#also clayden

[pigdemonart]

*slams hands on the table.* THE SHIP NAME FOR CLAY AND DAYDEN COULD BE DRAGON STONE BECAUSE THAT'S AN ACTUAL STONE AND IT FITS THEIR GYM TYPES.

Ohhhhh!! 💜🤎See I been calling them brokeback dragon in my head, so thats probably better

[ad-hawkeye]

as someone who has spent the last decade drawing mostly girls, and as someone who has primarily been active in Pretty Boy Fandoms, i leapt at the suggestion of the lbc discord to doodle the lbc boys as girls

[cyanpromise]

LBC drawings from Sept/Oct :)

[melpherno]

this image of Chosen One does things to me and none of them are appropriate

[romance-rambles]

qixi clarence | one residence household

Having grown tired of being neighbors, you ask Clarence to move in with you.

1.8k, post-canon, domestic fluff + slight humor, reader is mc, series: none

THERE COMES A TIME IN every couple's relationship when they must consider the benefits of moving in together—and marriage, though one generally implies the other.

To you, it becomes evident rather quickly that your current way of life is no longer enough to satisfy you. Your days are often some variation on seeing the man you love, either requiring you to wait or to traverse the water with his blessing. And that, for a time, was enough.

But the first thing you see when you wake up is always the empty space next to you, where you wish there would be a man instead.

And when you sit down for breakfast, as a human might, there is always enough food for two. Clarence comes in from the front door, still a guest in a home that may as well be half his. Though he has a key of his own, you have to let him in. Exactly three knocks, evenly spaced, or he'll worry and let himself in.

When it's the other way around, you stroll into his home like you own it.

On days he doesn't come, for whatever reason—you didn't realize it was possible for water dragons to get sick, for one—your longing is enough to conjure an apparition to sit in his place. You've been told it's pathetic, and though it comes from that nuisance of a fox, you can't really deny it.

However, in a bolt of brilliance, you managed to blurt out a particularly witty response the last time you were told so:

Only if I don't do anything about it!

So, here you are, a week after that conversation, with a hint of scarlet on your lips and cheeks—and a table full of Clarence's favorite foods.

You've developed a hobby of writing such things down, though never on paper at first. Not until you find yourself in the quiet of your room, amongst the abandoned love letters you hope he'll never read. The memories attached to them make it too difficult for you to burn them in some remote place, far enough from your home that Clarence does not take notice of the smoke.

And as for the extra fanfare—

You've never heard of a man who doesn't go weak for his lover in red. Or so the books you've managed to get your hand on in the mortal world say. Just a little bit of insurance, not quite a full seduction tactic.

If he says no, you have no choice but to accept that answer.

For now.

But there's nothing that says you can't tip the playing field in your favor before that.

As per your expectations, Clarence reveals his presence by knocking on the door. You open the door immediately. Much like a pet waiting loyally for the return of its owner, you make sure to sit by the door these days, a bowl of noodles in hand.

Because one of the earliest moments in your romance that this house witnessed was you tripping over yourself to open the door—and subsequently getting sauce all over your outfit. Your lover has not let it go. You don't imagine he'll ever let it go.

Your children will know, and their children will know, and you can hardly get mad at a face so beautiful. Being teased by him like this is a much better future than not having him at all.

"Is something on my face?" you ask, the very picture of innocence.

He blinks. Rather stupidly, if you have to add anything else. You take this as assurance of your victory—perhaps tomorrow, at this time, you might be late for breakfast, the novelty of sharing your bed with someone else overpowering your eternally empty stomach.

"…you look lovely," Clarence says eventually.

The tips of his horns redden. You stifle a giggle and allow him in.

BREAKFAST STARTS AS IT NORMALLY does, if the pigment on your lips and cheeks is to be ignored. And Clarence does an awful job at it, so much so that the snarky voice in his head can't stop pointing it out.

It sounds surprisingly like that fox friend of yours.

His name is Stellan, and for all that bluster, he seems to care for you deeply. If Clarence ever says anything on the matter, he knows you'd agree. When it comes to the reverse proposition—that you, as well, seem to care for him—he thinks you might deny it to your dying breath.

Part of it, the dragon suspects, might be that you don't want him getting any wrong ideas. The other part might just be stubbornness.

