#drawn without the breastplate

[notthatcount]

Quick and goofy Arthur and John (and alexander) cooldown from the newest Malevolent ep~

[comicaurora]

This is probably a weird question, but what are some tips you could give on character design? I've been trying to feel confident with my own designs, but they feel kind of bland... what kinds of things would you suggest to help make designs stand out more?

Hoo boy. Hm. I feel like I am not the right person to ask about this because objectively I do almost nothing you're "supposed" to, but if it's working I guess that means I might be onto something?

A lot of my design considerations are practical. I don't want to give anybody a design that's going to be a nightmare to draw over and over again. I've done enough commissions in my time to know when somebody is overdesigned and therefore hugely annoying to draw, and that's a no-no. So I tend to stick with simple patterns at most, not too many layers, no need for five million belts, no need for incredibly intricate hairstyles, etc. This is a practical consideration for the medium of comic art, but other mediums have different considerations - 3D-modeled art, for instance, can overdesign the characters as much as they want because they only need to model them once, and a lot of visual novel characters are limited to a very small handful of poses and some interchangeable expressions, meaning it isn't prohibitively complicated to make them a little Extra. The most time-consuming and frustrating commissions I've ever done were for characters who were frankly never designed to be drawn more than once. A quick sampling of highlights for the design features I swore to myself I would never deal with again-

So on a basic level, if you're designing a character to draw over and over again, it needs to be something you're willing and able to draw over again. Intricate patterns, a lot of interlocking plates, anything with lace - those are all things I try to avoid.

I've often seen the advice that character silhouettes should be super visually distinct, that characters should be very strongly shaped like different things. I think that's great if your style is that flexible, but if you kind of want everybody to be shaped like a human being with a skeleton, this advice is not very useful.

I think a diversity of body shapes is great, but the style I favor requires the anatomy to at least sort of makes sense, which means while there can still be a lot of variation in the distribution of muscle and fat, everyone's bones are gonna be in roughly the same place. I can't just draw a square and fill it with a dude. So instead I try and distinguish my character silhouettes in other ways.

Everyone's hair is different, and because most characters have big hair, this plays a large part in their silhouette. Falst and Erin both have short hair, but Falst's is a bristling mane while Erin's is usually more swept and soft-looking. Dainix and Kendal both have long hair, but even when Dainix's hair is loose it doesn't hang or flow the same way Kendal's does - it gets in the way, drapes in front of his face and overall doesn't move the same. Alinua's hair is bouncy curls. On top of that, everyone's outfits are fairly simple, but no two of them are exactly the same - Erin has a monopoly on poofy sleeves, Kendal has cuffed boots and the back-slung sword, Dainix has the poncho and the poofier pants, Alinua has the v-neck top with slightly pauldron-y shoulders and the slippers, Falst's clothing is ragged at the edges, etc. Even without getting into their distinct color palettes, everyone's at least a little bit distinct.

And this is another place where I purposefully try to avoid overdesigning. If everyone has too much going on it can circle around to being hard to tell the characters apart, because too much is happening. Who can pay attention to the fact that one character is sleeveless and one has asymmetrical boots and one has a mullet when everybody is wearing eight layers of embroidered fabric with four belts and half a breastplate on top?

Avoiding same-face is hard, and I'm not very good at it. But I do try to make sure everyone's face shape, nose and eyes are at least slightly different from everyone else's. It might not show from a distance and it might not be as extreme as a pixar design sheet, but it's something.

Ultimately the main consideration I keep in mind when designing characters is - perhaps a bit redundantly - their character. Who they are as people, and how that will impact the way they look. Everybody stands differently, and shifts their weight differently when a situation is changing.

Despite both being short, lightweight guys with short hair, Falst and Erin are wildly different people and are not going to dress the same, make the same facial expressions or hold themselves the same way. Despite both being tall, long-haired, generally friendly warrior badasses, Kendal and Dainix carry themselves very differently and react to things in very distinct ways. Tess and Erin have the exact same haircut and nobody noticed for ages because of everything else.

The designs aren't complicated, and compared to some, they aren't even that distinct. But I try to make sure that their personality is visible in every aspect of their design. Every "why?" in their design has an in-character answer, and since they're all quite different on the inside, keeping things simple means that starts showing through on the outside.

This is also how I can visually distinguish between Vash and Kendal, who have the exact same body and clothes.

we can never underestimate the importance of ✨body language✨

[zoeysdamn]

||The Witcher tarot | The Moon | Milva Barring||

[Other cards of the Witcher tarot can be found here and on my Instagram art account]

[DO NOT REPOST OR REUSE WITHOUT LEGAL AND EXPLICIT AUTHORIZATION]

When drawn upward, the moon card isn’t really optimistic: fear, anxiety, risk, confusion. But it’s also all about overcoming all of that when picked downright. Those meanings and the general, more classical imagery of the moon led me pretty obviously to Milva. The Moon is historically associated with femininity and the Greek huntress goddess Artemis, famous for her fearlessness and archery skills, no one could have fitted the role better than Milva. She’s probably my favourite character in the whole Witcher Universe (with Regis). I mostly got the outfit inspiration from her Gwent card, and also added some amazon-like elements like the half-leather/half-steel breastplate or the forearm protection. I really wanted to give her that ancient Greece female warrior vibe, because she’s the modern amazon and Artemis of the Witcher ; not only because of her bow and arrows, but also because of how she fights for herself against men’s violence, and the power over her own body (if you know, you know). I love her so much * sob *

[trivial-writing]

I realize I completely forgot my Voltron rewrite. Well, I think it’s time to talk about it.

The series starts off exactly how it does in episode one. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk fail their flying exam. They find Keith and Shiro. Keith asks the who are you question to Lance because that was funny, and we’re on our way to discover the Blue Lion just like in the original.

The cave’s carvings glow with an ominous blue light, and the water around them starts to rise. Shiro comments on the phenomenon like, “that’s not something you get to experience everyday.” before he commands everyone to get closer for safety. The water rises above their heads, but there is a path of dry land leading them to the Blue Lion.

Keith takes a quick look over to Lance because Lance is moving from side to side and bumps into Keith. Keith asks him what he’s doing. To which Lance repeats the dropout insult again. The Blue Lion is towering over the five. Keith tries to touch the force field around Blue, but Lance gets to it first.

Then, all of a sudden, the force field disappears. Everyone is sent back except for Lance. The Blue Lion leans to Lance’s level. Lance sees a vision of the Blue Lion demolishing an entire army of purple space crafts, using ice and sound waves along with the usual Lion arsenal.

Lance is taken aback, so much so that he falls butt to the ground. Shiro tries to grab him before he falls, but Shiro’s too late. Lance takes a few seconds to just look at the Lion awestruck before shaking his head.

“Woah, that was amazing.” Lance says. He walks toward the machine? The animal? What exactly is this thing?

Pidge tries to get Lance to say something about what he saw. Lance doesn’t answer. All he does is step forward. The Blue Lion opens its mouth, and Lance doesn’t listen to Shiro’s demands to stay away. Lance says that he feels drawn to this–this thing.

Inside the marvel, Lance discovers a pilot seat in an upper level. Lance walks forward and takes notice to the armor in a chamber thing. He doesn’t know why, but Lance wants to wear it for some reason. Well, that’s a lie. He knows exactly why he wants to wear it. It looks cool! Lance takes the armor. He immediately drops the helmet when Keith yells at him to put it back. Lance does it anyways because he’s not gonna let some dropout, let alone Keith, tell him what to do! Lance tries to grab the breastplate, but somehow he can’t. Lance tries his beat to grab it to no avail.

Shiro walks in reprimanding Keith and Lance for taking so long, but Lance nonchalantly tells Shiro that he’s got it all under cover. Besides, if something does go wrong, it’s probably Keith’s fault. Keith rolls his eyes before Pidge and Hunk both climb up the stairs and rush over to the armor in awe. Keith wanders around alone for a bit, going up to the pilot’s chair. Keith sits on the chair before Shiro tells him to get out. Lance rushes over to the Pilot area yelling and pointing at Keith on his chest, telling him the cool Lion thing is his, so he can back off! Keith backs off with his hands up in the air like he’s at gun point. Lance grabs the piloting reigns to Shiro’s dismay, and he hears the voice of someone, telling him to trust in the Lion; it will help you with your quest. Lance gets excited and starts piloting the Lion like a mad man.

Keith says “you are the worst pilot ever” line.

Lance continues to now everyone’s protests. The Blue Lion now flies on its own without Lance’s control. Shiro isn’t having any of it though. He tells everyone to be on guard, but Lance says why should he if they’re having this much fun. Shiro explains how he wants everyone safe unlike what happened in Kerberos. Pidge seems to be on edge about this since they avert their eyes to the ground.

The Blue Lion flies all the way over to a volcanic planet. Along the way, the five meet with the mysterious purple space crafts, and Shiro’s eyes widen. He tells Lance to drive them to safety, but the Blue Lion won’t let them. Lance tries to gain control, but the voice returns, telling him to keep trust, and the Lion will keep him safe. Lance has no choice but to listen.

All the while Keith pays close attention to the color of the ships. He takes his knife out, and analyzes it for a moment. Hunk asks what the knife is for, Keith says nothing. Hunk doesn’t budge any further, but gives Keith a suspicious look. I imagine a funny sound effect with it, and Keith just looks a bit nervous.

When the Blue Lion lands, the ground is sprinkled with scrap metals of the interiors of the purple ships. The containment chamber of the armor lifts open, and Lance gets excited. He jumps over to the lower deck and grabs the shin guards and the pads for his thighs, front and back. The front pads on his thighs have a hard material that’s blue. The rest of the group looks away because Lance took off his pants and shirt to put on the under layer of the armor.

Keith sighs tiredly before trying to open the mouth stairway. Lance walks up to him in full gear.

“Watch and learn, dropout, let me show you how a real pilot opens this door.” Lance fails to open the mouth. His face deflates, and Pidge and Hunk laugh. Hunk presses a button to the side of the wall. “Yeah, that’s totally what I meant to do. I was just showing you what not to do. Yeah. Yeah…”

Keith cracks a smile and chuckles for bit before Pidge yells at Keith to not go out. Keith turns around with an aggressive face. He’s not angry, he’s just surprised. Why should he wait? They’re fine. They have a literal battle space craft with a mind of its own! They’re gonna be fine! Keith gets his arm free from Shiro’s grasp, who had earlier grabbed on to him urging him to stay where it’s safe.

Keith doesn’t listen, and he walks off. The mouth of the Blue Lion shuts, and Keith is left to explore the barren wasteland planet on his own. Keith runs into a few problems though. 1) he has no idea what he’s doing, 2) he has no idea why he’s going in this specific direction, and 3) he has no one around him to watch his back. He slightly curses to himself when he runs into these purple robots with what looks to be guns. Keith scrambles out of the way, hiding behind some rubble or a rock or something in the area to hide behind. He peaks his head from the cover to see one of the robots holding someone. They look humanoid, but they have blue skin.

