#blonde Acacia

[encrucijada]

3k on haze dogs 🫶

[reyreadersblog]

Sheffield is blonde, Acacia is bonde, how the hell is Gigi brunette?

[sakkiichi]

FROM ME TO YOU.

Because good things take time and it’s not too late for happy birthdays.

ft. Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, birthday special, reader is an amateur painter.

this is just something spontaneous that I came up with… I just… kinda gave free reign to whatever flashed through my mind once I was before the blank document, parting from a very vague idea I had haha.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Autumn’s cold always arrived early in Dragonspine.

The faraway rays of a molten copper halo fuse with the peaks outlined on the horizon.

Magic is the word you’d use to describe such scenery; seconds that seemed to both be suspended in the helpless passage of time, and slip between your fingers; like golden sand inside an hourglass too small to savor every snapshot brought by the incandescence of crepuscular skies.

On instances like this, you wished your painting skills were better; if only to capture the glow of early dreams threaded through the asters of twilight.

For now, however, this will have to do.

Why did you wait until so late for this, you are unsure.

True, wishing a happy birthday to someone as the clock strikes twelve is not an uncommon occurrence.

And you’re kind of doing just that, more or less.

Except…

Well, it’s usually when the special day starts that calls are made, starlit whispers are uttered between lovers, and secret kisses are exchanged.

So you can’t help but wonder… is it too late?

For this? Or to back out now?

A sigh escapes your chapped lips, into the dimness of dusk, the stillness of frozen peaks, the stars.

Stars.

Your gaze is drawn to the easel you’ve set before you, fingertips delicately trailing over the four-point asteroids decorating a heaven made of brushstrokes.

Gold pinpricks, almost aglow beneath the darkening penombre of sundown, over a backdrop of ultramarines and indigoes, akin to sunlight over the depth of a frozen sea; a mirror image of the sky now hovering over snowy plains.

Looking up, you find a firmament of constellations. Stories, sketched in the silver flames of light years away suns, above an infinity of obscurity.

Those tales, however, had a tendency for lighting up paths that fell victim to the constant fluttering snowflakes.

“Hello, dearest.” A voice, smooth, liquid dawnlight over dewed cecilia petals, greets. “Am I late?”

The sound of crunching snow fills the fire-lit silence, the torches from his camp casting him in tepid hues.

“Albedo!” You call him, turning around.

And when you do, you swear he alone outshines every galaxy you could ever dream of rendering on canvas.

Tendrils of midnight sun and honeycomb seem to meld together in the blonde locks framing the alchemist’s porcelain-like face. Spotless, argent light from distant stars kisses his skin, fading into flecks of sparkling acacia blossoms to halo his gaze.

Summer skies.

That’s the image his eyes always evoked: clear skies, endlessly blue, over meadows to lie on, the low grass soft beneath your forms, as hands entwined and fingers pointed above, determining the shapes of the occasional cottony clouds.

What a paradox, how someone who spent his days surrounded by ice could make sparks ignite in your heart, cheeks heating up like the embers that remained after the coziness of a homey hearth.

“Is there anything you needed my help with, love?” He asks, gloved hand running its thumb over the back of yours.

Your gaze flits from your intertwined hands to his smiling lips, taking in his features in full.

“Not exactly your help.” You offer, your own lips a moon shaped brushstroke of vermillion. “I just… would like you to see something.” Your hand squeezes his, as you swing your linked hands between the both of you. “It’s your special day today, after all, isn’t it?”

Your rhetoric is met by the alchemist’s windened gaze, followed by one of his subtle smiles.

Tugging him along, you guide him to the candle lit spot where your easel is propped up.

Why are you feeling nervous all of a sudden? You internally chide yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

Relaxing your shoulders, you turn to face your lover, gaze averted when you mumble:

“It’s not much but…” You scuff one of your boots on the dirtied snow. “I just… I remembered your painting, ‘You and I’ and… well… you know… I…” Your lids close, your nose scrunched up in that way he always found utterly endearing. “I wanted to make a painting for you too!” You finally sputter, stepping aside so he can see your masterpiece.

From that moment on, Albedo would forever believe no starry night could ever come close to capture the sheer magic of your art.

Gilded speckles abound in your make-believe heavens, each of them a shade slightly different than the previous one. They rest against a backdrop of cyans, accentuated in baby blue around your handmade constellations, the piece’s finale, a violet horizon. Outlined against it, two figures seem to dance, their happy ending created by them, rather than foretold by the celestial bodies staring in envy at a proximity that doesn’t burn, but warms and completes.

“I know it’s not the best but-“

“It’s perfect.” Is the kreideprinz’s awestruck answer, as his svelte hands hover over the frame. “You’re perfect, [Y/n].” He blurts, still staring at your work.

Then, he meets your eyes again. Your face is in his tender hold, a fleeting frosted kiss landing on your lips.

“I love it.” He assures. ‘I love you.’ His dilated pupils confess.

“‘From me to you’. Its title.” Your hand reaches up, resting on top of his. “You know… I hope you didn’t think I had forgotten about today… I just… kinda wanted this to be your last memory of your day.”

With that, both your gazes fuse in a watercolor of each other’s lips, of the anticipation of feeling them against your own.

“Happy birthday, Bedo.” You utter, before leaning in.

And then, the night, the snow, the starshine, all fade away, in a myriad of rose colored frenzied blazes. Your hands lost in the ash blonde strands at his nape; his, pulling you closer by the waist. Your kiss is a nebula of pulsating light, undimmed by even the most ruthless blizzards, lighting up the ebony of the pines obscuring the moonlight. Frozen air is exhausted in your lungs, but you don’t care right now, not when you’re kissing your prince charming under the lights of an aurora that’s still hours away.

A few moments pass, with the stars orbiting marking the approach of midnight.

A snow-kissed breeze caresses both your faces when you part, causing a shiver to rake through your body.

Your prince’s arms wrap around you.

When you look at him, matching chuckles fill the night air.

Moments like this were worth waiting all day for.

[fanaticsnail]

Hi, Snail, I hope you're having a nice day! ❤️🫂

Update, the Rosi x Reader x Doffy is now 6k long, send help. Little Law is such a crazy little guy now with his Devil Fruit I love him, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin so much my little babies. 🥺

The other fic idea I have in the making but only wrote a little of is Dressrosa Citizen!Reader x Doflamingo. Doffy learns about Dressrosa when he is fourteen and flies there to see it. Little 12-year-old Reader snuck out of the field where she works with her family to the Flower Field and meets a boy who has the same hair as the sunflowers. They befriend each other and Doffy sneaks out of North Blue on his strings to meet Reader once a month. Little Reader tells him how she doesn't like seeing the nobles getting to take it easy while she and her family work in the field, that she wishes everyone got to have equally nice lives, that she doesn't like not being able to buy toys while her parents say they're happy with how they live while little Reader doesn't understand it, and Doffy tells her that the Riku Family aren't the real rulers. The real ones are his family, the Donquixotes, and he is the rightful ruler of Dressrosa. They end up sneaking into the royal palace to get the books about it and spend the entire day reading them atop the tree in the sunflower field. Reader feels sad Doffy is a noble, since that means they won't be able to see each other on normal occassions. Doffy laughs and says that once he is king, he will make Reader his queen. He asks for her hand and makes a string wedding ring around her finger, and then makes one around his own. "When I come back, I'll find you with this. It can't be taken off without my power, so you can't lose it even if you try. I'll remove these string rings from our fingers and we'll put the real ones on at our wedding."

It's a promise. Doffy seals it with a kiss (it's his first kiss ever awww) and asks Reader to wait for him, since it might take him a while. He can't return to Dressrosa anymore since Trebol figured out he's flying somewhere and he can't risk being recognised as a Donquixote. He says Riku would kill him if he found out.

Seventeen years later, you are a member of Riku's Army in Acacia and see the fire start out in the main city... You can't believe Riku and the palace soldiers are killing all the citizens. You lead the fire brigade effort and you at one point head to take Riku's head. A blur of pink flies past you and your horse, and a man larger than your horse takes Riku off his steed, punching the King straight in the gut. The pink-coat wearing huge man lands down while holding King Riku, and in the dark red light of the fire there is a glimmer of white on his long, tanned, ring finger that is clenched with the others into a fist on King Riku's collar.

