#the room of chromatic mystery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arvani-solutions · 5 months ago

Text

How to Choose the Right Colors for Your Website

Introduction

Choosing the right colours for your website is more than just an aesthetic decision. It’s about creating an experience that resonates with your audience and drives action. Whether you’re starting a new website or revamping an existing one, understanding colour psychology and design principles is crucial. But don’t worry, we’re here to help you navigate this colourful journey!

Understanding Color Psychology

Colour psychology is the study of how colors affect perceptions and behaviours. Different colours can evoke different emotions and reactions. For instance, blue often represents trust and calmness, while red can evoke passion and urgency. When choosing colours for your website, think about the emotions you want to evoke in your visitors. Do you want them to feel excited, relaxed, or secure?

Why Color Matters

Imagine walking into a room painted entirely in bright red. It might feel overwhelming or even agitating. Now, imagine the same room in a soft blue. It likely feels more calming and serene. This is the power of colour psychology. The colours you choose for your website can significantly influence how visitors feel and interact with your content.

Colours and Emotions

Here’s a quick guide to what different colours typically signify:

Red: Energy, passion, danger

Blue: Trust, calmness, professionalism

Green: Growth, health, tranquillity

Yellow: Happiness, warmth, caution

Orange: Enthusiasm, creativity, urgency

Purple: Luxury, creativity, wisdom

Black: Power, elegance, mystery

White: Purity, simplicity, cleanliness

The Role of Brand Identity

Your brand identity is the personality of your business and a promise to your customers. Colours play a crucial role in shaping this identity. Consistent use of colours helps in building brand recognition and loyalty.

Aligning Colors with Brand Values

Consider what your brand stands for and how you want to be perceived. If your brand is about innovation and cutting-edge technology, you might choose colours like blue or silver to represent trust and sophistication. If your brand is more playful and fun, bright and bold colours like yellow or orange could be more appropriate.

Case Studies

Look at successful brands and their colour choices. For example, Facebook uses blue to represent trust and dependability, while McDonald’s uses red and yellow to evoke excitement and hunger.

Colour Theory Basics

Understanding the basics of colour theory can help you create a harmonious colour scheme for your website. The colour theory involves the colour wheel, primary, secondary, and tertiary colours, and how they interact with each other.

The Color Wheel

The colour wheel is a visual representation of colours arranged according to their chromatic relationship. It helps in choosing colours that work well together.

Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary Colors

Primary Colors: Red, blue, yellow

Secondary Colors: Green, orange, purple (created by mixing primary colours)

Tertiary Colors: The resulting colours when primary and secondary colours are mixed

Colour Harmonies

Complementary Colors: Colors opposite each other on the colour wheel (e.g., blue and orange)

Analogous Colors: Colors next to each other on the colour wheel (e.g., blue, blue-green, green)

Triadic Colors: Three colours evenly spaced on the colour wheel (e.g., red, yellow, blue)

Choosing a Primary Color

Your primary colour is the main colour you want your audience to associate with your brand. It should align with your brand values and the emotions you want to evoke.

Consider Your Audience

Think about who your target audience is. Younger audiences might respond better to bold, vibrant colours, while older audiences might prefer more subdued tones.

Stand Out but Stay Relevant

While it’s important to choose a color that stands out, it should also be relevant to your industry and brand message. A law firm, for example, might opt for more traditional colours like blue or gray, while a children’s toy store could go for bright and cheerful colours like yellow or red.

Accent Colors and Their Importance

Accent colours are secondary colours used to highlight important elements on your website, like buttons, links, or calls to action (CTAs). They should complement your primary colour without overshadowing it.

Creating Visual Hierarchy

Use accent colours to guide your visitors’ attention to key areas of your website. For instance, a contrasting colour for your CTA button can make it stand out and increase click-through rates.

Balance is Key

Avoid using too many accent colours, as this can make your website look chaotic. Typically, one or two accent colours are sufficient.

Background and Text Colors

The background and text colours on your website are crucial for readability and user experience. They should provide a clear contrast to ensure your content is easy to read.

Light vs. Dark Backgrounds

Light backgrounds with dark text are generally easier to read and more common. However, dark backgrounds with light text can create a striking, modern look if done correctly.

Consistency is Crucial

Ensure consistency in your background and text colours across your website. This helps in maintaining a cohesive look and feel.

Contrast and Accessibility

Ensuring good contrast between your text and background is essential for readability and accessibility. Poor contrast can make your content difficult to read, especially for people with visual impairments.

Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG)

Follow the WCAG guidelines to ensure your website is accessible to all users. This includes maintaining a minimum contrast ratio between text and background colours.

Tools for Checking Contrast

There are several online tools available to check the contrast ratio of your website colours. These tools can help you make sure your colours meet accessibility standards.

Colour Trends in Web Design

Staying updated with the latest colour trends in web design can help your website look modern and appealing. However, it’s important to balance trendiness with timelessness.

Current Trends

Some current trends include the use of gradients, bold and vibrant colours, and minimalistic colour schemes. Experiment with these trends, but ensure they align with your brand identity.

Timeless Colors

While trends come and go, some colours remain timeless. Neutral colours like black, white, and grey often provide a classic, elegant look that never goes out of style.

Testing Your Color Scheme

Before finalizing your colour scheme, test it to see how it looks on different devices and screens. Colours can appear differently depending on the display, so it’s important to ensure consistency.

A/B Testing

Conduct A/B testing with different colour schemes to see which one performs better in terms of user engagement and conversion rates.

Gather Feedback

Get feedback from your audience or colleagues on your color choices. Fresh perspectives can help you make more informed decisions.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Choosing colours for your website can be tricky, and it’s easy to make mistakes. Here are some common pitfalls to avoid:

Too Many Colors

Using too many colours can make your website look cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to a limited colour palette for a more cohesive look.

Ignoring Contrast

Poor contrast between text and background colours can make your content hard to read. Ensure good contrast to enhance readability.

Overlooking Brand Identity

Your website colours should align with your brand identity. Choosing colours that don’t match your brand can confuse your audience and weaken your brand message.

Tools to Help You Choose

Several tools can help you choose the right colours for your website. These tools offer features like colour palettes, contrast checking, and colour harmony suggestions.

Popular Tools

Adobe Color: Create and save colour palettes.

Coolors: Generate and explore colour schemes.

Color Safe: Ensure your colour choices meet accessibility standards.

Using Color Palettes

These tools often provide pre-made colour palettes that can serve as inspiration. You can also create custom palettes based on your brand colours.

Conclusion

Choosing the right colours for your website is a blend of art and science. It’s about understanding colour psychology, aligning with your brand identity, and ensuring accessibility. By following these guidelines and using the right tools, you can create a visually appealing and effective website that resonates with your audience.

If you need professional help with your website design, contact Arvani Solutions or call us at +91 8901593303. Let our experts help you make the right choices and bring your vision to life!

FAQs

1. Why is colour important in web design?

Colour affects how visitors perceive and interact with your website. It can evoke emotions, create a visual hierarchy, and influence user behaviour.

2. How can I choose the right colours for my brand?

Consider your brand values, target audience, and industry standards. Use colour psychology to choose colours that evoke the desired emotions.

3. What are some common mistakes to avoid when choosing website colours?

Avoid using too many colours, poor contrast between text and background, and choosing colours that don’t align with your brand identity.

4. How do I ensure my website colours are accessible?

Follow the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG) and use online tools to check the contrast ratio between text and background colours.

5. Can I use colour trends in my website design?

Yes, but ensure that the trends align with your brand identity and don’t compromise the readability or accessibility of your website.

#web design #web development #color theory #websitedesign #wordpress #phpdevelopment

1 note · View note

windfighter · 2 years ago

Text

I laughed the other day when people complained about mystery boxes being nerfed and Iskall asked if it was because we Dylans like colours but...

...the modded ore-room is so much more fun to mine than the chromatic iron-room and I think it's because the colours so you know what...

Yes, I DO like colours xD

#windy rambles #vault hunters #modded minecraft #I found both this and a chromatic iron-room in the latest vault :3 #got a lot of ores now #time to put the crushing wheel to work!#I need to sort out my fuel-supply though #my furni are empty

1 note · View note

ragtimeunder · 9 months ago

Text

Im really sorry to say this but this is some crackpot reasoning. I'll go through this whole thing point for point with my reasoning from left to right, top to bottom. There are some good points here. but there are also some... really really bad ones. we'll get to that.

I agree on the notion that mysteryman is likely Gaster. There's ample evidence for it. To make it short, FUN values for every explicitly Gaster related event contain at least one 6. there's a set of stats in the files for Gaster containing nothing but strings of 6 and -6. and entry 17-(labelled in files as room_gaster)-'s wingdings font has the in-game typer value of 666. Mystery room's FUN number is exactly 66. So its almost positively Gaster.

The fridge in the True Lab was certainly foreshadowing our future man-related escapades in Deltarune. much like ICE-E, don't forget, and Entry 17's "darkness". I don't know why its here though, there's no connection to Gaster, aside from just the true lab itself. but even then thats more Alphys stuff. Is Everyman tied to Gaster as well? actually thats kinda fun considering the next piece:

If man being in the name was enough to connect the mysteryman, and therefor Gaster, to The Egg Tree Man, then what about Everyman? He's probably not Gaster, as he looks nothing like the Mysteryman, the egg tree man could be either of these, but he cant be both, as neither can be the other.

...and now... and Im so so sorry to do this to you, but its time to fucking pick apart that jab about denial. because IM A MUSICIAN

These are transcriptions of Gaster's theme (blue) and Man.ogg (red) layered on top of eachother as best as I could manage. they have wildly different time signatures though, so it looks a bit janky. It should also be noted I transposed Gaster's theme to have a root note that matches the starting position of what I believe to be the 'Gaster's theme' part. I did this so comparing the notes they land on at different parts would be easier.

So, Gaster's theme is pretty simple. You start on the note you start on. then you go up by one semitone. the third note rises up high by a whole 7 semitones. then goes back down to the second note's position. rinse and repeat 4 times, then you transpose the switch things up by copying the whole bar and transposing down chromatically, meaning one note apart. There is some interesting stuff here with left hand section though. the bass line barely moves for the transposition. and the part that does move, it's 1st position, actually moves chromatically up instead. I didn't picture it here, but this chromatic stuff is really important looking at Another him. because another him moves multiple times, but always chromatically. In both cases, it helps provide this sense of dread or unease to the character, as notes one semitone apart from each other sort of clash. A famous example of chromatic notes used in this way is the JAWS theme. You can also here it in Undyne's overworld theme in Undertale.

Now... we get to Man.ogg... hoo boy..

so, we're off to a rocky start. instead of moving up by 1 semitone, we move down instead. then the 3rd position is moving up by 9 semitones. putting it 1 semitone over where this note would go if it were Gaster's theme. then instead of going down to match position 2 like every other version of Gaster's theme, we instead go partially down by 5 semitones. and from there, rather than returning and repeating. or at least looping to the same note as position 1 like Another him's walk iteration of the motif, we go up again, and do something completely different. Ah, but at least once thats done it transposes down and repeats, right??? except for the fact that its transposed by 2 semitones... remember how I mentioned how another him solidifies the importance of the chromatic movement? well two notes is, by the definition of chromatic, not chromatic. The baseline doesnt even do the moving by 1 semitone up thing. granted, thats less important, but with everything else that doesnt matter too much.

