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root-admins · 3 years

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SINoALICE x NieR Replicant - Weapon Stories

A complete compilation of all weapon stories from SINoALICE’s NieR Replicant collab... well, the ones that has lore to do with NieR anyways.

Whatever grammar mistakes/translation errors belongs to Pokelabo, and you will tell there are some. Most are stories are pretty self-explanatory tho.

Grimoire Weiss

We fought for what seemed like ages. To kill those things that took a twisted human form. To protect those precious to me, with my own hands. We were deceived for so long. Deceived by people in a land we've never been, whose faces we've never seen Issuing orders from a safe distance. We must have been in love. And despite the fact I couldn't save you, but I never got to thank you for saving me. These fragments glimmering deep in my depths... they seem to be the vague memories of people... the faded remnants of human wisdom... H-hold on! I’ll have you know my name is not “Booky Wooky!” You may call me "Grimoire Weiss" I am a great compendium of ancient wisdom. Treat me with respect!

Grimoire Noir

My name is the Black Book. Are you the king who will lead the world to salvation? Don't be so surprised, Your Majesty. For me, it is a simple matter to speak human words. I sympathize with your distress, Your Majesty. On this occasion, however, we have no choice but to let them deal with your sister. When sorrow overtakes you, you may come to me and speak of your tribulations. Reading is an admirable pursuit. Your Majesty--for me?? I shall peruse this volume if it comes on your recommendation... What is that? You think it odd for a book to read a book? Noir? I would prefer to dispense with this nickname. My name, Your Majesty, is the Black Book. I am a grand tome of human wisdom... thus, to refer to me by such a curious moniker is, dare I say, inappropriate.

Kaine’s Sword

She was slender, with smooth, white skin. The hint of a dark shadow in her expression highlighted her beautiful features. But something about the sword in her hand didn't seem to fit the picture. Anger, sorrow, hatred. When emotions overwhelmed her, she would swing the sword, so there was never a lack of blood to quench its thirst. The problem was that she couldn't put the sword down. A heart and body in constant conflict. No one in the world could understand her. And loneliness was eating her alive. The long war came to an end, and darkness devoured her. But her heart remained at peace. Because she faced fate in the arms of the one she loved.

Halua Head

File_25_10: Update Soon twins will be arriving. There is nothing at all in the white-walled, prison-like room except for a white bed. If only there were something to do in there... File_25_12: Update I went to look in on them, and the girl was kindly encouraging her anxious younger brother. The two of them had heavy expectations to fulfill. The weight of all humanity's hope bore down upon them. File_26_06: Update The day of the experiment, the girl passed me a letter. To the very end, she wanted someone to watch over her brother. Once I agreed, she quickly ran away. Report: Human Weapon Development Things seem to be progressing as expected with Experimental Subject A (Sister), but her condition has changed drastically. In her present state, she seems to have no sense of self. I am urgently beginning work on Experimental Subject B (Brother).

Devola & Popola’s Staff

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks for that soup recipe! My mom loved it! －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ A note received from a child in the village. Does this mean they are developing a sense of self? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks to the medicine you gave me, I'm feeling a lot better, though I can't leave home yet. Just sending a note to say thanks. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ According to our records, humans wrote their feelings down on pieces of paper, and sent them to others. Where did they learn to do such a thing? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, I like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Waiting to hear back. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ I simply cannot understand the things they have written on these scraps of paper. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, my heart saying “no”… －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm coming home late tonight. Go ahead and sleep if you're tired. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Ah, Devola. No need to worry about me this way. Tee-hee.

Favorite Pot

Yonah, I learned a special recipe! When you eat it, all your injuries will be gone! Oh! I want everyone to feed it to those they care about!

The ingredients are deer meat, sea turtle eggs, fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, and lastly tons of scorpion claws! Next, fill a pot up with all your ingredients, place the top on, and let it simmer overnight! The white steam rising from it is just so mesmerizing. ...Oh! I think it's ready! Smell for a soft scent when you take the lid off. That means it's done! I can't wait to give it to grandpa.

Transience

"Rule 0: You have the right to disband a rule by vote." I am the king's aide and second-in-command. Until now, all rules have be absolute, however, a "Voting Rite" was held where citizens could vote to change rules. Now, let's see what sort of ballots were made...

"Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime." And stated as the reason is: because I like drinking... Because it's anonymous, all these votes are based off selfish desires. We need to improve the system somehow that reflects public opinion.

"Rule 356: Royal inquiries are limited once per day." And stated as the reason is: because I long to be with the King more...? Could this Fyra's vote...? No. Of course not. She's not the type to be interested in love. Moving on...

"Rule 68: The King's aides are to forever serve at his side" Reason being: Thank you for all your hard work. You deserve a break once in awhile... Could this be from the King himself? I'm honored to have stood by your side all these years. And the citizens of this country are proud of your work. There's no doubt of it.

Note: After rigorous deliberation, "Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime", the most voted for rule, was repealed.

Grimoire Weiss ver.1.224

My name is Grimoire Weiss. I am an ancient tome of profound wisdom. After awakening from my long slumber, I traveled the world with my most beloved friends. She was a woman lacking respect for her elders. She'd continuously talk down to me, calling me nothing but paper and even set me aflame. However... Her rash words were also the driving force that moved us all. He was a compassionate and gentle boy who loved his friends. His manor of dress was odd, but his kind words warmed everyone's hearts. This I know to be true. I wonder if he, too had felt any relief from his sins. He was a cheeky guy, but not one you could just leave behind. We've been through a number of rough times together. I'd tell ya about it, but... I'm running out of time. If... If only I had an arm... Then I could have...hugged...him...

Grimoire Rubrum

It's the silk of fate. Knowing you, I shall begin living a life of truth. It's the forbidden fruit. Protecting you, I shall sink into wisdom's abyss. Those are the flames of anxiety. Thinking of you, I shall endure eternity's darkness. That is a reunion of bitter tears. Who are they? Why is it not me who's besides you?

Kaine’s Dual Blades ver.1.224

I craved it. Blind violence and blood-thirsty carnage. And I found it. I finally found it. A vessel stained with anger and hatred, seeking vengeance for the murder of her parents. I possessed that woman and gave her "power." That power turned the woman into a beast. One swing of her blade was enough to cut through stone and her grazes healed in an instant. She began downing every foe before her in the name of vengeance. I was delighted to witness the fruition of my desires. The woman's destruction didn't end there. After having her revenge, she continued to exert her "power" for the sake of her friends. Along her journey, her anger and hatred showed signs of waning, however, I gave it no thought. All I desired was to continue bathing in her bloodshed. Because her body has reached its limit, her power has lost control. Still, in the midst of the clashing of blades, I could feel her desire to protect her friends. Yes, this is the violence and carnage I crave. But why is it deplorable and empty?

Devola & Popola’s Spear

Upon hearing an old lady from the village caught a cold, I immediately collected my medicinal herbs with some boiled water, and rushed out from the library. I nursed her and remained by her side until her symptoms calmed down. She was extremely grateful for it.

I read a picture book to a group of children from the village. It was of an old tale about a brave, courageous man who triumphs over evil. I watched their expressions alternated between joy to sorrow to the story's pacing. I'm glad they enjoyed it.

Devola and I performed a song for the people at the village tavern. In addition to the regulars who drank there, elders and children were part of the audience. At the end of our song, the entire crowd smiled and cheered.

Every day Devola and I have been staying late at the library thinking of a plan to make life easier for the villagers. They're indispensable "vessels" for the project, so we need to do what we can for them.

Letter to the Postman

I was in a dimly lit cabin when I met a kind man. He taught me how to write a letter. What should I write on a blank piece of paper...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Apparently, a letter should start off with the name of the person you want to give it to. Of course, I'd want it to be his. I hope he'll be able to read my sloppy handwriting... ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

At the end of the letter should be the name of the person who wrote it. Of course, that would be the name he gave me. Is it odd my chest feels warm writing it...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

And in-between these two names, I'm supposed to write how I feel. And tell him what I want the most. I wonder if he'll be happy to receive this...?

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans, Thank you　Thank you　Thank you Thank you　Thank you　Thank you　Thank you 　Thank you　Thank you. Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

#nier #nier replicant #sinoalice

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julesofnature · 3 years

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The Legend of the Lady's Slipper Many winters ago, on the shores of the Great Lake, lived a young Ojibway maiden who adored her older brother. He was the best at everything young braves should know. He tracked forest creatures and mimicked their calls. He was swift and silent in the woods and swam like an otter. The tribe gave him the task of messenger for the village. He taught his sister his skills, but never took her with him when he raced to other villages to relay news. One winter day, an old woman in the girl’s village became sick. The next day, several others fell ill with fevers and weakness. Soon every wigwam was struck. The elders worried, but no one knew what to do. In the village across the bay, there lived a woman skilled in healing with herbs, but the snow was deep and fierce winds were raging. The head of the village hesitated to send the maiden’s brother to the medicine woman. When more and more villagers sickened, the chief had no choice. The young brave would cross the lake the next morning. Late that night, the young man became ill. The young maiden was frantic. With her grandmother, father and mother, many of her friends and now her beloved brother failing, she decided to take his place and make the dangerous journey across the bay to the medicine woman’s village. The dark of the winter dawn made the frigid air seem harsher. The young girl slipped out of her family’s wigwam dressed in her warmest parka, leggings and the fur-lined moccasins that her mother and grandmother had sewn. Head down so the fur of her parka protected her face from the stinging cold and wind, she walked quickly through the deepening snow to the lakeshore. Through the blowing snow she could see the faint lights of campfires in the medicine woman’s village across the ice-covered bay. Scrambling over the slippery pack ice, the maiden lightly danced across the frozen lake, trying not to listen to the cracking and sighing of the ice beneath her feet. The villagers welcomed her hours later when she reached the other side of the bay. Wrapped in warm, beaver robes and fed, the maiden told her story. The medicine woman gathered her herbs. Nearly asleep, the maiden insisted that she begin the return journey immediately. But the medicine woman assured her that several braves would accompany her back across the lake in the morning, once the storm broke. When the wind stopped, the girl awoke. It was dark and still. Worrying about her family, she decided not to wait for the braves. Dressing quietly in her warm, dry clothes, she put the pouch of medicine around her neck and slipped down to the lake shore. She tried again to dance lightly again across the drifted snow. It was too deep. She sank deeply with each step. Exhausted, she lay back in the snow panting for breath. Then she remembered her brother’s lessons and the otter playing in the snow as if it were water. Slowly, letting the snow support her, she began to swim through the deep snow. When the maiden reached the opposite shore, she was free of the deepest snow, but her moccasins were missing. Her feet were bare and cold. Soon her feet were red and raw and her footprints marked by blood. The sharp crystals of wind blown snow cut her feet at every step. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten by the time the girl saw the shadowy outline of her village. Calling out for help, the worn-out girl stumbled on. The villagers heard and ran to her. They carried the brave maiden home, wrapped her in warm robes and massaged her torn and bleeding feet with healing ointments. The medicine she brought saved her village. One day early the next spring, the maiden and her brother searched the woods and the lakeshore for her moccasins. Instead they found beautiful pink and white flowers shaped just like moccasins. There was one for every drop of blood that had fallen from the maiden’s feet on her journey to bring medicine home from the other side of the lake. The Ojibway people named the flower ma-ki-sin-waa-big-waan. We call it Lady’s Slipper. They bloom in May and June in the moist pine/ hardwood forests of Upper Michigan. If you see one, enjoy its beauty but remember it is rare and protected.

written by Retha Weiss with Dancing Stones Productions

http://cedartreeinstitute.org/2005/12/legend-of-ladys-slipper/

#ojibway #native american #lady's slipper #legend

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

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Flowers for a Shinobi

Chapter 2: An Illness

Word Count: 1,821

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x OC

Previous Chapter

“You wanted to see me, m’lady?”

Hot tea sat on the desk of the Godaime as she held her blonde locks, eyes staring down at her cluttered desk.

“You’re late, Hatake,” she looked up, grimacing at the silver-haired shinobi.

“My apologies,” he tilted his body forward in admission, “I didn’t realize the time.”

“Shizune!” Tsunade called out, clearly aggravated. Unsure if it was from his tardiness, he shoved his hands into his pockets wearily.

“Yes, m’lady?” Shizune quickly came through the double doors, flustered.

“What is that status on the current infirmed shinobi?” Tsunade asked.

Shizune sighed, “not well, m’lady.”

“What’s going on?” Kakashi asked, tilting his head.

“What isn’t going on, Hatake? Where have you been the last few hours?”

