#I get aesthetic wise he suits more of a mage

[radlymona]

I know it goes against his whole playstyle but I think neuvi should have been our first hydro claymore. That way he could still have broken dps numbers but without the chargeshot mindnumbing gameplay

[dutybcrne]

Okay, decision made:

He almost primarily uses his Abyssal abilities, and near exclusively in the way a Cryo Abyss Mage/Cryo Herald would, and had relied upon them alone, up until he was given an Anemo Delusion once he'd become of age.

[transguygardner]

Into the GuyLoboVerse: Day 14

Earth 13: League of Shadows

In the permanent magical twilight of EARTH 13, GUY GARDNER has become the MAGE STARHEART. With his eye replaced with part of the glowing meteor passed down in his order through the centuries, GUY GARDNER recklessly summoned LOBO, the DEMON of CZARNIA, to aid him when asked to assist FATE with some LEAGUE of SHADOWS business. Now he must live with the consequences.

Authors Notes:

Its been a while since I read the Earth 13 stuff but I always thought it was neat! (The fact that this is a world where Jared Stevens is alive as Fate definitely helps even if he isn't a focus haha). The designs here I just played around with in MS Paint until I got something that I thought fit the aesthetic of a magic world. Even if Constantine is walking around in a typical hero suit.

Lore-wise I always thought it would be interesting if Green Lantern stuff got flipped so that the magical Starheart that Alan Scott uses in main continuity was the standard instead of the exception for Earth 13 Green Lantern equivalents. Though it looks like they just decided to use a version of Hal as Spectre as Green Lantern in the background of one of the scenes a while ago.

The Guardians of Oa would send a meteor of concentrated magic to planets that they wanted to have a point of control on and the dominant sentient lifeforms would general adapt that meteor and its magic into their culture somehow. (Usually. There would always be exceptions). Since Earth has such a rich concentration of magic existing on it already, Earth gets a larger meteor so that its magic can be wielded by multiple people, creating the Order of the Starheart.

The Order of the Starheart has been around for centuries. A new mage is accepted when they are drawn to the Starheart and the Starheart accepts them (usually manifesting by an intense pull to wherever the Starheart is currently being kept and then an intense glowing from the Starheart). The new mage then chips of a part of the meteor and that gets embedded in their body and becomes part of their magical power. Usually The Order of the Starheart recovers the piece of the meteor when a mage dies but that is not always possible which can result in someone becoming a member of The Order without their knowledge.

I'm on the fence about whether or not Guy is one of these accidental members but either way eventually he makes his way to a position of respect (for his power if nothing else) in The Order. Guy also comes by way of magic via his alien heritage that, while diluted, gives him a much bigger aptitude for magic than the average homo sapien but not quite at the levels standard for homo magi.

This Lobo is more of a direct Etrigan parallel and would probably end up clashing with Superdemon either as teammates, allies, or enemies. He's pretty standard for Lobo's but just with more of a monstery look than a biker look. He also makes a red aura around him when he fights. Instead of traveling through space of his own accord, legends of the Demon of Czarnia have spread throughout the galaxy and with that methods of summoning him to do your bidding. However it is well known that this is a double edged sword because there is no banishment spell that works on him. He will stay until he is summoned somewhere else or he acquires a means of leaving your planet on his own. But usually he hangs around until he gets bored instead of actively finding a way off your rock. Past summoners of Lobo have generally found themselves held responsible for his behavior and end up being pariahs.

Here is the original Earth 13 doodle

[grimweaver]

Druin and The Remnants of Oblivion: Part XVIII

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969119/chapters/64492294           

                                                           ~*~

           While the musicians were warming up and practicing in our suite, the rest of us returned to our designated seating arrangement at the court hall to partake in The Grand Celebration Feast. It was largely uneventful, at least compared to the trial LaChance had just been put through. Although the danger of it was well behind us, it was just one of at least three hurdles that had to be cleared. So, while we kept a watchful eye on the Arch-Mage, whom had returned to her seat upon the higher platform at the end of the room, a dense cloud of tension continued to loom over us—except Dorandil, that is. It seemed nothing could ever dampen his spirits or shut him up (at least, not for very long), which is why I did not allow him to come with us to the menagerie. He wouldn’t stop prodding us for more details of the viper story, even turning to other witnesses nearby for their accounts when Lucien refused to talk about it.

           I think the only thing that kept me sane throughout the hour of listening to the tortuously dull prating of the high-class was the continuous inflow of divine food, in addition to the cloud of incense that even a steady breeze had not dispersed, which had again persuaded me to think less about our mission and more about the one tasty-looking item that I hungered for above everything else offered.

           I leaned towards LaChance and said to him, “I could really go for that… hmm... Midnight Velvet right about now.”

           LaChance gave this remark a soft and controlled reaction; a slight and smooth tilt of his head in my direction and one corner of his mouth curling up. “I understand that the current environment has made it difficult for you to take your mind off of your ‘thirst’. I too find myself struggling with the desire for… hmm...  an equally tantalizing dish. But we must not lose focus on what should be in the forefront of our thoughts. We need to use this time to meditate upon the soon approaching… ‘performance’.”

           “Yes… I know,” I sighed.

           Just then, I was startled out of the dense euphoric fog when my shoulder was given a couple quick and hard pokes.

           “AAAAH- WHAT?? ” I blasted, as I whirled around and glared up at the one the hand belonged to. It was Farwil.

           There was a look of embarrassment on his face, and his eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. My outburst had momentarily drawn too much attention from the entire assembly. My whole body was flushed with embarrassment of my own, and I tried to recover, “Y… you’ve never once in your whole life had baklava?? That’s just not right! Go on and have some, dear!” I said, giving one of the honey-soaked, walnut-filled pastry squares to Farwil.

           “Thank you, M’Lady,” Farwil said, taking a small bite. “Sorry I scared you.”

           “And I’m sorry I yelled in your face,” I replied. “Just... quit poking me. If you have something to say just say it.”

           “I just wanted to let you both know about the dogs over there,” he said, nodding towards the twelve patrol guards walking in, each with what appeared to be a mere dune-hound on a leash. “They did bring them after all.”

           The message that Farwil was trying to give us was that the remnants had gone as far as summoning hell hounds to make sure Zalkir and the orb were protected, and they were also magically concealed. It has been said, by the few who have seen them and lived to describe them, that their sense of smell rivals that of sharks, and there was little doubt that they would be able to pick up our scent in the vents and alert their masters to it.

           Lucien turned his attention to the dogs and studied them while he took in a deep breath, as if to sample the air for its betrayal of their true identities. “So they have,” he said, clearing his throat a little.

           “The collars that the hounds are wearing—just like the necklaces around the necks of their masters—they really add a nice aesthetic touch, do they not?” Farwil asked.

           Lucien nodded, understanding that Farwil was informing us that illusions were generated by these adornments.

           “Dear gods,” Farwil gasped, trying to control the volume of his voice. “ They’re coming this way.”

           “Calm yourself, Sreth,” Teinaava hissed. “We’re all aware that you have allergies , but there’s nothing we can do about it. You’ll just have to put up with it.”

           The hounds seemed to gravitate heavily towards LaChance, whining and practically clawing the floor as they pulled their masters over to our table.

           “What the hell is wrong with you all?” one of the remnants growled. He then examined us, wondering what it was about this area that had interested the hounds. There was some initial dread, expecting them to howl angrily and spit fireballs at us at any second…

           ... but no such thing happened.

           “Perhaps I still smell like the viper,” Lucien chuckled, sitting perfectly still as he smiled at the one hound that inched closer and excitedly sniffed the back of his hand, which was resting on his knee. Much to everyone’s surprise, not only were they passive, they each licked the back of his hand. “Haha! Or perhaps it’s the roast beef on my hands!”

           “But there’s food everywhere,” the remnant replied, giving their chains a firm tug, narrowing his eyes. “It must be something else. ”

           Bremman cracked under pressure and spouted out an explanation that was not entirely aligned with any of the responses he was trained to give,“He’s got some kind of aura or something that animals are drawn to. That’s why he’s got so many strays at home. They keep showing up in his front yard!  It’s very weird! It has never been explained, but we think maybe his father was a Ward—”

           “That’s quite enough, Saxtus ,” Lucien rumbled low, then said to the hounds, “Go on now and don’t be trouble for your masters.”

