#night time reblob

[dog-ending]

More details:

They'd probably end up being between 6-8ish inches tall shelf sitters similar to these*

that i made for friends last year, except better and not on a 3 day time crunch

details like horns, wings, spots/stripes, manes would be fine, along with minor changes like ear size/shape. clothes negotiable but would cost more.

*made with someone else's animal crossing pattern that i ended up HATING as far as actually sewing went, so they wouldnt be exactly like that

who'd be interested in getting a cheap (im thinking $25 plus shipping) plushie commision from me in the future?

i wanna start pattern testing my own designs once i get my sewing space unpacked but it gets boring doing the same blank plushie form over and over, so doing someone else's pets or fursonas or furry/creature ocs would be a fun way to mix it up

theyd be made of felt and pretty small to keep costs down so pretty much display-only pieces, and i couldnt guarantee exact color matching without having to charge extra for dye

[kemendin]

Update - Chapters III-V

Reaching // Remnants // Rescue

Jedi Knight Caspian Serapis is at last reunited with his missing crewmates, Kira Carsen and Lord Scourge, when the two make an unexpected appearance on Corellia to rescue him from the wreckage of the Meridian Complex. As Cas recovers and reconnects with his companions in the quiet aftermath of the battle, it isn’t just his own long-lost yearnings that are pushed to light. Now, after so many years apart, both Cas and Scourge must decide - does the path ahead lie again in their curious bond as allies, or as something more?

MAIN POST | Read from the beginning

Read on AO3 (short excerpt below cut)

Far, far below, at the base of the spire, a bulky, grey-armoured figure hurtles past squads of Republic troops towards the entrance. The soldiers are too startled to do more than fumble with their weapons as the blaze of a scarlet lightsaber flashes past, too disoriented to do more than stare after him and wonder at the idea that they have, somehow, just escaped the wrath of an obvious Sith.

An auburn-haired Jedi is in swift pursuit; but oddly, her double lightsaber is sheathed on her belt, and she makes no move to attack. Her only gestures are frantic flappings of her hands, motioning for anyone nearby to get back, out of the way of the Sith now charging into the body of the spire.

“He won’t hurt you! Let him through, just let him through!”

She is partially correct. The Republic soldiers, the CorSec forces, the Green Jedi - they are not his enemies, and he won’t hurt them - unless they stand in his way.

His chest heaving, his lungs seared with smoke, Scourge barrels out of the corridor linking to the monorail and into the spire’s core. His senses are flinching under the barrage of warning slamming at him through the Force. For three hundred years, he had felt it with the clarity of someone reaching through a sheet of transparisteel - muted, yet immediate, the luxury of drawing on its energies without fearing to be overcome by it. But now there is no such barrier, and the Force is driving at him, churning through his emotions like boots losing their purchase in the mud of a battlefield. Telling him that he must go faster, that there is danger, and he cannot afford to falter for even an instant -

The screech of collapsing metal assaults him the moment he’s inside. He is forced to pull up sharply and dive out of the way as a twisted length of durasteel crashes down near the entrance. Rolling to his feet, he jerks a wild glance upward - and his heart stops.

An immense piece of broken machinery is plummeting from the height of the spire, accompanied by an array of structural debris. And falling in the midst of it all, small and fragile and frighteningly limp, like a child’s toy cast away by an uncaring hand -

“CASPIAN!”

There’s no time to move, no time to act, no time to do anything except bellow the Jedi’s name, before the echoes are lost in the devastating impact of the generator as it crashes into the bottom floor of the spire.

Even within his hastily erected Force shield, Scourge is driven back into the nearest wall as the resulting shockwave slams into him. Smaller, still-significant chunks of the Meridian Complex rain down, crushing a dozen or more unlucky individuals not quick enough to get away. 

The entire structure of the spire trembles violently around Scourge as he struggles to regain his footing. The air is thickening again with smoke, even as the fire suppression systems tamp down on the flames sputtering within the wreckage.

“CASPIAN!” he howls again, clawing at the wall behind him for balance, his throat and his chest tearing as one.

[deludedfantasy]

Thanks to @pancake-breakfast for tagging me!

Without further ado, one song for each letter of my username (sourced entirely from my liked songs on Spotify)...

D - Demolition Lovers by My Chemical Romance

e - Expo '86 by Death Cab for Cutie

l - Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves

u - Unknown/Nth by Hozier

d - Dog Days are Over by Florence + the Machine

e - Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks

d - Don't Leave Me (Ne me quitte pas) by Regina Spektor

f - Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

a - Add It Up by Violent Femmes

n - The Night We Met by Lord Huron

t - TOMBI by Kvi Baba

a - all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish

s - Song for Clay (Disappear Here) by Bloc Party

y - You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves

A very random assortment of some of the stuff I listen to! I tend to listen to the same thing over and over again and have a hard time getting into new music so I'm actually really happy I only had to repeat an artist once.

Technically, part of this game seems to be tagging as many people as you did letters but uh...not sure I know 14 people I can tag XD Instead I'll tag: @makima-s-most-smile, @alena-reblobs, @lizkreates, @galaxyprince, and @vamp-bites

[drabsyo]

Hey! Just wanted to let you know that I started writing the fanfiction after making a brief script for it. Here is the link so you can keep up with it: https://www.wattpad.com/1396897802-veela-louve-a-fleurmione-fanfiction-introduction

I'll make the first official chapter soon, but please send your thoughts and I shall consider them! You're on of my favorite artists and I would love to hear from you! Have a nice day/night!

AAAAAAAAAAAA THAT'S AMAZING!!!! I don't have a wattpad account, but I'll be happy to share my thoughts from time to time or just scream wildly in the comments. I just love seeing art turned into fic, it's one of my absolute favorite things about fandom culture 🥹❤️ IT'S A HUGE HONOR! (In case you're on ao3, I'm on ao3 too)

And thank you, you don't know how much that means to me! Much love! I hope you're having a lovely day too. When you do post it, feel free to send links here if you want, so I can reblob and scream about it :> absolutely no pressure though!! ❤️

[theloveinc]

Because he has all these new, still-healing scars across his skin, puffy and pinkish divots you’ve never seen on him before, and by god, have you seen him before.

And though he’s not any taller, he feels such with a tired scrunch to his eyes and that famous scowl of his, deeper now with more prominent smile lines (you can only hope he was smiling out on the field)… looking down at you and leaning further and further into your space until your realize—oh, he just wants a kiss. And you give him one, then another on the corner of his mouth, then another on his cheek, smoothing back his bangs when he sighs into your ear in place of verbalizing his longing.

And Bakugo links two fingers with yours on the walk through the airport, insisting that he still roll his own luggage despite the arduous trip he’s just been through. You want to ask if he’d like a little space for himself, but it’s hard to utter with the feel of his body pressing into your hip and the way you catch him staring at you every time you peak over to give him a little smile.

