#i barfed this one out

[feimier]

once upon a dream.. CHILDHOOD ENCOUNTERS ִ ࣪𖤐 ִinc. riddle, azul, malleus. gn reader┊ 日长睡起无情思，闲看儿童捉柳花。。。

↻ can be taken as both platonic or romantic!

ʚ Riddle Rosehearts ：the regular at the patisserie

His first encounter with you was the same day he allowed himself to taste the strawberry tarts. The sunlight shone brilliantly on the silver of the patisserie, and he remembers your smile as you entered, and remembers how desperately he wanted to feel that too. He’d see you stand on the tips of your toes and see the excited gleam in your eyes as you observed the many delicacies with eager anticipation, and would imagine the joy he would have if only he had the privileges too.

He remembers how Trey had called you over to their table, and remembers the ghastly speech you made on how blueberry tarts were better (he begs to differ, but alas). The distressing look on your face when he told you that this was his first in a shop, much less a patisserie, was a delight to see as he savoured in your agitation. Despite the harsh scoldings from his mother after, it was still undoubtedly the best afternoon he ever had.

Life was normal for him, for a while at least. That was until he started spotting unprompted appearances of strawberry tarts sitting on his bedroom windowsill. He was originally hesitant in his advances towards the dessert, but gave in to the temptations eventually. He thought it a miracle and perhaps it was his mother’s way of apologising, yet the continuous presence of a strawberry tart every Friday afternoon proved otherwise. After the third week, notes scribbled with small riddles and greetings started to emerge along with it; drawings and poems the next. Eventually, the mysterious sender attached long letters that would narrate the mishaps of their week. Slowly but steadily, he knew more and more about his mysterious benefactor, and he could readily hazard a guess at who it was.

He would have to give you his thanks the next time he sees you, if he sees you at all.

ʚ Azul Ashengrotto ：the hopeless romantic by the sea

It was monday when he found his first scrap of text encased in the bottle next to his front door.

He was dismissive of it initially, deciding that it just wasn’t worth his time to be fixated on something so small, however peculiar and strange it might be. Yet despite his ignorance, the bottles— all with odd letters inside— keep appearing every week. They went from one to two, from two to three, and now as many as seven were found near the areas of his home, and as the amount of bottles increased, so did his intrigue.

Eventually, he could not help but fall victim to his curiosity. He slowly uncorked the bottle and took out the letter inside. He was half expecting for the ocean waters to ravage it, but the letter seemed to be covered in a special kind of gel to prevent it from dissipating with liquid, and this alone was enough to pique his interest even more. Materials such as this were quite rare, even in the merworld.. so how did this sender get ahold of it? Perhaps if he were to investigate further.. he might be able to find the great mage behind it.. maybe it was fate after all that brought these letters to him!

He was beyond disappointed to find that it was not indeed from a great mage, but rather from a simple lovesick human who was in a desperate search for affections. The letter did not contain a legendary spell that would transcend his existence, much to his disdain. Yet, the beautifully written words continued to captivate his attention, and he wonders how stupid someone will have to be to send such charming mail so relentlessly.. and with none of them getting sent back a reply. It’s quite sad honestly; makes him wonder how he might help this poor— wealthy— unfortunate soul.

Thankfully, the sender address was included in the letters. So naturally, he just had to take the first chance to lend his helping hand! He wasted no time to pen his return letter— the contents narrating the dealings and his terms. He decided to be the person that would write you a return letter every two weeks, on the conditions that you would partially financially support any of his forthcoming businesses. You ought to be able to.. considering the amount of madol you must’ve spent to acquire such magical gel.

That was the start for his first business affair. Time had long passed since then; now he lives in the present, where he sits back on his chair as he reminisces the past. He wonders how you’ve been doing recently, after all he hasn’t once received a letter from you, even after he informed you of his change in address.

Maybe it’s time to visit you directly.. to discuss the further terms of the contract of course.. now that you’re a important sponsor of mostro lounge.. he’s certain that he has no particular longing to continue knowing your thoughts, your emotions, and your life. It’s really not that you’re on his mind.. nor is it that he’s taken a liking to your ramblings.. it’s only that he believes there should be decent communication between client and proprietor (he still hasn’t realised himself that he had long broken the rule of replying only after two weeks).

He doesn’t want to know you at all.. or does he?

ʚ Malleus Draconia ：his knight in shining armour

It was not so surprising for malleus to see your rather dense form emerge from the dark robes of night and the overly lengthened barriers of his abode; it had happened much too many times and your perseverance had far surpassed his— quite limited (as you would often comment)— expectations.

