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Today's Document

tannertan36
Xuebing Du
sheepfilms

Product Placement

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
Show & Tell
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
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Mike Driver
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Andulka
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@perouette-blog
tumblr app is a highly functional app that never actually leaves reblog screen causing me to reblog something 5 times
Put off making this for a year now and oh boy I sure hope it hasnât been done yet.
The rumour come out: does Hubert von Vesta is Vampire?
She doesnât have to think twice for her answer;
Worse. Servant.
She walks away.
After a few seconds she walks back and tacks on a little extra.
Maybe both. But definitely servant.
Periâs sauntering through when she sees the advice board. A lot of these questions she doesnât really know how to answer, but...this one seems like something sheâs got experience with!
How does one rid themselves of nightmares? I have had the same one occur over and over for a long time, but I cannot seem to shake it no matter how hard I try.Â
She spends a few minutes carefully writing a response, and leaves it pinned underneath the question.
I dunno! I have nightmares all the time so I always make sure I have a stuffy bear in bed with me to hug and cry into til I feel better! If itâs really bad sometimes Iâll get up and get myself some candy. If you have a Mommy, though, talking to her about it always always always helps you feel better.
Reconnaissance [Hubert & Peri]
vonvestraâ:
Now heads begin to turn, and the hisses of indistinct whispers reach his ears. Yet Hubert can only watch the girl with ill-concealed astonishment. He can find no words, and is scarcely aware at first that he wears his emotions now for all to see. Never in his life did he expect an adult, nobility or not, to blow a raspberry at him, especially amidst a crowd of other nobles, and it renders him speechless. For several moments, all he can do is stare, wondering how someone so childish had made it into the academy.
But with an exhale, he recomposes himself. His smug smile returns and he lifts his chin to eye her down the length of his nose.
âAnd what plan would that be?â he goads. âYou seem confident that you have me quite figured out.â
Ha. Sheâs got him stumped. At least, thatâs whatâs going on with him in her mind--and to be fair, the plain astonishment on his face for a good few moments is proof enough in her mind for that to be the case, and sheâs not ever been one to re-examine these things. Sheâs not sure what the whispering going on around her is for, now that a few moments of silence have arrived and she can actually make them out, but theyâre not as important to her as keeping her eyes on the servant in front of them; if theyâre really as hurtful as all that, she can memorize their faces and âpay a visitâ later on. ...No, wait, no, she canât. Sheâs supposed to not get kicked out. She got ahead of herself in her current state, one thin excuse away from violence. Darn.
Heâs trying to make like heâs a cool old cucumber, not at all rattled by the truth and fire sheâs spitting. Let him. All he gets in return for trying to look down at her is one tongue stuck out straight at him, thankfully not accompanied by a raspberry this time around.
If heâs gonna tell Edelgard what she says, then Peri doesnât see a problem in having him relay what the plan is--what all servants are planning one day. âOf course I know. One day, when itâs time, youâre gonna sneak up behind her, take that knife youâve got hidden there and--â Suddenly, she mimes stabbing into her own throat and slowly dragging the imaginary blade across it. From the graphic detail of it and horrible noises sheâs making, itâs a deep, brutal cut, the kind that would leave blood spraying everywhere.
Of course itâs graphic--itâs an imaginary cut drawn from her memories, her nightmares. The kind that leaves her makeup running down her cheeks when itâs done, as though the imaginary blade had actually hurt--and in a way, it very much did. She spends a few moments, catching her breath, fighting hiccups, before continuing as if it needed clarification, âAnd then--youâre gonna--leave someone else to find the body.â Itâs taking a lot to control her body and normally she wouldnât bother--but sheâs not going to let him take advantage of her. No oneâs going to take advantage of her.