It’s almost feels like he’s a different man that first hour. Though he’s not different so much as aged, and you can feel it: not in his voice (because there’s no one in the car park for him to yell at) but his difference in form, stature, appearance. He’s no longer as lithe and toned like when he left, but stocky and tense with a thickness to his muscles you don’t remember ever causing such a bulging to his clothing, or waves of something hot and sharp to tickle between your thighs.

And it’s hard to admit you love it, and want to see more of it, especially when Bakugo looks at you like he just wants to go to bed, leaning back in the passenger seat of your car only to pull you in to kiss him one more time before you need to start the engine.

I also like the idea of Bakugo coming home from a long, overseas mission only for you to be surprised when you meet him at the airport cuz he’s twice as beefy and four times more scary looking.

[thirddeadlysin]

it's almost summer so it's (way past!!!!!) time to put a springsteen song with immaculate vibes on my daily playlist

reblob for an unmanageable list of suggestions? 😅

here have a mini soul kiss gif

[365-days-of-taylor-swift]

365 days of Taylor Swift

Dear fellow swifties!

The eras tour in the US is coming to an end and for a lot of international swifties like myself, there is still a long wait before she performs in our countries...

So in order to pass the time, my cousin and I decided to come up with a little challenge, to answer a taylor swift related question every day until then. Every month has its own theme in order to mix things up a little bit! 💖

So I'm posting the challenges/questions on here in case any other swifties wanted to participate in the fun! 🤗

I will be updating the masterpost everyday with the links to the respective polls/questions, which will each be opened for a week (by the end of which I'll be posting an update with the results). Everyone is welcome to catch up with past questions by reblobbing the closed polls with their own comments.

If anyone likes this challenge but doesn't want to wait for the links each day, I'd love for you guys to either tag me in your posts or use the "#365 days of TSwift" tag to share your thoughts and opinions on the questions!

So far I have questions planned out until the end of 2023 so in case anyone has some fun ideas for the rest of the remaining time, I'm happy to take suggestions! :D

Themes planned for the months so far:

August: "We're on our eras era"

aka "share your love and maybe some controversial opinions on each of Taylors albums"

💚💛💜❤️💟🖤💗🤍🧡💙

Day 1: What's your favourite debut song?

September: ✨Lost in the memories of my mind✨

aka How do you personally connect to Taylors music?

Yes, I am aware of the irony of not using this theme for August but shush

October: 👗It feels like the perfect night to dress up as hipsters 👗

aka all about her iconic looks on the red carpet, tours, music videos etc

November: 🎶The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me 🎶

aka "What are your favourite lyrics or parts of certain songs in particular, etc..:"

[calandrinon]

I'm strangely chuffed that AC/DC have such a huge reach. I mean they may only have one song but it's an absolute banger (and there are not enough bagpipes in rock music)

Queen on the other hand absolutely deserve to top the list. Everyone goes on about Bohemian Rhapsody but The Prophet's Song is an utter masterpiece and I will stan it until I perish. All the drama and vocal harmonies and soaring guitars and Freddie Mercury doing a three-part round with himself! Do yourself a favour and get into it.

(And there are also not enough songs about relativistic time dilation in rock music. Or science fiction space folk.)

The Most Listened to Classic Rock Artist in Every Country

[al13n-fr34k]

for that ask agme u reblob like 2 days agow vewibrug: normal, unspeakable brutality, science, heat death of the universe and ofc.. GLITTERRRRRRRRRRR!!!

-yes I am so Normal,I'm super normal,I really totally don't actually make random noises to represent how I feel or want to say when I struggle and don't repeat things 24/7 ! (Lying)

- warning I will start automatically info dumping you things from my hyperfixiations-

- ....Bin...IM TOXIC WASTE- NOOOOO- /j

- wah-? Huh? How tf did them glasses get here?-

-As much as I truly luv glitter....do not actually put it in someone's eyes,it hurts like hell (it's happened to me,multiple times!)

Have a nice day/night Bin! :D

[fangirleaconmigo]

Are you taking requests actually? I want to know if Jaskier ever or often patches up geralt’s wounds

ETA: CORRECTION! THANK YOU ANON. PLEASE REBLOB THIS ONE FOLKS.

Hi Elsa! So here I am apologizing again to a tumblr fren for how long I take. But I really do open a gdoc and pick away at these for months. Hopefully they are worth the wait.

So. Here is your next installment of ...

I Can't Believe It's Not Fanon: facts that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are in fact, book canon.

'Bandaging each other up' edition.

In Geraskier fic, the ‘’bandaging each other up” trope is wildly popular. That just makes sense. Geralt has a dangerous job + we all want them to show each other care and tenderness. Restrained yearning while touching is a great combo.

Now, is it book canon? (drumroll please)

Yes folks. It's canon.

They both patch each other up at least once that is mentioned. The time Geralt bandages Dandelion is much more dramatic so I'll focus there first:

Geralt does patch Dandelion up. And while it isn’t just like fanon (there are no kisses) it is an incredibly pivotal moment for Geralt. Seeing Dandelion get hurt and put at risk, fucks Geralt up so badly that it leads to one of the most iconic scenes in the series. It also portrays one of my most beloved tropes of all time. I will get into all that.

 Also, as a bonus, the way their friends react to Dandelion’s (relatively) minor injury, is so fucking funny and cute. There is this fanon going around, (I saw a post I can’t find now) where Jaskier gets minorly injured and the wolves fuss over him and make a big deal over his bravery. XD It’s very cute. 

And actually.

That is canon. Only instead of the wolves, it’s the hansa. (For the uninitiated, the hansa is an iconic group of friends who wander the continent through a war hellscape with Geralt to help him find Ciri)

Ok *clears throat* here is what happens when Dandelion is injured. I talked about this part a bit in my “Geralt being extremely protective of Dandelion” post, but I have something new to say about it, I promise.

So, in Baptism of Fire, Geralt and Dandelion are on the same horse, fleeing an enemy. They are in a clearing, and are trying to make it to a forest for tree cover. Geralt is riding in front, and Dandelion is holding onto Geralt for dear life in the back. If they are caught and overpowered, it would mean certain death. In that context, here is how Dandelion is injured:

When hope dawned that they might just make it, the night air suddenly sang with a whistle of fletchings. Dandelion yelled, this time very loudly indeed, and dug his fingers into Geralt’s sides. The Witcher felt something warm dripping onto his neck.

Uh oh. Bard down. What does Geralt do?

“Hold on!” he shouted, catching the poet by the elbow and drawing him closer to his own back. “Hold on Dandelion!”

So first, he draws Dandelion closer, hoping he can cling to his back. And how does Dandelion react? Well, Dandelion has been hurt before, when the djinn got him. But that was magical. There was no blood involved. No one has ever made him bleed his own blood before. So, he panics.