Donquixote Doflamingo, a warlord, short spiky blond hair and large grin, is holding Riku up in the air. He looks like the champion of the colosseum.

The true king of Dressrosa has returned, as he promised you.

I think I titled the fic Sunflowers and Fire, since they're the aesthetic themes of the fic. Reader literally after the two of them realise it's each other calls Doflamingo a "big boy" and Doflamingo experiences blue balls because Reader leaves to help with the fire. He likes being called big boy 🥺🥺

- @physics-of-one-piece

I cannot wait to read this, physics 🥹🥹🥹. Big boy Doflamingo, my absolute heart. I have been eagerly awaiting where it takes you 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[comatosebunny09]

moontide | r. kyojuro

summary: he looks at you with certainty in his eyes, as if he’s ready to dive into the crevasse with you. he'd do it a thousand times over. after all, he's waited years to take the leap. genres: romance, friends-to-lovers, modern au cw: use of alcohol, mutual pining, language, stream of consciousness, incomplete music: l'amour, les baguettes, paris - stella jang

It begins innocently enough.

Or as innocent as a reunion between friends can be, given the setting and people involved.

The bottle of Casamigos being passed around exacerbates things. Loosens tongues and inhibitions while dredging up memories of a childhood long-passed.

A cacophony of sounds typical of longtime friends paints the space beneath the gazebo. Shot glasses slam against acacia. Varying pitches of groans and laughter stain the atmosphere. Music spills from the Bluetooth speaker. Nostalgia hangs overhead, nebulous like the galaxies littering the sky.

Your laughter is amongst the fray, high and light. Soaked with Tequila, but it’s genuine. Your cheeks simmer with it, alongside the balmy caress of the breeze. Lips ache with a smile as you toy with the drawstrings of your blouse. You feel full. You missed this.

It’s divine, being home. Being tucked beneath willowy palm trees, the briny wind stinging your lungs, and sand grating the interstices of your toes. The sea at your back, singing its gentle cadence. Sandwiched between companions who have filled the gaps between your ribs for two decades. Recounting memories stashed between the folds of your mind for safekeeping.

Though the years have dragged you all apart, you’ve floated back. Eventually returned to the shoreline like driftwood.

Your gaze shifts. Caught by watercolor swatches of gold and crimson. Your smile loses a bit of its luster. Falters, because there he sits. At the edge of the bench, cheek propped on his hand, gaze swimming, mirth coloring his features. Mitsuri’s beside him, siphoning his attention.

The liquor does little to stop the envy curdling in your gut. Your mouth pulls into a grimace whilst another set of chuckles leaves Kyojuro’s lips. It’s not you eliciting such a sound, after all. It’s not—

How immature you sound—a brat forced to share a toy in the sandbox. You could smack yourself. Mitsuri is your friend. Been here since you were a teen, all awkward juts of bone and metal filling your mouth. Known of your infatuation with the blond for years. She wouldn’t dream of coming between you. Besides—a glance beneath the table reveals pale fingers twining shyly with tanned ones in her lap—Iguro holds her heart. Always has. Always will.

“—alright?”

You blink away your reverie. Vision ebbs and flows like cerulean waves lapping at the shoreline. His eyes bring you back first, wading beneath furrowed brows. Glimmering like the sunset against the ocean. Posing a question you know you’ll lie to.

Next are the worn pads of his fingers skating between the grooves of your knuckles. Gentle and homely like the caw of the seagulls in the distance. Thumb slipping beneath the clutch of your hand, memorizing every stitch and line. You flinch beneath the weight of it when he squeezes. Veins working overtime. He doesn’t seem to notice, his stare heavy and drawing you in like a whirlpool.

Sand fills your throat. Funnels into your chest. Gathers in your stomach, and your heart sinks with it. You somehow forget how to breathe. How to—okay, it goes like—

In.

Out.

In—

How—

Embarrassing. You’re 30-something. Seasoned, yet pining for your friend like he’s some grade school crush. He’s always had this way of wheedling himself beneath your skin. Peeling back the layers like an onion, leaving you raw and exposed. Even after all this time.

“I’m good,” you chuckle once your voice returns. The dissonance in your mind congeals like sea foam. You swallow against a tidal wave of anxiety. Avert your gaze to your lap, errant splinters from the table biting into your palm.

“You will let me know when you are ready to leave, right?” Kyojuro queries, dragging your stare back to him. A pang shoots like lightning through you. The softness of his voice. Warm like the summer sun beating on your chest. You don’t deserve it. Yet, it’s typical of him to ask. He’s long since assumed the role of your DD. He doesn’t drink. You’re envious of his resolve.

“Yeah,” you say simply. Lashes stained with kohl shutter, your gaze flitting down to where your hands meet. You turn your palm skyward to hold his. Harmless affection between friends. You convince yourself it means nothing when Kyojuro clutches you tighter, as if letting you go will cause you to disappear in a plume of smoke.

Mitsuri’s look is telling in your peripheral. Twinkling like sea glass beneath the golden glow of the gazebo’s lights. A beam threatens to take possession of her features. But she remains quiet, diverting her attention to Iguro. A friend through and through.

She’ll tease you about this later. You just know it.

Sanemi is the first to notice. Or the first to vocalize it.

He’s always been infuriatingly observant despite the aloofness he exudes. The low gravel of his voice cuts through the amalgam of merriment, shining the proverbial spotlight on you from the opposite end of the table. “Your glass has stayed pretty full over there,” he husks, your name added with a snort. “Wonder what our little angel has been up to in the big, bad city.”

You cut your eyes at Sanemi, your laughter petering. He looks at you from the tip of his nose, throwing back another shot of Tequila. A silent challenge leaving tension clinging to the air like sea salt.

He isn’t wrong. Since the festivities began—a wholesome game of Never Have I Ever that of course erred down a suggestive path—your shot glass has remained surprisingly full. You’ve lived several lifetimes since you left your sleepy hometown. Had a few lovers. Experimented. Unlocked different rooms of your psyche when you traded your flip-flops for high-heels and knee-length skirts. No longer the innocent husk you left behind, molded by time and experience.

“What haven't you done?” Sanemi quips, garnering the scrutiny of your friends.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you idly fiddle with your glass. Feel eight sets of eyes boring into you, kindling with various degrees of interest. Stripping you down to the marrow.

The cool glass turns in your fingers, light crystals reflecting off it. You scan the library of your muddled mind for something to dispel the silence. Something to make you human. You find your voice amid the sea, stained with nonchalance, the alcohol having thoroughly loosened your tongue.

But, of course, you would admit something so brazen. So intimate. And, of course, a particular set of sunset eyes would find yours through the discord of your friends, their collective gasps and laughter rivaling the static filling your ears.

And of course, he hasn't taken his eyes off you since.

It comes through the slurry of your thoughts. A lighthouse beaconing through the storm.

Tengen’s voice, laced with agave, crackles like pebbles dragged by the surf. His breath skates along the outskirts of your ear as he slurs, “You act like you're hot shit, but you haven’t changed one bit.” He dangles on a tightrope between sobriety and inebriation. Always been better at holding his liquor. A man his size has to.

You turn towards him in the violet haze of the night, head swimming. Catch sight of garnet-spun eyes dancing, dancing with amusement, chin propped on his palm.

Confusion occupies the space between your brows. Your lips quiver with a question you already know the answer to. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

Tengen shrugs, much to your chagrin. Gaze flicks across from you, confirming that creeping suspicion. He combs through gossamer strands whilst you peek at a certain blondie you’ve been playing peek-a-boo with all night. A smirk cants Tengen’s lips when your gazes realign, browbones waggling. The warmth blossoming in your neck stems from more than just alcohol.

It’s harder to swallow now. Harder to breathe, your throat pulsing, and your blood thundering in your ears. The frayed threads of a hole in your jeans are suddenly more interesting, twirling between shaky fingers. You chew your lip, heat spilling into your chest. Ten’s never been one to letup, cornering you like the proverbial lamb laid to slaughter.

“Better tell ‘em before I do, city girl,” Tengen drawls. Side-eyes you whilst throwing back another shot, his glass striking the table with finality.

