#too ashy and cool toned to me

[mejomonster]

I think this is about as blonde as my hairs getting ToT

#rant #mejo me #my hairdying woes #if u know me u know im physically incapable of resisting fucking with my hair #i tried to add 9 neutral gold dye to my hair last night because my hair looked #too ashy and cool toned to me #i think i succeeded in that... now the color looks more true neutral blonde? #but i wanted it just a touch warm so like. not my ideal shade lol #oh well. i dont think its getting any better #and it needs time to heal and repair cause currently my hair is not taking to dye very well

[a-simple-imagine]

Pass Me By

Synopsis: Jordan doesn't wanna date you but no-one else can either.... based on this prompt by @poppy-metal

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 2.9k+

WARNINGS - swearing, suggestive themes, alcohol, insecurities about gender and just a hint of a toxic situationship

It's a tranquil, cosy night under the relaxing sound of rainfall rattling against the glass windows that do not open. faint moonlight bathes the room in a divine glow. this wasn't your dorm room but a place you knew all too well. from the collection of beer bottles starting to form across their desk to the joint buds in the ashtray. a guitar sits collecting dust in the corner. you've never seen them play it or so much as acknowledge it. a skateboard balanced on the shelf for decoration more than anything. The room always has this pleasant smokey cologne lingering in the air. it was a messy room. a sort of organised chaos that was so incredibly Jordan li. but you loved it. you'd drown in the ashy mix of cologne and joint smoke if you could because it meant spending time with them. it meant they wanted you here. it meant something. you liked Jordan and they liked you. although they had trouble showing it. you have had that very awkward conversation before but now you avoid any mention of it. they explained they didn't really know what they wanted and at the time, you were fine with that but now you're not too sure. now you kind of wish you could bring it up again and have a grown-up conversation but you're much too scared to face reality. because an ounce of their affection would always be better than none of it. you would rather live in the mystery than feel completely alone.

your head relaxes against their toned, slightly sweaty, chest. fingertips gliding up and down your stomach in a slow steady rhythm. it's delicate. soothing. tickles just a little bit. you could honestly stay like this forever, relishing in their affection. they feel so warm against you. it fills you with such a content, comfortable, feeling. you have been together like this for a while now, listening to them spill secrets in your ear like you're an angsty teenager's new journal. they scribble down all their hopes and dreams; their greatest fears. garnishing the page with pretty stickers and pictures so when they look back, they can't help but smile. it's silly but it makes you feel good. it was such a uniquely intimate moment. nobody knew Jordan the way you did. they didn't allow themselves to be vulnerable too often. perhaps some misguided attempt to seem cool and mysterious. but with you they did and that must mean something, right?

"I don't know," their soft voice fills the otherwise quiet room. "it's really kinda stupid."

"you don't have to tell me," you explain, moving your head to briefly look up at them. "but I'm here if you want."

a warm silence settles over the two of you. you take it as a sign that they don't want to talk about it which is fine. you would never pressure them into talking about anything they're not comfortable with. After a moment, they speak up again. "my powers are such a big part of who I am," their voice is very quiet almost like they're scared to say it. "would I still be this way without them?"

rolling onto your stomach, you finally look up at them properly. his hair is tousled and just a little messy but pretty. no matter what, it always looked pretty. even in the dim light, you can notice the dusting of pink across their cheeks. they seemed content; relaxed. "be what way?" you wonder. jordan's hand that once danced across your skin now rests against the small of your back.

"bigender, obviously."

"I don't know," they wanted an answer you couldn't give to them. identity was such a personal thing." how did you feel when you were younger?"

"I guess it's always been a little confusing,"

"Why are you suddenly questioning it?" you wonder with a slight chuckle. imitating their action from earlier by running your fingers up and down their chest.

"dunno," they shrug. "it's just a little fucked that my powers are just one more thing for people to hate me for."

without powers, Jordan never would have gotten into Godu. and if they hadn't gotten into godu, you'd probably never have met. the world can be a cruel place full of distaste and anger but as selfish as it was, you're grateful for the opportunity to know them. "you're always gonna get people who hate supes."

"yeah, but I mean like people hate that I shift. the whole bigender thing doesn't sell- it's fucking shit." his voice is louder now; firm. "add that to the whole Asian thing and I'm screwed. everything is against me."

"Jordan," you hum softly, stopping your motion. they've always been so confident in their identity. never cared what anyone else wanted from them. it was something you admired about them, so it was almost weird watching them discuss it with such uncertainty. to question something so fundamental to them. you hardly knew anything about yourself. "do you want to know what i think?"

"i guess," he huffs out. a grumpy little guy.

"I don't think it actually matters," you urge, planting a gentle kiss against their sweaty stomach. "maybe you wouldn't have been bigender. maybe you would have. maybe your powers are just a manifestation of who you were always meant to be. at the end of the day, all that matters is who you are now." you lay your head back down against their chest. "and i think they're pretty awesome." with a gentle hum, his arms slide over to hug you against them. guess they were satisfied with that answer.

"Well thanks," he says after a moment. "now if you could just convince the rest of the world to be less transphobic or xenophobic too, that'd be more useful."

"I'll get right on that,"

"parents would be happier. the powers they wanted but none of the gender shit. just their perfect superhero son."

"you are their perfect superhero son." you grin. "you're just also their perfect superhero daughter too. their perfect superhero person."

"you think I'm perfect," he teases.

"I think you're… something."

"hot? sexy? the coolest? what?"

you chuckle. leaning down to kiss their stomach but this time you gently nip the skin. "I'm not gonna feed that massive ego of yours."

"I already know you're obsessed with me," his grasp around you tightens ever so slightly. "can hardly blame you." you smile against them. they were probably right. you wouldn't admit it. "I wish they looked at me the same way."

"fuck them."

