with love and fate. Yet it left no bitter feeling in your mouth, only a sad longing. Can one really learn to love if their heart dines them so? 00:00:00 scrawled on your wrist in neat writing was a constant reminder of how cruel fate could be. 

For how can fate lead if the heart does not follow? 

Yet the bard's words caused you worry, "what is love if demanded by fate?" He had sung, the tune of his lyre clearing your mind as his words echoed through it. 

Why did your heart love another? The silly Bard and his damned lyre! The calm when your shoulders slumped and your brow relaxed! Damn the feeling of your racing heart and pounding veins! 

So enticing was the feeling he gave, the bubbly sensation in your chest and the feeling of wind against your face. You felt free! Like a bird soaring through wind and snow, or the soft petals of Cecilias swayed by cool breezes. It was an addicting feeling that he gave, but one you said you couldn't have 

Oh how he loved your voice, the way you laughed so freely as his teasing, or the look of wonder while he played his lyre. How angelic could a mortal really look? More angelic then he, he thought as you stood on top ruins with the wind blowing against you. 

And the warm feeling you gave him, as if you snatched his worries like stars from the sky and tossed them into the rivers below. 

He grappled with these feelings for only a few days before they took hold of him. His eyes went soft when they gazed at you, his songs always drifting to love when he sang to you, and the feeling of freedom that you gave him made it feel as if the wind was under his wings. 

It was conflicting, to gaze into the eyes of your promised one and only be able to think that it doesn't feel right. But as they stood in the home of your parents, a ring in their hand- you felt the constricting pressure of eyes burning your skin. The light seemed hazy as if the world had been shrouded in grey. Walls closing in and the floor seeming so much closer than before. You said yes. Could you really say no? With the peering eyes and excited chatter the words acted on their own, flowing like water from your mouth. 

Avoiding the jovial Bard was hard but you knew that you would have to. Yet his music always drifted in the winds, Harmony's of his lyre caught like dandelion seeds in the breeze. You knew you couldn't handle it if you saw him now, so as much as hit hurt you avoided him. 

Barbatos rang in his head, he had always heard when his name was said, but this was different. The sound of your voice echoed in his mind, his teal eyes going wide when you said wedding, how you didn't want to get married but- he knew what he had to do. 

The gentle tunes of the lyre outside were familiar, yet in the hazy state of your head you couldn't recognize it. You began to walk out and down the aisle, the music was too loud in your head- almost loud enough to drown out your beating heart. 

A flash of bright teals and greens caught your eye as you walked, sparkling pleading eyes that begged you to run as nimble fingers strumbed the astral iron strings of his lyre. Your thoughts raced as you almost frantically glanced between the Bard and altar. You didn't hear anything until your name was called, "do you take them to be lawfully wedded?" You snapped out of your haze and glanced at the Bard, the realization hit you like a brick, your throat felt dry as you took a deep breath before speaking. "N-no" Your voice was barely above a whisper but the winds carried it far, the winds also decided to carry the table cloths. Billowing and blowing sheets of white around the venue as a joyous laugh rang in the air, while all were distracted by gusts of winds and sheets wreaking havoc the Bard grabbed your hands. 

You ran, legs carrying you as you weaved through the crowd, venti takeing in your smile he found so radiant- no longer overshadowed by melancholy in your eyes. "Y/n, I don't care much for fate, I want to be free with you" He said, turning back as he slowed to a stop. Gazing down at the 00:00:00 on your wrist and smiled. "I want to be free with you to venti- besides, who needs a soulmate anyways? " You laughed as the Bard tackled you in a hug. "Thank you venti" You kissed him on the cheek and he flashed you a cheeky smile. "Awww~ just a kiss on the cheek? Is that any reward for your Savior?" Shaking your head you rolled your eyes- how you loved this annoying Bard was the archons best guess, but you relented. Lips pressing against his, a kiss all too short for his liking as his cheeky grin widened. "Ehe~ much better" 

The Bard, once ancient archon of wind was right, what is freedom if asked of you by a god, and what is love if demanded by fate? Nothing but silver shackles doomed to break. 

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[valkyriexo]

Send this to a stay! Have them describe themselves and see who their followers would “Ship” them with in the group! <3 (no pressure baby)

hiiiiiiii <3 heres a little about me :

I call my self Val.

