#i like making gray-scale art where only the eyes are colored;; to make them pop out more

[x-pair-o-dice-x]

REQUESTING NOMS WITH TOMMY AND WILBUR PLEASE?????

Much love -Cat

warning for soft/safe vore under the cut! click with caution,,,

looks like a little tiny tommy got caught up in some of wilbur's antics, much to his annoyance,,, ckdnsksnsjd. at least wilbur seems to be enjoying it!

[ashbelero]

AKA a tutorial on color theory and skin tone that you shouldn’t have had to hear from a pasty white guy.

I’m not here to talk about what brought me to do this tutorial. I’m just giving my thoughts on color theory, basically, because most of these examples, WHILE TOTALLY VALID, use other pictures as reference points to pick out color. That’s not even necessary all the time, so I’m showing how I choose skin color from the wheel itself.

We’ll be using this sneak preview of Mammon from Obey Me! with piercings, which will be appearing on my Patreon soon. I am literally willing to give you guys exclusive preview content to make this point.

For simplicity’s sake, I went ahead and gave Mammon a base coloring just to give us an area to paint in. Look at that sad, gray skin. He’s so sad. Why would you do this?

I’ll start with what I think the biggest problem is. Here’s a selection of skin tones I use for white or asian-coded characters. Some of these are color-picks from Belphie and Beel, as they’re in my palette currently, along with the tones I use for Matteo. We can see that those colors tend to be clustered towards the white corner and the top of the color scale.

I theorize that when people want to make a skin tone darker, what they’re doing is either using black and gray as their shaders, or simply dragging the color selection down towards the bottom, the black side of the color picker. But that side is also where colors are their least saturated.

Skin tone is determined by melanin concentration. Melanin isn’t a different color for different people - it’s simply more concentrated in some tones than in others. So when we’re choosing a darker skin tone, what we have to do is move down into more concentrated and saturated colors.

Here I’ve selected a few shades of “pale” skin and concentrated them to show a variety of shades and colors that can appear in normal skin tone. You may want to compare shades with the ethnicity you’re portraying before you select your midtone for that character.

The purple tones I’ve selected at the bottom are uncommon, but can often appear in the skin tones of people with extremely dark coloration, which can sometimes suggest an almost violet hue. I think that’s awesome and I implore people to explore reference pictures and models of all backgrounds to literally broaden your spectrum.

As an aside, I personally don’t even like the tones that are often used in official art of Mammon because he does still appear de-saturated in some, so I knew from the start I was going to be selecting my own color.

First point to consider: Never choose your highlight or lightest color as the base for your midtone!

What we want to do is play around with the base color for our model, and then select our highlight and lowlight tones from there. Once you’ve selected your midtone, it’s okay to slide a little vertically to get your highs and lows, but make sure you don’t lose the concentration of your pigment or you’ll end up shading your model with an entirely different color.

Below I played around with gold and copper tones for Mammon to determine the best complement to the color of his hair, eyes, and piercings. As he’s a fallen angel and technically has no ethnicity, I had the freedom to do that, but I’ve been trying to lean more towards latinx/hispanic for his overall aesthetic. (I am relying HEAVILY on other tutorials and friends who know better than me to get THAT part right. Once again, this is only about color theory.)

As a side note, #2 is probably the closest to Mammon’s canon coloration among these.

I personally use linear/color burn and color/glow dodge with concentrated colors to achieve my high and low tones. I used mainly a marigold color for this round, but I usually only end up saving the midtone color and using my background to determine the color cast of my highs and lows, so the highlights and shadows might look totally different if Mammon were standing in, say, a dark blue room with a pale light source... but that would not change his base hue.

Here’s the color palette I ended up getting after toying around a bunch. Just from a color perspective, I think this makes his hair and the gold jewelry pop a bit more while also making sure that they don’t drown out his color.

I hope this tutorial was useful, and if my BIPOC followers and friends have issue with anything I’ve said above, please feel free to correct me and add to this post as you see fit! Once again, this is only from the perspective of someone using color theory to determine these factors, and I am not an ethnic or racial minority in any way, shape or form. My opinions and views on this matter are probably flawed and subject to guidance. I suggested doing this tutorial as a passing thing and someone said that I should, so I did.

Look out for the upcoming “Demon Boys with Piercings” post available publicly on my Patreon for patrons AND non-patrons!

[visceryl]

The Great Dragon Rescue

This is the bang @montdiarts​ and I worked on together! The lovely comic art belongs to @montdiarts​ while the writing belongs to myself. @hphmbang2020​

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

“Are you sure about this, Charlie?”

Barnaby’s voice echoed down the cracked stone halls weathered with age as the boys traveled by torchlight down the seldom used corridor. He gripped his wand tightly in a fist, green eyes shifting behind to ensure they weren’t followed.

“I saw it myself, Barnaby, a real life dragon egg,” the red-headed boy hissed back. He picked his way around the corner bending left, unbothered enough to forgo looking down the other adjoining halls. As far as he was concerned, that was what Barnaby tagged along for.

When he’d first stumbled upon the egg, it had been fate. It started with a prodding dream to study for his OWL’s, and after waking up covered in a fresh sheen of sweat, he had set to work scouring Hogwarts for the best place to study between classes without anyone finding him. That, of course, meant going where he wasn’t supposed to. 

Charlie sniffed out nearly every inch of the expansive castle, resulting in the common practice of people and creatures chasing him from newly acquired positions. He dared not tell Barnaby his previous run-in with Hagrid’s puppy.

As far as the Slytherin knew, this was a top secret mission to save a dragon’s egg from great peril. Loneliness. 

It wasn’t about the knowledge that they were doing this during a time both were supposed to be nose deep in books for their classes. Or that of all classes currently running, Snape was still a credible obstacle that roamed the halls. Barnaby was a defend first and ask questions later type of guy, which made him the perfect fit. 

��Okay, I get it's a dragon egg but do you even know what kind? What if someone notices it missing?”

“It’s been cruelly locked behind chains and left to rot alone!” Charlie defended. “I’m going to save it and set it free. This chance is once in a lifetime, it depends on us to ensure it's not a captive its whole life!”

A low chuckle rolled from Barnaby’s chest and he sent his elbow into the Weasley’s arm. “You’re kind of crazy, you know that?”

Charlie leveled the Slytherin with a knowing look, teeth shining brightly behind freckled features. “It runs in the family, what’s your excuse?”

“... Same here.”

Hesitation glued Charlie’s feet to the ground and his gaze lingered on his friend, scouring for any emotional fluctuation in Barnaby’s expression. Family was sensitive, he didn’t joke about it often. But there was no further comment. He’d already moved on with a roll of his shoulder, pushing ahead.

The two boys continued in silence for the remainder of the walk. Torches lit along the walls on either side, a lone painting rousing with suspicion in passing. It muttered to itself, talking of the no good boys causing trouble in its halls. 

It was ignored as Charlie took them up a flight of stairs tucked away neatly behind a wooden door. The knob was slightly rusted with underuse and the staircase led only to a hatch in the ceiling, sealed tight with a lock. 

Barnaby loomed over Charlie’s shoulder as the redhead touched down to palm the lock in hand. It twisted and turned with examination. 

“Mm, this could be a problem.”

“How did you get it open the first time?”

The dragon enthusiast’s cheeks burned a fiery red. “It wasn’t locked before. But it doesn’t matter, I can still open it.”

He took the lock further in his grasp and drew his wand. “Barnaby, give me a bit more light, please?”

The Lumos spell started as a pinprick of light in the dark room before its glow illuminated a near thirty foot area around them in dim lighting. Coming into the stairwell, they had abandoned a path of torches for secrecy. By the looks of the moss eaten cobblestone and the water stained cracks jutting up the walls, nobody was supposed to be here.

“Thank you,” Charlie breathed with a forward sink of his shoulders. He was relieved to have at least partial vision restored. 

He gave a wave of his wand and muttered the incantation for unlocking beneath his breath. As his wand turned, he could hear the rusted gears of the lock creaking open before… snap!

The hook of the lock popped open and he quickly scrambled to tear it off the hatch. It bounced unsteady in his hand, sliding past the grip of fingers. Barnaby made a pass at it, swiping to catch it before the first dreaded clink of it echoing off the stone staircase. 

To no avail.

The lock evaded both their grasps and tumbled down each individual stair before hitting the bottom with a final crack.

Charlie recoiled with tension, features pinched with horrified strain as a palm smooshed over his face, rubbing out his worry and frustration. “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted with a low hiss. 

His attention turned back to the hatch, flattening his palms on its underneath and pushing. Dust rained down on the two, clouding Barnaby’s normally brown hair in a layer of spotted gray. Both were immediately sent into a coughing fit, Charlie’s hand raising over his mouth as he ushered for the other to shine his wand up inside. 

“Don’t worry about it? Charlie have you actually ever been to this place? I don’t think anything comes up here!”

“Shh!” The Gryffindor snapped his gaze back, grasping his friend by the shoulder and giving an assuring squeeze. “I promise you, I know what this is. Please, Barnaby, just shine your light.”

Reluctantly, Barnaby did as he was told, straightening beyond Charlie to loft his wand into the room shrouded entirely in darkness. His Lumos spell lit it with ease, and as green eyes keenly made it around the room, Charlie scrambled up past him. 

The wood floor of the seemingly abandoned attic space cried shrilly beneath the boy’s weight. This space either hadn’t been used in a long time or was made to look that way. The walls and far end of the room were lined with junk. Textbooks, boxes, old potion bottles, broken brooms. It’s initial appearance gave off nothing more than an old storage room, which is exactly how it’d caught Charlie’s eye to begin with.

Secure and secluded. 

But it was what rested to his left that sparked him with the overwhelming sense of duty that led him to tuck tail and run for backup. Charlie was in no way deterred by his task or incapable of doing so, but sneaking a dragon egg through Hogwarts required tact and a lot of help. 

Sat atop a pedestal of marble, an egg-shaped form loomed in the cascading shadows rippling off of Barnaby’s wand. Charlie advanced, curving his fingers into the white linen sheet when a noise sent the Slytherin behind him scrambling. 

A crack.

Barnaby whirled, pointing his wand threateningly at empty space and his teeth grated together. “I don’t like this.”

Charlie waited a moment longer, listening out into the silence, and proceeded. He threw the sheet off and set his sights upon the rich brown egg covered in a deep tiger pattern and scaled surface. Giddiness shot through him.

“Come on, Barnaby! Look at it,” he hissed out, wildly waving his friend over. “It’s beautiful!”

Barnaby shuffled over, the light following him as he moved. He examined every end of the egg, circling around it before a frown sunk his features. “I think it’s dead, Charlie.”

“What?!”

He raised out a hand, slowly turning the back end of the egg to face the Gryffindor where a giant crack split across the back. “That doesn’t look healthy for it, at least.”

For but a moment, Charlie sank in hopeless defeat, jaw dropped slack. He pressed his hands to either side of the egg, cupping it until his forehead lowered to its top. “I should have known,” he whispered.

Then another crack. 

Something smashed back against Charlie’s forehead and he wheeled back in shock. Both boys latched their attention on the egg that writhed and shuddered on the pedestal. A small hole poked through the hardened shell and from within a deep red eye peered out.

“It’s not dead, Barnaby!” Charlie shouted all at once, lurching forward to grab the egg again. “It’s hatching! We’re going to see it hatch!”

The little dragon within the shell struggled for several minutes, chipping and biting away at its confinements. At some point, Charlie stepped in, breaking away a few small pieces to make a larger exit point. By the end of fifteen minutes, a wyrmling crawled out, knocking several shell pieces to the ground where they splintered against the wood. 

It spanned out a paper-thin wing, small serpentine tongue lashing out to lick away excess nutrients that clung like a soft film to its body. 

Barnaby crept behind it, a finger waggling against its sweeping tail that coiled and uncoiled as it lounged. “Hey, it’s kind of cute,” he murmured.

“Kind of?” Charlie stood back in awe, a glimmer of excitement in his soft honey brown eyes. “This is a Ukrainian Ironbelly! Look at its color and how thick those scales are!” His knees bit into the unstable wood flooring as he threw himself before the pedestal, coming eye level with the dragon.

“It doesn’t have its spines yet, but said to be the largest of all the dragons. Can you imagine the luck!?”

Barnaby had to hand it to Charlie, he liked animals as much as the next idiot, but never to the degree Charlie liked dragons. Nobody doubted what he’d become when he left here, or where he’d go. He was someone with a dream to study and learn from some of history’s greatest beasts. 

The Slytherin inhaled and moved to clap his friend on the shoulder. “Alright then, use that brain of yours to rework the plan. I was supposed to carry an egg, not a baby dragon. How do we hide it until we get out?”

“...Well like I said before, Penny has some potions we can use to sneak out of the castle. The only problem is.. Now that it’s hatched, I think we need to go to Hagrid.”

“What if he tells Dumbledore? Or worse. Snape.”

“No way, Hagrid loves us. And he’ll love this little guy. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

Barnaby was about to open his mouth to reply when the baby Ironbelly leapt from the pedestal, little wings snapping out. It glided for a split second before crashing against Charlie’s shoulder, letting its claws tear and grasp at his robes for purchase. A panicked cry squeaked from its chest.

The dragon enthusiast all but melted, shaking hands roping up around its body and hugging it to his chest. “Easy, easy little guy,” he soothed. 

Another squeak chirped from the Ironbelly and its plated head rubbed to Charlie’s cheek, a soft pink tongue dampening his skin with saliva. 

“...Okay you win. Can I hold it?” Barnaby quickly sputtered out, watching the baby dragon in his own glistening wonder. It took only a second for Charlie to inch himself side by side with the Slytherin, helping the wyrmling hop into his arms and onto a shoulder. It’s teeth immediately latched onto his ear, tugging with a less than threatening growl.

Laughter bubbled in his chest. “Hey!” He scooped a hand under the Ironbelly, drawing it aloft in front of his face, detaching it from his ear. “Those little teeth are still sharp.” The dragon chirped again, a soft puff of smoke lifting into the air from its parted maw. 

“Here’s the plan,” Charlie purred, scratching beneath it’s chin. “We take turns tucking it beneath our robes and find our way to Penny. She’ll supply us with the potions needed to sneak out and find Hagrid. From there, hopefully he’ll know what to do with releasing it.”

At that, Barnaby promptly wrangled the little wyrmling beneath his robes, letting it attach to his shirt, where it’s little nose picked up the lingering scent of treats. It shuffled, snuffing about before pressing its nose into the front chest pocket of his button up, clawing out a delicious pet snack.

“...I’ve got it, but it just ate the treats I saved for the Niffler!”

“Better the little thing travels full anyways.”

The plan was destined for failure. Too many open variables, too little done to prepare for carrying a baby dragon out of Hogwarts. Charlie and Barnaby set off down the halls once more after climbing from the hatch and skipping down the winding staircase. 

Barnaby struggled to calm the wyrmling’s shuffling as it fought tooth and nail to peek its head out from his collar. Eventually, a hand pressed to the top of its head through the fabric and came away with a yelp, the skin blistering red from tiny little puncture holes. 

“Charlie, it bit me!”

“Shhh, we just have a little bit further.”

“A little bit further for what?” 

The new voice had both boys jumping. Charlie whipped around to come face to face with Felix. His arms were folded over his chest expectantly, hair pulled back into a tight mini-ponytail. 

Barnaby refused to turn towards his Prefect, clutching the Ironbelly tighter to his chest as he boasted a nervous laugh. “Felix! We didn’t expect to see you here, Charlie and I were just trying to find Penny. She was going to help us out with potions.”

An impatient little squeak came from his robes and Felix raised a brow.

“Help you out, or help your little friend? What did you sneak in this time, Lee?”

Charlie slipped himself between the Slytherin Prefect and his friend, flashing a much too wide smile. “You know, it’s probably best you don’t know. That blasted Barnaby, always bringing in magical creatures. Well you know, Felix, I caught him in the act and I’m helping him sneak it out to return it!”

“What?!” Barnaby couldn’t stop himself in time, the rush of embarrassed shock warming his cheeks. “I mean.. Yeah! I just wanted a bit more time with the… the Niffler. I’m sorry, Felix, won’t happen again.”

Felix narrowed his gaze on the two, clearly not buying it as he waited impatiently for the truth. His foot tapped the ground. One, two, three times. It attracted the attention of the wyrmling smothered in Barnaby’s robes and with a last push for freedom, raced down the Slytherin’s leg.

In an instant it was attacking Felix’s shoe, teeth digging into the black leather with a determined growl as it shook its mighty little head.

Wide eyes blinked down at it, the prefect’s face twisted with horror at the audacity of the two boys. “Oh no. You have got to be kidding me. CHARLIE. You have one minute to convince me not to blow the whistle. This is a dragon. In the school.”

Charlie grimaced, quickly going down to sweep the dragon back up into his arms, letting it settle before just barely concealing it behind his robes. It could peek its head out, red eyes blinking out curiously at all the winding halls and movements. 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But Felix, please, you can’t tell. I found it alone up in one of the attics. It just hatched! I was only trying to get it out of the school to begin with so it could be freed.”

The Prefect either wasn’t buying it, or was quite good at hiding his true feelings. After a moment of silence, his jaw tightened with tension. Footsteps echoed down the right wing of the hall. 

“Dammit, Charlie. Go around the hall, now!” Felix suddenly lashed out. “I had a meeting with Professor Snape. That’s him. Go.”

“What about the dragon!?” 

“Just get it out of here, I’ll distract Snape.”

Before they had time to argue, Felix curled his fists into their clothes and shoved them around the corner. Just in time. His fingers combed through his hair to smooth back any messiness and rounded to meet Snape. 

“...Felix,” the man greeted with an exhale of annoyance. 

“Professor Snape. Did you want to go back to the classroom to talk? Or maybe the common room?”

As if a bloodhound for mischief, the man crinkled his nose like he’d smelled some foul odor. His sharp gaze ran the length of the halls before drifting back down to his Prefect. “Now, I do hope you haven’t gotten mixed up in anything. So eager to leave. I believe here is as good a place as any.”

Felix grimaced, avoiding looking in the direction he sent Barnaby and Charlie. “No, of course not, Professor. Here is fine.”

“Wonderful.”

Snape began to walk towards the hall, letting Felix trail after in panicked steps, trying to deflect his attention. It spurred him on faster. The Head of House ripped around the corner with a scowl already spanning his face as if ready to scold on a moment’s notice. 

“What are you doing, Weasley?” His voice lashed out accusingly.

Charlie had been quick on the ball. Sat on the ground with his back resting against the wall, he flipped through pages of a book, scribbling down notes between the lines with his quill. As soon as Snape’s voice met him, he glanced up shyly. “Professor Snape. Sorry, I was just doing a bit of studying.”

“With Lee?”

Barnaby was on the other side of Charlie, head knocked to the side with a line of drool dribbling down his chin. Unbeknownst to any of them, the wyrmling had wriggled its way free, bounding away behind Snape at full speed. 

Save for Felix.

He caught sight of the runaway dragon and a cold tension coiled up in every muscle. Quickly, he wracked his brain for a way out of it. 

“Oh no!” the Prefect suddenly exclaimed. “I just remembered, Professor! There is a reason why I’m a bit jumpy. I was meaning to tell you, but I saw one of the first years stuffing contraband under their mattress.”

“What?” Snape whirled, momentarily keen to forget the other two’s very existence. “Why are you waiting until now, Felix? Who.”

“I’ll show you. Just follow me.” 

The gamble paid off. 

Felix’s normally stellar behavior and hard earned trust with Snape eventually led the man off with nothing more than a cruel warning to Charlie to stay out of trouble. Purposefully led in the opposite direction of the baby dragon.

And as soon as they were gone, Barnaby sprang to action. Faster than Charlie, the big lug tore down the hall after their new friend. “Hurry, Charlie! Grab it!” 

He skidded with his shoes against the deep maroon runner streaking down the hall, wrinkling the rug in the process. The Ironbelly weaved, dodging under a table. Barnaby nearly sailed right over it, crashing in front and rolling to starfish overtop of the dragon. It pinned beneath his arm briefly before popping free and bolting once more. 

Ready to make a break for it, only Charlie remained. 

His gaze locked on the wriggling wyrmling as its serpentine body weaved down the rug. And with a soft sigh, he sank to the ground, clapping his hands together to gather its attention. “Hey little guy, you don’t have to run,” he urged.  “How about we take you to get some yummy food?”

It stopped. Craning its tiny head around to look back at the redhead. A soft squeak bubbled up from its throat.

“That’s it! Yeah, see? Come back to me, little one. I’m going to keep you safe.”

Whether it understood or not, staring into Charlie’s warm gaze eventually had the dragon tucking tail and bouncing back over to its new friend. With a chirp and a hop, it leaped up into his arms, nuzzling at his chest. 

“Good… You’re a handful,” he chuckled, stroking his fingers over cool scales. “Now come on. I made a promise. Let’s get you out of here.”

Charlie rose from the ground with the wyrmling swathed in his arms. It crawled to rest its head upon his shoulder and he swung around to offer a hand out for Barnaby. 

The Slytherin gave an unceremonious grunt, turning his green eyed gaze upwards before clasping their fingers. It took a lot of pull to get the large boy onto his feet. He promptly took to smoothing out his robes with a laugh. “Can’t believe Felix helped us out with Snape.”

“He’s full of surprises at times.”

Getting to Penny only took them ten minutes despite the struggled wait in timing the stairs to swing perfectly towards the Potion room. She was ecstatic to see the Ukranian Ironbelly and doted for as long as possible before handing over two potions of invisibility. Needless to say, the dragon was also showered in an array of treats plucked from her snack bag, ranging from a turkey cut of a sandwich to a cheese cracker. 

From there, it was an uninterrupted and straight shot path towards Hagrid’s Hut. With most students still in their classes, Barnaby and Charlie snuck soundlessly out through the front doors. Not even Filch seemed to stumble across their path. 

Hagrid’s Hut was something that was heard before it was spotted. A hotspot for creatures magical and not, several birds scattered as Charlie hopped up the cobble path. Fang lounged on the porch out in front of the doorway. His dark, wrinkled face pressed into the wood deck, snores lifting up from a pressed snout before the approaching boys stirred him.

A deep bark rattled from the dog’s chest and he stood, walking over to sniff at Charlie’s robes. 

“Hey Fang,” the boy purred. “Hagrid home?”

Another bark. 

“Aye! Fang what’re ya on about now?” Hagrid’s voice raised from within the hut. There was a shifting creak of wood and the door swung open for the grizzled man to peer out. Immediately his gaze fell to Charlie and Barnaby. As well as the little moving mass hidden within the redhead’s robes. “Well aren’t yeh two sights fer sore eyes! What’s this 'bout?”

Charlie stepped forward and drew his robes down cautiously to reveal the little dragon. “We found him in the castle. I know we’re not supposed to be doing this, but Hagrid we need your help to release him.”

Hagrid took a single look at the wyrmling and his features twisted with exasperation. “Yeh two boys realize I can’t jus overlook this, ay?” 

“Well you could,” Barnaby replied sheepishly.

“No.” Charlie looked back to his friend then down at the dragon who settled back in his arms. “We understand.”

