#the top brass seem to wear golds and browns but their not-top-brass wears green

[themoomoorn]

With this nifty color analysis in place, how would you interpret Byleth, Ashen Demon and villain(ess) of a thousand mercenaries' nightmares, having a soft pink as their secondary color? It does apply a bit more to the female, but other than their promotion (Which has divine/royal purple/gold/white as the main combo), all of their options include pink!

And one nifty aspect about Claude that I will always be convinced is a happy accident is that yellow and green are both his colors - enhanced by the fact that green appears to be Almyra's representative/national color. He's heroic when he embraces both colors (even though Barbarossa's outfit is mostly brown and gold) and more villainous when he's sliding towards one...hm hm hmm...

For a second, let's look at how Houses/Hopes uses colour and equipment to foreshadow what each characters role is in the game.

Byleth is the Ashen Demon, and checking around in the Japanese text this is meant to be more of a grey character. So, somewhere between black and white. They have black armor initially, but gain white when they obtain their Enlightened One class after fusing with Sothis. Black and White right there, but there's more. They lose the white (Enlightened One powers) if they fight alongside Edelgard, leader of the Black Eagle Strike Force, against Rhea, whose title is the White One in Japanese, undoing their character arc and returning to how they were at the beginning of the game.

That's cool. We also see Red associated with Edelgard, a colour that the series uses to denote enemies, with her little cape and the names of her routes (though Safflower was done this in relation to the lyrics of Edge of Dawn). Dimitri, while he has black armor after the timeskip, has a blue cap (a heroic colour in the franchise) and his Great Lord design drops the black armor for a whiter set. Considering it's used at the end of Flower, where his mental problems didn't drive him, and at the end of Moon, where he becomes the Hero, the design is meant to show he's the good guy here.

Claude is associated with gold/yellow, usually used for a third enemy faction on a map. This works with his outsider status, but joining the Deer in Houses results in the route being labelled as Verdant. It's green, an ally color, while the House keeps it's association with yellow in Hopes, where Claude becomes a villain in his own right. But considering Claude leaves Fodlan in Byleth's hands and returns to Almyra, it's almost like Almyra is meant to be the true third faction.

We also see their weapons relating to the weapons triangle. Byleth has a sword and beats Edelgard's axe in SS while they're implied to lose their sword at the end of Flower, replacing it with the Sword of Seiros. Sword can no longer beat axe. Edelgard's axe beats Dimitri's lance unless he has help from Byleth, while Dimitri's win sees him as King with Byleth being his ally. We get something similar with Claude's bow, it's outside the triangle and would be at a disadvantage if he was attacked directly. He needs an ally to back up. Likewise, the series has used swords as the heroic weapon often enough while axes were originally enemy only as they weren't seen as heroic.

We put this together and we end up with something like this. Grey/Silver + Sword = Good, Blue + Lance = Good, Bow + Green = Good Ally, Bow + Yellow = Bad Enemy, Red + Axe = Bad.

Silver can also represent the design philosophy of the game. It's Byleth's route, the one most materials push as happening, but you can't save everyone. No matter how much you want to march with Dimitri, join Claude, or get Edelgard to wake the fuck up and see reality, you can't. You can get a good ending, but not a perfect ending where everyone lives. And considering the one war phase that is associated with gold is a villain route, a route that is the antithesis of Wind, the idea of a “Golden Route” is presented as a bad thing because it goes against what Houses was doing.

[snek-panini]

Book time! I want to post all my new stuff but don't want to flood people with them, so I waited a bit after my last one to put this one up, but I can't wait any longer to show it off. This is The Rose and the Serpent, a Good Omens Beauty and the Beast AU by Atalan. I know there's some kind of fairy tale fic event going on in the fandom right now but this one is from a few years back, so if that's your thing and you're impatient go check this one out.

I'm totally in love with how this one came out. It's like, if you had a cartoon character who's reading a plot-relevant book of fairy tales, this is the book you'd draw for them. Belle has this book. It's perfect for its niche. The front cover is burgundy cardstock with brown faux leather on the spine, and antique-brass-finish photo corners to protect the edges. The rose was done with gold embossing powder and a stamp, since I can't draw and those lines are too fine for the cricut. The batch of books I'm working through now is my first time experimenting with legal quarto size (legal size paper (8.5x14 in.) folded twice) and everyone who raved about it is right. It's very satisfying to hold and was a joy to make.

Check out the rest of my photos under the cut!

Close up of the photo corners and a view of the spine. I've never used photo corners before, partly because I don't ever see them on commercial books, but they just felt right for this project so I felt it was time to experiment. I didn't glue them down, just clamped them closed with jewelry pliers, and I was worried they wouldn't stay in place but they seem to be fine. Cardstock isn't a very hard-wearing material, and if it has a white core it tends to show at the corners of the book where it rubs against things, even under light handling. Hopefully the metal corners will protect it.

The spine title came out well. I was worried about matching the color with the embossing powder color on the front, but they came out fine and I'm very pleased.

Top view, with handmade red-and-green endbands and a green ribbon bookmark. Both of these were chosen to match the absolutely gorgeous endpapers with this mosaic flower pattern. They're chiyogami from ChibiJay and they're stunning; the photos don't do them justice. I bought them because they remind me of the stained glass windows in the Disney Beauty and the Beast. CJ has this great deal where you can make custom paper packs in pre-cut sizes for a discounted price, and they've got hundreds of patterns. This isn't sponsored, by the way, I just think they're awesome.

Some photos of the title page and first page of the story. I'm experimenting with DaFont some more. The one on the title page and for the chapter numbers is called Christmas Card, and the drop capital is called Floral Capitals, both free to use for personal projects. I've only done drop caps on a couple of projects, because for purely personal aesthetic reasons I don't like when they sink into the paragraph, but if I can mimic them by just making the first letter huge? Love that. Defintely going to keep doing that. Can never get the kerning to look right when I do it the regular way, but with this it isn't an issue.

The graphics on the title page are re-used from an older project, but they were so perfect for this one that I just went with it.

As I said above, this is my first legal quarto but it for sure won't be my last! There are three more in this batch, and they're so pleasant to hold that I'll for sure be making more before too long.

[radianxce]

— 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟏.

high heel shoes with the open toes / she's got a good time wrapped in gold for you / all red dress with the devil eyes / so obsessed with the camera lights

SIGNATURE DOOR

the door , similarly to its grymm , is made to stand out . it's a brilliant crimson , vivid and bright in a way that practically screams ' look at me ! ' . the wood beneath the paint — not that the paint ever cracks or peels , of course — is smooth and rich , carved with elegant and sweeping curves that make it appear almost larger than it is . while only one half of the door opens , it's made to look like a double door , split down the middle , with two large panels of glass creating a circular window that hints at shadow just past the door but offers no true glimpse of what may be beyond . no matter where the door stands , roses bloom on either side , climbing and tangling , deep green vines and bright red blooms embracing the doorway like they have protected it forever . they never seem to shrivel up , but they never seem to grow either : all they do is linger at the door's edges . if you're not careful , your arms may brush against the thorns hidden in the foliage . it's almost as if the door is made to beckon you in and keep you at bay at the same time — mysterious , beautiful , and compelling .

SOUL SEVER

the dha has a presence as commanding as suni — it's a traditional thai blade , beautifully crafted , almost as if centuries of craftsmanship have gone into its creation . its blade is long and just slightly curved , forged from polished steel . if one were to look closely , they would see the a faint , rippling pattern across its surface — the dance of flowing water etched into metal . the edge itself is razor - sharp , and along its length , faint engravings of the thai abugida write out prayers for protection , blessings meant to guard both the bearer and those they are bringing to the afterlife . at the point where the hilt meets the blade , a small brass ring glints under the light . the hilt itself is wrapped in black and gold , fabric woven into an intricate pattern . at the base of the hilt , a red ribbon is tied — a shock of color against the rest of the muted tones of the blade . on the top , a holy white thread is wrapped over the red ; the same traditional white thread suni remembers wearing on her left hand following her baci . she takes perfect care of it , and while she's not accustomed to using weapons , she's grown to trust this one immensely due to its familiarity and the way it is reminiscent of her home . 

DESIRED EMOJI

👠 or 💎

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S WINGS LOOK LIKE?

sunisa proudly wears the wings of a female red - and - yellow barbet . they're not absurdly large , but not too small either — simply somewhere in between , as if they were made for her body . none of the plumage has been plucked , nor does she have any scars or injuries on her wings . she takes care of them as tediously as she does the rest of her appearance . the feathers themselves are mostly dark , a shiny black that seems glossy in most lighting . she considers the feathers on the underside to be dull and drab ; they're a shade of brown that she doesn't particular adore . that said , the patterns on her wings make up for it — a smattering of delicate white spots , markings that , from a distance , almost appear to emulate a string of pearls . towards the base of the wings , a few yellow feathers peek through the brown and black , hinting at the rest of a barbet's markings .

WHAT SHAPE DOES THEIR BARDO USUALLY TAKE?

the bardo sits quietly in a sprawling wildflower field she remembers only faintly , from a rare , peaceful day in belgium . the flowers sway even when there is no breeze to move them , as if they must be as wild and unrestrained as they are beautiful . their vibrant colors stretch as far as the eye can see — or , at least , into the fog as the bardo ends . rising from the center of the field is a grand but ( outwardly ) understated house , shockingly smaller than the home she had in life but still built with the subtle touch of wealth . it looks as if it's made to host soirées , with a vast collection of hallways an rooms , windows peeking in to brightly lit spaces . inside , the house is pure 1980s' decadence. it's touched in luxurious excess , with sleek , mirrored surfaces , dark lacquered furniture , and rich , muted shades of red . paintings cover the wall , replicas of all the famous artists she so terribly admired when living . crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across rooms , which are filled with velvet and leather seating and polished marble floors . here and there , brass and glass detailing glints . despite all its moving pieces , it is almost always so cold that it feels frozen in its loneliness , an ode to a life that was just a little too perfect on the surface .

WHAT ARE THEY LIKE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF AFTERLIFE AFFAIRS?

at the department of afterlife affairs , suni prefers to stay efficient and work on her own . she's the sort of coworker who never wastes time on pleasantries — after all , who enjoys small talk — and most of her interactions quick and laced with a cool detachment , like she can't be bothered to linger for much longer than necessary . that said , she’s certainly resourceful, ambitious, and quietly calculating : while colleagues may describe her as a bit too intense , she knows how to soften herself when needed . one can predict that she'll ask for a favor when she saunters up to their desk with a rare smile and the intent to charm . it's a weapon she only pulls out when she's at a dead end, but she knows how to use it nonetheless . 

WHAT IS THEIR OPINION ON 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄?

ugh . who died and put them in charge ? seriously , though , they represent everything she despises — power she can't reach , and a reminder that even in death , she's still under someone's thumb . though she keeps that opinion to herself , being their pawn is an insult that she cannot and will not ignore . she obeys them only because it suits her now — they're a force she'll endure , only because she's waiting for the right moment to slip free of their control and reclaim what she believes is rightfully hers .

HOW DO THEY LOOK LIKE/DRESS LIKE IN THE AFTER?

suni's appearance in the after is as carefully curated as it was in life . she leans toward clean , tailored lines in black , white , and red : her wardrobe is a monochrome palette with occasional splashes of boldness in crimson . gold jewelry , pearls , and diamonds adorn her often , though she wears them with restraint , letting her mere presence do most of the talking . her outifts are meticulously chosen to radiate a timeless sort of elegance — they are each extravagant and subtle all at once , commanding attention without the need for extra flair . her makeup is sharp and clean , sometimes accentuated with a bold red lip . her eyes are often outlined with just enough darkness to draw attention to her gaze , and her hair is cropped to her collarbone , a sleek and defiant style that makes the lines of her face seem a bite more harsh . she believes she need not beg for admiration ; it's her right , and she dresses accordingly .

ARE THERE ANY RUMORS OR GOSSIP ABOUT THEM?

● it's pretty rare to see her smile ( unless she's laughing at someone ) so anytime she does , it's a bit of a commodity to her coworkers . ● she dislikes talking about her past lover , but there is lots of speculation surrounding their relationship and why she is so jaded because of it . ● when she flirts , it's usually calculated and painfully effective . she has the allure of a siren calling sailors to the water : suni knows exactly how to use her charm to get what she wants , and it's more a weapon than anything else .  ● most know that when she wants something , she won't stop until she gets it . the same is true for revenge — don't start a fight with her unless you want it to escalate .

[evieebun125]

This is art for the Prologue of How Many Second Chances Will We Get written by @adhduck​!! for @podcastbigbang​!

You can find the podfic version here  by @guinevere01

Summary:

Usually the only things capable of dragging Grizzop into sleep are either exhaustion or a begrudging acceptance that he has to rest for his spells to replenish. Tonight, his adrenaline is miles ahead of exhaustion, and he’s not getting his spells back either way, since they seem to be in an anti-magic cell, so he’s awake when it happens–-one moment, he’s squinting into the empty monochrome beyond the bars, and the next, everything is…wrong.

 Or: No one gets lost in Rome, but there are consequences to dragging your friends back through thousands of years–-namely, reliving quarantine over, and over, and over again.

[ID: A digital drawing of a Hamid Saleh Haroun Al-Tahan, Grizzop Drik Acht Amsterdam, Sasha Rackett, Eldarion, and Azu. Grizzop and Sasha stand in the center of the picture, Grizzop is injured with his hand outstretched towards Sasha. They are surrounded by 4 Cult of Hades men however their attention is centered on the prone forms of Hamid, Azu and Eldarion. They are in a poorly lit tunnel.

Starting in the center of the picture; Grizzop is a gray goblin with red eyes. His green overcoat is covered in green blood. He is wearing silver Artemis armor, beige pants, and gray leather boots.  Sasha is a slim white women with a scar covering her right side. She has dark hair and is wearing a brown leather studded jacket, black shirt, pants and boots. She has a dagger clenched in her left hand.

