#THIS S/I'S DESIGN IS A WIP BIRDS ARE HARD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tungstenb · 4 years

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WIP Weekend Whenever

Tagged by @rpgwarrior4824, @ljandersen, @natsora, and @inquartata30. Thanks for the mentions, everyone!

Inq and Nat asked for fluff, so that's what I'm gonna try. I don't think my writing style is suited for fluff. But! An attempt was made. ^_-

I'm planning a bit of an intermission between SAtS and BODS — a series of vignettes from the trip to Thessia first referenced in "Cardamom and Cloves" — so here's a snippet from that (~2,500 words).

Enjoy!

Thessia: Day 2

Something's wrong.

It wasn't so much a thought but a feeling, an instinct. A surge of adrenaline to rouse her from sleep, to tense her slack muscles and propel her to act. One short intake of breath and she shot upright. Eyes keen. Mind ready.

Stillness. Early dawn.

Not wrong, only different. She'd forgotten.

Armali.

Shepard sank back down onto the plush bed, her sigh lost in the breeze rumbling with the crashing surf. Beyond the vast bedroom windows and billowing sheer curtains, new light tinted the scenery outside in a cool muted grayscale, the sky dilutely inky, the ocean mercurial, the scattered islands and jutting rock formations awaiting the colors of day, just beginning to come to life with swaying trees and flocks of birds. She sighed again. Allowed the last of her hypervigilance to bleed away. And as she shifted, turning to her left, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

Beside her, Liara slept soundly, facing away, curled up comfortably under a drape of sheets. The relaxed curve of her shoulder rose and fell slightly with her steady breathing, the gentle sheen of microscales still somehow catching the dim early light. She glowed, even in the gray.

Shaking her head, Shepard barely suppressed a quiet breathy laugh, all amazement and relief and disbelief. She never thought she could have this. Never thought her heart could feel so full. She reached out, stopping just short of running her knuckles gently over Liara's arm, or sweeping the fallen strap of her nightgown back up over her shoulder.

She wouldn't wake her.

Hand sinking into the pillowy mattress, Shepard propped herself up and swung her legs over the bed, taking a deep breath, rolling out the residual soreness and tension in her shoulders, stretching her neck, massaging her bad leg. She stood. Breathed. Stretched again. The woven rugs were soft beneath her feet and the stonework cool as she made her way to the kitchen. Priority: coffee. Leave it to the asari to perfect the tech even for that. She hummed as she scooped the fragrant grounds into the machine, tapping a few buttons to start it brewing.

By habit she brought up her omni-tool before remembering she'd decided to ditch her usual early-morning reading for the week, her daily newsfeeds and all but the highest-priority messages muted, their pinned widgets grayed-out and transparent on her homepage. She clicked her tongue over the whirring and dribbling of the coffee maker, then wandered to the refrigerator, idly appraising its contents.

The rental house had been stocked with essentials before their arrival — maybe standard Armalian fare, maybe items a bit more suited to human tastes, maybe things Liara had requested specifically, Shepard couldn't be sure. Two large glass bottles, one green juice, the other milk (or something milk-adjacent). A variety of eggs cradled in a basket, some small and pastel, some larger, textured and mottled with bluish spots. A package of dense, doughy bread, sliced, cylindrical in shape. Small blocks of what appeared to be cheese, or butter, or another sort of cultured or aged dairy product, wrapped in decorated waxy paper. Assorted vegetables in crisper compartments. A bowl of shiny berries. A jar of… whatever the hell. She grabbed it, unscrewed the top, took a whiff. Fishy.

Best wait for Liara to wake before attempting to cook. Bit out of her element, at least with these ingredients. Chances were she'd fuck it up, Liara would wake up laughing at her and her sad burnt breakfast lump, and they'd have to go out to eat. And maybe Liara'd prefer to go out anyway, head to a quaint little cafe on the waterfront that starched its cloth napkins and served fancy drinks with like, olives and celery sticks or whatever the garnish for socially acceptable breakfast/brunch booze was here. Probably best to defer to her judgment; this was her home, after all. But she could, at the very least, have tea ready for her when she woke.

Taking the milk-like bottle and setting it on the counter, she readied and leveled her translation overlay. Tapped for an audio sample. Melikhratun, said a silvery voice in her earpiece. She poured some in a glass and tasted it. It was reminiscent of melted vanilla ice cream, even in thickness, and it coated the interior of the glass. Kinda weird, oddly tasty. She shrugged and set the glass aside, skimming through the article.

Melikhratun: a sweet liquid cream/yogurt made from haavi milk, rich in… well, everything. Fat, sugar, protein, vitamins, sometimes probiotics; eezo content variable, generally ranging from 0.5 to 5.0 ppm, depending on livestock origin and feed. Ideal for the energy needs of those who make ample use of biotics. Many regional versions, cultured and uncultured, in a multitude of flavors, some seasonal, some staples, some festive varieties only making brief appearances for annual holidays, most notably porfuranq flavor, for Janiris. Either drunk straight, used in recipes, mixed with other beverages — and essential for serving arwamaasi, a tea made famous in Serrice.

She tapped the link to arwamaasi, the article popping up beside the one for melikhratun, humming a tune as she shuffled over to the pantry.

Arwamaasi, arwamaasi… that one also sounded familiar.

The hinge squeaked as she opened the pantry door, and she turned. In the sliver of the bedroom still visible from the kitchen, she found Liara still sleeping soundly, face serene, arm relaxed resting before her. Thankfully undisturbed by the squeal of oxidized hardware needing oiling — constant humidity and salty sea air would do that. With a quiet breathy chuckle — and a mental note to tend to it later — she turned back to her search.

Translation overlay active she scanned the labels, looking for a match among the tins and boxes and jars lining the shelves. The pantry was well-stocked — nonperishables left by previous guests — and she scanned over the bubbles of transliterated text that popped up in real-time.

Arwamaasi, arwamaasi, arwamaasi, she repeated, silently. Liara had said the word before, back on the Normandy, the syllables rolling off her tongue as sweetly as the scent of spice that permeated the air and lingered on her lips after she'd drunk cup after cup, counting on the kick of caffeine to keep her awake and alert long after staring at her terminal had strained her eyes and made her mind weary.

"It's just not the same without melikhratun," she'd explained to Shepard, but assured her she enjoyed it even without the rich, sweet Thessian dairy product. Not practical to keep it aboard: perishable, spendy, difficult to acquire without eezo contamination. I'll see what I can do, regardless, Shepard had thought. Errands on the Citadel. What's that stuff called again? Alone, she'd detoured on Tayseri Ward and ordered coffee from an asari-owned cafe, hoping to jog her memory. Thought to ask for something nice to put in tea, a specific kind of tea, what's-it-called? Stopped. No, just the coffee. But… god, no. The gesture would be too forward. Her omni-tool chimed as she finalized the transaction and rocked, agitated, on her heels.

Pull yourself together.

It had ached, hurt like hell back then. Soft freckled cheeks and supple lips and spiced tea and she'd punched the Normandy's elevator console just a bit too hard, because it wasn't right, all these impure thoughts she couldn't shake, but what could she do but go run on the treadmill for half an hour and blow off that steam and longing and frustration because fuck, Liara had to know what she was doing to her when she talked so smart and sucked on her teeth and licked her lips and smiled like that.

No fucking way in hell should she even think about making the first move.

But if Shepard swiveled to her left — and she did, then — there, only meters away, Liara slept, that placid comfort clear on her face in the early light, and that sight ached too, but it ached so good. Warm and full and perfect and — god, how did she get so lucky? Bouncing on her heels, she quietly hummed while her nose and her eyes crinkled in a grin she couldn't fight, and she shook her head, scoffing in disbelief.

Shepard turned back toward the pantry, peering through the hovering transparency over her forearm. And a match. She waved the translation app away, tin in hand, flicking back to the article.

Arwamaasi: developed by tea artisans in Serrice. Made with leaves soaked in concentrated spices, then expertly woven into packed shapes designed to bloom when steeped; then fermented, where they grow in pungency; and then aged, where they condense into pellets as they dessicate. High in caffeine, this tea is treasured for its distinctive flavor, heightened with the addition of melikhratun.

Making it would be simple enough, and she collected the rest of what she needed — the melikhratun already sitting out — and switched the electric kettle on. The dry, compact tea pellets rattled in the tin as she pried off the top, then stuck her nose inside. Sniffed once and pulled back at the pungent sting. Punchy. Smells like a concussion but probably tastes real good. Gingerly, she plopped a pellet into a glass teapot.

Shepard poured a mug of coffee and drank, leaning against the counter as the tea kettle heated. It was good coffee. Really good, actually. Even better in the quiet, with the gentle humid air, the soothing rhythmic crash of the waves, the incredible view. She smiled, eyes lingering on Liara, still fast asleep —

The kettle beeped shrilly and Shepard spun to turn it off, shushing and admonishing it for its disruption, and quickly poured the boiling water into the glass teapot while sneaking glances toward the bedroom.

Stupid noisy thing. Hopefully it didn't — nope, still sleeping.

The packed cluster in the teapot unfurled lazily like some sort of sea creature, releasing amber swirls as its delicate leafy arms swayed in the steaming water. Shepard sipped at her coffee, waiting for the tea to finish steeping, tapping her fingers against the countertop as she sang soundlessly. She topped off her own mug before finishing Liara's tea preparation.

Coffee in one hand, tea in the other, she returned to the bedroom, setting the tea cup down on the nightstand. And as she lingered there, smiling, the sweet scent of arwamaasi spices wafted on the humid breeze. She leaned over, kissing Liara lightly on the cheek. When she pulled back, though Liara's eyes remained closed, a sleepy smile warmed her face.

⁂

Something warm and sweet tinged Liara's fading dreams. She stirred. Yawned. Stretched, breathing deeply as she sat upright, spilling out of a loose cocoon of soft sheets. Before her, on the nightstand, was the steaming source of that familiar scent, sweetly spicy and full as it mingled with the fresh air and tickled her nose. She picked up the cup and swiveled to look behind her.

