#and the actual rendering and skill she's drawn in is one of the best in the game

[attherowndtable]

Bluebird Reading List

Well, I've shuffled off from twitter and what better first post than to bring the reading list with me?

But who is Bluebird?

Harper Row AKA Bluebird is a member of the Batfamily. She grew up in The Narrows, Gotham City's poorest neighbourhood, with a deadbeat criminal absentee father, a hardworking loving mother and the cutest baby brother she could ever hope for. After Batman saved the lives of her and her brother, Cullen, from a homophobic hate crime, she endeavoured to become Batman's partner, offering her gift of mechanical engineering to his services by improving his CCTV scramblers. After some pushback from the Dark Knight, he reluctantly agreed to take her on as a partner, though her identity as Bluebird would be formed on her own much later, when an attack from the Mad Hatter rendered Cullen comatose and she took matters into her own hands to save him.

Under the break is a fully detailed reading list of all appearances that will spoil some plot elements, but this is the short version. The best thing about Harper is also the worst thing: she's got nothing. Her major appearances amount to a grand total of four books:

Batman Eternal - the first book she has something of a starring role in. It sets into canon her personality and skill set, which started off as a mechanical engineer and then James Tynion IV, main writer on Eternal, switched it to hacking very abruptly. Presumably this was because she was being partnered up with Tim Drake and they had to show she wasn't useless. I have my issues with this but I'll get mad later.

Batman & Robin Eternal - continuing on, Harper returns in her supporting role, an opportunity that is exploited to explore her backstory and solidify the first moment she truly got to be a hero.

Punchline - the first issue of Punchline was a standalone, the rest of the book got turned into a backup story in The Joker (which was actually a good book, you should read it). By far her worst appearance. Everything Tynion did in the Eternal books with Harper, he just shredded all of it. She's been written as utterly incompetent just to make Punchline look better and the only times she gets to do something is a bit of DIY and the very end of the book. Just insulting characterisation.

Punchline: The Gotham Game - and somehow that shit got a sequel too. Solicits just came out and she will indeed be making her reappearance in Gotham Game #3.

And now, the full reading list.

First is the People In The Dark backup* from Batman (2011) #25. This is a story from Harper's childhood, and displays how she first got into engineering, along with some relationship work between her and Cullen.

*If you've found this reading list because you're new to comics and are looking for characters to get into, a backup, or b-story, is an unrelated, or only tangentially related, short story that you can find after the main plot of the comic.

Next is Batman (2011) #12, titled Ghost In The Machine. Fun fact (but also a sad fact), this issue was drawn by Becky Cloonan, the first woman to ever do art for a Batman story. This issue marks the first time Harper saves Batman's life and her first meeting with the Dark Knight!

Batman (2011) #7 - The Talons Strike! - is Harper's very first appearance! Batman escapes the Court Of Owls' labyrinth and dies from exhaustion and physical and mental torture. Harper drags his body out of the river and saves his life a second time by restarting his heart with a car battery and jumper cables.

Resolve is the story told in Batman (2011) #18. Harper begins training herself (I like to headcanon she used fighting game moves), donning her black stealth suit and homemade gear and Batman breaks her nose for it, partly still lashing out from the mental torture the Court Of Owls put him through, partly because he doesn't want to see any more good kids enter this life. Not one to be set back by a mere Batbop however, she yells at him and gives him some much needed tough love to put him right.

Shadows And Ghosts (Detective Comics (2011) #21) is Harper's next appearance, chronologically. Batman has since confiscated her gear and she fills us in on what she's been up to since.

Not much happens.

Batman Eternal! Starting from #5 in which she saves Vicki Vale's life and meets Red Robin for the first time, Harper appears consistently throughout, beginning first in her starter gear that Batman returned to her after the events in Detective Comics. From #15 onwards, she switches to a prototype suit with a mask that I believe to be an homage to Cole Cash AKA Grifter, one of the main characters of the Wildstorm Universe, which was later acquired by DC, and another favourite of mine. Harper's prototype mask is a carbon copy of Cole's but coloured light blue in place of the con man's red. She dons the first real Bluebird costume in #41. Most are minor appearances amounting to just a page or two but if you want specific issues, she can be found in issues 5, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 19, 25, 36, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 48, 49, 50, 51 and 52.

In issues 48-50, she can be seen battling Mr. Freeze in a handful of panels!

Batman Eternal tells Harper's story as she grows into a hero and becomes Bluebird. Like most of her decisions, she decided to do this because she loves Cullen, her baby brother, and wanted to help him, though wanting to help Batman too was a strong part of it.

I should also mention that Batman (2011) #28 is a teaser for Batman Eternal called Gotham Eternal. It tells the same event as Batman Eternal #43, the script and art are just changed in Batman Eternal for reasons beyond my comprehension.

In this, Bluebird and Batman break into The Egyptian club.

Though published after Batman & Robin Eternal had begun, Bluebird's cameos in Batgirl (2011) #47 and #50 is set before the events of that story. Bluebird is recommended to Batgirl by Stephanie as a communications and electronics whiz, then she helps Batgirl when Barbara's enemies decide to group up on her. Bluebird is tasked with the apprehension of Killer Moth.

Much like Batman Eternal, Batman & Robin Eternal has Bluebird show up consistently in the run, this time starting right from #1. Again, a lot of 1-3 page appearances but the specific Harper issues are 1-5, 7-14, 17-20, 22 and 24-26. Issues 7 and 8 feature a scene with Cassandra Cain (now Batgirl, but under the ridiculous Orphan moniker at the time) that may or may not be able to be read as a date between the two.

Batman & Robin Eternal expands on the set up in Batman Eternal, with Bluebird's arc focusing on who she is as a person and adding some extra depth to her personality. In this run, we get to see more of her childhood and even meet her mother, Miranda!

We revisit Harper in Detective Comics (2016) #943-946 and #950. She has since hung up the jacket and shock rifle, and is volunteering in Leslie Thompkins' clinic, believing she can do more good as Harper Row than Bluebird. In #945, we get canon confirmation of her bisexuality!

Four years and a million Batman books later, Harper is forced to pick up her rifle again as Gotham's latest two-bit Joker knock-off comes begging for attention in Punchline #1. With Cullen spiralling further and further into Alexis' toxic ideology, she's got to save her brother once more.

Demoted from a solo to a continuous B-story in The Joker (2021) after just one issue (lol lmao etc), Harper starts to panic as she realises how fast Punchline sympathisers are dragging Cullen onto their bandwagon. Now she has to investigate Punchline as Bluebird and assist Leslie Thompkins to help keep her behind bars in court.

Solicits just came out and Bluebird will reappear this December in Punchline: The Gotham Game #3 and she will be teaming up with NIghtwing.

Now, this is not the end of Harper's tale, chronologically speaking. In Batman (2011) #35, Bluebird makes a cameo in a hypothetical dystopian future with a cool new high tech suit. For all intents and purposes, until we get something in the primary canon, this alternate future is the last chapter of Bluebird's story.

Harper also appears in the WWII AUs Bombshells and Bombshells United, which sit outside the chronology... I got too tired to look for specific issues cause there's like three of em and Bombshells ran for 100 but she is a mechanic who forms a team of Batgirls with Nell Little and Kathy Duquesne after Batwoman leaves Gotham!

I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Batman Eternal and Batman & Robin Eternal, because this little blue bisexual means a heck of a lot to me, and I'd love to share her with all of you, but please, do not start shipping her with Punchline. Enemies to lovers is a trope that requires a certain level of nuance, and they do not have it.

#bluebird #harper row #batman #batfamily #dc comics #grifter #cole cash #batgirl #cassandra cain #punchline #alexis kaye #the joker #dc bombshells

[bastart13]

Possibly a hot take but Tasya has one of if not the best designs in the Arcana

#the arcana #tasya devorak #not art #her design and character work so well #they're very compelling to me #it nails the rich aunt vibe #and her face! her hair! her outfit! it's gorgeous #and the actual rendering and skill she's drawn in is one of the best in the game #it really gets a sense of the 3D shapes in her face #it's actually a crime i've only drawn her once

[jonnnysuh]

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad.  Fall was fast approaching, without much warning.  The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day.  Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of  Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room.  Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless. 

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge  to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to  kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at.  You blinked slowly at the brown haired man.  “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him?  you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.”  Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin.  Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky.  You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid.  Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder  coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class  they already had their groups.”  you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled  away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew. 

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t  prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

#omg I’m scared??? but excited #vernon chwe #vernon #vernon seventeen #seventeen #svt #kpop fanfic #seventeen fanfic #kpop #seventeen imagine #tutor!vernon #student!vernon #kpop writing #seventeen oneshot #svt fluff #enemies to ?? #kpop fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon scenarios #vernon fluff #vernon imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #vernon fanfics #vernon x you #vernon x reader #svt scenarios

[cheekygreenty]

His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #oneshot #imagine #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone #grisha #ben barnes #queen #king #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov #black general #general kirigan #series #kefta #little palace

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 20 - ao3 -

“Your brother has been acting strange,” Lan Yueheng said, his voice drifting in through the open door. 

He was crouched down in the dirt, happily gathering a small harvest from the plants he’d grown outside Lan Qiren’s window. Most of the materials he used for his alchemy experiments he obtained from the specialized fields in the Cloud Recesses, but there were some variants that the sect members in charge of those fields disfavored on account of certain pharmacological side effects associated with them. Lan Yueheng had prevailed on his friendship with Lan Qiren to beg, at some considerable length, that he be allowed to grow those variants in the area near Lan Qiren’s rooms – he’d argued that no one would ever think to check there on account of Lan Qiren’s rule-abiding reputation.

Lan Qiren had pointed out that there were no actual rules against growing those plants - they were only disfavored, not disallowed - thereby rendering the entire issue with people checking for it moot, but Lan Yueheng had insisted and eventually he’d yielded.

Let Lan Yueheng grow his nightmare plants wherever he liked. What did he care? He wasn’t using that patch of land for anything in particular, and it was nice to have a reason to see Lan Yueheng on a regular basis.

“Strange how?” Lan Qiren asked, finishing off the final stroke of a painting. He didn’t like it, but then again, he never liked any of the paintings he did for himself – they were too stiff and unfeeling, in his view, lacking spirit and movement no matter what he tried. His favorite painting was still the antique Wen Ruohan had left on his wall all that time ago, a lively little landscape with burnt edges suggesting that it had been hastily recovered from a fire at some point; he’d never replaced any of the things his sworn brother had gotten for him.

“I’m not sure how to describe it. Just strange,” Lan Yueheng said. “I don’t know how many people have noticed yet, him being pretty standoffish and above-it-all at the best of times, but it’s not the usual sort of thing for him.”

Lan Yueheng was like Lan Qiren; they were good at noticing patterns, however bad they were at figuring out the meanings behind it. If Lan Yueheng said it wasn’t normal, it probably wasn’t.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his forehead, suppressing the desire to go figure out the problem right away. “I don’t think I can help,” he said instead. “He doesn’t like to see me, remember?”

“He’s important to the sect,” Lan Yueheng said peaceably, and Lan Qiren loved him all over again for not saying he’s still your brother. “You might not like him, but you like the sect. So you have to help figure it out.”

Lan Qiren did not like it when Lan Yueheng was right about things. It gave him a strange itchy feeling of dissatisfaction.  

“Someone else could figure it out,” he argued. “He’s sect leader now, remember? His well-being is everyone’s responsibility.”

“But you’re the one who’s good at figuring out weird stuff.”

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren grumbled, but he still put away his things and went to see his brother – who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Any of the places he was supposed to be.

That was strange.

Lan Qiren’s brother was talented and powerful, skilled and meticulous; he was too proud of his status and accomplishments to shirk work. Whatever had drawn him away must have been very compelling indeed – or so Lan Qiren thought.

He wasn’t expecting, when he finally tracked down his brother through a tracker spell utilized on an old comb, to find him walking through the forest alongside a young woman, sword at his side as if he were night-hunting.

“I am night-hunting,” he said when Lan Qiren asked him. “I’m escorting Mistress He.”

Lan Qiren turned to look at the girl.

She smiled at him in a perfunctory sort of fashion. She was beautiful in a way that reminded Lan Qiren a little of Cangse Sanren, though her looks were very different – more refined and elegant, more delicate and less down-to-earth, thoroughly lacking the vaguely unsettling undertones so characteristic of Baoshan Sanren’s disciple, but no less lovely in her own way. 

“Qingheng-jun was just showing me the lay of the land,” she said coolly. “If you need him to return, of course, I won’t keep him.”

“There’s nothing else I need to do,” he said at once, which was such a blatant lie that Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped.

The girl glanced over at him and looked amused, saluting briefly: “He Kexin, a rogue cultivator,” she introduced herself. She shouldn’t have needed to; per etiquette, Lan Qiren’s brother should have introduced them, but he was clearly too far into his own world to care for such niceties. “And you are…?”

“Gusu Lan sect’s Lan Qiren,” Lan Qiren said on automatic, returning the salute. “I’m – his brother.”

“Oh?” she said. “In that case, you must have plenty to talk about. Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be much night-hunting here, so I’ll be leaving.”

Lan Qiren’s brother saluted deeply. “I hope to see you again soon, Mistress He.” His voice was gentler than Lan Qiren had ever heard it.

She waved a careless hand in half-hearted agreement as she went, but Lan Qiren’s brother stared after her departing figure until she was out of sight. Only when she was fully gone did he turn away, and when he did, he turned only in order to glare at Lan Qiren.

“Why did you interrupt us?” he asked, and his voice had gone back to its usual cold remove. “We were finally spending some time together alone, without those friends of hers crowding in and bothering us.”

Lan Qiren glanced in the direction that He Kexin had gone. “I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference,” he said hesitantly. “If you’re alone or with her friends, I mean. I don’t think – I don’t think that she likes you all that much.”

Lan Qiren had no natural social skills, not like his brother, who was charming enough to draw most people in despite or perhaps because of his cool and distant demeanor, but in sheer self-defense he had worked very hard to categorize and identify a variety of unspoken signals utilized by people in order to try to figure out logically what he couldn’t do intuitively. While he was still terrible at identifying indications of positive interest of any sort, as Cangse Sanren was always teasing him, he had gotten much better at detecting negative signs that indicated disinterest, indifference, or boredom.

“She likes me well enough,” his brother said, his tone oddly defensive. “She’s reserved, that’s all – you really can’t tell who she secretly likes or doesn’t. She’s a brilliant cultivator, sharp as a blade and clever as anything; it’s no wonder that she’s kind to others in equal measure as well…”

“But -”

“She makes me feel free,” his brother said, cutting him off. “She’s just - she’s smart and she’s talented and she’s fearless, unrestrained and untamed. There’s nothing weighing her down or holding her back. She bears no expectations and no pressure, and nothing has ever forced her, molded her development in this way or that; she lives her life just drifting on the breeze, complete untethered, and when I’m with her I feel the same, and I’ve never felt that way…”

He trailed off, eyes oddly dreamy, and then suddenly he seemed to come back to himself and remember to whom he was speaking. “Anyway, what do you know about women, Qiren? You’re as frigid as an icicle hanging in the window or a mountain lake in midwinter.”

Lan Qiren acknowledged the point, but he didn’t see its relevance. “If she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you,” he pointed out. “There’s nothing you can do about it –”

“Are you saying there’s nothing you actually wanted from me?” his brother interrupted, voice sharp now, almost angry. “Your presence is neither wanted nor needed here. Leave at once.”

