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drconstellation · 6 months

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All The Colours of the GO Rainbow

Updated 11 Nov 2023

Edit note: I've done quite a big update on Red, Green and Blue, so if you read this before 11 Nov 2023 it might be worth reading it again.

I'm writing this meta about colours in the Good Omens AU in preparation for some future metas I'm planning, where colour will be important. And yes, I'm going to use "colour" as the spelling, as I'm an Australian and I use the UK English as my usual go-to version of English (that is what I was taught at school,) even though I am finding myself flicking between US and UK English here on Tumblr, leaving out u's here and there and putting in z's where I would normally put s's.

I also think its worth having another discussion about it as there are some colours I've have seen discussed here and there, but not at length, and some not at all that I think are important, and I just want to bring them all to one place.

I'm also going to be referring to @cobragardens excellent meta The Colors of Crowley quite a bit in this meta at various points, so you might want to pause and go read that first, then come back.

BLACK

Most people's initial reaction would be to class black as a colour of Hell. Crowley wears a lot of black, and usually a hidden accent of red (aaand something else. I'll discuss that at the end.) But the other demons are actually quite colourful when you get them into the light. They may tend towards the darker shades but there is quite a range of colours seen. Dagon, for example, is a very dark blue, as their avatar is a marine fish. Normally blue is associated with Heaven in GO. But this fits better if we think of black as being the colour of shadow, where the light does not reach, and the place of hidden things, of mystery

And it's worth noting that Aziraphale wears some black when he is trying to perform a magic show. He also wears white and gold at the same time but normally he does not wear these colours, unless he is performing human magic (see S1E1, Warlock's 11th birthday party, and the 1941 minisode S2E4) This should be striking enough for you to sit up and take note. You could say when Aziraphale dons black it is an expression of his act of "mysteriosity."

RED

Again, red is not necessarily a demonic colour, although we tend to associate it with demons, as Lord Beelzebub and Lord Dagon both wear red sashes as a mark of their rank in Hell. Think of it more as the colour of passion and romance in GO. Ooh, got you there! Makes you wonder what Shax is really up to (I know some of you have.) Perhaps they are just passionate about doing their job, or climbing their way to the top of the demonic ranking ladder?

Edit: After writing up a couple of other metas and some more reading maybe a better description is "devotional passion." Shax is devoted to climbing the power ladder in Hell (her red is usually a darker shade of red than Crowley's,) and the Red Team in the paintball fight at Tadfield Manor in S1E2 is devoted to following the rules of Management. Crowley is devoted to Aziraphale, of course.

In Christianity red has an association with the left-hand side, or the sinister side. In GO we tend to call this the "demon side" as there is a lot of shot blocking for shoulder-angels and shoulder-demons. Crowley is typically on Aziraphale's LHS because of this, so when he isn't, we take note. Actually you should take note of all the shot-blocking in GO because who is on the shoulder-right and who is on the shoulder-left of shot tells you so much about their moral stance in that scene! Anyway, in religious iconography it will often be Michael robed in red, with a sword, on the left of Jesus, representing the eccentric, the strange, the excessive, fire - and goats. (Hey, goats are a whole other meta, we are here to talk colour!)

Special mention to the 1941 minisode in S2E4 that is just soaked in red, everywhere you turn: in the sparks flying off the burning buildings as the sparks of love begin to fly, the inside of the book shop where Crowley encourages Aziraphale to think like a professional, the magic shop where danger and chaos lurks in every corner but magic is Aziraphale's personal passion, and the Windmill Theater where he finally gets to perform his magic passion on the stage. Several ops see this as a special memory of Aziraphale's so he colours it with the red of romance. We've got big hopes of seeing a third part to 1941 in S3. Some of this red is also used as a metaphor for flames and fire (there always seems to be something burning after a gun is fired) - we are fanning the flames of passion again!

GOLD

Gold is one the colours of Heaven. Nearly all the angels have some form of gold on them at some point. A gold ring, gold embroidery on their clothes, a golden brooch, gold on their face, Aziraphale's gold watch fob (he has a ring, too). We also see multiple golden lions in various places, which appear to have a connection to Heaven and Jesus. (I'm still planning to write a meta on the lions in the future, but I've got to find them all first! They keep turning up in surprising places...) The lions have a royal connection, one of two royal mentions in this meta, in that they represent the connection Jesus has to the Royal house of Judah, and are a symbol of his return in the Second Coming.

YELLOW

Yellow in GO is probably the hardest colour to interpret. We see a lot of it, because Aziraphale is so fond of it, being the colour of Crowley's eyes. The walls of the book shop are painted yellow, he gives Jimbriel a yellow feather duster to use and he turns the Bentley yellow on the trip up to Edinburgh, much to Crowley's disgust. (To be fair, Crowley's Mayfair flat in S1 was colour-coded to Aziraphale's eyes in return, in greys and subtle blues, but that's another discussion.)

But I think the important thing to emphasis here is that yellow is NOT the same as gold, and we shouldn't blend the two colours together.

While some point out that yellow can be seen as an imperial or royal colour, as it is the colour of the Sun, when you put this colour in context in the GO AU, it more clearly points to being the colour of fear, as Cobragarden's explains in The Colours of Crowley. I would expand on their words, and say that is why Crowley doesn't wear his sunglasses in front of Jimbriel when looking after him in the book shop - its a measure of how afraid he is that the the real Gabriel might reappear at any moment. And back in S1 when Crowley is trying to work out how to escape the burning Odegra sigil he inadvertently created Hastur appears in the front seat of the Bentley in pursuit of him and reaches out to remove his sunglasses. The shock on Crowley's face in the moment is palpable, because he realises he's in the shit unless he thinks quickly - which he bravely does!

GREEN

Green is the colour of chaos.

Originally I wrote that Green was Hell, but on after writing this and going on to write further metas (I think I’ve mentioned this elsewhere, and this is an evolving meta) and a brief discussion in the Notes at the bottom with noneorother, I decided I would re-write this for a better fit.

It still fits Hell, however, as Hell is chaos compared to Heaven. It’s overcrowded, its clogged with bundled paperwork that hasn’t been filed, there is old furniture everywhere. It’s still the overgrown suffocating swamp of decay, with the leaking pipes and the light struggling to find its way down through the mess. It’s still Furfur, with plans to unexpectedly disrupt our hero’s magic act. It’s still the colour of the fog outside the bookshop during the Eldritch Ball, signalling that things are not going to plan. Demons love chaos, its their purpose. It’s the opposite to Heaven, which is rigid and structured.

A recent post from @noneorother highlights that the intense green used for Hell in S2 is influenced by the the Powell & Pressburger movie The Tales of Hoffmann. They say:

Whenever something evil happens in "The automaton ball" sequence, the light changes to this sickly green. Colour is THE important symbolism in Hoffmann, so now we know green is evil.

But they wanted to add that evil is not necessarily Hell. And we would have to agree. Because Aziraphale also has a lot of green associated with him, and he has nothing to do with Hell - he's more an agent of chaos, if anything. He's unpredictable. Let us address this in it's own section below.

Veridian/Teal/Aquamarine

This is a special section to discuss the blue-green hues that Aziraphale wears. Heaven mixed with Hell. Lawful mixed with Chaos. He is one unique angel. The first sight of these colours is in 1601, when we find out that the Arrangement first proposed by Crowley in 537 is now in full swing, where he has some teal strips in his Elizabethan costume.

While I'm told its traditional to have a darker colour on the back panel of waistcoats, it's notable that the back of Aziraphale's waistcoat is a distinctly dark viridian green. Why not dark blue? Or a shade of brown to go with the other shades of brown and beige the angels tend to wear? But what's the meta-writer's motto in GO? There are no accidents...

He also wears a pale aquamarine shirt in the present day. (wearecrowley has posted a nice set of GIFs that highlight it here) No white for him since 1941 at least, although his 1821 shirt also looks green to me, but its hard to tell in the dim candlelight of night time Edinburgh (unless he is performing magic, then he is in white, gold, and mysterious black or being discorporated, then he is colourless white - back to his "native" state, like Muriel in her Earthly Inspector uniform.) The cape he wears in the 1941 minisode is also a fascinating colour. I am having trouble pinning down exactly what it would be called - Teal? A darker aquamarine? Perhaps turquoise. It's certainly part of his colour palette, and still indicating a lawful-chaos mix. A "dark horse" indeed!

[Edit: So i saw someone describe Heaven and Hell as Lawfulness and Chaos, and I thought that was a perfect fit for Aziraphale here with his blue-greens. Remember Crowley described him as "unpredictable" to Nina? Yeah...]

[Edit 2: I've made some changes above because I re-wrote the section on Green. This is an evolving meta!]

BLUE

Blue is a signal of Heaven, the colour of the sky, and a colour traditionally associated with the archangels Gabriel and Michael. We see it in a number of places, in both S1 and S2, where it is used with deliberate care.

Usually a primary shade of blue, this represents the rigid lawfulness and rules of Heaven, as compared to the chaos associated with Hell. In Christian iconography blue is what Gabriel wears as the right-hand-side shoulder angel to Jesus. It represents the Law, mercy, protection, water, sheep(!) and foundation. The "good" shoulder angel is always on the right shoulder in shot-blocking in the show.

Below are some examples of where we see it:

The blue paint on the back of Aziraphale's coat when he gets hit by a paintball at Tadfield Manor in S1E2.

The colour of Newt's car, Dick Turpin (which actually presents an interesting juxtaposition, as Newt is a Crowley parallel.)

The colour of the external walls of the coffee shop in S2, and some of the inside, which is also the same as the take-away cups, such as the one the Metatron offers to Aziraphale.

The colour of the gecko Jemima asks to be turned into in the Job minisode.

The colour of the suit Jimbriel wears at the eldritch ball, and the glorious ostrich feather jacket he dons when he exits the book shop to give himself up to the demons.

PURPLE

Purple has long been the colour of royalty, since ancient days. This was for good reason - there was only one natural source of the rich purple dye. That came from a small marine snail that was found on the coast of modern day Lebanon, near Tyre, and they held the monopoly on this trade for centuries. Only kings and emperor's could afford to have cloth dyed in this colour, known as Tyrian purple. It wasn't until the first synthetic purple dye was created in 1856 that the common man could afford to wear it as well.

In Good Omens we see Gabriel, the Prince of Heaven, wearing this colour in his ties, and also showing it in his irises in both S1 and S2. But only when he is Gabriel, not as Jim.

[Edit: So I only just found out that the colour he wears is lilac and is modeled after Elizabeth Taylor's famous eyes. But hey, she was a queen of the screen - movie royalty! And you still need to explain all the other purple below. Also, she was only born around 100 years ago and Gabriel has theoretically been around for...a lot longer, so I'd say Gabriel came first.]

There are a couple of other places we see it used. One is when angel Crowley starts up his nebula. The plume of miracle energy emanating from the book shop after the 25 lazurii miracle is also this colour.

Archangel Saraqael's chair is purple when she is on Earth. And Saraqael and Muriel both have purple in their tartan when in Heaven.

WHITE

White is the colour of the angels. It is the colour of Aziraphale's wings and the colour of his robes during ancient times from the Beginning up to Rome. Once the Arrangement starts, the white starts to be replaced with other colours, and the shades of teal and other blue-greens start to appear.

By the present day he has virtually lost all trace of white, except for his hair. He then only appears in all white when discorporated.

Muriel turns up in a conspicuously bright white police uniform on Earth, and the other angels all have some form of white on them.

Crowley sometimes has small accents of white as well. They can be easily missed, such as the white shirt cuff protruding from his sleek black Elizabethan costume in 1601. Remember they are discussing the Arrangement here - so they are both showing signs of taking on each other's colours at this point. On the other hand, I know quite a few people have commented on the white in his 1941 garb, on his tie, and his pocket handkerchief (and remember, he wears a grey shirt, not black, because he doesn't want to be mistaken for a black-shirted fascist during the war years.)

SILVER/GRAY

There are two colours I keep seeing that I'm going to group together as one, and that is silver and gray.

The senior archangels are notably dressed in what I've seen described as dove-gray, but an article on the costumes calls it pearl-gray, and it was meant to look a bit shimmery. I sometimes refer to this group of angels as the Archangels with the capital A, or the seraphim, the closest angels to God. This includes Gabriel, our current Prince of Heaven, Michael, Uriel. And I'm going to include Crowley in his trademark Tactical Turtleneck master spy disguise when he infiltrated Heaven with Muriel in S2E6. Hey, he could have worn white!

