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um. hi?

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what's this? a hulking mass of an android, scooping up his detective in both arms and carrying him to bed? more likely than you think!

"listen, r, i know you mean well but i can't just stop in the middle of it- selene is gonna find out if her dad was really her dad in the next episode or if he was lying the whole time!" yes he's been binging cringey soap operas for the last six hours and yes the sun is about to come up and yes he didn't sleep the night previous but what else was he supposed to do with his full weekend off for the first time in months? rest like a normal personal? hell no. empty chip bags, his half empty coffee mug (which has been refilled more times than he can count), an ashtray with about 3 burnt down joints in it all litter the old coffee table that he has his feet propped up on, a sign he's been posted up on this couch for awhile and doesn't plan to leave anytime soon. 

"just one more episode and then i can-wait, wait the fuck r, don't you dar--" android says nothing, knowing better than most trying to reason with the detective will do literally nothing. gavin sees that look in his eyes just before he's being lifted off the couch like he weighed nothing (to richard, he doesn't) only for detective to squirm a bit in his grip, "just cause you can lift me like a bag a'grapes doesn't give you the right dammit, i'm not tired! one more episode! r, baby, please..."

you can hear him bargaining all the way to the bedroom... // @pluumed

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in other news as my partner said hyv created phai.non in a lab specifically for me and i can't deal with it, he's being added to the roster as well.

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i'm still alive but i'll be honest, the thought of being on tunglr the last few months has been daunting to say the least. i won't get into it, but some stuff happened behind the scenes awhile back that has soured certain aspects of this particular fanspace and made me feel anxious about posting or being here in general. it's no one's fault here, if we're moots and you're still here i love you and cherish your support, but it's also personal stuff i'd rather not get in to

with that being said, i don't want to give up my blog or hobby and i still write a lot (on disco lol) i refuse to let a sour experience ruin my joy so i might? start with consolidating all my muses here. i've avoided doing it awhile because i love my single muse blogs and put a lot of work into them but i'm not sure if keeping them up is helping me.

so, thoma @supportingfire and gepard @forbelobog are probably migrating here once i get off my ass and do some work.

ADDED: if y'all are stil here and still want to write with me/talk to me, thank you. i absolutely still want to write with you and PLEASE FEEL FREE to ask for my discord, as i'm pretty much always around and don't mind chatting/it's easier for me for the time being while i work on my confidence.

thank you thank you for being lovely and being you and for your patience with me xoxoxo

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Moze had not intended to nod off, but with his schedule, he doesn't get as much sleep as he should. This is why he regularly starts to fall asleep even when standing up. Of course Jiaoqiu had noticed this and told him to at least sit down. His friend had used the tone of voice that makes it hard for Moze to say no, so he sat down. Soon enough, he drifted off again. Except this time, there was a shoulder for his head to lean on and he remained asleep. Exactly for how long he stays asleep, he doesn't know, probably not more than thirty minutes or so, but he wakes up by movement. Moze makes a displeased grunt and half-consciously grab Jiaoqiu's sleeve. No moving. A voice in the back of his head is telling him that he should wake up. That this isn't right. An other part of him just want to sleep and that Jiaoqiu is safety. Here he can relax. The assassin sighs, head turning slightly, making his nose touch the fabric of the foxian's clothes. Spices. Familiarity. Safety. Home. It smells like home. Moze makes another grunting sound, this time, he sounds pleased.

he likes to sit by the docks, now. listen to the air. the cycranes. the general hustle and bustle of people. he's learning how different people carry themselves, the sounds of their footfalls when they think no one is paying attention. the heavy-draggers are the easier to discern, usually a knight or guard with thick armor clanking. it reminds him of the sound moze's footfalls now make, at least when they were together. not nearly as loud, not by any means. nearly unreadable to anyone else - but it was louder than before...he knows why. they both know why. so jiaoqiu knew when moze was near. 