Unsurprisingly, Shepard's absence on the bed meant she was out on the balcony. There, she sat, ankle on the opposite knee, coffee in hand, staring out at the ocean.

For a moment Liara just waited, watching her, one leg tucked up on the bed as she drank her tea. She'd never seen her look so relaxed. Never had her heart felt so full.

Eventually she slid off the bed, greeting Shepard with a light brush of her hand on her shoulder and a playful tousle of her hair.

"Mornin'. How's the tea?" she asked, scooting over in her chair to make room.

"Perfect." Liara sat, their shoulders brushing.

They didn't speak for some time, Shepard resting her head on Liara's shoulder, both watching the birds and boats and waves as the sky continued to lighten and the comfort of closeness was enough. Shepard set her mug on the table first, hopping off the chair and heading down the balcony stairs before Liara could ask where she was going. Reluctantly, setting aside her own tea, she followed.

The bottom tier, at water level, served as a dock. As Shepard leaned against the partial railing, taking in the scenery, Liara nestled up beside her. "Did you see something?" she asked.

"Something?" Shepard scoffed in amazement. Gazed back out at the ocean. "Everything," she said, awed.

Liara only chuckled softly in response, the warming breeze tickling her crest and her affection leaving her speechless. Pausing, she traced the curve of Shepard's cheek, her skin soft and slightly — as she'd recently learned to say — peach-fuzzy. "What did you want to do today?"

"That's such an open-ended question." She took Liara's hand and cupped it in both her own, running her thumb over her knuckles. "Dunno. This's your home. Anything. Surprise me. I'll even close my eyes the whole way there, if you want."

Liara shook her head, amused. "I would be willing to wager a significant credit sum that you couldn't manage to keep your eyes off me for a minute," she teased.

"Oho. Oh. One whole minute."

"An entire minute." Liara smirked. Lowered her hand from her grasp. "Okay. Let's practice."

"Okay." Shepard's gaze was unwavering as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, hands at her sides.

"I'm starting a timer," Liara warned, and brought up her 'tool.

Shepard closed her eyes, the hint of her smile still there, as she took Liara's hands in her own.

Hands occupied as they were, Liara couldn't reach out and cup Shepard's cheek, run her fingertip over the scar on her brow, trace the stubbly texture of the buzzed hairs on the sides of her head. But she could, in this moment, lean forward and kiss her.

"Five seconds," Liara announced smugly, pulling away.

"Hey — uh, no!" Shepard sputtered. "Sabotage. Doesn't count."

Liara flicked up her brows. "Try again, then?"

"I have a feeling by 'try again' you mean — ahhh…"

Liara kissed her again, pulling her close. Suddenly, she gasped and staggered back — and not because Shepard's fingertips had found pressure along the ridges on her spine.

A trio of maidens skipped by on a motorized skiff, squealing and hollering their delight at the show while triumphantly waving protective hats and fishing gear. Liara clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Shepard, shoulders rocking with silent laughter, cleared her throat. "Uh, where were we?"

"Day plans," Liara said, removing her hand from her mouth just enough to speak.

Shepard continued to rock with laughter. "Right," she deadpanned.

"Hmm." Liara gazed upward, sucking on the inside of her cheek as she thought. Looked back to Shepard, raising her brows. "Armali Natural History Museum?"

"Oh shit, dinosaurs!"

"Excuse me?"

Shepard, expectantly wide-eyed, mouth excitedly open, burst into actual laughter.

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" Liara pressed.

"It's a 'whatever you want to do today, Li.'"

"Petraaa."

That earned Liara a nose-wrinkle. "Nobody calls me that."

Liara tapped the end of Shepard's nose and shrugged, grinning. "I do."

"At the very least," Shepard said, playfully swatting the arm attached to Liara's nose-bopping-hand away, "we should talk breakfast first." She took Liara in her arm, pulled her close, kissed her shoulder. "There's some weird-ass eggs in the fridge if you know how to cook those. Or we could eat out… hey, why are you looking at me like that?"

Her grin turned devious. "I think I'd like that," she said, and she grabbed Shepard's hand and pulled her up the stairs.

#wips #SAtS #LWLS #my writing #shiara

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12redsky34 · 4 years

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wip roundup

I have been tag-teamed by @autisticmidoriyas and @yamadadzawa so I guess it’s my turn! Thanks for inviting me to share my many ideas, both of u xD

Just gonna preface this by saying that I have only three actual in-progress and posted wips at the moment, so I’ll split this into written and currently unwritten. In addition, while most of my ideas are for BNHA, I have a few for Haikyuu as well that I’ll include.

BNHA

1. The Soul Behind The Quirk: Currently the fic I’ve written the most content for, and it’s been tonnes of fun to write!. It basically started with the thought “what if Izuku could see like... souls?” and it spiralled from there. It starts with Hisashi, an S-class villain (not AfO though), coming to Izuku and Inko’s home. He and a currently unnamed accomplice murder Inko and heavily injure Izuku, leaving Aizawa to rescue him from the burning apartment. Izuku force-manifests a quirk from the stress of the experience.

2. Dancing through Embers: This one is still in the baby stages, but it features quirkless, trans Izuku and Hitoshi, graffiti artist Hitoshi, vigilante Izuku, vigilante and brotherly Dabi (eventually, it’s a bit far down the line at the moment), and eventual parental Aizawa. Also featuring the characters in Karasuno from Haikyuu!! You don’t need to know anything about Haikyuu to enjoy them, but they’re a nice addition for those who do. This one’s more serious than most of my other fics so far, and I’ve outlined a lot more than the rest. I’m actually quite proud of what I’ve planned, and you may take that as you will ;)

3. A Study of Soulmates: You want a soulmate AU? You want good dad Hisashi? Want a quirkless Izuku who doesn’t ever step foot into UA? Want an Izuku that will eventually work in a coffee shop as an informant on the side? Well this is the place for you! This one is in it’s early early stages; like I just started posting last month, early. It’s mostly going to be fairly light-hearted, with both platonic and romantic soulmates, but Tododeku is planned as a main pairing and there will be plenty of shenanigans surrounding them.

3. I’m falling to pieces (falling to pieces): A oneshot that is still being written. I’ve seen a lot of fics where Aizawa and/or his classmates find out about Izuku’s previous quirklessness somehow, and this was actually inspired from this post by @zippodippo! Features all the dadzawa content!

4. Dragon!Quirked Izuku AU: This hasn’t had too much thought beyond “I want to make Izuku a dragon” and “Ooooh what if he was taken in by the Hero Commission just like Hawks?” Basically in this fic, his quirk manifested a little late and quite violently; he effectively goes feral for a short while until heroes are called in to subdue him. He would have been pardoned for his quirk use considering it happened while he was afraid and under significant stress, but the power his quirk had even then caught the Commission’s attention and they basically forced Inko and Hisashi to hand him over. There isn’t a lot they can do about it.

5. Shady Dealings: Doesn’t really have an end goal at the moment, but this basically started from “I want to write a villain/informant AU that I feel would be true to Izuku’s character,” and it resulted in this. Inko works as a nurse/doctor of sorts in the underground for villains, vigilantes, or just people who can’t afford an actual hospital for whatever reason. Hisashi works as a support mechanic of sorts for the underground, mostly for vigilantes and for the poor division of the population who can’t afford traditional prosthetics. Both of them take payment in the form of money, favours, or both. They’re also very careful to keep anyone from targeting Izuku, and make active attempts to get him into a more lawful line of work, but that backfires of course. I plan for it to be pretty lighthearted despite the serious subject.

6. Everyone is Brainwashed: I see a lot of fix-it fics where those involved are often like “why didn’t I see/notice this before?” and I thought “well... what if it’s because everyone literally can’t?” The basic premise is this: when UA was first being planned and built, AfO placed a very subtle but very wide-ranged brainwashing on anyone involved in major decisions regarding the school. He can’t change how anyone under influence acts in a major way, but he can, for instance, make someone decide not to put in place one safety measure or another. This is a chink he eventually takes advantage of through the USJ arc. Things are going quite well for him until one Izuku Midoriya walks in completely unaffected by the brainwashing zone he’s put in place.

7. Anomaly!AU: Basically if Izuku is an SCP from SCP: Containment Breach. I’ve taken a fair amount of creative liberties with this one, partially because I have never actually played the game and partially because fitting things like that into a world of quirks can be a little tricky. He’ll be an SCP of my own design, I’ve actually drawn him quite a bit at this point, but he wasn’t originally one. AfO took him as a child and felt like experimenting so he sort of crammed a lot of weird, random quirks into him, but it kind of backfired, and Izuku became something not quite human anymore. There’s not a whole lot planned yet but I have some ideas!

Haikyuu!!

1. Lightning Strikes Twice: Basically a HTTYD AU with some creative liberties. Hinata is a rare lightning Dragon, known in the racing world for his speed. The only problem is, his paired rider is abusive and keeps pushing and demanding, always telling him he isn’t good enough even though he keeps trying. Kageyama is a renowned dragon rider, known for his excellent control on the saddle and for being able to navigate racing courses even veterans find hard to clear. However, he never manages to find a dragon he truly connects with, and to make it far in the racing industry, that kind of connection is basically a requirement. Tragic accidents drive them from their old teams and bring them to Karasuno, where they both get a fresh start.

2. Giant Crow Hinata: Almost everything is the same except Hinata isn’t human, and lives in the mountains with his family, who are also not human. I haven’t decided what exactly they are past giant creatures of some sort. Hinata belongs to a clan of giant bird creatures, and he specifically is a crow. One night in a storm, he gets injured and ends up in Kageyama’s back yard. Kageyama’s mother patches him up and sends him home, but he comes back, and eventually he and Tobio end up in a routine of sorts where Hinata will sit there and listen to Tobio talking about volleyball. One day, Hinata arrives but he’s in a more human-like form and demands that he let Tobio try and play with him. That’s about all I got for that so far.

