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princess-leaorgana · 10 months ago

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Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, no smut in this chapter, just angst and fluff. I was inspired by a bit of Rolan fanart for this chapter, Rolan's lil outfit created by the phenomenal Blue Sky Artist La Bordelière

Chapter One Two Three Four Five

Four months in the tower and the four tieflings were flourishing. So was little Lajy, who wasn’t very little anymore. Lajy had made himself very useful in the tower, trapping mice and other vermin from all of its large floors. Lajy really did take to Zelphie, who spoiled the little gray kitty rotten with treats and attention. Business at Sorcerer’s Sundries had picked up considerably, now that the Upper and Lower Cities had been almost fully resurrected. There were still buildings that would more than likely never see life again, like Zelphie’s old home, but something else would be built. The people of Baldur’s Gate were evolving people.

The store was mostly run by Rolan’s unperson. As the master of Ramazith’s Tower, he found himself meeting with people from the city quite a lot. Deals he could help with and Zelphie was usually by his side. She would volunteer to work, to help in any way that she could. How could she not? Those that asked for help were the Council of Three, mainly. Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, Counselor Florrick and the newest appointed member, Duke Wyll Ravengard. Zelphie was always very happy to see him, though she did notice the change of Wyll’s demeanor, from legendary hero to politician. He had become a little more…Duke-like in his speech, which Rolan found easy to navigate. One such meeting was less a request for funding from Rolan or protection from Zelphie and was just a formal invitation to a ceremonial ball held at the Ducal Palace, High Hall. The ball was in celebration of the end of the end of the world, and Zelphie was timidly excited about the prospect.

‘Please note that this invitation is to guests of honor, this isn’t some place you will have a job to do, Zelphie.’ Wyll stood in the Tower’s formal meeting room, a room where Rolan had defeated the last master of the tower. The room had been completely redone to fit Rolan’s more honest and logical style. Reds were changed to blues and purples, magical artifacts were out for the public to see. This room was open by appointment of course. It was the only one in the tower that was. Everything else, Rolan, Lia, Cal, and Zelphie considered their home. Wyll was dressed as regally as he always was, tailored suit dresses with medals detailing his rank, his hair had grown very long and was kept back in twists, silver clasps kept them together and his horns were decorated with similar metals.

Zelphie stood next to Rolan, who was also dressed very finely. He wore green robes with a silver collar piece and a black leather belt. He always dressed his best when meeting with any guest in the tower. He was reading the invitation and had a smile on his lips as he listened to Wyll.

‘I’m glad you said that, she won’t hear it from me,’ he said and glanced at Zelphie who smirked. Zelphie was attempting to match Rolan, wearing robes of yellow and green with a gold collar and belt. He handed the invitation to Zelphie and smiled at Wyll. ‘I’m honored to be invited, is there anything we can do before the event to help?’ Wyll grinned and shook his head.

‘No, you have already been a very generous friend, Rolan. All we ask is that you all attend and enjoy yourselves,’ he said and Zelphie spoke.

‘You will also be enjoying yourself, I do hope, your grace?’ She asked and winked. Your grace would be the correct way to address the duke, but it always felt silly to. Wyll smiled warmly at her.

‘If my father allows it, then you can count on me to have one hand with a goblet full of wine, while the other leads our guests in a dance,’ he said and Zelphie smiled.

‘I’ll keep him busy then,’ Zelphie said and Wyll chuckled.

‘I must be off, but thank you for seeing me, and I’ll be very excited to see you and your family ten day next,’ Wyll said with a bow to Rolan, Rolan and Zelphie matched his movement. His family. Yes, Rolan’s family did still include his unmarried wife, Zelphie. She had stopped correcting him months ago. Everywhere they went, she was the mistress of Ramazith’s Tower. She had gotten used to it, and accepted it. Tieflings did recognize the institution of marriage, but a tiefling wedding was something someone like Rolan liked to avoid. They were boisterous and violent affairs. Zelphie was also not a fan of being the center of attention, and that usually came with one’s wedding ceremony. No ceremony, but Zelphie had Rolan’s commitment. That was what mattered to her. Wyll excused himself and left and Rolan turned to Zelphie.

‘I suppose this means you and I have a date with our tailor,’ he said and she smirked. Ah, here it was, another gift.

‘Mmmmm…for you?’ She asked and he bared a grin at her.

‘For us, as are all things, my darling,’ he told her and leaned down to kiss her forehead. ‘Mmm, and a jeweler, we cannot have some duke out dress the mistress of Ramazith’s Tower, absolutely not,’ he told and walked over to a small desk in the room. She sighed and followed him.

‘Rolan, I don’t need-‘ he held up his hand. This was always their fight. Rolan kept true to his word, he spoiled Zelphie. Every few days, without fail, she woke up to some sort of present. They were generally small items, more flowers, little treats, and on two occasions very flattering underclothes. Though Rolan debated, those had been more for him than anything else.

‘No one needs anything that you and I have, we are very lucky. But what is all this,’ he waved his hand as he wrote something down on parchment. ‘If not things we don’t need?’ He asked and folded up the parchment and casually chucked it, the parchment went off to fly to whatever destination Rolan desired. ‘Zelphie, I have more than what I need, more than what I want, let me share all of that with you,’ he told her and tipped her chin so she would meet his eye. She was very happy to be spoiled, but she did fear he might begin to think she loved him for his position and money. She would still be with him if the only thing he had was a bedroll in the dirt to share. And she didn’t want to be spoiled. As quickly as he received his position, he could have it taken away. She looked into his eyes for a moment more and sighed. ‘And I think gold and rubies would look very fine webbed into your horns,’ he said and her eyes widened.

‘Rolan,’ she whined and he just smiled.

‘Fine, sapphires then,’ he said and winked, letting go of her chin. ‘And a new dress, because if you think for a moment I won’t also be fitted into something new for such an event you are wrong. Besides,’ he spoke quickly and she opened her mouth again. ‘It will be good for the economy,’ he said and she wrinkled her nose.

‘Oh Rolan,’ she said and he chuckled. ‘Surely then Lia and Cal will also be fitted with new regal costumes?’ She asked and he nodded. ‘I’ll go tell them, I’m sure Cal will be VERY happy to know one of the other members on the guest list,’ she said and began to walk and Rolan cleared his throat.

‘You are really still encouraging that?’ He asked and she nodded.

‘He deserves joy, Rolan, just as you and I do,’ she said and continued to walk.

‘Zelphie,’ Rolan called and cursed under his breath when she slipped from sight.

Much to Rolan’s annoyance, the little crush and mild flirting between Cal and Astarion had continued. Rolan still forbade Astarion’s entrance to the tower so Cal was gone a lot at night and was always very tired during the day. Zelphie told Rolan he was being very immature, Cal was an adult and could make his own choices and from what she could see, Cal was very happy, and so was Astarion. He even wrote to Zelphie about how grateful he was for introducing him properly to the tiefling; she thought it was very sweet. Rolan would try to fight over this daily, but Zelphie would ignore him, saying exactly what she just had, that Cal deserved happiness. One day he would give in.

‘I would do anything to change this into a pair of trousers.’ The night of the ball, Lia and Zelphie were getting ready together in Lia’s room. Lia had been excited for the night, but not for what she was going to wear.

‘You can’t wear trousers for one night, I think you’ll live. Besides, Vanminar did a wonderful job making this dress economical.’ Zelphie said, helping Lia into the dress and tying the strings to the dress in the back. Vanminar was a tailor in the Upper City, he was a horrible snob and never had anything nice to say, but had been outfitting the little family for months and always did a splendid job.

‘I just feel naked,’ she muttered and Zelphie nodded.

‘You can wear something underneath,’ Zelphie told her. Lia’s gown was a deep red, her favorite color, with bronze accents. For her comfort, it was a lighter dress than what Zelphie had, made of chiffon. Commissioned by Rolan, Zelphie wore a royal purple gown, charmeuse and velvet with golden accents, along with a cape to cover her shoulders as the dress did not have that on its own. ‘I have a tight pair of stockings I’ve grown out of,’ she said and Lia sighed.

‘Thank you. Don’t tell you-know-who,’ she said and Zelphie laughed.

‘For what it’s worth, Lia, you look fantastic,’ she said and smiled and Lia smiled back at her.

‘But I won’t upstage my brother’s wife,’ she said and Zelphie snorted.

‘If he gets to call me his wife, you can call me your sister,’ Zelphie said and Lia stared at her for a moment. Lia smiled a little, a genuine one. That made Zelphie happy. To call Lia and Cal her siblings would be an honor. She loved them. She wanted their love back. She was jealous of their little family, but would never push her way in. Lia was just as happy. She hugged Zelphie tight and Zelphie grinned.

‘Alright, alright, enough of that, come on, it’s your turn for torture,’ Lia said and let go of a very happy Zelphie. Zelphie removed her night robe as Lia grabbed the heavy gown. She helped Zelphie step into it. She helped with Zelphie’s tail and Zelphie pulled up the fabric and groaned a little, getting it past her hips. ‘Are you going to even be able to dance in this?’ Lia scoffed.

‘Yes, I’m just getting too hippy, I need to do more at the shop, I don’t do anything anymore except for standing and smiling. I think I’m well past my pre-illith weight,’ she muttered. It was true. Going from living in poverty and eating maybe twice a day, to practically starving on the road and fighting for her life everyday, to eating a true full tiefling diet and just hanging about a tower all day proved to change Zelphie’s figure. All four of them had gained a little weight, but it seemed to Zelphie her body was in its own little competition.

‘You look fine, I think Vanminar shrunk it,’ Lia said and Zelphie sighed, sucking in as the unforgiving fabric was pulled up over her chest.

‘Oh this is going to be a very short night,’ Zelphie muttered, relaxing a little. ‘Between my cinched waist and your fear of free legs, we are going to be the worst party guests,’ she said and Lia laughed, helping Zelphie with her cape. Hair was brushed and braided and Zelphie delicately attached a beautiful set of horn rings Rolan had gifted her. No ruby or sapphires, but amethyst and gold. He insisted the purple gem went better with her skin tone. Purple just happened to be his favorite color. What a coincidence. She felt incredibly delicate, as if one wrong move and she and her lavish clothing and jewels would break. She helped Lia back comb her hair but kept her long straight locks down. A knock at Lia’s door came as they were almost finished.

‘Come in,’ Lia called and in came Cal who looked incredible. His broad shoulders fit into a yellow jacket, detailed with gold in his lapels and buttons. The jacket was long over a pair of black trousers and his hair was down and swept back.

‘Wow! Cal!’ Zelphie said, not being able to help it. ‘You look incredible,’ she said and Lia stood up.

‘Thank you,’ he said a little bashful and bobbed his head. ‘You really think I look alright?’ He asked and Zelphie giggled.

‘I do, you fill out a suit so nicely,’ she said and Lia snorted.

‘Yeah, like a great big bee,’ she said playfully and Cal glanced at her.

‘Awww…Lia dressed like a little doll,’ he said and held up his hand to pinch her cheek. She slapped his hand away and he laughed. ‘You look great Lia, really. You should wear stuff like that more often,’ he said and Lia huffed. He looked at Zelphie and grinned. ‘You look stunning, though,’ he said and Zelphie smiled.

‘Ah, thank you, maybe that compliment will be worth not being able to breathe all night,’ she joked. Rolan walked in as she was speaking and Zelphie was not too proud to say he took her breath away. He wore a decadent shirt of lilac, a gray vest and a long purple belt. Like Zelphie, he had a cape and Zelphie could not help staring. He looked majestic and the tailoring of the suit was incredibly flattering, especially on his shoulders and chest. ‘Wow,’ she whispered and Lia honked a laugh. But Rolan was just staring right back at Zelphie. He was just as captivated. He had seen her in armor, covered in blood, in cute little tunics, in a dressing gown, completely naked, all of it. Seeing her dress so regally made his brain wipe clean of all sense.

‘You look…phenomenal,’ he said and walked over to Zelphie and took her hand, kissing it. Zelphie, on top of also being taken away by his attire also found it very hard to breathe while he looked at her as he was. His yellow eyes on her like a lion before the feast. Yes, this little party would be a short one.

‘Don’t slobber all of my sister, Rolan,’ Lia said and Zelphie was taken out of her trance and blinked quickly. ‘My sister’ Lia had said. She grinned at Zelphie.

‘Oh! Are we doing that now?’ Cal asked and Zelphie laughed and nodded.

‘Yes please,’ she said and looked up at Rolan, almost for permission. He still had his lips on her knuckles, but he was smiling.

‘Meet us downstairs,’ Rolan said, finally lowering Zelphie’s hand. Zelphie’s heartbeat a little, not sure what was about to happen, but whatever it was, it had better not entail her removing that dress. Or bending over. Cal and Lia took their cue quickly and left. As of late, Rolan had become very handsy with Zelphie. Everything was still private, as Rolan never allowed for anything more than a little handhold to go before the public. People who passed the two in the street might have assumed them acquaintances. Even in front of Cal and Lia, Rolan would give her a little peck and they might be caught holding hands, but that was it. Privately, especially lately, Rolan had not held back. Even during their little magic lessons, he always found a way to touch her or even get in a nibble. He would even just hold her, hold her close, anything. Any excuse to touch her, sexually or otherwise, he took. Zelphie had, like most people, assumed this ‘honeymoon’ affection would be over, but no, with Rolan it planted itself and was growing vibrantly. She wouldn’t complain for a second.

‘Am I in trouble?’ She asked and he shook his head.

‘No, but you are about to get very cross with me,’ he said and reached into the pocket of his vest for a small bag. She frowned.

‘That had better not be another gift,’ she said and he cleared his throat.

‘Get over it,’ he said and she huffed. ‘This one is different,’ he told her. ‘This isn’t a present, it’s…it’s a promise,’ he said and from the small bag he produced two golden rings, both with matching emeralds. One was smaller and thinner, the other was slightly larger and the band was thicker, but they were clearly a set. Zelphie was no idiot. ‘I was…going to…I’ve been uhm-‘ he cleared his throat and gave himself a little shake. Zelphie felt her palms sweat. What was he doing? She knew what he was doing. Two golden rings? Her stomach was in knots. ‘I know…zurghan,’ he cursed under his breath and looked at Zelphie. ‘I know what I want. I know what I need. My family is what I want. My family is what I need,’ he began and Zelphie nervously played with her fingernails. ‘Five months ago, that was Cal and Lia. Four months ago, you were added to that,’ he said and Zelphie swallowed hard. She kept eye contact with him. This was it. She knew this was it, he wasn’t ever shy about his feelings for her. Day one he introduced her as his wife to a stranger. His wife she was not, but she slipped into the pretend role very easily. ‘I mean it when I call you what I call you. At first, yes, it was a slip-up. Possibly. But after that, I couldn’t take it back. I know what I want now. I want you. I want everything there is to have with you by my side. With me by your side. For the rest of my life. I know I forced it on you before, but…now I’m asking you, officially,’ he told her and her breath shook and she swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on eye contact and standing up straight. ‘Would you be my wife? Sister to my siblings? Make my family whole?’ He asked and Zelphie opened her mouth and a hard sting rang through her face. She was burning hot. A wave of nausea hit her and her body felt clammy. She couldn’t seem to open her mouth, but she nodded furiously. Rolan looked equally unwell. He gasped out a happy little laugh and leaned down close to her.