           Right at that instant, the hounds withdrew their attention and the remnant patrol no longer struggled to control them. There was astonished confusion on the faces of the remnants, and it looked as though one of them wanted to question Lucien about it, but they shrugged it off and continued marching on to their destination: Zalkir’s private quarters.

           “Well… that was close,” Farwil sighed. “I uh… thought I’d start sneezing up a storm. That would’ve been embarrassing.” He then asked LaChance, “That thing you did in the viper pit… did you just do it again?”

           Lucien simply grinned and finished his piece of baklava.

           “Excuse me, Master Atterius... Lady Nelvani,” the voice of Ms. Ale’Ruje said, as she approached from our right, “but the time of your performance draws near—it is currently five minutes till. The musicians are already waiting for you at the Grand Pavilion.”

           “Thank you, Ms. Ale’Ruje,” Lucien replied, then gracefully rose to his feet and said as he looked down at me, “We should get a move on, M’Lady.”

           I nodded and stood up, with a bit of rigidness in my movements despite my trying to keep it as smooth and graceful as his, and asked Farwil, “would you kindly escort me this time, dear Rellintilys?”

           Farwil’s face was lit with joy. “Yes,” he said, “It would be a most appreciated honor, Lady Nelvani.”

           I hooked my left into Farwil’s right arm, while Lucien took Ocheeva’s left arm in the same manner. With the rest of the group following close behind us, we left the great hall and out into the massive courtyard. Off to our right, past several of the small pavilions we had walked by when we had entered the property, was a wide stone platform that was reserved for the show.

           “Pfft! Wooden swords?? You cannot be serious!” Zalkir scoffed, as Ms. Ale’Ruje handed them to us.

           “We would’ve used real ones, but we understand that weapons are not permitted on the premises,” Lucien replied.

           “Oh! Haha! Right!” Zalkir turned to the two remnant guards at his side. “Give them your swords,” he ordered them.

           The remnants hesitated and questioned this order with eyes filled with distrust darting back and forth, from him to us.

           “Master... I don’t think that’s wise,” one of them warned.

           “With all due respect, Zalkir, I will have to agree with him,” Surraiah said to Zalkir. “Consider the safety of the audience. Should someone get hit by a wooden sword that was accidentally launched from the stage, there may be a chance of them surviving it… but a metal greatsword—”

           “Will do nothing but make the show more interesting!” Zalkir argued. “Come on, Arch-Mage!”

           Surraiah really had no choice but to surrender to his will. She sank back into her seat, weighed down by the aggravation over his power over her and the inability to overcome it—she had only the power to fight the angry tears that threatened to surface again. She said nothing more, only gave a weak nod as she forced a regal smile. “Very well,” she sighed.

           “That’s the spirit!” Zalkir laughed, taking the greatswords from the remnants and handing them over to us.

           Lucien and I looked at each other. Though he gave no outward indication of it, I sensed that he shared my suspicions that Zalkir was not thoroughly convinced after all.

           “To our starting positions, then,” he said to me in a low voice.

           “Finally… the moment I’ve been looking forward to all evening,” I whispered back.

           A wide grin emerged on Lucien’s face as we both, simultaneously, turned towards the steps and made our way up to the platform; around its horizontal center, we turned in opposite directions and walked several more paces before pivoting on on heels and assuming a ready stance.

           Along with the arising thrill of entering this moment of action and artistry, I suppressed the acidic burn of anxiety by reflecting on what Lucien had sad to me at the very beginning of the first drill:

         “You don’t just move to the music. You move as though you are the one making it. In doing so, you breathe life into the story that you are trying to tell the audience. We’re not actually dueling. It is a performance. Steady flow, fluid and harmonious movements with the rhythm must be applied.”

         “And you think we’ll have this all down by Loredas??” I had asked him.

         “I know we will, so long as you do not forfeit confidence in yourself.”  

           He was right. Confidence is all it really took. The body was able to move in almost every way that is possible for a humanoid, the mind was capable of learning at a fast rate, the spirit just needed to be convinced that the only thing that could hold me back from achieving what we set out to accomplish was self-doubt. Considering also the rate of my greatsword retraining, I constantly reminded myself that it took only eight weeks to achieve the desired level of athletic ability, knowledge, and skill of an imperial soldier. If that is possible for me, then I could master within four days a roughly five-minute ‘pretend’ sword fight, as well as learn every detail about the person that I was pretending to be.

           I took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds as I tried to clear my mind of all doubt. I released the air—a long, hard whistle through my teeth— and focused on steadying my breathing and shutting out all that threatened to shatter the sphere of focus. I fixed my eyes on Lucien, standing at the other end of the stage.

           Don’t overthink this, I thought to myself. Get your mind off of all the eyes upon us… out of the fear of failure. Just breathe… and think about nothing but what you have to do.

           The edges of my vision began to blacken as I forced myself to narrow my awareness to just LaChance and the music. The fear of failure was washed away by a cool wave of self-assurance, and I found myself energized all over by positive anticipation.

((CONTINUED...))

[lassielowrider]

One’s a Skeleton, One’s Infamous

When a string of murders occur in a tiny village in the Irish countryside, Skulduggery and Valkyrie have no other choice than to go undercover as a newlywed couple.

There's no way this can go wrong.

Valkyrie Cain/Skulduggery Pleasant

“You must be kidding.” Valkyrie came to a complete halt, something Skulduggery didn’t notice at first. He was a couple of steps ahead of her when he stopped. His head dipped in what she knew was a deep sigh. Well, that, or he saw something interesting on the ground – it was equal chances, when it came to him.

“I’m really not,” Skulduggery said while turning around.

“There’s no way – no way – that this is the only solution.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to properly emphasize her glare.

“Of course it isn’t, but it’s the only way.”

“You just said it’s not!” Sometimes, Valkyrie really wanted to hit something. In this case, she really wanted to hit someone, and that someone was her partner in crime solving. He must’ve recognised the impulse, because he took a careful step backwards.

“The other way includes razing the town.” How Skulduggery could manage to make his skull give a deadpan expression without ever activating the façade, she still had no idea. Of course, it might just be that she’d known him long enough to be able to read him, but his entire face just screamed deadpan at her.

“…that seems like overkill, but it still makes far more sense than your idea.”

“Just admit that, as per always, I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re really not, but you’re slightly less wrong than I hoped.”

It wasn’t until they got back to the car – a 1954 Bentley R-type Continental in absolute mint condition, kept that way mostly through sheer stubbornness and a miracle or five – that Valkyrie brought it up again.

“How, exactly, do you plan to make this work, o wise one?” Valkyrie said, words dripping sarcasm. She’d crossed her arms over her chest again, well aware it looked like she was thirteen and sulking, but this situation really merited a good sulk and glare.

“Why, like always; with my dashing charm and rapier wit, and your,” Skulduggery paused, weighing his words. “Tendency to hit things that annoy you.”

“I’d be offended if this wasn’t what you always say. However, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Valkyrie returned, shaking her head at him. “How do you expect us to go undercover in a village, where some are mortal and some aren’t, and not be recognised? You’re a skeleton and I’m infamous!”

“Ah, you see, I have a plan, and like all my other plans, it is a genius plan,” he said, turning off the main road onto the driveway leading to Gordon’s house. Valkyrie was a bit surprised they were there already, having been too occupied with Skulduggery’s hare-brained schemes to notice much of the trip. “It’s a genius plan because I came up with it, and I am a genius.”

Valkyrie hummed doubtfully at him, but chose not to say anything.

“What’s this plan of yours, then? Because so far you’ve only given me the premise which still is ridiculous.” She uncoiled from her tense, scrunched up position, turning in her seat to look at him in anticipation. Skulduggery, however, just kept looking straight forward, but there was a distinctly smug tilt to his skull.

“Oh, big word! You’ll see when we get to the house, and the idea is not ridiculous. Just because you have no imagination or joie de vivre doesn’t mean everyone has to be like that.”