3. Pokemon AU: This one is. So involved, mostly on the worldbuilding side of things. For those who know anything at all about the main series Pokemon games, this will be set in Galar (Sword/Shield). Hinata grows up wanting nothing more than to be a Pokemon Ranger (they have a slightly different role than “canon” here), whereas Kageyama was born from a Gym Leader and the CEO of an influential company and has had heavy expectations on him basically since birth. The stress and fear of failure make him cold and controlling at first, so when he does his first run of the Pokemon League, he fails. He gets advice to visit the Wild Area where a certain Ranger spends most of his time. Needless to say, when he meets this scrawny, wild-haired little Ranger, he is not expecting it to be while he himself is being chased around by an angry Dragon-type until Hinata arrives and calms it down by just being there. He has many questions.

Aaaaand that’s it I believe! If any of you want to ask me questions about these, feel free to leave an ask! I’d be happy to talk about them more :D As for tagging, uhhhh... I dunno, @plusultrachaos, @faelwenholdsthelight, and @psychicshr00m, if y’all haven’t done so and would like to do this!

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seehowsupplethespineis · 4 years

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Lift Home

(Here we have my first Good Omens fanfiction! Well, the first Good Omens fanfiction I’m posting; I’ve got plenty of WIPs for this fandom that I will one day share with the world. I wanted to cover all the things I’ve been wanting to write for this fandom in this one piece so expect lots of pining, bickering, and a car chase.)

(Warnings: Nazis, a tiny bit of blood, explosion, guns, accidental murder (of Nazis))

(Note: This story takes place directly after the scene at the bombed church, if that isn’t immediately made clear enough.)

The rubble of the razed church lay piled up around the angel, illuminated by fires that had sprung up from the ruins. The flickering flames cast haunting shadows over jagged edges of stone. An air raid siren in the distance, along with the far off screams of people nearby, added an ominous layer to the already depressing scene.

Aziraphale honestly couldn’t care less. He was a little too preoccupied with the demon sauntering off into the gathering darkness, the very demon who had, just moments ago, rescued him and his precious books in an undeniably selfless and courageous act of pure kindness. It was a hard concept to process in itself without the odd feeling of warmth and giddiness spreading from his chest to the hand holding his precious cargo. Adding that to the jolt of panic these sudden emotions brought, Aziraphale could hardly breathe, let alone move.

“Hurry it up, angel!” Crowley’s lazy voice made something twist in Aziraphale’s gut, “Don’t know how many Nazis might be lurking around! Should probably get a move on!”

Aziraphale took a few moments to find his voice, “R-Right! I’m...right behind you!”

Crowley spun back around and strolled unhurriedly yet with a few cautious glances into the darkness to the car he’d parked somewhere in the distance. Aziraphale took one step after him, then two. When he didn’t immediately combust in a shower of sparks, the angel found enough confidence to jog after the demon, clutching his books protectively to his chest and slipping and sliding over bits of rock as he went.

Being the unusually considerate demon he was, Crowley paused to allow Aziraphale to catch up to him. Aziraphale flashed the demon a nervous smile as he neared and averted his gaze for the remainder of the walk. He found himself in an odd state of being where he deeply wished he were alone in his bookshop while also wanting to never leave Crowley’s side. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way, though this time he had to reckon with the strange flips his stomach was doing.

Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot. He was an angel, and angels knew a thing or two about love, or at least were very good at detecting it. Right now, Aziraphale could feel it in himself, and the feeling was directed at Crowley. The feeling was strong, too strong, so strong that the angel tried to suppress it for fear it would come off of him in waves that would wash over Crowley and give him away. But Crowley just kept walking, oblivious, hands tucked leisurely in his pockets.

The angel and the demon eventually stepped over the last of the rubble and crossed the road to reach the car parked on the other side. It was a black car, sleek and well-looked after. Aziraphale wasn’t much of an expert on vehicles not involving horses, but it seemed of a good design and make.

He was about to say as much to Crowley in an effort to relieve the oppressive silence between them, when a gunshot went off nearby. Aziraphale winced as something whistled past the demon and him. He barely had time to realize that someone was shooting at them before Crowley was dragging him roughly by the elbow.

“Blasted Nazis!” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth. He yanked Aziraphale round to the front of the car, “Get in, angel!”

Aziraphale ducked down and hurried around the car to the passenger side while Crowley fumbled to open the driver’s side door. Another gunshot went off, closer this time. Aziraphale threw open the car door and dove inside, his bag of books still clutched firmly to himself. The angel noted as Crowley clambered in that the demon’s hat was missing from his head.

“Bloody close.” The demon growled as the car sprang to life beneath them.

Aziraphale twisted in his seat to see a car speeding up behind them, “I thought the Nazis I met in the church were the only ones here!”

“They were,” The car engine roared, “But some tailed me as I came here. Been keeping track of my movements for a while.”

“Why?” A bullet cracked against the glass windows of the car. Crowley muttered a curse.

“I’m kind of a big deal at the moment. Hang on!”

“Hang on to wha-?” The car surged beneath them and took off at a speed Aziraphale had never before experienced. An involuntary yelp escaped him as the vehicle accelerated, fast leaving the car full of Nazis behind. Aziraphale fumbled for something to hold onto and eventually just latched onto his seat.

“Crowley!” The angel didn’t mean for his voice to sound so shrill.

Crowley glanced at him, “Oh, right! Never been in the Bentley before, have you?”

“S-Slow down- Watch the road!”

“We’re fleeing from Nazis, angel! Not exactly a good time to take it easy!”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“Those Nazis are going to kill us if we don’t keep moving!”

Crowley turned his head to look through the back window, “Speak of the devils.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut as the Bentley took a left turn at a velocity that defied whatever scientific laws God had placed on the Earth. He tipped dangerously in his seat and briefly made contact with Crowley’s tensed shoulder before snapping back to his seat once the car continued straight. More bullets rained on the car, burying themselves in glass and metal.

“Can’t concentrate enough while driving like this!” Crowley made a wild gesture with his left hand, “Do something, angel!”

“Like what?” Aziraphale shrieked as a bullet zipped past his face and narrowly missed Crowley’s hand. It transfixed itself in the front windshield.

“Anything!” Crowley shouted, “Just make them stop shooting holes in my car before they shoot holes in us!”

Aziraphale’s mind raced through all the miracles he could use. Make the car invulnerable? Turn their guns into toys? Miracle a flock of birds to blind them?

Another bullet whizzed through the now shattered back window. It moved too fast for Aziraphale to see but he heard the cry of pain Crowley gave a mere half second before the bullet crashed through the front window. The cry sent a jolt of something through Aziraphale and before he knew what he was doing he had raised his fingers and snapped.

The Nazi car exploded in a cloud of flame. The metal frame of the vehicle shot up into the air like a phoenix rising from the ashes only to crash back down to the ground on its head. The melting tires pointed upward to Heaven as a last means of salvation, but of course an agent of Heaven had caused it.

Crowley lowered the hand he’d pressed to the gash in his cheek to stare open-mouthed at the destruction behind them, the car slowing to a halt. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the orange light of the flames that danced around the inside of the Bentley.

The stunned silence went on impossibly longer until Crowley jerked back to face Aziraphale, looking from him to the fiery wreck and back again, “I...You... I didn’t...Uh...Good job.”

The angel refused to meet his gaze, “I didn’t mean to go that far. But you startled me when you...and...well...it’s done now.”

Crowley stared at him, the gaze made no less intense by his dark glasses. Aziraphale would have turned away, but the blood seeping from the wound on the demon’s cheek held his attention.

“Are you alright?” When Crowley seemed confused, Aziraphale gestured to his face.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah, I’m fine.” He smeared a hand over the injury and it healed up instantly, “Just a scratch.”

“Ah. Thank goodness for that.”

“Yeah…” Crowley didn’t take his eyes from the angel, “Thank goodness.”

Aziraphale glanced out the window and took a deep breath, “Well, we’d best be off, then. It’s getting late.”

Crowley reluctantly looked away from Aziraphale to glance at the sky, “Yeah…”

After miracling the car back to it’s original intact condition, Crowley sped away from the flaming wreck, though thankfully remained slow enough not to make Aziraphale fear for their corporations. More sirens blared in the distance, likely from fire trucks coming to put out the numerous fires the two entities had caused. It was best they make themselves scarce.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Bentley as Crowley drove to Aziraphale’s bookshop. The demon was the first to break it, “So...tonight’s just been a night for blowing up Nazis, hasn’t it?”

Aziraphale sighed, “I didn’t mean to blow them up, not that I’m…”

Crowley turned to face him, “Not that you’re what?”

The angel gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road before responding, “Not that I’m upset about the whole matter. I’m sure Heaven won’t be upset with me for relieving the world of a few Nazis, especially in self defense.”

The barest smirk twitched across Crowley’s lips but he didn’t say anything.

Aziraphale looked at him. The demon’s glasses hid his eyes from view, and the angel wanted nothing more than to remove them to see the beautiful golden eyes beneath. Such a thought should have caused him to go up in smoke just as the Nazi car had done, but miraculously- er, luckily it didn’t.

“Are you sure no one else is following us?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley took a right turn that was still a little fast for Aziraphale’s liking but not too much as to worry him, “Pretty sure. I only counted one car following me when I drove here.”

That statement made another question spring up in the angel’s mind, “How did you know I was in the church?”

The demon shrugged, though Aziraphale noted the action was a little forced, “Like I said, pretty popular at the moment. Word reached me about some Nazis planning to double cross an old bookseller and I figured it was you.”

Aziraphale glanced at his bag and allowed himself to relax his hold on it. He nodded to Crowley, “I know I already expressed my thanks, but-”

“Don’t mention it, really.” Crowley waved the gratitude aside, “I should thank you for taking care of those other Nazis.”

“It was my pleasure.” Aziraphale gave a small smile.

Crowley simply nodded and the drive continued in a comfortable silence.

Aziraphale was far more reluctant than he should have been to bid good night to Crowley. The demon stopped the car right at his bookshop entrance. The sight of the darkened shelves sent a wave of loneliness through the angel. The sudden urge to invite Crowley inside seized hold of him and he spun to face the demon.

