#my oc Philia

[tododeku-or-bust]

✨ Real Hot Phi Shit ✨

Giving Philia a heaping splash of Donna Summer with a healthy sprinkle of Meg to create THAT GIRL now and forever 😤 🔥💯 Meg if you ever need another background dancer she GOTCHU call her waaaaay-

Her man in the background:

Calix is a young gentleman who prays before his meals.

Reference:

[mothysmenagerie]

She's a little princess out in the wind, looking pretty and dramatic! 🌬️💖🌸✨💞

[alibonbonn]

"Nothing more unsettling than finding a shorter version of the man that murdered you at the door, tearfully asking if your daughter was home."

Go read @tododeku-or-bust 's Patchilles Parenthood series ok!

[crystal-verse]

Day 11 - Surrogate

[brief and vague mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. featuring lyna's parents, and queerplatonic relationships between the two of them and the exarch]

It escapes them, some days, just how lucky they are to have Dulna and Vaimet by their side. Then, of course, he is reminded, by a stray word or some thing he'd forgotten that one of the two had dealt with in his stead; by a stray pat on his shoulder, or the way one of the two would so casually yet carefully press a shoulder against one of his.

He is very close with the two, the Exarch -- Raha, though the name is feeling less and less his each day -- knows. The two had been the first to meet the Exarch, really, back when they were just Raha, an unnamed Mystel of some amount of power. They are perhaps the only ones to know his face, here in Norvrandt; all those who had met him in those initial years, so confusing and chaotic with the Flood having been so soon, are either dead or no longer remember them, and the Exarch cannot help but be grateful for it. They are more and more strange, living without aging, ageless and timeless just like the crystal that crawls further and further up their arm and shoulder, and while the Exarch knows that 'tis to prevent any recognition on the part of either Warrior of Light when they are eventually summoned. . . it is also a small source of comfort, keeping their face hidden, being an anonymous face to match their simple role. (Or -- 'twas supposed to be a simple role, at least.)

Dulna and Vaimet have never betrayed that trust, either -- they are always naught but professional when in public, the commander of the guard and his second-in-command who are ever loyal and respectful of the Crystal Exarch's time and duty. But behind the closed doors of the Tower, the two shed those roles like masks, the same way that the Exarch lowers his hood and is simply Raha again, for however long it lasts. There is comfort, between the three of them. Raha does not know quite what he would call it, but they are -- close, certainly. Not lovers, no -- they are well aware of what romance feels like, what infatuation swelling in their heart feels like (for they still love Sae'pheli'ehva, all these many, many years later) -- but neither is it quite friendship. There is friendship there but it is. . . it is different, somehow. (Raha hesitates to say closer, as if this relationship -- whatever it is -- is inherently better than friendship, as if romance is inherently better, but Raha does not know how to phrase it.)

It is not romantic love, at the least. Raha is certain of that. The Exarch, themself, had been the one to officiate Dulna and Vaimet's wedding, at their own shared request, and they know that just as they do not view the two in that light, neither do either of them view Raha like that. Still -- still, there is closeness. A deep bond, enough that Raha trusts them with his face, with his name, even. (He has not spoken of his past, but. . . they do not pry. When the memories grow too heavy, enough to choke, Vaimet will sit with him, oftentimes humming something beneath his breath, and will sometimes shift Raha to sit with his head pressed against Vaimet's chest, to hear the heartbeat. When Raha cannot carry the weight of all the grief he is forced to bear, Dulna will talk of whatever comes to her mind, until Raha is tethered in the current time and can breathe a bit easier.)

(It is not romantic love. It does not have to be. Raha loves them regardless, whatever this relationship might be.)

Perhaps they should be less surprised, then, at the request that is made of him.

"We want a baby." Dulna had said, one morning, with little preamble.

Raha raised merely blinked in response. ". . .alright. Were you wanting to adopt one of the orphans from the Sin Eater attacks. . .?"

Dulna looks at him as if he is stupid. Perhaps he is. "No," she says, enunciating carefully, "we want a baby."

"I'm. . . afraid I don't grasp your meaning?" Much more of this and Raha will be truly well and baffled.

Vaimet huffs, quietly, his shaking shoulders the only sign that he is repressing further laughter. "We want a child of our own blood." He explains, leaning his weight on one leg. "And I cannot sire a child, on account of lacking the necessary parts. So we need a surrogate."

"Ah. Well, I can. . . see about who would be willing to. . .?" Raha trails off, shrinking in on themself slightly as Dulna's expression only gets stonier.

She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. "Raha." (He does not startle at the name, but there is a fluttering in his chest regardless.) "You beautiful, beautiful fool of a man."

"I'm. . . sorry?" Well. Now Raha is baffled.

Vaimet, then, seems unable to restrain himself any longer, finally laughing loud enough that he is breathless for several moments. "We want a baby." He repeats. "And we want you to be the surrogate."

They -- "ah." Raha says, simply. They then proceed to scream into their hands.

After Raha has finished making a fool of himself, and Vaimet has finished laughing, and Dulna has sighed the last of her exasperated-if-fond sighs, the three properly sit down and plan how they are going to go about this. (Raha is awkward enough about it to make Vaimet laugh, and Dulna snicker at them, so even if Raha is horribly embarrassed the entire time, 'tis at least worth the smiles. And -- 'tis not as if the three of them have not seen each other naked, various times, between the damage from fights and needing to patch one another up or simply wishing to forgo the heavy layers of clothing amidst summer heat, so it's really the point of the whole thing that has Raha so embarrassed to begin with.)

It's Dulna that shall bear the child, they decide -- well. Vaimet and Dulna decide. Raha is mostly happy to be included, after he has eventually gotten over the awkwardness (as much as he ever will, at least). Vaimet is captain of the guard and presumed to be the same as any ordinary man by those who do not know him well enough, and Dulna is willing enough to take some time off from the regular guard rotation, once the pregnancy gets into its later months.

