#innately kind that's who Clover is

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Clover's personality (in-depth)

This thing turned out way longer than intended. As promised, I wrote my opinions in regards to Clover's mbti; I also wanted to include the enneagram but figured it would be too much, so I'll do that separaretly. For those who wanna get straight to the point, just scroll to the end of the post for a pic of the functions I think Clover has. But if you want more details, read the whole thing. Probably not many people will wanna do that, but I had fun, lol. Please excuse me for nerding out

Analysis

Even before they got into the Underground, Clover thought to themselves "Ok, this is a dangerous mountain and I ain't coming back, I'm probably gonna die and therefore not live to see the rest of my life play out BUT I'm gonna follow my values anyway. They're worth the risk." To me, right off the bat, that's Fi over Ti (aka inner values and morals over inner facts and logic).

I've done some research on this stuff and found out how "Fi knows the value of something not by analyzing it but by feeling it deep inside themselves that it is how it should be" Ti has to be as objective as possible, Fi doesn't. So I sat down and thought about how exactly Clover approached situations.

I feel like their main reasoning for being in the Underground were their inner values and beliefs of finding out what happened to the children. That's why I'd say they're an introvert rather than an extrovert (it's not because they're quiet and reserved, although they are, but because Clover's inner world affects their outer world). Now, both Ti and Fi look inward, and those inner thoughts and feelings affect how they interact with the external world. The real question is: is Clover objective enough to be considered a dominant Ti user?

We can see in the Vengeance route that Clover is stubborn with their beliefs and refuses to look at things from a more... logical POV: "Asgore killed five humans. Is it fair to wipe out every other monster in my way who gives me even the slightest reason to do it?" Martlet was the only exception because she was the only one who had tried to be nice and understanding. Clover's dark side is that they're tunnel-visioned and see morality as black and white (don't look deeper as to WHY the monsters do what they do), and blindly follow their own beliefs over what objectively makes sense. Just like Ceroba, who I'm positive is a feeler (she only considers how she felt about Chujin and not how skilled of an engineer he actually was, even when there's clear proof he wasn't the best at his job). 

Objectively, it's not fair to kill so many monsters after only five humans were killed. If Clover wanted fair vengeance, they would have stopped after five monsters were killed. But no. According to Clover's own logic, everyone morally imperfect, everyone who's hurt them, who tried to hurt them, or messed up somehow, must die. So, Clover isn't thinking about what makes sense; they're thinking about what makes sense to THEM, and stubbornly hold onto that till the end (again, like Ceroba), even after Martlet's warnings. She says how the Royal Guard will be after them.

The logical (T) thing to do would be to STOP before things become even messier, but once again, no. Clover doesn't care about the consequences, only fulfilling their mission that is driven by their own set of values. No matter which route you choose, you will be presented with Clover's own version of what "justice" means. It's not the objective truth, it's not what's the logical thing to do; they follow their own framework based on their (our) choices.

"If unhealthy INFPs are dealing with threatened values or viewpoints that oppose their own, they can go the other way and imagine that others are all corrupt, thinking badly of them, and deluded. They may see themselves as the only people who see “the truth”, or the only people who really care to make a difference in the world. They can become especially harsh and critical of others and take on a martyr role, gradually secluding themselves from other people". - this feels like geno Clover; they thought they were the hero but they were playing the villain all along

Now that I think about it, the logical thing to do, the one that makes the most sense, would be never to have entered Mt. Ebott in the first place. And if vengeance was what Clover wanted to do, it is fair and makes objective sense to kill only five monsters (since that's how many humans died). But as explained, Clover didn't follow that logical conclusion, but rather their own twisted sense of justice. The same goes for neutral. It's Clover who chooses who gets to live and who gets to die based on their own beliefs and feelings, which are not backed up by facts. Everything they do they do because they themselves feel like it should be done. They are the one who decide who gets to live and who doesn't based on their own opinion/how severe they think the misdeed of the final boss is. This counts for the regular monsters who attack them, too; again, THEIR own subjective decision.

For example, they might see Dalv's actions as acceptable/forgiveable and spare him, but not Starlo's and kill him. Objectively, both characters are messy in their own way, but Clover gets to be the "judge" and decide their fate, not objectively looking at the situation, but subjectively. In short, according to them, Dalv may deserve to live, but not Starlo. 

And even if they're a dominant Ti user, which I don't think they are, Clover is more past and future-oriented than present-oriented (N over S). As mentioned, they thought about how much they'd risk by going down Mt. Ebott (potentially dying, and definitely never seeing the surface ever again, or their family) but they followed their heart's desires; to them, morals and ethics (their own morals and ethics) were more important than what the more logical thing to do was (stay on the surface where it's safe).

In other words, they could already "predict" what would happen in the future, while in the present moment (the beginning of the journey).

And right before sacrificing their soul in pacifist, they think about how their death would affect ALL the monsters in the future, whether they had directly met and befriended them or not, even though they wouldn't be there to see it.

Clover seems to be able to easily move between the past, present and future, unlike sensors, who are mainly in the present moment (this is what I've heard somewhere at some point and remembered it, dunno how true it is). They can easily recall the past, and what they remember are things that moved them on the inside.

I've heard some of my friends say that Clover's character arc was to become a kinder person (develop their Fe), which, honestly, I don't think is the case. They simply acted on their inner views of what justice truly means, without further analyzing whatever they believed justice to be.

In pacifist, they're naturally selfless and kind and forgiving: a bit of a prankster, but they're one of "the best souls" according to Martlet. Just look at the ACT options that they used to befriend monsters. Quietly listens to Decibat, offers Dalv a handshake (and friendship), easily forgives Martlet, Starlo, and even Ceroba (+ gives her a hug), endures so many hardships yet keeps their heart pure and selfless. 

They were always driven by something bigger than themselves (like Chujin, who I also think is a N user).

ISTPs are more adventurous and independent and flexible and focused on current problems in the present moment; Clover has been future-oriented from the start; they depended on Toriel to take care of them, and didn't try to immediately "adapt" to the monster world. Their 1st reaction was to stay safe and cozy. ESTJs (yeah, at some point I thought Clover could be one) are more "ruthless" in their pursuits, they "force" others to adopt their inner values. Clover doesn't do this in any route; they simply act upon their own beliefs, but aren't demanding that other monsters to have those same beliefs.

That's why I think they're an INFP.

Functions

Fi (dominant) – "If something goes against their moral code, they will not go through with it." It went against Clover’s moral code to spare monsters in genocide and abort the mission, so they didn’t, regardless of Martlet’s warnings.

"Fi dominants are inclined to speak up against beliefs or actions that go against their personal values or express disapproval of certain behaviors." I can't find the screenshot, but in the Mines, if you interact with the character who's in the same room as one of the puzzles, Clover will find out how that character pulled a prank on that guy who later got a promotion in the pacifist end credits (I need to reply the game to find the screenshot). But basically Clover was upset that their own morals weren't met and gave them a "disapproving look" or smth

"Ti dominants most often feel compelled to speak out when people are acting inconsistent (ie: contradicting themselves) or when people are being illogical from the Ti user’s perspective." I think Clover reacted to the above situation as a Fi user

"Unlike Fe users, Fi users are very blunt and direct. Fi and Te creates a person who is brutally honest about their opinions and feelings. If they don’t like a person, they will let that person know." Not a person in this case, but an example of this are the options we get for Martlet's questionnaire. Clover will have no problem honestly giving her the lowest scores for both questions; we also also get the chance to honestly tell Ceroba that we're not into Starlo's training. There are these cases where they're direct as well:

...and blunt:

they would have given at least a smile or a thumbs up, but no, their honest opinion is their honest opinion

"They appear cold and withdrawn, but tend to warm up as they get to know a person."

Ne (auxiliary) – "Ne views a situation from multiple angles and motivations" I feel like this is best seen in pacifist; this is exactly why Clover decided to give up their soul in the end; they saw all the motivations of the monsters, from many different angles. On the flip side, in the vengeance route, it’s the complete opposite situation: Clover only looks at things from their own pov, completely disregarding others. That’s the thing about the INFP dark side: INFPs become "disillusioned or stuck in their ways." This 100% describes Clover at their worst: stuck in their ways is already explained, while we can say they were disillusioned when even Martlet turned against them/gave up on them (in Genocide). That was enough of a reason for Clover not to feel bad about finishing her off. They never liked her, but they definitely liked her more than anyone else, so I’d say it counts.

"Creative, open-minded, and able to think outside the box" We can say Clover’s creative when they build Axis’ robot companion, solved the two puzzles in the Mines, they’re also most likely into role-playing just like Starlo, based on their clothes (and they seemed into the whole larping thing with him), and how they seem to be into drawing; open-minded, definitely (Clover with everyone; the pacifist route in a nutshell); able to think outside the box (this goes hand in hand with them being creative: I forgot to mention the many creative ways they found to befriend monsters)

"Ne lives in the present like Se does but makes connections to past and future." Imo, this is exactly what Clover does (their sacrifice in the future, and all the things other monsters had said to them in the past; however, they DO interact with the present world at the same time. This is what I meant when I mentioned how they "jump from and connect all 3")

Si (tertiary) – "happy in their comfort zone" Is this Clover? Yeah. Initially, this was their "default" reaction/behavior: with Toriel. They subconsciously became more independent thanks to good old Flowey. As I said, their values led them to take the risk and come into the Underground in the first place, not adventure/excitement (the way I see it). Were they also seeking the truth? Yeah again, they wanted to know the truth behind the whole situation, but I think it had more to do with how they had found the fact that no other humans bothered to look for the kids immoral.

"Si users may draw on their past experiences to guide their present actions and decisions" Example, how the detailed lines they remembered everyone said in true pacifist, influenced them to make the decision to die in the present moment. Or when they asked Ceroba if she would date Starlo, after hearing and remembering Crestina mention his crush on her beforehand, wanting to set them up.

"Si users have a strong memory for past experiences and details" Yep, explained above. Also, dunno if this counts as noticing details, but we can make them beat the Shufflers’ game with ease.

"Si users are typically practical and realistic in their approach to solving problems" The Snowdin mini-quests come to mind (although they use past information here too to figure out what each character needs to be helped). Also, how they fixed the elevator by using a pickaxe (most practical & realistic choice). They’re also pretty rational while dealing with Guardener, and in general, while dealing with enemies.

Te (inferior) – I guess this is why I suspected they could be an ESTJ.

"seen as leaders" By everyone.

"Come up with ideas quickly" Pretty much throughout the game. They’re more low-key about this than ESTJs though.

"Ruthlss and domineering" This is them in vengeance route

"Extraverted Thinkers recognize the emotional content, but then they set it aside to focus on the facts" I feel like this inferior function of theirs is mostly seen in flawed pacifist. They recognized Ceroba’s emotional situation, but chose to be fair and just instead.

"Te users are logical" Recognizing the dangers of the Underground and deciding to stay with Toriel. We can also say it makes sense that Clover attacked those who attacked them first, and finished Ceroba off (Te is what is objective, but from the external world)

"Though they are generally free spirits, they like to have a certain order in their lives. They do enjoy structure, just as long as it does not intrude with their feelings/morals/ethics/etc. They like to be the ones to create the structure, not to have the structure to be created for them."  Vengeance route and Clover’s "mission" come to mind. Basically, the structure is that, whoever Clover sees as morally flawed, gets to die. And they stick to it

tl;dr this picture pretty much explains the way I see Clover's functions in a nutshell ↓

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hi how are you? Could you please do a reaction where Nozel falls in love with a very pretty dancer, but who is a commoner? (if possible, she would be distantly related to Yami) ❤️

Hiya~! ^^

Tired ^^' Because of work, but otherwise I'm good. This has been in my inbox since forever, but I felt a spark of inspiration now, so I hope you like it ^^

Pairing: Nozel x reader Fanfic type: Oneshot Genre: General/fluff(?) Contains: Nozel ponders about approaching reader, who is a commoner, and who he this is beautiful and graceful, pretty safe work

Of all the things Nozel hadn’t expected in the world, seeing you, on that day, was certainly one of them.

The way you glided over the dance floor. The way you moved seamlessly, like water, wind, a song that he could name. Every twist and turn. Smile and laugh. All that was you, in that moment.

He couldn’t quite believe them to be true.

Because, surely, he had seen countless people on the dance floor. In ballrooms and the festivals. But none of them seemed to have ever compared to your grace. Your … innate ability to move in a manner that captivated his every sense, while catching his breath so that he began feeling the slightest bits of dizzy. Which added to his state of deliria.

And yet he couldn’t turn away.

He couldn’t, didn’t want to, look away, no matter who might see. Just like a helpless sailor, caught in the song of a siren. Only that this was dry land, and you were not a sea fae or alike, ready to lure an unfortunate soul into their demise.

He was convinced of it. But… it was only after he had managed to catch his breath, that he realized… the make of your clothes, was not noble. The accessories that adorned your ensemble, were handmade, not bought with silver and gold.

Which… for the eldest of the royal house of Silva, posed a problem. Because, he had even seen himself marrying someone who could uphold the name. The family. And the responsibility.

And that, for a good part of it, meant someone who knew their way around the noble etiquette.

Though… as his eyes wandered back to you, he was certain that you were already more graceful, more beautiful and lady like than some of the noble born he had seen. No… you held none of the crudeness of those individuals.

He was sure that there was some, hidden beneath. Must’ve been. But everyone had crudeness. Even he himself. He knew as much, though he might not admit it.

However, you did carry yourself with dignity, so the crude that would surface, he was certain, wouldn’t be the most of you. The major part of you. Because this kind of … being, the way you just were, couldn’t be crafted.

This was real. You were real.

And… though he might not-, would not deserve someone who was true, he wished for it. Wanted it. Hoped that he might be granted a chance to ask for you to be by his side; to be his.

The Eldest son of the royal House of Silva, wished to have you as his.

Wouldn’t demand, because such things, true things, couldn’t be demanded. So, all that was left for him, would be to ask.

And he’d need to do so now. Before you disappear into the wide, wide world. Out of his reach. Because… while Clover was a small kingdom, he knew very little of how to find commoners. Where to go. From where to begin his search, if he’d let you slip by now.

Unless he’d start a kingdom wide search. Which would seem… desperate. Obvious. And would place expectation onto the two of you.

Something he didn’t want.