"don't talk about my parents like that." Jordan insists. "only I can say stuff like that."

"Sorry," you respond. you can hear their heart beating in their chest. one heart. one beautiful, fucked up person. you let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sound of Jordan li. "people put expectations on us and that's fucked. just be whoever you want."

"suppose." he mumbles softly. "sorry for being pathetic- no more talking about stupid ass feelings."

"I don't mind." you really didn't. you would listen to them talk about anything. "really."

the thing about being with Jordan is that you're never really with Jordan. it is always very hot and cold. you may find yourself in their bed naked, listening to their confessions but the very next day, they would probably ignore you. you rationalise their reaction by considering it embarrassment. they get self-conscious when it comes to being vulnerable. that doesn't make you feel better in the immediate sense but does allow you to remain hopeful for the future. you often see them around campus but you don't really talk. even if you did, they prefer to act like you hardly know each other. even just a smile is too much for Jordan Li; they prefer a dirty look. occasionally they found the time to text you back but that's hardly anything to write home about. plus you're always the one to initiate the conversation unless they're after something. your friends think they're an asshole. every time you find yourself left on read or longingly stalking their social media, they'd tell you to move on. and that's how you ended up here. at some random dorm party. apparently, the best way to get over them is to find someone new. you didn't want someone new but apparently, that's not a good enough reason to stay home. it's not a bad party. it's actually pretty fun once you relax and stop checking your phone every few minutes. but you should have known that if there was a party, Jordan Li would probably be there looking as radiant and mysterious as ever. a ghost haunting you in a crowd of drunk students. they also seemed to have a way of always knowing exactly where you are. you'd keep catching sight of them when you're getting a drink or talking to someone new. you're supposed to be ignoring them but they're making it very hard.

with a red cup full of the most disgusting beer in one hand, you're sitting on a couch listening to some random guy tell you all about himself. his name was Mike. Matthew? Matthew seemed correct. you don't remember exactly. it is so loud in here. the music wasn't even good. he was handsome though.

"so that's why I decided psychology would be better." he continues to explain his shift in major which had to do with his family. it's a sweet story. he seemed like such a genuine person. "I wanna help people but not through crime-fighting plus that'll give me a chance to work with supes and regular people."

"that's cool," you nod. it came out a little sarcastic but you never meant it that way. you had such admiration for people who wanna use their powers for good. it's not like you wanted to take over the world or anything but rather you had no clue what you wanted. it reminded you of your conversation with Jordan. you have no clue who you are or what you want. "I wish I was smart enough for that. kinda feel like I'm just here at the moment."

"that's fine too like you've got loads of time," he assures you, shuffling a little closer. a hand coming to rest on your arm along the back of the couch.

"that's true," you agree. "I don't know. we'll see, I'm not too worried like it's-"

"hey," you both look up to spy a masculine Jordan Li staring back with their arms crossed over their chest. his expression was indecipherable but fuck, did he look so good. "you gonna introduce us?" why would you introduce them? jordan wasn't part of this interaction and you hardly knew the other guy. Why was Jordan even here? they haven't spoken to you in days. when you don't respond, Matthew takes the liberty of introducing himself. you did remember his name correctly. "I'm Jordan."

"I know- everyone knows. you're in the top ten dude." Matthew is a little too eager. you would think he was the one sleeping with them.

"I am, yeah. can I just borrow," they point at you. "for a sec."

"uh…"

"I'm sorry. I'll be back." as you stand, Jordan clasps your wrist and basically hauls you up and off towards the hallway. you don't bother protesting. they were stronger than you anyway. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?" voice firm. jordan shifts to his femme form. fluffy short hair becomes an adorable bob. a much smaller frame but arguably more intimidating.

"excuse me?" your brow furrows.

"Are you stupid ?" Jordan asks, in a slightly more aggressive tone. "what are you doing?"

"what do you mean?" you had no clue what was going on right now. "I'm not doing anything."

"that dude is like all over you."

"no, he isn't. We're just talking," you argue.

a humourless laugh. "I know you're not that fucking naive,"

"Why do you even care?" you shoot back. you would hardly consider the conversation you were having the epitome of flirting. sure, there were a few lingering glances and some touching but there wasn't anything wrong with that. at least they were actually interested, unlike Jordan. "you've been ignoring me all week." a flash of surprise across their face that quickly disappears as they turn away from you.

"I've been busy."

"That's what you always say-"

"excuse me for having a life that doesn't revolve around you," Jordan fires back snappily, scowling back at you.

"why are you mad at me?"

"oh, I don't know. blatantly flirting with guys when you know I'm right there is a pretty shitty thing to do."

"I'm not flirting with anyone, we're just talking about our majors," you clarify. "and it's none of your business anyway, it's not like we're together. I can flirt with whoever I want."

"so you admit it." a scoff leaves your mouth. wait. was Jordan Li jealous right now? the same Jordan li who couldn't be bothered to so much as smile at you in the hallway was now mad that you're talking to someone else at a party? you can't help but laugh a little and when they frown in confusion, you laugh a little more.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" you ask, a playful quirk of your brow. "is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?"

"don't be an idiot," they defend, taking a step away and leaning back against the wall. you watch them carefully before following their gaze out into the sea of other people. "why would I be jealous?"

you close the distance once more; leaning in close. you hold their gaze. such soft pretty eyes hold so many secrets. "because you like me,"

"fuck off," Jordan huffs, flinching away from you. "I don't care what you do."

this whole conversation proved otherwise but okay. either way, you were done arguing over it. you were supposed to be focusing on other people not getting wrapped up in Jordan li again. "sure," you comment sarcastically. "I'm gonna get a drink and you're gonna leave me alone." you don't give them a chance to respond; simply walking away in search of a new drink. you half expect them to follow but they don't. with a fresh red cup, you decide to return to Matthew. he seems to have found somebody new to talk to. a tall guy with very distinctive feline eyes. "sorry about that." the boy looks at you, with a confused frown and then back to his friend. That was weird. "are you okay?"