So yeah, they're not the same. And anyone who says otherwise isn't listening properly. I've been doing music for over 2 years now, and Andrew Cunningham, one of the first people I know to properly point out that this isn't Gaster's theme, went to college to study music. As far as Im aware it wasn't a full education, but you dont need a degree to look at the sheet music and see that moving down makes the song different from another that moves up.

That being said, upon closely analyzing this... it's... almost comical how close the song is to Gaster's theme without ever having the elements that actually make Gaster's theme iconic. Specific intervals are just one or two semitones off. Strange... that sounds a lot like a point Im about to talk about too. like some kind of reoccurring theme.

So now: getting back to being not a dick to a random person on the internet, time to talk about the best point here! The room between. It's similar structure and positioning. This is actually a really really good point. They're too similar to possibly be unintentional. Toby explicitly wrote this character's appearances to seem like Gaster appearances.

but he also wrote them to not contain any signature other than that. And I want to posit why that might be. Why would someone write an intentional parallel between two mysterious men?

Its interesting, The Egg Tree man's encounter almost matches mystery man's in Undertale, his theme almost matches Gaster's theme.

His speaking style almost matches Gaster's

(Yeah I went there. If you pay close attention the lack of G-Man-esque breaks every fewer words then usual that Gaster consistently uses tells me its someone else, and the use of phrases like "Well," and the flip-flopping between different states of being tells me its Egg Tree Man)

What could this mean? Im not sure exactly. Maybe he could be, like... an incomplete and imperfect piece of the Doctor or something, maybe he was a man with a similar fate, but otherwise someone completely different. idk, but I think saying the guy who brought us into the world of deltarune, who manipulated 2+ darkners into a madness that ruined their lives, and who literally uses the number of the beast as a calling card has any reason to hang around behind a tree and hand eggs to children while he waves at passersby in his car is maybe doing the character a bit of a disservice.

well that concludes the argument. I want to take a final moment to say that I agree with your statement about people not taking Gaster seriously. I've seen people try to say he's just a Red Herring. that we don't 'truly' know who the other him speaking to us at the start of deltarune is, and that we don't truly know if he's a skeleton, or if Mysteryman is truly Gaster. This all does him and his ominously written mystery a grave disservice. but there is an equal disservice in taking him for granted as well. There was a recent theory going around that Gaster wrote several of the Alphys entries in the true lab. Despite the fact that we know what his writing style looks like, we've seen one of his entries for crying out loud... This does a disservice to the legitimate character writing of both Alphys as WELL as Gaster, in favor of achieving a satisfaction with the 'lore'. It reminds me of FNaF. And I love FNaF, but no one should EVER try to write like FNaF.

My point I guess is that overcorrecting is still a problem for the same reason as underanalyzing. Because both are ignoring the consistently used points of evidence that make up the strings in this web. We know more about Gaster than we EVER HAVE. And I think we should act like it.

Sorry for the LONG LONG read btw. I'm extremely passionate about Dr. Gaster and media analysis as well. I hope I can properly sway you, because while I dont think you're wrong in your reasoning, I also think its missing a lot, and the conclusions I've reached just from laying this all out has opened up a whole new avenue of narrative potential for me, and I wish the same for you as well.

Rebleg to scare gaster obsessers (I am also a gaster obsesser but at least I have grown and learned what a damn calling card is) /LH

I was hasty to type out the thread so here's a few corrections:

Chapter 2's room between is room 150. I misspelled it.

Its spelled Seccom Masada.

33 notes · View notes

msmoonfire · 3 years ago

Text

What's your Floral Scent?🌺

Candles, Room Sprays, Soaps, Lotions, Body Mists, Incense, Room Sachet, Perfume... Whatever flavored thing we use in our witchy can help us to focus and enjoy magical times.

Floral scents are amazing for love, balance, self-care & confidence spells; each one corresponds to a feeling or personality trait, and do purify the air of your sacred spaces (essential oils make it easier). Flowers may be used by anyone regardless of their gender but they represent receptive, beautiful female energy a.k.a. our feminine side (male is represented by stems, fruit, wood, air, fire, mushrooms, wild plants, rocks, metals, etc... Soil is feminine tho!).

How to Choose

1. IT SUITS YOU: know how that flower looks like, pay attention to the colors and take a Seasonal Color Analysis test if you don't know to which season you chromatically belong to. Its aspect should match yours!

2. IT HEALS YOU: one that smells elegant, soft and not too overpowering to you (not to other people, don't listen to them!).

3. IT "EXPOSES" YOU: you don't have to be an expert, just read a few lines about how to look after your fav flower. Sometimes the little things indicate hidden parts of your personality, or hidden needs.

Most Famous Scents

Rose Classy, spicy, romantic, timeless; the weakest most fragile flower regardless of all its thorns (self-defensive mechanisms), has a very complex beauty in every range of color; needs water (emotions), sun (warmth) and good care to bloom (encouragement).

Orchid Beautiful, challenging, sweet; requires special care (attention), most people refuse to plant 'cause of high maintenance (commitment), but once it blooms it smells like heaven (goodness, generosity): everybody wants it! Vanilla is a type of orchid as well.

Tuberose Sharp, womanly, smells like cleanliness; needs to be fed really well (literally!) and loves mild temperatures (cozyness); modest and neutral in appearance, has the most intense flavor (depth of the soul) and it is a celeb in the perfume industry.

Lavender Dreamy, fresh, versatile, wild; hardly requires any maintenance (materially independent), blooms even on dry wild soil (imagination, ideas), only needs yearly pruning to look good (action); its color is enchanting and its antiseptic properties legendary.

Gardenia Pure, glossy, plump, elegant, fragrant; the flower of all flowers, needs luminosity (activity) but not direct sunlight, and loads of humidity (people, social circles) to unleash its max potential, is a celeb in the perfume industry and smells like zesty freshness.

Peony Vaporous, bright, timeless, audacious; needs to be well fed (literally! food & attention) and loves direct sunlight (life, daring experiences); it may grow in different varieties or colors, but always smells like the sweeter version of a rose.

Magnolia Structured, simple, delightful; blooms at a young age, grows on trees (strong), has a sweet floral fruity fragrance; prefers the shade (isolation, peace, silence), needs occasional maintenance (attention, affection) and regular water (emotions) in order to grow healthy.

Lilac With character, loud, happy, abundant; low maintenance (emotionally autonomous), its vivacious rosey smell clings to the air (attitude) but is softened by a sweet almond note (joy); needs balanced soil ph & temperature (inner and outer peace), as well as sunlinght (life).

Jasmine Evergreen, spectacular, unique, delicate; has an unmistakeable smell and presence, is low maintenance (self-motivated) but needs fertile soil (opportunities) to grow into a profuse display of blooms; it's an evergreen (optimism, vitality) and is a celeb in the perfume / tea industry.

Orange Blossom Sexy, clean, youthful, changeable; this perennial plant (optimism) can smell either fresh or warm, is star-shaped, a celeb in the perfume industry, needs sun (life) and regular water (care, emotions) otherwise it won't bloom; it favors relaxation and it is said to be aphrodisiac!

Hyacinth Strong, unique, pompous, mysterious; low maintenance (solitary), needs full sunlight (exposure, success) and a slightly wet soil (rationality, logic) where water won't collect otherwise it rots; the signature scent of this perennial plant (consistent) is extremely floral-green and fresh.

Freesia Charming, lovely, artistic, friendly; needs sun (warmth) & slightly cooler temperatures (a logic approach to life) for blooming - the sole moment in which it requires special care (attention, support) -; has a picturesque presence (refined beauty) and one of the sweetest scents around, very soothing.

...And this is just a starting point from where you can explore more fragrant flowers to find a scent that you like and is also accessible in other forms other than fresh flowers, so you can incorporate it in all seasons of your life, as well as in your witchy craft!

Hope this list helps you guys to find the right flower buddy for you!🌼

xox @msmoonfire

1K notes · View notes

raeynbowboi · 3 years ago

Text

How to Play as Gardevoir in DnD 5e

Today, we’re building one of the most popular Pokémon, Gardevoir. Since her introduction in Hoenn, Gardevoir has become a staple Pokémon, appearing in almost every generation since, making her something of a counterpart to the Abra line, which has also been in almost every generation since its introduction in Kanto. Initially, Gardevoir was a pure Psychic-type, but after Gen VI, Gardevoir became a Psychic/Fairy dual-type.

Before we can even build Gardevoir, we need to look at the moves it learns by level-up and by TM in order to find the DnD equivalent. We can then assign her build depending on what class or subclass best captures everything she’s capable of.

LEVEL UP MOVES

Confusion // Catapult, Confusion Double Team // Blur, Mirror Image Disarming Voice // Word of Radiance, Thunderwave Hypnosis // Sleep Draining Kiss // Vampiric Touch Teleport // Misty Step, Far Step, Teleportation Circle, Teleport Psybeam // Mind Spike, Tasha’s Mind Whip, Raulothim’s Psychic Lance Life Dew // Aura of Vitality Charm // Bane Calm Mind // Calm Emotions Psychic // Hold Person, Hold Monster, Telekinesis Heal Pulse // Heal, Mass Heal Dream Eater // Dream (Nightmare) Future Sight // Foresight Moonblast // Moonbeam, Sunbeam, Sun Burst Healing Wish // Prayer of Healing, Healing Word, Mass Healing Word Wish // Wish Aura Sphere // Chromatic Orb

MEGA EVOLUTION Radiant Soul (Race Feature) Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise

TM MOVES

Thunder Punch // Shocking Grasp Light Screen // Blade Ward, Wall of Light Reflect // Mage Armor, Fizban’s Platinum Shield Safeguard // Aura of Purity Protect // Shield, Globe of Vulnerability, Invulnerability Icy Wind // Frostbite, Rime’s Binding Ice Attract // Charm Person, Charm Monster, Geas Swift // Magic Missile, Crown of Stars Endure // Aura of Life Helping Hand // Aid, Enhance Ability, Skill Empowerment Imprison // Counterspell Rest // Catnap Round // Thunderclap Misty Terrain // Hallucinatory Terrain, Fog Cloud Trick Room // Slow Thunderbolt // Lightning Bolt Substitute // False Life Psyshock // Synaptic Static Shadow Ball // Circle of Death Hypervoice // Shatter Stored Power // Psychic Scream Dazzling Gleam // Guiding Bolt, Sunbeam, Sunburst Shock Wave // Witch Bolt Charge Beam // Chain Lightning Hyper Beam // Dragon’s Breath Psychic Terrain // Mental Prison Mystical Fire // Sacred Flame, Flame Strike Flash // Color Spray

FEATS

Eldritch Adept: Gardevoir gains 1 Warlock Eldritch Invocation

Armor of Shadows: Gives Gardevoir a higher AC, especially since Pokémon don’t wear clothes. Eldritch Mind: Keeps Gardevoir from dropping concentration as easily.

Fey-Touched: Gardevoir gains +1 INT, Misty Step, and one 1st level Divination or Enchantment spell.

Metamagic Adept: Gives Gardevoir 2 Sorcerery Points, and the Metamagic Options of Quickened Spell and Twinned Spell.

Telekinetic: +1 INT, Mage Hand, and Telekinetic Shove

Telepathic: +1 INT, Telepathic Conversation, Detect Thoughts

War Caster: Gives Gardevoir advantage against losing concentration, and allows her to cast a spell as an opportunity attack.