“They’ve killed me!” the poet howled, impressively loudly for a dead man. “I’m bleeding! I’m dying!”

The tongue in cheek humor is one of the hallmarks of the witcher books. But yeah. The poor guy utterly panics. They almost make it into the cover of some woods when Dandelion pitches backwards off the horse.

The poet thudded onto the dirt and lay still, groaning pathetically. His head and left shoulder were covered in blood, and glistened black in the moonlight. 

Now, this part I've discussed. The next part is where we see how it makes Geralt feel to see Dandelion harmed like that. 

The witcher sprang up, feeling a swelling wave of cold fury and hatred inside him...he wanted to kill.

Seeing Dandelion attacked makes him feel cold fury and homicidal rage. So he faces their pursuers and kills the leading rider in a grotesque way, by way of a blade into his open mouth up to the hilt. (Geralt is an intense motherfucker when you hurt someone he loves) Then he goes back to his friend.

“Dandelion! Where were you hit? Where is the arrow?”

“In my head, it’s stuck in my head.”

“Don’t talk nonsense! Bloody hell, you were lucky. It only grazed you.”

“I’m bleeding...”

Dandelion has never been shot before, so he thinks the pain means the arrow is stuck in his head. Geralt is massively relieved. And then Geralt does something that we do see a lot in fanon.

Geralt removed his jerkin and tore off a shirtsleeve. The point of the quarrel had caught Dandelion above the ear, leaving a nasty looking gash extending to his temple. The poet kept bringing his shaking hand up to the wound and then looking at the blood, which was profusely spattering his hand and cuffs. His eyes were vacant.

So Geralt takes off his own jerkin so he can get to his shirtsleeve and he tears his own clothing to get ready to bandage Dandelion. Dandelion is in shock. His eyes are vacant.

And here’s the part that really gets me.

The witcher realized he was dealing with a person who, for the first time in his life, had been wounded and was in pain. Who, for the first time was seeing his own blood in such quantities.

Now, again, Dandelion was horrifically wounded by the djinn. But it was magical and he was cured. But this is the first time he is bleeding from a wound. And to me it is so crucial that this is the thought that Geralt has. Despite the fact that he’s closer to a hundred years old than fifty, and has been injured countless times, he never loses sight of the fact that his friend doesn’t have the same experience of physical suffering that he does. (I’ll come back to that). Now. Back to the story.

“Get up,” he said, wrapping the shirtsleeve quickly and clumsily around the troubadour’s head. “It’s nothing, Dandelion. It’s only a scratch. Get up, we have to get out of here fast.”

So Geralt wraps up his wound. But since they are in the middle of a battle zone and he is emotional, it is quick and clumsy and he's trying to calm him. And now he needs to get him to safety.

Dandelion managed to get up, but immediately sat down again, groaned and sobbed pitifully. The witcher lifted him to his feet, shook him back to consciousness and hauled him into the saddle. 

Geralt mounted behind the wounded poet and spurred the horse east...

So, he reassures him, rips his own clothes to bandage him and he tosses him on the horse for safety. Now they ride off to find their friends, and now Geralt is behind him, holding him up.

Now, we get back to the hansa. If you don’t know hansa, there is Milva, who I have profiled here. She is a very tough archer who has been through a lot of shit and can beat your ass. There is Cahir, (nothing like tv Cahir) who used to be a soldier. So. Also a warrior. And we have Regis, a several centuries old vampire who can go from genteel to deadly in the blink of an eye. (we don’t have Angouleme yet). I'd be willing to wager that Dandelion is the baddest ass poet on the continent. But compared to Geralt and the other members of the hansa, he is a soft squishy little wet kitten, and they rarely let him forget it.

When Geralt reunites with them, Regis bandages up Dandelion with a real bandage. Regis is a barber/surgeon and very good at field medicine. 

And the way Regis talks to Dandelion is so sweet. Like, there is an inherent ridiculousness but to me it is so goddamn touching. Here he is treating him:

“Be brave, Dandelion.”

Dandelion was brave.

“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion., you’ll be right as rain. The wound is just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around your head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound. Unlike an abdominal wound for instance. Liver all cut up, kidneys and guts mangled, stomach contents and faeces pouring out, peritonitis...Right, that’s done.”

It is so comedic how he talks to a grown man like a child but it's genuinely touching to me because there is real compassion in it. They may have suffered far worse (Regis has been quite literally torn apart), but they still are so proud of him for dealing with his wound. Also, he knows to appeal to two of Dandelion’s biggest priorities; good poetry and impressing women. 

Then, we really see the emotional effects of Geralt seeing Dandelion injured like that. 

Right after this happens, Geralt tries to drive his friends away. He says his mission (they are trying to find Ciri in a war zone) is too dangerous for them. He gives his “I’m going it alone now, you can all leave” speech. Dandelion has no intention of leaving him and sasses the fuck out of him, shading him in a very accurate way, as he does.

“It only concerns you,” Dandelion repeated slowly. “You don’t need anybody. Company impedes you and slows down your journey. You don’t expect help from anybody and you have no intention of relying on anybody. Furthermore, you love solitude. Have I forgotten anything?”

And Geralt’s response shows us how badly Dandelion’s injury had him fucked up. He replies to Dandelion:

“Had that arrow passed an inch to the right, you idiot, the rooks would be pecking out your eyes now. You’re a poet and you’ve got an imagination; so try imagining a scene like that...”

That arrow, that close call on Dandelion's life really shook Geralt. Though he always worried about them, Dandelion’s injury was the inciting event for him to try to push away his friends in order to protect them. But of course no one leaves him. They make him sit down and chop vegetables for the iconic fish stew scene. Ok, now back to the ‘everyone is proud of Dandelion for his injury’ trope.

The group reunites with Zoltan Chivay, their dwarf friend, and he shouts and embraces Dandelion. 

“Dandelion, alive and kicking, even if your skull is bandaged! And what do you say, you bloody busker, about this latest melodramatic banality? Life, it turns out, isn’t poetry! And do you know why? Because it’s so resistant to criticism!”

I love how all of these warrior/soldier/badass types love to tease him about being a poet. It’s the kind of teasing that shows affection and indicates that they consider him part of their group, even though his gifts are different than theirs. Then later, Milva talks about how she misjudged Dandelion and how he is a hero.

“I saw how Dandelion puts on a brave face: but thought him weak, soft, not used to hardship. I was just waiting for him to give up and we’d have to offload him...Now just look: Dandelion’s the hero...”

But of course, Dandelion cannot just be cool about the attention he’s getting. He has to make ballads about himself.

Dandelion followed behind Regis and Geralt on Pegasus, with a bandaged head and a warlike mien. As he rode, the poet composed a heroic ballad...the song clearly implied that the author and performer had been the bravest of the brave during the adventures.

The man just cannot. Be. Cool. About it. But I think it’s cute they all let him preen and they don't tell him to stfu about a damn grazing of the head. XD That's true friendship. True love.