“No, it’s just – you weren’t at the hanshi, and there’s work to be done.”

“So what? I’ll do it later.”

“You’re sect leader now. You have duties,” Lan Qiren said. “You can’t just go out night-hunting whenever you wish –”

“You said it yourself, I’m sect leader - me, and me alone!” his brother snapped. “From what I recall, that makes me the one who gives the orders, not you. Now get lost!”

Lan Qiren blinked, shocked at the fierceness of the rebuke, and watched as his brother strode away – in the direction He Kexin had gone, rather than back towards the Cloud Recesses.

This, he thought to himself, is a problem.

It was, too. His brother abandoned his duties more and more often, avid in his pursuit of He Kexin, who he had invited to stay for a while at the Cloud Recesses with the friends she was travelling with. She did, as he’d said, seem to like him well enough, but it seemed clear that her regard was far more cursory than his own - and not just to Lan Qiren, either.

Lan Qiren was roped in by the elders to help do some of the work his brother was neglecting, at first a little and then more. It got in the way of his own preparations, and started getting on his nerves, too.

“You don’t understand,” one of his teachers told him when he tried to resist the notion of spending a large chunk of his time on sect paperwork instead of practicing music. “Love, for our sect, is a powerful thing. When it comes unexpectedly, it is wild and irresistible, like a river bursting through a dam and overflowing its banks. It’s no surprise that your brother is so focused on winning his bride – and all for the best, too. He has to have heirs to inherit one day.”

Lan Qiren didn’t disagree with that, naturally. He certainly didn’t want to be stuck being his brother’s heir any longer than he had to. It was only…

“Just because he’s in love with her doesn’t mean she’s going to be his bride,” he said, and wondered a little spitefully why it was just assumed that he didn’t understand what it meant to love someone. Just because he didn’t feel it the same way as they did didn’t make his heart any less a Lan. “I don’t know why you’re all being so stubborn about this. A woman knows her own mind - just because he offers himself doesn’t mean she has to accept.”

“Stop saying such inauspicious things,” his teacher scolded. “You should be wishing your brother luck, instead.”

“He doesn’t need luck,” another teacher, the one for swordsmanship, put in. “He needs more of a backbone. Doesn’t she have a father he can talk to?”

That started up another debate on the relevance of the opinion of the young in setting their own marriages, an old classic, and Lan Qiren sighed and took his leave. He winced when he realized that his brother was not far away, standing with He Kexin in one of the nearby gardens – at his brother’s cultivation level, there was little chance he hadn’t heard the subject of their conversation, and indeed his glare indicated that he had. He Kexin wasn’t looking his way, but Lan Qiren suspected she might’ve heard some as well.

His suspicions were borne out the next day, much to his misfortune.

“Mistress He!” he exclaimed, groping around wildly for his clothing. He’d been humming his way through a new stanza while taking a bath, having taken a day off to wash his hair, only to turn around and see her standing there in the middle of his quarters. “What are you – I’m not dressed – these are my rooms!”

“I know,” she said, not moving.

Lan Qiren decided his dignity was more important than his health and reached out to yank his clothing into the bath with him, ignoring how they got heavy and soaked with water; he pulled on his inner robes and, once attired, he clambered out, rather annoyed. Just because He Kexin was a rogue cultivator didn’t excuse her from knowing manners, and just because she was his brother’s favorite, granted the freedom to wander wherever she would within the Cloud Recesses, didn’t give her the right to violate his privacy. “Mistress He –”

“You’re cute,” she said, and he stared at her, aghast. “Not quite as handsome as your brother, nowhere near as charming, and the way you drone on is rather annoying, but at least you have some respect for a woman’s wishes, and that face of yours isn’t bad. You’re not courting anyone at present, is that right?”

“I’m not,” he said, taken aback. “But what –”

“Good,” she said, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms, trying to kiss him. It was only through his quick reaction that he was able to turn his face away and avoid it.

“Mistress – Mistress He!”

“Keep your voice down,” she said, sounding amused even as she groped him in an intimate place. “It’s part of the plan, eventually, but it’d still be a pity for us to get caught before we get to the fun part.”

“I don’t – I’m not – I don’t want – let go of me!”

“Are you a virgin?” she laughed. “For shame, a man of your age. Just relax, you’ll like it soon enough –”

Lan Qiren’s brother had described He Kexin as a brilliant cultivator, and he’d been right; for all that she was a rogue cultivator, lacking the resources of a Great Sect, she was talented and promising, a powerful sword cultivator in her own right, and her grip on Lan Qiren’s body was relentless.

Lan Qiren tried first to get away from her without harming her, but she wouldn’t let go of him, pulling open his robes and even burying her teeth into his throat – that was the straw too far for him; he whistled a series of notes, short and sharp, the burst of qi shocking her grip loose, and then he threw her as far away from him as he could, knocking her into the opposite wall.

“Kexin!”

Lan Qiren turned: it was his brother rushing in through his door, falling down to his knees in front of her to examine her to make sure she wasn’t injured, and then turning to look at Lan Qiren, his eyes aflame with rage.

Lan Qiren glanced down at himself: robes askew and sopping wet, scratches on his chest and a bite on his neck.

“No,” he said, abruptly realizing how he must look, how they must look. Part of the plan, He Kexin had said; she must have known that her brother wouldn’t leave her alone for very long, and she’d clearly intended on using Lan Qiren as a means to get his brother to give up on his pursuit. Very few men would continue to chase a woman that spurned them for their own younger brother, especially one they didn’t much like. “It’s not – I didn’t –” Denial wasn’t going to help. “Do not succumb to rage!”

“Do not engage in debauchery,” his brother snapped back, rising to his feet. “Do not break faith!”

Lan Qiren took a step back, and then another. “Do not make assumptions about others.”

His brother wasn’t listening, though, and Lan Qiren found himself slammed against his own wall, held up and strangled by his own collar, his favorite painting falling to the ground from the force of it.

“How dare you,” his brother hissed, his eyes red. “How dare you touch her –”

“I didn’t! She was the one who –”

The next slam of Lan Qiren’s body against the wall jarred his teeth so hard that he bit his tongue to bleeding, and knocked his brain all around his skull. His brother was still talking, he thought, but he couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. It belatedly occurred to him that using the same excuse as every rapist in history – she was asking for it, she was the one who initiated, it was all her – was probably not a good idea, even if in his case it was actually true.

He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but his brother’s fist hit his stomach before he could speak, all the air knocking out of him.

“And then you – you hurt her –”

“Qingheng-jun, leave him be! It wasn’t him at all, you’re misunderstanding. I only wanted – ”

His brother threw him away, all his attention drawn away by his love, and Lan Qiren stumbled inelegantly on his way down, his feet slipping on the wet floor and tripping him up, and his head slammed hard against the corner of his bathtub as he fell down. As he sank to the floor, his vision going black, he thought blearily that the concussion he was undoubtedly going to have might even be worth it if only it meant that his brother would finally give up on his mad and hopeless pursuit of He Kexin already.

He did not.

#mdzs #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #he kexin #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #mind the ao3 tags

[thelostmoongazer]

just recently i re-did the kid’s reference sheets since the last one was out dated as FUCK and it was bothering the hell outta me. so these are a lot more refined and with an actual solid idea of how they are as characters instead of playing a guessing game of “maybe this is how they’ll be????”. ill probably be updating this later with more refs of their alternate outfits but for now have the overall refs :D full transcripts are under the cut cuz i know the last drawing i posted with a lot of text was near unreadable dfbjsvfkdn

   OVERALL NOTES

-Segmented limbs to show under-development -All gems have a different type of inclusion due to excess of incorporated organic elements (cremation ashes)   --This also means that due to  unmonitored and nonspecific growing  conditions they are extremely brittle  when compared to a perfect-cut  diamond -Gems are rough-cut all mimicking the shape of the Pink Diamond -Because of the genetic coding their forms are based around, each of their inclusions condense around their navels. -Mimic human like qualities and behaviors although not needing them (gem coding based around human instinct)   --Physical Traits: ears, finger/toe nails, navels, full rendered anatomy under light-projected garments.   --Behaviors: instinct of familial connection, as well as instinct to eat and sleep.

SLUG

- Gold Diamond - First to emerge - Pronouns: He/Him - Flaw: Black Inclusions   --Symptoms: Dark spots covering physical form - Representative Stage of the Pink Diamond: Steven -Default Inclination: Body -Developed Inclination: Emotion -Powers:   -- Diamond derived: Electricity based form disruption/alteration proficiency   -- Steven derived: Destructive Shout   -- Self Derived: Heat Production     ---Drawbacks: Little to no resistance to own abilities, this means that any power that Slug may use can affect himself as well. -Personality: Protector (ISFJ)   --Slug, as the eldest sibling, took on the role of protector over his younger siblings/family, he holds his self assigned responsibility to his highest priority, willing to put himself between those he cares about and what ever he may perceive as a threat at a moments notice.  --In a Fight or Flight situation, Slug chooses Fight, using aggression and brash reaction as a defense mechanism, thinking that being assertive and "intimidating" means that he will be taken seriously, even if most of his motivation to protect himself and others derives from overactive paranoia

SKY

- Cobalt Diamond - Second to emerge - Pronouns: She/her - Flaw: Clouding   --Symptoms: Poor vision due to iris colomba and splotches of discoloration around eyes and other parts of form - Representative Stage of the Pink Diamond: Rose Quartz -Default inclination: Emotion -Developed inclination: Mind -Powers:   -- Diamond derived: Emotion projection via aura/vapors/touch (touch is easiest)   -- Steven derived: Dream walking   -- Self Derived: Invisibility     ---Drawbacks: When emotion projection is being used, Sky will directly link her gem to the one she is affecting, creating a temporary synchronization thus letting the energy flow to and from the gem. This however leaves herself vulnerable to whatever may be wrong with the other gem (glitching, corruption, low energy, ect.) to flow back to her. This is the same with dream walking.   -Personality: Grounding Force (INFJ)   -- Compared to her brothers, Sky has the most control over her emotions, which mean she easily balances out the other two's clashing personalities, being their voice of reason and the foundation to the trio's dynamic.  -- Although her eyesight is her weakest trait, her auditory observation skills and mental cataloguing are near unmatched (her father has her beat on that). This means that her memory recall is the best out of the three, making her to be the one the boys will always turn to in case they’re in need of remembering something from their researching sprees. This paired with her natural emotional inclination means she is very emotionally attentive.

CLOUD

- Silver Diamond - Last to Emerge - Pronouns: He/They - Flaw: Twinning Wisps   --Symptoms: Underdeveloped light projected form due to contamination of foreign elements - Representative Stage of the Pink Diamond: Pink Diamond -Default Inclination: Mind -Developed Inclination: Body -Powers:   -- Diamond derived: Mind controlling/marionette-ing (via eye contact)   -- Steven derived: Floating   -- Self Derived: Pressure Point Locating      ---Drawbacks: Cloud runs on a very weak energy supply as far as when it comes to his use of his powers (which is not often). When exerted energy is pushed his powers can completely shut off. Though this effect can be more instant in a different way; the clustering on the left side of his body is an entire weak point for him. One good hit on any part of that clustering can completely block off that energy flow, leaving him incapacitated for several hours. - Personality: Communicator (ENFP)  -- When compared to his siblings, Cloud is the most forward and extroverted when it comes to his curiosity about the world. Cloud is the first to ask questions and strike up conversation when he wants to know more about something, and thus being the door for his siblings to learn more and interact with others, bringing them out of their respective shells.  -- Cloud is a very physically oriented person, making 
him very drawn to physical affection and expression [and kinesthetic learning and processing]. 
This makes him very physically aware of his immediate surrounding and is often prone (at least in 
his earlier years) to invade personal spaces given 
that he thinks and interacts physically. This trait 
however works in his favor in his later years when he learns to fight, taking quite easily to more close range
 combat as well as being dexterous and flexible in his 
fighting style

#steven universe #steven universe au #su #ForgetMeNot AU #FMN AU #moon ocs #Cloud #Sky #Slug #moon art #digital #reference sheet

[ograndebatata]

The Escaping Prisoner

So... for the first time in quite some time, here I am introducing another original character for my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. Well, to be more exact, one OC Stand In, as TV Tropes coined the term, and two fully original characters. A witch (she’s the OC Stand In), a pelican, and a “striped field mouse” (who’s not actually a striped field mouse). 

Picture drawn by and commissioned to @c-rose2081​

Expanding a bit on the characters... the witch’s name is Pacífica Noriega. She was born in the Kingdom of Galdiz, but moved to Nueva Vista later on - after she got married, to be specific - and lived there until Shuriki started her efforts to conquer Avalor, at which point she was banished to a remote island in the southern oceans (which is NOT Soledad Island). The only reason she wasn’t outright killed was because Shuriki felt she might have magical knowledge that would be useful to consult on occasion, but Shuriki rarely made use of that privilege, and soon stopped using it altogether. 

Pacífica lived alone on that island for years, surviving only because she was skilled enough to use some forms of wandless magic, which allowed her to, most importantly, get and cook her food and fashion new clothes after her original ones were lost to wear and tear. But any company she had was very limited, until the day a pelican was blown there by a storm, injured and in need of care.

She nursed him back to health and named him Pescador, and the two of them became friends. Unfortunately, they were still stuck on that island - or at least, Pacífica still was, and Pescador cared enough about her that he didn’t want to leave her. And even when Pacífica managed to fashion herself a wand from some fossilized magical amber she found, she wasn’t able to leave, as much to her sadness, while her raw power was nothing to sneeze at, her level of magical finesse had never been the best, bar in a few specific areas.

But time for her to break free came when Oleg, who looked like a regular striped field mouse, but was something else entirely, ended up on that island after a shipwreck. With Pescador and Oleg’s help, Pacífica was able to retrieve the required ingredients to make a flying broom and, after 43 years stuck on that island, finally managed to leave.

Unfortunately for her, she had no idea of what awaited her back home. 

And, to any who might be curious on who the witch is, here is an excerpt from an upcoming larger oneshot explaining her identity.

[Brief preface: Regarding who Pacífica is an OC Stand In of... I will say the following for now - we got a glimpse of an artistic rendering of her as a much younger woman in Song of the Sirenas.

With that ouf ot the way, here is the excerpt.]

|||

A light smack on her hand caught her attention. Flinching in surprise, Pacífica flicked her eyes  down. While she had been distracted, Pescador had climbed onto the rock by her left foot. His beak glided up and down her hand in slow strokes, the sympathy and sadness in his bird eyes visible to her after how well they’d gotten to know each other.

Then, another caress followed, this one bristly and over a small spot of her cheek, but just as compassionate. She could barely see him, and didn’t dare turn her head for a better look in case she made him lose balance, but she knew that Oleg had climbed up her dress and was giving her as much comfort as he could while still in his mouse form. 

Despite herself, Pacífica allowed her mouth to curl into a small smile, her left hand moving up to pet Pescador’s head, then even higher so she could run a finger along Oleg’s back. Her imprisonment on that island might have been long, but thanks to both of them, it was about to come to an end. The moment she got on that broom, she would be off to Avalor, find out what had happened over the last 43 years, and deliver the kingdom from Shuriki’s rule. 

And if life was particularly merciful to her, she would even get to see her son again. 

The thought gave her pause, her hand dropping back to her side as her hint of a smile faded. The idea of seeing her son again had filled her to bursting with happiness more than once, and she was sure he would be happy to see her too… but there were many things to consider. 