That’s weird. Keith carefully examines the seemingly hostage person? Animal? Life form be carried off into a towering structure. Keith watches the group as they march past him. From the behind, Keith spots the blue alien having a knife similar to hos. Keith’s eyes widen. He takes a moment to think. Could he–no that’s impossible. He’s a human not a–not an alien. He turns around to find he’s at gunpoint with a humanoid purple–well, what did he expect there to be in space? Keith finds a purple humanoid alien with animal-like ears, almost resembling wolves’ ears. They’re long and act just like that of a wolf’s. Keith puts his attention to the weapon–what he assumes to be like a gun–then back at his attacker. Keith fumbles with his words and panics. He tries to leg it, but the alien has friends. Two robots appear out of no where and take aim at Keith.

Great work, Kogane. Keith grabs his knife and starts going on the defensive before he realizes he is clearly out-numbered and out-matched. When he does realize this, Keith runs away. He doesn’t notice he runs right past the Blue Lion while he’s in hot pursuit of these aggressive purple aliens.

The screen cuts to inside the Blue Lion where Lance spazzes out, and his legs immediately get off the control panel. Pidge rolls their eyes and says finally. Hunk and Shiro are currently watching the chase as Keith tries to block the energy bullets with his knife to quick success.

“We have to get out there and help him.”

Lance spazzes out again. “We can’t go out there! If we go out there, they’ll kill us. Besides, I’m sure Keith’s got it all under control.”

Pidge disagrees. “We can’t let him die out there, Lance! Keith needs us!” In the background Shiro is nodding and looks proud (space dad cough cough).

“Well, what do you think we should do out there? They have their gun things while we have nothing. We’re stuck in here! We’ve already tried getting out of here a billion times. Even if Lance is now the pilot of this–this thing–we can’t out of here and help him.” Hunk says (there is no yellow text and I’m saving that for the gorgeous man himself thank you very much).

“Hunk is right. Even if we do want to help Keith, we can’t because this thing won’t open.”

“Well, Shiro, what do you think you should do?” Lance is deflated and slouches deep in the pilot’s seat. Shiro’s eyes are narrowed slightly. His finger is to his lips. He hums with a somewhat deep voice.

“I guess we’re helpless in this situation and all we can really do is watch and pray that Keith doesn’t get killed.” (I’m not making this religious at all; I’m just trying to think of the most Shiro-like dialogue I can think of because admittedly, his character is kinda hard for me to emulate).

Hunk Lance and Pidge look on defeated. Keith is managing to do well, but at some point his luck will run out. For some inexplicable reason, the robots fall back, and Keith is left alone. He sees another group of robots, this time they’re in unison marching as if they’re in the military. That’s a bit weird. Keith gets up to fight aince they’re going to shoot at him, right? But the lazer bullets never go off. The marching continues.

Keith shrugs and carries on. He spots the Blue Lion and goes inside. There, he’s met with a big hug from Hunk and smiles awkwardly. Keith can barely breathe and he feels like his bones will shatter at any moment, but he… kind of… likes it? His gaze wanders off to look at Pidge and Shiro’s relieved smiles, and Lance is smiling too. Keith smirks.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be here.”

“Well–yeah–but I don’t want you to die!”

Keith teases Lance for a bit, and Hunk is just happy that everyone’s safe. Pidge tells Hunk that he should probably let Keith go, or at least stop squeezing so hard, to which he does. Keith doesn’t realize how air-deprived he is until Hunk lets him down. Keith almost falls over if it weren’t for Shiro grabbing him from behind.

Shiro’s face is angry, but he softens and gives Keith a reassuring smile (space dad cough cough). Shiro redirects his attention back to the squad, and tells them that they have to go back, but

Keith refuses, saying that the moment he stepped on the planet, he felt the same energy that drew him to the Blue Lion here, but it was stronger.

“I-It was like something pulled me over there. We have to find it.”

Shiro declines the proposition, but Keith and Hunk and Pidge aren’t having it. Lance sides with Shiro on this one.

“But if what Keith’s saying is right, then we should go there! What if there are other technological wonders like this thing here!? This would be a great discovery!”

“Yeah. And besides, we’ll probably have more fire power to fight those crazy ships out there.”

Shiro sighs.

“I don’t know guys, but I think Shiro’s right.”

Shiro gives a subtle smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m as excited as you, but I think Shiro’s right. He’s the only one out of the five of us who’s gone to space, let alone dealt with those–things–out there. I think we should go back.”

“Well–I’m going with Keith. C’mon Mr. Mullet, we’re going to find whatever it is that’s pulling you over to it.”

Keith is practically dragged by Pidge to find whatever it is that’s also dragging him out. Keith leaves with Pidge while Lance is trying to get them back inside. Shiro puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder and tells him that they’ll be fine.

Keith almost trips over Pidge, trying to find his footing while he’s getting pulled by the jacket collar. Pidge is mumbling to themself about Shiro not understanding anything. Two words catch Keith’s attention: dad and Matt. Keith urges Pidge to let him go, and they comply. Keith straightens up his jacket and stretches his back. He guides Pidge to where he’s being drawn to because they went too far. Pidge apologizes for this, but Keith shrugs.

They walk for a bit, and this should be a fade transition to a tunnel to a volcano. Keith looks inside, and there’s a Red Lion at the end of a long tunnel.

Bingo! Time to get inside. Keith runs to the Lion in excitement. Wait ‘til that one blue jerk finds out he has a lion now too.

“Wait!”

Keith turns around.

“This is an active volcano. I think we should get out of here.”

Keith brushes the warning off. He continues to walk forward. Just like on Earth, the carvings on the wall start to glow, but this time it’s red. It’s hard to see when the rest of the room is red.

Pidge stumbles, trying to catch up with Keith. They grab on to Keith’s arm in fear, begging him to turn around as they feel the ground start to get hotter. Not to mention this planet feels a lot less inhabitable than Earth. It’s kind of hard to breathe here.

Keith continues on. He comes to a complete stop when he feels a violent shake. He instantly grabs Pidge and runs for it. Basically running at the speed of light to the silhouette of a machine the air is getting hard to breathe now for Keith, so he can only imagine what Pidge is dealing with right now. Keith touches the force field, but it doesn’t budge. Keith growls.

“Open up, you big cat.”

No answer. Keith inhales sharply, he feels Pidge’s breath getting weaker and weaker by the minute. Keith is snarling at this point. If this thing doesn’t open, he–too late to turn back now. The ground is starting to rumble, and Keith feels the heat rising. He takes a look over the edge of the cliff. Lava is rising and fast.

“It’s me, Keith. I’m here to pilot you–ugh–I need you to open up for my friend.”

Keith looks over ledge. His eyes widen. That lava is getting really close right now.

“Open up. Now!”

The Lion doesn’t budge. Keith doesn’t need to look over the ledge, the lave is climbing up quickly. Keith trades looks over to Pidge and the Lion. He decides to run out of the way, and he runs fast. Pidge is probably on their way to their deathbed right now, and it’s all his fault. Keith better run quick or else. Keith hears and feels the rumbling, barely able to keep balance. He falls to the ground with Pidge out of his grasp. He takes a moment to register. He sees the lava rushing like a tidal wave. Keith rolls to Pidge’s side, covering them from the heat. He prepares for death and tells–what he assumes–a probably dead Pidge sorry. He closes his eyes, feeling heat get closer and clonser until the temperature returns to normal.

Keith opens his eyes. He’s inside the lion. He sighs in relief and attempts to give Pidge mout to mouth, but they wake up. Keith is relieved and supports Pidge when they sit up.

“K-Keith? Whe-Where are we? A-are we back with Lance and Hunk and Shiro?”

Keith lets out a good long sigh of relief.

“We’re alive. We’re in the Red Lion.”

Pidge’s eyes light up. While Keith picks them up and carries them to sit with him on the pilot’s seat. Keith maneuvers the Red Lion like a natural. Pidge smiles weakly before returning unconscious. The Red Lion is shown to be way more agile than the Blue Lion. Keith hears a voice tell him he’s a natural at piloting, but that’ll only get him so far. He’ll have to show skill and a certain spirit to gain the trust of the Lion, and the the Lion its. Keith takes up the challenge and flaunts off his skill. The voice gives an analytic hum while Keith maneuvers out of the volcano.

Lance, Shiro, and Hunk await, worried. There’s a volcano erupting in the direction where Pidge and Kieth headed to! Hunk is pacing around, spilling out his worries. Lance is sitting in his pilot’s seat groaning. Shiro is just silently stressing. These are his just kids they shouldn’t have to worry about this. Shiro’s thoughts are immediately interrupted when a Red Lion like the one they’re in flies out of the volcano’s mouth. Lance stands up, and tells Hunk to come see. Hunk runs up and sees the Red Lion rolling and shooting lazers, destroying debris from the sky while flying toward them. Lance yells (a very manly yell, mind you).

“Ah, they’re alive!”

“Great work, Keith. Great work.” (Cough cough Space dad)

“Hey, there. ‘You sure I’m just some Garrison dropout?”

Lance shakes his head.

“Wha-what?! I want a Red one!”

“Well, sorry. Have to get one faster than that.”

Lance grumbles. Blue and Red roar together and fly off to the stars. Red actually splits up with Blue, and Shiro panics (i don’t think I have to say it).

Lance and Hunk arrive at a very rocky planet. I don’t know adjectives and it’s like 11:00 at the time of writing this okay?

“Um, Lance–I–“

“Oh no. Hunk, not again.”

“Oh no, I don’t have to throw up. I feel like there’s something calling me. Like…”

“Like a magnet is tugging on you?”

“Yeah! How did you–“

Lance gives him a look. Okay. It seems like Lance knows already. Oh yeah! That probably means Hunk os getting a Lion. Ooh. What if it has a kitchen? Oh! What if it has an infinity fridge! All of sudden Hunk is drooling.

“Is he okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s just thinking of food. Don’t worry this happens a lot.”

Blue flies down and lands near a mine. The mine doesn’t look technologically advanced at all, but it’s clearly not man-made. Lance opens the Lion’s mouth, and he tells Hunk that the Blue Lion told him there’s an all you can eat buffet where the Lion is. That gets Hunk going immediately. Man, Hunk didn’t know how hungry he was. Space really takes it out of you. Hunk sees a broken down minecart system and fixes it with the broken wires. He immediately ducks under a shower of lazer bullets rain after him. Hunk messes with the control panel until the minecart races at lightning speeds. The carvings glow a warm yellow that reminds Hunk of his home. Home… He wonders if he can go home right after.

Hunk sees the end of the track. The rain of lazers have stopped completely. Wonder where they went now…Eh, it’s not that big of a deal. The Yellow Lion looks down at him. It opens itself up to Hunk almost as soon as Hunk touches the cave floors and sweeps him up into its mouth. Hunk runs around to see if there’s any food on board. To his dismay, there isn’t any. Hunk turns to pilot the gentle beast. A kind warm voice tells him that the Yellow Lion feels the needs of others, and its Blue bretheren is in trouble. Hunk realizes that Lance and Shiro are in trouble, but along the way, Hunk meets a family of mole aliens. Hunk decides to take a small pit stop to carry the aliens to the other side of the ravine the minecart rode over. The aliens perform a dance as thanks, and Hunk is off to block explosive projectiles that are locked on to the Blue Lion. Inside Shiro is covering Lance from getting hurt. Luckily, Hunk emerges from the ground.

