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iceunhie · 6 months ago

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latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

#hsr x reader #— stellaronhvnters.#hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #moze x reader #moze x you #moze honkai star rail #x reader #for the tagged ppl: lmk if i should remove the tag haha #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader

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mikashisus · 20 days ago

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❛ ── BETWIXT TIRESOME WAR ❜

⤷ synopsis. it was a poet's job to string tales of heroes, yet you weren't quite expecting for kremnos' crown prince to be your muse.

mydei x gn!reader. 2k. ( contents : silly goobers being silly, that's it ) ╱ taglist. @wystiix @pneumosia @st6rly @luvether @kazuinvocation @pixelcafe-network ( art creds : quinii09 )

The off-key note rang in the hurried air of Marmoreal Market as you sat on a street corner, tuning your lute. The overpopulated holy city was bustling at this time of day. You watched carefully as men and women roamed the streets, carrying baskets of fruits and bread.

A smile pulled at your lips as you hopped to your feet— your lute now fully tuned and ready to be played —and strummed a chord.

The heads of passersby turned at the sound, their curiosity piqued. You strummed another chord, slowly falling into a familiar rhythm that you’ve played countless times all over the lands.

“Gather ‘round, for I shall string you the tale of the almighty Huntress— they who tore down the banners of Kremnos and slayed a beast with naught but their own bare hands!”

The people flocked like birds, gathering around at the sound of your voice and the prospect of a divine tale. Fixing your footing, you let the winds caress your form. Your eyes fell closed and you exhaled softly, letting the music guide you as the lyrics to a song you’ve sung countless times flowed from your mouth.

“The Dissembled Poet of Okhema” was a title known throughout the entirety of the holy city. You’ve paraded the streets of Marmoreal Market an indefinite amount of times, carrying nothing on your person except for the lute in your hands.

As far as anyone was concerned, you had always been present in the holy city. There were numerous bards throughout the land. However, those with keen eyes had seen through your innocent act. They knew you showed up one day out of nowhere, acting as if you had always resided in Okhema.

That was the case with the Crown Prince of Kremnos, Mydeimos. This hadn’t been your first meeting, nor was it the first time he’d seen you lingering on street corners. Bards were flamboyant and harmless, singing the tales of heroes and gods alike. He paid no mind to them, but when it came to you— the Dissembled Poet —he couldn’t help but watch your every move. Like a lion stalking its prey, he watched from afar.

Twirling a cup of pomegranate juice in his palm, he listened to the tale you were entertaining your crowd with. It was the infamous tale of a Huntress from Kremnos, a warrior who was feared by both the people of Kremnos and the gods alike. With their bare hands, they had slain a gigantic beast— just like the founder of Kremnos had done all those years ago. The Huntress was a renowned figure, worshipped by all Kremnoans before the city fell to the black tide.

Now, their tale was no more than a legend. Rumors had spread years ago when the Huntress mysteriously disappeared. A few rumors told of how the Huntress was displeased with the royal family and therefore made the choice to leave Kremnos. Another told of how they angered Nikador in some way, and were banished from the city-state. The most popular rumor had been that they had given up living the life of a warrior and fled to a land unknown and untouched, away from mortal eyes.

They were nothing but brainless rumors, dishonoring the life the warrior had once lived. Why focus so much on something so insignificant instead of focusing on the legacy they left behind?

All warriors with reasonable hearts and tenacious spirits were respected in Mydei’s eyes. Good warriors were those who upheld their ideals and fought justly instead of blindly. Tarnishing one’s legacy with imprudent rumors was a crime of the highest degree.

The song ended, and you took a dramatic bow as the crowd roared with praise and applause. Your cheeks burned as the rush of adrenaline fled your body. It dissipated slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as your fingers tingled. You’d never get tired of the thrill that accompanied your performances.

Performing for others was your passion. The care you put into your songs and your poems was the kind of care a loving mother showed her children. With another, less dramatic bow, you spilled your thanks and eagerly took the money the crowd tossed you.

With a tip of your hat, you bid them all farewell. Some lingered, singing your praises as they complimented your work. You chatted idly with them, acutely aware of the piercing honey eyes staring at you from afar.

