#wellbloomed

[slayess]

@wellbloomed

      ’   so argus was a thing. we had to fight a giant robot, then i killed godzilla.   ’   what ruby wouldn’t mention was the thought that triggered her eyes was her mother —— she hasn’t even told qrow.   ’   kinda surprised we didn’t get shot down after flying in. atlas is. . . they’re not focused on the real threat.   ’

[regincula-blog]

@wellbloomed, continued from here!

The queen’s pale lip quirked up at one corner as her eyes were trained on his every reaction. Shock, horror, and then resignation--she knew the signs quite well. 

Stepping up beside him, with hands gently folded in front of her, Salem’s dark eyes were locked onto Whitley’s own. It was with a deep breath that she began her design.

“...Tell me, young man--do you know the story of the Girl in the Tower?”

[canefought]

❝  it’s safe here.  ❞ Alvis ??

caring starters | still accepting.

“ wh– “  words instantly die on his tongue. oscar need only look at his face and he knows. just as salem and ozma instantly knew who the other was when they were reunited so long ago  ( when we were reunited so long ago ). the emotions that flood through him are far to massive and complex for a boy of fourteen to understand. face visibly twists in pain before oscar immediately turns his back to the teacher. it’s too much. he can’t process what he’s feeling.

tears stream down his face simply from being overwhelmed. and then a small smile twitches upon his lips as oscar manages to sift through the emotions and find someone he can understand. relief.  “ you’re alive. “

[koeniginschnee]

“This is so different from home… it’s nice.” - whatloy

Winter was actually surprised to hear such a thing from Whitley of all people. Then again, with how little they spent around each other, that might be part of the problem, but she was trying to fix that. 

Small steps.

“It’s a cozy apartment. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you...oh, what would you prefer? Tea? Coffee? Something else?”

[eristice]

imagine whitley moving in with winter and he has to go to PUBLIC SCHOOL

unprompted / @wellbloomed

        “please, just eat your breakfast and try not to call anyone a peasant today.”

[slayess]

Whitley knows little of physical affection. He refrains from something extreme in favor of taking her hand.

        rising tensions quickly lulled the moment whitley schnee extended his own hand to ruby, shock crossing her sterling gaze before freckled digits reached to intertwine with his. judging by how weiss talked about him whitley could be cold, distant, manipulative --- but ruby experienced none of that. his hand was as warm as the cyan eyes staring back at her, faint smile quirking the corner of little red’s lips. 

       ‘  holding my hand ? careful whitley, we don’t want to get in a scandal.  ‘  she teased, though she briefly wondered if they could get in a scandal --- ruby wasn’t human, after all. a schnee had no business being around a faunus and holding her hand.  ‘  maybe you could show me around atlas if i can break you outta here for an hour or two ?  ‘ 

[koeniginschnee]

‘ can i stay up later? ‘ wheat thins

Winter waived off the maid who seemed a bit frazzled.

“If you stay up later, then you will be tired and sleep in,” she said while picking him up. “And if you sleep in, you’ll miss breakfast that Klein works hard on. You wouldn’t want to miss breakfast, would you?”

[yaxg-blog]

"Did you know my father wanted me to be a banker? But I didn't have enough interest." Whitley definitely not reading off his hand.

     Tᴀᴘ. ᴛᴀᴘ. Tᴀᴘ. ɢᴏᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴄɪʟ ᴀᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴀɢᴇ. Uɴғʟᴇxɪɴɢ, ᴜɴʏɪᴇʟᴅɪɴɢ, ɪs ɪᴛ’s ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪsᴛɪᴄ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴘʙᴏᴀʀᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛᴀɴᴛ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀssɪɢɴ ᴀ ɴᴜᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀʟ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴊᴏᴋᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛs ᴏғ ᴀ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sʜᴏᴡɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀᴛɪsᴇ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴀsᴘᴇᴄᴛs, ʜɪs ɴᴏᴠɪᴄᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ᴅɪᴅ sʜɪɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs.      Sʜᴇ sᴡɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴄɪʟ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, sᴡᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʀᴀsᴇʀ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅs. Iᴛ ʜɪᴛs ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ʟɪᴘ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇᴅ, ᴀʟsᴏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’s ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ’s ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴏғғ ʜɪs ᴘᴀʟᴍ. Iᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟs ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ’s ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs. Iɴɢᴇɴᴜɪᴛʏ ɪs ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇʙʏ sᴏ sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ᴘʟᴜs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. 

     Hᴇʀ ᴡʀɪsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴄɪʟ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ᴛᴏ sᴄʀɪʙʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜʟᴀʀ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs. Sʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀ sᴏʟɪᴅ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ (ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴏᴜs sᴄᴏʀᴇ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴍɪʟᴇ. “Vᴇʀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ Wʜᴇᴀᴛʏ MᴄSᴄʜɴᴇᴇᴛʏ!”