#is this considered an imagine??

[bloodymiso]

★ part 1: ma chérie — genshin impact x gn reader

the first part of a little series im making; “them as malice mizer songs”. i was originally gonna just put it all im one post but i made the first one a little too long..oopsies.

warnings: none ^_^

ma chérie ( translation from here! )

“ forced against my will, because of these stiff shoes. in the show window, that doll cannot move “

life was..confusing to say the least. strings they called “their path” tied them to faith, tied them to their destiny. “it is what it is” as what they would say. at the start, all they really knew was to conform to society’s..unique standards, to be what they “needed” to be. 

“ i might even try to be colored by these people around me “

what happened to them? well, they weren’t so sure. it was as if the universe sent them their own supernova, as if faith played around with the strings of the harp, perhaps they messed up a note? either way, something changed. you, maybe? who knows. 

“ let’s wait for a starry night and make a wish “ 

silence was what they considered “comfort”. though life will never be truly silent, as will the mind. calming nights with you, gazing at the stars, that was their true silence. the crickets in the background were nothing but white noise to their ears, to them, the silence was like music. 

“ ma chérie, are you missing me? “ 

days without you felt like years. they missed the sweet nothings you whispered as you held each other tight. perhaps a tear or two fell down their face as they let their problems spill out of their throat, not that you were one to take notice. 

“ lovers don’t have reasons, nor do they have motives “

i don’t need to explain this one, really. despite being “detached”, they had a pretty well understanding of what love was—to them, at least. they were in love with your soul, not just your body. every word that made it’s way up their throat would always come from the heart(not just their vocal chords).

“ look, the happiness spilling from that window. “ 

they kept intimate moments well, intimate. sure, pinkies intertwined here and there, an arm sometimes found its way around your body, but those simple actions could never come close to how they really showed their love. cuddles were shared, legs were tangled together so much so that if a toddler saw the scene, they would assume your two figures were one. 

“ the people all around me generously overlook me. “  

they didn’t like being the center of attention, you knew that. the days they could comfortably hold your hand in a crowd were ones they cherished. they love whenever you sit in the corner of a restaurant, just for them, or when you make sure conversations with your relatives are quick and straight to the point, so they don’t get caught in an auntie blackhole.

“ yesterday at noon i dreamt a bit more “

you set them into a trance, really. with the absense of your presence, they found themselves longing for the next page of the book. longing for the next time you’d nestle right into their lives.

“ these words i repeat are words of a prayer “

the millions of times the three words “i love you” have left their mouth will never, ever be enough. but perhaps the little actions they made, the little ways they showed they cared would help.

gi. SCARAMOUCHE. WANDERER (theyre considered seperate characters, right?). zhongli. XIAO. alhaitham. neuvillette(ish). ganyu. shenhe.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[twisted-deal]

They're bound to run out of good board games at soMe point

[wasabi-gumdrop]

Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

[ato-dato]

I don’t think they’re ugly. But I think the number of times Jean has begged him to buy new clothes is astronomical.

[leafyeyes417]

Danny is glad he actually made a plan for once. Jazz had been on his back about telling their parents he was Phantom, and he had managed to convince her he had a plan. The only thing that would extend how long it took was the frequency of ghost attacks.

He generally didn’t have much free time, so luckily Clockwork was willing to put him in a time bubble so he could get stuff done, like get enough sleep. But mostly he was training. Sometimes with Wulf to make portals, but other ghosts had come by too.

The power that was giving him the most trouble, and that he needed most for his plan was duplication. It took forever and he still couldn’t have more than 3 versions of himself at one time. How Vlad managed so many he had no idea.

Anyway back to his plan. He got all his stuff that he couldn’t afford to lose hidden away, got copies of all his parents blueprints and files, replaced items that he didn’t feel comfortable letting them keep if worse case scenario came, and a few more miscellaneous things.

He decided not to tell Sam and Tucker what he was doing. Though he did give them a mysterious file that they weren’t able to open yet. It would lead them to him later. But he needed their reactions to be legitimate, even if he hated having to potentially distress them for a bit.

He then sent his duplicate in his place back home while he went to the Ghost Zone to keep learning and keep an eye on things. Hopefully things went well, but he planned to spend a full living realm month here just in case his parents faked taking it well.

————————————————————————

It did not go well. About two weeks after his duplicate told his parents they knocked him out and buried him in a ghost proof coffin. Was he glad he wouldn’t have to experience his worse fears as a lab experiment? Yes. Was he still going to have nightmares of being trapped underground unable to escape? Also yes.

He was glad it was his duplicate though. It was easy for him to undo from a distance and since they had been connected he still had all the memories. He typed in the code for the file he gave his friends before he left. Time to go to Gotham, the one place he was able to wheedle out of Clockwork would be best for him.

[moonsun2010]

5 June - The Dracula Drought begins

a redraw of this art from DD2023!

[creekfiend]

when items which claim to be made of linen are like "hand wash gentle only do not use machines" it's soooo. guys linen is like. the durable fiber. I should be able to fucking boil this and hit it with rocks biweekly. you are doing something wrong

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[demaparbat-hp]

Golden Boy (and Silver Girl) for the Kintsugi AU.

[slymanner]

hurt my heart why dontcha.

[lilpatison]

“…𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝙢𝙚, 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭.”

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[riveluart]

One of my favorite head canons is multilingual Levy intentionally swearing in languages she knows people around her don’t understand and even just unintentionally slipping into different languages randomly

(Gajeel thinks her cussing people out in languages they don’t understand is hilarious and will sometimes intentionally set her off)

Ko-Fi Commissions are open!

[grandwretch]

where is the fake dating au where like Steve is like well Eddie couldn't have killed Chrissy because he was with me that night. we were together :) until he had to go home and find the body :) and everyone is like uh and he's like having sex btw :) and the cops are like yeah man. I fucking guess he was? bc who is going to fucking lie about being gay in hawkins indiana 1986

like just imagine fake dating to establish an alibi and also eddie was not consulted on this beforehand suddenly steve is in the interrogation room like its going to be okay baby I love you so much and eddie is like YEAH. COOL. what is happening rn

[the-crooked-library]

does anyone else think about Spike and Giles looking at each other and seeing a personification of the most despised and vulnerable aspects of their own past or is it just me