Whether you want to start as a Ralts and evolve into a Gardevoir or just start as a Gardevoir, this build will still work for you either way. We’ll start by making Gardevoir a Protector Aasimar. Gardevoir prides itself on protecting its trainer, even with its life, and Aasimar get to basically have a second form, which you could consider to be a Mega Evolution.

Pokémon don’t really have alignments because each one is an individual. However, Gardevoir is one of the few Pokémon with a well-established mentality, which due to its loyalty and role in the Mystery Dungeon games, we can assert that Gardevoir is a Lawful Good Pokémon.

Pokémon aren’t really known for having Skills, so go with whatever background you see fit for roleplaying purposes. Sage and Acolyte are good choices, but so is Gladiator due to Pokémon battles, Entertainer if its trainer is a Coordinator, Athlete if you want to play into Pokémon Unite, or the new Mage of High Society background could also work. Of the three robe types, I think Gardevoir makes the most sense as an Adept of the White Robes.

WIZARD SCHOOL OF THEURGY (MIND)

As much as I wanted to make Gardevoir a Cleric, she needed too many wizard spells that I couldn’t ignore that a Theurgy Wizard was the best way to make it work. The Cleric of the Mind Domain is a subclass from Eberron, and bolster’s the Cleric’s psychic abilities. Its 1st level ability allows it to change any Radiant damage spell into Psychic damage for free as a choice, and at 6th level, the Gestalt Anchor feature bolsters the defenses of not only Gardevoir, but her allies as well. It adds +2 to the INT, WIS, and CHA saving throws of Gardevoir and nearby allies, allowing Gardevoir to help protect her allies from harmful spell effects.

OTHER OPTIONS

SCHOOL OF THEURGY (PEACE)

Gardevoir’s whole thing is protecting people, and this allows Gardevoir to form a bond with another person, protect her allies, boost her allies, and reduce the damage her allies take. While she can certainly hold her own in combat, her combat focus is definitely on support, and this is a very good support subclass option. The only reason I went with Mind over Peace is that Mind caters to Psychic powers, but it is technically a homebrew created by Keith Baker who was a writer for Eberron. Peace, on the other hand, is an official subclass. So if your DM will allow Theurgy but isn’t so favorable toward Mind, Peace is an excellent back-up option.

BUILD INFO

Race: Protector Aasimar (+2 INT, +1 WIS) Background: Acolyte (Insight, Religion) Alignment: Lawful Good Class: School of Theurgy (Mind) Wizard (20)

STATS STR 8 DEX 18 CON 12 INT 20 WIS 16 CHA 8

SAVING THROWS STR -1 DEX +4 CON +1 INT +13 WIS +11 CHA +1

HP: 102 AC: 17 SAB: 11 SDC: 19 PP: 13

FEATS Eldritch Adept: Armor of Shadows

SPELLS

C Light, Mage Hand, Message, Mind Sliver, Sacred Flame, Word of Radiance 1 Bane, Bless, Catapult, Charm Person, Chromatic Orb, Command, Dissonant Whispers, False Life, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Magic Missile, Sanctuary, Shield, Sleep, Thunderwave 2 Blur, Detect Thoughts, Dragon’s Breath, Hold Person, Lesser Restoration, Levitate, Mind Spike, Mirror Image, Misty Step, Phantasmal Force, Prayer of Healing, Tasha’s Mind Whip, Suggestion, Warding Bond 3 Aura of Vitality, Beacon of Hope, Clairvoyance, Dispel Magic, Enemies Abound, Fears, Lightning Bolt, Mass Healing Word, Protection from Energy, Remove Curse, Revivify, Sending, Slow, Spirit Guardians, Vampiric Touch 4 Aura of Life, Aura of Purity, Charm Monster, Confusion, Hallucinatory Terrain, Phantasmal Killer, Raulothim’s Psychic Lance 5 Dominate Person, Far Step, Flame Strike, Greater Restoration, Hold Monster, Rary’s Telepathic Bond, Skill Empowerment, Synaptic Static, Telekinesis, Teleportation Circle, Wall of Force, Wall of Light 6 Circle of Death, Heal, Mental Prison, Sunbeam, Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise, Word of Recall 7 Crown of Stars, Divine Word, Regenerate, Teleport, Tether Essence 8 Dark Star, Dominate Monster, Sunburst, Telepathy 9 Foresight, Invulnerability, Psychic Scream, Wish

There’s far more spells here than a Wizard can learn through level-up, but Wizards can learn as many spells as they want if they have enough gold. You could treat her additional spells as TMs. But unlike Pokémon, she can know more than 4 spells total.

FEATURES

Arcane Recovery: Recover spell slots that add up to 10 that are below 6th level when you finish a short rest. Spell Mastery: Gardevoir can cast a 1st and 2nd level spell at their respective levels at will without using a spell slot. Signature Spell: Gardevoir can choose two 3rd level spells. She can cast these spells once for free without using a spell slot. She recovers this ability after finishing a long rest. Flash of Insight: Reroll an ability check after you roll but before you know if you pass or fail. Add half your wizard level to the second roll, rounded down. You can use this feature twice per long rest. Psychic Force: When you use a spell slot to cast a Radiant cantrip or spell that deals Radiant damage, you can choose to change the damage to Psychic damage. Channel Divinity: Psychic Feedback: You can use your Channel Divinity to impose disadvantage on an enemy when it makes a Wisdom saving throw. If the Wisdom saving throw is a result of a spell or effect caused by something other than a spell you cast, you can deal Psychic damage to the target equal to half your wizard level rounded down before they roll. Gestalt Anchor: You, and creatures within 10 feet gain +2 to all INT, WIS, and CHA saving throws. Bend Reality: When an ally within 30 feet of you fails a saving throw, change the number rolled to a 20. You can only use this feature once per short or long rest.

Gardevoir came out rather well. She does everything I wanted for her. She’s an amazing support pokemon with a good amount of radiant and psychic spells, and even the occasional damage cover spell. She can heal, she can deal damage, and she can protect her allies. I debated whether or not to give Gardevoir the Graviturgy and Chronology exclusive spells, but I opted to say yes. I don’t approve of spells be locked behind a specific subclass. They’re wizard spells, she’s a wizard. I would allow a player to use them at my table, so I include them. Plus, she’s known to create black holes in her Pokédex entries, and it’s literally her ultimate in Pokémon Unite to create a black hole. So, I allowed it. It’s not perfect, there’s a lot of dead UA involved, but if you can find a table that will allow it, I think it’ll be a lot of fun. Some might argue with her having a mere 8 in CHA but last time I checked, the only Pokémon that can talk is Meowth. Her combat stats are far more important.

#dnd #pokémon #gardevoir #ralts #kirlia #champion diantha #diantha #pokemon unite #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons

76 notes · View notes

obutsuwrites · 4 years ago

Text

devotion (douma x f!reader)

summary: His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

She simply nodded, words unable to form. Her savior finally saw her bare. Heat bloomed across her face. She wanted his hands to roam her body and learn every curve. Waiting for his touch left an ache in her chest. Her breathing came out in spurts. The room felt too hot -- too humid.

warnings: blood and injury, mild gore, vaginal fingering, cults, public humiliation, branding, yandere elements, dismemberment, loss of fingers, smut, etc. etc.

word count: 3.3k

shoutout to @calslaundry for the beta read

a/n: hello friends, apologies for the lack of content! i haven't written in a while + this my first kny fic 😭

twitter | masterlist

She came to him in a miserable state -- her delicate body broken. Blood, like ribbons, flowed from her stomach. The wound was deep and hideous. Yet, the woman before him wore a serene expression, as if unaware of her current state. The sight brought amusement to Douma. His thin lips pulled into the phantom of a grin. Rainbow eyes dilated and focused on her pitiful form.

Behind her bounded a man; his skin filthy and caked in dried crimson. He looked disheveled, as if the listless woman struggled. Sweat kept his hair slick across his forehead. In his hand, his shaky little human hand, was a butcher knife.

"Stay out of this! She's…" The man trails off, waiting for the words to materialize, "My wife." The word sounds slimy, uncomfortable, coming from him. To punctuate his love, a calloused hand gripped the woman.

No sound came from her. Perhaps, she was his wife. Douma continued to observe the dramatic affair; fingers laced together. His expression was nothing less than curious. A carnal morbidity he wanted to see through.

Suddenly, the woman collapsed. Her skin lacked the rosy pigment so beloved by mortals. The man stumbled and instinctively cradled her wound. Disgust formed onto his features -- the man seemingly unaware of her state.

Douma felt blood drumming in his ears. This tiny, injured woman came to him near death, but didn't utter a single grievance. She had remained stoic despite her hideous wound. "Leave her."

Without a second thought, the man abandoned his would-be wife. His rapid footfalls echoed down the hall as Douma examined his pet. He noted how elegant her kimono was -- its silk now reddened and ruined. Douma believed the blood complimented her, and brought out her softness. Softness Douma wanted to destroy.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly. The room was unlike her little hovel. Innate gold and rubies were encrusted within every aspect; nothing less of excess. A room fit for a god. Perhaps this was her afterlife. Delicate fingers prodded her stomach -- the flesh swollen and blemished. Her fingertips brushed against the barb of wire. Lifting the simple Yukata, the woman noticed how intricate the stitching was. Black wire woven into itself to mimic the intricate shape of a flower.

"You're awake, my dear friend!" The voice was cheerful and deep. The sound not unlike the rumble in a summer storm.

Silence marked their conversation.

Floorboards creaked; a sign her mysterious caretaker was advancing. "Is my dear friend deaf?" This time, the man's voice held annoyance. A blatant disregard for his kind words left a rotten taste in the demon's mouth.

"I apologize for the trouble I caused you," she confessed, head level with the floor. The newly stitched woman was bowing before him. Had she hoped to mimic his congregation?

Unlike his devotees, her body didn't shake. No, her insignificant form stayed rigid. The slender curve of her back was straight, eyes still regarding the floor. Truthfully, Douma found himself savoring the view of this mortal. She seemed so obedient -- so unafraid of him.

The damned sentence stumbled last Douma's lips, "Stay with us; with me." Suddenly, the woman sensed a large hand atop her head, "You need to heal, my friend."

Tears began to foam at her eyes -- this man's kindness was unfamiliar. This rainbow eyed stranger not only stitched up her broken body, but offered sanctuary.

"Thank you." Douma noted the monotonousness of her voice. Here this pitiful woman was, her briny tears reeking, and yet she remained stoic. The scent was pleasant; as if crushed roses and salt had been mixed. Douma had noticed her blood carried a similar scent.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The days that followed were… familiar. Her days fell into structure. First, worship in the morning. Then, chores and her first meal followed by more chores. Finally, as dusk settled, her makeshift family gathered within the main hall for a special dinner. However, the dinner wasn't any fundamentally different. The menu still consisted of rich meats and exotic fruits, but their meal was special because of him.

At the end of their long, gold flecked table sat the rainbow eyed Douma. His face carried his typical jubilant expression. A soft smile graced his face -- leaving his eyes bright and lively. He watched his flock with interest, his eyes all too often falling upon his wounded pet. 'Pet' seemed to fit this woman far more than any word; she was compliant. The woman finished every task created for her. Her devotion to him -- only him -- brought a budding flush to his cheeks.

It was true the women of his cult would die for him. Their single-minded loyalty was stereotypical, expected. They chose to bleed for him, but once faced with their own mortality, his devotees lost steam. And yet this harpy had bled at his feet -- asked for his forgiveness.