Valkyrie slumped in her seat, muttering about annoying partners and their secret keeping ways. She didn’t look at Skulduggery, but she didn’t need to. She could’ve felt his smirk from a mile away, so it was no trouble when sitting right next to him.

When he stopped the Bentley outside Gordon’s house, Valkyrie got out of the car, stretching and sighing in relief. She watched curiously as Skulduggery stopped mid-step, seemingly looking at her but in reality just lost in thought. He shook himself, like a dog fresh out of the bath, before finishing his small trek to the boot of the car. He grabbed a plastic bag before closing and locking the car.

She led the way up the porch stairs, unlocking the door and flinging it open. It was a motion that still felt unfamiliar despite the house having been hers for decades. Having hung her coat – a Bespoke original, like all her outerwear – on the hanger, she turned to Skulduggery in antsy expectation. He tsked but handed her the bag. She still hadn’t figure out how he could tsk without tongue or lips, but that was a pondering for another time.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You must be joking,” she said, deadpan, while looking into the bag. Hanging his coat next to hers, he didn’t bother removing the fedora before turning to face her.

“Why is that your gut reaction? Can’t you just admit I’m a dashing, suave genius who has solved every single issue with this?” She fished the bottle of hair dye out of the bag, inspecting it. When she saw what colour it was, she had to clench her fist around the bottle to not throw it at her partner. He hadn’t quite done anything to deserve that. Yet.

“Skulduggery. I’m not going bottle blond, no matter what the cause.”

“You said yourself that we’re too recognisable, this way you won’t be.” That did it. She threw the bottle of hair dye at his head. She’d like to fool herself into thinking it was due to her superior throwing skills that it connected, but she had a feeling it was mostly due to him letting it hit. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“You’ve only got yourself to blame.” That’d be her story and she’d stick to it, no matter what happened.

“Honestly I thought you wouldn’t be exalted about the hair dye, so I asked our esteemed Grand Mage to whip up a façade amulet. When she heard it was for you she was more than happy to oblige,” Skulduggery said, fishing the amulet out of his pocket. He was all too happy to give it to her when she made grabby hands at it.

“Oooh, pretty!” Valkyrie’s inner magpie was pleased, at least. While she’d like to credit China alone for it, Skulduggery did have impeccable taste in all things not replacement cars. The amulet was no bigger than a coin, and felt like it was made from solid silver. On one side, the façade runes were etched, and on the other a tree of life, set with sapphires. If the hue of the sapphires matched Skulduggery’s favourite suit, Valkyrie was certain it happened to be a coincidence and not a hint of any kind from China. “Put it on me?”

“Of course.” Laying the amulet on its corded leather band in Skulduggery’s outstretched hand, she turned her back to him, sweeping her hair out of the way.

“Why the sapphires?” He brushed her cheek when putting the band around her neck, and she definitely did not swallow nervously. That her cheek tingled where he’d touched it was simply due to his gloves being cold, and nothing else.

“Gemstones work as a receptacle for certain kinds of magic, enabling the amulet and façade to function regardless of how your magic works – or doesn’t work, as the case may be.” Valkyrie felt him tie the leather band into a secure knot, the amulet resting just below the hollow of her throat. She probably imagined the way it felt like his fingers lingered ever so slightly on her neck after he was done. “Why sapphires in particular, well, China said you’d appreciate them, so that was a purely aesthetic choice.”

“So – they’re magic batteries, got it.” She didn’t deign to say anything about the sapphires. Deftly activating the façade with a mere touch of her fingers to the runes, she grimaced at the phantom feel of her facial features adjusting.

When it was done rearranging her nose she hurried over to the mirror. She’d seen it enough on Skulduggery to not want to see it happen to her own face. Looking in the mirror, she met the gaze of a stranger, only tangentially familiar. Her hair and eyes had lightened from their usual ebony to a dark brown, her eyes were set slightly wider and her eyebrow slightly higher, giving her a perpetually surprised look.

Valkyrie frowned, the familiar expression turned strange on new features. Her cheekbones had lowered slightly, too, leaving her face roundish in shape. Turning her head this way and that, she realised what was so familiar – she looked more like Crystal and Carol than she’d ever be comfortable with. Feeling her nose, rounder than usual, she turned to Skulduggery.

“Well, how do I look?” She spread her arms to the side and gave a coquettish spin, well aware it looked ridiculous in her usual leather getup. Skulduggery didn’t say anything at first, looking at her with the blank expression he usually wore while deep in thought.

“It’ll do,” was all he said, in the end. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, for some reason. “Now, pack your bags, we’re going to Tracester! We’ve got a murderer to catch.” Valkyrie felt that maybe he could try sounding a little less like a gameshow host, because this wasn’t amusing in any way.

And that’s how it began, the mission where Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain, best magical detectives in at the very least all of Europe, went undercover as a married couple. This could only end well.

***

This would never end well, was the only thought running through Valkyrie – no, Valerie’s mind as she looked at the house that would be her home for the foreseeable future. She had better get used to the name. To calm her jittery nerves she mentally went through the cover story again. She hadn’t been this nervous about a case since the very beginning, and she felt ridiculous about it.

There was nothing to be worried about, except literally everything going wrong.

She was Valerie Nice, in-the-know mortal wife of Rascal Nice, a handyman who made up for his lacking magic powers with excellent skills in, well, everything else. They were both in their early twenties, Valerie in between jobs at the moment, and had decided to settle down in the small village of Tracester due to its rich, mixed population.

The village was nigh on idyllic, one small stone cottage with thatch roof next to another. All the streets were cobbled, there was a single pub and a post office doubling as convenience store, and despite there being a steady influx and outflow of people everyone seemed to know everyone.

The one thing ruining the postcard-picturesque feel of the place was the occult and brutal murders taking place there.

All of the victims had been in-the-know mortals married to a mage of some kind, which was why Skulduggery had hatched the absolutely ridiculous plan of going undercover as a married couple.

Due to him being an ancient skeleton kept together with some magic and a miracle, he couldn’t pretend to be the mortal – Valkyrie, with her weird white lightning magic, could easily pretend to be one.

Of course, they had to get to Tracester first, which may be easier said than done, especially considering they were going in yet another of his ridiculously coloured Ford Fiestas. She’d decided to call this one the Limerick Lambaster, due to the particularly eye searing shade of green it was painted.

Then again, she wasn’t the only one complaining.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Skulduggery said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s my charming ways and beautiful smile, you can’t help falling for it every time.” Valkyrie smiled, but couldn’t help but feel that the usual beauty of her smile wasn’t quite what she achieved. She still hadn’t gotten used to the façade, it still felt so weird looking in the mirror and seeing, well, her cousin looking back.

“Yes, but. A dog. Do you know what dogs do? They bury bones,” he grumbled, his activated façade letting her see him throw a sideways glance at the subject of conversation.

“Oh don’t worry, she’s a darling and will behave!” Valkyrie scoffed at him, hugging the puppy in her lap a bit tighter.

“Valkyrie, if you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m literally nothing but bones, no matter what else my suave and dashing persona exudes.”

“Then I’ll come home and find you buried in the garden one day, think of it as a trust-building exercise.” Valkyrie shrugged, stroking the puppy from head to tail, delighting in the softness of her fuzzy fur.

“Look at her, she’s slobbering at the thought of eating me.” The puppy was, in fact, sleeping, not much slobbering going on at the moment.

“She’s an eight weeks old English Mastiff, she slobbers at everything.” She did, she really did, and Valkyrie loved her with all her heart. Of course, she’d probably only be able to keep the dog in her lap for a month or two more, due to her already being big, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted.

Before the argument could continue, Skulduggery pulled the car to a halt by the curb in front of a tiny little cottage. It was a stone cottage with a thatch roof, had a good sized garden and, she was glad to see, was situated on its own a bit away from the other houses on the street (one of three in the entire village).

“Oh! Is this it? It’s adorable!” Valkyrie didn’t even have to pretend to be excited about the house. It had charmed her the moment she saw it.

“Yes, here we are.” Skulduggery switched the car off, content to sit and watch her trying to juggle the dog and the seatbelt at the same time. At her glare, however, he sighed and got out to help her.