“I didn’t realize you needed me to be around, m’lady.”

Tsunade waved a dismissive hand, shaking her head. “We have a serious problem on our hands. It seems a few of our men have contracted some type of illness.”

“What type of illness?”

“We originally thought the 3 man squad who returned from Iwagakure was just severely exhausted,” the Hokage explained, looking up at the silver-haired jonin. “They arrived last night and reported out to me in good condition.”

There was a stiffness in the room that Kakashi hadn’t felt in a long time. The seriousness of the Hokage’s tone caused him to stand a little straighter.

“However,” she continued, “this morning each of them reported severe exhaustion to the point of loss of consciousness. Upon testing their blood, it seems their chakra levels are so severely depleted, they have fallen into a coma.”

Kakashi turned his head to acknowledge a clearly drained Shizune leaning up against the wall.

“Who is ill?” Kakashi asked, eyebrows knitted in concern. “Is it contagious?”

“Well,” Tsunade tilted her head as she paused, “Yamato, for one. And as far as we know, it isn’t contagious.”

Kakashi pursed his lips behind his mask.

“There is more,” Tsunade said gravely. “Six more men have returned from the Land of Earth this morning. They have reported feeling weak as well without any prior knowledge of the illness already infecting the previous squad to return.”

“Do you think this was done on purpose?” Kakashi asked, narrowing his eye.

“We have reason to believe so,” Tsunade nodded. “But we can’t be sure. It presents itself as an illness, but could very well be poison. The only evidence we have for it being poison is that myself, Shizune, and Sakura have not caught it.”

“What evidence do we have?” Kakashi asked, “and how do we know you can’t catch it. Are you taking precautions?”

“Before we realized what was happening, many of the medical staff assessing the men did not wear protective equipment. Therefore, if it is an illness, they have been exposed,” Tsunade sighed heavily. “However, we have more reason to believe that it is not a contagious illness. Upon further inspection, each shinobi had a small puncture wound around their ankles or shins. If not for Sakura, we wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Puncture wound?” Kakashi unfolded his arms across his chest. “Like a needle of some sort?”

“We aren’t sure,” Shizune responded. “But whatever it is that caused it, we need to find a solution. Soon.”

“What do you mean? How soon?” the jonin asked, uneasy.

“We approximate that if we don’t find a cure in the next 72 hours, their chakra levels may exhaust.”

“Exhaust,” Kakashi repeated to himself. He knew all too well how it felt to have low chakra levels. He signed, thinking of his fellow comrades lying in comas, dying.

“They’ll die” Kakashi confirmed aloud. Tsunade nodded sadly. “How can I help?”

“I have been checking my sources diligently all afternoon and I do not have any remedies for such an illness - or poison,” Tsunade reported wearily. She crossed her fingers together, her red nails chipped at the tips. “We need answers, Kakashi. I may be well versed in medical ninjutsu, but I am limited on information regarding medicinal herbs.”

“Medicinal herbs?” Kakashi asked, “like an herbal remedy? Do you think this is the appropriate route to take? Finding the right plant may take days - maybe even weeks.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Tsunade responded. “In the meantime, I have Sakura sifting through scrolls to help find some answers. I have beaconed out to the other 4 nations to inform them of this so that they are aware. I received word back from 3 of them that they plan to search to find something on their end that can help.”

Tsunade looked tired, her eyes unsure. “If this is intentional, we have to be tireless in our search for a cure and to find the source. This could wipe out an entire force.”

“Do we stop all missions? How do we prevent others from being targeted?”

“We must first find a solution, then we will deal with the reason.”

Kakashi nodded, unsure of what to think. Not many things disrupt the silver-haired jonin, but this seems to shake him.

“I will find out what I can,” he said. “You can count on me.”

* * * * * * * * *

In some regions, irises are known for wisdom, truth, and valor. Ayame looked down at her flower arrangement, doting on the small details she had meticulously put together. But where she came from, irises were thought to be a symbol of rebirth. A new beginning. A new hope.

I suppose it all kind of means the same thing, Ayame thought, cutting the stems of another sprig. She always thought of moving to Konoha as a new beginning. She hadn’t left much behind in her old village anyway.

Rōtasu, or Village Hidden in the Lotus, was a relatively small village not far from the Land of Fire. Its main source of income came from the vast fields of flowers that took up the bulk of the village’s acreage. The Hasu clan she belonged to was a well-established clan in the village with superior Jutsu techniques that surpassed even the elders of the village. The Lotus Kekkei Genkai that flowed through her veins was once only used for sprouting flowers from Rōtasu’s fertile soil. Its capabilities for defense and offense were well known but never used.

Ayame had never been taught to use her jutsu as a weapon. It was merely for producing blossoms and generating income for the village. Her village didn’t have shinobi, they simply taught peace and expected others in the world to do the same. But that was not always the case- even from within the village.

An urge to swallow tempted her, her mind flashing back to a time that changed her. A prick on her skin, a sense of betrayal, the death and destruction, a hospital bed. Anxiety shivered up her spine.

“Ayame?”

Ayame jumped, dropping the floral shears onto the workbench.

“Are you ok?” Ino Yamanaka held her shoulder, her aquamarine eyes round with concern. “You were just holding the shears and staring into space for, like 30 seconds.”

Ayame nervously laughed, arranging her tools on the workbench. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

Waving a dismissive hand, she turned her attention back to the clear vase that held her floral arrangement.

“What do you think?” she asked the young Yamanaka. “I’m almost finished. I just want to fill this space in.”

“Beautiful! I don’t think you need to ask my dad anymore for approval. He seems very impressed with your work and you have certainly proved yourself as talented and trustworthy. Not only that - but you find the most beautiful flowers!” Ino smiled brightly, her eyes squinting. Such blissful youth.

“Thank you,” Ayame smiled softly. What a relief it had been to find a flower shop with a help wanted sign when she arrived in the village a year ago. Inoichi-san had been hesitant, unsure when Ayame spoke of her residence is from a different village rather than Konoha. But he obliged and hired her anyway.

“Oh, 4:00!” Ino exclaimed excitedly, “Finally time to go home. The day passes so quickly when I have another girl working here other than my mom.”

“I agree,” Ayame said quietly, nodding.

“Hey, Kakashi-sensei! What are you doing over here? We’re just about to close up.”

“Can I speak with you?” The back of some unruly silver hair was all Ayame could see when she looked up. Tilting her head, she recognized it almost immediately.

That’s the man from yesterday in the field, Ayame thought. Wonder what he’s doing here?

“Me?” Ino said surprised.

“If you don’t mind,” the man gestured towards the door of the flower shop. Behind the workbench, Ayame looked over, seeing his face for the first time - or at least, what she could see. A sharp nose and chiseled chin hid behind a blue mask. Above the fabric that covered his lower face, the Konoha hitai-ate hid his left eye, his other black one looking rather apathetic. She wondered absently what he was hiding under there.

“What is it?” Ino asked, seeming concerned. “Is there something wrong? Is Yamato-sama worse?”

Looking taken aback, the man she called Kakashi blinked his visible eye.

“I didn’t realize you knew,” Kakashi said finally.

“I heard from Sakura when she was rushing to the hospital to help this morning. Is that why you’re here? ”

“Sort of,” Kakashi leaned on his left leg, his hands shoved deep in his uniform pockets. “I’m here to get some information that I think you may know.”

“What kind of information?” the conversation continued.

“How well versed in herbalism are you?” Kakashi asked.

Ino nodded uncomfortably, “not very, unfortunately. I’m sorry...”

“Oh, well no worries - is Inoichi here?” Kakashi asked, looking past the young blonde. Ayame looked up as well, and for a moment his single eye met her two jade ones. He blinked, looking as though he wasn’t sure who he was looking at. A soft blush crept across the Hana’s cheeks and she quickly looked back down at her work.

“It’s just me and Ayame right now,” Ino said disappointedly, not realizing the intense exchange that had just happened over her shoulder. Looking back at the youngest Yamanaka, Kakashi blinked for a moment as though to collect his thoughts and nodded.

“Right,” he said finally, clearly flustered. “I’ll see if I can find him at your residence. Perhaps he can assist me.”

Turning around, he scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and began walking towards the door.

“What do you need to know about herbalism?” Ayame finally spoke up, her hands held tightly together at her waist. She wouldn’t normally have spoken up, keeping to her floral arranging in private. But this was something she felt she needed to help with.

Kakashi turned around, surprised. Again, the two stared at each other for a moment.

“Do you know herbalism?” Kakashi asked.

“I do,” she said finally. “It was my specialty.”

#kakashi x oc #kakashi x reader #kakashi x original character #kakashi hatake x original character #Kakashi Hatake #naruto shippuden #naruto #sims 4 #the sims 4 screenshots #the sims 4 story #ts4 screenshots #ts4 anime #Lady Tsunade

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maemi324 · 4 years

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Burned

Hello all you lovely people! Today I come to you bearing gifts!

the gift that is this fic, which is quite possibly the longest fanfic I’ve ever done. Period. I’ve written more for a personal story of mine, but this one…this just takes the cake.

14 pages, 6988 words. That may not sound like a lot, but for me it was a huge thing, and I’m actually pretty proud of it.

this was inspired by the song “Burn the Witch” by Shawn James, which I highly recommend listening to towards the end of this.

So this involves witches, as you might have guessed. I did do some research on this, referencing a few holidays. With that being said, this is not the fic to go to looking for accurate information about Pagan Holidays, their differences, similarities and all the right customs. This is all mixed in with some fictional things that I felt helped the story flow. If you want an accurate description of their holidays, practices, beliefs, please go do your own research, or ask someone that knows about them, as that person is not me.

With that out of the way! here are some mentions of some characters in here!

Aizawa, Present Mic, All Might, All for One, Shigaraki, LOV (vague description), Ochaco, Iida, Todoroki, mama Midoriya

Warnings: Character Deaths (kind of) vague descriptions of death, witch hunt, stakes, fire. OOC Shigaraki probably, and Izuku. If there are more warnings needed let me know. Only edited by me. May edit later. Right now i just wanna post this guy.

@katsukikitten, @what-the-censored-xd I hope you enjoy!

You were standing beside your mother, hanging onto her skirts as she placed a flower crown in your hair, your small hands reaching to gently feel their soft petals.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.

It was the brightest summer you could remember, the first thing you could remember actually.

You could see your father, as well as some of your parents’ friends, all gathering wood into this large pile to be lit that night. You felt a thrum of something run through your fingers as your hands fell back to your sides. Excitedly you tugged on your mother’s skirts.

She’d just placed a crown upon a friend’s head, looking down at you with that sweet smile that had you giggling.

“What has you so giggly darling?”

She bent down to your level, nearly falling over as you thrust your zinging hand in the general direction of her face. She carefully pushed your fingers back, a gasp at her lips as soft yellow hues glowed from your fingertips, your other hand still preoccupied with the soft flower petals.

“Well would you look at that! I knew you’d be getting it soon!” She pressed kisses all over your face, the last one landing on your forehead. Her attention was pulled from you as someone called out to her, a young woman, no older than your own mother, with hair so dark it was almost green, carrying someone who’s hair matched hers.

“Inko! You made it!” She hugged the woman- now named Inko- closely, only pulling back after a tight squeeze.

“Thank you for inviting us! Are you sure it’s alright that we’re here? These aren’t, well, really our traditions to do-”

“Nonsense! You’re family, you are just as welcome here now as any other part of the year. Now who is this young one?” You watched as she motioned to the, what you could now see was a young boy, who had the brightest green eyes you had ever seen, with a magic all their own.

“This is my son, Izuku, my pride and joy,” She nuzzled his cheek, pressing a kiss there. In an attempt to get him to smile she blew a raspberry on his cheek, which had him giggling, but his eyes remained trained on your mother. “He’s a little shy around strangers however”

“ That’s the same little one I saw last year? Goodness, he’s grown so much!”

“Oh I know! It seems like only yesterday I just had him!

You frowned, you wanted mama’s attention! It was like she’d forgotten you were there. You tugged on her skirts with a whine, hardly mollified when she only gave you her hand. You pressed it against your cheek.

“And this is the lady of the day?” Inko set down Izuku in favor of looking you over.

“Yes indeed, our little Birthday girl, (Y/N)” She smiled down at you letting go of your hand, “Why don’t you show Izuku how to make a flower crown, hm?”

At the idea of doing something fun your mood brightened immediately, offering your hand to him. He instead looked up at his mother, now adorned with her own flower crown, who gave him a light push towards you.