You noticed his presence a while ago. You’ve sensed it at every one of your performances. It was a weight that pressed down on your shoulders, pushing you towards the earth. A sort of wrath swirled underneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the perfect chance to pounce on its prey. However, you were far from prey.

The last person left, bidding you farewell with a bright smile. As soon as they left your field of vision, your easygoing smile dropped, and you turned your attention to the prince who had made it his mission to stalk you the last few weeks.

With a playful smirk, you met him halfway, slipping into an alley. Swinging your lute onto your back with a certain flair you knew he was incapable of, you leaned against the hard stone wall.

“You know, if you were so impressed by my performances, you could’ve just said so,” you began, gauging his reaction, “a prince so enthralled by my poetic charm is a great honor, Your Highness—”

You took a bow, and he held up a hand to stop you. His eyes were calculating, never leaving your form for a moment.

“We both know you’re not a mere bard.” He said coolly.

“Whatever could you mean? I’m ‘fraid I don’t quite follow.”

“Don’t play dumb. Your songs are from eons ago. The others may be blind, but I see right through you.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. You sent him a tight-lipped smile. “My, do you have a fascination for music, dear Prince. To know all my songs, you must be a connoisseur! Tell you what, I’ll string you your own tale! One that tells of an Undying Prince who’s legacy lies in the blood of his enemies.”

His eye twitched, and you knew you had successfully gotten under his skin. Whatever it was that irked him, you didn’t know. You grabbed the end of your cape and tossed it in a flourish, leaving the alley before he could say anything else.

“It’ll be an epic for the ages! Murals painted in honor of my works, a tale passed down generations!”

You laughed as you ran down the streets, ignoring the yells of shopkeepers as you parkoured over their stalls and made your escape from the fierce lion chasing you down.

Although writing a song for the infamous Prince of Kremnos had been a joke in the moment, you considered after long hours of deliberation that you had to make it a reality. A song that described the Prince’s feats in war, his loyalty to his homeland, and his deep rooted care for others was going to be a challenge.

You’ve written countless songs about heroes. You wrote one dedicated to another Chrysos Heir, Phainon. The man himself had found out quite quickly, and you got to chat with him once after performing it in the marketplace. The shine in his eyes as he gushed over the song was comparable to that of a thousand suns.

How would Kremnos’ Prince react to his own epic? Flattered? Humored, perhaps? Resigned?

The excitement of seeing his reaction was great, and you got straight to work. You put everything aside, shoving scrolls off your desk and making room for the first draft of your new project. A fire of determination coursed through you. The words seemed to come naturally, as if they had appeared on the parchment themselves.

Your hand had cramped up, but you paid no mind. You spent days and nights working on the song, tugging at your hair in frustration or smiling subconsciously because of a witty line.

For hours, you’d stay hunched over the parchment on your desk, fighting the urge to give in to sleep. The marketplace lay uncharacteristically silent those days, mourning the absence of the poet they revered so much.

It was only when an attack from Nikador’s titankin breached the holy city that you finally finished the song you had spent one long and grueling week over. Usually, it’d take you much longer to write such a tale, but the Prince of Kremnos had given you a burst of inspiration you never knew you needed.

Scrambling to fix yourself up, you hummed a tune under your breath. You’d return to the marketplace today with your new song ready to be sung and a new thrill coursing through your veins that you’ve never felt before.

The markets were bustling just like any other day, even though the recent attack on the city had garnered a widespread panic. With purpose in your steps and the desire to rouse the hearts of the people in your veins, you found an empty spot on the street. Without uttering a word to them, people stopped to listen to your magnificent voice.

You took a deep breath and began to strum the upbeat tune. The music stole you away, drifting you along in the wind to days of yore— a time before you had decided to endlessly wander the world.

The lyrics took you back to the past when you had been a warrior revered by the people of Kremnos. You had been held in such high regard, you were worshipped among the people. Not only as a warrior, but as a Huntress.

The familiar sensation of burning in your cheeks returned as your heart thrummed loudly in your chest. Your fingers tingled, on the brink of going numb from your passionate strumming. The ringing in your ears drowned out anything else, trapping you in the feverish memories of a past life you wished you could forget.

There was a reason you fled Kremnos.

The song ended with a rasp scream. Your shoulders heaved as you huffed. Your whole body felt numb, and you slowly returned to the present— the ringing in your ears ceasing, revealing the tense silence of the square.