So, can I tell you about what really really gets me about that bit though? 

Geralt, our main character, has been abused and traumatized in every way imaginable. He has been tortured, assaulted, discriminated against, experimented on, beat to shit, and people are always trying to kill him. 

In my experience, people who are traumatized can sometimes resent people who have had an easier life. They can begrudge other people their comparative innocence, freedom, or ignorance. It’s human. It happens. 

So when there is a fictional character (Geralt) who is that traumatized, and they meet someone comparatively sheltered (Dandelion has been beaten for sure, but it's hard to compete with Geralt's experience with harrowing violence), and instead of resenting that person, their instinctive emotional reaction is an undying, almost pathological determination to protect the more sheltered person, that gets to me. It hits me directly where I live.

The compassion and empathy it takes to have a wound like a crater and instead of begrudging other people their relative safety, you dedicate your life to preventing them from getting a scratch, that is profound. And when I see it in a fictional character, I fall in love with them. That’s it. I just hand them my heart. It also sort of implies to me a sense of vulnerability. An instinctive desire for healing. When you can heal someone else and it makes you feel good, isn’t that like wanting healing for yourself? It makes me ache.

Girl help, I’m in my feelings again about Geralt of Rivia.

Dandelion helps Geralt Sew His Wounds

Now, the fanon of Jaskier patching up Geralt is not on the page in book canon. He must have helps him with smaller injuries from time to time, just by sheer necessity given how many years they travel together. And while he hates murder and gore, I imagine he can handle small wounds. But that isn’t on the page.

CORRECTION: AND IT IS ON THE PAGE.

Thanks to a lovely reader/observant anon who reminded me AND hunted down the passage, it is mentioned at least once that Dandelion helps Geralt with suturing a wound. In Sword of Destiny p227:

" Just before the girl arrived, Geralt had poured a coagulating elixir on his mutilated forearm, and boosted it with an anaesthetic elixer, and Essi had caught them just as he and Dandelion were suturing the wound using a fishing line tied to a hook."

Now, other times, when Geralt is very probably-would-have-been mortally wounded (after the striga, or after the redacted), Jaskier is not physically present, and once someone else helps Geralt because they are much better equipped to do so. On the page, it is always usually women who put Geralt back together: priestesses, sorceresses, or dryad healers. 

The women in Geralt’s life challenge him in various ways, and their respect is sometimes hard earned. But they are always there when he needs them. They are all powerful or learned healers. And Yennefer specifically tries to think of his health. She indirectly pressures people to pay Geralt more for jobs so he has more of wages for medical expenses. It is touching, AND really important how it places Geralt and witchers as part of the working class.

Dandelion constantly defends Geralt. Geralt is his specialest boye. But he never bandages Geralt in the books. And he also canonically helps him suture his wounds.

So, this one is 50/50. Half canon half fanon. It's canon, folks.

ALSO, that story, (A Little Sacrifice, which is a short story in Sword of Destiny) is PEAK domestic Geraskier/Gerlion. They pool their money and get in brawls together, and they share a bed and clothing. They also philosophize, psychoanalyze each other, bicker, and swear not to leave each other when they get into trouble out on a hunt. If you don't want to, or can't read the books, I recommend that one short story.

The "male gaze" is heavy (most people's critique of The Witcher books is very true) in that story. The mermaids breasts are described at least twice every time she makes an appearance. But the story IS really fucking delightful and you get so much insight into Geralt and his friendship with Dandelion is in top form. Also, I adore Essi, and she is in that story.

Anyway, thanks again to the eagle eyed anon. I usually try to qualify "that is not in the books" with "that I remember" since my brain is so fallible. But I really thought I would have noticed something like that! Goes to show.

And I think it's HYSTERICAL that the ONE time I write that Gerlion DON'T entirely behave like they're in a fanfic, is the time that I'm wrong XD.

[skaldingrayne]

✨Coën ✨: book!Coën vs TWN!Coen

(Sorry for the repost y'all. Because I replied to the original ask in good faith the first time around, when that person didn't like my answers and blocked me - and then waded thru the list of folks that interacted with me and some other folks that disagreed with them and blocked all *them* as well - it locked rebagel'ing for some of the folks who wanted to share the Coën Facts™. So here it is again on it's own, so those of you that said you wanted to reblob it now can)

[redacted] Here you go, as requested:

1) book!Coën is not a Wolf witcher || TWN has said there is only one school in their canon (Kaer Morhen) and TWN!Coen wears a Wolf medallion

2) book!Coën's first winter at KM was Ciri's as well, he was also an outsider like her || TWN! Coen is (again) already part of the wolf school which kind of makes him just another of the witchers around her

3) book!Coën "was young, apparently the same age as Lambert" according to Triss in BoE - who is relatively young herself (Jaskier is possibly older than she is), so i doubt she'd be calling someone over a century-old "young" || in Netflix's NotW Geralt is the youngest and - as there is only one school - TWN! Coen would have to have been at least old enough to be a full witcher out on the Path at the time of the attack, making him even older than Geralt who's already over a hundred come S2

4) book!Coën did not bully Ciri || TWN! Coen did - a century old monster slayer, and he’s spending his winter helping Lambert bully a human kid

5) book!Coën did not dance with sexworkers brought to KM and then intentionally drugged past being able to remember anything about the night || TWN!Coen did

6) book!Coën "had unusually pale, yellow-green irises and the whites of his eyes, riddled with red threads" (BoE) || TWN!Coën has heterochromia. Now this might be a visual design choice to make that difference in eye mutations between him and the other witchers obvious, or it might be related to Atour saying he had an eye injury when he was young. But because of the nature of witcher mutations, TWN!Coen's non-mutated eye is functionally different than a mere cosmetic choice - it would mean that at the very least his eyes have differing visual levels (which would cause issues on it's own) or could even be a sign of some level of vision loss. And as someone who's had minor vision loss before and has family who's suffered major, I can report back that such a thing does indeed make a difference in one's life

7) book!Coën spells his name with an ë || TWN!Coen has been anglicized to remove the ë, kind of like how some of my ancestors were forced to change their names to not sound too “foreign” when they immigrated to America. To be clear this is not “just removing the umlauts”, it makes it an entirely different letter and is a purposeful misspelling which is generally considered rude to do to a person of another language/culture. It would be like changing Yennefer to Jennefer or Ciri to Siri - it’s not the same name (alright, admittedly this is just a personal annoyance than a true character change, but it’s still rude. names & culture are important)

8) book!Coën had the awesome teaching/foreshadowing moment with Ciri about even the best of fencers all winding up in the same place/in cemeteries || TWN!Coen did not get to have that teaching moment because the line was given to Geralt

All together, these seem like major differences to me though - both physically, in his personality, and in his backstory. So much so that they feel like totally different characters. TWN!Coen doesn't feel to me like someone who's going to march off to Brenna, for instance. So while Atour remains my face claim for Coën, when I write him it's the book character who gives him life. When I read him, I want more personality and backstory than TWN saw fit to give him. Otherwise he's just another Aiden really - which can be fun, but only if I'm in the mood for an OC

When you said "there was no other clarification of 'book canon Coën' besides that tag" - except that tag is on a whole entire fic which would presumably provide the clarification you're asking for, right? If you don't want to read that fic, that's fair. Walk away. But to *not* check your evidence before you go jump online and impugn someone who's just helping readers looking for more book-personality Coën?…Like I said, seems like it says far more about you than it does the writer

Are you upset that people are canon blending characters (as you mention with Triss), or are you upset that people are trying to specify which canon they are using instead of just blending (the whole Coën/Coen thing that started this mess)?