So, he’d need to be brave now. And not just… keep looking at your from the distance.

He’d need to be brave.

Right now.

[goodluckclove]

Are You a Writer That Isn't Writing? Join Me Inside My Blanket Fort!

Hi! Welcome! It's so good to see you. i've just been hanging out here, kind of listening to my favorite podcast and drinking some green tea. I have another bottle here - do you want to try? It has lemon in it. It's sweet, but not too sweet. Just like I like it.

Yeah, so I might need to introduce myself. My name is Clover, but you can call me Clove. I've been a write for fifteen years and I've finished fourteen novels. I published one and I'm working on the sequel. I've written and produced plays, published short stories, and even worked as a copywriter and ghostwriter. That wasn't very fun. Actually, the writing was fun, but they brough in AI right at the end - it's a long story. Anyways, what I mean to say is that you could consider me a working writer. If you go through my blog I post a lot of snippets from what I'm working on. You can even Google my old pen name "Miranda Seaver" and find some columns and stories and I think a short play I had some strangers do over Facebook.

I'm not saying this to brag. I'm saying this because I've been doing this for a long time and I want you to have context to the work I've done as we keep talking to each other. If you read what I write and you don't like it, maybe you can decide that I have no idea what I'm talking about. That's fine. We can still be friends!

Okay, so you're probably here because you're having trouble writing. Either that or you just can't resist the allure of a blanket fort - that makes sense too. But assuming you're unable to write for some reason, I just wanted to speak to you in private. Because I know it's hard. I know it's disillusioning. And though there's this weird perception online that writers are supposed to hate writing, I personally believe the situation is a lot more nuanced than that.

Maybe you're scared. Or you're tired. Or the whole act of sitting down and writing feels so big and clumsy and unwieldy as it bounces around your head that you don't know what to do with it. The weight of it doesn't feel right. It happens - it happens to me too sometimes, and it never feels good. But it's a natural part of the creative process and it's more of a slight mishandling rather than massive sin or flaw of character.

It might not help that there's so much advice online, isn't there? It seems all these people have a set guide to how to do literally everything. There's some sort of odd binary to the creative process that some make it seem as if writers innately fall under. You're either a pantser that never outlines, or a plotter that only structures. Every draft has have a specific focus, and you must follow an arc to achieve any specific goal in your character or plot.

That's a lot! Isn't that a lot? I've been talking to a lot of new writers on here who find all of that information - especially the information that conflicts (A lot of them) to be deeply intimidating. If not intimidating, then just slightly...off. Potentially enough to make the act of opening a word processor and slamming out a few hundred words to not really seem like that much fun anymore.

See, there are useful writing resources on tumblr. People with unique experiences sharing their specific information in a public space where writers can benefit from it. How would a certain mobility aid impact a person's life? What are the physical ramifications of training on a sword? Look at this picture of some sickass gems of different colors! These are all super cool things that I find incredibly useful for both current and future reference.

On the other hand, the guides that speak structurally to writing? That try and tell you the exact steps to follow in order to achieve a certain result? A lot of them end their posts by plugging their ko-fi but don't actually show any of their own personal writing? They don't necessarily have the answers.

If you read some prompt list and it inspires you, that's cool and great! Our brains think of a lot of really innovative things based on the smallest spark of input and that's a truly incredible thing. But if you read someone who makes a list of ways to show a certain emotion and you're left confused and discouraged - consider that they're wrong. Or not wrong, not really. They just don't have the right story.

For other forms of writing advice, maybe they're right - only not in a genre you want to write in. That's the weird thing about all these writing blogs that don't actually say what they write or read. If I was looking for writing advice, I wouldn't go to someone who specializes in reading and writing political thrillers or mysteries. They're valid genres, just not what I specifically do.

You just can't make grand blanket statements about this kind of thing, and that's an unpleasant truth I think we all need to hear.

Every writing rule has been broken successfully. The Dharma Bums, and frankly anything else Jack Kerouac has ever written, has truly no plot. American Psycho chains you to a truly reprehensible protagonist. Naked Lunch was written in one long chunk that was then cut up and rearranged, and then that nonsense was published. If On a Winter's Night a Traveler takes YOU (literally you - half the narrative is written in second person) and sends you on a wild goose chase where every other chapter is a different book. Kurt Vonnegut has a literal self insert of himself that shows up as a side character in Breakfast of Champions and then takes role in the lead cast in Timequake. Read a Chuck Palahinuik book and he will lie to you three time at least. Read House of Leaves and you'll feel like you're wandering a contemporary art gallery. I can't fucking get past the first 60 pages of Ulysses but I've been TRYING for YEARS because the prose is BEAUTIFUL.

I'm rambling. What I mean to say is that - you know Monet? Manet? Degas and Renoir, and all the other painters of the Impressionist era? They make the kind of paintings you probably think of if I ask you to imagine a painting you'd find in an art museum. They're respected - idolized, even. People will dedicate their lives to painting in honor to the legacy of Impressionism.

This would be a great surprise to early Impressionists, who were mocked mercilessly for their work. The name itself - Impressionism - was a reclaimed dig at how their art style was an impression of actual art. The road for it to even be CONSIDERED art, much less respected AS art, was a long one.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? I had a lot of this green tea. I just hate to hear so many people refuse to develop the ideas in their heads for one reason or the other. Or, even worse, they circle the brainstorming stage over and over again, far past the point of usefulness. I agree that some people function better with some form of an outline. I outline in my own way, through short form bullet points or taking space to storyboard in my head to music. It can help! But even if you work better with structure, there's a good chance that you don't need that much structure.

You can't fail here. You truly can't, I promise you. If you finish listening to me and you crawl out of the blanket fort and write two paragraphs, nothing bad will happen. If it's not the strongest thing you've ever written, that's okay. We're writers, aren't we? If you write something that you don't like, you aren't a fraud. You aren't weak. You aren't a hack. You haven't failed. You don't lack creativity or imagination or motivation.

Here's the truth: If you write something you don't like, you're a writer who wrote something you don't like. It doesn't mean you're bad. It doesn't even mean the writing is objectively bad. That's it.

Writers tend to be dramatic. I know I am. I laid on the couch for an hour trying to wrestle with act three of my newest book, and as my wife tried to talk me through it I slowly sank off the couch and onto the floor. Much as a slug would. If you ever get into that mindset, that's just a thing that happens when you're an artist. I think in the Hemmingway days writers would drink or smoke until they had the strength to try again.

We've seen how that turns out though. So welcome to the new era of writers who - though occasionally neurotic - try again at some point. And everyone is welcome. As I said already, there are no real rules or guides to the structure of writing, only ideas. And if you don't like the idea, you can look or think of another one.

And you can think of another one. Assuming you don't just have a drastically unrealistic perception of how much societal clout you can achieve by saying you're a writer (Answer: nearly none), you clearly want to tell a story. I haven't met a single person with that dream that has it based on nothing. The situation is so much more vast and complicated than the internet will try to make it out to be. Did you see some variation of the Apple Test and decide that your Aphantasia means you can never be a writer? Consider reading up on the Aphantasia Network to get a better look at the condition and learn more about what it means for you. Imagination is nuanced and it is absolutely not limited to Overall Apple Clarity!

Okay, that's all I have to say. I just want to see more people here putting their ideas to paper because a lot of them are really good and interesting, and they deserve to be seen. The feeling of writing your story is so much more complex and rich than just thinking about it, I promise. I know you can do it.

Okay okay. I have to pee. This was a long talk! I'm going to scoot past you in the fort now, but I think before you go on with your day you should maybe check out a video I think you'd like.

Have a nice day, Friend!

oh and this too.

yeah nice

[ramshacklerumble]

Gonna go with Subject and Hobby both for your Slim Gang (since they're new) and Gia (even tho I remember them being a potion/horticulture wiz)

Subject: What is your twst OC’s best subject? Worst? Do they study with another whom excels at the same subject? Do they ask anyone for help with the subject they are bad at?

slim v - he excels at animal languages since it’s been a skill he’s been honing since prior coming to nrc. he’s fluent at bovine, rattlesnake and can have passing conversations with most raptors. he’s pretty proud at how quickly he can pick up animal linguistics, so he doesn’t go out of his way to study with someone else. his worst, i would have to say is magic analysis— he just doesn’t really care about figuring out the nitty-gritty of how something works so long as it works. he’s not terrible at it, but he’s prone to missing details and the like. d’s are barely passing but they are, in fact, still passing.

jett bison - physical education. this dude is MASSIVE and has a scary running time despite it, it becomes pretty well-known that vargas views him as his star student. he doesn’t exactly STUDY so much as he trains, so he often finds himself in playful competition with jack howl (and nearly everyone else in savanaclaw, really.) worst subject would be alchemy, but not possibly for the reason you think. jett is often taken as a simple muscle head, but he’s actually fairly average student all around. his problem arises when you get a guy his size in a small lab with small intricate lab equipment.

ken, ben and len wylie - music! these guys can JAM! they’re all skilled in multiple kinds of instruments and though they’re unable to read notes, they’re able to play in sync not just with each other, but with others. their worst subject,,,just about anything else. they float by animal linguistics due to their upbringing beside slim and they do alright in flight, practical magic is something complicated, since on their own the brothers are below-average at best, however when working together they’re frighteningly competent. but anything regarding putting magical pen to paper is their kryptonite— which is unfortunate since they’re all sorted into heartslabyul…

gia yugo - as you’ve mentioned, gia EXCELS at potionology and alchemy. it’s so similar to chemistry, which was already something they had something of an interest in prior coming to nrc and gia just does well regarding things that require hands-on activity. they do often look for others in the same wheelhouse, such as trey clover (and is why they eventually come to join the science club). their worst subject…barring any class requiring innate magical ability, would prob be astrology. they don’t get it. they don’t care to get it. it’s tedious statistics and they find it oh so useless.

Hobby: What are your twst OC’s hobbies? Who among the cast will they possibly ask to join in their pastime?

slim v - he’s actually very into comics. it’s not something he overtly advertises, but he’s a collector. the wylie brothers are allowed to borrow to read, but they’d better make DAMN sure they don’t stain or crease those pages. and put them back in the sleeves. and wear gloves. don’t even breathe while reading them.

jett bison - he follows pro-spelldrive pretty closely as he does one day want to get in the league. it’s one of the fastest ways to really get him talking. he’s huge on holding watch parties for championships and such.

ken, ben and len wylie - there’s a reason why music is their best class and are in the light music club (which since the yancy boys attend nrc the year after the events of the game, would be headed by kalim). they even play live at the yancy on fridays!

gia yugo - …gardening. yeah, let’s call it that.

more asks? here.

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@felix-cant-ski @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade (dm to be added)

[springbreezes-and-peonies]

Peony

Peony can’t recall her own birthday, as the concept of dates and years is difficult to grasp when every day you live in solitude. In perfect, peaceful, sunny bliss. Like the summers of a childhood long past, free, vivid, warm…Everyday a flowering spring morning after rain, quiet and happy and perfectly, perfectly safe. She cannot read, or write. And indeed she would fumble through any attempts to keep a schedule or track of time even if she were trying with all her willpower. But, she can garden. She has a natural tendency to plants, a bond with them as innate as breathing, as pumping blood to your heart, and it is a blessing for her too, because her plants love her, and she loves them. She can hear them, as if they have little voices of their own, speaking to her, in her mind and in her heart. Peony cannot read, but she can sense the struggles of a bed of mums from many yards away. She cannot write, but she can hear the rare and beautiful, (and maybe slightly discordant) songs of wildflowers and weeds. Dandelions, clover blossoms, and speedwell sing in a harmony, or perhaps disharmony, all their own and it is something most people will never hear. She does not know her birthday (though the plants tell her she is 26? 27? 30?) but she can heal a dying rose bush with her touch, her kiss could mend even a wilting belladonna, and she dances with all of the grace and abandon of petals caught by a gentle spring breeze, of a girl raised by flowers and ferns and trees, of a lady who knows not what shame or humiliation are, and who is perfectly, entirely: herself.

She lives a very warm and happy life, even in solitude as her plants love her and guide her. Indeed she was named by the flowers, for when she came drifting to the lonely sky island on the outskirts of the Floralian kingdom’s archipelago, dropped by the wind with care at the feet of weeping willows, atop soft moss, they thought she may have BEEN a Peony and not a darling little moth-caterpillar. She was so covered in flower petals gathered in the breeze, they could be forgiven for such a mistake. The plants could not have known how such a name would come to suit her as she grew and matured, once her metamorphosis passed, and she became a lovely, grown moth-kind, she certainly resembled a Peony more and more. Her skin petal-pink, a cotton-candy crown of her curls atop her pretty pink head, curling playfully around her fuzzy gold moth antennae. Her sunset eyes light up her face and up close (or when especially excited) they sparkle and gleam as if they’ve been splashed by morning dewdrops, and beneath them, glittering, gold freckles dot her soft cheeks. She is a woman in love with dresses, flowing, playful, petal-y dresses with tiers and layers and ribbons.

Yes, Peony is very happy, for this solitude does not feel quite like solitude when the shy violets tell you their secrets, or the playful daisies gossip to you of what they’ve heard on the breeze of life in the castle.

“Did you hear?? The beloved Queen has transformed her appearance so completely! Folks say she doesn’t go out as much anymore and spends time alone in her room, managing her appearance…”

“Oh???” Peony asks, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Well, that’s what the hollyhocks in the castle gardens say. They say they see Lord Taranza more and more each day too. Alone. She must be spending less time with him as well…They say he seems very sad.”

“How terrible…” She frowns, and truly does feel quite sorrowful. “From all accounts he loves her dearly…I cannot imagine how that must feel…”

And this is more than true. For this is the one sadness in Peony’s life of bliss and summery wonder: she cannot imagine how this heartache must feel, for she has never had any sort of bond with another. She has heard gossips of friendship and love from her plants. Acts of kindness and care, of platonic bonding, of romantic courtships…She has known little of either. The flowers and trees and ferns are all good and sweet and loving in their way, but as she grows and matures she begins to feel they are a poor substitute for interaction with one of her kind, another Floralian, someone like her. But no one ever visits her little sky island, and a life of solitude makes her wary of fluttering off with her wings and venturing out to the more populace sections of the kingdom. So, she stays. She gardens. She watches the sunsets and stargazes as the dandelions whisper and sing to her, she kisses their seedlings off into the sweet breeze, hoping that at least they may sprout their roots somewhere that will give them all they need, all they pine for, and she does her best to be content with this life she’s been given…

And, for the most part, Peony is content. But hopes, and day dreams, and desires have a way of persisting no matter the distractions, and this desire has been pressed to within the tender soils of her heart by her own gentle hands, and like the seed it is, it takes root, and grows until she can think of nothing else but knowing the love of another, to go without threatens to split her delicate heart in two.