“Then get yerselves inside. Let’s figure something out for the wee thing.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 5: Martian March

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow

Rainbow, moonbeams, and orange snow

On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five

Going back to Saturn where the people smile.

                                              Saturn-Stevie Wonder

our rooms glittered. They were faced in massive scale pietra dura stone patterns from floor to ceiling. Gray, black, and white dominated, with a surprising amount of green mixed in, as well as startling pops of orange-red, blue, yellow, purple, and bright pink.

The designs were large and geometric, almost a sister style to the classic Art Deco that you saw on the older buildings downtown, mixed in among the flavorless glass towers and Brutalist boxes that defined the 'modern' era.

This main room housed a delicately carved stone couch and chairs, around a low stone table, and several stone shelves and storage boxes. These were all made of a black stone that held numerous yellowish-green crystals in their matrix, all polished so that the crystals shimmered.

This same stone appeared in the patterns on the walls and floor, as very thin panes on a pale backing, highlighting the colors of their crystals. This, along with a similar black stone with reddish-orange crystals, and a dark gray, large-grained stone that sparkled at any angle, was contrasted against the now familiar creamy white and pale orange. Here and there, inlays of silvery wire brought organic shapes to the mix.

The cloudy crystal made a reappearance in a round, well-lit, domed room Loki described as a 'Solar', even though no sun could reach this place. Instead, the clearest of the crystal had been set into the dome, all of it covering the mysterious lights, creating a bright light source that illuminated the room to something close to midday. The walls were covered in the cloudy crystal, which, in the bright light, shone with veils and flashes of iridescent blue.

On one wall there was a subtle inlay of  translucent gray stone, in the shape of clouds, that shone in splashes of blue and purple. Cleverly inlaid within them were specific pieces of the same type of stone, in the shape of lightning bolts that sparked yellow when viewed at the right angle, but were invisible from others.

He showed you the antechamber that connected your rooms and his, all in black and green. Even the lights were covered in thin panes of green crystals thickly packed in black matrix, casting a dim, viridian light over the whole chamber.

You decided that room was extremely creepy, and you never wanted to be in it.

The bath room was much better, ridiculously large, with a shower just out in the open, a wide counter with a mirror of polished metal, a huge tub carved right into a semi-finished block of stone, and a strange toilet tucked away in a stall in the corner. It was all big enough for you to move around in easily, though you mentioned that you would need a chair for the shower. Loki vowed to have one brought immediately.

But your bedroom was the obvious jewel. Loki puffed up with pride as he showed it off, as if he were the one who designed it. There were jewels in here, bright, bubblegum pink, golden yellow, and apple green in elaborate platinum settings, affixed to the walls. There was more cloudy gray and white crystal in here, with their blue and purple, pink and yellow flashes. The lights were clustered around the ceiling like stars, and the bed was another of the precious rare wooden objects, a four poster canopy bed, draped with a gauzy veil.

Most surprising of all, the bedroom had a window-or rather, a doorway out to a semi-circular balcony that overlooked what must be the main palace courtyard and entrance. When you stepped out onto it, you could see lines of guards-more people than you'd seen in one place since you'd been here. They framed the long, rectangular space every ten feet or so, in bright, brassy armor and sunny yellow capes.

This was clearly a cape kind of place.

It was very strange. You could have sworn you hadn't climbed any ramps, and you certainly hadn't gone up any stairs, but here you were, at least six stories up, and there were more stories above you.

“You must be clever builders.” you said without thinking about it.

“Our engineering capabilities are the envy of the galaxy, it's true.” Loki boasted. You believed him. All around the courtyard more balconies jutted out. Several dozen feet to the side of yours, the balcony you assumed must belong to Loki was connected to another large balcony on the opposite side by an elegant walkway, supported by slender pillars. There was a round platform in the center, and red curtains obscured the balcony on the other side.

“We can address large crowds from there, or call emergency meetings of the guards, or the other high nobles.” Loki said, following your gaze. “That's who lives on this floor. Myself, my brother, all of the most important Asgardians, and now you.”

But not for long, if you had any opportunity. “Uh, I'm honored.”

“How do you like them, though?” he pressed, “Is the décor to your liking? The size? We've been working on it for months, but we can still change things if you need.”

“Months?” you gasped, shocked. “You guys did all this in just months?”

Asgard had come to Earth a little under two years ago, decimated and begging for assistance. Thor led them, but no one knew Loki had come along. Thor himself served as his own liaison to the United Nations, bringing his case before the leaders of Earth, to secure a place for his people.

Obviously, it had worked. Thor's reputation and high-profile friends, as well as his surprisingly diplomatic and optimistic outlook had both charmed and discombobulated most people who spoke to him. People liked and respected him, but no one expected him to be savvy.

It had worked out very well for him and his people. They had secured some secret land that the entire U.N. had remained tight-lipped about. Then, a few months in, Thor had stopped making appearances, leaving Earth-Asgard relations to his advisors; an abrasive, undiplomatic woman whom you loved to watch, and a stoic and imposing man with unsettling eyes. Rumors flew for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention. There had been so much to fight for at home.

Did anyone even know you were gone? You were supposed to attend a march tonight. Or last night? You didn't know how long you had been asleep. Surely someone noticed you were missing.

But if they did, how would you even know?

“-harness the sun's energy over the long rotation period so that we can build even more efficiently.” Loki was saying. “We've done an admirable job for such a reduced population, but there is so much more to do.”

“And you took them away from that to build this for me?”

“I took them away from this to build special chambers for the princess of Asgard.” Loki corrected, “It was not a waste, nor was it superfluous. It was for someone important.”

“I'm not.” you insisted, “I'm just some rando they snatched up and tossed at you. I'm not princess material.”

“I will find out what is behind this.” he said, “But until I can, I want you to feel comfortable here. This is all yours now, and more.”

You couldn't, you couldn't allow yourself. You weren't supposed to be here. It was only a matter of time before this mix up was discovered, and a swap was arranged. You'd go home, and some other woman would take your place.

How horrible.

“But is everything to your liking? Do you need more light? More space? Is the bed all right for your leg? A good height?”

You were more than a little wary about getting into bed with him here, but as you hobbled over to it, he remained at a distance. You sank onto the plush mattress, with it's silky green sheets and thick comforter. It was very nice, soft and smooth, and warm, despite being placed on solid stone. Hopefully the blanket would ward off the slight chill that followed everywhere you had been so far.

“It's a good height,” you said, “especially if I get a new cane.”

“Excellent. Would you like to see my quarters?' he asked, “You may come and go between them as you please.”

Which meant that he could too. You didn't find that reassuring.

“Uh...isn't that, um, inappropriate?” you asked, casting about for any reason to refuse. “We haven't even, um, there hasn't even been a wedding!”

He paused, then his face broke into a beautiful, glowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You want that big celebration, naturally. Well, it is only fair, isn't it?” He sat down on the floor next to your bed, as if forgetting that he was a prince and a god, a powerful figure, abandoning his dignity to sit on the floor like a child.

“Do you want to plan it, or leave it to the advisors? Asgard is very good at grand weddings, but if you've had some specific plan for it, I'm sure we can accommodate it.”

“Uh...” This would be the perfect opportunity to stall. You could buy so much time with this! “I would like to plan it. There's things I've been wanting to do since I was a little girl. It would be a dream come true, to plan my own wedding.”

Not strictly true. Certainly, as a little girl you had contemplated flowers and a dress. There being a groom was far less important.

“Then begin any time you like.” Loki said warmly. “I'll have notebooks brought to you, and you can plan out whatever you want. Whatever it is, we can do it for you.”

You almost felt bad for what you were going to do, but on the other hand, you didn't trust him and his terrifying adoration, and horrible power over your life and safety. You'd make as many impossible demands and take up as much time as you possibly could. If it kept you safe. If it kept you from the nightmare scenario.

“I will have your bathing chair brought. You seem tired; shall I have dinner brought to you? We can dine in your audience room. We can have you measured for a new prosthetic, and for a new cane as well. The artificers will set to work on them immediately.”

“Um, sure. That sounds fine.” Dinner would be welcome, after only one apple and one cup of water. And a new, higher tech leg and cane might help you escape faster. You should take every opportunity available to you.

Loki helped you out to the largest room, with it's bookshelves and seating, and saw that you were comfortable. Then he bid you stay put and wait for a bit, while he got everything set up. You were in no shape to try for an escape right now; you would just bide your time.

You waited patiently, taking in the details of the beautifully precise stonework that made up your new-temporary-living quarters. What incredible workmanship. Shame it had been wasted on you.

Maybe someone else would have been thrilled. To have wealth and power, security and luxury, a handsome prince just handed to them with no effort on their part at all. That wasn't what you wanted though; you didn't want to join the lucky ones. You didn't want to be lifted out of your hardships and set above your peers, you wanted those hardships to be eliminated for everybody. You didn't want to be a social climber, you wanted a more equitable society. This fantasy was worthless to you. It had all been done without your consent.

A quiet knock on the door grabbed your attention. You didn't answer immediately, and the knock was hesitantly repeated.

“Um, come in?” you called.

The two adolescents you had run off before cracked the door open and peeked their heads in.

“Your highness?” the girl asked.

“May we enter?” the boy finished.

“Yeah, come in. I'm in a better mood now.” you said calmly. No need to be rude to them now that she knew what was going on. If Loki hadn't even known about the kidnapping, there was no way these kids were in on it.

“We were sent here to get measurements?” the boy-Andvarri wasn't it-asked shyly. “For a prosthetic leg, and a cane?”

“Yes, I was told you might be coming. I'm sorry about earlier: I was very disoriented and confused.”

“No harm done, your highness. This won't take long.”

The girl-Bjarkehilde-helped you stand as Andvarri took several measurements and asked about your preferences in weight and materials, flexibility and points of articulation, even colors and decorations.

They were going to put in a lot of effort to help you escape. A fine efficient leg, a sturdy lightweight cane, and Bjarkehilde even asked about what kinds of medication you needed, and for what.

Bjarkehild was surprisingly close to your height and build as well. That stayed in the back of your mind for a while after the two of them left.

As the minutes passed, you began to realize that you were going to need some kind of clock. You had no idea what time it was. There was no visible sunlight, the lights in your rooms hadn't changed at all, and no one had mentioned it at all. How did the Asgardians know? Was some kind of internal timekeeping part of their natural abilities?

Maybe it was the nebulous grasp of time, maybe it was the fading adrenaline and setting in of weariness, maybe it was residual drugs working their way out of your systems, but you began to feel strange as you waited for Loki to return. Either you felt hot, or the slight chill that was prevalent in this place was getting worse. Perhaps you had been staring at the artistic walls for too long, because the colors seemed to be vacillating between painfully saturated, and fuzzy at the edges.

It seemed to take forever for Loki to return, carrying a tray of food and drink. This he set on the lovely stone table before you, and then took a seat in a nearby chair.

“You must be ravenous by now.” he said, and you were. You leaned forward to inspect the offerings. The metal tray was filled with small stone bowls and plates, and two small cups of liquid. Was this how meals were traditionally served in Asgard? A great variety of small portions?

One of the cups turned out to be orange drink, from powder. You recognized that taste from your childhood. The dry air had made your tongue rough, and the acidic flavor was a blast on your tastebuds, as bright as the colors on the walls. The second cup was some kind of brown broth, possibly also from powder, as it got thicker at the bottom of the cup. There were dried apricots, soaked in honey, and dates, a barley porridge with a swirl of honey and a dash of cinnamon. There were common Saltine-type crackers that went with a very strange stew that looked like it was made, not just with re-hydrated vegetables, but re-hydrated meat as well. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

You barely noticed. You wolfed it all down as Loki just sat and watched, having brought nothing for himself.

“I see you needed the fuel.” he commented, after every bite was gone. “Yes, I think you will need it. Beloved, I must tell you something about that apple you ate earlier. I can see it's effects are starting to take hold. Like I said earlier, I had thought to feed it to you slowly.”

“The apple? What...what's it doing to me?” Beloved? He was taking things a bit far, wasn't he? But you definitely were feeling weird. Uncomfortable. “I had just woken up and I didn't know where I was, or what was going to happen. I didn't know where my next meal was coming from.”

“And I understand that now, as I did not then, or I would have refrained from putting it out at all. But it's too late now. For several things. We will simply have to adapt and endure.”

“Endure?”

“I will not leave your side, you may count on that.” He promised. “But that was a special apple. Its tree came from a cutting, taken from a remnant grove in Vanir territory, as part of their peace treaty with us. A sacred tree whose fruits provided the Vanir with ageless warriors. For us, they heal terrible wounds and sickness. But for you, they are known as the Apples of Immortality, and they confer a great gift indeed. But it is not without price.”

You doubled over in pain.

[vannahfanfics]

Heroes Rising

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo

Hey, everyone! I’m super happy to present the piece I wrote for New Year, New Hope: A BakuDeku New Year’s Zine! It’s a free downloadable PDF, so I encourage everyone to check it out on Twitter to see all the wonderful art and stories that have been created in addition to mine. Enjoy! 

Izuku’s eyebrows slowly cinched as he drifted through the hazy twilight of half-sleep. As his mind wandered the lavender-gray fog of rising consciousness, his cheek twitched and wordless murmurs slipped through his slightly parted lips. His eyelashes fluttered open to reveal dull emerald eyes. They slowly brightened with lucidity, flickering left and right as awareness bled into his lagging brain. The pre-dawn hour greeted him, shrouding him in contentable gloom. 

Izuku smacked his lips a few times. The quiet noises echoed through the room; he narrowed his eyes at the strange reverberance of the sounds, as it didn’t sound like the acoustics of his bedroom. Upon sitting up and looking around, he realized that he indeed was not in his bed; he’d passed out on the common room sofa. He was surrounded by the rest of his peers. 

“Man… What a wild New Year’s Party,” he snickered under his breath as he kicked a throw pillow off his calves. It flopped onto Denki’s lap, and the boy immediately cuddled and curled around it while murmuring something about hamburgers. Careful not to trod on Mina, who was sleeping with half of her body under the coffee table, Izuku rose and stretched his arms above his head. His vertebrae decompressed with a series of satisfying pops, making him hum in relief as his slightly sore muscles unwound. 

Izuku tip-toed his way to the windows framing the wall of the living room, sneaking his hand under his shirt to scratch at his tummy. He stood before the sleek glass panes to gaze out into the night— or what was left of it. Red-purple had begun to bleed up into the horizon. The gray clouds became awash in lavender and rose, making them seem like tufts of cotton candy floating on the breeze. 

Wow. What a great way to start the year, Izuku thought absently. 

“Oh my gosh!” he hissed in the next second, hands slapping to his head to wind his fingers into his green curls. A few mumbles wafted over from the common area, prompting him to swallow the stream of nervous babble about to spill from his mouth. He whirled around to peer into the gloom at the clock; it was still a ways off from the predicted time for the first sunrise of the year. Scuttling as fast as he could through the sea of bodies dispersed on the floor, Izuku headed for the front door. 

If I hurry, I can make it!

The cold winter wind blasted into his face as soon as he threw the door open. He shuddered violently from head to toe as the snow flurries kissed his skin and dove into the crannies of his fleece pajamas, spreading numbing cold through his flesh. For a microsecond, he debated scurrying back into the dorm to bury himself in some nice, cozy blankets where the winter chill could not reach. He shoved that urge aside to steel himself, grimacing as he stepped out into the cold. Rubbing his arms through his pajama sleeves and kicking up the snow with his slippers, he trotted around the side of the building. On the west wall was a black ladder, trailing up the side of the building to the roof. 

“Perfect!” he breathed, and the water vapor instantly fogged. He rubbed his hands vigorously for a few seconds to get them as warm as possible before gripping the lungs of the ladder. 

He squeaked as the ice bit into his palms with tiny, razor-sharp teeth. He whipped around to look at the horizon, hoping he would have enough time to grab some gloves, but more color bled into the indigo sky with each passing moment. Oh no! I won’t make it! he dismayed and returned his focus to the ladder. Grunting, he climbed up to the next rung, and the next. 

He scaled it as quickly as he could, a burn rising in his hands with each time they slapped against the freezing metal. The snowflakes drifted into his tousled hair, settling into the strands like glitter. The little fogs of his breath ghosted over his freckled cheeks as he kept his gaze upon the edge of the roof above. Beyond it, pale yellow snaked through the clouds, making them shine silver. 

“Heh. Silver lining,” he joked quietly. 

The wind snatched at Izuku’s hair as he climbed over the edge of the rooftop. Body shivering and teeth chattering, he toddled to the massive air conditioning unit perched atop the concrete, using its metallic bulk to shield him from the brunt of the gale. He sank down into a squat with a quiet sigh, appreciating the way the reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks had invaded the night sky like wax melting into a canvas. 

“Gorgeous…” he whispered in awe. 

“What’re you doing up here, nerd?” 

Katsuki’s irritated growl bounced across the rooftop, and Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, shrieking shrilly. Izuku whipped around to see the boy’s ash-blond spikes of hair ruffling in the persistent wind and his red eyes piercing the gale of snowflakes rushing past his slightly pink nose. Katsuki snarled as he mounted the ladder to step out onto the rooftop, rubbing his arms vigorously to stave off the chill as he stomped over. “It’s fucking freezing up here… What in the hell possessed you to come out here at the ass crack of dawn, Deku?” 

“Um… The dawn, Kacchan.” 

With a grunt, Katsuki looked to the horizon. The rays of sunlight speared heavenward like bright spotlights to shower the world in gold. Katsuki squinted at the rising sun for a few seconds, while Izuku fidgeted nervously, expecting some sort of scathing rebuke. To Izuku’s shock, Katsuki just nudged Izuku over with the toe of his slipper before squatting down beside him, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned back against the air conditioning unit. In silence, they watched the bubbling sun make her first peek above the skyline to greet the world in all her glory. 

“Aren’t we supposed to make a wish or some stupid shit like that?” Katsuki huffed suddenly, causing Izuku to flinch and squeak in shock again. His vermilion eyes flickered to him in slight disdain, before the irritation drained from the red pools to only look at him thoughtfully. “That’s what Pinky said, or whatever. That it was tradition to make wishes on the first sunrise of the new year. Is that what you were doing up here?” 

“N-n-n-no!” Izuku stammered, waving his hands as his nervous breaths puffed out in clouds in front of him. After a second his fingertips began to burn and go numb, so he shoved them under his armpits to warm them up. Looking back to the rising sun, he smiled contently, “I just wanted to see the sunrise. Now that you mention it, though, making a wish does sound nice.” 

The snow layering the top of the building crunched as Katsuki stood up. Izuku watched with knitted eyebrows, wondering what he was doing, then fell onto his side with a peep as Katsuki slid into a proud, challenging stance and shook his fist at the sky. 

“I’m not gonna make a wish; I’m gonna make a promise! This is gonna be the year I’m gonna surpass All Might!” Katsuki roared, face flushing with conviction. His booming voice bounded on the wind to carry to the city beyond. Though Izuku found Katsuki’s endless confidence and borderline egotism bracing, he felt sorry for all their friends who had just been jerked awake by the explosive boy’s rousing dawn proclamation. 

Grinning triumphantly, Katsuki shimmied back down and rubbed his hands together. “All right, ya damn nerd. What’s your shitty wish?” 

Izuku blushed as he was suddenly prompted. It was too cold for him to stand up in the howling wind, so he just looked at the sun, watching its golden liquid-like light splay over the distant buildings and trees. 

“This year, I’m gonna master One for All and catch up to you, Kacchan,” he vowed solemnly. “A lot has happened in this last year, and we’ve both grown a lot… But I’m not nearly where I need to be yet. I need to keep growing so that I can become a successor worthy of All Might.” 

When Izuku looked back at Katsuki, he was making a face and sticking his tongue out. 

“I asked for your wish, not a damn speech,” Katsuki chided, elbowing Izuku lightly in the ribs. As Izuku whined and rubbed at his bruised flesh, Katsuki’s lips curled up into a smirk. 

“All right, then. Let’s make those wishes— those promises— come true. I won’t accept failure from you, Deku,” Katsuki hummed, staring with lidded eyes as the sun ascended into the rose-gold sky. Izuku blinked at him, then turned to smile at the rising sun, too. 

“Of course. I’ll do my best!”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[sixofbastards]

Reminiscent

(The background info NOT from the book is purely my own thoughts. Their backstories do not change. But I wanted my sad kids to have a little bit of a happy childhood.)

Word count: 1,839

Kaz Brekker never talked about his life when he was a child on a farm. He had a reputation to uphold. You don’t earn the title ‘Bastard of the Barrel’ by growing up on a farm in the countryside. Not to mention that bringing up his childhood meant his whole childhood, and nobody was good enough to know about Jordie.

Kaz and his friends (something that he only referred to them as in his mind) had started drinking after a grueling day of work. They’d gathered in Kaz’s study in The Slat, everyone’s voices soft and liquid from the alcohol. Nina had curled against Matthias on the sofa and closed her eyes. Wylan was attempting to teach Jesper some notes on the flute by the fire as Kuwei watched on. Inej was seated on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through a book. All in all, a much more preferred night than sitting alone in a dark room by himself.

A particularly shrill tweet from the flute startled everyone, and Jesper set the instrument on the floor. Embarrassment had seeped into his body as everyone chuckled at him.

“We should do something more than this,” the dark skinned boy said.

“And what exactly would you suggest,” Nina asked, her voice slurring with drowsiness.

“We could get to know each other. Sure, we’ve been through a heist together, but I would have no clue what any of your favorite colors are. I could take a guess but that wouldn’t make for a very fun birthday present.”

The air was tension filled and silent. Kaz took a slow sip of his drink, the sloshing of ice seemed to break the shared revelry in the room. His gloved fingers tapped a silent rhythm on his large stuffed chair.

“Well if nobody will go first, I suppose I’ll make the sacrifice,” Nina said as she righted herself from Matthias’s side.

Nina began talking about her earliest memory. She was lying on a wooden floor near a dim fireplace. There were fur blankets around her. Her eyes were on the ceiling, and a woman came into her view. The woman was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. The woman’s hair was a deep burgundy in the firelight, and she wore a dazzling green dress. Her eyes were shining with happiness. The woman picked Nina up in her arms and the memory ended.

“Oh, and my favorite color is blue.”

It seemed that silence was a shadowy creature that was waiting on its haunches, leaping whenever voices fell flat.

“You wear a lot of red for someone whose favorite color is blue,” Jesper joked.

“Red is a good color on me, but there’s something about blue.”

“Spare is the details of looking into Matthias’s eyes for seven hours, Nina,” Inej interjected. She admitted to herself that alcohol made her filter disappear, and she could keep up with the jokes that everyone told.

Jesper gave a whoop and Nina laughed. Wylan held his hand up for a smack, and Inej reciprocated. Matthias turned pink.

“I’ll go next,” the gruff Fjerdan said, trying to derail the situation.

Matthias’s story was bittersweet, with memories of his mother and sister. He detailed what it was like to live with the two women. When Matthias was nudged into the army, he remembered feeling that his little sister was becoming more and more like his mother everyday. Then his memory took a darker turn as he began to describe those first few years training to be a drüskelle. At this point, Nina had begun to rub his back in comforting circles.