‘On one condition,’ she said softly, her voice cracking. His jaw tensed a little and she took the larger ring with a shaking hand. ‘You’ll be my husband,’ she said softly, her voice still not strong as she asked a terrifying question. In hindsight, it was an easy question, but it still made her insides squirm. She hadn’t called him husband, not once this whole time of him playfully calling her his wife. For Rolan to hear that meant everything to him. Her face contorted when his face did, she cried and he held back tears. Stubborn. He nodded his head.

‘I promise to be your everything,’ he said with a very shaken voice and she leaned up to kiss him. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her right up against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed happily. Her stomach lurched again. Oh no. She let go of him quickly and ran into the washroom in Lia’s room and slammed the door. She was going to be sick. No, no no no not now! Not now! She’d been up against everything possible in the last year and this made her so nervous she was going to vomit? She very quickly emptied her stomach and shook on the floor. Rolan came in, no knocking like he normally would have. ‘Are you alright? Oh, I’m sorry,’ he told her and walked right to the cabinet and wet a towel for her to wash up. He knelt down next to her and she shook her head.

‘No, no, I’m sorry…this dress is so tight and then you…’ she said and took the towel from him, cleaning her face. He rubbed her back gently. ‘My stomach just got all jumbled,’ she said and looked up at his concerned face. ‘I’m okay, I’m sorry,’ she said again and he shook his head.

‘Don’t apologize, my dear, are you alright to still go? We can cancel, we can absolutely cancel, what do you mean your dress is too tight?’ He asked her and she laughed a little into the towel.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise. I want to go, especially after…that,’ she told him and took his hand. She was still holding his ring. She slowly placed it on his left forefinger. She gave the gem a little rub with her thumb and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. ‘I want to show off my husband to the city,’ she said and he lifted his head to look at her and he placed his hands on her cheeks.

‘Say it again,’ he told her and she blinked quickly. ‘Call me your husband, just one more time,’ he said and she grinned.

‘My husband, Rolan of Ramazith’s Tower, he’s my husband,’ she said and he laughed, kissing her cheek, wanting her lips but knew better than that. ‘He’s my everything,’ she continued and he sighed happily. He helped her off of the floor and took her hand.

‘With the grave fear that your stomach will churn again,’ he said and slowly placed the smaller emerald ring on her left pointer finger. She laughed as she watched the ring slip on her finger and fit perfectly. She held her stomach and laughed again and he looked down at her, making sure to be careful. He really hoped she wasn’t unwell.

‘I used to pray to the gods every day since I can remember for a family,’ she said and her nose stung once more. She looked up at him. ‘Please tell me which sent you so I can give thanks,’ she said and he laughed loudly down at her.

‘Not a god but the arch-devil Zariel I think can take most of the credit,’ he said and she laughed with him.

‘Long live the devil,’ she said and Rolan nuzzled her face. ‘Oh I don’t want to go now, I just want to be with you,’ she whined a little.

‘We can cancel,’ he told her softly and she shook her head.

‘We’ll be selfish after,’ she told him softly and she smiled. ‘This can count as our secret little wedding,’ she told him and he smiled. ‘And then we start our honeymoon,’ she continued and his hands found her hips.

‘Don’t flirt with me,’ he growled and she laughed, looking up at him.

‘I…I mean it though, I don’t want a real wedding, I just want…this,’ she told him and he looked down at her and nodded. He was in agreement with her. If she had wanted one, he would have given it to her, but he didn’t. He liked his calm privacy very very much. He knew she liked hers as well.

‘Your desire is my command,’ he said softly.

Finally after another little wash, Zelphie and Rolan made their way to the first floor of the tower where Lia and Cal were waiting. They, and only they, would get the news delivered. Lia hugged Rolan tight against most of his wishes and Cal gave Zelphie a big kiss on the cheek, which she loved very much. The four stepped through a portal that would lead them to the steps of High Hall. A wizard and his family needed to make an entrance, after all. They were announced to Dukes Ravengard and Florrick. Once the formalities were over, the tieflings could enjoy the great hall of the palace. Zelphie was immediately taken with the architecture of the room, Lia went to find something to drink, and Cal went off to find a very specific guest. Astarion was already present and Cal had no issue in finding him. Zelphie watched the two for just a moment and smiled to herself while Rolan talked about the histories of the stories in the stained glass window of the hall. He wasn’t oblivious to what was happening, just refused to give it attention. Astarion made quick eye contact with Zelphie and a flash of a fanged grin as Cal spoke. His red eyes and attention went right back to Cal.

‘I’m going to say hello,’ Zelphie told Rolan who sighed, but followed her. Good, he needed to get over it. Cal was mad for the vampire. The vampire, ironically, was very good for Cal. Astarion looked at Zelphie again and his smile grew once more. ‘Hello Astarion,’ she said and he bowed his head a little.

‘Good evening my darling,’ he said, sounding very cheerful. Cal looked down and smiled at Zelphie and then glanced up at Rolan. Well, he was at least there. ‘Cal was just telling me the good news, congratulations,’ he said and leaned down to kiss her cheek but stopped. She heard him sniff and then his ice lips kissed her hot cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she said and Astarion stood up straight and looked her up and down. She felt Rolan’s hand on her shoulder. Astarion looked up at Rolan, his face a little colder than it was before.

‘Congratulations, Rolan. I trust you will take care of her,’ he said.

‘With everything that I can give, yes,’ he said and Zelphie swallowed hard. This moment was a little intense. Cal, the hero, broke the tension.

‘I think Lia and I were replaced months ago with Zelphie, we couldn’t be happier,’ he said and Zelphie smiled up at him. Astarion looked at him and fixed a little hair behind Cal’s ear.

‘Replace? Oh I doubt that my love, a family like this only grows,’ he said and Zelphie’s smile grew. ‘And may it keep growing,’ he said and glanced down at Zelphie for a moment. Cal went bright red.

The evening went on, a gallery of patriars from Baldur’s Gate came to eat and dance and gossip. Zelphie was quickly getting very tired, faster than she had expected. She had promised Lia a quick evening, but Lia had made a few friends and Zelphie’s energy was fading very quickly. As the stars began to shine above the city, Zelphie excused herself to the balcony for some air. Rolan left her side only to fetch her something to drink. She wasn’t alone for long. Without making himself known, Astarion stood beside her.

‘You seem incredibly happy,’ he said and she jumped, no longer used to him sneaking up on her. She gave his arm a little whack.

‘I am,’ she told him and he grinned down at her. ‘And though I haven’t seen you in a while, Cal has been very happy, so whether you are or not, thank you,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Mmm…I uhm, I don’t really love to gush about…feelings, but you make it easier for me to be honest. That silly feeling that makes my unbeating heart beat. I thought we had that for a while you know,’ he said and she nodded.

‘We have something different, better I think,’ she told him and he smiled very happily.

‘Of course, I’m only saying that, yes, I am happy. Cal is…a light in my life now that the sun is gone for good,’ he said and Zelphie’s smile only grew. ‘You need to come down to The Underdark, bring your guard dog with you,’ he said and she nudged him. He laughed and she sighed.

‘Husband, not guard dog. I’m his guard dog,’ she said and Astarion laughed loudly. ‘Please be nice to him and patient. He’ll come around, I promise,’ she said and Astarion smirked at her.

‘For you, I will. For Cal, I will. But yes, I’d much rather talk about the other thing. All of a sudden, you are married. Hmm, one might be suspicious,’ he said and Zelphie shot a look at him.

‘Suspicious of what?’ She asked him. Before Astarion could answer, Rolan had caught up to them, two wine goblets in his hand and he cleared his throat. Zelphie turned to look at him and smiled. She took a goblet from him and sipped a very sweet wine.

‘Nothing, nothing, I’m only teasing,’ Astarion said, a little less casually now that Rolan was present. The elf turned to Rolan and gave him a little glance over. ‘I know Vanminar’s handy work when I see it,’ he said cheerfully and looked down. ‘The boots though, delicious as they are, I can’t pinpoint them,’ he said and Rolan glanced down at his boots.

‘Ah, my uhm…my mother was a cobbler,’ he said and Astarion’s eyes grew quickly.

‘Oh yes, oh don’t tell me she fastened those,’ Astarion said and crossed his arms. Zelphie smiled at her friend and looked at Rolan, who seemed a little less daunting.

‘Yes, yes she did. I’ve had these for ages, I can’t seem to replace them,’ Rolan said, and Astarion nodded.

‘A beautiful classic,’ he whispered. ‘Anyway, I won’t keep you two, I’ll be back after another little mingle,’ he said and Zelphie mouthed a little ‘thank you’. Astarion exited and Rolan walked over to the bannister of the balcony.

‘Wyll is a little drunk and requested a light show,’ he said and Zelphie looked at him. He looked out to the sky. ‘I know you wanted to head back soon, but one more hour, darling, I promise,’ he told her and Zelphie nodded.

‘It’ll be worth a light show from you, and…maybe with the price of a dance,’ she said and Rolan looked back at her with a large grin.

‘I’ll try not to step on your toes,’ he said and she laughed.

The music played loudly inside as Rolan guided Zelphie to the dance floor. Her hand in his, she loved when their rings clinked together. They danced with light grace, as they would half to, neither were fantastic dancers and their capes were terribly heavy and hard to control. Rolan didn’t take his eyes off of her once.

‘You do look ravishing in purple,’ he mentioned, once the dance brought them close. She laughed and shook her head.

‘So do you, and we best have, since we are both drenched in it,’ she told him with a smirk. ‘You were very kind to Lia, not making her purple,’ she told him and he nodded.

‘She might not have come unless I yielded to that. But Cal was also insistent on his yellow, so who was I to stop her. I can’t believe she’s made it this long in a dress,’ he said and Zelphie laughed. He glanced around to see Lia chatting with Wyll and he leaned in closer.

‘First a vampire, now a devil is seducing my sibling,’ he said softly and Zelphie turned to look.

‘Oh! Well, that’s not exactly expected,’ she said and shrugged it off. That could easily be friendly chatter. ‘And thank you for being nice to Astarion earlier. Before you walked over, he was gushing about Cal, I promise you there’s nothing bad going on there,’ she said and Rolan sighed.

‘I know, but…you know Cal. Once he promises something, he follows through with it and takes up any burden he can to make others happy. I want him to be happy.’ Zelphie nodded and understood. ‘He’s not like me or Lia, if something is bothering him, he won’t say it, he’ll just sweep it under the rug.’

‘I know, but Astarion is the opposite. He’s like a house cat, any minor inconvenience and he’s on the floor whining. He’s more annoying than dangerous, but because of that, he’s fantastic at knowing when someone is upset. He’ll force Cal to advocate for himself, he’s very persuasive,’ she explained and Rolan sighed. ‘The four of us should spend some time together, invite him to the tower,’ she asked softly and Rolan shook his head.

‘I will promise to be kind and spend more time with him, but I can’t, I can’t. Just picturing him in the tower again, I think of walking in on you bleeding out,’ he said and she frowned.

‘Well, that’s my fault, I didn’t warn anyone about how bad that looked,’ she told him and he shook his head.

‘That doesn’t change anything,’ he told her. ‘Please understand that for now, I cannot,’ he said and she frowned, nodding. She hated it, but she knew if she was gentle enough about it, he would come around. ‘And if we could go the rest of the night not speaking about him, I’ll be very grateful,’ he said and she nodded again. Maybe it would take a lot longer to have him turn around.

‘Of course, I’m sorry,’ she said and glanced around the room and then back up at Rolan. He was frowning.

‘Don’t give me that look,’ he said and looked up. That only made Zelphie frown harder. ‘Like a kicked kitten, it’s killing me.’

‘I’m not doing it to kill you, I’m upset, I’m allowed to be upset,’ she said and he looked back down at her.

‘Be upset then, but you can’t expect me to pity you. You can’t change everything to fit into your perfect little world, Zelphie. Stop trying to guilt me into something that makes me uncomfortable,’ he told her in a sharp, hushed tone. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing he had ever said to her, but on the dance floor at a formal gala, she didn’t like being scolded.

‘I’m not trying to guilt you-’

‘Listen, I get it. I know how I can be, I’m fully aware of what I am, everyone tells me, including you, every single day. But pushing and pushing me isn’t going to get you what you want, Zelphie,’ he continued and she shut her mouth and looked down. He let out a dramatic sigh. ‘Zelphie, stop it,’ he said and their feet stopped moving to the music.

‘Why are you so angry with me?’ She asked him and looked up a little.

‘I am not,’ he spat, and her eyebrows knit together. ‘Why do you insist on telling me what I am?’ She stared at him for a moment and glanced around. One or two people had noticed the tension and she shook her head and looked down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said and without knowing what else to do, she let go of his hand and walked away. She didn’t want to fight with him ever, nevermind in a room full of people. She also didn’t want to cry, either. She was feeling her face sting and she walked back out to the balcony, hoping to be alone for a moment while she processed that little argument. She was usually very good at controlling their bickering, but Rolan was angry with her, regardless of whatever he said. She heard him call her name but she kept walking. She was not going to keep fighting with him in the middle of a dance. She hated to ignore him, but she respected him and herself too much to do that. She got outside and counted to ten, trying not to cry. Why was she crying? It wasn’t that big of a deal. She felt guilty, and she hated to anger him, and she was tired. Why was she so sensitive?

‘Hey you,’ a voice called from behind her, poor Cal. She glanced at him as he placed his hand on her back. She sniffed and looked out at the sky. She knew tears were welling up in her eyes and she didn’t want Cal to see.

‘I want to go home,’ she said, her voice cracking a little. Cal nodded and rubbed her back gently.

‘Alone?’ He asked and she shrugged. She wanted Rolan to come with her. Or Cal or Lia, but Cal and Lia were having a good evening. They didn’t need to halt it completely because she was being so sensitive. Rolan made a promise to Wyll that she would like him to keep. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ He asked and she shook her head.

‘No, I should just be alone,’ she said and sniffed. ‘It’s very stupid, please, you three stay, I will be fine, I’m just being stupid,’ she said and Cal nodded, taking her hand.

‘You and him both, then,’ he said and escorted her out of the palace so she could go home.

Once alone, she quickly undressed, dying to get out of that dress. She had sweat horribly in it and it took a lot of effort to remove it. Once she was out, she bathed quickly and cuddled up on the balcony with Lajy. She was very happy for a cuddle outside and Zelphie allowed herself to just cry. She had had a big day, proposal of marriage, been sick, and a public fight with her husband. She knew forcing a cry would calm her down, and being completely alone, a mile up in a tower, she could cry and howl all she wanted. Selfishly, she was dressed in Rolan’s clothing. She wanted to smell him and had picked out one of his long sleep shirts. She cried into the sleeve and into Lajy’s purring fluffy neck. She only stopped when she heard loud bangs coming from beyond the balcony. She sniffed and hiccuped and looked around the night sky. Above the Ducal Palace was a radiant light show, greens, yellows, purples, shining like a prism in the night sky, with a series of fireworks. She sniffed and watched the show, knowing it was Rolan. He was phenomenally talented. All that beauty after she left him high and dry at the gala. She felt guilty for being a horrible guest, but even more guilty for just leaving him. Leaving poor Cal to deal with him as well. If anyone could deal with Rolan, it would be Cal, but it didn’t make it right.

Once the show was over, Zelphie was feeling incredibly tired and walked back into her bedroom for her book, one given to her by Rolan on illusionary magic. Her homework. She sat on the floor of the balcony, Lajy in her lap, and began to read. As she began reading about the component of tuning to one’s imagination for prestidigitation, the bedroom door opened. She turned but he wasn’t visible from where she was sitting. She heard him sigh and she stood up, Lajy jumping off her to greet his master.