but he'd done his best to not be noticed that afternoon after arriving, doing his best to remain quiet as he stood beside him. but the unmistakable shift of quickness, fabric moving just so, the short inhale or breath through his nose, jiaoqiu could tell the man was drifting off to sleep on his feet. thankfully, it takes little convincing to get moze to sit beside him. if he used that particular tone on him, the one he knows to work almost 90% of the time, so be it. 

he agrees, letting jiaoqiu relax where he sits, listening to the air, smelling the wind as it passed by. at some point, he pulls out his fan to give himself a little breeze of his own, leg lifted to rest across his own thigh. 

moze's scent drifts closer to him. and closer still. until he can feel soft hair touch his cheek. then, weight on his shoulder. moze makes no noise awake, it's no surprise he is silent asleep. jiaoqiu can tell by the ease of his muscles, the lack of tensity of his body beside his that moze has fallen asleep again. when foxian attempts to get him to rise, say they should really get him back to his quarters if he was so tired, but the assassin simply refuses him. the little groan he makes, oh if moze were to hear himself. 

jiaoqiu makes a mental note to remind the other how important regular sleeping patterns were, but for now he is content to be the guard's haven for a moment. it was the least he could do, he thinks, considering moze has brought him the same peace. // @ice-and-lightning 

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if he were a more selfish, bitter man, jiaoqiu would point out his general was hoarding all this guilt could be seen as an attempt to outshine his own suffering. like some grotesque game of who's better. thankfully, jiaoqiu is no such man, and he also knows the general better than that. she genuinely feels such turmoil over his circumstance, as if it was her fault. jiaoqiu could relate, if he were being honest. people died - even lifelong species, it was just the way of life. what made it so precious. he could perfect every method of his nine-square grid, and develop hundreds more remedies the stars had never seen...and people would still die. he had to learn to live with the lives he could not save, rather than carry them on his back. 

feixiao would have to live with this, too. just as jiaoqiu did. 

"careful now, that could be insulting," he tries for a joke, lighthearted in the way his mouth pulls in a faint grin, "i can't style myself in the mirror like a used to," as if she means strictly aesthetically, though they both know she doesn't. but quickly, his face would get a bit more serious. a leveling of his brows. the corners of his mouth drawn back. he's not mad, but it's often a face he dawned when delivering inconvenient treatment plans - he would like to be listened to, now. 

"that sort of circular thinking have brought lesser men to their knees, feixiao. i know it is hard, but you cannot allow yourself to remain there. considering a thousand different strategies for a battle that's already happened will help no one. it certainly won't help me," and that was the crux of all this, wasn't it? her desire to help him, despite jiaoqiu's hesitance to accept it? "i need your plans for the future, general, not for what has already come to pass."

Feixiao exhales sharply through her nose. Her hands clench into fists, the leather of her gloves making a sound from the force.

"You say that as if it's easy..."

How could he do that? Just decide to move on? Just like that? It wasn't just the matter of his sight. But that his friends were unable to help him when needed. Of having the ability to do much of his profession robbed from him, from--

The Merlin's Claw laughs but there's no humor in it.

For the self-proclaimed General lacking in regrets... she really had too many to count. She wanted to punch something. Badly.

"I know. I know, I know, I should just be happy we didn't lose you. But I can't... can't stop the what-ifs running through my head every time I look at you. How do I make that stop, Jiaoqiu?"

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he knows what this was. it's happened before. a peace offering. an apology of sorts, if al haitham ever felt like giving one of those out. he was often more direct; rather than say something, just do it. to help whatever button he's seemed to have pressed of kaveh's that evening, his attempt to mend it was this. 

it's...a nice gesture. simple. but kind. fitting. and despite his fatigue, his general distaste of the entire day, kaveh finds himself warming up to the idea of joining him again - trying again.

a pause, kaveh opens the door a little wider. the hand at his side not on the door rises, rubbing idly at his eyes with the back of it, "...alright," he ends up agreeing, voice a little lighter. not just from his fatigue, but perhaps even relief, "i'll meet you out there in a moment. just going to...freshen up," and he quietly closes the door. but he is true to his word, only taking a moment to wipe his face with a handkerchief, pat the skin under his eyes gently to avoid any lingering puffiness, and puts away what little sketching supplies he'd managed to retrieve before the scribe was at the door. 

a few minutes later, he's back in the sitting room. the plate of biscuits resting on the coffee table. he can hear al haitham in the kitchen. kaveh takes a seat, and grabs for a biscuit.

