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Hey!!! Alkaid would be such a good fit for #2 (the TA), if you're willing! Ty!

omg TA Alkaid... TA alkaid who always puts stickers and leaves detailed notes on your essays and research... who helps everyone out and is secretly such a huge dork... so you wake up one morning married to him like "WHAT" and he smiles at you asking when you wanna host the wedding (WHEN DID YOU EVEN GET MARRIED TO HIM) but you agree, mildly confused, but happy bc ur new husband is so sweet n kind... what kind of a stroke of luck is this

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sorry guys no new content i was at a convention, have a godheim clarence with a bunny in his lap

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Because I love you - Lovebrush Chronicles

Valentine's Day/Rose Day headcanons for the lbc boys

Clarence

"We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." - Ernest Hemingway.

Detailed and meticulous, Clarence’s nature is reflected in the blue roses he gives you. He doesn’t hand them to you outright, instead tucking them in books he lends you and leaving them in places he knows you often frequent. He presses some into bookmarks to preserve for longer, hoping that perhaps you’ll grow curious enough to search up their meaning on your own.

Clarence makes sure to dye each rose in different shades, each bloom boasting beautiful petals and, if you look closely enough, the hints of dyed-blue water still lingering in the stem. 

It’s a pleasant surprise, and soon you find yourself dyeing roses to give back in exchange. Upon starting, however, you realize that you’ve greatly underestimated the difficulty of what originally seemed like a simple task. Apart from finding the perfect roses to use, the dye needs constant refreshing and your petals keep wilting before you manage to finish. 

Clarence realizes your intentions when he sees you fiddling with one of your failed attempts, the blue dye barely even reaching past the stem. His eyes widen before he smiles, eyes soft. “Here, I’ll teach you.” 

Just like that, your weekly study sessions take on an added aspect, and Clarence patiently takes the time to help with your new interest. Within a few days, you’re eager to present him with the results of your hard work, handing him a bouquet of sky blue roses. “They ended up being a bit lighter than I wanted, but I hope you like them!”

Alkaid

“True love is like little roses, sweet, fragrant in small doses.” - Ana Claudia Antunes

Alkaid is fond of white roses, and he believes their meaning encompasses you quite well: innocent, loyal, and kind, but with the thorns to protect yourself if necessary. He thinks that happiness tastes sweetest when shared and savored slowly, and so he hopes that the roses he gifts you each day can brighten your life, just like what you do for him. 

He gives you twelve roses in the days leading up to the confession, a single white blossom every day. Each, he makes sure to present in a different way. The first he hands you outright, summer sunlight shining gently down as witness. The second he makes into a pale floral tea, petals drifting and bubbles rising like tiny stars. He sees you hesitate for a moment, looking down at the cup he handed you with undecipherable emotions, before drinking the contents enthusiastically. “It’s good,” you say, and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, breaking into a small smile. 

Throughout the next few days, he finds a multitude of ways to express his love, from pressed flowers to light flirting to your intertwined hands. Every time, he waits, watching for the slightest sign of disappointment or approval from you. When you beam and thank him, his heart lifts, and he feels a bit more confident. 

The last rose, given on the twelfth day, he tucks into your hair, thorns carefully clipped away. He leads you to a picnic he prepared, a spread of your favorite foods and treats already laid out. He watches as you enjoy yourself, blissfully oblivious to his budding feelings. For a moment, he considers reaching out to clasp your hands in his own, then blurting out the words that have been haunting him for so long. He shakes the thought away. 

… It’s alright even if you don’t realize. After all, love is best given and received in small doses, and he has plenty of time and love to give. 

Lars

“And then there were our sweet stolen moments in the midst of our work – just a word, or caress, or flash of love-light; and our moments were sweeter for being stolen.” - Jack London

To Lars, Valentines’ day is a rare chance to take a break from work and see you. Passionate and flamboyant, Lars wants to express his love in any way possible, and celebrating the holiday together is the perfect way to do it. 