"Is there something you want to say?" asks Clarence, the moment he finishes eating the food you prepared.

He tends to be a fan of taking it slow, carefully chewing everything as much as he can. You inhale your food—it's there one minute, and gone the next. This tends to leave you with much time to stare at him, often with a dreamy expression.

Clarence is not yet privy to those thoughts, but he thinks he can make a few educated guesses.

This time, there's an intensity to your gaze that often appears when you have something to ask of him. Whether it's his thoughts on the food, or if he's interested in going out on a date in the nearby town, he's learned how to speed up the process.

A little nudge, with all the subtlety of a rock.

Resting your chin atop your intertwined hands, you tilt your head cutely. Batting your eyelashes is unnecessary, but it does serve affirm that Stellan's words are correct. He chose to use the word desperate; Clarence, however, prefers the word determined.

"Don't you think getting up every morning to come here is a bit exhausting?" You lean in close. "I was just thinking, isn't that a waste?"

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "How can that be? Especially when I get to see you every morning."

Your lovely eyes shine with affection. In the time he's spent with you, Clarence has come to realize that you're surprisingly easy to read. As they say, the eyes are the window to the soul—and you've never bothered to grab a curtain for those windows.

"But what if you could get to breakfast faster?" you propose, with all the energy of a merchant desperately trying to sell her wares. "What if there was a way to cut that time down to nothing? And—and! You could be spending that time doing more important things."

He pretends to think it over. "It would be nice to spend more time with you."

"Right?" Your hands curl into fists, your excitement leaving them vibrating in the air. "What if you moved in with me? Wouldn't that be—"

"Alright," Clarence agrees.

You blink at him. Multiple times. He waits patiently for you to process his words, passing the time by collecting the dishes and putting them away. When you start sputtering, he takes that to mean you're half way there.

"Just like that?" you finally manage to ask.

"Is that not what you want?" Tilting his head, Clarence pretends to be confused. "If you're not comfortab—"

"No!" You shoot up from your spot by the table immediately. Your stretched hand hangs frozen in the air, hoping to grab something on the other side of the room. "I mean, why don't we do it two…three days from now."

Awkwardness gives way to an endearing sort of confidence. Nodding your head, you cross your arms, as naturally as you can. As if you meant to do so all along. Stifling a laugh, he turns his back to you, distracting himself with the view outside your kitchen window.

"That sounds like a reasonable amount," he agrees.

Truthfully, he could move in today. It wouldn't be particularly difficult. But he elects to leave that for a later time, letting you enjoy your victory in peace.

"Great! I'll go prepare…" You pause. "Stuff. I'll go do that."

Five minutes later, he hears the sound of someone hitting the wall in her unending excitement.

STELLAN DOES NOT FANCY HIMSELF a meddler or a matchmaker, usually. He's content to watch idiots unwittingly walk to their doom—or, even better, their misery. Neither a conscience, nor any of moral qualification tend to have any say in what kind of entertainment he consumes.

Then, enter the idiot in front of him now.

You sit across from him, unaffected by the half-empty bowl of spicy noodles sitting in front of you. Its scent is enough to make him gag, but he's never been a quitter. He shoves a dumpling into his mouth and waits for you to drop your elegant façade.

That's not a word he ever expected to apply to an idiot like you, but bigger miracles have happened in the past couple of months. Namely, that you managed to rope a dragon on the verge of achieving the ultimate power into staying by your side in the mortal realm.

"Well, then," you start, clasping your hands together. "I guess it's time to talk business."

In attempting to fight back a sneer, he grimaces. "Well, out with it, Rat. I don't have all day."

You raise an eyebrow at him. Whatever retort you have for him, however, dies in your throat, as you go through the inane process of opening and shutting your mouth. Eventually, you decide that you have better things to do.

"Well, if you must know," you say proudly, "I'm getting married."

"Great," he answers blandly. "What does that have to do with me?"

Technically, it's plausible that he played a part in getting you to this point. He did, against his better judgement, seek out that dragon of yours and warn him of your plotting. It is something he hopes never to do again—one idiot is enough for him, especially when she's stupid enough to spend her years waiting for another idiot.

He was not worried about you.

The truth is, it's not satisfying to throw snark at you when you're half a person, wandering around the festivities like the dead. Coughing into his hand, he chases away those thoughts. Your smile widens, for some reason.