Now as to your tags:

IDK, when I see someone specifically described as pale, I tend to assume that's because everyone else *isn't* (see: Earthsea)

I DO in fact think it's a leap to assume Sapkowski intended the characters to be default anything because a) it’s not just some sort of fantasy Poland - he said they came from all over in a different world and b) there's no such thing as "default white" any more than there is any other kind of “default skin tone.” Look, Western Europe and Eastern Europe have A History, the countries within those regions have A History, the regions within those countries have A History, and to write it all off as "white" so as to conveniently ignore all the cultural/economic/political/historical/social differences that shape them seems as reductivist as lumping people from Spain/Mexico/Puerto Rico/Cuba/Columbia/Peru together as just “those Spanish speaking countries”. You seem like the kind of person interested in doing better and trying to promote diversity, so these comments were pretty surprising TBH

Sapkowski is an old *Polish* guy - which means he grew up in a country absolutely obliterated by the Nazis, lived through communism and revolution, watched his country and people rebuild. And then - at the age of 38, which um...is not actually that old? - he wrote the start of what would become an amazing series of books about power and politics and race and oppression and marginalized groups all dressed up as fantasy so people would read it. I do not know why you would demean his age or culture instead of celebrating it, especially as you otherwise seem to enjoy these books written by an "old white guy" *about* an "old white guy"?

(Coming soon: more on ✨Coën✨ & Implicit Bias...)

[darabeatha]

I WANNA RAMBLE MORE ABOUT THE REST AND A LIL MORE ON C.AMAZOTZ AND O.ZY BUT MY TAGS GOT CUT AAAAA so dont mind me if i continue this on a diff post later okok

@darabeatha said (inbox):

Shi i'm politely asking for any ideas you have for ozy with any of my muses (be them individually or those that are her on my multi) and/or anything u have in ur writting wishlist that u u want to write and/or explore with ozy because I want to throw someone at him or more of my muses at u but I also have no idea who to send nor from where to start🤲

[SEND ALL YOUR MUSES. ALL OF THEM. IDC WHO THEY ARE SEND THEM MY WAY. But ahem, I do have some ideas, not a lot, but some. Like for Camazotz, I just like that he and Ozy are quite literally opposites in all regards. He is ornery and is bound to the night due to the nature of what he is, and Ozy is the oppressive heat and gentle warmth of the sun all in one. He’s bright, he’s vibrant and wants to be seen while Camazotz prefers to be left to his devices in relative peace (like most bats fjkdshfds). It’s interesting! Like there’s no big idea there but the dichotomy is intriguing. Wouldn’t it be neat if Ozy was a god too and they’ve known one another since forever? Wouldn’t it be neat---

But ANYWAYS for Odysseus, I can imagine Ozy wanting to challenge him with the bow one day because of how good he is with it. He wants to know if Odysseus has that competitive spirit in there and wants to see it brought to light. Probably casually attempts to make it come forward whenever he gets the chance because Odysseus is just so serious. It’s so funny to Ozy and idek why. He feels if he made a joke around him, he’d furrow his brows and spend forever trying to figure it out the same way Arjuna thought about when he had winked at him all day. But also, on more quieter days when he’s feeling less mischievous, he’d probably ask him what it’s like to be on the sea and why he enjoys it so much. Mainly because Ozy himself can’t comprehend why anyone would set sail on it as it partially intimidates him.

FOR NITONITO he’d probably want to do more mundane things with her – or things he deems mundane. The truth of the matter is that Nitocris’ big sister vibe isn’t one-sided. He genuinely, deep down, looks at her as a sibling in a way as well. However, that isn’t something that he would bring to light and still approaches things with her with her as his ‘retainer’, but he’s forever thinking about her well-being. I think he’d just like to sit and talk to her sometimes. Not as a king and their retainer or pharaoh to pharaoh, but just as Nitocris and Ozymandias.

Tezcatlipoca comes across as oddly shady to Ozy and he would like to figure out what lies beneath that divine surface. Sometimes you can forget he’s a god because of his personality, but that is pretty much the case with a lot of Divine turned Servants in Chaldea so that’s not too surprising to him. Regardless of what the Throne has bestowed him information wise on Tez, he is interested in knowing what else is there. His reasons for being in that building, his reasons for allowing himself to be summoned, his reasons for deciding to stick around at all---

DAYBITTTTTT. So like, I really like the idea of Daybit summoning Ozy. I imagine that their relationship wouldn’t be a giant mess since Ozy bores easily and Daybit just isn’t boring to him. At like all. He’s a giant enigma and he loves giant enigmas. He likes taking people apart, finding out what makes them tick and then whether he’s still interested from there leaves much to be desired. But the fact that Daybit isn’t sneaky and is very blunt is a giant bonus as he doesn’t like sneaky people. He can tolerate them if goals align, but if someone attempts to do anything to him like issue a command with those seals, ect., they are dead unless they force him to end his own life first. He would just like taking that breather, I think, and knowing that his Master is so -gestures-

CONSTANTINE FOR KING ADVENTURES. He’s such a polar opposite of Ozy that it’s just so funny.

FSJKDHFKSD THESE ARE JUST SOME STUFF. I don’t want to go on and on since this is like going over 700 words but U GET IT. Give me all the adventures. Toss Duryo at me. Toss Caenus, that ultra shady x 100 Oberon, Morgan --- The list is endless. If you ever want continue something you send in my inbox, then let’s go! Want to just send an occasional thing and built from there? My jam. Send a meme and go from that for further interactions? A-OK---]

[so-this-is-my-blog-i-guess]

So. I haven’t really been here much at all. And now my queue is down to 15 posts. And since I have 14,000+ posts in my drafts, I’ll be reloading my queue soon.

My life has been hectic crazy, and I don’t really have the energy for any of this. Within the last month, my officially ex husband (as of last May. We had the court date on the phone because of the pandemic.) has gotten an apartment and moved out.