“Thank you for sharing, Matthias. I could never understand what it was like for you, but it must be hard to talk about it at all,” Inej said quietly, passing the bottle of alcohol over to Matthias. He poured himself another drink and inclined his head in acknowledgement. His final statement of the night was that his favorite color was red.

“I’ll go next,” Inej said, steeling herself to think back to her childhood.

It wasn’t hard for the Suli girl to talk with a whimsical air when she regaled the group with tales of her life as an acrobat. It surprised no one that this was where she had gotten her incredible talents of scaling and sneaking. She told of her mother and her father, her cousins and the family she had from her traveling troop. She stopped herself before she got to the part where she ended up in Ketterdam. It was... something she thought of too often already. Her favorite color was purple.

Jesper went then. He told the group about trailing through the fields, leeching the jurda of its color. They all smiled at his recollection of his mother and her caring nature. They’d all met his father, so they knew what Colm was like, and Jesper said he hadn’t changed much from his childhood. Jesper’s favorite color was orange.

Wylan was next. Everyone knew his life pretty much. Heir to a rich man turned black sheep. What they didn’t know was how much he loved art, music, and acting. He recalled, before his father learned of his disability, that the family would go out and visit the local theatre to watch the plays. He also loved the color gray.

There was a sweetness in the air, longing for a mother’s embrace that would never again come. Jesper brought Wylan to his chest, burying his face in copper curls. Everyone gave a moment of respect, as they had done for the other stories.

Kuwei went last. He mostly talked about his father, the types of experiments he was involved with. There were brief details of his mother, someone he barely remembered now. He missed Shu Han, but was happier here with everyone else. His favorite color was green.

“Kaz? Do you have anything to add? Is it possible that you didn’t crawl from a dank alleyway and onto the front steps of the Slat?”

Nina’s question was gentle, a slight hint of joking to her voice. No matter how many times they crew had asked about Kaz’s background, he had a way of dodging the question. Always something about being a street rat or the like. But maybe now after everyone has shared? Of those in the room, they were the only ones the others could trust with information like this.

Kaz sipped his drink slowly, looking into the fire blankly. Was he really considering telling them? Not about Jordie, but...

Minutes passed, and Jesper finally opened his mouth to make a joke when Kaz spoke up.

“I was born on a farm in the Kerch countryside.”

Time seemed to stop. Nobody seemed to be breathing. Kaz’s heart plummeted to the floor and he gulped down another mouthful of his drink.

“It was a small farm. I don’t remember what our crop was, if we even had one. We had chickens.”

Kaz knew that this wasn’t nearly as detailed as the others. But after Jordie, he had forgotten most of his past.

“My mother baked fresh bread every day and I remember putting so much butter on it that it would make me sick. My brother-“

Kaz stopped, swallowing thickly. A flood of memories had come back now that he’d opened his mind to them.

“My brother and I went down to this creek every day and tried to fish. It wasn’t even ten feet wide, and it was about knee deep so there weren’t any fish. My brother always said that we were practicing for our trip to the ocean. We never went to the ocean, but I admired him so much I didn’t care.”

Once Kaz began talking, he couldn’t stop. There was something so freeing about being able to talk about his old family with his new family.

“I woke up every morning to the chickens clucking and I would feed them.”

The group’s surprise turned into awe when, as Kaz continued to talk, a genuine smile came over his face. It softened his features and was unrestrained. There was a dimple in his left cheek that had probably been hidden since whatever had been done to turn him into who he was now.

Kaz snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together. He threw back the rest of his drink, running his tongue over his lips. The famed Bastard of the Barrel stood then, his cane clutched in his hand.

“It appears we’ve run out of drink. I’ll go get more.”

And so Kaz left, trekking down the stairs, thoughts swirling in his head.

Back in Kaz’s study, the group was silent. The fire popped, and Nina jumped.

“So I guess I wasn’t crazy that when I met Kaz, I thought he had an accent.”

Everyone looked to Jesper, varying emotions rolling over their faces. Inej in particular looked very interested.

“What did he sound like,” Nina asked.

Jesper shrugged and attempted a Kerch accent with a slight drawl. Nina burst into giggles, with Wylan following. Inej briefly smiled, and Matthias looked extremely pensive.

“I do have to wonder how a farm boy ended up in Ketterdam though. When did he come here?”

Wylan’s question sent the group into their own heads. What did make Kaz’s family decide to come to Ketterdam. Or did his family stay on the farm, and only Kaz came to Ketterdam.

“We shouldn’t pry anymore. It took a lot of courage for him to say those things, and we should respect that,” Inej said quietly. The group of teens all silently agreed.

When Kaz came back, the group was spewing jokes about something Jesper had said while he was gone. He settled back into his chair, and Inej got up from her place on the floor to pass the bottle around. Instead of going back, however, she settled herself on the arm of his chair.

The night went on much the same, drinks and stories being shared. Kaz didn’t talk for the rest of the night, but he no longer felt such the usual heaviness on his shoulders. He felt free. Not completely, mind you, but free enough that he knew he could truly trust the people in this room.

Matthias had been sending Kaz some meaningful looks since he’d returned. Kaz knew what they meant, and he appreciated Matthias a little bit more.

“Oh, Kaz, you never told us your favorite color,” Jesper said.

Everyone kept quiet as Kaz contemplated his answer. Nobody had ever asked him that before. He looked to Inej, then the rest of the group.

“My favorite color is black.”

[rivaltierno]

I’ve been meaning to update Mmeeie’s profile + reference art for a bit now, and after a good two weeks of work on it, I’ve finally done that.

The updates to her design is mainly just the different color palette, though her profile is changed a bit more. Most notably, I significantly fleshed out her backstory and added sections talking about the most important relationships she has. I also tweaked a couple other things like her personality and explained some of her powers more in-depth.

The profile itself is written under the cut, but before that a few notes to help clear up some things that may be confusing while reading it:

- I don’t know the names of the DC Earths, so I just tried to vaguely describe each universe she went to in her backstory. If it’s not clear, the universes she went in order are: the Hanna-Barbera Superfriends cartoon, the 2003 animated Teen Titans series, the Teen Titans Go! cartoon, and the Static Shock cartoon.

- Since Teen Titans Go! has no consistent timeline (or continuity in general really), the timeline part of her backstory is based on Static Shock (or how I’m interpreting its timeline at least). She first goes to the Static Shock universe in mid-Season 3 (between “Showtime” and “Romeo in the Mix” specifically), and then the second time is in early Season 4 during the episode “She-Back!”.

- I’m operating under the idea that these universes have parallel timelines of sorts, which is why the modern-day Teen Titans Go! universe exists at the same time as the early 2000s Static Shock universe and Mmeeie can so easily jump between them. (Since the Teen Titans Go! vs. Teen Titans crossover movie those had universes interacting with no timeline trouble I’m going to say that's kinda canon anyway.)

Name: Mmeeie (pronounced as the letters M-E)

Other Aliases: Emmy Maxwell (only used while in human disguise)

Species: Fifth-Dimensional Imp

Age: 15

Gender: Mmeeie doesn’t know nor does she care to find out. Will dismiss people if asked what her gender is.

Pronouns: She/Her; no pronouns (when back home in Zrfff)

Sexual Orientation: Attracted exclusively to girls

Birthday: December 1st (Sagittarius)

Home Location: Zrfff, Fifth Dimension

Alignment: Neutral, leaning towards Chaotic

Height: 2′9″ (normal), 4′9″ (human disguise)

Weight: Weightless

Physical Description: Short and fat. Dark green eyes and matching hair, her hair pulled into low-hanging pigtails, the ends perpetually curled upward. Grayish-blue skin color.

When in her human disguise, still short and fat. Blue eyes and black hair, her hair worn down and the ends still pointed upwards, but split into two sections on each side. Pinkish-white skin color

Clothing Description: A green full body suit with a high popped collar and gold-colored insignia with the letters ‘M’ and ‘E’ inside a pointed-down triangle on the chest. Gold-colored gloves reaching just above the elbow, gold-colored boots reaching just below the knee and curving down in a ‘V’ shape at the top, a gold-colored belt wore at the waist and curving down in a ‘V’ shape, and a gold-colored headband. A light orange flight disc with boot-shaped latches on top.

When in her human disguise*, an orange t-shirt with a "Burger Fool" logo on it and a light blue-and-gray stripped long sleeve undershirt. A calf-length dark blue denim skirt. Tan boots with pale yellow fluff at the top. A light blue headband with orange butterflies on it, and five jelly bracelets (two orange, two tan, and one black) on each arm. A light orange walker. *Note that the clothing for her human disguise changes based on the universe she's in to try and blend in better. The clothing seen/described here is specifically for when she's in the "Static Shock" universe, since that's really the only time she uses this disguise at the moment. The walker stays the same, however.

Powers/Abilities:

Reality Warping: Like all Imps, Mmeeie has the ability to change reality to her own desires. She mainly uses this power to transform objects/create new objects, though she will sometimes use it to change the physical environment around her into something else.

However, her ability to create new environments is noticeably weaker than her ability to change objects. This is partially due to her inexperience in using her powers (as she simply creates new objects more often in her daily life than changing the physical landscape of things), and partially because wide-scale changes such as environmental ones requires a lot more focus from her, which she doesn’t like to give most of the time.

She also has difficulties disappearing objects once she’s created them, again due to still learning to fully use her powers. This is why she prefers to summon up objects that can easily be gotten rid of (money, food, etc.). To give the illusion that she can just as easily disappear them, however, she hides them away in a pocket dimension she has access to, since that’s where she keeps all of her things when she’s traveling around anyway.

Likewise, her objection creation is limited to only items without a consciousness, so if she wanted/had to create something that was alive, she couldn't summon up an animal, but could a plant. This is because only adult Imps are able to properly create consciousness for their items, which is also why Mmeeie isn't able to bring inanimate objects to life with her environment-warping abilities.

Mild Omniscience: Also like other Imps, Mmeeie is omniscient, though it’s mild. Her omnisciency level requires her to be both physically in a particular universe and near the people she wants to learn about to fully gain knowledge about them. For example, she could learn everything there is to know about a person, including everything they’ve ever done and why, within a minute or two just by looking at them, but she has to be in close proximity to them for it to work, and she can only do it to one person at a time.

This is only the case for learning about people, though; to fully learn about a universe’s history and past major events, she simply just has to be in the universe proper, not near where the actual events took place. However, she tends to focus on just events that particularly interest her or she’s asked about directly, as learning about events/history takes a lot more focus than learning about people, and like with her reality warping, she doesn’t like to give it most of the time.

Further, she can learn about current/active events without being in a universe physically. She has the ability to open “universe windows” to other universes and peak in on them. She can’t interact with the universe’s inhabitants through that window, and can only watch one event in that universe at a time, but she can see everything that’s going on without anyone else being aware of it. She can also open multiple windows at a time if she wants to, but the images get blurrier/less detailed if more than one is being used.

These limitations to her omnisciency are mainly due to her age - only adult Imps have the ability to gain full knowledge of a universe’s history and inhabitants instantaneously - though some of them, such as only being able to have one clear window at a time, is due to her still learning to fully use her powers.

Teleportation: Teleportation is Mmeeie’s method of traveling between universes/dimensions, though it can also be used on a smaller scale to get from place-to-place as well. Similarly, it is also her preferred method of movement when she cannot use her flight disc.

She is also able to take objects/others along with her when she’s teleporting, but only if she’s directly holding onto them. She can’t teleport objects/others by themselves, either, again due to her inexperience with her powers.

Weapons: Mmeeie can conjure up weapons, though she she very rarely uses them as she’s not a physical fighter. Since these weapons are mainly just for fun/show, they are cartoony looking, being black, magenta, cyan, and yellow in color. Her favorite is the giant mallet, though she has a saw blade and a laser gun as well.

Personality: Mmeeie’s main goal is to enjoy herself and live life exactly as she wants it to go. Due to being an Imp and having the powers that comes with it, she views herself as inherently better than most others. She puts her own thoughts and desires before everyone else, only taking others seriously and considering their feelings if she’s fond of them. For everyone else, she enjoys bothering and inconveniencing them just to bother and inconvenience them, ignoring all of the consequences and criticisms that doing so brings.

Despite her self-focused thought process, however, Mmeeie does legitimately enjoy having close relationships and hanging out with others, and was genuinely distraught to find out that her ego and constant ribbing of people weren’t endearing traits to those in other universes like they were on Zrfff. For those she’s fond of, or at least wants to gain some kind of acquaintanceship with, she does attempt to curve her personality to be more likable, but that generally results in her just being overbearing and inserting herself where she wasn't asked to be.

Like other Imps, Mmeeie does enjoy playing games and making deals. She takes deals very seriously, making sure the rules are followed as closely and getting very upset if someone breaks them. She’s also very particular about who can play her games - she makes sure civilians and other people who didn’t agree to play never get involved, feeling like it would be too dangerous for them to do so. Even with that concern, though, her games rarely get violent or even that physical, as she doesn’t find it fun to put people in serious danger and would much rather play a game that involves outwitting or annoying someone. If her games/actions do get physical, it is a cartoony style of violence, one that doesn't leave lasting damage to her or the person attacked (ex. being bonked over the head with an oversized hammer), and likewise serves more as a distraction than an actual attempt at fighting.

Likes:

- Seagulls

- Loud Music

- Layered Clothing

- Puppets

Dislikes:

- People named Richard (She just hates the name that much)

- Being compared to/called a “Mite”

- Authority figures

- Pizza

Fears:

- Animals with long necks [Giraffes, Geese, etc.]

- Very large animals [Giraffes, Elephants, etc.]

- Being mind controlled

Family: Ooccaaer (Father), Ttooniee (Father), Glldngllb (Grandmother)

Love Interest: Jayna (Teen Titans Go!)

Notable Relationships [more in-depth]:

Zrfff

Family: Mmeeie gets along very well with her family. They’ve always been very supportive of her, including when she decided to become the first one of the family to become an ‘adventurer’, and she’ll always defend their decisions when people in other universes question how they raised her.

However, there was a divide in how she was raised in a major way: her father Ttooniee and her grammy taught her to be very proud of her power and to ignore anyone trying to stop her living the way she wants to, while her father Ooccaaer taught her that, even though she is indeed more powerful than those in other universes, there does need to some level of order in the world and that never thinking about others will only lead to trouble.

This never caused any fights amongst her family, but it did cause confusion for Mmeeie when she was first out on her own and couldn’t rely on her family to make important decisions for her. She tries her best to blend the two viewpoints together, but that usually results in her coming off as a hypocrite to those around her.

Mr. Mxyzptlk: Like most Imps, Mmeeie idolizes Mr. Mxyzptlk. She grew up hearing stories of his amazing adventures and exploits, and since she dreamed of leaving Zrfff and exploring the multiverse some day, she wanted to be just like him. When an opportunity to study under him came she took it, taking everything he said to heart, even if it wasn’t very much.

Mr. Mxyzpltk, however, doesn’t think much about Mmeeie. He views her more as a means to the end than a true student, and only ever interacts with her when it is convenient for or required of him.

Teen Titans Go!

Robin: At first, Mmeeie and Robin were just each others’ rivals, trying to one-up each other in an on-going competition to see whose the best. They clashed heavily due to how similar their personalities are, with them both demanding everything be their way or the highway and both being willing to mess with other people to get that to happen.  However, they quickly realized that because they're so similar, they could confide in each other in a way that they couldn’t with others/without a feeling of being judged, and began to do that as well.

They’re still not really friends, as Mmeeie is willing to pull out more dangerous game just for him and Robin enjoys it when she gets herself caught up in them, but at the end of the day they can still laugh it off and do appreciate the relationship they have.

Starfire: Starfire was Mmeeie’s first full-blown crush. The two of them got along really well at first, bonding over the fact that both of them were still learning the ropes about certain parts of Earth culture and that they both enjoyed making fun of Robin. However, Mmeeie eventually realized there was a major problem preventing a relationship between the two of them: Starfire wasn’t attracted to her in the slightest, and didn’t even seem to realize Mmeeie was flirting with her. Not wanting to lose her friendship with her, Mmeeie simply pretended the crush never happened (not that Starfire would have minded if she knew). Starfire is still her favorite person on that particular Titans team, though Starfire doesn’t view her as anything more than a causal friend.

Jayna: Mmeeie and Jayna hit it off right from the start: Mmeeie admired Jayna’s dedication to her family, as it reminded her of her own family life, and Jayna not only was glad there was someone capable of being assertive when she wasn’t in the mood, she actually appreciated Mmeeie’s direct and constant affections for her, as (naturally) she did enjoy being treated a separate person from her brother despite their closeness.

As they grew closer, Jayna became one of the few people Mmeeie trusted to be actually caring when she suggests Mmeeie try and improve herself, and not just be critiquing her “for no good reason”. Mmeeie does try to tone down how overbearing she is with Jayna to a more causal level to keep her more comfortable, and even starts to truly consider how Jayna feels when doing things around her (and not just in a “oh pretty girl” way). Jayna, likewise, indeed does actually care about Mmeeie, and does really think Mmeeie does mean well and just needs to learn how to control herself better.

Within a year of meeting one another they decided to try starting a romantic relationship together, and while they haven’t been on any major dates, they (especially Mmeeie) do actively refer to each other as “girlfriend” to other people.

Zan: Mmeeie didn’t think too much about Zan at first, viewing him just as “Jayna’s brother”. She ribbed him just like she did everyone else, and was pretty pleased that he seemed fine with it. However, as she spent more time around him, she realized that the only reason he didn’t complain like most others did was because he was used to being the butt of the joke. Since they had somewhat bonded by then (and also because she wanted to cover up the sudden guilt she was feeling for the first time), she decided to throw herself into defending him and truly trying to become his friend.

Zan, for his part, was overwhelmed by the sudden change in Mmeeie’s treatment of him but did appreicate it - especially since it meant she was treating him like his own person instead of just “Jayna’s brother”. He was receptive to it, and they ended up forming a relationship around trying to improve one another; Mmeeie trying to get him to become more assertive and Zan trying to get her to consider people’s feelings more often and not just when they directly impact her. (Neither of them have been partially effective so far.)

Static Shock

Static: Mmeeie decided that Static would become her rival without her even asking him about it first. In her mind, all she had to do to get him to agree was show off her amazing powers and constantly praise him, which she proudly did. Despite from the slight ego boost her praise gave him, Static was annoyed by her badgering and spent most of the time trying to ignore her, having to angrily trick her into leaving by the end of it. Mmeeie was in complete denial of this rejection, however, assuming it was all acting on the part of their “rivalry”.

When they met for a second time, Mmeeie’s view of Static was slightly more nuanced - but only because she was mad at him for how he was treating Shebang, as that shattered her view that he was a flawless hero. She actually felt a bit betrayed because of it, which Static was able to use to his advantage once he was able to properly confront her again, since she was too emotionally distraught to be as tricky as she usually was.

After Static realized all this was Mmeeie’s strange way of saying she liked spending time with him, he was slightly hesitant to send her back. He did think there might be potential for her to be a halfway decent person - that and having someone with reality-bending powers on his side would be very useful. He did end up still convincing her to leave, of course (as he didn’t want her to stick around that much), but made sure she knew she was welcome back at some point in the future. Mmeeie gladly accepted his offer to return.

Gear: Mmeeie and Gear hated each other at first, with most of the tension coming from Mmeeie’s side. Between her irrational hatred of people named Richard and her belief that Gear was inferior to Static, she took every chance she got to insult and belittle him. Much to her anger, however, Gear retaliated against this and treated her the same way.

Their relationship didn’t improve until outside forces intervened, convincing Mmeeie to consider Gear as a person (and not just a name to hate) and to start treating him with some basic decency. However, even with this change in Mmeeie’s behavior, the two of them still regularly bickered with and insulted one another; they just learned to tone it down when they had to work with one another. Their relationship just changed from pure hatred to reluctant and undesired acquaintanceship. Mmeeie prefers it that way, though, because it gives her an “acceptable” way to act out her instigative nature. (Gear, for his part, doesn’t like to think about their relationship at all, ever.)

Shebang: Mmeeie was attracted to Shebang the moment she met her, both literally and because she felt a connection to her due to their shared desire to make friends. She was incredibly perturbed by the fact that Static and Gear found her annoying, when clearly she was just trying to be nice and offer her friendship to them, which she didn’t even need to do because she was obviously better than the both of them anyway. Because of this self-projection, Mmeeie decided that she was going to be Shebang’s friend, following her around out-of-uniform and purposefully annoying anyone that was even slightly rude to her.

On the one hand, Shebang herself was annoyed at Mmeeie’s actions, finding her to be overbearing and trying too hard to be her friend. But on the other hand, she did appreicate that she seemed to be the only one who wasn't actively avoiding her and was at least attempting to understand her point of view. That, and because Mmeeie’s plan actually somewhat worked and got Static and Gear to quit complaining about her so much. Because of this, Shebang did, albeit hesitantly, vouch for Mmeeie in the end, and was the first one in that particular universe to try and talk her into being more considerate and to think through her actions. (Mmeeie was more receptive to Shebang’s requests because she was already fond of her, but it was still an uphill battle.) She still doesn’t consider Mmeeie that close of a friend, though.

Backstory:

There was nothing about Mmeeie’s childhood that inclined her towards becoming an adventuring Imp more than others her age; no one in her family had ever left Zrfff before - which they were perfectly content with - and she knew very little about the universes existing outside of the Fifth Dimension. In fact, due to one of her fathers, Ooccaaer, working as a court clerk for the Imp court system, she had knowledge about some the more illegal and morally questionable activities adventuring Imps got into that the general public didn’t know, so she even knew that not everything was what it seemed when it came to traveling to other universes.

However, none of that ended up mattering, as Mmeeie fell in love with the idea of becoming an adventuring Imp the moment she heard Mr. Mxyzlptk’s stories for the first time. She adored the theatrics of them, the cunning and wit he had, and most of all, the idea of having a personal rival to compete with, especially if it was someone as famous as he said Superman was. This desire for adventure grew each time Mr. Mxyzlptk returned to Zrfff, and she decided that she was going to leave to explore the Multiverse the first chance she got.

And, at the tender age of 13, she got it.

During one of Mr. Mxyzlptk’s trips back to Earth, he decided to start an “internship program” to help give back to the community that loved him so much; he would select a lucky few young Imps to teach the ways of multiversal travel and relations, so he could make sure the next generation got to experience the joys of adventuring. In truth, it was just a stunt to further deepen the general public’s adoration of him, as he knew perfectly well that the only reason the court never punished him too severely was because they feared a full-on riot. But it was still a successful stunt.

Mmeeie was one of the many young Imps who auditioned to be part of his program. Her plan to win Mr. Mxyzlptk over was to focus on explaining how much he inspired her and how much she would “appreciate the opportunity” to work with him and be the first in her family to travel outside of Zrfff (she made sure to later thank her family for that line in particular). She didn’t think that would be particularly impressed by her powers, anyway, since literally every Imp could do the same things, and she wanted to make herself stand out as much as possible. That and a little praise never hurt, either.