Behind Grizzop and Sasha are 4 Cult of Hades enforcers, they are wearing roman armor of silver and red, their helmets are gold with red feathers sticking out of the tops. They are all holding red tower shields and spears.

In the foreground, Hamid is laying atop Azu. He is an Egyptian halfling with curly brown hair and brass scales. He is wearing a green suit, purple and gold robes of ancestry and brown with gold accented heels.  Azu is a Kenyan half-orc with a shaved head, her ears and nose are pierced. She is wearing a beige dress with pink patterns underneath bright pink plate armor.  Eldarion is standing in front of hamid and Azu, she is a pale elf with curly brown hair done up in a ponytail; Her dress is blue with white ruffles. /End ID]

[majorshatterandhare]

[ID: a photo of Ben Below, Frank Voss, Jessica Law, Jonny Sims, and Morgan Wilkinson sitting or standing on a big rope swing, in costume as their Mechanisms characters. They are all smiling wide.

Ben and Morgan stand on either end. While Frank, Jessica, and Jonny sit in each of the troughs of the rope. Frank and Jonny and both sitting facing forward, while Jessica is facing towards Jonny. Behind them, green grass and trees can be seen, as well as the metal poles of playground structures around them.

Ben is wearing a white shirt under a dark patterned waistcoat, in turn under a black coat, with black trousers and brown shoes and a black top hat on his head with welding goggles around the crown as well as something green and rectangular. He has two large metal rings on his right hand. He has light skin and reddish-brown, chin length, curly hair and short facial hair. He is leaning back and seems to be using his weight to move the swing towards Morgan.

Frank is wearing a black collared shirt with a grey tie under a black waistcoat and a long black coat with black trousers. Their shoes cannot be seen. They also wear a black fedora with a red back. They have medium brown skin and chest length, straightened, brown hair. They have a long red earring visible in their left ear. They are sitting with their legs facing the viewer; they have one hand on a chain connecting the rope to the structure, while the other is reaching to another chain.

Jessica is wearing a white shirt under a black coat with red cuff, with black trousers which have red stripes down the sides, with a silver studded belt. She sits sideways on the rope swing, with her legs on either side of it, her body facing Jonny, but her face turned toward the camera. She is smiling with her mouth open and has a black curly mustache painted on her face. She has her hands on the two chains between her and Jonny and she is wearing grey and maroon stripped, magic gloves with the fingers cut-off. She has light skin and brown hair which is tucked up under her cap. The cap has a red band around is and a gold symbol on the front.

Jonny is wearing a black shirt and trousers under a brown waistcoat with a sash over it, which has a brass shape attached to it, over his heart, as well as a brown leather belt over the vest at his waist, from which a holster holding his gun hangs behind the rope swing. He appears to be kneeling on the rope and both his body and face are facing the camera. He has light skin and short light facial hair. His head hair cannot be seen as he is wearing a black hat with a brim around the whole circumference. He has dark eyeliner radiating from his eyes and a shiny silver earring in his right ear. He is holding onto one chain on either side of him

Morgan is wearing a dark red button up shirt with a muted blue and orange tie, under a black waistcoat, with a muted pink and blue microfloral skirt, over navy tights with knee high red socks and worn, tall, black boots. He has light skin and dyed red hair, which is shaved very short on the visible side, but with the sideburns left longer. He has a large, dangle-y silver heart earring in his left ear. He is holding onto the two chains that are between him and Jonny. His mouth is open like he is laughing.

End ID]

theyre all so silly this picture is so silly

where is jonny's hat from i've never seen him in a hat he looks so happy in the hat he's just a silly little guy

they all look so happy my skrunkly scrimblos are having a good time

[dreadreflection-if]

What kind of clothes does everyone wear?

Here are all the outfits, anon.😊 Hope the descriptions are okay! Clothing’s always been a bit tricky for me.😖

---

I: I’s clothes tend to be in shades of either white, brown or green. Though they are exquisitely made, they tend to be in disarray due to I’s lack of care. Ian and Isa wear breeches and loose silk shirts with embroidered waistcoats. Iris wears long dresses with fitted tops and flared waists, adorned with lace detailing. All wear short riding boots of brown leather. I’s only accessories are a pair of silver spectacles and an ornate green locket with brass detailing.

Akriel: Akriel’s clothing is bold and dashing. She favors detailed blousy shirts in all colors, tucked into dark leather riding pants that match her gloves. No matter what, she always wears: a wide-brimmed gray hat, burgundy leather riding boots, a large wolf-tooth necklace and an elaborate moss-green jacket with wide cuffs. Several rings and earrings of many shades adorn her as well.

Firan: He prefers to wear vests and loose breeches - tucked into high leather boots - with long robes or coats. His clothes are always in shades of black or deep red, and adorned with elaborate golden embroidery. The only accessory he owns is a tiny amulet of a golden dragon, kept on a similarly gold chain. One arm is covered by a dark leather vambrace, for Skeever to perch on.

Clove: Their clothing is very simple - plain loose shirts and trousers in shades of white, brown or gray. Their clothes always seems to be torn or dirtied in one way or another. They have no accessories that they carry, and seem to have a hatred for socks and shoes. Clove always wears a dark cloak with a deep hood to hide their body and face as much as they can.

E: No one has seen E without their armor on - they say they like to wear it as much as possible in case of any surprise attacks. They wear a full set of silver plate, plain except for the eclipsed sun engraved on the breastplate. A black cloak with gold edges covers their back, the clasp fashioned in the same symbol. The longsword strapped to their waist and towering shield they carry are the only accessories they need.

Lei: She wears plain laced shirts covered by black leather armor, with tall boots and many belts to hold her weapons. Her hands are covered with leather gloves, and a long black cloak rests on her shoulders. There is no ornamentation to any of her clothing - all of it is designed for practicality. A small golden bell threaded through a red cord is the only accessory she carries.

Dimitrius: Everything Dimitrius wears is black: the only color in his outfit is the gold of his piercings and rings. A loose laced shirt and fitted breeches are covered by knee-high leather boots and an open cropped vest, all underneath a long overcoat and scarf. His gloves are cut off at the fingers to make it easier to sign. His golden tattoos begin at his throat and travel along the rest of his body, down to his toes.

Noel: They like to wear dark leather breeches and silk shirts, favoring dark blue, gray or white colors. Their shirts are usually covered by a dark leather vest, as well as a long belt to hold their many concealed knives. They wear tall leather boots, and a knee-length gray coat with a large collar. Her only accessories are a silk cravat and a silver walking cane she always carries.

Uriel: Her style can only be described as lavish. Lacey silk shirts with ruffles and flared sleeves, embroidered high-waisted breeches, long skirts of velvet or brocade - if it looks expensive, Uriel will wear it. She favors bright shades of red and pink, coupled with glittering jewelry of every color. The one consistent piece is a dark crystal earring he wears that seems to shine with stars.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Rings, 3: Enough rings and bands to wear three on every finger and toe while still having dozens to spare. Rings, especially magic rings are a very common item of jewelry in fiction and roleplaying. From a basic ring of protection, to the life saving ring of regeneration, the ring of the Nibelungs, the rings of the lantern corps, the ring of Gyges, any wedding ring ever depicted, the ring of Solomon, Sir Perceval’s ring, Aladdin’s genie housing ring, the nine rings of mortal men and the precious one ring of power, these small circular pieces of gems, metal, wood or bone always add more to the story than the sum of their parts. None of these rings are intensely magical in their own right but can serve as basis for a magical or plot relevant ring. When a DM rolls a d100, the bog standard ring of protection +1 they were going to give out now has a unique look and personality rather than just a mechanical benefit.

A big heavy ring made of sterling silver. On the face of the ring is a skull the size of a large man’s thumb, run through with a lance and a flag fluttering around it. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A shinning brass signet ring that proudly displays a raised fist against a red starburst. Knowledge PC's will recognize the sigil as the symbol of a paladin order known as the Boros Legion. There's a weight to it that belies its size, a weight of strength and of pride.

A cheap-looking tin ring that has a small dial adorned with letters of the alphabet that can be aligned with various strange pictographs. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as a decoder ring and can be used to decipher texts that were written using this specific ring or a twin of it.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

Ring of Fire Detection: A pure white ring set with a transparent red gemstone. The gemstone will light up and emit a piercing sound if the ring comes into direct contact with fire, magical or otherwise.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A big heavy ring made of sterling silver. On the face of the ring is a skull the size of a large man’s thumb, run through with a lance and a flag fluttering around it. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A shinning brass signet ring that proudly displays a raised fist against a red starburst. Knowledge PC's will recognize the sigil as the symbol of a paladin order known as the Boros Legion. There's a weight to it that belies its size, a weight of strength and of pride.

A cheap-looking tin ring that has a small dial adorned with letters of the alphabet that can be aligned with various strange pictographs. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as a decoder ring and can be used to decipher texts that were written using this specific ring or a twin of it.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

Ring of Fire Detection: A pure white ring set with a transparent red gemstone. The gemstone will light up and emit a piercing sound if the ring comes into direct contact with fire, magical or otherwise.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

A thin ring made of two intertwining strands of silver and gold, both ornate and simple in appearance.

A silver ring in the shape of a spider whose legs clasp around the wearer’s finger and whose body is a yellowish gem.

An unassuming copper ring clean and shiny like a new penny, it has dozens of smiling faces faintly carved into its surface.

A silver ring with golden ram's horns curling around the edge of its crown.

A bog iron ring with a poem in Druidic on the inside.

An onyx ring. When tapped three times, a faint blue light shows the symbol of an assassin’s guild.

A pair of black iron body piercing rings, with a chain linking them.

A copper ring with a small clear gem that shimmers slightly even in the dark. It is badly crafted with scuffs and scratches along the loop and yet there is something quaint about it that suggests more value than the first impression would suggest.

A silver banded ring with a single white gem encased in the center. Etched into the surface are ancient glyphs, binding its power to an individual to be used as a focus. The head of the ring is a flat surface which is adorned with an intricate ritualistic circle design.

A lavender ring with a cosmic gemstone faceted into it. The gem moves and glows like outer space, and has a spiral vortex pattern along its edges.

An iron signet ring whose symbol can be changed once per day by the bearer. The image must be something the bearer has seen and remembers clearly.

A crystalline ring in the shape of a dragon, that changes based on the bearer’s emotional state.

A gold ring whose Randomly Colored gemstone levitates just out of the socket, following wherever the ring goes.

A platinum ring that has a large blue sapphire embedded in the band. When the bearer looks into the stone, he can see a perfect reflection of himself that appears to have a life all of its own. Engraved on the inside of the band one can see a message that reads; "Never lose sight of your true self".

A single human tooth encased in a brass ring, inscribed with a twin-tailed comet. Knowledge PC’s will recognize it as a holy reliquary of a relatively famous prophet and devout follower of the God of the Outer Stars.

An oxidized copper ring etched with ancient hieroglyphs that tell a timeless fable.

A brass ring set with an oversized, round brown bezoar for a gemstone. Extremely ugly, by modern standards.

A heavy silver ring with a flat, round head. A cap lifts off the top, revealing a folded-down needle, which may be lifted into place, and the markings of a sundial around it. None of the marks, all twiggy, natural shapes, correspond to modern notation, save the fact there are 12.

A ruby ring, heavy, plain, and gold, set with a fat, badly cut ruby that's entirely stuck on a finger bone. In modern times, it would be a man’s thumb ring, though an ugly one. The band surrounds a thick finger bone and won’t come off (But could be chiseled out) as the knuckles are knobby and too wide. The bone is fragile with age, and conspicuously blackened.

A signet ring, quite wide, made of cast iron. The signet face is that of a beaked skull, one halfway between that of a human and a crow. The ring is too wide for a human to wear and seems to have been designed for a finger twice that size.

A horrific black ring that turns translucent when submerged in a water and uncoils into a slippery, leech-like tentacle when unworn.

A wide, red brass ring, that's plain, on the exterior. There is lettering inside the band, raised and sharp. If worn on a clenched fist, the lettering digs painfully into its finger, leaving the word "memento" imprinted in red welts.

A mithral ring, engraved with a pattern of rolling waves that encircles the entire band. The ring is immune to rust, both from natural oxidation and rust caused by magical effects.

A steel ring that carries the sign of an armorers’ guild: a stylized helmet with visor, two crossed swords and the rune “A” engraved beneath them.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A mysterious ring; ancient, covered in runes. After spending some minutes sniffing, touching, and examining the thing, the bearer can safely say it exudes an aura of magic. When worn is makes the bearer's hairs stand on end and sparks jump between the metal and his fingers.

A ring carved from a single solid gemstone that glows with an inner light and pulses with its wielder’s heartbeat.

A simple pale stone that sits atop a plain steel band, flickering every so often with unknown power.

A simple gold band studded with blue diamonds. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as a ring of office for the Grand Vizier, the highest advisor to a great rajah.

Ring of Bubbles: A delicate ring made of multicolored glass. When this ring is held between two fingers and dipped it into a solution of soap and water, a creature can blow through it to produce dozens of fist sized, glowing, technicolor bubbles which are difficult to pop and last for up to a minute.

Ring of the Firebuilder: A ring made of worked flint. When struck with a piece of steel, it sheds sparks that are able to ignite objects as normal. The sparks created from the ring never harm the bearer, who gains Advantage on igniting objects with the ring.

A ring crafted of simple silver. The band is etched with different letters from all languages of the realms, some unrecognizable to any living person.

A thickly banded ring made of black steel. It sits heavy on the bearer's finger never feeling fully comfortable.

A sapphire banded in gold with a loop of string around it to go around the bearer's neck. The inside of the gem appears to be filled with flowing water that swirls and sloshes magnificently inside the sapphire.

A pewter ring with an inlaid gold band that slowly rotates.