Pidge and Keith walk around a jungle. A sloth-like alien beckon them to follow. Keith looks to Pidge since they say they probably feel a lion. Pidge follows since the sloth looks nice, and the direction is toward the source of the energy.

The sloth rows Pidge and Keith to a temple covered in moss. The surrounding part of the huge jungle, spanning across the whole planet is decayed. When Pidge saw the planet when they woke up, it looked like a scar over the lush green. Pidge couldn’t help but feel their heart strings pluck. When they walk across the bleak black ashes and remains of what used to be the most lush part of the jungle, the trees start rejuvenating. The tall, almost cedar-like, trees grow a canopy of leaves over head. The peeking sunlight shows similar patterns of the carvings of the Red and Blue Lions’ carvings. The bark of the trees also glow a vibrant green, showing the carvings like every other Lion so far. Pidge watches in amazement. They don’t normally like nature all that much, but this is something they can’t ignore. Running up a trail, Pidge finds a large tree with a hole in it, showing the Green Lion. Keith gives Pidge a slight push on the back. Pidge’s eyes slightly glisten. The camera is in Pidge’s point of view where a vision of Matt pushing them to present a project shifts into Keith pushing Pidge now. Keith and Matt’s smiles and face shape are sort of similar in this shot, and the scene has a green tinted border with the frames of Pidge’s glasses in this scene. The camera is on Pidge’s lower face. A singular tear runs down their chin and falls. The camera pans up to Pidge’s mouth. A smile widens while Pidge’s body stiffens. Pidge’s eyes are revealed. It’s a look of determination. Pidge nods, but before they go, they hug Keith, thanking him. Keith doesn’t really know what he did, but he’s glad for helping. Pidge runs to climb the tree, only to discover a vine hanging down from a tall brach. The vine looks strong enough to hold Pidge while they climb the tree, but Pidge has another idea.

Knowing their lack of physical stanima, Pidge enlists Keith’s help to climb to grab the other end of the vine. Pidge grabs on to the vine and gives Keith a thumbs up. Keith kicks off of the tree while Pidge ascends to the level of the hole. Pidge then swings themself to the hole, and fails the landing. Pidge doesn’t care how hurt they are and runs to the lion. The Green Lion doesn’t open right away. Pidge hums.

Why isn’t this thing opening? It did for Lance. They don’t know about Keith, but Pidge is sure Keith opened his Lion right away. Pidge takes their time to analyze the machine. They rralize the Lion seems to be staring at something in the distance. Pidge looks over to that direction. The remains of a pulley system lay there, and many aliens look to Pidge. They din’t know why, but Pidge feels the aliens’ pleas for help in just their eyes. Pidge agrees to help, and they create an electrical pulley system that is much faster than the old one. The aliens are happy, and the Green Lion scoops Pidge up. Pidge hears a feminine voice telling Pidge the Green Lion sees their intelligence and creativity. That is what the Green Paladin is for. This is when Paladin is dropped. Pidge is confused. Paladin? What does this thing mean by Paladin?

Pidge goes outside to see the Red Lion in trouble. The voice tells Pidge as the Green Paladin, and the left arm of Voltron, they must be able to think creatively while also thinking logically. Pidge nods and grabs the reins to help Keith out. Pidge uses the Green Lion’s color as an advantage to attack the ships while the enemy is focussed on Keith. One of the ships catch on to this, but the Red Lion lazers the purple ship. Keith congratulates Pidge, and the Lions fly off to the stars once again.

The four lions meet up at this foreign planet. It looks much like earth, but Pidge notes the surrounding constellations are missing. Lance comments on the fact that there are two moons on this planet, while Keith points out how the star of this planet isn’t their sun. Hunk agrees, and says they haven’t passed the asteroid belts surrounding their Solar System. The Lions descend to a plateau on the planet and drop off their pilots and Shiro.

“Okay, team. Keep a look out for any aliens here.”

They all nod, but they immediately dismiss Shiro’s instruction when they find this palace of sorts. The four walk toward it. Shiro looks to the lions. The lions have flown into the building through the spires in the cardinal directions. Shiro hears a voice, and he gets a traumatic flashback. The voice is deep and grumbling. The four Paladins turn to look at Shiro, concern written in their faces. Shiro tells them he’ll be fine. Keith gives him a sorrowful look while Pidge’s concern rises. However they may feel, the Paladins enter the building.

The scene plays out just like in the original. The lights flash a turquoise color. All of the lights have pink under them with subtle purple hints with them. The walls are white with a tint of blue purple and pink. The four enter a lounge room with a couch around a table. The so far chosen Paladins are drawn to the hallways that are color coded according to their Lion. The hallways have three doorways, excluding the entry way. The Paladins don’t run off though. They stick with Shiro.

When they enter a large room, Lance comments on the architecture, saying how it looks like a throne room. Hunk agrees. Keith asks how so, and Pidge rolls their eyes. They explain to Keith that anyone with a brain can see that, also Hunk and Lance’s fathers are co-workers in the architecture industry. Shiro stops any further bickering that will ensue. They meet Coran and Allura sort of the same way as they did in the og show, but Allura breaks down crying in Corans arms instead. She observes the time, and you already know the rest.

Coran asks if she feels the Lions, and Allura closes her eyes. The camera spins around her as the background changes to a more astral plane. The lions roar as they look to Allura. Visuals of Keith, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance are shown in front of each respective Lion. The camera snaps to Allura’s face. Her eyes widen. She asks about the Black Lion to see a faint image of what looks to be Shiro. The image is fuzzy and glitches. The Black Lion before her is also glitching. The heartbreak on Allura’s face is obvious. The Black Lion is beat up. Dents surround the whole thing. The image of what seems to be Shiro starts to glitch into a hulking figure with yellow eyes. Allura is terrified. She steps back. She shakes her head. Under her whimpering breath, Zarkon is mentioned. The figure smiles. Allura reaches her hand behind her. She feels a body behind her. She looks up to see Coran, concerned.

“What did you see, Princess?”

“T-the Lions are here. All of them. All but one.”

She announces the Paladin status proudly and watches the humans reactions. Coran pulls her into a hug before Shiro speaks up.

“How can we trust you? We just got here, and you expect us to listen to you?”

The four are confused. Allura stays firm.

“Listen, I know this is all new to you. I understand, but–”

“No you don’t understand. We’re leaving. We can’t get ourselves involved in your space war. Leave us out of it.”

Allura tries to reason with Shiro. She uses her planet’s destruction as leverage. Shiro is bent on going home. Allura and Shiro have a back and forth. Allura is trying to convince Shiro to stay while Shiro is reasoning that he and his party should leave.

As for the other Paladins, they have their own opinions. Hunk saw what the Galra did to those mole aliens. He wants to go home, yes, but he knows if he goes home, he’ll have to carry the guilt of knowing he could have saved many lives. While Allura is convincing Shiro, Hunk listens to the terrible Galra Empire’s doings and decides to stay.

Pidge is hell bent on finding Matt and their dad. They aren’t leaving. This Paladin thing may be the only way to find them. They aren’t going to turn their back on their family. Matt and Father could be suffering right now, and Pidge could help them. They deicde to stay. This is for Matt. This is for Dad. This is for Mom. Their mother–they completely forgot about Mom! Mom has been so lonely without Dad. Mom cries each night about not seeing her home full of joy. Instead, it’s a home of silence and mourning. Pidge was never home when Matt and Dad left. By doing this Paladin thing, Pidge will be home. Pidge will return home with Dad and Matt.

Keith is confused. He saw the blade that alien was holding he SAW it. What if Shiro is wrong? What if these Galra people did come to earth? What if he–no that can’t be possible! But…what if it is? No that can’t be right. He must has to be wrong! What if his family was attacked by the Galra, and that’s why he has this knife? Maybe that’s why Dad never talked about Mom. It was too painful for him. It was too painful to think about Mom’s painful death. The knife mist be a reminder. But–that doesn’t make sense. Dad would’ve wanted to throw out the knife. Maybe…Mom is Galran. Maybe Kieth should go home. Maybe he should stay. This whole space thing left him with more questions than answers. Which shouldn’t be possible! Space is space! It shouldn’t give Kieth a whole identity crisis! How about they go home? Home… where it’s quiet…

Lance definitely wants to go home. This whole thing is crazy! Galra? Voltron? Lions? What’s even going on? Wasn’t he at Earth–Wait how long has it been? Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Shiro’s right. As an Earthling, Lance shouldn’t be involved with this stuff. This is Allura’s business. Not his! All Lance wanted to do was pass the Garrison! Now all of this is…a thing. Why can’t they go home where everything is less complicated?

“Ugh. Fine. We’ll stay here, but we’ll leave as soon as we can.”

Reactions range from excitement to confusion.

“Wonderful. I’m glad we came to an agreement. Now, we must find the Black Lion.”

(Computer stuff, yeah. This is where I show my lack of intelligence of futuristic tech, so expect that a lot on this.)

Allura uses the Altean technology to find out where the Black Lion is. In the process of going through menus and stuff, she explains what each Lion sees in each Paladin.

“Keith, the Red Lion sees your skill and instincts. The Red Lion is stubborn and wild. Its pilot needs to be a decisive thinker and able to be calm even in the most dangerous of situations. As the right hand of Voltron, you must be able to exercise dexterity and flexibility”

Pidge smiles and brings up the volcano incident. Coran is surprised.

“Pidge, the Green Lion sees your creativity and intelligence. The Green Lion is careful and cautious. It’s pilot must be able to be empathetic and exercise resourcefulness no matter what. As the left hand of Voltron, you must be able to use your flexibility and innovation in the most dire times.”

Pidge nods. Kieth talks about the camouflage idea and the pulley system. Hunk congratulates Pidge.

“Hunk, the Yellow Lion sees your compassion and dexterity. The Yellow Lion is firm and static. Its pilot must be compassionate and strong when others aren’t. As the leg of Voltron, you must be reliable and protective.”

Lance harks back to Hunk blocking the missile like projectiles.

“Lance, the Blue Lion sees your aspiration and awareness. Its pilot–”

Lance cuts Allura off just like he did in the original. This is because we’ve sees his traits. Allura huffs. She doesn’t give Shiro an explanation because she isn’t given Black’s reason. For all the other Lions, Allura acts as a translator, but Black is not talking to her. This will be revealed in the next episode and post.

The Paladins nod. Allura tells the Paladins that while combined as Voltron is powerful, there are also strengths to being separate. She tells Shiro that that is what the Black Paladin’s main job is.

Coran pulls out a map of where the Lions were found. Coran realizes the Lions placed themselves there for something important. He tells the Paladins to bond with them to figure out why.