"what kind are they?" he calls to the other room. the normlacy of it all was oddly comforting.

his   influence   on   kaveh   was   slow,   whittling   away   at   what   he   presumed   to   be   weights   that   kept   him   down,   that   harmed   him   far   more   than   they   did   good,   but   occasionally   that   whittling   cut   too   close   to   the   core   he   was   trying   to   help   free   of   that   added   stress.   naive   and   self-sacrificial,   alhaitham   naturally   saw   plenty   of   change   necessary   for   the   betterment   of   kaveh's   life,   mainly   because   the   scribe   himself   stood   in   such   stark   contrast   to   his   ways.

dramatic   as   he   was,   alhaitham   could   recognise   when   he   did   more   harm   than   good   (   setting   aside   that   he   never   enjoyed   doing   harm   in   the   first   place,   anyway   ),   although   his   willingness   to   mend   his   own   wrong   only   went   so   far.   his   brows   furrowed   ever   so   gently   as   that   mess   of   a   roommate   poked   his   head   out,   and   when   that   loaded   question   was   posed   he   merely   stared   at   him,   the   platter   of   biscuits   kept   aloft.

❛    take   them   or   leave   them,   ❜   he   said,   after   a   moment;   any   further   dwelling   on   the   matter   was   likely   to   devolve   into   an   argument,   anyhow.   ❛    i'll   make   a   fresh   pot   of   tea,   either   way.   it's   your   choice   if   you   want   to   hole   up   with   these   or   join   me.   ❜

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hi hello i know i've been dead to the world but i am here i just finished the quest this morning and needless to say

i'm adding phainon immediately. i love him i cherish him i cannot contain it someone help me

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added to my rules.

ty for looking!

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just know i'm reading all your smut

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working on xmas eve should be illegal

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my sinday participation: cyno might not always have a sexual drive even after he establishes an emotional connection but he's very much a pleaser at heart to the person he loves so he's more than happy to make his partner climax as many times as they'd like and not receive it in return. again, this doesn't always happen, once that ~connection~ is established he has urges but sometimes he's just not up for it, he'd rather make his partner go cross-eyed and maybe cry a lil bit.

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❝  ━  I was born into a nation of despair  &  I alone am the remedy. ❞

 @𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙼  a  private  &  highly selective  /   mutuals  only  multi  -  muse  featuring  𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐍  from  riot's  𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑮𝑼𝑬  𝑶𝑭  𝑳𝑬𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺.  primarily  head-canon  based  &  not  always  spoiler  -  free.   highly  unaffiliated  with  many  fandoms.    (   oc    +    crossover   friendly    )   written  by  ven.  ²⁸  /   ʰᵉ   ⁻   ʰᶦᵐ   /   ᵃᵉˢᵗ

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𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖆𝖟𝖙  is  a  multimuse  blog  featuring  kayn  &  rhaast  from  league  of  legends  as  well  as  a  handful  of  characters  from  hoyoverse  games.  independently  buffed  to  hell  and  back  by  east  (  26,  gmt+1,  he/him  )  ,  oc  and  crossover  friendly  ,  read  carrd  byf. 

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added to my rules.

ty for looking!