You shrink beneath his scrutiny like a scolded child. Know that he’ll do good on his threat. He’s never one to pull punches. Your idle crush has run Tengen ragged over the years, to the point where he’s come close to diming you out on numerous occasions. Would it be selfish of you to ask him to hold on a bit longer?

He casts you another warning look before hauling himself up from the bench, the acacia groaning beneath his might. You wince at the shrillness of it. Sink further, left at the mercy of your pride and anxiety.

You reach across before you know it. Find his hand through the discord, snatching Kyojuro away from his conversation, hesitation hanging in the air. His eyes shine with worry, fingers curling into your palm.

“Think I’m ready to go,” you breathe, fluttering your lashes against the wetness gathering beneath them. You offer a facsimile of a smile. “Tequila’s not sittin’ right with me.”

He doesn’t ask questions. Rarely does. Crow’s feet line the corners of his eyes. “Let’s go,” Kyojuro mouths, drawing you up from the bench alongside him.

You don’t bother with formalities, creeping away from your friends like two teens taking part in a naughty secret. You’ll beg for their forgiveness later. For now, you need a breather. Though, it’s become increasingly difficult to breathe with him beside you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours whilst he tugs you towards the surf.

A walk along the sea-line and the glittering stars before he takes you back to the icy, lonely clutch of your home.

[hogwartslegacypics]

Ominis Gaunt’s Wand

My personal headcanon: hawthorn wood, phoenix feather core, 11-12 inches, slightly unyielding OR yielding

Starting with the wood, I think his wand is made from Hawthorn wood. I’m not 100% confident in this though because there are some other woods I think also fit him, and the color of his wand doesn’t really help narrow it down much. If not Hawthorn, I think it could be Black Walnut or Ebony. I was also considering Acacia, Ash, Elm, Fir, Hornbeam, Poplar, and Yew at one point.

“The wandmaker Gregorovitch wrote that hawthorn ‘makes a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.’ While I disagree with many of Gregorovitch’s conclusions, we concur about hawthorn wands, which are complex and intriguing in their natures, just like the owners who best suit them. Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and I have generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil. Hawthorn is not easy to master, however, and I would only ever consider placing a hawthorn wand in the hands of a witch or wizard of proven talent, or the consequences might be dangerous. Hawthorn wands have a notable peculiarity: their spells can, when badly handled, backfire.” – Mr. Ollivander

I feel like this fits for Ominis because he is not what you’d expect (“a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth”). A Gaunt born in a house of dark magic who hates dark magic, and who isn’t about their pure-blooded nonsense either (can’t remember if this is confirmed or just a headcanon). It even fits for him being a Slytherin too, not to say that all Slytherins like dark magic and blood status, but yanno what I mean. It’s also the same wood of Draco Malfoy’s wand and it makes me wonder if it was intentional of the developers to give Ominis the same wood as another wealthy blond pure-blood sacred 28 Slytherin boy pressured into the dark arts by his family who’s almost an opposite (or a “contradiction”) of Ominis personality wise, while both having the “contradictory wand.” Also, the “passing through a period of turmoil” fits too.

Now I’m going to give some brief quotes from the descriptions of the other woods that I think fit for Ominis.

Black walnut: “seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight,” “it is abnormally attuned to inner conflict,” “Paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, it becomes one of the most loyal and impressive wands of all.”

Ebony: “Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves,” “non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider,” “the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.”

Side note: I wrote this wand wood section with his black wand in mind. Still not sure which one is officially his (which is why you’ll see three diff wands in this post) but Hawthorn fits personality wise regardless. So many possible wood options because I don’t even know if it’s brown or black. Seb’s was easier to choose because there were much less options.

Moving onto the core, I think Ominis has a phoenix feather core due to his wand’s loyalty and just how unique the wand itself is. I know unicorn hair cores are loyal too, but I feel like the pickiness of the phoenix feather core in combination with how special/unique his wand is makes it extra loyal (if that makes sense), like it has no chance of ever changing allegiance. It’s very personalized to him (the wand chooses the wizard, and his takes that to the extreme, it’s almost like it was made for him), and I think it would refuse to operate for anyone else. It just all seems very phoenix feather core-ish to me.

It is possible he could have a unicorn hair core, but I think it’s safe to completely rule out a dragon heartstring core. They are the least loyal wands, and due to everything I just explained, I can’t see his wand ever performing well for anyone else.

Phoenix feather cores are also known to “show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord,” which seems very accurate considering his wand literally navigates him. According to Sebastian, it’s “almost sentient.”

Lastly, they’re capable of the greatest range of magic, which I think goes along with it having the ability to navigate Ominis. Might not be outwardly great, but it certainly is to Ominis, and it’s definitely not something you see every wand do, hence the “range.”

Next up is the length! According to Ollivander, “longer wands tend to be drawn to bigger personalities, and those of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic.” Longer wands also work well with taller witches and wizards and are best suited to bold personalities. I head canon Sebastian as having a long wand for that reason, but that doesn’t really fit for Ominis. He keeps more to himself and is more introverted, but he certainty has moments where he’s not afraid to speak up and really get in your face about things he’s passionate about (like confronting MC, a new student he barely knew, about the Undercroft, and never hesitating to call Sebastian out on his dark arts bullshit). I think his wand would probably be about 11-12 inches.

Lastly, we have wand flexibility. Wand flexibility denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair. Ominis is pretty stubborn but I don’t think he’s too stubborn. He does stick to his beliefs, and I think it would be impossible to get him to change them/the way he thinks, but at the same time MC never had too much difficulty convincing him to do things that he was against doing (the scriptorium, keeping the relic). I think his wand is somewhere in the mid to unbending scale, possibility “slightly yielding.”

Slightly yielding: Wand owners with slightly yielding wands are often very kind and compassionate, but they may have some reluctance in trusting others since they possess a strong sense of skepticism. It usually takes a lot of strong arguing before the owner of this wand will believe claims that don’t make any sense to them.

Now that I’m reading more flexibilities, I actually think it could be “unyielding” because the definition fits so well. Ollivander does say it’s about “degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair.” THE PAIR. I feel like his wand being extremely loyal/personalized to him could make it an unyielding wand, especially because Ominis is pretty stubborn himself. Please comment which you think it could be because I can only make one poll a post unfortunately.

Unyielding: A wand of this flexibility finely tunes itself to its original owner’s preferences and doesn’t stray from those preferences, even in the hands of a new owner; the new owner will just have to get used to it. It is particularly good for combative and healing magic. Unyielding wand owners tend to be very confident in themselves and/or in the things they believe in. They tend to be intelligent, somewhat cynical, and usually have well-defined principles that they will not stray from ever. Sometimes, this combination can lead to arrogance because of them insisting on how right they are without considering other points of view or whether or not they might be wrong.

[vilandel]

Athénaïs Vitrail ☘️

(Black Clover OC Profile ☘️)

@kalolasfantasyworld, @acacia-may, @loosesodamarble, @lyranova and anyone else who loves my Rosette, I don't think you will share the same sentiment towards her older sister... Athénaïs was created because I wanted to try to make not lovable OCs. Not really a villain like Dante or Vanica for example, not a complex person with redemption like Nozel or Langris, but more like a typical noble but smart, arrogant, spoiled and full of herself... It's a bit difficult to explain just like this, maybe it will clearer to understand in her profile. If I like her, only because I like to hate her or when she is put in her place and it's not easy in her case.

☘️☘️☘️

Basic Information

Name: Athénaïs Vitrail

Age: currently 24

Birthday: 27th May

Sign: Gemini

Love Interest: None. She was determined to marry into royalty, Nozel was her first choice, but she got Damnatio instead.

Birthplace: Clover Kingdom’s Capital, city villa of house Vitrail

Current Location: Clover Kingdom, Kira Palace

Affinity: Glass Magic

Likes: Luxury, clothes & jewelry, puddles, balls, wine, being admired and put on a pedestal, controlling others, putting others in their places, having power

Dislikes: Not being in control, poverty, the current state of House Silva, being dismissed, being in the shadow of someone else.

Grimoire Design: A bright grayish white, kinda looking like a lot of light shining through glass with golden complex looking patterns.

Appearance:

Hair Color: Golden blonde

Eye Color: Royal blue

Height: 170 cm

She is considered one of the biggest beauty in Clover. Her skin is like porcelain, lips like a blooming pink rose, her eyelashes black and long, her hair looks like gold in any way and falls in wavy curls over her shoulder. Athénaïs has very pretty curves, considered perfect.

