dance with the damned

indie hubert oswell rp blogwritten by kali

[apathero-deactivated20171208]

what up it’s kali again; if y’all could spread this around yadda yadda to show off my new oc who can hear ya thoughts! panfandom so there’ll be bunches of verses to come

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   look. if he sees anyone mention certain childhood accidents to other certain someones, he is going to commit murder

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@tomodachiguy reign in guy’s long hair fetish

[vancoor]

AU where Hubert has a hairstyle like the other Oswells

Raymond totally convinced him to dye his tips but Hubert (and Garrett) fucking hate it but GODDAMN he spent 500 Gald for that barber’s appointment he can’t just immediately schedule another what a waste of money

[tomodachiguy]

The gloves he owned as a servant in the Fabre manor weren’t of the highest quality, but they served their purpose well enough. They were durable ( although many places sported home remedy stitching from tears or frays over the years ) and they protected his hands against any weather while being comfortable enough to allow him to practice with his sword hour after hour, day in and day out. They were a lucky find and he considered himself fortunate to have them.

Still, once he rose to the acclaims of Malkuth nobility, one of his first purchases was a replacement pair. Finer material, tougher but softer, and craftsmanship far beyond his own skill. They were beautifully constructed and fit like—well, a glove. He rarely took his old pair off save for a quick shower or an especially messy meal, but he wouldn’t have minded if these went right ahead and adhered themselves to his hands so that he might never be rid of them.

But some things still need that special touch.

It’s the first time he’s willingly parted from them, although only the right one loosened to free his hand to the outside air. It’s quiet—barely a rustle as he tucks it away in a back pocket, material fingers still jabbing out at the world as if reaching for freedom—and his careful steps mimic the stealth. He doesn’t want to alert his target, after all, and his fingers curl at the second knuckle in anticipation. One step closer. And another. Almost there—

Breath held tightly in his throat, he reaches out and… there! Bare skin meets with the short, bristling azure of an unsuspecting soldier’s hair. A victorious grin leaps across his lips as he threads his hand as much into Hubert’s locks as he possibly can before recognition and retaliation take place of carefree obliviousness. He’s sure he’ll get some sort of scolding or exasperated chiding; maybe even the arcing swing of a hard book upside his face.

It’s worth it.

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   You know--he still hasn’t forgiven Guy yet. Nor, as he has resolved, will he ever. He doesn’t know why he still allows this man in his presence, and, in fact, he’s leaving. Those thigh high boots were made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do--

   He’s far too preoccupied with leaving, and pretending not to notice Guy’s existence, to, well, notice Guy’s existence behind him. Even if the auditory tells were louder he was far too focused with keeping up his high airs. There was, however, a brief moment before the impending incident where his composed arrogance fell to confused worry as he sensed something large looming behind him--

   WHO WAS TOUCHI--nevermind, that was a ridiculous question to ask himself. Obviously there was only one possible perpetrator to the startled question. His airs are gone, his shoulders slumped, head bowed and posture lost as he stares numbly forward. Persistent people were so exhausting--and there was no one more persistent that Guy, was there.This would be a long and arduous battle if he didn’t surrender. 

   But he won’t surrender yet--though he does have to figure out his counterattack. Maybe he could have the man arrested--by someone else though. He wasn’t wholly confident that his putting the man in handcuffs wouldn’t be too much an enjoyment. 

   “ If you don’t remove your hand, I will. “ 

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o right & bc i’m Extra Trash i made an ix blog bc y’all know i gotta get my grubby hands on mobile app characters tho i haven’t done anything on it yet bc i rlly gotta convince myself to stop sleeping & do things i actually Need to do

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what up i’ve been summoned back to this blog by droovey 

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[tomodachiguy]

An impatient shifting of fingers deep in a left pocket; a small shuffle of material as weight is shifted from one leg to the other; curious, wary glances—out the window, down the hall, to the closed doors—that occupy every few seconds. Count Gailardia has not been raised to be a nervous, self-doubting man, but when so much is on the line…

When so much can be taken away from him.