Much to her joy, her plan worked, and Mmeeie was chosen to “study” under Mr. Mxyzlptk. He told her it was because he was impressed with how close she was to her family - closeness is a key component in having a good rivalry with others, he explained - and how supportive they were of her. Unbeknownst to her, however, the real reason she was chosen was because her father was a court clerk, and Mr. Mxyzlptk wanted to leverage that to get some influence into the court system, even if he had to start at the lowest level. If Mmeeie’s explanation of her father was correct, then he certainly wouldn’t risk ruining his child’s happiness by not listening to him, right?

The training Mr. Mxyzlptk gave his chosen students was just a crash course into the powers they had but didn’t really use on Zrfff, such as how to tap into their omnisciency powers and how to tune their teleportation to the proper frequencies so they could get into any universe they want. That was it. No etiquette on how to act in other universes, no suggestions on what to do when they get there, not even a list of the universes that existed. Just “these are your powers so go use them however you want”. Mr. Mxyzlptk promised it was more fun that way, and reminded his students that they were the powerful ones, so it should be those in other universes listening to them and not the other way around anyway.

Mmeeie was a little disappointed with the training she received, as she was hoping to get more information from Mr. Mxyzlptk on how to get a proper rival, but she tried not to dwell on it too much. Especially since her family actually seemed pretty pleased with what she had learned; her father Ttooniee and her grammy were both glad that his lessons focused on maintaining personal pride even in under pressure from other universes, and her father Ooccaaer was relieved to learn that he was sending her off on her own instead of roping her into one of his schemes. With her family believing that she was indeed properly prepared to go adventuring, and with them reminding her multiple times that she could return home whenever she wanted to, Mmeeie went off to explore the  universes outside of Zrfff.

Her initial plan was just to follow in Mr. Mxyzlptk’s footsteps until she figured out what to do. The first universe she decided to visit was one that he often told stories about, one in which the Superfriends was the premier hero team. Adopting, with some slight alterations, the uniform the Wonder Twins wore (her favorite amongst the team members she saw there) so she would be taken more seriously, Mmeeie stormed into the universe demanding that Robin be her rival. Since she didn’t know what made a proper rival, she decided that someone she wanted to personally fight would do, and besides, Robin was as well-known as Superman, right?

This plan did not go well for her. Due to the Superfriends already knowing how to deal with Imps because of their past interactions with Mr. Mxyzlptk - and the fact most of them were grown adults and Mmeeie was barely a teenager, which they made sure to reminder her of - they quite easily outsmarted her and convinced her to leave. Humiliated, Mmeeie vowed to avoid all superhero teams with adult members when searching for her next universe.

Staying with the idea that becoming rivals with a Robin was the best way to go, Mmeeie looked around until she found a universe where not only was Robin not working with his Batman at all, but he and his team of fellow teenage heroes seemed to be the only team around, so she wouldn’t have to worry about any kind of adults ruining her plan. So she stormed into that universe, again demanding that Robin be her rival.

This plan also did not go well for her. Much to her shock, The Teen Titans of that universe informed her that they had dealt with an Imp before as well, though that shock quickly turned into anger when she learned it was a Mite they interacted with. Offended at the comparison, she spent more time screaming at Robin than trying to convince him to be her rival, and the Titans were able to use that frustration against her to get her to leave on her own.

Fortunately for Mmeeie, however, the third time was a charm. It didn’t take long for her to find the next universe to go to; she just hoped over to one that was like the previous one she tried but with everyone being very small in stature. When she declared that the Robin of that universe was going to be her rival, that Robin jumped on the opportunity, even reassuring her that he was totally just as famous as Superman. Not only that, that Robin was even more punchable than the previous two, so Mmeeie felt that this universe was were she needed to be.

She spent the next year there, becoming very fond of it in the process. Mmeeie’s rivalry with Robin remained steady, with her often tagging along on the Titans’ adventures just to bother him, his teammates encouraging it most of the time. Through these adventures she developed a mild friendship with the rest of the Titans, most notably Starfire, who she got a major crush on (though it was unrequited and didn’t last long).

In that time, Mmeeie also met the Wonder Twins of that universe. She was immediately smitten by Jayna, and Jayna actually liked her back. (Mmeeie was more indifferent to Zan, though.) She began to spend her time split between the Titans and hanging out with Jayna (and Zan), with the latter being a good influence on her; because she was spending more time with the Wonder Twins as opposed to the more selfish and impulsive Titans (or anyone from back home on Zrfff), Mmeeie began to realize new things about herself, like how she still felt proud of herself even when she did consider Jayna’s feelings along with her own, and how she was starting to feel guilt for how mean she was being to Zan without him ever doing anything to her. These self-realizations didn’t impact her relationship with anyone outside of Jayna and Zan - in fact, it only made her act angrier towards Robin, because she had to get her inconsiderate feelings out somehow (and their whole rivalry was built on that fact anyway) - but it was something Mmeeie kept in the back of her mind the more she stayed in that universe.

Then one day Mr. Mxyzlptk arrived to “check up” on her. In truth, he didn’t actually care how she was doing, but had to keep up the image of mentoring  her and the other young Imps. He stayed long enough to take brief, mental notes on what she had been doing to report back to her parents, and then offered a couple of general pieces of advice before leaving, pointing out that staying in just one universe doesn’t really count as ‘traveling’, and reminding her that Imps don’t let those from other universes tell them what to do. Oh, and to call her parents more often.

Though he barely told her anything, Mmeeie took everything she did get to heart and decided to get moving again. However, remembering the embarrassment she felt traveling to different universes beforehand, and not wanting to completely lose the relationships she had already built in this universe, she decided to take a different approach. She would pick a universe she knew ahead of time that she would want to stay in, and divide her time between it and her current universe, making sure to go between them enough to still qualify as ‘traveling’. She didn’t have other ideas on how to judge this universe choice besides her previous plan of finding a rival, however, so that had to be modified as well.

Trying to keep in mind the whole “considering others’ feelings” thing while not going against her Imp heritage, Mmeeie decided to find a universe with two rivals for her - one that she could compete with in an angry, serious manner like she and Robin did, and one that could compete with in a more causal, relaxed one. This meant more ‘research’ into the universes themselves had to be done before she left, but that’s what universe windows were for.

Her plan to only focus on universes with teenage heroes being the premier heroes didn’t change, but her desire to have a famous rival did; She promised Robin he would be her only rival using that codename, so she strayed away from universes that had other Titans teams and instead focused on ones with heroes she hadn’t necessarily heard of before.

During this research she found a universe with a high percentage of superpowered youths, yet Static was the only teenage hero she could find at that moment. Since he just so happened to be working with the Justice League at during that time, she was going to just skip over his universe, until she saw him go against the League’s commands in order to save his friend. That got her full attention. In fact, it got her full adoration.

It didn’t take long for Mmeeie to decide that Static would be a perfect person to have a causal rivalry with, and fortunately for her, it wasn’t much longer before she found someone to have a more serious rivalry with, either. Watching Static’s adventures a bit more, she learned that the friend he had to save also had powers himself, and his name just happened to be Richard. It was like she was destined to be in that universe.

Wanting to avoid the mistakes she made in previous universes, instead of storming into this universe demanding Static be her rival, she stormed in and started praising him hoping that it would get him to listen to her. Static still ended up ignoring her, however, since she happened to arrive while he was in the middle of a battle. Upset that he wasn’t paying listening to her, she tried multiple things to get his attention, up to and including kidnapping Gear, which gave her a chance to go ahead and start up her rivalry with Gear. In her opinion, it was very successful; The two of them spent the time waiting for Static to arrive either yelling at one another or trying to beat each other at trivia games, which is exactly what she wanted.

Once Static finally found where she was, Mmeeie tried again to praise her way into getting him to listen to her, but that kept getting interrupted by her needing to snap at Gear everything time he said anything. She was able to get one thing through during their muddled conversation though: she would leave if Static played along. So, wanting to get rid of her, he made a deal with her that he would become her rival if she left for a while to give him time to “think about how to do it properly”. Mmeeie whole-heartedly agreed, leaving thinking that she successfully got herself two more rivals.

She spent “for a while” back with the Wonder Twins and the Titans, continuing to develop the relationships she had in their universe, most notably starting a romantic relationship with Jayna. (She also started calling her parents more regularly during this time.)

When it was time for Mmeeie to return to Static’s universe, she did not get the greeting she was expecting. In fact, she was barely noticed at all, as Static and Gear were busy dealing with the return of a different person she didn’t know, Shebang. Watching over the situation for a little bit, she decided that Shebang was actually the one in the right, and became greatly upset over how Static was treating her. She flipped her script, starting to praise and focus all of her attention on Shebang instead, and berating Static when he questioned the change in attitude.

This just created a new host of problems between her and Static - not to mention that she wasn’t having a great start with Shebang either considering how overbearing she was being - and unlike before when Mmeeie was confident enough to ignore these issues, she was now too frustrated to do so. So when that visit ended like the last one did in an angry debate, she ended up admitting more than she intended to about why she wanted to connect with a rival so badly. This admission did get the situation to calm down a bit, though it left Mmeeie embarrassed.

It also put Static in a predicament. On the one hand, he could tell that she honestly did want to be his and Shebang’s friends, and thought that she could be a decent ally in battle if she just focused her powers. But on the other hand, he could also tell that it would be a long while before she got the point of dealing with others in a more appropriate way - espeically if her treatment of Gear was any indication - and he didn’t want to spend all his time teaching her how to be a better person.

So Static made another, more legitimate, deal with her. Mmeeie would be allowed to come back and hang out with him and everyone else, but only when they specifically asked for her. (Since she could set up “notifications” of sorts on her universe windows that alerted her whenever something she was looking for happened, it wouldn’t be an issue for her to find out when that was.) That way, they could still maintain a relationship, but without being overwhelmed by her. Of course, Mmeeie agreed to that.

She now spends her time between staying with the Wonder Twins and Titans in their universe and working on her relationships with Static and his friends in their universe. She does tend to stay in the former universe more often, since that’s not only where her girlfriend lives, but where she doesn’t have to focus so much on self-reflection and can just enjoy herself more freely, but she still appreciates the time she gets to spend in the latter when Static calls upon her (especially since these requests slowly start to increase in frequency the more she gets to know everyone there).

Other Important Notes:

- Mmeeie can levitate and fly. However, while she can levitate without issue, her flight is very slow and unbalanced, usually leading to her hurting herself, or at the least getting incredibly frustrated. She uses a flight disc to help her get around, with latches to place her feet inside so she can’t get knocked off of it. When in her human disguise, the flight disc becomes a walker.

- Mmeeie's parents and grandmother are apart of the younger generation of Imps who embraced the use of vowels in naming, hence Mmeeie's and her fathers’ names mainly consisting of vowels, but her grandmother’s not having any at all.

- The act of spelling/saying her name backwards will not banish Mmeeie back to Zrfff.

Trivia:

- Mmeeie speaks in an unnaturally high, chipmunk-like voice. When in her human disguise, her voice is more natural-sounding, but is still high-pitched.

- Mmeeie is squeamish around blood and other serious (i.e. non-cartoony) injuries. 

- Mmeeie picked up juggling as a nervous habit and is actually quite good at it.

- Mmeeie gets inebriated when drinking apple juice, but not drinks with actual alcohol in them.

[sapphireorison]

Hey so for the fusion ask: Literally anything to do with Star Wars.

Gasp. Star Wars. Yes, @per-aspera-ad-tenebrae! 

Oh my goodness, my favorite thing is to fling BJT characters right into space. Er. You get what I mean. :D

(ETA: I added a cut because holy crap this is like a million words.)

Jedi

Jedi first because otherwise some of my character notes will make no sense.

So ‘The Force’ isn’t all that fancy when literally all the humans can do the thing. But, Sith & Jedi are legendary, yeah? So. What if. Tapping the Force is basically just like a shot of the Black straight into the Jedi/Sith’s veins? An infinite well of power that, if channeled long enough, will rip through and sear you from the inside out.  The mysticisms of Force users could basically be how to buffer the mind so it doesn’t just pop. Or. Uh. Consume you whole. Because, like. Force users dying and poofing? Could easily be the Darkness snapping them up then and there for finally losing hold of their control of the Black. No chalice shattering here, just straight up fried into atoms in the backlash. (Sort of like…what the Ebony does even to someone who wears it.)

So there’s still a sense of ‘strong in the force,’ sure, but if they’re artificially tapping the Black, then that can be through a mechanism that informs how much potential they have to actually survive contact (and for how long). A Force user certainly can’t keep it in a reservoir like they do own power and use it for incidentals, but they can descend past their inner webs to gather it up without breaking themselves. It would make sense to me that this is: ridiculously rare, worth stealing people over during the decline of the Jedi council, and be extremely hard to fight because it honestly can’t be real that’s impossible. Plus, if the Force can sort of…eliminate a certain kind of power imbalance, then lightsaber skills and stamina and adroitness with the Force become the real distinguishing factors in a conflict between Force users. 

Also—ALSO—I considered having Jedi be related to Black Widows in some way, but…Black Widows are a mundane spookiness and everyone can scent them. They don’t fill quite the same niche as Force users do in Star Wars. So while I think that Force-sensitive Black Widows are probably terrifying as FUCK (…Tersa. Tersa absolutely, and we’re…encouraged to think she would have worn the Black, so, uh), I think that they probably have a range of castes. Because, like, can you imagine a Force-sensitive Priestess? Like, Priestesses’ whole schtick is to commune with the Darkness, and the Force is basically like undiluted Darkness. It’s probably the most popular Jedi caste. The not-Force-sensitive types that are almost Force-sensitive are probably often Priestesses or Princes.

Lightsabers: So kyber crystals are clear Jewels that don’t behave like normal ones, but are capable of being channeled through. (Posit: scales of an entirely different and very specific dragon?) Lightsabers turn the color of whatever Jewel’s used to power it (sort of, Opals and Darkside are the exceptions), consume power like a fucking hog, and are cranky if tried to be manipulated by non-Force users because they really only respond to the Black. Also, a force user is more likely to use their Birthright to power the thing until a point at which they finally come to terms with the crystal (through some manner of growth—personal, mental, or otherwise) and are capable of using their Descent+Black, because it is muy difícil. The colors go wonky (and really vibrant) when it’s Black+a Light Jewel, and Opals have a cool effect and can be manipulated to pick a color, and Sith get a weird bleed effect b/c the Darkness is cranky about being channeled by the Tainted, but otherwise. (And that’s also why it’s like, Palpatine? Dude wears the Rose. He is the least likely dude to be a Sith. Oh ho ho.)(Also like. Include an EXTENDED ConVERSATIOn here re: Jedi vs Sith and balance-to-the-force epic narrative, etc, and how with a Tainted Blood concept of corruption means that the original Sith might not…actually…have had Red lightsabers and isn’t THAT something an in-world historian might find really interesting!)

Original Trilogy Humans

Leia —Purple dusk to Sapphire Queen – I waffled a bit here on making her a Priestess, actually, because that would be interesting. She struggles with diplomacy just a smidgen, has a natural Force link, and ends up leading by spit, vinegar, and sheer cussed force of personality. I stuck with Queen because of her mum, though, and because she seems to naturally draw people in. And honestly, if Han’s never been up close and personal with a Queen, that alone would probably be enough to cross all his wires and confuse the hell out of him about where they stand w/r/t each other.

Luke — Summer-sky to Green Prince – So, Luke just has this edge of sweetness to him, imho. He has to force himself up to the killing edge, and he backs away from it awful quickly. Even when he’s grumpy. And he has a measure of natural golden-retriever charisma and control that I associate with Princes. However! If I wanted to make things hard for him, I’d absolutely make him a WP, and make Tatooine one of the majority-Light-Jeweled Rim Worlds filled with species that don’t even wear Jewels and have zero idea how to handle the caste. Both possible castes then share the idea that his constant and repeated decisions to drop the fuck back and re-evaluate are hard-won wisdoms not just due to Yoda’s five minutes of fundamentals-and-trolling but because he’s making connections between what he did then to what he has to do now.  

Han —Yellow to Summer-sky Warlord – Oh man. Oh buddy. Han. Friendo. He’s in over his head in every sense of the word. The thing is, he ramps up flying by the seat of his pants into an art form! He’s an idiot and a genius and has no idea what to do with these infuriating people who make him Feel Things and Do Stuff. He’s just a dude with a jalopy and a large, hairy minder and now he’s destroying the Death Star and marrying the princess, like you do. He’s not a towering, mythical badass, he just fell in love and that was it for him.

Lando — Purple Dusk to Blood Opal Warlord Prince — Dude knows how to rock capes and is a damn good leader. I feel like Lando’s really the only one of the group of them who has a grasp of his caste. He’s got that protective edge that the others have but have to actually refine, and just about all the times we see him, he’s doing something gutsy and often sharply compassionate. 

Prequel Fam Humans

Anakin — Sapphire to Red Warlord Prince — Outside of Rey and Yoda, I think Anakin’s the highest ranking of the lot, honestly. Because the thing is, the Jedi Counsel wants him, and badly. He’s strong in the Force, sure, and letting anyone with the ability to wield the Black untrained is asking for trouble (and a Sith), but if he also is a Birthright Sapphire???? With the possibility that he’s going to become the Ebon-gray?! (Even if that…doesn’t happen.) Like. The kiddo is packing some serious mojo and the Jedi Counsel is…in decline no matter that they refuse to know that. But also the prospect of helping him hone the a Black-backed EG is like. Scary as hell. Let’s just. Give him to old Qui-gon and call it good. Qui-gon’s not a terrible teacher and he’s Dark Jeweled (Sapphire) it’ll be fine.

Padme — Blood Opal to Sapphire Queen — I mean. Small bb Padme was put in charge of a planet long before she would have been ready to make her offering. Her whole thing only gets more deliciously complicated if you consider the idea that while Queens are possibly not exactly rare on Naboo, that their method of choosing who to rule and where and how is…complicated. Like, if I were going to build an interesting storyline for Padme, I’d actually rock right on back and set up WHY she’s an undescended AND in charge, in contravention of most societies preference that a Queen usually makes her Offering and sets up her court in that order. At that point, the answer is probably Black Widows (:D) and Naboo Queens tie their Jewels into planet itself so that diplomat-Queens and ruling Queens need to not have had that happen yet or they would be extremely restricted in their ability to leave (which…would be bad for various reasons). Padme was probably putting off getting tie to Naboo after her Offering by her strong opinions about the Senate (and all the other Naboo Queens were probably like: she fell in love with some idiot on another planet, I bet you MONEY).

Obi Wan — Tiger eye to Summer-sky Warlord — Oh no. Oh no. Obi-wan’s got to try and run herd on a Sapphire-Jeweled rugrat who could run rings around him already through his frankly terrifying natural use of the Force, plus the Black Widows on the Council are making all sorts of dire predictions out of their Tangled Webs. He’s fine though. This is fine. He’ll just have to do his best and hope that no subtle, shadowy influence are lurking that might make his job raising an emotionally scarred and insufficiently supported little boy harder!

Sequel Trilogy Humans

Rey — Opal to Red Witch — Rey might be a Black Widow, because in BJT Craft==Science, but honestly, she strikes me as more like the kind of free-agent that Surreal is in the books. Also, and more importantly, growing up on Jakku without any sort of training on how to manage poisons (and the fact it’s a…desert…without plants…or…a lot of humans) she would have probably straight up just died. I like the idea that Opal’s get a kalaidescope-effect in their ‘sabers, so that she’d end up with the blue/green color at first, but that she’d also end up with just…a bright-ass BLAZING red ‘saber when she sorts out her shit. Not because she’s tipped over into Sith-ville, but it’s enough to make people take a second look to see if it’s Tainted-Red or that bright-burning Red of a balanced Force user. Since we don’t have the last movie, I can only speculate that there’s a balancing moment, and I feel like it would be really interesting in-universe to see her rip out one of these puppies and have the baddies go ‘!!!!!! :D :D :D’ and then ‘D: D: D: D:’ basically immediately. 

Finn — Opal to Blood Opal Warlord (…pending…further info re: characterization.) — Because the thing is, Finn was also just a dude, much like Han, and made a choice to foist all the bullshit right over the edge. Plus, I have a theory that…psychological hardship forces the Blood to spend valuable mental growth and strengthening on repair. So that the First Order is actually full of a LOT of ‘double Jewel’ people whose Descended rank is the same as their Birthrights. But this is also: he can use a lightsaber and it can be any-damn-color he wants it to be, because his whole storyline is about finding out who he is outside of the Order, discovering how to navigate towards both the greater good as well as the personal, and forging his own path. The blue/green of Rey’s might be his initial pick, but just think of a rippling Opal blade. Ahh, how wonderful. I’ve only seen glimpses of his RotS promo pics, so I might fiddle with his caste depending on revelations/actions there, but part of the ‘Warlord’ here is that Finn’s just a dude like Han’s just a dude. Making important choices and becoming a big damn hero because of it.

Poe —Tiger-eye to Purple Dusk Prince — He’s essentially Leia’s heir, makin’ mistakes and getting messy. I honestly don’t think he’s a WP, nor do I think he’s Dark Jeweled. I could definitely be convinced around to a Sapphire, though. The thing is, though, that he’s a flyboy with a strength of personality that I feel like is more important as a good leader than raw power, especially when he’s trying to learn how to save lives as well as win. It’s…a different path, I think, than BJT canon itself takes with respect to power and faith and revolution, but I feel like it’s an important one. Especially in the echoed ending of…gosh, which one was it where they show the glorious little glimpses of the future. Tiny Force-sensitives and the idea that the spark of the future could live in anyone. Anyways—I feel like there’s a certain sense that characters whose strengths are NOT powered in some manner by their in-universe magic can afford to be Light Jeweled in a narrative sense.

Rose — Rose to Summer-sky Black Widow — Honestly, this is where my Craft==Science things come right in. I have a…whole thing…that I’m actually using for a fic. But the general idea is that if you use Craft to fly your ships, then it makes sense to have Black Widows (trained or not) there to maintain the webs that keep everything going. That necessitates a lot of people who have some notion on how to build very simple webs and that Han and Rey actually probably have a decent grasp on a lot of basic spell webs just as a natural consequence of being tech-oriented. But. Like. Rose is trained! She’s official! She’s got the hourglass and everything! And I couldn’t resist giving her the birthright Rose. Being a BW probably runs in her family, so her nana did one of those birth-omen Tangled Webs and her parents were like ‘!!Then let’s name her Rose!!’ and her nana is like, “Please name her something that’s not her Jewel. You managed it for Paige.” Her nana has been rolling her eyes ever since, but Rose is her favorite anyway. 

Kylo — Opal to Sapphire Warlord Prince — So I’m torn. In the interest of narrative resonance and rivalry with Rey, I’m Very Tempted to make him also Opal to Red, but he’s got this weird…superiority-inferiority-entitlement thing going on that having him wear the Sapphire is like…indicative of his mental state. Also, his parents were Summer-sky and Sapphire. There’s a certain amount of ‘genetic power pool’ thing going on (We get it in the BJT with Black+Red == EG while Black+??(probably Black)==Darker Black) Even though I really like having powerful antagonists because I like when the heroes actually have to do a bit of a struggle to win (and the Gray is v. tempting to give him), I think it suits his narrative that he’s just…not as powerful in a general sense as Anakin, and that it’s his atrocities that make him scary. That he’s choosing to do all this bad shit and it’s not a function of the power he’s born with, but that he’s misusing that power in more and more dramatic ways.