They’d both seen the neighbours watching curiously, so they sank back into their alter-egos. It rankled a bit, Valkyrie had to admit, accepting help to get out of the car, but newly-weds were touchy-feely constantly, weren’t they?

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely…” She held the puppy to her chest with one hand, the other still clutching the hand Skulduggery had held out to help her, watching the house with veritable stars in her eyes.

“Well, you said you wanted a thatch roof, dear, and you know I do my best to make you happy,” Skulduggery replied, going all in with the soppy voice and loving looks. It took all she had to not flinch when he called her dear in that tone of voice, instead holding his hand tighter. Oh, this was going to hurt, wasn’t it?

“Do you have the key?” Skulduggery didn’t reply, choosing instead to dig through his trouser pocket. He held the key aloft in triumph when he found, releasing her hand in order to open the wrought iron gate and unlocking the door.

The door led into a small hallway, cosy rather than confining, with open view into the kitchen. Valkyrie sighed happily upon seeing the country-style kitchen, but opted to go in search of the dog bed they’d ordered to have set up in the living room. Of course, the living room wasn’t so much a room as a cosy little den, the big dog bed taking up much of the available floor space.

She’d found a company that made personalised dog beds, and hadn’t been able to resist having one with the name embroidered on it. When she put the puppy down, she was happy to see she’d managed to pick a colour for the embroidery that perfectly matched her fur. The Artemis nearly gleamed in the light, as Artemis slept on next to it.

Artemis already weighed nearly 15 kilos, and while it was no problem for Valkyrie to carry her, she quickly became cumbersome. She watched for a moment, to see if she woke up again, but the mastiff just snuffled and kept sleeping.

Walking back over to Skulduggery, they commenced the tour of the cottage. Valkyrie couldn’t help but fall more and more in love with it for every bit of it she saw. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when they reached the bedroom, however, as she reluctantly came to an important insight.

“The moving company finished yesterday, so all that’s need to do is unpacking the last few boxes, and making the bed. The clothing we can leave to tomorrow, what there is of it,” Skulduggery said, gesturing to the bags of clothing piled by the wardrobe. He seemingly hadn’t noticed the great big elephant in the room, so Valkyrie took it upon herself to inform him.

“You realise we’re going to have to share a bed, right?” The face Skulduggery made when she said it would’ve been amusing if she didn’t feel the same way.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, of course we won’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, we really will. If the households are being watched, which is likely, they’ll notice if you don’t go to bed.”

“…if I snore, wouldn’t you tell me to sleep in another room? Or on the couch?” he tried, gesturing out into the hallway. She shook her head.

“We’re newlyweds, Skul. There’s no way I’d consign you to the couch, at least not yet.” They’d elected to go with names that could be shortened – Rascal for Skulduggery, so if she slipped and started with Skul, they could claim it was just a nickname. The same for her, even if Skulduggery of course had claimed he’d never slip up. Valerie was similar enough to Valkyrie, too, that she felt she’d have no problem getting used to it. “I can share a bed if you can. I promise I won’t molest you in your sleep.” She rolled her eyes at him, trying to disguise her own nervousness.

He mumbled something in answer.

“What did you say?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I said that with my virtue guaranteed there’ll be no problem.” He turned away from her, missing her raised eyebrow. Considering the façade’s eyebrows, it didn’t elicit quite the same effect as when she did it with her own face, so it might be just as well he didn’t see it. However, while she hadn’t heard exactly what he’d mumbled, it hadn’t been that.

***

When Valkyrie woke up the next morning, she was alone, not surprisingly. What was surprising, however, was that she was more or less hugging the pillow that had been designated Skulduggery’s. She couldn’t help but blush, and hoped she hadn’t been cuddling him during the night, instead of his pillow. She had a tendency to cling in her sleep, she knew.

It was pretty early, but she knew Skulduggery had already had a job lined up that would bring him into some of the villagers’ homes, so he’d had an even earlier start.

She rummaged through the wardrobe, looking in distaste at the clothing. None of it was Bespoke, and none of it was in her style – it was, however, Valerie Nice’s style. Floral tank tops shared space with likewise dresses, right next to jeans that she knew would be skin tight. She didn’t mind the trousers being tight, of course, but she really missed her leathers (and, well, all her other clothes).

When she’d found clothing that weren’t quite as jarring as the sun dresses, she made her way downstairs, being greeted by the snuffling snores of a sleeping Artemis.

A note on the kitchen table informed her that Skulduggery had taken ‘the menace’ outside before leaving that morning, and Valkyrie could just picture his disgruntled visage.

Putting the kettle on and bread in the toaster, she turned and leaned on the kitchen counter. Surveying the chaos of boxes – most if not all filled with cheap, brand new things neither of them would mind leaving behind – she sighed. This would take an eternity. The kettle shrieked and she gratefully turned her back on the chaos that was her temporary living room, busying herself with breakfast. The kettle also woke Artemis, who made a beeline for Valkyrie’s knees. Legs buckling, she couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew her biggest weakness was a giant puppy?

When Skulduggery came back from work, it was to a house in disarray, but quite a few boxes less than there were that morning. In the midst of it all was Valkyrie, spread eagle on the living room carpet, Artemis curled up on her legs.

“Honey, I’m home!” He just couldn’t resist the cliché greeting, knowing it’d rankle her something fierce.

“I hate moving. Hate it. There’s too much stuff.” Valkyrie didn’t bother opening her eyes, just launched straight into a diatribe.

“You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“No, I’ll just ask any one of all my none local friends.”

“Well, you’ve got the menace, it’s about time she starts pulling her weight.”

“Ah yes, when you’re at work I’ll just ask Artemis to help out, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Speaking of work, how did it go?” She sat up, easily folding her legs into a relaxed lotus position, Artemis only moving to more properly put her head in her lap.

“Clearly you’re just not as intelligent as I am, which of course is in no way a surprise. Well, we’re officially the neighbourhood curiosity, and also invited to the village fete weekend after next. I’ve heard some snatches about the others, but nothing tangible.” Skulduggery had forgone his usual fedora, the headwear not in something Rascal Nice would wear, and he had to admit he missed it. He hung up the denim jacket he’d been wearing during the day, glad to be rid of it for a while. China had improved the façade enough that it for him covered his entire body – he hadn’t quite counted on how stifling it would feel.

“Village fete?”

“It’s a party, this year held at Wisteria Lane. Everyone’s invited, apparently, and Marlon Chimes – mortal, looks like a middle-aged Charlie Sheen, needed help with the electricity – said it’d be a superb moment to introduce ourselves.” Skulduggery sat down on the couch, a huge oxblood monstrosity that was easily the comfiest piece of furniture he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting on. It was with some suspicion he watched as Artemis turned her head to look at him, tongue lolling out. “She’s slobbering at me again.”

“I know what a fete is!” Valkyrie replied indignantly. “And she’s really not, she’s just happy to see you for some unfathomable reason.”

So it continued, the two of them bantering as they tried to put their temporary home to rights, the enormous puppy following at their heels – too close for Skulduggery’s comfort, if anyone asked, which Valkyrie categorically did not.

***

“Oh, you must be Valerie – from over at Willow Lane, right?” Valkyrie didn’t react at first, still not quite comfortable with the name, but then she realised the middle-aged woman was in fact addressing her.

“Yes, yeah, that’s me! Sorry, I’m so caught up in moving I think I accidentally packed my brain into one of the empty boxes,” Valkyrie dragged her hand through her hair, trying to laugh it off all while mentally reprimanding herself for such a rookie mistake.

“I know the feeling dear, don’t you worry. How’re you settling in?” The other woman looked to be approaching middle-aged, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in their community.

“It’s lovely here, really – I’m so used to the suburbs, you know, living in a block of flats and all the noise. Here it’s… idyllic, really, that’s the only word I can find.”

“Dearie me, I can see that being very different to here. Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce myself – Juniper Chimes, I’m over at Wisteria Lane.” She held out her hand, Valkyrie quickly juggling her bag of shopping so she could shake it.

“Oh, Marlon’s wife, right? Skul – Rascal, my husband? He said he’d been over, and Marlon had invited us to the village fete, I think…?”

“Of course you’re invited! Yes, Marlon and I talked about it just before, and said it was obvious we’d invite you. Since it’s being held at our place this time, it’s entirely up to us.”