He remembers feeling like this before in that two-year absence where he didn’t know if he’d ever see Luke again. There was waiting then, too, although he rarely questioned whether or not Luke ever wanted to see him. Hubert was a different story—Guy is the one responsible for this distance. At least, he keeps telling himself that. He’s the one that returned to Auldrant and hasn’t stepped foot in this other world for… how long has it been?

He has a feeling Hubert will know down to the precise hour.

So he fidgets nervously every now and then while he waits for his request to the maid to find and bring Hubert to him to be fulfilled. And if she shows up empty-handed with a message to leave and never return? Well… it wouldn’t be the first time.

@instantvalse

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   Fingers rubbed at his temple in useless desperation, militant sitting at a desk strewn with papers. Eyes wearily flitted towards a half built model ship--it’d been that way for months. He’d far rather be working on that then the mess currently on his agenda. Politics--! There was an upstart of pirates from the Roost with funding ruffians from those parts simply couldn’t procure on their own. Figuring out which nobility from which countries were their backing was proving--difficult (and don’t think he hadn’t questioned his father already--!). 

   The knock on his door is welcome relief, though the maid’s masked concern is a tad troubling. A blond man, at the door? He tried to think of which superior would match such description, ready to ask why his spies hadn’t anything to report yet, had he really the experience for such an undertaking--’til his feet halted and hands froze in the middle of straightening his collar. 

   “ Guy-- “   This was--how long had it been? Months--or was it longer? He wasn’t quite certain, caught up in his work as he was. That was always the case, wasn’t it; losing himself in his work to avoid unseemly feelings. The departure of someone that had assured him he’d not leave had definitely brought up what he deemed ‘unseemly feelings’. 

   “ What’re.. why are you here? “

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right, right it’s hubert’s day. so here’s a bnha verse to get it kicked off: he’s a sidekick at a pro hero’s agency (i’m gon’ default to iida’s agency tbh) & recent alumni of UA. his quirk is the ability to manipulate air pressure--! as a kid he didn’t have a clue how to utilize this quirk, aside from giving everyone headaches when he got upset and his quirk got out of control (and once, on a particularly humid day, made it rain inside). after adoption & living w the oswell’s he went to UA & figured out how to control his quirk more precisely. he aced his studies ofc & the pistol forms of his dualblades are packed with special bullets (casings, rather) that he’s pushed incredibly high pressured air into (& they break open easily, so his weapon has a ridic amount of shock absorb) & they cause a really powerful gust of wind when broken (& obvs the effect disperses over wider areas)

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what up sorry that i p much dropped hubert i’ve been between @apathywound & @chakrammed but starting monday i’ll be dividing up my week between blogs. mon/thur are for hu. & i’ll start getting to things here again. 

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forceseal:

It hadn’t yet struck her what an odd pair they must make in the midst of the capital; a ninja from Mizuho and a half-elf, neither of those facts holding any favour with the people of the city. Though with the lack of prying eyes in the square at the time, perhaps she wouldn’t need to notice; blissful ignorance.

And so naturally, she walked side by side with Hubert as he lead the way through the square. At his prompt after their short walk through, she steps through the gate that he holds for her and stands aside to allow him to close it behind them. The smell of roses was already prevalent to her nose; fresh and sweet, very fragrant. 

Her eyes were on him as he spoke, listening intently to what he had to say despite how menial the information might have been to anyone else.  

There was little advice or suggestion that she found that she could offer on the matter of work, her work had been picked out for her from the day that her grandfather had found her in the forest and it had suited her well. Though one would hope that they would have made more progress after the worlds had united, views on half-elves had hardly seemed to have budged at all and instead arose petty prejudices between Tethe'allans and Sylvaranti. 

Her instinct nevertheless is to offer her help in whatever way she can but connections weren’t her forte, not when it came to anything outside of the influence of the information network of her village. Though it was true that she could have used intel to try to find him a job– she didn’t know this man well enough to risk the reputable nature of the network. 

“Let me know if there’s anything that I can do to help,” she extends the offer despite herself. “I know it can be hard being stuck idle– or it’s hard to me, anyway.” 