So where does this colour come from?

I've spent a bit of time banging on in the past about "traditional colours" of the archangels, in particular Gabriel and Michael's being blue, and the missing Raphael's being green. Part of the problem is, though, if you go looking online for who's colour is whose, you get a big variation in answers. Michael nearly always comes out with being associated with blue, and Raphael with green, so no problem there, but all the other traditionally named seraphim seem to get other colours put against them. For Gabriel, though, a commonly associated colour does appear to be white or silver.

Now my guess would be that sparkly silver would be too naff a look for the angels. I mean, look at what Crowley manifests as a blending-in "bees" disguise, a slightly shiny grayish suit, which kind of mocks the other Archangels (and you're overdoing the gold hints there a bit, Crowley) but it is curiously the same style as Saraqael's garb, and they did supposedly work together on the Horsehead Nebula. Hmmm. The Archangel's pearl-gray suits look very corporate and business-like, echoing a large soul-crushing business entity.

But this is not the only time Crowley wears this upper echelon colour; he has quite a habit of wearing it, particularly once the Arrangement kicks in.

The problem is, he nearly always wears near-solid black (unless he is trying not to get killed, like in 1793 Paris - Cobragarden's meta on the context why here - or 1941 London - see above,) so it stands out. I find this a far more interesting than the red accents, and should note that we don't always see it on him; its not there in 1967, for example.

One colour that is noticeably missing in the full GO rainbow is orange. We don't get it handed to us on a plate as much as the other colours do. Perhaps one exception is the sign for The Resurrectionist pub in Edinburgh, where Jesus is wearing an orange robe under a blue cloth. [Edit: It must be my screen colour, its been mentioned to me that the under-robe is actually crimson red.]

So now we have run through all the colours, it can be interesting to look at them in combination.

Bonus points for noticing the white mugs for the S2 coffee shop (six-shots of espresso,) to go with the blue take-away cups. The shop is blue-white-gold themed. Truly meant to be a place where Heaven is obtainable on Earth! It also kind of reminds me of the sky - blue sky overhead, white clouds, and a golden Sun shining down (from the brass lamps.) [Edit: There is a paler green inside the coffee shop - its easy to miss, we are too busy watching the characters!]

The book shop also has a combination of colours - predominately red and yellow. Yellow for fear, and red for passion and romance. Ouch, what a combination!

Aziraphales's white, gold and black combination for performing magic also has me intrigued. It's not just the black, but so much golden colour in the form of a golden vest. And we get it both times in both 1941 and 2019. An angel from Heaven trying to hide what he really is.

I've added an extra section below as part of a reblog on the angel off-whites and shades of brown that also appear, as I realised I missed them, and do a character analysis of the Metatron, so make sure you read that as well.

If you are interested in my analysis on the tartan in GO I've one here at: What the Tartan Tells Us

For further meta reading on colour in GO try the following:

If you haven't read it yet, do go and read Cobragardens The Colours of Crowley, Red and Yellow can hurt a fellow: Colour Symbolism in 1941 Part 1 and Part 2 as it makes the colours more character specific, whereas I've tried to give the colours a more over-arching theme here.

And for the importance of the yellow colour Vavavoom! which is used on the book shop walls, (and matches Crowley's eyes) see Vidavalors post on The Vavoom: Or, when the show's hinting Crowley & Aziraphale first kissed

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celestialmaison · 2 years

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nothing is “missing” from bee and puppycat, love.

your favorite moments, songs, artwork and lines from the youtube series are still there. always will be! you can check them out anytime you like. nothing is missing from the new series, hardly anything (if anything) has been replaced, and lazy in space continues from where the first installment left off. we get nuanced memories of puppycat’s life before the curse, a peek into the complex emotions of our local independent but not really independent landlord, general yet intriguing insight into bee’s existence (and her mental health!!!), more space lore, WARLOCKS, moully, episodes on episodes of wholesome yet chaotic wizard family content, season’s day, long hair cas (and cas in general? the love of my life? WOW), new artwork & songs…and there’s so much more than this. bee has a new hair color/style and a new outfit every. single. episode. tempbot changes every. single. episode. not a moment of screen time was wasted.

so many of the moments they had in the little trailer at the end of the youtube special were actually in lazy in space. the installment is even still called lazy in space the way it was originally introduced! and if you didn’t know there was a prequel, if you didn’t know the art sparkled differently when this series was born, now you know! if you had no fucking clue what bee and puppycat was before the netflix series came out, now you can go and watch the youtube series. both installments would probably look incredible if someone edited them in chronological order.

the artists (creators) behind the scenes of this project especially natasha allegri have waited longer than any of us who love it (consumers) to see this installment get off the ground. they wanted this story to continue more than any of us and they are not finished telling us, showing us everything they have planned for these characters, their world, and their future.

after all, how could anything be considered missing from a story without an ending? 💫

#bee and puppycat #bapc #bapc lazy in space #bee #puppycat #cardamon #cas wizard #natasha allegri #gentle reminder: we can have our cake and eat it too!#one installment does not have to exist above another #your preference is valid #and this series is allowed to change and grow #<3

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sav-wites-everything · 11 months

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Sundays (Adam Warlock x GN!Reader)

Summary: Some sweet moments with Adam on a Sunday... I think...

Word Count: about 2.5K

Warnings: none

Note: Back back back again to post some GotG V3 inspired fluff! (I was killerqueenwrites) Its been literal years. 5, I think. Wrow! Very minimal editing so hopefully its not total ass. Hope y’all enjoy!

The sound of the piano and a steady drum gently aroused you from slumber. You blinked the artificial sunlight that streamed through the blinds out of your eyes. “That’s why I’m easy, I’m easy like Sunday morning” Lionel Richie crooned through the speakers of Knowhere. Smiling softly to yourself, you snuggled in deeper under the covers, allowing the song to wash over you. It seemed Rocket had the same idea of taking it easy today.

In the last almost year since his safe return and the rescue of all the poor creatures touched by the High Evolutionary, music, playlist at the discretion of Rocket, played from the speakers throughout the day, only stopping during established “quiet” hours. Although, Knowhere was never truly that quiet.

The daily music began that very day everyone safely walked through the portal between the High Evolutionary’s ship and Knowhere. Being Knowhere’s only veterinarian, and from Earth, you were right out front to greet the swarm of animals that were now in the care of the Guardians. Not only did you check over the animals, but assisted with the children as well, seeing as they were genetically engineered, every professional opinion was deemed necessary. Children were gratefully taken in by Drax and childless couples and individuals. Animals big and small found kindness amongst the citizens of Knowhere, those unclaimed or too ill being placed in the care of you and your team at the small clinic.

As you waded through the throngs of people dancing to Florence + The Machine, a shock of matted, golden hair caught your eye. It was the man that had saved Peter from the icy cold of space. He was sitting against a wall, a blanket wrapped loosely around his bare torso. He watched the celebrations with a look of solemn happiness. Clearly he was pained but saw comfort in the joy of so many people, something he assisted in.

Just then, something small wiggled beneath the blanket and the head of a furry F’saki appeared. You had not met this creature yet so you beelined your way towards this, admittedly handsome, new face.

When he noticed you walking towards him, his posture straightened and the smile dropped from his face, he held on to the small critter a little tighter. “Hello,” you said warmly, kneeling beside him and meeting his eyes. “Is he yours?” you ask, pointing to the F’saki.

“I don’t wish to give him up,” he replied abruptly, his voice deep and urgent.

You smiled and waved a hand, “Oh no, no, he seems very happy with you! I’m an animal doctor here, I just wanted to make sure he was okay, that you’re both okay.”

“A.. doctor?” his brows knit together in confusion.

You cocked your head in your own confusion, but perhaps they didn’t have doctors on his planet. “Yes, like a healer. Although I don’t have any magic or special powers,” gesturing at all of him. His face went back to a neutral expression, seeming to understand. You reached a gentle hand towards the creature wiggling in his arms, clearly wanting to greet you, “May I?” The golden hero quickly let go of the F’saki and it leapt into your arms, covering your face in rather wet kisses. “Well he’s certainly in high spirits,” you giggled, wrangling him enough to do a quick once over for visible wounds or broken bones. “Back to your friend, little guy. He seems just fine.” You sit cross legged next to him, your back to the same wall, as the furry brown critter climbs back into his lap. He gently strokes its head, beginning to look tired from the excitement.

“He likes you,” he mumbles, his eyes on the excited creature.

“Because I like him,” you reached out and scratched its head, your fingers brushing against his. You quickly pulled away, maybe too quickly as a dejected look creased his face. “You can call me (Y/N) by the way. And if you ever need me to take a look at your little guy, don’t hesitate to stop by my clinic.” You gently nudge his shoulder and see him stiffen slightly, clearly not accustomed to the friendly contact. You would come to find out there was a lot he wasn’t accustomed with, and a lot he didn’t know.

“And you can call me Adam.” He turned to meet your eyes. His were a brilliant gold like his skin, but sad, and full of a need for belonging, a need to be loved.

As you were remembering how you stayed by his side that night, explained what dancing was, was patient with him, helped him get settled into the apartment Peter would no longer need, explained that his new friend would need to eat, the smell of fresh coffee wafted up your nose and you peeled your eyes open once more. “What is a Sunday?” Adam asked, seated comfortably in your reading chair, the coffee machine Rocket built for you set to brew a single cup.

You sit up quickly, catching the blanket before it could expose your pantless lower half. “Adam!”

“(Y/N)!” he exclaims back, clutching his chest and laughing to himself.

You roll your eyes and begin scanning for any pair of pants. “What are you doing here, Adam?”

The coffee machine beeps. “Making coffee. Now, what is a Sunday?”

You can hear him get up, the chair moaning, coffee being poured into a hopefully clean mug. “It's the name of one of the days of the week back on Earth,” you sigh, still hopelessly looking for anything to cover your lower half.

“Looking for these?” his voice low and teasing as he holds out a full coffee mug in one hand, the face of Kermit the Frog visible through his fingers, and the shorts you kicked off before bed in the other. A smirk is painted across his golden face.

“Very funny,” you retort, “but thank you.” You gratefully take both from him, setting aside the mug on your bedside table before shimmying on the shorts under the covers.

Adam moves over to your window, throwing it open, blinds and all and allowing Lionel Richie to fully join the impromptu visit. “Why is Sunday easy?” he asks, leaning his strong forearms against the windowsill. This is when you realize he’s still in his Guardian gear. His wide frame silhouetted against the artificial morning sun, you blink at him, instinctively answering his question, as you’ve always done this past year, “Because it's a day with no expectations, except to relax. It makes it an easy day to get through. Adam..” He cocks his head to show he’s listening, bobbing it along to the song, “did you just get back from a mission? Why are you here?”

His broad shoulders tense up and he turns to face you but not look at you. Before the words leave his lips, however, you know what the answer is.

“And after Kraglin speared it right between the eyes, I pulled off this scale,” Adam excitedly opened his hand for you to see the iridescent blue/purple scale in his palm. “I thought you’d like it,” he mumbled, his eyes darting away with a shy smile on his face. It charmed you that he always brought you something from his missions. It didn’t take long for him to begin bringing you gifts but you took it as his way of saying thank you for caring for Blurp. Who was currently rolled over on his back on your exam table. Of course you wouldn’t pass up seeing Blurp as often as you do. After all, that meant you got to see Adam too.

He was in his Guardian gear still having just come back from a mission, bringing you a perfectly healthy F’saki for what felt like the millionth week in a row. After every mission he’d be waiting for you in the clinic for a check up of Blurp. You knew he was really there to spend time with you, excitedly talking about his mission, asking you any question that popped into his pretty golden head, or simply asking and listening to what you’ve been up to. But what if you were wrong? What if he was taking pity on you and the fact you were always in the clinic? Selfishly, you begin, “Adam, you know Blurp is perfectly healthy, right?” His smile begins to fade, his fingers curling back over the scale. “Why do you bring him in so often?” Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“I wanted to see you,” he responds sheepishly, his eyes locked on your clinic floor. Your hands stop scratching Blurp’s belly. Adam stood with his arms dangling at his side, the gift he had brought you from his recent mission clutched in one hand, head hung like a scolded puppy. “I know there’s no need to bring him in so often.”