He nervously gave you his hand and you pulled him over to the circle of people braiding flowers together.

Somehow, that little moment blossomed into friendship. As the hours passed, he’d opened up, little by little, much like the flowers in your hand had when first blooming. He told you stories from his village, tales of a heroic man- a knight you would later remember- under the name of “All Might”.

As he talked, he paid close attention to how your hands moved as he made his crown. While it wasn’t perfect, he placed the small crown over the one your mother had given you, saying it wasn’t any good. You told him right then and there you were proud to wear it. You had yet to finish yours, so you asked him to continue his stories as you worked. It may have been all he talked about for the first hour since then, but you were keen to hear his tales, eyes sparkling with something wonderful as his freckled cheeks turned pink at the sound of your laughter.

He was also incredibly interested in your traditions. You were too young to have them all memorized by heart, but you did know that at every celebration, you, and others of your kind in the area, came to this specific clearing in the woods.

The area had been used for as long as any elder could remember, slowly built into a circle with a place for the fire in the center, steps built into the hill as makeshift seats, the grass around the area lush and green, the best to dance around the fire in. During this celebration in particular you adorned crowns of flowers and built the fire, dancing and offering praise to the gods. Hardly any from the village came to these celebrations, but they did not condemn your ways and kept to their own.

You danced and played the day away, the other children chasing after you in good fun. Giggles and loud shrieks filled the air, air soft and warm with the scent of the lavender fields so close by.

Of course, you were both so young then, by the time the stars were high in the sky, the both of you were out like lights, leaning against one another with a blanket draped over your laps. You only remember briefly waking as you were cuddled next to someone in your bed. You paid no mind as your father kissed your forehead, leaving you with a whisper of ‘goodnight’. You snuggled back into the person beside you, green hair tickling your nose as you slipped back into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, breakfast lingering in the air. Your heart clenched sadly as you were alone. Had yesterday been a dream? Where had your new friend gone? You scrambled out of bed into the main room, Izuku sitting next to his mother, stuffing a sweet bread your father had made into his mouth, whilst Inko and your mother talked about the previous night.

Since then, Izuku and his mother had returned to every holiday, the Autumn equinox, Samhain, the Winter solstice, every single one. You would count down the days, a small piece of charcoal to mark on your wall until the day he arrived.

With every visit came more tales of knights and their battles, He’d even started writing them down, so that way no one would forget them and their deeds. You had joked that with a memory like his, he would never forget.

During the time in between visits, you learned how to help manage your father’s shop. He taught you which herbs and plants had medicinal properties, how to bring a potion to the right temperature and keep it there, hands glowing a soft blue.

Your mother taught you the other properties of magic, warding away evil and the right way to banish an evil that had long sunk its roots into it’s target, hands glowing a soft purple. You were all too happy to learn from them, how to help people with a kind hand and a soft smile.

But there were times your heart had wanted to be cruel, to be angry. When all you wanted to do was place something wicked on the boys that ran around your village and teased you. Especially when they had torn apart a necklace your mother had given you.

It wasn’t rare by any means, but your mother had given it to you and thus it was special.

You told your mother as such after hours of searching for the pendant, with little to no luck of even finding the chain. She had nearly dropped the jar of spices into the soup she had been making.

“Curses are not things to be taken lightly darling,” She sat you down at the table, your feet kicking in an irritated fashion, toes barely touching the floor. “They are dangerous, and not for the faint of heart. But most importantly, that is not what our magic is for” she tilted your pouting face up to hers, so she could look you in the eye, her other hand taking your smaller one into hers. “Our magic is to help and heal. Those of our magic who choose otherwise have…They have died, or worse even. So promise me you’ll never curse or hex anyone. Alright?”

“I promise mum,” you sighed, anger dissipating into a strange form of disappointment and forced contentment. She let go of your hand with a smile, a confused expression on your face as you opened your hand to find the necklace sitting on your palm as if it had been there for hours.

That promise only lasted a short time. The next time Izuku had visited, the boys began to pick on him as well, he was shorter and smaller than they were, a prime target. That was all easily ignorable, taking his hand and leading him off somewhere else. The last straw had been a kick to his dream.

“You’ll never be a real knight, no matter how hard you try! You’re too much of a mama’s boy, too weak!”

You could have sworn you’d seen red, though Izuku begged you not to do anything. It was only his asking that spared the boys a beating they would not come out of unscathed.

So instead, come nightfall, you had slipped from your bed, careful not to step on Izuku as you passed. You snuck into the shop, grabbing one of your father’s bowls and setting out into the forest. You picked at your ingredients with haste, mashing them together with water and a stone. You uttered the foulest curse your young mind could think of; giving the boys a taste of being so close but never there. An itch they couldn’t scratch, they would never be able to scratch, no matter how sharp their nails.

Pleased with your work, you washed out the now empty bowl. You ignored the sickly feeling in your stomach, setting the bowl back in its place. You closed the door as softly as you could, sneaking back into bed.

However, that morning you awoke to your skin feeling itchy, the sensation unrelenting no matter how hard your nails scratched. Your whimpers of panic woke Izuku, eyes wide with panic of his own, he dove out the door and ran for your mother.

That’s how you found yourself alone, with your mother, the offending bowl in question as well as one that had an ointment of some kind in it, your mother smearing it over your red skin.

“I hope you’ve learned something from this,” her voice held just the barest hint of amusement, though only just barely. “Poison ivy isn’t exactly a walk in the park” she finished with your arms and moved on to your back.

“If you weren’t careful however,” her voice turned hard, your body tensing at the shift in tone, “This could have turned out far worse. Far more dangerous. Magic isn’t a game, there are real consequences to your actions, just as there are in any other parts of life” You nodded your head solemnly, the back of your mind thanking just about everything for the relief the ointment brought.

Of course you had to learn the hard way the effects of going against your own nature.

You’d spent that Summer Solstice wrapped up with an ointment, dealing with Izuku’s annoying little smirk.

“I appreciate the thought (Y/N),” He whispered to you, the two of you sat a ways from the fire as you watched the others dance, “You wanted to defend me, but please, don’t go around cursing people, for my sake if not yours” he laughed, swatting your hand away from your own arm as you tried to itch it.

“Yeah, yeah, see if I ever do anything nice for you ever again” you groused, no heat behind your words. You were best friends, you’d do anything for him, just like he would you.

It was on your seventeenth birthday, a coming of age for a young witch, when you learned how far those feelings would go.

It was one hell of a birthday, you thought, sitting behind the wagon full of flowers that had yet to be formed into crowns, crying pitifully. The young girls of the village had teased you, your dress was so short compared to the usual style, even the sleeves! Your ankles were on full display and your feet were bare.

You hardly minded their comments, their concerns didn’t matter. It was your coming of age celebration as well as the Solstice. Everything was perfect, you’d even woken up early, gotten all your chores done and had enough time to have a relaxing bath beforehand. Their sense of fashion didn’t matter compared to your traditions. Not only that, but your mother had made the dress herself, it was soft and comfortable.

It was only when the other witches your age had decided that the color you wore wasn’t appropriate for the celebration, in these ‘modern’ times, far too dark and disrespectful. While they had etched a seed of self consciousness into your mind, you carried on, your mother had chosen this color specifically for you and the celebration at hand. The colors were fine! In your irritation, you stomped away hardly looking where you were going, falling face first and sliding into a patch of mud, probably leftover from yesterday’s rain.

You looked up from your predicament, one of the others dogs lifting up its leg to pee near you but not on you. At that angle it hardly mattered. The giggles from younger children were harsh enough, grating on your ears, whispers from some of the elders of this being a bad omen. But what was the worst of it all? The concern in Izuku’s eyes. He’d made a beeline towards you, but before he could reach you, you had sprinted off, just away from everyone.

You didn’t know why his eyes made it all the worse, that look never would have bothered you before, right?

The sun was starting to set, the wood was almost arranged perfectly to burn all night long.

You wiped your eyes, glaring down at the mud now on your hands.

“I thought I might find you here”

You jumped, heart launching itself into overdrive as you whirled around only to see Izuku.

“Oh! Izuku…you scared me” you placed a hand over your heart, as if it would slow to a normal pace if you did so. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the fire?” you asked, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I let you be here by yourself?” he asked, his gaze patiently waiting to meet yours, as soon as you had the courage to.

“You seemed alright with me being here up until now” you muttered. A flash of hurt appeared in his eyes, you immediately regret your harsh tone.

“W-Well, I had wanted to let you cool down before I just got in your space-”

“No, that was unfair of me Izuku, I’m sorry. I just…everything was supposed to be perfect. Or realistically perfect. Falling flat on my face in mud wasn’t exactly a part of the plan” you wiped your hands off on what little remained of your dress. “Or being considered a possible bad omen”

“I know what that’s like, remember on my fifteenth birthday, when I was helping carry all those crates?” You had to hold back a snort, as you recalled the story.

Your father had arranged for you to meet a supplier of a rare type of herb, as well as a few crates of spices for one of the shopkeepers in the village. The poor man had fallen ill this year and had somehow convinced his supplier to meet him halfway instead of going to the nearest town.

Izuku had been visiting at the time and, of course, offered to help you. You had just gotten over the main hill, you could see the people of your village milling about. You turned to look over at Izuku, only to watch as he fell face first onto the ground, tripping over a root. The barrels of spices went rolling down the hill, him rolling after them.

The barrels landed with a crash against some boxes stacked near the well, Izuku was hardly so lucky as he had rolled right into the wells wall.

“You were so lucky that you came out of that with only a broken arm” you laughed softly, a huff of laughter escaping him as well.

“At least the spices were alright, I’d have felt so bad if they’d all gone to waste because of my clumsiness” he placed a hand over yours, not even minding the dirt and tears that clung to it.

“It’s not quite the same as a ‘bad omen’, it’s also probably a little thoughtless of me to say ‘ forget them’ when they’re a huge part of your culture, your traditions. But…I want you to know that, they could call you any and all these bad things under the sun…and your parents wouldn’t believe them for a minute…I wouldn’t believe them for a minute.”

He stood up then, pulling you gently along with him. You allowed him, though your eyes were too preoccupied with seeing what everyone else is doing. Most were gathered around the fire, listening as one of the elders spoke, others talking and laughing amongst themselves, their cups full of sweet liquid.

He led you down to the river, the water warmed by the long summer day, softly babbling as the wildlife went about their ways. He sat you down on one of the rocks, taking one in front of you for himself.

“What are we doing over here Izuku?”

He didn’t answer you, reaching into one of his pockets and dunking a cloth into the water.

“Isn’t that your handkerchief?” you ask, face molded into disgust as the cloth came closer to you.

“What? No, well yes, but this one is an extra one, it’s clean I promise” he gently placed his hand on your chin, tilting your face up as he wiped the muck off of your face.

His touch was soft but firm, eyes only taking in his work as your own counted the freckles that danced along his cheeks, the way he bit his lip in concentration. Somewhere in the deepest part of your mind and the very center of your heart, you knew why that look had your cheeks turning red and your heart hammering in your chest. But at the forefront of your mind, you couldn’t tell why.

The two of you were silent as he continued his pattern, dunking the cloth into the water, washing out the dirt and wringing out the water to carefully wash away the dirt on your face.

It doesn’t take him long however, to finish with his task, washing and wringing out the cloth for the last time. His eyes finally meet yours, offering a gentle smile that only widened as he booped your nose with the cloth, the face you made sending pink butterflies through his stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, his good mood far too contagious.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his hand still holding your face as he took in your smile. You only hummed in agreement, internally mourning the loss of warmth from his hand as he pocketed the cloth.

“Thank you, Izuku, that was…you are too kind for this world, I think” You stood up from the rock, you couldn’t stay down by the river all night. Your dress may have been ruined, you’d have to apologize to mother for it, but someone must have brought an extra. Or so you hoped.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the clearing, trying to slip past the majority of the party to get to your mother, only for a gentle hand to stop you both in your tracks.

One of the elders, Mrs.Tachibana, looked up at you with kind eyes. She was mostly known for her talent for seeing into the future. That’s what the majority said it was, she described it as, ‘ getting a feeling I’ll need such and such object today’ only for it to come in handy at the oddest of times.

“I’m sorry Mrs.Tachibana, did I bump into you?” She shook her head at your question.

“Oh no dear, but I do have something for you. I had made it for my daughter, but it seems she made her own dress this time. I think It’s a good color for you!” She carefully handed the dress to you, to which you handed to Izuku, your body was covered in mud! You weren’t about to dirty some other dress.