After all, it had been forty-three years she had seen Cristóbal in the flesh, and over thirty-five since she last had news of him. What would he be like by now? How well had he endured Shuriki’s rule? Did he even still live? Or on the other end, did he even expect her to still be alive? Would he be angry - justifiably or not - that she had taken this long to escape? 

And more importantly for the kingdom’s subjects, was he ready for the role of king? He might be the only candidate left. The rest of the family other than Esteban had been killed, and if Esteban was even still alive, it mattered little when it came to simply taking the crown. By right of succession, the crown would go to her son, not to Raul and Lucia’s nephew.

#tales of the ever realm au #elena of avalor oc #more than one oc for that matter #commissioned fanart #fic excerpt

[sunflowerandco]

After the Fact: Act III

Rating: T just ‘cause it is.

Act I

Act II

-3 years after Act II-

          Courtney arose to the sound of her persistent alarm. The morning sun poured all of it's essence into the city that morning. She stretched her legs under the covers, her thighs still sore from the night before. The alarm sound gave Duncan enough consciousness to drape an arm around her followed by his groggy words, leaving her trapped.

          "Good morning, Princess." He pulled her in closer and she felt her heart jump out of it's own slumber, causing her to smile instinctively.

          "Duncan... I need to start getting ready for class." She pulled on his arm enough to wake him, freeing her from his hold.

          She slowly trudged into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and soon she heard his own alarm go off for work. He appeared in the bathroom mirror and plopped the toothpaste filled brush in his mouth.

          Their conversations, while mostly unintelligible, were an occurrence whenever Courtney stood over at this place instead of her dorm room. They spoke over the toothbrushes in their mouth.

          "Hungry?"

          "Mmhm"

          "Eggs?"

          "Sounds good to me."

          Their brushes were put back in the holders one after the other. Courtney made her way back into his bedroom, looking through his drawers, and Duncan sat on the foot of the bed.

          "Okay. Perfect. Now if I could just find a shirt so I don't have to walk around here naked."

          Duncan truly couldn't help what came out of his mouth after seeing his girlfriend in front of him in this state. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

          She turned back to see him gazing at her in amazement, and her cheeks began to glow in scarlet red. "It never turns off for you, does it?" She turned back before Duncan responded.

          "As long as you're around, no."

          Courtney scoffed at his comment. She found a shirt of his, and underneath it was a plain, black book with Duncan's name on it. She took it out along with the shirt and draped the shirt it over her body. She held it up when she questioned him. "What's this?" Duncan studied it before answering. "Oh... it's my sketchbook."

          "Your sketchbook? I haven't seen you draw in such a long time. Can I see?"

          "Yeah, go ahead. I, uh, just started seeing designs around town, on busses. I just got inspired to make some of my own."

          She flipped through a collection of completed sketches all equipped with detail and color. She had seen his notebook doodles, but they didn't compare to the amount of effort and skill these drawings took. She looked at him in awe for hiding such a gift. "Duncan, these are amazing. You have true talent."

          Duncan said nothing as Courtney flipped through each page.

          "Have you thought of becoming a tattoo artist? You love the shop right down the street, the artists even know you by name."

          "I always have, but I'm better off sticking to the repair shop." "Why not stick to something that I know can pay me?"

          She looked up at him, her hands firmly placed on her hips. "Duncan-"

          He took the book out of her hands and placed it on top of the drawer. "I'm gonna go start on breakfast."

          Courtney watched him walk out of the bedroom until one footstep grew fainter than the last. She couldn't help herself as she inched closer to the sketchbook. After eyeing her messenger bag at the foot of Duncan's bed, Courtney swiftly grabbed the sketchbook and wedged it in between her laptop and textbook before heading to the kitchen.

          "So, what are you in the mood for?" Duncan asked from the refrigerator door. "Omelet, scrambled?"

          "I think we can do omelets today. But, I have to go to the library as soon we're done. I barely had time to study last night thanks to you."

          Duncan closed the door and faced Courtney, ready to fire back. "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've sworn it was you begging for round two?"

          "Shut up!"

          "I will once you admit it!"

          Courtney grabbed the carton from him and started cracking eggs into a bowl. "No, you won't."

          "Very true." He smiled as he got started on greasing the pan. "What are you doing after class?"

          Courtney shuffled through a list of things she could tell him that were far from the truth. "I...have a...Debate Guild meeting after my classes."

          "Okay. As long as you come back here tonight."

          Courtney questioned Duncan as she got closer to him. "For what?"

          "I thought we could just have a night in?"

          "Just like last night?" Courtney asked, smirk on full display.

          "I've got a few ideas." He snaked an arm around her waist, and the gap between them diminished when he pulled her into a slow, drawn out kiss.

          Afterwards, she opened her eyes and Courtney swore she saw the sun shine brighter through the windows of his apartment.

                                                         ***

          Courtney took a deep breath and eyed the sketchbook in her bag. She took a minute to button up her blazer and before walking into the tattoo parlor.

          You've got three years of pre-law under your belt, Courtney.

          She opened the door to see this open space of creatives in a room adorned with huge windows. She was thrust into an array of stations dedicated to each artist, some were occupied by clients and some empty. Her heels stood out as each step made its rounds on the wooden floors.

          She walked up to the front desk and approached a rather young guy. He didn't look old enough to work at the shop.

          "Good Afternoon. My name is Courtney Álvarez, and I'd like to speak with the owner of this establishment."

          Without saying a word, he got up and entered a room behind him. She turned away from the desk to take in the view from the outside, before hearing a voice from behind the desk.

          "Hey? We in trouble or something?" Courtney's attention diverted when her eyes met a petite woman covered in tattoos.

          "No, nothing like that." Courtney handed her a business card with her name and number on it. "I assume you're Anya Tremblay."

          "I've heard this name somewhere..." She looked up from the card and at Courtney. "Oh, you're Duncan's girl. He talks about you a lot. You are exactly like he described."

          Courtney decided to take that as a compliment before continuing her introduction.

          "Right now I'm not his girlfriend. I'm his... advocate." Courtney smiled before reaching a hand out to shake Anya's.

          Anya shook her hand with skepticism. "Advocate?"

          "Yes. I'm very passionate about cultivating his interests to render them beneficial to his life." She reached for the sketchbook in her bag with a few color coded sticky notes attached to certain pages.

          "Now, you may know Duncan as a regular to your shop. However, he's also your potential new artist." She held the book out on her arms facing Anya, opening to the first page she highlighted.

          "See here.” There pictured was a fully rendered sketch of a compass drawn in the usual Traditional fashion. “Duncan’s well versed in Traditional. I've witnessed him drawing in class since we were in junior high.”

          Anya looked pleasantly surprised as Courtney flipped through various pages. Some of the same style Courtney highlighted at the beginning of her presentation of Duncan’s work. Other drawings included skulls drawn in the style of realism. Courtney closed the book to begin her closing arguments.

          “To conclude, Duncan has immense potential. He’s passionate, young, and strong-willed. You’d be missing out on this city’s next best artist if you turn him away.” Courtney hoped Anya had questions, which was always a good sign.

          Anya’s stoic stance remained, but her voice seemed communicative. “Has he worked on skin before?”

          “No. That’s actually where you come in. Duncan’s a pretty fast learner. And, with your extensive knowledge and history in American Traditional he’ll do just fine.” Anya looked inquisitive after hearing Courtney's counterargument.

          “How do you know I do Traditional?”

          “Your Instagram profile is public, you’ve done some of Duncan’s sleeve, and I’m pre-law." She placed a hand on her chest, gesturing to herself proudly. "I do my research.”

          Anya's voice returned to a tone with incredulity. “How did you guys even manage to find each other?”

          “We’re more than just what’s on the surface. Any more questions?”

          "One more," Anya answered. "Why didn't Duncan apply for the apprenticeship himself‽"

          "Duncan's apprehensive at the thought of taking a chance on his dream job, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable-"

          “Alright, alright. Tell him to give us a call. Tomorrow. 10AM.” Anya made her way back into her office.

          Courtney triumphantly strutted her way out of the shop when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Duncan's name flashed on the screen. She answered, sounding more enthusiastic than she meant to. "Duncan! Hey!"

         Duncan caught on to her tone. "Hey, babe. You sound like you had a pretty good meeting."

         She quickly remembered what she told him that morning, and followed along. "Oh, yeah! I... won the practice rounds! So, anyway, what's up?" 

         "Think you could pick up the takeout I ordered from around the corner on your way back?"

         She looked to her right to see the restaurant right down the street. "I can do that. See you soon."

         His tone indicated he was smiling. "Okay. I love you."

         "I love you, too."

                                                            ***

         Courtney called for her boyfriend as she closed the apartment door behind her. She was still undoubtedly giddy, and she couldn't wait to deliver the news about his interview. "I'm heeeere! They gave us an extra egg roll because-" She stopped in her tracks to see Duncan quietly standing in front of what used to be an empty corner of his apartment; now adorned with an ambient glow of warm fairy lights. She slowly placed the takeout on the table, gradually making her way toward him. "What is all this?"

         "This is for you." Duncan stepped out of the way and Courtney noticed a white desk decked with two bookshelves of the same height. Some of the books she'd leave at his place were on the shelves. Her voice grew soft as she struggled to find words. "Duncan..."

         "I thought you'd want a good place to study here for when... you move in with me?"

         She pulled him into a hug, burying her face in his chest with Duncan placing a hand through her hair. 

         "Duncan, I'd love to live with you, but I don't have job, I can't pay rent-"

         "It's not about rent, Princess. I can afford this place on my own. All you need to do is study your ass off." He lifted her head up by holding her face, possibly in the gentlest way he'd ever done. His fingers ran through her hair once more. "Move in with me?"

         Courtney took Duncan's arms to interlock her fingers with his, their hands turned down to the floor. She tilted her head up toward him and leaned in, their eyes closing slowly before Courtney lightly pressed her lips onto his, and slowly elongating with every draw of her lips. Duncan returned with warm and vehement intent while his hands broke free of their joining. His arms instinctively pulled her in by her waist; close enough to have their bodies one against the other. Courtney lost her breath at the pull, and her hands found their way around his neck. She felt a warm aura gleam to her core before slowing the pace enough to stop. She repeated herself one more, but with assurance in her words.

         "I'd love to with you, Duncan."

         Duncan felt lighter at her change of heart given his reassurance. He couldn't wait for days with her to be his new normal. He reveled in the idea of coming home to her sitting at this very desk, buried in her work. Or welcoming him into open arms on the couch. And dinners with her after such a long day. He quickly remembered the takeout on the table. He figured now's the time to start these memories. "Wanna eat some takeout?" Courtney nodded, just realizing how hungry she was. His hands dropped from her waist and she made her way back to their little round dining table just for the two of them, and he realized how formal she was dressed.

         "Do you always dress this fancy for meetings?" Courtney froze before she remembered how excited she was to tell him about his chance at his dream job. "Actually, no. I wasn't at a Debate Guild meeting today." Duncan walked closer to the table, still confused. She retrieved her bag to show him she had his sketchbook. She couldn't hide the elation in her voice even if she tried. "I went to Anya's shop, showed her your work, and she wants you to be her apprentice."

         Duncan truly couldn't believe her words. "What?"

         Courtney began to repeat. "I went to-"

         "No, no I heard you. I just- How?" When realization hit him, it grew harder to hide his grin.

         "I didn't do anything! It was your work that got you in. It wasn't hard to make a great case with strong evidence."

         "Courtney, you didn't have to do all that for me-"

         "Well, too bad you feel that way," Courtney countered as she wrapped her arms around his torso. "Because you have a girlfriend who loves and sees the best in you, and a phone call scheduled for 10AM tomorrow."

         Duncan looked down into her eyes with incredulity, and his arms made their way to her waist as well. He couldn't take moments like these and his girlfriend for granted. "You're unbelievable." 

         She smiled, still proud of the both of them. "I like to keep you surprised in more ways than one."

         "How can I ever repay you, Princess?"

         She teased him, recalling his words this morning. "I've got a few ideas." She giggled lightly.

         They parted, sitting in their respective seats at their table, in their commitment to making more memories together.

A/N: HI!!!! I hope you liked it if you made it this far! Let me know what you think. See you in act iv!

#td courtney #td duncan #duncney #duncney fic

[xbaebsae]

First vs Last

Tagged by the wonderful @ziorre ♥

Rules: you choose one of your first art (even if you don’t like them) and one of your lastest art. Don’t forget to specify the years when you drew them and you can even write what, when and why these pics were drawn! Oh, and make sure you tag your fav art.

I cheated and chose more than one, forgive me.

Modelling:

2010: a weird ugly anime base created in blender 2.49 aka the ugliest ui under the sun. Suits the model lmao xD I think it was supposed to be an anime version of an OC but I never actually finished it. Looks more like an alien creature now.

2017: She’s Tessa, an OC from an original story I write. My first full character model, i made everything you see here myself, including textures. She was sculpted, then retopo-ed to be game res. Would change a lot of things nowdays but eh.

2020: Rheese base model is extracted from the game but many of her clothes and all of her hair was modelled entirely by me. Her hair is usually particle based but I learned how to convert that properly into a mesh for her in-game model. Her default shirt is also my own model, but it uses an edited version of Jacob’s shirt texture for accuracy.

Rendering:

2009: My very first 3d render using a retexture of a Tomb Raider: Underworld model. This was done in Maya xD and I evidently had no fucking idea what I was doing.

2020: Not technically my last render but the one that shows best where my skill level is at now I think :) Self made 3d background, particle hair, waaaay better posing and a camera angle that makes sense.

Throwing some tags to @p0lkadotdotdot @fadedjacket @dep-yo-tee @dieguzguz @yokobai @v3ryvelvet @veinereastath @theknifegame 

#tag games #sorry for the alien nightmares folks

[dittomander]

Hi! What is the difference between a good Wizard and a Malvago? Even though Malvagos use a fundamentally different magic than good wizards, it seems many of the same skills and knowledge are the same. Would a good Wizard turning to a Malvago (or vice versa) have to relearn everything they ever knew about magic? Ash once said that Carla had natural talent for magic. Now that she practices good magic, which is somewhat fundamentally different than dark magic, is her power and ability diminished?

Well that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

To start, I want to thank you for your patience. I know it’s been a bit since you’ve asked it, and I figure you probably weren’t expecting an entire essay on the subject, but I don’t know how to do things by halves when I’m excited, so, uh. You’re getting An Essay.

(I also want to thank you for asking, because seriously I’ve been wanting to dive into this for some time and this was the perfect opportunity.)

The short answer: it’s really unclear. The distinction between a wizard and a malvago isn’t especially well-defined within the text of the show, with the only concrete differences being their alignment (good vs. evil) and the formation of their tamboritas (via a chispa vs. with a multi-hit spell). This means that there’s a lot of wiggle room for fan interpretations as to how their powers “work” internally, especially since externally, they have similar, if not arguably identical spell lists.

What that means for Carla and Victor, or for anyone changing between wizard and malvago states, is that no, they shouldn’t have to relearn everything about magic. Even if there are differences in their spell lists, they have a strong baseline already. As for whether or not the change from malvago to wizard comes with a power reduction, I’d argue probably not. There’s nothing in the show that really indicates that malvagos are inherently stronger; the malvagos we see tend to talk a big game about their power, but find themselves defeated pretty consistently anyway, even by less experienced spellcasters.