Blurp gently licks your hand, cooing softly. You feel your cheeks get warm but work up courage you didn’t know you had, happy that your feelings weren’t wrong but embarrassed for making Adam say it. “Adam,” you begin, voice shaking. His golden eyes turn up to meet yours, what you could only describe as a blush dusting his cheeks. “Do you know where I live?”

Confusion flashed across his face. He slowly shakes his head no.

“I’m sorry. That was weird. Um..” you fish in your coat pocket for a pad of paper and a pen, “do you know where the Xandarian noodle shop is?”

“I do,” he replies warily.

You finish scribbling on the piece of paper and shove it across the exam table. “I live above it on the third floor. If you go down the alley to the left of the shop, stairs are in the back that go straight up to my apartment. You..” your voice catches in your throat and becomes small, “you can visit me anytime.”

It was your turn to sheepishly look away, wondering if you were still possibly misreading the whole situation or if you were being too forward. You truly loved spending time with Adam. As the disastrous possibilities spun around in your mind, two strong arms encircled you and pulled you against an even stronger chest. He smelled like musk and spices. You instinctively returned the embrace as Adam whispered into the top of your head, “Thank you, (Y/N). I..”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” he mumbles, that familiar blush creeping across his cheeks as you climb out of bed and step towards him, coffee in hand. Ever since you had told him he was welcome to visit you any time, a routine had started. Adam would visit almost every day he was in Knowhere, also making sure you were one of his first stops after missions to drop off your gift. The shelf unit brimming with rocks, bones, scales, seeds, trinkets, and artifacts from a myriad of planets, all hand picked by Adam with you in mind, caught your eye. It gave you butterflies like you couldn’t believe but it also made you feel so special. You turned your attention back to the golden sweetheart.

“I know you do, and I enjoy your company. But you need to rest and take care of yourself. Have a hot shower. You’ve been out for two weeks,” you place a hand on his bicep as you finish. He meets your concerned gaze, golden eyes shifting between yours and your lips. “But I do appreciate the coffee.”

The two of you are caught in a moment that feels like forever, eyes locked, his arm warm beneath your hand, the light behind him giving him a heavenly glow. You could have stared into his perfectly chiseled face until the end of time. The end of the song brings you both out of the trance, a brief few seconds before the first notes of Elvin Bishop’s Fooled Around and Fell in Love begins. Adam clears his throat and turns back to the window, your hand missing the warmth. “I don’t know how you drink the stuff, to be honest.” His nose crinkled up in disgust.

You chuckle softly. “Well, not all of us are meticulously engineered beings who don’t require caffeine to function during the day-to-day,” you reply, taking your place next to Adam at the windowsill. He stares fixedly out at Knowhere, the newly built city waking up to start its day. You clutch the hot cup in both hands, taking a careful sip and burning your lip anyway. “Are you sure you don’t want to go clean up and change first? I’ll be here all day doing nothing..”

Adam interrupts you with a very unexpected question, even from him, a man learning everything for the first time this past year. “Does it hurt?” he asks in almost a whisper.

You swallow nervously, unsure of where this is going. “Does what hurt?”

“Does it hurt to fall in love?”

Before you truly even process the question, you respond, “I actually find it quite easy.” Adam turns his head to look at your blush-tinted upturned face, a galaxy in your eyes. A galaxy he would give his life for.

“Like a Sunday morning?” he asks, genuine, his eyes now glued to your lips.

“Exactly,” you breathe as he leans in, crashing his lips into yours rather clumsily. You smile into the kiss, returning it just as passionately, the cup of hot coffee tumbling from your hands and out the window.

The kiss is broken with an apology and Adam hanging out the window after the mug but the golden boy wonder wasn’t quite quick enough and you can hear the shatter of the mug, the owner of the noodle shop shouting. Adam climbs back into the apartment, scratching the back of his head with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t like that mug much anyway,” you lie. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping that’s what he was apologizing for.

“I meant about.. I didn’t mean to.. I just.. I saw on one of Peter’s tapes..” but before he could keep babbling, in an act of boldness you reach for his suit’s collar and pull him in for another kiss. A giggle escapes you as he immediately places his hands on your waist and pulls you in closer, a hearty chuckle in his chest. “I think I really like Sundays,” he says breathlessly, pulling away just long enough to get it out.

Another happy sound escapes you as your arms snake around his neck. You couldn’t even be sure if it actually was a Sunday, but with Adam, you know everyday could be as easy as Sunday morning.

#guardians of the galaxy #gotg #gotg3 #volume 3 #gotg fanfic #adam warlock #adam walock x reader #gn reader

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c-is-for-circinate · 1 year

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Background AD&D info for Stranger Things Fans

I'm doing it, I'm writing an overly-long post A WHOLE SERIES of overly-long posts about how the Stranger Things kids play D&D, and what exactly first edition and AD&D were for.

Source: I've been playing since 3rd ed/3.5 era, NOT AD&D, but I've had a lot of friends who've been in the game for much longer and I'm kind of a nerd for rulesets so I watch D&D bros go off on youtube sometimes for fun. Also, I've actually read the AD&D player's handbook, which is an experience let me tell you. If anyone who's played older editions wants to chip in, go for it!

I think I'm going to have to write a separate post (or posts...god hopefully not posts) about the kids' individual classes. So stay tuned for that. I'll link it from this one when it's done.

First, some history: The earliest editions of D&D are a little confused, numbering-wise, because they didn't know there were going to be numbered editions yet. Dungeons and Dragons debuted in 1974 as an offshoot of mini-based tabletop wargames that already existed at the time. These were mostly big games, where players controlled whole armies rather than creating individual characters, and set their forces against one another. (Not unlike very complicated games of chess, if you really think about it.) D&D was not, to my knowledge, the first individual-character-based ttrpg, but it became the biggest pretty readily.

Advanced Dungeons and dragons, or AD&D, came out in '77 or '78 (Wiki says '77, the publication date on the copy I've been using says '78), although they were still publishing Basic D&D as an alternate option, more or less until the mid-nineties. AD&D was a lot more rules-heavy and had a lot more intricacy going on (relatively speaking), and it's the game the ST kids play.

Compared to modern D&D, AD&D's basic rules feel both more and less. The mechanics themselves are often way more complex, and navigating your way through all of those percentage tables as a DM implies a pretty high level of math skill, worth noting for both an 11-year-old or a guy who failed senior year twice. The character options, on the other hand, feel slim. On first glance.

AD&D only has five classes -- ten if you count subclasses, which you probably should for AD&D. There's fighters, with special fighter subclasses ranger (Lucas's class) or paladin (Mike's class); clerics (Will's class, supposedly), with special cleric subclass druid; magic-users (or mages, theoretically El's class), with special mage subclass illusionist; thieves (NOT rogues! but this is definitely Lady Applejack's actual class, with some caveats), with special thief subclass assassin; and monks. You will note I did not mention bards. We will get to bards. (Probably in the character post, when I talk about Dustin. Bards are...special.)

AD&D had no barbarians, no warlocks, no sorcerers. No special, prescribed forked paths for a character to venture down. Subclasses functioned mostly like classes do nowadays -- you'd roll up a character and be a paladin from day one, simply lumped under fighter because many of the core mechanics were the same. And a significant percentage of text given to describing these classes seems full of really restrictive orders and conditions. Clerics are never allowed to use a bladed weapon? Druids refuse to touch metal? Assassins must engage the local guildmaster in a duel to the death in order to progress to level 14? Where's the creativity, asks the modern 5e D&D player? Where's the freedom?

And this highlights a really core, central thing about how AD&D works and what it was for, that I think modern audiences can very easily miss:

1st edition AD&D is a game about archetypes.

Modern D&D is a game played in a sandbox that's been dug up and worked over for the past fifty years, in a cultural landscape that values individuality and originality and sometimes pretends that daring to share a trope with anything that came before is somewhere between boring and a straight-up crime. Original D&D came with very different baggage, and while it was still very much a game about storytelling, the KINDS of stories being told were a little different.

Characters weren't intended to be highly specialized, granular creations with intricate backstories and complex individualized skill sets. This wasn't even because those kinds of character-driven games or narratives were seen as bad, necessarily -- it's simply not what the game was written for!

First edition D&D was designed for big, epic adventures, where players could embody their own personal instance of a specific stock character trope. It was written for "I want to be a knight!" and "I want to be the magician!". It was about getting to be YOUR VERSION of a very particular, already-existing idea that would have been familiar from fantasy fiction at the time.

So, when the AD&D rules say that druids hold oak and ash trees sacred, that they will never destroy woodland or crops under any circumstances, that they cannot and will not use metal weapons or armor, that there only exist nine Level 12 druids in the world and they form a council with students below them -- this isn't an attempt to micromanage players, to be arbitrarily pedantic or controlling. This is Gary Gygax attempting to present the archetype that 'druid' is meant to encompass. This is what a druid is, according to this ruleset: a priest of nature, part of an order with rules and loyalties, with these priorities and these ideals. Mechanics and personality are not divorced in AD&D as they are in 5e; they are written together, to outline a specific character concept, and that is what's presented for the players to get to play.

If this sounds like it leads to boring, formulaic stories -- well, it could. But archetype-based stories, particularly adventure stories, are by no means necessarily bad. A story about a mysterious and knowledgeable old wizard; a naive-but-determined farmboy full of destiny and potential; a reckless rogue, slick but sometimes bumbling, selfish but secretly loyal; a beautiful princess, charming and clever and sharp-tongued when she wishes to be -- it's a pulp novel full of stock characters and tropes. It's Star Wars. What makes Star Wars special is NOT that its characters are specific, convoluted, or entirely original. What makes it special is that the specific instantiation of these characters, the little things that make Luke Skywalker be Luke Skywalker and not any other callow farmboy. Star Wars uses these archetypes well, and that makes them deeply satisfying. THAT'S the kind of story ethic behind AD&D.

First edition D&D has a reputation of being all about combat, and not about story at all. And on the surface, it's somewhat true: AD&D's rules are also highly combat-based. This isn't because players were expected to only do combat and dungeon crawls, and never roleplay -- but it WAS expected that, by signing on to play D&D, players were most interested in a campaign of exploration and fighting towards some fanciful goal. There was an element of buy-in from the start. The game was (and still very much is), at its core, about going on a quest.

The thing to remember, though, is that a quest IS a story. It's not the psychological trauma-unburdening character-driven narrative that pop culture might tell you to expect in modern D&D, but AD&D was every inch as story-based as the game's ever been. The stories being told were a little different, but with a very similar root.

The 1979 Dungeon Master's Guide is actually full of information about how to set up a world and stock it with people, political factions, and socioeconomic logistics. There are extensive rules about how high-level adventurers become part of the political fabric of the realm, building forts and amassing followers and making names for themselves. (Here, again, we see echoes of AD&D's forebearers in war games, and certain elements of the game that are all but gone from modern D&D.)

What there AREN'T a lot of rules about, on the other hand, are things like skill checks. There's no "persuasion" or "investigation" in AD&D, no list of specific things players can do and how good they are at them. Aside from combat and a small handful of specific non-combat activities, discretion over the success or failure of just about anything was left up to the DM. A DM was always free to call for a dice roll, and could set an arbitrary target number for success at any activity, but the rules also don't say they have to. To see if the characters persuade the barmaid to give them a hand, the players would have to be persuasive. To find the hidden clue in the cluttered chamber, the players might have to describe themselves looking in the right place.

In other words, there are relatively few rules for activities outside of combat, not because those activities were expected to be absent, but because they were expected to be unpredictable. How much exploration, and what players had to explore; what NPCs to interact with, and how they might react to being spoken to; what factions might exist, what moral quandaries could unfold, even the goal and big bad guy of the whole campaign -- the original sourcebooks for AD&D offer at best some very general advice, and NO hard and fast rules. That was for players and DMs to decide.

Many players and DMs, I know, fell on the side of engaging in relatively little worldbuilding complexity outside of the very mechanically-crunchy dungeon crawl. What little we see from the campaigns in ST is certainly mostly combat-oriented. And yet there are also hints of storylines happening off camera. Season 1's one-day eight-hour adventure was probably mostly dungeon crawl. Season 4's campaign takes most of a school year, until the players recognize the members of the cult they've been chasing for months, and know Vecna lore that would only have been published in one or two places anywhere by then, which means they probably learned it in-game. We don't see a lot of evidence of specific character plotlines -- in fact, repeatedly we're shown that the Party's characters share names with their players, making the whole thing even more clearly a big kids' game of let's-pretend. But that doesn't mean there's not a story.