"What do you mean?" you inquire innocently. "I wouldn't have gotten this far without you!"

His grimace deepens. Oh boy, here it comes. You'll get the wrong idea and then you'll look at him with that annoyingly earnest look in your eyes and—

"I had to prove you wrong." Your grin grows smug. The words are enough to stop Stellan from cursing your dragon out. "You can't call me desperate anymore."

A snort escapes him.

"Yeah, yeah." The fox waves you off. "You're not desperate—you're unhinged. Make sure the food's good at the wedding."

He takes great glee in the way your lips twist into a scowl. All is right in the world.

— happy birthday, elisa! it's almost the end of your birthday, but i hope you enjoyed it!

[eccentrixazu]

I PRESENT EVERYONE MY MASTERPIECE, CROSS UNIVERSE SHIPS.

[paintersknife]

Simulacrum

Her face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up. It’s familiar somehow, but he can’t put his finger on it, as if the memory is shrouded in cobwebs, an old thing, desiccated and forgotten. (Where has he seen her? When has he seen her?)

“What’s your name?” she asks, but it’s clear that she isn’t really talking to him, judging by the way her hands reach out to grab his wrist, turning it to face her as she reads the serial number printed there. (Was that always there?)

“It’s Cl-” (It’s the one thing he knows.)

She cuts him off, dropping his hand as she reaches past him to pull out a thick manual from somewhere deeper in the pod, still refusing to look him in the eye. “03L-3103.”

There’s an expression on her face that he’s never seen before, but somehow it makes something deep inside of him hurt.

Setting herself down on the edge of the pod, she starts to flip through the book, leaving him in relative silence as he pushes himself up and out of it. She thinks that he doesn’t notice the small sob that she lets out while her face is obscured by the manual. (He does.)

“It says here that you have a memory chip and an emotion simulation module,” she says quietly after a time. Her voice is a little thick, as if she’s not used it in a while. “It also says that it might take a while for your memories to stabilise. So you should grab what you need and come with me. I can’t just leave you here.”

He goes with her, slowly shaking off the stiffness in his mechanical joints from being so long confined. It feels familiar as he walks with her and something buried deep within his memories stirs. (But was there always a distance between them like this?)

Fragments of recollections begin to coalesce in his mind, enough for him to know that they meant something to each other, once. It isn’t enough to make her look at him, isn’t enough to make him ask her about it.

Later while he’s helping to help her set up her camp, he catches her stealing glances at him with a faraway look in her eyes like she’s looking through him and at someone else. (Who is that expression meant for?)

“I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle as he possibly can. She looks away, guilt in her expression. (What does she have to be guilty about?)

The silence between them seems to stretch on forever.

“You aren’t him,” she says eventually, her voice cracking. “He’s dead. He’s long dead and you’re just a copy with his face.” (He’s always known. A perfect copy is still just a copy.)

Her face falls at the harshness of her own words, regret written all over her face as her eyes flick to the floor, as if she’s unable to keep looking at the face of the man she once loved. He doesn’t blame her, after all, he is merely an imitation of something original, a prime version, perfection in all its flaws and he knows he can never attain that purity. All he is to her is someone’s ghost. 

What is he to do then, with these memories that aren’t his? With these emotions that feel so vivid that he’s afraid his exoskeleton will burst apart, leaving him the empty shell that she sees him as? Are they even his at all, or are they just lines of code, written and encoded to give him some semblance of substance? Is he merely a collection of silicon and gold, assembled and produced, a puppet pulled by digital strings? If that’s so, where does that leave him?

Tears well up in her eyes, overflowing and streaking their way down her cheeks. It makes his chest ache, but it's such a beautiful sight to him despite that, worth encoding in his memory. Would she even cry for him like she would for the one that she lost? (Is he even worth her tears?)

He can’t help but think that the real Clarence wouldn’t even have these doubts. 

Gently he pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her when she doesn’t resist. She buries her face in his shoulder, finally letting herself grieve all that she’s lost, all that she’s found. He doesn't know how long their time together will last, but he'll love her as much as she will let him. (It’s what he would have done.)