Douma watched as the woman carefully gripped her chopsticks. Her hands were slender, and as soft as blooming flowers. In another world, Douma would have described her as delicate, but all the demon could feel was disdain. There was something so innocent about her fingers. Douma's eyes continued to flick between her face and hands. Such soft things devoid of callouses -- devoid of humanity.

His mind didn't typically race like this. Images of this woman seemed to plague him during dinner. She was a sickness that he couldn't shake. Her body had infiltrated him -- illustrating fantasies of him breaking her fingers and laughing as he ate them. Would she finally scream, finally allow herself emotion? Or would she succumb to him?

Douma's thin lips curled into a grin.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

"I don't want to ruin the elaborate textiles, sir." It was a habit to call him sir as her eyes bore into the floor. The woman acted like she was… unworthy to even glance at the demon. She seemed to make herself scarce when Douma was around. But now, she was forced ⁸to meet his face. Forced to tailor his clothing, despite the woman having no seamstress experience.

Douma didn't mind if his clothes were ruined. He merely wanted to observe his pet create with her hands.

A large hand rested atop her head, "Do not worry, my dear friend! I picked you for this. Do you not trust my judgement?" His question was more of a test than anything. He wanted to see more of her sickened devotion to him.

"I trust you," the woman replied, her hands buried in rich fabric. His clothes made her hands itch. Yet, she hid any discomfort. This was a task bestowed upon her -- it was the least she could do. This man had saved her life.

In the corner of his view, Douma saw it, the phantom of a smile. His emotionless pet still held humanity. However, the happiness stopped at her lips. Nothing seemed to reach her eyes.

"That expression suits you," his breath tickled her ear, "little one." The sensation of him -- his warmth was enough to quicken her pulse. A blush rose to her cheeks.

Before she could thank him, Douma vanished. She wanted to glance into his chromatic eyes. They held a light she hadn't noticed before. Something so spectacular and light.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Darkness naturally crept into Douma's eyes. The demon couldn't pinpoint a moment of emotion. It was as if he was born void of humanity. Perhaps that was his reason for being so disgustingly soft upon this woman.

She was in a tangled mess before him; eyes perpetually to the floor. The more he saw her like this -- the more Douma longed for her gaze. He was the only one worthy of her.

"This little runt broke the vase, my lord." Beside his little pet stood a woman; one of his most devoted. Yet, her very voice annoyed him.

Douma shifted in his throne, "What of it?" His face was contorted into happiness, but there was a callousness to him. A viper waiting in the grass.

The woman's expression hardened.

"Shouldn't she be punished, my lord?" Her question wasn't more than a whisper. This was common for his most loyal of followers; cowardly mortals that were afraid of him.

Douma leaned forward, his rainbow eyes lacking any compassion, "Are you telling me what to do?"

"N-no! I'd never, my lord! Please -- please forgive me, Lord Douma!" Her pleas flowed like a river; excuse upon excuse. Douma used to take pleasure in a maiden's distress. Now, he simply felt bored -- empty.

Certainly punishing his pet and maiming her would bring relief. Mortals were for his enjoyment, after all.

"Stand up," Douma commanded.

His voice sounded of the gods; nectar too sweet for human ears. His wounded pet felt heat rise to her cheeks. Gently, she assumed a knelt position, hands folded in her lap. They looked so delicate, so perfect for him. Saliva pooled in his mouth. His fantasy of her seemed unending.

"Sit," the demon motioned to his feet. "You are to stay until I find a suitable punishment, my dear friend." Without hesitation, his pet assumed her position. Her hands were now clear in Douma's view, tiny things clasped together.

As if satisfied, his devotee blended back into the crowd.

Even his presence was warmth; she could feel his radiance. Lord Douma was the opposite of her husband -- his chromatic eyes held nothing but comfort. He had opened his home to her, and allowed her to join his congregation. He was the sun; bright and nourishing.

His pet felt as if her heart would burst. Being this close to him -- to Lord Douma was almost overwhelming. He practically dwarfed her; his frame tall and muscular. Lord Douma's presence was suffocating above her. Lewd flashes of her savior played on loop. Silver hair slicked back, his bare chest on display, muscles flexing.

Quickly, she looked away from the demon with a silent curse on her lips.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Several days pass. Douma's pet had yet to leave his side. Her punishment was decided the second day she sat at his feet, but Douma found her presence… human. Slowly, she brought forth an emotion; serenity. Her very breathing seemed to lull him. In another life, she would have made a man very happy.

The demon's eyes shifted to his maiden. Her face was stoic as ever. She looked�� Miserable? The thought made Douma's blood burn; sitting between his feet was a privilege. No other woman of the cult had been so close to him before.

Douma's thick brows knitted together in annoyance, "We should prepare for your punishment, shouldn't we?" Plastered on his face was the smile she yearned for.

"Yes, my lord."

Douma clapped his hands. Suddenly, his harem of women began to spill into the room. They looked to him like god; eyes wide and wanting. He cherished his cult for their devotion, something that would benefit him today.

He tilted his head and pointed, "Strip her." Douma's instruction was materialized before him. Her body laid in the brood of his women. Bruises marked her body like bee stings; his most devoted had such vicious means. Her exquisite yukata was ruined. Shreds hung to her trembling form.

She made him sick.

"Hold her down, my dear friends~!" Douma's feigned happiness crinkled at his eyes. To any nonbeliever, he looked human, yet his followers knew better. They knew behind the facade was a monster; a man bent on misery. "Bring me the brand."

His pet watched as the metal was heated. Douma held the poker like it was precious; watching in delight. Black steel turning dangerously red was quite the show. Certainly, his excitement was sweetened by… her. Even now, Douma was sure she regarded him with disinterest. She would learn this was to her benefit.

"Are you excited, little one?" Douma mused.

The demon sauntered over to his pet, the brand now smoking. "Stay still," he murmured. It was her shred of justice before Douma plunged the brand between her breasts. First there was silence. Then came a cry unlike any before. Loud. Anguished. Heart wrenching. It was the sound of his pet bearing her soul. Something so private, meant only for him.

He pressed the metal further into her flesh. Burnt skin reached his nostrils; her scent wasn't unlike roasted boar. Rich, gamey. His mind painted her nude and covered in sake. Underneath his regalia, Douma felt blood rush to his cock. Douma looked at her, waiting for another cry. Yet, she regained composure. Her skin was balmy and she trembled.

Finally, her eyes met his. Douma sees the hint of relief -- as if she wanted this. "L-lord Douma," she slurred. His gaze shifted to her lips; anticipating her speech. Nothing left her except a heave. A soft little noise before she passed out, limp and vulnerable. Somehow, Douma felt sorry for her.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The woman woke with a jolt; air burning her lungs. Gasping, she took inventory of the dimly lit room. The space was more of the caricature of a room. It was a bedroom, but looked almost unlived in. Everything was too perfect. The realization came as she touched her chest. This was Lord Douma's private quarters. A place reserved for his most devoted.

...and here she was, laying in his bed.

Her chest was tender. The skin was charred and bandaged. She wondered if Lord Douma himself had treated her. The fantasy brought a flush to her cheeks. She fingered the wound; gentle to trace its shape. Between her breasts was a delicate lotus; her body marked forever.

"I can hear you, my dearest friend," his voice sounded like rainfall after a drought. "Come. Bring me more sake."

Beside the futon was a gourd. The object was heavy; enough for two hands if not more. Truthfully, his pet struggled to lift it. The liquid inside sloshed around like the sea. It carried a sweet smell. Fruity. Radiant. The scent reminded the woman of Lord Douma.

Soft humming filtered into the room, the source not far. Practically dragging the sake, his pet ventured towards the sound. Towards him.

With the push of a door came humidity and steam. The atmosphere was sticky and too warm. Lord Douma had created a swamp instead of a bath.

His booming tone shook the room, "Come closer, little one." The phrase sent goosebumps up her spine.

She continued to drag the gourd across slick tile. His pet didn't want to make a fool of herself. However, with each step came unequal footing. She wobbled, trying to keep her grace and sake intact. One particularly heavy footfall was miscalculated. She fell onto the porous ground with a sharp bang; the gourd in pieces at her feet.

"Clumsy, aren't we, little one?" His tone is lousy with arousal. The sentence vibrated from his chest.

"I'm sor--"

Douma only uttered a simple phrase, "Join me, my pet."

Her legs moved without authority. Douma had complete agency over her; bewitching his prey. It was the kindness she deserved, after all. She was his most devoted -- his most prized slab of meat. Partially, Douma believed she was plagued with bad luck. First the damned woman is stabbed, then she falls desperately into his lap. She was a fawn -- clumsy and aching for attention.

Muscles were the first thing she noticed, followed shortly by ashen hair. Somehow, his chromatic eyes still shined within the haze. He had to be a deity -- someone special.

Quickly, she averted her eyes. This sight wasn't meant for a mortal like her. Crimson hung to her cheeks like warpaint, the woman more blush than skin. His pet removed her yukata without ceremony. The elaborate fabric crumpled at her feet. Douma felt air pitch in his chest and blood rush to his cock.

"Sit in my lap."

His lover looked at him; her eyes curious and wanting and wide, pupils dilated. She shuffled into the bath, like a babe taking its first steps. Gingerly, she sat beside him. A hiss escaped her lips as the hot water meets her burn. Mortals -- as Douma knew -- were devoted to a fault.

A cold arm encompassed her waist. Douma pulled the mortal closer, her smell mixing with the bath. Saliva dotted at the corners of his mouth. His polite aurora seemed to drop -- the predator now before her. "It's okay, little one," his breath tickled her neck, "you can relax. You're safe."

Safe. He was safe. Her body untensed in his grip. The woman leaned into him, her bare back pressed into his chest. Her rapid heartbeat echoed into Douma; his body rang with her life force. It hurt to hold her like this. His instincts demanded he tear her apart, her blood diluting the water. Yet, he resisted. Instead, he took inventory of her hands. They were tender -- fragile. His broad hands engulfed hers as he rubbed circles into her palms.

Douma -- with grace -- lifted her fore and middle finger into his mouth. His fawn exhaled a gasp. The sudden movement caused her to wobble atop his knee. A hand rubbed her stomach, as if to provide comfort. Slobber leaked down her hand. Lord Douma's saliva. She wanted to bring the spit covered hand to her chest -- to feel a part of him. Douma sucked at her fingers. His tongue rolled over her knuckles and savored her.

"Lord Douma --"

Her words hung in muggy air. Only one sound penetrated through the room; a sob. The woman's blood mixed with unholy drool. In Douma's mouth were two delicate fingers -- her fingers. The sudden pang subsided, yet her heart continued to race. She was stuck; fear had collapsed in her veins. Her weak, mortal body shook. The sensation was uncontrollable.

"Stay still, my pet," Douma mused, his voice obstructed by gore. He refused to relent; his tone still cheery. Her body demanded she move, but her mind screamed for him. Torn between heart and brain, she quaked in his lap. Her hand fell limp into the bath water. Red blossomed beside her.

Douma's hands trailed down her body, as if to memorize her shape. His cockhead ached for stimulation -- for her. Without the air of a lord, Douma shifted his pet, her cunt now exposed to the heat. Carefully, he removed her disembodied fingers from his mouth. "Let me take care of you." His words were little more than a command -- no -- a threat.