She usually wears her hair down or into hairdos that are currently in fashion. Her clothes are usually very luxurious, mostly with golden patterns, but never looking gaudy. Her fashion sense rivals the one of Nebra. She also barely uses make-up, just a bit sometimes, but she never needed it really with her looks.

She is beautiful, but inside she is rather vain, which mades her not that beautiful compared to anyone with a good heart.

Personality:

Athénaïs is what you can consider a typical Clover noble lady: arrogant, vain, spoiled, full of herself and dismissive to anyone she considers unworthy... In her case it's not only commoners and peasants, but also often other nobles and royals.

But she is also clever woman. She is very admired since she was a baby and she knows that. Since she is also ambitious, she learned to manipulate rather early on. Athénaïs knows how to talk, to compliment and also to put shade on someone, in a way that it sound like a fact. She can also destroy someone's reputation with a mix of fake pity, gossip and amusement. She is a force in noble circles.

When Athénaïs wants something, she usually make sure she has more than one option to reach her goal. So, she is often very calm about her ambitions. But when nothing works, while she remains calm, she starts to be very nervous inside, searching for a scapegoat to blame and she loses a bit of her control.

Don't play gambling games with her. She always wins and not only does Athénaïs knows that, she would never cheat. In her eyes, cheating is unbefitting of royalty. But she is ready to cheat when she can't get what she wants.

She does love her little sister, but it is yet to determined if it's really genuine or if it's just because taking care of her so-called unhealthy younger sister puts her in a good light. Athénaïs actually doesn't know it herself.

Background:

Athénaïs is Rosettes older sister. So, she is from high nobility and the eldest daughter of lord Verre, head of house Vitrail, and his wife Cristal. Already since she was a baby, she was admired and considered growing up one of the most perfect noble ladies in Clover. The stupid nobles are always in awe in front of her, the clever ones admire her.

She got one of the best educations. Unlike many noble girls, she didn't considered her lessons as useless for her future. On the contrary, she took them seriously and it helped to get the excellent reputation she has today.

Like said before, she is a force in noble circles. In fact, her word can quickly become a fact. Especially on the marital status. For example, if she says something like "House Lügner shouldn't try to get married with house Boismortier, house Sandler is the better option for them", you can bet that soon, a betrothal will be announced between house Lügner and house Sandler.

And most importantly, Athénaïs is considered to be one of the best nobles to marry into royalty. So, her parents and many nobles expected and even worked for that. Athénaïs herself is convinced of that fact and also that she could take over any royal house. Especially the Silvas.

Marital Situation:

Since everyone considered her as a perfect candidate to marry into royalty, Athénaïs refused any suitors that weren't royal. And even in royalty, not everyone was good for her. People like Leopold, Solid or Kirsch were unfitting of her. The king as well, not because of his position, but even Athénaïs deemed herself to good for this fool. Fuegoleon and Nozel were more fitting for her ambitions. And since Nozel is already Head of House Silva, he became her first choice.

To be noted, Athénaïs always considered that House Silva wasn't well lead. Oh, not for the reasons that might come first to our minds. No, she considers that Nozel did a stupid job when he took over at fifteen, that he spent too much time grieving his mother instead of doing his duty. In her eyes, children and parents shouldn't be close. She also thinks that he handled his siblings badly and that he should have 1. banish Noelle completely from royalty, 2. put Solid more in the shadows and 3. never allowed Nebra to become a Magic Knight since she has just Mist Magic. She also doesn't think that Nozel is able to properly lead, be it House Silva or the Silver Eagles. But he is head of house and he has presence, plus he is popular. Of course, she wouldn't say things like this out loud, she is too clever for that. But subtle shade is Athénaïs speciality.

She was convinced that she would be the only one capable to make House Silva a great royal house again and also that she could lead it, since in her eyes Nozel was easy to control since he was close to his mother. Here I have to reassure you. Even before he started to change and redeem himself, Nozel never ever once considered Athénaïs Vitrail as a potential future wife, despite the pressure of nobility. He is not stupid, he sees behind her mask and ever since he overheard her talking (subtly) badly about his beloved mother, he grew a big dislike towards her, while never showing it (he was cold to everyone, so...).

When Nozel fell in love with Vanessa (or in Paper Hearts universe, when it will be more official with Helena... sorry to be a bit bold, Lola^^'), Athénaïs first wasn't worried. For her, it was just an annoyance, since she doesn't have a high opinion on witches (or foreigners, even if they are royalty). Instead, she was very bold to give Nozel a daring suggestion. To be noted, she doesn't believe that love has anything to do with marriages, that romance is the only luxury peasants and commoners could have. So, she was convinced that Nozel wasn't in love, but just had a fling. Athénaïs proposed to him that if he doesn't want to get rid of his "plaything", she could allow to have her stay at the Silva Palace. He could have his fun with her, but he should only have children that are legitimate, not bastards. Athénaïs even suggested to give Nozels beloved a proper position, like a governess for the children, but she should never have any power.

You can be certain that not only Nozel refused her proposition, but put her also very harsh at her place, probably for the first time in her life. Showing her his dislike directly as well. Athénaïs was taken aback by it, not expecting it at all and for the first time, there was a shatter in her ambitions.

She still later got married to a royal, to Damnatio. But it was more kinda out of nervous despair than anything. Their marriage is as arranged as arranged could be. And well, Damnatio is not someone to control at all, so Athénaïs was very upset that she couldn't take control over house Kira. Damnatio also doesn't trust his wife and to not lose some kind of power, Athénaïs did her best to remain a force within nobility. Her frustration is always at his peak when she sees or hear about Nozel being happy with a woman outside of his circle. She just couldn't understand and considered Nozels wife a thief that stole her price.

Damnatio and Athénaïs only got one child together (which conception rather coincide with the birth of Nozels first-born children, hm...). A daughter named Esperanza. Who looks exactly like her mother, expect for a little mole on her chin. Since Athénaïs considered that children and parents shouldn't be close, she never got any kind of bond with her daughter, not even wanted to see her every day and only made sure she got a brilliant education, like she had herself. For her, it was normal that her daughter would be another Athénaïs.

But luckily for little Esperanza and to a lot of people surprise, Damnatio came to genuinely love his daughter. Despite his personality, he made sure to spend time with Esperanza, forging a proper bond with her. Heck, he even put a crib in his own office for her. It shocked many people and it is probably Damnatio biggest redeeming quality. He also considered that his daughter needed a proper maternal figure and since his wife was inclined to do so (he demanded it first of Athénaïs and they had such a terrible fight about it that Damnatio lost his calm for the first time), he asked Esperanzas maternal aunt to be that mother figure. Aka, our dear Rosette. Which allowed Esperanza to spend a lot of time with the Silva next generation.

Thanks to all of this, Esperanza became a wonderful, gentle and kindhearted girl (Rosettes or Finesses genes somehow got through). And one day, she will be the next queen of Clover, replacing Augustus.

Family Tree of the Vitrail Sisters:

Trivia:

Athénaïs was very vaguely by the mistress of the French king Louis XIV, madame the Montespan, heck why that name.

I actually created Athénaïs a bit before Rosette, but Rosette came really close afterwards. First I haven't thought about making them sisters, but somehow it felt fitting for me. They both have some similarities, but Rosette has a good heart while Athénaïs doesn't have it.

Athénaïs hates getting fat or getting too skinny, so she has an extra control about each food she takes.

Like madame the Montespan, has sometimes weird methods to take care of her beauty.

Can't cook at all, but would dare to say something dismissive if she considers that a cook has done something dumb.

Is one of the best dancers in the kingdom.

Is of course dismissive of Asta, but gives him points because "he tries to be polite."

Still visits Rosette from time to time, but those visits are rather short.

Is firmly convinced that her little sister is not getting along with Vanessa (or Helena), Zora and Asta, since she is a Vitrail and above commoners and peasants. Is very in denial about that.

Isn't upset or worried that Rosette spends time with her daughter or that Esperanza spends a lot of time with the Silvas. She just thinks that it will be like it was to her.

Hates Charlotte for many reasons. At first, she considered that being married to Yami was the fitting punishment, but then was upset that Charlotte was happy with him. Athénaïs just couldn't understand it.