So in short, the original game of D&D is built for epic quests, founded in very specific archetypes, but with the space for just about infinite in variation within that framework. That's what the Stranger Things kids are playing.

(And with this posted, I can start writing about the individual classes these kids are playing and what that says about each of them.)

#stranger things #D&D #driveby meta attack #seriously if an old-school AD&D player wants to tell me I'm way off here #I'd LOVE to learn more #I have more history and knowledge than many (certainly many on tumblr)#but far less than some #mostly it just felt like I needed to write THIS part down before I went off about rangers and bards #and y'all fanfic writers DEFINITELY need a lesson in what “paladin” meant Back In The Day #it's ok we'll get there don't worry #I just think this stuff is NEAT #LONG POST

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selfdiagnosedeyemotif · 7 months

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little thing i've been thinking about as of late:

How could one make the Octopath Travelers II in Dungeons and Dragons?

the rules i've set for myself are as follows:

no variant human. that is boring.

we're going for flavour over optimization but my stupid optimizer brain will nonetheless be the architect behind this all so Watch Out

Unearthed Arcana and things of that sort ARE allowed. UA is my dear wife and to leave her out of my house would be a crime most unforgivable

stats will be calculated using the point buy method, simply because that is much easier than working with the other methods

in a similar vein to the previous, pre-Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse stat increases and abilities for races will be used (my best friend the Air Genasi gets burnt by this but sacrifices must be made)

characters will range from level 10 (agnea) to level 14 (osvald)

this is what the characters would look like at the END of their journeys, so abilities like the One True Magic would be taken into account

i'll link pages describing all of the things i use, all of which will be from my dnd site of choice, the DND 5th Edition Wikidot Site

that being said...

Ochette, the Hunter

Race:

Tabaxi (+2 DEX, +1 CHA)

Class(es):

Revised Ranger - Beastmaster Conclave - Level 8 Paladin - Oath of the Ancients - Level 3

Feats (if any):

N/A

Stats:

STR - 14 (+2) DEX - 19 (+4) CON - 15 (+2) INT - 10 (0) WIS - 8 (-1) CHA - 13 (+1)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Tabaxi - Race: Ochette, while more of a fox than a cat, notably has many animal features similar to cats (namely her claws and ears), so the cat race fits her quite well

Cat's Claws - Tabaxi: ability most akin to Ochette's latent power ability Beastly Claws

Animal Companion - Beastmaster Conclave: this is the space for Akala or Mahina, since the BM is the only class/subclass that lets you have an animal companion in any way, not counting the wizard spell Find Familiar (which just doesn't fit Ochette. she aint a wizard)

Oath of the Ancients Paladin - Class/Subclass: at the end of Ochette's story she is touched by the Flame itself, bestowing upon her the power necessary to continue her immediate mission of Stop That Shadow Beast and ongoing mission of protecting the wilds of Solistia. serving something greater than oneself for a specific purpose (divine or not) is how 5e paladins have been flavoured, and the OotA subclass is explicitly based around being the light for the world, and has a general nature theme (see: green knights)

Castti, the Apothecary

Race:

Water Genasi (+2 CON, +1 WIS)

Class(es):

Artificer - Alchemist Speciality - Level 9 Paladin - Oath of Redemption - Level 4

Feats (if any):

Resilient (Wisdom)

Stats:

STR - 12 (+1) DEX - 9 (-1) CON - 14 (+2) INT - 13 (+1) WIS - 20 (+5) CHA - 12 (+1)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Water Genasi - Race: first off, Castti obviously has a water motif. that's a guarantee. however, i also think that Water Genasi has some good flavour to it because before MMotM, it gave resistance to Acid damage. you know, like trosseau's poison rain. Castti was INSANELY resilient against that shit, and i think it could be fun if that was like. just a thing she did.

Class/Subclass - Alchemist Speciality Artificer: this is the place to go when it comes to apothecaries. i really wanted to make her a warlock of Malaya as well but the best fitting subclasses (Fathomless, Celestial, and Undead) didn't have abilities that fit her very well. regardless, you've gotta be an Alchemist if you wanna be an apothecary

Class/Subclass - Oath of Redemption Paladin: PLEASE go read the tenets of the Oath of Redemption. like yeah its about redeeming yourself but more importantly its about pacifism (that's castti), patience (that's castti), and protecting the weak (that's castti). shes SO Oath of Redemption that it isn't even funny

Experimental Elixir/Restorative Reagent - Alchemist: this is Concoct, to a T. Experimental Elixir allows you to bestow a variety of different effects onto an ally, ranging from healing to haste to defense. just. like. Concoct. also the Restorative Reagent feature that castti would get at level 9 just adds to the healing aspect of EE so like. yeap that tracks.

Lay On Hands - Paladin: Sounds an awful lot like a mix between castti's Healing Hands and Rehabilitate abilities, with a mix of healing damage and disease specifically via touch.

Resilient - Feat: you'll notice that i made Castti's highest stat her Wisdom, which a keen-eyed D&D player might mark as strange, since Artificers are an Intelligence-based class, and Paladins are Charisma-based. well, this in conjunction with Resilient giving her proficiency in Wisdom Saving Throws (basically making her very good at holding on against fear, mind control, and things that affect sanity), are all because of one of my personal favourite Castti moments: she has canonically read the Book of Night and it couldn't do jack SHIT to her. her mind is made of IRON.

Throné, the Thief

Race:

Shadar-Kai (+2 DEX, +1 CON)

Class(es):

Rogue - Assassin Archetype - Level 11 Fighter - No Subclass - Level 2

Feats (if any):

Shadow Touched (spells gained: Invisibility, Silent Image)

Stats:

STR - 11 (0) DEX - 20 (+5) CON - 10 (0) INT - 14 (+2) WIS - 12 (+1) CHA - 14 (+2)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Shadar-Kai - Race: grabbed simply because i think that being a Dark Elf™ fits Throné really well. technically it also gives her teleportation which would be a cool in-universe explanation for Aeber's Reckoning but honestly this one's for the funsies

Inflitration Expert - Assassin Archetype: she straight-up does this in the first chapter. like full stop. that is the thing that this ability does. also i know it's very much not one-to-one but i also think this is how she would use Disguise but that ventures into headcanon territory

Action Surge - Fighter: the SPECIFIC reason that i gave Throné fighter levels. Action Surge allows the user to, once per short rest, USE TWO ACTIONS IN ONE TURN. THAT IS LEAVE NO TRACE. EXACTLY.

Shadow Touched - Feat: flavour for infiltration stuff but also sort of works as an expy for Veil of Darkness. Silent Image can be used to create a fairly large illusion, including but not limited to a quick and easy way to throw enemies off their game in terms of their attacks. Disguise Self was also considered as an option for the spell to take (Invisibility is always given) but i passed on it because she was already getting Infiltration Expert from her subclass.

Osvald, the Scholar

Race:

Goliath (+2 STR, +1 CON)

Class(es):

Wizard - School of Evocation - Level 14

Feats (if any):

N/A

Stats:

STR - 12 (+1) DEX - 10 (0) CON - 16 (+3) INT - 20 (+5) WIS - 14 (+2) CHA - 8 (-1)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Goliath - Race: Professor Osvald V. Vanstein is, amoungst other descriptors, fucking MASSIVE. that man is canonically like 6'7" or something. goliaths, the Biggest race in D&D 5e, are absolutely the best fit for him. as a bonus, they give him resistance to Cold damage, a fun reference to that teeny little stay on Frigit Isle

School of Evocation - Subclass: Osvald is canonically very much an offensive caster. that's clear. the School of Evocation, in D&D, is the one with the easiest access to Spells like Fireball, Lightning Bolt, and Cone of Cold, meaning that Osvald "Fire-Ice-Lightning" V. Vanstein simply MUST be one

Overchannel/Sculpt Spells - School of Evocation: neither of these two abilities, on their own, would equate to anything Osvald-y. Overchannel allows the user to make one damaging spell do max damage (and do it more at an HP cost), and Scupt Spells allows them to exempt certain targets from AoE spells. together, however, they form a decent expy for Concentrate Spells, Osvald's latent power

Prismatic Spray - Spell: this spell is a seventh level evocation spell. level 14 is the first time wizards have access to seventh level spells, and Osvald is an evoker. this spell is also a MASSIVE FUCK-YOU RAINBOW BLAST. i won't go through its actual abilities because they dont line up to the One True Magic very well, but aesthetically they're damn-near identical

Partitio, the Merchant

Race:

Human (+1 to all stats)

Class(es):

Paladin - Oath of Devotion - Level 6 Bard - College of Eloquence - Level 5

Feats (if any):

Inspiring Leader

Stats:

STR - 15 (+2) DEX - 11 (0) CON - 14 (+2) INT - 12 (+1) WIS - 10 (0) CHA - 18 (+4)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Oath of Devotion Paladin - Class/Subclass: mostly based around how Partitio is just. endlessly all about that helping people. you dont need to worship a god to be a paladin, folks, you just need to have a cause that you stand insanely firmly by. that's why they're Charisma-based. anyways Devotion fits Parti best so he gets it

Silver Tongue - College of Eloquence: half of this ability (bonus to Deception) is positively worthless to Partitio because he really doesnt lie much, but the other half (bonus to Persuasion) is DEATHLY important to this build. Partitio is a man built on being extremely good at talking to people, and it really shows in this. also, SILVER Tongue. Oresrush silver. get it? huh? huh?

Inspiring Leader - Feat: genuinely the most Partitio feat ever. it literally has the user make an inspiring speech for a mechanical benefit and if that ain't Partitio i dont know what is

Agnea, the Dancer

Race:

Spring Eladrin (+2 DEX, +1 CHA)

Class(es):

Bard - College of Glamour - Level 10

Feats (if any):

Mobile

Stats:

STR - 8 (-1) DEX - 16 (+3) CON - 12 (+1) INT - 11 (0) WIS - 12 (+1) CHA - 18 (+4)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Eladrin - Race: this is the most whimsical and fun race ever and i love it. spring Eladrin are the joyous and celebratory version of this race, so it fits Agnie pretty damn well. it also offers a teleportation option in the form of Fey Step (the season-themed version of Throné's teleport), which i feel like she would incorporate into her shows

College of Glamour Bard - Class/Subclass: this is the main performer bard for performers that dont use musical instruments, so it simply had to be Agnea

Enthralling Performance - College of Eloquence: this ability is effectively a make-your-performances-better card, which is exactly the kind of thing that Agnea would pull out if she needed to really bedazzle a crowd (see: Agnea chapter five)

Magical Secrets - Bard: this allows the user to gain two spells from any spell list. Agnea's would be Control Winds (Windy Refrain) and Beacon of Hope (Song of Hope). the latter is a much rougher expy than the former, but it's got hope in the name and i am nothing if not predictable. see the links below for what those spells do

Mobile - Feat: this is meant as an expy of the Dancer ability Ever Evasive, and to a degree Agnea's high base Speed and Evasion, since the Mobile feat both makes it more difficult for enemies to land hits on you, and improves your movement speed

Temenos, the Cleric

Race:

Changeling (+2 CHA, +1 WIS), pretends to be Half-Elf

Class(es):

Rogue - Inquisitive Archetype - Level 4 Cleric - Knowledge Domain - Level 9

Feats (if any):

Keen Mind (+1 INT)

Stats:

STR - 8 (-1) DEX - 10 (0) CON - 8 (-1) INT - 18 (+4) WIS - 18 (+4) CHA - 16 (+3)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Changeling - Race: i think it would be really cool because Temenos is such a goddamn liar. im so normal about it. sososo normal about it. i just feel that he would lie persistently about his identity lie that because just. i am hopelessly in love with the aspect of Temenos that he does not let anyone know anything ever

Inquisitive Archetype Rogue - Class/Subclass: one will note that this is the first class listed rather than his actual in-game class of Cleric. this is because i think that before he was a cleric, before he was found by the church, Rogue was a deeply fitting class for him. i think it was his base class, and grew into the Inquisitive subclass AFTER taking Cleric levels

Channel Divinity: Read Thoughts - Knowledge Domain: this is the equivalent of Temenos's Coerce path action; both are obviously magical in nature and involve to a certain (albeit different) degree looking into the target's mind. not a lot to say it's just a very good stand-in for Coerce