Allura gives the Paladins some time to learn about each Lion in the castle’s designated area. This so happens to be where each Lion flew in from each Spire of the castle. Coran and Allura set up the castle’s defenses while Shiro is sent to space to nab the Black Lion from a Galran ship. Pidge and Keith come with him because they told Allura that going with Shiro might help them with their own personal goals.

So the whole Red Lion mission is changed to get the Black Lion instead. Some changes in mind are:

- Keith recognizes a certain soldier’s blade

- the champion thing with Shiro is intact

- Shiro finds out about Keith’s blade

- Pidge does too

- Black is kinda worn down and is shown to be much slower than the rest of the Lions.

The rest is kinda the same. And that’s because I hit into a problem. It was a minor problem, but still a problem.

Now, I want to talk about some of the bigger plans and stuff I’m on the fence for and all the foreshadowing I wrote in.

- I changed Pidge into being nonbinary. They will also be revealed to be aroace in season 4 or 5(?) i believe. Whenever reunion is.

- The Black Lion will be destroyed along with Shiro dying for good. I’m not doing any of that Clone bullshit. That’s stupid.

- I’m on the fence about Klance

- Lotor and his team aren’t really getting a redemption arc. I’ll talk more about that later when we get into S3. It’s complicated and I’m lazy to talk about it now.

- I am keeping the Altean Colony, but I’m not going for the Lotor betrayal.

- the Lotor team will be more developed

- I’m changing the lore on the Lions and Altea. Alfor’s team won’t be the first Paladins.

- I’m not doing every single individual episode. If I skip an episode on the rewrite, then that means there’s so many minor tweaks that I don’t need to make a whole entire post about it. That or I’m just lazy. Or I don’t know what to do.

Also, I want your input. Should I post these ideas on Ao3? Like, describe stuff in greater detail and make actual dialogue.

That’s it. This took 3 days to write. The rest will be on my new Voltron blog.

[clonemedickix]

So this was a commission done for me by a fellow artist on Twitter (I added the words at the bottom when I made this my IPhone Lock Screen) She brought my OC Lara to life for me. Absolutely in love with this artwork. Can give her reference if anybody wants it.

OC General Lara Lin (Telperion Laurelin) and ARC Trooper Fives

Rating: Explicit/ Adult Content/ NSFW - over 18 only!

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence,

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon)Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media TypesThe Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. TolkienGame of Thrones (TV)Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationship: CT-7567 | Rex/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: CT-7567 | Rex | CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo | CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives | Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | CC-2224 | Cody|Obi-Wan Kenobi | Mace Windu | Clone Troopers (Star Wars) | CT-5597 | JesseCT-6116 | Kix | Clone Trooper Hardcase (Star Wars) | Cut Lawquane | Suu Lawquane | Yoda (Star Wars) | Plo KoonCC-3636 | Wolffe | Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious | Padmé Amidala | Ahsoka Tano

EXCERPT:

Fives and Echo were out in front of Rex and Anakin, leading the group with guns drawn. Fives was quick to notice the warrior was female; her armor was shaped to her body. She wore gleaming white enameled plate of some light metal, with pauldrons, and an ornate breastplate over a fine silver chain mail shirt that reached to her knees. Her biceps were covered by golden guards engraved in some runic language inscribed in silver. Her gauntlets were the same, with more runes detailing something they could not decider. Her breastplate was inlaid with fine jewels, the emblem of two graceful trees, one gold, one silver, with the face and head of a dragon above them, and three stars shining above all. She wore a pair of white breeches beneath the chain mail skirt, with brown patches at the inner thigh and just below the knees, and a pair of well worn brown knee high riding boots with small silver spurs. At her waist was a sword belt, holding the short sword and a stunning, ornate dagger. She had a shoulder scabbard for her great sword and over her left shoulder, a quiver of arrows, with a bow slung across her chest. The two clones stared in admiration of the beautiful armor and how the warrior was loaded for battle with weapons. Clearly she was deadly and prepared for just about anything thrown at her. Her face was half covered by a helmet that covered her temples and the sides of her face. Across her brow there were three white stones that shone like diamonds, glittering and sparkling in the light, but with a glow behind them that was ethereal, like star shine. There was a near opaque visor over her eyes, and they could make out the outline of them behind the glass. Her mouth was sensitive, with a slightly pouty lower lip that they could swear was ready for a laughing smile at any time. Neither clone needed to see anything more to know she was beautiful. Her head turned slightly to check the progress of her mount and a long, thick braid of brown hair shot through with gold and silver highlights fell over her shoulder. The highlights sparkled in the sun, much like the glitter of her armor, but it was the stones on her brow that really radiated power and light; Fives and Echo could not look directly at them without feeling blinded by their light.

The warrior was standing in a ready pose with her great sword in her right hand. As the group of clones and General Skywalker approached, she moved her weight back to her rear foot and drew her short sword in a reverse grip, raising her great sword over her head in a stance Anakin wasn’t familiar with. The clones all raised their blasters, and Captain Rex said in a flat tone, “I’d put away your swords if I were you.”

Without a sound, above them, the dragon lowered its massive head and gave a deep menacing growl towards the clones. They had forgotten it while studying the woman, and with Rex’s threat the beast decided to remind them of its looming presence. The men all looked up into teeth, and a glowing red furnace of a throat. The woman smirked a bit and said, without changing her pose “I think perhaps YOU would do better to lower your guns.”

Skywalker looked at Rex and nodded, saying “Go ahead. Lower your blasters.”

The clones holstered their guns and stepped back the smallest fraction, giving her room. The woman stood up, relaxing her posture. She put her short sword back in its sheath, then sheathed the great sword as well. She raised her visor on her helmet and Fives and Rex both gasped internally. Her eyes were gray blue, but shone with a light from within that radiated like star light. The color reminded them of the sea and sky of Kamino, and both were drawn into them like deep pools of sparkling water. Her beauty gave even General Skywalker pause, and he hesitated for a brief second before introducing himself. She beat him to the first word, resting her arms across her chest and asking “You’re their superior, I presume?”

“I’m General Anakin Skywalker of the Jedi Order and the Grand Army of the Republic. This is Captain Rex, my first in command. The man to your immediate left is Lieutenant Fives and to your right, Corporal Echo. We appreciate your help with this battle today, but I’m not sure we’ve ever heard of someone like you before….”

“Well, since we are going with impressive titles, I am Telperion Laurelin, Guardian of the Balance and Guide of Souls. I heard a cry for help in this galaxy, and I have answered the call. It’s what I do.” She gestured to the giant beast standing watchfully behind and above her. “This is Baiulus the Black Dread. He is my dragon, a friend of many ages and my greatest ally in any fight. He is rather protective of me, and not above eating those who threaten my person.” She said this with a small apologetic smile, but looked at the clones significantly in warning. “I’d hate for our first meeting to go south over a misunderstanding of intentions.” She opened her hands to show she meant no harm. “I’m here to help you in this fight. There is no need for the worry about me or B.”

[enarmor]

to the trained eye of caeda of talys, sain’s depressed state was rather… obvious. she didn’t linger around the mistletoe for too long, but she spent long enough around it to see sain’s many attempts and resulting failures to get a kiss from a cute girl.

so, she approaches him with the intent to add a little cheer to his life. “sain.” she calls out to him, and soon as she is close enough she presses a little kiss to his cheek, smiling softly up at him after she pulls away.

“don’t let those rejections get you down, okay? you’re a wonderful man— i am sure you’ll find someone sooner than you think.”

Sain isn't having too bad a time, if you can believe it.

Rejection hits him like a heavy spear to a breastplate. It smashes against his most guarded walls, driving its tip further into his cracked skin--blow after blow. And Sain is without a shield, only a Lance incapable of swatting away something so big. His ego is hurt by the time Caeda spots him. He mopes about his ill fate.

But the wounds haven't drawn blood. Sain remains intact and unbroken, for his ego is always worn on his chest, not underneath. He is frowning, sure. He has lost the sparkle in his eyes, sure. But his heart is pristine. It pounds back against its attackers, screaming 'I yet live!' in the faces of those who would want to murder Sain's love. The little bits of interaction have been joyful for him, like the sweet flesh of fruit encased by a hard skin. Hope still clings to him, realigning his head to face the Archanean as she mosies over.

"Caeda...?" He finds comfort in calling out that name, enough to forget that his legs have felt like pins and needles for the better half of a minute now. "Haha--"

His fingers glaze over the part of his cheek that had been kissed. As though they had scraped some of it off, he looks at the pads of his fingers. She is just the reminder he needed. "--You haven't been wrong so far. I'd be a fool to not believe you here, right?"

He shakes off his misery with a smile, believing welly and truly that an upbeat face would be a service to his friend. "Thank you, my dear! I'll think of you when my special someone comes. And, while I'm at it," he snaps his fingers, holding the end position so that he's pointing at her, "why don't I try some of your advice? No more cheap date ideas--"

"--I'll show the ladies my most genuine self, just like we talked about!"

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 25 - The Shadow of Death

I finally wrote the story of how Kamaria got The Scar. This is canon verse, but essentially this same scene happens in every universe except college and royal. Mind the tags.

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Masterlist

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Contains: lady whump, self harm, panic attack, implied threats of noncon, blood

.

.

Everything is spinning. Kamaria came into her own tent to get away from everyone, to feel safe, but she isn’t safe at all. Only a piece of canvas separates her from all those men. She can’t catch her breath and the ground keeps shifting beneath her feet and blen, any one of them could just walk in here anytime they want. She isn’t safe. She’ll never be safe.

beautiful                                            beautiful

                   exotic

                                      gorgeous

      beautiful

                              enticing                  beautiful

Clutching her head, she struggles to pull in air and sinks onto her bed. No. No, not her bed, she can’t sit there, not after what he said earlier. She can almost feel his hands on her now, pulling at her, stroking her skin. Catapulting to her feet, she scrubs at her arms, the back of her neck, her chest. All the places he touched. She can’t erase the feeling, though, no matter how hard she tries.

beautiful 

           beautiful 

                       beautiful 

                                   beautiful 

                                              beautiful 

                                                        beautiful 

                                                                  beautiful 

She can’t scream, no matter how much she wants to. They’ve trained that out of her for the most part over the last four years, even if it was unintentional on their part. She thought they’d trained crying out of her, too, but right now there are tears dripping down her cheeks and what little breath she can draw is coming out in broken sobs. 

She doesn’t want to be beautiful. She never asked to be beautiful, never gave a thought to what anyone might think she looked like until human men started taking notice of her. They’ve spent the last years proving themselves untrustworthy in every other way, but she never realized just how horrible they were. Until recently. Until she changed from a child to a woman, and they decided they had a right to put their hands on her and threaten to -

Kamaria lashes out at the few possessions in her tent, scattering them to the ground, picking them up and throwing them again when that doesn’t at all satisfy the stabbing pain in her chest. There’s a pile of armor in the corner that some officer ordered her to shine and she’s about to go after that, too, when she catches sight of her reflection in the breastplate. 

