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me ? rping on an rp blog ? id rather sleep ,  thanks.

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc ) #ill get back in there eventually

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if i am ever to be but a memory in your future, i want you to remember me in a way that brings you joy. i would want you to smile when you recalled me, to feel warmed by the notion that i cherished your company. // by huxley.

#✦ *・ﾟ im curious about you ( promo ) #i love flayn and im sorry our supports did u dirty #😔🤘

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gee arTY HOW COME YOU GET TWOOOO LINHARDTS

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc )

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verdansomnia·:

@restease

“…I always thought I’d stumble across something unusual in my lifetime, but I never expected this.”

OK, now that the shock’s passed, Linhardt’s intent on getting down to business. He jumps past the pleasantries: “We can switch off our seminars and get more naps in that way. I’ll take Catherine’s 8AM, and you are welcome to have Alois’s afternoon lecture.”

“ I like the way you , or rather I , think. Or thought , all things considered. ” How very much like him ... to try to evade work as much as humanely possible. He wasn’t about to let this doppleganger rob him of his well-deserved leisure time.

“ Unfortunately , I have to decline. I much favor not attending seminar at all , you see , and this bargain seems to be engineered in your favor . ”

#verdansomnia #✦ *・ﾟ so . . . sleepy ( interactions ) #dfghHGDGHDHWEJGW #this is so fucking funndfgjfhgkjdfgdf

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#✦ *・ﾟ ragamuffin sage ( musings ) #🐟

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anyways see you all in five days ✌️

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc ) #im not leaving im just tired #and slow #but im alive

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bergliez‌:

            𝐢𝐭’𝐬  𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲  𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲  𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡  𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞.     two  friends,     close  since  they  were  children   ——–  and  yet  they  shared  two  widely  different  personalities,     likes  and  dislikes,     and  even  positions  on  the  battlefield.     it’s  this  closeness  that  helps  caspar  in  battle.     always  knowing  linhardt  had  his  back,     that  no  matter  what  wounds  he  sustained  his  friend  would  always  be  there  to  make  sure  he  lived  to  see  the  next  morning.     and  it’s  this  very  difference  between  them  that  makes  caspar  misjudge  his  actions.

linhardt,     his  friend,     the  only  man  who’d  much  rather  take  a  nap  than  ever  be  out  in  a  war.     the  kind  of  person  caspar  knew  wouldn’t  make  a  reckless  decision.     𝑜𝑟  𝑎𝑡  𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡  𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡’𝑠  𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡  𝘩𝑒  𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡.     maybe  they  had  rubbed  off  on  another,     but  as  caspar’s  body  was  pushed  with  so  much  force  he  almost  fell  over…     he  knew  something  was  wrong.

there’s  blood.     crimson  blooms  on  linhardt’s  body,     and  his  eyes  go  wide.     he  doesn’t  realize  it  but  he  screams.     the  smell  hits  him  as  he  regains  composure,  fingers  balling  into  a  fist.     one  foot  in  front  of  the  other  and  caspar  darts  forward,     knuckle  connecting  with  the  jaw  of  the  brigand.     the  axe  in  his  own  hand  went  forgotten  for  a  moment  before  he  raises  it  above  himself;  and  with  all  the  force  in  his  body      —-  it  meets  with  the  neck  of  the  man.     his  head  is  nearly  knocked  off  his  body  as  the  fast  cooling  corpse  heaves  over  onto  the  field.     the  next  moments  felt  like  a  blur,     like  snapshots  of  a  movie.

he  remembers  dropping  his  axe,     hands  holding  linhardt  close  as  fights  raged  around  them.     he  remembers  his  hand  stained  in  his  best  friend’s  blood,     screams  ringing  but  not  reaching  his  ears.     𝑖𝑡’𝑠  𝑡𝘩𝑒  𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡  𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒  𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑟  𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦  𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠  𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡  𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝘩𝑖𝑚,     𝑎𝑛𝑑  𝑖𝑡’𝑠  𝑎𝑙𝑙  𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟  𝑡𝑜𝑜  𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡.

the  next  thing  he  knew  he  awoke  with  a  start.     bandages  strewn  around  each  wound  he’d  garnered  in  the  fight,   hands  no  longer  wet  with  blood.     how  much  time  had  passed?     it  felt  as  if  he’d  been  asleep  forever,     but  never  does  caspar  mind  his  own  wounds.     instead  he’s  quick  to  move  from  his  bed  and  frantically  begins  to  search  for  linhardt.     any  inkling  of  what  had  happened  to  his  friend,     a  notion  of  whether  he  was  alive  or  dead.     anything.