“Should I bring anything, or so? I don’t want to show up emptyhanded and make everyone’s first impression a bad one…” Valkyrie played at the kind of shyness she’d never felt, rubbing the back of her head and looking at Juniper through her lashes.

“Yourself and a good mood, that’s all we ask!” Juniper said jovially. Valkyrie’d always associated joviality with Santa and no one else, but there were no two ways about it. Juniper was jolly. It scared her a little, to be honest.

“Oh, it sounds lovely – is it okay if I bring my dog? She’s still a little puppy and I don’t want to leave her alone too long.” Valkyrie carefully omitted just how large this ‘little’ puppy was.

“Of course! Have you had her long?”

“We got her just as we moved here, actually – Skul promised me a dog as soon as we were out of the flat, and with me between jobs at the moment we thought the timing wouldn’t get any better.” She didn’t even fib, she’d always wanted a dog but with their arbiter work it hadn’t looked to be a good time for it. Now, with nothing to do but sit in her – their - temporary home and twiddle her thumbs, well, it really was ideal.

***

The weekend of the fete arrived quicker than Valkyrie thought possible, especially as every day and night dragged on spectacularly. The days were spent walking around the village when she wasn’t trying to get the cottage into the shape she wanted, and she’d probably met most if not all villagers already. An adorable ten week puppy is an amazing icebreaker, if nothing else. She’d done some careful digging, but so far nothing new had been unearthed.

Skulduggery had been able to do some proper detecting, as he so proudly called it, while performing his job as a handyman. He hadn’t found anything either, to his growing consternation. If it hadn’t been about murders, Valkyrie would’ve ribbed him endlessly for his fruitless search.

The nights, however, the nights were the worst. Valkyrie knew she was a cuddler when she shared a bed with someone she lo- liked, and Skulduggery sadly wasn’t the exception. She could only thank god he wasn’t very easily woken when meditating, because so far he hadn’t seemed to notice her attaching herself to him during pretty much every night. She couldn’t even blame it on heat seeking tendencies – he was dead, so he didn’t exude much warmth.

She shook herself out of her thoughts when they neared the larger cottage on Wisteria Lane, where the fete was in full swing. She and Skulduggery were walking arm in arm, and she couldn’t help but be extremely aware of every single square millimetre where they were touching. To not arrive emptyhanded, no matter what Juniper said, she’d whipped up a quadruple batch of muffins, stuffed into a basket she’d forced Skulduggery to carry. Well, when he heard it was either the basket or Artemis’s leash, he’d voluntarily grabbed the basket.

After calling out generic greetings in a few different directions they split up, Valkyrie heading for the shade with Artemis in tow, Skulduggery towards some of the men he’d worked with so far during their stay. What children there were flocked to Valkyrie’s side, and she felt a small pang thinking of when Alice was that little. The biggest draw was Artemis, of course, who couldn’t look happier with all the attention she was receiving. Seeing that nothing would befall her beloved dog for a while at least she felt safe enough to walk around a little, introducing herself to the few villagers she hadn’t already met.

She was deep in a conversation about English Mastiffs with one of the little old ladies from Weigela Lane when she saw Skulduggery make his way inside. That was her signal that the plan was to commence.

They did actually have a plan, a good, well-thought out plan for once. They’d split up at the party, mingle, and then separately make their way inside, where they’d be able to snoop to their hearts’ content.

After carefully ending the talk about mastiffs, Valkyrie made her way over to Juniper, shyly asking about a bathroom. She received directions, and making sure to look like she was repeating them silently all the way indoors.

As soon as she was inside the doors, she immediately stopped slouching. Valerie Nice slouched, the epitome of a wallflower lacking much social adjustment. It also served to make her look shorter than she actually was, which could only be a good thing when being undercover.

She found Skulduggery outside the study, the door of which he carefully closed behind him.

“Nothing yet, not a single paper out of place,” he whispered to her, frustration making Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice shine through instead of Rascal Nice’s.

“I saw bookcases in the living room, have you checked those? The wardrobes in the hallway?” Valkyrie whispered back. Skulduggery only shook his head in answer, and they made their way downstairs again.

The bookcases in the living room turned out to be mysterious, however not in any way relating to their case. No, they were only disguised magic books, many of which Valkyrie had seen, if not actually read.

“Someone’s coming!” Skulduggery hissed in her ear just as Valkyrie was about to open one of the wardrobes in the hallway. In return, she did a rookie mistake. She panicked.

She’d hold fast to that claim forever, saying that’s the only reason she did what she did.

Valkyrie looked around quickly before grabbing Skulduggery by the shoulders and pushing him up against the wall. He didn’t have time to do more than open his mouth – to complain or ask what the hell she was doing, she didn’t know – before she kissed him.

Luckily, he got with the program rather quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist, tangling the other hand in her hair. She moved her hands a little, turned her grip from a death grip to more clutching at him. She had to give it to him, for someone who’d been dead for several hundred years, he sure could kiss. It felt like he was trying to devour her, and if he kept kissing her like that she’d be happily devoured. She didn’t even have to fake going weak in the knees, leaning more of her weight against him, trusting him to hold her up.

Valkyrie put a hand on his neck, thumb stroking the hinge of his jaw, tilting her head a little to get a better angle. She moaned when he tightened his grip on her hair, her knees feeling like rubber when he growled and nipped at her lips in return.

The gasp behind her back quickly brought Valkyrie back to the present, however.

“I’m so sorry, I was just going to the kitchen,” Juniper Chimes said, averting her eyes and blushing the colour of a tomato.

“Oh, it’s us that should apologise, Juniper, I’m so sorry – I can only blame being newlywed,” Valkyrie said, willing herself to blush even redder still. Skulduggery was still leaning against the wall, gobsmacked look not shifting in the slightest.

After another round of apologies from both Juniper and Valkyrie, their hostess left and Valkyrie sighed in relief. Turning to look at Skulduggery, she could only stare in surprise at the empty spot where he’d just been.

When she came back into the garden, Marlon was the first to approach her.

“What on Earth flew into Rascal? He left as if the devil himself on his heels!” She’d never talked to him before, but she recognised him based on Skulduggery’s description – a middle-aged Charlie Sheen was surprisingly accurate.

“Oh, he… he gets awful migraines, sometimes, you know how it is. He felt it coming on now, a bit too much right now is all. I’ll make my rounds and say goodbye to everyone, see if I can find my dog…” She’d never been good at fibbing on the fly, and after that kiss she probably didn’t have quite all the mental faculties she usually did.

The conversation repeated for most every couple she talked to, all of them sad to see them go but fully understanding them both.

When she came home, Artemis in tow and her muffins basket now stuffed full of leftovers, Skulduggery had shut himself in the study and locked the door. She felt like crying when he didn’t even say anything when she knocked.

If she fell asleep on a wet pillow that night, well, Artemis wouldn’t tell.

***

When Valkyrie woke the next morning, the other side of the bed wasn’t slept in. Biting back tears she performed her morning ablutions, releasing Artemis into the fenced-in backyard before sitting down by the kitchen table. She buried her head in her arms before changing her mind, rubbing at her eyes and then leaning her head back in what felt like a futile attempt to not cry.

She’d probably ruined her longest lasting friendship with that stupid stunt she’d pulled yesterday. Yes, the kiss had been amazing, everything she’d ever dreamt of (she could admit to dreaming of it) and more still. She could even admit, quietly and only to herself, that she didn’t just like Skulduggery, she loved him. Was in love, even. And now she’d ruined it all.

Barking in the yard pulled her out of her downward spiral, and she got up from the kitchen table to look at what Artemis had gotten up to. The large puppy was standing in the corner of the yard, looking and barking at something on the ground. Making her way over to inspect whatever it was, Valkyrie didn’t get more than halfway across the yard before something heavy hit the back of her head and everything went black.

***

When she came to again, she was kneeling on a rough stone floor, arms raised and shackled above her head. She kept her breathing even, not moving or opening her eyes, just like Skulduggery had taught her. She supressed the pang she felt when thinking about him. She’d been kidnapped, she could cry about other things later.