Sheâs very plainly, obviously, not fucking okay.
scouting party
boundlesshartâ:
Claude blinks once, twice. His smile falters and he lets it, instead nodding in a grave way that shows that he understands just what Peri means. âFor sure, itâs something to look out for.â Donât be spooked, he scolds himself. On the other hand, that might mean any possible attempts to incapacitate her will have to be through other means than slipping something into her food. Thatâs a puzzle for another day, though. âCome on, Peri! Itâs just the two of us. We donât have anything like that to worry about here. If we get paranoid about every little bite we eat, weâd just end up starving ourselves. And that would be a waste of all this delicious food you made for us."Â
He takes his seat, pulling his chair closer to the table. The little strawberry cake in front of him (Cupcake, he corrects himself) smells as sweet as it looks, especially when he picks it up. If Peri is this paranoid about poisons, then they should be fine, right? And so Claude sinks his teeth into impossibly moist, dense cake, the frosting bursting with the flavor of freshly-picked strawberries.Â
Claude chews slowly as his eyes start to widen in amazement. What the hell? "Itâs so good!â he exclaims, muffled through a mouthful of cake. Swallowing, Claude continues, âWow! I was thinking about bragging about my own home cooking, but now Iâm almost too embarrassed to bring it up.â Thereâs a touch of frosting on Claudeâs nose, but he ignores it and takes another bite of his cupcake instead. âDid someone teach you?â
She doesnât really think much of his smile faltering--just a indication to her that he understood how important it was to be vigilant about poisonings when youâre the kind of person servants may be targeting. She shakes her head a little bit at his exhortation for her to relax about the food; sheâs not even sure why he thinks itâs this food thatâs bothering her anyways. Everything she brought here is stuff she made herself, so this food isnât what sheâs worried about. âIâm not paranoid about food, Iâm wise to what theyâre up to. Itâs not like Iâm gonna starve myself, donât worry! Like I said, I make all my food, and I wouldnât poison myself.â
A bright smile grows quickly on her face as he very plainly loves the hell out of her cooking. She kind of expected it--everyone seems to love her cooking, after all!--but that doesnât mean it doesnât give her a nice warm fuzzy little feeling to see people eat it for the first time. She gives a little shake of her head again, though this one is meant more in reassurance than dismissal. âOh, no, donât worry about that! Iâd love to eat some of your own cooking sometime, Iâm sure itâs good too!â A hand reaches across the table and just...boops the frosting right off of Claudeâs nose. âYou left some there, by the way, silly. Eat as much as you want! Iâd always be happy to bake more! I think I did really well with the bamkuchen this time around!â She...thinks a moment before belatedly gesturing to the cake sheâd been talking about--she hadnât seen any bamkuchen in Fodlan yet so she didnât know if they had it here.
âMmhmm!â She nods a little as he asks whether someone taught her to cook. âWell, my Mommy got me started, she woulda taught me more...if...â Her expression darkens as her thoughts turn to her mother, smiling that angelic smile as she shows her around the oven, lets her lick the spoon, shows her how much sugar should go for the best cookies, lays on the ground, motionless, blood, blood everywhere, the glint of a knife in a corner trying to hide--
Her hands ball into tight fists, crushing the cupcake sheâs currently holding into rich, delicious crumbs without realizing it. âI donât wanna talk about this anymore.â Her voice trembles with emotion, unrestrained--fury, grief, but most of all pain.
âąKitchen
Headcanon:
Peri gets the whisks, or beaters, or whatever weâre calling them when she bakes cookies. She just does. If youâre not close enough for her to offer a beater then she borderline fucking hisses at you if you try to take one. That cookie dough is hers.
Laundry for the meme!
Headcanon:
Laundry is another thing of hers she doesnât trust the servants to do--she doesnât exactly know what theyâd do to her laundry thatâd harm her but she imagines it involves rubbing poison on the inside or sticking in razor blades or something. Regardless of her lack of a solid way for the servants to hurt her using laundry, however, she doesnât allow them or anyone else to do it. Unlike cooking, though, you donât need to do laundry to survive--which is why, as a child, she only really started learning to do it herself once things got, letâs say, very bad with it.