Is still very loved within nobility, but her power fades over time.

Was very proud that her daughter will be queen, but was very angry that it won't give her any power.

The only things she genuinely loves are puddles. As a princess of house Kira, she got six of them and they got even their own chambers.

Sadly won't change and might end up along with puddles and some nobles who still admire her. Rosette is a bit sad about it, but she has the Silvas who are her true family.

Esperanza was never close to her mother and kept her distance, but still respected her enough to make sure she won't end in poverty.

[hathorneheiress]

Unexpected embrace

Grayson stared straight ahead as he watched the sun set. The warm Arizonia breeze rustled through his light blond hair.

He had been invited by Gigi, his half sister, for dinner. At first, he refused the invitation. Her older twin sister, Savannah, probably didn't want to see him. And their mother, Acacia, well.. she had been nicer than he deserved. Especially since he was the result of her husband, his father, affair. But after much texting back and forth with pictures of cats and threats to have them attack him, he gave in.  

Gigi had a way of getting to him, and he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. She made him feel things that he hadn't felt in a long time. And the more he thought about it, the more excited he felt to see her.

Dinner was just the 4 of them. None of his brothers. Not Duncan, Savannah's horrible boyfriend. It was quiet, but nice. Gigi had certainly had caffeine, so she did most of the talking. Which was fine by Grayson. He secretly enjoyed listening to her though he couldn't explain why. 

After the scrumptious meal of steak, baked potatoes, green beans, and buttery biscuits, Gigi and Savannah disappeared to do who knows what leaving Grayson alone with Acacia.

"Want to join me on the patio?" She invited him.

"Sure."

And that is how Grayson found himself silently admiring the beautiful sunset. It was perfect for a picture, something Grayson loved doing: taking pictures. And if Acacia wasn't right there, he might consider it.

"I'm glad you came." Acacia broke through his thoughts. "It meant a lot to Gigi. And if it's worth anything, it means a lot to me too."

He tried not to think about what that could mean for him and failed. He had wanted a mother almost as badly as he had wanted a real father when he was younger. Skye was by no means what people would call a mother. He thought she deserved that title. Acacia, on the other hand, did.

"Thanks for persuading her to keep reaching out. She told me you did." he clarified when she gave him a look.

"You're good for her. Savannah and her... well let's just say they aren't as close as they used to be and Gigi has been awful lonely of late. You seem to have filled the void she needed."

"I think I can say the same for me." Grayson quietly admitted. Gigi was that one light spot in his quiet, lonely sort of life. Yes, he had his brothers and Avery but when he was with Gigi it was different. She didn't pick on him (Or not as much) for how stern and strict he was. She gladly and readily accepted him for who he was. Faults and all. When he was with her, he actually felt like an older brother, and not a thirty-year-old trapped in a teenager's body.

Before Grayson could keep thinking something unexpected happened: He found himself being pulled into a hug. Alert bells and warning signs instantly flared up inside him. This was foreign and unheard to him. He was never properly hugged like ever. He tensed, not sure if he should push Acacia away or just sit through the discomfort. 

But as he sat there, enveloped in her loving grasp, something arose from the pits of his stomach: an emotion. A feeling of like someone actually cared and loved him.

So instead of fighting it, he did the opposite. He let his body relax. Let himself feel the loved being given. Pretend for that one blissful moment that he wasn't Grayson Hawthorne: grandson of billionaire Tobias and this supposed to be perfect person. But just a son enjoying a hug from his mother.

He could get used to this.

[calliedion-dungeon]

❦Say it with flowers

Young Papa Emeritus Primo/ GN Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Young Primo falls in love with you at first sight, without wasting time, he begins to make love to you by sending you flowers and showing you their meaning, before daring to confess who he is because he is very shy, but a couple of imps accelerate his courtship. Mentions of Terzo and Secondo being mischievous children and Primo being their tutor.

Tags: Family Fluff, Making love means courting, like old times, unspecified year, crush, secret admirer. Prophecy in a flower at the end?

Living in the ministry was getting easier every day. Your tumultuous life was getting better and better when you approached the clergy and finally found your chosen family. 

The world was healing, and so were you. The war left you alone in this forsaken land, but life was being kind to you again. Everyone had hope for the future once more, you even started to consider seeing a sibling of sin to let him woo you, even if he was too stoic and dry to express his affection, maybe with time, you thought, he might open up little by little, with patience and care.

But as the months went by, you felt discouraged by his manners, distant, ambiguous leanings, you often questioned why bother? Your passionate and romantic heart left you wanting more, and nobody seemed to live up to your standards.

Sometimes even you expected for him to ask you something improper, knowing very well that a gentleman would never risk your reputation, but at least it'll show you that he feels passion for you, even a concealed and sedated one. Nevertheless, he kept giving you nothing, and your interest was withering, practically dead.

One very pleasant sunset, you were strolling by the ministry gardens, admiring the well cared flowers in the hot house, exotic specimens surrounding you, as well as common flowers, sunflowers as tall as you, and they were looking in your direction. 

You didn't noticed that somebody was looking at you hiding among these flowers, struck by your beauty, how perfectly divine you look with flowers around you, just where you belong, he thought, the shy young man tried not to make noise so as not to scare you and to be able to continue admiring you calmly, his hands held a flower pot that, being enraptured by you, he forgot to leave somewhere and ended up falling out of his hands. You got scared, but you didn't run, you just jumped in your place.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You saw a silhouette moving around, but not quite who it was behind the tall sunflowers and ivy.

"Mi dispiace for startling you, I'll clean this" the voice said while sweeping the dirt, you wanted to see who it was, but it seemed he was hiding on purpose.

His voice was confident, but his manners were shy, since he didn't appear in front of you to introduce himself, after sweeping he just disappeared.

The encounter was brief, you retain his words in your mind, his pleasant voice that denotes kindness resonates in your ears for days. You ask everyone you know, who takes care of the greenhouse, your friends can't tell you who he is, they only describe a tall young man with strong features and blond hair combed back, he came not long ago from one of the ministries in Italy, everyone judged him shy because sometimes he is seen talking more to plants than to people, however; he is as determined in his actions than anyone his age.

On one evening, you're about to go to the dining room, ready to head out of your room, you hear giggling on the other side of your door, maybe these children that live in the ministry are doing pranks around, you decide to catch them in the act opening the door and there they were, two very small children laughing together no older than ten years old, they looked like twins, both with dark hair and their left eye was an unsettling white color, they had a bouquet of acacias and sunflowers, they smiled at you and hand it over.

"Thank you very much, child, how pretty. Somebody sent these or…?" You asked them, as you smell the delicious bouquet.

"Non dirglielo, ce l'ha ordinato nostro fratello" one child said to the other.

"Lo so, stronzo" one child said, pushing his little friend or brother, you weren’t sure.

"Non chiamarmi così, stronzino" yells the other and then both start pushing each other and wrestling at your door frame.

You didn't understand the children, they stopped wrestling to look at you, putting the bouquet in water and leaving it near the window that faces the garden, so everyone can see, the dark-haired children elbowed each other and whispered something.

"Roses are red…" one started reciting very loudly.

"Sometimes they have dow… dew!" continued the other child, both have beautiful voices, maybe they were in the choir, you suppose.

"Our brother is in love…"

"And we always knew"

They took turns to say the little rhyme with a very thick accent, very obviously learned to say it only in the moment, since they didn't seem to understand you, and right after, they left running and laughing down the corridor before you could ask again what they meant. They looked so adorable doing the errand, your bewilderment went to the background.

You shared the cute story with your friends, now somebody has eyes for you and it's most intriguing the mystery of your secret admirer. Even if it's a stranger who is doing that, it was a stranger who's making an effort to romance you.

The next week you heard eager knockings on your door, it was the kids again with another bouquet for you, it was a combination of red tulips and yellow iris, but this time a tiny book came with it, a book about floriography with the meaning of the flowers in the Victorian times, this person really wants you to know what they mean, not only the beauty of the gifts, but the message in them. The kids ran away from you again, without letting you say another word, so you ran behind them, this time you needed to know who it was, when they realized that you were behind them, they started to run faster towards the green house.

