#Clove stories

[goodluckclove]

Hi for the rest of the year I am inviting requests for Clove Stories - meaning stories from my life. I don't know if this is a thing anyone wants. You can request a subject or just tell me to spout out some random tale that is definitely true unless it turns out it's illegal in which case it's Satire - unless I clarify it happened a long time ago, in which case it circles back to true.

[goodluckclove]

Bay Area, California! The first I remember being exposed to through my older sister was either Inuyasha or Fruits Basket. Both huge storylines I could barely follow.

The first I actually got super into on my own was probably Ouran High School Host Club? Maybe Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni?

I will say though that Death Note was my first manga series I completed (I read some Hideshi Hino but my dad already owned that). I also cosplayed (poorly) as L the two times I went to my towns yearly anime convention. Made my own Death Note and had people sign it. That was cool..

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

[synth-peach]

a series i did to document clove's lore before 2077, definitely inspired by this post from @wraithsoutlaws because i loved it so much ♡♡

[foldingfittedsheets]

clove what’s your wildest customer service story

Clove and Ning from Faun's Love Story answer questions!

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Never Giving Up Is Our Magic!✨✨

[atefingersdagger]

This was a tough choice, but 8 Clato for the touching prompts

"What Needs to be Done."

Thank you for requesting!

Prompt 8: Shielding the other one with their body

*

“Cato!”

Her voice is in the fringes between exasperation, shock, and warning. Clove is not sure why the last one occurs. What should she care if he’s hit, because if he died now, it would only benefit her. She thinks.

Still, he is an idiot for shielding her with his own body at all, and the occurrence is stupid, too. Makes them both look like they haven’t been trained in District 2 their entire lives for this moment; The Games, the bloodbath and bloodshed, all the killing. As though it’s he has sworn to protect her when he is asked to slaughter.

Cato gets an axe to his shoulder, cutting his jacket and shirt where blood gushes quickly, hurriedly as he groans out at the pain. Yet, his attacker dies easily by a knife thrown into the aorta with precision despite Clove’s frantic wrist. There was some spite in it, too, and she’s unsure as to why when she should be happy about the injury, not angry.

“You dumbass.” Clove mutters, catching him upright before he can stumble and slap into the grass face first. “Move.”

They are highly - nothing but - lucky that everyone else but them and their allies have dispersed if they have no perished. The scent of blood is high in the air, rustic like an ancient tin object, disgustingly evident to her nose from both corpses and Cato’s shoulder. Yes, she also takes notes of the smell of emptied bowels and bladders as the wind through the maze of limbs soon to be stiff from rigor mortis.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Cato is so stupid it pisses her off. They’ve known each other for a little over a week, and he’s already pulling bullshit like this? Trying to save her as though that would be a good strategy? Fucking ridiculous.

Well, maybe she should be more thankful. That axe might have hit her skull otherwise, and, shit, that would be a painful way to go. A blow to the head wasn’t how she wished to die unless it was quick. Yet no one is ever guaranteed a brisk death, especially here.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Clove asks of Cato, sitting him down on the crate farthest away from a dead body. Which isn’t very far.

Somehow, he has the capacity to shrug. “A thank you would be nice.”

Clove huffs, puts a bloody hand to her face to pinch at the bridge of her nose, and then decides internally that fair is fair. He wants a thank you? She’ll clean his mess up.

Ignoring the ones from 1, she pushes and pokes around the supplies. Taking note that the more vital stuff is positioned within the mouth of the Cornucopia, she ventures to the back where there’s a rack of weaponry. A sword must have been in the middle, a space of metal obvious between it all: taken by Cato and now being held in one of his large palms.

When the others question her turning everything over, grabbing miscellaneous medical equipment, she promptly tells them to shut the fuck up. It would have been more prudent for her to have assessed the damage done to decide what was needed prior to her excursion, but she gages she has the proper stuff when looking at the gouge. Also, it was quite surprising she could be so gentle with assisting in removing his jacket.

