#him drinking delicately from a tiny china cup as you serve pastries

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

NYOOMS IN HERE BECAUSE I SAW SVAROG?? firstly it's alright if you don't play star rail!! :3 i doubt people or that anon is disappointed! i'm here to give more CRUMBS because I thought of so much...

please please imagine Svarog as Foul Legacy and Clara as reader because I'm already weak for them and the thought of FL made me 100000% weaker <3

whenever an enemy attacks Clara, Svarog appears and holds her close, protecting her from the attack, and whenever you attack anything it's always Svarog that's attacking! in battle, one of his attacks has him holding her super close with one arm and she's hugging him! ofc there's that idle... where he appears and kneels down, twirling her and holds her before she falls down Q__Q (that idle is so so cute)

there's also a small interaction where Clara invites the player for a picnic and you can suggest to bring along Svarog, and she says; "I will invite Mr. Svarog along! Although I'm pretty sure he'll refuse...But I'll make sure Mr. Svarog joins us!" AS IF THIS ISN'T SCREAMING THE DYNAMIC BETWEEN READER AND TSUNDERE MOTHMAN

I'M SO SORRY IF THIS IS A LONG TEXT WALL I JUST REALLY LIKE THE THOUGHT OF FL & READER WITH WHATEVER'S GOING ON WITH THEM + FL IN THESE SPECIFIC SCENARIOS SO MUCHHH tsundere FL tho aauuGHHH okay essay over I have self-control

~ 🩹 anon !

don't worry anon, i love it when people send me essays i love reading them!! this is so so cute, Svarog and Clara translate incredibly well into Foul Legacy and reader aaaaaa

just imagine when you finally get the chance to introduce Foul Legacy to other people; say Zhongli, for example, or even the Traveler- the moment he appears, they think he's a monster, here to attack you! but you simply smile and turn around to hug him, and Foul Legacy huffs and crosses his arms in apparent annoyance. your friends stare at you, open-mouthed, as you tap Legacy's armored knee and are briskly scooped into his arms- it becomes abundantly clear that despite his behavior, this Abyssal creature is very fond of you. why else would he cradle you so close, so protectively? why else would he tolerate you decorating his hair and fluff with wildflowers? why else would he stay by your side, silently watching over you day in, day out?

you can't visit him as much as you'd like in the colder months, the icy rains and occasional ice storms barring you from leaving your home. it gives you an idea, though- why not bring your fluffy friend home? it's warm and comfortable in your house, he's bound to like it more than outside! you ask the next time you see him, a bright smile on your face, and although he grumbles and hisses, Foul Legacy follows you home. he quickly claims the area in front of your fireplace, shaking the ice from his wings and curling up on the carpet. when you're sure he's asleep, you carefully lay a blanket overtop of him, gently patting his head before going off to make yourself a warm drink

unbeknownst to you, Foul Legacy cracks his crystalline eye open as you leave, letting out a low, satisfied purr

[docholligay]

A Charming Chip in the Cup

My entry for the Same Prompt Party!  I hope you enjoy it, and I hope more of you will join us! 

You don’t belong here, and everyone can see it.

Haruka nervously touched the edge of her collar as she looked in the gallery of mirrors in front of her, and ran her fingers down the edge of her grey vest. Michiru hd said the grey vest with the navy jacket looked handsome, and smart, but staring at therself in the mirror, Haruka wasn’t too sure she thought so. The rich coral and peach tones of the bathroom swayed around her, the perfume of women whose purses might have cost half a year’s salary curling and twisting about the room in soft floral breezes.

She nervously smoothed her hair to the side, and felt Michiru’s arms encircling her waist.

“You look absolutely lovely,” Michiru smiled into the mirror, “I feel quite fortunate to be on your arm.”

Haruka scoffed. “I don’t know.”

“Now, none of that,” She turned Haruka to her and patted her lapels, adjusting the small pocket square that matched her tie,  “All will be well,” she touched Haruka’s cheek, “I love you, and you have an ebullient and delightful personality, and whatever my parents might think, I know their partners will find you charming, and they cannot bear to offend them.”

“‘They have to be nice to you’ isn’t very comforting.”