A band of tarnished silver bearing no ornament or inscription, but is icy cold to the touch. The patches of dark corrosion on the ring subtly move and change. This never occurs while anyone observes the ring, but happens constantly.

A gold ring shaped in the form of a manacle, uncomfortably tight regardless of how it's worn.

A brass band in the shape of a dragon’s claw, scuffed and tarnished with age and frequent use.

A ring made from woven lead and silver.

A brass ring, set with rubies and engraved with fire runes, holds a lens of orange-red crystal that has an esoteric circle lightly etched in the glass.

A ring of silver green mithril engraved with runes from the enchantment school of magic. Though plain looking, the edges of the band are decorated with an intricate design of miniaturized knotwork.

An oversized ancient golden ring bears the silver hawk crest of the Yragerne family line on its large flat top.

An ornate golden ring set with a perfect square-cut emerald. A noble insignia on both sides of the gem features two eagles flying in opposite directions.

A platinum ring in the shape of a coiled snake. Its eyes are two perfectly cut rubies. The ring has a mesmerizing aura that attracts the eyes of the greedy and the vain. Only a person with clear desires and unclouded wants is unaffected by its allure.

A dwarven-forged amethyst ring bearing the inscription “Cracked from the hammer of the Forge-Father”

A garnet ring that causes the bearer’s hand to appear to be clawed and demonic.

A signet ring that will magically re-size itself to fit the wearer, but only if the wearer is a direct descendant of the creator of the ring.

A rose gold ring that, when put on, periodically gives the wearer the distinct feeling that he or she is forgetting something important.

A platinum ring set with an opal cracked in a star pattern, like a tiny sun when the light passes through it.

A simple black ring polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "Three things cannot be long hidden: the Sun, the Moon, and the Truth.

A bizarre looking ring that could easily be mistaken for a piece of forest debris. Its thorn covered surface throbs with the sensation of a beating heart when placed on the left ring finger.

Sphinx Ring: A small band with a little head of a lion, made of limestone. By stroking the band while worn, the lion whispers a riddle based on events which its bearer has witnessed, and the riddles can vary widely in difficulty, from simple riddles to questions only previous bearers could logically answer. If the answer is correct, the ring purrs, while if incorrect, it roars. It is mostly used to pass the time during long travels, but nobles have been known to use them in party games.

A transparent ring of blue-green resin that smells of strange magical forests. The band is slick to the touch, but never slips off of a finger accidentally.

An unassuming bronze ring that seems less than spectacular in every way and boasts no gems to speak of on its surface. However, within the band lies a diamond pressing softly against the bearer's skin.

A rusty iron ring that appears to show a dusty landscape within it, changing as it’s moved. The finger the ring is worn on always feels warm and dry.

A sealing ring, with the image of a smiling, winking imp.

A band carved from a single chunk of raw amethyst, capped with a black pearl in a truesilver setting. In darkness, the ring glows with a faint purple hue.

A ring whose outer edge has six flat edges, so that it presents a hexagonal appearance. One of the sides bears a setting carved of obsidian, topped by a small black diamond

A ring that is more like a wrap designed to completely encase the bearer’s finger. It is formed of what appears to be a thin sheet of platinum laced with spidery gold webbing. Once slid over a finger, the covering becomes as flexible as cloth and stays in place until the bearer removes it.

A ring consisting of a truesilver core surrounded by a torus of azure ice coated in a slick sheen, as though in the process of melting. The ring is cold to the touch and though the ice remains slippery, it never melts and the ring is never in danger of slipping off the finger unexpectedly.

A ring crafted from pure white gold encrusted with speck- sized fragments of diamond. When held to the light, it produces a prismatic effect, sparkling and gleaming with all the colors of the rainbow.

A ring made entirely of silver, intricately carved in fine patterns. Four small opals are set into the surface at regular intervals. When the ring is worn, they slowly orbit the finger without ever leaving the band.

A black ring made from a single piece of obsidian and bears a gold inlay design of chains.

A ring made up of filaments of bone and black iron of various thicknesses, twisted together in a strange mottled composite.  

A ring carved from moonstone in the shape of a miniature, cable-twisted torc. The end-caps of the "torc" rest where a signet would be, each mounting a tiny, curved feline claw cast from silver.

A signet ring made of heavy lead with a distinctively abnormal design carved into it.

A brass ring encasing a small, polished moldavite.

A silver ring made out of very fine wire worked into rather complicated decorative ornament.

An ornate brass signet ring with a coiled serpent design with two freshwater pearls for eyes. The ring has a poison pill compartment that is currently empty.

A small copper ring, inset with flawed pearls.

A ring made out of blond hair and porcelain braided together. Wearing it slowly causes the bearer to experience apathy towards everything.

A mysterious bronze ring, ancient and marked with eldritch signs.

A pewter ring in the shape of a crab with its claws pressed to its body and the legs forming the ring. The shell, claws, and legs of the crab are set with polished abalone and the eyes are tiny garnets.

An adamantine ring is set with a cabochon cut water opal.

A platinum ring set with a large diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller sapphires and rubies. The gems gleam brightly in even the dullest light. An inscription on the inside of the band reads simply “for Alenea” in Elven.

A larger than average ring that looks like sheets of gold woven together into a simple pattern. Despite its size, ring feels almost weightless. On the inside of the ring there is an engraved; "A.Z."

A silver ring encrusted with dark gems. Upon inspection the ring itself smells of earth, mud and worms.

A brass ring that is crudely constructed with dent marks and battle burns.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A simple bronze ring sized for a giant's finger.

A plain-looking wooden ring with no characteristic marks or engravings. It almost looks as though the carpenter who fashioned it never got around to finishing it.

A copper ring shaped like knotted brambles.

A copper ring shaped like a dragon clutching its own tail, holding a moonstone it its mouth.

A petrified stone fist wearing a golden ring. It is impossible to remove the ring without destroying the fist.

A silver ring shaped like rolled arrow.

A bone ring with a deep purple inlay, set with an onyx.

An emerald ring that gives the bearer an abnormally strong sense of balance. The bearer is rendered immune from mundane vertigo effects such as dizziness from heights or seasickness.

A black stone ring made for the middle finger of a man's hand. The band is carved in the shape of a vine with thorns.

An iron band flecked with onyx pieces and is always cold to the touch.

A rough-hewn silver band with a single purple stone inset. No matter how long it is held, it is cold to the touch. While worn, the bearer occasionally hears strange dissonant whispers in Deep Speech promising power and domination over others.

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter four.

wc: 3,109. original publish date: october 7, 2020. 

JFK starts the car forty-five minutes later. He turns the key in the ignition cautiously, silently begging the car not to make too much noise. Van Gogh is asleep in the passenger's seat. The car whirrs to life and Kennedy doesn't rev the engine this time. He turns to Van Gogh and smiles slightly. He realises for the first time that the boy is wearing his old junior varsity cross-country jacket.

***

Van Gogh wakes up some time later. He stretches before opening his eyes. He rubs the sleep out of them as they adjust to the darkness. The cool outside air seeps in through the windows and suddenly he wishes he'd brought gloves. Gogh plunges his balled fists into the pockets of Kennedy's -- his -- letterman jacket. The boy inhales deeply through his nose as he takes in the scenery, seeing nothing but pine trees lining the outstretch of the quiet highway in front of them. There are no cars in sight. No buildings or houses or rest stops. There are a few white markers shoved into the ground next to the road, but most of them are bent or broken -- probably from swerving cars crushing them out of shape.

"Where are we?" He asks in his small voice, foggy sleep still tugging at his throat.

JFK turns his head ever so slightly, as if to make sure his best friend is really awake and he's not just hearing things. Satisfied with the reality of the boy, he nods toward the built-in GPS screen. "One hundred three miles outside of Exclamation!," he replies.

Van Gogh furrows his brow at the machine. "Yeah, but I mean where."

"I just told you."

Gogh gives up and sits back in his seat. He opens his mouth to nag Kennedy about turning on the seat heater, but the button is already illuminated. He smiles to himself.

"How long have you been driving?" He asks a couple minutes later, his eyelids weighing down again.

Kennedy scrunches up his nose. "Over an hour."

"I was asleep the whole time?"

JFK nods in affirmation. Van Gogh stares at his side profile, his eyes tracing his pointy nose and thin lips. His gel is wearing off, causing his brown hair to flop around his ears and the top of his head a little bit. Kennedy blinks slowly, and Gogh does the same, almost in solidarity.

"Are you tired?"

JFK shakes his head, but he's squinting.

"You're tired," Gogh decides. He's only met with a shrug.

"Let me drive," he tries daringly.

Suddenly, Kennedy is miraculously alert. He straightens his back and he opens his eyes up fully. "You can't drive, Van Gogh. You don't know how."

Van Gogh shrugs, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "You could teach me."

The car fills up with silence again, but it's a different kind than when Van Gogh was asleep and JFK was lost in his own head.

Van Gogh tilts the face of his digital wristwatch upwards to read the time. "It's 11:30, Kennedy."

"Is it?" He asks absently.

"We should stop somewhere. We could both sleep."

"I don't even know where we are," JFK protests.

Van Gogh rolls his eyes. "You're the one who said we didn't need a plan."

Kennedy nods, his motions sticking with the rebuff of tiredness. "I haven't seen any signs for miles. Think we should just get off somewhere?"

Van Gogh shrugs agreeably. "I don't see why not."

JFK pulls down his turn signal and the car hums with melodic clicks as he changes lanes. He slows down the vehicle each time he passes over the dotted white lines even though they have the highway all to themselves. He follows the rules when he's alone -- Van Gogh can't help but think that's something he was never supposed to know.

Kennedy exits the highway seamlessly, and stops the car at the intersection. The traffic light is glowing red even though all the other lanes are empty. Van Gogh always thought there was some sort of censor in the road that knew when cars were pulled up to the lines, waiting to be dictated through the intersection. He wonders when he'd started thinking that, who'd told him, if it was true. He pulls the cuffs of Kennedy's -- his -- letterman jacket over his hands and brings his knees to his chest, balling himself up in the warmth of the seat heater. Even with no snow on the ground, the town of God-Knows-Where is having as harsh of an April as Exclamation! is.

The town looks just like every common roadside stop -- clean sidewalks, towering lampposts with chipping paint, empty convenience store parking lots sprinkled with litter, barren gas stations lit by buzzing yellow lights. In the dead of night, the whole world freezes and the town looks like a photograph on a gift shop postcard. Van Gogh wishes he'd packed his camera so he could capture it in all its drowsily nostalgic glory.

Finally the traffic light glows green and Kennedy turns left, driving the car into the centre of town. There's a park with chemically green grass, visible even under the moonlight alone. In the middle of the lawn is a white statue that seems to be made of marble.

"That's just cement," Van Gogh says.

"Hm?"

He points out the window. "That statue. It's supposed to look like marble but it's not actually."

JFK nods, and then smiles. "That's kinda dumb."

Van Gogh smiles in return and sneaks a glance at the boy. "Yeah, it is."  

With a controlled turn of the steering wheel, the car glides blissfully around the park. Kennedy continues to drive, but slower than the speed limit. Van Gogh, balled up and shaking from the cold, still manages to stare out the window at the sleepy neighbourhood, wrapped in a blanket of the night. Some of the houses have their porch lights on. Some have cars parked in the driveway, others on the street. All of the houses look the same, and it reminds Van Gogh of his own neighbourhood, only posher. The houses are two stories and their porches are made out of poured concrete rather than splintering wood. The doors have brass knockers and the windows are French, full of panes and feminine glass. Van Gogh wouldn't mind living in a photocopied world if it was at least a picturesque one.

"Do you think there'll be a motel in this town?" JFK asks, penetrating Gogh's quiet bewilderment.

He turns his attention away from the window and onto the driver. "Probably not a motel, but maybe some small family-owned inn."

"I don't see one."

"That's because you're in the residential part of the town," Van Gogh scoffs, the magic of the anemoia wearing off. "It'll probably be back where the gas station and stuff was."

When Kennedy turns toward Van Gogh, he looks almost disappointed.

"You wanna look at the houses some more, Gogh?"

Gogh shakes his head, but the movement is mechanical. His eyelids drop and he has to blink fast to keep himself alert.

Kennedy sighs in serenity rather than exasperation and pulls into the driveway of one of the cookie-cutter houses to make a three-point turn. He reverses the direction of the car with ease and continues through the town, driving slowly enough to quiet the noise of the engine but quickly enough to get Van Gogh into a bed before he can fall asleep in the car.

The inn is small and the parking lot is empty of all cars. Unlike the convenience store parking lot, this one is clean, and the bushes along the sidewalk and the edge of the lot are perfectly manicured. JFK pulls into the spot closest to the long, wooden stairs leading up to the porch. The building looks almost like a house from the outside, only longer,  like a mansion made of common shingles and dusty edges.

The sign doesn't have a full or vacant indicator on it, but Kennedy guesses it's the latter due to the nature of the parking lot. He reaches over and rests a hand on Van Gogh's shoulder gently. Van Gogh blinks and looks up at him, his eyes wide with innocence. Kennedy smiles softly. "I found an inn."

Van Gogh unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the car door. JFK does the same on his side of the vehicle and they walk up the stairs together. The wooden porch groans under their weight and Van Gogh steps the rest of the way across it quickly, a nagging thought in the back of his mind telling him it'll break if they don't get off of it soon.

JFK pushes through the door of the inn first and holds it for Van Gogh. He huddles close to the taller boy as he walks, his stomach somersaulting with each step he takes. The inside of the inn is dimly lit and furnished with consonant floral wallpaper, every wall a different pattern and colour. The lobby itself isn't very large: room just enough for a fireplace decorated with pictures of past tenants on one wall, a congregation of chairs and a game table set in front of it; a wide, dark hallway across from it, where Van Gogh can just barely make out the white railing of a grand staircase; a tall bookshelf exploding with leather bound novels, complete with shiny gold lettering snaking down the spines on the third wall; and on the fourth, a bored woman collapsed against a desk, a clunky old computer in front of her and a stack of travel guides by her elbow. She's tall, lean, and pale, with short magenta hair and a face full of piercings. In this light, she looks like Joan of Arc -- but Van Gogh knows she's back at home in Exclamation!, probably spending her Friday night sulking.