‘Hello,’ she heard Rolan speak to the cat and she heard a grunt. ‘How’s your mummy?’ He asked and Zelphie made herself visible to him. He looked right at her and opened his mouth, but took in her comfy little outfit, his, and sighed.

‘It was a very pretty show,’ she said softly and Rolan frowned, putting Lajy on the floor and walked over to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and her dam burst once more and she cried, bringing her hands up to her face. Rolan tutted and walked closer to her, wrapping his arms around her. She was so happy about that. She let go of her face and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she told him, sobbing into his vest.

‘Shhh…this is too much, Zelphie, shhhh…’ he tried to soothe her, kissing the side of her head. He rocked her gently. ‘I was vicious, I am sorry, I just hate being told over and over to stop being angry, or stubborn, or grumpy, or whatever it is. All I do is feel like a villain,’ he told her and she nodded.

‘I’m sorry that I’ve done that,’ she told him, in between sobs. ‘You’re not the villain, you’re my hero,’ she whimpered and he laughed a little.

‘You are no damsel in distress,’ he said and looked down at her, pulling away a little. She looked up at him with blotchy skin from crying and he laughed hard. ‘Well, maybe you are,’ he said and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. She whined and buried her face back in his chest. She was still upset, but at least he was laughing, at least he was holding her. He held her close and ran his fingers through her wet hair, letting her calm down.

‘I’m sorry Rolan, I shouldn’t have walked away from you like that, but I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone,’ she said and sniffed. ‘I don’t like dealing with conflict like that,’ she said and he nodded, pulling away a bit.

‘I shouldn’t have acted like a threatened viper, or sent my little brother to comfort you,’ he said and sighed. ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t come home with you.’ She shook her head.

‘No, it was good, I was able to just think…because that was really silly of me. I still don’t know why I’ve been so sensitive today,’ she said and he smirked, holding back something. She sniffed and frowned. ‘What’s the look supposed to mean?’

‘Hm? Nothing,’ he said and she huffed.

‘Rolan,’ she scolded him and he wrinkled his nose.

‘You’re incredibly sensitive,’ he told her and she huffed again. ‘Two days ago, you had to hold back tears because Lajy couldn’t figure out how to get down from the ice box,’ he told her and she bit her bottom lip.

‘Sorry,’ she said softly and he grinned.

‘No need for that, I like you just as you are. Who do you think I asked to marry me today, hm?’ He asked her and she smiled a little. ‘You had time for a bath,’ he said, stroking her hair again and she nodded.

‘Yes, and before you feel guilty again, it’s best if you hadn’t been here to watch me get out of that dress,’ she said and he laughed again.

‘Once more, you’re telling me how I feel and you couldn’t be more wrong,’ he told her with a cheeky smile. She shook her head and wiped her face.

‘I promise you, it was less than graceful,’ she told him and he nodded.

‘You were complaining all night about how tight it was, why didn’t you tell Vanminar?’ He asked and she shrugged.

‘It fit fine in the shop. I think I had a big breakfast,’ she said and he nodded. ‘It is a beautiful dress though, thank you,’ she told him and he smirked.

‘Beautiful because of who was in it,’ he said and took a step back from her and gave her a little look. ‘Right now, stunning,’ he said and she laughed, shaking her head.

‘Stop it, no flirting with me, my husband is a very jealous man,’ she said and his eyebrows shot right up.

‘Oh? Is he? He sounds obnoxious,’ he said and she grinned, biting her lip and shook her head.

‘Protective,’ she said and Rolan’s face softened. Lajy meowed up at them. Zelphie looked down at the cat and back up at Rolan. ‘Let me help you undress,’ she said and Rolan removed his cape and she unbuttoned his vest.

‘So, you did see the light show?’ He asked and she nodded.

‘It was beautiful! I’m sure the whole city saw it,’ she told him as he shuffled his vest off. Rolan walked over to his wardrobe for a pair of lounge pants and removed his shirt. Zelphie took his soiled clothing and put them away over a hamper.

‘I’m only glad you saw,’ he said softly and she smiled a little.

‘Liar,’ she said and he grinned. Of course Rolan, the showman he was, liked to think that most of the city saw his show. He was an incredible show off. Good for him, he was very talented.

‘I could have done better, the finale wasn’t exactly as I’d like it to be,’ he said and she shook her head, walking over to the bed and Lajy followed her.

‘Only you have that opinion,’ she told him as he changed out of his trousers. She leaned over to her side table and took her brush from inside the drawer. Rolan walked over to the bed and she patted the space in front of her. He raised an eyebrow, but was absolutely not going to object. He would never ask for it, but being pampered was a treat for him. Though, living with Zelphie, it had become a very regular occurrence. The moment he sat down, Zelphie inspected her canvas for the evening. Rolan’s hair was half up in its little twist knot and she quickly pulled it free.

‘Do you think it’s getting too long?’ He asked her as he got comfortable, sitting cross legged. Zelphie smiled at his question and ran her fingers through it. It barely went past the nape of his neck.

‘Not at all, is it bothersome?’ She asked and he shook his head.

‘No, I just…I didn’t know if you…liked it,’ he said softly and she gave a soft laugh.

‘My fingers are in it enough, you really think I don’t like it? No, the more the merrier, you wear it with grace and it’s always so neat,’ she told him and he sat up a little straighter. ‘But even if I didn’t, that’s none of your business, hm? Wear it how you’d like,’ she said and her fingers danced through his hair and down his neck. Lajy curled up in Rolan’s lap, ready for his due.

‘Still, I’d like to know if you like it. I know, I know, it’s my hair and all of that, but does my wife think it’s attractive?’ He asked her and her tummy did a little flip.

‘I love my husband’s hair,’ she said softly and traced her fingernails, her claws, down his neck and shoulders, inciting a shiver from him. His tail shook a little and hers curled around his, grounding him. ‘I love my husband’s shoulders, and his arms…’ she continued, once more, like most nights, memorizing his back. She traced along the sharp ridges of his back. Finally, she gently took the brush to his hair and gently began to groom out his locks. She heard his exhale, his shoulders relaxing at her touch and the feel of the brush. ‘So, are Cal and Lia back?’ She asked and he shook his head.

‘Cal won’t be back tonight and Lia wanted to stay,’ he said and she nodded.

‘Oh I’m happy she is having so much fun! She was really not looking forward to tonight,’ Zelphie spoke, not bringing up Cal. ‘The way she was snickering and skulking while we got ready,’ she said and tutted. ‘But maybe city life will suit her,’ she continued and Rolan nodded.

‘Just don’t tell her that. If you think I’m stubborn…’ Rolan said softly, just trying to relax under Zelphie’s pampering.

‘Oh I know! God forbid she likes something normal,’ she giggled and parted Rolan’s hair. He never needed it brushed really, but who didn’t deserve a hairbrush? ‘She was horrible at Vanminar’s, perhaps you could let her go there and have him design something she would like? Let her design it?’ She suggested and Rolan just moaned in agreement. No more talking from him, it seemed. Zelphie placed the brush down and used her nails to comb his hair and rub his scalp. She inspected his scalp and grinned. Right there, almost in the middle of his scalp, was a thick white hair. She had a new plan. There was never ever only one white hair. She would pick through to find more, but she would keep it to herself. They were so far away from his hairline, she doubted he would know about them.

‘Find something interesting?’ He asked as she was just picking now.

‘Lots of little bugs,’ she said playfully, but he flinched and she laughed. ‘I’m joking, I’m joking, sorry, just inspecting,’ she said and he sighed and leaned against her. She laid back on the bed and continued to pamper him like this. She struggled to lean over to grab oil from her table, but he went heavy. ‘Rolan,’ she giggled and he grunted. ‘Don’t you fall asleep on me,’ she warned him and he chuckled a little.

‘You’re a wonderful bed,’ he said as she rubbed oil in her hands. She began with the tips and he sighed out.

‘I’ll be a wonderful bed after you give me a kiss goodnight,’ she told him and he very carefully looked up at her. She smiled down at him. He was so beautiful, his freckles, his eyes, his nose. He sat up quickly and scooted away from her. ‘Hey! My work is not done here!’ She scolded him, but he ignored her and turned around, crawling over to her. ‘Rolan…’ she said softly, but she knew that look. His lidded eyes and a half smile. Four months of this and she still got shivers. His hair untidy, falling around his face and horns.

‘I was hoping,’ he began to speak, crawling over her. She tried to hide a giggle. ‘We could consummate our new union,’ he said and she grinned, blushing a little. ‘I hear it’s terrible luck if you let it drag on for too long,’ he said and she wrapped her arms around him.

‘Oh, well, you know best, my love,’ she said, just as playfully and he leaned down to kiss her.

The couple laid in bed, tangled in each other's limbs, both spent, very happy and very tired. They had switched positions, Rolan was against the pillows and headboard, and Zelphie had her back to his chest. He was kissing a little bite mark he had left on her shoulder. She loved his love bites. Whenever she had a cut of any kind, she healed it quickly. Not Rolan’s bites, however, those she kept and let heal. He seemed very proud of them and he never bit her in an area she couldn’t easily cover up. She loved his bites, she loved anything he did to show her how much he needed her, when he held her close, if his tail wrapped around her. Anything, but the love bites were exceptional.

‘If I had any sense, I would have taken advantage of having the tower alone with you tonight,’ he said and kept kissing her. She traced the lines in his palm gently, happy as could be and her mind wandered at his words.

‘Oh? What would you have done, hm?’ She asked softly. She felt his tail coil around her leg. He chuckled and kissed behind her ear. She shivered, she was terribly sensitive right then.

‘I still have these…fleeting memories of what happened in the public chamber…what you and I did to him, what he used to do to me,’ he said and she turned her head a little. Lorroakan. They never talked about him. Lorroakan, the late master of Ramazith’s Tower, who was crushed to death by Rolan, Zelphie, their companions and an enraged aasimar. He was Rolan’s master for a short time, and used to beat Rolan day and night for his own ego. He was a fraud of a wizard, who was known for rising to the top with money and connections, not power or talent. Rolan had succeeded his fallen master, his abuser, and then it was like the man had never existed. Zelphie would never, ever bring him up, but the moment Rolan did feel like he would talk about it, he would have Zelphie’s comfort and support.

‘Do you think about him often?’ She asked softly. He sighed and nodded.

‘I try my best not to, but his face or voice will flash in my mind and then I just start…fixating on him. What he would do, why I should have fought back sooner, how stupid I was to not listen to either you or Gale when you told me the rumors about him. I was so blind..I,’ Zelphie turned a little and placed a hand on his cheek.

‘I wish I could take that away from you,’ she told him and he nuzzled his forehead to hers.

‘You took the reality away, my love. That was the worst part,’ he said and sighed out heavily. ‘Everything awful…everything awful that’s happened, you’ve taken it away from me,’ he said and she heard his voice crack. ‘If only I met you sooner,’ he continued and she closed her eyes, leaning against him.

‘I’m here now, and I’ll never leave you,’ she whispered back, and his grip on her tightened.

‘I know,’ he whispered back and leaned down to kiss her again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan #bg3 fanfiction

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thecentrium · 7 months ago

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What are the Elliott from Earth characters’ eye colors? An investigation

Another wordy investigation into minor character details, it’s the spiritual sequel to my height estimates post…

The default eye color for most EFE character renders is the same: a dark reddish purple pseudo-black (or sometimes just actual black), used generally for the lineart of features on nearly every character design. But beyond that stylization, what eye colors do they have, and where can we find a hint of it?

The best/most direct approach here is just to find and base it on some official visual source where the characters ARE shown with actual, distinctive eye colors in some way or another. And since there’s nothing that does that in the show itself, probably concept or production art.

Indeed, the only available visual that wasn't just the same usual render images using either black or that dark red-purple color, and that gave them unique individual eye colors at all, turned out to be this production art gif, a run cycle animation test with the early designs:

The eye colors there are based on unique outline colors for each character—and although it’s still a situation of matching eye and outline colors, I think these can be considered legit and not just like the stylized black pupils in the regular character renders, since

1. in this animation the eye color is something unique and different for each character rather than the same for everyone, and both eye color and lineart color are features that are often chosen to reflect or match the rest of a design (like they do there) so those features could easily go hand-in-hand and overlap like that anyway

and 2. in this case there’s actual colors for the eyes being indicated at all rather than it just being black or a purplish substitute for black, so it’s the most direct thing we’ve got for an eye color reference

So there’s a deep green for Mo (technically his earlier version Martin there, but design-wise they're similar and have the same colors), and a warm brown for Elliott. BUT, there’s one more thing. That’s not the color palette Elliott has now, so it's questionable if this should even apply to him for his eye color still!

But we can still use this—if we just adjust what we've already got here to match his current design.

The warm brown and deep green lineart/eye colors in the designs above seem to have come from the overall color palettes of the characters, since like I mentioned both those features are ones based on the rest of the design here. There’s a green used for the mostly-green Martin, and warm reddish brown used for the warm reds and yellows that define Elliott’s palette there.

So if a warm-colors palette gets a warm brown outline color, a palette with its main colors split between warm (e.g. red-orange hair) and cool (e.g. blue clothes) gets a more intermediate hue. Orange and blue in particular can even mix to make a warm (brown) or a cool (green) color…

So an intermediate outline/palette color like that is probably best matched by or interpreted as an intermediate human eye color, like hazel, a mix of warm (brown) and cool (green and gray) colors! Like these:

(Plus, a warm hazel like that is visually rather close to brown and kinda has the same overall feel to it, so even then this color is still akin to the original brown eye color we got from the gif earlier and it isn’t too drastic an “adjustment” from it)

So, with that development art as our closest official indicator of eye colors: Mo has deep green (fitting for a reptile?), Elliott has warm hazel, what about Frankie?

Although it took a few extra steps to bring things up-to-date and find our conclusion for Elliott, with him there was still some sort of source material to start from. But Frankie isn’t in that development art gif, and while maybe we could do that “based on palette colors” method again, that was really only done to follow the pattern of the designs from the gif for the characters there in it and slightly adjust it to the new palette; and besides, repeating that method for more characters might not keep working as fittingly anyway.

But that’s all really besides the point. There’s a simpler way for Frankie. Assuming she and Elliott are genetically related (which is material for a whole other post, but long story short I have my reasons and evidence to think that they are), we can just extrapolate from Elliott for her!

If Elliott has hazel eyes, it’s likely he got them from Frankie, especially considering Frankie’s warm/reddish but darker natural hair color—see below—that makes a hazel or even light brown eye color fitting for her. So it’s likely she’s also got a warm hazel, maybe even more of a light brown (the lines are kinda blurred with defining eye colors anyway).