"yeah," a smirk. "I just don't fuck with other people's girls. too messy." with that said, they both walk away. other people's girls? you weren't dating anyone. falling down against the couch, you search the crowd and spot a certain guy sporting a mischievous smirk. surely not. surely Jordan wasn't that much of a dick. when they catch your eye, they start walking towards you

"you look a little lonely over here."

"fuck you." you spit sharply.

"touchy." they hold their hands up in the air to feign innocence.

"you're such a fucking asshole," you grumble. sinking further down into the plush fabric of the couch. you were pissed. not over Matthew specifically. after all, you hardly knew him. but over the fact, that Jordan was so petty. you never expected them to do something as stupid as this.

"I didn't do anything " Jordan claims, a quick shrug of their shoulders. "he was just a dick."

"you told him I was your girlfriend."

"I didn't do shit," Jordan responds casually, shifting into their femme form as they fall down on the couch beside you. you sit forward ready to leave but not quite doing so. "I just decided to come talk to you since you seemed all lonely- sorry for trying to be nice."

"you don't know how to be nice."

"ouch," a playful hand slaps over the heart. "however will I go on" they chuckle, leaning back in their seat.

"fuck you."

"Will you chill out," their hands slide over your shoulders; gently pulling you back and into their awaiting embrace. "that guy was fucking dull as shit,"

"you don't even know him," you huff. no attempt to move out of their embrace; breathing in their perfume. it was surprisingly fruity. not their normal go-to.

"maybe not." Jordan answers. "but I know you." she hugs you against her chest. warm and tight. "I know your body." their hand slips down across your waist to rest upon your upper thigh. leaning in close, her breath is hot against your neck. "that dude could never fuck you as well as I do." whispered in your ear. A tingle spills down your spine. you shift against them, feeling very hot all of a sudden. "we both know it." you swallow hard. You don't know what to say. and frankly, you're worried that if you do they'll hear the tremble in your voice. you definitely don't want them to know the effect they had on you. not right now. not when you're supposed to be ignoring them. a feather-like kiss against your neck before it presses deeper. jordan sinks her teeth into your skin and your mouth falls open. a soft sigh slipping into the air.

"fuck…"

"That's what I thought," hummed against your skin before they pulled away. "so how about we stop playing games and go find somewhere quiet," they gently squeezed your thigh. "yeah?"

Jordan fucking li. they really were a piece of work. and your friends were gonna be oh so disappointed in you.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #the boys #jordan li x you #derek luh #london thor

[ashipiko]

NOW INTRODUCING...

—ASHI TAMADAI! ☆

Ashi Tamadai, part of the reborn Terugumi troupe! Often known as the youngest and most excitable member, the 14 year old always comes in with a splash!

TABLE OF CONTENTS—

1. Basic Info

2. Backstory/Introduction Writing

3. Trivia

4. Relationships (More may be added in future!)

5. Gallery

MORE UNDER CUT!

BASIC INFO:

Ashi Tamadai (アシ たまだい)

Troupe: Terugumi

Age: 14 (as of year 1 of Terugumi, year 2 of MANKAI)

Height: 157cm

Birthday: June 5

Blood Type: AB

Occupation: 3rd Year at Kazunari’s Junior High (1st Year at Ouka High in Act 3)

Motif rock: Floral Agate

Color: Salmon #FF9175

Hobbies: Drawing, rapping, doing whatever she feels like

Favorite Food: Spam Masubi

Least favorite food: Beans of any kind

Family: Father, Mother, Older Sister (11 Years Older), Older Brother (8 Years Older)

Strengths: Energetic, multitalented, charismatic

Weaknesses: Stubborn, worries too much on if she’s being annoying

CV: Sato Hinata

BACKSTORY:

Ashi’s always been the younger sister. Always at least 8 years younger than her immediate family, babied by all her cousins, and often treated as the youngest in school friend groups. Due to her age, of course. A birthday like June 5th didn’t help, finally catching up to other kids at the end of the school year. Everyone around her was older, and that always set her in the role of the youngest.

It was like tradition. Something you’re unable to break— “Would you mind babysitting Ashi while I’m gone?”, “Are you sure you can stay home by yourself?”, “Here, let me get this for you.”— An unbreakable curse. No matter what she did, how she tried to prove herself, it would just result in her being seen as stupid or incompetent, and she’d be back in the high chair.

It gets old at some point.

One day, she visited her cousin Kazunari Miyoshi, and heard of his debut in the new MANKAI company. Ashi wanted to show all her support to her favorite cousin, of course, so she bought a ticket as soon as she could. She sat in her seat, within in the sea of observers, and didn’t expect much except an outstanding performance. But that play— seeing Kazunari as Aladdin, alongside Tenma Sumeragi as Alibaba— it opened her eyes.

Seeing the star actor, known for his cool roles, acting in a comedy was such a breath of fresh air. Seeing her cousin, who she knew was more that what met the eye, say his thanks to the audience in such a genuine tone...

It helped her realize that acting was a way to escape from your usual persona and try something new. To branch out to different aspects. To be someone other than yourself. A chance to prove that you were more than what met the eye.

Ashi wanted that. More than anything.

Once she left the theater, she immediately started on her new journey. To find people who accepted her for who she truly is, and to see past what she seems to be. To find people who want to know her, to find a group where she feels she really belongs.

She found that auditioning for troupes around her area was the best way to go about it. If Kazunari can do it, why can’t she? So every week she visited a new troupe, giving her best, most dynamic audition to the directors. Sometimes she’d make the cut, but it didn’t matter anyways. Because again and again, she was merely casted as the background comedy character. The one you kill off, laugh over, and don’t bother to think about.