The girl doesn't react even as JFK steps up to the desk. He leans against it, batting his lashes at her in his overly flirtatious nature. Van Gogh rolls his eyes and walks up next to his friend to ring the bell, stomping his heel down on it.

"Hi there. What can I do for you?" The girl drones in a monotonous voice.

"We'd like a room," Gogh says before JFK can make a snarky comment.

"Great. How many beds?" She asks, still in her flat tone.

Van Gogh can see Kennedy turn toward him to consult out of the corner of his eye, but impulsively answers the girl before he can talk to JFK. "Two."

The girl sucks on one of her snake bites as she punches the keys on the slow computer. Van Gogh watches her intently now, wondering if this is one of her anxious habits. She seems to fidget with her piercing the way JFK chews gum.

"You look like my friend," Van Gogh blurts suddenly, not sure why he felt the need to tell her, or why he referred to Joan of Arc as his "friend". He's talked to her once or twice on the teen crisis hotline (which Kennedy could never know about), and she's JFK's friend, but Van Gogh doesn't have time to think about making friends. John F. Kennedy is enough for him.

"Oh, yeah?" The girl replies absently.

Van Gogh doesn't say anything more. JFK's smile fades.

"Okay, here you are," she says, pulling a key off one of the nails stuck into the wall behind her and handing it to Kennedy. "Room one-oh-four."

"You have one hundred four rooms in this place?" Gogh asks.

The girl shrugs. "Probably not. I think the rooms start in the triple digits."

"That's dumb," Kennedy replies, and Van Gogh wonders if he'd said it himself since he'd opened his mouth.

Thankfully, the girl -- secretary? -- doesn't take offence. "Yeah, I think so too. But I guess there's more ring to the three-digit numbers than anything else."

"How much?" Kennedy asks, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his letterman jacket.

"How many nights?"

"One," Van Gogh says before he or Kennedy can think.

"Like twenty-six dollars? I don't know. No one ever stays here."

"What town are we in, anyway?" JFK asks, swiping his card through the machine.

"Blackbox."

"Well, I'd say that's why no one ever stays here," Van Gogh retorts.

The girl's eyes narrow. "Why? Where are you two from?" She scrutinises the boys.

"Exclamation!," Kennedy replies.

"With an exclamation point on the end," Gogh admits.

The girl laughs. "Oh man, and you're criticising this town?"

Both boys stare at her blankly. She rolls her eyes and pulls a travel guide out from the stack next to her. She fishes a pen out of one of the drawers on her side of the desk and bites the cap off with her teeth. She holds the plastic piece in her mouth as she scribbles something down. When she's finished, she sets the pen on the desk and takes the cap out from her teeth before covering the pen with it and throwing it back into the drawer. She flips around the guide so it faces Kennedy and Gogh.

"This is Marshtown," she says, pointing at a circled spot on the map with her finger.

"Is there a marsh there?" Van Gogh asks. "It's a lazy name either way."

The girl takes a moment to think, sucking on her snake bite again. "I think so. But it might've gotten its name because it's foggy there all the time -- like, all the time. There's no ocean to blow a breeze over or anything. I think it's just like that. But anyway, you should check it out. Think this place is creepy?"

Both Kennedy and Van Gogh nod without looking at each other.

The girl smirks, and continues. "If you want a real kick, go there. I've been there with my boyfriend a few times."

"Oh, we're not-" the boys start to explain at the same time, their cheeks glowing pink and their temperatures rising.

The secretary girl smirks again. "Whatever. It'd still be fun to go."

Kennedy pulls his card out of the reader as it beeps. To the girl, he says, "thanks." He turns to Van Gogh, handing him the door key. "Go find our room. I'll go get our bags from the car."

Van Gogh opens his mouth to protest, but Kennedy is looking at him with his intense stare again. He decides to let it go. He nods, mumbles a quick "thank you" to the secretary, and heads toward the grand staircase. He shudders as he walks through the darkness, the cold suddenly burrowing deeper than it did when he was outside. He pulls Kennedy's -- his -- letterman jacket more tightly around him.

He climbs the staircase, the wood hard beneath his Keds. Van Gogh trails his hand along the railing as he walks, steadying himself as he observes all the gold-framed paintings hung along the wall. They're all oil-painted people he's never seen before -- very much different from Exclamation!, where he's met the clone of all the people in the paintings. These faces look respectable, but common, like they're only made to seem like they're important. Van Gogh exhales. Maybe it would be nicer here, where he isn't constantly reminded of how he'll never be the man whose DNA he shares.

Eventually, Gogh makes it to the top of the stairs and pries his interest away from the paintings. There's a sign tacked to the wall directly in front of him: rooms one hundred through one hundred fifty to his left, rooms one hundred fifty-one through two hundred on his right. He turns left and walks almost all the way to the end of the hall, turning to open the door marked one hundred four. The key slides into the lock easily, but the door takes an extra push to open.

Inside is the same hideously mismatched wallpaper as the lobby and atrociously unclean carpet as the hallways. There are two queen beds side by side with their headboards against the wall to the left of the door. Where the wallpaper peels, Van Gogh can tell that the room itself is painted a mossy green, which clashes with the already clashing patterned duvet covers on the beds. There's one window shielded by sheer white curtains and an old white space heater beneath the windowsill. There's no desk, but there's a stone fireplace on the wall across from the beds. Thankfully, there are no framed pictures of past tenants. Van Gogh couldn't sleep with them watching him.

The boy steps all the way into the room and closes the door behind him. In the space behind the door is another door. He pushes it open. It leads into a large bathroom, complete with a heavy mirror and speckled yellow tile on the floor and lining the shower wall. Van Gogh closes that door and looks around the room, feeling that there's something missing.

There's no closet or dresser. Great. Good thing they're only staying one night, because he'll have to live out of his suitcase. He can't stand to think that he'll have to refold all the clothes he rifles through after getting dressed each morning.

Gogh claims the bed closest to the window and sits in the middle of it. He's just begun to untie his shoes when the door pushes open. Van Gogh sinks in on himself, terrified of what could be trying to break in.

"Relax, relax! It's only me," Kennedy laughs, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Van Gogh scrunches his nose. "Took you long enough."

Kennedy pushes Van Gogh's brown suitcase and it rolls across the carpet to him. "Here. I thought you might want this."

"Thanks," Gogh mutters, pulling off his shoes and sliding off the bed.

***

By the time JFK and Van Gogh have showered and changed into bed-appropriate clothing, it's nearly 1:15 in the morning.

"We should go to sleep," Kennedy suggests, sitting up in bed and readying himself to go turn off the light.

Van Gogh shakes his head. "No. I'm wide awake now."

Kennedy gives him sleepy eyes, still holding himself up on his elbows. "How long do you need?"

In the low lighting, JFK is made of soft edges and rounded corners. His mound of brown hair is fully flopping over his face now without the gel, and every thirty seconds or so the boy has to push it out of his eyes. The collar of his grey Harvard shirt hangs off of his neck to reveal his collarbones, and his eyes are heavy with sleep. Van Gogh's pencil scratches against his sketchbook.

"Fifteen minutes," Kennedy mandates.

Van Gogh takes another look at the boy and smiles. "Fine by me."

He starts to draw.

[mythgirlimagines]

Spawning directly into your inbox, is this week’s talentswapped Myth. It’s Myth, former Ultimate Gamer. Or as the MMO circle calls her, [ATHENA] the Guardian.

——————————————————-

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Being born with both scoliosis and a weak constitution, Myth spent most of her childhood bedridden and homeschooled. In order to entertain their daughter, Myth’s parents decided to gift her with their hand-me-down video game consoles and cartridges, and she managed to beat every single one of those console games with ease, breaking gaming records and forcing her parents to search online for some more games. Eventually, when Myth got her first laptop in her early teen years, she rose to the top of the MMORPG ranks, particularly with the famous MMORPG “Mythology and Mightiness” as [ATHENA] the Guardian. Myth was later accepting into Hope’s Peak for her skills and money earned in gaming competitions, but Myth doesn’t really attend much. Nowadays, Myth is trying her best to come out of her shell and socialize. Let’s just say that Myth encountered some eccentric colorful personalities, both in Mythology and Mightiness and the game’s group chat.

————-——————————————

RELATIONSHIPS

(Note: Because Myth’s never met any of them face to face, this section would only describe the clothes of their online persona.)

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Photographer, aka. [SNAPSHOT] the Grenadier

When ATHENA first joined the servers of Mythology and Mightiness, SNAPSHOT‘s party was the first party that accepted her. Even when the party disbanded later on, ATHENA and SNAPSHOT made quite the dynamic duo, with SNAPSHOT on offense and ATHENA on defense. Whenever SNAPSHOT gets a bit too reckless and goes off to fight bigger foes, ATHENA will always jump in front of Wyre and tank the damage. ATHENA would be lying if she said she didn’t have a slight online crush on SNAPSHOT. SNAPSHOT regularly shares the pictures she took around the world in the game’s group chat, much to IRL!Myth’s envy.

In-Game Outfit: Black vest over a tanned shirt with spiked shoulderpads, black fingerless gloves and matching polish, a camo-colored cannon strapped to her side.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Lucky Student, aka. [KUROBA] the Sorcerer

Myth first encountered KUROBA in the dark and spooky woods that are full of high level enemies. KUROBA then started spamming the messaging boards with dramatic monologues that would be right at home in a shonen anime. KUROBA refers to herself as “The Supreme High Sorceress” and refers to others by equally grandiose titles. It turns out later that she turns the dramatic theatrics off if one of her allies is in danger, being almost like a mother to her allies. ATHENA noticed that KUROBA has spectacularly bad luck when it comes to combat, and she often has to jump in to save her bacon, much to the sorcerer‘s dismay. 

In-Game Outfit: A black hooded cape that is held by a green clover amulet, black face mask, sharp black eyeshadow, black fingerless gloves, black vest over a red shirt, torn black pants, black spiked boots.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Mechanic, aka. [TECHNO] the Grenadier

Similar to KUROBA, TECHNO displays parental instincts beyond his age, constantly fretting over his teammates and offers support in times of need. If he sees a foe picking on one of his lower level friends/children, he will not hesitate to blast the foe from a distance. ATHENA and TECHNO bond over their love for technology and dad jokes, constantly exchanging each other some of their best jokes, much to the dismay of certain pun-hating people in the group chat. However, TECHNO seems to be be naive when it comes to modern internet culture and ATHENA tries her best to guide him through her meme and Vine references. 

In-Game Outfit: Red armor, golden pauldrons, blue gloves with yellow details, a blue cape with an elaborate gear design on the back, brown goggles on his head, dual guns that are the same color as his outfit.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Gymnast, aka. [ROBBIN] the Thief

ATHENA and ROBBIN really make quite the pair when it comes to combat, with ROBBIN‘s speed and ATHENA’s durability being a nice combination to have. They also get along well in the group chat too, often exchanging memes and meme references, much to the confusion of TECHNO and LILAC. But they have an extra-special kinship that no one else in the group chat knows about. Deep down, they both feel like everyone would be disappointed if they found out about the awkward nerd playing the role of the awesome and confident online character, especially since Fusion II became an athlete to hide her nerdiness in the first place.

In-Game Outfit: A Robin Hood-esque hat, a black vest over a white dress shirt, red cape that covers her lower face, black pants, black heeled boots. 

Just Anon, Ultimate Musician, aka. [ANON] the Bard

ANON seems to really have something against ATHENA, or anybody older than him, for that matter, for he always attacks his elder party members with his axe guitar and his dark bard magic. ANON regularly makes a point to brag about how edgy, cool and stoic he is, which seems to imply that he has a massive inferiority complex from being constantly underestimated for his class, which might have some basis in real life. However, she eventually found out that ANON has a real soft spot for people younger/weaker than him, such as MUSCLE and ODORI, and ANON was redeemed in ATHENA’s eyes, much to ANON’s dismay. 

In-Game Outfit: Black and red dyed hair, smudged black makeup, a cape that’s black on the outside and red on the inside that his held by a pink bunny clasp, the formal wear from his original design, holds a black and red guitar that is also an axe.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Princess, aka. [LUMINA] the Guardian

When ATHENA first encountered a fellow guardian, she was overjoyed. That joy only skyrocketed when LUMINA was revealed to be Sparkle, the crowned princess of the tropical island known as “Lumina”. Myth feels like she doesn‘t deserve to be graced by the presence of a literal princess. Sparkle claims that she wants to make the most of her time, before she gets promoted to being Lumina’s queen and getting swamped with royal responsibilities. Similar to TECHNO, LUMINA isn’t very skilled in the realm of internet slang and culture due to being foreign, which means that ATHENA and ROBBIN have to teach her about it. 

In-Game Outfit: Bulky blue armor and gauntlets covered in gemstones, pauldrons, leggings, cape and boots from original design. 

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Animal Breeder, aka. [YIN] the Ranger, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Reserve Course Student aka. [YANG] the Ranger

ATHENA regularly encounters this cursed duo in random places around the expansive map, and no matter where they are, the two are always prepared to spam her with cursed comments and images and then stealthily leave, as if nothing even happened, with one of YIN’s feather knives being their trademark calling card. Myth expresses annoyance at the duo for giving her even more nightmares than she already has with their unwarranted comments and presence. At least the two regularly remind their party members to get a good night’s rest, but the nightmarish and cursed comments kind of nullify the whole thing in ATHENA’s eyes.

In-Game Outfit: Egg wears a white hooded cloak with black fluff, over a white vest with a black undershirt, white pants, and saddle shoes, and Wet Sock wears the inverse. 