The end! A bit of a long read for what should have been a simple question, but if you made it down here I hope you enjoyed it, I love making pointless investigation posts like this they’re so fun

#I’m glad I found that gif for some sort of official source depicting eye colors for them in some way #seeing as it’s the most direct evidence we get #since this is a topic I’ve actually been curious about for a while #elliott from earth #elliot from earth #cartoon network #cartoons #animation #character design #eye color

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distant--shadow · 1 year ago

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get to know meme

lil thing where I'll give a bit too much detail so it fills its purpose, honoured honestly to be tagged by three of my favourite writers in this space @sharkodactyl, @unicyclehippo , and @astoriacolumnstaircase - anyone reading this should be reading their works instead.

favourite colour: brown(s), like a mid to a dark tone, i like them to have a bit of red involved. like our old-boy chet, I love the wood. my dream home would be all wood-panelled with built in inlayed and set back shelves and nooks a plenty and yeah just full of brik-a-brak. otherwise my favourite colours are navy blue and greens that are more mixed with blue than yellow, teals and emeralds and once again generally around the mid tones. green makes me very happy. moss and outdoors and all that.

currently reading: fic. haha. (suss my recommend reading tag) I did venture out to my (very) local queer bookshop and asked them for something that won't send me on a spiral if I'm already on one/provide some escapism and they reccomended river of teeth by Sarah gailey. anyone I've said about it to seems real enthusiastic about it, I am not well read at all when it comes to published things, tend to just get really into a few fandom authors works and picking them apart (rereading a lot) . still haven't started it but maybe I'll try take it out to the park in the next week or so. I'm dabbling in reading (and unfortunately writing) poetry thanks to @picturesofthegoneworlds and @blorbotomy 's influence, those mini books are fun to keep on you when out and about, poem or two on a tree stump or boulder with a grand vista and a brain that wants eyes on a phone screen.

last song: last song I consciously (not background music) listened to was:

youtube

I went on an early lord snow stint the other night because the air smelt crisp and there was a nice chill. they have remained my favourite heavy (as a broad term) band for a decade now.

I used to have music on all of the time, whether that be cd's at home or in my mp3 player (that I still take out with me) but these days I find listening more of an intentional activity and I prefer to have people just nattering when I'm at home and want background noise. think it's where my heads at and I've just got more sensitive to being overstimulated I guess. I was also pretty good at going to a live gig at least once a week before I did my back in, looking forward to getting into that habit again.

last series: I don't watch much stuff outside of critical role, least other than YouTube videos I'll put on whislt I'm drawing. oh wait yeah I ordered 3 seasons of xena on ebay because it's like a couple of quid a season and it is a real good comfort show and fucking amazing. I hadn't seen it since I was pre teen and it was on day time TV and I'd catch it on sick days. the amount of people I've brought it up to these past few months who've been so stoked to be reminded of it/eager to watch it with me is actually hilarious.

last movie: uhhhh God movies I watch even less. I haven't been to a cinema in over 12 years now, just not my thing, and it's funny caus my mum used to work in the film and TV industry and we had shelves and shelves full of VHS growing up (mostly bootlegged) and she can just ramble about pretty much any early era film up to the stuff from the 80s (when she was working on em) for days. never could sit through em, never felt satisfied with how the story went. guess that's why actual play appeals to me. but saying all this I did rewatch Bound for the first time since I was like 15 last month or so, enjoyed it a lot more than I did back then.

sweet/savory/spicy: savory all day. I am a salt fiend. I used to think I'd be fortunate enough to die from my salt intake. I'll put it on anything. cereal, toast, fruit. I think the other day I noted the one thing I wouldn't put it on, but I can't recall that right now honestly. it's gotta be decent salt too, sea salt or rock salt that has some texture and delicious flavour, I'm not fucking with that table salt shit. I carry salt with me in a mini mason jar everywhere I go, saves when you only have access to bland cold supermarket food. one of my earliest memories is when I was like 6 I had had my daily 1 glass allowance of squash/fruit cordial in my white Tom and Jerry printed beaker with the accordion bendy straw and so when I was pouring myself a glass of water from the tap I put salt in it caus I wanted flavour that would not show through the white translucent container. it's all been downhill from there, although I also, luckily I guess caus otherwise I would be really fucked, do drink a lot of water.

currently working on: myself and healing. hah. I never realised how much paperwork and phone calls came with this maintenance shit. I'm still out of work, and my mental health has taken a huge hit from not being able to do the things I usually would. so right now I'm just trying to keep everything together. I can draw again though, so sorry about that.

I never know who to tag in these things caus I don't think everyone wants to do them. so I'll go with this being open invite as always. hope anyone who read this far is having a good week, and sentiment is still there even if you didn't read this (unless you don't deserve my well wishes, then fuck you.)

#Youtube

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brightonpages · 6 months ago

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Ashes (Index) Chapter 2 Part 2

Garrett was lost inside the library when the evacuation started. He was sitting in a shadowed nook, deep within the depths of shelves and shelves of books, buried beneath the words. Which was why he almost missed it.

His phone was blowing up, which was unusual. His limited friend group didn't account for all the buzzing and it pulled him out of his reading.

He had taken to reading philosophy to expand his world view, especially after enrolling at the Academy, when it became obvious that he would need a better understanding of society and life to thrive.

When he turned on the screen on his phone, he had several messages and missed calls. Not only from his friends, but from the Academy officials. There were few details, only that everyone needed to get off Academy grounds immediately. Garrett sat there, in his dark corner, and wondered how important it could possibly be. He sighed and pushed himself off the floor. His primary motivation was the fact that a full evacuation of the Academy had to mean something big was happening, and he wouldn't want to be left out. No matter how perfectly comfortable he might have been. He liked to read in the tower, and even though he rarely made it to the top floor of the 12 stories, he had climbed quite a bit to find a quiet place. At the bottom, he had to cross though one of the greater study halls, spectacular with its stained glass and domed roof. He was briefly tempted to stop in the middle of the large space. It was never empty. Ever. Except now, when everyone but him seemed to have evacuated the building. It was stunning in its silence, in its echoing grandeur. He reminded himself that there was some sort of emergency, and made it outside.

He felt no less alone, when the heavy metal door slammed shut behind him. It was starting to feel like a ghost town, like being briefly alone in the world. He moved towards the back gate, since it was closer, not realizing it would take him right past the action. There were no Agents to guide him, and they must have thought everyone had gotten out. Or just decided their time was better spent elsewhere. He spotted some, when he walked past the hospital, just seconds before he saw the blue glow coming from the narrow courtyard behind it. The courtyard was mostly walled off, a small space that was meant to create respite for any patients that were forced to remain longer than the usual day or so. It was paved with smooth stone, with a fountain in the middle, and small grooves in the stone to lead the water along the path. The fountain was uninspired; some sort of abstract steel construction that had likely cost a fortune.

The larger point, of course, was the big glowing dragon floating above it, and the four students circling it.

A couple of Agents were watching them, but stood back from the creature.

One of the Agents became aware of him, and backed towards him. "You have to get out of here," he said in a stern, but lowered voice. As if the dragon would turn its attention on him of he spoke too loud. "Now," he hissed, and turned his attention back on the display in front of them, apparently not overly concerned with whether or not Garrett would actually do as he was told.

He watched the dragon, of course, but his attention drifted to the four people standing around it. Students, all of them. One was in gym clothes, lined in bright red. He had dark hair and pale skin, but Garrett couldn't tell much more than that. The others were in uniform. Two of them were neat, perfectly straight ties, dark socks and short-sleeved shirts tugged into their pants. The third was just barely wearing it; his tie wasn't tied, his shirt was only partly buttoned and his socks didn't match. Their clothes was lined in blue, yellow and green. A perfect set.

His eyes kept drifting back to the first guy, the Healer. He was closest to the creature, facing it. He was saying words, but they were unfamiliar to Garrett, or maybe he was simply too far away to make them out. The creature was trapped and trashing against invisible bonds. It didn't look like whatever was holding it would last.

Garrett took an involuntary step forward. He had no illusions about stepping in, about helping. He knew that whatever they were doing was way out of his league, but he wanted a closer look.

Since he wasn't paying attention, he made the mistake of stepping into the path of the Agent.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and his magic immediately flared, before he could make a conscious decision to quell it. He stopped himself from striking the Agent, from knocking him out.

"Come on," he muttered, leading Garrett away, oblivious of the force Garrett held at the ready. He was still keeping most of his attention on the dragon, and didn't seem pleased that he needed to prioritize some kid's safety over the event playing out in front of him.

Garrett tried not to care about the hand on his shoulder, but the man wasn't gentle. He spun out of the grip. "I can walk myself out," he assured him.

"Obviously, you can't," the Agent said.

The man put his hands on Garrett again, and put him all the way on edge.

"You may want to take your hands off me," Garrett said. "Headmaster Bailey might not appreciate you manhandling his son." He didn't want to invoke his father, but it was either that or getting into a fight with a trained Agent.

"I swear, all you brats think you're so fucking important," the man muttered, but at least he removed his hands.

Garrett still wondered if he could take him, if maybe it would be worth it to try, but he understood the uselessness of violence. He knew that it was a poison rather than a cure. In his experience, fighting back with force was never worth it. So you took the beating, you took the abuse, because the alternative could be far worse. Especially if you weren't able to follow through, which, prior to his eighth birthday, prior to feeling safe and happy for the first time, he never had been. The Agent kept his hands to himself, at least until they reached the gate, when he apparently couldn't stop himself from pushing Garrett through. The gate slammed shut behind him, and he turned, caught the man's gaze, and held him there. He carefully memorized his face. Not because he was plotting against the man, no. He wouldn't run to his father, least of all because he doubted he would care. No, he merely wanted to make sure to avoid him in the future.

He shifted his glance, catching one last glimpse of those four students, of the dragon. They were nothing but silhouettes now, dark spots in the distance, glowing under the blue light of the creature. The Agents were letting students fight in their stead. That part wasn't lost on Garrett, and he tugged that knowledge away, keeping it close to a memory of pain, of electricity crackling around him, of Agents arriving far too late to make a difference.

He turned away, tugged his phone out of his pocket to attempt to locate his friends, but his thoughts stayed with those four students, of that final image of them. The dragon had been fading, he was pretty sure. They were doing something, something the Agents failed to do.

#tiny cameo from the quad squad #original story #neon lights #ashes #original character #garrett bailey #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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flyingisabetterwordforfalling · 2 years ago

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until we meet again - color symbolism (episode 1, 2 and 3) long post ! I'm probably years late to this but I love the red thread of fate that is shown in this series through so many tiny details, especially through colors. By now people seem to know that Win and Team have their respective colors, which are red (for Team) and blue (for Win) - it's even more shown in their own series, Between Us.

(episode 1 of Between Us) Though, speaking about the characters having their own colors, I think the same goes for Pharm and Dean because I think Pharm's color is yellow while Dean's is green based on it seemingly being In's and Korn's colors as well.

(sorry for using this scene and picture as an example)

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

(here we've got Pharm with his yellow backpack; episode 1)

(Pharm in his room, wearing a yellow shirt, with yellow in the background and also with yellow-ish glowing string-lights; episode 2)

(Pharm once again in his room, this time with yellow triangles on his blanket and him smiling brightly because Dean and him just exchanged phone numbers; episode 3)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - finding what I think is Dean's color was a bit harder but I think that's mostly because whenever Dean's color appears Pharm's own is already a part of it or at least part of the scene as well...

(here's the faculty's banner which has more green than other colors and yet there's a hint of yellow incorporated into the flower design, this also happens to be where Pharm sees Dean for the first time; episode 1)

(this, I think, happens to kind of mirror In's and Korn's first meeting, in which Korn is reading a book with a yellow and green cover; episode 3)

(however, it happens again, shorty afterwards, when there is this scene with two of the couples, there's Win surrounded by blue, the water, the blue and white swim teams' robes etc. and there's Team with his red goggles but there's also Manow's green bag right next to Pharm's yellow one while Dean notices Pharm, seemingly for the first time; episode 1)

(let's just ignore In's attempt at making his boyfriend an omelette... because look at the colors, there's yellow and greens everywhere even the pots are both green and yellow; episode 2)

(I could write so much about these two scenes... Dean dreamt about In and Korn having breakfast together and the first thing he wanted after waking up was an omelette with rice, he seemed even slightly disappointed that the one he got wasn't burnt as well... and even here there's yellow, the egg and green, the garnish on the side and on top of the other food and just a few minutes later, I assume, there's Pharm sitting down in the same spot where Dean was just sitting... he's got his own color with him, aka his yellow backpack, and he's also got omelette with rice (also once again yellow and green) but the difference here is that he's literally surrounded by the green of the plants, indicating that Dean was around just minutes prior; episode 2)

(this scene takes place right after Pharm sees Dean sleeping in the library, there's once again Pharm's yellow backback but there's also a chair in the background with a green backrest; episode 3)

(this iconic scene shows greens and yellows on the packaging of the products on the shelf, indicating that Pharm is already thinking about and/or in the presence of Dean and of course, just moments later Dean comes to help Pharm and they face each other, finally having their first real chance to talk, which of course doesn't happen quite yet; episode 2)

(here's also the first message Pharm, accidentally, sends Dean, which happens to be a sticker with mostly yellow and green as its main colors; episode 3) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

though, I believe In's and Korn's main connecting color to be light green aka a mixture of yellow and green, I think there's also a second color that shows their connection.

(In's star-shaped luk chup which he made for Korn; episode 2)

(I think there's a color that connects In and Korn but more so Pharm and Dean even when they're apart and when they are still unsure about why they feel connected. I think it's tones of greenish blue, aquamarin and turquoise (or like Shawol me would say pearl aqua green).

(it's even shown in In's and Korn's first meeeting, behind In on the wall, alongsite yet more greens and yellows shown on posters on the wall; episode 3)

(Pharm's anonymous sticky note addressed to Dean; episode 2)

(Pharm's star-shaped luk chup which he made in this shape for Dean only; episode 3)

(Pharm using his highlighter while he gets a text from Team, who sends him pictures of Dean - and Win, but we're not talking about Team sneakily taking pictures of both their crushes right now; episode 3)

(Pharm getting startled by the sudden loud noise and Dean noticing, with the poster behind Pharm; episode 3)

In a nutshell: These colors seemingly being connected to these characters is really interesting in my eyes because neither yellow and green nor blue and red are each other's respective complementary colors. I think this shows perfectly that not just Win and Team but even more so Pharm and Dean literally chose each other as soulmates, the main couple of the series even despite the odds having been against them in their first life. Maybe I'm just interpreting way too much into this but I really, really like the symbolism and usage of colors, especially in this series.

#until we meet again #uwma #uwma pharm #uwma dean #deanpharm #uwma color symbolism #teamwin

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outofangband · 3 years ago

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Flora and Fauna of Ard-galen

I originally had only the flora posted separately but I wanted to post this together for convenience and to add to the flora!

Flora and fauna of Arda masterlist

Originally requested by @polutrope

Disclaimer: I used both what we can extrapolate is likely indigenous to the region based on descriptions of the landscape and climate as well as my own headcanons and inspirations and reference books on similar habitats as well as books like The Atlas of Middle Earth and The Flora of Middle Earth

I really love working on and researching these! and as always feel free to ask more, even if I've already done a place I'd always enjoy going into more detail of tacking a more specific kind of life there

Ard-galen was the vast, green plains south of Angband and North of Dorthonion. It translates to Green Region in Sindarin. Little description is given to the details of its climate or biodiversity but based on its location and proximity to Dorthonion, it was likely a temperate region with cold seasons especially due to the proximity of the mountains.

The grasslands would be made up of a variety of grasses and other plants and would probably include fens, other areas of more moisture. Timothy grass, green foxtail, windgrass, larkspur, blue grass and other meadow grasses, sedge, cow vetch, yarrow, various brambles, wood reed, meadowsweet, marsh yellow cress, meadow rue, wild mustard, clover, and dog violet are all possible examples.

Dotted throughout the region there are probably streams including those that originate in the mountains. Wood sorrel, floating sweet grass, marsh bedstraw, soft rush, and various reeds may be found closer to the water

A variety of wildflowers also probably grow throughout. Goldenrod, certain species of lilies, summer pheasant’s eye, mayweed, cornflower, poppies, campion, and pilewort are all possible examples

Amphibians are likely more abundant than in Hithlum or Dorthonion due to the milder climate. Possible species include the moor frog, stream frog, marsh frog, perhaps a species of small tree frog (though of course these wouldn’t live in trees mostly, more likely smaller shrubs), smooth newt, brook salamander and alpine newt. Reptiles are less common. Pond slider turtles, common wall lizards, meadow lizards and perhaps small green grass snakes are among the few species.