...And that’s the short version. For the long answer (4593 words, so you know what you’re getting into if you click that ‘Keep Reading’), carry on below. Godspeed.

What Is a Malvago?

The word “malvago” itself is presumably either a portmanteau of the Spanish words “mal,” meaning “bad/poorly” or “evil,” and “vago,” meaning “vague” or “shadowy,” OR a corruption of the Spanish word “malvado,” which literally just means “evil” or “wicked.” Either way, it’s pretty on-the-nose. The concept is first introduced in Spellbound, where Mateo identifies Fiero as a malvago by his black tamborita and explains that a malvago is an evil wizard. No distinction between good and evil wizards is offered at this point beyond, simplified: Wizards Good, Malvagos Bad.

At this point in the series, we don’t really need more of an explanation than that. There’s no reason for us to assume that “malvago” is anything other than just the word they use for wizards that are evil, rather than an entirely different class of spellcaster.

And then we meet the Delgados, and the phrase “make us malvagos” first comes up, when Carla and Victor are talking to Shuriki at the end of Realm of the Jaquins (technically, Victor says “make us wizards”, but the phrasing is more consistent after that). This is the first point that suggests that malvagos might be something else entirely. We know, for instance, that Mateo wasn’t “made” a wizard; he found his grandfather’s things and studied them for years. The way the Delgados describe it, they make it sound like becoming a malvago is less a matter of learning magic and more a matter of being gifted it.

This is seemingly proven true in The Race for the Realm, when Shuriki directs Fiero to finally turn Carla and Victor into malvagos. He casts a spell that roughly translates to “you’re an impatient, evil, dirty malvago” (special thanks to @citlalya1311​ for the translation), and this spell gives the Delgados some new clothes, transforms their non-functional, makeshift tamboritas into real ones, and prompts this exchange while they’re transforming:

Carla: Do you feel it, Papá? Victor: Yes! I feel the magic coursing through my veins!

This transformation is also preceded by Fiero protesting to Shuriki that, “You cannot possibly think these two can handle the power!”

Victor and Carla are unable to use magic before this point, and afterward, they are; the implication from the surrounding dialog is that Fiero has given them an immense amount of magical power that they otherwise would’ve had to achieve through years of study, if ever. A comparison I’ve seen drawn in the fandom is to warlocks in Dungeons & Dragons, where the spellcaster makes a pact with a powerful magical entity in exchange for power of their own. They’re similar to wizards and use similar spells, but are a distinctly different class that draws that magic from a completely different place.

We learn two more things about this ritual later in the show. In Crash Course, we learn that this is not the typical wizard way to make a tamborita, and in The Lightning Warrior, we learn that it can be reversed, which furthers the suggestion that malvagos are gifted some indeterminate dark power, seeing as it’s something that can apparently be taken away. For now, though, let’s take a closer look at tamborita creation.

How Are Tamboritas Made?

Typically, creating a tamborita requires something called a chispa. In Crash Course, Mateo describes it as “a tiny spark of magic,” and we see later in the episode that it manifests as a small crystal that grows on a branch of a plant of the same name, exclusively in La Cuna de Fuego. There appears to only be one chispa plant growing there, and it is very delicate, as harvesting more than one branch at a time causes the plant to wilt shoot lightning from where it was rooted, although it is possible to restore it. Additionally, one branch alone is enough to provide power to at least five tamboritas. It’s never specified at what rate the branches grow back, if ever.

The actual base of the tamborita doesn’t seem to matter for its creation. Wood and hide are likely the standard materials, although we also see a tamborita made out of crystal in Not Without My Magic, and Valentina’s tamborita in Royal Rivalry and Coronation Day appears to be made partially of metal. In Elena and the Secret of Avalor, we also see that the traditional shape of a handle with a small drum affixed to one end is not required, as Mateo briefly uses a tamborita that resembles an ordinary drum.

The key then in the creation of a tamborita is that all-critical chispa. If the plant in La Cuna de Fuego is really the only one, then creating a proper tamborita is an arduous process, since it requires something so rare from something so fragile, and only a limited number can be made at once. Additionally, in Spirit of a Wizard, Alacazar says that the power of a spell can be increased by twisting the drum, and that it should be twisted back afterward to “conserve [its] magic.” The need to conserve magic suggests that a tamborita can actually run out of power after enough use, or if it can recoup magic somehow, at least be rendered temporarily weaker or non-functional. All this suggests strong, working tamboritas are uncommon, and obtaining and maintaining one may be a barrier to becoming a wizard, even if someone knows all the right spells.

This concept of getting magic power from crystals is consistent with what we see in Sofia the First, as well as within other areas of Elena of Avalor, such as the Amulet of Avalor, the crystal well of Takaína, Shuriki’s crystal wand, the Jewel of Maru, and the jewels of the Scepter of Light and Scepter of Night. With that in mind, it makes sense that the tamboritas would be so dependent on this crystal component, even if that drastically limits how many of them can even exist.

Malvagos, however, do not seem to be bound by this restriction. Their transformation ritual creates a tamborita from “practically anything,” no crystal source required. It’s never explained how this works. It’s never stated if the power comes entirely from the spell, or if the spell just somehow enables the tamborita to draw power from an outside source, like the caster or the environment. (Note: It’s possible that regular tamboritas draw some power from the caster anyway, since Mateo collapses from the strain of controlling the banishing spell in Coronation Day, but this is never explored outside that moment.) Mateo briefly threatens Victor with Victor’s own tamborita in Naomi Knows Best, but we never see a good wizard actually use a malvago tamborita, so it’s unclear if a malvago tamborita is even functional outside of a malvago’s hands. Additionally, when Mateo undoes Carla and Victor’s transformations, they don’t have their tamboritas with them. They’re next seen using different ones that more closely resemble the wands used by other good wizards, but we never find out for sure if those are entirely new tamboritas, or if somehow, their malvago tamboritas have been transformed as well.

So a malvago’s tamborita is made in a completely different way from a wizard’s, gets its power from a completely different source, and possibly works in a different enough way that it’s unusable to good wizards. They bypass all the steps necessary to get a chispa, further enforcing the idea that becoming a malvago is a “shortcut” to magic and power. Despite being such a notable difference between wizards and malvagos, though, they are not involved in the ritual to remove a malvago’s darkness, which also furthers the idea that there’s some core distinction between wizards and malvagos beyond just their wands.

With it being implied that there’s such a significant internal difference between the two, we should expect that the magic that wizards and malvagos display externally would be significantly different, too, right? Well...

On the Matter of Spells...

There are 81 “proper” tamborita spells in the show -- that is, spells that aren’t just mispronunciations and that require the use of a tamborita. Of those, only 25 of them are never used by a good wizard. Two of those are never used at all -- the unlocking spell Mateo finds in Science Unfair, and the pushing spell Bronzino tries to teach in Crash Course. Curiously, while some of the unused spells do sound like they have pretty unambiguously evil effects (possession, forcing someone to walk alongside you, releasing the Shadows of the Night), a lot of them are benign, ranging from shielding spells to levitation spells, to meyázami, which is literally just canaza, but evil-flavored.

On the flip side, 48 of those spells are never used by malvagos, again, including those two completely unused spells. Most of these are very situational one-off spells used by Mateo that would have no contextual use for any of the malvagos we meet. Without any evidence to confirm or deny whether malvagos could perform those 48 spells, we’ll focus on the 10 overlapping spells between the wizard and malvago spell lists: llévaluq, akatok, ximocu, boqato, solaza, conglari, ecatuul, despoloz, contali (sort of), and the malvago transformation ritual (again, sort of).

To address the “sort of”s: Contali is a fatal spell used typically by malvagos. Mateo uses it once, but only within Elena’s dream in To Queen or Not To Queen, so it’s unclear if this is a spell he would or even could use under normal circumstances. The malvago ritual is “used” by a good wizard in the sense that the words of the ritual are the same as the words used to undo it, with the exception that the undoing ritual adds zanamo at the end, which is a standard reversal spell on its own. This conjunction method of reversal spells is not used at any other point in the show (arguably cepayák yamanák vs. cepayák, but that still isn’t zanamo, specifically), so this particular instance stands out and lands the ritual in the territory of “sort of.”

The remaining eight spells are, in order, a levitation spell, a petrification spell, a shielding spell, a blasting spell, another blasting spell, a freezing spell, a whirlwind spell, and yet another blasting spell. Both wizards and malvagos have demonstrated levitation, shielding, and blasting spells outside of this list, while akatok, conglari, and ecatuul are unique (though ecatuul bears some similarity to malatza, a spell used once by Ash in Coronation Day). Akatok is a particularly devastating spell since it traps the target in petrified stasis indefinitely and is difficult to reverse, yet it is not malvago-exclusive, contrary to the pattern established by many other spells with such adverse effects.

So wizards and malvagos often demonstrate different spells from each other, sometimes in cases where the spell effects would be similar (such as the aforementioned canaza vs. meyázami), suggesting that they have very separate powers, but the overlap indicates that their spell lists are not completely unique. Additionally, just because we don’t see someone cast a spell doesn’t mean they don’t know it. With any of the overlapping spells, there was a point prior to which only one type of caster had used it. This alone doesn’t necessarily mean that their magic works identically; returning to the Dungeons & Dragons comparison, different types of spellcasters can have identical spell lists and still operate in completely different ways, so it’s possible wizards and malvagos fit that model.

Still, the external difference in ability is unclear, meaning it remains unrepresentative of any fundamental, internal difference between wizards and malvagos. To examine that more closely, we’ll need to take a look at a more specific example.

The Lightning Warrior, Delgadodemption, and the Distinction Between Good and Evil Magic

The plot of The Lightning Warrior revolves around Elena having to learn to work with the captured Carla and Victor Delgado, since by Quita Moz’s insistence: A: Elena must free Ixlan from La Isla de Yalcatura, and B: a malvago must be used to do it, since only dark magic can undo the dark magic spell sealing her. This isn’t the first time dark magic is referred to as something distinct from good magic, since in Captain Mateo, Ash says that Esteban needs to be trained in dark magic, and in Spirit of a Wizard, Elena insists that the Scepter of Light can only channel good magic to explain why it’s not working for Ash, but it is the first time where that good/evil divide is so central to the plot.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that the unsealing spell, cahuetzi quicaniz, is an inherently dark spell, since as previously discussed, spell alignment is very unclear. Also, Mateo using one of the malvago tamboritas is never discussed as an option. So, the “dark” element presumably comes from the alignment of the caster themselves, not from either the wand or the spell. This is reinforced by the usability of the Scepter of Light. Ash is unable to use it effectively, and Esteban isn’t able to use it until after his heroic sacrifice in Coronation Day, as indicated by how it doesn’t glow for him until that point. (It also doesn’t glow for any good-aligned characters other than Elena, suggesting that maybe alignment is not the only factor in its use, but we can assume that alignment is important due to how it responds to Esteban.)

The Delgados use this apparently inherent dark magic to undo the seal on Ixlan, and at the end of the episode, they state their intent to give it up and learn good magic. This intention to change alignment is not enough to change the core of their magic, seeing as Mateo must still perform the reversal ritual on them to restore them to a non-malvago state. We barely get to see them use any magic after this: they use one un-named glowing spell at the end of the episode, and Victor casts vetzilli in Coronation Day (which doesn’t even hit its target), so it’s unclear if they’ve decreased in power or if there’s been a dramatic change to their spell lists as a consequence. Still, they’re obviously still able to use magic, even immediately after their transformation, and there isn’t much of a turnaround between their redemption arc and Victor using vetzilli, which has only been used by good wizards, suggesting that even if there is a relearning period necessary to switch from practicing dark to good magic, it’s insignificant in the grand scheme of magical study.

So, What are the Implications of All This?

The dialog of the show presents a pretty clear implied narrative from here: Malvago magic is distinct from good magic at its core because it is evil, and because it is acquired in an abnormal way. They’re taking a shortcut to getting power as opposed to the proper wizard way of working hard for their magic, and this has corrupted their powers in such a way that they can’t use items dependent on good magic while possibly giving them access to a variety of powerful dark spells. They aren’t necessarily stronger than wizards, but still have an advantage over them due to the comparative ease of acquiring a tamborita and, at the very least, fewer qualms about using more dangerous spells.

There’s a bit of a problem with this explanation, though. There are a lot of details in what we’re shown that directly conflict with what we’re being told, and a lot of other unexplained details that cause some of the differences that do track make less and less sense. Some of this can be handwaved by in-universe ignorance or by saying “a wizard did it” (a malvago did it?), but the “why”s really start to pile up after a while, enough that there may be some alternate conclusions we can draw.

As a quick aside:

This is the part of the essay where I have to remind myself (and anyone who has read this far) that this is, in fact, a show intended for small children, and not for a grown adult who had too much free time while quarantined last summer. The creators were probably not expecting their target audience to care that much about minute, conflicting details, and so the meta explanation for anything I’m about to dive into is, in all likelihood, “that was never supposed to be important and the malvagos are just evil, please just accept that.” As faithful as I am trying to be to the source text, I admit I am likely going far beyond what the creators intended, and I am also in no way trying to stifle anyone else’s creative freedom with how they approach the wizard/malvago divide within their own works.

The Discrepancies

Assertion: Malvagos take a shortcut to get their power, and this is part of what makes their power so bad. However...

In The Race for the Realm, Carla and Victor state that they’ve already memorized all the spells in a spellbook they happen to own before they’re actually transformed into malvagos.

Ash trained under Zopilote for 10 years to get to her level of skill and power, as stated in her song in Sister of Invention.

Fiero had been next in line to become Royal Wizard before Alacazar was appointed according to Mateo’s story in Spellbound, suggesting he had already been training for the position under the previous Royal Wizard.

Although some wandless, wordless magic is performed by Fiero and Zopilote in Spellbound, The Scepter of Night, Sister of Invention, and Captain Mateo, most malvago magic in the show still requires knowing the appropriate spell in advance.

Therefore, malvagos clearly still have to train and study just as a regular wizard does in order to perform magic. The most powerful wand in the world is useless if you don’t know the words, or worse, actively harmful, as shown in Wizard-in-Training, Not Without My Magic, and Crash Course, when Olivia, Elena, and the royal guards respectively cause more harm than good trying to use a tamborita while untrained.

Revised Assertion: Despite having to study to effectively perform magic, malvagos still take a shortcut to get the source of their power, and this is part of what makes their power so bad. No shortcuts in magic. However...

Mateo might own proper tamboritas, but he inherited them all from his grandfather, and this is never seen as a “shortcut.”

Elena is gifted godly magical powers twice within the show, once from the Amulet of Avalor, and once from the crystal well of Takaína. She obviously trains to use it, but the fact that it’s just bestowed on her is never seen as a “shortcut.”

Naomi is able to use magic without a power source at all in The Last Laugh and Crash Course, just by saying the right words, and the reason why is never addressed, nor is it an issue that she does this without any formal training or a wand.

If Fiero was next in line for Royal Wizard and only turned toward darkness after being passed up, then he presumably could already use magic well before he became a malvago.

To be clear, I am NOT trying to suggest that the heroes are actually evil or something weird and subversive like that. But there is an unusual double standard within the writing behind the idea that malvagos somehow cheated for their magic because of how they gained access to it when other characters are only sometimes held to that same standard, especially since malvagos still have to study to use their power properly.

Moving on from the shortcut angle...

Assertion: Malvagos are gifted dark power unique to malvagos by their transformation ritual that makes them stronger than wizards. I cannot concretely disprove this, however...