Primarily, the accidental encounters he and you share were meant to be accidental. They were only ever supposed to occur in his escapades into the neighborhooding woods, just as the first he met you. At that time, he was still blissfully unaware of your abilities to initiate forced entries upon places that you were not supposed to set foot in, but alas, the current mischievous twinkle in your demeanor only continues to prove his perception to be flawed. He watches your silhouette as you hastily tidied yourself while huffing out whispers of hello— there was something especially endearing about your ruffled state, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on (perhaps he feels that it is akin to a secret you allowed yourself to share with him, a state where only he could know, a condition where it was suited for him to be ruffled too).

You were his secret, his escape from the crushing weight of the unbearable loneliness. You were the one flicker of color in his monochromatic life, the one who made him feel alive in this dream. Your visits to his balcony were nothing less than a miracle to him ,and so his original casual anticipations of your visits have slowly turned into something he cannot live without. It was a routine that you would come for one night every week, and you’d talk with him about mundane things in life like how your toothpaste tastes weird or how you have to do your bedsheets tomorrow. These carefree conversations are one of the few ties he has with childishness, and he relishes in it, no matter how fleeting the moments may be.

He sees your goodbye as you hop off the balcony, and he waves to you with a heavier heart than usual. He did not yet know that this would be the last he sees of you, for a very long time.

comments, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! thank you for the support 🌟🌟

[amelia-yap]

warrior

[huiyi07]

hey so do you guys ever think about how often Diluc is referred to as the ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ since he’s like the only male heir to the noble families and like it or not, where Jean is the authority of the nation, he’s pretty much the symbolic face of Mondstadt and the values the nation projects— and despite his temperament, Diluc has learned to embrace it wholeheartedly. He’s charismatic, extremely righteous, and he blazes bright and gives the people of Mondstadt a fire that guides them in the dark, quite literally. Like he’s literally Bruce Wayne lmao

But he doesn’t want this, no, and here’s the proof- maybe he did, once upon a time, before everything happened— but he doesn’t really care about wine, he only cares about the winery because of the people in it and his father. He’s righteous but doesn’t give a damn about the rules and the knights of favonius. After what happened to him, he’s clearly a rebel at heart now, not some charming superhero who does everything expected of him, unlike before. In summary, Diluc was someone who was quite literally ready to become an (uncrowned) prince, pretty much royalty in every way except title- and on surface level, he still is, but he throws that mantle away in secret whenever he can.

And then look at Kaeya, his brother who’s always lived in his shadow. It’s easy to see that now, people don’t really project Mondstadt’s values onto Kaeya the same way they do onto Diluc, since lots of people hardly even remember that they’re brothers. And yeah people still think kaeya is reliable and nice, but also because of how Kaeya built his image after Diluc left— an excessively over the top personality that pretends to be sadistic, mean, and at the same time dripping with false charm. So despite that people still find him approachable and nice as expected of a knight, hardly anyone would call him befitting of a prince.

But Kaeya is actually so painfully and authentically ‘princely’ and kind, deep down— the way he deals with children, his fierce loyalty and willingness to protect people at all costs, his self sacrificial tendencies that most often appear for Diluc’s sake. Even the tidbits of lore we get about him scream aristocracy- his ‘ceremonial’ bladework, Alberich family secrets that reveal just how central they are to the kingdom of khaenriah. This is kinda obvious to any player who’s bothered to learn anything about kaeya, but to the characters in game, there are very few that know that side of him.

And whereas Diluc is forcibly projected the title of royalty and secretly rejects it, Kaeya was actually born into it- his family is very important to Khaenriah, and much like how he does with anything related to his past and heritage, he loudly and outwardly rejects anything to do with ‘royalty’. Diluc outwardly rejects what Kaeya shows (a darker, more ‘means justify the end’ nature), and Kaeya tries to hide what Diluc projects (a sophisticated and aristocratic upbringing).

Honestly? It’s as if they were swapped at birth. Kaeya’s real hidden nature, even after everything that happened to him, remains to be so unwavering and people-oriented, while Diluc’s true personality changed drastically over time. Not that Diluc isn’t unwavering or whatever, but Diluc mostly actively rejects relationships and prefers to do everything alone, obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, whereas Kaeya always, always yearns for companionship and for people to be by his side- solidarity.

Diluc is the poster image of royalty, but his brother who hides in the shadows is a real king. They complete each other, balance each other out, represent the parts that the other hides. I don’t know if hoyoverse always meant them to be that way, but damn they basically represent each other’s parts of themselves that they lost. Yin and Yang, two halves of the same whole.

[zooophagous]

Thank you Tuunbaq for being the only animal in the house that doesn't consistently assault me with some form of excrement.

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 147

psychically induced chronic illness squad

[ominousgradient]

Tried my hand at making the main dragons as Palicos

Toothless:

Hookfang:

Meatlug:

Barf & Belch (just pretend they're twins)

Stormfly:

[fujimousee]

@sanusoweek sanuso week day 2 : fairy tale ..

