hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Would your OC ever take advantage of someone's romantic feelings in order to manipulate them?

Oh thank you for asking! This is an interesting one!

Demos, Anthea, and Deimos would not purposely take advantage of someone else’s romantic feelings. Not only are all three a little oblivious to people having romantic feelings for them, but they do not like the idea in the slightest. It’s mean and cruel and would hate it if it was done to them.

Conner is on the low end of the scale in that he sometimes waits for a person he knows has flirted with him/finds him attractive to more easily get his way but it’s a very rare occurrence and would rather not. He just knows a losing battle when he sees one. And never maliciously we’re talking like the theatre got his boss’s seats wrong (again) and he’s not in a mood to argue about it when the theatre will eventually do it either way. And also it stops once in a relationship.

Siberite has used people’s feelings and attraction to her advantage before. She went broke when first on her own and would use her sexuality to keep a roof over her head. If she wants free drinks and food she flirts, if she wants people to do things for her she knows how to talk the right way. Much of Sibs power before becoming a WoL was rooted in her beauty and sexuality so it’s something she knows how to use. When people begin to take her more seriously and her power becomes rooted in her abilities as a leader and warrior, it drops significantly in how often she uses such advantages.

Carly and Stasia will, can, and have used other people’s feelings for them to their advantage. Hell the two use one another’s feelings to their advantage. To get to the top and to have as much power as possible you need to use all your weapons to your advantage and full potential. However it should be stated that Carly’s relationship with Zenos was not initiated for power but truly she was attracted to the man and saw something in him that called to her. She also has never used sex to climb the ladder, like that is a hard line she won’t cross. And it absolutely enrages her when people imply or state that she “fucked her way to the top” or her “sexual performance” is the only performance Zenos uses to justify keeping her around. Most of those that start such things don’t live very long after the fact. Carly won’t even stand for other women being slandered like that (or it being seen as a negative thing cause that the woman’s choice) and in Stormblood there is a scene where two soldiers make a statement as such about Fordola and while nothing happens to them in the game in my canon when Zenos and Fordola are done speaking Carly brings the very terrified men into the room and offers her a chance to kill them if she wants (Fordola doesn’t) and if she doesn’t want to then she’ll kill them either way.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Krile: And who is that I spy but young Alphinaud Leveilleur himself! I daresay someone's grown an ilm or two in my absence─or are those lifts in your boots? Alphinaud: We, uh... Ahem. Miss Krile and I met at the Studium, years ago. I shall forever be indebted to her for her sage guidance. Krile: It was no small task keeping him out of trouble, believe you me! The youngest ever to enter the Studium─him and his sister, eleven-year-old prodigies. Krile: Suffice it to say, social graces were not among his list of talents! Striding up to his seniors on his first day, head held high─what was it he said again...? Alphinaud: Thank you, Krile! Krile: For what? I haven't finished yet. Would you care to attempt a more dextrous deflection? Alphinaud: Ahem... Mayhap we should save this delightful conversation for a more fitting occasion, when pressing matters do not demand our undivided attention. Krile: A bit much, but better. I can tell you have been putting your skills to use here in Eorzea. Henceforth, I trust you will dazzle me with your eloquence at the first time of asking.

hey remember when Krile first showed up in Eorzea and immediately murdered Alphinaud in front of a live studio audience

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

some wols & friends

—aureia ✦ mine —alyzen ✦ @roguelioness —meryta ✦ @thevikingwoman —calantha ✦ @galadae —eko ✦ @lilas —tuana ✦ @birues —denh ✦ @syrcus —liori ✦ @greyyourwarden —eyrie ✦ @impossible-rat-babies

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

that light i thought was blinding brought me here.

FEBHYURARY '25. ↳ DAY 08. Crystal.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

got some restocks and my new pictomancer/viper pins up in the shop!

[ dreadwyrmtrance.etsy.com ]

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Il Mheg: The sunken capital of Voeburt

(acrylics on 30x40cm canvas)

Bonus + details:

Video showing the iridescent shimmer 💖

Details:

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Room to Grow

This past December I had the pleasure of volunteering for the @starlightinitiative, where I offered to write a gift fic for a raffle prize. My winner was @hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend, and the piece focuses on their Ancient, Anthea, and their relationship with Hythlodaeus.

Please enjoy!

