Welcome, You ! ❤︎︎

hii, hii. ♡ welcome to my blog. i’m nina, and i use she/he pronouns because i honestly don’t mind either. i love drawing and writing, especially as a way to cope with personal things and pour my feelings somewhere pretty !!!

interests :: horror media, cute media, hardcore + adorable music, whimsical themes, fashion, nostalgic media, creepypasta, psychology, spirituality, and anything sweet or spicy. favorites :: tommy february6 / tommy heavenly6, serani poji, k-on!, perfume, descendents, and gekidan inu curry.

— no dni; i block freely, especially if i feel threatened or uncomfortable!

little note :: i’m diagnosed with adhd and bpd, which explains a lot about me and the way i move through things. i still try my best to keep both my space and other people’s space as peaceful as possible, even if i have my ups and downs!

Ghoul & Laughing Jack. ❤︎︎

Laughing Jack would treat finding Ghoul like a game, though he’d know by then that Ghoul usually appears when they feel like it. He talks to crows in places with full confidence, leaning too close to them and asking where their “gloomy little master” ran off to. Half the time Ghoul ignores him through the flock just to make him work for it. He acts offended every time, then keeps talking anyway!!!

He starts naming specific crows based on their attitudes. He accuses one bird of being Ghoul’s “nosy eye,” another of being their “judgmental one,” and another of being “the rude little bastard who keeps stealing my buttons!” Ghoul pretends to find this deeply beneath them, then later sends the button-stealing crow straight to his shoulder just to hear him complain.

His affection would be loud and physical. If Ghoul perches somewhere above him, he holds out an arm! If they drop onto him in crow-hybrid form, he catches them too easily and carries on like this was always part of the plan. He probably calls them things like “pretty bird,” or “my dreadful little thing,” all with the same bright fondness he uses when he’s trying to make them react.

He acts like Ghoul haunting the trees around him is a personal honor, and he gets smug whenever the crows show up before Ghoul does. He’ll grin up at a branch and say something like, “There’s my favorite little warning sign,” even when Ghoul hasn’t taken shape yet. He knows they’re listening!!!

Ghoul would trust him most when he stops performing for a second. LJ can be loud, pushy, and full of movement, so the softer moments would matter. If Ghoul gets overwhelmed or retreats into the flock, he might sit nearby and ramble instead of grabbing for them. His voice gives them something familiar to follow back. He’d make a joke the second they came closer, of course, because he can’t help himself, but his hand would stay open.

LJ would probably encourage Ghoul’s more mischievous side. Ghoul already watches people through crows, so LJ would tempt them into pranks that require timing and patience: like repeating someone’s own sentence back from a dark corner, or letting the flock deliver little signs that make people second-guess themselves!

Ghoul & Candy Pop. ❤︎︎

Candy Pop would probably be the easiest one for Ghoul to relax around physically. He has enough strangeness of his own that Ghoul doesn’t feel the need to pretend normalcy. They can curl up near him with their wings folded badly, hair messy, one clawed foot tucked under them, and he’d just reach over to fix a feather with his fingers.

He coaxes Ghoul closer with food, talks to the crows like they’re part of the household, and probably has a habit of tapping his shoulder when he wants them to land near him.

Candy would also be the one most likely to treat the flock like a living part of the relationship. He’d talk to the birds with real sweetness, maybe even apologize if he startled one. Ghoul would pretend that’s embarrassing. Secretly, it would mean a lot, because he isn’t treating the birds as accessories. He’s treating them as Ghoul’s body, their company, and the thing that kept them from being alone after death.

Physical affection with Candy would be and a little clingy around the edges. He’d hook an arm around Ghoul before they can drift away, tug them back by the sleeve, press his cheek against their hair, or rest his chin on their shoulder while continuing a conversation like he didn’t just trap them there.

His teasing could be very tactile too!!! Candy Pop feels like the type who pokes at boundaries in silly ways first, then pays close attention to the reaction. He might tap under their chin to make them look up, or walk backward in front of them so they can’t avoid the conversation without physically moving him aside.