It wasn’t as if anyone would be so brazen as to suggest that she use her position in the village for something like that. And the offer was by no means a bluff or farce, she would do what she could to help outside of that particular limit– the problem was that she wasn’t sure what else she could do to help.

“About flowers though– Lilacs and hydrangeas are my favourites but freesias are a close contender.” She explains, before faltering for a moment as she realizes that she hadn’t given a true ‘yes or no’ answer. She can’t help but feel a little embarrassed and her eyes find themselves the stone tiles beneath their feet, which she found were surprisingly clean and well maintained. 

“Err, I mean– I am pretty fond of them in general too, what about you? Do you spend much time in the gardens when you’re here?”

   The scent as it wafts through the air was perhaps a bit too aromatic, too concentrated; but he didn’t mind. The scent of flowers was a calming force, despite the memories that accompanied. But how could he despise such delicate beauty? Flowers either grew where they did through sheer will, or were a challenge to cultivate and make thrive; depending his mood, he found both sides admirable, though he was hardly the sort to garden himself. 

     “ Being idle is rather... disagreeable. But I’ll figure it out.  “   He waves off her offer of help; Even had he an idea of what to do (aside from potentially blackmailing officials), he wouldn’t ask a stranger’s aid; he’d be more than capable of putting himself to work as soon as he figured out what and how. He shut the gate with a small squeak of metal hinges, carrying on down the tiled path at amiable pace with companion. 

   There’s a soft sort of smile when she talks about flowers. Having an interest enough to have favorites had been answer enough to her favoritism. He extended a hand to the side, towards the bushes lining the path, to gently brush a finger ‘gainst a rose’s petals while she spoke. Ever mindful that there were thorns not so far behind the crimson. 

   “ Not usually. “   The gardens might have been refuge, but he’d always been mindful of business first in the past. When finding information on nobility, he’d on occasion been through, with a focus on his targets. Never the flowers. Were he to come on his own, well, back then, there was a chance of running into someone he’d rather not. Seemed his entire reasoning for all his actions within the capital. Avoidance. He was beginning to tire of it. Besides, his father was gone now, so--

   So there were fewer people to avoid. That should make it easier. 

   “ I’ve never stopped to appreciate the flowers before, though I do enjoy them. If I had to say my favorite, however-- “   There’s a short pause as he thought, mind going not to those plants that needed care or maintenance, but to those that took what earth they could to grow in, and would’t let go.   “ Morning glory. Wisteria. Those sorts. “   The tenacious sorts. He appreciated the types of plants he could see without venturing into towns or cities, or that once cultivated refused eradication should their owners change their minds. 

   “ Lilacs are nice, as well. I’m afraid I haven’t had much time for admiring flowers lately though. Do you spend much time in gardens; here, or Mizuho? “ 

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PLANT PERSONALITY.

WHAT’S YOUR MUSE’S PLANT PERSONALITY? TAKE THIS QUIZ AND POST YOUR RESULTS   ( REPOST ,  DON’T REBLOG ! )

Fennel

You Are: You’re quiet, sometimes shy, with a tendency to be reserved. You have a humble, kind nature and often find yourself taking care of others. You can be known to hold things in, and you don’t always speak up for yourself. This tendency to hold things in can lead to disturbances.

Passionflower

You Are: Deeply concerned about others and the world around you, you have a developed sense of what’s right and just. You’re a bit of an idealist and strive to see your vision of perfection realized in the world. On occasion you get out of balance, and you may feel a deep sense of unease and be prone to worry—especially at night, tossing and turning over all that is wrong or that needs fixing.

Peppermint

You Are: Unflappable. You are cool in the crisis, calm in the storm, collected amongst the chaos. You’re a breath of fresh air, a waft of inspiration to the down-and-out, a refreshing, inspiring, uplifting person to be around. Of course, even a cool cucumber like yourself can run into trouble. You may try to take on too much, which can leave you feeling weighed down and not quite yourself.