The gleaming spires of Amaurot are ever a sight to behold, winding upward toward the sun as its rays bathe them in a gentle glow, their uniform perfection unperturbed by shadow. Much the same could be said for the gardens atop the roof of each, blooming with carefully-curated life: bone-white ironwoods, pruned just enough to encourage growth in new and interesting directions; sykon trees heavy with fruit, waiting to be plucked by the next passer-by; and rocky beds filled with sideritis, pretty pale sprigs shining bright with the morning light.

Anyone can visit these gardens, but it is only the residents of the buildings on which they grow who may tend to them. It’s a simple matter of filing paperwork to state your intention to join the resident kipouroí, followed by an interview and, should you pass, two exams (one written and one practical) to ensure that you know at least enough to keep the plants alive.

None of this lets you plant anything new, of course. That requires a waiting list, another interview, a separate proposal process for each plant you intend to grow, and then (surprise, surprise) another waiting list.

It’s the sort of bureaucracy one might rightly call ridiculous, even in a place like Amaurot, and Hythlodaeus can only wonder which of his esteemed fellow citizens came up with such an exhausting set of rules. Certainly, care has to be taken to ensure the ecosystem atop each roof can thrive, but this is excessive. More than once had the endless paperwork tempted him to pull rank, but temptation is all it remained – the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect doesn’t earn his position by being the type to abuse it, after all.

Besides, he’s already technically cheated by signing himself up for the kipouroí instead of Anthea. How else would he keep it a surprise? And it’s not as though others don’t bring their loved ones up sometimes to help them anyway. He can allow himself just a touch of flexibility, surely.

So he sits in wait on a bench by the door to the stairs, taking in the warmth of the sun and the breeze against his skin, imagining the look on his beloved’s face when they see how much space there is to work with – how much room, he thinks with a smile, to grow. A far cry from a pot on the balcony, this.

Though, most of the space has already been filled. His smile wavers as he scans the planters, wondering how much room they might afford a few of Anthea’s elpis flowers, and if perhaps he’s brought too many seedlings with him.

There’s no time to worry, though: the light catches the glass of the door as it pushes open, and out walks Anthea, hesitant in the split-second before they see him. Only when their eyes meet do they seem to brighten, tension leaving their shoulders as they greet him.

“Hythlodaeus,” they sigh, soon finding themselves wrapped in the comfort of his arms.

“I trust the day wasn’t too arduous, beloved?”

A tease, if only slight – the other day they had met with Emet-Selch in a bid to practice their magic, and to hear Azem tell it, no one had escaped unsinged. Anthea’s cheeks had been ablaze with embarrassment upon their return, and it is only because he notices that today they are reduced to their usual pink flush that he takes the liberty.

“It was, um, fine,” they say, before they step back, an expectant look in their eyes. “I heard from Morus at the Words of Emmerololth – he said one of my plants ‘showed signs of being excellent in salve-work’.”

Hythlodaeus laughs warmly, all fondness and adoration.

“And that is simply ‘fine’, beloved? It sounds like high enough praise, to my ears.”

At that Anthea looks off to the side, fiddling with the hem of their sleeve.

“W-well, he went on,” they continue, focusing on a far-off part of the skyline. A window, a spire, a balcony much like this one – the details don’t matter so much as the fact it’s not here.

“And?”

“… And the other plant I sent ate it before they could extract any more samples. S-something about the first one releasing a chemical when they took a second cutting...”

Admittedly, the visual is an amusing one, but Hythlodaeus knows better than to make light of such an incident. Instead he steps in to comfort them, one hand on their shoulder and another smoothing out their hair.

“That rather sounds like their fault for not keeping them separated during testing, no?”

“The second one broke through both of their containers to get to it,” Anthea says quietly, not meeting his eyes as he lets out a quiet ‘ah.’

 Silence hangs between them for a moment, but Hythlodaeus refuses to let it drag out: he’s not one to let his love dwell on such things, and there is a project for them to complete. So he steps aside to reveal the gardening equipment at his feet, and the neat rows of Elpis sprouts in their paper pots, already giving off a faint blue-pink glow.

“I’d venture Morus just needs to remember how to properly care for the plants in his laboratory,” he says, passing them a trowel with a canny look in his eye. “Perhaps we can practice tonight, and then you might pen him a response later, complete with instructions?”