It seemed like she was alone, wherever she was, so she dared to open her eyes a fraction. Still seeing no one, she opened them fully, craning her head this way and that to try and get a full picture of just how deep she’d gotten this time.

Deep, was the answer. She was shackled in such a way that if she moved her arms even a tiny bit, she’d dislocate her shoulders, and while she could do that she preferred to use it as a last resort. Her kidnapper had been sloppy however, they hadn’t taken her amulet from her nor used binding chains. Then again, if her kidnapper was the murderer, they probably didn’t feel they needed binding chains. They only took mortals, after all.

“Awake, are you? Got to be thick, that skull of yours. A hit like that should’ve kept you out of it for far longer.” Valkyrie raised her head at the familiar voice. Descending the stairs at the far end of what she now recognised as a basement was Marlon.

“Marlon? Marlon, what are you doing?” She tried to sound frightened, twisting her arms in miniscule movements to make the chains jingle without dislocating her shoulders. The man laughed, a high, cold laugh. Valkyrie had gone toe to toe with Lord Vile, and this man, a mere mortal man, genuinely made her more nervous than the armoured menace had. Marlon, she didn’t know what he wanted, what he was going to do. Lord Vile was nothing if not predictable.

“Oh, don’t you fret my dear. As soon as my wife gets here, it’ll all be over for you.” What Valkyrie had taken for kindness when she first met him was in fact calculation, she now saw.

“What’s going on? What are you doing to me?” Keep him talking, just get him to keep talking, give herself time to figure out a plan (or time enough for the cavalry to come, at this moment in time she wasn’t much bothered which solution presented itself first).

“Ah, I can answer that, Valerie dear,” Juniper cut in, descending the stairs. She was wearing a velvety pink cocktail dress with matching heels, and Valkyrie didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone more out of place. “You see, much like you, my dear Marlon here is mortal. Not an ounce of magic in him, sadly. Well, maybe a thimble, but that’s as much magic as any mortal has, really.”

“Exactly! I’m mortal! What do you want with me?!” Valkyrie felt that her scared shriek was very believable. Maybe she’d go into theatre, now that her partnership with Skulduggery was most definitely over. Another, even smaller, very detached part of her mind realised that what was happening to Valkyrie at the moment was shock, brought on by the cold in the basement and a probable concussion from the blow to her head. Well, that, and also panic. She had no idea how she’d get out of this.

“Well, my dear girl, enough thimbles and you’ll have a cup. If we steal the miniscule amount of magic in a mortal – a mortal aware of magic, mind you, otherwise it won’t work – over and over again, why, we’ll soon have quite a bit of magic,” Juniper explained, like it was an everyday topic of conversation and not a discussion of how to murder and steal the magic from in-the-know mortals.

“I don’t need enough magic to be able to perform any tricks, of course. I just need enough to stop aging. I refuse to leave the light of my life behind.” Marlon shrugged, not bothered by how crassly they were discussing literal murder, just so he could live a little longer. “It works, too. For everyone we’ve killed, I’ve gotten a little younger, and every time it lasts a little longer.”

“Everyone?” Valkyrie gasped, as if she’d had no idea. “How many have you killed?”

Marlon opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, his wife was enveloped in flames. Valkyrie sagged in relief, the movement hurting her shoulders but she really couldn’t find it in herself to care right then and there. Marlon spun on his heel, ready to throw himself headfirst into a fight, but never got that far. Instead, he received a gloved fist to the face, and soon thereafter an unforgiving stone floor to the head.

With an irritable wave of his hand, Skulduggery put out the fire licking at Juniper’s dress, the action doing nothing to silence her shrieks. She quieted, however, when two Sanctuary Cleavers stepped forward, cuffing both her and Marlon.

Skulduggery, however, busied himself getting Valkyrie out of her shackles, not even once meeting her eyes. He couldn’t hate her too much, she reasoned, because at least he caught her when she fell forward, the shackles no longer on her and therefor no longer providing support.

For the second time that day, everything went black.

***

They had to stay in Tracester for another three days, to tie up loose ends and ensure Valkyrie’s concussion had more or less passed. It was three days of Valkyrie having the entire house to herself – well, almost the entire house. Skulduggery had shut himself in the study the moment she woke up from her bout of unconsciousness, and didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

“I’m calling Tanith, she’ll pick me up. You go on ahead,” Valkyrie said, waving a hand vaguely in Skulduggery’s direction. She didn’t dare look at him, she didn’t know what she’d do if she did.

“What? I thought you’d come to like the, what did you call it, Limerick Lambaster?” he jested, trying for his usual mannerisms.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Skulduggery. There’s an elephant in the room that we’re both ignoring so hard it’s turning orange.” She snorted, turning to a pile of kitchen towels that needed to be refolded.

“I’ve never seen an orange elephant before, it might be interesting.” Even with her back turned, she could see the inquisitive tilt of his head. It was the same tilt he did whenever a new, unexpected clue showed up.

“Please, just. Leave, Tanith’ll come to pick me up. Me and Artemis. It’ll work out.” The towels weren’t turning out evenly folded, one bigger than the other but smaller than the third. From the corner of her eye she could see him reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t! Touch me,” she more or less shouted. Skulduggery flinched, taking a step back.

“Oh. I’m – sorry. I should’ve realised I’d made you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t understand why he sounded so distressed. It was her at fault here. She couldn’t even fold the flipping towels right, damn it. She started over again with the pile.

“It’s not that. I’m just.” She decided to treat it like a band aid, just rip it off. “We won’t be working together anymore, when we get back home.”

“Are you – quitting?” The distress in his voice heightened further.

“After this? Of bloody course I am. And you call yourself a genius…” She was aware her words were dripping derision, but she’d always been the type to channel her sadness into anger, and this time was no different.

“Is there nothing - ? I’ll ignore it, if you do, it’ll be just like before.” He sounded like he was making a noble sacrifice. She felt like playing golf with his head. Ignore it, bah.

“Can you? Can you ignore it, though, pretend like nothing happened?” she asked, trying to keep the tone neutral and the rage out of her voice. She wanted to activate the façade again, make it so Valerie would be hearing this instead, but it didn’t work like that. She imagined she could still feel the burning of where he’d brushed against her neck when putting it on.

“I have for quite a few years now, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Valkyrie heard how he started to pace, could picture him. She’d caught a glimpse before, he was wearing the sapphire blue suit she loved so much. Part of her wanted to turn to look at him, but she knew that if she did, she’d fall to her knees and beg just as likely as she’d zap him with as much white lightning as she could.

“Oh, great, bloody thanks for that. I knew it was unwelcome, but you don’t have to sound that happy about it.” She felt like she was boiling. She swept out with her arm – curse those bloody towels, anyway – and straightened up from where she’d been bent over the kitchen table.

“Unwelc - ? Valkyrie.” Skulduggery came to a halt in the middle of the floor, and he could only watch as she began to pace instead. Whereas he was somewhat of a stationary pacer, in that he only moved his feet, she was a very active pacer – windmilling of her arms included.

“What?! What do you want to hear? I’m sorry I fell in love with you? I’m sorry that nothing I do can make me stop loving you? What do you want to hear?!” The last few words she shouted in his face, but he refused to back down this time.

“Valkyrie. I’ve been ignoring my feelings for you for the better part of a decade.” He looked her in the eyes, as much as he could without the façade activated at least, trying to make her understand.

“…oh.” She blinked a few times, mouth moving like she was going to say something but then thought better of it.

“Yes, oh,” he said, fondness and, dare she think it, love colouring his words. “For two geniuses, we sure are dumb.”

Valkyrie could only nod dumbly in answer. She’d just had most of her world view turned upside down, she felt she could be excused this once for being a bit slow on the uptake.

He cupped her cheek with one gloved hand, the other sneaking inside an already open shirt to activate his façade. It didn’t quite register what he was doing until she met his gaze properly instead of staring into his skull.

Almost blushing at her daring, her hand followed the path his had just taken, thumbing the façade off again. She had time to register his surprise before she kissed him, properly this time.

It was a new, but not bad, feeling, kissing Skulduggery Pleasant. It was mouth to teeth, no tongue or lips to meet hers, but it was still Skulduggery she was kissing – his wordless rumble of pleasure she heard when stroking her thumb over the joint of his jaw, that same growl she’d heard last time when she pressed against him. He could definitely make her knees weak, whether he had lips or not.