Stopping short, she stares for a moment before dropping to her knees in front of it. That’s her. Brown skin, not as dark as her mother’s, green eyes like her father, loose brown curls like her grandmother, and the pointed ears that define her as Vaya. 

        exotic

                                                                      exotic

                              beautiful

stunning

                                                      beautiful 

Is she beautiful, really? She doesn’t know. But beauty is a curse, at least as a Vaya woman among human men. 

The longer she gazes at her own face, thinking about what they must see when they look at her, the sicker she feels. She can’t keep doing this. The touching, the whispered descriptions of what they want to do to her, the images that burn behind her eyelids of her friends, her family being snatched by soldiers and pinned to the ground…

She can’t breathe.

Something has to change.

The knife from her hip is in her hand without her realizing she’s drawn it. She stares down at it, then back up at her reflection. Her hand shakes uncontrollably as she brings the tip to her face, resting it just below her hairline. It doesn’t break skin yet. She just holds it there, trembling, tears still leaking from her eyes. 

beautiful       beautiful       beautiful      beautiful 

                                     NO!

The blade digs in. She drags it down her forehead, between her eyebrows, alongside her nose and mouth. Blood wells up in its wake, and begins spilling down over her left eye and the bridge of her nose. For a moment she leaves the tip there, on the right side of her mouth, just watching the deep red Vaya blood as it drips.

The knife falls from her hand and clatters against the breastplate before hitting the dirt. Still, she doesn’t look away. The cut isn’t clean, it’s messy from an unsteady hand, but that’s what she wants. She wants it to scar. She wants it to be ugly, to mar her face forever, to make everyone who sees her wrinkle up their noses and walk away.

Her tears stop falling. The men’s voices echoing in her mind finally grow quiet. The cut stings badly, but it’s nothing compared to the pain she’s used to and it seems to take away the pain from her chest and the churning in her stomach. 

Kamaria takes a full breath for the first time since entering the tent, shaky but under her control. 

She won’t be beautiful anymore.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Trick-or-Treate

:333

My, my! My first trick or treater! Glad to see you, now, let's see what treats I can give you!

*Spins The Wheel, Yes I Actually Made A Wheel For This*

Your three pieces of candy are!

A Random Line From A Fic

“If I had a fucking 500 yen coin for every socially awkward Special Grade I met I’d have two 500 yen coins, which ain’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice.” Maki sighed in resignation, accepting that God seemed to enjoy giving her the middle finger.

A Three Sentence Fic

Megicula, sitting in handcuffs across from Asta: This is cruel and unusual punishment.

Asta, standing in front of a powerpoint called “How to make friends without cursing them”: I have no Idea what that means.

Vanica, also in handcuffs next to Megicula while eating popcorn: It means keep talking, her introverted ass is memorizing all of this, hell she would be taking notes if she could.

And A Drabble (Though it's much longer than a drabble and based of an old idea of mine that I never did anything with)

“So you're… me?” Asta asked, wary of the stranger in front of him who had not just the same Ki, but the same swords, same hair, same colored eyes, and if that brief glimpse during their clash was to be believed, the same Anti-Magic Arm.

Though that is where the similarities ended, especially in the department of Attire and physique.

The man in front of Asta was almost a head taller than him with a slightly thinner build, despite that, Asta got the feeling this guy was stronger than him five times over in physical strength, and as opposed to the white suit and long red coat he always imagined his future self wearing in his dreams the man before him and his squad seemed more like a mixture of the people Asta admired most among those he wished to succeed.

The Chief Of Elves Licht, The 27th Wizard King, Conrad Leto, and The 28th Wizard King, Julius Novachrono.

He wore a black and red jacket similar in design to the one Conrad once wore that was held closed in the center by a silver five leaf clover, under the jacket was a battleworn silver breastplate and a shirt similar to the one Licht wore when he was brought back though without the blue undershirt underneath, around his waist was the same belt Asta wore at this very moment, though resized and with several more pouches on its outside, presumably for carrying whatever curiosities the man found, he wore a pair of black pants, and black boots where those pants were stuffed into, following what few rules that all squads must follow for uniform, finally, Over this all, was a simple black cape draped over his right arm and held in place by three silver chains that connected to the steel pauldron on his shoulder which went under his left arm and wrapped around his back where it connected to the pauldron once more.

“In a way yes, but also no. It would be more accurate to say I am a possibility of what your future self is. I am The King, and if you want Clover to see the dawn, you will be helping me.” The King stated without hesitation.

“And what if we don’t feel like lettin’ the brat run off with some crazy person who calls himself the “Possibility Of A Future”?” Captain Yami asked gruffly.

“I was asking out of courtesy, whether he wishes to or not this young man is coming with me. Though you are more than welcome to try and stop me Captain Sukehiro.” The King said with a taunting tone of almost absolute power in his voice as he stabbed the massive black greatsword in his hand into the ground.

In an instant Yami was upon the interloper, katana drawn and body low to the ground in a stance not too dissimilar to that of a runner’s as he swung the blade upward at the man.

However by the time the foreign blade was where The Man stood all that was there was air.

From behind Yami the man spoke.

“I had hoped to avoid fighting you Captain, but in a way, I am quite glad I am. To have the opportunity to fight you at the prime of your power and while you are fighting to protect your family, it's not an opportunity I have ever been so unfortunate to be faced with, until now that is.”

“Well then, ain’t this a lucky day for ya… kid.” Yami told the man, keeping his voice quiet enough to avoid telling the entire squad but loud enough for The King to hear him.

“Heh, Indeed it is!” The King muttered with a laugh as black and red flames ignited along the length of his left arm, the battle between the two only just beginning.

[weareallfallengods]

The Battle of Elios, part 1

So now for a snippet of the rough 1st draft of a flashback to Salazar di Carron's formative experience of his childhood.

This takes place during the Battle of Elios, where the Steward of Whitemouth invades a sovereign nation to expand his power base.

Elios is loosely based on Medieval Spain.

Salazar grows up to become a bitter, jaded down-on-his-luck master Swordsman turned to hustling and gambling to survive, and a core member of the Hero's Party.

---------------------------------------------------

Acrid smoke and dust swirled in the air, clearing too slowly in the heavy, dry air of the Eliosan summer, causing the boy buried under a pile of rubble formerly attached to the beautifully carved relief of vines and flowers that adorned even the simplest of windows of the old keep.

Coughing weakly, a small cloud of alabaster dust blew out in a puff that mimicked the larger plumes coming off the floor to ceiling hole where the window he had been peeping out of at the chaos outside had been just a few heartbeats before.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered weakly, sucking in a sharp breath that only served to trigger even more coughing as limbs returned to their owners somewhat feeble control, while outside, horns blared and men shouted in unison. Salazar slowly pulled himself to his knees, shattered plaster and fragments of white stone raining down as smaller bricks tumbled around his small body. Sitting back on his haunches, he blinked carefully, not daring to try to rub the dust from his eyes for fear of making it even worse than it already was to see through the grit and haze around him. Dazedly, his eyes widened slightly at seeing the hole torn in the side of the keep that had been his home for nearly as long as he could remember with the realization that had he been standing on the opposite side of the window, his body would have been a macabre accompaniment to the twisted and smoking-red iron torch sconces poking out of the pile of debris in the upper hallway hallway he had thought would be a safe vantage point to view the spectacle of the army at the gates.

Salazar turned his still shell-shocked attention back to the scene that had drawn him here in the first place. Massed around the main gate of his home was an army of men, clamoring and shouting, their black and red uniforms contrasting sharply with the blinding gleam of bright steel in the harsh Eliosan sun, looking like a stain of infected blood on the sun-bleached plain.

As his senses returned more fully, he became aware of rapidly approaching boots, their owner apparently running hard from the weight of the sound. Before he knew it, strong, rough hands were yanking him off the ground by his armpits, thrown under a burly, wired arm like nothing more than a sack of onions. The jouncing of his ribs against the steel breastplate of his rescuer quickly brought his focus back to the here and now, a smal yelp of pain escaping him as they rounded a corner too fast, and Salazar was briefly squashed as the man carrying him hit the wall briefly before continuing his, from Salazar’s perspective, jolting sprint away from the sounds of the battle, deeper into the heart of the keep.

“Alive after all, are you?” the graveled voice he knew so well bringing a wave of relief to the boy. “Can you stand? More importantly, can you run?”

Alphonso set Salazar down as gently as he could without breaking his stride or slowing much.

“Need to get you to safety, boy,” he grated, half-dragging Salazar as he did his best not to trip on his own feet as they hurtled through halls and down twisting stairs. He recognized where they were headed.

“No! We have to go back! We can’t just run like cowards!”

Alphonso skidded to a stop in a shadowed doorway looking over the sun-drenched training courtyard where they had spent so many hours together. Sternly, he turned to look down at his charge, seeing a dust encrusted ghost, Salazar’s dark eyes standing out even more sharply in the contrast, and his eyes softened slightly. The boy’s eyes were wide with fea,r and a bit of exhilaration as well most likely, but all it served to do, especially as he lifted a grimy hand to futilely attempt to wipe some of the dirt from his eyes, was to reinforce to Ambrose just how young his charge truly was. Even at only twelve summers, Salazar looked younger than he actually was due to his slight but wiry build, his heavy, straight black hair, normally pulled back in the palace-required fashion, which now mostly undone, framing his sharp, bony cheeks, served to continuously deliver even more stone-dust into his wide eyes.

“Cowards neither of us are, but when you’re young, you tend to confuse courage with foolishness.”

“But we can’t leave her there! Who’s going to make sure she’s safe?” Salazar’s voice cracked in near-panic, his eyes welling with unshed tears of passion.

“I know you’re concerned, though the Shards know why. Look boy, there’s more guards in the royal household than will fit in the entire gatehouse - someone there is bound to keep the whole family from harm. Or at least try. And they’ll have better chance than a lone, unarmed, scared little boy trying to take on an army. If they even get that far.”

Salazar sniffed heavily, whether from choking back tears or an attempt to clear his nose, Alphonso couldn’t tell.

He sighed. “I’ll not argue with you more - you can argue all you want once the fighting dies down and you’re safe. Until then, remember your place and do as I tell you!”

Alphonso grabbed Salazar uner the arm and manhandled him down the corridor, the boy’s protests lost in wave of pounding vibrations that shook the keep to it’s bones. Alphonso’s scowl deepened as more silt rained down on them. He’d seen sieges before, from both sides, and he’d never seen an engine yet that could hit walls hard enough to shake a castle this badly. Something else was going on, something much, much worse than just another invading army, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was. Something was not right about this attack he knew, just as surely as he knew the feel of his own boots when getting dressed in the dark, and as much as it confused and worried him, he had decided he very much did not want to be around to find out what it was that was making this attack so different. Old soldiers don’t like the unexpected, especially in battle, and Alphonso was no exception.

Pausing in the doorway to the training grounds, located near the far end of the keep from the gate, Alphonso’s heart plummeted at the sight before him. For a moment, his mind went completely blank, for his plan to find what he had thought would be the most sheltered part of the castle, as far away from the main fighting as possible in order to hide, or better yet, escape, was completely shattered by the grisly sight before them.