Nonhuman Friends: 

Yoda – Guess whose race is long-lived? THIS GUY. Does not have Birthright/Descent or human caste, but he does wear a Gray Jewel. How he got it is lost, along with the rest of his kind. Is it a Birthright? Why only one? Did he get broken at some point? How would he wear the Gray if that was the case? All a mystery. Very mysterious. Also, he can pick the color of his lightsaber(?!) and thinks green flatters his eyes. 

Chewie – Wookies have a completely different caste system (the only one that might have a human analogy is close to Warlord Prince)(I really don’t know enough about Wookies, tbh T_T). So let’s say they’re sort of…middle-lived. Not as long as long-lived, not as short as short-lived. They also have ‘sets’ of Jewels that descend independently of one another. Birthright set: Yellow and Summer-sky. Descent Set: Tiger-eye and Green, but they have to give up the Birthright set as part of their Offering to the Darkness (and the ritual is different and takes longer, ofc). They big! They stronk! They seem to break the ‘can only descend three ranks’ thing of humans but no! No, because each Jewel is given in Offering independently and their humanoid mind can still only just hold two at a time. A Legendary Gray and Black Dark Jeweled Tactical Wookie would be terrifying as fuck. 

—

So yes! That’s it! If you have different ideas/elaborations, I’d love to hear them. This is just my notions off the top of my head. :D 

(And okay all of the fandom headcanons are going to be equally as ridiculous and longwinded as this one, so I might…do them over time. I have seen the requests, tho! And I will do all of them! Because this is…my favorite thing to do. XD Ty for sending me fandoms!! )

[mysticsparklewings]

Ink Dance

I feel like it's very ironic that a break from Inktober art on my front looks like the regular Inktober content from a lot of artists. Why is this a thing when I normally don't do ink drawings like this? First of all, I was just really in the mood to draw something princessy and romantic/sweet; Second of all, probably because of all the seasonal ink drawings going around, I had kind of an itch to give more a "classic" Inktober approach a try, especially since I didn't have any super strong ideas for a color palette once I had my romantic-type sketch ready to move to the next stages. Third of all, while I was thinking about where to take the sketch and possibly doing ink things, I watched a video by one of my favorite YouTubers where the challenge was to make a drawing with nothing but dots--aka Stippling. And from that, since I didn't really want to add anything else to the silhouette/shape of the skirt after I spent what felt like way too long trying to get it right, I thought maybe stipple-shading it would be a good way to make it look more interesting by making it look kind of glittery/sparkly. Now, if you've known me long enough, you may remember that I do not have a great relationship with the concept of stippling after a certain art project I had to do years ago. Problems in that scenario include The subject matter, the "twist," the size of the drawing, etc. This time, I'd be doing the stippling on my own terms on a significantly smaller scale, and I would not be limited to stippling and stippling alone. I was still apprehensive about the idea because as much as I liked the sketch I really didn't want to start stippling and end up totally hating the final product because of it. And a full disclosure that the actual act of stippling is still pretty tedious, but this time it was more bearable because I wasn't running on four hours of sleep in a brightly lit classroom with no other option for mental stimulation/distraction, repeatedly stabbing a gigantic piece of paper, unable to stop and take a break if necessary for fear of getting in trouble or not finishing the darn thing on time, but you can't just not pay attention and zone-out because then you're going to end up with dots in the wrong place and-- Do you see why I didn't like my high school art classes? Anyway. I did my best with the proportions/pose since I couldn't find a good reference for the exact pose I had in my head and I got tired of trying to find one (and I really didn't want to settle for something that was "close enough" but still not what I wanted). So I had to go largely with what I saw in my head and my best instincts. I also purposefully used the girl's dress skirt to hide the guys' legs because I didn't feel like trying to draw guy dress shoes. Or feet, for that matter. This was largely about just having fun with some cute imagery and ink techniques, not "let's draw perfectly accurate formal clothing including shoes." And you know, I think considering I had to make it up as I went along, it still turned out pretty well. After that, I transferred the sketch to a piece of mixed media paper and went on with the ink. I did the lines around the characters first, naturally, to set the boundaries of whatever ink techniques I ended up using, and then I started with the stippling. I think I started with the guy's jacket, but as I went I did end up doing so back-and-forth between the stippled areas to try and keep the shading and contrast relatively consistent. I had decided to do his jacket as stippled during planning for a little more visual interest since otherwise, he would've been a lot of just lines/hatching. It also makes the stippled dress look less out of place. (And also in real life I wish it were more common practice for guys to wear sequined formal jackets because I think they're just a cool fashion item.) After that, I moved on to doing their hair, which was a pretty obvious thing; the hatching/lines technique is just a really nice hair texture. Though getting it just right to leave the shine did take a little extra care. And really, other than his bowtie, the rest of the ink techniques were all hatching/lines, since those seemed like the best-suited textures for his pants, shirt, and her crown since those are all supposed to be relatively smooth items. Technically, the bowtie probably would be too in real life, but I like the slight difference in tone that cross-hatching it gives. Originally, I didn't really have a plan for their skin and that held true after I did everything else. I really didn't want to accidentally ruin it with too much texture or the shading being too harsh, so after some consideration, I just decided to use a few gray Copics just a little bit for shading, kind of like what happened on Roses in Your Eyes. It's barely noticeable, but I think it's just enough to get the idea across that they're not stark-white like the paper. The only bad thing about the markers is that the ink line for the guy's chin did end up smudging just a little, so in person, it almost looks like he has some stubble or a goatee that I hadn't planned on being there. I touched up a little on the scan, but it's still kinda there. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, and some might argue it really works since my style of drawing guys tends to lean more feminine as-is, it's just not what I was expecting. Also, since they're so small, I left their eyes alone as far as any further shading or coloring goes. It just didn't seem like a good idea to try anything in such a tiny space. And from far away you really don't notice the difference. Or at least I don't. And it was mostly unintentional, but I do like the contrast of how the guy's colors are mostly pretty dark, while the girl's are more mid and light-toned. After all, that was said and done though, it still felt like it was missing something. Thus, I couldn't help myself and once I'd thought about it, I ended up adding a red box behind the characters using a Stardust gelly roll pen. So in real life, it's also nice and glittery.  And I tried my hand at doing the white outline in reverse; instead of drawing it in with a white gel pen after the fact, I just colored in the box right up to the characters and tried to leave the space behind. I did have to touch up one or two spots where I got too close, but it was an interesting experiment that worked out pretty well. Red felt like a good color to go with because of how it contrasts with the black and white, and also I thought the whole "black white and red/read" joke was kinda funny. And yet still, it was missing something. I ended up going around one more time with a Pentel Sparkle Pop, one of the pens I had considered for the box behind them but nixed because it seemed too heavy/dark, and in the end, I think that was a good call. Together, the box and the outline with them a sort of grounding and add a nice pop of color without being too distracting. Overall, this was actually fairly simple and it turned out being much faster to polish off than I expected, probably largely because of the lack of color and not having to work about picking out the right individual values and getting the blending/shading smooth between different colors or having to build up layers over time. It may not be the greatest pen-and-ink drawing of all time, but considering this isn't something I normally go for, I'm pretty happy with it. And if I'm being completely honest, it was nice to take a break from my way of Inktober and make some art using more traditional methods in the spirit of the season. Speaking of which, I can hardly believe we've come so far already; there's only like a week left to go!   ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[fanfics4all]

Let’s get more Personal!

are you under 18? Nope

do you have siblings?, if yes how many? Yep, one!

can you art? I think I can (I can post something I’ve done if you guys want to see)

can you sing? Nah

can you act? I guess so?

turn ons? Funny, Dom, Not really sure what else to say tbh lol

turn offs? People that are dicks!

top 5 favorite bands? Oof this is hard, right now I guess Set It Off, 3OH!3, Get Scared, My Chemical Romance, and Gorillaz

top five favorite singers? Sabrina Carpenter, Machine Gun Kelly, Jonathan Young, Todrick Hall, and Avril Lavigne

least favorite singers? Meghan Trainor, Sia, Taylor Swift, and Demi Lavato. Those are only a few I could think of.

fave artists? Vincent Van Gogh, Leonardo Da Vinci, Tim Burton, I honestly can’t think of that many right now.  

favorite actors? Again I have a few but number one is and always will be Matthew Gray Gubler. Others are Jordan Connor, Richard Harmon, Colton Haynes, Corey Fogelmanis, Rob Raco, Skeet Ulrich, Chandler Riggs, Ross Lynch, Grant Gustin, Mark Sheppard, Cassey Cott, Tom Felton, Evan Peters, Christian Kane, and that’s all I can think of right now.

favorite actresses? Emily Bett Rickards, Ruby Rose, Vanessa Morgan, Dove Cameron, Lilli Reinhart, Kat Dennings, Madelaine Petsch, Madchen Amick,  Um I know there’s more but I can’t think of them :(

how may fandoms are you in? Oof too many probably lol

top 5 fandoms? Riverdale, The 100, Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, and Batman I guess lol

on a scale from 1 to 10, how dramatic are you? Depends on the situation but normally like a 3 probably

can you cook? Oh my god! I love cooking! So yes

a random fact about about you? Um I can sculpt and do SFX makeup!

how many places have you been? Not many, like 7 or 8 states and never out of the country

top 6 shows? The 100, Riverdale, Criminal Minds, Arrow, American Horror Story, and White Collar (I watch way more though)

fave movie franchises? Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars, Batman (Mainly 1966), Thor, Captain America, DeadPool, Um that’s all I can think of

Disney or Dreamworks? Both but mainly Disney

top 3 childhood shows? Cyberchase, Zoboomafoo, and Bear in the Big Blue House (Going really little childhood shows)

how many schools have you been to? Four so far

somewhere you want to go one day? England, France, Ireland, Russia, and Canada. Probably more but those are the main ones.

straight or nah? Nah

LGBTQ+ supporter? Well I’m Bi so yeah

favorite school subject? Math and Art

least favorite school subject? Gym, is that a subject?

Food? Yes?

books or Tv? T.V. but I do like reading it just takes me awhile because I have astigmatism and they unfocus a lot so it makes it hard to focus on reading.

Spotify or Pandora? Spotify

what are you listening to right now? Youtube videos!

whats the weather like rn? Hot and a little cloudy

are you reading anything at the moment? After You by JoJo Moyes (The second book to Me Before You)

any family problems you feel comfortable talking about? Oh god, my family is a mess. My dad was an abusive asshole and my mom is an alcoholic (My parents are divorced and my little brother lives with my dad while I live with my mom, I still see my dad and brother but very rarely)

how do you feel right now? Pretty depressed tbh lol

thoughts on trees? Trees are rad, I live climbing them but I’m scared of heights so it’s a fun time lol

something stupid you did once? Smoked too much weed and got stupid high

something random in your backyard? We rent so don’t really have a backyard anymore :(

funny childhood story? One time my brother when he was little he decided to take a nap somewhere and we couldn’t find him ANYWHERE, we were yelling and looking everywhere but we couldn’t find him. We tried to lure him out with marshmallows but that didn’t work and this was going on hours. So we called the cops they came they couldn’t find him anywhere and we were freaking out but then he just walked out and took the bag of marshmallows and to this day we have no idea where he was because he wouldn’t tell us. It was kinda freaky at the time but now we look back at it and laugh.

3 random stories about stuff that you’ve done in your neighborhood? I’ve moved a few times so we’ll go with 3 different neighborhoods. 1. We were living with my grandparents (Mom’s side) and there’s a lot of ducks and we were feeding them so I went to feed one by hand and that’s how I learned ducks have teeth. 2. We were living with my other grandparents (Dad’s side) and they had a frog garden thing that made noise, we were walking up the driveway, they didn’t tell us they got a new one and that it made noise. Me and my dad walked past it and it croaked at us, scared the fuck out of me and I ran away. There were potholes in the driveway and I tripped and cut my knee up so bad. 3. Um my friend lived on a dead end around my block and I would walk over to his place a lot (I was like 8 maybe older) and we road scooters a lot, he could do tricks and he wanted to teach me, I failed horrible cut up my knees and hands and face and scratched up my glasses so bad I couldn’t use them.

top 5 musicals? Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Peter Pan (1960), Rocky Horror Picture Show, Hairspray, and Anastasia

musical fandoms you want to know more about? Any really

any instruments you play? No, I played the clarinet in elementary school and broke it haha

do you and your friends ever roleplay or have given each other character names? Does playing a dating sim with a friend count?

favorite comeback? No you

do you have a phone? Yes

have you ever written a story? Oh yeah

O.c.’s? I have a few

S.O.? Ummm it’s complicated

favorite stores? Hot topic, Spencers, um I don’t know, I don’t go shopping much.

are you still in school? No but I’m going back soon (hopefully)

markers or colored pencils? Both but mainly colored pencils!

memes or gifs? Um both!

oil or chalk pastels? Both!

Height? 5’2

Painting? Omg yes, I’ve done some myself, I’m working on one rn and I have one finished (I can post it if you guys want!)

can you give a description of yourself? Short, kinda overweight, colorful hair (changes a lot), kinda big black glasses, hazel eyes, um that’s all I can think of.

description of your personality? A child mixed with a grandma

will you ever reveal your face( if you haven’t yet)? Sure

Anime? Oh heck yes

favorite animes? Owari No Seraph, Future Diary, Diabolik Lovers, Death Note, Tokyo Ghoul, Your Lie in April, Black Butler, Guilty Crown, Shiki, Death Parade, and more but those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

K-pop? Yeah!

Ships??? Falice 100%, Bellarke, idk I can’t think of any others right now

ships you dislike? None really unless it’s weird and underage.

Children? I want children so bad!

do you have a library? I personally don’t

winter or summer? Winter

spring or fall? Fall

sun or snow? Snow

long or short hair? Short

ice cream or sherbert? Both

rain or bright sunlight? Rain

clouds & wind or heat & humidity? Clouds and Wind

pool or beach? Pool

how innocent are you? Not very tbh

cake or cupcakes? Both

chocolate or vanilla? Both, but depends

something sneaky you’ve done with your friends lately? Smoke weed I guess?

favorite colors? Black and Red

favorite animal(s)? Red panda, Panda, Husky, Pigs (I had one as a pet) Hedgehogs (Also had one as a pet)  

skiing or sledding? Sledding

have you ever ridden a horse? Yeah, my cousin owns two horses so I’ve gone riding with her before

have you ever ridden a train? Yeah but I have a fear of them

have you ever been on an airplane? Yes (Not scared of flying like at all)

Nature? Nature is rad

inside or outside? Inside in the summer/spring but outside in fall/winter

introvert or extrovert? Introvert, I’m so shy

rules/ laws? Um both I guess?

how many friends do you have? A bunch but a small close circle

pants/ shorts or skirts? All three but mainly pants and shorts

Dresses? If they’re weird

video games? Oh yes, I love video games

fave holiday? Halloween

least favorite holiday? Christmas and 4th of July

[podcake]

Podcasts & Genre: Noir

When one thinks of the noir genre, the most common association is film noir, a style of film making sparking in popularity many, meany years ago but still carries some relevance today. Though no one really makes genuine noir films anymore, unless you count a few with noir inspired elements, noir mostly lives on strictly as short parodies while mystery stories stay as mystery stories without the usual aesthetic qualities you’d identify a noir film with. 

Noir brings up ideas of stylishly produced, sexual, and cynical stories sparking during the 1940′s that normally focus on a detective that one might describe as hardboiled, a femme fatale or two, and some type of mystery plot to tackle, often involving murder. 

One of the core reasons noir is mostly treated with a certain level of parody in modern work is due to how dramatic these productions could be. The whole vibe of theatrics that came from these productions could be perceived as laughable nowadays. Though much like Broadway musicals could be given a massive reboot through the success of Wicked and later the phenomena of Hamilton, the same could be said for noir that will occasionally slip its way into more modern interpretations while still maintaining an authentic narrative. 

While this is fairly evident in film, we all know that things with more than one picture attached to it isn’t really my specialty. You’re here to hear things and then read about the things you heard. How can sound effectively get an idea across when we only have our imaginations and common sense to tell things apart?

As a whole, this article will be delving into the complexity of translating genre through sound with noir being the main focal point due to its rarity and presence in a different medium of entertainment. 

This might just be a theory though I believe that noir managed to flow pretty well into the audio drama realm mostly because one of the most vital parts of these films is a consistent narration. This aspect alone is oddly enough the real driving force behind noir getting a second life.

And yet I do realize that noir is a kind of genre that is very selectively put to use. It’s relatively rare for a new noir show to pop up, only ever making common occurrences around early to late 2016. Rex Rivetter: Private Eye and Neon Nights: The Arcane Files both debuted the same year with only a few months difference between their publications. 

The same could be said for The Penumbra that came out in March. If this is merely a coincidence or not is on the table as all of the shows came from different producers and are essentially different products in their entirety.

These shows are not the only podcast noir shows in existence, though it’s hard to ignore just how few their are in comparison to the abundance of horror and sci-fi shows that come out every few months.

Among these, The Penumbra and it’s tales of private eye Juno Steel are the most openly successful. The Penumbra takes a creative approach to both the noir genre, with a helpful touch of sci fi, and the fantasy-adventure genre in their Second Citadel series. But if we are to focus on Juno Steel stories in particular, it’s not hard to see why it’s gotten such positive press.

Normally taking place over the course of two part episodes, Juno Steel delivers some strongly written individual mysteries that work their way up to being a whole story with recurring characters and an intriguing central plot. We get some colorful one shot villains, a likable though also dysfunctional lead, and a touch of romance that works to reveal the character’s personal insecurities. 

The Penumbra’s specialty is to remix and retell classic story genres with a touch of modern edge and originality that lets them stand as great individual stories and joins The Bright Sessions and Wolf 359 as some of the most well known modern fiction podcasts. 

A little while later came Neon Nights and Rex Rivetter that I combed through back to back to form a proper opinion on. Though they’ll most definitely be the topics of some future reviews, I do enjoy the air of the occult with Neon Nights which gives it a sort of Dresden Files vibe and Rex Rivetter that’s a touch more old fashioned through presentation which gives it a certain air of glamour that is sometimes delightfully camp. 

The newest contender for the noir genre is What’s The Frequency? which has already made quite the splash in this mostly independent art community with a strong first episode that left a lot to the imagination. Though I’ve always liked the level of absurdity that the noir genre can dig up while still maintaining an air of mystery, What’s The Frequency? is one of the most downright bizarre products to come out in recent memory that’s equal parts eerie and engaging. 

What’s The Frequency? truly commits to the style with its innovative use of static and the inclusion of voice work that invokes just the right vibe of psychedelic 1940′s it’s aiming for. It truly does feel old unlike the usual crisp and clean audio we get from the previously mentioned work.��

Something that has fascinated me is that when you take the film out of film noir you still get a genuine experience. Even without the gray scale, even without the crafty use of silhouettes and dramatic framework, noir has managed to ooze itself into the crevices of fictional podcasts from a purely audio based perspective.  

This I perceive as interesting as noir is noteworthy for its creative cinematography-Dutch angles, night-for-night shots, and silhouettes being the most common. Not to mention clothing like the iconic trench coat and hat approach, women with lipstick we could all assume was red, and people in formal dress for the sake of making every second look as classy as the last.

With podcasts, we only have so much time to get a visual across to listeners without loading them up with pointless filler, most of the run time consisting of dialogue meant to push the story forward to a conclusion. Though audio drama certainly isn’t limited to a purely linear story structure, it does have to pull through a bit more in certain aspects such as writing, sound editing, and acting to hold someone’s attention.

While film gives us more visual shorthand and generally does the settings and characters for us, audio drama leans heavily on getting its story out first and letting the listener fill in the blanks. In audio, visuals are an afterthought but imagery is still roughly where half of the writing effort goes into. It is much easier to look pretty than to sound pretty and this is why podcasts tend to be more ambitious since they can do more with less.

All of these individual shows have some sort of unique quality that gives it its rightful spot as separate stories, and yet you’d be hard pressed not to describe them as noir. Noir is so grounded in film that the idea of translating it to a purely audio based format almost seems to go against what noir is supposed to be, and yet we never run into these complications when we stumble upon them.

We can still identify a horror show without visual blood splatters and can still consider a sci-fi a sci-fi even if we never actually see the interior of a space ship we’re inside of. For example, Wolf 359 is very much science fiction with some strong comedy writing, though it’s also an entirely different beast than Hadron Gospel Hour that may be in the same boat but clearly going up a different stream. 

Audio Diary of a Superhero and The Bright Sessions both tackle ideas of disability outweighed by extraordinary power, and yet it’d be near impossible to get the two mixed up. Presentation and packaging can really make or break a show and how one plans to get these ideas across is the real definitive element at hand. 

While, let’s say for now, horror and science fiction don’t have any definitive visuals, only some recurring ones, noir is different in that it’s almost entirely built on a very specific list of cliches for it to be truly considered part of that group. You kind of need murder, you kind of need a detective, you kind of need a morally ambiguous seductress-so in that vain, noir can very much exist without the usual attributes as long as the audio can get these ideas across.

But let’s say, hypothetically, that these tropes aren’t being put to use. How exactly does one gain the right to consider their story a noir? Well from my understanding, these shows have leaned on a few common trends: a deep voiced protagonist with a definitive, world weary perspective, a jazz score, and taking place in a stylish but troubled city where all the conflict boils. 

It’s truly here that the idea of style and substance, narrative and aesthetic, play into one another for the better. 

Since this article is one part history lesson and another part describing things that are barley a year old, I do feel the need to dig up some facts. A detail many tend to forget is that audio drama was a vital form of entertainment years ago, it getting its start on nighttime radio broadcasts that were tuned into the same way we would watch prime time TV. 

Though this type of entertainment hasn’t entirely died, the radio part of radio drama has leaned more towards desktop computer drama or smartphone drama if we’re going to be taking about technology specifically. 

The thing is that podcasts got a hard reboot when Welcome to Night Vale reminded people how cool that was and everyone followed Joseph Fink and Jeffery Cranor’s breadcrumbs to make their own stories that were slightly less time consuming than writing a book and less expensive than making a movie. 

The strive for authenticity is strong in any artistic medium and podcasts are no exception. We may have our trends and sometimes repetitive structures and dynamics surfacing every few years, though the final product is what really gives anything its identity. What we consider truly authentic for anything or anyone can be boiled down to aesthetic value, narrative value, or something else entirely depending on your perspective. 

The same could be said for me as the whole purpose of Podcasts& is essentially to cover topics with a little more complexity than I’m normally able to. Reviews are restricted to whatever podcasts I managed to finish and pair up on slim similarities, Teatimes have the creators do most of the talking, and Palettes, one of the main support beams of the PodCake empire, are the equivalent of a “best of” reel-a first impressions, if you will. All the while I keep things interesting with flower emoticons and some cute girls over a pink backdrop. These are certainly accessories to my persona, though not the entirety of my work. 