Harshly, the demon shoved a finger into her cunt; the very finger he bit off. Disgust and lust bubbled together in her stomach. Naive eyes looked down as Douma pumped into her. A bloodied chin rested on his pet's shoulder. His humming vibrated into her bones. Thunderous. Awful.

Heat bloomed between her thighs. Lewd sounds of her core bounced off the walls. She bit her lip, stubborn and refusing to give into the demon.

Rainbow eyes drifted to her face, "Are you not satisfied, little one?" His tone faltered before a second finger jams into her soaking cunt. The woman's mouth betrayed her. Out came a wanton moan. Loud and squealing. Douma's face contorted into a grin, his breath beating upon her. "What's that? You want me to go faster~?" His pace burst into an almost hellish speed. The fingers hit her walls, scissoring her entrance. Douma acted as if he knew her very body. Roughly, he tweaked her nipple. Another cry pierced the air; his reward for her devotion.

"Come for me," Douma commanded, heavy humming now vibrating her jaw. "Show me your devotion." His voice wasn't more than a whisper, yet she felt the warmth between her thighs explode. The bundle in her stomach dissipated into bliss; eyes closed and breathing even.

Douma rubbed her cheek. This was perhaps his only action of humanity -- of charity. As his most devoted, she was worthy.

#douma x reader #doma x reader #yandere kny #kny x reader #ive finally lost my mf MIND #kny #smut

374 notes · View notes

bytesnbolts · 2 years ago

Text

Nanostorm stepped away from the capsule, turning to leave and froze.

Requiem stood halfway between the jet and the exit. His limbs hung loose and relaxed at his sides while he peered at Nanostorm with dimmed optics and biolights.

Nanostorm had not heard him approach or enter. It made them wonder if he had been in the room before and they had overlooked him somehow. How long had he been standing there?

“Requiem,” Nanostorm reset their vocalizer, hating how staticky and tight it sounded. Once their vocalizer was back online, they asked, “what is this laboratory? Why are these coolant units here? Why are these crystals here?”

“Commander, you surprise me,” Requiem gestured toward the unit Nanostorm had been inspecting, “I would think you of all mechanisms would recognize a cache.”

Neither took a step, but Nanostorm was not still. Their panels clamped down closer to their frame. The panel over the jet’s harpoon storage clicked in preparation to retract and their Gatling guns turned centihic by centihic, not pointing at Requiem yet but ready to swivel if needed.

“A cache?”

“Did the Good Doctor upgrade you with a mimicry module, Commander?” Requiem smiled lazily, and it hurt them down to their struts in a way they could not quite put a designation to.

“Answer me. Why do you have a cache?”

“Experimentation.”

The calmness and pride in Requiem’s voice at that single word made the ache deepen. They wished he would deny any knowledge of the place and say he was as perplexed as they were. A small desperate flicker of hope sputtered in their sparkchamber.

“Are you attempting to find a way to revert them to sparks?”

Requiem tilted his helm questioningly. His optics traced across their chassis, darting up to their guns, across to their servos, up to their visor and back to their chassis. His vocalizer pitched low as if they were sharing a secret.

“Have you discovered a method to revert the crystallization? Put the Good Doctor to it? Got tired of consuming the crystals?”

“I do not-”

“Oh, come now, Commander. You are not without.” Requiem returned evenly, lifting a servo to point at the jet’s chassis. “Those sparks contained within you hum away to the point I am surprised the Cybertronians cannot hear them.”

“I only have one spark; I am not a sparkeater.”

“You need not lie to or hide from me. There is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of with me.”

Requiem’s voice felt like warm oil being dripped into their seams, solvent washing away aching joints from sparring or soothing solar-bleaching from flying too close to suns. Their guns dipped on their shoulders. It took them a moment to be aware that Requiem had stepped closer.

“Halt! Servos up!”

The car-hauler came to a halt, raising his servos at the guns pointed at him.

“Commander.”

“You are under custody for questioning.”

A range of emotions flashed across the other’s green optics too fast for Nanostorm to analyze or catalog.

“Are you certain that the wisest choice? This distrust wounds my spark. You and I have long found the other in the spaces others fail to occupy in our functions. Have I lost your trust, Commander, over so little a problem?”

“You are detained until the mysteries of this lab are cleared. I will not stand down on this matter.”

Nanostorm did not feel it in their circuits, but they could not turn an off-lined optic to everything they had seen in this hidden room in Requiem’s territory. He had not told them of its existence. They took cold comfort, discomforting and saddening, that he had started the distrust he spoke of; it stung Nanostorm’s processor like chromatic hornets. They felt their guns dip again and shook off the feeling that they were betraying the other and destroying a fragile bond between them.

Requiem regarded them for a moment before making a half bow-like movement.

“As you command, Commander.”

The car-hauler stepped backwards, pede after pede toward the curtain.

“Come along.”

Nanostorm followed, closer than they would have if they were in their full processor.

#We got a situation in Sparkhaven #<< to be continued

1 note · View note

elliemarchetti · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do a jealous fremione onehsot pls?

I hope you like it and if you want a sequel or any other story, please just drop an ask because I’m soooo happy I’m slowly able to go back to writing.

Words: 1833

As the most varied kind of rumours about the Yule Ball were spreading everywhere, the last week before Christmas break became increasingly turbulent: some professors gave up teaching them much when their minds were so evidently elsewhere, but others, like Binns, McGonagall and Moody weren’t as generous. Professor Snape seemed to have made his personal mission to contain the enthusiasm, and from what Fred understood of Ron’s complaints, he had even scheduled them a poison antidote assignment for the last day of class. If in other circumstances it wouldn’t have bothered the most charismatic of the Weasley twins, at that specific moment it was a huge problem se he intended to invite Hermione Granger, who now spent all her free time divided between the library and the Common Room, her head perpetually sunk between books and notes. He had subconsciously begun to think of her as something other than his brother’s friend about a year ago but only came to terms with it at the end of the previous school year. During the summer, he had found every way to catch her attention, but on balance, it was only stolen time, spent at a safe distance as she certainly didn’t seem bothered by his presence, but neither was actively looking for it. The Yule Ball was his opportunity for a more direct but still cautious step, if only Hermione, in her rare breaks, wasn’t always surrounded by friends: she never went anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom, so his only chance was to ask her to speak alone after the end of the Potions test. When she turned to look at him with her big, hazel eyes, Fred could’ve sworn his stomach jumped, like when you miss a step down the stairs, but he regained enough composure to ask if she had a few seconds to spare.

“It’s a private matter,” he added, glaring at his brother as he realized he was going to try to get involved, as usual. Ron had a good heart, it was undeniable, and unlike him and George, he didn’t do anything maliciously, but he could sometimes be a real meddler, and now he had no time to handle it tactfully.

“Sure,” she replied quietly, just a hint of bewilderment in her voice.

“See you at dinner,” Ron muttered, before sneaking off as if he had interrupted something. Whether he wanted to invite her or simply had no desire to be alone, as Harry had bolted out of the classroom so quickly he hadn’t even noticed him, Fred truly couldn’t care.

"Did something happen? If it has to do..." she began, but he interrupted her abruptly, asking the fateful question, words coming out of his mouth without the usual funny streak that distinguished him. He could feel his ears and cheeks warm, and he suspected his skin had become a chromatic whole with his red hair.

After a moment of embarrassed silence, she too started to blush.

“I’m so sorry,” she began, and somehow her tone was sincere. “But I’m already going with someone else.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, hoping his disappointment wouldn’t be noticed too much, especially by Professor Snape, who was just walking out of the classroom; he was a mean man, and he certainly wouldn't miss such a glorious opportunity to make fun of a Gryffindor.

“I’m really sorry,” she repeated, when the Professor was no longer within earshot, but before it could become really awkward, Ginny, who looked far too happy for her standards, almost run to meet her friend, calling her from the end of the hall. Too heartbroken to notice, Fred didn’t even raised his head when the girl he’d just been turned down by looked over his sister’s shoulder, the sad expression of someone who wishes they could go back in time. Too curious to resist temptation, that same evening he joined the pleading chorus of Harry and Ron, who desperately wanted to know who their friend's mysterious escort was.

“It’s not my place to tell you,” Ginny replied peremptorily, ending the discussion for good before disappearing into the girls dormitory. The only ones who knew of his intention to invite Hermione were George and Angelina, so he let the latter take care of finding him a lady. Katie Bell seemed more than thrilled to accept his invitation and George tried to distract him with the booming Canary Cream sales. Their housemates constant hype and the spasmodic need to get out of his head the thought of Hermione’s secret date led him to focus more on another product, and even as the snow fell thick on the castle and park, making the Beauxbatons carriage look like a big cold pumpkin glazed with frost, he secluded himself in his bedroom with his twin, going out for longer than a meal only when the most awaited moment of the year came. Katie Bell wore a bright turquoise dress, while Angelina had chosen a decidedly more sober outfit. As always, he and George were in identical clothes, and the four of them went down to the Entrance Hall crammed with students just a little early. The students who had to meet with partners from different Houses made their way through the crowd, looking for each other, and since there was no sign of Hermione, Fred started to mentally go over the names of the Gryffindors not yet present, distracted only when the oak front door opened and everyone turned to look at the Drumstrang’s students entrance. Victor Krum was leading, accompanied by the girl Fred so desperately wanted to have beside him. Hermione had done something to her hair, now straight and flowing, tied in an elegant knot behind her head, and she was wearing a soft periwinkle blue dress that gave the impression she even had a different bearing, but probably it was just the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had hanging on her back. She was smiling, albeit rather nervously, and soon she began talking to Harry and Parvati. She had attracted everyone’s attention, more than Fleur Delacour, and it didn’t escape him how many guys let slip a few lewd glances as the pair of champions advanced towards a large round table where the judges had already taken their seats. By the end of the little parade, his blood was boiling, making him unable to enjoy the walls of the Great Hall covered in glistening silver frost and the hundreds of ivy and mistletoe wreaths crisscrossing across the black starry ceiling. When he took place for dinner at a table set with gold plates in which food would appear on command, the only thing running in his mind was the amount of possibilities the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve also existed in Bulgaria. For the whole dinner they chatted so closely that Fred was sure they were going to kiss right there, making him throw up the pork chops he was picking listlessly, completely oblivious to the fact that the worst was yet to come. When all the food was consumed, Dumbledore got up and asked the students to imitate him: with a stroke of his wand the tables shot away and arranged themselves along the walls, leaving a clear floor, where an elevated platform equipped with a complete battery, several guitars and bagpipes, a lute and a cello appeared. Not even the Weird Sisters’ entry managed to change his mood as he knew that soon they would start with one of their most slow song, the perfect excuse for Krum to hold Hermione tightly in his muscular arms. Just as he had feared, the two separated only after several rounds of dancing and Lee, who hadn’t lost sight of his friend for the whole time, surprised him by saying he could still invite her to dance, even if he wasn’t her escort.

“Look at Parvati,” he nearly yelled to be heard above the noise, gesturing across the room. Their housemate was spinning with a tall Beauxbatons guy wearing a perfect light blue suit, someone who definitely wasn’t Harry Potter. Even her sister wasn’t dancing with Ron and as sorry as he was that his brother had lost his partner, it seemed to give him some kind of courage, something he usually never lacked. When he finally found her at the drink stands, Hermione was looking for her escort, so shaken that she seemed to force herself to avoid his gaze.