If she’s blushing, all the cameras will see and likely the whole nation by way of sensationalism. The Gamemakers most certainly are showing them that a top contender is bleeding out as they speak within the first hour. Ripe is the drama and suspense for the audiences at home. Clove has been flustered as she helps him undress a top layer. Yeah, that will just add to the flavor.

“Shit. You’ll have to take your shirt off too.” Clove grumbles.

“Oh, I’ve heard that before.”

She huffs again. “You’re growing pale, and you’re making jokes? I am not impressed by your resolve.”

He does as he is requested despite her insult, though with a spit of verbalized pain by way of cursing. Nothing she hasn’t heard or said herself, but she knows the censors are ready to cover up any for the uppity people of the Capitol and the chaste of the other districts. And, regrettably, she’s seen his bare chest before, too.

This time, she gasps at the sight for a different reason; she isn’t bashful. She’s studying the mark the blade of that ask made. It will most certainly leave a mark, and it’s a good thing it’s on the non-dominant side of his chiseled body. Many are probably eating up the sight despite the gape in muscles.

At least this is something she is far more used to than the previous context of his bare torso. In this case, the sight isn’t surprising because it’s gory but rather because the impact happened so soon for them. A large nail tearing at their plans of outlasting all the others. Clove is used to the scenes like this on screens and in training when they were allowed real weaponry, not dummy or wooden placeholders. Still, the real thing is bothersome, perhaps an evolutionary quirk to keep the living alive.

“Alright, that’s ugly as hell.” Clove acknowledges.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She props open a kit she had under her arms, having to remove her own jacket under the artificial sun’s heat. Easier to maneuver that way as well, no sleeves falling while she applies pressure with a cloth to the gash. Some sadistic part in her, if not the default, enjoys the fact she’s standing above him while he is vulnerable. Sure, he could still easily snap her neck and wouldn’t even need to stand to do so, but a girl can dream that she has the upper hand completely.

“You’ll need stitches, I’m sure.”

Cato gestures nonchalance with his hand movement, pain tolerance vexingly high. “Can you do that?”

“I’ve been taught first-aid, but not sewing. I’ll have to try, we thankfully have what I need for it. Won’t have to rely on sponsors just for needle and thread.”

“Good, do what needs to be done.”

Technically, she could ask for help from the others in her pact, but she’s doesn’t find them fun conversation let alone worth the request for assistance. When she wants something done, she will do it herself. Being raised by neglect and ignorance taught her that much.

“Don’t flinch.” She scolds him as she puts an antiseptic ointment on, one to increase and promote healing by way of keeping it clean. Capitol medicine works like a real fucking charm if past Games have told her anything.

“Can’t help it, stings like a bitch.”

“Aw.” Clove’s tone turns a but cruel. “Boo hoo, poor baby.”

“And you wonder why no one likes you much.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

Just to get on his nerves, both literally and metaphorically, she presses her thumb in the slit of his wound where it’s hot and wet. Almost like she was when he pressed his thumb to her own slit- no, now is absolutely not the moment for those kinds of thoughts. In fact, they make her press harder.

Fuck her anyway because it backfires on her when his hand grips at her hip. Doesn’t seem affectionate or even out of warning for retaliation, just rather that he needs something to endure the pain. Funny him grabbing onto her when she’s the one inflicting said pain.

“Clove.” He hisses, and it doesn’t sound too far off from when they were in bed together and she scratched down the flesh of his back. Just with less pleasure. “You’re cruelty is impeccable.”

“I love to hear that.” She purrs, removing her thumb from further offending. “Is that how you get all the girls?”

Cato smirks, and shit, she knew that instant to be regretful. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

Once more, she sticks her thumb in with a lack of tenderness. It’s a win/win if one looks at it with a glass-half-full perspective; she gets to inflict pain on him for his idiocy and he gets the medicine thoroughly dispensed on his injury. And in addition, she shows little mercy by reaching into her pant pocket for a cylinder she shoved in it from when she had scavenged.