He texts you early in the morning to make sure you’re free, hoping you can go with him for a surprise date. Call him classic, but he shows up at your house with a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath, stealing your own breath away in exchange. He grins boyishly and tugs you outside, whisking you away to visit a cafe you had mentioned liking a few weeks back, going shopping together, and even arranging a candlelit dinner. Even if it’s cheesy, he boldly serenades you with love songs he prepared, and watching you laugh freely makes it all worth it.

If it weren’t for his responsibilities, he’d spend the whole week with you if he could, indulging you in whatever you wanted to do. But he can’t do that, so he settles for making today the best day he can instead. 

At the end of the day, he escorts you back home, dropping you off at the door with a dramatic bow and flourish. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your eyes sparkle with an idea. “Come here,” you say, beckoning him closer. “Today was a lot of fun.” 

You push yourself onto your tiptoes, left arm on his shoulder for balance. Before he realizes what’s happening, your lips are pressed to his cheek, leaving a crimson lipstick mark as red as the roses he gave you before. You pull away and grin at him, turning to head inside. He stands there for a long moment afterwards, hand to his face.

Though he had intended for it to be the other way around, he thinks that today has made him fall even deeper in love with you. And if you don’t realize the depths of his feelings, then he’ll simply have to repeat himself again and again until you do. 

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Remembrance

Sometimes, when it rained, Heathcliff couldn’t help but think of you. He’d trace the picture framed on his desk, the one that showed the three of you as children, laughing and playing together without a care in the world. It hurt to remember. It pained him to see your smiling face, beaming up at him as if everything was fine again. You were probably an adult now, weren’t you? He wondered if you had accomplished your dream, if you were happy now that you were gone. 

He let out a long sigh, slumping down in his seat. What did you look like now? Would you still hold that innocent gleam in your eyes, wearing your emotions on your sleeve? Or had you changed just as he had, becoming quiet and solemn? 

The faint scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted in from downstairs, a fond memory of times long past. Heathcliff closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember. 

“Shino, stop! You’re doing it wrong. That’s not flour, it’s baking soda!” About the time they had tried to bake, ending up in a mess and a food fight. 

“Waaah! “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please calm down! I’ll give you some of my pie!” When he looked out the window to see you crying in the garden with a wide-eyed Shino. 

“...” The day you disappeared without a trace. It was funny how his memory worked. Sometimes, he could see that moment with razor-sharp clarity, as if it were happening before his eyes. On others, he could barely remember, mind only managing to create fuzzy silhouettes. Even so, a few things always remained the same. 

He imagined himself back then, frozen in the doorway of your empty room. It was bare of everything except for a single resignation letter neatly folded and placed on the bed. His hands trembled as he reached for it, head light with nausea. He opened the letter. 

Heathcliff had spent that day locked in his room, staring listlessly at the ceiling. And so it went, day after day, as he listened to his parents argue about him in hushed tones. He couldn’t bring himself to truly care, the same words repeating in his mind like a sickening mantra. Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? What happened?

Tap, tap, tap. Outside his window, something knocked against the glass. Blearily, he stumbled over and slid open the curtains, only to slam them back closed immediately after. 

“Heath! Let me in, everyone’s worried about you!” Shino resumed banging on the window, even harder now. 

“Go away. I’m fine.” His voice sounded childish and petulant, even to him. 

“I’ll break down your window if you don’t.” 

A frown. 

“... You wouldn’t.” 

“Stop.” Thump. “Being.” Thump. “So.” Thump. “Stubborn!” The black-haired youth crashed through the window, tumbling into the room. Then, ignoring his scratches and the screams coming from outside, he proceeded to tell Heathcliff off. 

It had been an exceptionally daring act, even for Shino. Both of them ended up scolded for weeks after, and Shino had barely managed to escape punishment. Still, as he thought, he felt warmth welling up inside him, lips unconsciously forming an exasperated smile. 

Shino had become furious after he heard his thoughts. “Stop blaming yourself.” It was your fault you left. It was your betrayal, not his. You promised you trusted him, and he’d given you his heart, only to see it thrown at his feet and shattered into dust. 