Birds also differ than in surrounding regions because of the different type of landscape. Some examples include quails and peasants, stone curlew, kingbirds, gray, brown and woodchat shrikes, grasshopper warblers, yellowhammers, buntings and red footed falcons.

Larger mammals are uncommon though some do pass through along migration, grazing or hunting routes. Perhaps the fields of Ard-galen are included in the migration routes for woolly rhinos or another large, prehistoric creature.

Common rabbit, a species of badger, field mice, hazel dormouse, swamp cat and (European) wild cat, common genet, roe or fallow deer, and black foxes are some possibilities.

Even short lists of insects can be overwhelming but there are definitely pollinators like honey and bumble bees, wood white and small copper butterflies, etc.

I do like to think that perhaps creatures do adapt to the landscape once the worst of the toxins clear including creatures that have previously favored Angband for the volcanic landscape. I think life adapting to the destroyed land fits very well with other themes, including the Haudh-en-Nirnaeth regaining plant life in the middle of the desert.

note: of course this is just an overview as a complete list would be thousands and thousands of species! as always feel free to request more specific areas!

#The Silmarillion #Beleriand #musing and meta #can reblog!

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aiweirdness · 5 years ago

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How to begin a novel

Last year for National Novel Writing Month I trained a neural net called torch-rnn on 10,096 unique ways to begin a novel. It came up with some intriguing possibilities, my personal favorite being “I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast.” But many of its sentences used made-up words, or had such weird grammar that they were difficult to read, or meandered too erratically. (“The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.”) The neural net was struggling to write more than a few words at a time.

This year, I decided to revisit this dataset with a larger, more-powerful neural net called GPT-2. Unlike most of the neural nets that came earlier, GPT-2 can write entire essays with readable sentences that stay mostly on topic (even if it has a tendency to lose its train of thought or get very weird). I trained the largest size that was easily fine-tunable via GPT-2-simple, the 355M size of GPT-2. Would a more-powerful neural net produce better first lines?

One of the parameters I can tweak when I’m getting a trained neural net to generate text is temperature - this controls whether the neural net chooses the most likely next bit of text as it writes, or whether it’s permitted to use its less-likely predictions. At a default of 0.7, a relatively conservative temperature, the neural net’s first lines not only make grammatical sense, but they even have the rhythm of a novel’s first line. This is DRAMATICALLY better than torch-rnn did.

I am, or was.

At the mid-day meal the sun began to set and the quiet dragged on.

There was once a man who lived for a very long time; perhaps three thousand years, or perhaps a thousand million years, maybe a trillion or so, depending on how the scientists look at it.

He had the heart of a lion, and the fangs of a man-eater.

"I am Eilie, and I am here to kill the world."

The old woman was sitting on a rock near the sea, smoking a pipe.

I have just been informed, that the debate over the question 'is it right or wrong to have immortal souls' has been finally brought to a conclusion.

When I was a boy, I was fond of the story of the pirate god.

He had a strange name, and he was a very big boy indeed.

The purple-haired woman came to the clearing in the plain, and without looking up from her book, said, "It's too late to be thinking about baby names."

The village of Pembrokeshire, in the county of Mersey, lies on a wide, happy plain, which, in a few years, was to become known as the "Land of the Endless Mountains."

I don’t think the neural net plagiarized any of these? They are so good that I’m suspicious. But others of the neural net’s lines are even weirder, yet in an effective way that opens with an intriguing premise.

The moon had gone out.

I was playing with my dog, Mark the brown Labrador, and I had forgotten that I was also playing with a dead man.

The black stone was aching from the rain.

The short, dirty, and dirty-looking ship that weighed three tons and was three feet in diameter landed on a desolate and green plain.

How many times have I had the misfortune to die?

The first black dog in the park had been captured alive.

Behold the Sky Rabbits!

In the belly of the great beast that was the bovine Aurore there lived, upon the right hand of the throne, the Empress Penelope; and she had, as it were, a heart of gold.

The moon stood on its own two feet.

The reeking maw of the blood-drunk ship, the enemy's flagship, was silent and empty.

The first day I met my future self, I was aboard the old dirigible that lay in wait for me on the far side of the moon.

The child of two cats, and a tiger, a clown, a horse, a bird, a ship, and a dragon, stood on either side of the threshold of the Gatehouse, watching the throng of travelers who came in from all around the world, before he had any idea what was going on.

I think it’s probably doing this accidentally, stringing likely words and phrases together without understanding what any of them really mean. It’s not that it’s good at science fiction or magical realism; it’s that it’s trying and failing to predict what would have fit in with the usual human-written stuff. Some of the neural net’s first lines really betray its lack of the understanding of the laws of physics. It really likes to describe the weather, but it doesn’t really understand how weather works. Or other things, really.

The moon was low in the sky, as though it had been shipped in from the farthest reaches of the solar system.

The first star I saw was a blue one, which became a scarlet one, and then a gold one, and green, and finally a yellow one, which for some years afterwards seemed to be an ebony one, or even a bubbling mass.

The sun rose slowly, like a mighty black cat, and then sank into a state of deep sleep.

The sea of stars was filled with the serenity of a million little birds.

The great blue field was all white, swept away by the blue-gold breeze that blew from the south.

The sky was cold and dark, and the cold wind, if it had not been for the clouds, would have lashed the children to the roof of the house.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching.

The night that he finally made up his mind to kill the dog, the man was walking home from the store with his wife and child in the back seat.

Arthur the lion had been pretty much extinct for some time, until the time when he was petted by Abernathy the old woman, and her son, Mr. Popp.

One of the disadvantages of having a neural net that can string together a grammatical sentence is that its sentences now can begin to be terrible in a more-human sense, rather than merely incomprehensible. It ventures into the realm of the awful simile, or the mindnumbingly repetitive, and it makes a decent stab at the 19th century style of bombastic wordiness. I selected the examples above for uncomprehending brilliance but the utter tediousness below is more the norm.

The whites of my eyes shimmered, as if my mind were dancing.

I once went to a party where the dress code was as strict as a chicken coop with no leggings and no boots.

A black cloud drifted by, a mottled mass of hydrogen, a black cloud of hydrogen, with the definite characteristic of being black.

I say I am at sea, because I am standing upon the ocean, and look out across the barren, vast throng of the sea.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the ordinary course of things, if a certain writer were to write a novel, which is a book of stories, which is a book of characters, wherein every detail of the story is stated, together with a brief description of the theme which it concerns.

There was a boy with blue eyes, with sandy hair and blue eyes that looked at all times like he had been pushed through a million compartments.

The Sun, with its rolling shaft of bright light, the brilliant blue of the distant golden sun, and the red glow of its waning corona, was shining.

The man who was not Jack the Ripper had been promoted four times in the last two years.

Felix the Paw was sitting at the table of his favorite restaurant, the "Bordeaux" in the town of Bordeaux, when his father, Cincinnata, came in to say good-by to the restaurant.

It, sir, gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that the Court be not too long in passing away: but that I may have leisure to prepare a new work for the publication of my friend and colleague, the renowned Epistemology, which is now finished; and in which I shall endeavour to show, that this very point is of the highest importance in the subject of the philosophy which I am about to treat of.

It was a rainy, drizzling day in the summer of 1869 and the people of New York, who had become accustomed to the warm, kissable air of the city, were having another bad one.

Repetitiveness is also common, especially at this conservative temperature setting. Once the neural net gets itself into a repetitive state, it doesn’t seem to rescue itself - it’s a problem that people have noticed in several versions of this algorithm. (It doesn’t help that I forgot to scrub the “title” that someone submitted to the dataset that consists of the word “sand” repeated 2,000 times)

The sky was blue and the stars were blue and the sun was blue and the water was blue and the clouds were blue and the blue sky was like a piece of glass.

At the end of the world, where the tides burst upon the drowned, there exists a land of dragons, of dragons, which is the land of the dragons.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, you're dead.

There was once a land of sand, and sand, sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand

Increasing the temperature of the sampling would help the repetitiveness problem, in theory, letting the neural net venture into more interesting territory. But at a temperature of 1.0 the text tends to venture out of everyday surrealism and into wordy yet distractible incomprehensibility.

The praying mules on the top of the hills sounded the final klaxon, lifting their spiked front hoofs as they crept the last few feet of desert landscape past the crest of the enormous swathe of prehistoric sand.

In the glen of the Loch is a ladder that winds way up through a passage to a ledge with soft, moss-laden environmental standards.

Someone whipped a dead squash gibbet across the room, like some formidable war lord unleashing a heavy hunk of silver at home.

One blue eyed child stood up and cried out: "Douay, saurines, my Uncle – Fanny Pemble the loader!"

Jud - an elderly despot, or queen in emopheles, was sitting across the table from the king, looking very thoughtfully into the perplexions of the proceedings.

Oh, you're a coward little fool, as if you couldn't bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city.

Hanging presently in his little bell-bottomed chamber on the landing-house, early in the morning, the iron traveler sat on a broad-blonde sandbricksannel blanket outside the gate of a vast and ancient island.

Long, glowing tongues trailed from your mouth as you listened to what was being said across this kingdom of ours, but growing a little more somber since the week that caused us to proclaim general war.

The night I first met Winnie the Pooh, I had sat in the Tasting-House and heard the Chef unpack the last of the poison upon his quiet dinnertable.

There is, of course, no perfect setting at which the neural net churns out sensible yet non-repetitive first lines. There are just varying shades of general awfulness, interspersed with accidental brilliance.

No matter how much you’re struggling with your novel, at least you can take comfort in the fact that AI is struggling even more.

I generated all the neural net sentences above using a generic “It” as the prompt that the neural net had to build on (it would usually go on to generate another 20-30 sentences at a time). But although the sentences are independent in my training data, GPT-2 is used to large blocks of text that go together. The result is if I prompt it instead with, say, a line from Harry Potter fanfic, the neural net will tend to stick with that vein for a while. I've included a few examples as bonus content for subscribers.

Update: I now have a few thousand unfiltered examples of neural net-generated first lines at the GitHub repository where I have the original crowdsourced dataset. Themes include: Harry Potter, Victorian, My Little Pony, and Ancient Gods.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #you look like a thing #nanowrimo #gpt-2 #writing #first lines #gpt-2-355m

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whitleyschn33 · 3 years ago

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Color in RWBY’s Designs

I’ve been trying to reblog this post for a good 10 minutes, and Tumblr just refuses to let me, and I don’t think I’m blocked, so @strqyr , have a reply

...

Okay, ignoring the out-of-left-field (hah) pivot to politics that cropped up in the comments -

I’m not an artist, but I do follow a few that discuss character design and have attempted some recolors myself, and when it comes to the various designs and colors of the RWBY girls, it’s not so much about the in-universe importance of color, it’s about the more meta principles of character design. Once again, I’m not the most qualified person to talk about this, so excuse me if I get something wrong or ramble.

In visual mediums, a character’s design, more specifically their silhouette and their colors, is what makes them stand out and memorable to an audience; in a lot of cartoons and anime, you’ll likely be able to recognize characters by their designs long before you remember their names, and even if you don’t know their names, seeing the silhouette or even color palette of that character can bring their image to your mind. For example, I haven’t seen an episode of Sailor Moon in my life, but show me Usagi’s silhouette, and I can tell you exactly who that is. I can show you this, and I would bet that 99% of you can tell me what character this is meant to represent despite it literally just being 5 rectangles.

(On a slight tangent, in action shows, colors and the smart placement there-of are doubly important, as they help with keeping track of a character as they move through a cluttered environment and interact with other characters, and keep track of how they move their bodies in that space. To use a specific example from RWBY itself, check out the Nevermore fight from Volume 1 - despite all the debris flying around the screen and the amount of wide shots, it’s easy to keep track of how the characters move around the screen. Yang’s gauntlets help direct your eyes to her punches, and the splash of red in Weiss’s collar makes sure she doesn’t turn into a white blob moving around the screen.)

RWBY specifically is a show that quite literally advertised itself and its character on the premise of color. The show is named not just after the main characters, but the main characters’ colors. The first trailers were the Red, White, Black, and Yellow trailers. Their original designs, while of course using other colors in the palettes, give an overall impression of red, white, black, and yellow, making the characters pop against the stark black, red, and white backgrounds of the trailers, as well as stand out against the background characters that were literally empty black voids of silhouettes. Their initial character designs are tied completely to them representing a specific color, and this color gimmick also makes the girls stand out as characters. Ruby’s red cloak and ruffles, Weiss’s white side ponytail and dress, Blake’s black bow and tuxedo vest, and Yang’s fiery yellow hair and gauntlets are instantly recognizable from a glance, and that’s a sign of good design that makes them distinct.

So, when you get to the later volumes and suddenly the characters are wearing less and less of their original, iconic colors on top of getting new silhouettes, it makes them start looking less and less recognizable as the characters they were originally designed to be, and more like completely different characters. Lets look at Blake and Weiss as an example. If you’d never seen RWBY, could you tell me if these were the same characters?

Alright, let’s fill in the details.

They look like two completely different pairs of characters. It’s not even the clothes themselves, but the colors and shapes of their clothes combined with the radically different hairstyles make the V7 designs look very much unlike the original designs. The girls got alternate outfits in V2, but they all fit the general silhouettes and color schemes of their typical outfits, and were still very much recognizable as the main team, just with new clothes. Such a drastic shift in what types of clothes and the colors they wear in V7, on the other hand, makes them look like different character designs. If you’re going to change what a character is wearing to something very different, keeping the colors consistent helps with keeping them recognizable as the character they are.

Now, changing the design of your character beyond the specific clothes they wear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Characters change as they progress through a story, and in visual media, changes to character design can be used to signify how they’re changing or how they’re reacting to their environment and new situations. For example, in the S2 premire of Avatar, Zuko cuts off his distinguishing topknot to represent his fall from a Fire Nation prince to an outlaw on the run, and in season 3, the GAang don red Fire Nation clothes as a disguise, ditching their usual blue, orange, and green clothing. In the Owl House, Amity dyes her hair purple to represent her making her own choices rather than letting her family control her life (and I picked this up from gif sets, without having even seen the show). Design changes, even to hair and color, can be used to represent change - and RWBY has managed to do this fairly well in the past! For example, Weiss’s V4 design is very different from her original design - her sleeves and collar are tight rather than poofy, her colors are muted and overrun with greys and blues, her whites are mostly hidden and her red is nowhere to be seen. This works, though, because it represents Weiss’s current situation - she’s being controlled by her father, her individuality represented by her whites and reds being driven out, and her dress is mostly tight against her wrists and neck, like shackles and being chocked. It’s a good way of showing a character’s changed situation, while keeping her recognizable from her side ponytail and poofy skirt remaining the same.

The latest redesigns of Team RWBY, however, don’t do this. They change radically, in color, hair, and clothing shape, and there’s no clear reason why. Why do they change how they look so drastically? What prompted them to style their hair so differently, to cut it so short? Why have they decided to choose different colors to wear? To circle back to the initial post, what part of their character development has changed them from the color they were representing to the color they’re now representing?