Crowley’s hair glowed red in the light of the streetlamps. One arm was thrown casually over the steering wheel and the other rested on his seat so he could face Aziraphale. His eyebrows raised as he sensed the question forming on the angel’s lips, his lips parting slightly in surprise and some emotion Aziraphale couldn’t read.

The angel instantly panicked and choked on his words, “Thank you for taking me home!”

Crowley sat still as stone for a few seconds before he gave his head an almost imperceptible shake and averted his gaze, “Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Fumbling with the door, Aziraphale pushed it open and stepped out into the chill night. He placed his hat on his head and held his bag in a two-handed grip. Without a backward glance, he marched up to his bookshop, threw the door open, and slammed it behind him. After a couple of seconds, the Bentley’s engine roared and quickly faded out of earshot.

The bookshop felt dark and empty despite the mass of his beloved books surrounding the angel. Aziraphale leaned against the door, not wishing to trek any further into this lonely establishment. But trek he did, with a thud in his step and an ache in his heart.

I’m an angel. He’s a demon. We’re hereditary enemies. Get that through your head, you stupid principality!

Aziraphale set his bag down and collapsed into an armchair, throwing his hat haphazardly into the gloom.

He had made the right decision, at least that’s what he continued to tell himself in order to stifle the intense yearning he felt. If he had let Crowley into his shop, Aziraphale was sure he couldn’t have endured it. He loved Crowley. That fact wasn’t something he could ignore, however much he wanted to. It was something he needed to repress until it was rendered inert. That wasn’t how emotions worked, the angel knew, but he had no other choice. It was simply impossible for Crowley and he to be anything other than what they were so there was no point in loving him at all. Their relationship at the moment was already a forbidden one without adding love into the mix.

What kind of an angel am I? Aziraphale was forced to conclude he was a lousy one. With a sigh that came from nearly 6,000 years worth of wariness and one night of harrowing action and new discoveries, the angel popped open the first bottle he saw and poured himself a glass.

#Good Omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #Ineffable Husbands #Writing Entity #TW Nazis #TW Blood #TW Murder #TW Guns

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masterserris · 5 years

Text

phantasm mysterio concept outline

deep voiced

spiteful bitch and very extra

acts spooky. is spooky. but also is a cuddly bitch.

he's a lot like ultimate spider man (tv show) mysterio outside of his persona

purple and blues with his dark green suit. likes neon. some glowy green here and there

haaaaaates daredevil. spiderman is a secondary bitch for him

older than neo. like... 34 or smth Peter is like 26-28

tri-titanium mesh suit can stop a bullet but it’ll still hurt. it's also padded (and soft!) for insulation and air tight. (squishy butt lmaoo) he moves literally silently. he uses a phase shifting device to walk through walls and go invisible. artificial ghost. his main gimmick + a teleporter

the suit is emp and shock resistant. he had electro on his sin six team so. he learned the hard way.

still uses all the other mysterio gadgets as well.

opera bitch. yes he can sing. and plays cello

has killed. good with knives and poison (sometimes guns). makes shit look like suicide or supernatural stuff to gain power among criminals. and extort money from them. that sort of thing

heroes are just an annoyance. he can like always escape. really hard to catch relatively speaking. i mean just... phase/melt outta ur cuffs and shit. easy

uses flashing lights to cause hallucinations and seizures. or think it's supernatural.

pretends he's really a vengeful ghost. maybe he gets unmasked at some point? idk. he’s very sneaky hahha

see like... he did almost die at some point. maybe almost killing himself, maybe like a car accident, maybe some super hero fight almost got him caught in the cross fire probably all of the above. anyways so he uses death as his muse/motif. his fiance rebecca left him and like he lost his sfx career/acting job and just said “fuck it” and stirred up trouble.

wants money to fuck off to a nice place to live. but that means like millions and millions + enough to fund all of his tech and equipment. so yeah

anyways he acts like an extra edgy bitch a lot but he’s a softie if you aren't specifically on his “to kill” list.

he’ll just be like: “ah dammit. i don't care about yooooou... ugh just go. scram. i got some other asshole to haunt.”

loosely joins the sin six for a bit but likes to do his own thing. they got mutual respecc at least.

basically edgy angery spooky goth bitch on the outside, sad soft dad on the inside. nice.

(while Neo Mysterio is trans, Phantasm Mysterio is cis)

might add more later

edit: adding more later (ie: now!)

He had a smallish movie business and had a great start. Good actor good talent good shit. Fiance. But daredevil picked a fight with kingpin and his warehouse got caught in the bullshit and got destroyed with him in it. Kingpin used explosives so he got his chest shredded by burning metal and trapped under rubble. thanks a lot daredevil you trick ass bitch. didnt even save him. he’s kind of a dick in this world. not outta any actual meanness but more out of he doesnt care as much about people more as he cares about his self righteousness and desire to punch the shit outta criminals.

In court, he lost to the insurance company. They wouldnt cover super hero bullshit so his lost everything, his medical bills were insane too. Murdock was representing the insurance company too lmfao

He was financially, emotional, and mentally devastated. He tries to kill himself maybe. Gets into a car accident. Just has the shittiest of months. Maybe his fiance dies not too long after she leaves him from a random accident/illness.

So his fiance is gone and he was in crippling debt and hated daredevil and kingpin’s guts to he became mysterio outta spite and wanted to rip apart all the crime bosses (and also for money to fuck off away from his bullshit life). He straight up murders kingpin after driving him nuts. He has a super form of hypnosis like some Bird Box shit. He makes it look like suicide or poisons them or just fucking stabs them/snaps their neck. he’’s actually really fit. He hung kingpin’s body by meat hooks ffs. He joins the sin six but only briefly. He was only ever defeated by spider man like 2-3 times. He usually escapes easy bc of his tech. Houdini bitch

he did get shot in his earlier days by criminals. not fun. at least 3 times. that’s why he invested in a bullet proof suit honestly.

Maybe later has a kiddo, like ultimate spiderman. like his lover dies soon after or something. Idk but the mom is gone. Single dad just tryin’ his best and stops being mysterio. he finally had enough to get out of that life. He just needed the money and hated the shit outta daredevil who he eventually got revenge on i think. Is semi friends with otto and chameleon. Professional respect and stuff.

current wip of his design

it's gonna have a lot of little intricate designs n stuff

finished!

#Quentin beck #mysterio #phantasm mysterio #art incoming soon!!

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writings-of-a-narwhal · 5 years

Text

Tag Games!

thanks to @abalonetea for tagging me!!! :D

i’ll tag @dogwrites and @yetmorestories!! (no pressure!!)

this is going to be under a readmore because there’s 20 questions and i have a lot of characters oops

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

A former queen is out to take her kingdom, Issera, back from her son, but two groups are against her; her son, his retainers, and his allies, and then in the neighboring country, a group of young people, all working to stop her.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your WIP.

sight - glitter in the air. it shines harshly. lights shining in a dim room, reflecting off the air. magic that hangs like a chandelier. it’s heavy, weighs you down, fills you lungs like water.

smell - the coppery smell of blood. blood on your hands, on your sword. you try to scrape it off but it lingers. the vaguely metallic scent follows you wherever you go, telling of suffering and death

sound - metal on metal-- swords clashing on the battlefield, knights training, armor being put on and adjusted,

feel - burning. the burning on your skin as sand scrapes it. the burning of the sun blazing down on you. the burning of fire as it scalds your hands. the burning of rage as it races through your veins. the freezing burn of fear as it paralyzes you.

taste - once again, blood. a split lip, a bloody nose, biting your cheek so hard it bleeds. licking your wounds after a battle.

3. Which 3+ songs would make a playlist for your novel?

This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars

Skyfall - Adele

Meet Me On The Battlefield - SVRCINA

4. What’s the time period and location in which your novel takes place?

heck if i know dude. it’s a fantasy world and i have like, no idea what year it is. however, people have said it gives off a renaissance vibe? there’s no cars or anything like that, and there’s no computers or telephones at this pint in time. there’s little contraptions here and there, made of gears and the like.

the two countries are Feria and Issera.

Feria is a country of shadowy forests and babbling brooks. don’t go wander into the forest, especially not at night. there are valleys of flowers and tall grasses. the buildings are made of cold gray stones and high walls border the castle. a few giant trees sit in the center of the forest, holding secrets that no one remembers.

Issera is a desert country. the sands are gold and shining and they make your eyes hurt if you stare out for too long. the air shimmers with magic, but not the good kind of magic. and somewhere out there, there are dragon graveyards. the buildings are made of mud and sand and sometimes stone and wood. the insides are as colorful as a rainbow.

5. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

before it was Broken Thrones it was just ‘untitled wip’

6. What’s the first line of your novel?

Amary scowls, head throbbing with the rhythm of her heartbeat

7. What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

“The battlefield is where I feel a thrill. That area between life and death, that is my seductress, nothing and no one else.”

8. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“This war, it’s done nothing but take.”

“That’s what war does, ala, that’s why we fight. We fight to keep ourselves from losing even more.”

9. Who are your character(s) face claims?

i don’t have many faceclaims. i think my main one is Culraes’?? and this is that\

10. Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses

disclaimer: i have never read/watched Harry Potter and i’m doing my best. i’m not sure about any of this.

Amary: Gryffindor and a little bit of Slytherin

Eira: Hufflepuff

Rosar: Hufflepuff/Gryffindor

Lumi: Ravenclaw

Finlos: Gryffindor/Slytherin

Barrow: Ravenclaw? maybe with a little Hufflepuff?

Marigold: Slytherin

Athum: Hufflepuff

Culraes: Gryffindor

Warin: Slytherin/Ravenclaw

Jeris: Slytherin/Hufflepuff

Erihhn: Slytherin

Jayah: Slytherin

Jayi: Griffindor

11. Which character’s name do you like the most?

I really love Athum’s name. something about it is just so pleasing to me???

12. Describe each character’s daily outfit

Amary - form fitting clothing. originally in dark colors but she switches them out for the looser fitting, lighter colored clothing of Issera and makes adjustments to them until they fit to her liking. thick and soft bottomed boots that strap up and secure her pants in place. a sash that has dozens of gold lines sewed into it. daggers tucked everywhere.