“What happened?” he asked, jealously suddenly forgotten, replaced by the familiar need to protect her. It was something he had felt since the first time they met, and even if he had mistaken it for a different feeling maybe for too long, the truth had definitely revealed itself at the Quidditch World Cup, when he thought he was going mad not seeing her arrive at the meeting point. They were deep feelings, still too fresh to forget them because she accepted someone else’s invite to a stupid ball.

"Don't worry," she reassured him once she took a long sip of Butterbeer, "I’m being emotional over a silly fight with your brother. I just wanted everything to be perfect tonight, you know?"

All too well, he wanted to answer, but as it was evident that she wanted to let off steam, he let her talk freely. Almost without realizing it, they found themselves in the rose garden, where the dancing lights of the fairies flickered and sparkled, illuminating bushes artfully positioned to create winding ornamental paths, a temporary home for large stone statues and fountains. They ended up talking about other things too, like how Fleur Delacour had seemed unable to stop comparing Beauxbatons to Hogwarts for the whole dinner.

"I have to admit the champions table hadn’t the best company,” she let out with a sigh, but before she could continue, one of her diners turned the corner, with Severus Snape by his side. The Potions professor was blowing rose bushes away with the hostile frown he’d been wearing since the Yule Ball was announced, hissing reproaches and punishments at the dark shapes emerging from their hiding places.

“And what are you two doing?” he asked Fred and Hermione inquisitively. His companion looked rather annoyed to see them there, and rolled his goatee a couple of times around his index finger waiting for their response.

“We were looking for Viktor,” replied Hermione, who had gotten pretty good at lying to professors over her time spent with Harry. Fred felt his stomach tighten again. He had almost forgotten, so great was the joy of being there chatting with her, that inside the castle’s wall there still was a party, and partners to whom they owed dancing and entertainment. Again, that was just another stolen moment, a memory he would keep forever and which she would gloss over describing the evening to her friends.

“Then I advise you to go back inside,” replied Karkaroff. “There is no Durmstrang student in the garden.”

#ask #one shot #fremione #krumione #romione #hermione granger #fred weasley #viktor krum #ron weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #fleur delacour #lee jordan #angelina johnson #katie bell #harry potter #albus dumbledore #severus snape #igor karkaroff

61 notes · View notes

kittychans · 4 years ago

Text

A Story About Raymond

When we started our Animal Crossing New Horizons island our first camper was Raymond, this business cat with hetero-chromatic eyes.

He’s a bit of a smug bitch, but being a cat he quickly worked his way into our hearts, and became one of our favorite villagers.

Once our village filled up I was a little sad that my favorite villager from past games hadn’t made it onto our island. This was Static, a grumpy little purple squirrel who had been in all of my villages since the original Animal Crossing.

There was a villager named Queenie that we didn’t like very much because she was mean to the other villagers so when she decided to move out we let her.

I had saved nearly 300,000 Nook Miles, and I used them to hunt for Static on deserted island tours. Between myself and my husband we used a few hundred tickets but never found him, and eventually a random villager named Blaire moved into the open lot.

She was cute but also happened to be mean to the other villagers the same way Queenie was.

Several months later Static showed up at our island’s campground, and we hoped the game would let us ask Blaire to move out. Alas no the game offered to have Static move to the island in place of Raymond.

I was heartbroken. I offered to get a Static amiibo so we could just try again that way, but my husband was loath to spend money just to get a villager, and dismissed Raymond so Static could move in, hoping that we would be able to find Raymond again on a mystery island. At least he thought, if that didn’t work I could just buy a Raymond amiibo to get our precious cat back.

There were two problems with this plan. After we had already dismissed Raymond we learned that an amiibo for him was never made, beyond that because of the way the game generates random villagers on the mystery islands any particular cat villager had about a 0.12% chance of appearing.

I wasn’t hopeful. My husband spent the next several weeks saving Nook Miles while we waited for Blaire to offer to move. Weeks passed and as a bit of tease we got this message in a bottle from our little cat.

By the time Blair finally offered to move between my husband and I we had saved up nearly 500 Nook Miles tickets.

I knew the chances weren’t good. Other people who had hunted for Raymond had spent thousands of tickets looking for him with no success.

On the day we began the hunt I had the day off work. Personally I had only saved up 56 tickets, so while my husband made coffee I started the search.

A few tries in I met Marshal, a smug squirrel who was also very cute, and I will confess I had a small temptation to invite him onto our island, but I very much missed our cat so I passed him up.

It wasn’t long before I ran out of tickets with no success, so I let my husband search while I made breakfast.

It was only a few minutes before I heard my husband cry out, “OMG I can’t believe it.” I walked into the living room and sure enough there he was Raymond sitting next to a fire on a mystery island. It was my husband's second attempt.

Overjoyed to have our cat back we have now set up his welcome home signs both next to his house and near the plaza.

Welcome Home Raymond!

#animal crossing #animal crosing new horizons #raymond #cat #raymond animal crossing #hunt #luck #welcome home #merman incident

20 notes · View notes

lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.9k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

For the very first time when stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, Robin felt old. The majority of students was younger than her, and it made her painfully aware of how this was the second to last time she would ever feel the happiness of returning to Hogwarts. Luckily that only did little to taint her current excitement, and she mentally patted herself on the shoulder for being at the station so early. Most of the train was still empty, and thus Robin picked a cabin that promised the least walking traffic. Gosh, she couldn't wait to be back at school… as pathetically nerdy as that was.

"Robin!!!" Cas beamed the very second she opened the sliding door, and already had Robin wrapped in a tight hug before she could say hi in return. It was only then that Robin noticed just how much she had missed a simple hug. The luxury of a comforting touch was hard to come by these days, especially since the one person whose touch she craved the most stayed at a constant distance. But hugging Cas was lovely in its own right, and no less overwhelming in the sudden affection. Robin's eyes watered in an instant, but not enough to form real tears. God, hugs were nice…

"Hey Cas." She finally said, once the girl had let her go and now took the window seat that wasn't already occupied by Robin herself. For a few minutes they chatted about the postcard Cas had sent her, and then the entire process of being hugged was repeated as Jorien joined them in their compartment. Robin didn't mind in the least, she baked in every bit of affection she got.

"Your hair has gotten so long!" Jorien remarked, addressing Robin once they had gotten comfortable in their spaces for the long ride. Soon enough, the landscape flew by outside the window, and the sun blinded Robin enough to be a bother.

"I forgot to have it cut over summer the year." She shrugged in return, crossing her legs on the seat. "Perhaps I will do it myself at some point, I'm quite good with a knife by now."

"Don't you dare!" Cas intervened immediately. "It looks amazing just like that! All lush and bouncy and messy… You really don't know a thing about what looks good on you and what doesn't, huh?"

"Thanks." Robin replied flatly and rolled her eyes, which only made Cas groan in return.

"Come on, I didn't mean it as an insult! Your style is perfectly alright; it suits you well with all that… chromatic elegant grungy-ness. But you could use some help with the implementation of that style."

"I didn't even know I had a style in the first place." Robin shrugged and wrapped a loose curl around her finger only to release it again a few seconds later. Her hair almost went down to her waist at this point indeed, but if Cas thought it looked good… oh well. She could still cut it later in the year if it started bothering her. "I just wear whatever I like, usually."

"Which is perfectly alright." Jorien added in with a pointed look at Cas. "Not everyone thinks that school is a fashion show."

"Duh…" Cas rolled her eyes with a huff, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm just trying to help. Maybe get Robin a little more male attention this term."

"Yeah, no, we are not having this conversation." Robin said before they could go any further into that direction. "So tell me… what did you guys do over the summer? Anything exciting?"

"What's even more interesting is what you did over the summer." Jorien smirked at Robin with just a little too much mischief in her eyes, but at least she was going along with the change of topic. "Melissa told me that she saw you in the newspaper!"

"Who's Melissa?"

"A classmate of ours." Cas sighed, finally letting go of her feigned pout. "She's become somewhat of a friend recently."

"Good!" Robin smiled, looking at the two girls sitting opposite to her with a hopefully encouraging expression. "I'm glad you're making friends other than me at last! Perhaps your peers are finally grown up enough to be real friend material."

"Don't distract from the question." Jorien cut in, and Robin sighed. She'd taught her too well. "Were you in the Daily Prophet or not?"

"I was indeed."

The two girls' eyes lit up in an instant. "Tell us all about it! What did you do, win some prize for your presumably amazing OWLs? Get arrested for thinking too fast? Cure some deadly disease?"

"Close." Robin laughed, and before she could think better of it, she pulled her locket out from under her shirt to summon up the rolled up picture she had put in there when she'd first cut it out of the newspaper. With a soft smile, she looked down at it for a moment, then handed the photograph to the two girls.

"Now that is a lovely outfit you're wearing here! But… wait a second… Is that Professor Snape standing behind you?!" Cas asked incredulously after a few seconds of staring at the picture. "Did you meet there by coincidence or something? Because in comparison to all the old men, you and him actually stand out quite a bit."

Robin bit her lip to keep from laughing. They indeed were by far the youngest in the picture; and it was close to impossible to miss them even in a group of over forty people.

"The picture was taken at a conference about potions, which we attended together this year." Robin explained, and went to store the picture back in her locket once Jorien had done her fair share of staring as well. "No coincidence about any of that. We went together on purpose."

"Boring…" Cas sighed, and leaned back in her seat. "I wouldn't dream of spending time with a teacher outside of school, nor to spend more time on potions than I have to. But I know you're crazy enough to enjoy both, so nevermind. Anyway, what else did you do during the holidays?"

"I had coffee with a friend, occasionally." Robin smiled to herself, thinking back to Friday. How they'd made the best pasta she's ever had, without any magic at all. How they'd just sat in the open window in the dark living room, listening to the rain drumming on the stone tiles of her patio while a chilly wind contrasted the warmth of the tea in her hands. How when he had left, it had been late enough to say until tomorrow.

"Uuhh…" Cas wiggled her eyebrows in the most ridiculous manner. "That kind of friend, yes? Your smile is such a tell."

"Not even close to it, Cas." Robin quirked an eyebrow at her in return, with an expression entirely humored and entirely feigned; no need to turn into a blushing mess in front of them. And except for the overall existence of such, her and Snape's Friday meetings had been painfully appropriate indeed. Still, they had a silent agreement that it would be best not to mention them to anyone. "We are not even on a hugging kind of level in our friendship, which is perfectly fine though. We talk about books a lot."

"Was it the same friend who gave you the bracelet?" Jorien inquired pointedly innocently, motioning to the three pieces of jewelry Robin still wore around her wrist every day.

"The very same. I don't have friends other than you and him."

"Why do you never talk about him if he's your only real friend? Besides us, I mean… but we're different." Cas frowned. "Will you at least tell us who he is?"

"It wouldn't help you even if I did… You don't know him at all." Robin said, thanking the English language for allowing her this equivocation.

"Is he in Slytherin too?" Jorien tried inquiring in a careful tone, with a curious expression she couldn't quite hide.

"Yes. No. Not exactly." Robin replied and rolled her eyes at herself. She should just shut the questions down immediately; this was coming dangerously close to a place in her mind she didn't want to speak of. But they would never stop asking if she shut them down now. Not like this.

"Not exactly? What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that he isn't a student at Hogwarts anymore." She said truthfully. "He graduated long before your first year even started."

"Darn it…" Cas groaned and rolled her eyes. "So that's why you never hang with him during the school year."