Anthea hesitates to take the trowel at first, as though to touch it is some tacit agreement that yes, they will write that letter, but something must embolden them—whether it's the fear of losing another plant to Morus's poor caretaking, or the promise of an evening forgetting all about him, Hythlodaeus can't be sure. But he is relieved, and takes the chance to guide them to the bed the kipouroí allotted him before they can change their mind.

The flowerbed is far from empty: it's home to a fastidiously-trimmed hedge, surrounded by pale blooms that give off a cloyingly sweet scent. They too have been meticulously placed, and the whole thing gives Hythlodaeus the impression that someone must have spent months agonizing over every detail, as if following the same rote formulas for success he sees in applications at the bureau. The picture it paints is uninspired, a variation on a popular trend with little to no sign of experimentation - the botanical equivalent of a shark with an extra set of fins.

But there's still a chance to get creative; to transform it into something better. The elpis flowers scattered nearby will light up its dreary neighbours in all sorts of colours, changing throughout an afternoon depending on who's enjoying the garden and what they might be feeling, and maybe even inspiring some new emotions in turn. A work of art in the truest sense.

Not that standing around imagining it will get him anywhere, he thinks, watching Anthea look around the whole of the garden, cautious optimism on their face.

“And we can plant them—everywhere?”

The way their eyes light up causes his stomach to sink: he has brought too many seedlings after all – just enough to give the impression that this is just a starting point. The free corners of the planter, so vast and empty compared to the few pots on their balcony below, now seem just as insufficient.

It's hard to remain cheery in the face of that, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it his best effort.

“Ah, well—certainly, so long as we define everywhere as… this,” he says, holding his arms out in front of him, barely even spreading them apart to mark the area available to them.

Hythlodaeus gives Anthea a smile that he hopes comes off as convincing, but he can see the skepticism on their face clear as day - though it only lasts a moment. It seems it's his beloved's turn to be reassuring, even if their disappointment is plain.

“It might be enough,” they say gently, gripping his hand as they kneel by the flowerbed. Down he goes with them, steadily leaning closer, til they squat shoulder-to-shoulder before their canvas. “At least, more than half, perhaps… i-if we put them close enough together.”

He turns to look at them, mirroring the sweet smile blooming on their face.

“And they won’t be too cramped as they grow?”

They hold their fingers out about an inch apart, and shake their head, the day’s woes falling by the wayside and making way for the confidence that comes with expertise.

“Not if we leave about this much between each. If they were closer they would have to fight for sunlight as they get bigger, but they are quite hardy. It would be hard for them to spread in the wild if not.”

“I see,” Hythlodaeus says cheerily, opting not to mention that such hardiness was part of the reason it took so long for his request to plant the flowers here to be approved, and why they were only given this small corner, far from some of the more delicate flora in the garden. Some of the skeptics in the kipouroí still need convincing they aren’t weeds.

As if reading his mind, Anthea then goes on to muse aloud:

“It is a shame we can’t spread them out, though… It would be nice to see them lit up at night, all across the garden. They’re so pretty when they grow among other flowers, or at the base of a tree. Sometimes I sit against one and read, and they change to match how the story makes me feel.”

Peace spreads across their face with the memory, and the elpis seedlings stir in response, a sky-blue glow lighting up each paper pot one by one. Hythlodaeus, too, is moved by the scene - not only of the one Anthea describes, nor the one in front of him, but of the promise they both hold: a lush garden bursting with life, full of blossoming wildflowers in every colour of the rainbow, growing freely instead of guided by the hands of man. Trees laden with fruit, birds nesting in their boughs, and a spread of shrubs and herbs at their feet.

In the middle of it all stands Anthea, their smile shining brighter than any elpis flower ever could.

The image stands so vivid in his mind that he swears he could reach out and touch it, and in that instant he knows he will do anything to make it a reality: no matter the beaurocracy, no matter the endless rules of an overpowered committee, he will get Anthea their garden - even if it means leaving this shared one, and the apartment that comes with it, behind.

"Hythlodaeus?"

Anthea's voice shakes him gently from his musings, and he looks across at them apologetically.

"Ah, I do apologise, beloved. I got caught up wondering what colour the elpis might turn were one to read Ceto's most recent pamphlet on kelp as a dietary supplement."