I'm 24 years old (born in 2000)

She/Her

5'0"

I love animals (and at one point almost became a vet)

My favorite colors are rose gold and black

I am Dominican, but I live in the United States

I speak English, Spanish, A little Italian, and very little Korean (I'm learning, but I need people to practice with)

I'm a professional dancer and Theater, film/TV Actress I have a degree in acting and theology. ( and a diploma in manufacturing )

I love directing and all things writing, film, and TV

I'm a Entj-a

I like playing sports and ive played soccer, track and field, and cheer

I'm a hugeeeeee gamer! I mostly play on pc but I also play on ps4, wii, ds, and vr My most played games are Overwatch, Stardew, Spiderman, and GTAV In the same vein I also have a growing board game collection with 72 games (currently) and I recently opened a board game club with 15+ members

... and thats a little about me :)

tagging my moots because I'm making this into one of those tumblr games... no pressure tho :)

@kirbyscreeper @intrikatie @escapetheshark @2mins-world @miueo

@misadrawss @bodybahng @torialefay @calypsohan @linoalwaysknows

@stayinlimbo @xxkhxndlelitexx @dandelions-143 @ssickmagnolia8 @seungminindabuilding

@httpdwaekki @lookitsjess @neverendingstay @seungfl0wer @gnabnahc143

@hwangism143 @linoyes @cutieleeknow @miss-daisy04 @kisskissbanggang

@palindrome969 @rylea08 @beautyandmentalbreakdown @boyfiechan @dwaekkicidal

@leeknowsallyoursecrets

[merakiui]

After seeing some lovely fanart of Jade, I thought of a Forest Lord AU

One in which the reader is on the run and stumbles into an enchanted forest that seems fine on the outside but is actually the domain of the forest god, Jade! When they encounters him,, he promises to grant their wish of freedom. Everything seems to go well in their life from then on but there’s something lurking around reader that they can’t shake. I can’t imagine Jade would grant wishes without wanting something in return >_< when the reader returns wondering why they’re starting to feel unsafe again, is when he reveals he can keep them safe permanently. With him! :D

Jade wanting your firstborn child in return, but the surprise is that he's the one knocking you up..............

Forest god!Jade who keeps you trapped in a little prison of brambles and branches. <3 the more you struggle, the sharper and tighter they get, enclosing on all sides until you're confined in such a tight space. They'll loosen and retreat if you stop acting so difficult, but Jade thinks you need to learn a lesson first. He'll patch up any scratches you might garner from the thorns.

Forest god!Jade who makes the prettiest flora bloom for you. There are flowers you've never even seen before, each more mystical than the last. He's especially fond of mushrooms. They have a tendency to pop up around him whenever he's in a bad mood, growing in abundant clusters, but if he's happy the grass is greener and the flowers are blossoming in an array of bright, beautiful colors.

Forest god!Jade who always blends into the domain in which he inhabits. Donning a mossy cloak, a crown of twigs, clothes stitched together from leaves, he looks so lithe and dainty. It catches you by surprise when that same sweet-looking god turns out to be quite fearsome if you incur his ire...

Forest god!Jade who conjures toadstool seats for you and him to sit down on for a tea party in a comfortable clearing in the forest. The trees are tall and thick, surrounding you on all sides. You feel trapped, but Jade just smiles at you and pours you another cup of dandelion tea.

Intruders who stray too deep into his domain are dealt with at once. Jade has fun toying with them, pawing them around as if he's a cat and they're unfortunate mice. You ask him if he absolutely must do this every time. He smiles at you: "Am I not repaying the favor? If they can spend days trampling on my flora and hunting my fauna, then they can spend a dozen more clinging to a wasted life." There is sadistic glee in those mismatched eyes of his... You remind yourself to never get on his bad side unless you want to spend the last remaining slivers of your life trapped and walking aimlessly through a creepy, enchanted forest.