Legend Lore - Spell: this is the expy for Temenos's doubt-is-what-i-do mystery solving sections (like when he's in the cathedral with Crick investigating the death of the pontiff). it's not exact since Legend Lore targets an object and Temenos's thing targets a location, but i think it's close enough to be good enough. also it's a free spell you get for being a Knowledge Cleric so i think it's a good fit

Expertise - Rogue: this ability allows you to take two skills and become SUPER good at them. this would be Deception and Insight for Temenos, and i think it was important that i bring it up

Hikari, the Warrior

Race:

High Elf (+2 DEX, +1 INT)

Class(es):

Fighter - Samurai Archetype - Level 11 Sorcerer - Shadow Origin - Level 1

Feats (if any):

N/A

Stats:

STR - 18 (+4) DEX - 16 (+3) CON - 16 (+3) INT - 10 (0) WIS - 10 (0) CHA - 10 (0)

Key Abilities/Explanations:

Shadow Origin Sorcerer - Class/Subclass: homeboy's got the blood of D'arqest in him, so he simply MUST have some kind of spooky class. the other class in the running was Hexblade Warlock, but Shadow Sorcerer ultimately won out mostly for mechanical reasons (SO's Strength of the Grave was considered more flavourful than HB's Hexblade's Curse)

Fighting Spirit/Tireless Spirit - Samurai Archetype: these abilities are about the user powering up by sheer force of will and that's literally the most Hikari thing i have ever heard in my life

Fighting Style: Superior Technique - Fighter: this fighting style allows the user to gain one Battlemaster Fighter maneuver. the one selected for Hikari is Riposte, which serves as an equivalent to Hikari's Vengeful Blade ability (both of them are counterattack options)

Extra Attack 2x - Fighter: fighters are the only class that gain access to more than two attacks per turn, similarly to Hikari's Aggressive Slash ability giving him access to the greatest number of hits out of any class in-game

Links:

Ochette, the Hunter

Tabaxi

Ranger, Revised

Beastmaster Conclave

Paladin

Oath of the Ancients

Castti, the Apothecary

Water Genasi

Artificer

Alchemist Speciality

Paladin

Oath of Redemption

Resilient

Throné, the Thief

Shadar-Kai

Rogue

Assassin Archetype

Fighter

Shadow Touched

Silent Image

Osvald, the Scholar

Goliath

Wizard

School of Evocation

Prismatic Spray

Partitio, the Merchant

Human (yeah im linking that)

Paladin

Oath of Devotion

Bard

College of Eloquence

Inspiring Leader

Agnea, the Dancer

Eladrin

Bard

College of Glamour

Mobile

Control Winds

Beacon of Hope

Temenos, the Cleric

Changeling

Rogue

Inquisitive Archetype

Cleric

Knowledge Domain

Keen Mind

Legend Lore

Hikari, the Warrior

High Elf

Fighter

Samurai Archetype

Sorcerer

Shadow Origin

Riposte Maneuver

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath traveler 2 spoilers #d&d #ochette #castti florenz #throné anguis #throne anguis #osvald v. vanstein #osvald v vanstein #partitio yellowil #agnea bristarni #temenos mistral #hikari ku #iris originals

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merlin-bdsm-fest · 2 months

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Let's start warming up 🔥

This is the first post (of three) to tickle your creativity and suggest possible uses of our 2024 prompts!

We start off with our most loved theme from last edition:

Part 1: Bondage

Bondage - The practice of being physically restrained as a means of attaining sexual gratification.

As we saw from last year, you probably do not need help in creating amazing works with this prompt ;) But we want to inspire those who might need a nudge and show the ropes to newcomers.

The ropes pun was intended, as ropes are probably the most known form of bondage (alongside handcuffs).

Ropes can be used in many ways and span all cultures from Japanese shibari to Celtic knots, so what about an Age of Sails AU where they make good use of these nautical knots? Or are Merlin and Arthur going to explore suspension bondage after the net trap incident (s05e01)?

With rope the artistic possibilities are endless, we shared some places to get visual reference in our previous visual resources post.

Writers can have some fun with ropes too, by having Merlin use magic to move ropes (as he does in s02e08), he can even have some fun alone – perks of being a warlock.

Magic itself can be the force to bond someone, magical constraints can be any size, element, shape or form, warm or cold or wet. Is a magic user conjuring these bonds or did a non-magic character stumble upon some interesting artifact?

Did your character simply get in the wrong (magical) place at the wrong time? They could end up trapped by a tentacled creature or bound by vines, from a magical wood. Or could Morgana's hair be enchanted (like the video game Bayonetta) and bound her lover? Is Merlin a tentacled Eldritch God in your AU?

The ties could be harsh, prickly or soft and velvety.

If you don't like rope, what about cloth? They could be using some of their discarded clothes, improvising, or they could have purchased some of the finest silk especially for the occasion. Are they going shopping for their bondagegear together?

If you prefer it rougher, we already know Merlin looks really pretty in chains (s03e01), so chains, shackles (Gwaine looks good in these - s04e13), modern days handcuffs, spreader bars... or maybe Gwen's father had his own bag of special iron items?

Metals can be a good material to use, but – especially if you plan a modern day AU – you can explore different materials, plastic toys, zip-ties, duct tape, maybe explore mummification kink, plastic wrap, rubber, cables...

Anything long enough can be used to tie up your character.

There's so much to explore, in addition to the means of bondage there's a world of possibile scenarios and mindspaces for your characters to get into, we hope you will share your ideas and what they might bring out.

Did this post rope you into starting your Merlin BDSM work? If not, do not fear, two more posts are coming along to further inspire you.

#resources #mod post #merlinbdsmfest2024 #merlinbdsmfest #bbc merlin

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xuanelle · 1 year

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besides, you saved my life, remember? this is my chance to pay you back. [new mutants special edition]

he gave warlock his life energy without a second thought. warlock understanding how risky this is for doug but doug trust warlock and that everything will be okay and he wants to save him.

#found out warlock died yesterday and im inconsolable #bracken.txt #new mutants #douglock #warlock #doug ramsey

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funeralprocessor · 3 months

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Gah, I wish I was better at writing. Like not just my actual skill but just like actually sticking to it and editing and revising and all that shit. I've been thinking about some cool characters I want to do *something* with and unfortunately they only live in *my* head for the moment so tragically the burden falls to me. A bit more about them under the cut for those interested. It's a bit rambling so apologies

Okay, so the nucleus of this whole thing is Benthe, Reverend Mother Dolorous Benthe of the Ashmarch to her enemies; Ugly, Horse(face), or Bones to her friends. She's a kind of necromancer nun (predates tlt I swear) turned detective- turned Athame (basically a specialized handler for high risk high/ power individuals, descended from the squire-minder-killswitches of ancient demigod princes). She's a religious official in the same way that Harry DuBois is a detective: only involuntarily and under much duress, though she is extremely good at it when push comes to shove. She became a church backed Athame primarily because it comes with a lot of leeway for behavior and very little official oversight, but enjoys doing it even if she wouldn't admit it.

-Mid 50s, weathered and scarred but takes good care of herself

-Tall bordering on lanky, wiry, way more agile than people expect

-Multiple reliquary prosthetics, made of saint's bones: Both legs (left at knee, right at hip), right arm (at elbow), several fingers on left hand (pinky, ring, and middle). Thin network of scars on her face and torso where her living bones were inscribed with wards.

-Has a reputation for being solemn and intimidating, but is primarily just very awkward and has learned not to speak more than necessary. People who actually get close to her find her prickly and very particular but also extremely devoted to those she cares about (some would say possessive or needy), quick-witted (some would say flippant and rude), and quickly angered at cruelty and injustice

-Necromancer in the classical sense. Good at dealing with troubled souls, both dead and (begrudgingly) living. Got her start as a mourner, a type of exorcist who resolves the issues of ghosts/undead. She kept solving murders in the process and became known as both a nuisance and a hero to the uncared for. Eventually her vigilante justice got pressure put on her superiors and she got stapled to a desk for several years until she opted into being an Athame

-Very impressive in a fight, as in it's a spectacle. Style is sweeping and flowing staff fighting/kickboxing heavy, basically a type of ceremonial dance learned as a nun combined with the rough and tumble staff fighting her sheppard mother taught her long ago. Her weapon is a yew staff with bone and lead caps and some streaming prayer cloths. She mostly just smashed people with it, but can form blades of ghostly energy from the bone plates along it's length if she needs. She's not very good at it though. Her pranic/magical technique is very efficient but workmanlike and not good for gross/flashy effects. It's a tool, not art, and exists basically only as long as it needs to.

-Her name is in fact Horsefaced Benthe, bc she comes from a culture where people are given unflattering if not outright insulting formal nicknames. Their kind of parent cultural group gives children names like "Gracious Aratyam", "Wisdom-Eyed Tsiblis", or "Evenhand Tam" as blessings/aspirations, but up north they like to keep people humble

------

So that's the old woman. Her crew are far less well defined bc Benthe's been kicking around in my head for a while. But tentatively we also have

-Rambling Ykaterinja Fossë, a blatant wish fulfillment self insert renaissance woman academic turned warlock. She bound herself to a spirit known as the Brocken she encountered while on an archeological dig in the mountains because it promised what she never knew she always wanted (to be graceful, enthralling, and free from her own doubts) and Kat makes bad decisions. She got caught by the church after she returned to the city and, high on power and ritual deliriants, drove several cafes worth of people to madness (maybe they were predisposed to madness) though she insisted she was "just talking a little harder than normal"

-Grisha Tav-Rami, who's a little harder to explain. To be a bit Reddit she's Act 1 Shadowheart by way of Faulkner Silt Verses with a side of . She grew up in an insular cult in an already very insular culture under the thumb of an imperialist power. The cult wound up in the crosshairs of the government after the governor's son picked a fight with some locals and got killed for his trouble. Grisha's older brother got picked up in the subsequent sweep and accidentally let too much slip. He informed on the cult in exchange for a promise of leniency for him and his family. There was little offered, and the cult was basically raided into oblivion after many many years. Grisha's family were broken up and she spent her adolescence in church custody, where she first met Benthe, then in her early 30s and recently chastened and forced into a clerical role. Neither really knew the other particularly well, but it was enough that when years later Grisha, now essentially a church janissary and immensely conflicted about her history, sees an opportunity to be assigned to Benthe and potentially get answers, or at least a very cathartic way to begin her career as a deserter, she jumps at the opportunity. Also like she's kind of like an orca seal sea monster person but only a little and not in a "cute" way. Think like innsmouth people if they were whales instead of fish, sorta. She's still human but Amala has a much broader definition of humanity.

-Vashti Ten-Horse-Killer. Still kind of figuring her out her whys and wheres but I've got a pretty solid grasp on the who. She's a former outlaw bandit type who went legit for love, only to have the relationship kind of fall apart and Vashti become Extremely Divorced. Her ex, who initially helped her get established, had her blacklisted (though her distaste and distress from essentially being a private cop for nobles and corporations being one of the factors in the relationship breakdown this maybe wasn't necessary) and her reputation in the criminal world was shot twice over, she did odd jobs until eventually getting into Benthe's orbit somehow. I have a *very* clear image of her but I'm not sure how to describe. She's Ashvartan, so like think kind of central-south asian sorta? I don't really know how to describe fictional ethnicities without sounding weird, you know? But she's early 30s, less short more compact, very functional strength kind of build. Very sort of swaggery and cocky when she's drunk, standoffish and stone faced when she's not. Has a lot of tattoos in varying styles she's picked up over the years, including an elaborate knotwork mandala thing on her head. She normally keeps it shaved or mostly shaved to show it off, but it also serves as sort of a litmus for how she's doing bc it grows fast and it's one of the first things she stops giving a shit about maintaining when she's in a bad way.

-Ahmbasha Lin Hailu-Ssef, who is basically the least fleshed out and much more vibes than anything concrete. She's an aristocrat of some sort, laying low to avoid people working for her family trying to kidnap her for some reason and living under a false identity. Maybe larger things are afoot and she's kind of the instigator of whatever plotline. @gwynbleidd892 I'm borrowing a bit of Aratyam here if you don't mind. She was originally just another take on that guy who was with Vashti in our campaign but Aratyam has sort of bled in.