“I do not mean it to be comforting,” she adjusted a curl in the mirror, “I mean it to be truthful,” she turned back to Haruka, and touched her back reassuringly, “The comfort is that I love you, and I will love you regardless of what they might have to say about it. And,” she smiled, “as requested, I have football tickets for later this week, just the two of us. The ones you like, as well, in the crowd, not any sort of box.”

Haruka looked over at her and gave a grin. “Really?”

“And truly.”

Haruka offered her arm. “Madame?”

___

Nervous as Haruka might be, she had to admit there was a certain excitement in the majesty of the place. The scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, the glints of light off the cut glass chandeliers scattering the light like diamonds against the intricate molded ceilings, glowing pink in the light. Union Jack curtains parted at a majestic archway, and the sound of a piano drifted through the room and up the marble stairs.

Michiru curled her arm inside Haruka’s and guided her to where her parents gathered near the tea room, waiters in tuxedos pouring fine teas and serving small, perfectly neat sandwiches and pastries. Haruka found herself, wondering in that gutter-rat way that would never leave her, what they did with the imperfect food, what they did with the crusts, and she felt a false hunger like a memory in her gut.

Michiru greeted the maitre’d, offering their name as her parents shook hands courteously, with their perfectly manicured faux warmth. They seemed nice enough, in the way that everyone seemed nice enough to Haruka from a distance, neat and precise in suits and dresses.

Seated at their table, staring into a mirror where she saw her reflection against the the finery of the place, as the table around her began to talk about business--the seemed to be going into a joint watch venture, and while Haruka wanted to contribute that she liked watches and owned several, she realized that was the extent of her contribution, and stopped herself--staring into that mirror, she felt something very keenly.

Haruka had seen the movie Titanic more times than the average person who looked at her might assume, and she identified with it multiple times in her life, though it had never seemed quite so on the nose as the moment now, where gilt and fine china, accented by bespoke silver pieces decorated with tiny roaring lions, covered the table and mocked her with their unknowable fineness.

The strings began, swelling in a majestic crest over the tea room, and Haruka began to feel ill. This room was filled with too much money and finery for her, and she felt that sinking feeling she felt so often in Michiru’s circles, that she was a fraud, and not even a particularly good one, a cheap print laid next to Van Goghs and Degas.

The waiter poured her tea, the chocolate mint rooibos that had seemed so sweet and so tempting. Haruka waited for everyone to be served, relieved when cups began to be lifted. She reached over to the sugar, charmed by the shaped cubes and the tongs, dropping two into her small cup and pouring a hearty serving of milk from the silver pitcher at hand, smiling at the whirl of the white into the brown.

Michiru’s mother smiled. “I half wonder if we shouldn’t have asked if they might bring you chocolate milk. “

Michiru interrupted, leaning forward as if she was telling a very charming secret to the collected table.. “Oh yes, Haruka is very fond of sweet things, which truly makes you wonder why she tolerates our presence at all.” She gave her small fanged laugh and smiled at her mother.

“Well, you know,” The woman who had been introduced as Vivian leaned across the table and patted Haruka’s hand, “I’m very fond of sugar in my tea, also, so we can just let them tease us.”

Haruka grinned and grabbed the tea cup into her hand, wrapping her fingers around the delicate porcelain. Michiru did not break eye contact from the conversation, but gently slipped her hand around Haruka’s and guided her fingers back to rest around simply the tiny handle. Haruka blushed, but Michiru’s gift for small conversation seemed to have distracted the table entirely, save for Michiru’s mother, who shook her head disapprovingly.

Had she not been mired in a pit of alligators, Haruka might have thought the food was delicious, the chicken salad mingling perfectly with whatever spices happened to be in there and the mayonnaise. As it was, she simply tried to draw as little attention as possible, though it was hard not to notice Michiru’s mother’s stare as she took another sandwich and pastry, as if they were supposed to have entire trays of food in front of them and simply leave it to waste, in the name of propriety.

She was ignoring that, and enjoying the rhubarb, when her ears pricked at the phrase. “Vintage Triumph Spitfire.”

Haruka’s eyebrows flicked up and she wiped her mouth in what she hoped was a ladylike way. “Really? What year?”

“Oh, he is a terrible bore on this subject.” She laughed. “He found it in some scrapyard and has been playing with it like a boy with a model.”

“No. I think English cars have some of the greatest styling of anything on the market, yesterday or today. But,” she leaned toward him, remembering that she thought he was called Warren, “You know you need to put it Japanese engine in it to get any reliability. Which I guess is,” she indicated to the table, “like this, kinda.”