[aurae-rori]

HI NEW MUTUAL, UR COOL AF

can't wait to reblog ur poems from now on 💪

i asked in the comment section but i think it's better through here wHO IS MR RATIO LIKE I HAVE NEVER HEARD THAT NAME BEFORE AND UR WRITING POEMS FROM HIM WHAT-

tho i should take after you, since im meaning to write poetry for characters myself

So, Who is Dr. Ratio? (copy pasted from my intensive paragraphs in the comments.)

he's my dad! boogie Woogie Woogie- on a more serious note he is a scholar and teacher who has serious implied academic trauma and suffers with self esteem. he's lowkey chuuyacore because he cares for people in a way that is "brash" but his ultimate goal is to cure idiocy from the world. so basically he wants to teach people who never got an opportunity to learn.

also has issues about not being let into this organization called the "genius society" because he was called a genius for his entire life. the god of knowledge did not acknowledge him or let him into the society, and it kind of made his whole self esteem go crash. however the reason why ratio wasn't let into the society is because he is too human to be a genius. but he also feels alienated from people due to his intelligence. his empathy and love for humans holds him back from being a "genius".

and i am so fucking miserable about how he seems to hate himself yet loves everything else unconditionally. "dandelion garden" is about dr ratios perspective on the guy i ship him with, however i have a poem dedicated to how he sees himself too. my favourite goober even if he has a goofy name!

I ALSO THINK THAT YOU ARE COOL AF!!! i will be dropping poetry fr for you 🔥🔥🔥🔥

also this is my dad real not fake

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[six-white-venus]

MY FAVORITE WORD EVER

rot

OR!!

gone

you find my corpse on a bright summer morning.

you break into my freezing cabin with a raised eyebrow. unphased. curious. then, a slow smile appears. i am immediately wary.

it has been years since i’ve had visitors in my humble abode and i like it that way. the cold keeps me safe. my body rots like a bruise swells; slow, painful, with withering purples and blues. it stretches the time of my body in this land into an endless limbo that i clutch with my cold, dead hands. my heart is still and i am numb, have been so for a long, long time. i am safe.

you find my corpse on a summer morning and stomp into my home/hell with eyes ablaze and teeth flashing and if i was alive, my heart would’ve seized at the sight. you lug my body to my backyard, unflinching. the sun burns my skin and everything hurts and i want to kick and scream and thrash in your hold because you idiot, you stupid motherfucker, don’t you know the rot sets in faster when life is around?

but dead men don’t scream, don’t move. you drop me on the grass with heaving breaths and all i could do is burn while the cicadas sing of my second demise. then, you start talking.

you tell me about your day and ask me about mine and barrel on when all you’re met with is silence. you tell me of the sky, the wind, and your favourite sundress. you must be insane. out of your fucking mind. don’t you see this rotting vessel of mine? my unseeing gaze and blue lips and cracking skin? don’t you smell the rot, the death? you surely do. then why aren’t you running? no, stop. stop moving closer. you madman, leave me in this wretched place. the warmth of your touch will only make me fester, don’t you see?

but you stay. you tell me how the crisp apple bursts into a delightful sweetness when you sink your teeth into it and pull my head to your lap. you tell me about your mom’s cooking and let my cold seep into your skin. my mouth is sewn shut and you are holding me so gently and i want to scream for mercy, for an ounce of cruelty. give me back my home, you villain. give me back my hell.

ice melts. the heat thaws my flesh and the rot digs into my body with its talons unsheathed and merciless. you pitch a tent next to my body and spend your nights here. night after night, i listen to the lull of your heart and watch the rise and fall of your chest as my body breaks itself down from inside out. i am warm.

and you, stubborn, baffling, ethereal you; you stay. the next day and all the days after that. the stench is getting unbearable now. i can see it in your eyes, in every ragged breath of yours. a corpse will remain a corpse no matter how much it is loved. there are only so many stories you can tell without gagging at the sight of this monstrosity. the sun always sets. stories end. love lives where life does. your kindness never did have a place between my blackened teeth and diseased heart, my dear.

but you come back with a gentle brush of lips against my decaying forehead. your hand cradles my rotten head. my sweet warmth, there you are. won’t you leave?

you won’t, right?

you dig my grave all by yourself. six feet deep, seven feet tall because you want me to be comfortable. what a useless gesture. i learn love feels like the glow of the moon and feather soft touches and a grave dug with bare hands.  you lift me in your arms, careful not to jostle me too much, lest i fall apart. kindness feels like a siren’s lullaby and i can feel my eyes droop. it’s dangerous and so very beautiful.

things are different in my new home. numbness feels so far away. there is life thrumming in my veins and eating away at my flesh. you bring me flowers everyday- chrysanthemums, dandelions and tulips- you tell me they remind you of me. how foolish. how very wonderful.

soon, i will bloom into all the flowers you can dream of from this very earth you laid me in. soon, i will rise, petals unfurling, laugh booming. i will weave myself in your braids and take root in your chest and spread down to the very tips of your fingers. my darling, my sun, my rose; i promise i will find you on a bright summer morning.