OK, so where is that power coming from? Presumably, it can’t just come from nowhere.

If it’s coming from the spell, then how? How can a single spell from one malvago generate enough magical power to create two?

If the power is a gift from the source malvago, then what would the incentive be in ever creating new ones? Wouldn’t they be weakening themselves to cast the ritual? Obviously, Fiero was directed to do so by Shuriki, but that’s presumably not the general case.

Or if it doesn’t weaken the caster, wouldn’t each successive malvago down the chain of creation actually just be weaker than their predecessor?

If creating a malvago requires that ritual, then where did the first malvago come from?

The concept of the “first malvago” is particularly intriguing, as well as Fiero’s case, since he’s the only concrete example we have of a malvago who started as a good wizard. Did he have to go through the ritual as well to get this specific “dark power” to be a true malvago, since he already had a tamborita? Did the first malvago have to invent the spell and cast it on themselves? How could they gift themselves power? But if it was just a matter of a change in alignment corrupting their magic, as is implied in other cases (such as how Esteban interacts with the Scepter of Light), then why have the ritual at all? Is it just to create tamboritas? If that’s the purpose, then why bother having a reversal ritual that doesn’t even include the malvago tamboritas? Is there just some sort of internal flag on malvago magic that marks it as "dark” and causes it to interact with the world differently?

And arguably, malvago magic doesn’t interact with the world differently. As previously stated, the lack of use of a spell doesn’t automatically mean that the caster can’t use it, and there is at least some overlap between the wizard and malvago spell lists, even for spells that they’d have no need to share due to other options in their respective lists. So, the only case we know for sure where only a malvago can perform the necessary magic is the spell to free Ixlan, and that requires us to examine one last assumption.

Assertion: Quita Moz was telling the whole truth at the beginning of The Lightning Warrior. However...

Despite Quita Moz’s assertion that “to undo a dark-magic spell, you need to use dark magic,” thus barring Mateo from helping free Ixlan, Mateo still easily both undoes Victor’s petrification and undoes the malvago ritual on the Delgados in that same episode. He also undoes Victor’s snowstorm in Snow Place Like Home and Fiero’s petrifications in Spellbound, as well as freeing several guards from one of Ash’s spells while offscreen in The Magic Within. Pretty sure all of that was dark magic.

Quita Moz also asserts that Elena “will need such a warrior for the struggle ahead,” except Ixlan ends up doing very little of plot significance afterward. She only appears again in Elena’s Day Off and Coronation Day. Elena’s Day Off is a fairly low-stakes episode where Ixlan is mostly just present as a source of humor. In Coronation Day, then, she successfully disarms Esteban during the first fight, only for him to retrieve his staff and escape anyway, and she’s cursed by Vuli partway into the episode and thus removed from combat, at least on the heroes’ side. Knocking out chaos!Mateo was significant, since he ended up being critical to the defeat of three of the four shades and they needed him thinking clearly, but it’s almost funny if punching one of her own allies was really all she was strictly needed for.

On top of that, Quita Moz and Ixlan were friends and allies before the fall of Maru, so he had compelling reasons to want her free even if she wasn’t destined to be especially helpful.

With how close The Lightning Warrior was to Coronation Day, it’s possible that Quita Moz could see the true nature of Elena’s test by that point. If he already knew she would need to learn how to forgive her cousin, he may have been concerned that she would fail without a trial run in the form of the Delgados.

So basically, the idea that malvagos take a shortcut to their power is told, but not shown, the explanation for how a malvago is created does not make consistent sense, and the strongest case we have of malvago magic working differently from wizard magic is only supported by a character that had compelling reason to lie, not by concrete examples.

My Proposal

There might not be a core difference between wizards and malvagos at all, but rather a cultural taboo established in the old days of Maru that marked anyone using what we now see as malvago magic as evil, the origins of which were lost over the centuries.

Consider: Tamboritas are difficult to make and potentially limited in quantity, depending on how chispa plant regrowth works. To work around that, both for the sake of preventing their civilization’s loss of magic entirely and for making it more accessible to the general populace, a Maruvian wizard develops a spell to create a tamborita without using a chispa. Magic still requires practice and careful training, but with tamboritas more widely available, there are fewer barriers to begin that learning process.

But something goes wrong. Either a villain takes advantage of this accessibility, or the wizards in positions of authority fear this may happen. Maybe they fear the dilution of “proper” magic over the years as it becomes more widely spread, or that they’ll lose the authority their magic may have granted them. In any case, this alternate way of creating a wand is written off as evil, and anyone who uses it is dubbed “malvago.”

Over time, good wizards would come to know that the ritual to create a chispa-less wand was evil, and because they are not, they shouldn’t use it. Meanwhile, people of darker inclinations would have no issue with it. They’re already outside the law, why should they care if other wizards disapprove? With how many spells share similar effects, its possible that the original words of the spell were corrupted over the years into the ritual we know, and the association between that ritual and evil only grows, as well as rumors, assumptions, and fearmongering amongst the people about this “obviously” “wrong” way to perform magic. From there, virtually any spell that authorities on magic want to discontinue can be labeled as dark magic and packaged into the association with malvagos, and conversely, any spells malvagos commonly used would become associated with them as well.

The reversal ritual starts as a way to publicly prove that someone is giving up dark magic, even if it doesn’t change anything about how they cast. Over time, it’s assumed to be a requirement to give up dark magic.

By the time Maru falls, the taboo against this “dark” magic is well-established both in society, and in any records that survive until the times of Avalor, including possible lists of forbidden spells. Avaloran wizards would never know anything different, and any seeking to learn this “dark” magic would be seen as malvagos due to its forbidden nature.

In Conclusion...

“Malvago” might just be the word used for wizards that are evil, rather than a completely separate type of spellcaster, but the general in-universe belief is still the latter. The objective differences are in alignment and in tamborita creation (although I still question where Fiero’s tamborita came from), and the exact nature of any other differences remains open for debate since the text of the show tends to contradict itself, including on how powerful they are comparatively and on what spells they can learn.

#ditto answers #elena of avalor #eoa #Anonymous #long post #very long post #carla delgado #victor delgado #eoa analysis

[bookcoversalt]

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery. 

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”. 

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold. 

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?): 

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries.  (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular. 

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What do you think the Animorphs would be like playing D&D? Not "the Animorphs in a D&D world", but the Animorphs actually sitting down and having a campaign of D&D. Like the classes/races they'd pick, their play styles, wacky shenanigans (because we all know it would happen).

[Credit to Cates for 100% of the character builds, and most of the lore, in this AU.  In case you were wondering, I’m the Jake-style “never read the manual” chaotic-dumbass bard of our campaign; she’s the Marco-style “uses the rules exactly as much or little as needed” DM.]

It was decided almost right away that one on the team had any alignment.  As DM, Marco attempted to start there, only to have Ax begin questioning whether the manual’s explanations of “good” and “evil” truly captured human ethics on a grand scale.  Tobias claimed that Ax was looking at it all wrong, that the moralities were only default behavior types within the game, and that within this particular context morality didn’t matter.  Cassie got very concerned about the idea of context-dependent morality, Rachel declared that the book was stupid and short-sighted for claiming that destroying things was always bad, Jake quietly asked for the fourth or fifth time if this game was actually a good idea…

“Fine!” Marco announced.  “You’re all amoral characters.  Happy?”

“‘Amoral’ implies that we’re immoral, doesn’t it?” Cassie asked.  “Or that we exist outside the spectrum of moralities?”

“Just…”  Marco rolled his eyes.  “Everyone leave that spot on your character sheet blank, okay?  If it ever comes up, we’ll deal with it on a case-by-case basis.”

“Yes,” Ax said, “although you never did answer my question about the implied ethical structure of this universe.”

After that, character creation went fairly smoothly.  Kind of.

“Why does Dennis need a backstory, again?” Jake asked, looking down at his sheet.

“Dennis?” Marco said.  “Dennis?  

“You already said I wasn’t allowed to use ‘Dylan’ or ‘Brad’, so…’”

“C’mon man, this is D’nD.  There are no Dennises in medieval fantasy epics.”

“Fine.”  Jake crossed out and rewrote the name at the top of his character sheet.  “Why does Keith need a backstory?”

“To explain his motivation.”

“You just said that the whole time we’re going to be chased around by orcs and whatnot.  Isn’t not dying enough motivation?”

“You really don’t understand this game, do you?” Rachel said.

“I really don’t understand this game,” Jake agreed.

“My character’s a dragonborn rogue named Joan, and she’s the greatest gymnast of all time.”  Rachel added a Dexterity marker to her sheet with a flourish.

“I thought I was a dragonborn,” Jake said.  “Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, we can have as many dragonborns as you all want.”  Marco shrugged.  “We just can’t have multiple bards.  And since you called dibs on that class, and Rachel wants to be a rogue, we’re fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jake said.  “I just want to help out the team.  Or, uh, Keith does?”

“Great.”

“So that’s my backstory, right?  Being a bard?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, at the same time Marco said, “No!”

In the end, Marco declared that if neither Rachel nor Jake could come up with a proper backstory, he was making their characters cousins.  Tobias, who had a better flair for the romantic, declared that said cousins were from an internationally feared family of highwaymen.

“So does that get us any extra skills, coming from a family of pirates?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe it’d explain how good your character is at gymnastics,” Jake said.  “Because of riggings and all.”

“Highwaymen.”  Marco looked up from where he was trying to salvage Keith’s stats from the hopeless tangle of Jake’s incorrect math.  “Tobias said you guys are highwaymen, not pirates.”

“What are pirates but highwaymen of the sea?” Tobias asked, tilting his head in thought.

“Just put us down as jewel thieves.”  Rachel made a note on her own sheet.  “Jewel thieves of diverse methodology.  Wherever jewels can be found, there we are with threats of violence to take them away.”

“By the way, why is Ax now a tiefling?” Tobias asked Marco.

“I told Marco I have no preference for my class and race,” Ax said.  “And the word is most pleasant, tea-fling.  Ffflllling.”

“They’re blue and have tails.”  Marco smirked at Tobias.  “It’s perfect!”

Rachel and Jake might’ve been vague on the idea of backstory, but Ax was quite definite.

“I am Eldrias the tiefling, fffflllling, paladin.  She was raised by cows,” he announced.

“Don’t you mean raised by wolves?” Jake said.  “Isn’t that a thing, raised by wolves?”

“Uh-huh,” Marco said, “since your land-pirates make perfect sense.”

“Wolves are beautiful animals, but they pale in comparison to cows,” Ax said.  “Among other things, wolves’ meat is not so succulent and does not pair nearly as well with french fries.”

“Okay then,” Jake said, “raised by cows.  Got it.”

Becoming a barbarian was Cassie’s idea.  She spun through the manual in a rapid burst of pages, brushing gentle fingertips over the beautifully rendered illustrations, and then pressed it shut.  “Barbarian,” she said.  “That’s the one that can protect the team the best, right?  So I’ll be a barbarian.”

Marco laughed.  “All right then.  Barbarian it is.  Anything else in mind, for this barbarian of yours?”

Cassie tapped a finger against her lower lip, fluttering through the first several pages of the manual once again.  “I could make my character a big, tall guy, right?”

“Sure.”

“But I want pointy ears.”  She grinned at the rest of the table, somewhat sheepish.

“Half-elf barbarian, then?”

“Half-elf barbarian.”  Cassie looked down at the sheet in front of her.  “He can be named Reisgalan Von Schwartzel of the Morsgalath Half-Elves, Lord of the Plains and Wielder of…”  She glanced around.  “What’s that thing with the spiky ball on a stick?”

“Mace,” Rachel provided.

“Mace is that spray you use on bears and muggers,” Jake said.

“And it’s also a spiky ball on a stick.”  Marco glanced at Cassie’s sheet.  “You have a backstory for Reisgalan Von Whatshisface?”

“Hmmmm.  Can I be widowed and have a tragically dead prince I must avenge?”

“Is it me?”  Jake smiled hopefully.

“What?”  Cassie frowned at him.  “No.  That’d be horrible.”  She looked over at Marco.  “Uh, can my character be a guy and also have a dead husband?  Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, sure,” Marco said.  “I’m the ruler of this universe, so I say it’s fine.  And Tobias is the designated rules lawyer, so he’ll probably have some reason that it’s not.”

“I am not rules-lawyering!”

Marco looked at Ax’s character sheet, and then pointedly back up at Tobias.  “Ax, how did you end up as not just a paladin, but a paladin that’s even more overpowered than the standard build?”

“Paladins are allowed.”  Tobias shrugged.  “It’s right there in the manual.”

“Ax, how you have splint armor?” Marco demanded.

“Paladins can wear Heavy armor,” Tobias sing-songed.

Marco growled.

Ax squinted at his character sheet. “Tobias says when I get to Level Three, I will take the Oath of Vengeance and take a Vow of Enmity. I will know the spells Thunderous Smite, Command, and Detect Magic.”

Marco’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.

“Oh, and Eldrias the paladin is taking Great Weapon as her Fighting Style.”  Tobias wasn’t bothering to hide his smirk.  “It’s all perfectly legal.”

Ax frowned at Marco.  “Banging your head against the table with that level of force may have an adverse effect on your brain’s ability to function.” 

“I’m not rules-lawyering for selfish gain,” Tobias said loftily, looking over Marco’s prone form.  “And besides, Ax is new at this.  He needs all the help he can get.”

“You find yourselves in a magical land.”  Marco made a wild gesture in the air.  It was probably meant to look dramatic and mysterious.  “A land known as Falicornia.”

“Marco sucks at naming things,” Rachel whispered loudly.

“Rachel sucks at listening,” Marco whispered more loudly.

“You were saying?” Jake asked.

“This magical land is under threat from the dread god Cthulu!  You must stop him through using the Philosopher’s Stone, which is powerful but cannot be used except by those who do not wish to use it.  It contains many powerful temptations for the bearer.  You must journey across the land, facing many dangers, to bring it to the only magical mirror that can destroy it before Cthulu has the chance to rise from that mirror and take over the world.”

Cassie raised her hand.

“Yes?” Marco said.

“Why does Cthulu want to take over the world?” she asked.  “Does he need it for something?”

Marco sighed.  “He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu.  Any other questions?”

“First question: did you steal more of this plot from The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter?” Rachel said immediately.  “Second question—”  She turned to Ax.  “Have we showed you those movies?”

“He’s reading the books first,” Tobias said.

“I’m reading the books first,” Ax agreed.

“You were saying about Cthulu,” Jake said to Marco.

“Yes.  He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu,” Marco glared at Rachel.  “Just because.“

“Actually,” Tobias said, “the original version of Cthulu was kind of like the Silver Surfer of Norse Mythology, and his motivation—”

“He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu.”  Marco took a deep breath.  “Anyway.  Moving on.”

“Okay, you’re here.”  Marco pointed to the G.I. Joe figure sitting in the middle of their somewhat crudely drawn map.  “The goblins are…”  One after another, he set four white pawns from his mom’s chess set around the G.I. Joe that represented Jake, forming a half-circle that separated him from Ax’s Smurf, Cassie’s My Little Pony miniature, and Tobias’s Precious Moments angel figurine.  “Rachel is, uh…”  He set the teddy bear pencil topper several inches back, between two goblin-pawns.  “There.  So.”  Marco looked up at Jake.  “You’re under attack.  You’re up first in initiative order.  What’re you going to do?”