(Raha is still embarassed the entire time, but -- they do feel so very honored, that Dulna and Vaimet would trust them with something like this. And happy, of course, always happy to spend time with the both of them, individually or together.)

Time passes. The general public assumes that Dulna's child is Vaimet's -- and why should they not? 'Tis not as if there is anything to say otherwise. (And 'tis not like there is any stigma or judgement against those like Vaimet -- but Vaimet is older than a fair few of the Crystarium's citizens, by now, and values his privacy just as much as the Exarch does.) For the ease of avoiding any rumors, the Exarch does hope that the child will resemble Dulna more. (Raha hopes that his own Viera blood, however much of it there is, will shine through and hide any traits that would suggest a Mystel parent. Better for all their privacy if the child looks naught but Viis.)

Dulna and Vaimet toss about possible names for the child, through the months, but Vaimet is insistent that Raha should get a say, as well. Dulna reminds them that Raha will be involved in the child's upbringing regardless -- as if Raha would forget that. In the end, 'tis Vaimet's idea for the child to take the latter half of Dulna's name, for Raha's idea to name them Lyna. Dulna, smirking victoriously, declares that she does not care for whatever the gossipmongers may think, so long as their child (their child, claiming Raha as Lyna's parent just as much as Vaimet and Dulna are, and it makes a fragile little warmth bloom in Raha's chest) grows up happy, and loved, and cared for.

"We can claim you're their grandfather." Vaimet jokes, one stormy day when all are in their dwellings -- a rare day, where the Light is not quite so blinding.

"And what would that accomplish?" Raha raised an eyebrow, curious. "I assume that Lyna will discover the truth eventually, if they are not raised knowing it." They wrinkle their nose at a sudden thought. "I certainly would not like it assumed that I am a parent to either of you."

Vaimet only shrugs. "Well, we don't want them calling you father in public." And that is the issue, isn't it. The masks, and the roles. As far as anyone knows -- as far as anyone can confirm, at any rate, which has to be good enough -- they are simply Vaimet and Dulna, happily wed couple expecting their first child, employed as heads of the Crystarium guard, and the Crystal Exarch, kind but distant from all, a mysterious mage who's face and name is unknown to all. "Besides, you have taken time to interact with the other orphans and various children -- you've enough grandfatherly airs about you, when you want."

Before Raha can respond to that, Dulna cuts in. "We will figure it out when we get there." She declares. "For now, let us just enjoy the rest, hm?"

And so the time continues to pass. (Vaimet, Dulna, and Raha work on that idea, some -- the Exarch most certainly can put a grandfatherly aura about him, when he wants. Vaimet near laughs himself sick at it, and Raha can't help but join in. The many orphans, certainly, are grateful for the attention from their so very respected Exarch, and the orphanage caretakers, and the Settlement Council, are glad for their own brief respite from work as the Exarch takes time to care for the children for some hours out of a week, every now and then.)

(Raha worries, as the months go by, about what Lyna would inherent from them. If they would inherit anything at all. Would they get the curve of his nose? The pale shade of his skin, so unlike Dulna's deep reddish brown? Would Lyna get the red of Raha's hair, or the upward slant of their eyes? Would they get Raha's own full lips, or would they take after Dulna with thinner ones? Would there be any Allagan blood made present, in Lyna? Would their eyes be the one thing to mark them as being Raha's?)

It is another stormy day, when the child is finally born. Vaimet paces circles in the small washroom they had absconded to, the three of them, muttering under his breath, while Raha's hand is held in Dulna's white-knuckled grip. It is over rather more quickly than any of the three of them had expected, but it leaves them all exhausted -- nonetheless, there is nothing more memorable than the cries of a newborn infant.

Lyna's ears are clearly Viis, as is their short stub of a tail. Their skin is paler than Dulna's, but still a rich brown, and the downy fur on their ears and head is an off-white color, a pale echo of Dulna's near-black shade of purple. They sneeze, and open their eyes, and Raha can feel the breath leave his lungs. Lyna's eyes are a purple the color of Lakeland -- this, too, they did not inherit from him. Allag has no claim on them, despite his contribution to their parentage. There shall be no other sanguine-eyed individuals in Norvrandt, or on the entire First. Raha weeps, and they do not know if it is in loss or in relief.

[galacticsabc]

Found a fun little OC thingy on twitter and decided to do it with some ocs.

original

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Fireflies Over The Wall - Chapter 2

Relationship: The Bell Keeper & Meiri (Original character)

Summary: "The troll brought with herself, every night without a fault, a baby.

Every night, she placed it upon the grass, and pointed upwards, showing her baby the stars and constellations. Showing her baby the fireflies.

Holding it tight. Cuddling with it. Making sure it saw the beauty the world had to offer. He had never considered himself a sentimental man. Yet this image, for some reason, never failed to make him return home feeling something gaping and void inside of himself.

Every one of his former coworkers must have returned to their families.

Who would Edmund return to when he could work no more?

What would give him a reason to get out of bed when the fireflies were no longer enough?"

An OC's origin story as well as a Bell Keeper character study, because this character is much more fascinating than I'd been giving him credit for.

Notes: Title from ‘Enchanted’, by Taylor Swift

Chapter title: Walls of insincerity

Read it on ao3

Technically, if you were to follow all the rules, bell keepers were supposed to work their shifts without pause and then get longer periods of rest. But with the massive dismissal of keepers that had been happening, there were no longer enough of them to keep rotating their posts like they were supposed to, making it necessary for them to work two or even three shifts in sequence. The only saving grace in that situation was that, considering there wasn’t enough monitoring to keep them from having to work until they no longer felt like human beings, there was also not enough to stop them from taking breaks whenever they’d like.

What was the worst that was going to happen? A troll attack?

He had been on the job for over a decade, and he had never witnessed a single one. He couldn’t be blamed for his scepticism.