Eira - dresses. she wears more formal style dresses with corsets most days and most of the time they have beads or sequins decorating them, especially on the area on her torso. ballet flat style shoes when possible. her dresses always have pockets and she keeps shiny rocks in them.

Rosar - (in Feria) dresses like Eira’s but with less sequins and beads. (in Issera) loose fitting pants that billow almost like a skirt. loose fitting shirt that is tucked into the pants. a scarf wrapped around her head when travelling. soft-bottomed boots.

Lumi - think Belle from Beauty and the Beast before she goes to the palace. that type of dress, boots that tie up, and a paint splattered apron. bows in her hair that keep her braids tied. a simple necklace with a golden locket.

Leaf - nothing. she’s a cat.

Finlos - (in Feria) his knight uniform, golden bronze armor and green underclothes. all engraved with leaves or trees. (in Issera) he wears pants similar to dress pants and a loose-fitting shirt with suspenders over it. the shirt is Isseran, the other things are not.

Barrow - a three piece suit, usually in the gray family, or maybe brown. dress shoes. that what he wears when he’s attending to business as a Marquess, when it comes to his secondary job, his outfits can vary by day.

Marigold - pastel and frilly dresses!! usually in pink, as that’s one of her favorite colors. she also has some rings she wears, a promise ring and an engagment ring. necklaces and earrings are also involved.

Athum - the traditional Isseran clothing; loose fitting pants and shirt, tan colored. over the shirt is a bunch of ‘wrapped’ clothing that is usually brown, but sometimes with turqoise and gold. a scarf that wraps around his head when travelling.

Jeris - something very similar to Athum, but his ‘wrapped’ shirt is usually made of faded greens and cream. he also carries a satchel that is filled with herbs and other first-aid supplies. green scarf that wraps around his head when travelling. a dagger strapped to his side.

Erihhn - once again, very similar to Athum’s outfit. except he keeps his things very meticulously perfect and not one thread is out of place. his colors are blue and gray, balanced evenly. he carries a leather bag, but you’ll never know what’s in it.

Culraes - similar base clothing to Athum. his ‘wrapped’ overshirt is brown and dark red. helps hide the blood, he says. his sword is always strapped around his waist, his prosthetic arm is exposed, his face scowling. the scarf that goes around his head is usually hanging aronud his neck loosely rather than around his head.

Jayi - well, she’s usually in her armor, which is dark blue/gray with dark chainmail underneath. a black eyepatch with dark blue embelishments. when she’s at home, she wears a shirt that follows the style of a kimono, with a little of her midrift exposed, and pants that are a little loose, all in more pastel colors or gray.

Warin - he wears something similar to a yukata in different designs, sometimes floral, sometimes repeating shape patterns, sometimes something with dragons. he wears the traditional loose pants underneath.

Jayah - she always wears the most fabulous looking clothing. all made of silk. it’s a bit like what Jayi wears, but it’s more like a tradional kimono. it allows for a lot of movement, with the fabric flaring out at the bottom. she also wears a crown, the crown she used to wear when she was queen. and she has many necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and other things.

13. Do any characters have any distinctive birthmarks/scars?

so many of them do!

Amary has scars all over her body, after all she’s been hunting people down since she was 16.

Rosar has silvery irises from cataracts. she also has vitiligo, which is just beginning to present itself.

Lumi has a giant scar on her back. it stretches from the top of her spine almost down to her tailbone. it’s like bear claw marks down it. she also has freckles on her face and shoulders

Finlos has a faint scar along his jaw. he also has a birthmark that’s on his right shoulder and it looks vaguely like a bird flying

Barrow has a birthmark that looks like a heart that’s placed over his actual heart. he has others that are like scattered islands across his shoulders.

Athum has several scars, the most prominant is the one that goes across his chest.

Jeris has a scar over the left side of his face. it just barely missed his eye, and it stretches down to his lip. he also has numerous smaller scars from horse related accidents.

Erihhn has a few marks on his body from indicents related to his job. small burns here and there. nothing too serious.

Culraes is missing his left arm from the elbow down, and there are a lot of scars on the end of what’s left. other than that, scars are scattered all over his body.

Jayi has scarring over her right eye, mostly covered by an eye patch when she’s out and about. next is the group of four scars on her left forearm that are dark and shiny. there are also some odd growths along her spine, though we don’t need to talk about those.

Warin has burn scars from dragonfire, but he uses his magic to hide them (think Thranduil). they mark his face, torso, and some of his left thigh.

14. Which character most fits a character trope?

maybe uhhhhh

15. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Barrow!! he writes poetry and writes the best stories!! i love him!!! Culraes is the worst. he has no idea how to tell a story.

16. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Jayah is one of the best liars, though Barrow is right up there. Eira is the worst.

17. Which character swears the most? Least?

at this moment in time, Culraes is the only one that curses. Eira could never bring herself to curse ever.

18. Which character has the best writing? Worst?

Warin has truly amazing handwriting. it’s so neat and fancy and pretty...

Eira’s handwriting is chicken scratch. it’s horrible

19. Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

Lumi. I am so much like Lumi. her head is always in the clouds, she forgets things just as she goes to say them. she’s sweet but afraid. she loves cats. i am her.

i like to think i’m nothing like Jayah. i don’t like hurting people irl and i don’t crave power the way she does.

20. Which character would you most like to be?

hmmm....Warin, maybe? he’s calm, collected, and thinks things through a lot. so maybe him??? idk. this is such a hard question to answer.

#tag games #omg this is so long #that summary in a sentence is no good lmao #but uhhhhh i hope it did this right #Broken Thrones

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hueynomure · 6 years

Text

Summoning Disaster - Part Four: Battle Cry

In which two of my OCs end up in @fatal-blow 's Golden Verse. Set in an unspecified point before Defenders of Earth's prologue; You can find out more about the story on his wip page.

First part

Second part

Third part

Elise has dirty thoughts, and I manage to write an awful sentence with three characters whose name starts with the same letter. Yes, these are the only events in this part, really. (this part is more Sharaka-centric and as such it's rather bloody)

* * * * *

“Grey one, it’s Elphimas.”

“Roger Windfall,” Amp replied as he crushed the throat of the last living guard in Lab 1’s entrance. “Mist protocol lifted. Status.”

“Cornered, guards seem to be taking a breather,” Adamantine replied. “It won’t last.”

“Too many hostiles, retreating to Lab 3. Magic’s not working right.” So much for the distraction.

“We still need time to rig the building, they’d disrupt us. Their comms are still sealed.”

“Someone opened the front door, but the courtyard’s under control. Elphimas has been a godsend so far.” Windfall commented.

“My new acquaintance is lovely too,” Static chuckled. “Dents armor like it’s tinfoil. We’re free birds, moving toward Ad and co.”

“Adamantine, do you have space for Link?”

“Negative, too risky.”

“Static?”

“The whole experimental wing is desert.”

Amp took a deep breath. Quantum could keep a rigged building alone, and if Sharaka continued to be an asset the diversion team could easily hold a room for Link to portal to… The bigger picture was a problem on its own: this facility seemed to be somewhat detached from the Magics’ hierarchy, but they could take their intrusion as a declaration of war anyway. He frowned, refocusing on the here and now. “Static, get to Adamantine before guards can prepare another offensive, then secure an area for Link. I will cover Reaper and Ethereous, then we’ll portal to you or to the experimental wing.”

As it often happened, Amp wanted to be everywhere at once, but he forced himself to march back to the unhinged door. His nerves were taut as bowstrings: there was an air of danger he hadn’t felt in a while. No one had been wounded yet, but-

Amp noticed the killing intent too late. He jumped backwards, but the bullet caught him in the abdomen. He fell, skyrocketing his own anger to boost the adrenaline rush. He couldn’t pass out. Not now.

“Sniper in the northern sentry tower!” He snarled as he crawled back in the Lab. “Link, to me now!” Fergus broadcasted his location and got himself another anger burst to get on his shaking knees. His guts were a constant explosion of agony, but his legs worked. He started to bury the pain and the rage – hoping they hadn’t hindered the others - as he waited for Link.

The small, sudden void of the sniper’s mind as Windfall got them was a meager satisfaction.

* * * * *

Static’s fingers twitched when he heard Amp call for help. Well, growl for help. “I suddenly feel like jogging a bit.”

Sharaka sniffed toward a metal windowless door. “That was sharp rage, he’ll be fine.”

“As reassuring as you may have meant it to be, I’m still feeling the fitness kick.” Static started running, straining to feel hostiles on his way. It was of some relief to hear heavy stomps following him.

A minute later, Static felt people-like current behind a corner. He slowed down, gathering charge, and noticed he couldn’t hear Sharaka anymore. Which was why he almost fried her when she dashed past him at full speed. He stuck his head and a hand beyond the corner, ready to cover her.

Sharaka turned into a blur, tackling the armored guard into the wall at impossible speed with the sound of bent metal and crushed bones. An arc of fire caught the other two mooks in the face before they could lift their weapons. She clawed open the throat of the first, and her tail shot like a scorpion’s to crack the skull of the second. She started running again without a glance to the crumpling bodies or to Static.

He picked up a gun from a dead guard, then it was his turn to sprint to catch up.

* * * * *

Faizah gestured for her three teammates to take their positions, and cringed feeling the armor’s gloves hindering the simple movement. Not that she wasn’t grateful for the protection – it had allowed her to walk right through the bright pink barriers and even to shrug off a hit from motherfucking Static – but it was experimental equipment, so not exactly tailored for comfort.

The door seemed intact. Faizah crouched and nodded in Noah’s direction, who unlocked the door with his pass card. Faizah cursed the genius that had decided to make unlocking doors beep, and the magic blowhard with no field experience that didn’t want to cover her squad’s noise with fire. Nevertheless, they were two walls away from the Defenders, odds were they didn’t hear it: there were two doors to the archives, and all three Defenders had been seen at the other one. They checked the room with practiced motions and moved onwards.

When they approached the room next to the Defenders’ she heard low feminine voices. One fast and nervous, the other dry and confident. Ideally Faizah would have wanted to check the side rooms, but they had to pass right in front of the open door to do that so no such luck. She gestured for her team to be extra cautious and they slowly took positions to attack the Defenders.