Shino was… so much stronger than him. He had been hurt just as much as Heathcliff had been, but he still stood up straight. Unlike him, who had broken down in tears, Shino had continued on with his duties, protecting Blanchett Castle with an unyielding conviction. He was the only one too weak to let go. 

Compared to him, Heathcliff couldn’t help but feel pathetic. He was supposed to be Shino’s master, yet he was always the one being protected. He wanted to become stronger. He wanted to hold the same strength that Shino did, one that would allow him to not be ashamed when standing by his side. One that would make him worthy of Shino’s loyalty, of his respect. 

It would take a while, but he had to start somewhere. 

He had decided. For Shino’s sake and his. From this point on, he would no longer think of you.

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a bit tipsy !

“intimate starters” ig

gender neutral reader

prompt list

—”i don’t want to be alone.”

It’s a hard thing, truthfully, for Rin to admit his own limits. In his world, his limits only exist for him to surpass them, and he’s wandered this lonely road of his through nothing but sheer determination and his heart’s raging hatred. As much as he hates to confront himself about it, his frustration and anger all stems from a place of abandonment and loneliness—all he ever wanted was to be acknowledged and loved as he ran full steam ahead towards what he once believed was his shining future and noble dream.

Keep reading

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Genshin Masterlist

Mondstadt

Beloved of the Anemo Archon (Venti)

Where the Wind Leads (Bennett)

Liyue

Inazuma

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Beloved of the Anemo Archon

A master of his craft, Venti is always able to make your head spin with his flowery words and finely-spun serenades. Whenever you’re feeling under the weather, he’ll play you a tune and take you on a gliding tour of Mondstadt to blow your worries away, or simply listen to your worries if that’s what you’d prefer. 

Venti treasures any time he gets to spend with you, but he loves it most when you gaze into his eyes. His current form is a borrowed one, and his eyes, a glowing anemo green, are one of the only parts of his body that truly belong to him. Even if you don’t realize it, the simple act holds so much weight for him, never failing to make his heart flutter. 

The bard’s touches are gentle and fleeting, always feeling like he’s trying to run away. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, though, and Venti wants to stay just as much as you do, perhaps even more. However, he understands that the two of you live in two completely different worlds, and he’s only trying to pull himself out before it becomes far too late. 

Venti’s hugs belie his feathery kisses and light words, tight and desperate as if he is running out of time. And he really is, for as welcoming as Mondstadt can be, it is still not your home, and nothing can douse the urge for adventure that runs through your veins. Not even him. 

When Venti holds you, he never wants you to leave, even though he knows that someday, he must let you go. He is the god of freedom, he chides himself, and it is so very hypocritical of him to want you to stay. You do not belong here, not in this world, not with him. You may be his for now, and he yours, but the moment your quest is finished, fate and the world will steal you away, and Venti will be left grasping at the strands of what used to be. 

The world will return to the way it was before you came. Life will move on, and those who once knew you will forget, age, and someday die. A day will come when it will be up to him alone to keep your memory alive, for him to remember in a time when everyone else has forgotten. Venti sings ballads and promises himself that he will never forget, for if he does, then you will be lost for good, and he will truly have no one left. 

“That’s what I said… but you’re still fading. Now, I can barely remember your voice, I can’t even recall the way you used to be. Please… I can’t bear to lose you too.”

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tag yourself im chaotic average

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0 - pilot

CW: mentioned child death

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insanity

finally read mhyk anni 2 story and it destroyed me so bad i had to write for sanbaka

spoilers for mhyk anni 2 story

Mithra, at his core, is a man of ambition. The difference between wanting to be strong and wanting to be the strongest is a different of only three letters and an infinity of agony and bloodlust. You would never imagine that a man as undetermined and selfish as him would be the face of compassion—let alone empathy. He doesn’t try to be kind or particularly understanding towards anyone, but seeing his drenched and half-dead body trekking across the sand makes you realize that even the strongest are not invincible.

It’s easy for him to wave you off and scoff in your face, muttering under his breath that he’ll destroy you next if you don’t let him brood by himself. He’s reminds you of one of the old-fashioned punching dolls: down on minute, and up the next to destroy Oz. But you still take the leap of faith as you’ve always have with him, and when you reach out to touch the wounds crisscrossing his body, all Mithra does is wince slightly in pain but doesn’t push you away.