He gives them a conspiritorial wink, and they cover their giggle behind one hand.

"I suppose," they say, a hint of cheek in their tone. "It would depend on how you feel about kelp."

They pick up a plant and out to him, waiting for him to take it with a shy look that somehow still manages to mirror the slyness in his own.

"Shall we get to work? It won't take long, with us both working together."

As Anthea passes the flower over, their fingers brush gently against Hythodaeus's own, and its petals blush such a deep pink in response that the two can't help but share a coy laugh. He wonders if it will be like this when they plant a garden of their own, too.

"Together," he says, heart spilling over with warmth, and begins to dig.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

“'Sé mo laoch, mo ghile mear,

‘sé mo chaesar, gile mear,

suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas fhéin

ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear.”

Commission from @chynandri

Ugh I love these two

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

characters that lose the most important person to them and are devastated by having to live in a world without them and get stuck in a futile time loop that turns them crueler and crueler and more and more fervently obsessed with the person they initially lost because they just want a world where that person is alive and are initially written off as heartless before the sickening realization that their devotion is so painfully human. you will always be dear to me.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

I have seen others draw strength from your belief. In Ishgard, in Ala Mhigo. You inspired them to stand up and fight. to win, no less.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Room to Grow

This past December I had the pleasure of volunteering for the @starlightinitiative, where I offered to write a gift fic for a raffle prize. My winner was @hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend, and the piece focuses on their Ancient, Anthea, and their relationship with Hythlodaeus.

Please enjoy!

The gleaming spires of Amaurot are ever a sight to behold, winding upward toward the sun as its rays bathe them in a gentle glow, their uniform perfection unperturbed by shadow. Much the same could be said for the gardens atop the roof of each, blooming with carefully-curated life: bone-white ironwoods, pruned just enough to encourage growth in new and interesting directions; sykon trees heavy with fruit, waiting to be plucked by the next passer-by; and rocky beds filled with sideritis, pretty pale sprigs shining bright with the morning light.

Anyone can visit these gardens, but it is only the residents of the buildings on which they grow who may tend to them. It’s a simple matter of filing paperwork to state your intention to join the resident kipouroí, followed by an interview and, should you pass, two exams (one written and one practical) to ensure that you know at least enough to keep the plants alive.

None of this lets you plant anything new, of course. That requires a waiting list, another interview, a separate proposal process for each plant you intend to grow, and then (surprise, surprise) another waiting list.

It’s the sort of bureaucracy one might rightly call ridiculous, even in a place like Amaurot, and Hythlodaeus can only wonder which of his esteemed fellow citizens came up with such an exhausting set of rules. Certainly, care has to be taken to ensure the ecosystem atop each roof can thrive, but this is excessive. More than once had the endless paperwork tempted him to pull rank, but temptation is all it remained – the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect doesn’t earn his position by being the type to abuse it, after all.

Besides, he’s already technically cheated by signing himself up for the kipouroí instead of Anthea. How else would he keep it a surprise? And it’s not as though others don’t bring their loved ones up sometimes to help them anyway. He can allow himself just a touch of flexibility, surely.

So he sits in wait on a bench by the door to the stairs, taking in the warmth of the sun and the breeze against his skin, imagining the look on his beloved’s face when they see how much space there is to work with – how much room, he thinks with a smile, to grow. A far cry from a pot on the balcony, this.

Though, most of the space has already been filled. His smile wavers as he scans the planters, wondering how much room they might afford a few of Anthea’s elpis flowers, and if perhaps he’s brought too many seedlings with him.

There’s no time to worry, though: the light catches the glass of the door as it pushes open, and out walks Anthea, hesitant in the split-second before they see him. Only when their eyes meet do they seem to brighten, tension leaving their shoulders as they greet him.

“Hythlodaeus,” they sigh, soon finding themselves wrapped in the comfort of his arms.

“I trust the day wasn’t too arduous, beloved?”

A tease, if only slight – the other day they had met with Emet-Selch in a bid to practice their magic, and to hear Azem tell it, no one had escaped unsinged. Anthea’s cheeks had been ablaze with embarrassment upon their return, and it is only because he notices that today they are reduced to their usual pink flush that he takes the liberty.