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Yakuza, aka. [MUSCLE] the Brawler

Originally from an abusive party, taken advantage of because their passive and gullible nature despite their talent, used purely as dumb muscle and a packmule, ANON quickly saved them from the abuse, and put on an actually helpful team, consisting of himself and ODORI. Upon finding out about MUSCLE’s backstory, ATHENA took pity on the small and probably traumatized child, and wishes for MUSCLE’s previous party to go up in flames or get smite by lightning. Imagine Myth’s surprise when this passive and kind-hearted child turned out to be next in line for one of the biggest yakuza branches in all of the country. 

In-Game Outfit: A black vest and a green bandana over a sleeveless white top, wrapped up arms with brass knuckles, black pants and brown steel-toed boots.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Chef, aka. [FLAMBÉ] the Mage

Nerd runs a famous cooking and food critiquing show, in which he is well known for both his temper and his wide range of insults. Imagine the surprise of his fans when they found out that he plays Mythology and Mightiness as FLAMBÉ, the Fire Mage, and happens to be a surprisingly great player. FLAMBÉ would rather not deal with his rabid and simping fanbase and will incinerate the next person with his ultimate attack who even looks in his direction. Usually, the one looking in his direction is ATHENA, who always manages to tank the damage from the fire blast and come back for more. 

In-Game Outfit: A brown overcoat, darker brown pants, gold gauntlets and boots, a red cape with fluff that resembles smoke.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Animator, aka. [ROSWELL] the Sorcerer

Now ROSWELL certainly was one enigmatic sorcerer, for he seems to show hostile distrust to just about everybody in this world, particularly when it comes to people on the internet, often accusing them of committing hostile and unspeakable crimes when offline. ATHENA really doesn’t appreciate being accused of doing unspeakable and heinous crimes offline. She is just a bed-ridden sad sack after all. ATHENA only wishes to clear up any and all misunderstandings between her and ROSWELL. To this day, ROSWELL seems to only trust a certain energetic and hyperactive warrior, and will lay his life on the line to protect said warrior. 

In-Game Outfit: A purple hooded cloak over copper-colored armor and orange boots and gloves, often carries a staff.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Swordswoman, aka. [TSURUGI] the Warrior

Despite being graceful and unparalleled in real-life swordplay, the same cannot be said for her prowess in video games, for she often requires ROSWELL to teach her the ropes. ATHENA regularly finds herself endeared by this childish, yet well-meaning, warrior, and yearns to take TSURUGI underneath her wing. But ROSWELL just wouldn’t trust his online girlfriend to a possible neckbeard. But TSURUGI trusts ATHENA just fine and views Myth like an older and wiser sister, and they regularly go into an isolated field spar together in order to level grind, much to the fear and paranoia of ROSWELL. 

In-Game Outfit: Silver armor with a matching sword in a silver and gold scabbard, a golden headdress with a pink gem in the center.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Traditional Dancer, aka. [ODORI] the Cleric

What ODORI lacks in gracefulness, levels and combat prowess, she makes up for it in healing prowess and sheer optimism and energy, which helps with her dances in both real life and the game. ODORI is an expert motivator, in both the game and the group chat, especially in her special “Baby Squad”, consisting of her, ANON, and MUSCLE. However, ATHENA can’t help but wonder if ODORI’s player is suffering a similar situation to Myth, and her optimism and energy is merely a facade to cover an anxious and scared little girl. In the meantime, ATHENA tries her best to protect this clumsy and lovable cleric. 

In-Game Outfit: Hair in a side plait, a blue qipao-esque top with a yellow flower pattern and detached sleeves, brown pants, yellow boots.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Nurse, aka. [LILAC] the Cleric

Often found hiding behind her good friend, TECHNO, LILAC is timid, yet kind-hearted, often not speaking in the game’s group chat. LILAC usually lets TECHNO do the talking for her. The few times she does choose to talk in the group chat, she uses heavily outdated and verbose vocabulary that only a few people are able to translate. Just like TECHNO and KUROBA, LILAC displays caretaker-like qualities, even if she isn’t in the hospital. LILAC is also the only one who knows about Myth‘s various health complications, often giving Myth tips to help make life a little easier to live. 

In-Game Outfit: Basically what Elf!Purple wore.

This series takes place within the game as the Anons interact both here, and in the game’s group chat.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE 

Gamer!Myth has long and unkempt brown hair and bags under her eyes, from various sleepless nights. Gamer!Myth wears a Pikachu onesie, black fingerless gloves, black headphones with the X-Box logo on it, and slippers that resemble Piranha Plants. 

ATHENA (not pictured) has long and wavy purple hair in a ponytail, and wears pink and silver armor with black gloves and leggings, and what appear to be small angel wings on the back of the armor. 

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Because of a combination of her isolated upbringing and chronic nightmares, Gamer!Myth is very skittish and extremely withdrawn, and would be considered a NEET if she didn’t attend an online school. Because she builds up a more lovable persona online to compensate for her low self-image in real life, Gamer!Myth fears that people would be disappointed if they were to find out who the person behind ATHENA is. Luckily for her, in recent years, Gamer!Myth is working to become more confident and see the outside world, once her scoliosis and chronic nightmares get cured, one little baby step at a time.  —————————————-—————

I hope you like this new talentswap! I based the plot off of ministarfruit’s V3 MMORPG AU, (I‘d happily recommend that you should check this blog out!). Let me know what you think of this talentswap!

[illegiblewords]

Notes under the cut!

These aren’t all of my lady WoLs, but they are some of my favorite designs and I tried to specifically show different things with each of them.

I think with design, beyond different silhouettes it’s worth it to be able to look at a character and get a sense of their personality and background. Sometimes lifestyle depending on how realistic you’re going, although Final Fantasy is a bit “fuck practicality we’re running on rule of pretty” lmao.

With these ladies specifically I also wanted to 1) pick fashions that would work well with the body types and proportions 2) create specific tones 3) play with expectations. I also, personally, wanted to explore different forms of femininity in a positive way. I’ve seen some cases where people seem to think the only way to have a “strong” woman is if she’s made traditionally masculine. I have no problem with traditionally masculine women by any means, but I’m really not into demonizing femininity either. So if I have the option to actually explore femininity in a game in positive ways I like to do that!

Nheu/Pink Miqo’te: I wanted to make her a kind of scrappy character, loud and probably a bit obnoxious, a shameless delinquent sort who immediately demands attention with neon color schemes. Going with Keeper of the Moon miqo’te let her have a toothy smile with little fangs too! I didn’t want her to look mysterious or alluring. This is one of my favorite archetypes tbh, I should really use it more.

Lagogeim/Turquoise Roegadyn: I wanted to make a dragoon who tied to Limsa Lominsa instead of Ishgard or even Gridania, who took the concept of Llymlaen with her harpoon and really built into the motif of pirates. So beyond evoking the sea as much as possible, I wanted to use an unnatural skin tone and hair color since people shy away from those a lot. I tried going for a harder fem look too for her--many roegadyn players embrace this angle so I decided to this time!

Eir/Blue Highlander: I’ve seen a stereotype that hyur highlanders have tall, sexy bodies but less attractive faces. I wanted to make a very short, cute looking highlander girl who isn’t the extreme end of curvy, give her a short/cute haircut that still felt strongly feminine, and pair that with a heavier, more traditionally masculine-perceived job like Warrior. I also tried to make her really, REALLY feel Ala Mhigan both in gear and color scheme/features--I drew some aspects of her coloring from Ilberd to be honest!

Asklona/Green Roegadyn: So I mentioned that a lot of people do hard fem looks for lady roegadyns very well, and I’ve seen critics go after femroes saying they have mannish bodies and ugly faces before. I disagree with that a lot, and decided in this case to go as soft and traditionally feminine as I could. I also went with the least saturated Sea Wolf color and tried playing with blushes/hair color combos to help her look a bit more natural (as opposed to blue/greenish) in this case. Another angle I went with was bard specifically to close the gap between Limsa Lominsa and Gridania, playing into siren and pirate themes since this character is a Sea Wolf. Beyond choosing green to fit with my Famfrit team in a unique way, I chose it as that bridge and because the green being a complementary color to red would make any pink hues stand out more!

Osk/Purple Viera: The stereotype I’ve seen for viera has involved them being hyper sexualized. I personally also rarely use brown hair or the color purple apparently so far as those choices go. What’s more, I wanted to make a look for the scholar job that would be a little more versatile, clearly not mistakable for any other job (healing or otherwise) and that would keep this particular character both elegant and more conservatively dressed. I didn’t want the character to feel like she’d hopped out of the woods either given that’s the most frequent angle for Viera--going a more urban direction was something I wanted to do as a contrast to that.

Nivienne/Gold Elezen: Wildwood elezen tend to be pushed with more natural skintones while Duskwights are more likely to have blue undertones that let them feel like drow. In this case I wanted to make a Wildwood elezen who, due to color combinations, felt fantasy-golden and a little otherworldly. I did a lot of designing to foil Emet-Selch in the name of fanfic lmao (use of gray and gold in different places to different degrees, height, etc.) but I also wanted to make a summoner character who, like scholar, felt extremely visually distinct from other casters. The biggest Summoner-specific look involves horns so that stayed, but for the rest I wanted there to be a flowing and mysterious feel. There was a critique I saw in the past that female casters end up looking like magical girls, so I wanted to challenge that. I also was careful with how the face and shoulders were framed to make sure that Nivienne would feel proportional, since that’s a potential risk for elezen.

Acja/Brass Viera: Another alternate take on dragoon! This time, I wanted to make a viera who tied to savanna aesthetics as a contrast to forest ones, and I did look at Sub-Saharan African fashions as influence. I couldn’t get things exact/used some “it’s Final Fantasy people wear five billion belts” artistic license (and offhand I don’t remember the exact country I used, it might have involved Ghana’s historical armor?) but I tried to match silhouettes, materials, shoes, etc. as best I could. Part of this is also that I know African visuals get used less often in video games, which is a shame because they’re incredibly gorgeous and distinct! So Acja is one design where I did try to bring that in.

Kokono/Orange Lalafell: I’ve seen people lament lack of canine race options in FFXIV and honestly, I agree with that sentiment. We have so many cats and it would have been cool to get dog options. Since it’s not an in-game thing though, I figured this was an opportunity to make the type of character instead. In this case, I used the dark nose option for lalafells and combined with pieces from the werewolf set to make a little fox! She has a few different influences to her visuals due to backstory stuff, but I do think there are ways to make more foxes and small dogs for lalafells as well as wolves for Hellsguard roegadyns.

Eshe/Yellow Au Ra: Another African-influenced design, this one tying to Ethiopian historical fashion and armor! Same rules apply though, the top goes hugely with the “it’s Final Fantasy” brand of artistic license. I know au ra are mostly associated with Othard/Eastern regions, so I decided to shift things to a different tone while trying to keep things fully immersive. I made Eshe a paladin because the swords and shields have some options that resemble African sword designs (WHICH ARE SO FUCKING COOL) and I wanted to try a different tone for paladin from the Western knight-in-shining-armor as well. I didn’t want Eshe to feel overly cutesy or innocent, but did want her to feel very graceful and strong.

Mitsu/Red Midlander: A few things hit me in combination here. First, I’d been nerfing myself to a degree with hyur midlanders when I knew there was an approach I liked. Second, I haven’t seen a lot of traditional-looking characters from Othard and I wanted to switch that up. By this I mean that looking at Far Eastern NPCs, often they are midlander hyurs with black, dark brown, or occasionally gray hair. Not a ton of dye. I love that the Warrior of Light could come from anywhere, so I tried to design someone who credibly could have been an NPC in Kugane. She’s a summoner because there is an Othard tradition of summoning, and she wears red because to my knowledge it has symbolism for good luck in both Japan and China besides being pretty. I also wanted to make a very different summoner (and general caster) visual compared to Nivienne.

[2pcontinued]

A Silent Symphony

Standing at the edge of a ballroom, the beautiful golden chandelier holding many bright candles that illuminated the entire room, you watched longingly at the dance floor. How you wished to be there, waltzing the night away with a handsome stranger. Of course, you could, but lord knows you would be in a load of trouble for doing so. So for now, you simply watched. At least your uniform was cute, even if it was a but uncomfortable. A pair of black mary-janes were shown on your feet, while on your actual body you wore a black frilly dress that stopped at just below your knees, with a white band going around and cinching your waist, and short puffy sleeves that connected to the more modest version of a sweetheart neckline that was also decorated with frills. A pair of plain white stockings covered your legs. Your hair was pulled into a low bun, tied with a white ribbon, and you wore white gloves over your usual rough hands, due to the labor the master of the estate required you to do. Little did you know, a pair of eyes were watching you from afar, staring intently at your simplistic figure, with a look of interest.

Some time later, while you were escorting a guest to their designated room in the estate due to them drinking a little too much of the selection of refreshments you served during the ball, you had walked up to the third floor of the mansion to drop them off. Once you had left them in their room a drunken mess, you started to begin to go back to the party to finish the rest of your job. As you were walking back down the stone staircase, a small melody filled your ears. It was very quiet, almost nonexistent, but still prevalent enough for you to be able to hear it clearly. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, unable to choose your next course of action, yet settled on a decision mere seconds later. Nodding your head, you decided to follow the sound. You knew this land like the back of your hand, so nothing you discovered would be new to you, not to mention, you were always doing the same thing all the time every day, so a change of pace would be inviting. Your shoes clacked against the stone pavement of the stairs you were walking up, currently leading you to the second to last floor, floor five. Once you had arrived at your destination, you opened the brown wooden door at the top of the flight of stairs, and walked down the corridor slowly, making every step you made as silent as possible. The music only got louder. The wallpaper decorating the hallway was a lovely blush pink, with a small off-white stripe marking every every six inches or so of the wallpaper. The floor now had baby blue carpeting, a color you had always found to be joyous and quite adorable, the color itself expressing youth and innocence without even using a picture. Passing every door, you noticed that the music was coming from the very last door at the end of the hallway. It didn’t exactly make sense, since that room had always been vacant every time you had cleaned it, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. It’s not like you got a bad feeling from the situation anyway, because if it had, you would have stopped a long time ago. You trust your instinct with every fiber of your being, as it has never steered you wrong before.