“I want a friend…” She whispers sorrowfully.

“We’ll be your friends!” A chorus of sunny daffodils replies in cheerful affection.

“I know.” Peony responds, and smiles sadly to herself.

“I want a beloved…I want to feel loved.” She sighs, laying in the empty, colorful fields on a cloudy day.

“We’ll love you Peony! You care for us everyday! You tend to us so carefully, even when we prick you with our thorns, you sing to us and talk to us and help us grow! You are beautiful inside and out!” The roses exalt her passionately, and honestly. But Peony sighs in response and simply nods her head.

“I know…” She whispers again, that same sad smile set on her pretty pink lips, as if it’s been carved there, immutably.

Then one day, everything changes. It is bright, sunny morning like many on her cozy island, and Peony is in her yard, in her garden, tending to her plants. She hums softly to herself and whispers gentle affirmations to her little plants, tending them with love and care, her melancholy pushed to the back of her mind as she sets her mind and heart to her task.

“My, my…What’s a gorgeous little creature like yourself doing all alone on this island…?” A voice. A non-plant voice, warm and smooth like a summer evening drifts to her ears, her antennae twitch and tickle…as she hears it…She moves her eyes from her work and looks around, and at the gate of her garden she can see him standing there, leaning on the fence…A moth-kind like herself…His skin gold…hair long and dark like a starless sky, his eyes black shadows on his golden face that seem to bear into her heart…A span of gold and black wings at his back, six dark, gloved hands rest on her wooden fence as he watches her from outside her garden, as if he’s studying a work of art…His voice, his presence, his appearance are so strange and so regal to Peony. She takes a breath. She tries to speak but the words simply won’t come. She can’t find them. They’re lost to her under his gaze.

“I don’t mean to frighten you, precious girl. I was simply struck by your beauty as I was flying by…” He explains, his words sweet as honey, his tone soft but confident. He does not approach closer than the fence.

“O-oh…Golly…” Peony blushes deeply, her pink face growing ever pinker. She is struck by his words…Something strange, something new is blooming in her heart, making her chest feel tight and her breath fall short. She is nervous…anxious…a little fearful of this stranger, but oh so excited. This is so new. The mundane is shattered. This is something different in days and days that pass in a sunny, flowery blur, this is unique…

The stranger chuckles softly as Peony merely stares at him, in awe of him. He shakes his head playfully at her.

“Are you always this way when you meet a stranger my dear?” He asks, his voice a reverie ringing in her ears.

“I-I…I don’t meet people often sir…” Peony replies, raising two of her yellow-gloved hands to her burning cheeks. She continues, a little breathlessly. “I-in fact you’re the first other than my plants…”

“Really?” The stranger tilts his head curiously, his black, pin-like antennae curl inquisitively at this.

“Mhm.” Peony smiles, feeling a little more at ease as they converse. The stranger grins.

“Well then it is quite an honor and a delight to be the first visitor you have little flower.” He chuckles again, enthusing over her.

Peony feels herself become so flushed and so shy with every compliment he gives…his praise of her beauty is overwhelming for her, his very presence is such a shock to her system, but she dare not retreat. She feels innocently and quickly taken with him. And from this day on, her days of pure, childlike, mundanity were over.

The stranger begins to visit every day. He watches Peony garden from just outside her garden gate, leaning against the wooden posts, his dark eyes seemingly unblinking as her gentle hands tend to her flowers, her plants. His voice, his words are almost entrancing to her, as if his speech is a spell cast upon her heart and soul.

“The flowers tell me you are lonely.” He says, his tone sympathetic and kind.

“They do??? You can speak to them too???” She asks, so very stunned by this. They are alike. So alike. Finally, someone like her…

“I can. And they do. Is that true pretty girl?” He asks gently of her.

“It was…” She responds shyly, the blush returning to her face, causing her pink face to nearly glow with its rosy tinge.

“Oh? It was?” He smiles at this, gazing affectionately at her rosy cheeks.

“It was…”

Days begin to come and go quickly for Peony now. Every morning she rushes herself from bed, her pink and gold wings abuzz to get to her garden, to see this man…This man who has captured her heart. Every day they spend longer and longer together, the hours fly by so quickly, too quickly as the instant he is gone she is pining for his company again. He stays at the garden gate, never entering, always watching, listening to her talk about flowers and plants and her abilities with them, smiling to her, showering her with praise, and compliments and adoration.

One day, it is very late, and she is still in the garden, he is still nearby, listening to her sweet babble about her flowers and her gardening skills, and after a long moment he tenderly interrupts.

“Peony…Do you trust me?” He asks of her, as if she wouldn’t at this point, as if there is so much weight to this question.

“Do I trust you?? Of course I trust you!” She answers in kind, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “I trust you with my whole heart! With my soul!” She enthuses, a wide smile cross her face, her pink eyes sparkling with joy, with pure, true, honest love.

He smiles, his eyes like pools of the night sky surrounding them on his golden face.

“Then may I come in and sit beside you awhile?”

Peony blushes faintly at this, fiddling shyly with the pink bow tied round her neck, but after a moment she nods, realizing she’d want nothing more. She’d never wanted anything more.

At once, he opens the wooden gate, and moves smoothly, elegantly to her, as if the grass was made to bend to his graceful passage. He sits beside her, very close, facing her, his eyes gazing unblinking into hers. He is silent for a time, and all Peony can hear is her breath sharp in her throat, and her heart beating against her chest as though it would escape and offer itself to this man of its own volition if it could. She gulps.

“H-hi.” She simply says. She’s never been this close to him before…She’s never been this close to anyone before.

“Hello.” He responds, chuckling softly, and as Peony listens she is only now noticing, there is a faint, whispering echo to his silken voice when he speaks.

She tilts her head, moving her face close to his, her wings buzzing as she examines his face up close with great curiosity. She flutters all around him, looking him over close up as much as she can before landing and sitting across from him once more.

“Beautiful…” She murmurs sweetly, honestly…

He chuckles again, shaking his head gently. “My dear, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to give you a kiss…” He whispers to her, such tenderness to his voice. “Your very first…”

Peony gasps, and hesitates at this. She feels a little unsure, such a gesture is so grand, so new for her. She thinks hard for a moment. She remembers all her days of yearning for someone, a friend, a companion, a beloved. She remembers the strain on her heart, the melancholy and mundanity and how his simple presence shattered that, and she knows she wants to kiss him. She longs to with her entire heart. She nods.

“Oh I’m so delighted my flower. Would you close your eyes? Then I will give you your kiss…” He sighs softly, tilting her chin up delicately.

She gazes upon his beautiful, golden face…and she shuts her eyes…

And for a moment she feels nothing at all. She doesn’t even feel his presence before her. She doesn’t feel his hand tilting her chin. She doesn’t even feel the grass beneath her. She opens her eyes and sees nothing. Only darkness. Then, in an instant, a rush of unbearable, insurmountable feelings begin to course through her mind. Feelings of sorrow, of anger, of hatred, feelings so unfamiliar to the innocent moth. She feels intense pain and agony and as she opens her mouth to scream no sound comes out. He is gone. Everything is gone. Something is horribly, horribly wrong…She passes out with one final thought as consciousness drifts away…’I didn’t even get my kiss…’

After an unknowable amount of time, consciousness returns to her, and she can see again, but she still feels entirely numb. And as she focuses hard, she realizes in horror what her vision is seeing…Her own hands, her own self, destroying her plants, and not just her garden…not just her plants, but everything in sight. Her powers working in opposition to their natural state, everything she touches falling to decay…Even worse, she cannot stop, she is not in control…Some dark force has her possessed, something is piloting her body, destroying her home against her will. A deep sorrow fills her heart, making her sick to the pit of her stomach as the realization dawns on her…

“It’s him. He wasn’t even real. He…He was some darkness pretending in order to get ahold of me…To do this.” She cannot scream. She cannot cry. She can only look on in horror, trapped inside herself like a prisoner in her own mind, as she destroys everything she’s ever loved with her own hands. She hears ferns, flowers, even trees who have sheltered her for her entire life as she has sheltered them call out to her in pain, pleading for an end to this, but there is nothing she can do and no end in sight. There is no reprieve from this destruction, or the very new, very keen sadness it brings.

Time passes for awhile like this. Days. However long Peony cannot say, but the destruction does not end. She feels numb, lost, grey…She wants an end to it, anything for it to stop…Then one bright, cloudless day, she sees something as her face turns towards the sky…a ball of pink floating towards her against the blue…It gets closer…QUICKLY closer! It’s coming for her!

Peony is stunned, this small, pink, round creature is quickly upon her! Its eyes bright blue, within them the very images of the stars. It attacks with tenacity and speed she does not expect. She watches, helpless to stop herself as her possessed form begins to strike back against it, calling forth plants, vines, striking out with everything available to her.

“Oh no! No please don’t hurt the little thing!” She cries in her mind for it to stop, but she continues fighting back…and yet…so does the little pink ball…He bounces effortlessly back no matter how hard she hits him…He fights with such courage, such determination, she realizes he will not give up, and the darkness possessing her won’t allow her to either…At the end of this confrontation, one will be slain. She is filled with fear for the little pink creature, though he is strong, surely he cannot stop her slaughter…?

The battle wages on, no matter how many times the pink creature is hit, he refuses to give up, and after fighting him off for sometime, she can see her movements are becoming slow, sloppy, weak, and yet he is just the same as he was at the start…Finally, after sometime it’s over. Peony is defeated, and she feels her vision fading…as she is once again blacking out.

“It’s over…I’m through…If this is how I leave this life then……then…”

For a time she thinks no more……

And suddenly…her eyes are fluttering open…and she can move herself! She is in control again! And the first thing before her as her sparkling pink eyes open up, is that little pink ball! He has such a concerned look on his plush, pink face, his eyes nearly pressed to her own, swirling stars in their blue pools, gentle, childish sounds coming from him. He taps her head tenderly with one of his rounded arms, making a quizzical, concerned sound.

Peony feels a wave of relief washing over her. She’s alive, she’s okay…But something else washes over her as well, something doubtlessly caused by this creature’s presence, this pure, boundless happiness and warmth and…love. Real love. She can’t contain herself, laughter is bubbling up within her, desperate to escape, and she picks up the tiny pink ball with her six hands and spins around happily with him, laughing with such bliss, such warmth, and she can hear him laughing too. ‘Kirby’…The name passes through her mind as she affectionately bumps her forehead to his, and she blinks in understanding. She kisses his head lightly, hugging him tight, both of them laughing some more.

“Thank you Kirby…” She whispers to him, tears forming in her eyes, tears of freedom and peace…She feels Kirby squeeze her tighter in a hug, cooing affectionately, soothingly to her and something in her feels like everything is going to be alright…

After their embrace, Kirby takes off on his Warpstar, waving goodbye. Peony waves back, sighing heavily, a deep, regretful feeling slowly enveloping her as she looks at the destruction surrounding her. All her plants, her friends, and she can hear the sorrow they feel, the pain, the grief…She thinks hard for a moment, and takes a deep breath…There is one thing at least she can do.

Peony flutters up into the sky, high enough so she can see all of the surface of her island in view. She gathers her wits, and her strength. “I’m sorry. I will undo this pain my friends. I will never take you for granted again…”

She cries out hard, letting out an intense burst of energy that coats the dying grass and trees, glittering with life, with her love, coaxing things to be born anew…to heal…to live…And as her plants are healed by the forces deep within her very soul, she gently sinks against the grass to sleep…very much in need of rest…

Once Peony wakes, the flowers and plants are lively, they are coming back, all thanks to her…But Peony can no longer hear them, her touch no longer coaxes the dying petals of flowers back to their prime, and if they can understand her still she does not know. She sighs, smiling sadly, gazing out at the sky as the sun rises…”It will be okay…It’s just…a new start.” She looks up at the clouds, and blows a gentle kiss up to them, hoping it may reach Kirby, that little pink ball who saved her, who gave her a second chance…

[flower-seller]

Euphorbia is so fun to write, I swear. Just an absolute mess who can't remember why she is just innately so determined to stick to these shitass missions given to her while also being wary of those doling out said missions. Just a very "Yes Captain" "Right away, Captain" kind of gal with a side of "bbygirl I know I am SO expendable."

And also the maiming.

She really did physically brawl with the Miss Fortunes twice, bit off part of Clover's ear (swallowing it while making deliberate and vicious eye contact) and after getting stabbed by Coin in retaliation for the above just before the battle with Lord Arcanine decided that the answer was to tear up her coat for a quick patch and go "Okay this battle has a timer before I pass out~ ^^"

I love my batshit insane little meow meow, have a snippet of the above scene;

Euphorbia swallowed, staring down the newly christened demigod as he took note of the others fleeing. Volo was thankfully among them after shouting those final words at her.

'I’m coming back for you.'

Foolish man. But at least he listened to her, even managing to enlist the help of the Miss Fortunes' leader in clearing everyone out. Volo had made this easy for her by doing as she asked, and if she lived long enough to see him again then Euphorbia had much to apologize for. 

Her gut tensed, making the sharp pain in her side scream like a second crackle of lightning. There was quite a bit left unsaid, wasn't there? If she did perish without saying it though, he would never have to be burdened with the confessed adoration of a dead woman walking. This was not the first dive headlong into certain death, and should she make it through she doubted it would be the last.

She needed to do a split second checklist. It didn't have to be complete or even good, just serviceable.

One, control her bleeding.

Avoiding sudden movements, Euphorbia gripped the lower half of her undershirt and began to tear the dark, blood soaked fabric horizontally to expose her slickened midriff. Next, the haori tied around her waist was shed and the puffy end of one sleeve harshly ripped away. Keeping the bottom seam intact like an impromptu sash, the surveyor quickly set the fluff against her wound and tied it off to one side until it was all pressed tight. 