"Wait a second, if he graduated before we ever came to Hogwarts, how did he know that I was the right person to give you that bracelet last year?" Jorien frowned, giving Robin a highly questioning look. The girl really was too smart for her own good.

"I talked to him about you, silly!" Robin replied easily enough, as if it was the most obvious thing in existence. Always telling the truth was only difficult if one didn't practice it. "You've been my roomies for a while now, did you seriously expect me not to mention you?"

"Right… that makes sense." Jorien sighed, and her desire to question Robin disappeared along with her frown. "Anyway, what else is new?"

"Got me some new robes. Just because the school says we need black robes doesn't mean we all have to have the same boring students' robes they sell in Diagon Alley, eh? Also got dress robes for the new year's ball at last… you'll be positively surprised by those." Robin shrugged with a smirk, and now the sun finally bothered her enough to make her summon the small round sunglasses she had recently acquired out of the backpack next to her. As soon as she'd pushed them up her nose, the layer of darkness brought an immediate relief to her sore eyes. Who cares if it would get her some weird looks; not everyone could be a worshipper of the sun. "That's about it for me and my summer. What's new with you guys?"

_______________

The best thing about being in sixth year now was that Robin only had to take the subjects she actually cared about. No more history of magic, no more astronomy, no more divination… school was way more fun without those redundant classes. With the list of courses she wished to attend already being fixed, it had been ridiculously easy to set up her schedule on the first day of classes, and the week had started off relatively smoothly.

Professor Morgan's jaw had dropped quite literally when Robin had sauntered into his classroom on the first day of defense against the dark arts class, sitting down in her usual spot and looking indifferent to him as ever. Honestly, she couldn't have cared less if he was upset that she was continuing his class. She was here to learn, and if he couldn't be professional beyond his hatred for her, then she would just have to do the same thing she'd done since first year: study for herself and ignore Morgan as much as possible.

Other than that, Robin loved the courses she was taking; N.E.W.T. level classes were a lot more demanding in their magic and assignments, but still no real challenge to Robin no matter how much she'd hoped they would be. They were fun though, and the assignments were actually enjoyable to complete most of the time.

Outside of classes, she continued working on her handbook whenever she could, adding details and new information on a daily basis, and somehow she'd also ended up adding little drawings or clippings she'd been able to get her hands on to the correlating pages. By the middle of October, Robin felt like her project had finally reached a presentable state, and while she wasn't nearly done in her own eyes, the thick journal she had used was almost completely filled up by now. It was only then, on a lovely bleak Saturday, that she finally decided it was time to show her work to Snape at long last.

Saturday meant that Robin first of all spent a good while after breakfast tutoring Cas, Jorien, and Melissa (who somehow always tagged along with the two of them now) in transfiguration. When they moved on to potions after that, a few other third years overheard that Robin was very much knowledgeable in the subject, and they reluctantly asked if they could join the class. The shy request made Robin smile to herself, and she graciously agreed to accept them as her students for the day. In the end, they needed to move to a bigger room, for Robin ended up with sixteen students of various houses who wanted to listen to her going over the last month worth of third year potions class.

So really it was only after lunch when Robin finally had the time to find Snape in his office. Just out of a spree, she actually knocked before she entered for once, then however continued on in as usual, without waiting for a reply.

"Hey…" She smiled at him while she moved over to the side table to drop her backpack on her chair. "What are you doing?"

"Inflicting terror and remorse, one idiot at a time." Snape sighed in a pointed tone, and Robin had to chuckle. It shouldn't amuse her so much that he was so annoyed with his students… but after three hours of tutoring, she was simply amused by the fact that he looked just like she felt.

"Ah, same old then." She grinned, and was just about to grab her secret project out of her backpack to proudly present it to him as a hopefully welcome distraction, when he muttered something under his breath, subconsciously, followed by a quiet sigh that was almost plaintive even. Perhaps… this wasn't a good time. Robin let her notebook drop back into her backpack and turned around to look at him instead, sitting down on the edge of the small table.

Snape was bent over some parchment on his own desk with a deep frown on his face, looking partially annoyed, mostly frustrated and entirely done with whatever it was he had to do. Robin could practically feel the stress radiating off him, and it strongly supported her decision to lay off with her plans of showing him her project for now. Presenting him with more research and books surely wasn't something that would better the situation, which in return was all Robin could currently think of doing.

"Can I do anything to help you?" She asked first of all, raising her eyebrows in a hopeful expression when he looked up at her for a few short seconds.

"Not unless you want to suffer the same slow death by utter nonsense that was forced upon me with these second year essays." He replied in an annoyed tone, frowning back down at the desk and aggressively scribbling an overly large Dreadful on the parchment in front of him. Robin found that she pitied Snape just as much as his students in that moment, and she knew that for everyone's sake, she would have to come up with something other than chocolate cake.

"Alright, come on." She said determinedly, then pushed herself off the table and brushed imaginary dust off her black jeans. "There is something way more important to do than grading second year essays right now."

"And what would that be?" He raised an eyebrow at her in return, but already dropped his quill on the desk so abruptly that little sprinkles of ink dusted over the next essay paper as well as his hand.

"Going for a walk with me." Robin grinned as she summoned a jumper out of her backpack and then moved to put it on over her henley shirt. The second one she owned now, thanks to the positive remarks she had gotten for it. "I want to show you something."

Admittedly, that something probably wouldn't impress him nearly as much as her handbook would, and Robin had never really considered showing it to him in the first place, but somehow the little sprinkles of black ink on his pale skin had convinced her that it might be worth a try. What she wanted to show him was neither related to potions nor to anything else in that regard at all, it was practically useless but for its potential to delight with its mere existence. So really, all Robin hoped for was that he wouldn't be mad at her for dragging him outside for something as pathetic as that. And still, a part of her couldn't wait for him to see it. With a grin, she motioned for him to come along as she made towards the door.

Snape didn't even try to protest as he rose to his feet to go along with her plan, keeping his eyes on her with a subtly curious frown. Meanwhile Robin wondered when exactly she had reached a point with him where she could just burst into the room and suggested something like this, and he would drop what he was doing in an instant to go with her. Alright, she would do and had done the very same for him as well, but that was different! He just could've told her to scurry off and stop distracting him from his work. But he hadn't, and that made her heart swell in the most pleasant way as she sauntered out into the hallway, where he soon followed before locking the door.

Together they made their way through some of the most desolate corridors and passageways, avoiding as many people as possible until they arrived under the blindingly white sky at last. A chilly wind, swaying trees and the smell of impending rain greeted them, wrapping around Robin's senses like a silken sliver of liquid calm. A perfect day for a walk, and an even more perfect one for what she wanted him to see.

"Lead the way then." He said as they gained a distance to the walls of the castle. "Or is there no precise destination you wish to go?"

"Not really, no." Robin chuckled in return and crossed her arms over her chest for some warmth. It wasn't freezing, but her jumper was barely warm enough. "It's a spell I want to show you."

"A spell that requires us to leave the castle?"

"You'll see, believe me. But other than that, I simply wanted to take a walk and you looked like you could use some air as well."

He returned a quiet hum in acknowledgement, perhaps agreement even, and they continued to make their way down the hill in comfortable silence. It really had been a while since they had taken a walk like this, just for fun. A while long enough for Robin to forget if they had always been walking next to each other so… closely. It was quite distracting to feel his presence next to her on a constant basis, scorching her entire right side and making her skin crawl. But then again, the mere fact that he was here with her was quite delightful on its own.

For a while they aimlessly wandered through the landscape, sometimes following the paths and sometimes straying away on purpose, through the trees that were torn between an early winter's desolate death and a late autumn's colourful beauty. When they finally found themselves on the shore of the black lake, the place that seemed to hold an inevitable gravity on Robin, the October chill was already sitting deep in her bones. But so was the calm.

"Perhaps we should return to the castle before it starts to rain." Snape remarked, but made no attempt to turn around as he stood with Robin on the waterline, overlooking the mildly crinkling but ever vast surface of the lake. A black mirror.

"I still want to show you that spell." She replied easily, smiling to herself as her eyes lifted from the deep dark grey of the water to the almost blinding greyish white of the sky above them. "I merely had to wait for the right moment."

"And when would that be?" He inquired with a layer of curiosity in his tone, as a crashing thunder rippled through the bubble of serenity that surrounded them.

"Now." Robin replied with a soft smile, then she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it up at the sky. All she heard for a few seconds was her own breathing, her own heartbeat, and the faint lapping of water at the stones beneath her feet. Focus… Breathe. "Lux obscurius."

The white sky, blinding in its cold brightness. A black lightning, a bolt of utmost darkness, cutting through the white and splitting time for a broken second. Veiling the world in darkness. And then, light again, accompanied by absolute silence. The drowning out of every sound, every noise absent and gone for the duration of this negative of thunder. A heartbeat later, the wind whispered again, the water rolled over the pebbles, and Robin let out the quiet breath she had been holding. A perfect lightning of darkness, a perfect thunder of soundlessness.

"It's quite useless, is it not?" She chuckled nervously after a moment, turning to look at Snape with a small frown and a weak half smile. Damn his enigmatic expression, damn his silence; she had no idea what he thought. "I was just experimenting. Again. It really isn't anything special, it's just-..."

"It is a piece of art if I have ever seen one." He interrupted her, holding her gaze with the barest hint of sincere awe shining through the intricately woven layer of burning emotions Robin couldn't separate into graspable strings. A layer that she only now understood to be the very same as his facade of neutrality. "You should show it to someone who is capable of being moved by such delicate beauty."

"I believe I just did." She replied with a small smile, and his brows furrowed into a frown that was more defense than accusation. Robin understood that he didn't want her to know… but she wanted him to understand that she knew anyway. "You are bleeding emotions, you know… Out of invisible wounds that are unfathomable in their origin to me, but still I can feel you bleeding like you saw the crimson on your fingertips when I did."

For a moment he just stared at Robin, and she in return observed how his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. It was a calming sight, intimate and distant at once. They still stood on the shore, still tempting fate to open up the skies in an orchestration of water, sound and wind. But for the moment, time was frozen.

"You are so very receptive of some matters, and yet so very blind to others. Why, pray tell, do I fall into the former category?" He finally inquired without any spite, and Robin realized just how much she had hoped that he wouldn't just shut her out entirely. Relief drowned that spark of fear before it could root.

"Because I care to look, and you allow me to see." She replied easily, confidently almost, in the knowledge that it was true what she said.

"That's ridiculous... I most definitely do not!" He scoffed with a sullen look, but as Robin quirked an eyebrow at him in doubt, he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Fine, perhaps I do. Unintentionally, I should say. What you are supposed to see is annoyance, and occasionally anger."

"Anger is the only emotion that doesn't make you vulnerable by showing it." She shrugged, offering him another small smile that hopefully portrayed understanding rather than disregard of what he was saying. "And the more vulnerable you feel, the more anger comes pouring out of you. Always lashing out, before anyone else has the chance to hurt you first. It's only self-preservation, really. I tend to do the same."

"How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Knowing."

"As I said, I care to look." Robin's smile widened a little, and she shrugged one shoulder. "And you let me see."

"Don't get me started on what you let me see." He huffed, but there was undoubtedly a spark of humor in his voice, now made room for by the vanishing defensiveness. He didn't deny her statement, not again. "For example, I can always tell when you so desperately try to hide your wish to disagree with me in class."