But MANKAI’s Summer Troupe plays helped her through all the failures, and every play and character she admired grew her passion for acting more and more. Seeing every actor’s happy face as they bowed and said heartfelt thanks for their standing ovation only made her dreams more powerful.

One day, she wishes she can become the shining star who blows everyone away.

One day, she wishes she can be something other than just a kid.

One day, she wishes she can prove herself to the world.

“Excuse me, I’d like to audition!”

TRIVIA:

—Ashi’s cousins to Kazunari! She’s the second youngest within her two families, with Futaba trailing behind just a little.

—She’s bilingual, knowing both Japanese and English (due to English being her first, she writes her name in English for her signature, left of her name on the introduction page).

—Ashi was born and raised in North America. However, her mom’s side of the family lived in Japan, so they would visit Japan every Summer for a long period, allowing her keep in touch with both areas. At age 12, she decided to stay in Japan permanently with her brother, who decided to stay for business reasons. She wanted to stay so that she could seek out more theater troupes along Veludo Way. In the story, her family is often mentioned as being overseas, so her older brother acts as her guardian. When she moves into the troupe, he enlists Kazunari to keep an eye on her when he can’t.

—Ashi’s two catchphrases are “Super Hype!/Hypesies!” and “Tehepero!” (referenced to in her doodle, top right of the introduction page).

—Ashi’s a part of a troupe called “Terugumi”, a reborn troupe (much like MANKAI) that’s one of the many acting troupes along Veludo. When the Terugumi story begins, it takes place after Act 2, before Act 3.

—She genuinely can’t stay awake past 12. Ashi becomes a completely different version of herself and loses all her energy, always having to hold onto someone. Kazunari brings up the memory of when they were younger, when Ashi survived off a churro at a theme park, confident she was going to make it till closing, before she passed out an hour before the park closed.

—She’s often the “little sister” with everyone she hangs out with. Ashi mainly hangs out with Kazunari, Tenma, Banri, and Azami. They all see a part of themselves in her, which leads to them getting attached easily.

—In Year 1 of MANKAI, Azami actually saved Ashi from getting jumped when she ended up lost, going the wrong way. Ever since he saved her and simply gave her his name, she always has an eye open for her “knight in shining armor”, asking around for a guy who she calls “Azami, the dark haired cutie”. She eventually gives up once she can’t find him at her junior high, but has a small sliver of hope.

—When she finds Azami again, she immediately wants to befriend him and get to know him, causing them to become fast friends and besties.

—She’s a hopeless romantic (runs in the family!)

—She raps often with Homare and Azami. They have a group chat that they barely use, and every once in a while she pops in to ask for a rhyme.

—Ashi is hilariously bad at freestyle, and runs out of rhymes quickly, but when given a solid set of lyrics she sings them super smooth.

—Ashi uses Kazunari’s nicknames for almost all of the members. The only weird exception is Juza, who she refers to as “Hyodo”. No one knows why, but it’s assumed by most that it’s due to Banri’s influence. She switches between nicknames and not-nicknames for Kazu, Tenten and Azamin. Banri’s the only one who she calls fully by name.

—She’s terrified of Chikage.

—Being called a “kid” is the biggest insult and middle finger you can give her. In her mind, being called a kid is like being called stupid, incompetent, pathetic, and everything in between. She thinks this because it was often used as a derogatory term when growing up.

—Despite being straight, she happens to attract a LOT of girls. She has a fan club a short while after she starts attending Terugumi (which is mostly girls), and girls at school have tried to pursue her at school as well. She dreads having to let them down, and feels like her charisma can be a curse at times. (“Ehh... Sometimes I wish the chocolates I get on V-Day were given by a bunch of guys instead...”)

RELATIONSHIPS (WITH MANKAI):

KAZUNARI

“Ashi, your latest inste post was super adorbs! ♪”

“Thanks Kazu! Learnt all my tricks from the expert~”

From a first glance, the cousin relationship seems more like a twin one, as they’re both excitable inste obsessed artists who can’t stop talking. But overtime, it becomes apparent that Kazunari watches over Ashi with a careful eye— They’re awfully close. It’s due to the fact that Kazunari sees a part of him in his little cousin, when they draw together in his dorm room, or when they have late night talks over the phone. His older brother instincts can’t help but kick in when he interacts with her.

He enjoys watching her grow and experience new things, especially since he can see her so much more now due to them being in local troupes. Kazunari can’t help but get a little overprotective at times, though. She’s his favorite little cuz, after all!

“Kazu! Mind hanging out with me at the mall today?”

“Bet, let’s do it! Hey, it’ll really help with my charming older bro image, don’tcha think?!”

TENMA

“Tenma… Would you mind buying this kpop album for me…? I’ll promise I’ll pay you back!”

“Sigh, what else should I expect from you at this point…”

The relationship between the two cocky O-High kids doesn’t really bloom (get it) until Kazunari mentions a resemblance between the two. At first, Tenma’s insanely confused. How could you compare him, a worldwide actor, to some 14 year old?! It takes a little clearing up to make him nod his head and quietly agree.

Kazunari notes that both of them are people who put up a strong and tough front, but in reality are just a couple of scaredy cat sheltered kids without a good idea of fun. After a couple indirect conversations, Kazunari decides to get them to start hanging out. Tenma at first is absolutely bewildered at her hyperness (more than Natsugumi, somehow) and finds it hard to talk to “kids these days”, and Ashi freaks over hanging with a celeb, but Tenma loosens up after she shares her admiration for the actor.

At some point, Tenma has to agree and say that he does see a little bit of himself in her too. He doesn’t know when— but the initial annoying feeling she gives turns into something sweet. Watching horror movies with her becomes comforting, and hiding in the blankets doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

”O-Oi, Ashi, who turned off the lights?!”