Though she couldn't exactly ascertain how she had the knowledge to make the estimate, based on the location and what the depth felt like, she had an upper limit of fifteen minutes before losing consciousness if she was lucky. Around five if she wasn't. 

There was a timer.

Two, control her breathing.

The more worked up she was, the harder this would be. Twolo was shaking enough for the both of them.

Whatever came next, she needed to be ready to accept it. 

[luimagines]

Could you maybe do one where the reader is in their time and they take them on a date since everything is calm for a moment?

Masterlist

It's Reader's turn to treat their favorite hero!

Date Day! Part one will included Wild, Legend and Hyrule!

Content under the cut!

Wild

“Ok, bare with me for a minute?” You grin and put a finger to your lips to keep your boyfriend quiet. “I want to show you something.”

“And we’re sneaking out because?” Wild tilts his head but follows you regardless.

“They to the place is a little... challenging and I don’t my Grandma or Time... or Twilight for that matter getting on our case about it.” The face you wear is mischievous and Wild can feel his morph to match yours as you tip toe away from the main group.

When you get far enough away you look over your shoulder and giggle. In a flash, before Wild can figure out what’s happening, you grab his hand and sprint away into the forest growth behind your house.

Wild snorts at your excitement but follows you step for step as you lead him through the foliage.

You stop a quick breather by a rock cliff and before you point up. “That’s where we’re going.”

And then you start climbing.

Wild blinks and doesn’t hesitate to follow you. A small woop leaves his mouth as he takes a running start up the rock and catches up to you relatively quickly.

Your practiced movements and Wild innate ability to climb anything makes the trip as simple as walking up a hill.

You get to the top first, since you’ve made this trip countless time to your Grandmother’s chagrin, and wait for Wild to make it up, holding out your hand to help him with the final stretch and pull him to you. You jump a little in your spot as he gets himself situated and giggle a little at the way his jaw drops at the sight before him.

A meadow of those flowers Wild seems to like so much, the Silent Princess.

But in the middle?

A natural fountain, with water sprouting upwards to give the rocks below the chance to be rained upon even if they’ll never see the light of day beyond what the crevices would offer. It falls into a small pool just beyond the rocks where small lily pads grow ands frogs sing their songs. In the darker corners you can see fireflies take off and return and there’s multiple dragonflies to dart from flower to flower where they know the mosquitoes reside as they try to catch their own lunches.

You see Wild take it all in and stare.

“This is my favorite spot.” You admit in a whisper. “No one else knows it’s here. They can’t get up even if they tried. But I can, and I knew you could because you can do anything.”

“It’s...”

“It’s a bit small I know.” You say with gulp. “and I doubt it’s anything compared to what you’ve already seen in your own world but I wanted to share it with you.”

“It’s just like you.” Wild says and looks over to you with a large and and boyish smile on his face. “It’s perfect.”

The admission strikes you in your spot and you don’t deny the blush that follows. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No.” Wild takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Not at all. I think it’s a bit lacking actually, but there’s no other word to use to properly describe what I think about you.” 

“What am I going to do with you?” You snicker and take your hand away to cup his face.

“Tell me about this place.” He answers. “How did you find it?”

“Oh that’s easy! You see, Link...uh, my brother, was just born and I was left unsupervised as mom and dad had to take care of the baby so-”

Legend

“Legend!” You cry and drape yourself across his back. “Come with me! I wanna take you somewhere!”

The boy in question falters in his step from your added weight and looked over his shoulder to see you better. “Now?”

You grin and nod. You’re fairly certain that you look crazy but you’re too excited to care.

“Should I be concerned?” Legend gets a small smirk on his face.

“Of little ol�� me?” You tilt your head, your smile never leaving your face. “Maybe. But right now? No. Come on, let’s go! I got Wild and Warrior to watch over Link and Zelda and Time and Twilight are busy humoring my grandma. It’ll just be you and me!”

Legend pauses before he seems to mellow out, and he reaches for your hand behind him. “Ok.” His voice is soft, the kind he saves only for you and when you’re alone. “Lead the way.”

You barely suppress the giggle that passes your lips before you pulled him closer to your side. You take off a brisk pace in case some of the others who are unattended decided to follow you.

You drag him through the streets of your home, your footsteps a mere after thought to the idea of Link’s reaction to what you plan on showing him.

He doesn’t say anything as you travel and keeps a tight grip on your hand, less he get left behind and lose you.

You stop in front of a flower shop and tilt your head in its direction. Legend nods, at your unspoken question and beams when you brighten even more so than you already were.

You both enter and you b-line for the some of the smaller flowers they have near the back and begin to seemingly pick a few at random.

You don’t even notice you lose Legend sometime in the middle of your choosing.

You’re so focused on your selection that you go to pay and head out, already working on your project.

You weave and bend and keep the flowers in place as you begin your journey out of the store.

Legend watches you leave in the middle of the your concentration and quickly pays the needed amount before following you out. He walks next to you at you pace and keeps one hand on your shoulder at all times to guide you back through the streets and make sure you don’t crash into anyone or anything.

He smiles at you, a soft and secret look he knows he should give you more often but he can’t seem to handle the idea when you’re in public.

Within moments he can see what you’ve been making.

A flower crown, braided with such intensity that the flowers covered every inch of the band, there’s not a spec of stem green in the mass that’s been created by your fingers and Legend has to admit that he’s impressed.

You beam and glance at him, as if he’s never left your side the entire time and rip off his hat.

He jumps to take it back but you throw it over your shoulder and spin him around. It’s a dance you both do often and there’s a laugh on your breaths as you anticipate the other’s reaction. But what Legend doesn’t expect is for you to trap him in your arm as you spin and to put the crown over his head from behind.

He’s stunned and when you kiss the tip of his nose, he’s inclined to not move a muscle until you say he’s free to do so.

You spin around while he freezes and bend down to pick up his hat, placing it on your own head with a cheeky wink.

Oh, Legend thinks, he likes that.

Legend blushes crimson and take takes his hand and places the single flower he bought up to your ear and between your hair. “There.” He says. “Perfect.”

You giggle and adjust the hat to keep the stem in place and grab Legend’s hand to lace your fingers together.

“Thanks for coming with me.” You grin and swing your hands together as you begin to walk around with no destination in mind.

Legend smiles back just as bursting with joy as you are. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Hyrule

“If I were to say we should leave, what would you do?” You ask your boyfriend, as you watch the group meander around your house. No on is paying attention to you, too focused on the game your cousin and little brother have made up as your grandma watches from her rocking chair, knitting something that will no doubt be gifted to one of the boys before you have to leave again.

It was nice.

A bit loud.

But that your everyday anyway, whether in your home or with the group, so it wasn’t all that unfamiliar.

Hyrule looks over to you with a raised eyebrow and and grin on his lips. “I’d follow you anywhere anytime.”

You smile and place your cheek on your hand as you rest your elbow on the table. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Did it have to?” Hyrule snorts. “You already know my answer.”

You hum and tap your fingers on your face before you smile. “Come with me.”

Wordlessly, he follows you and you lead him out of the house and into your garden. It was something your mother started before she left.

You took it upon yourself to try to keep it alive but you never had the same green thumb that she processed. Still, it wasn’t too shabby if you had to say so yourself.

Hyrule took a deep breath through his nose and grinned. “There’s magic in the air.”

You pause and turn to look at him. “You can smell that?”

“Nooo...” Hyrule laughs. “But I can feel like. It’s nice. It’s warm and sweet.”

You smile and hold your hand out to him, waiting until he seems to get a ahold of himself and pull him from behind you. 

You walk together in silence before the old and beaten path opens up to reveal a small clover covered clearing, with a two seater swing hidden by the tree branches. “Come on, let’s sit there Link.”

Hyrule smiles and sits down first, pulling you unexpectantly onto his lap. “And here I thought we were going to go on those adventure you like so much.”

“No.” You blush at the close proximity but lean yourself against him, placing your head by his and poking his neck with your nose. “Grandma would still need me close by incase the kids get too rowdy. At least I’m within yelling distance.”

Hyrule nods and begins to play with your hair as he pushes off the ground somewhat to get the swing in motion. “I like this. I want one.”

“I’ll build one just for you.” You snort and snuggle closer. “Anything for you.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

“Obviously. Who else you plan on swinging with?”

“I didn’t think I’d be here at all, let alone have someone other than you.” 

You hum and play his hair even if you can’t see it. Hyrule shifts the both of you around so that you’re both lying on the swing instead of being precariously placed on the edge. “Well, I’m glad I’m with you.”

“Me too.”

Part 2 

[delirious-donna]

Hoodwinked - Finral Roulacase x OC

an: written for a friend who is writing their own Black Clover fanfic, the OC character is owned entirely by them. Express permission given for me to use them in this story.

pairing: Finral Roulacase x female OC

warnings: none, SFW, fluff, modern AU, school setting, characters are 18+, lil angst, Finral needs a damn hug

Masterlist

Another day, another chance to find the courage and his voice. He was determined that he would not return home unsuccessful, today would be different, he could feel it. Never mind that he had given himself this very pep talk hundreds, perhaps thousands of times – this was the day!

It still confounded him how one seemingly slip of a girl could cause this much hassle. How on earth did she command such fear when to look upon her from afar, all you would see was a girl who seemed altogether shy and unassuming. Hidden beneath layers of shapeless clothes and always topped with a hoodie, the colours changed much like the weather but they were all the same, oversized and designed to hide as much of her from sight as possible.

An enigma, and one that he was aching to unravel.

Finral Roulacase was no shy and retiring wallflower, far from it. It was a running joke amongst his friends about his wayward eye and his ability to strike up a conversation with any pretty girl that passed within his vicinity was particularly legendary at this point. However, it was all for nought. He was yet to find the one that could hold his attention, halt his wandering gaze and captivate him completely –body, mind and soul.

Despite his innate ability to schmooze with the females, he was no player.

Finral refused to take things further the second he determined that he was not enraptured as he had hoped, although he kept this fact to himself. This moral code that he had set for himself had led to him still not having received his first kiss, much less anything else. He would die of embarrassment if his friends were to find out, shame would burn his cheeks and he could kiss goodbye any chance of redeeming himself in their eyes.

~

What Finral did not know, and was entirely for the best, was that his friends did indeed know of his practical inexperience with the ladies. The boy was a fool for thinking that girls did not talk, and Magna especially was rather adept in wooing his female counterparts, although much more covertly. He had heard countless tales of his ‘adorable’ friend and how chivalrous he had behaved.

Magna had warred on whether to ridicule his friend, but in the end, he decided that it would only serve to do irreparable harm to someone that he considered to be more than a close friend. They were brothers by choice, and he would honour that bond by not shamelessly revealing his softer side.

~

Speaking of the fiery Magna, he was laying across the top of a picnic bench much to the annoyance of the students that passed him by, muttering and throwing filthy looks. Finral could swear he heard faint snoring and he wondered how on earth he could sleep out in the open like this.

From his appearance alone, most viewed him as the typical slacker.

Dressed from head to toe in varying shades of black and grey, his ridiculously tight-fitting skinny greys were ripped wide at the knees and not the kind that was made for fashion purposes. Oh no, these rips were from continued overuse and reckless feats that the idiot liked to indulge in almost constantly. They ranged from wild theatrical knee slides into classrooms to being dared to jump from the highest roof on property, and of course, he accepted each and every challenge.

A faded black leather jacket along with matching fingerless gloves and tinted glasses that he swore ‘til he was blue in the face was only for aesthetic purposes completed the look, but Finral knew differently. He had seen with his own eyes the way the male’s eyes would scrunch and peer if a teacher were to force the glasses from his face.

He also knew how dedicated Magna was to his studies. Never one to brag or even talk about academic matters, Magna was a solid student with more than decent grades and each one had been a hard-fought battle. It was inspiring to see his friend so determined to attaining a good education, despite his less than stellar attendance rating and appearance.

Magna played up to the image that he wore and clung to it in a way that stopped others from getting too close. It had taken many years for a friendship to strike up between him and Finral, but now that they were friends, they both knew it would be lifelong.

In a way, he was jealous of Magna. He might not truly be the ‘bad’ boy he portrayed, but he was true to himself in a way that Finral didn’t know how to emulate. Finral hardly knew where he belonged and generally found himself swept up in the likes and trends of those around him, rather than owning his own unique interests.

He had a small group of friends but even then they were all misfits, just like him. A bunch of outsiders, socially awkward for some and all hiding something for fear of rejection or open humiliation. Finral chose to wear whatever was considered fashionable at the time, had a tendency to like whatever was currently popular at the movies and his music choice was a mishmash of whatever was playing on the radio.

Fear kept him shackled.

The fear of being mocked for daring to like something a little more niche, to engage in media that was not at the height of mainstream and in turn thrust into a spotlight that he did not wish for. Finral blew out a breath of exasperation and focused back on the moment at hand.

The brown haired male had to make a quick decision; did he ignore his friend in favour of arriving at class on time and securing his favourite seat by the window, or did he act like a diligent friend and wake Magna up so he didn’t get in even more trouble for ditching yet another class?

His musing came to an abrupt halt as a figure loomed seemingly out of nowhere.

It was difficult to make the person out with their hood popped up despite the brilliant sun-filled morning, but he didn’t need to see their face to know who it was. Finral could recognise her frame anywhere, he had spent long enough gazing at it, etching each tiny detail into his brain to cherish at a later date.

From his vantage, at the gate, he watched as the figure moved as silently as a shadow until she was directly next to the sleeping Magna. Her head shifted from side to side and Finral held his breath as a tumble of pale blonde locks escaped the security of her hood before she tucked them hastily back inside. Had she rotated her head even one more inch then she would have found him gawking at her like an idiot, but luckily for him, his secret was safe for now.

The campus courtyard had emptied in a hurry until it was only the three of them remaining. Fire burned his lungs as he refused to take in the much-needed oxygen, utterly petrified that even a single inhale from him would announce his presence like a hunter snapping a twig in a forest whilst stalking a skittish deer. His curiosity was peaked, as far as he was aware she had never spoken to Magna, she treated him like everyone else, with utter disdain.

Finral blinked, and at that moment everything changed.

Her fist raised high into the air and struck down with the practised precision of a skilled fighter. He watched in shocked bewilderment as the air was literally knocked from Magna’s body. The gasp of surprise to leave his mouth, the concave dip of his stomach as he lurched suddenly upwards from his prone position and the meaty impact of her fist meeting his tender belly still rang in his ears.