Jake frowned, surveying the scene in front of him.  “I have magic, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, so I’ll use magic to turn myself into a bird, and then—”

“Yeah, no.”

“Then I’ll turn my teammates into birds, and they can—”

“You cannot turn yourself into a bird, you cannot turn anyone else into a bird, no one is turning into a bird or any other animal at any point in this game.”  Marco glanced over at Tobias.  “No offense.”

“Oh, I totally agree,” Tobias said.  “A Level One bard performing an animal shapes transmutation?  Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Anyway.”  Marco pointed at Jake’s G.I. Joe figurine.  “Assuming we’re sticking to handheld weapons, what else do you want to do?”

“I… shoot the goblin?” Jake suggested.  “With my…”  He flipped over his character sheet, squinting at his own handwriting.  “With my board-sword.”

“Pretty sure you meant ‘broadsword,’” Rachel said.  “Okay, Jake killed the goblin, now what?”

Cassie peered over Jake’s shoulder.  “It could just be a sword made out of boards, you don’t know.”

“Jake only has thirteen out of sixty odds of killing the goblin on one go,” Marco said.

Tobias flipped open his own manual to the entry on goblins.  “Where are you getting these numbers from?”

Marco selected two dice from the pile, handing them both to Jake.  “Oh, I just figure that if the goblin’s got an armor class of seven and five HP, then Jake’s got a thirteen-in-twenty chance of scoring a hit and then a two-in-six chance of it being deadly, given his hit dice.  So if you reduce twenty-six over one-twenty down it’s thirteen in sixty.  Like, point-two-one-seven out of one.  Simple math.”  He gestured at Jake.  “Roll those.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘simple.’”  Jake looked up.  “Uh, ten and the other one says four?”

“You grievously injured but did not kill the goblin,” Marco said graciously.  “Now it’s the turn for this leftmost goblin, who is going to run and stick a sword through Rachel…” He rolled, and winced.  “That’s fifteen to hit, and two damage?”

“What’s that mean for my little rogue?”  Rachel waved her pencil topper at him.

“You got stabbed,” Marco said.

“Uh-huh.”  Rachel picked up her pen and sheet.  “Where?”

Marco shrugged.  “The leg, let’s say.  Uh, upper thigh?”

“Mm-hmm.”  She wrote that down.

“Okay, then.”  Marco glanced at his sheet.  “Next in initiative order is—”

“I cast psionic blast as a Level One spell, which would cause additional damage to fiends or the undead.  Are they undead goblins?” Tobias asked.

Marco rolled his eyes.  “Nope.”

“Then they each suffer three points of damage and do not have the opportunity to make saving throws for the next minute and a half,” Tobias said.  “That’s my first spell slot today.”

“Okay.”  Marco tipped over one of the goblin pawns.  “That one’s dead.  Cassie?”

“That one’s threatening Ax?”  She pointed at the pawn within the same square as the Smurf figurine.

“Yep.”

She nodded.  “Then I smash its head in with my mace.”  She rolled.  “Eight to hit, eight damage?”

“Oh yeah, you just annihilated that one.”

“Good, good, so now can I mace the one that attacked Rachel?”

“Cool your jets.”  Marco held up both hands.  “You don’t get to do multiple hulk-smashes in one round until several levels up from here.”

Cassie wilted a little.  “Okay.  But I want to run over next to that one to be ready to mace it soon.”

“All right, center goblin is going to try and swing his big old greatsword at Cassie as an attack of opportunity…” Marco rolled.  “And that’s a miss.  Rachel, you’re up.”

“I’m unconscious,” Rachel said.

Marco gave her a blank look.  “No you’re not.”

“Yes she is,” Ax said.  “You just allowed that goblin— gob-blin? Goo-blin? —to stab her.”

“I did not allow— The dice—”  Marco took a deep breath.  “Rachel, you only took two points of damage.  Go ahead and make a turn.”

“Okay, you clearly said…” Rachel glanced at her own notes.  “That the goblin stuck its sword through my upper thigh.  And apparently these are pretty big swords.  No way in hell that misses the artery, not if I’m only about human-sized at the time.  You also said that the goblin has its sword back, which means it pulled the sword out, which means that by now I have definitely lost enough blood to be unconscious.  It’s just basic logic.”

Marco opened his mouth halfway.  “That’s not how damage functions in this game,” he said at last.

“No, she’s right,” Jake said.  “She wouldn’t necessarily be dead from blood loss by now, but on the super-narrow chance she’s still conscious, she’s not going to have the, like, grip strength to be shooting people with arrows or anything.  That’s just how getting stabbed works.”

“Actually…” Tobias looked up from where he was sorting his flash cards of wizard spells.  “In combat time, each turn is six seconds.  So it hasn’t been five minutes of game-time.  It’s been less than three seconds.”

“So this goblin managed to stick its sword all the way through me, pull it loose, and then get back into position to make a different attack in less than a second?” Rachel said.  “And I don’t need to take a second or two to react to having been stabbed?”

“Yes!” Tobias said.

“This game is not closely aligned with the timing and functions of real combat,” Ax pointed out.

Marco let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a shriek.  “No shit, Sherlock!  Can we please just play by the rules?”

“I’m just saying it’s not realistic,” Rachel muttered.  “You get run through the leg with a sword, you bleed to death.  That’s how it goes.”

“Would you please shoot someone already?” Marco said.

“If you insist.”

At Level Two, Tobias’s gnome wizard joined the School of Divination for exactly one game.  “He’s rules-lawyering things that haven’t even happened yet,” Marco cried, throwing out his hands like this was the greatest injustice ever visited upon humanity.   At which point Tobias decided that discretion was the better part of valor and switched to the School of Evocation.  Marco’s eye stopped twitching.

“No, no, no.”  Marco leaned over to look at Jake’s roll.  “You add your charisma modifier to your attack roll, and then your strength modifier to your damage roll.”

“So he adds twelve to his roll?”  Cassie looked at her own sheet.  “I add seventeen to my roll?”

“Modifier.  Not the whole stat.  Mod-if-i-er.”  Marco groaned loudly.  “Is Tobias the only one who even tried to read the manual?”

“C’mon, man.”  Jake shrugged, grinning.  “When have you ever known me to do the assigned reading?”

“I have Tobias here to summarize the manual for me,” Rachel pointed out.  “Why bother?”

“I did attempt to read the manual.  Man.  Well.  It was not the most boring human book ever written, but it was very repetitive.”  Ax glanced around at all of them.  “Not to say that all human books are bad, even if they are all repetitive,” he added quickly.  “Take the books of Harry Potter, which are acceptable in addition to being repetitive.”

“‘Acceptable’?”  Tobias shook his head.  “‘Repetitive’?  You, sir, are wounding my entire species — one of my species — Just don’t diss the Potter.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ professor,” Ax intoned.

Laughing, Tobias leaned over to bump their shoulders together.  “I take it back.  I love you, Ax-man.  Never change.”

“Anyway,” Cassie said, “we elected Tobias party leader, so he’s the only one who really needs to know how to play, right?”

“‘Elected’ is a pretty strong word for it.  The way I remember it, I was like…”  Marco put on a deeper voice, “‘Who wants to be party leader?’ and Jake yelled ‘NOT IT’ so loud that he probably startled pigeons in the next county over.  And then Tobias was the first one to recover from the shock long enough to volunteer.”

“I didn’t yell it, I said it,” Jake mumbled.  “Said it enthusiastically.”

“And you’re wrong.  We did nose-goes.”  Rachel tapped her own nose to demonstrate.  “Tobias lost.”

Ax’s eyes widened.  “So you and Cassie covering your noses was a primitive selection procedure in the manner of duck-duck-goose?  I thought we were all simply being polite by hiding our hideous human orifices from one another.”

“Anyway,” Tobias said, “as party leader, I’m declaring that we can whine about noses — and bipedalism — at a later time.  For now, let’s play.”

“Ah, yes.”  Ax looked down at the dice, and then back up at Marco.  “Who was attacking whom, again?”

Marco stared around the board, and then back at the dice.  “Like I remember that now!”

It was a small miracle that they all kept showing up after that first week.  Tobias and Marco were the only ones with both the skill and the enthusiasm to be any good at the game.  Cassie and Rachel lacked the necessary motivation: Cassie tended to get lost in long conversations with NPCs and never advanced the plot at all, whereas Rachel was likely to start climbing the walls with impatience after half an hour of sitting still.  Ax and Jake were both reasonably enthusiastic but terrible: Jake paid no attention at all to the math, and Ax paid too much.  They had one set of dice between the six of them, if one was generous and called rolling a d6 twice the same as rolling a d12.  (It wasn’t, but Marco’s and Ax’s attempts to explain this always made everyone else’s eyes glaze over.)

Seriously, though, Marco knew perfectly well why they kept showing up.  And it had nothing to do with everyone getting on board with Tobias’s super-geeky idea.  They’d tried Dungeons and Dragons, and they hadn’t actually started liking it.

It had nothing to do with the storyline.  Or the dice.  Or the characters.  They weren’t here for swords or goblins.  They didn’t drop everything to spend four hours a week in each other’s company because they liked the game.

Duh.

Of course, even their love for each other could be tested, at times, by their sheer incompetence as players.

“We’re still in the undercave?” Jake groaned, looking at the game board.  “We’ve been down here for like six weeks!”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re stuck.”  Rachel glared around the table.  “Because we keep trying to fight the ooze monster and then almost dying.  Because we suck at this game.”

“Still say there should’ve been illithids,” Tobias muttered.  “We’re in the cave of the illithids, but instead we’ve got apocalyptic ooze where there isn’t supposed to be any.  That’s why we’re stuck.”

Marco sighed into his hands.  “For the last time, man, we’re not having any stupid mind flayers in this game.  There is a way out, I promise you, if you guys would just stop and figure it out.”

“I stab the ooze?” Cassie suggested.

“You take fourteen acid damage and permanently blunt your sword.”  Marco didn’t bother to look up.  “Just like last time.”

“Ugh.”  Cassie wrote down her new HP.  “At least I ruled out repeated stabbing as a way out?”

“Okay, okay.”  Jake stared at the game board, yet again failing to take the this map not to scale memo.  “We can figure this out.  Is it a cave kind of like those caves under Leeran?”

Marco lifted his head, tossing his hair out of his face.  “I got schlooped back to Earth before you guys got to see those, remember?”

“They were very beautiful,” Ax said, “and also full of toxic eels.  So perhaps Prince Jake’s comparison is apt.”

“The real toxic eel is the friends we made along the way.”  Rachel tilted her chair back, picking at her manicure.  “Think we should just call it a day?”

“No, no, Jake’s right.”  Cassie stared at the board.  “I believe in us.”

“It was kinda cool in the Leeran caves, so sorry you missed it,” Jake said to Marco.  “I was dead and missed the Battle of Trafalgar, though, so it all balances out?”

“The Battle of Trafalgar was not cool at all.”  Marco rolled his eyes.  “It was a battle.  It was gross and loud and bloody.  Is no one going to try anything else?”

“I pull out my rope and my flint, I set the rope on fire, we all die of smoke inhalation,” Rachel drawled.  “There, I got us out of the cave.”

“And into the afterlife,” Ax said solemnly.  “If, indeed, this game has an afterlife.  It was designed by humans, so I assume… Soom.  That it must.”

“Look, if we could just fight the mind flayer instead,” Tobias said, “there are clear strategies in place for how to fend off psychic attacks, and even if a few of us end up as mind-witnesses we could still use a handful of different spells—”  He swung his copy of the manual around to face Marco, pointing to a spot low on the open page.  “If you’ll just look at what the book says…”

Marco slammed the book shut, hard.

Tobias had to yank his hand back to avoid smashed fingers.  “Watch it!” he snapped.

“Guys,” Jake said.  “Let’s—”

“Rule.  Zero.”  Marco flattened a hand on top of the closed book.  “I’m the DM here, and I get to say that there are no mind flayers and definitely no mind witnesses, because I say so.  I’m the Ellimist of this little universe, and you don’t get a counter-argument.”

Rachel snorted loudly.  “Bad comparison.  Tobias argues with the real Ellimist all the time.”

“Only when he’s doing something stupid.”  Tobias was looking at Marco, not at her.  “Or breaking the rules of his own game.”

“Tobias…”  Jake inhaled slowly, massaging the bridge of his nose.  “It’s just a game, okay?  Marco… We are kinda stuck, dude, no offense.  Couldn’t we at least try to fight whatever it is Tobias wants, see if that gets us out of here?”

Marco pushed to his feet, face flushed.  “I’m running this game, because you people decided I should.  And I don’t give a fuck how much Bird-Boy complains, this game is not going to involve anyone getting psychically mind-controlled.  It will not feature alien tadpoles that crawl inside people’s brains and take over their bodies.”  He swept a hand across the board.  “There will be no illithids, there will be no brain golems, there will be no controllers—”

Marco snapped his mouth shut.

There was a long silence.  Tobias stared at the floor.

“Mind-witnesses,” Marco said at last.  “I meant mind-witnesses.”

THUNK.

Figurines and dice scattered everywhere.  The play-dough lump of ooze flattened underneath the second game board Cassie had just dropped on top of the first.

“Anyway,” she said, giving everyone an embarrassed smile.  “How about we switch to Monopoly for a while?”

“I call being the little dog piece,” Rachel said, pulling the box open.

“I’m sorry,” Tobias whispered to Marco, as Ax began clattering through the pieces and asking Jake questions.  “I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah.”  Marco pulled the bank toward him and counting out notes.  “Same here, man.  Uh, y’know.  Sorry I…”

“We’re cool.  We’re cool?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”

“Does this highly successful roll mean I have first chance to stab Income Tax with my—”  Ax squinted at his game piece “—car?  So I’ll be attempting to inflict damage on Income Tax by running it over?”

“Many have tried that strategy,” Rachel intoned.  “None have succeeded so far.”

“You know that your beloved manual lists exactly the same stats for hawks, eagles, and owls, right?” Marco asked, grinning evilly.

“What?  No.”  Tobias frantically flipped toward the back of the book.

“Anyway, is he right?” Cassie asked as Tobias searched.  “Are we all supposed to be dead right now?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Marco said.  “Yes, the explosion would have done a lot of damage to all of you—”

“Thanks, Jake,” Rachel snarked.

Jake sighed loudly.  “How was I supposed to know you had to throw the hand grenade after you pulled the pin?”

“You mean the part where Ax and Tobias were both yelling ‘toss it, toss it,’ and you were like ‘no, I’m gonna do an investigation check first’?” she said.  “And then we all died?”

“Actually, I believe Cassie was raging at the time when the ceiling fell on us all,” Ax said.  “Therefore, her damage would be halved.”

“Hell yeah!”  Cassie laughed.  “So it’s just…”  She peered at Marco’s roll and winced.  “Everyone else… in the entire party… who automatically failed a death check.  Right, Tobias?”

“No,” Marco said loudly, “because Jake cast Teleportation Circle and got you all out of there before the ceiling fell.”

“But Tobias believes that that would be allowing too many actions on a single turn.  Uurn.  Earn,” Ax said.  “And that Jake wouldn’t have time to set up the circle even if he did have a bonus action left.”

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to end on a total party kill?” Marco demanded.

Rachel smiled sweetly.  “It’s not a TPK if Cassie’s still alive.”

Marco rolled his eyes.  “Oh, in that case—”

“Oh my god, you’re right!”  Tobias sounded outraged.

“Am I dead?”  Rachel pouted.  “Just when this stupid game was starting to grow on me.”