“Oh are you sure-”

“Oh yes of course dear, no one else is going to be wearing it tonight!”

You quickly changed behind a tapestry your mother had been working on, feeling much better and cleaner in this new dress, it was a little on the short end, but just barely past what your mother’s dress had been.

You walk back out to find Izuku waiting for you, the fire having been lit. The music was hardly loud, but the drums struck a chord within your heart that pulsed with energy, a need to sing along, to move to the beat. You bound over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I see you’re feeling better” He mused, his foot tapping to the beat.

“Much better. Come dance with me?” You tugged gently on his hand toward the fire.

“You know I’m not the best dancer (Y/N)” He warned, as if you didn’t have years of experiencing it first hand. You shrugged your shoulders, even though he was far from good, he was most definitely not a disaster.

“Is that a No?” You swayed back and forth on your heels, looking up at him with what you hoped was a sweet enough look to get what you liked. He let go of your hand, for a moment you feared you’d pushed your luck too far, suddenly his hands were on your waist, lifting you into the air as he spun you into the dancing circle, your shriek of surprise worth the slight pain of him stepping on his own toes as he brought you back down.

You danced the night away together, hardly pausing for a break, you didn’t need to for whatever reason. You just wanted his arms around you, spinning you this way and that, lifting you in time with the music that had your stomach doing somersaults that tickled.

He felt the same, your laughter had his heart soaring, the smile on your face shooting Cupid’s arrows right through his heart. He tripped and stumbled every so often, but it was all worth it if it meant you were having a good time.

The two of you finally stopped to take a break, the moon high in the sky. You pulled him towards the river once again, the cool air there was bound to cool you off.

You sat down in the grass, pulling him down with you as you laughed at his startled expression.

“Well I’d say you did quite well with dancing!”

“Oh do you really? Even with all my fumbles?”

“Eh, you just added a few new steps!”

“A few new steps she says!” He barked out a laugh, tears gathering in his eyes, your own giggles twisting into his like sweet music.

Your laughter died out naturally, the music of crickets and rushing water kept you company, the drums from the music thumping distantly. He leaned back, looking up to the sky, you followed suit, your shoulder pressed against his as you pointed up at the stars.

“I think I’ll draw a new image in the stars. Just for tonight” You traced the shape with your fingers, Izuku mirroring your actions to see if he could get the shape.

“And, what are you going to call this new one?”

“Hmm…I’m not sure yet. It’s a process”

Your brow furrowed as you thought, the thoughts clear in your eyes, oh he was hopeless.

You jumped slightly at the feel of his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes were full of an emotion you couldn’t name, but it set your skin ablaze.

“I’ve had a great time tonight” you murmur, eyes wide and watching. What was he going to do?

“I have too,” he matched your volume, thumb idly stroking your cheek gently.

“I’ve actually thought about this for a while, but I was…afraid to ask you, in case I somehow ruined our friendship. But…the thing is (Y/N), I know our friendship is strong enough to withstand that. I want more than a friendship with you, I…I want to be with you all the time. I wanna be there on your good days, bad days, those days where everything and nothing are going on at once, I want it all,” he took a deep breath, steadying his shaking limbs and resolving his nerves.

“What do you say (Y/N)? Be my Love?”

Your eyes had watered considerably, your own hand holding his, you couldn’t help but nod.

“I was starting to think that my feelings were one sided,” you laughed, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I would love nothing more than to be yours”

He leaned into your space, so carefully, his hand gently pulling you closer until your lips met his, soft and warm, just like yours. You slowly pulled back, only to be gently pulled back in again, over and over until you were used to one another’s rhythm, kisses becoming slower and longer.

His tongue softly asked for entrance, and you readily allowed him access. He tasted of the sweet drink that had been served, goosebumps raised along your skin as he leaned you backwards into the grass, his eyes half lidded as adoration danced along the pinks of his cheeks.

He was careful not to press you too hard into the ground as he kissed you again, your tongues dancing as your hand gripped the hair at the base of his skull. The groan that rumbled through his chest and that particular rough pass of his lips had your toes curling.

He parted from you again, staring at your kiss bruised lips, wet and so inviting looking, moving slowly towards your (E/C) colored eyes, finding the same emotion fluttering in his heart. Carefully he sat up, you following after him with a smile on your face. You sat together, curled into one another as you watched the stars.

It had been four years since that Solstice, the two of you now adults. A year or two after becoming lovers, Izuku had finally found someone to train him into becoming a knight, a real hero. It meant that you would see him less, but he would always write to you when he could.

You were saddened at the news, but also so proud. Finally after all these years, his dream was coming true. He promised you that he would always come back to you, that once he had become a knight, able to help you build your own healing stand in the main city, He’d properly ask you to marry him. You knew he always kept his promises, one way or another.

How could you deny him his dream? You couldn’t truthfully.

That brought you here, scratching out another day along the tally you made. Only a few more days until Izuku came back. You helped your father run the shop now, almost fully taking over as the village healer.

You braced the day with a smile as the regulars came in, the usual ointments for Mrs.Tachibana, some medicine to the mother of some poor twins who had caught some sickness during the seasons change to spring, a wooden spoon covered in semi-crystalized honey for the wailing babe, their teeth slowly but surely coming in.

The morning rush could hardly be considered as such, your doors opening right at the first peak of dawn. You waved off the last of the morning patrons in no time at all.

You bend down to grab a few herbs, mixing something to help soothe Mr.Yamada’s vocal chords. You hear the door push open, pulling you from your line of thought, your eyes meeting bright green.

“Izuku!” you cry, rushing over to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug you could manage. He’d grown so much taller than you last remembered- well just bigger in general!

He’d bulked up considerably- he joked he wanted to get better at giving hugs along with being a Knight- and was now a full two heads taller than you. You only pull back to place your hands on his jaw, pulling him down to kiss you properly.

“Did I surprise you?” he laughed, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

“Yes! You weren’t due back for a few more days! Oh I’m so happy your home!” You stood back up on your toes to press more kisses to his face. “Tell me everything!”

He told you all about the training he went through- hell as he called it, eyes looking back with a slight fondness that only nostalgia could bring- the antics he and some other knights in training had gotten into. His teacher, Aizawa, was a hard man, but ultimately soft hearted in his own way. He couldn’t wait for you to meet the friends he had made, and you were excited to see them.

“I have heard some…other things though” he hesitated, leaning against the counter as you finished Mr.Yamada’s medicine, the yellow glow from your hands dimming until it was no more. “In the city they’re telling stories of witches…and not good ones either.” you hummed in agreement, concern laced into your features.

You’d heard of rumors of witches in nearby towns and villages. At first, nothing was seemingly worrisome about it. So some covens had decided to announce their place in the world, big deal.

Until the rumors had become something dark. Stories of sacrifices, hexes and curses upon innocent bystanders, children. Soon there were rumors of witches in every town, every village.

“Even the people here have started to become…nervous” beforehand, the villagers not a part of your coven had nothing to fear from you, you’d never given them any reason to. But these new witches, witches that were said to be everywhere, brought fear into your community.

“I’m worried Izuku, they’ve started burning people in the next few towns…I’m not sure what we could do, a show of our magic could scare them into a frenzy, but not doing anything could be just as bad. They even have a witch hunter!” you set down the pestle gently, Izuku taking your hand in his.

“I’m worried too. But for right now, the best we can do is wait and see how things go. No matter what, I’ll always be here, you won’t go through this alone.” your heart fluttered warmly at his words, pressing a kiss to his hand.

The next few days did little to raise or diminish your worries. You walked about the village, showing him what all had changed in his absence, ignoring the stares of the same village girls that had teased your dress all those years ago.

It wasn’t until the third week that had changed. Even that morning, the dew felt strung and the air was hot and still. Your father had asked you the night before to gather some lavender from the fields in the morning, he was running low on stock.

The two of you agreed, baskets in hand you walked to the fields.

The breeze began to pick up as you climbed up the hills, the sweet scent dancing around you as you looked up into your lovers eyes.

“Is it just me, or have the lavender fields gotten smaller?” he joked, sitting beside you as you carefully snipped away at the plant, making sure to cut the stalk specifically so the flower could regrow.

“No, I think you’ve just gotten taller.” You mused, handing him the stalks to carefully separate the leaves and the flowers themselves.

It was a tense silence as you worked, though you couldn’t tell what was on his. On yours however, was the frequent news of witches being killed. But not only witches, but innocent people as well, for the slightest and most ridiculous thing. Spoiled milk, your neighbor suddenly falling ill after accidentally tripping over your shoe?

These people wouldn’t know a witch if one kicked them in the ass.

“I think,” Izuku startled you from your thoughts, “It would be best if tonight, you and your family leave with me. At least until all of this calms down.” There would be no reasoning with the public, not with the mass hysteria and distrust of everyone.

“I would agree, but papa would never give up his shop, we’ve been there for years, generations even” you handed him a few more stalks.

“We’ll have to convince him somehow. I had hoped things would die down, considering the evidence and logic-”

“Since when have the masses and logic ever seen eye to eye?” you quip back, brow raised into bittersweet amusement.

“Since never, but I had hoped…Well It doesn’t really matter what I’d hoped. What I’m thinking now is, I write to my fellow knights in training for help. To help move your coven safely” He started to mumble, various questions littering his mind, how fast could a letter get there?

Their letters had been casual, while important, they weren’t of any dire emergency. Would his friends believe him? No of course they would, once he proved to them the logic of things. The masses may not be so…sensitive to logic, but his fellow knights were not the masses.

It takes you until sunset to gather enough petals to fill the basket, though the two of you were hardly in any hurry. You walked back to the village, the tense air having loosened just ever so slightly.

All the relaxation the lavender provided was gone the second black smoke was visible over the hill. Lavender forgotten, you ran to the village, the smoke billowing from two stakes. You raced down the hill, passing the well.

No…No gods please no!

On one stake was the remnants of your mother, her eyes open towards the sky as her body drew no more breath. Beside her was your father, eyes closed. A cry of rage and sorrow rang loose, distant from your ears as strong, familiar arms wrapped around you. You screamed and kicked, clawed at his arms. Your throat felt raw as you cried, eyes looking for someone, anyone to blame.

You’d only heard descriptions of him, hairdo pale it was blue, with eyes as red as the blood of innocents he condemned- Tomura Shigaraki.

“Let their souls be cleansed of this evil, so they may find rest at the side of the great one, All for One” his voice was horrid, nasal and cruel, the imagery of snakes filling the back of your mind. He didn’t believe a word he was saying, so evident by the snarl at his lip he called a smile, twisted pleasure saturating his eyes.

“Ah, the main event has arrived!” he snapped his fingers motioning towards you and Izuku, his guards making their way over to you.

One man pulled you from Izuku’s grasp, two men grabbing Izuku by the arms. He swore, headbutting one of the guards, kicking back on the others shin. “You let go of her!” he growled, another pair tackling him down to the ground to restrain him.

“You evil, wicked thing! How dare you kill these innocent people, how dare-” you shrieked and shrieked as you struggled against your captor, another guard capturing your other arm.

“You may struggle now witch! The evil within fights back! But don’t worry, you’ll soon be cleansed.”

Despite your struggles, the both of you are taken into one of the old jails, hidden underground.

The place was dusty from lack of use, the packed earth against the stone kept it cool. You were leaned up against the bars, Izuku leaning against the same ones across from you. He couldn’t hold you like he wanted, the bars too small for anything else but his hands.

“I should have thought about this harder…I should have made a plan sooner” he murmured, breaking the silence. “If I hadn’t wasted time, then maybe-”

“Don’t” your voice was clipped and harsh. You hadn’t meant to be, regret adding to the myriad of emotions pulsing around your broken heart. “Mum and Papa wouldn’t want you to…to talk like that.” you wipe a tear as best as you can, your hand reaching to find his again.

“It’s no one’s fault but that damned Shigaraki” you hiss, “ He’s the witch hunter. He’s selling the world a story and they’re all buying it.” you could feel his lips pressed against your forehead. You shift so you are on your knees, holding onto the bars for balance, you kiss him, deeply, trying to memorize the taste of him one last time.

You stay like that, murmuring sweet nothings to one another, for who knows how long. You only know that it is all too soon when they open the doors again, dragging you out to the stake. Izuku struggles against the guards as they force him into a kneeling position beside Shigaraki.

Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you struggle against your bonds. What you wouldn’t give to become the witch they so feared, maybe then your parents would be alive. Maybe then you and your betrothed would have a chance of surviving.

The fire starts all too quickly, Izuku’s agonized screams of horror sharp in your mind as tears run down your cheeks. Your last image of him couldn’t be of his eyes filled with hopelessness.