She was gone; as quickly as she had arrived, the mysterious girl had fled the scene of her crime. Finral scanned the area but found no trace of her, it was like she simply melted into the shadows of the building. He was running for his friend before he even realised his feet had moved.

Magna coughed and wheezed, rolling to a seated position and finding Finral standing before him. Confusion mingled with downright fury descended as he ripped the glasses from his face in haste.

“The fuck did you punch me for you jackass?” he roared, gripping Finral by the collar of his pink hoodie and shaking him violently.

Magna let go sooner than expected, giving a shove and wiping his hand on his jacket in disgust as he continued his angry tirade without allowing his friend an opportunity to explain himself.

“Goddammit Finral, you know I hate that fucking pink hoodie, and you made me touch it too!”

“W-wait! Magna, I –”

Poor Finral was given no chance to explain himself, not even a second of contemplation to pour forth what he had witnessed, and in honesty, he wasn’t sure Magna would believe him anyway. The gruff male grappled his fallen backpack from the grass, swung it roughly on one shoulder and started for the open double doors all whilst muttering incessantly under his breath.

With shoulders slumped in abject defeat, Finral followed Magna inside knowing that any explanation he gave would fall entirely on deaf ears. The only silver lining was that his seat was still vacant, he strode towards it only to be stopped short once more.

The hooded girl threw herself forcefully into the chair he was aiming for. She tipped her head up to meet his wide lavender eyes. Even with the deep scowl that darkened her face, his heart skipped a beat and his palms grew slick.

Ria…

~

One year ago…

It had been a day much like every other, Finral dazedly slouched down the hall towards his first class of the day. He wondered absently what fresh torture Ms Vermillion had in store of them all today, surely it couldn’t be as bad as the day that she had forced the entirety of the class to run laps around the track in the pouring rain. A lesson on the intricacies and workings of the human heart under stress, she had declared to the exhausted class before forcing them to write every word of her lecture whilst sweat ravaged their young bodies.

Seriously, what was their principal thinking when he hired one crazy-ass woman to be both the biology teacher and the gym teacher?

Lost in his wandering thoughts, it took longer than normal for the boy’s sharply keen senses to note the oddity in the classroom. A lone person that sat in the seat at the far back corner of the room, Finral paused mid-step. Whoever they were, they didn’t even lift their head at his stilted presence, if anything they drew further inward as if they wished for nothing more than to sink completely out of sight.

He couldn’t explain it; the strange sensation of curiosity that washed through him. Of course, it was natural to be curious about a new student, but it was more than that. An awareness prickled at him, murderous claws lashing out like that from a startled tigress who was discovered hiding under a densely packed thicket. A warning to keep his distance and for the first time in his adolescent life, he wanted to rebel against his better judgement.

A crowd of girls pushed past him, ripping him from his ruminations and making him stumble fully into the room. He watched in fascination as they too noticed the stranger’s presence, his watchful gaze never wavered as they gathered around the desk like a pack of hungry wolves out for fresh blood. Finral heard the friendly greetings, the gentle probing questions and the absolute silence that met them in response.

The girls gave up after a few minutes of persistent coaxing, shrugging as they flounced to their own corner and began a whispered discussion behind their hands in earnest. Finral chose a different seat, his favoured one would not allow him any view of the person in the corner and that was unacceptable.

From his new position, he assessed the figure as covertly as he could manage.

He definitely did not wish to come across as a creep, especially if this person turned out to be of the female persuasion, and he had an inkling that they were. It was hard to tell from the shapeless clothes they wore; jeans that did not fit the form of their body, badly scuffed converse shoes and a purple so dark that it might as well be black, hoodie with the hood up to obscure as much of their face as possible.

Call it intuition or call it wishful thinking but he was intrigued enough to attempt a more direct look at them. Finral reached for his bag that was hung on his chair, searching for a pen like he didn’t already have one out and ready on the desk, and lifted his eyes to glance towards the corner.

It felt like time stood still, his heart came to a juddering halt within his chest as lavender eyes met forest green. Most of her face, for it most assuredly was a girl, fell into shadows but what he could see, he adored instantly. Those eyes were as luscious as a thriving woodland, beautiful deep shades of green with lighter flecks closer to the pupils. She blinked, and time moved again as her stare diverted straight ahead, hiding her from him.

As the classroom filled with students, the chatter rose to incredible heights as everyone was clued into the presence of the mysterious stranger. Even Magna had managed to arrive on time, although Finral suspected that the threat of Ms Vermillion’s wrath was the sole reason for his unusual punctuality.

As if summoned by his thoughts alone, the flame haired woman swept into the room and all fell silent under her burning gaze. This was a teacher not to be trifled with under any circumstance, and for a moment he was concerned for the new girl and her rather scruffy looking appearance. They had no strict dress code here, but most teachers had a way of admonishing students that did not at least try to make themselves look presentable, and Ms Vermillion was one of the worst.

The formidable presence stalked to her desk and stopped before her chair. With a jerk of her thumb, she motioned towards the girl in the back and promptly slumped down, fingers drumming on the desk impatiently.

“Front and centre.”

Metal scraped against the tile floor, irritating every ear from the hideous noise. Finral held his breath as she walked past him in an unhurried manner. She stood with her back perfectly straight and hands dug deep into the front pocket of her hoodie . Every eye was on her and he felt a fierce pang of sympathy for her situation, she must be nervous to stand in front of a class full of strangers like this.

The feeling faded quickly as she opened her mouth and out fell three sole words.

“The name’s Ria,” she stated matter-of-factly.

There wasn’t an ounce of fear behind the meagre words, and he pondered the name she had given, testing it in his mind. Ria, Ria, Ria. It sounded unfinished, yet another mystery to the girl that was clearly an enigma wrapped in a riddle.

He waited for Ms Vermillion to pounce, to force her to offer more than simply her name, but it never came. The woman in question merely nodded at Ria who was staring unabashedly at the teacher, waiting to be excused back to her seat.

Finral was flabbergasted. For there to have been no mention of her untidy appearance, no questions over her hobbies or extracurricular activities and no attempts made to provoke the girl into offering more of herself, this was unusual in itself.

As Ria stalked back to her desk, he couldn’t help but swing his focus to her and their eyes met once more. A tendril of pale blonde hair fell from the inner depths of her hood which she quickly pushed back into place with an annoyed scowl on her pretty face.

Everything about her screamed ‘stay the fuck back’ but Finral only wished to get closer, to edge ever nearer until he could take a peek behind the veil she concealed herself with. What was she hiding, and why? He swore he saw a flicker of interest linger in her lush eyes, but it was gone so quickly that he did not dare to believe it had been more than simple interest.

There and then, the brown haired boy vowed to unravel this girl. He would lure her out of the writhing darkness that she claimed as her home, introduce her to the light and watch her bloom like the exquisite rare flower that she was.

~

Ria watched in thinly veiled amusement as the colour drained from the boy’s face. She silently chastised herself for finding him handsome, it was ridiculous for her to even contemplate such foolish things. Then why did she find herself going out of her way to help him?

She could spend hours berating her actions back in the courtyard, driven solely by the sudden desire to help someone out that she had never even spoken to, not that she spoke to many people. Finral seemed decent enough, he was sweet in an unassuming way, polite to the faculty and a fiercely loyal friend. She had watched how diligent he was with his small band of misfit friends, how he ensured he spent his time equally among them and was always on hand in a crisis.

When she had spotted the one named Magna passed out on the picnic table, she knew immediately that Finral would be torn between trying to wake his friend so they were not late to class and wishing to secure his favoured seat. After thoroughly, or so she thought, scouring the area for witnesses and finding it clear, she decided to dabble in a good deed.

The punch to his soft open stomach had been pulled, somewhat, she did not wish to inflict any true damage but it was still powerful enough to elicit a satisfying grunt from the previously slumbering male. Ria had enjoyed her moment all whilst she ghosted the halls that she now knew like the back of her hand. Finding Finral entering the class a moment behind her, she delighted in being given a further opportunity to engage with him indirectly.

The poor boy had looked utterly shocked as she hip-checked him and threw herself down into what should have been his seat. She eyed the latest styling to his hair, the fade undercut with long unruly strands on top that swept to the side, and the shock of green to taint the tips.

A part of her was surprised by this latest change, it was rather daring of him. Ria viewed him much like a sheep, one that followed the masses and did not dare to stick out from the crowd, yet here was with his bright green tips and a baby pink hoodie. Was Finral starting to peek out from his shell? A curious development, not that she cared.

Nope – not in the slightest…

A tiny crease formed between his eyebrows, almost imperceptible but it was there. Lightning crackled within his lavender eyes, a whip crack of hair raising energy that caused literal goosebumps to form along her arms. Her lips parted in surprise before she could school her features back into an expression of cold indifference.

Finral fell into the only remaining free chair just as Ms Vermillion rounded the corner. Her presence felt like a smothering blanket, a volcanic heat followed her wherever she went and would leave the students under her tutelage a sweaty mess before the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson.

Ria studiously dodged the teacher’s eye, knowing fine well that she was intrigued by the sudden move from out of her dark corner. The reserved girl owed no one an explanation, Ria did exactly what she wanted without regard for others. Her focus drifted towards the window with a view of the sports field in the middle distance and the cityscape as a backdrop. She quickly realised why Finral liked this seat so much, it was very picturesque and Ria basked in taking in the details that she had never really noticed before.

The sun shrouded by fluffy white clouds fell behind the spire of the distant clock tower, a clock that no longer functioned and yet nothing was done to rectify the matter. Swallows darted in looping spirals, riding the air currents like dancers performing on a grand stage and the lush grass swayed gently in the summer breeze.

She was lost within the world outside the window and it was not until her name was screeched did she remember where she was.

“Ria! Did you hear anything I just said?” Ms Vermillion roared like an enraged behemoth.

Metaphorical saliva dripped from ferocious fangs, intense blue flames sparked and leapt in her azure eyes and a fit of anger adorned her features with the red taint to her skin and the tremble of her limbs. Much like a bull observing a matador’s red cape, Ms Vermillion stared daggers at Ria who shrugged her shoulders and let out an irritated huff through her nose.

The class was deathly silent as they waited for the ensuing slaughter, but once again it did not manifest. There was no reason for the fearsome teacher to hold back, but there was always a sense of hesitancy when she engaged the wilful Ria. Instead, a smug smile settled over her features, and it should have been an adequate warning, but the blonde had returned her attention to the window in open disdain for her teacher’s authority.

“Well, in that case, I think some teamwork is best suited for this upcoming assignment. Ria, how about I pair you up with…” she trailed off as the redhead eyed each student in turn until her fiery eyes landed squarely upon Finral.

Ria was ramrod straight within her chair, heart lurching with fear at what she knew was to come. That damned smirk was as malicious as it was calculating.

No. No! Anyone but him, please.

“Finral Roulacase, ‘fraid you draw the short straw this time around kiddo. You’ll be partnered with the lovely Ria, try not to kill each other, ‘kay?”

Feline curiosity met startled surprise.

She was glad for the hood that concealed the majority of her features as she felt the heat steadily creep up her neck, wrapping like ivy around her throat and kissing her cheeks. Ria gulped as she well recalled the famous saying, curiosity killed the cat…

~

It wasn’t exactly how he had envisaged today proceeding but it would be remiss of him to complain when it had forced his hand into action at long last.

The library was filled with gentle muttering from the students that perused the vast rows of books, whispered chittering between friends and the frequent bubble of laughter that was quickly shushed by the ever-watchful librarian.

Finral cleared his throat and scooted forward in his chair. His partner slouched on the opposing side of the small round table, arms crossed defensively over her torso and if he wasn’t much mistaken, wrapped in an ominous aura of cold fury.

“I don’t think we’ve spoken properly before, sorry ‘bout that.”

He was met with a snort of derision and he felt his shoulders slump as he slammed face-first into her iron defences. This was going to be a nightmare if he couldn’t even get her to talk to him, how were they going to work together on this report if she wasn’t going to communicate?

Finral did what he always did when he was troubled, he didn’t even notice what he was doing as it had become second nature, but the girl noticed. She shifted in her seat, pale skin looming out from the dark confines of her hood to study him intently. Her eyes scanned from side to side, following every movement of his hand as it danced across the open page set out in front of him.

Her lips formed a dainty cupid’s bow with one side tilted upwards, her face was rounded with cheeks that he was sure would flush if he were daring enough to reach out and pinch the flesh between his finger and thumb and the bridge of her nose was littered with a faint smattering of freckles. Finral knew she was blonde underneath that hood, and he wished to see her fully without it hiding her. She was pretty and he had no single clue as to why she would continue to her hide in this manner.

How strange it was to watch her watch him, not him but his hand and eventually he dragged his gaze away from the beauty of her newly revealed face to look down to see what was so interesting to her. A rough sketch was half complete without his brain even truly engaging in the activity, a swallow perked on a tree branch.

“How do you do that?” she asked in quiet reverence.

A shiver passed up his spine at the softness of her voice. He was only ever used to hearing her speak in harsh tones, keeping people at bay with practised ambivalence and barking words. His brain caught up with the words, frowning as he tried to process the question and failing miserably.

“Sorry, do what?”

Ria stretched out a hand to point at the sketch on this notepad and tapped the page with a short unpolished nail. For a second their hands were within touching distance and Finral sensed the energy that buzzed between them. She was quick to withdraw her hand and tuck it deep within her pocket.

“Draw when you aren’t even looking?” she elaborated.

Finral blushed at the question.

Did he dare confide in her? It was hardly a happy tale to speak of, but if he wished for her to open up to him, he would have to do the same with her. He steeled his nerves and valiantly attempted to swallow the sting of hurt that pierced his heart.

“Oh, that,” he muttered shyly. His free hand lifted to scratch at the back of his neck, blunt nails raking into the undercut as if he was trying to scratch at an irritating spider bite that simply was not there.

��Well, when I was little I used to fidget a lot. My stepmother hated it and used to send me to my room so that she didn’t have to witness my restlessness. It meant I spent a lot of the time playing on my own, the same for my younger brother and I felt responsible for his loneliness.