“I-I dunno! But I’m totally fighting whoever it is! For more banger movies from Tenma Sumeragi to come! COME AT ME!”

BANRI

”Hey Ashi, you think you’re finally old enough to fist fight me?”

“Oh-Ho! You are ON!”

At first meet, Banri calls Ashi a little kid. It ends up in a fistfight in the MANKAI lounge, which has to be broken up by both Natsugumi and Akigumi. A great way to start a friendship, isn’t it?

It’s through riling up Ashi that Banri finds out she’s also a thrill seeker who’s looking for something new. Not to mention, multi-talented, just like him. It’s rare that you ever find a kid like that, and even rarer that you find a kid as fun as Ashi. Through this little banter relationship, Banri starts taking Ashi out to do different activities— Wood carving, arcades, shooting arrows— Anything new in attempts to give them a thrill. It’s through all the challenges that the yells of “YOU SUCK!” turn into laughs, even if insults still trail behind.

It’s refreshing to meet someone with the same struggles who’s willing to solve them with you. Banri doesn’t know when, but at some point it feels like he has two sisters instead of one. And Ashi can’t help but feel like she’s gained another older brother. NEO finally has a secret weapon to rival Taruchi.

“...Ashi, did you notice that Itaru’s streams have been mentioning someone named ‘Lil NEO’?”

“NOOOO! Don’t tell me I have to be associated with you on social media now...!”

AZAMI

“Hey Azamin, I found this unused eyeshadow palette at my house! You think you can use it?”

“Pfft. Is this your way of trying to get me to do your makeup again?”

Azami and Ashi are both the youngest members within their companies, and it’s definitely something they bond over often. They both have issues and hate being referred to as a kid, so during their makeup sessions, where Azami, the pro makeup artist, happily does makeup for Ashi, the pretty one who doesn’t know anything outside of skin care, they often rant and talk about annoyances within their troupes. Ashi finds it comforting that someone’s willing to listen to her seriously, and Azami finds it comforting that there’s someone else who feels the same way as him. Due to this, Ashi often comes by for Azami to test out new makeup products, since she always trusts in him and his magical skills.

Especially when they reconnect a year or two after Azami saves Ashi, Ashi can’t help but admire and fawn over Azami. “You’re so cool, Azamin! You can fight, do makeup, AND slay in every way?! You’re amazing!”, are things she says often. Azami gets a little flustered at how touchy and affectionate she is, but he can’t help but soften up after a while. Hugs are okay. Hugs are good. It feels nice gaining one from someone who looks up to you so much.

Despite their different aesthetics, the two really aren’t that different. As they hang out more and more, walking home from school, hanging out at the dorms, going to cafes, they quickly become best friends and always enjoy each others company. Ah, well, maybe they enjoy each others company a little more than they’d like to admit.

“Azami, your skills are for REAL magic! Like, you’re insane when you’re holding a brush like that...!”

“...Magic, huh? Heh. Thanks, Ashi.”

GALLERY:

#OH MU GOD THIS IS SUCY A LONG POST IM WWWWWWW #SORRY. IM PROBABLY STOLL GONNA ADD MORE TO IT #been rotting over her for the past week #yeah this was all done in a week #maybe less #do you see how bad my brainrots are 😔😔 #anyway. Kazunari’s overprotective of Ashi and how other mankai members treat hee #*her #cough cough Taicchan stop eyeing my cousin cough #but when it comes to Azami it’s diff cuz <3 their relationship is diff #and so Frooch goes to him for relationship advice cuz he can’t take bon’s slow burn anymore #🙏🙏 blonde wingmen fr #tho kazu will not shut up when they do get together. #FROOCH FROOCH WE’RE LIKE BASICALLY BLONDE BROTHERS FOR REAL NOW!!!! WW’RE GONNE BE FELATED!!!!!!! #RELATED* ohmy god #but yeah and then Frooch is regretting his life decisions 😔😔 #I SHOULD STOP AZASHI RAMBLING IN THE TAGS DEAR GOD #a3! #a3! act addict actors #a3 yume #a3 oc #a3!shi #ashi tamadai #ashi sona #ashipiko draws ♪

[okiidokii]

Obligotry Once-a-Month art post, and here's the main five designs lol.

I'm hella busy right now and I already barely had time to draw the Lagoona and Cleo designs, I then realized I had some problems with my first take on the big three so I redesigned them. I'll make bios for Lagoona and Cleo (as well as Ghoulia and Spectra, who are supposed to be part of this "Wave 1" lineup), but just unshaded full-bodies for now.

edit: Individual artworks cause the main image is blurry as shit 😭

Tangent under the Cut!

I made some little changes for Frankie ( I now realize I didn't even complete the pattern of the leg warmers, but ngl I'm vibing with the asymmetry). I just thought their design was too busy to work for a doll. Not that I am planning on making these designs into dolls, but that was my mindset when designing them. The excessive patterns, while looking cool to me, might seem off-putting to see on shelves so I toned it down a bit. Also removed some layers of clothes cause LOL there is NO way Mattel would ever put that many layers on a playline doll. Also changed the shoes, kinda rushed the first ones I designed I didn't like them at all. I feel these one fit my direction for Frankie a lot more.

Cleo was very inspired by Mcbling era of 2000s fashion. I like G1 Cleo a lot, but I think she was of the main dolls who didn't really have a clear fashion style attached to her, just wearing Egyptian motifs. Which don't get me wrong, looked really good at times, but I feel a lot more could be done with her. I associate the Mcbling era with extreme consumerism and hyper-femininity, and like... if that's not Cleo. Gave Cleo hazy eyes, jaundice, and generally ashy skin so she looks especially dead looking.