[gepazu]

imagine the boys taking you on your first ever date … lars would be sure to recite everything he’d get you in the front of a mirror as he fixes himself up with a smile and sing-song pitch to his voice. would definitely give you a bouquet of roses with your favorites accentuating the deep greens and reds. he’ll pull a cheesy pickup line that makes you giggle a bit before smiling fondly, holding out his hand—and telling you how darling you look at this very moment <3 also.. if you look closely… you might see a type of longing in his eyes once you catch him staring at your hands and lips. you won’t tell him he got caught or something.. but you will kiss him on the cheek after your date and wave goodbye—not knowing the hand you’re waving with now loudly jingles with the keys to his heart <3.

clarence, on the other hand, would be the fidgety type—hands never seeming to pull his tie right (he almost choked because he didn’t realize he pulled too tightly). despite his stoic expression in front of his dress-mirror, his ears to his nape are flushed a cherry-blossom pink; breathing a bit erratic as he imagines the expression on your face when you seem him prim and proper at the cafe. would you smile? be amazed? be as fidgety as he is right no—wait, he wasn’t fidgety! he isn’t, he tells himself with a cough before looking at his watch, seeing his reflection in it, and groans inwardly. okay… maybe he is a bit flustered.. but it’s probably because it’s you he’s going out with. he’s utterly infatuated with you… and the problem is he wasn’t taught anything about love (until now—until you, that is) <3.

and cael.. oh cael. you’re heart is going to feel like bursting multiple times mid-date from his actions and antics! he knows you inside and out, having taken care of you after you were entrusted into his arms from a young age. despite having seen and known you for what feels like a sweet forevermore—his heart stills manages to spill all over you in some rare moments when your hand slips between his, lips covered with bits and pieces of cotton candy he can’t help but want to kiss to get a taste of you. his thoughts grab ahold of him and reel him in by the baited hook; leaning in to kiss the uplifted corner of your mouth. blue silver strands dawn down at your shoulders, a wave of stiffness and doe overcoming your entire body. a quiet apology snaps you out of your daze, the feeling of daylight dappling heated skin becoming a familiar kiss. you think the sudden apology was strange and out of place, but your fingers entangled with his wasn’t. it was right, and perhaps a silent word of “forgiveness” that the man was grateful for, truly. what else did he realize he felt truly? his growing love for you <3.

© GEPAZU 2023.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i feel like i should tag @lovebrushed bc she gave me the inspo for writing this (I AM SO SORRY IF U DONT LIKE THE TAG) (plus the fact there was indeed an x reader tag for lbc KBDKDHDKHD) so yea! take this as a sign of me joining the lovebrush chronicle writing fandom! KHSLSJSLSKAKS

[smudgedvolt]

I just need to get this off my chest, below contains cropped pics from the Paragons CN Spirit World profile intro thing just in case + me rambling and speculating about Spirit World related content:

(I apologize in advance if this isn't the easiest to read through, I've never really rambled here before.)

SO. If there's one world I keep looking forward to, it's Spirit World because there are just so many things that intrigue me. But other than the outfits and myths they seem to take inspiration for (which I may speak about some other time) each of the Paragons has a symbol attached to their intro profiles that relates to them in some way. Oddly enough, these symbols are missing from the JP and ENG versions of their profiles, and I can only wonder why.

Almost all the symbols have elements that are also present in their outfits/have meaning tied to themselves.

Here they are:

Lars' symbol, contains shapes that look like a rising sun + wings that tie into the jewelry he wears (very much related to Ancient Egypt)

Alkaid's is shaped like the head of a stag, with hornlike protrusions and most notably the star in the center that makes up the head shape.

Ayn's has flames (which are present around his body) and clawlike markings that tip-off to his wolf design (the design itself also does look a bit like a wolf head) There's also a Penrose triangle shape, but that's tied more closely to another version of himself...possibly for another time.

Clarence's contains feather-like shapes, dangly rectangular shapes with those circles behind it that are similar to the earrings he dons, but most importantly there's that serpent that snakes around into something of a figure 8. Infinity? He's frequently associated with the passage of time (wanting things moments to last forever, centuries of waiting etc)

But then there's Cael's, which initially stuck out to me as I was looking at these symbols because I could not pinpoint anything on his outfit or character that could possibly give me a hint as to what it was trying to show.

A circle with odd symbols and an X in the center?

Then I realized. Take a good look at this.