But yeah, that's it. If you read this, thank you and if you have any thoughts I'd love to know

#I've got some cool stuff kicking around though #I've got characters I've got a world now I just need something for them to actually do in it #also I'll love you forever if you ask me about any of it so <3 #the whole idea basically came from me being unable to quite put down an NPC from an older tabletop campaign #and other characters I came up with sort of gravitated towards her #and now we're here #sorry if this is poorly written or rambling #I'm high but thats rhe best way to overcome stage fright

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dharma-divine · 1 year

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DIOSKOUROI

Chapter II

Pairing: Twins x (Female) Reader, endgame TBD

Summary: Given your first taste of freedom in order to attend a prestigious arts academy, you befriend a sweet, charming boy who ultimately proves to be delinquent warlock, desperate to free his equally deceitful twin brother from hell after a necessary betrayal to their coven. You are essential to the brothers’ liberation and reunion, and in the process of learning of their mystic abilities and lineage, you reveal the truth of your own.

(For a more information regarding mythological references and character abilities, please click here)

WARNINGS: Mild suggestive content

Taglist: @gardenvanfleet @alwayzthere @sammygvfslut @gretavanhoney @maverick-rose @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @obetrolncocktails @capturethechaos @tlexx @charlesashton @garagebandvanfleet @myownparadise96 @jakeslovehandles @sparrowofthedawn @alt-jb @idk-maddie @theweightofstardust @danny-wagners-peacesign-necklace

(special thanks to Alana for being such a huge help with editing xx)

☽ ✩ ☾

The woods come creeping into your line of sight once more, along with the twists of flames lapping at the sky and the boy sitting before them.

“Help him. Please.”

The same scene plays out as before, with you wandering unscathed into the fire, following the dark figure until some unbeknownst force pulls you back into the trees.

The only difference this time is when you reach for his hand, not only do you feel his soft palm but also the band of something hard pressed between your fingers. You squint down to notice that it’s a ring, looped around his pointer finger in a stark black. It feels like stone — obsidian, with its shockingly cool touch even while being surrounded by pure heat.

For some reason, while his features once again melted from your memory by the time you wake the next morning, the image of the ring around his finger sticks, glinting among the flames appearing every time you close your eyes.

You’re pondering the image, and trying to recall the faces of the mysterious recurring characters in these strange dreams, the entire morning, your brows furrowed with thought as you sit in class with Josh.

It’s the third week of classes, and you can tell you’ve already fallen helplessly behind, though you can’t rid yourself of the distracting thoughts that drown out the sound of the professor’s droning voice.

You’re suddenly interrupted when Josh lightly nudges your arm with his elbow, before sliding his notebook over so you can see what’s scribbled on the top line.

What’s on your mind?

You blush at the thought that he was watching you ponder to yourself, jotting down a reply.

I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Too much to write down, will tell you about it after class.

How about over coffee?

Your heart leaps at the inquiry, and you glance over to see his cheeky smile and fan of lashes, his eyes remaining on the open notebook.

As classes have settled in you’ve found that you both have a perfect slot of time nestled between lectures for a quick lunch break, and the café down the hall from your lecture has been calling your name since its delicious smell first wafted past you.

Okay, you write back, to which he doodles you a smiley face.

☽ ✩ ☾

You find a cozy corner with a booth and big table, sliding your bag off your shoulder and onto the plush leather, its aroma mixing with the delicious smell of coffee.

“I’m gonna go order, what would you like?” Josh asks as he heads for the counter.

“Um…” you ponder, face flushing as you panic to think of something. “I’ve never gotten coffee from a shop before, we’re a strictly tea household. What do you usually get?”

Josh smiles, clearly endeared by your strangeness to the concept.

“I usually get a caffé ristretto or espresso, but they’re a bit strong if you’re not used to the taste,” he explains. “How about just a latte? Coffee and milk?”

You grin, nodding your head eagerly. “That sounds perfect.”

He nods, then walks over to the girl standing behind the counter to order. You can tell by his mannerisms and how a blushed smile instantly rosies her cheeks that he’s charming her, though their words are not in earshot. You hear her giggle as she hands him his receipt, and a tight, antsy feeling arises in your stomach that you recognize as jealousy.

He’s like that with everyone, you tell yourself. Why be jealous?

But the feeling ceases to fade, and it isn’t until his head turns back towards you, the girl following his gaze, that you snap out of it, giving them an anxious, awkward wave.

“She’s never had coffee from a shop before, isn’t that crazy?” you’re finally able to hear him say, followed by another bout of the barista’s swooning giggles.

You shake your head at him amusedly as he carefully carries the drinks back to your table, moving your books aside so he can set them down.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the two cups down before taking his seat.

You admire the frothy rose decorated on top of yours, the way you always see it illustrated.

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, the sweet, creamy smell hitting your nose. “It’s so pretty I almost don’t want to drink it. What do I owe you?”

He holds up a hand, waving it at you dismissively as he takes his first sip. “Don’t worry about it, please. I’m only interested in hearing about this dream of yours. What happened?”

Your chest leaps at the reminder of the purpose of this meeting, keeping you from the chance to argue further about the money. You take a sip of your latte, finding it as comforting and wonderful as it smells, even though it nearly burns your tongue.

“Right – it’s, um, it’s really intense,” you warn, adjusting yourself in your seat. “And so, so vivid – to the point where it feels real.”

Josh sits back as he sips his coffee, his eyes above the brim of the cup set on you.

“So I start off in a forest, and my chest feels tight, as if I've just been running. Some kind of grand force is luring me to this meadow past all the trees, and a deep voice is coming from somewhere around me, speaking in a language I don’t know — I think it might be Latin? And when I make it to the meadow, there’s a huge fire in the middle that’s completely stagnant, not growing or moving, the flames just stay in place. And in front of the fire –”

You pause, trying once again to comprehend the faces of the figures you have seen so many times at this point, but ultimately blanking.

“There’s a boy sitting, his legs folded, literally inches away from the flames. His mouth moves to the words I’m hearing above me, but the voice is way too loud to be coming from just him alone. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but it’s so loud and powerful I feel it shaking in my chest. He starts pleading for me to help with something, and a second later another boy comes from inside the flames.”

Your breathing has picked up, the recount of the imagery so intense it’s sending you into a near panic attack, your eyes trained to the table.

“Hey, It’s okay,” you hear Josh speak softly, lifting his hand to squeeze the top of yours comfortingly. “You don’t have to continue if it stresses you too much.”

You squeeze back, flinching when you feel something cold pressing into your hand. You let go to see a black ring looped around Josh’s middle finger, and suddenly the image from your dream flashes in your mind.

“That’s funny,” you smile, a bit of anxiety lifting away as you pull Josh’s hand to your face to inspect the ring further, to which he looks confused. “Your ring— the boy from the dream had one on, the second one that was in the fire. In fact I think it was on the same exact finger. What is it?”

“Obsidian,” he says, looking a bit melancholy. “It was my brother’s, he gave it to me right before he was taken.”

You remember registering the stone in your subconscious, and the whole exchange is feeling like a strange blast of deja vu.

“Is there any meaning behind it being on your middle finger?” you ask.

“No,” he grins, twisting the ring with his thumb. “It’s just the only finger it fits on. I only wear it when I’m especially missing him, I’m afraid it’ll twist off and I’ll lose it. It’s funny that it made it into your dream, though. Our minds have an interesting way of saving little details of our lives.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you add, shaking your head. “I’ve never had such vivid dreams before, like could they mean anything?”

”Yeah, definitely,” he says, pondering to himself for a moment. “The fire and the figures could represent a multitude of things; your anxieties and any obstacles holding you back, your emotions, literally anything. It’s hard to pinpoint which is which, but regardless it sounds like you’re going through a lot. I’m sorry these dreams are causing you so much stress, I wish I could help.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, honing in on the sensation of his thumb against the top of your hand to keep you calm. “Thank you for listening, I appreciate it.”

You know it’s odd to feel so close to someone so quickly, but it feels like you’ve known Josh for years, like you’ve been best friends since you were little and taken on this life together. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really had a friend before, but you feel like you could trust him with anything. Every other man you’ve come in contact with since your freedom has had this deep violet aura around them, even when they’ve been perfectly nice, your intuition telling you that they reek with danger, and to tread lightly around them, to not let them know too much. But you haven’t had that voice with Josh, not for a single second. His aura is bright yellow, tinged with tendrils of red and orange. Friendly, adventurous, thoughtful, considerate, well-grounded, that’s him. He’s your safe space in this new world that you’re still trying to figure out.

“Do you like it?” Josh finally asks, pulling his hand from you to point at your coffee cup, breaking you out of the near trance you fell under.

“Oh,” you blush. “Yeah, I do. It’s delicious.”

You take a larger gulp now that it’s not as hot, its sweet bitterness coating your tongue.

Your notice Josh begin to sift through his book bag and decide to go back to your own studying, grabbing the moleskin you had taken out while you waited for the coffee. To your dismay, you open its pages to find only a few nonsense lines written, along with some mindless doodles sketched in the margins. You glance over at Josh’s notebook, seeing them filled from top to bottom. He has impressively neat handwriting, and even drew diagrams and pictures to illustrate each subject.

“Well, shit,” you curse quietly to yourself.

“Can I copy yours?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, sliding it over with a grin.

You briefly reflect on the fact that you have not noticed Josh pick up his pencil once in the three classes you’ve had with him thus far, but you decide to ignore it, doing your best at copying what he has written.

An hour later, you’ve given up on the copying and gone to simply taking photos of his pages, your eyes tired and stomach grumbling.

“I think this is good for now, I should get home,” you tell Josh, flipping your notebook closed and slapping your pen down on its cover.

“Sweet,” he replies, shutting the book he was reading. “Any exciting plans for the night?”

You realize it’s Friday, and that the unfortunate answer for you is no.

“I’ll probably just stay home with my aunt, maybe watch a movie,” you shrug, zipping up your bag and slumping it over your shoulder.

“Well, wanna go to a party instead?” he asks, and you freeze at the word party, an anxious knot immediately forming in your chest.

You look up to see him standing above you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Josh you know I-”

“Oh come on,” he urges as you stand up and push your chair in. “It’s a casual affair, at a friend of mine’s house right off campus. Starts at ten, you can be home by midnight…”

You roll your eyes even though the way he pitches his voice at the end of his sentence makes a smile pull at your lip, and you know his convincing is already winning you over.

“I’ll have to sneak out, and I’ve never done that before,” you say, your voice mousy and innocent.

“So?” he quips, giving you a light push on your shoulder. “You’ve had a lot of firsts lately, what’s one more?”

You sigh, worrying your lip.

“She’s a light sleeper,” you point out. “Though…”

You think of the bundle of valerian root you saw in the kitchen cupboard recently, enough to knock out an army.

“Though…” Josh repeats as he follows you closely as you both exit the cafe.

“Okay, I’ll see,” you blush, flattered that he’s so adamant about your attendance. “Just send me the address.”

“Already sent,” he smiles, just as your phone pings with his text.

“See you at eleven?” he calls as he begins to part ways to his last class upstairs, with you on your way to your lab building across campus.

“See you,” you grin, your head ringing with nervous anticipation with how this night will play out.

☽ ✩ ☾

“So her memory is catching up to us,” Jake says after his brother explained the events of the day, his face half illuminated in an orange glow. “She didn’t question you any more about the ring?”

“No,” Josh shakes his head, tapping his thumb against the hard band. “I don’t think she’s suspicious of any of that yet, it’s still just a dream to her.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jake sighs, laying back down in his cot. “Let her figure it out herself.”

It’s silent for a moment except for the crackling of the fire , the conversation coming to a lull.

“We’re going to a party tonight,” Josh mentions through a modest smirk, and he can see his brother perk up with interest. “Oh really?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been to a few already, just to familiarize myself with the culture of the academy. It’s not a lavish jamboree like we’re used to, but mortals like to have fun too— plenty of spirits, plenty of vices. Princess should have a ball.”

“Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Jake quips, flashing a toothy grin that Josh hasn’t seen in a regrettably long time. “She’s never even drank before, has she?”

“Nothing to this extent,” Josh admits. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

☽ ✩ ☾

It wasn’t easy — of course, tonight was the night your aunt wasn’t in the mood for a cup of her evening tea, a steep of soothing herbs that always has her in bed by 9 o’clock sharp.