A more unique bond between them is Candy teaching Ghoul how to enjoy being seen without making it feel like exposure. He might make a whole game out of guessing what Ghoul wants, and when he gets it right, he doesn’t turn it into a big emotional victory. It makes closeness easier for Ghoul because Candy doesn’t always stop the moment to analyze it. Sometimes he lets affection happen fast enough that Ghoul can accept it before overthinking!!!

Ghoul & Jason. ❤︎︎

Jason would be more delicate and more possessive. He’d brush their hair, examine their claws if they chipped one, and scold the crows when they steal pieces from his workspace. His voice would go calm and low to make sure not to startle anyone. Ghoul would act above it, but they’d keep returning to his workshop because Jason makes space for them there.

Their intimacy would be quiet compared to the others. Ghoul sits near him while he works, watching his hands. Jason talks without looking up because he knows they’re listening. Sometimes Ghoul mimics his voice just to annoy him, and he pauses with a tool in his hand, slowly looks over, and tells them to behave. (They don’t!!!) He lets it pass because he likes hearing his voice come back wrong from someone he loves.

Jason would be fascinated by Ghoul as someone who assembles a body from living pieces, because that is close enough to his own themes to feel personal. He makes things, Ghoul remakes themself!!! That overlap could create a strange respect between them.

Jason would also be the one most likely to become serious about Ghoul’s blurry photographs. If they don’t show up clearly, he may start trying to capture them through drawings, silhouettes, or handmade likenesses instead. He gives Ghoul a record of existing that doesn’t rely on cameras!!!

Jason probably has certain standards about where things belong, and Ghoul disrupts them constantly. They move his objects, let the crows steal little pieces, perch where they shouldn’t, and appear in places that make his workspace feel haunted even by his standards. At first, it irritates him. Eventually, he starts leaving one object out on purpose to see whether Ghoul takes it.

Jason’s physical affection would be more deliberate. He’d guide Ghoul by the wrist, lift their hand to inspect a scratch, or move them out of the way with a hand at the waist when they’re standing somewhere inconvenient. He’d have this tenderness where he acts like he is correcting a problem, even though he clearly likes having an excuse to touch them. If Ghoul is sitting too high up, he wouldn’t beg them to come down. He’d hold out one hand and wait, patient enough to be annoying. Ghoul would eventually take it just to end the silence.

Layla left Jack in the front parlor with a folded list in his hand, a small dish of parsley on the table, and Clover settled beneath the round table where she could watch him without coming any closer.

“She has fresh hay in the basket,” Layla said, tying the ribbon of her bonnet beneath her chin. “Her water is full. The little pink ball is her favorite today, though she may change her mind before I return.”

Jack looked down at the rabbit, then back at her. “She has a mood about toys?”

“Clover is allowed her preferences.”

He glanced at Clover again. Her nose moved once, unimpressed. Whatever answer he had been considering seemed to pass through his face and leave without being invited out.

Layla drew on one glove and smoothed the fabric over her wrist. “I will only be gone an hour. Please do not teach her anything strange.”

“Such little faith. I have excellent judgment around small animals.”

Layla came closer and touched his sleeve, light enough that it could have been affection or warning. With her, it was usually both. “No tricks unless she is comfortable. Please do not appear suddenly from anything near her. And if she goes beneath the sofa, let her come out on her own.”

His attention dropped to her hand. For once, the answer took a moment to arrive. “She will be treated as royalty.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” His voice lost some of its bounce there. “Go on. I’ll watch her.”

Layla remained beside him for another second before she bent toward Clover. The rabbit came forward right away, accepting a soft stroke between her ears. “Be sweet, darling.”

Jack made a small sound under his breath.

Layla lifted her head. “That includes both of you.”

He opened the door for her with a wide, bright smile that showed too much teeth, then watched from the threshold while she went down the porch steps with her basket over one arm. The waiting car pulled away a moment later, and the house fell back into its gentle afternoon quiet.

Jack shut the door behind him and found Clover already watching from beneath the table.

“Well,” he said, unfolding the list again, “it appears we have been entrusted with one another.”

Clover hopped toward the pink ball, nudged it with her nose, and immediately turned away.

Jack watched her abandon it. “Cruel. She spoke so highly of that ball.”

The rabbit sniffed along the edge of the rug.