The Wheel of Fortune Tarot Card:

IT'S THE SAME THING. Albeit with some artistic liberties, but everything from the symbols on the outer side of the circle to the x shape is present.

So I immediately went to go check the meaning behind this card to see what this could mean. I'm no Tarot expert, so I will link the resources below so you can have a look for yourself:

UPRIGHT: Good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point

REVERSED: Bad luck, resistance to change, breaking cycles (From here)

Now, I can only imagine what will happen in Spirit World because I don't really like to spoil myself ahead of time. But if Cael becomes a Love Interest at this stage of the story, the upright meaning of this card would apply, and it really does fit him.

What I'm worried about is the meaning if you read it reversed. I wonder what will happen in this world, and what it could mean for MC and Cael, as well as the others.

I typed this all in one go and I feel like I could articulate myself better but I got too excited. If anyone is interested in more of my thoughts I could try to whip out some more things I've been sitting on.

[lovebrushed]

hi lovebrush chronicles community! this is a cry for help

would any of you guys mind helping me out with the content in the Fandom Wiki? i'm already in a discord server where people are working on the technical game aspects (event rewards, leveling up cards, etc.) but from what ik i'm pretty much the only person working on the actual descriptions for the wiki.

there's a lot of content i need to cover so pls! if any of you guys would be so kind to give me a hand it would be very much appreciated

feel free to send in an ask or dm me and we'll work from there

[clarenceposting]

One of my fave fave fave cards I love him bdhdhdjd

[dreamingpichu]

I've started writing and posting my Clay x Drayden fic Hidden in the Sand! It's on both my AO3 and my Quotev. Read it here:

Or here:

[chalkscene]

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ “I CAN HOLD THE WORLD IN MY HANDS”

how they react to you saying you can hold the world in your hands then gently cupping their face

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

note: reader’s cat’s name in alkaid’s drabble is set to beans which i named my mc’s cat because i forgot what the default name was djsjdjsja

just as you expected, you find AYN in the music room, practicing his piece for an upcoming school program. careful not to make any noise, you tread lightly to where he’s sat, slowly sliding into the already little space next to him on the piano bench. without pausing his hands above the keys, ayn scoots over to give you more room. soon he’s playing the last key of the composition and the moment the sound fades into silence, he lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. unable to find the right words that would seem helpful, you simply lift a hand to brush his locks, straightening a few flyaways and fixing his bangs before you cradle his face in your palms in comfort. for a moment, you wordlessly stare at ayn, taking in his stunning visage, and he doesn’t miss the abrupt quiet. “what is it?” he asks to which you answer playfully, “nothing. just holding the world in my hands.” the smallest of smiles adorns ayn’s features in an instant but not without a subtle eye roll. still, his crimson eyes turn into rubies as a gleam of affection flickers in his gaze. “you’re distracting me,” he replies in jest. you let go of him as you jokingly put your hands up in mock surrender, “please don’t call your bodyguards on me.” that coaxes a chuckle out of ayn, “tempting.” soon, you feel his arm snake around your waist as he pulls you closer and when you don’t inch away from him, he resumes his practice.

you and ALKAID are sat side by side on the couch as you watch beans and sparkles roughhousing in the middle of your living room. you don’t notice how much time has passed but it feels like the silence has gone for too long when you speak. “you’re an astronomy major,” you tell alkaid. “yes,” he confirms earnestly as if the information wasn’t already glaringly obvious. “can you hold the world in your hands?” you ask him quizzically. alkaid is clearly caught off guard by your odd question so without waiting for a response you know you’re not getting, you raise your hands and gently cup his cheeks, “i can.” alkaid gives you no response and you begin to think he’s put off by the cheesy gesture until a smile stretches across his face and he finally speaks. “so you’re saying i’m about…” he pauses briefly as he tries to recall a fact, “12,756 kilometers big.” there’s a hint of amusement in alkaid’s expression as he relays the information to you but you only knit your eyebrows in confusion so he continues with a sheepish grin, “that’s the size of the earth.” “of course.” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his sense of humor but you also find it incredibly endearing that you don’t bother to stifle the giggle that bubbles past your lips. alkaid laughs at your reaction, “what?” “only an astronomy major would say that.”