[irrlicht-writes]

dandelions

“If ever I’d be reborn, I’d like to be a flower,” the bard says, while gently sitting in a field, picking flowers for no reason really. Geralt sits not too far from him, keeping an eye on Roach so that she might not eat too many flowers and sour her stomach.

“Hm,” the Witcher replies, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred, “as a flower, I could waive in the wind, dance under the sun and sing of worlds yet to come.”

“You sing plenty now,” the Witcher reminds him, “why not sing of those worlds now?”

The bard laughs, and it’s a clear, bright sound, and it engulfs the entire valley.

“If I sang of those worlds now, darling Witcher,” he plucks another flower, deep violet, and adds it to his ever-growing bouquet, “they would all tell me to shut up and sing the coin song again.”

“We both hate the coin song.”

“Indeed we do! It’s the price of fame, although I’d wish they would have forgotten it by now. I haven’t even sung it in ages! I’ve written catchier refrains.”

The Witcher snorts. “You have? I must have missed them.”

The bard throws some flowers in the Witcher’s general direction but as flowers do, they all fall to the ground before ever hitting their target. “I am wounded,” the Witcher says tonelessly, for nothing but mocking purposes. The bard huffs and turns his attention back to his flowers.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard says again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies again, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred yet again, “as a flower, they would not hear me sing at all. But if they could hear me on the wind, they would love me all the more.”

“They love you plenty now, hearing you sing already.”

The bard laughs again, like the Witcher does not understand.

“No, my love, they do not. Oh they love me, yes, my prancing and my singing, and my flirting, and my twirling, but me, they love not. If I were not to sing, not to prance, not to flirt, not to twirl, not to joy their hearts for coin – they would take no interest in me. Another washed up wanderer on the road, they’d say! Throw him some mouldy bread and hope he brings no plague with him!”

“I’ve not met a many washed up wanderers brave enough to follow me into the fray.”

The bard smiles then, a whispered little thing the Witcher almost did not see. Roach wanders around, sniffing the different flowers and yet, she had eaten not a single one of them.

A pleasant silence befalls them in the valley, as the bard continues to pick more flowers – who he is picking them for, the Witcher does not know. The bard does things sometimes that make no sense, because he wants to. The Witcher has learned to accept this, and this is a pleasant thing to do, a pleasant place to rest.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard starts again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies once more, because it is tradition now, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues – as per tradition – undeterred, “as a flower, mayhap a dandelion, I could be carried by the wind, being carried to where I need to go.”

“You travel plenty now,” the Witcher says, “no need to be carried by the wind.”

“That might be true, dear heart, and yet! How limited are we, bound to the ground beneath our feet, the saddle of a horse? The wind! The wind knows no limit, crescending into a storm. And! Darling Witcher, how would we know where we’re needed? We can only travel so far, see so many places. What if we’d be needed in the other direction? How would we know?!”

“All we can do is move forwards, bard. We do our best where we can.”

The bard plucks his last flower and turns to the Witcher. In his arms, he holds all the flowers he picked – colourful and pretty, a plenty a piece. In his hand, he holds a dandelion, with its seed ready to be carried away.

“That we do, my love. That we do.”

He looks at the dandelion in his hand, and the wind plays gently with his hair.

Quietly, he blows and the dandelion seeds get picked up by the wind.

The Witcher and the Bard look after them until they are out of sight.

Then, they move on to the next town, and the bard plays music in the tavern. He prances, and sings, and flirts, and twirls, and they love him.

Many, many years later, Geralt comes across a field of flowers.

In it sits a boy, picking flowers.

He notices Geralt from a distance, and looks up, waves, and grins brightly like the sun. He wears a flower crown made of buttercups and dandelions.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard whispers quietly, “I’d like to be a flower.”