If you were any more selfish yourself, you would use whatever humanly power you have to wrench a promise out of him to never fight Oz again. But that’s a death wish, both literally and spiritually, and when you see that undying venom flickering behind his deceptively listless eyes, you come face-to-face with that roaring loneliness deep inside of him. Maybe the reason he faces Oz with such vitriol day after day is to simply feel something again. Setting himself ablaze with rage is better than fading away into nothingness.

And that seems to be the Northern mantra Mithra has carved deeply into his heart. When you pad at his chest with a warm washcloth and he complains about the sting, you wonder if he can feel the warmth and sadness that wells up inside your own chest. He surely must be able to, if he lets you tend to his wounds to this extent. You can’t replace the hatred in his heart with just love, but slowly, you want to show the terrified little boy who knew only the lake that there’s a world out there where people love him and can teach him something greater than the despairing apathy that threatens to swallow him whole.

But for tonight, you let the wave pass. There’s no use scolding the past, and his assertion over Oz’s power is his own coping mechanism. You can’t turn back the clock, but you can change the way it moves forward. Utopia may be a hopeless dream, but teaching Mithra the same courage and kindness that drew him initially from the Lake of Death is something within your power. And you’re sure, by revealing your heart to him until your time in this odd world runs out, that Mithra will one day develop his own immunity to the tragedy that gnawed away far too long at his naïve and ailing heart.

“…I’m tired. Hurry up, and hold my hand. I’m going to sleep, and when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll find a way to destroy Oz.”

Keep reading

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Where the Wind Leads

Bennett - A “what could have been”

You’re taking your daily walk home, books stacked in your arms and mind floating in the clouds, when you hear a shout. Turning, you’re surprised to see a boy running straight at you, chasing after a few sheets of paper. He looks borderline frantic, and he’s huffing in exertion, lugging a heavy-looking bag behind him. The wind is keeping him on a wild chase, pages always just out of reach but never completely flying away.

Taking pity on him, you take a step to the right and snatch a few of the papers out of the air, allowing him to grab the others. Skidding to a stop, the stranger thanks you with a grin, and for the first time, you notice the Vision hanging at his side. You invite him to sit with you, eager to hear tales of his adventures. He looks excited at first, beginning to launch into his story, but suddenly, his expression turns downcast, and he mumbles out an empty excuse. “Um, the commissions I take on are all the easy ones, really. They’re pretty boring, you should ask someone like Lisa or Amber to show you instead.”

As someone who has grown up with tales about VIsion-bearing heroes, you’ve always wished for a Vision of your own. That’s why you can’t fully understand his reaction. Does he not want his Vision? Your confusion only mounts when you recall his animated response from before. Still, he doesn’t seem to want to tell you, so you don’t pry. Instead, the two of you talk about other, lighter topics until the sun begins to set and it’s time for the both of you to leave.

“Sorry, I have to go now,” he begins, “but it was really fun talking to you. I’m always alone on my expeditions, so this is new.” He smiles, and for a second, his eyes are glassy. But then it’s gone, and you wonder if it was something you had merely imagined.

“Yeah, I’ll see you next time!” The two of you wave goodbye, and you turn away, heading home with a bounce in your step. The boy continues to stand there a while even after you’re gone, before finally walking away as well.

He has a place, just as you have yours. It’s only that your place is not somewhere he can go, in fear of his misfortune shattering your happiness. Just like his place is not somewhere you can follow, lest he loses you as well. Bennett wants to join you, he does, but what if...

Bennett wonders when he’d become so lonely that he grew attached to the first stranger that called out to him. Shaking his head, he brushes the thought away. Instead, he thinks about other, lighter topics, like you, and when you’ll realize he never actually gave you his name. In the end, however, his mind wanders back to himself despite his best efforts.

“That’s not true,” Bennett murmurs, though there’s no one left to listen. “Lots of people care about me, it’s not out of pity, I’m not alone.” The wind does not answer.