“Shield!” Third voice side room fuck!

Faizah moved to shoot but a pink barrier blocked the bullets. A flashbang obliterated her sight and hearing. A shotgun got her square in the chest, and Faizah took her last moments to appreciate the tungsten balls it took to throw a flashbang at the last possible moment.

* * * * *

“Shield!” Someone shouted from the archive’s back rooms, followed by a deafening boom and gunshots. Good, Faizah’s team had fulfilled their scope.

Lei Fan’s magic coursed the inscribed staff in his hands, which in turn infused enough magic to the knife lodged in its end to turn the metal kill them dark red. He tapped the knife’s point to the wall and it just… exploded outwards, as if yes destroy hit by a wrecking ball, and the magic’s buzzing subsided a bit. He stepped away, allowing security to exploit the new path of attack, and shook his head to clear it from the magic’s unusually definite intrusive thoughts.

He gestured to a waiting squad to follow: “We’re going up, collapsing their escape routes,” and left the other firing squads behind. He had no delusion to overwhelm the Defenders’ strongest defensive powers yet, and as useful as his armor was it wasn’t designed to block heavy gunfire. It also was pretty heavy; he promised himself to start working out as he sweated just by climbing the stairs.

He was tracking down the Defenders’ position by following the sound of gunfire when something large slammed against a wall behind him. Lei Fan turned to see the squad decimated: the leader was crumpled against a wall, chest caved in, another was clawing at the horrible burns on his face and... his lizard?! ...was ripping something bloody from the back of a third. How? Why?

Lei Fan charged a Wizard’s Fire to throw at the lizard, but destroy the attack slipped from his hand before he could aim it properly. The lizard dodged easily and drove its claws knuckle-deep in the throat of the fourth member of the squad, using him as a shield. Its tail lashed out and hit the man with face burns, who fell with a whimper.

They started kill circling each other, Lei Fan with his weapon high to discourage a direct attack – the lizard hissed when it recognized the knife – and the lizard keeping the dying man at arm’s length. Lei Fan remembered the helmet’s visor was mirrored, and started the Black Maze’s incantation under his breath, his head ringing inexplicably as the spell took hold.

* * * * *

Sharaka was suddenly holding a shapeless mass of darkness in a dim-lit, flickering hedge maze. It all smelled strongly of illusion, plus the sharp stench of this plane’s mana; no contest with the finesse of vedalken magic. She could almost feel his illusion as a slimy coat over reality. She closed her eyes, focused on the burning anger and fanned it, fueled it until she started to shake with rage, fury overtaking all her functions, and felt the illusion flicker when her last sliver of control evaporated.

She flung the dead weight aside and roared, the world vibrating with her rage. She smelled her sweating prey, holding her weapon in front of it - as if it mattered, as if it wasn't already dead. She dashed, entering its guard before it could notice, and shattered its visor with her fist. The prey was sent flying, slow as a snail. She grabbed the weapon from its hands and slammed her tail on its chest so hard the ground shook when the prey hit it.

The following hit with her weapon turned the prey into an explosion of gore and scrap metal.

* * * * *

A terrified silence followed the roar, as everyone’s hindbrain screamed there was A Predator around and failure to locate it would mean certain death. Fortunately for the Defenders, hanging around Fergus had them somewhat tempered against sudden bursts of emotion; Siphon and Adamantine took down five hostiles before they could snap out of it. Fortunately for the Magics, five people weren’t going to matter in the long run: Siphon still had afterimages and ringing from the flashbang, and judging by Astral’s and Adamantine’s concentrated frowns the prolonged use of their powers was starting to take its toll. Reaper and Ethereous were retreating without cover. They hadn’t heard from Amp since he had been hit.

The whole building shook. Siphon looked up, cold sweat running down her cheek. No part of the ceiling seemed to be about to fall on their head. Good. She took aim and cracked a visor, stunning her target for the time Adamantine needed to finish reloading and turning their face into mashed beets.

Hearing electricity crackle made her dizzy with relief. Lightning took down every hostile in sight in less than a second, and Siphon wished she could ride Static there and then. She settled for savoring the familiar smell of ozone, and moved forward to make sure there weren’t armored hostiles left.

Four kills later, Static casually strolled in. “I hope it still falls under the ‘fashionably late’ category.” The magnificent bastard grinned his shit-eating grin, and Siphon felt the urge to shut his mouth with her-

“What was that roar?” Adamantine asked, interrupting Siphon’s train of thought.

“A friend, believe it or not,” Static replied, “I’d have gone for the ‘she followed me home’ line if she had actually come with me. Now unless you want to take a few more souvenirs, we have a Link to catch.” Static led the way to the experimental wing. All guards in the building were probably either dead or hiding in a broom closet, but the four Defenders swept the rooms properly because no one wished for more surprises, not even Static.

“Sharaka! Fancy meeting you here!” Static blurted as he checked a T-shaped junction, then slowly backed away. “…Sharaka?”

Siphon moved to see who Static was talking to and stopped dead in her tracks when two reptilian eyes met hers with an utterly inhuman stare. ‘Sharaka’ was half-crouching, as if poised to attack, her blood-soaked arm wielding some sort of spear with a bad case of magic buzzing and her tail arched like a scorpion’s. Siphon had no problems associating this… creature… with the blood-curling roar from earlier; she had to be even more dangerous than she looked, because despite the dozen paces between them Static’s fingers were flexing nervously.

“Nice to meet you! Are you Static’s new friend? Disclaimer: we taste terrible.”

Sharaka followed Astral’s voice and something sparked in her eyes. She blinked twice, as if trying to remember something.

“Amp said to get out of her way. I say we go.”

“And leave her like that? She was snarky ten minutes ago! The ‘can I keep her’ was supposed to be a joke. Sharaka, it’s me, ‘thank you for saving my sorry ass’!” Siphon’s brain failed to understand whatever Static was saying, but Sharaka’s mouth was moving, almost mimicking his speech. “Did you used up all your brain power for today?”

“Fuck you,” Sharaka replied with a raspy voice. She straightened her back, blinked a few more times and suddenly looked like a person. A very reptilian person, but still. “Next time you go after the mind mage and I take out the fodder.”

“Will do!” Static was beaming. “Care to come with us?”

“Sure, before Frigid Girl there has a stroke,” Sharaka replied.

Static marched onwards and kept staring straight ahead, probably to avoid Adamantine’s gaze.

#summoning disaster #part four #MY OCs #defenders of earth #crossover #I join the club of fergus' tormentors #sharaka's weapon is not that powerful usually #in which i start explaining why the armors exist at all #i'll explain why they're not a thin in the present i swear #sharaka can smell more things than she has any right to

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voicedimplosives · 6 years

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A (fetch), N, S!

helloooo dear chel! asks, for me?! let’s do this thing!

A: How did you come up with the title to go i know not whither and fetch i know not what?

lmao i wanted to use the most complicated, hardest to remember, most frustrating title possible. (JOKING)

no the real answer is that i knew i wanted to borrow the title from a russian folk/fairy tale. i searched around for a while, and my first idea was actually something like ‘starina/bylina’, which is just the name for that kind of epic story [imagine how much easier i would have made my life].

but i LOVE go i know not whither, as a title, and i had actually used it in a first draft of another fic that i never finished/posted. i think it just speaks to the hopelessness that kyril feels throughout the fic, the fatalism with which he views his life and his position: like, if you want to be free, there are things you must do… but what things? where are they? he knows not. freedom, to kyril, is an impossible task. and in the context of the fairy tale, it is designed to be. basically the story– or my understanding of it, from wikipedia lol– is that a king falls hard for a hunter’s wife, and gives him increasingly difficult tasks in an attempt to get him killed, so he can get at the wife. [by the way the wife, who is magical, and the hunter seem to have a solid and supportive marriage so jot that down. she repeatedly helps him out with these ridiculous tasks.]

from wikipedia:

This time, the steward tells the king to send the hunter to “go I know not whither and bring back I know not what.” The wife conjures spirits and all the beasts and birds to see if they know how to “go I know not whither and bring back I know not what.” Then she goes out to sea and summons all the fish. But none of them can help her, so she gives him a ball, which if rolled before him would lead him where he needs to go, and a handkerchief, with directions to wipe his face with it whenever he washes. He leaves. The king sends a carriage for his “wife”. She turns back into a bird and leaves.

Her husband finally comes to “Baba Yaga”. She gives him food and lets him rest; then she brings him water to wash. He wipes his face not with their towel but his handkerchief. She recognizes it as their sister’s. She questions him, and he tells his story. The old witch, who had never heard of something like that, knows an old frog who she thinks may know something.

and on and on it goes, until eventually the hunter ends up as a king in his own right, fights and wins a war with the other king, and lives HEA. N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

oh man i would not want to put pressure on another writer to finish their wip, but is there a fic i wish someone would write? i mean i love a well-researched [you know how i feel about research chel], multi-chapter historical au epic. you know what period i find fascinating, and which i don’t know a lot about? everything between the fall of the roman empire and the renaissance. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ there are some amazing fics out there like @hagenshall‘s Salt in the Blood and @poethrotsvitha‘s Fortune’s Throne/Tithe and @mygrandmathinksimsassy‘s She Who Would Be Queen, and i would read approximately 10 million more fics set in any of these time periods/places. [if anyone has any recs please send them my way!!]S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

i think it’d probably be easier to say which ones i can resist. i love tropes. only one bed? YES. fake marriage/relationship? i’m there. enemies to lovers? gimme. i actually just looked up tropes on fanlore to see if there are any for which i have a particular weakness, and here are the ones that stood out: historical au, ABO, dystopia/apocalypse, arranged marriage, isolated/trapped somewhere [especially a canadian sex shack], missing scenes, sex pollen [i am trash, preemptive apologies], angst [duh], hurt/comfort, PWP. i am weak for all of these, and many more.

thank you @destinieswritten for sending this my way and SORRY FOR RAMBLING THIS LONG OH GOD I’M DONE NOW I PROMISE

#asks #destinieswritten #research deserves more love and appreciation frankly

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crucialandinert · 7 years

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wip

I wrote another little bit of the crust punk AU story about just-aged-out of foster care Donald, and Tara, traveling names Pocket and Cookie respectively.