They screamed like you were a monster trying to catch them, and the bushes in the gardens were like a maze, the children separated and you went for the shorter one, grabbing him from the collar of the white cassock, careful not to hurt him. You took it as a good sign that he was still laughing.

 “Alright, you’re going to tell me who is sending these, I’ll keep the secret ok?” the black-haired child stared at you silently grinning, you intuited that it’s because he didn’t understand you. The other child appeared, peculiar as they were, they also seemed good natured and they were just the messengers, for that you decided to let them go and went to your room for the night.

Every week, for the last couple months, they left a bouquet with the most perfect flowers, sometimes they left huge bouquets of roses, other times they had already given you before, but according to the little book they gave you, they were all declarations of love, admiration for your character and beauty, on some occasions the children said a few words to you, almost always they made a mistake in a word, it seemed that they were still learning English and that made it more adorable, it was obvious that someone sent them, the children would not have as much consistency seeing how restless they are.

One delivery was very special, the day after you had to sing in front of the congregation in praise of Satan, hours later, when you returned to your room after dinner, your room was full of carnations and roses, along with a note, talking about how elevated your admirer felt to have had the privilege of hearing you sing at mass, drinking the poems that fall from your breath, how he could not stop seeing your lips when you spoke and your luminous eyes when lighting the candles.

That made you feel so loved, so cared for, your eyes filled with tears that someone could really see you like this, but they were also tears of longing peaking from your eyes, longing for that person to speak to you tête à tête. Being able to feel in your own flesh that admiration that he expresses so much with flowers, even so you smile looking at the moon through your window, wishing you could conjure the name of who makes love to you.

The following week, before going to mass, you saw the little ones who have sent you the flowers, running around, they begin to surround a sister, one behind and one in front, the brown-haired one shows her something between his hands, distracting her while the other little one with black hair lifts her skirt from behind, then run away laughing, she yells terrible things at them, when you get closer you hear someone tell her that they are just children, justifying them, but not on your watch. You go to look for them in a corner inside the church to reprimand them and find out who is responsible for them.

You find them with a man who is scolding them strictly, crouching in front of them, and yet he spoke affectionately, you approach him to tell him about the matter and also tell those little ones how wrong that was, the pair weren’t laughing anymore.

“... stavamo giocando” said the one with brown hair, the other boy was silent and looking at you.

“In english, Secondo, you must practice” the man reminded them “You must respect the sorelle and everyone in here, you will get a lot more out of people the good way, especially if one of you ends up being the leader of the…”

“Fratello!” yells the black hair boy.

“Terzo, I’m speaking” he straightens his hair “Those are not proper games, and father doing it does not mean you should too…”

“Fratello!” yell the children louder.

The young man follows the glances of the little ones, turning his head and looks at you, a pale young man becomes even paler when he stands up suddenly, you smile at him and cross your arms, the children whisper things in each other's ears, twin things, you think.

“These two are going to be the terror of the ministry one day, eh?” you tell them, neither dares to say anything “Sister Lily is very upset, young men, you should apologize. Lifting a lady’s skirt is unacceptable. I shall tell about this to your tutor, or whoever…”

“That’s me” the man swallows hard looking at you terrified “These are my little brothers. I’m afraid they already are the terror of the ministry” he smiles coyly at you, brushing his blonde hair with his fingers, you find him rather handsome with his red vest, cream colored shirt with rolled up sleeves and burgundy pants.

“I’ll keep my eye on you two, they’ve been doing mischief on me too, you know” the man immediately tenses up, clenches his fists and turns to see the little ones.

“Secondo! Terzo! What have you done?” He doesn't yell at them, but his voice is as resonant as theirs when you heard them recite.

“Non abbiamo fatto niente” pleads the boy with black hair, he grabs his brother by the arm with a little fear.

“Only what you order, promise, Primo” the taller boy speaks and covers his mouth immediately and widens his eyes.

“Bravo, now you remember your english?” He massages his eyebrows in frustration, the poor man who now, thanks to the innocence of his little brothers, you can now identify as Primo, can't find a way to hide his face. You can't be bothered with any of them, the little comedy they invented between them had been extremely charming, your smile doesn't fade, quite the opposite.

“You’re the one who’s been sending me the flowers?” even when it’s heavily implied that he is, you must hear him say it or deny it.

“Well, it depends…” he manages to say, his flustered face was most endearing.

You were so absorbed in each other that you did not notice when the children left laughing at their older brother's ribs, now you can clearly notice the feature that he shares with his little brothers in his left eye which hardly dares to look at you.

“On…?” You urged him to continue with what he was going to say, the poor man had been stunned, he seemed shyer than his face implied, and his little brothers did not seem to be of that withdrawn nature at all.

“On... what do you say?”

“About what?”

“You really wish for me to say it?”

“I don’t wish to torture you, Primo” knowing his name you roll your tongue calling him, he looks excited and fails to conceit his emotions, you think of following a little more of this game of his  “Meet me in the green house in ten minutes, I’ll give my answer”

You leave the church, giving a mischievous look, first, you go directly to your room to look for the book that he had sent you, you know that you must search by color to get to what you are looking for, you read while you walk almost running towards the garden.

Every second that passed, Primo counted as if it were a year, every step echoed in his head just like his heart as he approaches the greenhouse, his little brothers apologized multiple times in several languages, hugging him and kissing him to forgive them for their indiscretion, but he couldn't be mad at them at all, he loves them too much; they follow him quite far without losing sight of him, they are not very sure why, only their instinct tells them that they should be close.

When you come out of the greenhouse, with one hand hidden behind your back, you have already chosen your flower. The understanding that you feel with impresses you, as if you have known him all your life, perhaps because you know that he understands your romantic nature. He walks to you, half hope, half fear.

“Look for a flower, we will make something like a duel, we will get our ideas at the same time and so we will know what we will do from here on” You may have sounded a bit abrupt in your words, making him fear that you're not interested, but it's all part of the game.

You were surprised how quickly Primo was to find his flower, as if he already had it ready, you see the children from afar playing in the gardens, the one with black hair stops to wave at you, you assume it was Secondo, you’re still not sure about their names, the other little one, which you assume is Terzo, pushes him away and takes his place to blow you a kiss. You laugh at how quirky those kids are and how lucky they are to have a man with as good temper as his brother, they certainly require a lot of patience.

“They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t change them for anything” Primo says from behind you, your flower well concealed in your hands and his hands also hidden behind his back. You face him admiring his features, his poise and elegant manners and his language in his letters only make you more certain of your choice.

“Ready?” you count moving the mouth up to three, without making a sound, you both show your flowers at the same time and laugh.

You laugh together because not only did you both took a red flower, which is already a good sign, but it is exactly the same flower, a red cardinal. It must be a sign, it must be destiny, he took that flower both for its meaning and because that was the pot that he dropped when he was enthralled by you the first time he saw you.

[lilacthebooklover]

3, 9, and 22 from this ask game

Of course! Thank you for participating! Here, have a piece of writing...

3) That encompasses my style (@acacia-may)

Hmm... My style's developed a lot over the years, and while I haven't had much time to write lately, I do think this little bit of Clamour from a couple months ago works pretty well! It's got the signature Lilac Anaphora, lots of flowery language, an abundance of commas and a little hint of enjambment as a metaphor for mental decline. (Sorry Acacia, I know you aren't in the fandom!! If you like, you can always submit another ask- 3 is just one that I struggled to think of something for :'])

His spiral down into insanity was not a quick process, nor was it without turmoil. It had been torturous, losing himself to the whispers inside of his brain, every thought overcome by that intoxicating need for more. His heart thrummed in his ears with each movement he made, fingers itching with the need to puppeteer once more, his head full of a throbbing, pulsating, incessant craving for control. Hiding it had been easy enough. His friends were long-since accustomed to his eccentricities, so when he began acting a little more oddly than usual, no-one batted an eye. He kept his lips sewn firmly shut and a toothy smile across his face, the chanting in his head growing louder and louder and louder with every lie he told. Maybe if he’d have been a little stronger, he’d have been able to overcome it. Maybe he would have told his friends. Maybe he would have been good enough to give up the power slowly killing him from the inside. Letting go was as inevitable as it was involuntary, in the end. As the floodgates burst, a rush of distorted euphoria like nothing before had sunk deep into his soul, a growing hunger beginning to fester within him. It grew and grew, and he took and took, and his friends fell with him as he watched , and he laughed and cackled because wasn’t it so ironic that anything heavenly or good be quashed in a place that couldn’t possibly hope to fathom it, and eventually, he had stopped caring about anything at all. The other Fallen Heroes mean nothing to him. His friends had died with him all those decades ago, only crude facsimiles of their former selves remaining. So here he is, the only performer left on a dusty set of cobwebs, and that hunger inside of him never stops. Something akin to loneliness aches alongside it, the lingering results of his isolation digging in deep and refusing to grant him even a moment of solace.