Reaching the final door, pure white with small pink roses decorating the edges, you grabbed the brass knob, and turned it in your hand gently. Pushing the door open, a beautiful scene filled your sight. The usually ugly fading avocado green wallpaper had been replaced with a pristine white wallpaper instead, as the moon lit up every dark crevice of the room. Gold trimmings decorated the connecting area of the floor and wall, and a large white and gold rug covered part of the floor, as a shiny dark brown hardwood floor peeked from underneath the item. On the left side of the room, trays upon trays of pastries and the most delicious smelling sweets sat on top of a table with a white tablecloth, and pink roses occasionally decorated the table, completely snipped from their stems and the flowers left untouched and oddly  perfect. The finest wines and drinks stood next to the sweets on the table, along with a chocolate fountain, what you may say is arguably the best addition to any dessert table. A large window removed of it’s glass with a curved top allowed the full moon to show, it’s holy light shining upon the magnificent display before you. A man stood near this window, not very tall in height, only reaching about 5’6 at most. His back was facing you, however you could see his strawberry blonde hair glisten in the moonlight.

“Excuse me sir, I don’t think you’re allowed to be here.” You spoke, a little unease in your voice, due to the stranger standing across the room from you. He turned around, and you were able to fully take in his features.

What he lacked in height, he made up for in pure and absolute beauty. Extremely fair skin, slightly littered with freckles, as well as deep and sensitive eyes that resembled the color of sapphires when the sunlight hit them, filled your view. Thin, yet plump pink lips with a slight cupid’s bow as their shape, and a button nose that looked almost too tempting to touch with the tip of your finger. His eyebrows, slightly bushy yet well groomed, and long eyelashes framed those mesmerizing eyes of his. His face was slightly rounded, with his chin coming to a small point, his body looking a bit plump and more on the well-fed side, showing his status in society, and providing an explanation for his adorable somewhat chubby cheeks. He was wearing a soft pink waistcoat with a matching pink tailcoat, and a baby blue bow tie. A white wing-collared dress shirt was tucked into neatly pressed cream-colored pants, and he was wearing white gloves, while on his feet were white dress shoes. My god, was he gorgeous. And he was staring directly at you.

A smile graced his perfect lips, yet he didn’t expose his teeth. The music continued to play in the background.

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but I was hoping that I could stay a bit longer in here, if you don’t mind.” His voice had an English accent, something that charmed you further about this man.

“Actually, I don’t mind at all.’ You had no idea what you were saying, of course you minded, you could get punished for this, but something about the air around you made you change your mind. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Excuse me for interrupting.”

As you were about to grab the doorknob to leave again, a sharp wind passed you and you felt your freehand being grasped in another’s.

“I would actually enjoy it, if you stayed for a little while with me. I don’t like to be alone.” His hand was freezing cold, as if you were holding a cube of ice instead of the hand of another person. His voice was genuine and softened, showing that he wasn’t lying. At least you hoped he wasn’t.

Nodding your head, he didn’t let go of your hand, but instead turned you around to face him, palm touching palm, fingers intertwined. Your face burned up like the Sahara during the day.

He smiled at you, teeth barely exposed, but enough to show off some of his pearly whites. Even his teeth were perfect.

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and due to the close proximity, you could smell the faint scent of strawberry coming off of the man. You were so close, you could nearly count every single one of his individual freckles on his face. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend a lazy early morning.

“Yes, we may.” He gave you a reassuring look, then the song began to change. Wait, there was no piano or record player, so who was playing the music? You had no time to think, as he pulled you closer to him, you started to shift and turn in synchronization, one-two, one-two, feet moving together gracefully. Your dress swished all around you, and you could feel the air blowing past your face as you two moved together swiftly. It seemed as though he had you under a trance, your movements completely mimicking his, following his lead completely, not even thinking about anything else but the dance and keeping up with him. As the song began to end, he dipped you down, and you could feel his face nearing the left side of your neck, at a steady pace, slowly but surely making it’s way to the tender meat that was your flesh. Your eyes were closed softly, your head falling back, somewhat sleepy in your state, not fully conscious in a way.

Once he had gotten close enough, he began to open his mouth, and sink his teeth into your delicate skin. Close, so close he could almost taste it, which he could. Almost. Just as his fangs were about to pierce your skin, your eyes pushed themselves open, a look of anger written on your face, and you glared at him. You snapped your neck and head back up while he maneuvered his away from yours to avoid your head impacting his, and messily pushed him away from your body. The blonde looked surprised, and a little amused, to say the least. 

You lifted your leg up and attempted to kick him, yet in a flash, he was gone again, in front of the window you had found him in when you first walked through the door. Raising your fists up to protect yourself, your gaze hardened and eyebrows furrowed, as a hard frown set itself upon your features.

“Who are you, and what did you do to me, you sick man.” Your voice held no hesitation and no fear. You were ready to kick someone’s ass if need be.

The man simply giggled, and grinned at you, revealing his full set of teeth.

“My god..” You whispered to yourself, as you saw rows of fangs lined up on the sides of his mouth, the sharpness of them terrifying you to no end.

“What’s wrong, poppet? Are you surprised?’ His voice came out like velvet, yet held a dark undertone that you despised. He continued. ‘Let me introduce myself, then, to the pretty lady.”

As he said that, he jumped backwards into the window and landed slowly, floating like a feather onto the ledge, and bowed his head down to reach his waist, then lifted his head back upright. His tailcoat swished dramatically behind him. What a show-off.

“I am Oliver Kirkland, a powerful vampire! And you were supposed to be my next meal, my dear.” This part caused your eyebrows to rise and your shoulders to tense, but you stood your ground. No way in hell you were backing down now. Even if his voice got oddly high-pitched during this moment, and it aroused worry in your body.

“However, you, my love, resisted my charms at the last minute. How fun!’ He paused for effect, and lifted his right hand to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully, before he begun again. ‘I have a feeling we will meet again, dearest (Y/n), so, until then! Toodle-loo!” And with the wave of his hand, he was completely gone, as if he vanished in mid-air.

When he left, the entire room changed once more. The walls returned to it’s previous deteriorated state, the floors dusty and rickety, creaking under your body weight, and the treats gone. The room was completely silent.

“How did he know my… Where was the music coming from…” You questioned yourself aloud, knowing that you would probably never find the answers if he didn’t give you the answer. Well, this was beginning to get a bit too personal for you. Collapsing against the aforementioned nasty green wallpaper-covered wall, you sat on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, the moonlight seeping inside from the window barely hitting the tips of of your shoes. A chill ran down your spine. You might need a drink or two to finally begin to process what had just happened.

(This is for anon! My first ever halloween event request fulfilled, so thank you for allowing me to fulfill your request, and have a lovely day!)

[fulcrum-agent]

Appearance Aesthetics: Ashla

(Italic is rarity but done if at-least under unique occasion.)

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Toned thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Toned arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned Stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thigh brows. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands.Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Narrow shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

~Despite being a mage, Ashla has worked on martial training for most of her life, starting with learning the basics of swordplay while she was still a child, along side her twin brother. She has a wiry musculature, while her brother’s is slightly more built, but not by much. Although she’s got a bit of a hectic schedule, she keeps at practising her swordplay, having also expanded a bit to using daggers, as well as the Gyr Abania spellsword style she learned on the sly, so she’s keeping in shape.

HEIGHT.

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

~Ashe isn’t all that tall, at least not as tall as some Midlanders. She isn’t precisely short either. She does tend to end up in at least slight heels or platforms a lot of the time, but nothing insanely high.

SKIN.

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft. Scarred.

~Currently Ashe has two different scars, though the one may end up healing away into being unnoticeable due to treatment from a Xaelic shaman. One arcs across the bridge of her nose, and she’ll likely never be rid of it. The other is a rather freshly healing slit across her throat, from an attempted kidnapping/assassination. She also is covered in freckles, all over her body, like the stars in the heavens. (see tasteful, mildly-NSFW rep here.) Otherwise, she has decent enough skin. The colouration is vaguely tanned, with more olive tint than a rosy one, but containing bits of both. She flushes fairly easily, which is when the rosy tones are more noticeable than the olive ones.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

~Her eyes are a bright shade of aquamarine, though she seems to hate the comparison to the gemstone of the same hue. They’re typically quite bright, even when she’s being serious, alight with the fires of her convictions. 

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly.Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Undercut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows

~Ashla has a mess of red hair, that’s naturally wavy, to an extent, but she often takes the time to smooth and style it. It’s currently kept short, mostly due to being on the run from Garlemald. There are times when she’ll end up having a dirty blonde, shoulder length style, with her freckles conspicuously missing.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there (two tattoos). Multiple. No tattoos. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing(s). Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

~Ashe has several different piercings in her ears, three on right, and four on her left, ranging from the lobe up the cartilage to the tip. She wears a pair of rather stylised, sharp earrings on the lobes, with a trail of small gemstone earrings leading up to the piercing at the tips of her ears.

COSMETICS.

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make up.

~Although she does frequently wear make up, she doesn’t wear a whole lot of it, and will often not bother with putting it on. When she does wear make up, it’s light and natural. She has naturally thick eyelashes, and she doesn’t really bother accenting them any. She also prefers earth toned, barely there lip balm-like things, rather than full on lipstick.

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturiser. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Sugar. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Clove. Cardamom.

~Despite being far away from Dalmasca at this point, she still smells of the desert cities - spices like clove, cinnamon, and cardamom mixed with a faint hint of vanilla. Sometimes, the scent of sandalwood incense mixes into this blend, as she still burns a stick each night in her prayers to Faram. On the rare occasion, there’s a hint of saffron to her scent, due to her preferences when cooking.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight / formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports t-shirt. Sweatpants. Tank top. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxi dress. Sundress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress / skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Naked.

~Ashe favours tighter fitting clothing, as there’s less to be used against her in combat. She wears primarily easy-to-move-in cloth, with some leather pieces. More and more as of late, her clothing has been trending towards more sophisticated looks, while remaining functional, as Paradyme gifts different garments he believes she’ll both look good in, and like.

She tends to gravitate towards darker colours, mostly blues and greens, since they work well with her hair colour and eye colour. She also tends to wear a lot of white, with black accents. Ashla prefers silver tones to gold tones, though either looks good on her.

There are a few things that are consistent about her wardrobe. She almost always wears a pair of brass/bronze glasses, with the lenses held in place by just the nose-bridge and the arms - they’re unlined otherwise; the only time she doesn’t seem to have them on is when she’s blonde.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

~Though she doesn’t always wear them, she has a unique pair of boots. Below the calf, they’re a stylised leather dyed with a pinkish-red tone, but above the knee, they’re silver plated, like a knight’s boot.

Otherwise, she wears a modified set of Ironworks boots for mages. They’re black and silver, with a few bits of magitek built into them that the original style lacks. Tagged by : @captainkurosolaire Tagging : Anyone who wants to do this.

[shiftingpath]

to my Exalted Secret Santa

Three options under the cut:

Ledaal Manus, Twilight Caste Solar Spymaster Cathak Argon, “The Forge of Melted Chains”, Slayer Caste Infernal Prince Black Wings to Blot the Sky, Day Caste Abyssal Renegade

1) Ledaal Manus, Twilight Caste Solar Spymaster

Manus is a beautiful, feminine, very privileged young Dynast-turned mastermind of the clock city of Towersong. He acts as social prep/cleaner and advisor to his small Circle, and specializes in seeing everything and making people underestimate him so he can work freely.

He is extremely pretty in a soft, gentle way. He dresses in a sort of semi-Victorian style he’s borrowed from Thorns, brocade vests and slim trousers and so on. He still likes the very high collars and wide sleeves common in Realm fashion, though. He is slim and around average height. His skin is very pale (though should still be recognizably Realm in ethnicity, which for our Creation is closest to Chinese). His right eye is icy pale blue, and his left is a darker, warmer blue (having had it replaced after the original was cut out by a Lunar). His hair used to be white graded to blue at the bottom, kept in a four-foot braid down his back, but recently Ligier chopped it off in an ill-advised duel. Now it falls just below his jaw, short at the back and longer in the front, pure white, and he keeps it pinned back, sometimes with the longer front “french braided” along his scalp. (Drawing either is totally fine.) He wears small oval spectacles and especially loves wearing purple. He has a strong aversion towards displaying skin, so covers up to his neck, down to his wrists, but if it is relevant, he has a brand around one bicep- a chain with a crown linking it like a lock.

He idolizes his Air Aspect father, and often wears a piece of pale blue clothing as if it were his token. Though he has a lot more jewellery, he almost always wears a simple gold circlet on his brow, a brass gear ring nailed through his finger, and a silver pin (on his cravat or coat) of an upright-pointing clock hand, a human hand before it, an eye on the palm- a gift from his Zenith queen when she appointed him her Hand.

He is brilliant and cunning and a dedicated problem-solver, which are put to the test in his role as right hand to one of the queens of the city. (He is always up to his neck in paperwork and responsibilities and happy about it. A consummate bureaucrat, he is Bureaucracy Supernal.) He fights using the sword he pulled from a tree (fulfilling local prophecy at the time), the long and delicate moonsilver-and-starmetal daiklave Silver Riddle. Having recovered his long shorn braid from Ligier, Silver Riddle now wears it like a tassel. He also occasionally uses one of a matched set of artifact assassin blades, the Sun-and-Wind Talons. Manus’ has the image of an orichalcum sun laid over a blue jade sky, but he usually keeps it hidden under his sleeve. In combat he fights with Solar Melee and the counter attack-focused evocations of Silver Riddle, and for sneaky purposes has a little training in two separate Martial Arts styles concerning assassination.