He crouched, keeping a polite distance between them. “I understand. The heart changes. One day it is a ball. The next day it is some tempting little wire under the sofa, or a corner of wallpaper nobody asked you to taste.”

Clover sat back on her haunches.

Jack lowered his voice. “Forget I mentioned wallpaper.”

ㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ㅤ────﹒♡﹒────

For a while, he followed the list closely. He refreshed the hay, moved the water bowl after Clover nosed it too near the rug, and sat cross-legged on the floor while she inspected the cuff of his sleeve like it required her full attention. He had expected her to ignore him. He had also prepared, privately, for a bite. Clover gave him neither of those. She circled him once, sniffed his shoe, and eventually rested near his knee with her paws tucked beneath her.

Jack stayed where he was, one hand resting on the floor, the other holding the list against his knee. He glanced at Clover whenever she moved. She glanced back when she felt like it.

He managed several quiet minutes with the list before he noticed the sewing basket beside Layla’s chair. Clover’s ears lifted when his hand moved toward it.

“No tricks,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on the basket. “She gave no instruction regarding wardrobe.”

He waited another second, then reached for the lace.

By the time Layla returned, the house looked exactly as she had left it, which was always the first thing she checked when Jack had been alone with anything delicate. She came through the front door with grocery bags balanced neatly in both arms, cheeks faintly pink from the weather.

“Jack?”

“In here,” he called from the parlor, a little too quickly.

Layla stopped just inside the hall and set the grocery bags down carefully.

She walked to the parlor doorway and found Clover sitting in the middle of the rug, wearing the tiniest pink headdress Layla had ever seen. A band of soft lace rested between her ears, trimmed with a narrow white edge and finished with a small bow at the front. Clover chewed hay with a calm, important expression, fully at ease with whatever title had been placed upon her.

Jack stood behind the armchair with one hand on the carved wood, trying to look casual and doing a poor job of it.

“Oh,” Layla said, stopping in the doorway. “Clover.”

Clover hopped toward her with the little headdress still neatly in place, and Layla brought both hands to her mouth.

Jack’s shoulders rose slightly, pride leaking through despite his effort to look composed. “She accepted the fitting after some discussion.”

Layla knelt as Clover came close, and the smile she had been trying to hold back finally showed itself. She reached out carefully, waiting until Clover nudged into her hand before stroking between her ears. “My darling, look at you. How precious you are.”

Jack came around the chair, watching Layla’s face more than the rabbit. “It doesn’t pinch. I checked. Twice. She was paid in parsley.”

Layla looked up at him. Her smile had that helpless sweetness he liked too much to comment on wisely. “You made this?”

“I improved some lace that was lying defenseless in a basket.”

“It is beautiful.”

The little boast he had been preparing seemed to leave him. He looked down at Clover and rubbed his thumb against his palm. “She seemed like she needed something to match.”

Layla’s expression changed in a quieter way.

Clover hopped once, then turned just enough to show the side of the headdress. Layla made a delighted sound she clearly had not planned to let out. Jack’s mouth pulled into a satisfied smile before he managed to hide it.

“You like it,” he said.

“I adore it.” Layla reached toward Clover, then waited for the rabbit to come the rest of the way. “I leave you for one hour, and you open a fashion house in my parlor.”

Jack stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. “A difficult client, that one.”

“She looks very pleased with herself.”

“With reason. I did most of the work, and Clover received all the praise.”

Layla laughed before she could answer, and Clover took advantage of the moment by pushing her nose under Layla’s hand for more attention.

Jack watched from near the chair while Layla knelt there in her dress with Clover crowned in lace at her knee. The grocery bags still sat by the hall where she had forgotten them. He kept quiet for once, though his face gave him away badly enough.

Layla rose after another moment and came to him across the rug. Her hand found his sleeve in the same place as before, gentler now. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”

Jack looked down at her hand. “She managed herself. I mostly did what I was told.”

“That is usually how rabbits prefer it.”

Clover thumped once from the rug.

Jack looked between them and gave in with a sigh through his nose, crouching to offer Clover a piece of parsley from the dish.

“Very well,” he said, while Clover took the parsley from him and began chewing. “Her Majesty may keep the lace.”

yay!!! you made it to the end of this post, which means you get to see the image that inspired me to write this ❤︎︎!