With Podcasts&, we’re given just a little more time to look back and breathe in just what audio drama is capable of. If there’s anything about this medium that has fascinated me it’s the way it can transcend the typical confides of storytelling to still give a satisfying and unique experience. Many audio dramas exist in the same subgroups but I’m hard pressed to find any that are near identical to one another. 

Be it The Penumbra or Neon Nights-they may be fruit bared from the same garden, but their taste and textures are clearly being grown from different kinds of people. What makes each one interesting is that while noir is normally considered an exercise in creatively crafted footage, audio still manages to capture its identity and mood nonetheless. Noir audio dramas have to flex a little more muscle to really get their aesthetic qualities to matter since that is what defines their genre in the fist place.

Interesting how these articles tend to tie into one another. 

As I get to the conclusion of this editorial, I realize I have opened up a whole new can of worms when dealing with genre construction that is such a broad topic that I’ll need more than one text document to talk about it. Maybe some other day in some other month when all the Palettes and reviews are done and I can work up something proper worthy of being the first article of the new year. 

We can discuss comedy and horror and science fiction and surrealism. We can talk about all that has come of it and how there is no one way to tell a tale or represent a genre. 

So consider this little piece a...prelude for what is to come. Let’s talk about history, let’s talk about audio entertainment in its entirety, let’s bookmark Wikipedia articles, because the topic of genre is barely even at its peak when it comes to noir, though the fact that it exists at all says something about what just a few sounds are capable of.

[draginhikari]

Final Fantasy XIV: Azure and Crimson Section 2: Kari Azuresol, Light Reborn Chapter 1: Blue Star, a New Light Shines

((Art by @fyrielle))

“Ow!” A female voice whined in the darkness as she bumped her head, “Who’d would put a ceiling that low above my head?” The young woman laid her head back, “Why can’t I move?  It like I’m lying in a coffin,” The young woman wrinkled her nose at her previous thought, “Actually let’s just go with a box, no coffin please.”  Her thoughts trailed off as she tried to get a grasp of what was going on around her. Her body felt stiff as if she had not moved in months.  She squinted her eyes as a faint light streamed into her eyes, piercing the darkness from some kind of slit near the top of her line of sight.   She managed to move her arms enough to feel the ceiling.  It moved slightly revealing itself to be a lid to some kind of wooden crate.  It was loosely attached as if it had been forced on very quickly.   She grumbled, “Well, I guess I actually am in a box.   Who’d shove me in a box!?  Someone need a kick in the arse!” Once she had enough feeling in her arms and legs to move, she adjusted her body so she could push on the lid and repeatedly kicked at it until it popped off.   She slowly slid off the lid, shielding her eyes from the light, as the young woman, Kari Azuresol, adjusted to the light of the sun for the first time since her imprisonment by the Hymn Venom Order.   Kari laid there for a moment slightly disoriented.   She could only hear the sound of the ocean waves and call of seabirds.  Kari pushed herself up slowly attempting to get her footing stable only to trip over the side of the crate and falling face first into the sandy beach the crate had settled on.

Kari gagged and spat out a mouthful of sand, “Bleh!  Why does stuff like this keep happening to me?  Why is my balance so finicky?”  Kari raised her head to try to get the spinning to stop.   Once it had, she began to ramble off more questions to herself.   “Where am I?  How’d I end up here?  Why does everything feel so heavy?  Why does my chest feel so-” Kari pushed herself up on one arm and pushed other hand against her breast for a moment.  Kari went still as if she were surprised there was a breast there at all, “Big?”   Kari paused a moment before she sat up slowly positioning herself with her legs in a w-position on the sand as she looked down at her bust moving her hands against them for a moment as she were convinced that they weren’t supposed to be there, “This isn’t definitely not Shadros’ body.   How could that be?” Kari looked at her grayish skin and white scales that cover segments of her less muscular arms.  She reached up to her face and felt her face scales before sliding her hands across her horns that stretched from the front to the back of her head.  Kari reached behind her and ran her hand along the top of her reptilian tail which she pulled on slightly, making her whined some, “Definitely real!  Ouch!”   She moved over the ocean water’s glancing at her reflection to see a young Auri woman staring back at her with gray skin, blue eyes with some kind of blue “M” pattern across them. Her hair was a pale blue with ever lighter blue highlights.   Pure white covered the scales on her face and body.  Her tail and horns were of the same color as her scales. She was wearing heavily worn out top and shorts that barely fit her but did enough to cover most of her vital areas.

Kari looked at the reflection for a few moments in shock and soon her expression changed to glee.  “This is my body,” Kari grinned, “I’m back in my own body!  Somehow Shadros did it!  He must of beat Hymn Venom!” Kari stood up quickly stumbling some but not falling this time, “Shadros!   Where are you!?   I’m awake, you did it!” There was no response just silence all around, “Shadros?   Where did you go?” Kari paused for a moment as she continued to hear nothing but the sound of the ocean as she glanced around her.  Kari was surrounded by ocean in multiple directions.   She appeared to be on some kind of isolated island. The island wasn’t that large probably no more than few malms across with no nearby islands in sight.   If he was here he should have heard her.   Then again, Shadros wouldn’t have left her in that box either that she thought about it.   She was in the middle of nowhere and entirely alone.

The fuzziness in Kari’s mind faded and she began to remember what had happened.   She began to recall the battle, the poison, the pain Shadros felt, and his last moments to secure her escape.   Shadros wasn’t here and wasn’t coming back.   He was gone, likely crushed to death inside of the cavern or fell into the ceruleum pools below.   She remembered it all now and her expression slowly shifted from confusion, to sadness, to despair, and finally to anger as her eyes watered as she fell to her knees. “Shadros, no!  You didn’t!?” She fell forward as she held herself up with her hands.   Kari squeezed her eyes tightly in a futile attempt to not cry.   She clutched one of her fists as she began to hit the sand with her fist over and over again shouting at the top of her lungs, “Shadros!  You idiot!  I warned you! I told you what would happen if you continued to seek me out!  Why didn’t you listen to me!?” Her volume escalated as she shouted louder, “Why!?   Why did you do it Shadros!?   Why did you have to die!?” Her angry broke down into sorrowful sobs as she could no longer hold back her tears quietly muttering, “Why did you have to leave me all alone?” Kari collapsed onto the sand and broke down sobbing until she didn’t have any energy left and passed out.

As the night began to fall, Kari stirred as a chill began to set in over the island and her stomach would no longer let her sleep.   She forced herself to her feet and looked around the island eventually stumbling upon a few fruit trees scattered about around the center of the island.  She really didn’t know anything about the fruit but she accepted she couldn’t be picky.   She managed to gather some firewood and broke off a few shattered piece of the crate to light a fire.   She filled her belly with the bitter fruit stomaching it down as best she could. “Gods, this stuff is awful…” Kari grumbled as she tossed the remaining fruit peels aside.    She glanced into the fire as she tried to warm up.  Though the torn clothes weren’t exactly suited for colder weather it was still warm enough with the fire that she would be all right for now.   Kari still had no idea where she was or if she was even in Eorzea anymore.  Even if she could get back what could she possibly do now?   She didn’t know anyone, she had no means of income, and she was entirely by herself.  As she look down at her arms again she noticed something sparkle out of the corner of her eye.  The light of the fire was reflecting off of something in the sand between the Kari and the crate she had come out of.   She stood up making her way over to the spot and reached into the sand to pull out a light blue crystal with the marking of a shield on the front.   “This is…” Kari recognized it as Shadros’ Paladin Soul Crystal.  The Crystal who’s power both Kari and Shadros had grown a strong connection to during their united state.   Kari vaguely remembers feeling something in her hand when she woke up.   Did she drop it when she fell out of the crate?  Kari didn’t really know why Shadros bothered putting it in the crate before sending it off.   After all, what was she supposed to do with it?     As Kari continued to contemplate this, as if responding to her thoughts, the crystal began to glow and emitted a bright blue light. Kari almost fell forward as her body suddenly felt very heavy and she no longer felt cold.   She looked at her arms again and they were now covered in a metallic blue armoring.   Kari lugged herself towards the shoreline and looked into the water.   She was covered almost entirely in this armor from feet to shoulder as well as having silver circlet with a tourmaline gemstone in the center.  This was the same armor Shadros had been wearing before but yet it seemed to fit her perfectly as if the Crystal had adjusted it to her form.  

She seemed confused as she shouldn’t be able to move in this armor at all but yet somehow she wasn’t falling over or collapsing.   Kari looked back at the glowing soul crystal again. Could it be it acknowledged her due to her union with Shadros during his growth as a Paladin?   Was she now a Paladin too?  Could it really be that simple?  Another realization came to Kari’s mind and she slowly made her way back towards the crate.   Once she arrived she noticed two objects in the crate heavily wrapped in some kind of thick cloth.   She reached down and slowly began to unravel the cloth revealing the Zodiac Brave, Excalibur, along with the glamorous looking Aegis Shield. “It’s Shadros’… no…” She paused for a moment before continuing, “This was our sword we forged together” Kari would reach down and grabbed the hilt of the sword with both hands and slowly lifting it up.   For a moment, Kari was unsure of whether she could actually lift the blade or not.   Though their souls had united in the forging of the blade, she feared her lack of skill would make it unlikely that the powerful weapon would accept her.   The Excalibur’s light burst outward for a moment and the blade felt lighter then it originally did when she first picked it up.   She felt the powerful light flow through her a moment before the light faded and she lowered the blade again.   The light of the soul crystal would fade and Kari would be returned to the clothes she wearing before, likely unable to sustain the crystal’s power currently.  Kari would bring both the Aegis and Excalibur back to the camp so she could be near the fire.

She glanced at the armaments before her, “You didn’t just restore my body, did you Shadros?  You left me with our combined work.  The power we forged together.”  It was the only explanation about how she currently had more strength then she ever did before and how she was able to tap into the Paladin Soul Crystal so easily.   “But…” Kari lowered her gaze a moment, “What do you want me to do with it?”

Kari recalled the last words of the Scion, Minifilia, before Shadros was forced to flee the tunnels under Ul’dah, “You are hope-for the Scions and for all the realm!  As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit!”  Kari thought back to the past, a night on the beach a mere year before the destruction of the Ala Mhigian Village in the east.   Kari had always been interested in swordsmanship from an early age.  She was obsessed with the stories of legendary heroes and magical adventurers, especially those of Eorzean origin, from the books she read from the villagers as a child.  As much as she enjoyed the idea of learning how to fight and wield a sword, the village had other ideas.  In Shadros’ community it was forbidden for women like her to learn how to fight and given how much they disliked her it was no surprise she wasn’t excluded in that, much like everything else.   Shadros, however, would train with her from time to time in secret.  The memory was clear as day to her because unlike Shadros her memories were unaffected by their union. The younger Shadros said as he looked out at the sea, "You did well tonight, Kari.” The younger Kari wrapped her arms around her legs as she said, “You stomped me again, for like the dozen time.” Shadros chuckled looking at Kari, “You’re too hard on yourself for your own good.  I’ve had years of strict training and constant drills to get to where I’m at.   You, on the other hand, pick up on this stuff with merely a few glances and minor instruction.   I’d hate to see what you would do to me if you were actually given the opportunity to show what you’re really capable of.” Kari grumbled, “Don’t make me smack you. Besides everyone says I’m pretty frail looking.   What kind of hero could I be?”

Shadros looked at her, “Strength is something you grow into Kari.  Anyone can get stronger if they apply themselves.  Potential on the other hand is harder thing to come by but I believe your potential is what makes you special Kari and I will help you find it.   Then we can leave here and have adventures away from this place like we’ve always talked about.   We’ll do this together I promise…” Kari let the thoughts of the past fade as she returned her attention back to the Zodiac Brave.   Kari had always thought it was simply Shadros’ strength and combat talent alone that made him the Warrior of the Light.  Kari had, in her mind always, underplayed the role that she provided to Shadros.   The power of the echo, the power she barely understood and heavily discounted.  She believed Shadros was the true Warrior of Light and she had to endure her situation for Eorzea and the world at large.  Kari couldn’t understand why Shadros been so selfish in pursuit of her, as he had when so many others depending on him.  Though Shadros had much to answer for, in this case he actually had thought everything through.  Shadros had laid the pieces in place for her should he fail.   Shadros had faith in Kari’s potential.  Now, with Shadros gone and his name tarnished, only she remained. Kari looked at the Excalibur before looking out at the sea, “I don’t know if I have this potential you spoke of Shadros but…” Kari grinned and stood up with a bit of excitement, “I don’t have anything to lose so I will just have to take over where you left off.   I will become a Warrior of Light just like you!” She shook her head some, “No, that isn’t enough. I’ve got to be even better and I know you wouldn’t accept anything less!”    

Her knees felt weak and she tumbled back to the ground and groaned, “But first, I think I have some healing and bulking up to do before I’m ready to take on that role.” Kari laughed some as she felt her despair and sadness fade away for a time.   She had a new sense of purpose, motivation, and hope for the times ahead.  Though Kari had grown greatly in mental and spiritual power during her time of union with Shadros, she still had a long way to go in regards to her body strength and technique which could not be passed in the same way.   She took advantage of her isolation and used the time to train her body to relearn the powers from the Paladin Soul Crystal which were burnt into her memory.   She utilized the material from the cloth the Zodiac Braves were wrapped in to make herself some makeshift training clothes for protection and provide herself covering during the cold nights.  She continued her training until she was strong enough to use the armor more regularly.   With a weapon now in hand, she was able to expand her meal options and utilized anything she could find to help herself survive while alone on this island.   As the weeks went by Kari found herself quickly growing stronger as her armor becoming easier to move in.  She eventually was able to wield both the Excalibur and Aegis with enough skill for her to get by. Her experiences with Shadros helped her rapidly develop her skills and speed up the process as a whole.  Once she learned how to tap into her anima she decided it was finally time to leave the island. On Kari’s last day, she sat at the beach looking out at the sea with her legs crossed and her arms folded at her chest, “Let’s see, it’s true I can teleport back to Eorzea now but what do I do when I get there?  It’s not like I can walk up to Alphinaud and exclaim ‘Hi Alphinaud I am replacing Shadros as the Warrior of Light let’s go to Ishgard harharhar’.”  She grumbled and thought some to herself trying to recall what Shadros did before his attack on the Hymn Venom Order, “Let’s see Shadros locked quite a bit of stuff, including his other job soul crystals, in some kind of large coffer inside of his house and left the key in the hands of that Ninja he hired.  Think Aya was her name?   So I guess my first task is to find her and retrieve those items as they will certainly help.   How in hell does one intentionally find a Doman Shinobi though?” Kari squeezed the Paladin Sword Crystal in her hand lightly, “I guess I’ll just figure that out once I get there.” She grasped the crystal hard again changing into the Metallic Blue Armor that was once her friend’s trademark.  She took the Excalibur from the spot next to her, holding it upright for a moment, before placing the sword in its proper place at her side.   The Excailbur’s weight no longer hindered her.   She glanced along the beach as she put the Aegis Shield on her back noticing the remains of the crate, at this point only the outer frame remained.   Kari pushed what was left of the crate into the sea.   The metal emblem of the Hymn Venom Order falling off at her feet as she did.   Kari picked up the emblem looking at it for a moment with a grim expression, “You will never hurt anyone ever again!” She tossed the emblem into the sea watching it sink below into the ocean’s depths before moving back to solid ground.   She chanted the proper incantation for the Return spell.   Her Aetheric connection to Shadros during his adventures also meant she was also likely attuned to the all locations he had.   However, due to her being unfamiliar with the spell and not wanting her body scattered throughout the lifestream she decided his most common destination would the easiest for a first time attempt on her own.   It would drop her in the middle of Ul’dah but that was a risk she would have to take. With the incantation complete, Kari vanished leaving the desolate island to its silence once more.  

When the light returned to her eyes, she would be standing before a giant crystal aetheryte.  The sudden vibrations of various sounds would reverberate through her horns as she turned around.   Kari found herself no longer in isolation but rather amidst a bustling and active City-State.   She stepped out to the streets of Ul’dah and found herself temporarily distracted from her task to take in the sights of the bustling city around her.  Kari’s eyes filled with childlike wonder at the sights. “Wow!  It was one thing to see these things through him but it’s another to see it with my own eyes,” Kari let herself get absorbed for a few moments longer before a voice suddenly interrupted her sightseeing. “Hey, you!  Hold it right there!” Kari suppressed the urge to jump out of her skin as she turned to face a Brass Blade, the private security force of the Syndicate of Ul’dah.   Kari thoughts started to race in fear that she had already been caught.  If they found out about her connection to Shadros there would be no escape for her.   After the Brass Blade looked at her face his tone of voice changed becoming less stern. “Oh, wait!  Forgive me miss I thought you were someone else,” the Brass Blade apologized. Kari was relieved, he must have just recognized her armor and made an assumption, “You’re one of those Au Ra from the Far East are you not?   Giving your appearance you must be an adventurer?” Kari decided to play along, “Y-Yes, this is my first time in your lovely city.”

The Brass Blade nodded and pointed to the northward, “Then I suggest you start at the Adventurer’s Guild to the northeast.   Ms. Modi should be able to get you started.” Kari bowed slightly, “Thank you, I’ll do so.” The Brass Blade returned to his patrol at that point. Kari sighed with relief, “I thought I was in trouble.  It’s a good thing we don’t look anything alike,” Kari put her hands on her hips, “Shadros was only like ten ilms taller than me.   That Brass Blade must be part way blind.   Maybe it’s the weird face mask.”  Regardless of her feelings about the Brass Blade’s mental state, she decided that following the Blade’s advice was the best thing she could do right now.   It wasn’t exactly like Kari had any idea where to go anyway.   She was in the middle of Ul’dah, a place where gil was all that matter, with no gil to her name.  Kari made her way towards the large establishment in the center of the city.   She knew this is where Shadros’ adventure had originally started and where hers would begin.  

As Kari entered the establishment, she looked at the various tables with adventurers of all races gathered around discussing, planning, and boasting stories of their own achievements. Kari moved forward through the guild glancing to the left and right as she moved through the Quicksand Tavern, once again taking in the sights that surrounded her.  She made her way towards one of the central counters where a redheaded Lalafell was tending to some crates behind the counter. “Be with you in just a moment,” The Lalafell spoke in a chipper manner before writing something down in a book before she went back to the counter, “Hello, who might you be?   Name’s Momodi I oversee the Adventurer’s Guild here in Ul’dah.   I own this fine establishment. Ah, another Au Ra?   Ever since the Doman refugee arrived in Eorzea some time ago we are beginning to see more of your kind in these parts.  Always good to see fresh faces around here,” Momodi paused her usual speech when she looked at Kari more closely, “That color scheme you’re wearing.  Something is kind of familiar about it.  What’s your name stranger?” Kari paused a moment trying to decide how best to approach this situation but in the end decided that hiding her name had no purpose now, “My name is Kari Azuresol.”

Momodi tilted her head to the side a moment, “Kari Azuresol?  Yes, I know that name now.   The Warrior of Light was here some time ago and left me a letter to give to you when you showed up.   He asked me to make sure you were registered to the Guild and provided proper direction.   He was acting kind of strange, but I couldn’t refuse a request from Shadros Hiku after all.”  Momodi would reached down under the counter and hand Kari a letter that she immediately recognized in Shadros’ rather terrible handwriting and it also included some kind of Doman seal inside.   Kari would look over the letter, it was fairly brief and to the point but then again Shadros was not much of a writer.

“Kari, if you are reading this.   Go to Mor Dhona and show this seal to Stafborn in Revenant’s Toll.   He can direct you to someone who can help you.   –Shadros”

Momodi was writing something down while Kari looked over the message, “All right Kari, your registration with the Adventurer’s Guild is complete and all the privileges it comes with.   I’d normally give you some pointers but if your friends with Shadros Hiku you hardly need me to tell you anything now do I?  Oh and before I forget” Momodi placed a small bag on the desk as well, “He asked me to pass this gil along to you as well.  To get you started on the right foot.” Kari picked up the bag and smiled, “Thank you for everything.   I’ll find some way to manage in the meantime,” Kari bowed slightly before making her way out of the Adventurer’s Guild.  She purchased a map before looking it over, “Revenant’s Toll… Revenant’s Toll… where is that?” Though Kari remembered many things while being connected to Shadros certain details were still hard to remember like the physical location of places.   “There it is, let’s see, I’d rather avoid North Thanalan like the plague and charging through imperial territory sounds like a dumb idea.  Looks like my best option is to head towards Coerthas Central Highlands and make my way westward.”   Though she could try teleporting there she wasn’t sure if all of his attunements passed over to her properly so she decided it was best not to risk it until she could re-attune to the aetherytes proper.  Kari left Ul’dah entering into Central Thanalan glancing around at the barren surroundings.   Kari began walk but stopped for a moment when she saw a familiar creek.  The place she had been spotted by the Brass Blades on the day that the whole horrible ordeal had happened.  A sense of guilt came over her heart as she put her hand over her chest for a moment lower her head and closing her eyes.

“Shadros, I’m going to do it, you just watch,” Kari opened her eyes again as she turned back to the path and began her long journey to Mor Dhona.

Section 1 - Chapter 6: Duty Commenced in the Ceruleum Refinery

Final Fantasy XIV: Azure and Crimson Complete 

Section 2 - Chapter 2: Key to Conflict

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 2/22: Demon

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: The Shadowhunters Chronicles RATING: Mature. WORDCOUNT: 6 281 words PAIRING(S): Clary Fray/Izzy Lightwood, other pairings to be revealed as the story goes. CHARACTER(S): Clary Fray/Fairchild/Morgenstern, Alec Lightwood, Izzy Lightwood, Jace Wayland/Morgenstern, Magnus Bane, Maryse Lightwood, Robert Lightwood, Jocelyn Fray, Luke Garroway, and most of the other canon characters. GENRE: Urban fantasy with a dash of coming of age and lesbian romance. TRIGGER WARNING(S): - NOTE(S): - SUMMARY: Clary’s life plan from her eighteenth birthday onward is fairly simple: do her internship with her mother at Moonlight Tattoos, become a world-renowed tatoo artist, and find herself a girl she can spend the rest of her life with, pretty much in that order.

The part where she tries to save a girl from a would-be rapist and ends up having to fight demons kinds of throws a wrench into that, though.

(Or: This is what I wish we’d had in City of Bones.)

[Also available on AO3]

“Going out already?”

Clary stops on her way to the front hall, and answers her mother’s worried look with a reassuring smile.

“I’m up for it,” she promises with a gesture at her face and general demeanor, “see? All rested. Besides, you know Aminata’s going to kill me if I miss her first reading.”

Clary has been following her friend to Java Jones’ poetry readings for almost as long as she’s known her, mostly because words are as essential to Aminata’s well-being as pictures are to her own. That spot at the microphone is too much of an accomplishment to let it pass now, especially when the entire country is about to wedge itself between them.

“You only woke up two hours ago,” Jo points out, “are you sure you don’t want to stay here and rest some more?”

Dismissal is Clary’s first reflex���she has, after all, slept more than long enough to feel completely refreshed—but the frown on her mother’s face, when she actually pays attention, is far too deep to be only about that. Clary’s eyebrows rise with understanding, and she makes herself smile again:

“It’s the middle of the day, mom, and it’s not like Pandemonium is right next door. I’ll be fine. ‘Sides, if I stay here I’ll just be in your way—you’ve been on the phone ever since I woke up.”