He is a Solar Circle sorcerer, initiated in all three times via scrying into the depths of the giant clock he lives on. He has three signature spells: a clock version of Corrupted Words (which flares his eyes with a subtle emerald flash), Lost Hour’s Offering (in which he uses weird clock magic to remove memories, taking the form of him ringing an ornate hand-bell), and The Titan’s Held Breath (in which he steps between the spaces between Autochthon’s laboured breaths and can run through a strange green-hued clock dimension until he either passes out from nausea or he chooses to allow time to function again).

His anima banner is gold in the center and fluxes to reds and purples towards the edges. The image is a hand presented like the Vitruvian Man, fingers extended and closed simultaneously. An eye opens wide in the palm. Lines of proportion encircle the fingers and their joints and extend out into the rest of the world to display the symmetry of Creation.

Reference:

Normal clothes 1 2 3

His stupid yachting costume

“Savage warrior of Karn” clothes

= = =

2) Cathak Argon, “The Forge of Melted Chains”, Slayer Caste Infernal Prince

Argon’s backstory is Extremely Second Edition and will be under construction until whatever year Infernals are released. However, here is what is not confidential:

Argon was raised in House Cathak alongside his twin sister Araka, raised to believe that obedience to his superiors was right and good, and that it felt right and good, and that his superiors deserved his unquestioning loyalty and admiration. His sister learned alongside him, but all she took away was that the strong get what they want. She exalted as a Fire Aspect, and the two attended the House of Bells together, Argon praying to exalt every step of the way. Araka’s carelessness with her power and her personal abuse of his loyalty to her were key to convincing Argon that his superiors did not, in fact, deserve his loyalty. A metody, one of the acid Malfean elementals, took advantage of his onset of doubt to offer him the demons’ bargain. He exalted as a Slayer, and fled the Isle. Araka, always pressing their relationship beyond that of brother and sister, refused to accept his fate, and wastes countless resources pursuing him wherever she finds a trace of his passing.

Argon is not particularly tall, with a slim build, but is muscled like a lightweight boxer. His skin tone was originally the same as Araka’s, a natural sallow skin native to the Isle, both with brown hair, but as her exaltation brought out ruddy auburn tones in her skin and hair, Argon’s turned his more yellow, mimicking the virulent acid of his co-adjutor. His hair is pulled in a ponytail, and it writhes with uncomfortably living force; distinctly more disturbing than the way an Air Aspect’s hair might blow in unseen breezes, Argon’s seems more to twitch and curl like some strange animal. His eyes are a brilliant acid yellow, and he smells of brimstone. In all ways, he is meant to mimic a Dragon-Blood of Malfean element, with the same sort of elemental “Tells” aspected towards the demonic.

He wears essentially a House of Bells training outfit slightly pimped up to look more majestic. Grey soft clothes underneath, maroon and red tabard over top, with a bright yellow band to signify his loyalties. He bears a yellow jade short spear partially encased in basalt, the Standard of the Beggar-King. From just below the head he has flown a long pennant, bearing only a field of solid black laced with brilliant green pavement cracks. He wears a tainted iron hearthstone amulet after conquering a brutally physically punishing manse in Malfeas itself, and has set a Gem of Infernal Regeneration into it. As a result the scars he bears from his time in the House of Bells and later in Malfeas have filled with basalt; the most noticeable ones are across his nose and cheeks and one deep one in one shoulder, though several smaller ones splash across his arms and torso.

Argon tries to be patient, noble, stern and proud, and emulate the virtues of the Prince as taught in his childhood. He has come to regard the Isle as corrupt, but still believes that a good, benevolent leader exists, in the form of his patron, the Brass Dancer Malfeas, whom he knows almost nothing about and only caught a glimpse of, dancing, for a few minutes once. He believes that he is destined to be the treasured, benevolent leader of some nation, and that he just hasn’t found it yet. His surety that people want to follow strong, loving leaders is somewhat undermined by his powers, which lace him with radioactive essence and punish the slightest misstep on the part of his devoted followers. He is trying his best to believe that he hasn’t signed on to the wrong team, and steadily and stubbornly turns his eyes from any proof that he might not be the worthy leader he believes he is.

He has By Rage Recast (3rd Edition willing), so whenever he goes iconic he transforms into a gargoyle-like beast (an Argoyle), with talons on his hands and feet, a thick tail, bright yellow armored scaling, sometimes black horns, if you liked Gargoyles the feel of it is ripped right out of that. His caste mark is a searing green X as if cut by a blade, and his anima banner is a broken crown with a cracked emerald in its brow.

Reference:

1 2 3

= = =

3) Black Wings to Blot the Sky, Day Caste Abyssal Renegade

Wings was raised as a princess in one of the tiny nations of the Hundred Kingdoms. It was expected that she would be married to broker some allegience, and was made into a creature of beauty and desire, with pure white hair nearly to her knees, unblemished rosy skin, and tattooed with a pattern of white lilies down her body. She would rather have died, and she did.

The princess would have been laid to rest in a state ceremony unlike any her tiny nation had ever seen, had anyone been able to find her body. But as soon as the touch of death came upon her, she rose a different creature. Shearing their hair off, they bound their chest with a strip of cloth ripped from their closet of sumptuous gowns. Clinging to shadows, they left their realm, following the call of something deep and terrible.

Wings is small of build but raring to go. Their hair is still pure white at the sides, cropped short, but they’ve grown the rest into a wild mohawk and dyed it bright red. Their skin is an ashen grey, and they still bind with a strip of no-longer-white cloth that was once a very nice dress. They have been training in martial ways since they left home, and they wear a pair of soft, baggy pants and a red sash around their waist. They have the old style pointed deathknight ears, pierced with several silver rings, and their bottom lip has a thick silver ring as well. Their eyes are crimson, and their cheeks are tattooed with a crest of black points to denote their royalty. The lily tattoo is still in evidence, but they’ve been tattooed many more times since, marred with black bands like shackles and barbed wire from their brief time at the Walker’s side.

During that time, they dressed considerably more princely, with fine, high-necked black tunics and scarves, ornate silver armor set with jet and garnets. They left that all behind in a mirror of their exaltation, when they realized how awful the Walker really was, though they kept the oversized soulsteel smashfists he gave them. Wings has no intention of returning those, and is kind of fiercely enjoying the idea of the fight they’ll give the Walker if he tries to retrieve them. They still tend to throw on scarves sometimes, looping them over their shoulders like dark wings, and they have a weakness for garnets.

They’re a little hotblooded these days, trying to play it cool and not attract too much attention, but unable to stop themself from interfering when their temper gets the best of them. They tend to swear a lot of very earnest and compelling oaths, which they have to grudgingly follow through on in the sober light of day.

Their anima starts as a halo of ominous darkness like a storm in the evening, and culminates in a rushing cloud of bats, their detail reduced to nothing but rapid beating wings, white teeth, and shrieking horror.

I don’t have a design for the smashfists but i’d love to see them on either renegade wanderer Wings or loyal new servant Wings with their full deathknight regalia. They’re originally from a concept where all deathknights can turn into bats so like, forgive furry Wings in the references

Reference:

1 2

[astouract]

Spring Holiday (pt. 2)(Newt x Reader)

A/N: Heres part 2! I honestly love writing about Newt, so if you have any requests for Newt x Reader, do send it to me! Thank you for reading! Let me know if you like it.

It was quiet in the library, just as it was quiet in most places in the castle. Ever since you and Newt had snuck out of the castle and nearly got expelled, things had been remarkably normal. Other students sat at tables of their own, a few books piled on top to help with their assigned class work. You were sitting alone by the window, where deceiving rays of sunlight shone through and made you believe it was actually warm outside. You longed for the warmth, as it had been a frightfully cold and long winter. The snow had only just completely melted a week or two ago, and you knew that there was still quite a ways to go before your ideal temperature was reached. For now, however, you were happy with the heat of the sun absorbing into your black robes through the window. The chair across from you slid away, and you found Newt sitting there instead. The sun made his copper-brown hair look like gold, and made his blue eyes sparkle as they fell on you. “Hello,” he greeted with a smile, “I thought I’d find you here.”

“I gathered my things and came down here right after lunch,” you explained. “Say, where were you at lunch-time? Dumbledore noticed you were missing, but Nigellus just shrugged him off.” 

Nigellus was possibly the worst headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. He kept to himself as much as possible, and absolutely loathed his position. Among all of the staff, he was the least popular and most avoided (apart from the Slytherins). Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, was the most popular. He was kind, fair and unarguably a genius, and just a bit mad. Unlike Nigellus, Dumbledore was just as fond of muggle-born wizards as any pure-blood. 

You wished desperately that Dumbledore could be the headmaster, you were certain that he would do a much better job than Nigellus. He had a way of making every student feel important and cared about, whereas you were lucky if you could hold Nigellus’ attention for more than five seconds. Now that you thought about it, you figured that most people would do a better job than Nigellus. 

“(y/n)?” Newt was staring at you curiously, his eyes laced with concern. 

You shook your head and came back down from the clouds. “Sorry, what?”

“I said that I was down in my suitcase during lunch. Is- is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” you assured with a dismissive wave of your hand. “How is little Pickett?”

Pickett was the youngest creature in Newt’s suitcase, being only three days of age. He was a Bowtruckle, a shy little twig-like creature that guarded wand-wood trees. Newt now had five of them, and cared for them as if he were their mother. 

“Wonderful. I’m certain that he’s rather small for his point of maturity, but it’s nothing to worry about.” Newt’s eyes flickered up to yours, then back to the papers in front of you. “Fancy a break?”

“I really am rubbish at this game,” Newt realized with a defeated sigh. 

You laughed. “You’re getting so much better at it, though! You nearly won that time!” 

Newt looked up at you through narrow eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You were going easy on me.”

It was your third round of Wizard’s Chess that afternoon, and Newt had lost all three times. You suggested that the two of you find something else to do, and Newt happily agreed. 

You ended up following him into his case, which sat in the corner of the Hufflepuff common room. It never ceased to amaze you, what you saw when you reached the end of that ladder. Along one wall were rows and rows of drawers, each with different contents, though most of them held potion ingredients. Along another wall was a wooden desk with a quill, plenty of parchment and books, and two large candles that cast a soft yellow glow on the area. There were various other things on his desk, such as a birdcage and a number of other items that you didn’t recognize. 

It was cluttered and cramped, but at the same time, there was plenty of room for both of you in his small shack. Books were everywhere, but you could tell that the area was organized in Newt’s own untidy fashion. He knew exactly where everything was. The area was delightfully warm and smelled like Newt, a mixture of lavender and peppermint. 

He lead you out of his small workspace, and to where all of his creatures lived. He had around fifteen total, but you were certain that the number would grow quickly over time. While Newt was preoccupied with bottle-feeding a Marmite (a luminescent squid-like land creature), you started towards the Demiguise, who Newt had named “Doogle.”

You had taken a special liking to the ape-like creature, and it to you. The Demiguise looked like a small ape, with large black eyes and long, silky silver hair. It had taken you some time to earn its trust, as it saw you as a threat and always turned invisible whenever you came into sight. Its hair could be used to make invisibility cloaks, and so the creature was very popular and valuable. Newt had rescued this one from a party of hunters in the Far East. 

You had just sat down to visit with the Demiguise when you heard loud footsteps racing toward you. You looked up to find Newt running straight at you, throwing his school cloak around his shoulders. Doogle sensed danger and seemed to evaporate into thin air, though you knew it had only turned invisible.

“What is it?” You asked, startled by the panicked expression Newt was wearing. 

“The- the Bowtruckles,” he puffed, “they’re all gone.”

Your heart began to race. “You’re certain?” You didn’t want to believe it. Gone? “You checked everywhere?” 

“Everywhere,” Newt breathed, wide eyes fixed on the ground. “Can’t find a single one.”

You both rushed back to his shed, where you found the door to his suitcase slightly ajar. You exchanged worried glances before hurriedly climbing up the ladder. 

“I was so careless,” Newt groaned miserably, “I didn’t check the door twice, I-I always check it twice.” 

His eyes flickered all around the room, and you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Newt, we have to find them before someone else does.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Newt mumbled, “If Nigellus finds them…” He suddenly took your hand and pulled you across the common room, out into the earthy corridor. 

You were quick to keep up with his fast pace, your eyes roaming everywhere in search of a tiny green creature. 

“Where would Bowtruckles even go at Hogwarts? Why would they escape in the first place?”

Newt glanced back at you. “I’ve no clue.”

You jogged until you came across the still-life that was the path to the kitchen, where you both stopped and stared at each other in silent question. 

“I’ll go,” you offered. “I’ll pretend that I was asked to bring something to Dumbledore.”

Newt nodded. “I’ll meet you back in the common room in fifteen minutes.”

“Right,” you agreed, turning to enter the kitchen. Newt caught your hand, however, and your breath hitched as you stopped mid-step. 

His eyes were focused on you, glittering with concern. “Be careful,” he pleaded, “some of the Bowtruckles lash out when they feel threatened.Their nails are extremely sharp.”

You exhaled deeply, preparing yourself. “Right,” you repeated, standing up a little straighter. “Nothing to worry about, I’ll be just fine.” You smiled reassuringly at Newt, whose hand held yours a bit tighter. 

“See you soon, then.” And with that, he was gone, his cloak fanning out behind him as he rushed down the stony corridor. 

You stepped into the kitchen, where your senses were immediately overwhelmed. It smelled magnificent, but was incredibly hot from the enormous fire blazing across the room. House elves bustled around you, holding full pots and carrying food from one place to another. One older-looking elf ran right into you, and his tray of bread fell right out of his hands and onto the floor with a small crash. 

“You is not beings allowed in the kitchen,” He croaked, scowling up at you. 

“Yes, um, Professor Dumbledore sent me to fetch him some parsley.” 