Alphonso stiff-armed the boy behind him, pressing him into the wall so he wouldn’t immediately see what he had. His beloved courtyard, where the two of them had spent thousands of hours drilling forms and footwork, was awash with the crimson blood of servants and soldiers alike, their claret-stained livery a sharp contrast to the hard packed dirt, macabre poppies in a field of sunlit snow.

Alphonso put a finger to the boy’s lips as his mouth opened to protest the rough handling. Half a dozen men at arms, the duke’s sun-crest blazing white on their golden tabards were slowly moving through the scattered corpses. Methodically, their leader dispassionately bent to check each body for signs of life, and then dispassionately ran each one through the throat with the long main-gauche held too casually in his hand.

Alphonso eyed the group warily, not yet daring to even breathe. They hadn’t been spotted yet, that much was at least certain, as the soldiers hadn’t altered their careful course through the trail of bodies. His eyes flicked to the door of his small hut on the far end of the training grounds, gauging the distance, silently calculating how much carrying the boy would slow him down, then cursing softly under his breath when the bevvy of guards moved closer, inspecting and dispatching another cluster of victims. He had hoped they were heading the opposite direction, but it seemed they’d only just begun their grisly work. The decision had been made for him.

Kneeling swiftly, he grabbed Salazar by the shoulders, gently shaking him for emphasis.

“Listen boy! We’re in a bad spot – this is no ordinary attack; the king’s guards have turned on us, and there’s a bunch of them between us and safety. You need to do as I say, exactly as I say, no questions, or there’s a good chance neither of us will get out of this alive. You understand me?”

Salazar had gone completely still, for he’d never seen his mentor so desperately intense before. He might have almost believe Alphonso to be scared, if he had believed that was an emotion the man was even capable of feeling. All he could do was nod sharply, his earlier courage quailing in the face of whatever it was that Alphonso was feeling. It couldn’t possibly be terror; after all, his mentor was beyond those sorts of childish feelings, wasn’t he?

“Good. Close your eyes and slowly count to twenty. Once you hit that, you run to the house as fast as your scrawny little legs will take you and don’t you dare look up. You get to the house, you slip into where I hide the oruja, close the trapdoor over yourself, and you don’t come out no matter what you hear. You stay there until you’ve slept and woken to hear nothing. You understand? You stay put!”

The boy just stared at Alphonso, not even caring about how much his shoulders hurt from how tightly the man who had been all but a father to him was gripping him. His mind couldn’t quite process in words what was about to happen, but his heart had plummeted into his feet, and deep in his Song, he somehow knew what Alphonso was about to do. Every part of his body was screaming to grab him, to drag him away from this place, to find another way, but he was paralyzed by both his own fear, and the sheer iron commitment radiating from Alphonso’s eyes.

Alphonso nodded.

He paused for a heartbeat as he stood up again, his back now to the boy, not trusting himself to maintain his resolve if he looked Salazar in the eyes again. This bedraggled sparrow of a boy, thrust upon him when he’d wanted nothing to do with it by the duke, nigh seven years ago, had somehow wriggled his way into his grizzled heart. A quick glance outside had told him there was no other option, and no time to try to think of one anyway.

“I’ve loved you as a son, Salazar. To me, you are my boy. Never forget that.”

And with a gutteral roar, Alphonso burst through the doorway into the training courtyard, sprinting for the broken weapons rack where it had fallen during the previous clash that had resulted in the carnage he deftly wove through.

The soldiers jumped in surprise, their leader leaping to his feet, blade still dripping from his latest victim.

To be continued!

[tomepact]

“i heard men talking ... i wasn't trying to eavesdrop. they wanted me to hear it ... ” vespin sat with his legs drawn against his chest, rubbing the back of his neck. the scar by cerrit's hawk gave off a dull burn, like it could still – like it was still wanting to behead him. “they believe i am a spy. an assassin, sent to gain your trust and strike when your back is turned. like what happened before.” he scratched at the scar, keeping his eyes off the fire, on hymnal. “ ... what happened before?”

it is a rare moment outside of his armor, sitting with vespin as the other tucked himself into as small a ball as he could. hymnal sat with his breastplate laid across his lap, buffing the enameled metal quietly when vespin asks what happened before.

he knows the others talk behind his back of vespin's presence. sometimes they mean to hide and most of the time they want their words heard and known without specifically saying it to his face.

the scar at his back twinges and he sets the armor aside, folding his hands. the room is lit by the fireplace, throwing strange lights from the gold cracks on his face.

" i put my trust in a man who -- mn. i put my trust in someone who either did not put faith in the stories of the saint, or put too much faith into them and believed them utterly true. either way, he thought he would get a foot in the door with the betrayers by cutting me down. "

he rubs the back of his neck like the answer is sheepish, like he's telling a story that didn't involve the sensation of nearly bleeding to death.

" the work of a cleric kept me from dying, but the scar remains. my back aches when it rains. it's not surprising they may think you a spy -- but pay them no mind. they'll do nothing to you as long as i am here. "

[feralego]

@timetell from here:

logan jumps from sentence to sentence, trying to keep up when his indignation rises and tells him to storm out, off, away from luz and the hard rejection of self. jude and bart had come to the wedding but his parents had not and with very few other friends outside of the westchester roll call, logan had mostly spent his wedding amongst his new wife’s family. he had really thought luz would be there; maybe with theo, maybe without. 

    his wave is noncommittal, agitated. “yeah, josie was here a few days ago–  but what are you talking about? i sent an invite! i sent an invite and a letter and – you cut me off. you were the one who stopped replying. you were the one who never called. you dropped off the grid to go and live your own private idaho with theo.” 

logan blows out a breath, annoyed and frustrated. he feels. outside himself for the first time in years and there’s a small part of him that must thank luz for the kick in the ass; but then, she always did have that effect on him. 

       “josie was here just. sightseeing or something, i don’t know. she never really said. guy trouble maybe. elliot was with her. so a whole. school reunion.” 

Realization tumbles through her core, ricocheting off her ribs as it plummets down, down, down. And for the first time, she realizes that maybe neither of them had meant to fall out and into silence the way they had; that what had occurred between them may have been the result of something as simple and innocuous a mail carrier's mistake. A letter fallen under the seat or stashed in the wrong box or blown out the window.

It could have been any number of things outside of either of their control.

She feels foolish and small and young. Still flighty, but for a different reason now.

"I never got it. I never got anything from you after my last letter and--"

Luz doesn't tell him that she extended their stay at that shitty roadside motel an extra three days to wait for his next reply, and she doesn't tell him that she doesn't tell him that she'd asked the desk clerk to forward any mail to their next motel's address, and she doesn't tell him that she'd asked the next clerk at the next to do the same as well a week later. She doesn't tell him that she'd thought about calling nearly every day, but was too upset about the possibility that he'd stopped writing intentionally. She doesn't tell him how his perceived rejection had been one of the final nails in her old self's coffin.

Hearing him pair Theo's name with such obvious frustration, her hackles raise, like she'd been waiting to slip this defensiveness back on like her favorite sweater. Like an armored breastplate.

Something to hide inside of--or behind--while she collects herself. They can't change the past.

"What's Theo got to do with this?" she asks abruptly, rising to her feet. Stepping in his direction. "You don't--"

Theo has been her one constant in all this time. They'd met, both of them alone and looking for themselves, and even when she'd become overwhelmed and ran, they inevitably were drawn back together. He's her rock, her lighthouse.

And maybe Logan doesn't know the depth of what the pair of them have. Even Luz struggles to define it; to put borders around it and give it a name. But she will defend it.

"He-- He and I get each other." He and I are a package deal. He and I are on the same path. He and I are two sides of the same coin. "Which is more than I can say for the two of us anymore, Logan."

She's riled up enough now to only half focus on the further information about Josephine. And maybe, maybe she softens a little when she hears him mention Elliot's name; maybe it disarms her when she pictures his face and thinks of his calming presence.

"Enjoy your breakfast. I'll leave you to it."

[dfroza]

the Body and Bride is waiting for a trumpet that calls us “Up”

but there are also trumpets of Judgment that will be sounded off in the coming wrath.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 9th chapter of the book of Revelation:

Then the fifth messenger sounded his trumpet. I saw a star that had dropped out of heaven to earth. He received the key that unlocks the shaft leading to the abyss, the pit that falls away to nothingness; and he opened the shaft to the abyss. Huge columns of smoke rose from the depths of the cavern—a black, ugly smoke as if from a great furnace so that the sun was darkened and the air was thickened by the blanket of smoke from the shaft. From the smoke, locusts appeared and swarmed upon the earth. They were given power, like the power of scorpions on the earth. However, they were instructed not to damage any grasses, plants, or trees that grow from the earth. Instead, they were given power for five months to torture, but not to kill, the people without the seal of God upon their foreheads. The torment they inflicted was like the sting of a scorpion when it strikes. During those days, people will seek any way possible to kill themselves, but death will not befriend them. They will long to die and end their miseries, but death will elude them.

The locusts looked like horses clad in armor, ready for battle. They wore golden wreaths on their heads, and their faces appeared human with hair as long as women’s hair, but they had teeth as sharp as lions’ teeth. They had armor that appeared to be iron plated; and when their wings flapped, they sounded like an army of horse-drawn chariots rushing into battle. They have tails like scorpions with stingers, and the power invested in them to inflict torture on people for five months lies in their tails. They were ruled by the messenger of the abyss, whose Hebrew name is Abaddon and whose Greek name is Apollyon, both meaning “the Destroyer.”

The first disaster has occurred; there are two more disasters to come.

Then the sixth messenger sounded his trumpet; and I heard a voice from the four corners of the golden altar that is before God, commanding the sixth messenger with the trumpet.

A Voice: Set loose the four messengers who are bound in chains at the great river Euphrates.

Then the four messengers, who had been held in chains until the hour and the day and the month and the year when they would kill one-third of humanity, were released.

I heard that 200 million soldiers rode in the cavalry. This is how these horses and their riders appeared in my vision: the riders wore breastplates of fiery red, smoky blue, and sulfur yellow. The heads of the horses seemed to be like the heads of lions; they breathed fire and smoke and sulfur from their mouths, killing one-third of humanity with the three plagues coming out of their mouths. The lethal power of these horses was not only in their mouths but also in their tails because their tails, which resembled snakes, had heads that inflicted injury.

The rest of humanity, those not killed by these plagues, did not rethink their course and turn away from the devices of their own making. Despite all these calamities, they continued worshiping demons and idols crafted in gold, silver, bronze, stone, and wood. They bowed down to images which cannot see or hear or walk. They failed to turn away from their murders, their sorceries, their sexual immoralities, and their thefts.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 10th chapter of the book of Daniel:

In the third year of King Cyrus’ reign over the Persian Empire, Daniel, who had been named Belteshazzar by his Babylonian captors, received a word from God through another vision. The message proved reliable, and it had to do with a great war. Daniel understood the word and gained insight into the future through this vision. Here is his account.