You hesitantly looked up, measuring the expressions of the crowd. In an instant, they bellowed with cheers. Among the piercing yells and tightly packed crowd, you spotted the very person you had written the song for.

He was watching you carefully, like he always did, except now he was clapping along with the rest of the people around him. Pride welled within you as you took a bow.

You entertained the citizens who approached you, excitedly telling them the details of your new song. When they all dispersed, you tipped your hat to the Prince, who sauntered up to you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“That… wasn’t half bad.” He told you.

You hummed. “Well, I spent a whole week slumped over my desk working on it. I sure hope I—”

“I know you’re from Kremnos, you can drop the innocent act.”

Ah… so he did catch on. You knew your act of innocence would come to an end eventually. You sighed heavily. “Indeed. What gave it away?”

The way you had written his feats in the song were from a glorified standpoint. Only someone from Kremnos would describe battle in such a celebratory way. You might’ve fooled everyone around you, but you couldn’t fool the Crown Prince of Kremnos.

Your question was left unanswered, though you didn’t mind. He let out a soft sigh. “Thank you… for the glory you brought Kremnos in your words.”

You certainly weren’t expecting a ‘thank you,’ nor a compliment, but the Prince— although appearing apathetic —was grateful and honored to be your muse. You could see it in the way his expression softened.

With a smile, you bowed. “Of course, my Prince—”

“Enough with that. It’s Mydei.”

“Hm. Well then, the honor is mine, Mydei.”

notes. this fic is very dear to me bc it's self indulgent, like the mc is LITERALLY my s/i LMAO. i had sm fun writing the mc cause they're such a goober. also, they're supposed to be pretty masc in appearance, while their title of 'huntress' is feminine! androgynous king <3 i struggled a lot with mydei’s dialogue so im sorry if he sounded off TT also the title of this is the name of the song the mc wrote for mydei !!

#honkai star rail #mydeimos #mydei #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #hsr #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #—stellaronhvnters.#—mikashisus works .ᐟ

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solvisun · 2 months ago

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121924. ❀ ₊˚⊹ HERSHEY’S KISSES

haikyuu 𝜗𝜚 tsukishima kei x fem!reader

you’ve had your fair share of experiences when it comes to relationships. yet for some reason, the one you have now, with a certain blonde who gives you love that’s tangible enough to feel its warmth flowing your skin— makes all your hair from your nape rise in an indescribable feeling. it’s a mix of apprehension, excitement, and an overwhelming desire to do something you have never done before.

or: 4 times you felt the urge to kiss him, and 1 time he acted upon it.

content 𝜗𝜚 4+1 fic. divided by parts. fluff!!! kinda slowburn. reader’s constantly losing their mind while mesmerizing kei. setting’s on the cusp of their second yr highschool. might have hints of suggestive towards the end. (making out kissing)

i. knocks u out of breath

ii. keep it cool

iii. keep it cool (could u?)

iv. u can’t

v. (+1!) and so does he

taglist (open!) — @stellar-haikyuu @kokokoula @luvether @yoru-exe @reirain @hwanghyunjinismybae @astolary @albakugo @zarisluvr @kazucee @23soong @anqelkoz @starstrikeer @liliesofdawnnn @tiramizuloz @leafington @velvetreds @thatonesilentviewer @sickpatientt @eclipse-0303 @b1xi @tsumya @jpegarchives @anonymity-222 @livin-life-high-and-dry @beezhives @snowthatareblack @ilovepeachesuwu @kukikoooo (reblog this or send in an ask if u want to be added!)

credits. header (unmei no hito ni deau hanashi), dividers (cafekitsune)

#❀ ₊˚⊹ hershey’s kisses #the title is so cute <3 #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #hq #hq x you #[✦]. solvia’s

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hxney-lemcn · 5 months ago

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❥ Honkai: Star Rail fic recs

Multi A Guardian or Two (Jiaoqiu & Moze together) ❥ one shot, flangst ❥ @luvether

Reverse Dating Tropes One (Boothill, Jing Yuan, Blade seperate) & Two (Gepard, Aventurine, Sunday seperate) ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @lowkeyren

that boy is mine (Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Veritas Ratio, Sunday, Argenti seperate) ❥ ficlet, fluff ❥ @pearlymel