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Here’s Ivory, thanks for the tag! 

Tagging: @stevenjrsupremacist​​ and anyone else who wants to join

What if Mizuki's and Malleus' older daughter had a fullish dragon like form

Mei seems to hate it however

Make your oc using this neka

Tagging : @sakurablossoms10 @nuitthegoddess @lovelyllamasblog @poisonapplecakes1312 @mcdonaldsnumberone and anyone that wants to join

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Thank you for the tag, it’s so cute! Although, I think I may have leaned too heavily on the symbolism for a few aspects...

Tagging: @stevenjrsupremacist​, @seraephe​, and anyone else who wants to join

saw a thing on twt abt what ur 2nd/3rd year ocs wld look like in their 1st year (and vice versa for 1st year ocs) and wanted to try it out!

did pine before she transitioned + solveig once he becomes a proper idol!

picrew credit!

tagging: @lanssorien, @twsted-princess, @kitty-is-chilling, @serendiquity, @pianostarinwonderland, @hana-ame, @hanafubukki, @kitalean, @nuitthegoddess, and whoever else is interested! (doesnt have to use this picrew; i just yoinked the challenge from twt)

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camille posting again! i love messing around on character makers

neka credit!

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relationship with mithra

anon asked: hi hi ! i love your works <3 may i please request general relationship (or crushing maybe? it’s up to you!) headcanons for mithra? thank you for your content ! ^_^

Keep reading

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heyyy welcome back how are you?

Hi! I'm doing pretty well irl, finals are coming up in a few weeks, but then we have summer break, so it's fine.

I haven't even opened Tumblr for a while though, so I was pretty surprised and sad when I saw that most of my mutuals and the blogs I follow had also gone inactive/on hiatus. Interaction does seem to be dropping lately, though I'm not sure if that's just me or not.

Aside from that, nothing really, but I do have an original story and two OCs in the works. I really want to hear your opinions on them, as well as anything I might have done badly, so I'll probably try a raffle regarding that.

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Is it possible to request a soft Oz x reader scenario?? Maybe Oz helping reader with insomnia? Headcanons are fine too if you can't right a full scenario!^-^

Sleep Troubles

The first thought that comes to Oz’s mind when he hears your plight is to use his magic. The moment your words finish leaving your lips, he holds up his hand, already beginning to cast a familiar spell. “Vox-” 

You have to wrap your fingers around his wrist, preventing him from trying to magically help you fall asleep. You gesture to the darkened skies and glimmering moon outside your window in a silent reminder, telling him that you had been hoping for his company instead. At that, Oz’s eyes widen slightly, and his previous certainty seems to falter. 

He’d originally assumed that you had called on him due to his magic, but proven wrong, Oz tentatively takes a seat beside you. Honestly, Oz is used to being able to fix most problems with a simple spell, so left without his magic, he doubts he’s the best person to go to for help. Even so, he tries his best. Insomnia isn’t completely new to him because of Mithra, but he’s never paid much attention to it until now. 

If you admit that you’re being overloaded with stress, Oz will suggest reading books together, maybe with some calming music to go along as well. Afterwards, he’ll listen as you spill out your problems and worries, and though Oz doesn’t say much, you can feel he understands. 

He knows he can’t stay with you like this every night due to his missions, so the next day he hands you a small plush, pointedly avoiding your gaze. To be honest, it’s actually more like a pillow than a plushie, and it’s shaped in the likeness of an eagle. Oz awkwardly clears his throat, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush. “For you,” he says, practically thrusting the doll at you before quickly walking away. 

You remain in a daze long after he leaves, clutching your new plush tightly to your chest. For a moment, you consider if all this is nothing but a fever dream, then pinch yourself to reassure that it’s not. You barely make it back into your room before out in breathless laughter. 

That night, staring at the ceiling with the eagle by your chest, you can’t help but feel more awake than ever. You find that you don’t particularly mind, memories from this afternoon still running through your mind. It’ll be a while before I manage to fall asleep, you determine. Perhaps you should ask Oz to come over again next time. 

“I’m not the best with words… but I’ll always be here to listen. If that’s what you want.”