Daniel: When I received this vision, I, Daniel, had been in mourning for three weeks. I had eaten very little, no meat and no rich foods at all. I had not enjoyed the taste of wine, nor had I used any oils to bathe or groom myself. I continued this way throughout the three full weeks. The vision came to me on the 24th day of the 1st month. As I was on the bank of the great Tigris River, I lifted my eyes and saw what seemed at first to be a man dressed in linen clothing. Around his waist was a belt made of the purest gold. His body had the appearance of yellow topaz; his face was bright like flashes of lightning; his eyes flamed like torches; his arms and legs sparkled like polished bronze; his voice sounded like thunder. I, Daniel, alone saw this man and heard his voice. Though there were others around me who did not see this sight, they were still overcome with fear and ran to hide. I did not. I was left all alone to witness this glorious sight. My strength soon left me. My face was drained of its natural color, and I was confused. I had no energy at all. Then I heard his voice and caught the sound of his words. As I did, I fell into a deep sleep—my face pressed to the ground. Just then, a mighty hand touched me and lifted my trembling body onto my hands and knees.

Messenger: Daniel, you are highly regarded by God. I have been sent to help you understand the destiny of your people. Stand up and listen carefully to what I have to tell you.

As he spoke, I slowly rose to my feet, though I was still shaking.

Messenger: Do not be afraid, Daniel. From the very first day that you began to pursue understanding and humble yourself before your God, your words have been heard. I have been sent in response to what you’ve said. I would have been here sooner; however, for the past 21 days the spirit prince of Persia opposed me and prevented my coming to you. Then Michael, one of the chief princes of heaven, came to my aid because I alone was busy dealing with the kings of Persia. I have come to help you understand what will happen to your people in the last days, for this vision is about a time yet to come.

As he was saying all this to me, I dropped my head and looked at the ground, completely quiet, unable to respond. Then one who looked like the sons of men approached and touched my lips. After that I was able to open my mouth and speak again. I turned to the one standing before me.

Daniel: My lord, what I have seen has left me utterly depressed. I have no strength left. How can I, your humble servant, even begin to address someone like you, my lord? My strength is gone, and I can hardly catch my breath.

Again the one who looked like a man reached out and touched me. With that I felt my strength begin to return.

Messenger: Do not be afraid, you who are highly regarded by God. May peace rest on you and make you whole; be strong; be brave.

At his words, I grew even stronger.

Daniel: Please continue, my lord, for your words have given me strength.

Messenger: Do you realize, now, the reason I have come to you? Soon I must return to continue the fight with the spirit prince of Persia. When I do go, the spirit prince of Greece will come to do battle. Nevertheless, I will tell you what is inscribed in the scroll of truth. No one stands with me against the guardians except for Michael, your heavenly prince.

The Book of Daniel, Chapter 10 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Although God has countless heavenly messengers, only two are named in the Bible: Gabriel and Michael. These heavenly messengers fill many functions in the Bible; for example, they are members of God’s divine council, they lead the heavenly army, and they deliver the words of God. In Daniel, Gabriel is a messenger in the most literal sense, bringing a revelation to Daniel through the explanations of a dream and of Scripture. Gabriel’s announcements about the coming Liberator do not end with Daniel. In the New Testament book of Luke, he is the one who announces the impending births of John the Baptist and Jesus to Zechariah and Mary, respectively.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, december 24 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about a “Star”:

“A Star shall lead from of Jacob...” Amazingly, the pagan seer Balaam – who may have been a forebear of the “magi of the east” (Matt. 2:1-2) – foresaw the coming of Yeshua the Messiah: “I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not near: a Star shall lead from Jacob (דָּרַךְ כּוֹכָב מִיַּעֲקב), and a Ruler shall arise from Israel” (Num. 24:17). Balaam’s prophecy described the coming of the Messiah and his reign in two distinct aspects: “A Star from Jacob shall lead the way (i.e., דָּרַךְ),” this refers to Messiah’s first coming as the way of life (John 14:6), “and a scepter (i.e., Ruler) shall ascend (וְקָם שֵׁבֶט) from Israel,” this refers to Messiah’s second coming to establish the kingdom of Zion after the final redemption.

As I mentioned the other day, the very purpose and goal of salvation is for us "to turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God" (see Acts 26:18). Hashivenu, Adonai... When the darkness seems to enshroud your way, pray for God's light to be rekindled within your soul. The Star still shines! Happy holidays and love to you, friends.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Numbers 24:17b reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/num24-17b-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/num24-17b-lesson.pdf

12.22.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

December 24, 2023

When God Became Man

“Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; thou crownedst him with glory and honour, and didst set him over the works of thy hands.” (Hebrews 2:7)

We cannot comprehend what it meant for the infinite Creator God to become finite man, even coming “in the likeness of sinful flesh” (Romans 8:3). Nevertheless, we can, and must, believe it, for “every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God” (1 John 4:3).

The Scriptures have given us a glimpse of the “emptying” that His incarnation required—the setting aside of certain outward aspects of His deity. He had been “so much better than the angels” (Hebrews 1:4), but He had to be “made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death” (Hebrews 2:9)—“put to death in the flesh” (1 Peter 3:18).

The eternal Word “was God” (John 1:1), but it was necessary that “the Word was made flesh” (John 1:14). “The world was made by Him” (John 1:10), but “the princes of this world...crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Corinthians 2:8).

He “being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God” (Philippians 2:6). That is, He was not fearful of losing His deity and, therefore, did not have to cling to His divine nature and attributes as He became man. Thus, He “made himself of no reputation” (emptying Himself of the outward form of God) “and took upon him the form of a servant” (Philippians 2:7).

Yet, that was only the beginning. “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). He suffered hell for us that we might enjoy heaven with Him.

Because He was willing to be so humiliated, He will one day be crowned with glory and honor. “God also hath highly exalted Him,...that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:9, 11). HMM

[softsan]

NCT WEREWOLF AU (jaehyun)

🖇Chaos Ensues (pt.1)

MASTERLIST

PARTS: | 01 |

WOLF PROFILES | Y/N’S NAMES

GENRE: Werewolf AU, Action, Future fluff

QUOTE: “Jaehyun's chest rumbled, his inner beast coaxing him to continue on his path. He wasn't sure why until he saw you there.”

WARNINGS: Military talk, Implied murder, Talk of violence, 

The arid desert was an unforgiving wasteland, barren and null of the living. One knew better than to trek across the scorching sandhills under the blistering rays of the reddening sun. Furthermore, a constant wind whipped about, its hot sting stirring all that walked past. 

As a wolf, Jaehyun's familiarity lay with his forest-dwelling. The Wicked Woods, a setting of trees and an abundance of green. He knew little about surviving in such a harsh climate, his skills refined to preservation in a more neutral environment. 

Additionally, his thick fur coat proved to be disadvantageous under this weather—sweat dripping from his noes and gathering on his paw pads. 

There has to be a way out? Jaehyun helplessly panted, scanning the surrounding area. 

To his dismay, everything in the desert appeared the same. He had no gauge on how far he had strayed from the forest's border or how deep inside the bone-dry landscape he truly was. 

His mind dwindled on the events that had led him to his moment. Had he taken the time to listen, then perhaps things would have turned out differently.

But he hadn't. He had been rash, his actions impulsive and unlike his usual demeanor. Jaehyun blamed it on the madness of the moon—the silvery orb that hung full beside its fiery friend, the sun. 

The moon had a bizarre hold on wolves. It could make the calmest of beasts uncharacteristically vicious. It could command a wolf to shift and bite, endangering anyone in its close proximity.

I shouldn't have chased after those wolves that had come into our territory. 

Three lotas from a rival pack had wandered into their territory without their Alpha Taeyong's permission. This was a huge transgression for their kind. Wolves were territorial by nature and would defend what they had fearlessly fought to be theirs. 

Jaehyun had been tasked to hunt the trespassers and kill them. This was a customary response as it would send a message to others that might thoughtlessly do the same. 

In desperation, the three lotas ran in the direction of the Scorching Sands. The Scorching Sands, like the Wicked Woods, was not a place one took lightly. 

As for the Scorching Sands, it had an abundance of dangers, especially for wolves like himself.

Winwin had called for Jaehyun to retreat and end the chase, but Jaehyun hadn't listened, which had put him in his predicament. 

He was lost in an endless desert, the three wolves he had initially chased nowhere to be seen. 

───

"Y/N?" One of the scouts called for your attention. 

You unmounted your leather saddle. You rubbed your horse's mane, giving her praise.

"Are you Y/N??" The scout approached, his ribbed uniform and armored breastplate a foreign sight in a camp like yours. 

Had you known no better, you'd have thought he belonged to the East's militant, which was located in the garrison closest to your settlement. As a scout, it was one's obligation to obtain information about enemy forces. To do so, one was required to blend in with the adversary, hence the clothes. 

"That I am," You began to unfasten your small haul of alfalfa and legumes, which was securely tied to the rear of your horse's saddle, "What can I do you for?"

"One of the leaders told me to give you these," He forwarded a wrapped pouch. Inside were some papers alongside a folded map. 

You withdrew the charted paper, observing the intricately drawn circles and crosses. It was a map of the city, most impressively a map of the city's East.

What a peculiar item for one to find. You mused.

"How did you ever get your hands on it?"

The scout shuffled his feet uncomfortably, "I rather not say miss, it isn't the most pleasant of accounts," 

You didn't press any further. You understood what he was implying. Uncommon but not unheard of, a scout could kill to further garner information if the opportunity presented itself. 

Your fingertips traced the route that traveled throughout the width. Like a fever, you were excited to study the map in your hands. You tilted your head sideways, noting it'd take you a few days to transcribe the names of the places printed. 

"Thank you," You folded the map and placed it back in the safety of your pouch, "If you could excuse me, I have duties to attend to," 

The scout raised one arm and doubled over into a bow. Before collecting your goods packaged in cloth, you gave a nod and headed towards your tent. 

You had lived amongst bandits most of your life and had congregated a certain level of esteem for your talents in cartography. Your role in the camp was to analyze and compile geographic data and act as an advisory.  

In the last few years, you had also taken over the position of navigator, directing and at times relocating the camp throughout the hostile desert setting, finding small bodies of drinking water while also avoiding meteorological dangers such as sandstorms and mirages. 

You pushed back your tent's flap, entering the small space you called your own. You laid your goods onto your bed, a bed which consisted of a wooden frame and dried straw for padding. 

"I thought you were meeting with the other camp leaders to discuss the rationing of salted meat and grain." You didn't bother turning around, knowing the man behind you ought to be your uncle. 

Your uncle smiled to himself, "You always know when I'm around, don't you." 

You did. 

As a child, your mother had taught you how to place an imprint on another person. It functioned similarly to a trace that allowed you to mentally pinpoint another's location. Your uncle, who wasn't actually a biological relative but a trusted friend of your mother, was the first person your mother made you imprint. 

As per her last request, you were always to stay by your uncle's side. He'd provide you protection in this world, whereas others would not. He understood your condition and would protect your secret at all costs. 

Your uncle closed the tent flap behind him, taking a seat on your bed beside the other goods you'd been unpacking. 