First Meetings (Argenti, Sunday, Boothill, Blade, Aventurine, Jing Yuan seperate) ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @/kisstrela (deactivated)

Veritas Ratio Jealousy ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @earthtooz

Sunday Two can Play at That Game ❥ one shot, hurt/comfort ❥ @lowkeyren

Boothill Distraction ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @n0tamused

A lick and a promise ❥ one shot, fluff & smut ❥ @silentmoths

at your beck and call ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @suashii

Mess ❥ ficlet, crack/fluff ❥ @nvuy

Touch ❥ one shot, fluff/comfort ❥ @k9wa

#honkai star rail x reader #fic rec #boothill x reader #sunday x reader #veritas ratio x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #aventurine x reader #argenti x reader #gepard x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #moze x reader #hsr x reader

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lowkeyren · 2 months ago

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“are you sure you’re not just using this dance to show off?”

“maybe i am. but can you blame me? i have the most beautiful partner in the room.”

“you’re impossible.”

“no, i'm yours. isn’t that better?"

gorgeous art by lovely @luvether / @kunimiri pls check em out, she's cool asf n her art is super soft n cute omfg <3 ty kou best xmas gift ever!!

#✧renthinks!#damn this is so good! (brain explosion shabooms buildings fall over within 69km raidus)#when they tell me not to hyperventilate but kou sent me this masterpiece on a saturday night #honkai star rail #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #self ship #what wld our ship name even be. sunren?? renday LMFAOO #I FREAKED OUT OVER THIS IN KOUS DMS AND I WILL BE FREAKING OUT AGAIN ON MY PRIV LATER ON.

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vxnuslogy · 3 months ago

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MOOTS LIST ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

— adj. (of a feeling or action) experienced or done by each of two or more parties toward the other or others.