It was about eight in the evening, two hours after his shift had ended and the task had been passed over to, you guessed it, himself. But Edmund was getting hungry, so even though it was still early enough that a superior could very well pop up to check on his job, he couldn’t be arsed to care. So he climbed down from his post on one of the many ancient staircases that were hidden throughout the wall, walking towards his cabin while wondering what he could possibly get to eat. He’d been working since the early morning, so it wasn’t like he’d had time to cook for himself, and despite his lack of interest, he wasn’t incompetent; it wouldn’t be safe to leave his post for so long, even if only considering his own financial stability. 

He could make a sandwich, as always. But was there even stuff to make a sandwich with at his house? He’d have to check that out. Even worse, he’d probably have to bring himself to go to the market come morning.

Not that he had any great plans for anything else to do with his free time. 

The night was quiet; it usually was, around those parts. Kids showed up during the day to play, sometimes. The local scouts went near the wall for certain activities. Couples came for romantic picnics somewhere secluded. But when the sun left, so did the noise. It was just the wind on the trees, the cicadas, and his old reliable boots on the grass. No one wanted to be near their one line of defence when it was most likely to be attacked, which served him just well. He didn’t feel like being around most people either.

The air was cool and crisp in his lungs. There had been a bit of rain earlier, so the scent of wet soil still lingered pleasantly. Few lamps were installed along the wall, just enough so that he could see the outline of his cabin and the trees.

And the silhouette of something small scaling the wall.

As soon as he noticed it, his hand went inside his coat to grab the flashlight he kept with himself at all times. He didn’t instantly flash it; if it were an animal, or a magical creature, he could frighten it into attacking him. Instead, he first asked, loud enough that he could be sure he would be heard.

“Who’s there?”

Whatever it was, it didn’t answer, only stilled its movements. He then turned on his light but kept it pointing towards the ground, and began his approach in as calmly of a manner he could.

The figure was humanoid, but far too small. He wondered if it could be a nisse. He sure had never heard of elves being that big, and hadn’t gotten his hands on the proper paperwork yet, anyway. Maybe it was some sort of magic construct, one of those creatures Kaisa would tell him about and he’d pretend not to believe in so he could sleep peacefully.

Slowly, he dragged his beam of light all the way from the floor to the creature. Its gaze had been directed straight at him, so he could immediately see its face when he got there.

Ugh, even worse.

It was a child.

“Hey!” Came the impressively offended interjection, as if she wasn’t the one practically invading Trolberg City property. “Put that down, that’s not nice!”

He did as he was told, because yeah, that was fair. Nobody wanted light straight at their face. But he was also amused because her voice sounded like if she knew how to swear, he’d be hearing some very nasty words leave her mouth. He could respect that. But he didn’t budge an inch and kept lighting the lower side of the girl’s body.

Her little body was hanging on to the vines that grew over the door to his belltower, a surprising show of strength for someone who looked so young, especially since she was holding on with only one hand. He could see the other one reaching up above her head. What for, he hadn’t the slightest idea. 

“What are you doing?” She didn’t answer for a good couple of seconds, but apparently decided it was something she had to do upon seeing his Patrol badge, not completely hidden by his garment. 

“I’m just trying to get a sprout of Simulium philia.”

He blinked, frowned, and debated whether he was being played a prank on. 

“Pardon?”

“Simulium philia. It attracts an insect, and there’s a sprout right over there.” She pointed to a spot above her head she couldn’t quite reach yet. “It’s not wrong to pick plants.”

It’s not wrong to pick plants. Not followed by an ‘is it, officer?’ or by a ‘right?’. Just stating her gods given right to scale the wall and grab a plant if she saw fit. It wasn’t like she was exactly wrong (he didn’t think so, at least. He may be from the Patrol but he only really learned the laws regarding his job), but it was still probably not what she should be doing at that moment.

He sighed, unwilling to deal with that situation. “Where are you parents, kid?”

“I’m an orphan.” She said with the bluntness and nonchalance of someone commenting on the weather.

“Well, then where is whoever is responsible for you?”

Poor person, he thought to himself in the moments of silence that followed his question. Except the moments began to stretch and stretch, and with his eyes now better adjusted he noticed that she was still looking at him, not like a deer in headlights, not like a child caught stealing cookies, but rather the way you look at an annoying coworker who just won’t stop talking and leave you alone. Clearly waiting for him to get tired and go away to leave her to her previous plans, without the slightest intention of answering that question.

Edmund let his head fall back and groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was tired and hungry and he hadn’t a drop of patience to deal with that right now. Had he been slightly less conscious, he would have just pretended he hadn’t seen the little wannabe monkey and kept on with his appealing evening of putting together something that could barely be called a sandwich and go back to his post. But, annoying or not, this was a child, alone in the middle of the night. He couldn’t in good conscience just leave her alone. And he apparently couldn’t make her cooperate either. 

His decision made, he walked closer to the girl (who seemed to have gotten back to her endeavour, hoping that ignoring him would make him go away) and stood on his tiptoes in order to grab the exact sprout she’d been on the verge of reaching.

“Hey!” She sounded less distressed this time, but no less murderous. “That’s mine!”

“Nope, it’s mine now. I caught it fair and square.”

As he kept on walking towards his cabin pretending to not pay a mind to her, he heard a solid thump as she let go of the vines and landed on her feet without a single huff or squeal to indicate any struggle with the jump. 

Creepy kid.

Then, just as expected, came the pitter patter of her feet behind him, having to take many more steps than he had for obvious reasons. He only stopped and looked back when he was already at his cabins’ steps and had opened his front door.

“I’m gonna get something to eat. Do you drink tea?”

She was standing much closer to him than he had calculated she would, but he kept his startlement internal. Her hands were inside the pocket of the dark green hoodie she wore, and she was glaring at him like he was one big inconvenience she did not want to deal with.

Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

“Not black.” Was all she said, through gritted teeth.

“Me neither.” What did she take him for? If he wanted something bitter and caffeinated he’d just drink coffee. “Come on.”