[ruershrimo]

#18 with platonic Brother-in-law Diluc! I think it would be funny if Traveller!Reader (jokingly) and Paimon (not so jokingly) kept asking for increasingly expensive things for Christmas. Whether Diluc delivers is up to you.

the christmas mix | #18- santa baby & #7- rocking around the christmas tree | brother-in-law!diluc and traveller!reader (platonic), husband!kaeya x traveller!reader (romantic)

event masterlist

features diluc (platonic), kaeya (romantic), traveller!reader

notes: hello honey, I really hope this is okay!! you were so sweet and I really liked your idea hahah it just took me a while. I’m so sorry if it’s not up to standard and wasn’t worth the wait (please let me know if you’d like me to write anything else in the future to compensate ;v;,,). regardless, I hope you have a wonderful christmas ❤️!!

warnings: none, really (except for no capitalisation, I suppose?)

summary: it seems like paimon doesn’t have any regard for diluc’s bank account (and why would she?), and that your husband and his brother will be having a good christmas this year, whether they’d like to admit it or not.

christmas in mondstadt, you’ve come to learn, is always a cheery, beautiful thing. there are stalls temporarily set up in springvale and the city itself, selling mulled dandelion wine, more varieties of wurst than there were dandelion seeds in teyvat, and all kinds of lovely little trinkets from traditionally made wooden toys to handmade christmas tree ornaments. it’s like the one time of the year when parents are taking their children all the way to dragonspine to play with the snow, the time when citizens are flocking to the cathedral to pray to their lord (who just so happens to be the drunkard singing christmas carols in the tavern), the time when families are gathering by the fireplace to chat and bask in each other’s presence or sitting by the table to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal at christmas gatherings, parties and the like. even some members of the knights of favonius are taking a break no matter how busy they are— especially jean, lord knows how much the lady needs a break— and you and your husband kaeya already have loads of preparations underway for christmas gatherings and the like. 

it was a lovely thing. 

“merry christmas,” your brother-in-law— diluc ragnvindr, the wine tycoon himself— greets you as you enter the tavern after a long day of commissions (it was to be expected, what with all the preparations needed to be made for a safe and pleasant christmas). 

kaeya waves at you as you sit by the counter, before you peck his cheek and tuck some few of his luscious strands of blue hair behind his ear with a “hello, love”. 

“merry christmas to you too,” you reply to diluc, “even if it’s only, like— a whole week away?” 

“well, christmas in mondstadt starts a month before the actual day itself,” kaeya jokes, “and I’m sure my dear brother would be pleased to gift you whatever christmas present you’d like, wouldn’t you, diluc?” 

diluc grimaces as if looking at the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. (it was funny.) “shouldn’t you be doing that for your own spouse, kaeya?” even the way he says his brother’s name sounds like he’s spitting it out, though you know he doesn’t truly despise him, and so you try your best to hold a snort. 

“oooh, ooh, master diluc!” paimon starts, rather discourteously (or maybe out of a lack of care for how the poor man would perceive her) waving her little arms about before his face, “maybe you can give us some really tasty, fancy food for christmas!” 

“hmm, expensive, too,” you join in, teasing him, “oh, please, diluc? or maybe even one of those new automobile machines they’re working on in fontaine…” 

it seems kaeya’s getting the hint— your hint, at least, since it seems like paimon is every bit serious about this unlike you and your husband. “well, you heard them, diluc—” 

“I am not getting you a car from fontaine of all places. and aren’t you already closely acquainted with the actual Chief Justice himself?” 

and on it went, with paimon naming every thing she could think of, and you (or your beloved kaeya) listing whatever else was more expensive than what she did as if you were raising the price at an auction— yet one difference this had from an actual auction was that instead of the buyers paying for the increasingly costly dishes, gifts and goods, it was poor master diluc instead. 

and your brother-in-law, though annoyed, was never fazed by the prices themselves and kept at the empty glasses he had been cleaning. 

—

“do you think he’ll actually get any of what we said we wanted?” you ask as the two you walk out the tavern, a dozed-off paimon in your arms. 

“I don’t think so,” kaeya begins, “but knowing him… well, let’s just say that whatever he decides to do will be interesting, to say the least.” 

“uh-huh,” you reply, raising a brow. 

—

there’s music playing from the gramophone, a jolly tune that kaeya hums as the fireplace crackles in tune with in delight. 

“kaeya,” you call. he stops mid-hum, setting down the cutlery on the table. he gets up immediately, like a pet to its owner’s voice, and suddenly you’re giggling fondly at the thought without having noticed it. 

“yes?” from behind his arms circle you like a warm, snug blanket, luscious and long strands of beautiful blue tickling your back and the nape of your neck, and his hand on your waist. 