For more specific question/examples - what prompted Blake to cover herself in a heavy white coat in V4, when she was heading to a tropical island to recover? Why does she wear a bright white coat for official Huntress business when she’s meant to be a ninja? Why does she cut her hair so short? Why does Weiss cover herself in blues and greys in V7 when blues and greys were used to show her unhappiness and imprisonment by Jacques, rather than returning to lots of whites? Why does she go from a sleek ponytail to a thick heavy braid? Why does Ruby replace her cape and start styling her hair differently? Why does she go from a poofy skirt with ruffles to a very sleek, low volume skirt? Why does Yang not wear any yellow anymore? Why do none of them seem to wear anything suited for the cold? None of these questions have real answers. We can speculate all day, but at the end, that would still just be speculation.

Why does Lillie in Pokemon change her hair and clothes? To prove that she’s not just something for her mother to control and dress up to her ideal of beauty; that Lillie can make her own choices and is ready to stand on her own two feet and do what needs to be done, rather than relying on Repels and the player character.

Why does Blake cut her hair and start wearing so much white? ....

Why does Persona 5′s Akechi’s palette switch from bright white, reds, and golds to dark blacks and purples? To show the tearing down of the Detective Prince façade to the true darkness underneath.

Why does Weiss start wearing so many dark blues and greys? ....

I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point. Things just change on RWBY, key aspects of their designs like their hair and colors, and for the most part, there just seems to be no reason given to change. I’m not saying things like colors can never change, clearly they can, but for character design, especially in a show so heavily focused on colors and how characters are represented by their colors, it’s not a thing that should be taken lightly; if a character has grown so dramatically that the manner in which they express themselves as a character has changed, like the original poster is implying it can, it should be clear to see why this character has changed in this manner.

Without a good reason for it to change, it feels unnatural, like the character isn’t the same character - so when RWBY’s colors seem to be changing without good reason, creating designs that don’t look right for the character they’re meant to be in the situations they’re meant to be in, it causes people to want to revert back to the original palettes. Not because they’re denying individuality of the characters, but because the characters are no longer designed like the individuals they once were, and artists want to bring that individuality and striking design back through the use of the colors these characters use to define themselves.

#rwby #art #long post #please my more artistic mutuals #please correct me if i'm wrong #i'm not an artist

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copper-dragon-in-disguise · 2 years ago

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Hi! I do have more questions now that I've read your detailed reply and thank you so much for that!

You said TV characters and such have colors and textures as well—what about star wars? 👀 Disaster lineage in particular or anyone you wanna say! Also do countries have colors and textures too? Feelings?

(and because you were kind enough to let me know my color is blue :')) is it because of my icon? What kind of blue? 👀😂)

okay so! i shall admit that, though I do actually follow you, I am not in fact that much of a star wars fan (I like the original 3, the rest vary from enh to *disgusted screaming*. TCW is fine tho).

however! obi wan is sort of a warm brown. cody is orange, obviously. both anakin and darth vader are red, the same color as darth vader's lightsaber. ashoka is the same blue as the strips on her lekku.

with merlin characters: merlin is a really dark blue, sort of like the tumblr blue but a little darker if that makes sense. arthur is the camelot red color. morgana is plum. gwen is sort of a light pink or a light purple, mordred is almost the same color as merlin but also a bit lighter.

doctor who, as a whole series and all that is related to it, is tardis blue. The individual seasons are defined by their intros, doctors, and companions. That being said, Nine is a dark maroon. Ten is either blue or brown, depending on the episode & his suit, with the default being brown. Eleven is bright yellow. Twelve is also red, but its a very different shade than Nine. I haven't seen enough (or any, besides gifs) of Thirteen to tell exactly what color she is, but I think its a buttery yellow. Martha is red-violet, and Donna is dark red (but is an entirely different color from Nine and Twelve). Rose is a really light sandy yellow. The Master is some sort of darkish blue, and Missy is dark lavender (an entirely different color from purple. maybe. sort of).

countries are weird; historical things, like ancient rome; ancient egypt, stuff like that, all have colors (at least the ones I know anything about). Modern day places don't really have color, with a couple exceptions. Greenland is green, for what I sincerely hope are obvious reasons. Canada is the same color as their side of niagara falls, and I wish I had a more specific description for that but I do not. Ireland is a sort of very dark, pretty green. Wales is a dragon (i know thats not actually a color, but I don't know how else to describe it).

Ancient Egypt is sandy yellow or teal, depending on which era (the old kingdom is sandy yellow, the middle & new kingdoms are teal); Ancient Rome is maroon. Ancient Greece is a light blue and white marble swirl type thing. A few of the emperors of Ancient Rome have specific colors (Nero is a wine colored purple and Augustus/Octavian/Octavius is sometimes orange and sometimes blood red, depending on how stupid he's being. Constantine is a mildly darker blood red. Diocletian is a medium gray) (You likely do not know who any of those people are except maybe Nero, that's fine, I wasn't really expecting anyone to, they were all Roman emperors.) Julius Ceaser (who was not technically an emperor!) is ivy green. Cleopatra is plum, the same color as morgana. Leonardo da Vinchi is yellow, the same color as sunflowers. Assorted other historical figures have colors, as do some, but not all, eras of history.

For instance: the Renaissance is red. In the middle east the middle ages are light blue, but in europe they're gray. The Black Death, or Bubonic Plague, is not black, its a greenish-yellowish.

I have many more color associations but for the sake of this being like. short ish (something this already is not). i shall not list them.

Your color is a light sort of sky blue, mostly due to your icon, but also because of your user (light as the sun? sky blue? get it? no? yeah, thats fair), and with some quick googling is Pantone 2985 C:

#asks #lightasthesun #brain oddities #oh have i mentioned that typed words don't have color?#at all?#hand written words do tho.#oh #and it if i really wanna get into it #not all color words are the color they describe #the vast majority are #but the word red is actually a reddish orange #thats the only one i can think of quickly but there are maybe others #idk

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rabbitcruiser · 3 years ago

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Mora, Sweden (No. 4)

A Dalecarlian horse or Dala horse is a traditional carved, painted wooden statue of a horse originating in the Swedish province of Dalarna (Dalecarlia). In the old days the Dalecarlian horse was mostly used as a toy for children; in modern times it has become a symbol of Dalarna, as well as of Sweden in general. Several types of Dalecarlian horses are made, with distinguishing features common to the locality of the site where they are produced. One particular style has, however, become much more common and widespread than others. It is stoutly carved and painted bright red with details and a harness in white, green, yellow and blue.

It was in the small log cabins deep in the forests during the long winter nights in front of a log fire that the forerunner of the Dala horse was born. Using simple tools, generally only a knife, woodcarvers made toys for their children. It was only natural that many of these toys were horses, because the horse was invaluable in those days, as a trusty friend and worker who could pull great loads of timber from the forests during the winter months, and in the summer could be of just as much use on the farm.

The art of carving and painting the small horses quickly flourished in the 19th century, as economic hardship in the region inspired greater production of the small horses, and they became an important item of barter. Horse-making may have started as something to do during the long dark winter months, but soon the Dala horses were traded in exchange for household goods and their carving and painting blossomed into a full-fledged cottage industry. The rural families depended on horse production to help keep food on the table, as the skills of horse carving and painting were passed on from generation to generation.

The carving of Dala horses as a livelihood is thought to have started in the village of Bergkarlås [sv] in central Sweden, though the nearby "horse" villages of Risa [sv], Vattnäs, and Nusnäs were also centres of horse-making. The villages were involved in the art of furniture and clock-making, and it is likely the leftover scraps of wood were put to use in the production of Dala horses. Many early Dala horses were not painted at all, but in the beginning of the 19th century painting them in a single color, white or red, became common practice. The decoration of the Dala horse has its roots in furniture painting and was perfected over the years. According to a local tale, a wandering painter in the style of kurbits came across one of these Dala horses in a farm he was decorating. When asked by one of the children why that horse was not as beautifully painted as the ones in the decorations, he painted the Dala horse in the same style. This tradition was then carried on in order to raise the market value of the Dala horses.

The earliest references to wooden horses for sale are from 1623. In the 19th century, Stikå Erik Hansson [sv] from the village Risa in the parish of Mora introduced the technique of painting with two colours on the same brush, still used today. In the book "The Wooden Horses of Sweden," the author mentions that this famous Dala painter is buried in a small churchyard in Nebraska after having immigrated to the Midwest in 1887 at the age of 64.) He changed his name to Erik Erikson upon coming to America and is buried at Bega Cemetery in Stanton County Nebraska, outside of Norfolk.

While there were many horse whittlers in the early production of Dala horses, there were comparatively few horse painters. The large number of whittlers and a lack of distinguishing features makes it difficult to distinguish between different whittlers. Early painters very rarely signed their work, but they did have their own distinct pattern from which it is often possible to identify who painted a particular horse. In the 1930s (especially after the World's Expo in Paris 1937 and World's Fair in New York 1939 in which Dala horses were shown) mass production of Dala horses started. This marks the beginning of a new era for the Dala horse, transitioning from toy to a national symbol and popular souvenir.

The Dalecarlian horse of today is still a handcrafted article, made of pine, and its pattern is about 150 years old. At least nine different people contribute their skills to create each horse. The distinctive shape of the horse is due to the usage of flat-plane style carving.

An apocryphal legend of the Dalecarlian horse is that they became the national toy in 1716. According to the legend, soldiers loyal to King Charles XII were quartered in the Dalecarlian region and carved the toys as gifts for their hosts.

In the 2003 Norwegian film Kitchen Stories, a small Dala horse is part of a joke when a character expected a real horse as a reward.

Early production of Dala horses was concentrated to four villages: Bergkarlås, Risa, Vattnäs, and Nusnäs, all in the parish of Mora. Production is believed to have started in Bergkarlås and later spread to nearby villages Risa and Vattnäs through kindred. At about the same time production started independently in Nusnäs, and being farther away their style was less influenced by those of the other villages. The individual painters each had their particular style, and the few who are old enough to remember first- or second-hand the history can often tell which village, and in some cases which carver or painter, turned out a particular horse. The distinguishing features of many early painters from these villages have now been documented.

Many of the works by the earliest horse makers are no longer in existence but those that remain are cherished by their owners and have often been passed down through generations. These are also coveted by collectors, and their value has risen markedly over the years.

Today, many of the villages in Dalarna county make Dala horses with individual styles representing the district of origin. These horses also have distinctive shapes and often come in different sizes. Some horses like the Nusnäs horse are stocky work horses; others are lean and upright with stately countenance like the Rättvik horse. Many of these can be seen at a yearly exhibition (since the year 2000), which is held at Klockargården in Leksand, Sweden. Currently about forty present carvers and painters show their Dala horses and put them up for sale.

Source: Wikipedia

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imagineddworld · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: After serving detention with your favorite teacher, true feelings get revealed.

Word counter: 3,5 K (3500)

Author’s note: I made Remus a new, young teacher, and the student just turned 18. There is still a 5 years difference, but I tried to make it a bit more comfortable for people who don’t really like big age gabs.

I also tried to make it gender neutral, so if you guys have any tips; that would be great.

Didn’t proof read this, as lack of time with my exams very near. But I wanted to post something. As expected it turned out longer than I had meant to

Hope you enjoy xx

The time had come where the seventh years were learning how to make Amortentia. A potion well known to most curious students as the love potion. But it was a very tough one to make. You got all the ingredients right, but the brewing method messed you up every time. Same for today, it had started to fog an odd green smoke. It was at least better than the time where it had blown up in Snape’s face. You had never received such a big punishment as then. You were given 5 essays to write and served detention for a whole month.

“Detention Miss/Mister (Y/L)”, you heard the cold, monotone voice from behind you, “You can serve it with Professor Lupin after class. He needs help with grading essays”. You already had predicted this outcome to happen, but tried to argue anyway. “But-”, you silenced yourself as soon as you saw his cold glare. You sighed, slumping back in your chair. “Okay”, you mouthed silently, while making a mocking face. “That will be two detentions”, you heard him say angrily. You threw your arms in the air as a sign of annoyance, but didn’t say anything else. You started to clean your cauldron, hoping in the last minutes of class he wouldn’t give you more detentions or worse, gave you another essay to write. He really hated the living hell out of you. As one of the new teachers, together with Professor Lupin, you hand’t expected to be hate so much. You rarely did anything. Perhaps even breathing was too much for him. But there was not much you could do about it. You realized that the hard way. Most of the time you argued with him, but one particular time he had enough of your snarky comments. He had given you detention for nearly two months, making you clean all the little, dirty places of Hogwarts. All magic was forbidden, you needed to clean it all by hand. And as bonus to top it all off, he overloaded you with essays to write. Every week you needed to give two writer essays of 10 pages at least. After that event, you didn’t bother arguing much.

The rest of the day went by as normal, mostly spend with your nose in your books. As your final class ended, you quickly dropped off the unnecessary books at your dorm that couldn’t fit in your bag. You only kept the ones you needed for your essay. The one you were planning to write after your detention. Your dorm seemed further away from Professor Lupin’s office, resulting in you needing to sprint through the halls. Luckily the halls were less crowded. Only a few students were chatting in the hallway, laughing with their friends and keeping each other up to date. When you reached the door, you were out of breath. Partly from the running and partly from your nerves. Your heart was pounding too, and you hands were shaking the slightest bit. You took in some deep breaths and tried to calm yourself.

Detention with Remus Lupin made you more nervous than you had expected. He wasn’t just your favorite teacher, because of his amazing teaching skills. But also due to his kind character and beautiful looks. You had unexpectedly started to grow feelings for him. He had an amazing sweet and kind soul. His blue eyes sparkled every time he taught your class something new. Every time you got mesmerized by them, losing yourself into the beauty of the blue irises. Fascinated by the swirls of colors that came out when the light captured them from a certain perspective. His smile never failed to make your heart flutter. Every time he called your name during class, your face became beat red. His scars were a beautiful contrast against his slightly reddened cheeks.

You had thought the fact that he was your teacher, would disgust you. But technically he wouldn’t be your teacher anymore in 2 months. And also the fact that there were only a few years between the two of you, made it more acceptable. He was a fairly new and young teacher. A lot of girls probably had crushed on him, so you weren’t to blame. It’s not like you could control your feelings. As long as you kept it hidden, you were fine.

Your hands were shaking more, as you realized what was about to happen. Your heart started to pick up its beat up again, hammering against your chest. You softly knocked on the wooden door. “Come in”, his muffled voice could be heard form inside. With a little creak of the door, you made your way into his office. “Hello Professor. I’m here to serve my detention”, your voice was silent, and a bit shaky. He looked up from his desk full of papers, eyes lighting up the slightest bit. He gave you a sweet smile: “Ah yes, (Y/N). I was surprised when Snape me you were the one who had gotten detention. You never do anything wrong”. A light blush crept up your cheeks. His eyes were entrancing you, making your knees weak. “Well, I messed up the method of my potion, so you know how Snape is. Then I mocked him for his ridiculous behavior and got myself a second detention. So you will be stuck with me again tomorrow evening”, you smiled more confidently now. You didn’t regret your behavior. Snape really was a living hell. It was just your overthinking mind and overwhelming nerves that were bothering you now. As they were most of the time.

“Oh, Don’t worry about that, dear. I don’t mind your company”, he smile seemed even brighter. The soft candle light really gave him a certain glow that had you mesmerized. It was a soft yellow light, that showed off all his features even better. This soft look in combination with his sweet words really made you swoon. These detentions might were going to kill you. This man couldn’t get any lovelier, at least you thought so. Every time you saw him, some new details had you drawn to him. Another little piece of him you could adore. Like whenever the light hits his eyes right, they looked almost yellow. As if a sun was glowing behind them. That might explain why they gave such a warm and loving appearance. Or the soft shadows that were cast on his face, pointing out his fine bone structure even more. His jawline standing out the most. The combination of his messy hair and wintery sweater, made him look very cosy. He gave off a feeling of home and trust. As if you truly could be yourself around him, even if there were certain boundaries. Maybe that comfort drew you the most to him.