“No, not that.”  Tobias stabbed a finger on the page.  “It says right here.  ‘For hawk, see: eagle.’  It fucking classifies hawks as a fucking subspecies of eagle!”

“What were you just saying about us following the manual at the expense of our lives?” Marco said smugly.

Tobias stared in betrayed horror at the page for another second.  And then he tossed the entire book clear over his shoulder and out of the room.  It clattered loudly in the hall.

“So as I was saying, Jake cast Teleportation Circle,” Marco said.  “And teleported you all out of there.”

“So we’re… not dead?” Cassie asked.

“Given the nature of teleportation, perhaps we are both dead and not, existing in the gap between states,” Ax said.  “Like when our consciousness was trapped in z-space, and yet our matter remained on Earth.  Or we exist in multiple universes at once, some in which we have died and some in which we yet live.”

“Yeah, cool, Schrödinger’s party,” Rachel said.  “Blah, blah.  Anyway, I’m gonna punch Jake in the arm for being a dumbass.  In-game and out-of-game.”

“Good luck with that.”  Marco cackled his evil DM cackle.  “The only universe I care about is the one where the whole lot of you give me an initiative roll.  Because I didn’t say Jake teleported you to a safe location, just a different one.”

#animorphs #animorphs au #long post #au #dnd #d&d #violence #gore #dungeons and dragons #jake berenson #rachel berenson #tobias fangor #aximili esgarrouth isthill #marco animorphs #cassie animorphs #tabletop games #ficlet #i'm probably forgetting to tag something #anonymous #asks

[snakeboistan]

Pumpkins, Pumpkins

Pairing: There’s like one line of Karmagisa, kinda but it’s a 3-E bonding fic

“Hey guys,” Kimura said, “does anyone know where Koro-Sensei and Sugaya are?”

Nagisa hummed from his crouched position as he continued to treat a pretty nasty graze under Okajima’s knee. The blunette continued to gently dab the wound when he piped up, “I heard that the two of them are planning a surprise for us - hold still please, Okajima, I’m going to put a plaster on now.”

“‘A surprise?’” Okano repeated, tilting her head in confusion, “wonder what it is.”

“Well knowing Sugaya it’s got to be something artsy,” Mimura suggested, “maybe we’re all going to be painting a mural?”

“I hope not,” Kayano sighed, “I’m afraid that the most artistic thing I can do is a hand turkey.”

Fortunately, their suspense was short lived because the very subject appeared before them, carrying a small pumpkin in his hands, accompanied by their teacher. It was clear that the two of them had just arrived from a trip that was travelled at Mach-20, if the artist’s windswept hair was anything to go by, but the question of where was plaguing everyone’s mind.

“So, Sugaya,” Mimura said, “where did the two of you go.”

“Yeah,” Okajima nodded, “we heard that there was a surprise.”

“Well,” Sugaya said, ducking his head sheepishly, “you heard right.”

“OOHH,” Kurahashi squealed, jumping up and down, “WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS IT?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he replied, laughing at the girl’s never-ending enthusiasm. He held up the pumpkin in his hands, “it’s got something to do with this.”

“Are we gonna bake pumpkin pie,” Hara asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“No, pumpkin ramen,” Muramatsu countered.

“Hey, I’d be down for some pumpkin curry buns,” Yoshida said.

“What, no,” Sugaya shook his head before the class broke out into a fight, “We’re not gonna eat them, guys. We’re gonna carve them.”

“EHHH?” From nowhere a gust of wind gushed around them, sweeping up their clothes and hair in a miniature whirlwind. Quicker than they could blink, the class found themselves surrounded by propped up wooden tables, each having their own personal pumpkin decorating station complete with carving equipment, poster paints and stencils.

“Wow, that was fast, Sir,” Sugaya smiled at his tentacled teacher.

“Oh this is nothing,” Koro-Sensei beamed, “what good is having a top speed of Mach 20 if I can’t use it to help my students get their creative juices flowing?

“Really?” Terasaka crossed his arms and grumbled, “We’re gonna be decorating vegetables now?”

“Oh stop acting all tough, Terasaka,” Fuwa scoffed, “I know for a fact that you’ve cried during Kimi No Na Wa.”

The class burst into full-blown chortles, choked laughter and muffled giggles as Terasaka turned red and spluttered, “What the hell, Fuwa?!”

Fuwa smirked and held up a peace sign, “call it an otaku’s instinct.”

Karma smirked as he rubbed his hands together with glee, “ooh, this will be fun.”

“Uhh,” Kimura sweat-dropped at Karma’s devilish aura. The rest of the class' wary eyes widened at the swinging tail and sharp horns that seemed to protrude out of him, “is it really a good idea to have so many sharp objects around when Karma’s here?”

“Don’t worry,” Nagisa reassured everyone, apparently being the only person unbothered by the redhead’s questionable behaviour, “I’ll make sure that no one gets hurt.”

“Well, children,” Koro-Sensei said, “what are you waiting for? Go and have fun.”

And with that they all ran towards the tables, absolutely buzzing to get started.

…

Nagisa placed his small pumpkin on the tabletop next to Sugino. The black haired boy in question, who had obtained the most spherical-looking pumpkin he could find, was currently covering its entire surface with white paint.

“Hey, Nagisa,” Sugino smiled, “what are you going to do?”

Nagisa hummed, “Well, I’m not the best with a knife but I’m going to try carving a face. If all else fails, I can just paint on some superhero symbols and call it a day. You?”

“I’m turning this thing into a giant baseball.”

The blunette smiled, “yeah, that sounds about right.”

After an hour and a half, one miniature war between a certain group of students who were flinging pumpkin pulp at others (mainly Karma aiming at Terasaka, to be honest), and one dramatic rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart courtesy of Okajima and Maehara, the class had completed their pumpkin carving activity and were all admiring each other’s handiwork. The girls had gathered around Kurahashi and Yada’s pumpkin and were fawning over it’s adorableness. The two girls had used their knife skills to carve a window and door to create a quaint little home for the tiniest little pumpkin they could find, that Kurahashi had drawn a smiley face on with a black marker.

“His name is ‘Kabo-chan’ and he is our son,” Kurahashi was telling everyone proudly with Yada nodding next to her (it’s a play on words - according to google translate ‘kabocha’ is japanese for pumpkin).

Meanwhile, others were having their own kind of fun.

“Wow, Terasaka, I’ve got to say that your pumpkin looks positively gruesome - oh wait nevermind,” Karma smiled ‘innocently’ as he corrected his apparent ‘mistake’, “that’s just your face.”

“What the hell, Akabane,” Terasaka growled as he took a step forward, “why don’t you just go and f*** off. Or better yet, grow a pair and actually tell Nagisa how you feel instead of-”

Due to the fact that Kanzaki’s praise of his baseball pumpkin had rendered Sugino speechless and the tan skinned boy looked like he was going to pass out, Nagisa was preoccupied and therefore unable to prevent the fight that had broken out after Karma dunked a bucket of pumpkin guts over Terasaka’s head.

Kayano giggled, “I’m surprised you didn’t paint sushi rolls onto yours, Nagisa.”

“I did consider it,” the blue-haired boy replied, shrugging sheepishly. He had scrapped his original idea of carving and just ended up sharing Sugino’s white paint which he used to cover his own pumpkin as well, before using black paint to paint on two spots connected by a line to resemble Baymax’s face. It wasn’t as creative as his classmates’, like Nakamura’s puking pumpkin guts idea, or Kimura’s and Okano’s pumpkin that had the words ‘BEING NAMED JUSTICE’ and ‘SCHOOL’ carved on respectively, or the many other scary faces that were displayed but he wasn’t really the artistic type anyways.

“Holy hell, Sugaya,” Yoshida’s voice exclaimed, “that’s a frickin masterpiece.”

Growing curious at the source of the motorcycle lover’s awe, Nagisa and Sugino made their way towards the cluster of students who had gathered around Sugaya’s workstation, only to be faced with something that made their breaths catch: meticulously carved onto the husk of his large orange vegetable was an outline of the E-class building. Sugaya’s skillful hands had used the tools provided to create an image that was so carefully drawn, it looked almost lifelike, with thick bold lines that made the picture look three-dimensional. He had even found a way to somehow only shave off the outer epidermis of the skin to use the light yellow under it to give the illusion of light and shadow. It was times like this when Nagisa wondered how E-Class was seen as harbouring the lowest of the low when it was filled with people who were brimming with so much talent that it would put adults to shame.

“Oh my god,” Nakamura breathed as she snapped a picture on her phone.

“Now that’s a pumpkin,” Mimura stated with pure admiration.

“Wow Sugaya, it’s amazing,” Kayano said, “I have no idea how you were able to do it in like an hour. I was only able to get a smiley face done.”

“It is really nice,” Nagisa commented.

“Oh thanks, Nagisa. By the way, I’ve got another pumpkin I think you might like.”

Ignoring Okajima’s disbelieving cry of “YOU MADE ANOTHER ONE?!”, Sugaya bent down and handed Nagisa the miniature pumpkin he was holding earlier. Groaning slightly at the increased weight that was placed in his arms, Nagisa turned the pumpkin around to find that it had a snake carved onto its skin. He huffed out a laugh, “That’s amazing. I love it.”

“Oh my god,” Nakamura laughed, “snake boy gets a snake pumpkin.”

The class burst into laughter as Nagisa blushed.

“WHO WANTS TO SEE MY PUMPKIN?” Koro-Sensei’s gleeful voice broke through the crowd. The class turned towards him and immediately paused at the sight that greeted them. Sitting on the floor at one meter was the largest pumpkin they had ever seen and carved onto it was a recreation of Michaelangelo’s famous painting of ‘The Creation Of Adam’ only the bodies of God and Adam were replaced by Koro-Senseis, who were wearing billowing robes and heads of flowing hair, very intimately touching tentacle-tips. Surrounding them were tiny Koro-Sensei’s in cherubic attire, complete with harps and angel wings. The artist himself started tearing up, “ISN’T IT BREATH-TAKING?”

A beat passed...

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

“That has got to be the weirdest thing I’ve seen all day,” Kimura deadpanned.

Okajima looked disturbed, “It’s so strange that I can’t help but look at it.”

Sugino nodded, “It’s going to be in my nightmares for days.”

“Talk about over-kill,” Maehara commented.

Koro-Sensei burst into tears at their criticism, “WHY MUST YOU CHILDREN BE SO CRUEL?!”

Rolling his eyes at his teacher’s melodramatic wails, Sugaya addressed the class, with a nervous smile, “so, did you guys have fun?”

“Yep.”

“Totally.”

“It was awesome.”

“Yeah, I guess it was alright.”

“I definitely enjoyed myself.”

“It was a great idea, Sugaya.”

“Yeah dude, we should definitely do this again sometime.”

The silver haired boy blushed at all of the positive reinforcement he was getting, “Thanks guys. To be honest, I’ve always wanted to do this for a while but I couldn’t imagine doing it without you guys.”

“Aww, Sugaya,” Kurahashi hugged him, “that’s really sweet.”

“Yeah,” Okano chimed, “class activities are always fun.”

“It’s never a boring day in our weirdly dysfunctional family,” Nakamura smirked.

“I’m keeping these knives.”

“Karma, no.”

#assassination classroom #my writing #3-e #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota #kimura masayoshi #masayoshi kimura #terasaka ryouma #ryouma terasaka #okajima taiga #taiga okajima #fuwa yuzuki #yuzuki fuwa #sugino tomohito #tomohito sugino #sugaya sousuke #sousuke sugaya #okano hinata #hinata okano #nakamura rio #rio nakamura #koro-sensei #yada touka #touka yada #kurahashi hinano #hinano kurahashi #mimura kouki #kouki mimura #muramatsu takuya #takuya muramatsu

[filmtheorynooneaskedfor]

Introducing the Uncanny Valley with Sex and the City 2

First coined by Masahiro Mori, then a professor at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, the ‘Uncanny Valley’ refers to renderings of human faces which become more appealing in their accuracy- that is, until we hit a certain point, termed ‘the Uncanny Valley’.

Just like reaching the 2 minute marker in ‘2 Girls, 1 Cup’, the Uncanny Valley leads the viewer to suddenly experience a high level of disgust, anxiety, and constipation, as they perceive a passable, and yet discernibly false representation of the human body. Which brings me to Kim Cattrall.

Cattrell is one of the stars of Sex and the City 2 (Michael Patrick King) which has proved such a huge hit with film critics that UNESCO recently appointed it a World Heritage Site, with the description; “a large comedic goldmine which can be found in Hollywood’s more shameful hills.”

Released in 2010, the film received immediate praise for its poster design and ending credits music. Criminally, however, its revolutionary animation and outstanding visual effects went unnoticed - in what can only be described as a tribute to their skill and expertise. I can now exclusively reveal that almost 90% of the film was in fact CGI.

It is this knowledge that finally explains the feelings of discomfort and illness that plagued some viewers of the film at its premiere. As Carrie’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) heavily edited face smirks towards Mr Big, a man so dull he absorbs light, we can see that despite their best efforts, neither is truly, definitively human. Even with lighting, cinematography and some gentle angling; it soon becomes clear that no character in this film is 3D.

It's evident even in the film’s promotional posters. Here, the Uncanny Valley comes alive as four hand-drawn faces struggle to hold their unblemished limbs like living, water-drinking homosapiens. It even leaks into the plot. All of the main characters’ issues and conflicts appear to have forced them to experience emotions. However, this has actually been caused by a lavish and stifling wardrobe, worn until all four women are oxygen deprived and view pouring bleach onto every rose-tinted memory of their famed 80s TV show to be a good idea.

There are some more major slip-ups. Designers of Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) appear to have been designated the lowest budget, and her feminist moment of standing up to her misogynistic new manager is as unconvincing as R-Kelly’s Wikipedia page. Here, an attempt at a genuine human woman is swiftly quashed as she quits her huge and well paid New York job in favour of her son’s dumbass preschool presentation. Mirandabot’s wires become noticeable as she is instead edited into silly-lady-boss-who-learns-her-place-and-starts-breastfeeding-again.

For any travellers considering a trip to the Uncanny Valley this season, expect artifical lighting and a splatter of synthetic boobs in this Sony commercial repackaged as film, Sex and the City 2.

#satc #satc2 #sex and the city #sarah jessica parker #cynthia nixon #kim cattrall #film #feminism #80s #uncanny valley #film theory #cgi #animated #tokyo #hollywood #carrie #samantha #miranda #theotherone

[superman86to99]

Adventures of Superman #505 (October 1993)

REIGN OF THE SUPERMAN! The Reign is over, and Superman does what we’d all do after being dead for several weeks and coming back to life: no, not visiting your parents, making out with Lois Lane.

Or more than making out, since the next page starts with a caption that says “Later...” and lets us know that they both had to take a shower. (NOTE: Check Don Sparrow’s section below for artist Tom Grummett’s definitive take on what happened in that scene.)

Their post-resurrection bliss comes to a stop when they remember a little detail: Clark Kent is still presumed dead. How are they gonna explain his return without making the extremely smart residents of Metropolis suspect that Superman and the guy who looks like Superman but with glasses are actually the same person? Superman’s mind immediately goes into “wacky bullshit excuse” mode and he starts spitballing ideas, like claiming Clark lost his memory, or was carried by underwater currents, or was abducted by aliens. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that last one would work, since there have been THREE major alien invasions in the past few years, but Lois thinks no one would be dumb enough to fall for that sort of thing. Really, Lois? No one?