“I think that madman really did it,” you grin, gesturing to the bottom of the ornately decorated (courtesy of both yours and kaeya’s ideas for where to place each and every ornament) christmas tree, and each of the gifts below them (from how you know what each one is, you’re quite sure he’s not the best gift-wrapper around, but definitely the wealthiest): a cutting-edge thirty-million-mora watch from fontaine, bespoke paimon-sized garments made from liyuean materials and handmade by inazuman tailors, and even a limited-edition TCG card yet to be fully released to the public (you know cyno would be punching the air right now if he knew). “or, at least, he tried to get some, even though some of the wishes we brought up were almost unfulfillable. he tried to get most of them.” 

“well I suppose we ought to just wait for him to come, if he’ll even visit,” kaeya says. 

“wonder how he even snuck it all here in the first place,” you jest, though you suppose the darknight hero had temporarily done some christmas duties in santa’s stead the night before, “and I’m sure that he’ll come,” you finish, pecking your husband on the cheek. 

— 

“merry christmas,” diluc says as he walks through the door, and although it’s late and most of the others have left, the clock has yet to strike midnight and it’s still christmas night. 

“and a happy christmas to you too, diluc,” kaeya greets, “and I was surprised you actually delivered. you wouldn’t happen to just be fooling us with the wrapping paper, would you?” 

“do you want me to have done so?” 

pft— even after regaining some of what they had before they bore the titles of estranged brothers, your husband was still absolutely incorrigible. (it was really funny, especially now that you knew each word they spoke to the other had less hate and more love than the last; that you knew it was more of playful jesting against a thoroughly annoyed sigh instead of vestiges of a duel many, many years ago.) 

but still. poor old master diluc, having to deal with his brother and his spouse, as well as the borderline unmeetable demands of said brother’s spouse’s long-time travelling companion. 

“haha! I was just joking, diluc. but thank you, for this, I suppose.” 

“mhm,” you add, “you should’ve seen paimon’s face when she saw the wrapping— actually, we were waiting for you to come so that we could open all of the presents together, right in front of the person who’d gotten them for us. 

“paimon!” you call, directing your voice to the rooms above you and up the stairs, “diluc’s here.” 

then she floats down, and, like a child, wags her legs about excitedly. “ooh, paimon was so excited for this!” 

so the four of you open the gifts together, untangling the poorly-tied ribbons (again, you’re sure diluc must have tried his best, and done so on his own, too) and tearing away at the wrapping paper. paimon squeals in delight with each gift opened, and kaeya whips out a kamera for a picture of the four of you. 

—

“merry christmas, diluc,” kaeya says, handing him the gift, “from me to you.” 

—

“grape juice, huh?” 

“of course. he likes it, after all,” kaeya answered as he sat by the christmas tree, wrapping paper, scissors and tape scattered all over the floor, and then he pointed to the leather-wrapped object beside him, “but this makes everything better.”

“a book? it looks beautiful,” you commented. 

“no, a photo album. to capture memories we used to store old mementoes and photos in old boxes, but now that kameras are getting more and more common than ever, I decided to get one like this. see?” he grinned, displaying its opened pages before you, “it has these cases to protect and preserve the photos inside.” 

“oh, kaeya,” you kissed his cheek, “it’s wonderful. I’m sure he’ll love it.” 

event taglist (please send an ask if you’d like to be added!):

wishing everyone a happy christmas ❤️!

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober Recap and Masterpost 2023

Untitled Egg Poem Egg Yolk Splattered in a chipped bowl, Limitless potential Broken like the dawn.

Scared of wasted sunrise, Scared of loving white lies, Yearning, Wanting to breathe free.

Prison within a prison, Living without living, I am spinning, toiling, burning, Breaking, sifting, praying, learning, Nothing blooming Nothing growing Tears.

Crackling insanity, A song that boils within me A rhythm Setting me in stone.

And I'll claw in Like dandelions, Vines, like yeast and mold I'll make a mark one day, you'll see.

Rooted, I'll grow my thorns, It's not my fault for being born, Sorry if My laughter is too loud.

I'll make a reverie of mechanical monotony No more apologies Just me. Insects and wriggling larvae, Eggshell like lead paint chips, Star dust doesn't choose its shape.

Pigment from wilted roses, blood spilled by mistake, I refuse to ever break.

Not again.