“Painkillers, if you’re going to whine this whole time. Also, careful where you touch me. I could slit your through now.”

“After all this work, no, you owe me one.”

Clove uses the cloth to wipe away more of the blood that spills forth. “This is me fulfilling that. Fair is fair.”

His wound is prepped, so Clove waves the needle in front of Cato’s face. He grimaces at what’s to come and her mischievous smile. This is his punishment for dumbassery, her having to treat the aftermath.

“Sit still.” She orders preemptively, but the moment she sticks the needle into his skin, he does so. “You did this to yourself, you know?”

Cato smiles up at her, one that brings a flutter in her stomach that she wants to stab. “I know what I did.”

“And why did you do it?”

“Because I want to be the one who kills you.”

*

Also, thank you to @clatoera for going over the medical elements of this fic!

[tinyrevel]

i knew you in a dream, once

[goodluckclove]

my wife plays Old School RuneScape and the other day they wanted to train agility in the Wilderness. For those unfamiliar is a big high risk, high reward situation - you can make a lot of money, but you're also open to being killed by other players and losing all your loot.

Riley prepared for this and went to the Wilderness with nothing of value and an inventory full of Egg Whisks - functionally useless. They trained until someone inevitably came and tried to kill them for their loot.

"Please," my poor wife begged in the chat. "No."

As the killer landed the final blow my wife perished, uttering one final lament. "My whisks!" They despaired.

[you kill me but I clip through the floor so you can't loot my corpse as my final act of revenge]

[coffinkissez]

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO OBM WHILE I WASNT PLAYING ITS GETTING NUKED ??

obey me rn I guess

[bravo4iscool]

opinions on clato?

p.s. i have strong opinions on this topic please don’t let me down :)

THEY ARE MY BABIES!!

they deserved so much better😭 damn district two for being capitol loyalists…

i wish we would’ve gotten more about them in the books AND ESPECIALLY THE MOVIES!!

we’re were ROBBED OF THE SCENE WHERE CATO HOLDS CLOVE. instead we got this weird cato and glimmer thing😔 i do NOT like it…

the thought of those “brutal” careers being gentle with each other just reminds me of the fact that they were kids too. they were so heavily indoctrinated (thinking of the cut cato interview clip from the first movie) and it’s so sad :(

and i’m so so convinced that the rule change in the first game was not only because of peers and katniss but also because of clove and cato! there must have been something between them…

[goodluckclove]

Hey friends Storytime about this!

So I've worked One Official, In-Office Copywriting Job at a media company in the PNW. Our content department was, at the time, myself and two other really cool people (one of whom is @renja-writes, a brilliant writer and my close friend) all led by our department manager. Let's call him Borgus.

Borgus is easily one of the best bosses I've ever had. We all worked at the same cluster of desks (open concept office because that's what soulless tech people think creates a cool work environment) and we would joke and talk a lot. He was a little shy but genuinely kind. I remember once I had to take a mental health day because I was hit by a sudden episode and couldn't get out of bed, and I told everyone I had a cold. When I came back to work the next week Borgus lingered silently by my desk until I looked at him, handed me a packet of Immunity Tea, quietly said he hoped I was feeling better and walked back to his seat.

Borgus is great we are a pro-Borgus household.

So imagine my surprise when my department gets called in for a zoom meeting on one of our work-from-home days to inform us that Borgus has been terminated. Effective immediately. They won't explain why. They won't even hint why. He's just gone. Who's the replacement? We don't know yet but that's probably fine.

(Hint: the replacement ended up being fucking nobody. We were the only department without a manager for a while before the responsibility inexplicably fell on our HR managers shoulders.)

By the time we were all back in the office news had obviously spread and no one wanted to talk about it. And since it was an open concept office where I was in the same massive room with the rest of my colleagues, there was a palpable, bleak tension in the air around us.