From that day they were together nearly all the time. Except when he was out working or she was panhandling with the cat, whose name was Gilfoyle, and who could stare down a mark like no other. Gilfoyle probably at least doubled her take by sheer force of purr-sonality alone, if Pocket might venture a pun (although he never actually did). As a percentage of the waking day, they weren’t actually together that long, it just seemed like the bulk of his life because those were the only hours he actually felt like he was alive. He barely remembered the other ones, thanks to his long practice with Uncle Jerry’s game. But the time he spent with Cookie, he lived then. Every time he saw her, he felt like he’d just dropped out of the sky. Everything was new, everything started over; in the past, he’d found this lack of continuity frustrating, it made it hard to feel like he was “getting anywhere,” although it wasn’t like he had a destination. Now he found it exhilarating; no longer blank white, but a white-hot glow.

Everything she said was fascinating. They had long conversations in the hours of twilight, when neither of them could be making much money, or when they’d done well enough that they didn’t have to work for a while. At those times, they’d head up to the mountains above the city and sleep there, away from the group, finding secret glades and meadows on the mountainsides. Pocket hadn’t been exposed to much beauty like that, much of the natural world at all really. One of his placements had been with an Amish family, on a farm; his chiefest memories there were of backbreaking labor. But when the evening-times after work were longer in summer, from the enclosed porch (to put it charitably) where he slept, Pocket could see the sun set across fields dyed gold by dusk, could hear the silver sound of crickets glint in dusty hush, and he could feel how the birds danced circles in the cooling sky: murmurating starlings and the Dark-eyed Junco.

There were many birds in the mountains for him to tell Cookie about; and when she laughed at him for it, he knew it was a laugh of affection, delight, not of mockery. She would talk to him about her satanism, “lower-case ’s,’” she would say, “Theistic satanists are just as dumb as anyone who believes they have a Sky Daddy all-powerful imaginary friend. It’s weakness. Our whole society is designed to make us weak and then exploit us; we satanists are among the few with the balls to defy that conditioning.” Her satanism, she said, was a form of self-reliance, a taking of power, a belief in one’s own magic. The Self—that, she informed him, she did capitalize—was the boundary of the world; other people were remote, like planets, and could never be relied on. “No one ever truly acts outside their self-interest, no matter what; even if they believe they are, it’s just self-delusion,” she said.

It made Pocket wonder. When he was by him“Self,” he didn’t quite feel solid enough to exist; he was diffuse, whisper-thin, a ghost invisible to his own view. It was only in reaction to others that he could see this Self; he had learned to perceive his reflection in their demands, their orders, their insults. In every home, he could always rely on them to tell him what he was—nuisance, servant, secret keeper— and what they said, went, no matter who “they” were that time. Planted, head bowed, in the storm of their anger, Pocket could find calmness, even peace: the relief of knowing, concretely, exactly where he stood. Defiance was the last thing that had ever seemed wise under the circumstances; and not only that, he didn’t know what he’d defy them for. If Pocket had desires, they were mostly for things like “sleep” and “warmth” and “being left alone.”

That was another thing they talked about. Desires. Part of Cookie’s satanism, of course, was a gravely serious commitment to hedonism; she was poly and pan and queer and a couple other terms he could never remember, lacking the frame of reference. Pocket was a gay boy of course, others had made that clear to him long before the age when he could have felt any stirrings himself; and at this point, what with all that water under the bridge, as it were, he certainly hoped so. However, it was strange to say, the truth was that deep down inside he felt almost maidenly, as though he were still a virgin; at any rate, when it came to getting to choose his partners, that is what he was.

As for love, a less untoward topic—albeit one Cookie was much less interested in discussing—Pocket told her had never been in love; just hadn’t met the right guy, he supposed, and it didn’t make it any easier that he much preferred women as friends. While women he’d known were, of course, often as bad or worse than their men—putting women on a pedestal is a subtle misogyny of which Pocket would never be guilty—the kindness he’d encountered in his life, the kindness that hadn’t come from employees of the state, or extracted some kind of price from him in the end; that kindness had come from the distaff side. The quiet girls in the parade of schools he’d attended, the smart ones who hardly ever spoke, looking out from their silences had seen what he was hiding; and they told him so in a myriad of ways, sliding into a seat at a deserted cafeteria table; lending a sweater and refusing its return. The playground volunteers, the older ladies, had their ways too of including a child who sat at the edge of the yard, curled into himself, playing with no one and nothing. Would you like to help me untangle these jump ropes, Donald? they’d say, and jiminy cricket he sure as heck would.

Later, on the bench, where they would rest if it was clear of miscreants on times-out from their sports, Pocket enacted secret games of how close to the ladies he could reasonably sit, how close he could get to their radiant warmth and the sweater-muffled air of age and vanilla; and sometimes, if they let him accompany them in the walk back to the classroom after the yard was clear of the others, and he’d been at the school for a long enough time, and was for some reason feeling heart-flutteringly bold—Pocket would make the shyest, tiniest move to infiltrate his hand in theirs, just brushing his fingers somewhere near their wrists, to see if they would reach for him. And if they did, for as long as they’d let him keep it there, his entire being would trickle down his arm and mass into the bottom of his hand, pressing against that plane of contact with their flesh, trying to soak up, and catalogue, and hold in memory every crumb of the sensation; their soft dry palms felt like the world.

When he turned again outward, away from the memory, and back to his senses, he was surprised to discover a tiny warm hand inside his big ungainly one, and that he was looking up into lamping dark eyes, that were lit with tears.

#fic #wip #fanfic #my fic

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beedalee · 7 years

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what are the stories/projects you work on or involved with?

EDIT 2019: FOR AN UPDATED LIST, GO HERE!

Oh gosh, it’s been a bit since I did a rundown of them… (I need to update my project lists tbh… ugh..) I’ve been working really hard on consolidating my characters and stories these last few years so I’m rightfully proud of my progress.. Even if no one can tell yet but me!! >8//);

Despite how many we have, only a few of them I seriously want to bring to completion and/or publish first and foremost. The rest are really just for fun until I/we feel like they could become something bigger. Also, Dye has involvement in most of my stories whether it be a full collab or just helping!

It’s a long post… so, BELOW THE CUT WE GO!

Collaborations

(with @dyemelikeasunset)

Ocean of Cycles: Our 4th Collab- Dye’s world-building project that I have the honor of helping flesh out. While we have our OCs and want to make it RPG ready for others to play in for fun, and we think making a book of the completed world-building someday would be fukken awesome, it’s largely a stress relief and creative outlet for Dye and I, so we’re not in a rush nor can Dye’s schedule allow for full-time work on it. Like Dye, I would like to do mini-comics about their adventures myself as well!!

Picture This Imagine That: (sorry this art is 4yrs old… T//w//T) Our third collaboration; Started small but became our means of reconciling our identities and coming out. After we came out some years ago, we put this one down to handle real life stuff and grow up a bit- but we do still fully intend to draw and publish their stories, we just took it offline and pulled back to a much more relaxed pace until it’s actually ready.

Solaris: Our second collaboration. Originally an Avatar: The Last Airbender fanstory, transplanted into an original universe. I’d really love to bring this one to life as a comic, but the plot hasn’t been finished yet! We love this one to bits though and I’d consider it a likely choice down the road sometime.

White|Outlines: Technically our first collaboration, a soft slice of life about troubled supernatural teenagers. My branch in the same universe/highschool as Dye’s SalaDays story (No, the SD cast doesn’t really interact with mine) I made this because Dye used to have the world open for RP, but we’ve long since closed it off. (That’s more geared toward OoC now) I don’t really have plans for pursuing this one outside of for fun!

Unlucky: A fun slice-of-life meets shounen kind of story set in a tightly knit chinatown. Dye helped create the bulk of this verse for a lot of homeless/floating OCS, like Quinn and Airi from my old beckoning cat magical girls team, Jake and Evelyn from anirangers, Tyberius and Farah from wwp’s “D’Amatos” godfather-parody show… stuff like that. It’s a bit more on the world-building side right now but I hope to draw things for it soon.

I also play around in or help with some of Dye’s more solo works like Kingdoms or Romaine Hearts, as well as a few offline projects that aren’t super involved/developed yet.

Magical Girls:

(yes it gets its own section)

Forecasters: My lovebaby of a story, featuring weather magical girls. My only active personal project that I want to make into a full blown webcomic right now. It’s 99.7% offline atm, I started this in 2013 after we put down PT. There’s still a lot to do, but I’m really excited about this one. It’s like my self-imposed college final project and/or legitimate story pitch I guess? I wanna post promo art for it so bad but I want at least the first two chapters drawn before that so bear with me…

Starless: Alien powered magical girls. Created from old (2008) tokyo mew mew OCs! The story’s been a bit ambiguous lately but I am very fond of this one and would consider it one I’d like to complete/draw for someday if the plot lets me WRITE IT lmao. Dye is helping me by adopting some of the characters!

Minor MG Stories: (click the link in the last bullet to see pics of these)

“Book Keepers”: Literature theme college magical girls, collabed with Dye. Currently just a loose idea with really fun fleshed out OCs, but not a super high priority.

“Candyland”: NEW! Candy themed magical girls. A tentative title for a bunch of OCs I’ll be posting soon enough so I guess I’ll add them now. Some of them are old af, some are super new. They’re just an early concept and a bit of a style-experiment.

Cheers!: Drink-themed magical girls. A very old team I don’t really plan on doing anything with right now, just currently trying to redesign them to my liking.. -stares holes into them- LET ME LOVE YOU

Cosmic Club! another design prompt with no story.. YET…. I love them and they seem v popular so it’s possible! We’ll see how it goes.