“When I was around seven I found that I was pretty good at drawing and I decided to see if I could memorise a few basic images with the hopes that I could focus my fidgeting into something that engaged my hand without hindering my ability to focus on what was going on around me.”

He tapped the page directly upon the intricate looking swallow, “this started out as a more basic bird and over time I was able to elaborate until I could make it this detailed and then I added the branch, then the tree and so on.”

The memory of his much younger self stole into his mind, remembering the pocket-sized notepad and pencil that he kept tucked into his pocket at all times. The sharp hawk-like stare of his stepmother, waiting to pounce on him for the smallest wrong-doing and the smug satisfaction when he finally proved her wrong. Joy at being allowed to play with Langris, knowing that he had accomplished something for the both of them, and the warmth that filled his chest as he was no longer alone for hours on end.

Silence hung over the table and he looked toward Ria to assess her reaction to his story. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find but the expression of deep understanding that shone in her eyes was like a slap in the face. A piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She had experienced something similar to him, whether it be loneliness or the sting of rejection from someone that was meant to love you, he wasn’t sure and he wasn’t going to push the matter.

“Should we arrange to meet up to get this shitty report done?” Ria said suddenly.

~

Her heavily fortified walls were being chipped away and she wasn’t sure if he was doing it deliberately or if it were a mere coincidence.

Finral was interesting, too much so and it was maddening.

Ria had replayed that story of him learning to draw over and over, and with each revisit she softened all the more. It was funny to connect this version of Finral with the one that others had of the brown haired boy. She had heard more tales of his flirtatious behaviour than she cared to admit but never had she witnessed it first-hand. The idea of him speaking with confidence to the fairer sex was almost ludicrous.

Sure, he was an eighteen-year-old male, his hormones were likely all over the place and desperate for something he could probably not even truly understand at this still tender age, but it did not fit with what she knew of him.

Maybe it was her? She knew that her mannerisms could be intimidating at times, but it was only to keep people from getting near her. Ria suspected that he was at least as curious about her as she was of him, and it was a constant source of worry. Nothing good ever came of getting close to her.

Did he seek companionship because he still felt lonely?

The thought was alarming but she could hardly deny the plausibility. He had spoken so honestly of being lonely as a child, perhaps even now the feeling had never truly left him? It would explain his unwillingness to stick his head above the parapet, why he followed the latest trends and didn’t like to cause ripples in the water.

Then again, he was starting to crack. Little displays of his individuality peeking through with the green-tinted tips, the pink hoodies that some of his friends very vocally detested and his sudden unwillingness to simply follow the pack.

These thoughts circled through Ria’s mind like birds of prey seeking out their next meal, distracting and disorientating as she attempted to locate his house. She had expected to find herself in the wealthier part of the city, but it was still a shock as she stopped in front of a large manor house that matched the address he had provided days ago.

Since when did she care about her appearance? Yet, she could not stop herself from glancing down at her chosen outfit and inwardly groaning. She was hardly some petite girly girl like the majority of the other females in her year, much more comfortable in clothes that hid her true form than tight garments only meant to draw hungry male gazes, but, for once, she wondered what it would be like to be desired in such a way.

Ria was taller than most girls, although not quite as tall as Finral. Her body was strong, she made damn sure of it, but she wasn’t bulky either. On the rare occasion, she had stared at her reflection in the mirror, standing only in her underwear she admired the faint hourglass waist that flared to rounded hips and down to strong thighs. Her chest was what she would consider fairly average and she was glad of it, larger breasts would only be harder to conceal without drawing suspicion. Ria guessed she would be a little more than a handful and promptly flushed at the very thought of such an action, quickly dressing to shake away the spiralling train of thought.

She looked much like she did every day at school with her shapeless dark denim jeans, scuffed up converse shoes and a lavender hoodie, and no, she had not chosen this colour because it matched a certain alluring pair of eyes – not a chance.

Her knock was determined as her fist thundered against the heavy wooden door. The wait was not long before it swung open to reveal an out of breath Finral on the other side, his chest heaving beneath a simple black t-shirt. She swiftly moved her gaze, not wanting to appear as if she were ogling him, although she would be lying if she hadn’t admired his evidently toned physique.

“Did you run to the door?” she asked with a quirk of her brow, stepping inside as Finral beckoned her forth. His eyes nervously scanned the foyer as if someone would leap out at any moment to yell boo. It was entertaining until a sickening thought settled like a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach, was Finral embarrassed to be seen with her?

“Ah-ha, maybe,” he chuckled in response.

Ria barely registered the words as she clutched her fingers tightly in the hem of her hoodie. She fought against the desire to run from the house, to turn tail and retreat back to safety. Only her determination not to look cowardly kept her firmly in place.

The walls that had been steadily crumbling were being reinforced with each breath she took, her mind poisoned by thoughts of her own inadequacy.

This was a mistake.

~

He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but it was clear that something had bothered Ria the second she had arrived. Finral glanced over his shoulder for the third time, simply to make sure she was still following him and that she had not run off.

Unease prickled his stomach and cast a gloom to settle over their heads as he led her towards his room. The excitement that had moments ago bubbled at hearing her knock at the door evaporated like water droplets on a blazing hot day. His feet had never carried him so swiftly, intent on beating anyone else to answering the door. The last thing he needed was his stepmother or younger brother spewing forth their venom and scaring her away.

Although he was more than sure that Ria could give either of them a run for their money, he did not wish that unpleasant experience on anyone. With fingers crossed in his pocket, he prayed they would make it to the last section of their journey without running into anyone. The final corner was in sight and they would be on the home stretch, and much like witnessing a car crash in slow motion, Finral skidded to a halt as the two people he had wished not to encounter rounded the corner.

“Finral, who are you hiding behind your back?” his stepmother asked with a sneer on her pinched face. His sudden halting had resulted in Ria almost slamming into his back and effectively hiding her from the gaze of the duo before him.

Langris raised an eyebrow in wicked curiosity. The pair had a somewhat strained relationship these days, and especially when in the presence of his mother, he could be downright insufferable. Finral begged with his eyes for leniency and was met with nothing but a cold smile.

Before he could answer, Ria had sidestepped and offered a simple wave of her hand in greeting, it was more than he had expected from her but he was grateful all the same.

“Ria,” she stated flatly with a defiant tilt to her chin. Only her forest green eyes were visible from the depths of her raised hood, cunning assessment clear from the way she swept them over his stepmother and brother in succession.

Liliane Vaude bristled, obvious dislike evident on her heavily made-up face.

“What have I told you about bringing those distasteful friends of yours to the house?”

Anger coursed his veins, hatred for the woman who held no compassion for anyone other than her precious Langris and wishing her spiteful tongue to be cut from her mouth entirely. His fists clenched at his sides, but before he could open his mouth, Ria acted once again.

She stepped forward and forced the pair to back up. Finral was aghast as she ripped back her lilac hood and a cascade of pale golden hair tumbled free. Like golden silk spun for the gods, she shook her head and fixed his stepmother with a fierce glare.

He had never seen the woman wilt so readily.

“I think you’ll find that you are the only distasteful one here, embarrassing your children like this. Finral and I have a school report to complete, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be working in his room. Perhaps you might find your way to sending up some drinks in a bit, surely that is what any good mother would do, hm?”

Without waiting for a response or reaction, for Liliane and Langris were both frozen in absolute shock, Ria turned to face Finral and reached out her hand for his.

“Coming?” she asked softly.

Transfixed was an understatement.

Finral had his first unobstructed look at Ria and it did not disappoint. He had already known she was pretty but he had not truly understood quite how breathtakingly so. The blonde locks that hung loosely around her shoulders only served to accentuate her feminine features. The almond-shaped eyes, the black lashes that fluttered slowly as she looked at him with that faint self-satisfied smile on her lips and the rosy glow on the apples of her cheeks.

After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his hand and slipped it inside her outstretched one. Energy flowed between them, he knew she felt it too by the way her step faltered for a brief second. Ria held her chin high, composure intact as she forced her way past the still stunned pair and led them onwards as if she were the one to live in this house and not him – not that he cared in the slightest.

A truly rare and exotic bloom, and selfishly he wanted it all for himself...

[catboyclarity]

Hiiii maybe Karenina and maybe 🕷️ SPIDER, 🍀 CLOVER and ☄️ COMET?

Karenina

🕷️-what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

She's got kind of a limited ability to engage with and process her own emotions due to a combo of innate brain stuff and trauma and part of that is she's only REALLY afraid of death or physical injury. Most other things she's just like "hm. Okay!" about. Even stuff that probably should scare her lol.

🍀-do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

She believes we live in the best of all possible worlds but I don't think she really believes in luck. As for her being lucky ehhhhhhhhhhh it really depends what your values are!! She's pretty happy with her life but a lot of not so great stuff has happened and is happening to her.

☄️-what do people assume about them? are they right?

People tend to assume that she's ruthless, doesn't care about anybody, and has no feelings, which is...incorrect. Like I said she has trouble with recognizing and expressing her emotions and is really unexpressive, but she does care quite bit about many things!!

Also, she's Renato's current second (werewolf thing, combo body guard and deputy basically) and was previous to that a second to Sergei, whom she ended up opposing. Due to her being a young woman (and pretty cartoonishly young to be in this position for a werewolf. Less than 30 is REALLY baby when you could theoretically live to be 500) and some of the general culture around the position of a second, there are pretty persistent rumors that she was sleeping with both of them. Bc she essentially "sold out" Sergei, some nastier people think she used her Feminine Wiles to seduce Renato and gain more power.

None of this is true as everyone involved is like, fully gay! but the rumors stick around.

Langley

📎- A random fact

They're the oldest child of three siblings and were raised by a single mom! They send most of the money they make back to their mother, who they are very close with and call very frequently.

🎷-do they play any instruments? are they any good at it?

To be honest. I think they were a band kid in high school but despite the fact that my boyfriend was a band kid I do not know enough to say what instrument they played. And I think they stopped playing it the instant they graduated lmao.

🪤-what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

They're Renato's OTHER second, so a big part of their job is going into certain danger. Like that's just their job description. That being said they just want things to work out for the people they care about and will often bring a tend-and-befriend attitude to situations that call for uh...not that!!!

[dissidiacloudstrife]

I saw you rb the meme so. Who do you think would be besties with Jaspen? she's 1. a priory student that studies biochemistry and alchemy, 2. kind of abrasive but knows how to party 3. a mesmer that hates using mes magic (feels it's cheap and manipulative, greatly dislikes having an innate talent for it), and 4. the shortest of a set of pod quadruplets who keeps her siblings at arm's length. oh also 5. bi as hell

honestly probably clover! (one of bluebell's siblings funnily enough) before his journey to learn from surgeons, clover was a member of the priory! he was studying general medicine, but after being a field/front line medic with the battle for orr, he soon learned sometimes surgery is a necessity in replacement of magical healing. he would GREATLY be interested in jaspen's field of biochemistry and alchemy!

clover has general anxiety, but i think they would bond quickly over "magic cant be used for everything" and general quest for knowledge! clover for a while also didnt have much interactions with his siblings until honestly PoF. so i feel like these two would just, Get it, ya know? whats funny tho is clover is 6,3', a tol bulky sylvari.

clover is pretty much excited to learn from people directly (which is one of the reasons why he apprentices under other surgeons) and legit would love to hear or read anything jaspen has done!

[sebastianshaw]

Shaw & Skadi for the kid meme!

Name: Sigvid Skadisson Shaw. I know it should be Shawson BUT FUCK THE RULES. “Sig” is a pretty standard prefix for a lot of Norse names from the word “sigr” meaning “victory” and “vid” from the Old Germanic “widu” for forest. Gender: Masc and male-presenting but beyond that I’m not sure? Trans man? AMAB non-binary? Look, he uses he/him (maybe they too) and people THINK ‘man’ when they look at him, that’s all I know General Appearance: Tall and beefy, he couldn’t NOT be. Medium pale skin that gets even paler in winter but tans easily in summer. Black hair, or so dark brown it might as well be black, and very dark eyes. His hair, unlike both parents and most of his Asgardian brethren, is actually kept short, and while he has a beard, it’s not the big one. The reason for this is functional; short hair is better if you’re spending a lot of time in the wild. Stuff gets stuck in long hair, it can get tangled in branches at the worst times, it’s hot in the summer, and it can literally freeze in the winter if it gets wet. His attire is very much out of a Viking fantasy, but less on the “heavy armor” end of things and more on the “wearing lots of furs and skins” side. He doesn’t look like someone you want to fuck with, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to war. He carefully avoids any kind of dangling amulets, charms, or other jewelry that could get caught on anything, but he’s got a sort of leather toolbelt containing various survival tools made from wood, bone, etc. Personality: Sigvid, as you might guess from his attire and the reasons for it, is an outdoorsman. Not as a hobby, not as a lifestyle, but an EXISTENCE. He thrives in the natural world as Sebastian does in the business world, finding ways to survive in even the most adverse of situation. Whatever Mother Nature is doing around him, he can not only make it through it, he can work it to his advantage. His closeness to the natural world, his close observation of it, means that he sees both the facts and errors in his father’s mentality. He sees that the strongest predators will pick off the weakest prey, that the winter will take those who do not prepare, that mother animals will neglect and even devour their young if they’re sick or runty. He also sees that prey are more aggressive than predators, how some creatures will adopt and nourish infants that are not their own or even their own species, how some will share their kill with no benefit to themselves, and how even the smallest and most humble animals can make it through things that the larger, so-called stronger ones did not. Sigvid is very pragmatic, like his father, very practical, very self-preservationist. He has to be. But he’s also very spiritual, not in a way that connects to some distant god, but the world around him, to earth and nature. Not some idealized hippie-dippie conception of nature as a loving mother that is always in balance, but an acceptance that it is a greater power that he cannot control, he can only hope to survive at best. It keeps him humble. It also gives him a much wider, more relative perspective on things that is not human-centric, or Asgardian-centric for that matter. My Shaw often says that he admires human accomplishments above all else, that no other animal has built cities, computers, cars, and so on. And he is correct in this. But Sigvid always points out, how many termite mounds has man built? How many times do humans migrate thousands of miles using an innate sense of the Earth’s magnetic fields? How many fish have we hunted by literally sensing the electricity in their bodies? Yes, humans are “the best” if we judge them by standards HUMANS MADE. Judge us by the base standard of any other species, and we flop. Same for judging any species by the standards of any other. Nothing is “more” or “less” evolved than anything else, more complex does not mean better, and nor does being bigger, stronger, meaner, or even smarter mean a species is “better” or “more evolved” either. Survival of the fittest is not about that, nor about individuals; it’s about how well a species fits its environment and niche. A slime mold is just as evolved as a person. Sigvid is very passionate about this, though he’s not the type to speak up most of the time; he’s stoic and saturnine, used to keeping his mouth closed and his thoughts to himself, because most of the time there’s no one to talk to. And that also means he’s learned to exist without the validation and approval of others---ironically, something that is much like his father, learned in a completely different environment.