He laughed appreciatively. “The cheek! But you aren’t wrong my dear, what a lovely metaphor, Ken, you did not tell us your daughter in law was so clever! You’ve always made me deal with Ryuji and you have such a lovely daughter, and you must drag her to England more often.”

Ken gave a terse smile. “Michiru certainly does have a particular taste in women.”

Warren was too delighted with Haruka to pay attention to the words behind Ken’s words, and continued on. “A 1977. Just sitting out like a rustbucket! I know Viv would appreciate if I didn’t put so much into it, but,” he nudged at Haruka, “they do tolerate us, you know.”

Haruka’s mother looked as if she might throw up, all over the table, and nothing would have pleased Haruka more than to see that particular breach of etiquette.

VIvian looked over at the Kaiohs. “Well, this is going just splendidly.”

Michiru lifted her cup to her lips. “I don’t believe I have had a more pleasant time ever in my life.”

_____

Contracts are signed in board rooms, but deals are made over dinner tables, and in that way, the tea had been a rousing success, Michiru’s parents poised to enter yet new markets of unfathomable wealth, and the best of it all was that they had Haruka to thank for the quick friendship that had been struck up between companies and families.

“We’ll have you out to the house for dinner, of course.” It was not a question, in the way people from those circles rarely asked them, “you mustn’t leave England without seeing the country estate.”

“Oh Haruka, we do hope you’ll come along!” Vivian turned to the Kaiohs. “She will, won’t she? I just love her sense of personality, a lovely bit of earth I so rarely come across, like a truffle.”

Haruka wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be pleased, but she was. It was not terribly often that Michiru’s circles spoke kindly of her, and she intended to bask in the attention.

“Why,” Michiru took her arm, practically explosive with the smug joy of Haruka’s triumph. “OF course she will, my parents invited her along because they, too, enjoy her company so well,” she smiled at them, “and how can one not?”

“Very good!” He clapped Haruka on the shoulder. “I promise to show you that Triumph I was prattling on about.”

“The Ghost too, I hope.”

“Oh of course the Ghost, dear girl, I’ll let you drive anything you like.” He shook Ken’s hand and bowed slightly. “What a productive and lovely evening, Mr. Kaioh, and I hope all of you will consider this only the beginning.”

“We have many ideas for the product line, and I hope--”

Haruka looked over at Warren, “You know, I really like watches! Own a bunch of them.”

“Really, now?” He lit up, “We could always use someone with a young point of view, a new generation, as it were, what a brilliant idea. This must have been you plan all along, Ken, get you designer in the door without telling me. They said you were clever, I just had no idea how true it was. Of course I must hear your ideas, dear girl.”

It was hard to tell who was more pleased, Michiru or Haruka.

__

Goodbyes were said, and Michiru’s parents drifted off to the bar, where they would doubtless drink away their disappointment that the girl they had never given the chance to grow into the family was suddenly spearheading an entirely new revenue stream, and that she had utterly failed to completely embarrass herself. Michiru reflected on this, and how it would become another link in the chain, that Michiru’s parents were coming to the realization, after several years, that they were quite stuck with Haruka.

Haruka grinned over at Michiru. “You’re pretty pleased with yourself.”

Michiru fanned her eyelashes playfully. “I certain I don’t have the slightest idea what you could possibly be talking about.” They swayed in perfect concerat as they walked down the plush carpet of the hotel.

Haruka laughed. “So I did good?”

“I am not certain how you could be anything but positively enchanting. I’ve an idea.” She turned to Harka, stopping in the hallway, “ You have indulged me plenty tonight.What would you think of we got on a bus, and headed out of the center? Find some terrible pub with horse betting machines and sticky carpet, and drink there all night?”

“You mean, actually see London?”

“Quite a bit of sassiness from you, Miss Tenoh.” But her smile did not indicate even the slightest displeasure. “I do know how to ride a bus, you know.”

Haruka grinned and gave her a sidelong glance, her eyebrows jutting up in teasing. “Sure.”

Michiru playfully smacked her arm, her face in a forced pout.  

She drew it around Michiru. “Babe, I’d love that.”

They walked into the chill of the night, under the dimly glowing fireflies of London’s streetlamps, the impenetrable bubble of their mismatched love protection against the dark.