Although the fact that she reluctantly followed him into the cabin meant his plan had worked, it didn’t put him at ease at all; in fact, it may just make things worse. Certainly the girl had someone to teach her she should not, under any circumstances, accept to be taken by strange people into their homes?

“You can sit down if you feel like it.” He said, even though he didn’t pay enough attention to her to see if she’d done so or not. He went straight to his teapot and put it over the fire, walking then to his fridge to see what he had. 

Ham and watercress and three slices of bread - what were those doing in the fridge? - and not a thing more. It would have to do.

“You want some toast, kid?” He asked because really what use would he have for exactly one slice of bread, and because he wasn’t a troglodyte. If someone is in your house, you offer them food. That’s how it goes. 

He heard her scoff from behind him. “I’m not eating something you give me. I don’t know you.”

“That’s a great point you’re making right there.” He plugged his toaster on the outlet and put two slices in there. “Which brings me to the question of do you usually enter the houses of people you don’t know? You could get into big trouble, you know.”

“Obviously.” She did not seem to understand she’d been scolded. “But I want my plant. Just give it to me and I’ll go!”

Edmund turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning against his cooking counter. 

“Listen, kid- what’s yer name, actually?”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. Turns out she was still standing up; he could see her better now, in the lighting of his living room. Her skin was olive-toned, a shade darker than he’d previously thought; she had a hooked nose and very dark eyes and bags under them that looked genetic rather than a consequence of poor sleep. Her hair was just as dark and wild, although very short. He couldn’t tell if it was a result of the wind ruffling it up as she climbed or if it was just like that. 

“You were just complaining about me following you here. Why should I tell you my name if I don’t know you?”

“Fair enough.” He heard his toaster go off and turned around to spread butter on the bread. “Well, how old are you?”

“Can’t you tell?”

No, he couldn’t and he rationally couldn’t see a reason why he should be able to. He hadn’t interacted with a child in more years than he could count, instances when he had to make one or another stop damaging the wall with silly games and slash or bets notwithstanding, so his knowledge of developmental milestones was admittedly lacking. Her question sounded so judgemental that he felt like he was missing important information, though. From what he had seen, she had a full set of teeth and enough anger inside of herself to make her sound like a bitter retired elderly person, so… probably older than three?

“No.” Was what he said instead shooting his shot and failing miserably.

Being in the middle of his sandwich making process, he couldn’t see her shrug.

“Then it can’t be that important.” She answered, and that told him absolutely nothing other than she was still in that fantastic age where kids remained under the impression that adults knew everything. He was far too tired for this.

The kettle rang, and he placed satchets of herbal tea inside of two mugs - the only two mugs he had, in fact - and placed them on his wooden table. Sandwich already in hand, he sat down and pretended to not be watching whether or not she’d take a seat. Feigning nonchalance was what had gotten her to follow him to begin with. And also what had made Kaisa begin talking to him all those years ago, come to think of it. Maybe it had a similar effect on grumpy girls as pstpstpsting had on cats.

His meal tasted… well, he had food, he supposed he shouldn’t be complaining. It was a wonder, with how little housekeeping he did. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to cook, or to keep things in order. It was just that doing those things only to himself felt pointless. He could live very well just keeping things clean, who was he trying to impress? There was no point in dirtying his pots and pans and having to spend hours in the kitchen just so he could have an actual dish every day. He was fine with his sandwiches and deconstructed meals.

He was still thinking about this when he heard the chair directly in front of him scratch the floor and the girl sat down. The chair being too short for her, only up until her chin was visible from over the table. Continuing to apply that same tactic, Edmund didn’t look at her as the girl picked up her mug and took a sip.

“Lemongrass?” She asked and he hummed in assent, still chewing. 

“Sure you don’t want that toast?” He broke the silence they had fallen into to ask, when he was about halfway through the sandwich and she was still waiting for her tea to cool down enough to drink it properly. “See, I’m eating that same bread. It’s not poisoned.”

She was gazing around at his cabin when she answered.

“No, thank you. I already ate.”

Huh, look at that. She knew how to be polite. 

Maybe it happened when she was distracted enough. 

He kept eating and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. He had to go back to work (well, truly it wasn’t like he <em>had</em> to do it, the likelihood of something happening was very small, but he still wanted to keep this job) but he couldn’t just leave this random child inside his house. Which, considering she wouldn’t tell him where she came from, was looking like his only option. 

“What do you do?” She asked once he was done eating and they were now both nursing their mugs, showing the first bit of interest in him since they’d met. Though it was probably just to cut through the awkward silence.

“I am a bell keeper. I stand watch on a section of the wall and I ring the bell if anything is off.”

“And have you ever had to ring it?”

“Not really.”

She grimaced mockingly. “Sounds useless.”

And, sure, that was true, but why was everyone and their mother rubbing it in his face lately?

“Well, what do you do when you’re not stealing plants, young miss?”

“I go to school.” She didn’t miss a beat. “So I don’t have to become a cop when I grow up.”

Caught unarmed, he scrambled for something to say that wasn’t an utter lie or worse, a defence of the Patrol. Even in his most desperate hour he couldn’t resort to that.

“I’m very low ranking, as far as the Patrol’s hierarchy goes. I just pay attention to what’s going on and discourage anyone who wants to go outside the wall after hours.”

She gave him a look that was all raised eyebrows and tired smugness.

“Cop.”

He rolled his eyes and sat back, defeated. “Yeah, you know what, just keep on studying, kid.”

“So I don’t end up controlling people for a job?”

“I don’t control anyone!”

“Really?” She crossed her arms to mirror his stance. “Then why are you keeping me here?”

Oh. He’d walked right into that one.

“Because I can’t let a child go walking alone at night by herself!” 

“And instead I’m alone at night with a stranger. Great job!”

Letting his body slide down his chair a few inches, he groaned. Never had he wanted to go to work this badly. 