A lot of this, obviously, comes from Skadi. He was at side her since infancy learning to hunt and track, learning the difference between wood sorrel and white clover, how to tell when a moose is about to charge, and what it means when the woods go quiet. This connects deeply to Skadi’s Jotunn side in particular, which in Norse lore are thought to have symbolized the inherently chaotic and uncontrollable nature of, well, nature! Though Sigvid would not, nature it’s chaotic, it’s actually very ordered, people just don’t bother to understand what’s inconvenient to them. But where he differs from Skadi is that he’s not a Disney princess. Animals don’t hang out with him. He doesn’t nurse injured creatures back to health. He doesn’t keep pets. He does not see them as friends. They are not less than him, but they are not allies, they are beings he co-exists with, avoids, or eats. At least, until a thylacine started hanging out with him. Yeah, a thylacine. The extinct Tasmanian tiger. Who knows where it came from or why he’s attached itself to him, but he’s very adamant she’s not a pet and he hasn’t named her, but she is THERE. Sometimes. She isn't at his side like a dog, it's more she's following him from a distance and she pokes her head out from the trees somewhere. She's not a pet. She's more a parasite. But unlike Shaw, Sigvid doesn't use that term in a bad way, and he's fine with her presence. He's just curious where the hell an extinct Australian animal came from? Obviously, Sigvid is not interacting with people a lot, but when he does, he’s far less awkward or boisterous than people expect. He doesn’t have the overt weirdness people expect from a hermit, nor the bombastic warrior cliché of an Asgardian, or the vicious stereotype of a Jotunn. He has a quiet but overwhelming elegance, not like an aristocrat but like a great stag emerging from the forest. He chooses his words carefully, and can say much with just a few. He walks the middle ground between judging by individuals and judging by species; he does a little of both. He has preconceptions and generalities that he believes in about each group, but also believes in room for exception. After all, he’s not what a lot of people expect, is he? Despite this, he’s frequently misread as disliking people, but he doesn’t. He is utterly neutral on them, he just prefers his own way of life. Likewise, he tends to be very neutral towards individuals, and this also is often misread as dislike. One thing he does dislike though, is when people try to endear themselves to him by talking about how they agree animals are better than people, or say stuff like you know only man kills for pleasure. . . .this actually just annoys him. Firstly, a lot of animals do kill for pleasure. Secondly, when people say animals/nature is better than people. . . .they’re forgetting that people---humans, Asgardians, Jotunn---are animals too. This is just another way people, of any sort, try to insist they’re something special and different, whether in a negative or positive way. It doesn’t impress him. What impresses him tends to be how well people work within their niche, whatever niche that is. Like Shaw, he doesn’t really judge in terms of conventional morality, but a person’s success----Sigvid’s definition of success is just much wider. Like, maybe you dive for a living---are you a good diver? A great cafeteria worker? The best toilet cleaner in the tri-state area? He admires that and he commends you. When he is angered, he stays quiet, and his response is swift and physical; he either leaves or strikes physically and then leaves. When he feels sufficiently bonded with someone. . . he is still quiet. He appreciates a person who doesn't need to be filling the silences between them to feel comfortable and kinship. And kinship for him is rare, but he's not lonely----just also not adverse to it, as many assume he is. People assume a lot about Sigvid, and most of it is wrong, but he's also very chill with it. Sigvid is a very chill guy.

Special Talents: Besides the obviously mentioned talents for hunting, tracking, foraging, survivalism, and nature knowledge? Many people think he’s some kind of seer because he’s good at predicting storms and such, but actually he’s just very good at reading the signs most people aren’t attuned to. He also presumably has the attributes of Asgardians and Jotuns (super strength, etc) but if he has a mutant power, it has yet to manifest. Also cannot assume a Frost Giant form. Who they like better: Skadi, though eventually he does respect his father for performing so well at what he does

Who they take after more: I think both equally in different ways Personal Head canon: -He really likes amethyst geodes. -He finds a lot of manufactured foods, like chips or snack cakes, to be WAAAAY too strongly salty or sweet for him to stomach, is allergic to Red Dye #40, and he finds the taste of domesticated animals to be weird. - Not much of a dairy person, but ghee is good -Dislikes when people stereotype hillbillies as stupid; as in like, people who are genuinely living in the hills and mountains of the American Southeast, they're an interesting people with their own unique culture like any other group that lives off the land in isolation---which he respects---and not interchangeable with typical rednecks. -He doesn't typically carry anything with him that's not a necessity, if he knows he's going to be seeing people soon, he will pick up knick-knacks he finds in abandoned places and distribute them like a weird Santa Claus. Who, he's met, by the way, and according to him, Father Christmas is something of a badass. - He will always buy your homemade soaps, and I have no idea what he's doing with them. Yes, maybe he's using them in the normal intended way but IM NOT SURE?? - Pops up in art museums. People never expect him to be here, in these cathedrals dedicated to human creation, but he is. I think he views art a bit differently than the average person, but he's there all the same. - He's an Aquarius but there is a LOT of Saturn in his chart - The first Midgard movie he saw was Forrest Gump. He was expecting it to be about something else because of the title, but he enjoyed it and LEARNED THIS DANCE Face Claim: n/a

[pocket-void]

Care to tell us what's swimming around with the Suits AU, like what are the powers that are unique to each suit? Queens vs Kings?

Boy oh boy, I sure would! O///o Any AU I make will always be on an infinite “ask and you shall receive” basis lmao- >///< (Except Church Stop, which I plan on continuing when things settle down) You sent this ask at like a wild time but I finally wrote some stuff for ya so I hope it makes sense. o///o The Sleight of Hand AU is really heavy on worldbuilding so it may take some extra work.

So, here’s vaguely how the suit courts are organized and what each rank kind of entails (I say vaguely, but you know it’s going to be wildly long):

Diamonds - The Regal Suit

The Diamond court is known, or would like to be known, throughout the land as true royalty. They are opulent, noble, and unbelievably full of themselves. Their powers stem from their manipulation of worldly elements, able to craft their own visions of beauty into their surroundings. However they are also skilled in cunning and slightly underhanded methods to get their way. They are determined and headstrong folk who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, which may explain why they are in fact the origin of curses in this universe. They are crafty and have keen eyes that are able to very efficiently determine things about someone’s character, and make excellent negotiators.

The common folk of Diamonds are a lot less uppity and posh, but they do have a semi-upper class feel to them. Not because they’re all well off or anything, the land they reside in is just very rich in resources and well maintained in appearance, and it’s within their culture to be on the more refined side of things. They’re skilled in crafting and producing various luxuries, with tailoring being a rather appreciated activity. Art is a huge part of their society, whether it be painting, sculpting, music, even things like landscaping and interior design, etc.

Spades - The Intellect Suit

The Spade court is full of the world’s greatest mages and scholars. They’re always on the search for higher power, and are deathly efficient at their jobs. It is a solid meritocracy in the Spades court, but it is also brutally unforgiving. Spades are proud folk, not of their status, but of their abilities. The work one must go through to reach the top is almost unimaginable by others, and so it has slowly grown corrupt by those unwilling to relinquish their position and admit they’ve been outdone. The Spade court is a terrifying force to be reckoned with, as they wield the most destructive types of magics connected to the forces of nature. They are rather intimating diplomats that take things very seriously.

Spades tend to be natural quick learners, and they adapt to changes in their environment rather easily. Though the enclosed space that is the higher courts have impeded this ability in some. The common folk of Spades are actually very open minded, although unfortunately are also heavily influenced by the court. Many take interest in sciences, research, invention, various types of craftsmanship, innovation, and more. They are knowledge loving and respectable people who seek to learn new things when they can. People good at multitasking or jack of all trades types tend to be Spades.

Hearts - The Angel Suit

The Heart court is full of healers and judges. They are considered the arbiters of justice and peace. Over the years however they have grown perhaps overly defensive, and the armor once used to protect themselves have now grown thorns to harm others. People of the Heart court have witnessed brutality and war, and their reactions have turned away from peace and instead towards shutting others out of their territory to protect only themselves. Harboring another suit is considered a high crime, and you will most likely be jailed and questioned for it if caught. Interlopers deemed spies likely face execution, but that is standard in most courts nowadays...

The people of Hearts are kind and genuine. They hold much empathy in their cores, and most citizens are somewhat attuned to the emotions of others. The idea of “soul mates” originated and was popularized by Hearts! Citizens here are down to earth and know the value of a hard day’s work. They respect labor and jobs that benefit the community, and as such farmers, medical workers, local guardsmen, and various others are very well liked. “Soul Smithing” is actually something invented by the people of Hearts; an amazing technique that has found a way to heal broken cores. Not everyone can perform it, but the people who can are basically invaluable.

Clovers - The Warrior Suit

The Clover court is full of people will strong wills and even stronger resolves. They will do the things they set their minds to, and their beliefs only compliment their strength. They are determined, persistent, and relentless in their quests to do what they think is the right thing. Unfortunately that belief has now been directed towards war efforts, and they’re stubbornness has done little but blind them to the suffering of common folk for the sake of the “greater good”. Perhaps they have become misguided, and they’re confidence prevents them from admitting they are wrong.

The citizens of Clover are free spirited and independent. They’re hard working and very self reliant, living mostly solitary but rather impressive lives. Clovers are natural warriors at heart, willing to fight for the things they believe in and the people they care about. The people here hold magic that serve to empower themselves, and it’s said that their cores glow the brightest in times of peril. There is a myth about the “Four Leaf Clover”, which is a story about a legendary hero who possessed strength beyond strength. Half of the legend has been forcefully erased by the court, but its original ending claims that the four leaves were not symbolic of the Clover’s lone strength at all, but rather how powerful the hero felt they came together with their companions to triumph over all.

*Quick note! The generalizations of the citizens of each court are of course very generalized and does not perfectly apply to every citizen. ^///^

Now on to Ranks! This is already kind of long so I’ll simplify a bit for this section. >///<

Every citizen is born with two things at birth: A core and a rank. Cores, which determines your suit, are determined by your parents and general ancestry. It is very rare for couples of different suits to be together, especially in the current times with tensions so high. Instead of hearts, the people of this world just have cores in their chests. They do a few things under select circumstances but I’m not going into that right now snsjbksjf, for all intents and purposes they are basically “souls”. How one determines rank is decided at around age 5-7, because it’s a more innate sense. You yourself will know what rank you are, 

JOKER - Highest possible rank. A myth amongst the populace, since nobody’s actually heard of anyone with this rank. It’s said that JOKERs possess qualities and abilities of all suits. It is currently used as a symbol of revolution in the hopes of reuniting all the suits by an organization of the same name. All members identify as JOKER in solidarity to set aside their differences for the common good.

King - Highest rank in society. Kings are one’s with immense power and magic, said to be able to manipulate reality itself. They are incredibly rare, but those with this rank are seen as natural leaders, and will surely accomplish unthinkable things.

Queen - Queens are a diverse group of powerful mages, and are basically the ceiling for power level for each suit specific magic type. They have a very impressive and respectable amount of power, and tend to highly specialize in one to three skills/magics. 

Jack - Typically high ranking generals or soldiers. Jacks are hardy and very durable, with cores as strong as their wills. They tend to be more physically impressive rather than magic oriented, but it’s not uncommon for Jacks to wield magic alongside their weapons.

10-2 - Are considered “citizens”. It doesn’t mean they’re just completely powerless, and yes the numbers do kind of dictate specific things you may be more attuned to, but in general these are the people who populate the land the most. The higher the number, the more likely you are to be naturally gifted in some way at some kind of specific thing, but that doesn’t mean lower numbers can’t be better than you at something. There are special meanings attached to some numbers, like how 7s are lucky or how 4s tend to be more grounded, but these are kind of more like your zodiac than anything.

Ace - The trick up one’s sleeve. Aces have long been the wildcard of society. They usually end up being really good at one thing, but in a way that nobody else had thought of. They tend to be much more closely related to the magic of their own suit, while also having some sort of spin to their magic. It’s a little difficult to describe exactly, but Aces are comparable to “geniuses” who are incredible in one aspect, but lacking in what many people consider more “common”.

I suppose that’s all I’ve got for now. o///o

[mhdiaries]

New Scaremester Invisi Billy Diary

8.1

I am not a ghost, or a spirit, or a phantom. I am invisible. I was at the die-ner today with Scarah just hanging out, having a piece of pie, when Nefera accidentally locked her keys in the car. Nefera came inside, marched over to our booth and asked me to stick my arm through the window of her car and hit the unlock button. I told her I would be happy to if she would just roll it down so I wouldn’t hurt my hand. Then she totally yelled at me and pulled the “Do you know who I am?” card. I tried to be calm and tell her that I wasn’t a ghost and I couldn’t help her the way she needed me to, but that I would be happy to call a tow truck for her, which only made her angrier, “I’m going to have my father buy this place and you’ll never be allowed to eat here again!” Some days it seems like I just can’t be invisible enough.

8.3

I got to go to the set with dad today. He’s been working on this big action film that’s all about who will be the next king to sit on this throne made of bones. There are lots of frights in shining armor and castles and battles and stuff. It’s pretty clawsome! Today he was doing a special effect for his big scene where one of the heroes throws a dagger and cuts a rope that drops a drawbridge so the good frights can come in and save the day. The director is totally old ghoul, though, and doesn’t want to turn the dagger into a digital effect. So my dad basically “flies” it to the target. I’ve watched him do things like this since I was little, and I still think it’s scary cool. It’s what I want to do, too, when I’m finished with school. I think dad is okay with me disappearing in his footsteps, but he’s pretty hardcore that I concentrate on school first. I can see his point of view, so I’ve taken what I’ve learned from him and I try to use it in our MH stage productions. Mr. Where has been pretty creeperific about choosing productions that have special effects so I can use my skills.