Even more magical girls over here in this list but are all in a similar ‘concepts only at this time’ status (Lucky is on this list but is no longer a magical girl series)

My Projects:

Shards of Moon: A fateful fantasy epic about birds and songs. Formerly Anathema, the first fully fleshed out “serious” story I wrote… It was terrible! It was merged with another story that had no characters, so all my oldest OCs live here now. I’m very very fond of this one but I’m letting it percolate very slowly. It’s a far off goal for now, but it is shaping up to be a story I’d like to tell.

Sleep Tight: About a little girl and her boogeyman and conquering fear. The second story I wrote in high school. This one needs… a lot of rework and a bit of gutting- I haven’t decided the direction I wanna take it yet, but I don’t mind waiting. (I mean, look at what happened to Shards of Moon- I was so sure I’d trash that whole story and its characters.)

Superglue: I have like NO new art for this one yet lmao.. Young superheroes dealing with past actions they ran away from. A third high-school story that has changed so dramatically it’s not even remotely similar to its first version. It’s basically a baby story with old re-homed OCs in it because I felt sorry for them. ;w;;; I don’t know how far this one will take off yet but yeah

Others:

I’m gonna get ta’ play in @caiterprince’s universes with Dye too, including the WIP Magical Girl Academy as a means to flesh out more magical girl designs (Eden is the most familiar, but I’ll have more soon), and a few cameos in Plainer in Hindsight and Weaver’s Debt eventually

Fancharacters like my SU gemsonas, my ponies, and my Tokyo Mew Mew OCs are purely for fun. If I want to write an original story about the characters (which has happened, see Solaris and Starless) I’d transplant them first.

I have a few other concepts laying around- placeholders like “fairyverse” or “spacewitchverse” where I throw similar-theme homeless OCs but don’t have a single story idea for, it’s just.. there. for now. So I won’t bother going over those.

AUs (like elf gfs Band AU) don’t really count as separate unless they become canon. (i.e. what happened with Solaris)

If anyone’s really curious on the development of my worlds and ocs, I honestly highly taking a peek through my sketchdump folder on my DA. (start at the bottom, its infinite scroll) You can find pretty much everything I’ve ever conceptualized in these. I started to sort dumps by story- there’s actually quite a bit of storytelling / oc growth nestled in there if you’re into that sorta info-binging. I-I think it’s kinda fun tbh…. I do apologize in advance for any slurs or problematic wording you may find in the oldest dumps, I’ve been cleaning it over the years but might’ve missed something.

That’s about it for now! (-sweats violently- no more pls i have… too many children.. -wheezes and lays down-)

#long post #beedalee art #bc it's relevant #Anonymous #askbox #i'll add more as they come along i think #maybe i should just hyperlink this post instead of updating separate pages

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simplyoriginalcharacters · 7 years

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Aischylos

So I haven’t figured out the story setting completely yet, but it’s a fantasy world based on many mythos, mainly Greek ones. It’s a pseudo-modern world; think early 1900’s but without real-world events. Sorry it’s vague.

(Find the rest of this profile and the critique under the cut! -Kyo)

There’s 4 harpy clans (Aello, Ocypete, Calaeno, Podarge) which are run by the namesake leader as well as a council of warriors and shaman. Races aren’t important and are mainly for aethetic differences.

Aischylos’ flock in particular live on a lake connected to the ocean via a natural dam. Their camp is located on an island in the middle of the lake which is covered in huge, ancient trees. They live in nests but have tools and basic magic. In this world, harpies are a female-only species that asexually reproduce (like white tail lizards) and it’s VERY rare that a male is ever born. Due to this, males are seen as weak and omens and are usually abandoned at birth.

The design of the harpies are tall humanoids with bird legs who are completely covered in feathers except for the face and hands. The hands are clawed and the top part is covered in light scales. The skin and scales are the same colour usually. These harpies are able to change their arms into wings and only the more practiced ones can have both “out” at once. They have beaks for noses (think the Rito from Zelda?).

The basic premise of the story is: Among the harpy clans there is an ancient truth: Males are never born. But when Bethesda decides to keep her son, Aischeylos’ faces a life of danger and abuse from his fellow flock members. Nobody expects him to live up to his ancestor’s honour or even survive until adulthood.

For some backstory about the other mentioned characters; Bethesda is a leader in the flock and a rather stoic woman; Hero is the same age group and is also part of a famous bloodline, she’s spoilt and considers herself a good guy because of it; Polyxene is another of the same age group, she was born with 4 wings/arms and isolates herself because of it; Pallas is Aisch’s older sister and a rather famous warrior, she lives in another clan however; Velvet is Aisch’s childhood best friend and was born deaf; Hagne is the local “priestess” who seeks to correct the wrong of Aisch’s birth, by teaching him to be a good harpy.

His backstory is still largely a WIP, so sorry if it’s a bit vague.

Name: Aischylos (meaning Shame) Aliases: Aisch Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Unknown/Bi? (harpies are weird in the way that they’re all basically aro-ace, but some have an interest in members of other species) Age: 21 years old Birthdate: 4th of September Occupation: Scout

Alignment: Neutral Group/Organizational Affiliations: Aello Clan

Family: Bethesda (mother), Pallas (older sister) Best Friends: Velvet Relationship Status: Single Significant Other: None Other Relationships: Hero (rival), Polyxene (enemy), Satyrion (friend), Hagne (mentor)

Height: 5'6" Weight: Underweight Build: Lithe/Light Skin Tone: Creamy-brown Hair: Dark mocha colour with darker tips Eyes: Amber Identifying Marks: Multiple scars including a missing claw, prominate dark stripes (markings). Appearance: Small, lithe male with shiny dark brown feathers that look rainbow in certain light (I can’t remember what this effect is called). He has a light cream underside and black-brown stripes on his back and wings. Has many scars including a large on across his face (forehead to down his nose and his left cheek), a missing claw on his right foot and a plucked chest which reveals many smaller scars obtained during his youth.

Personality: A curious but shy young harpy. He is nervous around others of his kind, but warms up quickly to strangers of another species. He is naturally cautious, but tends to be forgiving. Aggressiveness is not in his nature as he prefers to avoid a fight. He has a strong interest in humans and their technology. Due to his upbringing, he tends to be a loner, distancing himself from others for his own sake. He dislikes large groups and will usually hang out on his own or with Velvet. He’s nervous around essentric or loud people; instinctively afraid of them due to the bullying he’s suffered from Hero. Aisch is rather submissive as well, constantly apologizing for his mistakes even if he doesn’t make any. However, he’s not exactly self-loathing. Thanks to Hange’s teachings, he’s aware that others’ hatred of him stems from his gender, not who he is personally. Due to this, he tries to judge others based on their personality rather than what they look like.

Motivations: The reputation of his bloodline, his personal pride, the need to protect Velvet Current Goal: To be respected among his peers Life Goal: To uphold the family honour and escape the misandry of the clans. Ultimately to seat himself at the head of a clan council and prove himself worthy

Motto: “Life is about being the best you can be, even if it’s worse than the people around you. If you do your personal best, that’s all that matters.”

Best Quality: His curiosity and open-mindedness Worst Quality: His anxiety and paranoia Fears: -Bullies -The sea -Being alone -Storms -Lightning

Hobbies: Studying humans, collecting artifacts (usually human tools or artifacts from other mythos species), watching the lake

Talents: Flight- Due to a life of running away from bullies, he’s adept at flight; mainly turning sharp corners and flying through tight spaces. He’s able to pull up from a highspeed dive as well.

Skills: Stealth- His small size and mottled feather patterns allow him to hide easily in nature.

Secret: He often wishes he was born female and sometimes pretends to be one in secret or when playing with Velvet. He doesn’t suffer from dysmorphia however and is not trans

Influential Memory: (Spoiler territory for my book) At age 12, he and Velvet were flying around the dam exploring the coastline. Deciding to be a bit daring, they fly out to sea a little and fish around. Soon, a storm blows in and in the middle of it, they’re tossed around and barely escape being drowned. However, as they reach the dam wall, Velvet is struck by lightning and killed, scarring Aischylos for life.

Role Model: Bethesda, Pallas Crush: - Source of Embarrassment: His gender and small build Source of Pride: His intelligence and flying ability

Hello! It sounds like you have a really interesting setting concept here, and I'm very interested in how this all fits together. At first, though, I was honestly a little concerned - there are a lot of worldbuilding details here, and I thought you might be submitting your setting for critique rather than your character! I was relieved to see that this is not the case, but in future, you may want to pull back on telling me too much about the setting. Remember, we don't need to know everything about it. Just the basics are fine!

So let's get into the basics of Aischylos, shall we?

First off, this is a character name that could actually use a pronunciation guide. I know how it sounds in my head, but I'm not sure if that's how it sounds in your head. I find myself stumbling over it whenever I read it in a sentence, and it's hard to spell it without looking at it. That may be something you want to take into consideration for future readers. I like that you've included a basic statement of the relationships he has with the other mentioned characters in parentheses with their names; that helps me keep them straight in my head. His basics and appearance make sense since I know that he's a harpy from your setting description. I believe the effect you're referring to on his feathers is "iridescence", but I could be wrong.

I like the personality you've described for Aisch. It makes sense, given the culture he was raised in. However, you haven't really included a backstory for him, so I can't tell you if it would fit in with where he's coming from. Normally, I wouldn't even provide a critique for a character without a backstory, but I'm making an exception in this case because I think that you do have one - it just isn't explicitly written out in paragraph form. You need to work on that, if you choose to revise Aisch.

Since you haven't included any questions for me to address, I'm not sure what you're looking for in this critique. The major problem I'm seeing here is that without a backstory, it's very hard to make out where Aisch is in his story and where he's going from here. On the one hand, one of his motivations is to protect Velvet; on the other hand, he has a memory of her death. Is she alive or not? I don't know. You could also use some proofreading - there are a few minor typos and places where you could tighten up your sentence structure, although they're not too jarring.

You clearly have some very solid ideas here and I think you know what you want out of this character and where you're going with this story. You just need to bring it across more clearly in this profile, so that I know, too. If you choose to revise Aisch, I would be happy to take another look at him. Until then, I hope this helps, and good luck!

-Kyo

#SOC Critique #OC Critique #submission

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