Tagged by: @forceseal Tagging: shrugs? do it if ya want pals

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   y’all know that ‘polishing a rusty knife’ video that i’ve seen like ten times in the last week? i feel like that. would be hubert levels of salt & thriftiness tbh. 

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zelotae:

To see the other boy begin to relax only made him smile more. He was glad to see he was doing well at being approachable. Maybe mother will be proud of him this time! Maybe if he did really good, he could let this other boy come around and play sometime. Assuming the other boy wanted to of course, he would not pressure. Maybe he could bring his brother too! His smile did falter a little at the question, brow furrowing in mild confusion as to how he was meant to go about answering. For whatever reason, it seemed such a strange question.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed that other children get to play without much fuss, few as they were. Even in the ‘poor’ quarter they played without restraint. Countless times did he want to join them only to be whisked away to some other important meeting that was more for his mother than him or dealing with the Church. His hand rubbed against his other arm without him noticing as he thought how to answer before the boy quickly interjected.

“Oh, no, no! You aren’t being rude! It’s a fair question.” Though perhaps other topics would be easier but he had just unintentionally dug himself into a hole that required him to give some sort of answer, vague or not. With a small hum, he nodded to himself as he came to a conclusive answer to give. “It’s not that I don’t want to… But for some reason I’m not usually allowed to. I think it’s because I have to attend all these different events..? Honestly I’m not sure…”

He frowned as he began to realize that even he didn’t properly understand the answer. Maybe he should ask his mother whenever he could. Or Sebastian could maybe answer if mom doesn’t wish to be disturbed. His fingers intertwined nervously. “I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t the answer you were expecting…“

   It seemed a difficult question to answer, and he felt a bad for asking, despite the reassurance it was alright. He was often told he thought too much, and while an avid reader, didn’t read the situation well. The boy shuffled his feet, while waiting response, and after, while he processed what was said and his thoughts. 

   Just because he had to attend so many functions didn’t seem a viable reason that interacting with other children would be disproved of. To be isolated without proper explanation--it seemed a cruel thing to do to a child; and he should know. Lately it was his own situation. 

   “ Mm. “   The small noise was to indicate he’d heard, and he was thinking (and partially, that he agreed it wasn’t much of an answer, though that seemed rude to say outright).   “ No, it’s alright. It’s tough when adults don’t explain things, huh? “ 

   ‘Adults’ was a general term--he wasn’t sure if the child was restricted by his parents’ wishes, or by other parents, or officials. Attending many different events didn’t seem a reason enough; perhaps he really was Chosen. That’d make him important; and adults had such odd notions of importance. That those of higher statures shouldn’t mingle with those of lower--but did that mean being highest meant being lonely? But this boy wasn’t the hero of stories, not yet. He was just a kid. 

   And he’d probably be separated soon, anyway, once the adults noticed them talking. If he couldn’t play with the regular kids anymore, what chance did he have of playing with this one? But it’d be nice, maybe, if that didn’t happen. He could at least pretend that it wasn’t inevitable for a bit, ‘til the adults drug him away. 

   “ I’m not really allowed to play with other kids either anymore. No one’ll say why, though I hear the adults talking, sometimes. So I understand. “ 

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"I'm sure it's just the wind."

meme | not accepting

His mind was still ill at ease, despite the assurance. Though the winds tended to pick up as the still warm sands met with the now cool air, his eyes continued to restlessly scan the dimming horizon for any sign of something out of the ordinary. The deserts weren’t a hospitable realm, after all. 

   “ Perhaps. But I think I’ll keep watch just in case. “   Better he miss a couple hours’ sleep becoming certain than make a mistake. 

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“What’s the worst that could happen?”

meme | not accepting

   “ Do you really want an answer? “   Bland came his retort, a hand on hip accenting his disapproving stare. He’d give his brother a chance to say ‘no’, think about his course of action before going over all the ‘worst’ that could happen. And he’d not let himself get dragged into this time, either. Especially since, if he were to fall into whatever no doubt reckless scheme this was, he wouldn’t be able to properly lecture Asbel without being a hypocrite.