“Well..., you can start with that pile over there”, his voice woken you from your daydream. He pointed to a chair in front of his desk with a smaller pile of papers on it neatly stacked. Your cheeks were flushing a bright red, as you realized he must have seen you stare at him for who knows how long. You placed your bag against the wall, and hung your robe on the hanger that stood in the corner. You carefully picked up the stack of papers and placed them on the desk, so you could sit. Lupin made some room for your pile, as his was literally scattered all over his wooden desk. He mumbled soft apologies in between soft, heartwarming chuckles. After he gave you a pen, some ink and instructions of how to rate these essays, you went to work.

You had to be honest, it was quite hard to concentrate when you were sat in front of this beautiful man. You often glanced up, admiring him in this soft light and closer perspective. You didn’t dare to look up, but had a feeling his eyes were on you as well. But that could’ve been your feelings sparking up some deeply hidden hope for him ever being interested in you. Every time he leaned over to help you on a certain problem, you could feel your breath halt in your throat. You had trouble keeping your heart rate in control.

“I’m all done, Professor”, you said when you rated the last essay of your pile. He looked up with that loving smile of his, making your heart flutter for the umpteenth time. “Brilliant. Thank you for your assistance today”, he gently took the essays from your hand, and placed them on his big pile of already marked homework. “Maybe I could help you with that potion you were having trouble with?” You smiled widely at him: “Oh, that would be lovely, sir. I really could use some help”. He nodded happily, while his eyes seemed to spark that particular sparkle whenever he got passionated with teaching and helping people. “Do you have your textbook with you?” You mumbled a quiet yes, as you went to grab it from your bag. You handed it over to him, standing by his side on a formal distance away from him. “What potion were you working on?”, he asked while going through the pages of your book. “Amortentia”. As soon as the answer left you mouth, he started to cough lightly seen that he had just took a sip of his tea. “Are you okay, sir?”, you asked him worriedly, placing your hand on his arm. You were a bit unsure if you should touch him or not. But you had acted upon it like an instinct. Luckily he didn’t really reacted to the soft manner, meaning he probably didn’t mind. “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright, dear. Just chocked a bit on my tea, is all”. He cleared his throat and straightened out his back, adjusting his position as a way to recover from his small coughing fit. “So, Amortentia...”, he started off, sounding it bit absentmindedly. “Yeah, I have all the ingredients right. It’s the brewing method that messes me up every time. It always seems to go so well, until it suddenly doesn’t. And I don’t know why”, your explanation sounded like a rambling of quick words put together, making you unsure if he actually understood you. He nodded his head, as he read over the page. “Hmm, well. I’m here to help you. We just need supplies”.

The two of you snuck around the halls, if you even can consider it that. It was still a few hours before curfew and you were with a teacher, so not much trouble could happen. But you still sort of broke into Snape’s classroom, which he wouldn’t appreciate at all. “If we get caught, I am going to blame you. He already hates the living hell out of me”. The tall man next to you chuckled at your comment. “Trust me, love. He hates me plenty, you just don’t see it”. You raised your eyebrow questionably at him: “Why? You are such a lovable person”. The words left your mouth before you registered fully what you had said. His silence made you fear your previous statement even more. Did you mess up? But as you sneaked a look at him, it seemed like he wore a light blush on his cheek. Brighter than he usual reddened cheeks. Indeed it also could be the incidence of light, hitting his skin differently and creating an illusion of colours.

As you reached the classroom, you quickly mumbled a spell to unlock the door to Snape’s ingredient collection. “Alright, get what you need. I’ll keep watch”, he said quietly, not really looking at you. You listed off all the ingredients you needed, having remembered them from the plenty of times that you had read over the page. You had placed the ingredients on the desk nearest to you, not risking to drop any in the searching process. But as you looked at the amount of pots and bits, you weren’t so sure if every item would make it back safely. “Could you give me a hand, sir?”, you said a bit louder, so he could hear you from the doorway. His head turned quickly to where you were standing. “Oh. Of course, darling”, he smiled, rushing over to your side. He took the bigger part of the items, stressing that it was only right. He could carry them all with only one arm, the other softly placed on the small of your back as he guided you out of the classroom. It must have been a protective, kind manner he always had had in him. You shouldn’t overthink such an innocent thing. But you had to be fair, it really made your heart melt and your skin burn where he hand was placed. It gave you all sort of tingles.

He opened his door for you, opening his arm to allow you into his office. “Such a gentleman”, you teased, even if your cheeks were burning up. He glanced to the floor, hiding his face from your view. You set all the ingredients on the table, setting them on order of how you would need to use them. Remus placed his cauldron on the table and started to go over the instructions. He mostly gave you the lead, but stepped in wherever you were going to make a mistake. He also gave you useful tips for future potions. “You are doing a great job, (Y/N)”, he smiled form your side, keeping a respectable distance from you. “Well, you are helping me a lot. So, you could say we make quite a great team”, you smirked lightly, not really daring to look over to him. You just focused on stirring in the cauldron. A weight fell of your shoulders when you hear him chuckle: “If you say so, it must be true”. He sounded a little more playful.

As you added the last ingredient, the liquid turned a beautiful pastel pink. The aroma that came from it was way better than all your previous attempts. You leaned over the cauldron to take a whiff of the odor. “Oh wow, this smells good. It’s way better than all my other attempts. It’s smells like man’s cologne and chocolate”, you said with an excited smile, but it fell soon after. “Or is it just you?”, you asked a Remus with a sad tone. You really wanted to succeed, but after all your failed attempts you didn’t know what Amortentia smelled or looked like.

Lupin’s eyes were switching between your face and his hands, as if he were unsure of what to say or do. “Normally it smells like what you’re attracted to, miss/ mister (Y/L/N)”. Your eyes widened the slightest bit. Of course you knew that. You were just so enchanted by the smell, that you forgot you were actually outing your secret to the person you wanted to know the least. “Oh, yeah. I know that. But as my other attempts smelled so awful, I thought maybe Amortentia had an actual odor”, you tried to safe yourself. It was partly true, but you tried to cover up the fact that you had outed your secret. You had admitted smelling him, admitting to liking him as the potion had succeeded. “It- It’s alright”, he spoke quietly. A short moment of silence fell over the two fo you. But before it could get any more awkward, you decided to speak up again. “So, uhm. What do you smell, sir”. He seemed to swallow a big lump that had formed in his throat. Slowly he came into movement, leaning over the cauldron as well. He closed his eyes to focus on the scents that he smelled. “Old books and (a scent linked to you)”, he said absentmindedly. He reopened his eyes, but they weren’t focussing on anything particularly. He seemed a bit fazed out, but so were you. Maybe it was the potion, or it was the sudden awareness of your feelings and the position you found yourself in. You were trying to register what he had said previously. Did he smell you? it could be anyone, right? A lot of people must smell like that. You didn’t want to get your hopes up. It would only lead to heartaches.

You fell back into reality, shaking your head lightly. Once your eyes were focussing again on the room you found yourself in, you realized how close you stood to one another. You must have subconsciously moved closer towards him. When you found the courage to look up, you found his clear blue eyes already trained on you. You felt very nervous underneath his gaze, as if you were being put on spot. You licked your lips as a sign of nerves. Your eyes roaming through the whole room, trying to avoid his gaze. You didn’t know what to do. “No, I can’t do this”, he whispered, stepping a few steps back. “What do you mean?”, you were really confused. Did he meant to do something? You knew nothing could happen between the two fo you. It was wrong in many ways, but you couldn’t help your feelings. You didn’t really expect him to feel anything back. So this came as a hit in the face, as if there had been actual hope all along. “You- you’re my student...”. You nodded slowly, still not getting exactly what he was on to. You had some speculations, but needed confirmation. You couldn’t trust your intuition.

“I know.. In two months I won’t be. At least if I graduate”. He shook his head lightly, going with his hand through his hair. “Still.. I’m 5 years older than you. We can’t do this..”, he pointed between the two of you. At that moment it hit you. Your speculations were confirmed. You were somewhat embarrassed for how long it had taken you to realize what was happening. “You- you were considering that anything could happen between- between us?”, you stuttered, still not registering it completely. You were feeling like your ears were playing tricks on you. “Maybe...”, he said unsure. Even if you didn’t had your hopes up for anything to happen, still somewhere deep down the sparks of it had hidden. Knowing that he had considered it, but refused to follow through with it, hurt you more than expected. Your eyes started to water, but kept the tear in. Of course he noticed the change. He stepped closer to you and wiped away the single tear that had fallen from your eye. “I’m sorry, love. Please don’t cry”. You forced a small chuckle, smiling at his loving face. “No, it’s okay. Honestly, It’s okay”. Both your voices were quiet as they spoke, not willing to hurt the other even further.

You couldn’t blame him for this decision. You couldn’t ask such a thing, couldn’t expect such a thing. It was against the rules. He needed to keep a certain distance with his students. The least you wanted was him to lose his job, because of your foolish crush. You respected his decision, even if it hurt. It would be for the better.

His hand was still on your cheek. It was soft and warm against your skin. You wanted to cherish this moment, even if it was going to break your heart as soon as it ended. His other hand comfortably rested on your waist. “Screw the rules”, he mumbled. Before you registered what was happening, his soft lips were capturing yours in an unexpected but loving kiss. It was soft and tender, but all the while it was full of love. Once the shock wore off, your hands fell to his chest. You softly grabbed the fabric of his sweater. You could feel his rapid heartbeat underneath your palm. He pulled you closer to his body, deepening the kiss. His hand went to the back of your head, not willing to break the kiss yet. Eventually you needed to do so, as you were running out of air. You kept your closeness, both recovering from the unexpected kiss.

“You are going to be the death of me, love”,he said breathlessly. You chuckled at his comment, leaning in to his chest to cuddle him. You enjoyed the warmth and feeling of being wrapped up in his arms. You looked up at him, being met by his sweet smile and enchanting eyes. “Likewise, sir”, you said before you captured his lips in a second kiss. This time even more passionate. The both of you smiled into it, feeling complete. It felt right. Even if you broke some rules, it was all worth it.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp imagine #hp remus #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus #lupin #remus fluff #Fluffy Imagine #remus fluffy imagine #remus lupin fluff

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

Text

fic: something to hang on to

When Jamie buys a camera, she isn’t really thinking about it. They’re driving through Virginia, stopped off at a little gas station; Dani’s outside filling the rental Jeep, which puts Jamie on snack-duty. At the counter, she spots a display of disposable cameras and, almost without thinking, adds one to the pile of sugar and caffeine. It isn’t a plan. Isn’t for any particular reason.

Dani, pawing through the plastic bag of their spoils, raises it from a mess of M&Ms and Pringles and says, “You like photography?” She asks it the way she asks everything, like every little detail she learns about Jamie is another brand-new color added to the shine of the world. Jamie shrugs.

“Never was much for it, but this brave new land is pretty enough. Don’t mind keeping track of it for later.”

It’s more than that, she thinks as Dani raises the viewfinder to her eye and clicks a photo of Jamie behind the wheel, one hand steering, the other stretching across the center console to rest on Dani’s knee. I almost lost you once, Poppins. Wouldn’t have had anything but my own memory to remember you by. This...this will help.

Later, much later, years later, Jamie will look back on that moment as one of her wisest. Later, on a bed she can no longer sleep in, holding a thick album between shaking hands, she’ll think some of the most important choices you ever make are split-second recklessness. A camera, tossed in at the last second. A habit, built on nothing more than needing Dani’s smile immortalized.

Open the album. Take a breath. Flip the page.

***

A photo: Dani sprawled on a red-and-white beach towel, chin propped on folded arms, gazing out away from the camera as though she has no idea anyone is watching.

They’re with Henry and the kids--the first time they’ve seen the Wingrave family since the events at the house, and, though they don’t know it, one of the last times they’ll see them all together--in Florida. It’s strange, Jamie reflects, watching Miles chase Flora across an endless strip of sand. Strange how much world can fit into one country. England was green, rolling with hill and fog and haunted by things older than any of them can imagine. Florida feels...young, somehow. Too warm, too bright, too perfect on a Saturday afternoon.

She’s hugging her knees, seated on a blanket with Dani sitting just an inch further away than she’d like. It’s the safe thing, the smart thing, but she misses her--misses the way they sit in hotel rooms and empty bars, knees touching, pinkies overlapping. Dani, in a sundress that matches the blue of her right eye, is laughing as Miles grabs Flora around the middle and tries with all his ten-year-old strength to hoist her off the ground.

“Miles,” Henry calls, his voice laden with the anxiety of a man who has only just begun learning how to parent. “Miles, be careful--”

“They’re all right,” Jamie interrupts, tossing a handful of warm sand toward Henry’s precarious perch on a plastic chair. "Have you been wound this tight the whole fucking time?”

He looks pained. “You’ll excuse me for never having raised two children before. They’ve been a bit...”

“Precocious?” Dani suggests brightly.

“Demonic?” Jamie says at the same time. Henry sighs.

“Adventurous, shall we say, to meet in the middle.”

“They haven’t been...” Dani’s smiling, the way Jamie has grown accustomed to over the last few months: a beautiful smile that never entirely reaches her eyes. It’s the way she smiles when she thinks she needs to wear a mask of stability, when she needs everyone to think she’s doing all right.

Henry frowns. “Haven’t been what?”

Dani shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Scared? Having nightmares? I don’t know...”

She’s asking-not-asking about that night, like she told Jamie she wasn’t going to do. They don��t need me bringing it up, she’d said back at the hotel, holding tight to Jamie in a way that said she very much needed to talk about this against her own will. They deserve to just live their lives.

Henry looks puzzled. “Strange, but no. No nightmares. Flora had a few at the very start, before we left London, but...no. Not since arriving here.”

Dani nods like this is all she wants to hear, and rubs her cheek with one slightly-sunburnt hand, the moment passing into obscurity as Flora shrieks and Miles trips directly into an oncoming wave. It’s all good here, all sunshine and ease of temper, and Jamie watches Henry stand. Brush off shorts that look truly insane set against his pale legs. Go awkward-jogging into the surf to lift a giggling Flora heavenward.

“They make a fine little family,” she says, pitching her voice so only Dani can hear. Dani nods. There’s a tightness to her mouth that says she’s only half here, only half able to let the sun bake away the shadows. Jamie touches her ankle lightly, wishing they were somewhere less requiring of distance.

“I’m all right,” Dani says. Not a lie of intent, at least, though Jamie suspects it’s more that she wants to be all right. She watches Dani roll onto her front, eyes on the endless ocean, the children tumbling around in its gentle grasp, the man doing his best to keep up.

Could watch her forever, Jamie thinks, knowing it’s far too early to say something so catastrophically huge. She’s been having these thoughts more and more, wild notions of turning this brand-new adventure with Dani into a lifetime event. It turns a key somewhere deep within her chest, some far-off engine making a deep rumbling sound that sends her tripping toward a very real, very powerful feeling of terror.

Her hand slips toward the bag of sunscreen, paperback novels, sliced oranges. A camera, small and yellow and used mainly in moments like this one, emerges. Dani never notices as she brings it to her eye, frames Dani’s blonde ponytail and sun-pink skin, snaps a photo.