“I love you Izuku! I love you so much, We’ll be together again I swear it-”

“Silence Witch! Your spells have no power here!”

You ignored them, screaming louder, a cool burning sensation wrapping around the ring finger of your left hand, “I will find you! I don’t care how long it takes, we will be together!”

“I love you (Y/N)!” he cries back, a cool burning sensation around his left ring finger was left unnoticed. He was focused entirely on you. Until his world went black.

The guard righted himself, adjusting his hands behind his back, Izuku sat there, his head tilted forward, unconscious. Your heart finally severed, the only explanation for the black ink that spilled from it, tainting all in its path. The wind howled as a sudden storm raged above you, hair twisting this way and that, fueled by the wild look in your eyes, satisfaction found within the fear of Shigaraki’s red irises.

Your magic wasn’t made for curses or hexes. But with your heart broken, the once golden light of your magic turned vengeful, bubbling and vicious. Even as the smoke rose, your voice boomed across the village.

“May your days be numbered!” the crowd gasped, your voice multiplied, as if thousands were speaking at once, your eyes roaming across all of those who had cheered for you and your parents demise, of all those who died before you.

“May your last passing hours be filled with my ghostly visage, as all your loved ones choke on my ashes they thought long swept away! May you die in fear, knowing your bloodline will end with your hatred!”

The smoke from your pyre weaved around the guilty villagers, more thickly located around Shigaraki and his group. Your vision was turning spotty, but you didn’t care, you weren’t done. If you had to die, you were going out on your own terms.

“To those of you who survive, may you always see my shadow at the end of your beds as you sleep! May your Children curse your name! For your evil, your wickedness! For your Injustice!”

The storm raged on, even as you choked your last breath, your vision turning dark.

I’ll be with you soon my love…

.X.

You blinked, your eyes wet with unshed tears as you glanced around the room, your friends, Ochaco, Iida, and Todoroki were all behind you, looking at you with wide eyes. Next to you sat your boyfriend of two years, now in your third year at UA. His eyes were also wet, slowly turning to gaze towards you.

You had all decided to go to the fair that had opened up. Towards the end of your merriment, you spotted a fortune teller of a sort, and decided to go inside. Everything had been fairly light hearted and fun, until the two of you sat down for your turn. The fortune teller was shocked, the past had something important for you to see, and by all that was good you were going to see it.

You looked down at the promise ring Izuku bought you. It burned with the same cool sensation as you remembered…saw past you. It felt like…a small part of you had been unlocked, as if some part of you had been missing for all of these years.

“We found each other after all”

He gave you a gentle smile, one you returned.

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scenariosofkonoha · 5 years

Note

ehy! some headcanons with kiba? your choice! thank you💕

Hello Clippers! Really anything I want?? *blushes* Well… it’s not a usual topic I suppose. I took somethings that had been rattling around in my head about what Kiba experiences when it comes to his nose. I hope that is okay, if it isn’t I’ll totally fix something else up for you. But I really hope you like it, it was a new and fun experience! ~ Admin Little Lace 🎀

Kiba Scent Headcanons

The nose of an Inuzuka clan member is as much as blessing as it is a curse. It is wonderful to be able to locate an enemy nin from 100 yards away and all. But it wasn’t wonderful to continuously ‘experience’ someone’s body odor.

From a young age Kiba was taught to center his chakra better so not to be exposed to every scent under the sun. The process of stopping the flow of chakra to his nose is tedious. His efforts never seeming to remove the overwhelming torrent of smells completely. The young Inuzuka often become frustrated.

Sensing his frustration his mother and her companion to to help his training.

“Each scent is different,” Kuromaru’s deep voice rumbled. “Each distinct in its own way,”“The ‘smell’ of something is made up of different scents,” his mother added. Her brash manner softer as she explained. “Don’t think of it as something huge. Break the smell down into individual scents.”

With their advice in mind, little Kiba discovers the full scale of the ability. Odors that once consumed him invited him into soft and strong notes that created them.

If dinner were cooking he could smell the the different vegetables boiling. The aroma of chicken stock and the twinge of char from the meat being over done.

People, in his opinion, were by far the most interesting. Everyone was comprised of so many different scents, he could get lost in them. They are hard to distinguish at first. All of them muddled together. He had never given it much thought before, but people came into contact with so many different scents throughout the day.

It isn’t until he is paired with Akamaru that he is ale to identify the myriad of fragrances within the Leaf.

“Blood,” Akamaru remarked from on top of his head. Kiba tilted his head, as if to look up the pup“Huh?”“Over there,” the youngest Inuzuka felt a paw knead into the right side of his head. Following the feeling, he saw a group of shinobi walking into the village gates. Taking short inhales through his nose the smell grew stronger. A metallic scent, copper kinda, but warm like meat Soon Akamaru wouldn’t have to point it out. A mental note of ninja smelling of blood files away in the boy’s head.

As the partner’s bond, they begin to classify familiar scents. Food is always easy, the aroma of each memorable but they start to recognize the smell of certain medicinal herds, ash of a detonated paper bomb, and various types of woods and metals.

Soon it becomes a game for the partners, the boy and the ninken challenging one another to spot the source of their new discoveries. Seeing this Hana shares wisdom with her brother.

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they smell.” the older girl tells her juniors one day. “What they do, who their friends are, who they consider an enemy. Even, at times, insecurities and their inner most feelings. Most don’t think about it, worrying only if they stink or not. Because of this, it is a good way to learn about them.”“How do you do that?” Kiba asked skeptically.“Take all the little things, understand the scents and where they come from. Soon it will give you clues, creating a story. Being able to decipher the clues, building the story, is a sign of a good tracker.”

Between Akamaru’s skill of scent isolation and Kiba’s recall, the pair test out the theory. With each person they encounter they register their scent committing each detail to memory.

It is an easy start at first. The Inuzuka share a familial scent. Most clan members share the scent of their companions. An earthy mix of musk and sunshine. But his immediate family have minor differences.

His sister was a hive of small ‘clues’. Being a vet, she often smelled of other ninken, though not as strong as that of her three partners. But each smell was muted under a cover of salve and disinfectant. His mother’s was note as tame, hers was a loud as she was. The smell of Kuromaru only tainted with the coating of blood and metal.

Those had been simple to spot he knew them. His new team members however were all together different. They were not prominent. Hinata’s only barely registering unless he was close to her. Most girl’s in his class smelt of flowers, she was no different. But the Hyuga’s didn’t feel quite right. Her smell seemed trapped like a house with no windows. Kiba would liken it to flowers pressed inside of the pages of an old dusty book. It makes him uncomfortable and a little sad, bring him to invite her out more often.

What he couldn’t figure out though is why she would sometimes smell like ramen…

Shino owned a scent that was oddly neutral. If he weren’t actively looking for him, he won’t notice it. Sometimes he misses it even when he is looking for him.

Akamaru thinks the insect harboring nin smells like herbs and grass. A soft woodsy air like he is outside all the time. After a while, Kiba can tell where his peer has been by what kind of woods he reeks of. If it is of a cleaner sort, he has been by the cliffs. A deeper more earth tone? He has been by the village gate.

Kurenai is different than most woman in Konoha, in that she doesn’t smell like flowers at all. His sensei is like a breeze of air on a rainy day. The clean sense owning an under current of something headier. Sandalwood perhaps? The two mingled in a ashen bouquet. Like smoke but not from a fire. In his young age, he is not sure why.

His new found skill makes it easier to find his friends around the village. All of them has something that makes them different from their family or they people they were around. For instance, all the Yamanaka’s smelling of flowers but Ino exclusively of bush clover. And both Lee and Guy-sensei always smelling faintly of sweat (Or maybe the power of youth??) but Guy’s scent being ‘spicier’ for lack of a better term.

Sometimes the jutsu a shinobi uses changes their scent, the Inuzuka would soon discover. Kakashi-sensei often hosts one of warm static and singed fabric. While the genin would learn that Asuma was an overwhelming swarm of ash as if 1,000 paper bombs had gone off. That paired with the cigar smoke finally laid to rest the mystery of his mentor’s fragrance.

While few Kiba would come into contact with owned a “quiet” or “muted scents” like that of his team, a trait for sensory types he supposed. Others were “loud” and “Overbearing”. Now that wasn’t a bad thing in the case of Ayame and Teuchi, it was a pleasure to smell the best ramen in the land of fire on them. It was not the case with Naruto.

Kiba does not like they way Naruto smells. Not that the boy stinks per se. He and Akamaru can only describe it as…much. However possible, whether it be by clones or sheer effort, the blonde-nin smells of the entire Village.

Ichiraku Ramen, grass, flowers, ash, metal, static, medical herbs, bath house water, static, cup ramen, ninken and Kami only knew what else. You name it, somehow the shinobi reeked of it. It is overwhelming. Unable to explain it, and unwilling to deal with it, Kiba generally shuts the chakra away from his nose when interacting with Naruto. Even with the plethora of scents, his friend is so distinctive he can find him anywhere.

Over time new scents were added to the hidden leaf. Jiraya’s foggy essences of bath house and water lily, Tsunade’s fusion of medicine and sake. Even Captain Yamato’s torrent of fresh lumbered trees and Sai, whose could only be described as ink spilled on paper.

The shinobi’s sister had not lied when she said someone’s smell could tell who they were friends with. Over time he began to notice patterns. Shikamaru some days smelt of BBQ pork. Those were the days he trained with Choji. While others, he shared the ash and tobacco, the days he played shogi with Asuma.

Sometimes Ino smelled of cherry blossoms, while Lee and Neji smelled shared a sent of metal like that of kunai. Speaking of the elder Hyuga, he gained a small whiff of a familiar closed off smile. The change brought a smile to the Inuzuka’s face.

But not all scents brought happiness. The human body gave off different hormonal responses to emotion and instinct. As well as a scent. These were the basics that were taught from almost birth. Kiba was always aware he could smell them, his first interaction with them smelling fear coming off his father. It was a gift his mother often played on, the talent gaining her the title of the Hidden Leaf’s scariest Kunoichi.

Saddness, on the other hand, had a scent all it’s own. Generally smelt of warm salt water. A fact he had learned the day of Lord 3rd’s funeral. But he had also come to know that it was different for everyone.

Tears on Tsunade was often followed by that of sake…a lot of it. If his sister lost a patient, her scent was void of disinfectant.

The smell did not discriminate. Almost everyone in the village owned it at one time or another. Sometimes it surprised the nin. Catching it on Kakashi-sensei once, also brought the stench of copious amounts of hand soap. More that he had experienced on even a medical nin.

Now sadness and loss are very much alike. But loss manifested a little differently. When someone is gone, it is as if the origin of a scent is wiped off the planet. The day Jiraya’s smell of water lily did not return to the village, it was almost as if it left no trace. He could no longer sense it on Lady Tsunade, as sake took it’s place. Naruto’s was different.

Kiba can’t catch a scent of something if it is frozen. It’s almost as if the smell is locked inside ice as well. So he is unfamiliar with the the sickly sweet fruit-like smell on Naruto’s hands. It was almost like he had spilled a drink or something. After a while this new scent stays on the knucklehead ninja.

“There,” Akamaru points, his snout messing something something under a park bench. Taking a sniff of the air himself, Kiba caught whiff of the familiar complicated scent. Naruto. But also the sticky almost artificial smell. Kneeling slightly, the boy notices two sticks swimming in a puddle of blue. That was the day Kiba know what a Popsicle smelled like. Mentally adding the smell to the list that was his friend.

But some smells don’t go away after the origin is gone. No sometimes they linger like a familiar friend. When Asuma passed, Kurenai continued to smell like him. Kiba found it interesting. That even after months of only ever smelling sadness on her, that it had not changed. Pregnant woman gain a new layer to their smell while they are carrying their child. Kiba had learned that from his clan, it happened with Ninken as well.

But his Sensei’s essence of ash only grew stronger during the time. At one point even covering her scent of wood and rain. The Inuzuka had imagined that once she had her child that it might go away, like all the others did. But it hadn’t. The woman would forever hold the scent of her fallen lover even after Mirai came into the world. The little bundle holding the tell-tale whiff of Sarutobi ash.

As she grew, Kiba supposed, the little girl’s scent would change as well. Just as those in the village had. Hinata’s closed off smell had shed the more confident she became. It blossomed into a blend of wild flowers…with that ever present touch of ramen…

She was not the only one, all of his friends’ in the village would evolve. The flowers of the girl’s in his class would be fused in with new scents. Some familiar like ink and bush flowers. Others no so much, like potato chips and mountain air. The strange intermix, mirroring that of his sensei’s.