“Listen, kid. I’ll give you your plant. I just need you to give me the number of whoever you live with so I can call them to come pick you up. Or if you don’t trust whoever you live with or can’t call them for whatever reason, the number of an adult you do trust. It’s a win-win situation.”

By that time, the girl was already done with her lemongrass tea. She got up from her chair and, taking him by surprise, attempted to wash it.

“Leave it be.” He told her, essentially unnecessarily since she couldn’t reach the kitchenette’s sink, anyway. “I’ll wash them both later.”

“I don’t know their numbers.” She admitted, not sounding at all regretful of the fact. Her little hands now shoved back inside the hoodie’s pocket, she began wandering around his small living room, instantly attracted by the book shelves near his front door. He couldn’t imagine a single thing there that would appeal to a child, but she seemed to read their spines with care nonetheless. Anything was possible, though. After he’d heard her in all seriousness throw a scientific name into the conversation two seconds after having met her, Ed wouldn’t be willing to bet against her or her intelligence anytime soon.

“Well, listen, I need something. I can’t leave my post for long enough to drop you off at home, and you can’t stay here until morning.”

The girl didn’t even stop looking through his collection. “You can just give me my S. philia and let me go. I know the way.”

“You could get hurt.” 

“That’s not your problem.”

She didn’t sound accusing, or angry, or anything of the sort. Just slightly tired of that conversation and distracted by a book she was currently flipping through. He saw that it was his tree identification manual.

Edmund began rubbing his eyes with so much pressure that he could see purple and blue blotches behind his eyelids, in that characteristic manner we all know we’re not supposed to but still do when we’re too tired. His tea had grown cold. The girl apparently decided to sit down on his sofa and read his book. She had a point, mind you. It wasn’t his problem, and whoever was in charge of her should have either established clear rules or made sure they were implemented. Because for all that he had no clue what at what age children did what, he was certain someone as young as the child in front of him should not be going out by themselves this late.

He was beginning to seriously consider taking a sleeping mat back to his post so she could sleep while he was at work to be delivered at the end of his shift. That’s the level of clueless he was. But then something extremely rare happened.

His doorbell rang.

Edmund’s stomach dropped, his first thought being that out of all days the Patrol had chosen this one to guarantee that the keepers were all doing their jobs accordingly. The best case scenario would be a coworker having somehow noticed he wasn’t at his post and coming to ask him about it, in which case he could probably either bribe or blackmail them into not snitching on him. But then he’d still have to explain the child to them.

The reality, it turned out, was all the opposite of that.

“Good evening, sir.” Said a lithe blond man as soon as the door was opened, in what looked to Edmund like office clothing, though neither it nor the person himself were very well put together. He looked worried and out of sorts, and had the laboured breathing of someone who had been running. “Sorry for the disturbance, but would you happen to have seen a child around these parts?”

It just so happened that the spot the girl was in wasn’t one the man would be able to see from where he was standing. Intrigued,  Edmund crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, further obscuring the view of the side of the house she was in.

“A child?”

“Yes, sir.” Edmund had thought he was tired. This guy, though, he looked like he was having an even worse evening. “I work at Saint Anne’s orphanage. One of our little girls escaped again today. She’s six, short black hair, was wearing her green hoodie and black leggings when she was last seen. Does that ring a bell?”

“Hold on.” He couldn’t see or hear her, but something told him she was greatly amused by the situation. At least he had gotten answers for two of his questions already. “Again? The hell do you mean ‘again’? How hard can it be to keep a kid that young from escaping?”

It was as if he had triggered war flashbacks on the younger man. 

“Very.” He answered, and with the amount of feeling behind that one word, Edmund was even moved to believe him. “Meiri is a good girl, but she gets terribly bored inside the orphanage after school. So she learned how to sneak out and nothing we do seemed to stop her. In the end we stopped fighting it and just gave her instructions on how to keep safe. But she always comes back by sunset, so when we realised she was still out we began searching for her. No luck since.”

Edmund hummed, taking in that information. He then asked, without sounding like he was actually waiting for permission. 

“Would you give me a minute to grab my coat? I’ll help you go looking for her.”

And then he closed the door before he could hear any arguments, which the man looked like he wanted to make.

He turned back to the girl, who was watching him, looking disinterested. He wondered if she was using his own tactic of faking it.

“Six, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She let some surprise show through her face when he approached her and crouched down, so that he’d be nearer to her level, sitting on his sofa as she currently was.

“Can you go with him? Is he good to you?”

The girl seemed surprised at the question, even more surprised that he’d even ask.

“Terry? Yeah, he’s okay. He’s one of our caretakers.”

Edmund nodded and got up, taking one last look at her to guarantee that she looked like she was being sincere before turning around and going back to the counter that served as his kitchen.

“Then please go put him out of his misery. I’ll get your plant ready to go, you open the door for him.”

For a couple of seconds, the girl remained still, looking between the book, Edmund and the door repeatedly. Eventually, whatever she’d been thinking about faded away and she sighed, getting up to get the door. As soon as she’d opened it, the man let out a gasp that sounded more terrified than relieved.

“Meiri!” He tried to pick her up, but she took a step back to move away. The message was clear enough and he didn’t make another attempt. “Where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere!”

Before the girl could open her mouth, Edmund chimed in.

“My fault, pal. Saw her around on her own at night and thought there must be something off for a kid so young to be all alone after hours, so I made her come here. We were figuring out how to make contact with you people when you knocked.”

Though he didn’t see it, being too busy thoroughly washing a former pickle jar he’d emptied this morning, Meiri’s gaze locked on his back with a frown. Wondering why he’d downplay her lack of collaboration when he’d get nothing for it.

“Oh! I understand. Thank you.”  

The Terry person didn’t sound too thankful, understandably so since he’d probably cost them extra time of worry and searching, but just enough that Edmund knew all was well. He then began trying to get the girl to thank him as well, which amused the bell keeper to no end, since he’d been around her for less than an entire hour and already considered it a futile endeavour. True to that impression, she’d only said ‘I won’t’ the first time she was asked to express her gratitude and remained silent as a tomb when he continued insisting.