Later, when the pictures are developed and spread out across a hotel bedspread, shots of Miles with an orange-peel grin and Flora standing before a monster of a sandcastle intercut with Dani’s far-off pensive expression, Dani will touch the print. Lingeringly, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.

“Why this one?”

Because I loved you more than words could capture, Jamie will know it’s far too early to say. It’d be reckless. It’d be testing the bounds of something still fragile, still one-day-at-a-time hopeful.

“Why not?” she’ll say, and tuck the photo safely back into its sleeve.

***

A photo: Jamie and Dani, backs to the freshly painted Leafling sign, standing carefully apart with shoulders back and a small bouquet of flowers clutched in Dani’s hands.

They keep to themselves, mainly, but some of the nearby shopkeepers have been kind as The Leafling goes from mad late-night concept to brick-and-mortar reality. They bring welcome-to-the-block plants and casseroles that are mostly-edible, and Dani accepts each one with true Midwestern courtesy. Jamie leans back, watches the art of neighborly behavior being painted before her eyes: older women who compliment Dani on her earrings, young men bullied into helping move heavy boxes into storage by their mothers. Dani, in the middle of it all, wearing a soft pastel sweater and a smile that has finally remembered its own strength.

She wasn’t sure how this would go, if Jamie’s honest about it. She’s been telling Dani not to worry for weeks, telling Dani they don’t need to know much about a business to run this one. I grow, you arrange, we make out like bandits with all the nice Americans who value pretty things. It’ll be perfect, Poppins. She’s been saying it, and she thinks she even believes her own words most of the time, but there have been dreams. Anxiety running its red thread through her sleep, telling her she has no skill in this arena, no education to speak of, no idea how to survive in American business while hiding her relationship with her “business partner”.

The day the shop finally opens, Jamie has been saying “it’s going to be great” for so long, she almost surprises herself by rushing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet. Dani, expression warm and just the tiniest bit teasing, leans against the doorframe.

“You all right?”

“Perfect,” Jamie gasps, staggering to the sink and thrusting a toothbrush into her mouth. “Jus’ great.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Dani points out. “What would we do with all the business cards?”

Jamie groans, spitting mint foam and rinsing out her mouth. “You could show just the slightest bit less glee, Poppins. I’ve just run us into a brick wall of imminent failure.”

Dani laughs, coming up behind her to hug her tight around the middle. “We should probably at least unlock the doors for the first time before you decide it’s time to shutter them again.”

She’s good today, Jamie senses--not the fake-good where she tries her best to pretend she isn’t listening for some deep-down movement Jamie can’t register, but truly happy. Her body is relaxed, her hands certain as she tips Jamie’s cheek and kisses her calm.

“How,” Jamie gasps when they break, “are you not out of your bloody mind right now?”

Dani shrugs. “It’s like the first day of school. Spend all summer planning and worrying, but now it’s happening. Just gotta jump in.”

There are already people waiting when they arrive, to Jamie’s mingled horror and delight. Most of them are their fellow shopkeepers, waiting with the brilliant smiles of people who have already lived this particular nightmare themselves, and just want to pay forward the relief of customers actually turning up. They’re kind, these people--they don’t know Jamie in the least, don’t have the first idea what shadows lurk behind Dani’s eyes, but they take their hands, squeeze, and congratulate them all the same. Jamie thinks they even mean it, most of them. Americans are complicated, boisterous, scandalous people--but they can have such heart.

One woman, old enough to be Jamie’s grandmother, presses a bouquet of peonies against Dani’s chest. “For luck,” she says croakily, patting Dani’s cheek like she’s known her since Dani was three feet tall. “Dry ‘em, hang ‘em somewhere in the back. Remember we’re all rooting for you.”

“Rooting,” a man who owns a nearby pizzeria hoots. “Good one, Carol!”

Jamie almost rolls her eyes, but Dani is beaming. When the others make flapping get in front of the sign gestures, they can’t help but obey, standing with a perfectly-maintained half-person between their shoulders. She wants so badly to reach over, to take Dani’s hand, to kiss her with all the terror and relief she’d never known she could feel at once. Instead, she smiles as professionally as she knows how for the camera someone produces. It’s enough.

Later, tapping a finger against the print the photographer drops on their counter, Jamie says, “Look like I want to pass out.”

Dani glances toward the window, takes note of the empty street, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’d have caught you.”

***

A photo: Jamie, sitting just behind Dani on a plush couch, arm wrapped around her waist, cheek pressed to flyaway blonde hair. Dani, grinning her widest, cheesiest grin, leaning back like she knows there is no world in which Jamie would ever let her fall.

There are parties, occasionally--usually thrown by other under-the-radar couples they get along with well enough for drinks, not so much that they truly build relationships. They like the quiet life, the two-person road trips, the easy silence after a long day. But, sometimes, life is grand and big and loud, and on those nights, they venture out into the world.

There are a pair of men maybe five years their senior who have been together for “a decade”, if you ask Mike, “a century”, if it’s Paul telling the tale. They’re good people, and their home is a safe space Jamie doesn’t anticipate finding.

Friends are hard, she thinks. Always were, but they’re so much harder once you’ve lost a couple.

Still: when Mike and Paul are set to celebrate a round ten years together (”An eternity,” Paul clarifies, leaning against the Leafling counter to invite them over), they go. Dani wants to, and it’s good seeing Dani want things like this. It’s been almost a year together, almost a year of exploring the map and one another, and Dani’s been getting softer around the edges, less prone to jumping at shadows. The Dani Clayton of a year ago wouldn’t want to attend parties, lest the beast inside leap while her guard is lowered; the Dani Clayton of tonight is holding up a dark green dress, brow furrowed.

“Too much?”

Jamie hums a moment to buy herself time. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’d like to actually leave the house tonight.” Jamie wiggles her eyebrows, buttoning a black shirt and searching for a good pair of suspenders. Dani laughs.

“I think you can keep your hands to yourself for a few hours.”

“You,” Jamie points out, sidling up behind her and kissing her neck, “have always had entirely too much faith in me, Poppins.”

Dani is, however, a woman of her word when it comes to accepting social invitations, and soon they’re sitting on an exceptionally soft couch in an exceptionally loud living room. Jamie glances around, reading the environment, registering the two women holding hands by the coffee table, the men dancing near the kitchen, the way even the male-female pairs seem not to see anything odd. Mike and Paul have been doing this a long time. This is as safe a space as their own home.

She likes the way Dani relaxes, a little more with every drink tucked into her hand, a little more with a lit cigarette pulled from Jamie’s, a little more still when Mike nudges her and mutters, “Your girl looks good tonight, Clayton.”

She likes, most of all, the way Dani doesn’t flinch away when a Polaroid comes out. These are good people, brave people, smart people. If there are photos taken tonight, they will be pressed straight into the hands of their subjects, gifted away before the chemicals have even processed.

Dani presses back against her, seated on her lap, laughing at some joke Jamie hasn’t really been paying attention to. She’s too busy watching Dani’s profile, the way her head tips back when she’s really laughing, too hard to care what she looks like. Too busy reveling in how it feels to hold Dani in a setting so much more public than usual, her fingers stroking the soft material of Dani’s dress, her body burning and the most comfortable it’s ever been.

Later, with the Polaroid on the nightstand, the green dress on the floor, and a sheet tucked up against the fall chill, Dani says, “We should do that more.”

Jamie chuckles against her shoulder, kissing a patch of freckles. “This?”

“Yes.” Dani wriggles a little, giggling. “But also that.” She’s gesturing to the photo, propped between a lamp and copy of some old Shirley Jackson novel. “It was nice, wasn’t it? Not...”

“Hiding,” Jamie supplies. Dani makes a humming noise soft in her throat.

“I like not hiding you.”

***

A photo: Dani, eyes dark with a smolder only Jamie ever sees, a cigarette between her lips, hair loose around her shoulders.

Nights spent home with Dani, nights where there are no groceries to pick up, no accounting to be done, no errands waiting to be noticed, are Jamie’s absolute favorite thing in the world. There’s just something about this sense of home they’ve been building together, this sense of locked door and secured window and no one else invited to partake that gets Jamie the way nothing else does.

Especially Dani. Dani at home is less reserved, less careful. With every month that passes quietly, no sign of anything but her own mind, Dani gets a little less tight. A little less prone to gazing off into the middle distance. A little less likely to disappear from an otherwise-normal conversation, emerging several minutes later like she’s pulling herself out of a dream.

And, some nights, she’s not just here--she’s utterly present, every atom of her tuned to Jamie like they have no need of space between them, no need of separation. These nights, the nights where Dani strides into the room on a mission, are Jamie’s favorite of all.

“Why,” Dani says, leaning back in a kitchen chair with legs spread and head tilted to exhale smoke toward the ceiling, “are you looking at me like that?”

“Me?” Jamie teases. “You’re the one gazing at me like I’m some terribly interesting new buffet.”

She’s half-joking, but there’s something about the way Dani looks at her on this very particular sort of night, with every line of her body tuned toward Jamie’s, that makes her feel a stupid kind of brave. A reckless kind of excitement unwinds outward, until her fingertips itch to grab at Dani’s hair, her knees weak with the desire to pull Dani close.

She’s doing it now, smoking that cigarette with all the languid energy of a woman perfectly at home, watching Jamie with a faint smirk playing around her lips. No one else sees that smirk, Jamie understands, and it makes her a little faint every time she thinks it. To have something of Dani, some integral comfortable part of Dani that belongs solely to their apartment, their life together, is still a good fortune Jamie can’t entirely parse out.

Her hand moves toward the camera, small and plastic and containing some of the best memories of Dani she desperately needs to keep. Dani lets her snap off a shot, shakes her head when Jamie lowers the camera.

“That’s going to be one of yours.”

She says it every time Jamie tries to capture the white-hot energy of this kind of evening. Dani doesn’t like to see herself through this particular lens, gets fidgety and embarrassed at the sight of her own face etched with such a confident hunger. Jamie asked the first time if Dani wanted her to stop taking the photos altogether, and Dani had shaken her head.

“I don’t mind. But they’re yours, okay?”

She sets the camera aside, moving to take the cigarette out of Dani’s hand, taking a long drag and dropping it in an ashtray. The rest doesn’t need anything in the way--no lens, no embarrassment, nothing but the way Dani’s mouth opens beneath hers, hands already roaming. The rest is not Jamie’s, but theirs, a joint ownership of soft moans and soft skin and soft assurances that this is still, always, home.

Later, with Dani asleep, one hand thrown loosely over Jamie’s hip, Jamie will look at the photos that are hers and hers alone. Dani, mouth wet and swollen from a night spent confined to their bedroom around their anniversary. Dani, grinning and half-asleep, glancing over her shoulder to coax Jamie into putting the camera down, joining her among the blankets. Dani, smoke-haze around her face, wine glass in her hand, looking just past the camera at Jamie’s own desire.

Dani’s choice to share a life with her, Dani’s decision to share every inch of herself with Jamie, is more than Jamie feels anyone deserves.

***

A photo: Dani in front of the Eiffel Tower, sunglasses on, arms spread wide.

A photo: Dani kneeling at the Grand Canyon, gesturing bewilderment at the sheer scope of the place.

A photo: Dani standing before the alleged largest ball of twine in the world, looking rather like she regrets letting Jamie pick the destination this time.

They travel until Dani can’t stomach it anymore, can’t take the uncertainty of unknown roads and unmapped hotel beds--but, first, years of travel. Years of postcards and rental cars, of Jamie turning maps upside down and Dani being shockingly savvy in small-town situations.

These photos, more than any other, feel like they have to be taken for someone else’s idea of posterity, and Jamie feels a little strange, at first. Dani’s already seen much of Europe by the time they meet, and has no photos whatsoever to show for it. Jamie, who started turning up in photos for the first time as an adult, says, “It’ll be good to show ‘em off,” while never quite bringing herself to the edge of an unspoken follow-up question: to whom, exactly? It isn’t as though she and Dani are having children, isn’t as though there will be grandkids tottering around down the line to tune out their stories. Who, exactly, are these mementos for?

Dani is far too kind, far too pragmatic, to put the question to her. Dani only poses, grins, lets Jamie take all the pictures she wants, and then--camera tucked safely away once more--grabs Jamie’s hands and leads her into living it: the food, the outdoor markets, the snowstorms, the sun-kissed hikes. As the years go by, Jamie takes more and more photos, never quite able to explain to herself why it’s so critical. Never quite able to look away when Dani finally covers the lens with one hand and brings her close, kissing her like it’s the first time.

They stop looking at these photos together, after a while. Stop trying so hard to go back, as the days grow shorter and the exhaustion begins to steal the warmth from Dani’s smile. At first, it’s about moving forward--always one foot in front of the other. At first, every photo taken is set aside as a gift to another life. And then, finally, it’s about the moment they’re in, nothing more. Jamie sets the camera on a shelf. Refuses to look at Dani through any barrier but her own two eyes. Dani doesn’t like the snap-click of the camera anymore, anyway--each time, she flinches, like Jamie is about to show her a glimpse of whatever horror she’s been seeing in the mirror.

I only see you, Jamie promises, the ache in her chest so great, she’s sure it will swallow them both. But Dani can’t bring herself to look. Can’t bring herself, just in case Jamie is wrong.

Later--so much later, with eyes stinging and arms empty--she flips through the album and remembers Spain, California, Minnesota, Greece. Later, she finds Dani sticking her tongue out, spinning like a deranged nun out of musical, sitting quietly in a cafe with a small cup of coffee warming her hands. Dani, stiff-shouldered and trying not to laugh as Jamie made faces the one time they ever ventured back to Iowa. Dani, hair blowing back into her face, arms looped around Jamie at a terrifying, exhilarating first Pride parade.

And, in the back, the photos of Dani as only Jamie knew her. The sly grin a second before pinning Jamie to the couch. The sweet surprise from Jamie coming home early with dinner. Shot after shot of no make-up, or smudged eyeliner, or ruined lipstick, of Dani in pajamas on Christmas, or Dani in bed after a shower, or Dani laughing herself silly at nothing Jamie can remember now.

They’re all here, and they’re all Dani--all of Dani Jamie’s got left now--and still, they’re wrong. They sit, plastic and unyielding, beneath flimsy protective sheets, and they don’t laugh like Dani, don’t breathe out against her skin like Dani, don’t smell like Dani’s shampoo or swear like Dani tripping over a shoe in the dark or look at her with that solid, palpable love like Dani did and should still and never will again.

Jamie sits, album in her lap, staring down at Dani with paint smudged on her cheek and their then-new bedroom behind her, and suddenly can’t remember how to breathe. Had she known? Somewhere in the back of her mind that day in a gas station, picking up a little yellow disposable camera, had she known that one day, this would be all she had left of Dani? Surely not. Surely, she hadn’t believed it would go this way, all the way back then. Surely, it was one day at a time, and we’ll have time, and any day with you, Poppins.

Had she known? No. No, of course she hadn’t.

And yet, the idea of not having these in front of her--the idea of Dani’s face slowly, surely, washing away over time as Jamie fails to find her in a world so uncompromisingly cruel...

She touches a shot of Dani with her left hand covering her mouth, her ring gleaming gold against her smile, the day the state had legalized civil unions. Dani as gold as sunshine, in one of the last truly clean moments, before old ghost stories dug rotting fingers into their life. Her vision grays, her head suddenly too heavy to hold up.

She hadn’t known. But she’s glad. She’s glad she has, at least, this much to hang on to.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #put it on the list of stuff you can blame jess for #as with everything I have ever written I thought it was going one way and then it did something else

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