I didn't really have that much beef with my Clawdeen design as much as I had beef with her drawing. Like it looked SO bad compared to the rest. I actually sat my as down and drew her braids this time. I also changed her bra-mesh shirt cause 1.) again, Mattel will never put that many layers on a playline doll 2.)IDK maybe I'm a prude but perhaps it was too much for a 15 year old?

Lagoona was really a case of having my cake (making her Australian) and eating it too (making her a WOC). My Lagoona Blue is a Yawk-Yawk, a sea creature with sea-weed hair from the Bininj indigenous people of Australia. I wanted to connect her to an actual sea creature because honestly G1 half-sea nymph thing was vague as hell, and G3 is giving us literally nothing.I'd like to imagine the seaweed being a plastic mold at the back of her neck, like Viperine snakes. A lot of redesigns of Lagoona tend to go for streetwear or sport-leisure, but I went for beach fashion cause I liked the vibes. To compensate for the utter mainstreamness of her fashion, I tried to give her weird makeup.

Drac changed significantly because she was the only one whose design I outright disliked, at least for a hypothetical core doll. I removed the pink streaks cause I thought while it might look cool as a drawing, it might look garish on a doll (that and It'd be difficult to root with a machine). Still think the design might be a hassle to translate to doll form (the skirt is WAY too much), so I might have to revise it, again. But I like this direction much more.

#honestly lagoona is my favorite simply for how much I snuck into her design #like her choker is the plastic rings of soda packaging (they get infamously caught by turtle in the ocean) #Her headflower is the Stuart Desert Rose(the national flower of the Northern Territory in Australia where the Bininji people are) #her eyebrows resemble fish skeletons #her earrings are dragonflies (an insect Yawk-Yawks can transform into) #and her seahorse from G1 holds her fisherman's net-looking crochet sweater together (an Idea I stole from Moderngurlz design lol) #they're references in the others as well but yeah Lagoona definitely had the most #Monster High #Hokii's Dokiis #redesign #fanart #Monster High fanart #Monster High redesign #Frankie Stein #Cleo de Nile #Clawdeen Wolf #Lagoona Blue #Draculaura #my post #ohh boy here comes a bunch of tags

[forthegothicheroine]

Best Fragrantica reviews of (some of) my favorite perfumes, Part II

First installment here

Maison Martin Margiela By the Fireplace

Careful not to be worn by this perfume instead of being you the wearer. Not that it is oh so powerful, but it may be too bold of a statement piece for, ahem, some. Wearing BTF when you don't look the part and don't give it sense will have you smelling borderline unhealthy. Like your organs inside have worn off and darkened (and burned out, I guess). Truly as weird as it sounds. The raw thing smells very exciting. I love it ashy. I don't see myself daring any soon, however. And I don't find that it worked for the men I know either, as they have (and I cringe to say) whiter auras and don't fit the "handling cognac by the fire" thing. So I've yet to see it really work, which I'm sure will be great. It's a lovely perfume.

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Bewitched

This is the smell of a witch's brew. She made a special tea for you to drink. You pass out. When you awaken you find yourself in her garden full of poisonous berries, patchouli, weeds, clary sage, and flowers whose petals have been plucked. This is an herbal scent, like walking inside a shop selling only herbs. It's medicinal and like a tea. Not always easy to take in...The smell of sage and musk give it a unisex/masculine quality. I would say that it's more of a guy's type of cologne than a woman's. I would wear it for Halloween with a witch costume or as Morticia Addams. It's really a very engaging scent but it's linear and simple. It's a little green tea and berry. It's got a bite but it's witchy and dark, but not a strong cologne either. For a niche indie frag, not bad.

TokyoMilk Gin & Rosewater

I was in a boutique that carries the Tokyo Milk Curiosite & Bon Bon lines, and I was entranced by this. Florals are not usually my thing, by the way, because I get monster headaches from most of them. Suddenly the salesgirl is RIGHT NEXT TO ME leaning in conspiratorially and says in an awed tone that 'Blake Lively LOVES this one'. OMFG, Blake Lively, you say??!? Like for serious, the real Blake Lively?? OMFG, do you have like, more in the back?!? I'm totally going to buy every bottle you can shove in my basket because BLAKE LIVELY would hang out with me if we ran into each other and then my life could end. Um, not. I almost DIDN'T buy it because of the salesgirls then going into a tizzy about how amazing Blake is. I could not care less, although I'm sure Lively is nice enough. But it did smell cool, so home with me it came, along with the matching lotion.

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

It’s an overwhelming fragrance that smells like the bottom of my grandma’s small square leather purse when we went to mass (her old dried up lipstick💄 the powder compact, the newspaper, the pack of strawberry-ish scented kleenex, the peppermints). It’s vintage, it’s a bit suffocating and I have it printed in my memory 4 ever.

Juliette Has a Gun Magnolia Bliss

Anastasia Steele, no longer a virgin. In her Audi A3, the smell of her new car, first edition books and a new life... That's what comes into mind with this perfume. The night Christian took her for the first time on his helicopter. I can imagine this is exactly what she smelled like that night. With Ellie Goulding's Love me like you do playing in the background. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540

I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to wear this in public just in case a fragrantica influencer comes out of a bush and starts pointing & laughing at me in front of everyone

Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille

what all the hot daddies in every lana del rey song smell like

Jo Malone Velvet Rose & Oud

If your family was religious, traditionally Asian, or both, you'll know this scent. This is the scent of a temple. This is the scent of an altar. Personally I can never wear this because smelling this brings back so many memories of burning incenses, visiting funerals, and saying prayers and wishes. My bottle is literally sitting on an altar.

Perfumer's Workshop Tea Rose

Speaking of the devil. This scent is the one with the Prada's shoes.