“It’s okay, mate. She didn’t wanna come anyway.”

Edmund walked towards them with the now completely clean jar and the sprout, which he’d kept in his most spacious pocket, now inside it.

“There ya go.” He leaned down to hand it to her. “Simulation philosophy. Was it worth it?”

Just as he had expected, she glared at him something violent. But funnily enough, her eyes didn’t quite have the fire that they had before. 

“Simulium philia. It was.”

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I have to go back to my post.”

He paid the caretaker no mind as the man attempted to bid a polite goodbye, instead going around the house to turn off all the lights. The man gave up when Edmund only answered with ‘yeah, sure’s, and began heading back the way he came with the little girl in tow. 

After having put his house moderately to sorts and closed his front door, Edmund drew his coat’s hood over his head, ready to climb back up to his favourite spot on the wall and forget about the weird approximate half an hour he’d had. When he was about to do so, though, his feet on the front steps of his house, he saw that the two of them were still within eyesight as they walked away in the direction of the city centre. And that the girl, who immediately avoided his gaze and went back to facing forwards upon being caught, had been looking directly back at him.

He chuckled, putting his hands inside his coat’s pockets, and went back to work.

[jerseyartblog]

I hope the light will shine upon the journey ahead I promise that our strength will overcome all our weakness And each step you take on the road to the future Is yet another win for the brave and fearless . = w = ) / Just some personal art! Tied to recent thoughts about writing, and getting critique, and how it's easy to bottle up words and entire stories and just not let them out for fear of rejection or failure, but also sharing your work is a leap forward? Something like that--just let those darlings go and see where they land!

[shadebloopnik]

***

"Do the voice! Do the voice!"

Hunter chuckles at the other's enthusiasm, and raises his 'weapon' at an invisible foe.

"What's about to happen should be relatively painless, if you just do what I say."

Philia giggles once more clapping her hands as she looked up to the older boy from her seat.

"Again! Again!"

The 9 year old beamed, before getting back into pose, replacing the shy grin with a cocky smirk. He quickly moved around, twirling the dry mop around as though it were his staff, and attacking invisible criminals with all the mastery of his training routines. Complete with scripted monologues.

If he added a bit of flourish and dramatic spins for the cheering 3 year old, then that was only for him to know.

"That's so cool! Cant wait till you're Golden Guard, Hunter!", Philiana beamed, having cheered at every single spin that her brother(no no, Hunter said to stop using that word) Guard did.

"Me too! And do you know what I'd get when I become the Golden Guard?"

"What?"

"You see your father's staff?"

The little girl let out a dramatic gasp, eyes so bright and genuine in its surprise that it was all Hunter could do not to burst out laughing.

"No!"

"Yes! I'm going to inherit one just like it!"

"No way! Das so cool!!!"

Philiana smiled bright, stars in her eyes as she listened to her br-guard gush about all the things he'd do as the Golden Guard.

"And you can leave the castle??"

"Yes! For missions!"

"Woww!! Can't wait until I can do that too!"

The boy's smile tightened as he watched her, stars in her eyes as she gushed about how cool it would be to go outside. He knew how much she loved the idea of going outside.

Philiana had never stepped out of the castle, same as him. She was barely allowed to leave her room. Her room was spacious, and furnished with a lot of pretty things, yes, but it was.....lonely. Being a tiny little girl in such a big room wasn't as fun as some might think. She could only ever talk to Hunter and her father. She's never spoken to any of the many servants in the castle, even when serving her food, no one really interacted with her.

Hunter knew, and understood it. He too, though he loathed to admit, felt....lonely, during the first few years; had entertained terrible thoughts of sneaking out. He knows she wants to see new things, but...

"Our family is targeted by wild witches, Hunter. If they ever find my daughter, well. I don't wish to imagine how they might use her to hurt me."

Hunter doesn't want to think about it either. He doesn't even wanna imagine it. His uncle said that wild witches would jump at the opportunity to hurt a young and vulnerable girl like Philiana. Would they take her hostage? Put her up for ransom? Sell her at the night market and have wild witches use her as a potion ingredient?!?!

No. No Hunter would never let that happen.

"Protect her with your life."

He will.

"Leaving the castle, right. Philia, its-"

A knock on the door cut off his sentence, and he quickly, he turned to deposit the mop back to its place.

Philia had stood up too, brushing off her dress and immediately fixing her messy hair with practiced efficiency. In mere seconds, she went from a messy toddler, to the poise and grace of a princess. A toddler princess, but still.

'Father likes neat kids best.', she thought to herself. Hunter told her that once.

She turner as Hunter handed her her mask, a simple silver with two sharp eye holes and a smooth gem on the forehead. She put it on just as Hunter put on his scout mask, standing straight as Hunter opened the door.

"The Emperor ordered to have these delivered."

Hunter opened the box and it was filled with...more tiny toys....great.

The girl simply nodded, she knows better than to make a fuss, and Hunter put it down.

"Also, your trainer demands your presence.", the scout spoke, gaze trained on the younger boy. "You are to head to the private training hall. Immediately."

"Of course. I'll be on my way."

Hunter turned back to Philia, his mask and formal posturing hiding the small grimace at having their meet up cut short. She doesn't say it, but Hunter knows she didn't like it when he left. To think he'll be even busier as the Golden Guard....

"Excuse me, Princess."

Philia simply nodded, and both scouts left, shutting the door with a far too loud thud that echoed across the large room. Philia took of the mask, eyes sadly trailing the door, before turning to her small desk by the window. She shouldn't be sad. Father and Hunter are always busy. She knew that. She just wished she could do something else.... Maybe, someday.

She sniffled, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath.(Father doesn't like it when she cries. She shouldn't make a fuss.)

Yeah...someday..