She does it every week now, though.Â
Send a word and I will write a drabble or headcanon based on it
memeasaurus-promptusâ:
Sunlight
Alone
Darkness
Snacks
Doubt
Joy
Peace
Moment
Rain
Hum
Kitchen
Family
Friend
Garden
Relax
Stress
Fury
Betrayed
Absence
Vices
Absolve
Stars
ScornÂ
Praise
Laundry
Couch
Doors
Tree
Flowers
Collect
Remove
?+ add your own.
toil and trouble
lethargiiccâ:
The name-calling almost makes him laugh. Almost. Laughing is exhausting though, so Linhardt doesnât bother. He settles into his seat and sweeps his eyes over the spines of his book-tower before deciding on one and extracting it from its place. He decides to let this girl throw her tantrum without interruption, choosing instead to crack open the book and begin scanning the first written page.
Defending himself or arguing with her seemed as if it would be a waste of time, not to mention far too much effort to put forth just for being called a âmeanie â and accused of â hogging all the books â. ( Really, he had committed no such crimes. He hadnât known anyone else was in the library, let alone someone looking for the same subject material as he. He had no intentions of keeping these books away from anyone else. But why bother explaining when he could justâŠnot? )
As his classmate approaches his table with her offer, it doesnât take him long to nod in agreement. Anything to avert an argument and all the trouble that would come with it. â A trade then? Thatâs fine by me. Itâs not as if I can read them all at once. â
Linhardt finishes the first page and turns it before he finally glances up from the tome to gesture towards his stack of reading material. â Once youâre finished, take whichever one you like. â
This seems to satisfy Peri well enough, at last, and she immediately begins beaming again as she plops herself down in a seat next to Linhardt, kicking her feet up on the table. âOkaaay! Sounds good! Hey, uh...do you have anything I can practice on? I guess a pen will work in a pinch...â She can read the theory and all that too but...she honestly learns a lot better by doing it than reading about it endlessly. Something she doesnât yet realize isnât quite a commonality between the two of them.
She manages to quietly read for a few minutes, her tongue sticking out to the side of her mouth as she flips through the pages, before her hands begin to glow with an ethereal energy, which...not seeing anything at the moment to focus it on, she turns on the nearest pen, which quickly cracks before folding into itself multiple times over. She lets out a slight giggle as it happens--itâs about as good a bit of catharsis as whacking at something, really, to break it with magic. Thereâs something she heard about the magic here, though, something she wants to ask her classmate about, so when sheâs done destroying the pen, she turns her head towards Linhardt.
âHey! Uh...I guess first of all, Iâm Peri! But, whatâs the difference between dark and black magic? Is black magic more violent?â
scouting party
starter for @perouetteâ!
ââŠSo I said, âWe ought to have books on Nohrian combat. That Peri from the Black Eagles fights unlike anyone Iâve ever seen in FĂłdlan. We should be learning from her.ââ Claude carefully pours a steady stream of chamomile tea from his own practical earthen teapot to delicately painted teacups âborrowedâ from the dining hall. âYouâd think that a library in the heart of FĂłdlan would have more than just old records and religious texts⊠then again, this is a monastery.â
Some would point out that a tea party is overkill is all Claude wants to do is ask a few questions. But he wants long answers, with no detail lost because he didnât plan for time. And whatâs the harm in being too charming? So many of the students at the Officers Academy come from positions of power, families with wealth and status. And if Claude can make a few friends from outside of FĂłdlan and make use of their power, perhaps those other countries would be willing to help him realize his dreams.