One day Kiba himself would find a scent that was intriguing. It was softer and not quite like flowers. But it reminded him of lazy days in the sun, and running home in the rain, with just a hint of blood. The smell would be wonderful but for some reason he will want to cover it with his own, the fusion of Akamaru and fresh linen melding well with it.

Though they are unable to experience it as he does, he can’t help but smile when cuddled into him his lover says:

“Hmmm…you smell nice.”

#ask #naruto #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto imagine #Kiba Inuzuka #Inuzuka Kiba #Kiba #Kiba Headcanon #kiba imagines #little lace secret notebooks #Admin Little Lace

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yingyuerc · 5 years

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more about ying yue’s family + relationships

Yuan Wu: He is Ying Yue’s older brother and is the oldest sibling in the Jiang family, 19 years old. 2 years older than Ying Yue. Yuan Wu is highly intelligent, book-smart, and clever. He values knowledge and enjoys reading, writing, and collecting medical herbs. He is studying to become a physician to help his sister Jiang Lei. As the oldest brother he has taken on a leadership role ever since his parents died. Yuan Wu inherited his mother’s brown hair and his father’s dark, black eyes. His brown hair reaches his shoulders and he keeps it in an up-do. Yuan Wu has an olive skin tone like his sister Ying Yue. He is tall and has an elegant, slender body. Yuan Wu and Ying Yue have a very good relationship because he is her protector and she supports her brother. Yuan Wu has an elder physician as his mentor. Yuan Wu learns a lot from his mentor and respects him greatly. When not studying or making medicine Yuan Wu often listens to Ying Yue playing music as he reads a good book. Since Yuan Wu was 9 years old at the time his parents died he remembers the most about them. Thinking about those memories make his heart ache, so he often lock them up into a deeper part of his mind. Yuan Wu loves animals, especially dogs and cats. Whenever he sees a stray dog or cat he always feeds it, and his heart breaks when he can’t take them home with him. His birthday is on the 5th of March, constellation is Pisces.

Zhen Kun: He is Ying Yue’s younger brother, 15 years old. He is two years younger than his sister and three years older than Jiang Lei. Zhen Kun is very laidback and adventurous. He rarely thinks of the consequences and has a calming & charming attitude. He doesn’t get upset easily and always appear to be smiling. Zhen Kun is young but he wants to become a fisherman. He spends a lot of time near rivers, lakes and beaches. Zhen Kun fish for all kinds of aquatic animals, as long as he can sell them or eat them. He is very good at cooking too. Zhen Kun inherited his father’s black hair like Ying Yue did. Actually, most of his features came from his father. He has the same dark eyes, the same charming smile, the same short haircut. He has an athletic body build from swimming a lot when looking for crayfish. He’s taller than Ying Yue but shorter than Yuan Wu. Zhen Kun and Yiang Yu are close because whenever she is feeling down Zhen Kun will always make her feel better by telling a funny joke. He can easily make the atmosphere more lighthearted during a stressful situation. Zhen Kun is fascinated by sea life and mythologies of sea creatures like dragons and other beasts. Zhen Kun collects pretty seashells for Jiang Lei and relaxes near the shore when he’s not fishing. He was 5 years old when his parents died, so his memories of them are quite blurred. His birthday is on the 1st of June, constellation is Gemini.

Jiang Lei: She is the youngest sibling of the Jiang family. She’s five years younger than Ying Yue, making her 12 years old. Jiang Lei is a sweet, kind and meek girl who never raises her voice or gets angry. She is very generous and loves to help people. Jiang Lei is very frail and often got sick when she was younger, although her health has improved she’s still weaker than most kids in the village. She is home a lot and attends the family garden behind their little worn down and broken house. The house was abandoned but the Jiang siblings had no choice but to stay there. Jiang Lei has tried her best to repair the broken, old house and the overgrown garden that belongs to it. She loves plants and flowers, always picking pretty bouquets for her brothers and sister. Ying Yue and Jiang Lei care for each other a lot. Jiang Lei’s long pigtails are brown like her mother’s hair. She also inherited the peculiar blue eyes, although they looked more purple than blue. Jiang Lei is a frail child with a lithe, petite and skinny body. She’s shorter than most girls her age. She was two years old when her parents died, so she has almost no memories of them. Her birthday is on August 12th, constellation is Leo.

Xin Lin: She was Ying Yue’s childhood friend and at the time was at the same age as her. They’ve known each other since they were four, so roughly three years before Ying Yue moved away. It was an accident, Ying Yue was chasing a kite that she had lost and ran into Xin Lin. She had somehow ended up near the Orphanage, too busy trying to reclaim the blue dragonkite to notice. Xin Lin scolded her and pulled her hair, Ying Yue screamed and the sound alerted the other kids at the Orphanage. The children took Ying Yue’s side and encouraged Xin Lin to apologize. Xin Lin scoffed, but then felt bad and apologized. Ying Yue accepted the apology and offered Xin Kin to play with her and the kite. Xin Lin was surprised, but gladly accepted. They played until dawn and a new friendship blossomed. Ying Yue’s mother came rushing, worried about where her daughter was. Ying Yue didn’t want to go home, she wanted to stay with Xin Kin and play a little longer. But she had to go, so she promised Xin Lin and the other children at the Orphanage she’d come back tomorrow and bring kites for all of them. Xin Lin had always been a very feisty, cunning, scheming and manipulative child. She easily got upset and small things but had a soft spot for Ying Yue, her first real friend. Xin Lin never hurt Ying Yue, and the two of them quickly became close over time. They played until their bodies were exhausted, talked till their mouths were dry. Xin Lin taught Ying Yue how to think quick and be clever. The two of them played a lot of board games and puzzles together, solving tough riddled and crosswords. Ying Yue and Xin Lin were the most clever kids in the village, but somehow Xin Lin always won at a game. Xin Lin taught Ying Yue her tricks and aces, even at such a young age the adults knew Xin Lin was very smart. Ying Yue was smart for her age, but Xin Lin was a prodigy. Ying Yue and Xin Lin cared very deeply for each other, so much they couldn’t be separated when Ying Yue’s mother came to pick her up. Xin Lin had long black hair and vivid blue eyes. She had fair skin and always held her head high. As a baby her parents abandoned her near a lake for unknown reasons, she doesn’t have any memory of them either. Xin Lin loved board games and riddles. She and Ying Yue would often sing lullabies, holding hands and walking down the streets of the village. Her birthday is on October 23rd, constellation is Scorpio.

#Royal Chaos #RC #Jiang Ying Yue #Lady Jiang Ying Yue #Lore #Characters

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magicandman · 5 years

Photo

Many people have heard of “smudging,” and may even practice it, but there’s great value in knowing its history, and understanding the true sacredness of it.

There are three primary herbs used in the Native American tradition for smudging: sage, cedar and sweetgrass.

Sage is used to dispel negative energy.

Cedar is used for an overall blessing or to cleanse where there has been illness.

Sweetgrass draws in positive energy.

I have been taught the importance of burning only one herb at a time for smudging, otherwise you are giving mixed messages.

Sage is the most commonly used for cleansing the energy field of a person, place or thing, so I will focus on it for this post.

How sage came to the people

This is a story from Bear Heart about how sage came to the people:

A long time ago there was a village in North America where it seemed like things were going from bad to worse, to the point that things of a negative nature seemed to be predominant:

• things were going wrong,

• craftsmen were making mistakes in their work,

• people were making accusations against one another,

• people were accused of practising evil.

There was a whole lot of discord among the people: friends and neighbours having falling outs, not allowing the children to play with the neighbour's children. Many things like that were happening.

All of a sudden, a young boy around 13 or 14 years old showed up in the village with a bundle in his arms. As soon as he arrived, he asked to see the elders of the village.

When they were summoned he asked them to sit in a circle. As they did so, he said “I have this plant I want you to look at it. You can recognize it when you see it again because it will be growing in this area. It is called sage. It’s going to enable you to handle all the negative things that are blowing around this whole camp. That’s why I was sent to you. And so, please smell this and pass it around.”

As they did, they began to feel good towards one another. And then, while they were doing that he built a fire very quickly. When the sage came back to him in the circle, he put coals in a pile using his bare hands.

Then he put all the sage on it and said, “I want you all to smudge yourselves. This is how you do it.”

While they were smudging themselves each one suddenly began to feel good about the person next to him. They were so busy acknowledging one another, when they looked again for the boy, he had disappeared. They didn’t know where he came from or where he went.

That’s a story of how sage came to the people.

Smudging with sage

For thousands of years, incense and smoke have been used in spiritual and religious settings to connect with the spirit realm. Incense is still used today in the Roman Catholic Church and other religions for purification.

Native elders teach that the smoke of dried sage clears negative energy and restores harmony.

The smoke created by smudging connects our physical plane to the realm of the sacred, and opens a portal to the world of subtle spiritual energies. We are also connecting with thousands of years of prayer and ceremony when we smudge.

Smoke from smudging can also carry up our prayers to the Great Spirit.

The research on smudging

New research reveals that smudging works as an antiseptic.

The article “Medicinal Smokes reduces airborne bacteria,” published in the journal Ethnopharmacology in 2007, reported on a University of Witwatersrand study that found a 94% reduction in the bacterial count of a room that had been treated for one hour by smudging with medicinal herbs.

One hour is a long time to be smudging, and would likely set off smoke detectors, but it’s good to know it brings about some reduction in bacteria.

Once again, our Native elders understand both the spiritual and physical realms better than modern man.

When and why to use smudging

Smudging is often the first step in any ceremony. It helps bring the participants into the present, leaving behind the stress of their lives and other distractions.

There’s no limit to the situations where smudging can be of benefit:

Smudge yourself off with sage when you get home from work each day, or when you’ve had an upsetting incident.

Smudge the participants at the beginning of a meeting or ceremony in order to help everyone become centred and present.

Clear an area where there’s been an upset by burning sage.

If you have spiritual instruments, it’s good to smudge them regularly: i.e, feathers, fetishes, crystals, etc. Burn the sage and draw the objects though the smoke four times.

Smudge yourself when you awaken in the morning, to dispel any negativity from the day before or that came up in your dreams. Bathe yourself in the smoke, to purify your energy field, by drawing the smoke over yourself four times:

Over your heart, saying “harmony”,

Over your head, saying “humour”,

Down your front saying “humility”,

And then behind you, saying “honesty.”

You’re drawing these qualities into yourself as you do so.

Smudge your home on a regular basis, smudging towards an open window.

Planting a garden? Smudge the seeds both before and after planting, so as to give them a good start.

If you receive something that has been used by others, such as a purchase from a thrift store, smudge it with sage before using it in order to eliminate the energy of the previous owner, and create a new start for yourself.

How to smudge

To smudge you will need:

sage [either loose leaves or a smudge stick such as in the photo above]

an abalone shell [or anything that can handle the heat of the burning sage]

a lighter

a feather to help fan the smoke [optional]

Light the sage and start smudging: pass the abalone shell around to distribute the smoke. If you have a feather, you can use it to send out the smoke in different directions.

When you’re done, you can put out the burning sage by pressing it into the abalone shell or the ground. When you’re finished, return the ash to the ground.

https://www.mollylarkin.com/sacred-art-smudging-sacred-smoke-sacred-life/

#smudging #magicandman

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magics-of · 5 years

Text

Looking for Connections: Solarian

Full Name: Solarian Autumsong

Nicknames: Sunshine, Sol

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Preferred Pronouns: He/him

Faceclaim: Troye Sivan

Occupation: Sin’dorei Herbalist

Appearance: Bright, juniper green eyes, long pointed ears; scrawny frame; soft white blonde curls kept cropped short, pierced nose

Solarian was born in a small village of Eversong Woods. He was the youngest child of the Autumnsong family, a noble family of high elves that had for centuries been dedicated to the Light. From his lineage sprang many Blood Knights, and he was expected to take his father’s mantle as one himself, but Solarian had always been of a more gentle nature. At the tender age of thirteen, the scourge invasion of Quel’Thalas took place. Spared only by virtue of being at the heart of Silvermoon City during the attack, the boy lived, although his father, elder brother and mother were not so lucky. His father was killed in the line of duty and risen as one of the Lich King’s Death Knights as per reports from the battle field. Solarian believes he lives in some capacity, though he has nothing to prove so aside from his body not being found among the dead left behind, and gut instinct.