and  calmness  finds  him  when  he  sees  linhardt,     muscles  relax  and  lips  part  to  exhale  a  sigh  of  relief.     he  doesn’t  think,     not  that  he  ever  does,     as  his  body  almost  instinctively  makes  its  way  over  to  linhardt’s  side.     he’s  alive,     caspar  can  tell,     that  offers  some  comfort  to  him.     𝑎𝑛𝑑  𝘩𝑒  𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠  𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙,     sleeping  as  if  everything  were  alright     —-  as  if  everything  in  the  world  didn’t  matter  in  this  moment.     beside  the  bed  is  a  chair,     one  caspar  sees  fit  to  occupy.     his  hand  rests  on  linhardt’s  forehead  for  a  moment,     as  if  he  needed  to  touch  him  to  make  sure  he  was  alive.     for  once,     he  had  nothing  to  say.     it  was  simply  enough  to  know  that  linhardt  wasn’t  dead.

There’s something to be said about the sensation of sleep  —— the nothingness . This time there were no colors that danced beneath his eyelids , no dreams of crests or academia that occupied his mind. He would wake without anything to reflect upon or analyze , which wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could happen. He was unaware of his predicament , at first , of the pain that befell him just hours ago. Linhardt was unaware , perhaps blissfully , that a blade pierced somewhere that had somehow been unfatal. He was unaware , too , of Caspar ( who was equally as damaged as he ) who took to sitting at his side , fingers resting upon his own . So unaware that when he awoke , he looked only to Caspar’s face , not yet to the bandages that seemed to occupy his frame.

It didn’t seem that Linhardt yet recognized the soreness that remained from his little stunt , either. He was hardly the sort to act on impulse , and the very act was ... well , calculated at least in some regard with the slim expectation that he would survive. And here he was , waking in the infirmary . In one piece . What a strange and miraculous predicament he found himself in.

A yawn bubbles forth from between his lips , and only then does the pain begin to register. It’s a bitter aftertaste in his bones where magic  —— magic that wasn’t his own  —— had sewn him back together. A surface level remedy , imperfect and hasty as it were , with some lingering sense of urgency. 

He’d have to examine his condition further , and remedy the rest on his own. How tiresome.

Though , Linhardt does find his hand moving to hold Caspar’s. He’s bandaged too , but very much alive. Alive , and here. Just as he had envisioned. 

“ Well ... that’s the worst I’ve slept in ages. ”

#bergliez #✦ *・ﾟ so . . . sleepy ( interactions ) #fellas is it - #i need a new caspar tag #anyways this is great and im sorry i have been slow i am so godbrained that i literally am my muse #and sleep all day instead of rping

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Holding hands, being held, holding hands while being held....sleeping next to someone, waking up beside them, kissing them before and after sleep...brushing their hair out of their eyes, kissing their forehead and cheeks and mouth...i swear i just want the small things

#✦ *・ﾟ ragamuffin sage ( musings ) #give me soft linhardt content

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                               ❛  𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓. ❜

private & highly selective & slightly canon divergent dimitri alexandre blaiddyd. written by fawn.

#✦ *・ﾟ im curious about you ( promo ) #nice

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linhardt is ticklish only in a couple of places ( tummy and toes ) . if you wake him by tickling he will personally end you .

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc ) #no formatting bc mobile lmao

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paintease·:

starter for @restease !

all around him, the grass flowed like a sea of jade. even in such harsh times, the land still had its beauty, even amidst ruin. he was supposed to be starting a sketch for the day, but the breeze was so nice and the slightly clouded sun was so comforting that he just found himself lying there in contentment.

but not alone, evidently. somehow he had not noticed it—a concept not too hard to fathom, given how easily he got absorbed in things—but there near him a figure rested in the grass. his hair was a similar color to the landscape, just a bit darker, eyelashes fluttering with the implications of dozing off.

“ are you sure it’s safe to nap out here, linhardt? not to say i blame you. it is an unusually beautiful day. ”

When Linhardt sleeps in the sun he burns. His skin is delicate, and doesn't take well to the smoldering heat⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯rosey and pink, perhaps enough so to peel and blister if he's really unfortunate. It's how he acquired his passion for napping beneath the trees, where the sun isn't nearly as much of an obstacle as it would be if he were to lay in the open.

There are many conditions he finds favorable when looking for a place to rest, no matter how talented he might be at falling asleep anywhere. The former , for one , grants him the luxury of dozing off to the sound of birds chirping, to the setting sun , to a cool breeze. There's no conflict , no war to keep his mind occupied. 