Parsley? “Mhm,” the house elf said with a nod, “sure he did.” He suddenly turned to the rest of the staff and shouted, “Shill is needing parsley!” As the house elves scurried around in search of it and Shill began to pick up the bread he had dropped, you began to hurriedly peer around the short yet incredibly long tables. Just as you were beginning to think that coming into the kitchen was a mistake, you saw a flash of green from up above. Hesitantly, you turned your attention to the massive lights that hung overhead. You saw not just one Bowtruckle, but two… And one of them was Pickett. You saw them and they obviously had seen you, but you hadn’t the slightest clue how you would get them down without causing a scene. You turned around in circles, looking for anything that could help. Your eyes landed on a dish rag, and you hastily snatched it up before tossing it as hard as you could at the light. The Bowtruckles tried to cling onto the brass rim, but lost their grip and fell. You reached out to catch them, but you weren’t quick enough and they hit the table. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you gasped, but your fears were false–they were still alive and fine. “Your parsley,” came a squeaky voice, and at your feet stood an even smaller house elf. She was holding a small bunch of delicate looking leaves, and as you reached out to take it, the Bowtruckles leapt off of the table and began to run out of the room. “Thank you!” You called out to the elves as you took off after the creatures. You skidded around the corner and into the corridor, just behind them. “It isn’t safe for you out here,” you said in a loud whisper, “if someone else catches you, who knows what could happen to you?” But still they ran, and so did you. The fully grown one tried to climb up the stone wall, but you jumped over and snatched him up. Almost immediately, you felt a stinging pain in your hand, and looked down to see blood dripping from your loosely-closed fist. “You cut me?” You scolded through gritted teeth, “I’m trying to save your arse.” You attempted to put him in the pocket of your cloak, but he slashed at you with his sharp claw-like nails and left wounds on your arms. You hissed in pain, stuck him in your pocket and told him that you’re “only trying to help, so maybe a little less resistance would be nice.” Meanwhile, Pickett had gotten quite a ways away and there was no way you were returning to the common room without him. You started after him, your hand clamped over your most cut-up arm to cover up the wounds as best as you could. He was surprisingly fast now that he was on his own, and you ran after him down the corridor before he disappeared around a corner. You followed quickly after, but as soon as you rounded the corner, you collided with someone else and their arms wrapped around you before you could fall. You were thankful to see Newt in front of you instead of Nigellus or one of the other staff members. Pickett crawled up the fabric of his trousers and into the pocket in his cloak, where three other Bowtruckles were nestled. “You found the rest,” you noted, breathing heavily. “I found these two in the kitchen.” You reached inside your own cloak for the one you had managed to scoop up, but the pain in your arms made you think twice. “Merlin’s beard,” Newt gasped, “You’re bleeding.” “Oh am I?” You asked innocently, “That would explain a lot.” You offered a weak smile, but Newt was frowning as he lifted your arms so he could see. “You- you found Titus, then. I was hoping Iwould find him, I’m so sorry.” He looked distraught, and didn’t say another word on the way back to the basement. His gaze was fixed on the ground in front of him, as if he had done the damage himself. “Its all right, really,” you tried to assure, “they’re just cuts–they’ll heal.” “I never wanted to hurt you,” Newt replied pointedly, reaching the barrels and tapping out the rhythm that would let you into the common room. When you got back inside Newt’s suitcase, he quadruple checked that it was securely shut, and released his Bowtruckles onto his desk. He spun on his heel, reached inside your cloak pocket, and pulled Titus out, who didn’t seem to have much of a problem with Newt carrying him. He, too, was placed on the desk. Newt opened one of his drawers and pulled out a few things that were unrecognizable to you, and began to prepare it all in one small jar. Once it was finished, he scuffled over to you and dipped two fingers in the jar. “This should help with the pain,” he murmured, and you held out your arms. Your palm had finally stopped dripping, and you opened and closed your fist to keep it from stiffening. Newt began to gently spread the medicinal mixture over your wounds, and instead of the burning sensation you were expecting, it felt cool and soothing. You exhaled, your eyes following Newt in admiration as he moved to make another mixture–this one for healing the wounds–and then put it on you the same. “I really am so sorry,” he murmured again, “I-I wasn’t thinking properly earlier. Never meant for you to get hurt.” You fought to find words that would console him and let him know that you really were all right, but your mind felt a bit fuzzy. Instead, you took a step forward and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. Once he got over the initial shock, he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer, using his free hand to run his fingers through your hair. “You m-mean everything to me,” he said, just above a whisper. He took a breath in to speak again, but one of the Bowtruckles had climbed up his trouser leg again and made himself comfortable on Newt’s shoulder, staring at you intently. You recognized him to be Titus, and Newt pulled away to place him in his palm. “Did you see what you’ve done?” He asked Titus. “No, you didn’t just leave a scratch. You left cuts all across her arms, which was a very unkind thing to do.” Newt huffed. “She was not trying to hurt you, she wanted to keep you from getting hurt. It’s not me you need to apologize to,” he added softly. Newt held Titus out to you, who made a quiet squeaking sound towards you. You smiled. “It’s all right, I’ll be fine.”

[metalpiratequeen]

@morethananyking

Music has Charms to Soothe a Savage Beast

The dark haired woman stood in the gloomy corridor for nearly ten minutes now, holding a bottle of betelgeux brand whiskey in her hands as she glares at the door marked E207. This was undoubtedly Dinobot’s apartment, if the nervous glances from his neighbours as they darted past the door was any indication.

Lazarette was not wearing her traditional black and gold trimmed uniform, instead she had her thick hair down for the evening, braiding a piece of blue ribbon into a single lock, putting on brown trousers with a red sash, a green top and a brown jacket. Several piercing in her ears, a blue gem encrusted necklace, gold bangles on her right wrist and leather straps on the left. Nothing like the disciplined persona she puts on when at work.

For what seems like an eternity she glares at the brass number plating, debating why she was even standing here to begin with. She didn’t want to befriend this creature, she didn’t even want to know him, but Cyclonus had ordered it and so, here she was, trying to teach an animal how to behave like a soldier.

Someone shoot her now.

With great reluctance, she knocks.

[khalithewanderer]

The Wanderer

Clunk. The sound of the staff stopping at the wooden porch just outside the door is enough to silence the entire bar. Heads turn to the door, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It is not unlikely for visitors to appear this late at such a well-known tavern. However, the hollow sound that echoes through the brightly lit room is enough to catch anyone’s attention. Slowly, with a creaking sound that reverberates throughout the old floorboards and into the very souls of all guests, the brass knob on the door turns, and the wooden door is pushed open. Instantly, murmurs rise, splitting through the chilling air that had been caused by the sudden appearance of the unfamiliar sounds. With a steady intake of breath, the Wanderer steps inside. 

Now fully immersed in the light of the room, the whole bar is able to see the entire detail of which the Wanderer contains. A long cloak is draped over their body, its hood pulled over their face. With a braid and a bead hanging from the front, it’s as if their face were the only thing they were trying to keep a secret; the cloak itself is quite revealing, open and dangling down the Wanderer’s front, where it stops just below their knees. On each side, a small golden orb hangs by a small golden braid. But the cloak is split at the arms, it seems, where the hem recedes up near the elbows, and dips down again in the back. As the Wanderer moves forward, the cloak trails behind them, another orb and another braid bobbing along in it’s wake. The cloak is mesmerizing, tiny golden stars and moons decorating its navy blue fabric, which seems to be as dark as the night sky, swirling with tones of purples and blues that belong to galaxies rather than fabric. A symbol is sewn into the back, portraying a crescent moon that is placed around a star, unifying the two separate beings into one.  The cloak, however, is not the only enchanting possession that the Wanderer carries. Two swords, both katanas, are placed securely on their left hip, both of which are quite contrasting. The bottom one, black with silver bearings strongly placed across the sheath, as if to hold the leather together, is slightly longer, and appears strangely warmer that it’s partner. The top katana, covered in a sheath of white that is decorated expertly and exquisitely with tiny patterns of gold, gives off an aura of cold, dark times, as though it were merciless. And of course, there’s the staff - the source of the tension now resonating through the tavern. Pure white and smoothly crafted, it is simply beautiful. There are no decorations, or protectors, or moons, or stars. The ends are plain, just long shafts of white that come to an abrupt stop about a half a meter from the center. And it is the center that is drawing much of the attention. It looks as though four pieces of the smooth wood have been pulled away from the shaft, and twisted so that they coil together perfectly. Placed in between each coil are three gems, of which colour the spectators are having a hard time deciding. They appear red, blue, green, purple, amber, onyx… Despite what the Wanderer is carrying, they themselves are not as spectacular as all are expecting. They move further into the room, headed towards the bar, plain black shoes scuffling along as the steady clunk, clunk, clunk of the staff accompanies them. The Wanderer’s canvas pants that are wrapped on with strings and ropes and yarns seem to have been torn off below the knees. A thin waistline with strange markings about the hips shows a lack of food. The bandages that they wear around their breast are dusty and dirty, stained with mud, food, and what could possibly even be blood. A small woven pouch hangs off of the hip opposite the swords, sagging in odd places, showing a lack of money, which further explains the Wanderer’s small, frail appearance. Four bronze bands are worn on the Wanderer’s right forearm, which moves back and forth in motion with the staff. The hand which firmly grasps the white wood is a dark, patchy brown, which is fairly uncommon in a place such as this one. The Wanderer takes a seat at the bar, passing the staff into their left hand and leaning it against the wooden counter as they flip open and dig through their pouch.  Thin, dirty fingers pull out a small golden coin and place it on the table. “How much will this get me?” Their voice is quiet and unreadable, though a slight accent is carried with it. The bartender picks up the coin with meaty hands and examines it carefully. Tucking it into his pocket, he says gruffly, “Bread and soup. I’ll be back.” By now, the heads of the guests throughout the bar are craning to see the Wanderer more, swivelling back and forth between friends and neighbours, trying to make conclusions about the stranger amongst them. The bartender returns with a freshly baked stack of bread and a bowl filled to the brim with steaming liquid, and places it in front of the Wanderer. Without sudden warning, the hood is flung off, and the crowd gasps. The Wanderer clasps their hands in front of them, letting out a hoot and a howl and bellowing with extreme glee, “WOWEE, THANK GODS, I’M STARVING!!” Immediately tucking into the soup, scooping it up with the slices of bread and chomping down messily, the Wanderer begins to eat. The whole bar stares in shock, surprised by what is underneath the hood. There’s a moment of silence until someone mutters: “It’s a girl.” Stopping abruptly, the Wanderer raises their head, soup dribbling down their chin, and a piece of bread in each hand. Slowly, eerily, they turn around in their seat to face the room, revealing that, yes, in fact, they appear to be a girl. Their face and hair are the same as their hands. So dark that they appear to be covered in soil. Their hair is pulled back as far it can go, tied tightly into a bun behind their head, leaving only a few pieces to hang in their face, which is young and seems kind, though it scares nearly everyone in the room. Softly, they wipe their mouth and place their pieces of bread behind them, and then they from the seat. “Who said that?” they say gently and quietly. No one in the room moves. They asks again. “Please, I would like to know who just said that.” Slowly, a hand raises in front of her. Quivering slightly, a short, skinny man with tufts of hair sticking out from underneath a straw hat says, “I-I did M-Miss.” With a whipping motion, the Wanderer grabs their staff from against the bar and rushes forward to stand face to face with this man. They bend down to meet him, their height being much larger than his, and gets so close to him that their noses are nearly touching. Their face is pulled together in concentration, deep brown eyes filling with so much magic and intensity that the man nearly shakes out of his clothes. They continues to stare on as the entire bar seems to hold its breath…. “BWAHAHAHAHA!!” they erupt, straightening up with their hands on their hips. The remainder of the people around them slowly start to laugh uncomfortably along, more out of fear than entertainment. “I’m no girl! I’m just a human! And one of the strongest and best ones out there at that! Whether I’m a boy or girl makes no difference to me” They spin around and retake their seat, continuing to munch away at their meal. The laughter dies away and the silence resumes, apart from the jumbled talking that the Wanderer is now attempting. “Wow, dish is really good shtuff! I haven’ had shtuff dish good shince Mama wuz in town! Wow!” they continue on, food miraculously staying in their mouth as they so. The bartender leans over the bar at them and narrows his eyes, as they, oblivious to the glare on his face, shoves another piece of sopping bread into their mouth. “What are you doing here kid…?” the bartender growls, though they waits until they’ve finished their soup to answer, tipping to bowl back as they swallow the last couple of drops. “Well,” they say boisterously, “that’s not really a whole bunch of your business, is it Mr. Grumpyface?” The bartender is taken back by their comment, and they laughs loudly again. “Look mister, I’m a Wanderer. I don’t have a whole lot of purpose. I’m just here to feel the world.” The bartender leans back, grunting in reluctant agreement. He still examines them carefully, as though someone like them could never be trusted. “Your skin is dark. That’s not something you ever see around these parts. Where’s your home Wanderer?” The Wanderer is rummaging around in their pouch when he asks this, and freezes, turning slowly back towards him with a wide, innocent look on their face. “I don’t think you understand sir. I have no home. I don’t even know where I started. All I know is that I just keep going. I want to experience everything; the same stuff, the different stuff, the good stuff and the bad stuff, the new stuff and especially the old stuff. That’s what I do. “I don’t have a home because the world is my home. I live where I wish, I do as I wish, and I am as I wish. That’s all there is to know about me.”  They raise off of the seat and lean over the bar, peering closely into the face of the barkeep. “Now let me ask you a question, sir…” The next words that come out of their mouth are filled with magic and mystery, enchanting every single person in the room with whimsical dream-like thoughts and spreading wonder into the hearts of everyone near. They were light, with music and magic and fun, but also heavy and deep, dragging thoughts and minds into the dark. These words seemed so simple yet so powerful, and the world seemed to carry so much sense and nonsense ravelled into one. “Why do you think they call me a Wanderer?”

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- Jamie Homeniuk