ᰔ @starhrtz : ( ♡ ) – checking in with star .ᐟ

ᰔ @arquistes : ( ♡ ) – checking in with sua .ᐟ

ᰔ @nervocat : ( ♡ ) – checking in with nervo.ᐟ

ᰔ @papiliotao : ( ♡ ) – checking in with rei .ᐟ

ᰔ @singularity-sam : ( ♡ ) – checking in with sam .ᐟ

ᰔ @celestemona : ( ♡ ) – checking in with bea .ᐟ

ᰔ @azuresaqua : ( ♡ ) – checking in with crys .ᐟ

ᰔ @tetrachrxmacy : ( ♡ ) – checking in with icarus .ᐟ

ᰔ @snobwaffles : ( ♡ ) – checking in with snowby .ᐟ

ᰔ @pneumosia : ( ♡ ) – checking in with yona .ᐟ

ᰔ @staarri : ( ♡ ) – checking in with zira .ᐟ

ᰔ @wanlia : ( ♡ ) – checking in with cecilia .ᐟ

ᰔ @cherieiu : ( ♡ ) – checking in with rie .ᐟ

ᰔ @zylophie : ( ♡ ) – checking in with zylophie .ᐟ

ᰔ @ouiouimochi : ( ♡ ) – checking in with mochi .ᐟ

ᰔ @wystiix : ( ♡ ) – checking in with whimsy .ᐟ

ᰔ @ughscara : ( ♡ ) – checking in with amy .ᐟ

ᰔ @https-sourlimes : ( ♡ ) – checking in with eiko .ᐟ

ᰔ @felibrary : ( ♡ ) – checking in with felicity .ᐟ

ᰔ @mikashisus : ( ♡ ) – checking in with eydis .ᐟ

ᰔ @marushato : ( ♡ ) – checking in with maru .ᐟ

ᰔ @justwinginglife : ( ♡ ) – checking in with hannah .ᐟ

ᰔ @ryescapades : ( ♡ ) – checking in with rye .ᐟ

ᰔ @slerixx : ( ♡ ) – checking in with eri .ᐟ

ᰔ @hrtkizv : ( ♡ ) – checking in with niv .ᐟ

ᰔ @synqiri : ( ♡ ) – checking in with sage .ᐟ

ᰔ @aviiarie : ( ♡ ) – checking in with eri .ᐟ

ᰔ @st6rly : ( ♡ ) – checking in with juno .ᐟ

ᰔ @yuomizuu : ( ♡ ) – checking in with yuomi .ᐟ

ᰔ @mitsvriii : ( ♡ ) – checking in with bell .ᐟ

ᰔ @theother-victoria : ( ♡ ) – checking in with victoria .ᐟ

ᰔ @akutasoda : ( ♡ ) – checking in with q .ᐟ

ᰔ @fyodoro : ( ♡ ) – checking in with doro .ᐟ

ᰔ @milksnake-tea : ( ♡ ) – checking in with illu .ᐟ

ᰔ @lowkeyren : ( ♡ ) – checking in with rennie .ᐟ

ᰔ @rainswept : ( ♡ ) – checking in with crowby .ᐟ

ᰔ @tragedy-of-commons : ( ♡ ) – checking in with gwen .ᐟ

ᰔ @luvether : ( ♡ ) – checking in with kou .ᐟ

ᰔ @k9wa : ( ♡ ) – checking in with kowa .ᐟ

ᰔ @azullumi : ( ♡ ) – checking in with azul .ᐟ

ᰔ @okkalo : ( ♡ ) – checking in with kalo .ᐟ

ᰔ @kaiser1ns : ( ♡ ) – checking in with kiki .ᐟ

ᰔ @rewh0re : ( ♡ ) – checking in with hana .ᐟ

ᰔ @your-kuya-pogi : ( ♡ ) – checking in with arius .ᐟ

ᰔ @aestherin : ( ♡ ) – checking in with ri .ᐟ

ᰔ @iceunhie : ( ♡ ) – checking in with mhie .ᐟ

ᰔ @kararisa : ( ♡ ) – checking in with kass .ᐟ

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wystiix · 9 months ago

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꒰ა Muses ໒꒱

﹙★﹚ i've never known someone like you ..

Sometimes Wysty dreams too. And they share it with kindred spirits they cherish.

Apologies in advanced for tags every time I update!!

@dailypenpen (penpen)

@pneumosia (ieva)

@snobwaffles (snob)

@honkai-freak (vel)

@achy-boo (rosey)

@thestarswhisper (zee)

@cafe-mysa (pix)

@xianyoon (ying)

@mikashisus (ray)

@edenswhale (ceci)

@topherssock (sock)

@milk-violet (mirei)

@klovmasworld (neli)

@tragedy-of-commons (gwen)

@mitsvriii (bell)

@lowkeyren (ren)

@vxnuslogy (vee)

@singularity-sam (sam)

@junnivcrse (jun)

@akutasoda (q)

@https-sourlimes (riko)

@ughscara (ayame)

@synqiri (sage)

@knnichs (zira)

@sunnidear (sunni)

@milksnake-tea (illu)

@rainswept (crow)

@iceunhie (mhie)

@strryskys (avery)

@cherieiu (xue)

@moineauz (xanny)

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank (loqua)

@m1ckeyb3rry (mira)

@theother-victoria (victoria)

@ryuryuryuyurboat (yukari)

@gladiolus-nyx (nyx)

@luvether (kou)

@kazucee (zuu)

@meirvelle (sua)

@etoile-amour (em)

@plebejus-argus (cosmos)

@papiliotao (rei)

@azuresaqua (crys)

꒰ა "dream." ໒꒱

#☆ realm tour #mutuals teehee #follow them!!#ALSO SORRY FOR TAGGING U 25 MILLION TIMES HELP #if i'm missing anyone please tell me <33

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milksnake-tea · 4 months ago

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I don’t think you should be sorry for raving about Sunday because I wouldn’t TT also side note, I feel like I should be thanking you because if someone were to ask me ‘when you think of the Sunday writer in tumblr, who would it be?’ I’d literally say your name without hesitation. Thank you for carrying this man when his crumbs are practically nonexistent before his drip market, and now that he’s confirmed playable I hope you won’t ever shut up about him Lui 🙏🙏

KOUU UEUEUUEUEUEUEUE UR SO GRHGRJN hearing that from someone who i admired a lot is CRAZYYY IM SOBBING 😭😭 fr tho i am not apologizing abt crashing abt sunday bc. I WARNED THEM. I TOLD THEM I WAS GOING TO GO FERAL and if they unfollowed me bc the sunday themed blog w sunday writings goes insane abt sunday that's honestly on them 🤷 BUT AGAIN TYSM KOUUU being the sunday writer in tumblr....... sobs in fist thats such an honor,,,,,, i finally have crumbs again........ THE WAR IS OVER