"I did. It was a rather short meeting." Your uncle filled you in, "There wasn't too much to discuss." 

You raised a brow. You had your own suspicion on why the meeting had been so short. 

"We don't have enough supplies to last the drought of summer." He confirmed, "Even if we cut the rations down for each individual. It isn't enough." 

You slowly nodded, "Without food or water, the people won't have the energy to move before June begins either."

"We cannot tell the others, otherwise pillaging and riots are bound to come," Your uncle advised, "And the recent scouts that have returned back from their assignments... if they were to find out."

You grimaced. They would be discouraged to keep fighting for the bandit's cause. They may even switch sides and turn to the East for refuge. 

"Is there nothing that can be done?" 

"You said the land northwest was fertile, and there was a chance that there could be an oasis?" Your uncle unfolded a map you had drawn him weeks prior. 

Your mouth dried. You had made the map based on the geology trends you had observed, but the map itself was still speculative and offered no guarantee that your uncle would find what he was looking for.

"Uncle," You tried to resonate, "My map it's—"

"It's only conjectural." Your uncle finished off your sentence, "I know, but if by any chance there happens to be an oasis, it could save us." 

You exhaled, still uncomfortable with the idea. 

"Tomorrow before sunrise, I leave with a small group. We'll be gone for at least a couple of days. If we don't find anything, we should arrive before your birthday." He stood back to his feet, his arm rising as he tugged your headscarf lower over your ears, "Remember, to keep you guard. Trust no one with your secret other than I," 

"I'll remember," You repeated, "Come back safe." 

Your uncle left you with one last smile before exiting your tent.

───

Darkness had enveloped the skies above as Jaehyun continued to wander deeper into the heart of the desert. 

The intense heat from the day had drastically flipped, a bone-chilling cold taking its place. Despite Jaehyun's rugged fur, he still felt the severity of the cold, his breath coming out of as clouds of fog. 

Am I seeing things? Jaehyun blinked a couple of times as he noticed a campsite. 

The settlement seemed sizable. Numerous tents had been pitched while their horses had their own makeshift cover made from an overhead of fabric. 

Jaehyun felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, he was happy to find some resemblance of civilization. On the other, these were humans, and humans and wolves had an acrimonious relationship. 

Your teeth chattered as you shuffled your feet in the sand. You were gazed upward to the sky, studying the constellations. With some parchment, you were doodling potential markers and the shapes they made. In the future, you could possibly use these markers as a guide while navigating at night.

You hadn't noticed just how far you had walked from the camp, absorbed in your work. 

Jaehyun's chest rumbled, his inner beast coaxing him to continue on his path. He wasn't sure why until he saw you there. 

You looked away from the stars and to your parchment when your noted something big ahead. 

Jaehyun came to a standstill, consumed by the most divine of scents.

You stared equally as bewildered by the caramel-colored beast with the dark discoloration around his snout and ears. He was a creature of substance, his height as tall as a steed, his mammoth size incomparable to any other that roamed in these parts.

Werewolves were far and few in this part of the world. They were forest-dwelling creatures that conquered the Wicked Woods. Their tales painted them as phenomenally strong yet savage beasts. Other creatures of the night, such as witches and fae, wisely kept their distance—humans, too. 

For generations, humans cowered from the edge of the forests that they flagged as wolf terrain. They had spread prejudice and fear across the four kingdoms, assembling hunting parties to counter the threat they had foreseen. 

Jaehyun's eyes lingered. Your beautiful face was full and animated. You wore a headscarf that covered your hairline, your roots, and the top half of your ears. The rest of your hair was purposefully braided and twirled into a loose bun that hung at the base of your neck. 

The two of your remain starring back at one another. Jaehyun was afraid you might go running if he moved, whereas you were afraid that if you moved, the wolf might pounce. 

A loud sound erupted, shaking the silence. 

An explosion from the center of the campsite roared, disturbing the otherwise peaceful evening. It alighted a storm of colors, oranges and reds replacing the once navy sky. Debris was thrown in all directions, some pieces lodging themselves feets away in the sand, others piercing through the heavy-weighted cotton used for the tents. 

You tore your eyes from the wolf, turning back to face the settlement, horror etched on your features. 

Are we under attack? You frantically tried to make out if it was your people that were trying to make a run for it or if they were enemy attackers. 

Jaehyun slowly shifted back into his human counterpart. He wobbled as he tried to stand upright on the sand that sunk his feet. 

Out of all the places. He held back his disbelief. I find my mate in a desert.

He noticed the sudden change in your eyes, the inconspicuous color your eyes had been before had now flickered to a fiery orange. Jaehyun took a surprised breath, the confusion evident on his face. 

You're not human. He distinguished. Well, at least not completely. A wolf's mate had to carry some human blood. Otherwise, it'd be impossible for the mate tie to come to be. The lore was that werewolves were immortal creatures of the night. They'd lurked the forest depths for centuries until they laid eyes on their mate. From then on, the wolf would begin to age again alongside its human partner. 

In addition, it was believed that if a wolf's mate died prematurely, then the wolf would so to. This belief had, however, been since half disproven due to Haechan and Doyoung's ordeals concerning their mates. 

The pack had come to learn that it was only after a wolf had marked its mate did the two become bounded body and soul. Then the pain or pleasure the mate felt the wolf would experience too. 

Under the bad lighting, the orangy hue of your eyes could easily be mistaken for a wolf's. However, Jaehyun observed they lacked depth and were more one-note. 

What are you? 

You quickly compiled your notes, shoving them back into your satchel. You kicked your heels, ready to run back to the camp. Jaehyun quickly grabbed your wrist, preventing you from going. 

You turned back, stunned at the sight of a handsome man instead of the wolf. His eyes dazzled a brilliant gold which momentary stole your breath, "Let go," You finally found your voice. 

"Your eyes," He said with concern. 

"What about my eyes—" Realisation hitting you. 

You closed them immediately. How could you be so careless? 

Jaehyun gently brushed his thumb over the back of your hand, "It's okay." Whatever you were, he didn't care. What worried him was how other humans would react to seeing them, "My eyes change too." 

You hesitantly reopened your eyes. You watched as the wolf's golden orbs shifted into the shade of crimson red. Your jaw slightly dropped. The color left you with both the feeling of awe and fright.  

NETWORKS:  @nct-writers | ​

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

2.

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

3.

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

4.

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

5.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

[paperanddice]

Graceful, elegant, commanding. Lunar handmaidens seem to descend from the skies and bring hope and peace with their words and actions, promising great things to those who follow them. This easy leadership is terrifying to those who already hold power, as people seem to flock to the handmaiden's side, whether convinced or scared by promises of horrible things to happen if the handmaiden isn't heeded. Those who try to oppose the handmaiden find themselves drawn in by her words, following instructions given even as they try to resist. Rarely do these resistors last long, lured into a position of vulnerability and executed by the handmaiden or her loyal followers.

In other settings, the lunar handmaiden could instead be a specialized bard NPC, or could be a fey connected to the moon.

Originally from the Dreamblade Base Set. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I'm working on, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Lunar Handmaiden Medium aberration, unaligned Armor Class 16 (breastplate) Hit Points 127 (15d8 + 60) Speed 30 ft., burrow 15 ft., fly 30 ft. Str 17 (+3) Dex 17 (+3) Con 18 (+4) Int 10 (+0) Wis 12 (+1) Cha 18 (+4) Skills Intimidation +10, Persuasion +10 Damage Immunities radiant Damage Resistances bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks Condition Immunities charmed, frightened Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 11 Languages any three Challenge 6 (2300 XP) Actions Multiattack. The lunar handmaiden makes two Scimitar attacks or uses Moon Bolt twice. It can then cast one spell. Scimitar. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d6+3) slashing damage plus 10 (3d6) radiant damage. Moon Bolt. Ranged Spell Attack: +6 to hit, range 60 ft., one target. Hit: 10 (3d6) radiant damage. Spellcasting. The handmaiden casts one of the following spells, requring no material components and using Charisma as the spellcasting ability (spell save DC 15): At will: animal friendship, charm person, command 1/day each: compulsion, dominate person, hold monster

13th Age

Lunar Handmaiden  5th level spoiler [aberration]  Initiative: +10 Scimitar +10 vs. AC - 15 damage Natural Even Hit: The handmaiden can make a soft command attack against the target as a free action without provoking attacks. R: Moon Bolt +10 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - 12 holy damage Natural 14+: The target is also hampered until the end of the handmaiden’s next turn. R: Soft Command +10 vs. MD (one nearby enemy) - The target is dazed until the end of the handmaiden’s next turn Natural 12+: The daze is instead save ends. Natural 16+: The target is instead weakened (save ends). Natural 20: The target is instead confused (save ends). Quick Use: This attack only requires a quick action (once per round) instead of a standard action when the escalation die is even. AC 20 PD 16 MD 19 HP 66

[yumiakikaze]

Hey, Long time no see, here are some of my Code Lyoko fanarts this month so far:

First of all, here are 2 Yumis, the first one is bunnygirl version of her s4 outfit because her outfit LEGIT looks like a bunnygirl costume and I CAN'T UNSEE IT.

The second pict is just a normal fanart of s1-3 Yumi with a smol butterfly flying around her hand.

2022, Year of the tiger.🐯 Late New Year's fanart featuring our resident catboy that I haven't drawn for a long time (due to marker ink reasons!) Odd is so cute but this character legit made my purple markers suffer.

I also revamped Aelita in my old Code Lyoko Upgraded AU. Also, Yumi's Lyoko design will be changed into a kimono with a breastplate, because imo she would look so cool in that, and I wanted to study how those stuff work. The remaining 3 will stay the same! (Upgraded AU link here:

Upgraded AU has a clear timeline now. It took place in post-S3 timeline after William got possessed by X.A.N.A. So, William is still an ally of this malevolent artificial intelligence. Noice.

Last but not least, "Project Chrysalis" Yumi. This is part of a new AU/Project named "Individual Upgrade project" (tentative). Also her antenna hair is now fixed to look like actual butterfly antennae xD

There is also a 6 AU challenge I'm currently working on using the season 1-3 design of Yumi, however due to not enough redesigns, I put my 3 AUs (Upgraded, Japanese Fantasy, and Individual Upgrade Project/Project Chrysalis) BECAUSE I CAN. Also I'm still having trouble with finding references due to weird fetish stuff that always appear wtf

The template is by Laurencel_Art on Twitter!

Iroha Uta story is also officially terminated, and rebranding into this Japanese Fantasy AU because romance isn't really my thing anymore after coming out as an aroace in 2017. Plus, aside from Oddlita and Ulumi scenes, I want to add OddYumi bonding (in Japanese Fantasy AU, Odd could transform into an actual nekomata, but Yumi, despite being a kitsune, she couldn't transform into a fox, instead she has a fox spirit familiar that she can summon freely. Basically, their flaws contradict with each other.).

The only other S1-3 Yumi redesign is from aileenroseven's A World Without Danger AU, so there's 2 remaining free slots left. If y'all have a s1-3 Yumi redesign, feel free to tag/mention me!

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT/PERMISSION!