4160 Tuesdays Doe in the Snow

This is borne on a Christmas Eve, under the moonlight, a baby fawn just out of it's mother's womb. The moon is full light casting blue shadows snow lightly falling delicate flakes each one unique on the nose of the new born... Pure fresh Christmas morning air stillness not a sound blanketed with drifts of snow that is Doe In The Snow... pure white innocence...velvet petals so delicate under the driven snow...I have seen this in a dream... Another love... I get it...

#perfume

[pinayelf]

I was tagged by @brother-genitivi to make ocs in this!

Ty so much Leo! I really loved this one ❤️

My only iff was that some darker skin tones looked ashy

Top left: Amihan in a little mermaid au. I always think of immy in a tlm au but a friend brought up that amihan would absolutely give up her fins to be with Alistair lol…that longing for someone and doing everything to be w them is very her. So I’m working on a tlm au for her haha

Top right: Violetta as an underwater cavern mermaid. I’m fascinated (and afraid) of water-filled caves, and I thought it would be really cool to have a cryptid like mermaid in one. Whether she’s real, the figment of divers’ imaginations, or the reason for the cave’s high number of diving deaths…we will never know

Bottom left: Immy as a mermaid princess ❤️ anytime i imagine her as a mermaid I think of those colorful Barbie mermaids. Perhaps she helps Captain Rutherford through a shipwreck and saves his entire fleet…she tries not to be seen, but the Captain is haunted by the vision of a beautiful woman

Bottom right: Sinag doesn’t have a mermaid au, so I’m using Leo Hawke. During a tiring voyage, Captain Isabela drops her telescope in the ocean. She’s frustrated - it’s a new one, one that cost her a pretty penny. During the quiet dawn the next day, she feels herself drawn to a voice…and on her deck sits a merman, with her telescope in hand.

Brain is too fried atm and I don’t wanna forget anyone 😭 pls feel free to do this if you see it. I personally love dollmakers like this and I just adore mermaids so again Ty Leo this had me pull up fun mermaid stories w my ocs

#amihan Amell #violetta amell #imryll lavellan #Leo hawke

[midnightfangz]

Hello and welcome everyone to my newest project called Pluto reviews where I gush about the amazing fanfics my dear friends wrote <3

I've always (kind of?) wanted to do this for a pretty long time, but was too shy to actually write and post something, so I wanted to thank my very cool friend Nova (aka @min1nova) for asking me to review their fic called To the bone.

Without further ado, let's get to it :3c

Contents:

Introduction ✦ Story summary ✦ My thoughts ✦ Excerpts ✦

‧₊˚✩彡 Introduction

⤷ To the bone is a dark industrial fantasy fanfic based on the Hades video game from 2018. What is dark industrial fantasy, you ask? Imagine Andrzej Sapkowski's Witcher without the high fantasy elements-- heavily inspired by industrial towns in eastern Europe. The main pairing is Thanaots/Zagreus, but there's a smidge of Charon/Hermes in the background, if you're into that too. It is rated as mature, mostly because of its serious and grim nature. It currently has over 4k words, but I'm sure that's gonna change soon, since Nova has a few more chapters planned.

⤷ TW for the first chapter (as described by Nova): blood, mediocre surgery description, Thanatos with the usual amount of stick up his ass(!)

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‧₊˚✩彡 Story summary

⤷ Author's summary:

A small town enshrouded in the march of industrial abuse of the land is the home of many curious figures. Darkness is afoot, sons harbour secret enterprises and death is only a comforting constant here. The gloomy barista of a quiet cafeteria begins to unravel a mystery as an uneventful night turns into a rather harried operation.

⤷ My summary:

The story focuses on a young man named Thanatos, who is trying to make a living as a coffee shop owner in a small mining town called Grobniki. One evening, a heavily wounded man passes out on the doorstep of his establishment and Thanatos decides to take him in and patch him up.

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‧₊˚✩彡 My thoughts

⤷ I might be slightly biased since I got this was a very, very cool story gifted to me by Nova, however! Nova's writing style is so fucking good I simply must promote it whenever I can :3c

⤷ I absolutely love how Nova manages to nail the characterisation no matter the tone she sets for her story. Not only that, the characterisation makes sense within her story. Take Thanatos, for example. He's deadly serious (pun intended) and takes his job very seriously in the game, so it makes sense he would be the same in To the bone. Nova, however takes it to a next level-- we get Thanatos who's kinda scary and is absolutely terrible at social interactions, despite a coffee shop owner. Never would I have thought that Than would choose to talk to people as a job, but holy shit Nova pulls it off so well. And Zagreus-- my god Zagreus!! He's still the talkative, flighty himbo we see in the game, but you can feel he's hiding something behind that smug smile of his. Not gonna lie, when I first read his lines, I could hear his voice saying them.

⤷ Also the general vibe of the story is?? so good?? Nova's fics tend to gravitate towards grittier, more serious aesthetics and I'm all here for it.

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‧₊˚✩彡 Excerpts

And lastly, here are my favourite parts from the first chapter, It begins in the darkness:

The doctor’s son had indeed ventured to open a business of his own. His greyish, darker skin would gleam in the lamplight and contrasted sharply with his ashy platinum hair, hands working deftly and his stride quick as he prepared the orders. Amongst those could be a strange liquid, dark as the night, imported from the imposing, large city so far beyond their reach. The bitter end, a name that caused many a chuckle, was not well visited in the evening, but more and more of the workforce would make their way to the shop in the morning, nursing a cup of the death that served them, even if the only deadly thing about it was the amounts of precious sugar deposited in each and every cup quickly drained before a long day of hard labour and shallow breaths.

⤷ hrrghrgrgh you have. no idea. how much I love Nova's worldbuilding and scene descriptions i mean are you seeing this??? I swear to god they're hogging all that talent it's not fair

“Dear bartender, I would like a small cup of your darkest, with two spoons of sugar please!” The postman all but draped himself over the counter every morning, quite dramatically so. It would be the same every morning, before he ran all the way to the larger town down the river to pick up the post, and in the afternoon he would distribute it among the townsfolk, in their little letterboxes. 