“It was, um, fine,” they say, before they step back, an expectant look in their eyes. “I heard from Morus at the Words of Emmerololth – he said one of my plants ‘showed signs of being excellent in salve-work’.”

Hythlodaeus laughs warmly, all fondness and adoration.

“And that is simply ‘fine’, beloved? It sounds like high enough praise, to my ears.”

At that Anthea looks off to the side, fiddling with the hem of their sleeve.

“W-well, he went on,” they continue, focusing on a far-off part of the skyline. A window, a spire, a balcony much like this one – the details don’t matter so much as the fact it’s not here.

“And?”

“… And the other plant I sent ate it before they could extract any more samples. S-something about the first one releasing a chemical when they took a second cutting...”

Admittedly, the visual is an amusing one, but Hythlodaeus knows better than to make light of such an incident. Instead he steps in to comfort them, one hand on their shoulder and another smoothing out their hair.

“That rather sounds like their fault for not keeping them separated during testing, no?”

“The second one broke through both of their containers to get to it,” Anthea says quietly, not meeting his eyes as he lets out a quiet ‘ah.’

 Silence hangs between them for a moment, but Hythlodaeus refuses to let it drag out: he’s not one to let his love dwell on such things, and there is a project for them to complete. So he steps aside to reveal the gardening equipment at his feet, and the neat rows of Elpis sprouts in their paper pots, already giving off a faint blue-pink glow.

“I’d venture Morus just needs to remember how to properly care for the plants in his laboratory,” he says, passing them a trowel with a canny look in his eye. “Perhaps we can practice tonight, and then you might pen him a response later, complete with instructions?”

Anthea hesitates to take the trowel at first, as though to touch it is some tacit agreement that yes, they will write that letter, but something must embolden them—whether it's the fear of losing another plant to Morus's poor caretaking, or the promise of an evening forgetting all about him, Hythlodaeus can't be sure. But he is relieved, and takes the chance to guide them to the bed the kipouroí allotted him before they can change their mind.

The flowerbed is far from empty: it's home to a fastidiously-trimmed hedge, surrounded by pale blooms that give off a cloyingly sweet scent. They too have been meticulously placed, and the whole thing gives Hythlodaeus the impression that someone must have spent months agonizing over every detail, as if following the same rote formulas for success he sees in applications at the bureau. The picture it paints is uninspired, a variation on a popular trend with little to no sign of experimentation - the botanical equivalent of a shark with an extra set of fins.

But there's still a chance to get creative; to transform it into something better. The elpis flowers scattered nearby will light up its dreary neighbours in all sorts of colours, changing throughout an afternoon depending on who's enjoying the garden and what they might be feeling, and maybe even inspiring some new emotions in turn. A work of art in the truest sense.

Not that standing around imagining it will get him anywhere, he thinks, watching Anthea look around the whole of the garden, cautious optimism on their face.

“And we can plant them—everywhere?”

The way their eyes light up causes his stomach to sink: he has brought too many seedlings after all – just enough to give the impression that this is just a starting point. The free corners of the planter, so vast and empty compared to the few pots on their balcony below, now seem just as insufficient.

It's hard to remain cheery in the face of that, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it his best effort.

“Ah, well—certainly, so long as we define everywhere as… this,” he says, holding his arms out in front of him, barely even spreading them apart to mark the area available to them.

Hythlodaeus gives Anthea a smile that he hopes comes off as convincing, but he can see the skepticism on their face clear as day - though it only lasts a moment. It seems it's his beloved's turn to be reassuring, even if their disappointment is plain.

“It might be enough,” they say gently, gripping his hand as they kneel by the flowerbed. Down he goes with them, steadily leaning closer, til they squat shoulder-to-shoulder before their canvas. “At least, more than half, perhaps… i-if we put them close enough together.”

He turns to look at them, mirroring the sweet smile blooming on their face.

“And they won’t be too cramped as they grow?”

They hold their fingers out about an inch apart, and shake their head, the day’s woes falling by the wayside and making way for the confidence that comes with expertise.

“Not if we leave about this much between each. If they were closer they would have to fight for sunlight as they get bigger, but they are quite hardy. It would be hard for them to spread in the wild if not.”

“I see,” Hythlodaeus says cheerily, opting not to mention that such hardiness was part of the reason it took so long for his request to plant the flowers here to be approved, and why they were only given this small corner, far from some of the more delicate flora in the garden. Some of the skeptics in the kipouroí still need convincing they aren’t weeds.