#mail 🏵️#luvether #never shutting about sunday.#ever.#you can pry sunday out of my cold dead hands

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tragedy-of-commons · 2 months ago

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BOOP! Tag a writer you look up to, one you want to be friends with, one who you think is the funniest, and one who you think should publish a book!

i look up to:

@pneumosia / @papiliotao / @iceunhie / @singularity-sam

i want to be closer friends with:

@yuomizuu / @azuresaqua / @plebejus-argus / @kazucee / @luvether

the funniest and silliest goobers:

@starcharmed / @scribs-dibs / @bladism / @stellaronhvnters

i think ygs should publish a book:

@mikashisus / @milksnake-tea / @rainswept

thanks for the ask! a lot of these are hyperspecific to me, but trust i'm thinking about all of my mutuals!!!! i'm their biggest fans and you should check everyone out!

#anonymous #games n stuff

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luvether · 2 years ago

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( IN A PRAIRIE SOMEWHERE ) KOU ☼ s!her. twenty. se-asian affiliated with @stellaronhvnters ⊹﹒achilles and patroclus wish they were us @kazucee

I. ABOUT II. WRITING III. RULES

ଘ ࣪ . important ! palestine ✧ wips ✧ ongoing series

#heart this if you read my rules or enjoy my works #refrain from spam liking please #dividers by chilumitos !

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kazucee · 2 months ago

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! CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT (to) ౨ৎ

—In which your relationship with Albedo gets broken down into three paradigms accompanied by overarching assumptions, overthinking, and sweet memories.

Pairings: Albedo x gn!Reader

Dedicated to my very Albedo-coded spouse @luvether 𐙚 Dare I say these are my marriage vows to you /lh but in all seriousness, I wrote this with you in mind (because I think the silence between us need no words + all the little silly conversations are worth everything to me)! You mean so much to me and I adore every little thing you do. Guys if you spot any mistakes pls for my honor ignore it.

wc: 1.3k || lovely art by: @/jotto75 on twt !

Painter!Albedo is often described by his peers as closed off, detached from this plane of reality, a brilliant mind with a pair of watercolour eyes muddied with powder blue and hazel hues.

To put it bluntly, you didn't care about the hearsay that surrounded the artist.

To put it bluntly, you can't help the small endeared feeling you'd get when you see how dedicated he was to his craft and how he would go for days without end in his studio whenever he’d paint, how his mind worked like a self-tuning piano—functioning properly without the need for human interference. But what good is a self-tuning piano without a pianist's calloused hands to play it?

You cannot really put a label as to what exactly you are to Albedo, no that would be far too restrictive for whatever type of relationship said or unsaid.

During those days where he'd locked himself in his studio, you were the only one permitted to enter, the only one permitted to stay, the only one he’d allow to make idle chatter whilst he painted the next Renaissance masterpiece (though he hates it when you describe his works as so.)

The best label you could assume would be that your relationship with him were like his often unfinished paintings:

It is chaotic—a flurry of colour, the smear of paint brush strokes, a collage of hues—Like when you and him snuck into the Louvre to admire their newest impressionist collection without the bothersome crowds and flash photography.

That had been the best night of your life, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making your skin prickle in excitement, your heart pumped rapidly and till this day you convince yourself that it was because of the thought of getting caught and not the way his gloved hand had expertly held onto yours as he guided you through the timeless halls of the museum.

Like the mess of his milky blonde locks when he had asked you to cut it, you were terrified, no, mortified, to say the least when your bewildered look was met with his signature blasé expression, the press of the cool metal scissors against the palm of your hand a small request wrapped with ribbons of unwavering faith.

You thought you did a pretty good job despite your only experience being cutting your own bangs during the 7th grade. Whether he liked it or not you could not quite figure out but considering that up until now he’d approached you whenever he felt like his hair was getting in the way of his work, you’d count it as a win.

It is abstract— like his gaze, those irises of his that shifted hues depending on the light of day (if you could chart eye colours under the sunlight Albedo would definitely be the first candidate on your list).