[g-taire]

lydia martin (+allydia) | the prophecy — taylor swift

please, I've been on my knees change the prophecy. don't want money, just someone who wants my company. let it once be me

cw: violence, blood, etc. typical to lydia's canonical storylines >>> no clips or audio of lorraine martin's s6 death used <<<

[makorragal-312]

I'm trying to keep my expectations low for tonight's episode in terms of a Gay!Eddie realization.

But then I remembered that the last time I did that for potentially monumental episodes, I was bitch-slapped with a Bi!Buck confirmation, an "Eddie's straight," and a feelings realization prologue for Buck.

So I don't know what the fuck to do.

[chevs-and-spiders]

animation is my passion btw

[eureka-its-zico]

Today’s been a real fucking tough day for me.

My chronic illness took me from rapid care to the ER (the irony, truly) where I unfortunately waited nearly 3 hours for my medications and breathing treatments.

By the time they were able to get me a room and help me, we had to discuss possible intubation. Currently I just got this hi-flow contraption up my nose that I’m desperately trying not to get fucking anxiety from.

I’ve cried because I’ve been fucking scared and in pain and fighting since 12 am to breathe and my original RN Richard came into my room to apologize because he felt like he didn’t do enough for me. “You rocked it and you shouldn’t have had to. I should’ve done more.”

We almost started crying together. Today’s been such a shitty day and it’s packed in here and I just hope Richard knows I appreciate him regardless of what he thinks he could’ve done to do better. He was enough.

I’m alive and still breathing and that’s good enough.

[andragoras-in-vanity]

im distraught, my rook has elgar'nans vallaslin.....

[queenofbaws]

top 5 favourite until dawn characters to WRITE vs top 5 favourite until dawn characters in general (if it's different)

it is such an important distinction med, and i thank you endlessly for letting me get into it 😏

WRITING

1. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: this one likely shocks no one. there's just. a joy. that comes with writing an unhinged, monster-hunting hermit. he kicks doors open. he lives in a burnt out hospital full of Creatures. he's larry fessenden. he's alive in canon for roughly 5 minutes. he's the light of my life. 2. mike: probably slightly more of a surprise because i don't write him OFTEN, but i love writing mike. lovelovelove writing him. mostly because, of the ud kids, i think he's the character who talks...the most...like i do irl??? similar speech patterns, i mean - same tendency to just. say things. that do not make sense. or things that did not need to be said. 3. EMILY: again, probably a surprise because i don't write her much, but my GOD there is a freedom to writing in emily's voice asldkfjdskf she's smart. she's mean. she always has at least three insults locked and loaded in the chamber. she's also the only character in the franchise to say "understand the palm of my hand, bitch." she contains multitudes. 4. dr. hill: gotta be honest here. i went through. a lot. of schooling for psychology. okay. like. however much you think that means? it was like. twice that. and i spent a lot of time - a lot of time - listening to professionals in the field talk in circles and say absolutely batshit things while sagely nodding and giving everyone around them knowing looks, and if i didn't have alan j. hill to channel all that lingering angst into, i might've exploded by now 😫 hehehehehe. i'm only sort of joking. 5. beth: what did supermassive give her? nothing. what does that mean? she can be anything i want, and i don't have to worry over whether or not it sounds believable in canon 😎 lmfao. in much the same way i looove writing jack because we get like. 10 lines and A Vibe from him, beth's a hoot to write for because, like. we know who her siblings are. we have an IDEA of what her home life must've been like...and everything else is up for debate!!!

JUST, LIKE, TO LOOK AT

1. ashley ashley ashley: they could never make me hate you bb. did she handle some things poorly? yes. does she make some questionable decisions? sure. would i give her the world if the opportunity presented itself? of course. look, i just think. she should get to do...whatever she wants. always. as a treat. :)c 2. matt: i am so. intrigued. by matt's whole deal. every second of it. he's a huge part of the prank but he's also hugely sympathetic. he has that incredibly cute moment with ashley right as they get to the lodge but seems pretty chilly (if not downright disinterested in) chris and josh, her best friends. he helps jess through the mines. he holds his own with emily. unless you play him a v certain way, he seems the most interested in smoothing things over between everybody. HE LEAVES. THE FUCKING. HATCHET. AT THE BASE. OF THE FIRE TOWER. i would love to live in his brain for just like...ten minutes. just really figure him out. (i need to write more with him too 😭 he has bewitched me, body and soul) 3. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: look. look i'm not subtle. i just. love that weird old man. i just love him so much. if supermassive said 'hey here's a dlc where you go through one (1) calendar day as jack fiddler, it costs $60 and is roughly 1 hour of gameplay,' i'd fold immediately. idk why. 4. josh: there is no one - NO ONE - in this, or any other, game who's so willing to commit so fully to the bit. my man had BLUEPRINTS. my guy had DEAD PIGS. bro sourced knockout gas and fake newspapers and real blood and made voice recordings and an alter ego and rigGED HIS WHOLE FAMILY'S VACATION HOME WITH BOOBY TRAPS, THREW A PARTY ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS SISTERS' SUPPOSED DEATHS, AND EVERYONE STILL FUCKING SHOWED UP. say whatever else you want about him, josh had SOMETHING figured out, man. 5. jess: again. did she make some questionable decisions? sure. do i agree with everything she did? no. but after everything she goes through, after all the tragedy and agony and terror she is put through, this girl still has the wherewithal to grab a shovel and beam a guy in the head with it, and you know what? i respect that 🙏🏻 plus she wore hiphuggers to a party on a mountain in alberta in the dead of winter, and i just want to study her under a microscope.