LARS invited you to spend the day with him at work—“i’m feeling lonely,” he said over the phone, the pout on his voice very audible on your end of the line that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. so here you both are, tangled up in each other’s embrace since the moment lars joined you on the couch in his office sometime during the afternoon. under the orange rays of the sunset passing through the glass walls of the room, his blue eyes shine more brightly than they already do and his blonde hair have turned golden. he looks ethereal like this. “something on my face?” his voice snaps you out of your reverie, smugness painted all over his visage. you realize he can tell you’ve been staring. earlier in the relationship, it would’ve flustered the hell out of you but now you simply mirror the expression on his face as you gently hold it in your palms and you’re immediately filled with pride when his breath hitches at your affection. “nothing,” you say with faux indifference, “just checking if i can hold the world in my hands.” lars’ ever so familiar cockiness dissolves from his features, instantly replaced by a loving look in his eyes, “well?” “i guess i can,” you murmur. the deep rumble of lars’ chuckle soon hits your ears then he’s pulling you close as a teasing smirk stretches across his face once more, “you are so in love with me.” and you don’t deny it. you lean further onto his chest as he tightens his hold on your body. against your cheek, you feel his heart pick up the pace and that tells you enough—lars rorschach is undoubtedly just as in love with you.

“knock knock,” you say as you poke your head through the door to the student council’s office and CLARENCE immediately turns to the sound of your voice. “hi,” you add with a grin that clarence returns—or tries to return rather. despite the softening of his gaze and the air of authority around him vanishing, it’s easy to notice the stress that has dampened his spirits. “hey,” he replies anyway. he invites you to join him at his desk and you gladly do, although carefully perching on the edge of the table. “everything okay, mr. president?” clarence huffs out a chuckle at the nickname before releasing an exasperated sigh. “what’s up?” you ask again and clarence answers this time. as an insignificant member of the student body, you only understand half of his student council worries—one of them being this year’s stellaris cup not having enough participants. “what if i join?” you suggest and clarence can immediately sense the halfheartedness in your tone. “you’d do that?” he asks dubiously, the corner of his lips now quirked up as he prepares to call you out on your bullshit. maybe you are just attempting to cheer him up but it’s the thought that counts. “i would,” you retort as you get on your feet with theatrical confidence, “for my first trick, i will hold the world in my hands.” clarence raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t interrupt so you walk around his desk until you’re standing in front of him. when your hands softly land on his face, he’s quick to understand what you mean and in your grip, he shakes his head in amusement but a subtle blush now dusts his cheeks. “that’s a winning talent if you ask me,” you jest. that earns you a laugh from clarence as he jokingly agrees, “it is.” in the same instance, you feel him lean further into your touch, closing his eyes as he basks in it then he sighs in pleasure.

[cyanpromise]

cuties ;w;

[kindred-sims]

Not long after Carrie had left, it was Henry’s turn to begin his own venture into adulthood. With the blowing of candles, he turned eighteen – no longer the small, shy boy he once was, but an eager young man ready to experience the world and all it had to offer.

As Mr. Clayden had advised him, he wasted no time in sending in an application to the University of Britechester. His former teacher had been happy to give him a letter of reference, and Henry had also taken the liberty to send in a few samples of his writing to further boost his chances of being accepted.

All that was left to do was wait...

[romance-rambles]

HOW THE BOYS PLAY LUDO WITH EACH OTHER AND YOU

rules of the game: the goal is to have your four tokens inside the your columns. your opponents can impede your progress by stepping onto the same square as you and sending you back to the homebase ("blocking"). in some variations, two dices may be used, and rules can differ even between related families—for example, getting another turn after blocking a token or after getting your own to homebase. it can accomodate only four solo players.

— pairing: [mostly platonic] modern-day love interests & little painter/you

— word count: 977

— tags: none

— author's note: it brings me great joy that ludo is an actual activity in the itinerary. for me, ludo has always been what monopoly is to other people—breaker of bonds, with at least one person liable to flip over the board. i have no idea if someone else has done this before, but enjoy!

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

would not harm anyone unless backed into a corner; alkaid

Alkaid is perhaps the most civilized player at the table. Even as the rest of his companions holler for him to block someone's advance, he will always choose the less bloody option, unless it is the only move he can make or if someone's win [not you] is all but guaranteed and everyone else is indisposed of at the moment.