“With Cat and Luke,” Jo admits with an odd little smile, “I took a day off. More importantly, Luke and I were talking about what happened to you. We think it’d be a good idea to set up an appointment with Dr. Neba.”

“Today?” Clary protests—almost whines, really—before she can think better of it, “But I—”

“No, he’s out of town until Monday,” Jo says in a tone of voice that leaves very little doubt as to her feelings on the matter, “and we wouldn’t book it behind your back, anyway. I just wanted to know if that was alright with you?”

“Oh! Sure,” Clary says with a breath of relief, “no problem. The EMTs said I should get my wrist checked anyway.”

“Thank you. You should also talk to Luke soon. He’s—worried.”

Clary frowns a bit at her mother’s pause, but Jo smiles and, well. It’s hardly the first time she stumbles over English after using Canti with Luke for a while.

(Clary tried to research the language on the web once, but it has to be the most obscure dialect in the world because she never could find anything about it, even after several hours and getting two different librarians involved. Sometimes it almost feels like Luke and Jo made it up between them.)

“Okay,” Clary agrees, mouth stretching over a surprise yawn, “I’ll call him as soon as the poetry meeting is over. Can I go now? I’m already late.”

“Fine, abandon me, you ungrateful child!” Jo mock-whines with a dramatic hand to her chest.

Clary rolls her eyes with a chuckle, checks her purse—keys, water, aspirin and her sketchbook, useless though it’ll be today—and hurries down the steps and through the front door, so focused on getting to Java’s before Ami’s poem she doesn’t even pause for her customary eye roll when her mother yells ‘I love you’ at her from the parlor window.

{ooo}

Running, as it turns out, makes Clary’s wrist throb with pain. It’s not a pleasant sensation, and she ends up walking to Java Jones, the only upside of that being that she gets there mostly sweat free, and she can slip into the cool micro-climate of the coffee-shop with a contented sigh rather than a shiver.

Aminata may be the one who dragged her to the poetry readings, but Clary practically grew up in Java Jones. This is where her mother would take her for treats on the weekend: they’d hole-up in the age-worn couch next to the toilets’ door and Clary would spend entire afternoons alternating between playing with her toys and watching her mother sketch out customers, sometimes adding antlers and wings and scale just to make Clary laugh. Clary’s first subjects, when she started learning to draw, were found here, whether they were customers, the chalk frescoes her mother created for the giant blackboard, or the soft lines of flower-shaped lamps.

Java Jones has a decidedly Art Nouveau feel about it. Curving greens and flowering yellows fill the space above earth-colored wood panel and hardwood floor, and even with minimal furniture it’s impossible not to pretend the place is some sort of liminal space, the entryway to a magical fairy realm.

The difference being, of course, that no one has ever been trapped into the shop after eating their food, but aside from that Clary is pretty confident in the comparison.

She gives Aminata a quick wave when she spots her—nervously biting her nails on the same couch Clary learned to draw on—and walks up to her favorite barista as he serves a couple of coffees. He got a new tattoo—some kind of brown, fur-like thing dripping blood on his biceps from where it pokes out of his shirt sleeve. Clary wrinkles her nose at it when he’s not looking, but she refrains from commenting and just waits for her drink in silence.

At last, she makes her way over to Aminata with a white chocolate frappé freezing her fingers and a reassuring smile on her lips, unsurprised when her friend’s first move is to grab for her elbow and almost spill her drink in the process.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Aminata hisses, the tremor of nerves in her voice almost palpable, “where on earth were you?”

“Had a talk with my mom,” Clary replies as she extracts her arm from Ami’s hands, “she wants me to see our doctor about this.”

Aminata’s face turns contrite when Clary waves her splint in her field of vision, but Clary doesn’t let her fall into guilt and shrugs instead. She’s still nervous, it’s true. Despite her reassuring words to her mother earlier, she couldn’t helps but look over her shoulder on her way here, as if the guy with the blue hair were about to pop out of a side-street and start beating her any moment—but this is Java Jones. She’s known the shop and its regulars all her life, there’s no reason to think anything should happen to her here.

“So,” Clary starts, putting extra cheer in her voice to drive out the awkward silence, “did I miss anything interesting?”

“I think Eric Levinsky’s poem was about you again. You know, ‘fire hair’, ‘concentrated temper’, the usual.”

“Still confusing bad temper and not being a doormat, I see,” Clary mutters, and Aminata snorts.

The guy also fails to grasp the concept of lesbianism, but then he’s hardly the first, won’t be the last, and Aminata isn’t quite as invested in that topic anyway. It’d take too much fun out of the snipping if Clary ended up being the only one with a gripe, here.

Besides, there are plenty of other things to enjoy here. The shop smells like ground coffee and honeysuckle, swaddled in the tang of hot asphalt pervading the afternoon air and slipping inside by some kind of almost-miracle. From the outside, light and shadow play over the crowd, spotting them in warm golds and cooler greens as they mill about the shop with varying degrees of attention for the poets on stage. Even the coming and going of customers toward the toilets isn’t too bothersome tonight. It’s drags at Ami’s nerves, that’s obvious enough, but it’s mostly kept quiet, and the couch is still the best spot for people watching.

Clary sits with her friend in silence and lets the poetry wash over her while Ami’s fingers grip and then slowly relax around her forearm, the lull of words and crowd noises dragging Clary down into the couch and out of her shoes in record time. She’s almost asleep by the time Aminata jostles her elbow on her way to the stage, the host encouraging the crowd to applaud and make some noise for a shy but promising newcomer.

The speech is nice—though the praise would be more meaningful if Clary hadn’t heard it about every beginner poet performing at the readings—and it gives Clary just enough time to readjust her ponytail and straighten up to full attention before Aminata starts reading.

Then a hand lands on her shoulder.

She freezes, back painfully rigid and heart picking up the rhythm as if gearing up for a race, and she has to swallow a whine when she realizes Aminata is too focused on the crowd of listeners to realize what’s going on in the corner. Slowly, without moving her head, Clary glances down at the hand—wide, firm, wrapped in dark, petrole blue leather—and blinks tears out of her eyes. There’s a barista close to her, serving a couple at the next table over, and Clary somehow manages to catch her eye.

The girl—Sarah, her name tag reads—gives Clary a funny look but walks over anyway. The hand on Clary’s shoulder tightens and tugs, and Sarah frowns.

“Everything alright miss?”

“Can you tell this person to leave me alone, please?”

To Clary’s horror, Sarah’s features go from concerned to a confused frown, the shadows on her face turning the white of her skin almost gray when she asks:

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t bother,” a light voice says, a little above Clary’s head, “she can’t—”

“That boy,” Clary insists, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “please tell him to let me go.”

“See me,” the boy finishes while Sarah schools her features into polite disbelief.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t see anyone there.”

Clary wants to tell Sarah her joke is just about everything but funny, but somehow it doesn’t feel like that would make anything better. She breathes in deep instead, and winces in pain when the knot in her throat stings on the way down. Don’t panic, she reminds herself, think.

Maybe she’s just hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all, and she’s probably stressed enough for a migraine to come through. She felt fine a second ago but it’s still possible. Besides, she’s never remembered her hallucinations before—they could involve leather clad men for all she knows. She’s probably just being needlessly paranoid and looking like an idiot for no valid reason but...still.

The hand on her shoulder feels real—heavy and strong in a way she doesn’t think she could fight off. There’s nothing here she can use to protect herself, except maybe her ring, but even with that, she’d have to land a punch. she’s not trained enough to take that risk.

In her throat, her heartbeat speeds up and presses against her windpipe until the edges of her vision grow dark and she all but topples forward with a whine.

Sarah yelps.

“Careful!”

“Woah, Fray!”

“How do you know my name?”

Clary does her best to look angry more than scared as she twists around to stare at the stranger. He’s wearing a face mask, and the hood poking from under a black leather jacket obscures the rest of his face, making it impossible to distinguish in the low light of Java Jones. Clary takes a step aside, toward the exit, and hears someone hissing for her to shut up and sit down.

There’s a ripple of murmurs and whispers behind her, and an odd silence where Aminata’s voice should be, but Clary is too busy trying to go through her parents’ teachings to care.

Back to the exit? Check. Hands into fists, thumb over the finger? Check. Stalling for time until help gets there? On it.

“How do you know my name,” she repeats, raising her voice as she backs another step toward the exit.

“Does it really matter?” The guy asks, “Calm down, people are starting to think you’re nuts.”

“I don’t care!” Clary repeats, more forcefully, “I’ve never seen you before in my life—”

“Wha—oh, yeah, didn’t see my face, but I—”

“How the hell do you know my name?”

There’s an aborted sound, like the stranger was about to get frustrated and then decided it wasn’t worth it—then he jumps over the couch, hands reaching for Clary’s left wrist.

She manages to shove her splint into the face mask through sheer dumb luck, and dodges under his arm while he’s distracted. She barrels through the toilets door before anyone thinks of stopping her, both the guy’s and Sarah’s voice hollering after her.

She shoulders her way past a couple—one of them swear as they hit the ground—and doesn’t realize her mistake until she’s slammed the ladies’ restroom door shut behind her. Crap. Trapped in. Crap, crap, crap.

Clary drags her eyes around the room, breathing loud in her ears as she takes in the closed cubicles, only just waiting to burst open and reveal people yelling ‘surprise’ at her in an instant—but her shoulder still burns with the heat of a foreign hand, her wrist throbs with pain from hitting that guy, and all of it feels so real—and how would she know the difference? How do you even tell hallucinations from reality when they’re about things that could conceivably happen?

She’s got to call Jo. Preferably before she can throw up with fear.

She’s reaching for her back pocket when the door shakes behind her back, the handle digging into her back with bruising force. She yelps in fright, heart in her throat, and bites her lips hard enough to hurt when the guy growls:

“Come on, you can’t hide in there forever, you know that right?”

Clary clamps her good hand against her mouth and screws her eyes shut. Her throat, her eyes, her lungs are burning—her heart’s trying to choke her and her brain keeps supplying every horror story she’s ever heard about black girls in her position. The entire world seems to swim around her, and when the door rattles again—harder this time, like something heavy was thrown against it—Clary stumbles to her knees faster than she even whimpers.

Think, Clary. Think.

Forcing her eyes open, Clary blinks tears out of her eyes and tries to have a coherent look at the room. There’s no other door here, no safe exit—that’s why Lucy Teruko got stuck here for almost fifteen minutes on that horrible date of her until—the window!

Clary crawls to her feet—has to catch herself with her good hand before she falls flat on her face on the tiles—and throws herself into the last cubicle to the sound of a door banging open against the wall.

The window above the seat it barely large enough for someone to go through, and for once Clary thanks genetics for her pocket size, before climbing on the toilet seat. The porcelain is wet, and she ends up with one foot in the water and a painful ankle before she can regain her footing, but she does get the window open and her upper body through it as the first cubicle bangs open.

One after the other, doors slam against the walls of empty stalls. Clary forces herself to stay quiet and calls on long-unused monkey cage skills to hang on the windowsill with her hips, push her lower body forward, and land on her feet with a painful jolt to her ankle. Loud cursing follows her toward the main street.

Summer-hot asphalt burns at her feet as she runs, and people turn to stare as she races down the sidewalk, jumps over a golden retriever like she’s in the middle of a track meeting, and manages to cross in all the wrong places, terror pushing her to speed she’d only ever dreamed of before. Her entire body burns by now—feels like she’s going to collapse and start retching if she even thinks of slowing down—but she keeps going anyway.

She does have to stop, eventually, bending over a bunch of tired-looking hydrangeas about three quarters of the way to her place and emptying her guts over the stems, careful not to put too much weight on her left foot. She braces herself against a concrete wall while the nausea dies down, and makes herself take deep breaths while her brain slowly collects itself and analyses the situation.

She’s barefoot, blisters growing so fast she can almost feel them form. Her left ankle is busted. Her purse—with her money, her phone, her ID—is still at Java Jones, hopefully with Aminata, but it’s not like Clary is about to go back there to confirm.

In short, Clary probably looks like a maniac who doesn’t have the brains to put shoes on, with no way to call anyone in or prove who she is or the truth of what she say. Assuming, of course, that the whole thing isn’t just happening in her head.

She’s so screwed.

If she looked better—if she couldn’t feel rivers of sweat rolling down her back, feel the frazzled state of her ponytail against her back—she’d ask for help. Maybe. She’s heard horrific stories about black people asking for help and getting trouble instead though. Not all of them get out of it alive...and let’s face it, she doesn’t look good.

She just ran three blocks like somebody was out to kill her—which may or may not be the case—without shoes, and she doesn’t need a mirror to tell it shows. Frankly, she’s rather not risk it. Her ankle hurts, yeah, but it’s not broken, and it’s not like there’s much to do about blisters beside taking things easy and resting. Besides, even if the guy is real, Clary probably lost him by now, thank God for Jo and Luke’s insistence on track training.

Slowly, with a careful limp, Clary starts back toward her home, determined to get there, get back in bed, and not move for the rest of the weekend.

It’s hardly surprising that it takes her much longer than usual to get home, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys it. It takes effort to ignore the staring passersby, and some more to keep herself from wincing at the heat under her feet. The sun is getting a little less unbearable at this time of the day, but asphalt is stone. It keeps heat.

It sucks.

The good news is, although no one offers to help Clary, no one becomes a problem either, so by the time she reaches the little square in front of her home, she’s just about ready to weep with relief. The white little twins from two houses down are playing in the fountain, like they always do. The pug from across the square fell asleep in the shade again.

Clary steps up to her own building with the odd sensation of leaving what little was left of her energy behind, the wisterias from the facade wrapping her in its perfumed embrace long before she reaches her front porch, glad all of this happened on one of her mom’s home days.

She limps through the reception room without even a glance for the door that leads into Dorothea’s apartment and climbs up the stairs with her mother’s name half on her lips already.

She stops dead in her track when she notices the smear of blood at the top.

Her mouth stings when her hand slaps against it, but Clary doesn’t care. She swallows a frightened whine and keeps going, stomach heavy when a couple more steps reveal a long, bloodied shard of glass next to the gutted frame of one of Jo’s watercolors, and then Clary is actually high enough on the stair to take a good look around.

To the left, the parlor and the door to the art room both look undisturbed. To the right, on the other hand, the busted glass is far from the only damage. The sad remains of the living room door half-hang from the hinges, the bottom half lying on the floor like a mangled corpse, and stepping up to the landing to peer inside the room does nothing to reassure.

It’s like a hurricane went through it: the dinner table is on the ground, half a leg broken and abandoned next to the hallway door, a broken plate scattered all over the room. When Clary limps around debris and reaches the other side of the table, she finds large gouges in the wood and a bloody tooth on the floorboard. There are bloody hand prints on the threshold to the back hallway, and the largest kitchen knife lies on the ground with blood all over the blade.

No trace of Jo anywhere.

The twins’ laughter filters in through the open window, and Clary wonders how a house can possibly get turned into such a mess without the rest of the world being any wiser about it. Don’t they know something horrible just happened? How does the world even keep working around this? Clary’s legs sure don’t, at least, and she has to sit in the hallway before she ends up in a heap on the ground.

Stop panicking, Clary tells herself—she’s heard those words so many times in Jo’s mouth, in Luke’s voice. If you’re in danger, don’t panic. Think. Get helps, first. Panic later.

Get help first. Think first. Clary isn’t in a state to brave the phone yet—not if she wants to sound even vaguely coherent for the call. So, she thinks.

Clearly, someone broke into the house without being seen—maybe they used the back door. Just as clearly, someone got hurt. Probably Jo. Most likely Jo—oh, god, please let her be alive, let her—stop. Stop. Think. 911 has to come first.

There’s no way Clary can deal with all of this on her own, and there’s no guarantee Luke is even back in the city yet.

Police it is.

Clary stumbles to the kitchen on shaky legs, and stumbles over the undisturbed Fire Box on her way there. Her mother’s laptop is here, too, and Clary saw the silver candle holder on the ground when she crossed the living room, so either the people who came here weren’t after money, or they did a really poor job of it.

The aloe vera was thrown to the ground, along with most of the cutlery drawers, possibly in search of the kitchen knife. Clary has to look away from the fridge and its open door—like Jo forgot it, or maybe was stopped in the middle of something—and focus her sight on the land line to calm the tremors in her hands.

She keys the number in with bile rising up her throat. Forces herself to practice what she’s going to say. Breathes in deep to steady her voice. Screws her eyes shut when the movement of Jo’s screen-saver catches her attention.

She wants to go to bed—pretend none of it is happening and that Jo’s going to come in through the door any time, now, and take things in hands like she always does.

The hopeless fantasy shatters when Clary raises the phone to her ear, and nothing happens.

No sound.

No voice announcing the line is currently busy.

No dull beeping.

Nothing.

Clary sobs. Wipes tears out of her eyes. Does it again, and gives up when her lungs turn her breathing into full blown sobs. They cut the phone lines. The Wi-Fi router is intact, Clary’s seen it, but still. They cut the phone lines. Why would anyone cut the phone if they didn’t expect to find someone in? And why would anyone organize a robbery when there’s someone to witness them? Picking empty houses is just less work, isn’t it?

So, whoever came must have known Jo was here.

Maybe they even came specifically for her.

What if they’re here because of Clary, though? What if the rapist she saw in Pandemonium was some kind of—of gang member or mob boss or something? And he didn’t like Clary’s intervention and decided to take it out on her and managed to discover where she lived?

What if he sent the guy at Java Jones too, what if Clary was meant to be with her mom right now and the only reason she isn’t is because she went out and got stupidly lucky? What if all of this was only meant for Clary and Jo took the fall because she wasn’t there?

She shouldn’t have gone out. Should have listened to her mom and stayed in—she could have negotiated then. Begged for whoever came to spare Jo. After all, if this is all because of Pandemonium, she’s the only responsible one. She’s the only one who should pay for it, right?

She wasn’t there, though, and now Jo is gone God knows where in God knows what state and going through God knows what all because Clary couldn’t use her brain and stay out of somebody’s business and now she’s stuck wondering what’s happening and Luke won’t be here for hours yet and there’s no phone and no police and Clary’s panicking, she nows it, she knows, but knowing it doesn’t help and she ends up sitting in the dirt in the middle of the kitchen while sobs tear out of her louder than she even thought possible.

It takes her a long time to calm down—for her body to exhaust the tears and her breathing to slow down—but eventually, she does. She’s not even sure how. It’s not like anything’s changed. It’s just—it kind of feels like the attack putters out on its own, like a car running out of fuel.

It leaves Clary aching, her body back to throbbing in pain in ways she wouldn’t even have thought of as possible.

It also, thankfully, leaves her a little more coherent, like her mind got aired out.

It’s not much—it’s not a solution in itself, at any rate—but it does leave Clary coherent enough to remember Dorothea and her hermit ways. The woman so seldom leaves her apartment Clary used to be convinced she was a witch, so chances are she’s in...which means Clary can use her phone! All she has to do is get downstairs and ask politely—maybe negotiate a little but that’s negligible. Then she’ll call the police and Luke, and let him take over.

He’ll be far better than she is at this sort of thing, anyway. Clary has never seen either of her parents lose their head in a crisis, and wherever they learned this—it might be an innate sense of calmness but Clary finds the theory a little hard to swallow—Clary is presently very, very glad for it.

So, get downstairs. Get Dorothea. Get Luke. It all sounds so simple, compared to the rest, that it makes Clary’s head swim and she trips over her own feet on the way to the back hallway. Not a problem in itself, except when it’s followed by a heavy scrapping sound.

Clary freezes. She’s alone in the apartment. At least, she’s pretty sure she is. Jo would have signaled her presence if she was there, wouldn’t she? Unless she was—no, Clary isn’t even going to think about that one. And anyway, scrapping isn’t creaking. Creaking could have meant the neighborhood stray cat getting in through Clary’s open window again.

Scrapping means someone dragged heavy stuff on the floorboard.

Logically speaking—assuming Clary’s logic is somewhat functional at the moment—it’s probably not someone out to get her. Probably. A kidnapper would be more discreet, right? They wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a mistake even an unprepared teen can spot.

Right?

It’s probably not Jo either. Clary wasn’t exactly trying to keep her noise levels down when she came in earlier, so if Jo were here, she’d have signaled her presence. Probably. And if she were too weak to call out, she’d be too weak to produce that kind of sound as well. Not Jo, then.

But in that case, who? An attacker? A kidnapper? Or worse, someone to finish the job and finish Clary off?

With her heart in her throat, Clary takes another, far more careful step toward the hallway, and steps around the creaking boards near the back staircase to reach for the kitchen knife and its bloody blade. Hopefully, having her fingerprints on it won’t get her in trouble later, but she’ll get to that problem if and when it poses itself. For now, not dying has to be a priority.

She tries to step around the glass again, but her legs are still numb from her panic attack, and clumsy with fright. She hisses when the sole of her left foot lands on a particularly nasty shard, and has to land on her heel with a heavy thud to avoid falling flat on her face—or worse, her knife.

In her bedroom, Clary hears something scrape again, and a sudden jolt on the circular handle makes her jump something like a foot in the air. Thankfully, she doesn’t freeze this time—slips past her bedroom to the closet door and flattens her back against it while she ignores the pain in her right wrist to try and open it without a sound.

Her door’s handle stops moving.

For a heartbeat, Clary thinks this might mean safety.

Then the door bursts outward and slams into her.

Clary barely has time to realize she’s in pain—sharp, stabbing pain in her left side where the handle hit, hot pulsing where sticky warmth floods down her nose—before she collapses to the floor, pure luck the only thing preventing her from impaling herself on her improvised weapon. When she manages to remind her eyes of which way is up—her head must have taken a bigger hit than she thought—Clary finds shoes first.

A battered pair of once-varnished shoes leads up to the sad remnants of faded black suit pants, and Clary has to struggle in order to keep following the line upward. She finds a shirt dirty enough that it barely retains the memory of white, the whole thing filled with really, really thick arms. Clary’s blood freezes in her veins long before she manages to find her aggressor’s...head.

There’s no face there—only a mess of purple-and-red scars like earthworms, features obliterated by thick, painful-looking tissues that barely part wide enough to reveal destroyed eyes. In he mouth—what was once a mouth—blackened shards mark the spots where teeth used to be.

A thick, bruise-purple hand reaches for Clary’s ponytail—flails for a second against its unexpected volume—and drags her off the ground by the hair, a scream flying out of Clary before she can fully process the gesture.

That seems to be the wrong reaction, thought, because the other hand appears in Clary’s field of vision, aiming for her throat in a way that makes Clary kick, squirm, scream as hard as she can until she remembers the knife in her hand and swings it around until it catches at the suit’s arm.

Clary falls to the ground with a thud and scrambles away from the—the—whoever or whatever the hell it is, half-crawling and half running toward the living room and front hallway until her right shoulder refuses to move and yanks her entire body back with it. She hits the other’s chest with a pained huff, tries to use the knife again, but this time all it gets her is enough of a slap in the face that the world starts spinning—and then a hand on her throat.

