#ocultisms

[lumitris-a]

ℒ  ╱ ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ༺♥༻  𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙍  𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇   ,   (   one - liner   )    ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ    ╱  @ocultisms​ .

❝         But  we  never  get  back  our  youth…   We  degenerate  into  hideous  puppets,    haunted  by  the  memory  of  the  passions  of  which  we  were  too  much  afraid,    and  the  exquisite  temptations  that  we  had  not  the  courage  to  yield  to.         ❞

[kreidxprnz]

@ocultisms​​ said: ❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜ - aether

❝ Yes, of course. ❞ Albedo nodded as an apology and let the other braided his hair.

❝ Though, once again, I insist my hair is fine, Aether. ❞ A sigh — he didn’t see the importance of keeping a good hairstyle as it wasn’t stated in the experiment guidelines... but whatever pleased the Traveller (he helped out quite a lot, after all). As the man continued to fiddle with his hair, Albedo was jotting down some important notes based on his research yesterday. 

platonic ships starters. [ accepting ! ]

[pyrtui]

 ❝      Enough  babbling.    Women  aren’t  even  real  ,  get  a  hold  of  yourself.      ❞                           - @ocultisms .

[stellcluceats]

RANDOM SENTENCE STARTERS

@ocultisms​

ocultisms asked: 'ohh, nice one’ scara @ mona

;;~ Gazing upon the infinite amount of stars, The Astrologist found herself sitting down around the outskirts of Mondstadt. Her heart was filled with troublesome worry as the Astrological wheel of glowing water, now twirled in a neon blue hue.

With a single swipe, the Hydrological wheel turned ever so slightly causing her voice to now groan in a hushed whisper. 

Though feeling frustrated, Mona accidentally used her powers in a negative emotion-filled way and blasted a beam of water at a Branch filled with Sunsetta's before it broke in half from the sheer impact. There was something bothering the girl that caused her to be lost in the never-ending constant worry, was the universe, and sky, truly just a blatant lie?

“No, I refuse to believe it!” She barked out to herself.

"!!"

It was at this point she heard a voice behind her, which caused Mona to wipe away her wheel of water completely. "You!" She commented out now a bit on guard. "T-That wasn't on purpose, it was a complete accident." She commented out before looking to the side.

"Anyway what are you doing out here at this time of night, don't the Fatui have rules about being out and about or something?"

[elmentalwish-archived]

catch these puppet hands - scaramouche @ ei

Get your homework done, son.

[lumitrsa]

❛    so,    xiao   …   you’ve  also  met  him,    haven’t  you?    handsome  guy,     not  too  tall.    ❜    she  rocks  on  the  balls  of   her  feet.    hands  clasp  behind  her  back,     idle.    ❛    my  type-    ❜ 

@ocultisms​

[lumitrs-a]

@ocultisms​

‘    you’re too noisy,   yamada.    ’

loud,   and overbearingly so.    a trait he should be used to   ──   but not during mornings like this,   he’d say.   a coffee in one hand,   the afternoon test results in the other.   a particularly dull assignment,   but one that needed graded none the less.   that was the role of a teacher,   which some failed to respect. 

‘    always the morning person.    ’

[arcitraditore]

@ocultisms said: “I’m terribly sorry if I’ve ruined your morning, but at the moment I happen to have quite a lot on my mind.” - abbacchio

there's a fleeting thought in buccellati's mind, whether it's more morning or night right now; the fact that the two of them are up is no indication, with buccellati's circadian rhythm a second-tier consideration to whatever whims arise from polpo's mouth through the static filter of his smuggled prison phone. the hazy blue-gray light above the city, however, is a strong argument for morning: soon to follow are the long fingers of the sun along buccellati's balcony, warming his back where he leans on the railing, scrutinizing abbacchio still cast in dark.

in silence, buccellati's sea-dark eyes trawl along abbacchio's expression, the heavy bags under his pale eyes, the barbs wrapped in a sarcastic apology.

on another day, buccellati might scold him for it.

but today he's tired.

he's tired, and buccellati thinks he knows how to distinguish destruction that pushes outwards, and the kind of destruction that tears someone apart within: the latter, at this point, is far more common on abbacchio's figure.

he nudges the wicker chair next to him with his shoe. dawn will be coming soon.

         "sit down and talk to me about it."