So he smiles at Peri, as genuinely as possible, as he sits on his side of the table. Once again Claude eyes the arrangement of pastries and tiny sandwiches on the three-tiered stand, and his stomach growls low in hunger. He normally doesnât eat during tea, not in FĂłdlan anyway, but it looks so good that itâd be a waste not to eat them. Peri said that she would get the food, but this is more than just something from the dining hall. âSo did you make these yourself? Or did you import them from Nohr?â If the latter is true, then that would mean Nohr is close enough for foodstuffs to get to FĂłdlan without spoilingâŠ
âOh, I dunno about that! I mean, yeah, Iâve got a good amount of experience hitting people, but not a lot of them were really fighting back, you know? I woulda learned after joining the army or a fight club or something, buuut itâs still a pretty neat environment to learn in! I think Iâve really been getting better with my lance since Iâve gotten here!â Peri chirps as she dumps one, two, three cubes of sugar into her tea, considers a fourth before deciding against it and...enthusiastically stirs it up. As in, just a little bit of the tea ends up splashing out. Clearly sheâs got little interest in the niceties of her nobility or...anything, really. âAnd, I mean, theyâve got some really hurty magic books in the library if you wanna look!! ...I donât know why you call it âblack magicâ. I mean, itâs just magic! At least you label dark magic right, phooey...â
Peri is...well, in her mind, why would he say he wants a tea party if he doesnât actually want a tea party? Thatâs dumb. And itâs not like heâs a servant in disguise too, so thereâs not a lot in the ways of ulterior motives she suspects out of Claude right now. Just a fun little tea party, where they can talk about fun things like their favorite sweets, or how nice blood looks when it splatters in juuust the right way!
She sees him eyeing her pastries too--and honestly, heâs got a good eye. She put her best effort into baking these, just like she does into everything; if she (and other people) is gonna be eating them then they better not be yucky. She giggles a little at his question, taking a strawberry-frosted cupcake in one hand and pushing one over to Claude with the other. âNo, silly! I bake alll of my pastries! I bake all of my food too, of course! If theyâre imported, or made by someone else, then, you know...â She leans in a little bit. âServant could slip by, tip a vial of arsenic over the food, and then--!â She draws a finger across her neck, making a noise that very clearly demonstrates what sheâs trying to communicate to Claude.
Reconnaissance [Hubert & Peri]
vonvestraâ:
There are few comments one can make to loosen Hubertâs careful composure and self-restraint in a conversation, but his jaw sets in response to Periâs flippant disrespect toward the Empire. The shadows darken over his eyes and he lifts his chin slightly, still silently scrutinizing her. Never has he met someone so peculiar, and his mind works vigorously to piece together some template he can use to predict her behavior. Her vitriol juxtaposed with the glimpses of her earlier immaturity keep the dagger sheathed, but Hubert does not pull his hand away yet.
âWith me?â For once, surprise manages to slip into his voice and expression, but just as quickly he shuts it down with a scowl. âMy loyalty to Lady Edelgard is unwavering. My life is hers.â
A piece suddenly clicks into place.
âDo you suspect Iâll report to her what you tell me?â An amused huff accompanies his renewed smirk and he reveals his hands - still empty - from behind his back. âYour suspicion would not be unwarranted. Thereâs little I keep from Her Highness.â
Oh, itâs worse than she thought, way worse than she thought. Who even knows how far along this servant is in his plot to murder Edelgard--whoever she is. Head of her house? She thinks, anyways.--or how much time sheâs got left to warn her about it. If a servantâs far enough along to consider his life hers then itâs only a matter of time before he decides that if his life is hers, then her life is also his--and no one elseâs. Before that knife finds its way into Edelgardâs back. A few more thoughts flit through her head of a pre-emptive strike, of ending his threat right now before he could--but sheâs not supposed to get kicked out. For the first time she actually finds herself wondering if it would be better for a servant to make the first move against her in this case.
Again, heâs trying to confuse her, throw her off with some nonsense that nobody really would care about--not for any reason she knows of, anyways. She pulls an eyelid down in a childish form of mockery. âYou canât fool me! Everyone knows your kindâs full of tricks and secrets you keep from everyone! I know what youâre planning for her, servant. Itâs what you all plan for your âmastersâ. And--â She has an idea, a brilliant idea! Sheâs gonna trap him! Yeah, thatâs definitely gonna work!