Within the last week, my house is in contract. I never even had to list it. A neighbor’s relative wanted to be here, and he asked if I would want to sell. So that was easy. Now I have to downsize and buy a house for me and the cats. I’ve officially reached “cat lady” status. So I’m looking for a place with windows they can look out of and have room to run and play while having room for all my stuff... which has to be sorted through (as I’ve been doing over the past several years... but now it’s go time).

Built this place in 1994, and moved in just in time for my son to start kindergarten. This is all bittersweet. This had been my dream house. My son grew up here. But it’s too big, and I just can’t do stairs as easily as I once had. Ranch time it is. The roughest part of doing this is the realization that my son doesn’t want any of my stuff. He feels that it’s all useless, and he’d toss it all in a dumpster. So. I’m packing things as “things I still need” and “things I’ll have to sort through” over the next few years.

It’s amazing how many clothes I’ve saved since the 1980s with the idea that some day I’ll be able to fit into again. I’ll never wear a size 4 ever again. smh. I’ll be lucky to get into a medium... if.

I’m overwhelmed. Physically and mentally. But I’ve always done my best work when I’m near the deadline. And that’s certainly approaching. Fast. I think tomorrow I’ll be boxing up my sheet music, metronomes, and piano light so I can have that done. That’s a relatively easy goal for tomorrow. Maybe if I get truly motivated, I’ll attempt to organize my cassettes. Then that part of the living room will be done, and I’ll have accomplished something. Reasonable. *sigh*

The anniversary of my son’s accident was the other day. We didn’t talk about it. But today he was reminiscing about a friend who he’d last seen when they were doing shots just hours before his accident. Long story short, my kid went to a St Patrick’s Day parade/bar crawl eight years ago. He was being responsible by taking the train there and not driving. But while he and his friend were walking back to the train to go home, they were hit by an suv. His friend had a couple of scratches and a concussion but otherwise was pretty much okay. My son, on the other hand, well, he went through the windshield head first. Literally knocked out of his boots. Ripped his knee up pretty badly. Concussion with possible other issues. He wasn’t good. But thankfully he’s still here. He knows he is lucky. The anniversary of a hellish night. I was sitting where I’m sitting right now when I got the call from the police that he was at the trauma center. I don’t take anything for granted anymore.

And where I’m sitting right now is where my dear Patrick, my 23 year old Maine Coon, passed in my arms about twenty years ago. But there’s good memories in this place, too. Life’s just going to be a lot different now. It’s strange being alone in this house. I keep thinking that I can’t make noise or I’ll wake someone. I’d probably just disturb the cats, but it’s nearing time for their 3am zoomies... and they’re up.

I should sleep soon.

tl;dr Just complaining. Don’t mind me. Goodnight, y’all.

(Please do not reblob.)

[digimonascending]

Digimon Chasm Episode 30 - Silent Night, is now out on the site, dA and FF.net.

It's The Super Shiny Happy Funtime Extra-Length Happy Chasm Chrimbo Special. Only happy fun times here. Only cute warm fuzzies. I've even put in penguins for you.

Chapter links in reblob

[bigasswritingmagnet]

When History Comes Calling ch 2/14

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken  captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to  make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high,  and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But  when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel,  the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the  thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember  what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes!

belated and special thanks to @reblob-blob for beta-ing, and @snuffes @thehumantrampoline for their assistance <3

---

His plan had been sound - find the largest assortment of refugees in the safest location. Keep a low profile. Get the lay of the land in the world outside batarian space. He remembered the Citadel being touted as a beacon of safety and civil obedience, but after 15 years in his… particular profession, Vondur had learned that there was always a seedy underbelly. Sure, he was going to have to start from scratch, but with his skills it wouldn’t take long to rebuild his reputation. 

In practice, though. 

In practice, it was hundreds of shipping crates stacked on top of each other, the smell of unwashed bodies and dirty laundry, a constant jumble of voices crying and shouting and arguing, bright lights glaring down like spotlights. Guards at the exits, eyes suspicious and watchful; dull-eyed bureaucrats processing the new comers without sympathy or interest.

It felt like the slave pens. 

He found a dark corner out of sight of the main crush of people. It looked out over one of the Citdael’s arms, the orange city glow dotted with spots of black where the power was lost or the buildings crushed to rubble -- the night sky turned inside out. He wrapped his hands around the railing and tried to find the moment. 

It was a technique his very first instructor had taught him, and one that he had come to rely on heavily. Ignore the past, ignore the future, ignore even the present. By the time you acknowledge the present it is already the past. Find the moment you are in. The breath in your lungs, the beating of your heart. The feeling of cold metal warming against his palms, the light reflecting off passing ships lighting up the insides of his eyelids...

The feelings that the present was stirring up - old fear, nausea, memories of being helpless and alone -- all faded, leaving him clear headed and calm once more. 

When Vondur opened his eyes, the world had righted itself. He was still here, but now he could think. And he could notice, consciously, the person coming up behind him. He’d been aware of their presence, but only by instinct. Now he could analyze the clues he’d picked up -- perfume, the rustle of clothing, the weight of the tread -- and know not to attack the civilian human female coming up behind him. 

“Excuse me?” 

He pretended to be surprised when he turned. The human gave him a shy smile. She was small, about five foot even, with her blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Younger than he’d been expecting - maybe 16 at the most. Either fashion hadn’t changed in the last 15 years, or the colonies were more fashion forward than he remembered them being, because her clothes would have been considered retro when he was her age. 

Most interesting, however, was the lanyard around her neck. From here he could see the word ‘volunteer’ in big orange letters on the ID card that hung from it. 

“Hi there! My name is Sarah. I’m a volunteer for the Citadel Refugee Project. I help new arrivals get settled in after they’re processed.” 

Her words had the patter of a memorized script, but suddenly she hesitated. 

“So, um, I’m not sure if anyone told you-- and I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but I’ve been seeing a lot of them and-- I thought, if it was me I’d want someone to make sure I knew-- I just-- it’s just that I--” 

“It’s okay,” he said, giving her a casual, nonthreatening tilt of the head. 

She straightened up and cleared her throat, and didn’t quite meet his eyes when she said “administration can get you in touch with a doctor who can deactivate and remove batarian control devices.”   

Vondur, having only just righted himself,was once more knocked off course into a whirl of unpleasant memories.

Like all slaves, Vondur had received the implant when he was first captured. At first, he had been constantly aware of it, perpetually afraid that any bump or electric shock would set it off. As the years passed it had become normal, a part of him the same way his biotic implant was. Filomet never had cause to threaten him with it, let alone put it to use. Most of the time, Vondur didn’t think of it at all. 

Vondur reached up a hand and touched the back of his head. In the soft place at the base of his skull was his implant. Just above it, a thick ridge of scar tissue that did not completely hide the small, hard lump of the device.  

Remove it? 