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alhaitham wasn't making this easy. then again, cyno has never tried to building a companionship before...tighnari was different, that had happened almost organically. he'd tailed the once-student to make sure he wasn't a threat to the academia, only to be found out almost instantly. their bond formed almost on its own. why couldn't this be as easy?

cyno sighs, glancing up from his cards, "tighnari says i need to make more friends outside of him. that i need to present myself more sociable to gain trust," a pause, he motions between the two of them, "is this not how you do it? you enjoy silence, i am terrible at small talk, it should work."

he lifts up his cards, "kaveh is afraid of me, or else i would have preferred him."

it   was   hard   to   believe   that   cyno   simply   wanted   silent   company,   so   when   he   sat   down   and   seemed   to   settle   with   occupying   himself   quietly   in   his   presence,   the   scribe   grew   softly   exasperated.   distractions   were   not   always   bound   by   noise,   and   the   mahamatra's   companionship   alone   would   make   it   a   great   deal   more   exhausting   to   read.

he   stared   at   the   other,   both   unimpressed   and   faintly   bothered,   plainly,   before   lowering   his   book   once   more.   ❛    what   do   you   want   ?   ❜   the   scribe   inquired,   eventually.   ❛    given   you've   never   chosen   my   company   just   for   the   sake   of   it,   there   must   be   some   goal   to   your   insistence.   let's   not   waste   time.   ❜

or,   rather,   his   valuable   time   off   work,   that   is.

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it's not too hard to believe, that moze would understand where he was coming from. his past was tumultuous and unforgiving for someone so young, and "medicine" often has a very pungent smell, and taste to match. but he hadn't been well off back then, the option to just ditch everything and get new ones wasn't there for him. even if the general and jiaoqiu would have taken care of anything he needed, moze hadn't been big on talking back then. 

he still isn't, not really. but he speaks to the foxian. that thought brings a small smile to his face. anyone who told you they didn't appreciate being the exception was probably lying. 

"something new would be fun," he comments, "some things i'd like to be similar to what i had before, but it doesn't have to match perfectly. i just need them to function properly. i don't have much need for aesthetics anymore, but i enjoy when things match. you'll have to be my eyes for that, moze, tell me if something is too gaudy or loud." 

moze didn't really have a sense of style to begin with, jiaoqiu had to teach him about personal taste, but surely he's been around the foxian long enough to understand what jiaoqiu likes.

the feel of a hand over his own calms him some. warms his heart a bit. he wonders how many other people moze would allow this close without a reason...probably none. he's the exception again, and it makes the urge to lean over against him rise again. he ignores it of course, but it's there nonetheless.

jiaoqiu's hands are warm. nothing like the icy pallor they held when the shadowguard scooped him into his arms and carried him from that dark, blood-soaked corner in the luofu's arena ship. nothing like the pale sheen that coated the foxian as moze muttered to him over and over again, breath ragged between chapped lips and the taste of blood heavy on his tongue. no, the hands against his forearm are warm - almost hot as they linger and moze finds comfort in the way jiaoqiu's warmth leeches into his skin and up his arm. it's a solid, steadfast reminder than the healer is still here with him - that he's alive and well and...

well... and that they're together still.

vision glances down towards the foxian at the answer and the assassin has to focus to make sure he doesn't stall in his step leading them towards the square. he has to make sure he keeps his breath steady and bites back the distant, hazy flash of something poisonous that threatens to rise in his throat. armoured hand at his side clenches into a fist, metal threatening to pierce moze's skin through leather glove as he fights the way his blood threatens to boil. he hates the borisin. moze knows it's hate because it's the same thing that fills his chest when he thinks of the cult he used to call family. he knows it's hate because it burns cold in exactly the same way.

"i understand," he says it simply, voice level and refusing to betray the emotions moze is attempting to swallow back. "i... had a similar experience, with the disciples. though i cleaned everything."

he's unsure if that was the right thing to say, unsure if it would help jiaoqiu to know he's not alone in the feeling or not. either way, moze finds the tension in his arm dropping as he rounds the next corner - instinctively placing his free hand over jiaoqiu's in order to keep him close. "do you wish to replace them exactly? or will you try something... new?"