âAnd you should tell her about what Iâm telling you! âCause then I can tell her through you what youâre gonna do to her and your planâs gonna be ruined! So, ha!â She pulls her eyelid down just a little further and blows a big olâ raspberry at him, not really caring if sheâs making a scene or not--yet, while sheâs engaging in this childish teasing, her stance and reflexes are always ready to retaliate if he should give her a reason to do so.
đwhat would my muse say their biggest flaw is
flaws meme
this is kind of a hard one to answer, honestly--childish people arenât really known for their introspection and self-reflection, after all.
if I had to pick something, though, itâs that sheâs not as good with weaponry as sheâd like to be at the moment. sheâs good, no doubt, and sheâs had practice--but itâs not enough, not yet. magic is great as an offensive and defensive tool, but when thereâs not room enough to cast what you need to then it doesnât at all hurt to have some back-up steel ready to stick them with, and the know-how to make sure they donât come out the other end with all their intestines intact.
đŸwhat was my museâs childhood bogeyman?
flaws meme
when her mother was still alive, a monster lived in her room; a monster that could hide in any shadows, and one that peri was terrified would creep out one night and eat her all up. her mother, however, was always there to lay in bed with her, stroke her hair and keep her safe while singing a lullaby until she drifted off to sleep. the monster, her mother explained, was a chivalrous beast who lived by a strict code of honorâto attack a sleeping maiden who could not defend herself was abhorrent to it, and so as long as she was asleep it would never stoop so low as to attack her. furthermore, its chivalry necessitated one-on-one duels, so as long as her mother was there it would refuse to attack on the basis that it was an unfair fight. and so, her nights proceeded peacefully.
when her mother passed, wrenched from her by the jealous blade of a servant, the monster did not attackâstrange, since her father cared little to soothe her childish fears by standing guard and she couldnât fall asleep for fear that the servants would come for her then. as the sleepless nights bore on, the monster lurking in the shadows of her room did not attack, and she thought maybe it had moved on out of pityâor maybe it had been killed as well, and replaced by the new monsters roaming the halls, serving her meals, telling her they loved her with those false smiles and waiting to take her away and leave her on the floor in a bloody heap, too.
one bogeyman left, and another arrived.
đ
flaws memeÂ
 đwhat are two things that make my muse uncomfortable in conversation Â
as you may have surmised, servants are one. not necessarily simply mentioning them, because then she starts talking about how you canât trust them and all that--but if someone reveals theyâre a self-identified âservantâ then i mean...youâve already seen how quick her fight-or-flight response goes off on that one.
otherwise, though...one more thing would be the idea that people are...gone, when they die. talking about it with a kind of finality. even that much has complexities to it--if theyâre faceless to her, if theyâre just people she thwacked to feel better or the monsters sheâs come to see servants as then sheâs fine with the idea that theyâre just gone forever, or at least doesnât care. but if theyâre ânamedâ, close to her...a part of her knows that sheâs never going to smell or taste her motherâs cooking again. she just wants to keep that part shoved away somewhere, where she doesnât really have to deal with it, just because it hurts too much to deal with on her own--itâs much more hopeful and preferable to her to entertain a fantasy that if she just learns the right things, those smells might drift from the kitchen at least one more time.
Commission for @uhhhthisone <333
character flaws meme;;
Flaws. We all have them. Even our muses. In fact, they often make for better, more engaging characters. Send a symbol to learn about one of my museâs weaknesses!
đwhat would my muse say their biggest flaw is
â§± what really is my museâs biggest flaw
đ€łname three physical imperfections my muse has (birthmarks, gray hairs, muscular definition, etc)
đwhatâs my museâs biggest blind spot?
đ°whatâs my museâs guilty pleasure?
đ°when my muse is stressed, how do they act out?
đwhat does my muse get envious over?
đ«what is one thing my muse wouldnât want someone else to know about them?
đmy museâs biggest nightmare
âïždoes my muse have a learning disability?
đwhat was my museâs worst subject in school?
đ ââïžwhat does my muse feel insecure about?
đŸwhat was my museâs childhood bogeyman?
đwhat are two things that make my muse uncomfortable in conversation