[sentientsky]

a tiny little ficlet based on this lovely comment from @queer4cryptids on this post! (i accidentally made it angsty, i’m so sorry!! but there’s comfort and gay yearning in there, i swear!) when the night falls low and settles against the side of the Earth; when the the dark begins to carry a certain weight, he shifts his stance. he lets himself breathe air he doesn't really need into lungs that exist simply by virtue of his inclination to breath. it's the same pattern Crowley's watched unfold a hundred million times times over—the stretching of a thread until it frays, three women, a set of blades; a wicked inevitability carried in the lines of time-weathered hands.

and still it never changes, never lessens the welling of grief that builds and breaks in his chest, that stagnates and stratifies like layers of sand upon gravel upon so many eons since he first fell from the sky and lost the right to mourn a woman hungry only for bread and a little kindness.

he leans back against a headstone, swallowing down a familiar hollowness. the sparrows have all taken root in the knots of tree trunks. the moon blinks back at him, clouds swaying like an eyelid closing to sleep.

he turns his face away from the light, sucks in breath for which he still has no need. the rough-hewn granite is going to scuff his coat; he knows this with the certainty of having lived in a world full of serrated edges for so many years. and yet he doesn't care. Crowley can't find it in him to give a damn because finally, finally he's there. he's there and he's real and tangible and it's been eleven months, two weeks, and four days since he's last felt the warmth of angelic skin so close to his own. not that he's been keeping count, of course. and Aziraphale's got that faraway look again. the one pressed into the lines of his face in the aftermath of a flood that tilted against the sky; the same one Crowley saw in the stark daylight of a death warrant unfurled and stamped with the name of the holy Mother herself. it's the same, hollow, teeth-gritted look Crowley himself wore as he stood on a hillside reeking of freshly-cut wood, bearing witness to yet another child of the Almighty thrown to the wolves. Aziraphale turns, then, and blue eyes meet black lenses meet amber-gold. "Crowley—" Aziraphale manages, choking it out in a half-whisper, like it hurts—like it scrapes his throat with bits of barbed wire. and, just like that, something in him is breaking and the oak trees are all whispering dangerous things and still, still he can't find a version of this story in which he doesn't lean closer, doesn't press himself forward into air that smells of earl grey tea and old books and something celestial and hallowed and holy underneath it all. and as though he's drowning—as though the moon doesn't watch them with a flickering gaze and the trees can't hear the brush of skin meeting skin—Aziraphale presses his fingertips to the side of Crowley's wrist. he moves no further. the air holds still, time seeming to freeze around them. it's intentional, he realizes; it's fire and it's heat and it's utterly fucking terrifying. even now, so far above ground, Crowley can nearly feel the weight of hellish eyes on his back. a shudder runs the length of his body. and yet. in the atomic space of that hungry, desperate, throat-baring yet, he turns his hand, trembling, to the side. he finds the angel's touch like a bird bearing North—like a compass forever calibrated to a single, fixed point.

"I know—" he rasps. “Angel, I know.” he twines his fingers with Aziraphale's, and it's positively electric. every cell in his tragically, wonderfully human body has turned pure gold, conducted and galvanized and sparking. a sharp, stilted inhale; a quiet anticipation carved out in the space between their pressed hands (and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss...). the graveyard is still. the grief is there, still. the grief might always be there. but the sharp edges dull, the welling in his chest grows steady and slow and gentle. and the world becomes a little less difficult to bear with the two of them holding it up.

[woeismywaffle]

I WATCHED TF ONE TODAY YIPPPPPPPPPPIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *EXPLODES*

[queenlua]

about to Hunter S Thompson it on this plane due to Serendipitous First Class Upgrade wish me luck