He will always apologize as he offers the loser their token back, and gracefully accepts his own losses with a smile. His preference for teaming up is with you, and his second most common team up is Clarence. He believes yellow is his lucky color, as he often ends up on the board before his peers—though he usually sabotages the wins that are handed to him on a platter.

Most often, he lets Clarence explain his options for a turn and decides his choice based on what is most beneficial for you. This often results in Lars having to physically restrain himself from bashing his head into the table, since Alkaid's playstyle is in direct opposition of his.

knows which tokens are on the chopping block, only makes use of that knowledge if it can earn him another roll; ayn

Ayn is a very competitive player. He has his next moves decided before the dice are handed over to him, and can quickly recalculate his next actions if the roll is suboptimal. Mercy is not a word present in his vocabulary—if he notices an opening, he will make use of it, especially if it's against you, often resulting in almost everyone banding against him. However, he's already against everyone, so it doesn't bother him.

He doesn't like teaming up with people, but he does demand a game of having you on his team on occasion for "fairness". He also often complains about how long you and Alkaid take in terms of deciding how to move due to his own speed—and he's absolutely a sore loser, particularly if first place went to Lars.

His preferred color is red, and he often has some of the best luck—and often the worst, as he remains the only person to successfully get three rolls of double sixes more than once, which constitutes the end of his turn without any movement on his part.

self-sufficient and absolutely ruthless, often goes easy on you; cael

Cael can be accurately described as a mix of Alkaid and Ayn. He enjoys blocking tokens whenever he can, but unlike Ayn, he enjoys taunting his opponents and he refuses to touch your team whenever possible. Often times, like Alkaid, he has to be consoled if he ends up going against you—though his intentions are decidedly less pure.

His preference is to be paired with you whenever possible, but he often ends up paired with Lars—which you find morbidly funny. Like Godheim, they often clash due to their opposing stances. If the token in their way belongs to you, Ayn often adds them to his hitlist because they take up quite a bit of time in bickering over their next move.

His preferred color is blue. He is usually never the first person to come onto the board, but he is also never the last part—which is a distinction that usually falls on you. However, he often has bouts of bad luck where he ends up with suboptimal rolls at the start and end of the game.

often takes the time to help other players [mostly you and Alkaid], just happy to hang out with friends; clarence

Clarence is an absolute sweetheart and actually a decent player. He could absolutely take the troublesome trio [Ayn, Cael, Lars] on, and does so whenever you and Alkaid hang back. But he often encourages you and Alkaid to block his tokens and often hands out the best moves without requiring anything in return—and Lars often teases him for it.

He's most often left with the color green, as all the other choices are always taken. Often, he pairs up with you or Alkaid, which Ayn encourages as it greatly speeds up the game. Among the group, he also has the distinction of being the only one who gets sad if he doesn't end up in a team, so Lars will sometimes give up his favorite spot to hang out with him.

The first time everyone played together, there were a few minor arguments about the ruleset since everyone grew up playing it differently. As he was the one who led them all to create a rulebook that still gets periodically updated, he's often the referee during any minor disputes—often caused by Ayn or Cael, who are quick to roll their dice on their turn, even if someone else has just barely finished their move. He values Lars' counsel during these moments.

self-sufficient, but enjoys pointing out the many ways in which someone can block a token; lars

Lars is chaos incarnate. If the table is yelling and screaming, he's having the time of his life. He's aware of the tokens on the board at all times and often uses that information to inform others of an optimal move—which often puts him on Ayn's hitlist since he ends up ruining Ayn's plans. Like Ayn, he always has his next moves prepared ahead of time and he often bargains when he is either asked to show mercy or offers it himself [usually to you, but sometimes, he takes pity on Alkaid and Clarence too].

He has the most variable luck among everyone. Sometimes, his run will be smooth sailing, and other times, he will have to carefully claw his way to victory with ones and twos. Despite that, he's often competing with Ayn and Cael for first, while everyone else prepares themselves for a poor showing. Very often, he's the one to suggest continuing the game until everyone has their own placements as he just enjoys the chaos.

His preferred color is also blue, hence why he often ends up paired with Cael. He rarely pairs up with you, mostly because he's the only person on the table capable of inciting a true competitive response from you—as opposed to a desire to merely keep up, like with Ayn or Cael.