[thecorporatemind]

[selvnite]

Philia ✦ Cleric of Selûne, Light Domain ✦ Acolyte

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! i'd made sure to read through your pinned posts before asking this, so i hope it's not come up already, but how do you feel about characters (esp in anime) who have dark/tan skin and white (usually straight) hair? I've seen a pattern of it with a few characters, in particular the character of Noe in The Case Study of Vanitas and Miriko in My Hero, and was wondering if you'd have any thoughts on these sort of designs!

Thank you for your time, and if you've answered something like this before/don't feel comfortable with the question, please lmk!

Well, you said you read through my stuff first, so I'm sure you can guess a little on what I'm gonna say. I actually have a redesign of Miriko AND Noe, my pretty boy. Gave them both afro textures and rounder noses. Personally, I'd feel less annoyed by it if they gave the characters textured hair and made them unambiguously Black 🤣

Jokes aside. The issue is that for the many artists that give their characters this design, they're doing it because they think it "looks prettier" than what regular Black people look like. They're not actually doing it with the intent that "this is my Black character", it's "this is my character with brown paint bucket". Hell, every time I see Miriko in fan art, she gets lighter and lighter.

And while yeah, I enjoy unnatural colors on Black characters, if you never draw Black characters unless they... Don't have Black features... 😐😐 We have a problem! We may need to check our biases to determine if we feel lesser about Black features! Why did you do it? Is there an in story reason for your character to have these particular features that we're less likely to have? (For example, my OC Philia's eyes are green because they're supposed to reflect her (white) father's. He's supposed to be looking into the mirror of his own soul, his own life, when he looks at her. It's for storytelling and symbolism. I didn't just do it because I thought she'd look "better" with them.)

Your Black characters shouldn't have to have light eyes or straight blonde or white hair to be deemed "cool enough to include". Black features are not a monolith, there's an infinite number of ways we can look. If none of those are somehow pretty or good enough for you... Again, we may need to check our racist and colorist biases.

[tododeku-or-bust]

✨On her Papa-

✨On her hood-

✨Phi looks fly-

✨Phi looks good-

Reference under:

[mothysmenagerie]

BOMI!!! 💖🥰😘💞😍😩🌸✨😭

Fun fact, when I was crawling around in the bushes taking these pictures, one of my elderly neighbors (who I know because our doggies are friends, so we have become friendly as well) caught me and was like "... What are you doing?" I was like "Well, I collect dolls, so I'm just getting some pictures while these flowers are in bloom." Tee hee, completely innocent! 😇 In my head however, I was cursing the fact that I had to bring an angel philia doll of all dolls with their sexy anatomy (in a sheer dress no less!) to run into my elderly friend. 😅

She loved my doll though, and was very interested in her, asking about her clothes and how many I had so on and so forth. She was really tickled that you can change her hair and eyes, and applauded me for finding such a pretty place to take pictures of her. It was all in all a very sweet interaction. 🥰

... I'm just glad she didn't ask to hold her and stayed far enough away that she wasn't subjugated to doll boob. 🤣

[starwarsalltypesoflove]

SW - ALL TYPES OF LOVE WEEK

INFO

Star Wars: All Types of Love week is a fandom event of fancreations, lasting a week, that celebrates love in its many forms! Since we celebrate romantic love and familial love often, we thought it might be time to give an opportunity for other kinds of love to shine!

Inspired by the Ancient Greek Philosophers and their seven kinds of love, we aim to showcase those different, less celebrated loves. Rooting for the little guys!

HOW TO PARTICIPATE

No sign-up, nothing. Just create!!!

Post during the appropriate week and you’re good!

We welcome any kind of creation, as long as it is truly yours. Even old posts being reblogged is fine! Old creations deserve as much love as new ones.

Fanfics, fanarts, moodboards, fanvids, fancomics, banners, playlists… An epic fic or a 100 word drabble, an amazing painting or a stick figures funny scene- we love it all!!

WHEN TO POST

Wednesday 7th of February, 00h00 PST, to Wednesday 14th of February, 23h59 PST.

HOW TO POST

Post under the tag SWATOLW during the week the event is running. Add the tag of the type of love you are representing. 

Be sure to @ us so we can appreciate what you’ve made and put it in the round-up!

WHAT TO POST

Star Wars characters, places, animals, games… Be it from the movies, the novels, the comics, the shows like The Clone Wars, The Mandalorian, Andor or even your own OC, the important parts are:

It must be from the Star Wars fandom

It must be about Love and that love must be not romantic or familial

To get a better idea of what we mean by that, you can read more about the seven types of love here. In short, we want to give a chance to shine to:

Love of Friends #philia

Love of Strangers #agape

Love of Partners #pragma

Love of Players #ludus

Love of Self #philautia

You can post about any of these, at any time of the week. There isn’t a day assigned to each type. The point is to create without pressure and celebrate all the types of love we don’t often focus on! The more of these you depict, the more we will love you for it!

QUESTIONS

“I love my two clones who are bffs, but they are clones. Does their love count as familial?”

Well, the truth rather depends on your point of view how you present it.

Pairs like Fives and Echo, and Rex and Cody, are usually understood in canon and fandom to be family. They can be friends too, but we’d prefer to focus on other pairs for this event. Post another time. We’re sure people will love it.

Alpha-17 and Cody have a cross-generational friendship? As long as the way their relationship is described/shown isn’t the dynamic of big brother & younger brother, or father figure & son figure, it’s good!

Want to show off Waxer & Boil being two peas in a pod? We would love that! As long as it isn’t a ship or they, the characters, don’t feel like the other is kin in the way we understand it.

“I want to show my two Mandalorians who are Partners In Bounty Hunting, but they are from the same clan. Does this work?”

No. I’m sorry, but it does not. We consider clan to be the SW equivalent of immediate family, a close circle, so it’s not the right event for this. But it does work if they are just from the same house or faction!

“Can I do two Jedi who are teammates and lovers?”

You can show any characters (two, three, four…) having a relationship that is sexual and based on love. As long as that love is not romantic.