He simply closes his eyes and indulges in the violet sunspots beneath his eyes. Ignatz⎯⎯someone he never once imagined even talking to⎯⎯happened to his private resting spot a ways from the monastery. It was a private nook that somehow went ignored by brigands, once a road utilized for trade that had been overgrown after five years of abandonment. ( There were other, wider roads, but this one here had a particularly large tree that supported his back quite nicely. )

  “ It is safe enough. ” He offers, not bothering to open his eyes. The crest scholar was in the early stages of slumber, fully conscious with his eyes closed, twitching at the sound of Ignatz's voice. He would stop talking, inevitably. Then he could rest.

  “ As nice as this ' admiring the day ' business is , I have an important date with a nap that I'd hate to miss.  ”

#paintease #✦ *・ﾟ so . . . sleepy ( interactions ) #* i dont have an ignatz tag #idk where i was going with this honestly

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i’m gonna add this to my rules but: if you ship byleth with any of the students, i’m gonna ask you guys please tag it as “byleth/student.” it doesn’t matter whether its post-timeskip or post-series, i’m still really not comfortable with those ships at all, and seeing them squicks me out. i won’t unfollow people for shipping it, because you can ship whatever you want, but please tag it if you can so i can blacklist it!!!

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc ) #rbing bc even tho i do ship it tagging is importante

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Unrelated to literally anything ever but I refuse to ship Linhardt with Flayn because that support initiated my fight or flight response.

#✦ *・ﾟ out of energy ( ooc )

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// Who got anon hate about a semicolon because I want to piss on the anon. Frankly, if you use a heaping dose of semicolons and em dashes, I think you’re sexy as hell.

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seasonal aesthetics / repost, don’t reblog! bold/italicize what applies to your muse.

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.      a chill right down to the bones.    tobogganing.  teeth chattering. sleeping all day.   sitting by the fireplace.   spending time with family.  layered clothing.  seeing another’s breath.   loving the cold.   a state of inactivity.   cold hands.   blistering winds shaking the closed windows.    a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.    cable knit socks.    a bitter remark.   a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.    hating the cold.  full-length windows to peer out of.    pale skin.   deep conversations.   watching the snow fall.  sharp edges.   hot cocoa.    smelling every candle in the store.  a wild snow storm.  melancholy.    lighting candles around the bathtub.   snow globes.  expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words.   the softest of blankets.   liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.     the smell after it rains.    being in control of yourself.   a soft breeze blowing your hair.   lightning when it strikes.    cherry blossoms.    bright mornings. the first sign of hope. the relief of finding something you lost.   paris in the spring.   birds chirping.  the art of growing.  a kiss on the cheek.   the clap of thunder.    a tornado in the valley.    smiling at a stranger.  planning.   saccharine pinks. making promises.    trying something new.    hugs when you need them most.  a bee sting.   sitting on the steps of the met.    coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm.   picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.   that feeling you get when you put on a good dress.   a long hike.   rushing when you can take your time.   going to the gym at ungodly hours.  excitement for what’s coming.    becoming yourself.  rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.      lanterns lit around a campfire.    seeing the sunrise like its the first time again and again.     melting ice cream.   the warmth of sun rays upon skin. fireworks. the feeling of never wanting something to end.   beach days.  the lone blow up floaty left in the pool, drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else.    music blasting at 3am, loud and proud.  palms trees on sunset boulevard.   longer days and shorter nights.  wanderlust.   nights spent staring at the stars.   sand castles.    road trips. blood orange sunsets.  leaving the laundry to hang outside.  flowers in bloom.   sneaking out of your room late at night. pure contentment. barefoot in the sand.  the street lights coming on.   the sound of the ocean in a seashell. freshly squeezed lemonade.   loose clothing.  a cannonball into the pool.   sunflowers.   the hazy pink before dusk.   relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.      the leaves changing colors.   a heavy backpack.   the smell of old books.eating until you’re stuffed.    deep, dark woods.  the silence in loudness.   abandoned houses.   ripped jeans. crunching leaves beneath feet.   feeling like you’ve been somewhere before. sitting at a bay window.    having endless amount of homework.   charcoal drawings.  screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.   pumpkin patches. creaky floorboards.   accepting that some things do have to change.   museums.  small talk. being ignored.  procrastinating. a door slamming shut. going to bed early.   baking pies.   the fear of walking alone in the dark.   feeling completely and terribly lost.  a twig snapping.  crisp, cool days.  belly laughter.    converse. foggy mornings at the shoreline. writing a daily entry in a journal.   a lonely day.

tagged by: @cureher said i could steal this tagging: idk all yall

#✦ *・ﾟ they chased me out ( memes ) #uh idk

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#✦ *・ﾟ would you mind keeping it down ( sounds ) #fellas is it - #i need a new caspar tag

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Send “ah, fuck it” to shove my muse up against a wall for a surprise kiss 👀

#✦ *・ﾟ they chased me out ( memes ) #im so fucking gay