9) With characters I love

For this one, I think I'm going to have to go with an extract from Take A Bow- I'm hyperfixating hard on CRK at the moment lol. This was my first time writing both Pure Vanilla & Shadow Milk, and it was a lot of fun imagining how the story might progress before Theatre of Lies was released!!

Just as quickly as the darkness had arrived, a face shot out of the tree like a jack-in-the-box, sharp white teeth glinting down at them in a twisted, elated grin. A warped, reversed version of Pure Vanilla’s own symbol gleamed in the newfound turquoise light, his breath catching in his throat as he remembered all that Elder Faerie had told them. This must be the Beast who had originally possessed Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. The blonde found his hand subconsciously drifting to the crest on his own chest, gaze darting rapidly over every aspect of the uncaged monster’s face. “Ah!” A long, high exclamation pierced through the quiet, just as delighted as its voice’s owner. “Doesn’t this fresh air just feel… Divine?!” The last word ended in a growl, something manic heightening even further as the creature lazily surveyed its surroundings. Its unwavering stare passed over each of them in turn, finally settling on Pure Vanilla. Something in its glare sharpened, distorted cerulean light dancing along iridescent pools of insanity. “Oh, I see I have quite an audience here,” it remarked, its jauntiness seeming far too out of place amidst their own fearful grimaces. “I am so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.” The voice fluctuated between shrill shrieks and inhuman snarls, every word laced with venomous glee. Its head alone was larger than all of them combined, and Pure Vanilla was loath to imagine how excessive the casualties would be if they were to instigate another fight. “But now… The wait is over. Your favourite trickster is here,” it lowered its head in a flamboyant half-bow. Its value had become Deceit, Pure Vanilla recalled. Undeniable intelligence shone among clear madness, for this was a being born of knowledge and corrupted into lies. It was– “Shadow Milk Cookie.”

22) That is so blissfully self-indulgent

Here, have a snippet of an Owl House AU I came up with on a whim one night in which I threw Caleb Wittebane into the future and leapt over plot holes like they were hurdles on an obstacle course >:]

Caleb was going to die. There was a dagger in his brother’s hand, glinting with the dark promise of blood to be spilt and aimed directly at him, merciless and unwavering in its pursuit. Caleb’s breath caught in his chest as he stumbled backwards, heartbeat pounding in his ears with a new sort of rapidity. It used to be such a thrilling feeling: the quick yet predictable pounding against his ribs, excitement making his lips quirk or anticipation leaving them agape. It was the adrenaline that used to come with a hunt, the dread and uncertainty and wonder that brewed within him as he stepped through that portal, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach that only Evelyn could incur. Now, his heart threw itself desperately against the confines of its prison, nausea rising within Caleb’s throat and poison in his mind because he was about to die, to be killed at the hands of the person he loved more than anything. The person he had loved more than anything. The person he’d given up everything for. The person he’d raised since childhood. Ever since Caleb was young, Philip had been his biggest priority. Their parents passed when they were both young, Philip so much so that he could scarcely remember them. It fell to Caleb to raise his brother, working odd jobs so they could afford accommodations as they passed from town to town. In a world where no-one could be trusted and not a soul was on their side, it had been Caleb’s responsibility to keep his little sibling safe. To keep him alive, protected. To keep him well. Looking at the pure resentment in Philip’s glare, Caleb wondered how it had all gone so wrong. He knew, really, exactly the reason behind his brother’s murderous intent; it simply seemed impossible to associate his hopeful, smiling, playful Philip with the spite-fuelled monster before him. His head swam with memories long since tainted by acidic regret. There were so, so many ways he could have prevented this situation, eradicated even the possibility of Philip wishing harm upon him. So many things he could have done. So many things he didn’t do, and here he was now, paying the price. Caleb’s days were numbered, he’d always known that. His fate was sealed as soon as he first took Evelyn’s hand.

Thanks again for the asks! <3

[violettadecalda]

Elements: Air Edition

About the air element: The air element is linked to things such as divination, concentration, visualization, and prophecy. Air teaches us how to hone our scattered energy and focus it toward what we want. It teaches us to use our intention. Air can be a big cleanser and also a big charger. Just stand outside for a few momenrs on a windy day, letting it blow around you and play through your hair, and you will feel renewed.

Air in magic: The air element is often used in combination with smoke, feathers, trees, flowers, and plants. It is common to use the air element in both spells that require letting go, and in spells that bring you new information. After all, rumors can travel on the wind. Aromatherapy, hanging objects up, playing the flute or other woodwind instruments, and tossing things to the wind are all examples of using the air element in magic.

Forms of air include: wind, still air, breath, vibrations

Some air spirits include: Sylphs, zephyrs, faeries

Color: Yellow

Direction: East

Tools: Censer, athame, sword, wand

Tarot suit: Swords

Zodiac signs: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Symbol:

Air in daily life: The most obvious form of air in our daily lives is the air that we breathe. Everyone does it, everyone needs it. Speaking requires the element of air as well, as it carries the vibrations of our voices. We use air to cool off, and every time we look up at the clouds in the sky, we are interacting with the air element.

Air in the home: Similarly to how fire is used to keep our homes warm, air is used to keep them cool. Whether you are opening a window, turning on a fan, using an air conditioner, or fanning yourself with the playbill for your little brother's school performance of Legally Blonde in the stuffy auditorium, you are using air to cool yourself down. Air can also be very healing. How many times have you stepped outside to get some fresh air and take in the breeze while you were feeling sick?

Air in the kitchen: Though it may not be obvious at first, there are some cooking methods that utilize the air element. Perhaps the most common is drying, whether you are drying meat for jerkey or herbs for tea. Then there is cooking with convection heat, which is growing more popular, or cooking with microwaves. Also popular, as seen by the amount of fizzy beverages and whipped toppings available, is carbonation and aeration. There are several foods and ingredients associated with the air element, including~

Almond, anise, bamboo, brazil nut, caraway, chicory, dandelion, endive, hazel, hops, lavender, lime, mace, maple, marjoram, mint, mulberry, parsley, pecan, sage, acorn squash, artichoke, bitter melon, broccoli, cauliflower, eggplant, fennel, okra, rhubarb, spaghetti squash, alfalfa, cannelini beans, lima beans, mung beans, celery seed, chamomile, rosemary, scallions, amaranth, puffed rice, rye, apple, apricot, blackberry, currants, lingonberry, pear, pineapple, tamarind, pomegranate, black tea, chocolate, coffee, white vinegar, cabbage, celery, grape leaves, mustard greens, daikon, sunchoke, parsnip, hibiscus, macadamia nuts, walnuts, stevia

Herbs associated with air: Frankincense*, myrrh*, pansy, primrose, vervain, violet, yarrow, dill, clove, acacia, aspen, beech, benzoin*, bodhi, bracken, bromeliad, clover, fern, goldenrod, horehound, houseleek, mistletoe*, papyrus, pine, slippery elm, tobacco, rose petals

Stones associated with air: Fluorite, moonstone, turquoise, amethyst, rhodochrosite, topaz, pumice, alexandrite

Animals associated with air: Doves, hawks, eagles, foxes, turtles, ravens, spiders

Incense: Lavender, lemon balm, linden, frankincense, myrrh, violet, anise, chicory, mace, pine

Air on the altar ideas: yellow feathers, feathers in general, bird imagery, incense, censer, bells, flute, objects hanging above the altar

Divination with the air element: Nephomancy, austromancy, alveromancy, feather divination

Air work for spoonies:

Open up the window to watch the sky

Collect feathers or scatter them to the breeze

Keep a handheld fan nearby for when you need to create a breeze of your own

If you dont have your own windchimes, ring bells or listen to recordings of chimes on your phone

Use yellow pillowcases, blankets, sheets, curtains, or wall decorations

Hang beads or ribbons in your window

*Some herbs are unsafe or even deadly to ingest and can be dangerous to use. ALWAYS do research.