From then on, he abandoned the idea of becoming a Blood Knight-- he had never been keen on the idea anyway. Instead of raising a blade, he wanted to use his affinity for magic to protect those in need. He was sent to Dalaran to train among the medics there, and with his patience and gentle touch, he became a proficient healer.

His whole life, Solarian has loved nature. As a child, he would often get lost in the woods, making friends with the creeks and ravines, tender greenery and critters that crawled upon the forests. Grass and mud stains were ever his signature mark, and as he grew older, he focused on studying herbalism and alchemy in conjunction to his training as a healer, and is adept at creating potions and poultices of various types.

Solarian is quick and cunning, but is by no means a fighter. His temperament is calm and quiet, although being the youngest boy in a household of all snarky females taught him a quick comeback and quite a lot of sass. A big lover of music, he is known for his ability to carry a tune, although it’s not something he showcases often. He’s fairly easy to get along with, so long as he’s not being belittled by those who think of him as weak due to his diminutive size and meek demeanor. His mental fortitude is strong, as he has survived many battles and has helped bring many from the brink of death itself. His feelings towards the current Warchief are mixed, if not pessimistic, but he’s excited for the opportunity to learn about the new plant life that grows in abundance in Zandalar.

✓ Nurturing, protective, determined, fast learner, youthful, and energetic ✘ Skittish, sassy, proud, clumsy, naive, and inexperienced

Looking for connections! Solarian is a sin’dorei medic and herbalist (on Wyrmrest Accord Horde!) who strives to help those in need. He is proficient in identifying and gathering herbs, and breaking them down for alchemical and medicinal uses, and is always looking to make coin as a mercenary healer for hire.

His blog is @solautumn. Check him out and feel free to message me for more info, constructive criticisms, or really anything at all!

#horde rp #wow rp blog #wra rp #wow rp #Solarian Autumnsong #reblogs and signal boosts loved forever and ever!

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imaginecoderealize · 5 years

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Hi everyone 😊 have you any headcanons or stories about boy's childhood?(with Hansel and Nemo )

We hope you enjoy this small glimpse into the kids’ lives before they became the heroes we love!

- Mod Apostle and Mod Nautilus

LUPIN:

- Lupin started out smaller and weaker than most of the otherstreet kids, but he proved to also be the cleverest. The other kids began tolook up to him and treat him as a leader, despite his youth and small size.They were so skilled at their work using Lupin’s methods that people began toavoid the popular markets they haunted. The police took notice and the kidsonly grew more talented at playing hide and seek with the police and makingthem look like fools.

- Lupin’s first brush with being a ‘thief with a heart ofjustice’ was when he saw a frail old woman robbed and thrown down into analley. He always picked the pockets of the rich and considered it poor form topick on ‘easy targets’. He stole back the woman’s purse, only to find it veryheavy with gold. He was tempted to keep it, but recalling the woman’s frailty,he dutifully brought the purse back to its owner. The old woman exulted overhow honorable he was and gave him his first ‘finders fee.’ Which turned out tobe more money than he could steal in a month.

- Lupin was intelligent, but he preferred practical studies tobook learning. (His teacher did make sure he knew how to read and write, etc.Even though he balked about it being boring.)

- He and his fellow urchins often made up their own gameswhich helped them with their thieving.

- Lupin usually had to sleep outdoors, so thefirst time he had a bed of his own he was so happy that he didn’t even want tomess the sheets up. … Of course, about twenty seconds later he jumped right onin and rolled the sheets around himself like a cocoon.

- Lupin was surprisingly nervous the first time he left France, though he would never admit it. He loved the adventure, of course, but there was something a little anxiety-inducing about taking those first steps.

VAN:

- Van was always a dutiful brother and son. His father passedaway when he was still quite young, so he felt it was his duty to care for hismother and little brother. They didn’t have a lot of money, so he learned tomake the things they needed and repair clothing and other things to extend their life. He became quite skilledat woodworking and made his mother a beautiful vase that she kept on herdresser that held three flowers, one for each of his family.

- Van and his brother always went berry picking in the summer.It was the brothers’s favorite time of year when their mothers would make themmagnificent pies. One time Van decided to make a pie for his family… withpredictable results. The mess in the kitchen was extraordinary, but his mothercouldn’t scold him because he tried so hard, and pretended to enjoy hiscreation. It may have been better for his future friends if she had told himthe truth.

- Van was a smart, serious student. His favorite subject inschool was mathematics. He taught his little brother to read.

- Vanwas always athletic and participated in many different sports.

- Would always help his mother with the sewing andclothing repair. He learned how to knit when he was eight years old, and becamequite skilled. His family could never leave the house in winter without ascarf. And gloves. And a hat.

- He was always very open about how he doted over his family. He once had his heart on his sleeve….

FRAN:

- Fran grew up surrounded by beautiful natural wonders. Of ascientific bent since childhood, he found it soothing to walk in the woods andstudy nature. He could often be found reading in the shadow of his favoriterock, or collecting various specimens to study in his little attic laboratoryunder the eaves of his home.

- Fran had a cute spaniel that always stayed at his side whenhe was a kid. They went on many adventures together. Fran even taught her tosniff out certain plants or other things to use in his experiments.

- Fran helped keep his parents’ gardens. He had his own littlepatch where he grew his own medicinal herbs.

- Fran’s favorite subject was obviously science, especiallyalchemy and biology. He was equally good at all subjects and was recommended togo to college in the U.K.

- Knew he wanted to be a doctor for as long as hecould remember. He was the greatest teddy bear doctor in all of Switzerland,always performing regular check-ups. Of course, if someone came to him with adoll that needed repairs, he’d have to go to his mother… but he would alwayssupervise the procedure!

IMPEY:

- Impey was alone much of the time as a young child. He neverreally fit in with his peers and always dreamed of leaving his little villageand seeing what the world beyond held. Many vampires hated the cities, but Impeyknew that his future would lie in the cities beyond his claustrophobic littletown even before he saw the train.

- Impey was an eager student once his imagination was ignited.The Old Man was delighted with how smart he was. He read voraciously once hehad the opportunity, though he found history boring. He hated stories about waror weapons, but he loved the romances. (He cried easily over tragedies.)

- Impey’s first device was a telescope to look at the moon,made from a cardboard tube, a piece of glass and a broken mirror. He was veryexcited and proud of his creation.

- Impey never had any sense of a bedtime, and often tinkeredand experimented with machines all night. The old man would often find himslumped over his work bench fast asleep. In that way, not much has changed.

- Impey didn’t change too much from when he was akid, so he would always be running on fumes. All too often, his old man wouldfind him passed out with a wrench in hand and grease stains on his cheeks. Heonly put a stop to it one time after Impey caught a bad cold. “That’ll teachyou to not get proper rest, now you have no choice.” (I think it’s cute we both had the same idea about Impey sleeping on his work bench - Mod Nautilus)

(Because there is so little information about Saint’s youth,this is longer and more… dramatized… than the others… – Mod Apostle)

SAINT:

- Saint doesn’t remember his childhood before he was a slave,erroneously believing he was born into slavery. The trauma of the sack of hisvillage made him block it from his memory. He was born in an ancient isolatedvillage in the eastern foothills of Mesopotamia. Its isolation meant that theever-changing political situations and the rise and fall of cultures passedthem by harmlessly, until an avalanche caused the king’s military to divertcourse and they raided the peaceful village.

- Saint was a priestess’ son. He was a gentle, fragile child.His task was to read and memorize the holy books, study their rituals, andlearn from his mother how to lead their people. He was a dreamer who loved thestars, the quiet hills at night, and the sound of his mother’s voice singingthe sacred songs.

- Despite being two years younger, his brother always lookedafter him. They played games, told stories, read every book in the village,especially the tales about a time when they lived in a city overlooking thesea. Neither of them had ever seen a body of water larger than small lakes andrivers. They had never even seen the great Euphrates or Tigris. They promisedeach other to go to the sea someday. To sail away and find their lost city andbecome kings. Saint said he would be the high priest and talk to the gods,while his brother could be king and govern the people. The village elder’sfortune said Saint would suffer much and travel far before he found hisdestiny, but then such things seemed incomprehensible to the children who builtstone forts for castles and tended their goats.

- Later, after he forgot his past, he still sought out tabletsand and stories of the gods and sacred texts, never wondering how a slavelearned to read. Despite the differences in language, he was able to teachhimself the new alphabets and lettering. He kept a horde of discarded tabletsand broken styluses buried in a hole with his few belongings, including a stonenecklace given him by his only friend, the boy who he no longer recognized ashis brother.

- Saint sang to himself at night sometimes when he could getaway with it. They soothed him and helped him to sleep. He still remembers thesongs, though the source is lost to him.

- In a life usually filled with misery, Sainttreasured every bit of ‘ordinary happiness’ he could find. Usually, this was inthe form of watching the sun rise. It was such a little thing, but he lovedwatching the light slowly paint the sky different colors. The sun looked like abig bright ball that he wanted to play with, but he was content just to feelits warmth.- Out of all his duties, Saint enjoyed fishing themost. He wasn’t able to do it often, but being near the water always made himfeel at peace. He enjoyed the fact that what he was doing allowed people to befed. He wanted to be a gracious host for many people from a very young age.

HANSEL (AND GRETEL):

- Hansel’s favorite memories are of the summers before the warstarted. His mother would bake cookies and make a picnic lunch and Hansel wouldtake Gretel on forest adventures. Hansel would gather wildflowers and makeflower crowns for Gretel and the siblings would splash around in the brook andlaugh and play until nightfall.

- Gretel occasionally had trouble sleeping and would visit herbrother’s room. He would let her cuddle with him and told her fairytales untilshe fell asleep.

- Hansel made friends with the deer of the forest and lovedtaking Gretel out to feed them sometimes.

- Hansel became Omnibus’ precious son, and she knew that treating him as such would tie himfurther to her. She taught him personally about the duties of Idea, somethingthat was usually reserved for a fellow Apostle. Saint would often joke withOmnibus about how he was being spoiled.

- Omnibus would teach him in the garden, and he wouldoften occupy his hands by tending to her garden. It shone even brighterafter receiving attention from him, and afterwards Omnibus would reward hisobedience with a cookie shaped like a daisy. Those were always his favorites…

NEMO…?:

(FUN TRIVIA! According to Jules Verne, Captain Nemo’s birthname was Dakkar. Mod Nautilus has adopted this into her Code: Realizeheadcanons, so if you see the name “Dakkar” floating around—it’s pre-RevolutionNemo.)

- Dakkarwas a polyglot from a very young age. Languages always came easily to him,among them English, German, and French. (And back then he actually spoke… um…he didn’t sound like… HE DIIIIIDN’T TAAAAAAAAAALK LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIIS.)

- Dakkar had two little sisters that meant theabsolute world to him. Oftentimes, late at night, he would sneak out of hisquarters to spend time with them. Once he started getting caught, he would slippast by dressing up as a beautiful woman. As long as he kept his mouth shut,nobody noticed.

- … He was always very, very proud of being called “brotherdearest”.

- Dakkar was an accomplished pianist, but he much preferred playing the pipe organ, saying that it stimulated his mind more.

- He was sixteen years old when he became a lead strategist in the uprising against Britain, though he participated in any way he could long before then. He has always been passionate about the things important to him, and the freedom of his country was the most important thing to him growing up.

*BONUS* SHOLMES:

- Herlock —er, Sherlock as he was known backthen—has an elder brother named Mycroft. Though Mycroft is just as much of agenius as his little brother, the two of them often clashed on a moreclandestine subject: housework. See, much like Sherlock, Mycroft was also arather deplorable housekeeper and they would often compete to see who could getout of the most chores. It became a game for them, one which Sherlockultimately won by devoting his time to a new hobby: the violin.

#code: realize #code realize #Arsene Lupin #abraham van helsing #victor frankenstein #Impey Barbicane #count of saint germain #nemo #herlock sholmes #Hansel Hexenhouse

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desertgourd · 5 years

Text

Sunagakure and Mental Health || Headcanon

Canon Background

Suna's views on mental health can be roughly divided into two sections: Pre-Fourth Shinobi World War, and Post-FSWW. Before Gaara became Kazekage, Sunagakure was known for the ruthless training of its shinobi. While not on Kiri's level, Suna shinobi are taught that their mission and duties come first, and feelings will only get in the way. They are taught to repress their emotions in order to be more effective soldiers - more effective tools.