At this point, Superman picks up some supervillain activity with his super hearing, so he gets dressed and goes there (though it would have been pretty intimidating for the criminals if she’d shown up in that shower rug). A bank uptown has been taken over by Loophole, a S.T.A.R. Labs accountant who stole a gizmo that allows him to phase through walls. When Superman shows up to arrest him and his henchmen (are they all villainous accountants?), Loophole literally puts his first through Superman’s chest, instantly killing him. RIP Superman, again.

Nah, Supes just swats Loophole away and breaks the gizmo, causing him to get his crotch area stuck inside a vault door. Now he has to change his supervillain name to “DickVault”.

(I freaking love Maggie Sawyer, btw.)

After that, Superman goes to one of the areas trashed by his fight with Doomsday and helps clean up the junk that’s still laying around there. It’s then that he finally reunites with his best friend and most valued ally: Bibbo Bibbowski. (Jimmy Olsen’s there, too, unfortunately.)

Bibbo also introduces Superman to the dog he named in honor of his home planet, Krypto -- and it’s Krypto who provides the most significant moment in this issue. The little mutt starts barking at some debris from a destroyed building, leading Superman to examine it with his X-Ray vision and find some kids underneath.

Turns out the kids had been trapped there since the Doomsday fight, leading some random passerby (fine, Jimmy) to wonder if Clark could be stuck in a similar situation. Superman and Lois look at each other... giving Superman an idea and providing the premise for next week’s issue.

Character-Watch:

First appearance of Loophole (real name Deke Dickinson, C.P.A.), who would become a running joke in Karl Kesel’s Superman and Superboy comics. While his phasing powers are tech based, he also has the metahuman ability to somehow convince attractive women to be his girlfriends/henchwomen despite being a balding little dweeb. In this issue he’s dating a blonde named Sheila (who wears a mask, so maybe she’s actually hideous), but I’m pretty sure he had other girlfriends in future issues.

Plotline-Watch:

As I said... holy shit, five years ago: no one draws Supes coming back to Lois after an extended absence like Tom Grummett. This scene is almost a remake of the one from that issue when Superman comes back from his time traveling jaunt. There’s also a callback to Man of Steel #25, when Lois hears a tap on her window and thinks it’s Superman, but it’s just some dumb bird. This time she gets it the other way around:

Don Sparrow says: “There’s a cute visual callback to the last time Superman returned after a long absence on page 18, when Superman is reunited with Jimmy. It’s a near identical pose to Action #643, where Superman returned from exile in space (and in that moment, infected Jimmy with Eradicator-based space sickness, womp womp).” I think he’s instinctively throwing Jimmy up in the air, hoping the cold of space will kill him. Unfortunately, both murder attempts were unsuccessful.

As seen above, Maggie Sawyer wasn’t too convinced that “Fabio” here was Superman at first. That changes when he calls her “Captain” even though she was recently promoted to Inspector, and she’s like “only a dead man wouldn’t know all the precise ranks for the local authorities!”

The surviving non-Supermen are seen arriving at S.T.A.R. Labs for medical care after the Engine City showdown. Don again: “There are some mild continuity issues stemming from Superman #82, which perhaps wasn’t completely finished being drawn while Tom Grummett worked on this one, as Steel’s costume is almost entirely intact, when we last saw it a week ago, it was in tatters. Ditto the Eradicator, who was a wizened husk, and now is apparently a scorched Ivan Drago.” Let’s assume Supergirl worked her clothes-shifting magic on Steel’s armor and the Eradicator’s, uh, hair.

There’s a short scene where Superboy is visited by his reporter pal Tana Moon, who tells him she quit WGBS and is leaving Metropolis. Awww. Goodbye, Tana. Or should I say... aloha?

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor Jr. has a scene with Dr. Happersen where he says he intends to control or destroy anyone who wears the “S” symbol. Basically, if he can’t date them, they should be dead. He also instructs Happersen to help Cadmus’ Director Westfield get in contact with disgraced genetician Dabney Donovan. Get ready for a whole lot of clone-related shenanigans in the near future.

And now, more Don Sparrow-related shenanigans after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

This issue is another favourite of mine, but I suppose all these issues around the Death and Return are faves when I really think about it.  My copy of this issue had the holographic fireworks cover, and it’s a good one.  I like that Superman and the Daily Planet are in natural colour, rather than holograms.  The cover credit goes Karl Kesel, Tom Grummett and Doug Hazlewood, so I’m not sure what the breakdown was (or if that’s just a handwritten cover credit, just in case?

The story opens with one of my favourite sequences ever, with Lois waking up on her couch, having fallen asleep following the events in Coast City.  I love the detail as she opens the curtain, we see her engagement ring, indicating she knows her real fiancée has returned.  This sequence is followed up by two pages of splashes of the passionate reunion of the best couple in comics.  All beautifully rendered as they float, locked in a passionate, sunrise kiss.  Just lovely (so lovely that I am willing to overlook a small colouring error, as Lois has black hair instead of reddish brown for one panel).  [Max: I can confirm that they fixed that in the collections.]

What follows is a very cute scene, and one of some debate among Superman fans.  There’s no overt evidence of what happened, all we get is a cryptic caption reading “later…”.   Again, I give credit for the subtlety of the writers, as they depict this scene in a way that can be read either way:  maybe Clark and Lois made love, and the “later” we are seeing is afterglow, or maybe Lois had a shower since she just woke up after sleeping in her clothes. Then, after calling his parents while Lois showered, Clark had a shower himself.  I feel like today’s writers wouldn’t feel the need to be so subtle, and might lose the sweetness of this scene.  

In previous posts, I’ve talked about my friendship with artist Tom Grummett, and how as a boy, I would wear him out with all my dumb fanboy questions.  Once I got older, and our relationship became a little more collegial (just a little closer to collegial, since I in no way consider myself anywhere near his level of skill or success) I would really try not to geek out too much when we would visit.  But the one question I had to ask was about this scene, and what their intention, or interpretation of it was, as I was always curious.  Once I had explained to him which issue it was (the guy has drawn hundreds, so they might not all spring to mind immediately!) he admitted that his assumption was indeed that they had sex.  So there you have it!  [Max: Hot damn! Another Superman ‘86 to ‘99 exclusive, folks!]

However you wish to read this scene, the choreography, and facial expressions as they horse around is really sweet and fun, and such a nice, light tone compared to the do-or-die pace the books had been for the last two years or so.   Their easy joking, and back and forth banter really do a great job of showing them as a real couple.

It’s a very nice pose on Supergirl as she lifts off, simultaneously spurning Superboy’s romantic complaints.

I quite like the design on Loophole, and his gang.  Loophole himself kinda harkens back to the silver age villains of the Flash as Loophole has a unique hairline, is an older man, with a pretty average build, which was rare for villains in the 90s. His gimmick is pretty cool, too, though we immediately see its vulnerability.

The tearful reunion of the now-sober Bibbo and Superman is also a great moment—if anyone rose to the challenge of living up to Superman’s example in his absence, it was Bibbo.  I discuss the scene in more detail in the observations later, but the image of Superman whipping away the debris on page 20 is a great visual, with the dust clouds creating great motion and urgency.

On the whole, a great first issue for the return to the never-ending battle, even if it brings us closer to Grummett’s last issue on this title (for a while).

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Could Superman referring to the Death and Return storyline as a dream, while stepping out of the shower be a reference to Dallas, and their famous about-face after an unpopular season, where Bobby Ewing emerged from the shower, alive and well, dismissing a yearlong storyline as a dream?

A coy semi-reference to perhaps my favourite line in the first Reeve Superman film on page 8, where Supergirl says “Easy steel, we’ve got you, then later adding, “ok, you got me”.  

A little more issue-to-issue dissonance with Superboy reversing himself from the end of Superman #82, where he said clearly that Kal-El was Superman, with Superboy pointing out that legally, he’s Superman and not Kal. [Max: I think he’s talking strictly in the legal sense, since he helps Superman deal with the legal problem on the next issue and all.]

For all the times that Superman has used his heat vision on guns (as he does on page 11), we’ve never seen rounds get burned off, firing on their own because of the heat.  There might be an idea there.    

An odd sorta-cameo by Erik Larsen’s Savage Dragon, who Superman apparently defeats in the waterfront district. An eagle-eyed reader asked Larsen about it in issue #6 of Dragon’s own book, and he nixed any proper crossover rumours, saying it was just a shout-out from Larsen’s buddy Karl Kesel.  Eventually they’d meet in Superman/Savage Dragon: Chicago, a so-so crossover in 2002.

A slightly bawdy joke from one of the Loophole gang, on page 14, as the moll of Deke Dickson calls Loophole a “weiner”.  

GODWATCH: A stirring moment when Superman detects the faintest of life-signs, thanks to would-be super-pup, Krypto, and responds “God willing” when someone asks if anyone is alive in that wreckage.  The love and concern in Superman’s eyes when he says he’d “rather die” himself than let little ones perish is a tear-jerker moment for sure.  Bonus points for the cuteness of Superman heaping praise on Krypto, with the line “if that dog could fly, I’d put a cape on him…”

Question:  Does Jimmy know? He comes up with the solution to the Clark problem very conveniently.  Maybe he’s smarter than we (and by we, I mean Max) give him credit for? [Max: It was all Krypto! Okay, I’ll concede that maybe Jimmy is as smart as a dog.]

#superman #karl kesel #tom grummett #doug hazlewood #superboy #steel #supergirl #S.T.A.R. Labs #eradicator #loophole #maggie sawyer #dan turpin #sydney happersen #tana moon #bibbo bibbowski #krypto #dickvault #the man whose dick is a vault

[placesyoucallhome]

Lots of people are pretty sure Haurchefant is coming back on the First Shard, and look, I absolutely completely 100% want husbando #1 back, I do. However, there are plenty other npcs, alive or dead, that would be amazing to explore in a world completely unlike Eorzea.

How about, maybe, Ysayle, never caught in the snow by dragons?

The woman laughed, bright and clear, “Lady Iceheart? Is that what you called me? Goodness child do you see any ice here? Where would you get a title like that?” She shook her silvery braided hair over her shoulder as she stood, picking up her basket of greens from the carefully cultivated garden plots under the glass roof of the Crystarium.

Despite the confusion and unsureness on the Warrior’s face, the Elf’s easy grin didn’t falter, not until she glanced into the warrior’s eyes, and with a gasp she staggered. The pain and pressure etched deep into her features as it seemed the echo rolled through her even here, “Who-” she gasped, and twelve forfend they hoped she dare not say too much as they were so hoping to slide under peoples noses here, “What are you?”

Or a Zenos not born and bred to massacre?

“He’s really the best fighter we got, the Captain!” the young Hume chattered, dragging the Warrior along by the wrist as if they were a skittish child, and really, they did not have time for this.

“He’s not got any aether abilities but he still runs circles around everyone!” They swore this girl had stars in her eyes talking about this Captain, why were they meeting him again? Oh yes, Ysayle said he controlled the gates, right, best they did get this over with then. “Ah, ah! Here he is! His sword’s nearly as big as me oh!” She giggled nervously and as the Warrior turned the corner, quite suddenly, they felt their stomach drop and blood boil. No, how? Did Garlemald even exist here?

The blonde turned from the wartable laid out to him, to the clatter of the Warrior’s weapon being drawn, eyebrow raised as he looked over the newcoming pair with a critical, and slightly confused eye.

Twelve, he looked almost... normal. Gold hair was chopped short and slicked back out of his eyes, plate armor near plain, his sheer height was all he needed here it seemed. Well, that, and the large gunblade strapped to his back.

“Can I... help the two of you?”

Or Estinien, life likewise not ruled under the threat of claws and scales?

The Warrior wasn’t going to be able to get used to this. A glance to Thancred told them, at least they weren’t the only one. This younger Minfilia from the First of course seemed unperturbed.

“But I thought you took care of that monster last month? Wasn’t that that big big fight?” Minfilia needled, turning to Thancred to with and excitable grin. “There were a bunch of explosions! Pow! Boom! Lights and yelling and-”

“Focus Minfilia.” The gunbreaker sighed. The Warrior hadn’t expected Thancred to take on the mantle of ‘dad’ so easily. It was a bit cute.

Captain Zenos sighed, “Yes, well. We had been able to turn back most of the tide, but he... no. There’s no rest for him yet.” He looked almost... forlorn. Zenos shook his head and picked up a spiny looking figure from the map spread across the table, turning it over in his hands. “No, he was our best lancer, even though he fell to the sineater’s appetite, he’s not any less skilled now than he was then. My brother in arms, it should still be my duty to kill what’s become of Estinien.”

Or hey, technically, Dalamud never fell on this shard, now did it?

“This is ridiculous, what scholar would risk life and limb for the mumblings of a primal? Especially with the state things are in here.” Alisaie huffed, voice and steps echoing across the crystalline caves like tinkling bells.

“Well quite frankly, we apparently don’t know the first thing about primals, considering. Who knows what could be deduced from ancient scriptures of summons?” Alphinaud shot back, turning the scribbled map the Captain had given him with a tired grimace. They’d been bickering over the same points the entire way, even the Warrior was tiring of this.

“Not knowing what they are is all the more reason to not trust it!” She insisted.

“Trust is not quite necessary to learn something. Is it?” A pleased hum came from around a bend, and the Warrior trotted up happily to the cloaked figure, sorting through tattered rolls of vellum on an long abandoned altar. After all, that meant the quest was done, on to the next, likely, bringing this old man back to the Crystarium. It’s not until the Warrior turns that they realize the twins hadn’t followed completely. They seemed stuck, almost horrified, at the mouth of the chamber, Alphinaud falling to his knees, blinking and shaking his head as if he couldn’t understand what was happening, only Alisaie seemed to manage to push out a single word with a sob-

“Grandfather?”

Or how about another soul taken from us far too soon?

The twins were out of commission, and hells, when the Warrior figured out why, they understood. Well, they hadn’t actually thought they’d meet Louisoix, all things considered, but the First Shard had been a mixed bag of strange occurrences. The scholar had pointed them to a band of researchers looking for hints on elder primals, it seemed prudent to bring Urianger along on this one, in that case.

“In truth, what doth thou make of this blighted plane? Fair time hast passed since your arrival to us, stubborn as your struggle to remain to the source was.”

The Warrior grumbled and glanced at the Elezen, er, Elf? See, this too, gods they were just tired. Too many whiplash twists and turns, little details to try and keep track of.

“Ho there travelers!” A bright, strong voice carried over the rocks and sun bleached logs. “What brings two strapping adventurers all the way out here?” The Galdjent woman laughed loud and clear, pickaxe slung over her shoulder and silver-blue hair tied up in a bun out of her way.

Oh not again, the Warrior couldn’t bear to think, but they looked over at the heartbroken Astrologian beside them and they knew all the scions were bound to find this hurt here, at some point, weren’t they?

But Urianger, ever stoic and collected, only seemed to swallow and mumble to himself. “Oh my Moen, my beating heart, rendered and repaired. How cruel this fate...”

So SO MANY awful options! It’s an au angst paradise, I tell you. Please for the love of the primals, give it all to me! Sadu? Magnai? Hien? Tsukiyomi?! Lucia! Livia!! Ilberd!!! PAPALYMO! I need, ALL the shard au ideas, gimme gimme.

#ff14 #ffxiv #Final Fantasy 14 #Shadowbringers #first shard #probably super ooc #but whatever idc