As if reading his mind, Anthea then goes on to muse aloud:

“It is a shame we can’t spread them out, though… It would be nice to see them lit up at night, all across the garden. They’re so pretty when they grow among other flowers, or at the base of a tree. Sometimes I sit against one and read, and they change to match how the story makes me feel.”

Peace spreads across their face with the memory, and the elpis seedlings stir in response, a sky-blue glow lighting up each paper pot one by one. Hythlodaeus, too, is moved by the scene - not only of the one Anthea describes, nor the one in front of him, but of the promise they both hold: a lush garden bursting with life, full of blossoming wildflowers in every colour of the rainbow, growing freely instead of guided by the hands of man. Trees laden with fruit, birds nesting in their boughs, and a spread of shrubs and herbs at their feet.

In the middle of it all stands Anthea, their smile shining brighter than any elpis flower ever could.

The image stands so vivid in his mind that he swears he could reach out and touch it, and in that instant he knows he will do anything to make it a reality: no matter the beaurocracy, no matter the endless rules of an overpowered committee, he will get Anthea their garden - even if it means leaving this shared one, and the apartment that comes with it, behind.

"Hythlodaeus?"

Anthea's voice shakes him gently from his musings, and he looks across at them apologetically.

"Ah, I do apologise, beloved. I got caught up wondering what colour the elpis might turn were one to read Ceto's most recent pamphlet on kelp as a dietary supplement."

He gives them a conspiritorial wink, and they cover their giggle behind one hand.

"I suppose," they say, a hint of cheek in their tone. "It would depend on how you feel about kelp."

They pick up a plant and out to him, waiting for him to take it with a shy look that somehow still manages to mirror the slyness in his own.

"Shall we get to work? It won't take long, with us both working together."

As Anthea passes the flower over, their fingers brush gently against Hythodaeus's own, and its petals blush such a deep pink in response that the two can't help but share a coy laugh. He wonders if it will be like this when they plant a garden of their own, too.

"Together," he says, heart spilling over with warmth, and begins to dig.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

I was hanging out on Denmo's discord server as always. And in the spoilers tab there were people making jokes about the images shown in the Live Letter. One of them said "Great now I have you wouldn't download a Sephine in my head." I then proceeded to take time out of my evening, post Jueno run, to make THIS.

I can't tell if I made something glorious, stupid, or both. But hey I'm sharing this random spark of stupidity with y'all now. Sooo.... you're welcome?

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

A Short Ask List About Love.

Does your OC have any difficulty distinguishing between love and lust?

Is your OC at all romantic themselves? Or is romance something they expect others to perform for their benefit?

What does your OC look for in a romantic (or perhaps purely sexual) partner? Is this always healthy?

Does your OC consider themselves to be attractive? Do they put much effort into achieving this?

Would your OC ever take advantage of someone's romantic feelings in order to manipulate them?

Has your OC ever had their heart broken? Have they ever truly recovered?

What is the most romantic gesture your OC has ever performed? Alternatively (or additionally), what romantic gesture would they most like to perform?

Does your OC pursue only monogamous relationships? Or are they open to other, more creative, options?

If your OC were ever to fill out a Dating Site (or pamphlet or newspaper) profile, then what would they include?

Does your OC have a type? Have they ever been surprised by their feelings for someone who doesn't fit this?

Has your OC ever been the object of someone's affections that they did not (or could not) reciprocate?

If your OC were in love, how might they recognise this? Or would they be too much in denial?

Has your OC ever written a love letter (or text message or whatever the case may be)? Perhaps they have even composed a love poem or song dedicated to their beloved?

If they wish to impress someone for whom they have romantic (or at least sexual) feelings, does your OC attempt to present themselves as more confident, wealthy, popular or otherwise impressive, than they truly are?

Is your OC easy to love? If not, then what are the barriers?

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

i'll watch the night turn light blue // but it's not the same without you

(for a prompt: ''when i look up at the stars, i can't help but wonder if you're looking at them too'')

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Would you like a renewal on your Lyse?

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

lil bit of WoLidibus for my darling sweet friend @feralkwe 💖 seriously this was such a fun piece, thank you for trusting me with your blorbos!!