Sources:

[roseadleyn]

giving 'i never cared for him anyways'

guys help me i need to pick an outfit for claude's funeral this weekend

dress one, dress 2, dress 3!

@loekas, @crownxie, @mysticmeena, @d10nsaint, @hmerus, @dxmoness, @chxrrylxdy, @sidra-29, @lady-navier0357, @parkykwho, @palaceofghosts, @izumi-astra-123, @meow-meow-potato, @writerig, @ithil-lucien, @that-one-pretty-bitch, @selenebroke, @dianaofsiodonna, @ana-s-boo, @yevenly, @nxccolo, @ykassu, @dion-s-lawyer, and @fuoon, plus any mutual that i may have forgotten (i'm sorry, I tried to tag everyone) !!

[uncovering-sumac]

So Long, Sumac by Del Blauschild

Hey loyal readers! This is the last time you'll hear from me for at least a little while. Sumac's tourism board is taking a break while we sort a few things out. We're not an official newspaper and we could get in trouble for running our mouths (and pens), so here are a few things we WON'T be making a statement on:

The hip fragment found in Candor Lake. Pulled from the waters by my very own upstairs neighbor during a midnight constitutional-slash-communion-with-the-spirits-of-the-departed, the fragment was confirmed to belong to former tourism writer Pat Davies. The tourism board has no official stance on the rumors that the wife of our town's mayor was seen with him the night he disappeared, or on her own recent disappearance. Rest in peace Pat.

The mayor's sudden collapse and death last night. Listen, it's called "unexplainable" for a reason. Why would I (or the ghost who's been gone from my apartment since my last post) know anything about that?

The shutdown of the lakefront. We know as much as you do: no drinking or bathing until further notice.

And here are a few things I WILL be commenting on!

Acacia. A few nights ago she followed Aiden home and refused to leave. We guess he has a cat now. Even fully dosed on Benadryl it's a little hard to spend quality time with her, but she likes being read to. So that's a start.

My new job. I never thought I would end up using my econ degree, but Bryn told me they could use an office manager up at the ranger station. To keep the park's books, schedule some programming, and write copy for educational materials. It's so far from where I saw myself at 18, it could be another planet. But I'm excited. And I'm happy to keep writing.

My neighbor's muffin recipe. When I came home to find a handwritten note tied up in a lock of blond hair and stuck to the door with a pin I swore I've seen the mayor's wife wear, my heart dropped. But when I unrolled it, I recognized the directions to make the muffins my upstairs neighbor gave me on my first day here.

~Darla's muffin recipe~

2 cups flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 1 cup milk, 3/4 cup sugar, 1/4 cup oil, 1 egg, 1 1/2 cup mulberries, 1 tsp tears shed for a lost loved one.

Preheat oven to 350F. Line a muffin tin with muffin papers. Carve the name of your loved one into a candle and light it.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt while chanting the Litany of Grief. Continue to chant while mixing milk, sugar, egg, and oil. Pour wet ingredients into dry and whisk together.

Gently fold in the mulberries.

Scream at the moon.

Transfer the batter to the prepared tin. Sprinkle each muffin with brown sugar and a few extra berries.

Bake at 350F for 25-30 minutes, or until a sacrificial dagger inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow to cool for a few minutes, then serve. Allow the past to remain where it lies. Honor your grief, then put it to rest and walk boldly into the future with its valuable wisdom in your heart. Can be stored in an airtight container for 1-3 days room temp or 1-2 months in the freezer.

[multiversetravelingjournalist]

Imprisoned Mates

As Briar looked out at the world before her, she heard heavy plodding footsteps behind herself. She didn’t bother to turn around as she knew exactly who it was.

“I don’t understand your obsession with this thing,” Blackberry said as he stood next to Briar on the bridge under the gate. He was a hulk of muscle wrapped in grey skin with his forearms bound together in front of him in blocky guild wrist-shackles.

“Don’t mind him, Briar,” reassured Holly, who walked up to Briar’s other side, her lanky frame towering over her “sister”. She flicked her head to get her long raven hair out of her face. She would have used her hands if they weren’t secured around the polearm tied to her back.

“Is this ‘outside?’” asked diminutive Acacia as she still stood in awe behind the trio, trying to take in this and that all over. a large metal contraption surrounded her torso, securing her arms to her sides.

“Yes, Acacia, it is.” answered Holly as she and the rest took in the blue and orange skies, grey and green mountains, tan and clear rivers, and breathed air that did not smell stuffy with blood, dust, and piss.

“It’s so much bigger than inside!” Squealed Acacia, hopping with excitement, her little pigtails flapping in lieu of her bound arms.

“Indeed, it is. All for us to explore, together!” Agreed Holly with a gleam in her pale eye.

Blackberry let out a noncommittal grunt. “For once, I agree with you.”

Briar just looked on as her siblings bantered around her.

All four stood before the sunrising on the world that was now theirs to explore.

A grown from the floor drew them out of their revery, drawing all four’s gaze to the blonde male between Briar’s leather-strap-clad feet. Oh yeah.

“Escape Buddy?”

[amethystandemma]

Full Name: Rhea Alexandria Silverthorne

The Basics: Rhea is a witch who attended Hogwarts in the late 1800s. She came from muggle parents who were murdered by the Malfoy family and Marvolo Gaunt during her second year, and was also tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Ominis, trying to make amends, started following her around. The two became close, and started dating shortly after their fourth year began. Rhea is a seer, and she foresaw that a fifth year would be joining the school and could change things for the better… or worse.

More info below the cut

Genealogy

Family (immediate)

Josef Silverthorne (father)

Zelma Winters (mother)

Family (extended)

Azan Euphoric (grandson)

Marvolo Gaunt (brother-in-law)

Morfin Gaunt (nephew)

Merope Gaunt (niece)

Love Interest(s) 

Ominis Gaunt (husband)

Child(ren): Zelma Silverthorne

Physical 

Gender: female

Height: 5’11

Eye Color: silver

Hair Color: strawberry blonde

Blood Status: muggle-born

Other: eyes glow silver when she sees the future

Other

House: Ravenclaw

Quidditch Position: seeker

Wand

Acacia wood

12 inches

whippy

Niffler hair core

Patronus: Thestral

Favorite Spells: Summoning Charm (Accio)

Pet(s)

Nevermore, a Thestral

Content

The Funeral of Anne Sallow (one-shot, cameo)

Proposal Gone Wrong (Part 2, cameo)

Gallery

[iruludavare]

"Is it just me or are our Florges kinda hitting it off?" -Blue

          "...No, no. I see what you mean. I think they are?"

     Well, this is certainly a pleasant surprise. When the heroine had suggested to take him to one of her Florges' gardens— purely to support the idea that the species possess a signature of sorts—, and Blue had brought along one of his own, she truly thought all hell would break loose. A battle for the ages, of light and terrifying energy accented by scattered petals. After all, it already took much convincing from the blonde, to persuade Acacia into letting another person still somewhat unknown to her wander through one freely. And while his was meant with that characteristic severe apprehension from Serena's, the other fairy-type was neither shooed away nor scared off.

     No, instead, it appears that she is almost guiding her around the territory. Pointing out flora not unlike a proud mother showing off a photo of their child. Light, and almost carefree. Even if the occasional, knife-like sideye shoots itself in the blue one's direction when she wanders a little too near blossoming flowers.

          "I'm not complaining, though. I have heard Florges usually are unlikely to get along with one another. It's, um..."

     She stops, a frown of thought slipping down onto the woman's features. A hand lifts, rotating at the wrist as though the action might manually flick through her mind and land on the right answer.

          "—Territorial? Not wanting their gardens to be taken over and lose a power source."

     Her focus shifts, affixing themselves back on the two Florges in question. This is very much unlike her. Had the other been a Floette, or even a Flabébé, Serena would understand— she does take many under her wing, letting them find sanctuary in her domains.

          "Acacia's gardens don't tend to have many blue flowers, and she keeps a very close eye on what's there. If there are new ones and she doesn't destroy them, I think it's safe to say they get along. We can check later, if you'd like?"