Why shouldn’t he? He was a free man, now. Able to choose his own path. He would never need to answer to anyone else ever again. Yes, he’d planned to keep up his… profession, but now they would be his jobs, his choices. The payment would be entirely his, not whatever sliver of a percentage Filomet felt generous - or frightened - enough to pass his way. 

He could choose who he would kill. 

Sarah was looking up at him nervously. He did a mental check of his expression - impassive, neutral, displaying no trace of the shock she’d given him. Good. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice as level as ever. “I would like to see the doctor.”

 Sarah said she would walk him to the office -- a handful of desks -- located in one of the courtyards -- the squares of space the shipping containers opened into. It was staffed by actual employees of the CRP. They managed identification paperwork, locating families, finding temporary housing, medical support, ensured steady supply delivery, and in general jumped the bureaucratic hoops Citadel administration demanded be jumped.  These were the souls who actually solved the problems, Sarah said. 

“The Citadel set up the camps and they send food down but they don’t really care. They spend more time making sure nobody gets into the rest of the station than they do helping people.” Her voice held a heavy bitterness that surprised him; the kind that came from experience. 

“You’re a refugee,” he said, and she gave him an awkward half smile and a one-shoulder shrug.

“Yeah. I mean, I was. I guess I’m technically a citizen of the Citadel now. But I came in on one of the shuttles. I made a lot of friends down here, and I knew what it was like. It didn’t feel right to just… leave and never come back” 

“Understandable,” said Vondur, who didn’t understand at all. He had made friends - or at least bonded - with some of the other slaves in the pens. When Filomet had taken him away, Vondur had not looked back. He wanted to get as far away from that part of his life as possible. 

I did help them, he thought, irrationally defensive, I saved them in the arena. I stopped Filomet from using bait slaves. There was nothing else I could have done. It’s not like slaves can buy slaves, or free them. I needed to focus on survival. There's nothing wrong with that.

Sarah was still talking. She was, it seemed, quite the chatterbox. And very… peppy. 

“It’s not so bad down here. Especially now the war is over. The Reapers were kind of a major bummer, y’know?” She flashed him a grin. 

‘Major bummer’. Billions dead, worlds destroyed, your understanding of galactic history and your place in it completely upended… 

“Mmhmm,” he said. 

“They do holiday celebrations, and you can go to virtual classes- oh, and we have vid nights now. You should definitely submit a suggestion, because they’ve played Fleet and Flotilla like a billion times. What kind of vids do you like?” 

Vondur floundered for an answer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched an actual film. It would have been on Mindoir, but he couldn’t think of a single title, couldn’t even remember what kinds of vids he used to watch. 

“I don’t watch a lot of vids,” he said. That was a legitimate response, right? Plenty of people out there didn't watch vids.

“Oh. Well what do you like to do?” 

This one was even worse, because Vondur did have answers, and not a single one of them was something he could say to this girl. He liked working on upgrades for his sniper rifle. He liked to spar and train to improve his skills in killing people. He liked to practice shooting. 

He liked to work. Not to kill. But everything up to that point, the challenge of it, the rush of adrenaline. There was, in his heart, a grim satisfaction in a difficult task completed.  

“I like to read,” he said, lamely. Desperate to change the direction of the conversation, he said "And you?"

“I love vids. I want to make my own when I’m older. I especially like the classic stuff. Did you know the Blasto vids are based on a human series from the 1970s? It’s called Dirty Harry; you should check it out. Blasto wishes he could be that cool.” 

“Definitely,” he said, wondering what the hell a Blasto was. An argument broke out ahead of them, catching Vondur’s attention. And oh, by the glorious Pillars of Strength, there was a familiar face in the crowd. 

Vondur stopped suddenly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I think I see someone I know.”

Sarah beamed up at him. 

“Of course! I’m so glad for you! I’ll see you around-- wait! I forgot to ask you your name!” 

“Thomas,” Vondur said. He'd chosen the name as one that was average and inconspicuous, but not too average or inconspicuous. Then, because it was a thing he remembered people said, added “Call me Tom.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Tom,” she said, and stuck out her hand. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing, but just a moment. He shook it, and gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile. It wasn’t a very big one. 

“Same to you.” 

He waited until he was sure she wasn’t going to stick around to watch, and headed for the group of arguing batarians. They’d lowered their voices, but their body language told him they were barely holding on to their tempers. They were too busy to notice his approach, and Vondur liked that just fine. 

It was so much more fun this way.

“Hello Ukarem,” he said, and watched the batarian go rigid. Very, very slowly the batarian turned and looked up at him. Vondur felt no small satisfaction seeing all four eyes go wide with stark terror. 

“Vondur,” he rasped. 

“Isn’t this a funny coincidence. Glad to see you made it to safety.” 

The batarian opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strangled groan. Vondur glanced at the other batarians. He didn’t know them, but from the looks on their faces, they knew him. 

He put a hand on Ukarem’s shoulder, dug his fingers in. He could feel the batarian trembling. 

“Let’s take a walk. I’d love to hear all about it.” 

“But…” one of the other batarians tried, braver than the rest. Vondur looked at him, focusing his entire attention on the lone soul who dared. Holding eye contact, Vondur tilted his head back ever so slightly. You are so beneath me, so little a threat, the movement said, that I do not need all four eyes to watch you. 

It didn’t matter that Vondur didn’t have another pair; body language was body language, and Vondur knew how to send a message. 

The batarians edged backwards, and Vondur steered Ukarem away. 

They walked in silence for a minute or so, as Vondur led them to a less crowded area. 

“I have money,” Ukarem said. 

“That’s good,” Vondur said, mildly. “Financial stability is very important.” 

“If this is about that job on Camala--” 

Ukarem had provided wildly inefficient intel on the state of the target’s security. Vondur had been shot several times, and very nearly died. His target had managed to escape; one of Vondur’s few failures. Because the target was human, rumors started that Vondur had botched the job on purpose out of species sympathy. He’d had to kill several humans in very nasty ways to repair the damage to his reputation. 

“Clouds long cleared,” Vondur said, in that same mild tone. “How long have you been on the Citadel, Ukarem?” 

“I was in the Terminus system on business,” he mumbled. “Came here as soon as I heard they were taking people in.” 

“Really? Why not Omega?” 

“Seemed safer. The reports that were coming through…”

Vondur walked him over to the railing where they could watch the ships go by, hidden behind several large potted plants. Ukarem tried to dig his heels in, babbling nervously. 

“Look, Vondur, you don’t have to do this, I can make it worth your while, whatever it is--” 

“I need a favor, Ukarem.” 

The batarian froze, then relaxed, relief pouring off of him in waves. 

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Name it.” 

Vondur leaned casually against the railing, looking out at the ships rather than at Ukarem.

“I think my least favorite thing about the Citadel is how suspicious they are. You can’t just walk in and out. You need paperwork. An ID card, birth certificate, background checks, proof of citizenship…” He looked over at the batarian. “You know what I mean. You have to be in the system if you want to get anywhere out here.” 