8.5

Since I’ve unlived here my entire life, and I’ve gone through both the elementary and middle schools before starting at MH, I’m pretty familiar with the school and all the teachers; because I am so familiar, Headmistress Bloodgood asked me to be a student ambassador. It’s fun to meet the new ghouls and guys and help show them around so they don’t feel so lost on the first day. Today, as I was waiting for my first group to show up, three upcoming student bodies walked walked by playing the “super powers” game. It’s the game where you get to choose one and only one super power from the list of super speed, super strength, flight or invisibility. Once you chose your power you have to tell why you picked it and what you would do with that power if you had it. I always wanted to replace invisibility with invulnerability, buy you don’t just go changing rules on a classic because you don’t like them. Anyway, I usually picked super speed ‘cause I thought it would be creepy cool to get all my chores and homework done in under a minute, which would leave 23:59 in a day to do whatever I wanted. I definitely have never thought that invisibility was a super power unless being ignored, forgotten, knocked down and accidentally sat on would qualify. Some of the guys use to say, “Dude! Invisibility must be the bomb - you can sneak into movies and concerts, listen in on the ghoul’s conversations, leave class early or whatever you wanted.” All that’s true, but then I’d be a super villain, and I always wanted to be one of the good guys.

8.9

Met Twyla at MH to find out which new students we would be the ambassador/tour guides for. I didn’t recognize the monsters Twyla was guiding, but I heard they were an unusual group of creatures that were transferring in from another school. I ended up being the ambassador/tour guide for Gigi and Catt, and I was really nervous only because Gigi was once a powerful genie that could grant any wish and Catty was/is an international pop star. I’m surprised I only managed to get embarrassed twice during the tour. The first time it was because I had a really hard time not calling Catty by her full name, and apparently I must have been referring to her by both names during the whole tour because at one point she and Gigi started giggling and Catty said, “Billy, if we’re going to be friends it’s okay for you to just use my first name.” Embarrassing moment number two came as a result of me saying, “I wish!” several times when they asked me questions. Gigi obviously picked up on this and kept saying things like, “I’m not sure you’d like the way that would turn out,” and “Nope - you can’t have that one, either.” Finally I realized what I was doing and I got totally flustered, but they’re both so creepy cool about it that I started laughing, too, and before the tour was over it wasn’t like I was giving a tour, it was like we were old friends just fanging out.

8.10

Today was student ID picture day, and I told Scarah we’d meet up at MH, get our pictures taken and then go grab a coffinccino at the Coffin Bean after we were done. When I got there Scarah was in a bad mood about something she didn’t want to talk about. I made it my mission to cheer her up. Now I can become visible when I want to, but I usually stay invisible because it’s easier since I don’t have to think about it. I became visible when I sat for my picture, and as the photographer got behind the camera I faded away. He snapped a picture, looked at it, looked at his camera, made a little grunting noise and asked to take another one. I could see Scarah’s mouth start to twitch. It was totally on after that as I made everything disappear except my right eye, then my left ear, then half of my face, then half my body. Scarah was barely keeping it together. The photographer had changed lenses three times and was mumbling about vampires and ghosts. Finally I heard, “Invisi Billy behave!” I looked over to see Headless Headmistress Bloodgood standing in the doorway. She was trying to look stern and not doing a very good job of it. I finally appeared, got my pic taken, and when Scarah got hers she was ready for that coffinccino and a chance to talk about what was bothering her.

8.17

I opened my locker today, and a four-leaf clover fell out. I picked it up, touched it to my nose and then put it in a little box with the others. Scarah always leaves one for me if she knows I have an upcoming test or big event where a little “luck” would be helpful. Then again, sometimes she just leaves one to let me know she’s thinking about me, which is pretty cool considering she’s a telepath. That’s how we first met...kind of, sort of. I was dodging through the hall trying not to get knocked down/run into, and Scarah was dodging through the hall trying not to read anyone’s mind, and bam...our thoughts met head on. I’m not an innate, or trained, telepath, but Scarah says I project what amounts to an SOS (Sorry-Oops-Sorry) signal when I’m trying to navigate through a crowd. She stopped right in front of me, and we did the thing that happens when you try and dodge someone but end up dodging in the same direction. We both laughed, and as I walked past I heard a voice in my head saying, “Of course I’d say yes if you invited me to the Coffin Bean.” I’m pretty sure I blushed through my invisibility that day. We’ve been dating ever since, and I hope she doesn’t have to read my mind to know how I feel about her.

[harostar]

Um......wow another fantastic episode that both seemed to go on forever and yet ended too soon. So much to process and chew through and wow.

Starting the episode off with the shot of Clover’s badge and Robyn ranting about how it’s “all your fault” just....wow. But we of course see that she’s screaming at Jacques Schnee, who is such a slimeball and doesn’t even realize how serious the situation is. He’s all Ha Ha Whitley is getting my legal team as we speak with no idea that Ironwood has already graduated to murdering council members.

Watts getting beaten and dragged out seems to have subdued everyone, except of course for Qrow. He might have been framed for murder with even Jacques sneering and calling him a murderer, but damn is he absolutely ready to have Ironwood’s head on a plate. Quiet, brooding Murderous Rage is definitely a thing here, even if he’s probably still drowning in his own despair and trying to stay focused on his promise. 

Atlas Eye is here on the ground! ......to get shoved aside by Joanna who gives absolutely zero shits and is here to tell everyone that Ironwood has abandoned them to die. The Happy Huntresses are not here for anyone’s bullshit and I love them all so much.

IDENTITY CRISIS FOR EVERYONE. You can have one! And you! And you! The split is clearly bothering everyone, and we’re already seeing how people aren’t at their best because they feel bad. Ren is struggling to keep it together, to the point his Semblance is on the fritz and Jaune is basically holding everyone together through sheer force of personality and innate leadership ability. 

.....holy fuck do you see what I see? The Hound, which is apparently the name of Salem’s new Grimm, is watching them. Time to play “Where’s the Hound?” throughout the episode, because HOLY SHIT REN’S SEMBLANCE DOESN’T WORK AGAINST IT. IT CAN SEE THEM.

Oscar has zero fucks to give concerning Ozpin, and resents that he’s back on the path to merging. I.....have a feel this is only going to made worse once Salem has him. Between her perhaps not even acknowledging him as “Oscar” and not simply another Ozma, and whatever Ozpin may try to do to protect Oscar from her, it’s going to be a mindfuck of a mess. Protect Baby Boy 2k4ever.

Racist Grandma is awful, but man does it paint how ugly things are. The Faunus DON’T EVEN LIVE IN FUCKING MANTLE. They live in the shanty town in the CRATER, which paints an even uglier portrait of how Fiona, Marrow, Neon, and Ilia all grew up. And now the humans are having to come down to the shanty town, being welcomed by the Faunus who barely have anything to share but are doing their best. Just.....Kingdom #2 where the Faunus are stepping up to the plate. 

Poor Fiona trying to manage everything, with an entire city simply abandoned to die. It seems Mantle has an independent Police force, which has been abandoned to die along with the citizens. 

Of course Weiss would have a solution to getting to Atlas, even if it’s an amazing and wild one. Simply using the shipping tubes the SDC uses to transport Dust to various locations is such a clever idea. MAY IS AMAZING OKAY, I LOVE HER and we must protect her. The two former Atlas princesses going to wreck shit together. 

Penny, penny sweetie no. Ironwood was a lying piece of shit to blame you, and say people will die because of you. Seeing her so distressed over being the Winter Maiden is painful, and I fear for what this volume holds for her. She has a lot to deal with, and none of the experience to begin to grasp everything that is happening to her. 

SDAKLSFDKLSFDJKLSFDKL

Holy Fuck the Hound is terrifying. Absolutely fucking terrifying, and this seems to give more evidence that the Nucklavee was another custom creation Salem sent out to destroy. OTHER GRIMM ARE AFRAID OF IT. It can evolve on the fly, it demonstrates human-level intelligence, and it wrecks the group without much effort. 

The way it handles Oscar shows multiple pieces of intelligence and knowledge of the target(s). It knows how vital keeping him disoriented and off-balance is, making sure he doesn’t have the chance to gather magic or otherwise fight back. Just throwing him around to keep him confused and disoriented, hitting him again and again until his Aura breaks. And then he becomes a human shield, to keep the others from attacking. 

I am......not sure how I feel about that shot of Grimm ooze dripping on to Oscar’s face. 

And just like the Nuck, this creature is capable of SPEECH. While the Nuck could kind of roar something that vaguely sounded like speech, the Hound speaks CLEARLY and distinctly. 

But Oscar is that kid that absolutely will not stay put. Three volumes, three times these people have lost track of their resident Wizard-child. 

[crtalley]

WTW Planet Prompts - Day 7 Uranus - Science

Herbalism (& Botany)

“Botany isn’t true magic, though it might look like it to an untrained observer. Herbalism doubly so, when ingredients are prepared according to recipe (if the recipe actually works). The common people are intimidated by botanists and herbalists, who seem to have such an innate understanding of green things and health that they can fix all ills. Too many times I have seen herbalists thrown from their homes when their knowledge falls short of an exceedingly rare disease.

No, they’re not ‘greenwitches’ or whatever else the people of Journsea have taken to calling them. They can’t do magic. They just grow plants. If that’s ever in doubt, remember that botany follows too many rules—true magic follows no rule but its own.”

— 𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑅ℎ𝑦𝑠 𝐴𝑝𝑙𝑙𝑦𝑛 (𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐, 𝑎𝑙𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡, 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡), 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑖𝑟. 𝐽𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 608

𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝐽𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑎 — 𝐻𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤-𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡:

“Hallow-wort: Full sun (partial shade in hot or arid environments). Soil should be lacking salt, no correction necessary, kept moist. Tolerates some drought. Do not touch the leaves. (Non-toxic but awful.) Poisonous to grazing livestock. Safe for human consumption.

Uses: Panacea (doubtful; maybe I can talk Glynnon into taking nightshade again to test it); treatment of open wounds (to prevent or combat infection; combine with cobwebs or sylkweed for deep or bleeding wounds); comfort cure following shocking or traumatic events (debated, though personally I’m in favor of it).”

𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝐻𝑠. 𝑅𝑦. 𝑀𝑗. 𝐺𝑟. 𝐻𝑔ℎ. 𝑀𝑖𝑛. 𝐽𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑛 𝐾𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑡:

“Honestly, it’s bark willow, it’s a tree, it’s native to everywhere, you can’t miss it. Also known as ‘sallow’ or ‘sallow-tree,’ ‘walking-tree,’ and sometimes (in Mallea, where the Chora declared long ago that words are meaningless) ‘viminian.’

If you’re looking for bark willow as a treatment, you want ‘painless’ or ‘ease-pain’ in the local tongue. The only exception there is Journsea and its surrounding territories, which call it ‘sallow tea’ (and, again, Mallea, where it’s called ‘chæ viminial’).

(Pray to all your gods that you are never stranded in Mallea. You wouldn’t last a week.)”

𝐴 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝐽𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙:

“A short list of plants I had thought lost, extinct, or solely extant in folklore: dragonsbane (flowers grown freely in the gardens of Journsea—do they know how toxic it is?); bloodnettle (though I wouldn’t try to use it if cobwebs or sylkweed are readily available); fey folly (a sort of clover I’ve only heard of, though it seems it grows freely in the Glen, hence the name); lady’s heart (a kind of bleeding lily from what I’ve gathered; used as a prop for births and funerals in the north of Journsea).

Plants I still refuse to believe exist, no matter the evidence gathered before me: Whatever it is Marc claims to have grown by accident in his caniva garden.”

𝐴 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒, 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝐽𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑛 𝐾𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑡:

“Your letter was much-awaited. (‘How are you, Jazan?’ Oh, I’m quite well, though I am slightly concerned for my friend’s nigh-obsession with this fey-touched Seer’s daughter and more than slightly convinced he’s been bewitched; this is nothing like you, Rhys. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. We should speak more often.’ Yes, it would be nice if we could hold a full and complete conversation, but you’re too busy going off about Maris this and Maris that, so do let me know when the wedding is, will you?)

I appreciate your guidance in reference to the botanicals of Journsea. I must ask, have you seen the d’Ilorie gardens in Fel Imarven? I would like a detailed guide of them if you have the time. I hear the Ladies d’Ilorie tend to grow the fairest poisons, and I was wondering if perhaps (given its mythical nature) there might be a way to source dragonsbane or something equally hypertoxic from the north.

Please do write quickly (and please do not include contact poisons in your next letter, at least without warning me first).”

[ Unchosen taglist: @sprigofbasil @austrohungarianwriteblr @halcionic // ask to be added or removed! ]

[uozlulu]

Black Clover episode 164 reaction and spoilers

Now that I’ve gotten used to Asta’s devil’s actual form, this whole Oz face is cracking me up when this scene is supposed to be serious.

”Mr. Psycho Hipster Goatee” ilu, localization.

I’ve been trying to figure out how the heck we’re supposed to say Qliphoth since I saw it written the first time, and only now did it occur to me to go to the wiki and look up the katakana because what Dante’s saying wasn’t quite what I thought it’d sound like. So the katakana is クリフォト (Kurifoto). I was right about kuri becoming a kli sound, but I was wrong about foto ending with a th sound since the character is to, so it’s probably supposed to sound something like klifot or klifoat. I really should have looked at the katakana sooner. It’ll be interesting to see what the dub does with the pronunciation.

When I was reading the manga, I remember the jumping back and forth between vs. Dante and vs. Vanica and her hoard felt a bit jarring and at times frustrating. I didn’t notice the transition last week but the fact I forgot about Charmy having a one on one especially considering how that ended, only underscores the pacing problems in the manga.

I do think that the anime in terms of the transitions between these battles has the benefit of the filler arc that introduced us to the characters from the Heart Kingdom that we had no real connection to when reading this part of the manga when it debuted, so that kind of helps soften some of these transitions because we don’t have to go, “Well who is this guy anyway and why should we care?”

If that whole sustained manipulated fire appendage thing is something Leopold might be able to do someday if it’s less innate talent and more you just have to learn atmospheric fire control, I kind of want to see what Leopold could do with sustained fire while manipulating it with the Heart Kingdom technique when he reaches his 30’s.