There’s a vague, stiffening feeling of déjà-vu when a gloved fist collides with the mangled vestiges of a cheek, but Clary doesn’t have time to process it before she’s dropped on the ground, next to a pair of thick leather boots.

“Get outta here!”

Clary’s feet get the message before she does, and she’s already jumped over the living room table by the time she recognizes the voice. Turning around reveals the same silhouette—wide shoulder, stocky built, clothing alternating between black and deep dark blues—except this time the hood is down, short cropped frizzy hair and a black-skinned face poking from behind the face mask as the guy tries to fight Clary’s attacker off.

He doesn’t seem to have much luck there. Clary smothers a panicked shout when the creature slams the boy to the ground—from there it’s like the world turns into a collection of details.

The kitchen knife in Clary’s good hand—shiny and bloody and bigger than it should be. A gasp, filling the room even through the louder grunts. Something like fear in amber eyes, surrounded by a familiar shade of brown. Clary’s hand raising.

Dull shock all through her arm.

The creature, clutching its knee, wailing like a wraith.

The boy—the man—coughing as he struggles to his feet. Turns to Clary. Panics—only for a moment, a short second, but Clary sees it—and shoves her away from him, into the front hallway.

“Get out of here! I’ll be right there!”

Clary spins on her heel so fast her twisted ankle doesn’t even have time to protest, shoots through the living room door, slips on the broken glass there, and rolls into the staircase.

It’s like the world skips a beat. One second Clary is running away from a fight to the death, the next she’s sprawled on her back in the reception room, unable to focus on anything but pain and holy hell there’s no air, no air, need air—

It occurs to her, after a while, that the fish-out-of-water sounds popping in her ears come from her. It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes things worse—drives home how bad her situation is and sends her into overdrive—makes her legs and back and stomach and head pulse harder under the flesh, burning with the heat of sudden pain even as she tries to turn around.

There’s a series of loud thuds upstairs. Hurried steps.

“Don’t move!”

Clary stops her effort, but even going limp hurts—there’s something warm on her upper thigh and a harsh, stabbing burn somewhere up her left arm, but she doesn’t dare looking around to assess the damage. Overhead, the stairs tremble with the weight of her savior’s steps, although he doesn’t make a sound, even when he jumps over the last few steps and lands into a crouch next to Clary, eyes roaming over her while his hands rummage into his jacket.

“Is it bad?” Clary asks, even though she knows the answer to that one already.

It’s still less scary to ask ‘is it bad’ than ‘am I going to die’ because she doesn’t want to—she doesn’t, really—but wet warm spot on her thigh is growing and the boy—man—whichever he is—sounds panicked where he throws foreign words into a phone. Clary’s head grows lighter, even a the rest of her seems to triple weight in an instant, black spots dancing in front of her and growing more numerous with every blink—of course it’s bad.

Really bad, if the way her would-be savior looks at her is any indication.

She’s already crying by the time he takes her hand, ready to tell her a bunch of reassuring things that may or may not be true—but when he finally grasps her injured hand, his features go from worried to shocked.

“Where did you get that?”

“What?”

Clary’s trying to follow his second answer, she really is—even through the darkening edges of her vision the urgency on his face is obvious, but there’s not enough blood left in her head for that to work. He must realize it as well—his face hardens,and he reaches for something on his side with something that may or may not be an apology.

He brings his hand to Clary’s thigh, and the world bursts into pain.

She thinks she screams. At some point, the man all but sits on her to stop her from moving away from him.

Pain, pain, pain.

Nothing.

Sharp, stinging pain on her cheek, and then words in her ears—urgent, and raw, and way louder than anything she’s ready to bear.

“Thank the Angels,” her savior says, “I thought I’d killed you!”

Clary tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out quite right—at the very least, she can’t make out more than a garbled sound, like her mouth fell asleep and refuses to wake up. Her general state of mind must be obvious enough, though, because a gloved hand comes to rest on her cheek, and golden eyes shift from relief to reassurance:

“It’s okay, Fray. You’re my sister. I’m gonna help you. I’ll take you back home.”

Clary is already home, mutilated though it is, and she tries to convey the message through the pained whine that escapes her. The guy shushes her, too dry to be soothing, and then he picks her up like she weighs nothing, bridal style.

In some distant corner of her mind, the more sarcastic part of Clary wonders when her life turned into an action movie.

“It’s okay,” the man says, “it’ll be a while before we get there but I glamoured us. You just go to sleep, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Well. At least Clary got herself a nice kidnapper.

Eventually, she does fall asleep.

[jessicanjpa]

I saw some asked Kyilili this question, but what do you think the top 10 gifts are that Aro would want to get a hold of?

First I have to link Kyilliki’s answer because it’s so fun. And here’s some more, in no particular order:

1. Supernatural storyteller: I mentioned the need for vampire skalds the other day, but Aro wants a *magic* storyteller, one that’s a bit Renesmee-ish.  This person can tweak the senses to experience the story being told.  You taste the salt air when you hear about a sea voyage, see the beautiful pollution-inspired sunsets when you haven’t looked out of a window for 800 years, smell the burning flesh of the protagonists in the Lay of the Last Libishomen (um, that’s Caius’ favorite, I guess?), and best of all: this storytelling vampire can make you taste and enjoy the food she remembers sampling back in her human traveling days.  You might think Aro doesn’t need this gift because of his own, but his “experiences” via others’ minds are more observant and flat than what he hopes to achieve here.  Of course the storyteller can’t be too powerful; pure hypnosis presents an assassination risk.

2. Eyes and Ears: I have to agree with Kyilliki on this one.  Aro wants the ability to peek in on anyone, anytime, anywhere.  Realistically, if he ever got a hold of Alice this is what he would use her for 99% of the time.  He knows enough about the subjective caveats of her gift to be skeptical of its usefulness in true large-scale future-predicting, and sadly he’s fresh out of wars to fight at the moment anyway.  But all he would have to do is have Caius and Demetri take her on a world tour and meet everyone he knows, and then she’d theoretically be able to “latch” onto any of them, in that “immediate future” way she has of spying on looking out for people she’s familiar with.

3. Pain Management Specialist: If Aro ever finds this person, they’ll be gift wrapped and given to Caius as a birthday present. Aro isn’t really all that interested in torture himself (besides the evil-scientist kind), but he does feel rather sad for Caius that the Volturi actually only have Jane’s gift to use for this.  (Alec’s is creepier, but it doesn’t make people scream enough)  Anyway, this person can actually access his target’s pain history, and not just physical pain either.  The most horrible memories are brought up to relive, worst fears feel imminent, etc. I’m totally borrowing this from Haemophilus Leona’s Saudade, chapter 16, in which Jane’s gift operates this way.  But in giving this gift to another vampire, Aro gets to double Caius’ interrogation arsenal, plus Jane gets taken down a notch, which is long overdue.

4. X-ray vision: Let’s be honest: dissecting vampires is hard, and dissecting werewolves smells really terrible. Aro needs a living, breathing MRI machine for his research.  The coolest thing about this person is that they don’t just give him a fuzzy gray image or colored dots- it’s like that old Adam software where you can peel away the layers “in vivo”.

5. Miracle Healer: Automatic tissue regeneration is cool, but Aro wants a vampire who can touch a vampire’s severed arm and regrow the missing hand itself.  He misses the Didyme Days when pilgrims flocked to Volterra (or wherever they lived back then) just to bask in her aura; having a humanitarian (vampiritarian?) talent or two like this on hand would make Volterra a positive destination again, not just a negative one.  Caius argues that he doesn’t want more useless visitors, but he can’t deny it would be handy to be able to replace his Guards’ limbs when he gets a little too carried away with his Fireside Chats.

6. I have no idea what to call this, but Aro wants a vampire who can examine any work of art and then go home and duplicate it perfectly.  But even that’s not good enough; he wants to breed find a person who can extract a piece of art from someone’s memory and duplicate it from that.  Aro can steal all he wants, but he can’t go back and un-burn the stuff he didn’t have time to save from the Library of Alexandria. (”Perhaps you shouldn’t have started that stupid fire in the first place,” Athenodora says every time this comes up.  “Nobody’s perfect,” Aro always replies.)

7. Gift-Finder: Nope, I don’t mean another Eleazar.  I mean someone who can discreetly look your wife in the eye and know what she wants for an anniversary gift.  This vampire is Super Needed after Aro’s faux pas last year of giving his beloved Sulpicia a lifetime suscription to Girls and Corpses.

8. Gift-Dampener: You guys know I don’t like super-powered OCs.  The only powerful OC I want is one whose proximity temporarily shuts off all gifts within a certain radius.  Emphasis on temporarily, because otherwise that would be a superpower, now wouldn’t it?  Anyway, this one is only on Aro’s list because it turns out this is exactly what Sulpicia wants for her anniversary gift: a month-long second honeymoon during which Aro has no clue what she’s thinking.

9. Changeling: Um, better employ that #7 gift again, Aro.  Turns out what Marcus wanted for Christmas was not a vampire who can alter their cellular structure to look and smell like Didyme. 

10. Supernatural Materials Engineer: Because of the risk of this genius vampire developing those cool vampire-tissue weapons that are always popping up in fanfics, they’ll only be alive long enough to invent the best possible noise-reduction technology ever.  Volterra’s inner walls might be “sound-proof” to human ears, but they’re not good enough yet.

Thank you anon, this was really fun :)   Anyone else got some ideas?

[fingerprint011]

What Makes a Good Website: Everything You Need to Make Your Website the Best

Your website is both your digital billboard and your digital storefront. It has to make a great first impression and has to do a lot of things exactly right. But does it? How many times have you come across a website and thought one (or more) of the following . . .

“Hey, this site looks really cool . . . but what is it really about?”

“This site has some interesting stuff . . .  but I don’t know how to get around in it.”

“I’d really like to buy one of these cool widgets, but this site just makes it too hard.”

“I really wanted to read that blog post, but the background and font hurt my eyes.”

“I’m not gonna wait any longer for this site to load.” Click

And so on . . .

As you are well aware, a lot of sites have plenty of nifty bells and whistles, some have great content, and few have products you’re just all aquiver to buy. But in the end, neither you nor the site owner gets the desired results – and for any number of reasons.

Many sites just don’t have what makes a good website. So let’s see just what that is.

What Makes a Good Website Design?

At the most fundamental level, there are just four design principles that answer the question “What makes a good website design?” And those principles – or, better yet, pillars that support good website design – are:

A clear and immediately recognizable purpose – When striving for good design, you must always begin with its purpose and hold it steadily in your mind. You have to ask yourself what you want every page to accomplish.

Pleasing aesthetics in line with current standards – A good website design looks good – that is, it is appealing, up to date, and has pulling power.

Well presented content that is both original and relevant – Good design also includes useful, original content that is aimed at the needs of a specific target market and so is relevant. And that content should be offered up in the most effective way possible.

Clear, easy, and intuitive navigation – Ease of navigation matters immensely. The rule of thumb is that any page on a site should be within a maximum of three clicks from any other page on the site.

We could also talk about load speed, mobile friendliness, and any number of related matters. But, really, that is all subsumed under the four foundational principles above.

What Makes a Good Website Experience?

Now, if you go at it from the user end only and ask “What makes a good website experience?” the answer isn’t quite as easy because there is a subjective element. Still, there are some identifiable objective parts to the answer. And because user experience (UX) is so vitally important, it pays to know what it involves and how to design accordingly.

If good UX design has been deployed, users will find a site:

Useful

Easily useable

Desirable

Findable

Accessible

Credible

And here’s how you can achieve those user experience qualities:

Design should focus throughout on UX. Everything on and in a site – layout, graphics, text, content, interactive elements – should work together synergistically to provide users a pleasant, quality experience.

Users do not read, but scan site pages, so the pages should be constructed so as to be easily scannable.

Users want and appreciate simplicity and clarity. Basically, then, you should make it apparent what you want users to do, make it easy to find action buttons, and make things consistent throughout.

Design elements should not be weirdly creative, but should be consonant with what users are used to seeing. There is great comfort in meeting the familiar in a new place.

You need to know everything you can about your target audience to that you can tailor your website design and make it a good fit for those specific users.

Use a visual hierarchy so that the most important elements of the interface are highlighted and user focus is trained there. This can be accomplished, for example, by manipulating size or focal point.

What Makes a Good Ecommerce Website?

This one’s easy to answer: whatever attracts potential customers and converts them into customers. Of course, that isn’t really very helpful, so . . .

According to Neil Patel, here’s what users want in an ecommerce website:

A design/layout that is organized and easy to search

A fast site, one with pages that take no more than two seconds to load. Studies have shown that increasing a site’s speed increases conversion rates by 78%.

A fairly wide, but judiciously chosen, product line. Too wide a range of products and too many products can cause customers to have decision paralysis.

Well categorized product pages with brief, compelling, top-level, above-the-fold product descriptions.

A comfortable shopping cart with an easy transaction and with no surprises like high shipping fees or limited payment methods.

A good post-transaction process, especially with respect to issuance of receipts.

What Makes a Good Product Listing on a Website?

Product descriptions are of utmost importance here. They have to be concise, tight, compelling, and image conjuring, executed with top-notch copywriting skill. But what makes a good product listing on a website is certainly not limited to the product description(s). It must also include:

Category title headers that are both informative and helpful

Careful selection of gridview or listview, determined in large part by the kind of products and the desired user experience

Careful determination of the number of products per page and per row, based on size of images, number of products, and the amount of information needed for the particular kind of product

Quality product thumbnails that work together harmoniously

Easy, intuitive navigation for a quality user experience

Inclusion of only the necessary product information, but all the necessary information

The best sorting option for the kind of products and the target audience

Sound on-page SEO

What Makes a Good Website Checklist?

A good website checklist will include at least the following questions and answers:

What Makes a Good Business Website?

Above all, a good business website has a clearly delineated target audience and a clearly defined and recognizable purpose, with everything built around those two things. A good business website also has to do a few critical jobs: 1) inform visitors with relevant, easily assimilable information, 2) keep them on the site long enough to take action by using simple navigation and responsiveness, and 3) convert visitors into leads and then into customers by deploying effective forms and CTAs.

What Makes a Good Website Layout?

A good website layout includes these elements and attributes: appealing and professional appearance, quality and relevant content, quick and correct functionality, usability (which means simplicity, speed, layout consistency, minimal scrolling, easy navigation, and compatibility with different browsers and platforms), and SEO.

What Makes a Good Website Background?

What makes a good website background is simply that which conveys the feel and personality of the business and complements the purpose of the site. Some of the more recent and more effective trends in backgrounds are various shades of gray, geometric patterns superimposed on photos, layers of bright color, abstract art, and asymmetry.

What Makes a Good Website Landing Page?

A landing page is a site page that a visitor lands on after clicking, say, an ad. And, simply put, a good website landing page is one that converts. Still, individual landing pages have to be tailored to work well with different offers. What makes a good website landing page – one that converts – are these qualities:

Essential information provided in a concise and uncluttered way

High-quality, rich, useful content that inspires confidence and trust

Limited exit points (hyperlinks) and a funneling of visitors toward the desired destination/action

Ease of conversion through obvious and limited steps

A crisp, flawless design

Eye-catching, compelling headlines and subheads

Flawless, engaging, compelling copy

A visitor-centric orientation

Easy scannability and use of videos when and where appropriate

An awesome, irresistible offer

What Makes a Good Website Header?

Your website header occupies one of the most valuable spots on your site. But with all the conflicting advice and extravagant suggestions out there, it’s hard to know exactly how to utilize the space.

For business-branding purposes, though, it’s pretty simple because the header isn’t quite as critical as in other design cases. In fact, it may be more effective to minimize the header to give content a more prominent position higher up on the page. So the best practice for a business is to keep everything simple, including only a logo and a tagline and thus keeping the header area smaller. But if you want an image in the header, keep it to one main hero image, one that is relevant and that clearly conveys what the site is about.

What Makes Good Content on a Website?

There are so many variable across so many sites that only a general answer is possible here. In general, then, good website content is original, top-quality, relevant, and useful – always providing a solution to readers’ problems.

What Makes a Good Mobile Website?

What makes a good mobile website is much the same as what makes a good website in general, but with some key differences, including:

Pages should be broken into smaller sections.

Image scaling is critical.

The design must be simplified.

A viewport meta tag is needed.

Buttons and other elements must be bigger.

There should be no pop-ups or refreshes.

Text entry for navigation should be minimized.

What Makes a Good Startup Website?

What makes a good startup website consists chiefly in the messaging. And that means that messaging should be clear, to the point, and intriguing. The job of a startup website is to get people’s attention and to stand out from the forest of similar sites.

What Makes a Website Good for Lead Generation?

To find out what makes a website good for lead generation, we advert to Neil Patel again. He avers that “leads are only as good as the website that produces them.” That may be overstating the case, but it’s something to keep in mind. Anyhow, here are some tips for creating a good lead-generation site:

Be sure to include a contact number.

Place sign-up forms on every page.

Enhance credibility with testimonials and photos.

Speak directly to users in videos.

Use legitimate trust seals.

Use powerful, impactful, concrete language to describe your offer, not flaccid, insipid abstract words.

Stay away from cookie-cutter website templates.

Begin with the end goal in mind and keep it constantly front and center.

Be sure to test and then test again and then test some more.

What Makes a Good Website Call to Action?

First of all, realize that visitors don’t just go from landing on your site to clicking on your call to action (whatever that action is). They have to be led, guided, funneled toward – and sometimes cajoled into – taking that action and often over a period of time and after several visits.

Creating a compelling call to action, one that encourages (and results in a good percentage of the time) conversion, involves several critical considerations. The four main areas of concern for a call to action are:

The quality – especially with respect to being compelling and serving to build trust –  of the supporting copy

The timing and placement of the call to action

The design and appearance of the call to action

The effectiveness of the post-call to action experience

What Makes a Good Website 2018, and How Do You Get It?

So . . . after all this has been said, what makes a good website design? If you distill it down to its essence, you’ll find one main element in that potent solution that remains. And that is user experience.

But getting user experience right for a particular kind of website takes scads of experience and tons of research into target market, the best tools, and current design trends. Of course, you have a business to run and don’t have the time or maybe even the inclination to do all these things. Never fear: Fingerprint Marketing is here.

The web design team at Fingerprint knows that your website has to be nice looking and that it has to help your business grow and make money. That’s why the team is obsessed with making you look good online with a web presence that warms your leads, entices users to visit sooner and more often, and makes it easy for customers and clients to do business with you again and again.

To learn how to get your own well designed website, contact Fingerprint today  . . . and impress your fingerprint on the world.

The post What Makes a Good Website: Everything You Need to Make Your Website the Best appeared first on Fingerprint Marketing.

Repostedhttps://fingerprintmarketing.com/what-makes-a-good-website/ http://fingerprintmarketing.com/

[esorc]

this is the title.

Have you ever heard of the band ‘The Black Keys’?

i have, and i saw them live. What color is your soap/body wash/exfoliator? white. What scent? this one was coconut watermelon. t’was the only gluten free one left, didn’t hate it.

If you were to receive a horse tomorrow, how would you want him to look? why am i getting a horse. And what would you name him, or her? daisy??????????? Have you ever worn more than two different perfumes, at once? hell yeah sometimes i mix that vanilla lace with some rush you feel me.  What type of underwear do you prefer to wear, yourself? lace cheekster, god that word is cringe.

What type of underwear do you prefer your preferred sex to wear? whatever hehehehe hahahahohhooh. Mountain or water view? fuck me m8. mountain. water. mountain with a lake. Was your hair a different color when you were a baby than it is, now? a lil darker but still blonde. Did you mother save dumb things like your first tooth, or curl? pretty sure she has one of my teeth? weird? Ever flashed anyone? my mom constantly tells me ‘my boobs are out’ so that’s usually when i lift my shirt up and say ‘i’m sorry these exist.’ What clubs/sports are (or were) you into, for school? i did drama club in middle school for a little while, and the art club. played basketball for like, 3 weeks in the 4th grade. tried out for volley ball in 9th. key word, tried. What is a phrase that you don’t quite grasp the meaning of? nothing comes to mind.  Have you ever taken a drink out of a cup to find there was an insect in it? eeek yeah. Have you ever spit in someone else’s drink? nah. Do you freak out and jump around if you feel a bug on you? i feel like ‘freak out’ and ‘jump’ are understatements.  Describe in detail what you wore today, or what you’re wearing now. at first i was wearing black leggings and a plain scoop neck long sleeved gray shirt. then, i changed into a black tank top with a black zip up. now i’m wearing a blue and white vertically striped pajama halter top (that’s a mouthful) with them matching shorts, bb. #cozy Has anyone ever borrowed money from you, never to return it? usually.  If someone came to your door right now, would you be ready for a visitor? i mean, not preferably. Are you a caffeine/sugar junkie? eh, i like my coffee.  Do you need it to be absolutely DARK in order to sleep? How about quiet? i actually need my laptop on playing a show or music to fall asleep.  Own anything that vibrates? oh baby. Would it bother you if someone else used your hairbrush? as long as they’re clean.  Have you ever caught yourself chewing on something inedible? sometimes. Ever consumed something poisonous? apparently not. Are you going to snuggle with someone tonight? my fukkn snug doggos m8. If you were granted invisibility for one hour, what would you do? probably stand up on a stage during a huge ass concert, i feel like that’d be a view. or observe this good looking guy when he’s in his element ey. Where do you buy your make-up? ulta, cvs if i’m feeling spicy.  What is your favorite cosmetic brand(s)? i don’t think i have a favorite. too faced made this bronzer that i have and rarely use but it smells like cocoa sooOooOOOOOOoooOoooO. What was your favorite song when you were 11? probably something by 3oh3! you know what i’m saying. Describe your dream wedding. my dress needs to have long lace sleeves and a deep v plunging back. i want string lights all around. preferably a nature-esque environment. loyal, funny, tall good looking husband. and that’s all i know. Does yelling make you cringe? depends on who’s yelling.

Do you pump your own gas? hell yeah #independence.

Would you rather spend the rest of your life with somebody nice, or somebody interesting? somebody interesting. 

Do you know where your first love is right now? probably sleeping. dunno. Would you rather surf, or wakeboard? surf. Is it 'soda’ or 'pop’? soda. Would you rather date someone that is 3ft tall, or 10ft tall, and why? 10 ft tall because he’s taller than me heheheh. If you were a pirate, would you rather have a parrot or a monkey? monkey. and i’ll name him harry. or nanner. What did you do yesterday? played some zombs with kevin, bout as good as it gets. Does the weather effect your mood? sometimes. Have you ever been inside of a cave? yes!!!! underground!!!  Is there anything that you constantly argue wth your parents about? yes. Do you plan on carving a pumpkin anytime soon? is it acceptable during the spring?

Why were you in a hospital last? my uncle had open heart surgery. 

Have you ever had your picture in the newspaper? i think so, actually.

Do you know how to read guitar tablature? i suffer with tabs but IM STILL TRYING.

Do you have a friend that is old enough to purchase alcohol? yes.

Would you prefer a small, intimate wedding proposal, or a big-scale, over-the-top proposal? small and intimate pls.