“Yeah” he said, but his expression was puzzled. “But… you were born out here. Couldn’t you just…?”

“I wouldn’t want to raise a fuss,” Vondur said. “A lost child, presumed dead, escaping his dreadful masters and regaining his freedom, rising from the ashes of destruction to take back his old life? That would attract a lot of attention. The kind of attention that could be very…  disadvantageous for someone in my field of business. But most importantly, Ukarem, I don’t want to.” The last was said in a voice hard and cold and full of dark promises.

“Right, right, sure, of course.” Ukarem was nodding very hard. 

“Besides, if I went the legal route, well, I wouldn’t need your help. You’d become rather useless to me. And you like to be useful, right Ukarem?” 

More nodding, Ukarem having apparently lost the ability to speak. 

“You have friends on the Citadel, right? Friends who can get me what I need?” 

The nodding continued. 

“You should let them know I’m willing to pay a little more for express delivery. I’m in a bit of a rush.” 

Nod nod nod. Vondur worried Ukarem’s head would go flying off.

“Oh, and before I forget… I’m still getting settled in, but once I am, you can let your friends know that my services are available. On a case by case basis, of course.” 

Ukarem froze mid-nod, his eyes very wide. 

“Really?” he blurted out. “But-- but you’re not-- you’re--” 

Vondur patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave. 

“If your friends could get back to me in the next two days, I’d really appreciate it.” 

As he mixed in with the other refugees, following the herd towards the daily food distribution, Vondur wondered why he didn’t feel as light as he’d been expecting. He’d just solved several major problems in one go. Now he had the right connections, he was going to get the documents he needed, he’d be able to find some work…

So why was there some deep, biting dissatisfaction in his mind? 

It was Ukarem’s surprise that he was looking for work. The sentence he hadn’t dared to finish. ‘But you’re not a slave anymore.’ Idiot. This was his trade, his craft. Throw away fifteen years of work honing and perfecting his skills just because he didn’t have to? What else was he supposed to do? He didn’t know how to do anything else. He didn’t need to know. And this life had been his choice. Filomet had stood in his cell and given him options, and Vondur had chosen. A short, brutal life in the mines, or the best weapons and training Filomet’s money could buy. 

It had been an easy choice, and it had been his. 

It had.

[wildgirlcinna]

Layers - Cinnabar Toast

I did this one ages ago, but instead of reblobbing I’ve tweaked a few things!

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

Layer One: The Outside Name: “Cinnabar Toast.” Eye Color: “Blue, or as my adoptive father used to say, the breathtaking blue of the sky over the ocean on a summer day.” Hair Style/Color: “I keep it in a messy longish pixie cut. It’s naturally black, but all the Void energy circling through my body tends to give me silver-white highlights.” Height: “When I stand to my full height, I’m 5 fulms, 4 ilms.” Clothing Style: “Mostly black, with some bright splashes of silver and jewel tones. Either revealing & form-fitting, or loose & comfortable... and sometimes a mixture of both!”

Layer Two: The Inside Your Fears: "I'm afraid people will reject me when they find out what I am... even though I keep tight control over myself and don't hurt anyone." Your Guilty Pleasure: "Bourbon. It takes the edge off my cravings sometimes." Your Biggest Pet Peeve: "People who blindly follow ideologies and don't use the brain Hydaelyn gave them." Your Ambition for the Future: "My Void-banishing business has been booming lately; I’d love to be able to hire an assistant or two to ease the load, but that will take some preparation... which I don’t really have time for at the moment."

Layer Three: Thoughts Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “’Coffee.' I swear my butler Ahrmin makes the best coffee I've ever tasted anywhere in Eorzea. Unfortunately he won’t give up his secrets on how he makes it, which leads me to believe some abomination of black magic is involved." What You Think About the Most: "Sex." What You Think About Before Bed: "'I hope I can get some sleep tonight...'  Some nights crazy dreams impede my rest; I haven’t yet been able to figure out what specifically triggers them.” Your Best Quality Is: "My determination & strength, how I'm fighting to make my life work and have positive effects in spite of my unusual condition."

Layer Four: What's Better? Single or Group Dates: "Single. I've become very introverted, so I prefer to get to know someone one-on-one." To be Loved or Respected: "That depends on the situation; sometimes you prefer one or the other, sometimes you can have both." Beauty or Brains: "Why not both?  Although if I really had to choose, I would say brains are better." Dogs or Cats: "I much prefer cats, as you would imagine, but dogs can be wonderful companions too."

Layer Five: Do You? Lie: "Yes. Doesn't everybody? But I honestly try to tell the truth when it matters most." Believe in Yourself: "I absolutely do." Believe in Love: "I do believe in love, but only as a fleeting emotion, something that's all the more precious & beautiful because it doesn't last." Want Someone: "Someone in particular? I can think of a few."

Layer Six: Ever? Been on Stage: "One time I was in a play for Rising Day in Ul’dah.  I had so much fun, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again!  Also I’ve danced at the Gold Saucer a few times... but only when I was drunk." Done Drugs: "I've tried smoking moko grass a couple times, but it doesn't really affect me." Changed Who You Were to Fit In: "No, my sense of self is too strong for that."

Layer Seven: Favorites Favorite Color: "All shades of black, followed closely by blue." Favorite Animal: "Cats!  I also really like Voidsent skeletons, for some odd reason... do those count as animals?" Favorite Food: "Spicy fried fish wrapped in flatbread." Favorite Game: "It's not really a game, but I like people-watching in taverns."

Layer Eight: Age Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: "The 7th sun of the 2nd astral moon... oh gods, is that tomorrow?  Damn, time is getting slippery lately." How Old Will You Be: "25... some days I still feel 18, some days I feel ancient." Age You Lost Your Virginity: "I was 16.  He was a young Miqo'te merchant from Ul'dah. I was fascinated with his tail, so long & fluffy!  He left the very next day, as I somehow knew he would. I moped about for 2 weeks, but I got over him." Does Age Matter: "That depends on the context."

Layer Nine: In a Partner Best Personality: "I always appreciate a good sense of humor, and someone who is confident but not overly full of themselves." Best Eye Color: "Blue eyes are always nice... but so are red eyes!" Best Hair Color: "That doesn't really matter much to me." Best thing to do with a Partner: "Sit by a campfire on a clear night, basking in the warmth of the flames and gazing at the moon & the stars.”

Layer Ten: Finish the Sentence I love: "...all my partners, in different ways, and even though I haven't yet found a love that lasts, I haven't given up hope." I feel: "...like I am dancing on the blade's edge between drama & stability." I hide: "...the real reason for my sluttiness." I miss: "...my young innocent days back at my parents' inn... but only occasionally." I wish: "...I could find the courage to really open up to people."

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Tagged by @ffxivtribehydrae​​