Eggtober is over. We did it~ The poem doesn't really speak to a current state of mind. Just a pattern of maladaptive thinking I grew up having, being the weird kid. People like the rough edges a lot more when you grow up, I've found. Makes you interesting. Or maybe it's just easier to find your people when you're unapologetically strange online. And I like that Eggtober sort of embraces that. It's not a super serious Inktober challenge. Just a bunch of weird people drawing weird eggs. And I mean that in the best way. People expect there to be a "why" a lot. "Why eggs?" And sometimes there is a why. Sometimes I draw eggs to express something or to symbolize something. But sometimes there is no why. Sometimes it's just because an egg is easy or fun or comfortable. Sometimes an egg just feels right. Sometimes it's just to make something. Doesn't have to be poetic or meaningful. Sometimes you just draw an egg, and that's all it is. And I think a lot of discomfort around art is that everyone expects there to be a why, and if you don't have a why, then your art doesn't deserve to be seen. "Why do you like gorey stuff, kinky stuff, weird stuff? If you can't explain, I'm choosing to believe you're a freak and should be disallowed from creating." And I'm lucky, I think, to not be that popular. I don't get asked these sorts of things. But I see it happen to other people. And sometimes I get it. An answer to the why pacifies. I get uneasy with horror the same as everyone and I pacify it by reading the wiki and learning the secrets and understanding the why. But I think we need to get more comfy making up our own why, or get comfy with the knowledge that sometimes there isn't a why. Sometimes the little brain goblin decides there is no why. They just like the weird little eggs. And that's okay. And I think the reason we make up for other peoples' "why" should maybe stop being "because they're a weird little freak that likes degenerate things." Because yeah, maybe they are. But it's not a bad thing. And the world is a lot more interesting when we accept that we don't always know the why. And the why isn't always as simple as that.

I dunno. I'm rambling a bit. But I'm grateful to everyone that showed up and participated and shared and liked and just... enjoyed existing where the thing happening was lots of eggs and the "why" was just "why not?"

Hoping every one of you has a nice glass of your preferred warm beverage and stays nice and toasty for the rest of the year. (Shout out to the southern hemisphere folks if there are any. May you guys have an iced beverage of your choice and stay nice and cool for the rest of the year.)

Lots of thoughts about Eggtober 2023 and no good way to articulate them, but suffice it to say that having a loose amount of structure like this is very good on my garbage ADHD brain. If anything in the collage catches your fancy, here's the posts in order from the top left to the bottom right. May the rest of 2023 be sweet. I can't wait to see everyone again next year! And don't eat too much Halloween Candy at once, even if it is those yummy gummy fried egg candies.

Eggtober 2023 Posts in Order: (Unfortunately I didn't learn about the speedpaint feature until day 6 😢)

Eggtober 1st: Fried Egg on Green Eggtober 2nd: Lemon Fried Egg (Both Versions) Eggtober 3rd: Fried Egg Cake

Eggtober 4th: Poached Eggs and Asparagus Hollandaise Eggtober 5th: Sheet Pan Fried Eggs Eggtober 6th: Raw Egg (Both Versions)

Eggtober 7th: Painted Egg Eggtober 8th: Rice Crispy Eggs Eggtober 9th: Chocolate Souffle Eggtober 10th: Hot and Sour Soup

Eggtober 11th: Flan Eggtober 12th: Fried Eggs and Bacon Eggtober 13th: Ramen Eggs Eggtober 14th: Tiger Skin Egg

Eggtober 15th: Fried Egg with Berries Eggtober 16th: Cheesy Baked Cream Eggs Eggtober 17th: Mushroom Quiche Eggtober 18th: Cipriani Cake

Eggtober 19th: Pavlova with Strawberry Jam Eggtober 20th: Deviled Egg Eggtober 21st: Hard-boiled Egg and Mayo Eggtober 22nd: Scrambled Eggs with Cheese

Eggtober 23rd: Omurice Eggtober 24th: Shrimp Fried Rice Eggtober 25th: Uovo in Raviolo Eggtober 26th: Image of Fried Egg on Jack-o-lantern.

Eggtober 27th: Tea Egg Eggtober Eggtober 28th: Monster Eggs Eggtober 29th: Korean Egg Bread Eggtober 30th: Fried Egg on Magenta in the Stlye of @quezify

Eggtober 31st: Fried Egg on Burger Eggtober 31st Bonus: Egg Creature from SNOBBISM

Special thanks to my bae, @actualaster for the love and support, @hannikka for the encouraging words, @lady-quen for the ongoing collab, and @quezify for being the best host. Love you all! I am putting the King Sized Reese's and KitKat candy bars in your metaphorical Halloween bags.