If what moves your Jedi is the sense of purpose found in duty, the common love for the Light and the wider galaxy, the playfulness and affection shared between bed partners, these feelings can be as big as the moon, and it is still fine!

That is the whole point!

Feelings can be enormous and serious and important and still not be romantic or familial.

But if it’s shown or implied that the relationship is romantic/familial or turning so at some point, that is not what our event is focused on.

We know people are a bit tired from the holidays and that Valentine’s Day is a period often rich with events, which is why we put these conditions so it can be as low-pressure as possible. The point is to rejoice in all the breadth and the richness of the human sentient experience of love. In the love of Star Wars. And in the love of this community.

Be civil and show goodwill to participants and spectators. Be kind. YKINMKATO. Go crazy! Be creative! Have fun!

Love!

@swfandomevents

[cer-rata]

I did it, I finished the fic.

Cover by the amazing @nicodrawings

It's 109k and fully complete, welcome to my oc's first cursed, sappy adventure.

"Heart of Gotham"

Fandom: Detective Comics

Rating: T M

Summary:

Conrad Bishop thinks he knows who he is: A nerd, a goof, a coward. But heartbreak comes along to destroy that version of him. As he shatters, an alien ring decides that the depth of his pain has the potential to forge him into a potent Star Sapphire. While grief may be a devastatingly powerful form of love, can he survive on it alone? Maybe not. But it’s what he thinks deserves.

Everyone thinks they know who Damian Wayne is: A prince, a pariah, a hero. The truth is worse. No one thinks he’s easy to love, and he agrees. It’s fine. He doesn’t need it, he’s got duty and a body to spend in service of it until there’s nothing left to hate. But sometimes? Sometimes he wonders if that’s all he can be.

By chance they share the same science class, and--for better or worse--that's all it takes to send them on a path that neither of them would have ever dared to consider.

Love conquers all.

...Maybe

Excerpt:

Damian started changing out of his uniform and Conrad awkwardly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” Damian grunted as he unclasped and slid his tunic off.

“Well, you used the ring to save me, right? But you know...the whole bit is that if you want to heal someone you have to…uh. You'd…you'd have to love--"

“Philia.” Damian cut in quickly.

“Did…did you--was that a slur?”

“…No! Philia is the Greek concept of love between friends. That’s what the ring was pulling from.” It was mostly true. It was mostly philia. Mostly.

Conrad considered that for a moment, then beamed. “Oh. Oh! So you admit it? You think we’re friends?”

Damian finished pulling a hoodie on and turned to squint at him. “How are you this stupid.”

“Oh my god you do!”

“If you’re like this for the entire ride back, there is a high likelihood that I will change my--oh come on!” Damian complained fruitlessly as he had to endure yet another hug. “I should have let you bleed out.” He hissed, and Conrad just laughed.

“I love you too, buddy.”

A tip of the hat:

Before I get into anything else, again the cover and reference sheet were done by the amazing @nicodrawings. She's terrific, professional, easy to work with (and I am ANNOYING), and I think the quality speaks for itself. Her art is tremendous and her covers are maybe the highest quality I've seen from an indie artist.

And those colors.

Her commissions are open right now and she's making a fan comic that looks so cool, and she does all this other cool stuff. Check her out, okay?

Concepts, Themes, and Character Focus

The core questions I wanted to ask were:

"Can two broken people ever be good for each other?"

"Can you actually move past the pain of loss?"

"How do you love someone?"

I love Lantern lore, and Star Sapphires specifically. Maybe too much

I was fascinated by a Corps that represented love but was usually fueled by despair and anguish instead, and wielded one of the harder to control colors of the Emotional Spectrum. So I decided to create one from scratch and place them in Earth's most notorious tragedy factory: Gotham City.

Conrad is shamelessly emotional and ruled by his affections, and was like that even before the ring. The only son of a pair of Haitian immigrants, Conrad grew up feeling very loved, and even his parents terrible handling of his attempt to come out wasn't enough to shake that. But his parents never really pushed him, and his easy-going nature meant he didn't develop a lot of self determination. Then he suffers an incredibly traumatizing loss, and suddenly his carefully laid carpet of normalcy and avoidance is torn up to reveal some structural problems underneath.

Damian is emotional and ruled by his affections, and is a little ashamed of it. He also felt loved when he was growing up, but unlike Conrad, much of the love he received was in the form of praise for his success, which had the unfortunate effect of making him seek approval in ways that were often unhelpful, most often to himself. He's tried so hard, and done so much work to be a better person, and he's even accumulated a group of peers who adore him. But he's still lonely, has trouble accepting his own progress, and the guilt he carries making new connections difficult.

Everyone is a couple of years older than they are in canon, which I did to make the content more appropriate, and also so I could play with the ambiguity of those three undocumented years, and hand wave away some of the more...uncharitable parts of canon without having to rewrite everything. This is Damian still on his early Rebirth character track, before the many resets to his character development. He's still harsh and somewhat antisocial, but he's also older, more mellow, and has worked through a couple of things. He's settled enough to allow for some honest introspection.

I didn't initially plan for this to be a love story, but their internal conflicts were complimentary and their deepest wishes slotted together so neatly that the direction felt natural. They cover many of each other's weaknesses and blind spots, while making some of their other hangups worse.

The romance isn't even the critical part really, it's just the way they end up expressing emotional intimacy. They are friends first, and that's what holds everything together. It's all about them showing up for each other in ways that are sometimes difficult, and the fact that they always will, regardless of whether they're in a relationship or not.

It's an awkward, intense, teen relationship, and it's not always a good thing for either of them--even before factoring in cosmic super weapons and secret identities.

Also, there are... a lot of cameos and odd side characters.

[ankiebitez]

DUDEEEEEEEE im excited for this new character ngl hes pretty and literally has the same philia i gave my oc judith (i just didn't know the technical term lmao)

depending on if i like this character it would be a cool idea to write something with both of them since they're both into humiliation. only time will tell i still have requests 😭