It was abstract like the way he’d stare as you kneaded the dough, like you were an enigmatic puzzle he was trying to solve or take apart piece by piece.

His gaze as intense as it was confusing.

Those times when he presumed you were preoccupied with the novel perched between your delicate hands or the rom-com you were rewatching for the nth time, those times when he’d stare at you as if you were one of the most bewitching pieces of art to ever have caught his fancy, one he'd like to steal away from the world and keep in the alcoves of his person for him and him only.

His stare had a feeling of its own, you could almost feel the caress of his hands against the curve of your cheeks and the soft brush of fingers against the furrow of your brow, his stare felt like an artist memorizing every tendon and every muscle under your skin, piecing together how they worked.

Then you’d turn to catch him in the act only for him to give you the faintest smile, a small quirk of his lips all innocent and beguiling like he hadn't just stolen your breath, soul, and heart with all but one rouge glance.

Oftentimes you wonder how he thought of you; if you were just one of the meddlers in his daily routine who didn't cause him much ire, if you were just another warm body for him to keep as a means to ward off the cold.

But then he’d press tender kisses against your knuckles whenever you’d bake him something sweet, kisses that felt like honeydew and intricate snowflakes falling upon flesh, it had the ability to render your heart to something weak, something soft and plush-like, and make you feel guilty for ever having such thoughts cross your mind.

Him and his soft melodic voice calling you his muse just to see the incipient flush of your cheeks, he smiles at that because he knows how to unlock that small part of your heart you desperately want no one to find.

Him and his habit of sketching you first as an absent-minded practice before starting yet another painting.

Him and his undying love tracing the lines of your figure whenever he has the chance. It’s him and him and him.

It is enchanting—you can’t look away, you can’t stop listening, you can't stop your heart from quickening its pulse whenever he gets closer, from the way your head would tilt in his direction ever so slightly, your movements purely muscle memory when it came to him.

You can't stop from pulling at the seams of the relationship and wishing for it to simply unravel. You often didn't think of yourself as high pride, you're quiet when the world was loud, loud when there was nothing but silence, but with Albedo it was constant silence, a sort of silence that was loud in its own convoluted way.

It was comforting almost, the way you both can sit in each other's orbit and simply be contented with each other's existence, body heat, and soft breathing.

The artist was a silent man in nature but when you'd prod endlessly at him to teach you about the different types of butterfly wings, he'd go on and on without ceasing and you'd let him.

There was something about the way those watercolour eyes turned a little less muddled, a little less murky, more clear and bright whenever he shared his latest fascination with you.

You could feel it, how much he liked to talk despite being classified as quiet all the time. It was one time during autumn with its warm patchwork of colours and cool breezes when you realized, just as he finished explaining the fascinating facts he had learned about honey bees that Albedo liked to speak when he had something to say when he knew that his words had some sort of weight when they meant something to someone.

So you made it a point to ask him about anything and everything because to you hearing him speak was akin to listening to the most well-practised symphony, the way he articulated his words, the brief pauses whenever he had to remember something, listening to him was like entering his world that he had expertly shut everyone out of.

There were times when he'd quiet down and you'd think he had finally had enough of talking but then he'd turn to you eyes sincere as he asks for your own thoughts about the topic. It wasn't that he was done talking, it was that he had wanted to listen, listen to you.

Albedo was an enigma to you.

You understand so much yet know so little at the same time. The blonde had mastered the art of withdrawing specific bits and pieces of himself to keep you on your toes, toeing that invisible line between you two that neither wanted to cross just yet. Call it self-preservation, call it cowardice. All is fair when it comes to love, paintings, and a blonde sun-kissed boy and his kaleidoscope eyes.

Small AN: WOAH A X READER FIC? FROM ME? this is the first one that I've posted and in all honesty I'm bloody terrified hehe~ Actually critiques are super welcomed (in DMS ofc) I swear idk if half of what I write makes sense and connects properly (I struggle with that even in school essays smh.) OH AND SPACING. WHY DO I ALWAYS STRUGGLE WITH THAT. reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated ♡

#pen.ceel📰#—stellaronhvnters.#albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #albedo #albedo x you #genshin impact x reader #albedo fluff #genshin impact x gn reader

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