He was Skulduggery, she was Valkyrie, and that was really all that was needed.

[kquartz]

gosh gosh oh gosh i looove your ocs so much and return with a question!! i've read the post you have for them all with updated photos & info, but i'm still a bit confused as to what the story/universe is?? i LOVE worldbuilding and i noticed magic and planets and stuff and i was really curious as to what the story was with os / how the other characters fall in line and what their world was like !!! 😘

AAAAAAAAAH I’D LOVE TO EXPLAIN IT 

but it might be a little long so I’ll put it under a cut:

So to start with, the universe itself is completely separate from ours and takes place in one where magic is very well known and studied. The story focuses around two societies: one that supports and celebrates magic, and one that treats it like a threat and rejects it. Os, Loren, Zellie, Osh, and Rafi are from the former while everyone else is from the latter.

The magic society, which is separated into different realms, is ruled by an arch mage and a council made from representatives from each realm; and because it’s a matriarchy they’re mostly women. Zellie’s a kind of intern on the council, but anything to do with it is all kept very secret. In comparison to the society everyone else is from, it’s very traditionalist in its ways and are only really in their pseudo 1910/1920′s era  while the other has a more futuristic aesthetic and outlook.

Os’ planet, Dianthos, is one of the first realms (the higher you go the more convoluted in magic people tend to get) and while the appliances and transportation are designed to work for most anyone, it’s still looked down upon if you can’t use magic like Os in the beginning, so they have a fair bit of trouble fitting in and even finding work.  Topography-wise, it’s mostly countryside outside of the major cities, so they can produce their main exports that rely on agriculture, but beyond the trees and farms is a mountainous region, which then gives way to an arid desert where Rafi is from. Os’ city, which is filled with tight- knit buildings and cobblestone streets, is a port city where lots of people from around the realms pass through.

Os’ story is a little bit spoilery, because I do plan on drawing this out, but it starts when Loren gets kidnapped by people working against the magical realm and Os goes to look for her. She escapes on her own fairly quickly but she doesn’t go back home because they’ve basically given her a free ride outside of the magical realms and she’s fucking ecstatic to be surrounded by technology that isn’t decades behind. Meanwhile, Os, terrified for their sister, finds the planet and city she’s in and gets lost immediately. Vien finds them and Os has to rely on him for help, which isn’t one of Vien’s strong suits. When he eventually does help, they find Loren and eventually meet everyone else.

I hope that answers some things??? It’s probably still confusing but I don’t want to tell too much of the actual story because it’ll get revealed later. I do enjoy talking about the worlds, though! I’ve been working on them for years, so feel free to ask me about them!

[avandra]

Strangeness and Charm, chapter 1: Mysteries left unsolved

Welcome to the first installment of Strangeness and Charm! This is thought out to be a collection of one-shots that slowly show the growing relationship between my bhaalspawn, Cat, and my dearest half-orc blackguard, Dorn Il-Khan. The chapters will follow specific events -which may or may not include in-game interactions between these two- that I personally considered relevant to the development of their eventual romance. This first chapter is set after killing Simmeon and visiting Baldur’s Gate for the first time. I always figured that someone had to notice the bhaalspawn’s weird divine spells that seemingly come out of nowhere, and since Dorn later mentions his patron had seen the potential in the protagonist, it would make sense to me that he’d be interested in their powers, too. Anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoy this and leave some feedback so I know what I’m doing right and what I should change!

Imoen coughed, clutching her abdomen and bending in pain. From her squinting eyes, she saw her own blood staining the floor. Those blasted spiders had really wrecked her with their razor sharp limbs and their poison. How had that deceased dwarf manage to fit such a cave under his tower was a mystery to the young woman. After going down seemingly infinite levels of the tower’s basement, the group had somehow ended up in a cavernous, gigantic stone structure full of cobwebs and acid puddles that burned through their boots when they stepped on them. Of course, not everything was bad; there were plenty of treasures, if one was daring enough to reach out for them. Unfortunately, that meant being faced with groups of giant poisonous spiders, and somehow she had found herself in the way of those especially nasty ones which could phase and teleport, and now she was shaking and coughing up her insides. As if the cursed tower wasn’t terrifying enough as it was.

However, her childhood friend approached her quickly and imposed her hands on her forehead. The mage was quite shorter than Imoen, which had earned some jestful mockery from the redhead back when life was simpler; but she was also a lot curvier, something the rogue secretly found aesthetically pleasing. Her raven black hair cascaded down her back in a mess of curls, and her piercing green glare focused on Imoen’s wounds, narrowed in concentration and well hidden concern -except for someone who had known her for so long, like the thief. Soon enough, healing light glowed in the woman’s hands, and its warmth spread into her friend’s body, who hummed gratefully at the sensation.

“Thanks, Cattleya.”

The mage furrowed her brow.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” She grouched.

“Sorry, Cat,” Imoen snickered, an impish smile spreading into her childlike features.

It was a rather irritating custom that Imoen had. She’d call Cat by her despised complete name just to bug her, despite her constant refusal to be acknowledged by it. The wizardess wondered what her adoptive father had been thinking when he decided to name her after a damned flower.

While she was working on her still injured friend, the witch scanned her surroundings in search of more possible threats, only to be met with that gaze.

He was watching her, again.

He had picked up the habit of observing while she used her healing powers ever since he saw them in action for the first time. He had never confronted her about it, nor did he offer an explanation for his insistent staring. He just stood there, quiet as usual, watching her. For most people, having a hulking, armed to the teeth half-orc blackguard staring at them was a more than logical reason to run to the hills, but to Cat, he was just another of her travel companions. In fact, he had turned to be quite reliable, despite his extreme -if understandable- trust issues and his murderous tendencies. Besides, she was no ordinary woman either; her magic grew more powerful by the day, and everyone who crossed her the wrong way ended up burning to death.

However, the witch had recently acquired knowledge of the source of her companion’s powers as she assisted him with his bloody revenge against his former group. She didn’t mind it -she was not the judgemental type-, but it did stir curiosity in her. Could it be that he knew something about her own mysterious abilities that she ignored?

Once she was done with healing Imoen, the mage dropped her backpack on the spot, attracting the attention of all her partners. She had had enough dungeon touring for the day. The cursed tower was full of interesting riddles, dangerous enemies and mortal traps, and though they had mostly overcome it all with grace and got plenty of profit in the shape of treasured jewels and legendary weapons, they all were pretty beaten up and in need of some rest. No word needed to be said; everyone caught the clue. It was good, as she had grown too tired for chit-chatting, preferring to save her little energy for a more important conversation.

The young woman prepared her bedroll and sat quietly to read through the pages of her spell book, memorizing the ones she deemed more useful. In the meantime, Branwen healed the injuries of the remainder of the group, doing a especially thorough job with Coran as the flirty elf complimented her skills in battle, making the cleric’s cheeks flush red. Imoen chatted with Rasaad while she munched on her portions of dried meat and he performed stretching exercises. Dorn sat alone in a corner, far from the rest of the group, thoroughly cleaning the black blood of the spiders from his brand new greatsword. As much as he was into carnage and murder, he definitely was not one to neglect proper care of his weapons. Once Cat finished sorting through her book, she left the bedroll and took a seat beside him, knowing that nobody would bother them or eavesdrop on their conversation.

“So,” she began, exhibiting her most charming smile, “It seems that I am quite a sight, huh?”

The half-orc paused his task and turned to face her, eyes narrowed in suspicion and annoyance.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, since my powers seem so interesting to you, and I know about yours, I was wondering if maybe those two issues were related,” Cat replied calmly, leaning comfortably against the rocky wall as he continued to clean the sword.

A short silence followed.

“You want to know if your abilities originate from a patron,” it was not so much a question as a statement.

Cat’s smile fell.

“I sometimes get these… dreams,” Cat confessed in a whisper. “They are like visions… mostly of death,” she paused and bit her lip. She had not revealed that information to anyone before. “Did you go through something like that as well, before you became a blackguard?”

The man shook his head, hands and eyes still focused on the blade.