It was just. WAY more quiet than usual. Borgus was loved by all of us so his absence clearly rattled everyone.

At about ten thirty someone got up and went to the break room. She came back with a pitcher of handmade sangria left from the last office party (We had a lot of office parties, potentially too many) and a stack of paper cups. Without saying a word she just poured herself a drink, and then continued pouring for anyone who wanted one.

So I had too-strong sangria at like ten-thirty on a Tuesday at my Cool, Award-Winning Office Job. It was fucking weird.

I ended up leaving a few months later to work at the deli of a fancy grocery store.

[mistykoa]

I have so many crazy insane stories abt stuff that’s happened to me in val games and half of them I don’t think I can share because of the insane shit said to me

Being a woman in val is a death sentence for me

[the-golden-vanity]

I was tagged by @clove-pinks to make myself in this Picrew and post the last song I've listened to. Thanks, Shaun! You're the best.

I'd like to tag @even-in-arcadia, @bloomrebounds, @georges-chambers, @brimstone-cowboy, and @thebaffledcaptain– only if they'd like to do this, of course. And if anyone I didn't mention would like to do this, consider yourselves tagged!

[michellerakar]

I finished my entry for the O2 A2 VN Jam: Clove's Story! Clove finds herself in the principal's office at school after engaging in a fight with her step-brother Jibu. She must talk her way out of detention with her homeroom teacher Ms. Kurano.

🎮 Play the game here!

[goodluckclove]

i have another story that this reminds me of. Great reason why you should be at least civil to stage crew beyond the fact that we're what separates a production from just a staged reading.

Uh back when I did stage crew I was Assistant Stage Manager for this show called Calendar Girls, which centers around a group of older women who get together to produce a sort of pinup girl calendar to pay for the memorial of one of the main character's dead husband. It's a pretty good show. It's fine. And most of the main cast were perfectly kind people - except for this one specific actor in the main group of leads.

She was constantly passive aggressive to the stage crew. Just little jabs to me, or the stage manager, or even the props master for some reason. Typical diva, which in a community theater setting is a weird look.

Uh, but the thing about the theater I worked for is that it consistently had rats. not a full-on infestation, just a little family of rat friends that insisted on being patrons of the arts. It usually wasn't a huge issue, but I walk into the theater before a show one day and I find some other members of the crew huddled together and talking.

They inform me that the rats got into some of the food again. They found cracker crumbs and rat shit in a blanket - specifically the blanket that Pretty Mean Actor uses to drape around herself during a key scene. They didn't have time to wash it and, after having her throw a fit for a prop they replaced earlier, weren't sure whether or not they should tell her.

So - this isn't great. But we didn't. They shook it out and stayed quiet about it. In retrospect this was super dangerous for us to do, but at the moment we were stressed and exhausted and this was a person who complained any time we had to adjust anything for what was a deeply ramshackle production with little resources.

So yeah your collaboration with stage crew can drastically reduce your risk of hantavirus.

Hey, theatre kids? Hi, me again with another public service announcement about performer etiquette.

I don't care if you're the teachers/directors' favourite. I don't care if you're playing a lead. I don't care who you are really, treat your stage management team and fellow actors with fucking respect.

You don't like somebody in your cast? That's fine, but don't go spreading false rumours about them to everybody.

You don't care for the members of stage management? Well first of all, fuck you too, and secondly, don't talk shit about them when they're in the same room as you. Don't talk shit about us full stop actually, you're show would fall apart without us.

A new cast member asking a lot of questions, and it's kinda bothering you? Don't tell them to shut up to their fucking face, answer them and help them out.

I can't believe I even have to ask this? I feel like this should be common sense? But I'm watching things happen in our musical cast right now, and I feel like I need to give a friendly reminder.

Take care,

- your local fed up stage crew member.

[foldingfittedsheets]

is it possible for ning to keep her tail but still float across land to be with clove?

Clove and Ning from Faun's Love Story answer questions!