“I think I’m going to stay up and knit,” she says to your dismay as you put the pot of water to boil. “It’s getting cold soon, and when I pulled the heavy quilts from the attic earlier today I found that the moths had eaten them to shreds — isn’t that a shame? Must have forgotten the mothballs when I stored them in the spring. Well, I can’t afford brand new ones from Mrs. Mabel this year, I have some yarn to make our own. Would you like to help?”

You purse your lips, tapping your nail anxiously at the edge of the metal stove. “No thanks, not tonight. I have a lot of homework.”

You turn to open the cupboard, slipping the bundle of valerian in your palm as you sift through the carefully labeled tea boxes.

“I’m still going to make some tea, though. How about black, if you’re wanting to stay up late?” You ask, your heart pounding anxiously for her response.

“Hmm, I suppose with some honey and milk,” she nods before heaving her knitting basket onto the dining table.

“Great,” you grin, relieved she was convinced, lifting the lid to dip the bag into the heavy pot.

You glance back to see your aunt already working vigorously at her needles, making sure she's distracted before slipping the valerian bundle in with the rest of the brew. Caffeinated tea and a heaping of sedative herbs — not your best plan, but you’re hoping for a decent outcome. If anything the reactions will cancel out, and she’ll only softly doze off instead of knock out for days.

A few minutes later and you pour the dark steaming liquid into two cups, one for yourself that you’re preparing to leave untouched on your bedside table, along with splashes of milk and stirs of honey. Your aunt takes her mug gladly, and you revel at the sight of her taking a few hearty gulps.

“Delicious,” she hums, blowing on the steam. “Remind me to get more of this blend at the market.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” you smile as you grab your mug and head towards the stairs.

“Well, I’ll probably be up here the rest of the night,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way over to the stairs, stepping carefully stepping over Lazlo who lounges in his usual spot on the first step. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight my love!” you hear her call back. “I hope you dream sweetly tonight — none of that nightmare nonsense.”

You smile at her wish, though you know you won't have to worry about that for a while as you make it down the hall and swiftly your door behind you, clanking the mug on the nightstand before rushing into your closet.

“Casual affair…” you repeat Josh’s words to yourself as you sift through your closet.

You decide on a pair of black jeans and a white cable knit sweater, an outfit that allows you to have full agility among the obstacles you’re about to face. After touching up your makeup and stuffing your phone and keys in your back pockets, you pace around your room nervously until the clock is closer to ten. At 9:45 you pull on your denim jacket and heavy black boots and trek quietly to the window that sits in the middle of the far wall of your room.

“Okay,” you sigh to yourself, unlatching its lock and pushing it open, the cold air quickly wafting in.

You take one last glance behind you for good measure, before stepping your foot through the windowsill and landing on the rough surface of roof shingles. You hold the top of the windowsill to steadily pull yourself through, crouching down to slide the window shut once you’ve made it through.

“Easy,” you praise yourself, before realizing the next part is the most treacherous; sliding down the incline to reach its edge.

You sit on your haunches with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands bent behind you for leverage as you carefully scoot yourself to the edge. It takes maybe a minute at most to get down, even though it feels like an eternity with the gravelly shingles digging into your palms. You panic once you make it to the edge and feel hesitant to jump in such an awkward position. With no other choice, you flip your body around in one swift move, your knees sinking into the wet mass of leaves stuck in your gutter as you prepare to jump.

“Fuck me,” you curse at the icy wetness hitting your skin, pushing them past the edge one by one, your hands now gripping the edge of the gutter as your body dangles along the nearly 8 foot drop.

You don’t even let yourself think too much about letting go, you just do it, bending your knees to break the impact of your boots hitting the soft grass.

You spring up to standing, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath and dust the dirt and debris off yourself before quietly scurrying to your truck, avoiding walking in front of any of your front windows to the best of your ability.

In a blur you make it inside the truck, shutting its door with the lightest slam. It isn’t until you make it to the main road that you let out a sigh of relief, your first escape mission a success.

Before you know it, the tire of your truck skimming the edge of the curb designated the address Josh had sent. You nervously attempt to parallel park, settling on a good enough job in your book, with your right front tire perhaps sticking out a bit for others' likings.

You switch off the ignition and hop out, your breath clouding in the damp cold air that clings to your skin. Your boots scuff against the pavement as you walk up to the respective door, your heart clambering in your chest.

I’m here, you text Josh, too nervous to enter and be greeted by stranger’s faces. A second later, you hear it open, Josh appearing with his eyes heavy and glossed pink, his smile as white as ever.

“Welcome!” he greets, pulling you into a hug.

He smells like something earthy but unfamiliar, the scent sticking to his breath when he continues to speak as you pull away.

“Come in, would you like a drink?”

You feel a pleasant shiver go down your spine. You`ve never been offered a drink, save for the glass of birthday wine.

“I would love one,” you smile, following him down a dark, barren hallway.

The hall leads to a living room, lit only by a string of fairy lights and a lamp in the far corner that glows a deep, dark orange. In the center sits a well-worn leather couch where two couples lounge, a boy and girl chatting on one end, and two boys making out at the other. A few more people are splayed amongst the room, some standing in a little group while chatting and sipping from their red plastic cups, a few others sat around the round bohemian rug that lays in front of the couch, their legs tucked under the glass coffee table on top of it.

“Attention, everyone,” Josh announces, his voice seeming to carry over the others with ease and quiet them instantly.

He introduces you to the group, making sure to mention how this is your first year at Acaber, and does his best to rattle off the names of everyone else, though the nerves of having so many eyes on you prevents you from registering most of them. They all seem very nice, welcoming you with a cheers of their cups.

“Drinks are this way,” he informs, ushering you towards what you soon find in the kitchen.

An array of sodas and juices in colorful bottles are splayed out along one of the countertops, basically all of which you have never tried before as your aunt has an unofficial ban on any artificial products at home. Along the opposite counter is a similar sight, though you recognize their ornate glass bottles as being full of liquor.

“What’s your drink of choice?” Josh asks, grabbing a red cup from a stack by the sink.

“I have no idea,” you laugh, a bit overwhelmed by all of the options. “I guess whatever you’re having.”

“Right, right,” he says, clearly recalling your lack of experience in the matter. “Well this is just whiskey, and I am positive you will not like it.”

“Oh please,” you quip, taking the cup from him. “I liked the coffee, I can like this too.”

“Alright,” he laughs, an amused smile spread on your lips. “Suit yourself.”

You don’t hesitate to tilt the cup to your lips, the shallow pool of dark liquid pouring into your mouth. Immediately, it stings your nostrils, and it tastes as if you dipped one of the caramel bon bons you get from the shop on the square, except covered in gasoline.

“Agh!” you wince, shoving the cup back to Josh. “That’s awful.“

“I told you,” he giggles. “I don’t say that to be pretentious, it’s just not normally a baby’s first booze kind of drink.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, feeling a warmth blossom in your throat and chest. “It feels good though.”

“Hell yeah it does,” he says, walking over to the soda counter with your cup.

“Here, something simple and sweet — rum and Coke.”

He pours a few glugs of Coca-Cola, the pale fizz nearly pouring over the rim, before carrying the cup to the other side, plucking a tall clear bottle with a white cap, the name Bacardi in big letters atop its label. He swirls the mixture in the cup as he walks it over to you, extending it to you with a proud smile.

“Cheers.”

You clink plastic cups, hesitating this time as the drink drips past your lips.

“Mmm,” you hum, your eyes lighting up as you take in the sparkly sweet gulp. “That’s good, like candy.”

Josh hums at your comment, clearly amused.

“You’ve never had a sugar high like this before, kid,” he quips, giving you a wink.

The pet name catches you off guard, along with how easily it slips off his lips, lacquered with an inflection you’ve never heard from him before.

“Are you high?” you ask, the question blurting out once you notice how his eyes are practically gleaming with a sheen of pink.

He acts offended, placing a defensive hand to his chest.

“Now, I know you’re new to all this,” he says, stepping closer to you. “But surely you know not to ask something so patronizing. How dare you think I’m under the influence.”

He speaks in a cadence as if he’s performing a dramatic acting role, raising his hands to dramatize every other word.

You simply stare at him a moment, unsure of what to say or if you’ve truly offended him, until he bursts into a bout of laughter, his giggles filling you with warm relief.

“I’m just kidding,” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I’m fucking stoned.”

“Oh,” you chuckle back, trying to ignore the fact that he glanced at your lips the moment he learned into your shoulder. “Well I’ve never been stoned before either, but maybe that’ll change too.”

“It will,” he nods with blissfully shut eyes, tapping your shoulder once more before letting go. “Not tonight, but it will.”

“Why not tonight?” you ask as you follow him back into the living room, which has somehow doubled in capacity in just the short period of time you were in the kitchen.

“One vice at a time,” he calls over his shoulder, before slouching onto the couch that’s now half vacant, the two boys still perfectly comfortable lapping at each other's faces.

You try not to be rude but can’t help but look over at them for a second, glancing back at Josh with raised eyebrows.

He gestures to you to lean closer even though you’re still standing, so you simply hover over him, with him looking up at you through heavy lashes.

“Grey and Everett,” he says as he nods to them. “They’re in their own world, we’re used to it. Why condemn the act of love? It’s beautiful and natural.”

You nod back, trying to normalize it yourself. Sure, he has a point.

“So is this all we do?” you ask, stepping back to glance around the ever-filling room. “We just sit around and talk and drink, and…kiss?”

“Sure!” Josh exclaims, suddenly pushing himself back off the couch and raising his hands in the air. “Relishing life's luxuries while we’re young and still have some brain cells to lose. Speaking of — want a shot?”

You ponder the daring request for a moment, glancing down to see that your cup is already almost empty

“Alright,” you say, before finishing off the rest. “Let’s do it.”

☽ ✩ ☾

Much to your delight, you find that you love tequila shots. Dressed with salt and a lime, it’s a delicious mix of sweet, salty, and heat, the burn of the liquor hitting your throat making your cheeks flush and limbs feel loose. You’ve had three so far, and even though Josh is proud of your natural ability to shoot the liquor right down your throat, he warns you to pace yourself.

“It feels great right now,” he says into your ear, yelling over the noise of the room that’s now nearly filled to capacity. “But it hurts in the morning.”

You’re both standing in the corner of the room by a tall potted fiddle leaf, having a brief conversation earlier about how well it appears to be taken care of. It’s a quarter to one, and you have no plans to go home anytime soon. You’re relieved every time you check your phone and don’t have a thread of calls and messages from your aunt, hopefully proving your sleep tea concoction to be a success.

“I want to dance,” you blurt, your limbs tingling with the desire to move.

Josh raises his eyebrows, before promptly setting down his drink on the floor.

“Say less,” he says, before grabbing your wrist and pushing into the crowd.

You don’t know the song that’s playing, but the beat makes your body vibrate. You’ve never danced outside of the comfort of your bedroom, and you’d be self conscious if it weren’t for the liquid courage currently surging through your veins. You rock your hips side to side, your arms raised and wrists twisting to the rhythm. Your eyes are closed, soaking in the moment when you feel a gentle hand on the small of your back. You open your eyes to Josh, a grin spread in his face as he gently grabs at your waist to pull you closer to him. Your arms fall to land atop his shoulders and his forearm slinks across the small of your back, the pads of his fingers pressed into the plush side of your waist as you both rock to the rhythm. No words are shared, not that they could be even heard over the music, but you share a different kind of nonverbal communication between your bodies that feels deeply intimate. Touching him is electric, your body buzzing with every squeeze he gives to your hips.

You can’t help but press yourself even closer into him, practically grinding into him as your fingers slide up the nape of his neck before raking through his mess of curls. You feel Josh lean in as your eyes once again shut for a moment, but they shoot open with a gasp when you feel his wet lips against the side of your neck. You instantly melt, the sensation incredible, and you feel a pulse somewhere deep within your core. He pulls away for just a moment before finding a different spot, the next kiss coming with a suction that makes the spot sting deliciously. You tug gently at the roots of his curls signaling you like it, and you swear you feel him smile, the skin below his lips vibrating at the frequency of his muffled chuckle.

He pulls away, lifting his head to look you in the face, his lips pink and swollen. You marvel at them for a moment before glancing up to see his eyes admiring your own lips, and you know what is to come next. You both lean in, your lips barely grazing when a loud banging comes from the entryway and bright beams of light come shining in through the entrance windows.