“Not at all. A patron gives no figment of their power until the contract is made, and as for the dreams…” he paused to look at her, frowning. “No, my bond with Ur-Gothoz is mental, he does not come in my sleep.”

The mage sighed. At least she had tried…

“Well, then it seems that my skills will remain a mystery for now,” she replied, straightening her back.

As she was about to get up, Dorn put a hand on her shoulder to still her. She sat back and waited.

“Ur-Gothoz himself has shown interest in those powers of yours,” he said. “He has not specified their nature, but he has told me that you hold a high potential, and that you might achieve great feats, which is why I should remain by your side for as long as it benefits his goals.”

Cat blinked, shocked by the revelation and wondering whether it would be wise to feel flattered by a compliment that came from a devil.

“Perhaps you could ask him?” She suggested, tilting her head to the side.

The half-orc huffed and sheathed his now clean sword back into its scabbard.

“I do not ask questions; he is the one who gives me orders and guides me,” he explained, with a hint of impatience in his tone. The conditions of the contract with his demonic patron did not seem comfortable ground for conversation.

“Oh, well,” the witch fidgeted with the brooch of her tunic, trying to conceal her slight disappointment, “then I guess I’ll stop pestering you now. Thank you for the insight, nonetheless.”

As she laid in her bedroll, Cat replayed the conversation with the blackguard in her mind. He had not been ashamed to admit that he would only serve her for as long as it suited his patron’s interests, and yet he always seemed rather concerned about topics such as the trustworthiness of Cat’s other companions. Granted, he had been betrayed by those he came to call his friends, but the worries he voiced were directed towards Cat and her well-being. Despite his brutal honesty, he was frustratingly hard to read, and even though she would never admit that anyone was able to get to her in such a way, it infuriated her to no end. What did he really think, or want, from her?

Huffing, she pulled up the corners of her bedroll for warmth, hoping to get some sleep before venturing further into the sinister dungeon she had led her group into.

[aquelondungeonmaster]

Hey, so uh, I'm running into a smaaall advance difficulty for my NaNoWriMo, specifically that what the frick even is characterization ever, and I decided to crowdsource some solutions.  Tagging @anonymousalchemist​ and @terezis​ because they showed some prior interest in this sort of stuff and if you don't take every opportunity to tag cool people then what are you even doing.

With that aside: The Adventure Zone characters + Classpects, discuss.

Lots of ideas but still not enough finalised ideas and also contextual TAZ spoilers under the cut because I did not stop:

Magnus: Knight, possibly?  Like, knight is the obvious class choice for Magnus, right?  For aspects, though, I'm really not sure: I've been leaning towards either Time or Space, but that's not really characterisation-based.  Time fits because of the Temporal Chalice; most TAZstuck AUs are likely to make some sort of connection between the voidfish and the genesis frogs, so Space and Time are both good fits for Mags because of that.  I'm trying to avoid having classpects that are the same as the classpects of canon homestuck characters, which complicates some of the ideas here slightly.

Taako: Maaaybe Witch, on the premise of like change and stuff.  Changing stuff up is integral to Taako's schtick, so it sort of works.  Aspect-wise, Breath is also about change, as well as isolation which also fits Taako, and I saw Rage be described as the "no" sort of aspect which fits with "good out here"... okay-ly?  Additionally, Mind is described as impersonal and indifferent, as being about thinking with your head and putting up a mask over your heart, and also has something to do with how people are different in different timelines, so that fits Taako very well.  Life is about food to some extent, so there's also that to think about.

Merle: Page of Life is a definite possibility, but not the only option.  Life because healing and nature stuff, and Page because he takes like forever to figure out how to healing.  Also, that means he wears the Page undies and dude, that's... regrettably in-character.  However, something to do with Zone of Truth is also a really good idea.  Light and Mind are the knowledge-iest aspects, but I don't know what class that would be: something that 'forces' their aspect, perhaps?  I don't know what class does that.

Lup: I really don't know what class Lup would be, and getting y'all's opinion on that sort of stuff is the point of this post.  Aspect-wise, I was originally thinking maybe Hope, in a very literal sense, in that she keeps everyone's morale up quite a bit just by being around and not letting them Do A Major Murder on the robot world.  But Heart is described in some sources as being emotional, passionate, and having a good moral compass, plus if Taako's a Mind player it puts a nice twin paradigm on things probably.

Lucretia: I think someone else already talked about this, but I don't remember whom.  Um.  Lucretia fits the Bard role quite well :(.  I mean like, let's take a moment to ignore the fffuckin' codpiece and talk aspects that aid in this tragic endeavour.  Specifically, Heart or Blood have the most to do with bonds as a concept.  Bard of Heart could be "Invites the destruction of" "emotional connections (bonds!) and soul consistencies (exhibit A: Davenport.  Exhibit B: Taako)." Bard is also a passive class, which depending on who you ask either means that they stay to the sidelines most of the time, or that they're committed to things bigger than them more than they're committed to themselves.  Both of those fit Luce.  I've also seen stuff with her as a Void player, though, or like a Seer, and I guess that both of those also work to some degree.

Davenport: Okay, so the part of classpecting I'm worst at is the class part.  This is why I'm crowdsourcing ideas, guys.  When it comes to aspects for Davenport, though, this is what I've got: Blood, or maybe Void.  Void because the Oculus is basically doing something that has a lot in common with the Rogue of Void's schtick, but I mean it also has connections to irrelevance I guess or unaware obliviousness, which sort of does in fact work.  Blood, though, also really makes sense, because that's like the leadership aspect.  It's also a stabilising force that has a lot in common with bonds, which fits well for the operator of the bond engine.

Barry: I still don't have any ideas for classes, but aspect-wise, Time and Doom are the aspects that I think are most associated with death, which is sort of connected with Barry's deal most of the time.

Kravitz: Again, Time and Doom are like, death-related, but this time I have one (1) additional idea: the very literal description of Kravitz's job has a lot of overlap with the very literal description of a Sylph or Maid of Doom: they fix death.

Angus: Ango McDango has a high smarts -ness, and thaaat's what I'm basing this on thus far: Mind and Light are the smarts aspects.  Seer and Mage are the smarts classes.  Obviously there's gotta be more stuff I could base the classpect on that would be as incisively analytical as possible, but that's where you guys come in.

Johann: Again, no class ideas.  But Doom and Void are the aspects most suited to, like, feeling irrelevant.

Hurley: Okay, from here on out I literally just have aspect stuff.  I'm leaning towards Blood for Hurley's aspect because it has to do with rules a bit, which are a law enforcement thing, and also, again, bonds, which... love, guys.  Love.

Sloane: Initially, I was thinking either Doom or Life were well-suited to Sloane's encounter with the Gaia Sash and subsequent tree incident (thEY STAND NEXT TO EACH OTHER! UNDER TREES!) but anyway there's also the possibility of the Breath aspect, as a sort of contrast to Hurley and because it can be described as detached/ apathetic/ separated, which sort of is what happened during the Gaia Sash incident.  Also it just seems right in some ways.

Carey, Killian, Avi: Putting these three under the same banner because I have almost no ideas for any of them.  As a rogue, Carey could aesthetically fit Void (or the Rogue class, wow check it out I actually have some class ideas!).  Killian sort of seems to fit Rage, but I can't quite put it into words.  I tentatively put Avi down for Hope, because it sort of seemed to fit.  Y'know, I probably should have put this higher up so that people can actually read it and give me their ideas.  Thanks for reading to this point, guys, please keep reading because there's even more.

Ren:  Time and Doom fit with all the times she died in a time loop, and Life's edible food thing is also a thing that fits her, thematically.  That's not quite solid enough reasoning to really justify an aspect, though.

A bunch of characters who are also going to be in this but I have literally or practically nothing for:  Julia's class could be a Knight.  Lucas might have one of the smarts-related classes or aspects, but I'm not sure about that.  I have literally no ideas for No3113, Magic Brian, or Robbie, who are also definitely going to be in my NaNoWriMo, or Jess the Beheader or Klarg, one of whom will probably be in my NaNoWriMo.  Ideas would be appreciated.

Jeffandrew: Muse of Hope

John Hunger: Lord of Rage