Robin's lips parted as they curled into a large smile, then she had to laugh after a second of surprise. "Well, at least I try not to be an insufferable know-it-all in front of the entire class!"

"You are quite insufferable as it is, but you do know a lot indeed. Next time you want to disagree with me, humor me by trying, will you?"

"You know I'll succeed anyway."

"We should have to see about that." He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, clasping his hands behind his back just as the first raindrops ruffled the surface of the lake.

The wind picked up as well, blowing Robin's hair into her face despite the ponytail she'd put it into, but she kept on smiling even as heavy pearls of water hit her lips, her neck, her lashes, each one a beautiful reminder of how intensely and desperately alive she felt in that moment. Sometimes the world ended with a bang, sometimes with a whisper. And perhaps it was reborn the same way.

A bright flash cut through her vision, lightning followed by a deafening thunder, and hell broke loose at last. In an instant the rain doubled in speed, faster and louder and stronger and colder, but Robin only closed her eyes as she smiled up at the sky to let the rain pearl down onto her face. The water soaked through the fabric of her jumper in an instant, stinging her skin in a sodden cold, but it held nothing against the pleasure of raw passion that tided through her at the same time.

When Robin opened her eyes at last, an entire legion of dark lightnings surged through the sky in a web of black ink, hitting the world in a display of brutal fragility. Soundlessness, inevitably drowning out the rain and the wind, as loud in its silence as a crash of thunder in its noise. Then it was just the rain again, putting everything into perspective as Robin finally lowered her gaze from the skies to look at Snape.

He still seemed to be mostly dry, standing under the faint glow of his umbrella spell, and he observed Robin with an expression that, for him, looked almost sincerely happy. The sight squeezed Robin's heart in pure adoration, and she couldn't help but smile while rain dropped down from her lashes and onto her lips.

"You are insufferable." He mused with a small smirk and the most obvious teasing expression.

Robin chuckled in return, shaking her head to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest to at least keep some of her warmth. By now, she was entirely drenched. "What did I do this time?"

"For one, you showed me one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

"The spell?"

"Passion." He said without the slightest hint of discomfort, as if it was just another easy fact, and that one mere word set Robin's skin ablaze and her heart under electricity. Damn…

"But…" He added before long, and Robin got the impression that he finally caught on to what he had said. "You are also entirely sodden, and I have to return you to the castle somehow before you turn into an icicle. So get yourself an umbrella before I take pity on you."

"Sure, as soon as you tell me the spell to do so." Robin smiled, giving him a small shrug while she leaned her head to the side. Really, they taught spells for turning animals into drinking cups at school, but not how to conjure up an umbrella. Education… Ironic.

"Perhaps another time." He replied with a hint of a smile as he took the one remaining step to stand next to her, then he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders at last.

Robin let herself be pulled close more than gladly, under the dry space of the umbrella and into his side. A moment later the water melted off her skin, fading from her clothes into a thin mist that was blown into the wind and disappeared altogether within a few seconds, leaving her dry enough to bask in the warmth that radiated off him. Gods, he was warm indeed… and his touch still heavenly as ever. She smiled down at the path beneath her feet then, and leaned into his side just a little bit more than she had to as they made their way back towards the castle. If he noticed at all, he made no attempt to protest.

______________________________

Tags:

@ayamenimthiriel @chibi-lioness @t-sunnyside @alex4555 @purpledragonturtles @istrugglewithphilosophy @meghan-maria

General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @kassablanca13 @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @bluewneptune

68 notes · View notes

honourablejester · 3 years ago

Text

Scribes Wizard Concept

A random character concept for a battered, shy, deeply romantic half-elven wizard girl. Not sure where it came from, but you know?

(Okay, so A Little Princess and The Secret Garden might be influences)

(Possibly a bit triggery, with illegitimate children and resulting abuse from a family patriarch)

Character Sheet: Miriam ‘Broom’

Name: Miriam ‘Broom’

Race: Half-Elf

Age: 22

Background: Illegitimate Noble Child

Class/Level: Wizard 2 (Scribes)

Statistics: Strength 8, Dexterity 14, Constitution 16, Intelligence 16, Wisdom 12, Charisma 10

Ideal: “There should be a little more kindness, magic and beauty in this world.”

Bond: “I’m going to have a beautiful, romantic adventure for myself. And maybe, if it’s possible, find my father along the way.”

Flaw: “I want, someday, to have someone write words to me like the ones my father wrote to my mother. Even if they’re not real. Even if they end badly.”

Skills & Languages:

Tools: Calligrapher’s tools

Skills: Arcana, History, Insight, Perception, Religion, Stealth

Languages: Common, Elvish, Celestial, Draconic

Traits, Feats and Background/Class Features: Darkvision (60ft), Fey Ancestry, Skill Versatility, Researcher, Arcane Recovery, Ritual Casting, Wizardly Quill, Awakened Spellbook

Spells:

Cantrips: Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Chill Touch

Spells: Shield, Mage Armour, Feather Fall, Detect Magic, Comprehend Languages, Alarm, Magic Missile, Chromatic Orb

Equipment: Traveller’s clothes, a dagger, her spellbook, an explorer’s pack, a book of chivalric romances, a bundle of half-burned letters, and a small green pendant

Spellbook: A rather battered but beautiful and hardy leather-bound notebook, well-kept and with truly beautiful penmanship

Description: A shy, mousy sort of a girl, whip-thin, with a thin, ascetic face and short, fluffy, ash-blonde hair. She’s very, very pale, and tends to walk a little hunched. Her clothing is good but worn. Slightly ostentatious, like a rich person’s idea of cheap clothing. If the wind catches her hair wrong, you can see an elven slant to her ears, and some nasty scarring on the right one, as if someone tried to tear or cut off the tip, and the mangled results were healed badly.

History:

The girl introducing herself as Miriam Broom was born, at least technically, as Miriam Eldredge. Her mother was still an Eldredge at the time, although she wasn’t meant to be for long.

Lady Leah Eldredge, daughter of Lord Penrose Eldredge, had been betrothed to Baron Catherwood for two years, a family arrangement, when she caught the eye and the adoration of a travelling elven gentleman. Their affair was secret, knowing her father’s likely reaction, but ardent. He wrote her beautiful letters, things she kept and treasured, and sent her a small jade pendant too, as a promise of his intentions. But the pendant would prove their downfall. Her father noticed it, and grew suspicious of its origins. He searched her rooms, and found and attempted to destroy her cache of letters. He was livid that she would betray him in this manner, knowing she was promised to someone else, on his good word and name. He shut her in the house, and sent out search parties for the mysterious ‘L.’ of her letters. They never found her elven lover. Which was very fortunate, because not long into her confinement, they realised she was with child.

Eldredges, particularly promised Eldredges, cannot and shall not have illegitimate children.

Lord Penrose kept his daughter confined, under the guise of an ‘illness’, until the child was born. Little Miriam, who unfortunately wore her father’s blood visibly. Lord Penrose took her from her mother almost instantly, and kept her where her mother could not find her or connect with her. He kept Leah confined for half a year longer. Long enough for her to ‘recover’ a little more, and understand his viewpoint much more clearly. And then, when he was assured of her obedience once more, he sent to her promised wedding, and her new husband, with the instruction to never, ever, mention her previous affair, or the bastard that had resulted from it.

And as for Miriam … For some reason known only to himself, Lord Eldredge chose to keep her in his house. Not as a daughter or granddaughter, of course, but not as anything else either. She stayed with a wet-nurse for a time, but as she grew into a young child, the two sides of her heritage became increasingly obvious in her. Her father’s elven nature, and her mother’s Eldredge looks. It became very obvious very young that she could be nothing but an Eldredge bastard.

And still Lord Eldredge didn’t cast her out, and Miriam never once understood why. He kept her out of sight, away from guests and gossips, yes. He made sure she understood, as thoroughly as possible, that she must never, ever introduce herself as an Eldredge, that she didn’t have the right. Yet he didn’t get rid of her. He stowed her in the depths of his manor, in attics and libraries, among books and journals and windows out into a world she wasn’t allowed to touch. When he realised she had started reading, half teaching herself, he gave her at least access to the library, if not tutelage. He let her read, and practice penmanship and calligraphy. He was cold and vicious and occasionally violent, particularly towards signs of her paternal heritage, but he didn’t … let her go. Not for years. He tried, in odd, distant, half-violent ways, to be … of some relation to her.

But then, studying his books and his journals and his papers, a skinny young Miriam, in her late teens, discovered two things. One, magic. He had books of the stuff, wonderous, intriguing books, and she had taught herself to read. She could teach herself magic too. And the second thing …

Her mother had managed to save some small few letters from that last, destructive discovery of her secret love. In the midst of her ‘illness’, pregnant with her daughter and hidden away from the rest of the house, she had managed to scavenge some half-burned scraps and hide them away. Along with a pendant, that her father had thrown at her in his rage and accusation, and had never quite remembered to pick back up. She hadn’t dared bring it with her, not to her new marriage, to an old friend of her father’s, but she had kept them nonetheless. And hidden them, in her ‘sickroom’. Where Miriam, young and coltish and eager, finally discovered them.

Miriam was entranced. Utterly entranced by the words, the beautiful, ardent, longing words her father had sent her mother. The beauty and the romance of them. Hand-in-hand with her blooming enchantment with magic, went her equal enchantment with romance, and with the memory, in fragmented words, of her father.

This second betrayal, the mirror of the first, was more than Lord Penrose could suffer. When he found her wearing the pendant one evening, in her room where she thought she was at least a little safe, he was … beyond reason. For the second child of his house to betray him for this man, to snub his generosity and his restraint, was past all bearing for him. When she tried to defend herself with magic, with knowledge all but stolen from his libraries, only to be turned against him, it was the final straw.

He didn’t kill her. It was a near thing, and her right ear would always bear the mark of that last fit of violence, but he didn’t kill her. He banished her, instead. Told to get out, to get as far as humanly or elvenly possible from his lands and anyone who might know his family name. To never seek him out again, never mention his name or make any claim of it. To never seek her mother, either. She never had before, while under his power, and she was not to do so now. For her mother’s sake, he made sure to clarify. If her ‘mistake’ was ever discovered, her husband would surely react badly. So stay away, little girl. Stay away from all of them. Seek out your bastard father if you must, since apparently your grandfather will not suffice for you.

He gave her clothes, and a bag, and some few coins, and cast her out. She stole … a few other things. Only a handful. Her little book of notes on magic. Her mother’s letters and pendant. And a book. Her favourite book, full of lovely, romantic, courtly tales. A treasure, to remind her of better things.

And then she went out, a battered, scared, sheltered teenager, into a wild wonderful world. Determined to seek … adventure. Romance, at least the distant, gentle, beautiful kind. And maybe her father. All she has is his initial, and a few fragments of information gleaned from the letters. Small things, likes and dislikes, maybe a mention or two of places he’d seen. Not enough to really search. But maybe she’ll stumble upon him along the way.

Where there’s life, there’s hope, after all.

Note: ‘Broom’, her new nom-de-plume, was the result of a complete panic attack the first time a stranger asked her name, and is a total line-of-sight moniker because there was a street-sweeper working two feet away and her terrified brain blanked completely. But, a name’s a name, and it’s no worse than a lot of them, so ‘Miriam Broom’ it is.

#d&d #character concepts #character concept #wizards #i need to watch the secret garden again

4 notes · View notes