There is overwhelming evidence of this in canon. We see the way Rasa viewed his son as a weapon first and a human second. Even before he became the fearsome "monster" infamous throughout Wind, he was not given the option of having real thoughts and feelings; he had a sole purpose to his village, and when he did not complete it, he was a failure to Rasa and the village as a whole - all at the age of six. We see the very cavalier way in which Temari handled Gaara brutally murdering the team from Sound in the chunin exams - she smiles, waves her hand, gives a perky "bye!". We see it, too, in the way Temari further handles her own emotions as she ages. She insults Shikamaru for being "less of a man" when he cried after almost losing his teammates in the attempt to retrieve Sasuke, and she consistently displays as blunt and stoic, often with a quick temper - qualities shared by many Suna shinobi, such as Baki and Rasa. During the Sasuke retrieval arc, Kankuro belittles Konoha by saying their shinobi are "softer" than Suna shinobi. In Baki's wiki page, he is described as "a loyal, kind and respected ninja, although, like many Sand ninja, he is ruthless and stern in battle, as they are all trained to put accomplishing missions before comradeship.” [x]

What about other villages? We know Kiri is much more cutthroat. Konoha ostracizes Naruto his entire childhood over actions he could not control, and subjects him to chronic neglect/abuse simply because they could not conceive that a child could have any thoughts, feelings, or needs other than the demon inside him (the same went for Gaara, too). We see Kakashi's mental health routinely go unchecked. We see vast signs of PTSD (outbursts, flashbacks, anxiety, difficulty forming meaningful relationships, depression, substance abuse) all of which are normalized and often even encouraged within the shinobi world (Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Asuma, to name a few), with zero mentions of any sort of mental health treatment. We see a militaristic society under constant eras of war, with acceptable use of child soldiers as young as five - an age where many children don't yet know how to tie their shoes. The only mention of mental health treatment comes in the novels, when Sakura unveils a brand new mental health program for children - since before, there had been nothing.

Impoverished, war-torn, and highly collectivist, it's shown repeatedly throughout canon that Suna spares little thought to the feelings and psychological needs of their shinobi. You do the job or you do not. You are an effective tool, or you are not. In canon, this attitude is also prevalent throughout other villages to varying significant degrees.

Headcanon

So what is there to be done in terms of mental health? Pre-Fourth War, options were limited. Particularly in Suna, revered elders served as fonts of wisdom and guidance, with civilians and shinobi alike seeking their advice for anything from mundane life issues to major decisions. Others pray to deities. For more severe cases, some seek out medic-nin who specialize in rehabilitating victims of extreme genjutsu, and often receive a pseudo-medicinal treatment of herbs, salves, meditation, and other remedies to soothe the nerves. Underground support groups could exist, but nothing official, and their presence is kept anonymous and stigmatized. Overall, however, the attitude was to shut your mouth and do your job, or be perceived as weak.

Post-war, and even pre-war but during the the Fifth Kazekage's reign, Gaara makes pushes for improvements in the field of mental health. He works to break down the stigma of seeking help. He works with the hospital to train doctors on basic competence in assessing for psychological issues which crop up in droves after the war, and puts a plan in place to refer them to the medic-nin specializing in genjutsu - if they can work on the brain in a medical/chakra-sense, why not in an emotional one as well? Sakura’s input in this area becomes vital, and they become an effective team. He adjusts the Academy lessons, emphasizing the strong bonds of teamwork and the importance of shinobi as individuals.

Change comes slow; Suna folk are hardened by circumstance and environment, and money is not easy to come by. But with the worst behind them, Sunagakure begins to forge ahead with a stronger understanding of themselves and each other, and better physical and mental outcomes as they look forwards towards a future of peace.

#headcanon #naruto #sunagakure #gaara #discussion #ok to reblog

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angry-goat · 3 years

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1-80 for whatever OC you want, go wild buddy i can't wait to read! 👀❤️

You saved me from boredom! Here’s my ver of Ornstein:

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? - Orn(y), The Lion/Lion Knight (1st one is what Ciaran & Artorias call him for short, 2nd one is made up by Artorias & last 2 are the most common strangers call him.)

What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? - Yellow/gold, red (“Ariel red”), white.

How tall is your OC? - 9'

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC? - I’d say the length of his hair. In a ponytail it's halfway down his back. Loose it is down to his ankles.

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night? - He's normally wearing his signature armor. For special nights (any day/night he’s not working) he wears a black shirt with rolled up sleeves and tight black pants.

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances? - Grumpy? Gruff?? Tired???

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar? - Has a small flat mole under his right eye and small scar on the left of his forehead above his eyebrow (hard to see in my drawings but it’s there.)

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like? - I like to think of Bambi’s father from the 2nd movie but a tad less low (example at the end!)

What does your OC’s bedroom look like? His/her living area? - Ornstein (and Artorias’) living quarters have a bedroom which is a part of the “living room”. In separate rooms to the right there is a big bathroom, on the left a small kitchen. The main room is mainly dark golds and crimson while the bathroom and kitchen are white and gold.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer? - Lube...? Anything really special to him is either worn by him or hung up somewhere.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother? - He left her around his teenage years to continue his training as a knight of Gwyn but his relationship with her was good. Every year on her birthday he silently prays that she is alive and well.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father? - His father died when he was around 2-3 so he doesn't remember him. He’s heard from his mother that he was a big and scary looking but a kind and gentle man. Had a pretty good sense of humor too.

How many siblings does your OC have and what is his/her relationship with them? - Had a sister 1 year younger than him. Around age 4 she went collecting herbs for their mother but got hungry along the way and mistook a poisonous plant for a safe one. Died later that night. Younger brother (around age 9) wished to hunt a manticore with Orn but Ornstein only got annoyed by the suggestion and kept training with his dummy. A hunter from the village returned from a hunting trip later to inform Orn’s mother that his brother was found dead near a manticore liar. He barley remembers his sister. Blames himself for his brother’s death.

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life? - Lord Gwyn for a short time.

What was your OC’s childhood like? - Lived in a small village. Spent most of his younger years learning different herbs and medicine from his momma. When he got old enough (13) he spent the day learning to fight and hunt for food.

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how did that impact him/her? - Strongest childhood memories are his mother singing a lullaby to help him sleep, learning of his brother’s death, and silver knights visiting his village to look for possible future knights to train.

What is your OC’s imagination like? - Does Not have a huge imagination. His mind is filled with work, possible outcomes of problems and wishing to just relax with his husband. If not any of those than it's memories of wars with dragons and the occasional memory of NK and him hanging together. They had a friend/brotherly relationship.

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite? - Moved around a few times as a child when monsters proved too great a threat. Did not have a favorite location. They were all very similar.

What does your OC think of children either in general or about having them? - Does not really have an opinion on them at first. He gets easily annoyed so he is never around them (+ his work doesn't involve them.) In the kids AU he wished to create children with Artorias and they ended up making 2.

What kind of mother/father would your OC be? - Sadly not a good one. He thought he was ready but ultimately wasn't. He ends up treating his kids more like his soldiers as he is so used to being the captain and giving orders. He was also never home to connect with them.

Who are your OC’s closest relatives? - Mother.

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)? - He considers Gough to be his closest friend. They both just enjoy being in each other's company. No talking necessary.

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with? - The other 3 knights of Gwyn. Gough, Ciaran, and last but not least his partner Artorias.

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates? - He doesn't really hate anyone specific but for a while he was not too fond of NK for betraying his father and siding with the dragons. As you'd expect. Sometimes he dislikes Lord Gwyn for sending Artorias on such dangerous missions by himself.

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it? - Artorias.

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together? - They balance each other out I guess. If “opposites attract” is true then they are living proof. Ornstein taught Artorias what real love was and how to trust. Artorias was the first person he ever had feelings for and he also learned how to just have fun and relax while being around him.

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate? - The first thing that caught his attention besides Artorias’ looks were his unique fighting skills.

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet? - Artorias appeared one day as a stranger to Anor Londo and sought out Lord Gwyn. He introduced himself and told of his strengths. Gwyn agreed to introduce him to The Captain, Ornstein, to see if he was capable of being a good, trustworthy knight.

What is your OC’s level of education? - Learned how to differentiate herbs and medicine at a young age. As a teen and onward he got most of his knowledge from personal experience and reading.

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they? - None.

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he? - He believes knowledge is good but doesn't really trust schools. If you were his child you would be homeschooled and be reading large texts all day :)

What subjects did your OC excel at? - Fighting and commanding others!

What subjects interested your OC? - He enjoys reading and sometimes writing short stories.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession? - Being a knight of Gwyn - Knight commander.

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieving his/her current profession? - Gwyn saw lots of potential in young Ornstein and so he got training almost immediately.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? - Is honored of his position but sometimes wishes he could just quit and rest.

What is your OC’s biggest dream? - Already came true. He wished to impress Gwyn enough to be the knight captain (check!) and later wished to soulbond with Artorias (double check!)

How does your OC react to and handle stress? - Likes to be alone with his thoughts. Gets easily annoyed and grumpy (more so than usual). Is prone to yell more often at times but usually reminds himself a good commander does not let their emotions get the better of them.

How does your OC handle anger? - You’ll hear a lot of lighting and shouting in the training grounds aka he is breaking every single training dummy. If not all this then you’re being yelled at by him cause you did something wrong or are trying his patience.

How does your OC handle grief? - Same as above except he'll eventually tire himself out, curl up and cry on the ground. Would also probably destroy things of no importance to him in his quarters. The only time he’d feel this much grief was if his mate or child was to die. Normally if he is grieving he is very quiet. If he loses a comrade in battle he’ll spend a couple minutes praying for them at night and give them a moment of silence.

What is your OC’s greatest fear? - Losing Artorias and disappointing the city of Anor Londo.

What makes your OC happy? - Spending time with Artorias.

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have? - Dry.

What are some things that greatly upset your OC? - Disrespect. Peasants, knights, etc should stay in their place.

What are some things that annoy your OC? - Artorias. Sif.

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has? - Not choosing to go after his brother.

How easily does your OC forgive? - Not easily. Is very forgiving when it comes to Artorias tho.

What are some of your OC’s vices? - None. In more modern times it would be smoking.

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it? - War and betrayal.

What secrets does your OC have? - None.

What are some of your OC’s morals? - Respect your elders.

What are some of your OC’s motivations? - Keeping Anor Londo safe and not disappointing his Lord. Seeing Artorias safe and sound.

What is the health of your OC? - He’s in good health. If he were a regular human some of his hair would have probably fallen out from stress tho.

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart? - Both. Tries as hard as he can not to think with his emotions.

What are your OC’s thoughts on death? - Doesn't really have a thought on it. He’s use to death.

What are some of your OC’s strengths? - Patience and tolerance for bullshit (sometimes.)

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses? - Putting his job before himself or family.

How does your OC take criticism? - Well, unless he feels that person is unworthy and/or doesn't know what they’re talking about.

What does your OC think of him/herself? - Thinks he must be at least a little good looking judging by the way Artorias looks at him. Is guessing by others reactions that he must come off a bit scary. Good.

If your OC could change one thing about him/herself, what would it be? - He doesn't know. In kids AU he wishes he were a better father.

What is the general impression your OC gives other people? - Grumpy old man.

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people? - Ornstein is like a brick wall.

How does your OC display love? - Touch. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, sex positions that will squish Artorias.

What are some habits your OC has picked up? - Tends to forget to eat.

What is your OC’s favorite drink? - Herbal tea. Reminds him of his mother plus it helps him relax.

What is your OC’s favorite food? - Medium rare steak.

What is your OC’s favorite sweet? - Dark chocolate cake.

What is your OC’s favorite season? - Summer.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather? - Sunny. He becomes Scrooge, in the cold.

What is your OC’s favorite book? - History and fiction books.

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show? - None. No movies where he is! In modern times he’d just sleep through movies anyway.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of music (and song if there is one)? - Folk music? Arabic sounding music?? He mostly enjoys silence. More modern times he’d like some classical.

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment? - Sparring.

What is your OC’s favorite color? - Doesn't really have one but I guess it could be the blue that's associated with Artorias.

What is your OC’s favorite scent? - Artorias & the beginning of Summer.

What is your OC’s favorite animal? - He’ll just say “lions”. Not a huge fan of animals.

What is your OC’s favorite sound? - The sounds of Artorias cumming Nature.

What is your OC’s favorite time of day? - Night. As a child, nighttime always meant story time around the village. As a teen that meant he had some time to sleep. As an adult he can sometimes rest with his partner.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream? - None. It would probably be dark chocolate or vanilla.

What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur? - None. They’d remind him of dragons!

Video of Bambi’s dad so you can hear his voice! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLF9u-Y_dlM

#Q&A #artoriasss

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