“Shit, not again,” you hear Josh curse among other distressed voices in the room, many of the people around you retreating into deeper rooms within the house.

Though the bright light and authoritative voices coming from behind the door are threatening, you recognize that you aren’t as concerned as you maybe should be, giggling to nothing in particular as you cling onto Josh’s arm.

“C’mon,” he tells you right as the music turns off, and you stumble behind him as he leads the way past the kitchen and into another darker room, still having your arm gripped around tightly to his bicep.

After a few moments in the pitch black, simply trusting Josh keeps you from slamming into a table or other obstacle, you make it to another door, its curtained window glowing a moonlit violet. He twists the knob slowly, the wood creaking as the door leaves its frame, and you see his silhouette motion for you to walk through.

“Shhh,” he scolds as you begin to giggle once the two of you cross the yard into a small patch of woods behind the house. “They’ll be here for a bit, we have to wait it out.”

You both stop at the trunk of one of the larger trees, Josh leaning against it as he observes the direction you both just came from.

“I’m cold,” you complain with a slurred, pouty voice as you rub your hands together frantically, having ditched your jacket inside at some point.

“Here,” Josh says, before grabbing your hands and folding them together.

He then proceeds to place them to his lips, inhaling deep breath before blowing it between your palms to warm them. You can’t help but let out a loud cackle at the gesture, and Josh suddenly pulls you forward and into him.

“You can’t do that,” he says, trying to be serious even though a laugh grazes his voice. “They might come outside, or the neighbors will call in another noise complaint on top of the one they’ve already clearly made.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, your whole body weight leaning against him and the tree.

“How are you so warm?” you ask, feeling his hands that still remain wrapped around yours. “It’s like you’re by a fire, not standing in 20 degree weather.”

He shrugs, letting his thumbs brush against the tops of your hands.

“I’m warm bodied, I guess.”

You both continue to stand there for a few minutes, ducking around the other side of the thick tree once you hear the back door open and flashlights shine across the yard. Eventually the sound of their cruiser doors slamming shut echos from the other side of the house, their headlights casting across the front line of trees as they drive away. Josh holds out a patient finger for a few more beats to make sure the coast is clear before he relaxes himself with a sigh.

“Alright,” he says, looping your arm around his. “Let’s get you home.”

☽ ✩ ☾

You don’t remember how you ended up perfectly tucked under the covers of your bed, or when you changed into your pajamas, but it’s the state you find yourself in once you awake the next morning. You groan at the first throb of a pounding headache, squinting as you reach for where you left your mug of tea the night before even though cold tea is the last thing you wanted to drink. Your eyes open when your hand wraps around a tall glass instead, realizing it’s fully filled with water. You look over to see a bottle of ibuprofen sitting beside it, two pills already sitting on its lid.

You struggle to sit up higher to grab the pills and swallow them down with several big gulps of water, looking around your room, trying your hardest to recall the majority of your night. It comes back in bits and pieces; the tequila shots, the dancing, Josh’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You put your hand to the spot that’s still lingering with a soft ache, the skin raised and sensitive, and you feel your cheeks flush thinking about how good his touch felt. You never understood how a pain could feel pleasurable, but this was it, and you can’t help but push on the fragile skin to feel the sting just a bit more.

Your memory is completely black after a blurry image of you in the woods, shivering and pressed closely into Josh as he waited for the police to leave. Your heart lurches at the fact that you couldn’t have possibly driven yourself home, and you fly out of bed to get a look outside your window that faces the driveway, pulling the curtains open even though the stark brightness blinds you for a moment.

To your deep relief you find that your truck is parked in the exact spot it’s always in, sitting right behind your aunt’s old buggy that she rarely touches.

The mystery of how you ended up home, and if Aunt Edith caught you and you’re grounded for eternity still stands, and your anxiety crawls right back into your stomach as you reach for your phone to text Josh.

Luckily his name is already in the thread of notifications once you turn it on, and you anxiously click it.

Call me when you wake up, his text says.

Everything is okay.

You dial his number, your heart still pounding as the ringer beeps.

“Good morning, princess,” you hear him smile through the phone, and you blush at the pet name, though your anxiety doesn’t give you much time to acknowledge it any further.

“Everything’s alright?” you ask, still not convinced. “Aunt Edith didn’t wake up, you-?”

“Yes, everything is totally fine,” he assures with a chuckle. ”Never heard a thing from your aunt, the house was silent except for a few stumbles and giggles coming from you. You were very adamant to do your skincare and change into comfy clothes.”

You blush deeper, too embarrassed to ask if he helped you in any way.

“But my car?” you decide to ask instead, walking back over to the window to look at it once more. “How-?”

“I had some friends help,” he explains. “They were sober and drove us and the car home. Everything is alright, okay? You made it home without a hitch.”

“Okay,” you say, letting out the breath you realize you’ve been holding.

The line goes quiet for a second before he speaks again. “So did you have a good time? Did you need the pain meds this morning?”

“I did, and yes,” you reply, cracking a smile and fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleep shirt. “It was amazing — everything I could’ve hoped for, but perhaps minus the headache. Did you enjoy it?”

“Hell yeah,” he says. “Best night I’ve had in a while.”

He pauses again, and you can hear him inhale before he speaks.

“Is—uh, is your neck alright? I’m sorry if I got a little—“

“No, it’s fine,” you laugh, your whole body buzzing at the fact that he remembered what had happened. “I actually haven’t even looked at it…”

You walk over to your mirror and lift the phone from your ear momentarily to get a glimpse of it, your eyes widening at the deep red splotch stained onto your neck. You press your fingertip into it again, the red specks of broken blood vessels disappearing for a brief second with the pressure, before returning a deeper purple once it’s removed.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say back into the phone, a bit shocked by how dark and obvious it is.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and you can hear the concern in his voice.

“No it doesn’t, don’t worry. It’s a bit noticeable, but I have some arnica flower,” you assure him, having used it for a scrape you got in the garden a few months ago. “Please Josh, don’t worry about it.”

You admire the rest of yourself in the mirror, and how sexy it feels to have a reminder of the night before, even though you’re going to have to hide it before you even leave your room.

“It felt good,” you think to yourself, and you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until you hear Josh huff a laugh into the receiver.

“Tequila makes everything feel good,” he quips, and you want to ask him to elaborate when you hear the steps of the staircase down to the hall creak with your aunt’s heavy footsteps.

“Shit, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later,” you tell him quickly before ending the call, shutting your curtains and running back to your bed.

You’re fully nestled under the covers with your head turned from the door as it begins to creak open.

“You’re sleeping in late,” you hear Aunt Edith say, and you act as though she’s awoken you, letting out a sleepy yawn and stretch.

“Stayed up really late studying,” you tell her, sitting up as she hands you a cup of tea. “Got it all done so I can enjoy the rest of my weekend.”

“Oh, you have plans?” she asks, walking over to fully open your curtains, the bright white light shining in.

“Well, not particularly,” you say before taking a sip of tea. “We’re due for a farmer’s market trip, aren’t we? The vintage booth I really like is there today, and I’d like a few more sweaters for school.”

“We can do that,” your aunt replies, smiling at you.

She looks cheerier than normal, her round face glowy.

“Did you have a nice night?” you ask her, pulling your legs out of the covers and slipping on your house shoes.

“I did, got sleepy by around ten so I abandoned my knit—“ she begins, but stops suddenly when you lean over to set your tea down on your nightstand.

“Oh no, honey,” she says, suddenly sounding deeply concerned. “What happened to your neck?”

Your blood runs cold, completely forgetting to hide your neck from her even though you were just discussing its state moments ago. You try your best to play dumb, giving her a questioning look.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your hand grabbing for the front of your throat rather than the side.

“No, over here,” she says, before going over to you to get a better look herself. “You have an awful bruise, go look in the mirror.”

You furrow your brow, walking over to the mirror and letting out a gasp.

“I have no idea,” you try your best to fib, staring at the wound wide-eyed through the mirror. “I had a dry patch there yesterday and I was itching it, I guess I scratched it raw.”

“Well, let me go get you something to soothe it, some aloe,” she says, rushing to the door. “Go to the bathroom and rinse it with some warm water.

“Okay,” you call back, getting up from your bed to meet your aunt in the kitchen. “I have arnica flowers in the cabinet, that may help too!”

You smile as you walk to your door, proud of yourself getting away with something so salacious.

Just as you’re about to walk through the doorway, you notice a tiny flicker of light coming from atop the dresser to your right. You focus on the source, and between a vase of dried bouquet of roses and a rabbit figurine you see a small tea light, its wick burning a deep auburn flame. Your face drops to a confused frown, and you walk over to it. The wax below the wick is fully melted and halfway evaporated, meaning it must have been lit hours ago. You glance around your room as if you’ll find any hints why or how it was lit, because surely your aunt did not do it — she always scolds you for leaving candles burning for more than a few hours. When you ultimately find nothing, you decide to simply extinguish the flame, dabbing the pad of your index finger on your tongue and snuffing it, the flame vanishing in an instant. You rub the smooth ash between your fingertip and thumb as you set the candle back down, staring at the tepid pool of amber liquid for a beat more before turning and continuing to descend down the hall.

☽ ✩ ☾

Her skin tasted so sweet, like cherry wine sucked between his teeth. She lingered on his lips for hours after he left her, after he switched a matchstick from his back pocket and ignited a cluster of brambles, her lapse in consciousness blinding her from asking any questions as to why he’s starting a fire in the middle of the woods. With a whisper of a spell, they were transported from the woods to the closest flame she had to her house, a barrel fire in a homeless commune a few blocks away. He was amused by the looks of bewilderment the vagrants gave him when they emerged from the flames, but he paid them no mind, hitching her over his shoulder and trekking the rest of the way on foot.

After managing to get up her roof and back through the window of her bedroom, he rested her limp body gently onto her bed, not a single creak coming from its wooden frame. He stood up and took a moment to the room, breathing in her scent, having waited so long to finally be in this house. He walked over to the opposite side of her room where a long cabinet sat against the wall, and it took him no time to find a candle among her assortment of trinkets and treasures atop it, a small tea light that gave him just enough time for his pyromancy.

Lighting it with another match from his book, Josh grabs the candle and carefully walks over to her bedside. He meditates in his intentions for a moment before taking a deep breath, shutting his eyes, and waving the flame once over the top of her body. When his eyes open, she’s in a cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, her feet bare. He shuffles back over to the cabinet and delicately sifts through its drawers, finding a pair of wool socks that he gently pulls up to her ankles. He then lifts her body from the bed to pull back the thick blankets, nestling her in the crevice of the sheets and tucking them under her chin.

He didn’t want to leave yet, and decided to take the time to remove the darkness around her eyes and her rosied cheeks himself, grabbing a tissue and pot of lavender balm from her nightstand. Dipping the fine paper into the thick substance, he gently rubbed her face clean, the smell of the flower sweetening the air. She looked beautiful when she slept, her chest gently rising and falling with steady breaths, her eyelids dancing with dreams she’d surely forget in the morning because he wasn’t there to let her remember.

He left her room an hour later, leaving the candle lit to continue admiring her from a distance, the flame remaining a gateway between his reality and hers.

Now he watches as she scurries out of bed, and how frantic she is to call him.

“Everything is fine,” he assures as she worries her lip, glancing out her window at the truck once more.

It wasn’t an easy feat — he’d never driven a vehicle before, taking the flaming route to wherever he needed in the mortal world, but he managed to get it there all in one piece and without any suspicions from others on the road.

He knows she liked it, but he asks concerned questions about her neck anyway. He melts at her parapraxis, a smile curving his lips as he watches her study herself in the mirror.

He had to do it — to tease her into the idea of deviance. He’s known of deities who force their power unto their quarries, who thrust their phallus and abuse their power in favor of a selfish gain, but he’s vowed to never be like them. She will be seduced, as no enchantress of vestal virginity has ever been successful in her sorcery, but it will be by her own volition. It’s already painful enough that he’s had to avoid the real reason for his presence in her life thus far, any more pain and he’ll simply have to admit himself to the gates of hell, joining his brother to burn for eternity.

To his delight, her warden falls for her endearing performance of pretending to be unaware of the mark. He chuckles at the faux look of shock and horror she puts on, catching the flash of pride in her smile when she’s at once left alone.

Though he wishes he could watch her forever, he revels in the moment she discovers the flame burning, her beautiful face engulfing his entire line of vision for a split second before everything goes black.

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