⤷ HERMES IS MY FAVOURITE LITTLE FELLA AND NOVA WRITES HIM SO WELL

“–and then I nearly fell down the bridge, and I saw them all! The fish you were speaking of, I knew it was bad, but not nearly as I saw it, oh the stench!” The postman had seated himself across the fisherman–if one could call the draping that he always tended to do just that–and spoke animatedly. A strange companionship the two nursed over drinks, but Thanatos found himself just a tiny bit envious between the laughter that bounced off the floorboards and the easy way in which they seemed to understand each other, even if they didn’t quite speak each other’s language.

⤷ woe! background charon/hermes be upon ye! (foaming at the mouth they make me so ill in the best way possible)

Thanatos would like to claim that he was not so different from these townsfolk, but that was not entirely true. It took him some time, when he’d been younger, to learn to discern. The vacant eyes were not so different from the vacancy that could dwell in the mind sometimes, after all. Pale skin could glitter so sickly, when one happened to be a patient of his loving mother. 

⤷ i need to print this out and shove it in my mouth this is so fucking good oh my god

After thorough inspection, Thanatos did not find any more grave injuries that needed immediate attention, other than a clean rag over the numerous scrapes that mapped a concerning picture for the observer. The bruises that would certainly grow darker soon, the pale, sweaty skin stretched over a body that would fail the host soon if the wound wasn’t closed soon. When he checked for a pulse, despite the assurance that the body was still breathing, rapidly, there seemed to be next to none. He frowned. 

⤷ another banger paragraph that makes me want to jump up and down while screaming like an ape because i can't handle how beautiful Nova's writing style is

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Anyways, that's all I have for today!

What did you think? Would you like me to continue doing reviews like this? Or better, would you like me to read YOUR fic and do a review of it?

(youtuber voice) let me know what you think in the comments! Until next time!

Yours truly,

Pluto aka midnightfangz <3

#pluto.reviews #fanfic review #fanfiction #ao3 #writeblr #midnightfangz.txt #uhhhhh i have no idea how to tag this ? this should be enough right

[cecilebutcher]

Lipstick Challenge💋

This challenge was made by our lovely ashi ( @ashipiko ). Go see her stuff she is super cool and a fellow Ace lover<3 enjoy

Word count: 454

Summary: Vesper invites Jamil over for the lipstick challenge

Warning: none

For: Me<3

“Vesper you needed something?” Asked Jamil as he walked into the prefects room. Vesper, who was on the bed strumming his guitar, looked up and gave the Scarabia vice a smile before setting his instrument aside and got off the bed. “Glad you came princess” Jamil rolled his eyes at the teasing nickname “I brought something and I need your help testing it out”

Jamil felt the hair at the back of his head stand up at the teasing tone, somehow still not used to it even after all these months. He watched as Vesper started to looks through his drawers, mumbling something under his breath, until he stopped and the smile came back wider. “Sit down, I have a surprise” Vesper instructed in a sing song tone.

Jamil, Agains his better judgment, did as he was told and sat down on the green sheeted bed. “Ok so, I have a challenge for you” Vesper said and started walking towards the bed, one hand behind his back “Ok? What is it?” The green haired male smiled and sat down next to his friend. He showed him his other hand that was behind his back to show, lipstick?

Jamil blinked in confusion and looked up at the other male, not understanding what he’d supposed to do with random lipstick. “So here’s the deal” Vesper started to explain “A friend of mine told me of this challenge where we put on one minute for each of us, apply the lipstick, and kiss the other as much as possible. I’ve already tried this with most of the first years plus my darling boyfriend Floyd, and won most of them, so whatcha say?” They ended their explanation with a cocky grin.

“What?” Was the only thing Jamil managed to mumble, too shocked by this. “If you’re worried about Floyd, he’s cool with the challenge” Vesper reassured with a shrug “Too cocky from winning our challenge” Jamil stared at the lipstick for a bit, his face growing redder and redder by the second. “Jami~ are you there~” The boy snapped out of his thoughts and glared at his underclassmen with a frown. “Fine, but you won’t tell anyone about this” He threatened and grabbed the lipstick.

“Alright alright, You can go first” Vesper put his hands up in defeat with a giggle, earning an eye roll from Jamil. “Remember, you have to leave VISIBLE marks on my face. As much as you can got it?” “I’m not dumb Vesper” Jamil opened the lipstick and started applying it “I know how this works dipshit” Vesper let out a giggle and grabbed their phone. After a few seconds he glanced up “ready?” Jamil only nodded, “ok then, one two three, Go!”

Likes and comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3

If you enjoyed this, consider checking out my blog!! Every single thing I’ve written is in the pinned post.

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst #❦cece #jamil viper #Twisted wonderland x oc #cecile’s oc’s #lipstick challenge #if anyone is wondering #Vesper won #Jamil got flustered half way through

[anytimebitchess]

Hello Nat! Hope you're doing great!

So for the color/fashion thing! Would you do Jules Koundé and Eduardo Camavinga please?

Hi nony!!

I’ll do Cama on this post and Jules on another post, ‘cuz I don’t have space for them both on here.

Eduardo Camavinga Season Paletter

My first guess when looking at Cama is that he’s a cool toned. There is a stark contrast between the irises and whites of his eyes. So even if his skin is dark, a contrast between the whites of the eyes, the teeth and the rest of the features is prominent.

Gold or Silver?

I find he looks well in gold and silver, so he is not fully cool toned, but I do find silver looks bit better against his skin. So he may have a bit warmth to him.

Warmer tones:

Eduardo doesn’t wear many warmer undertones, so it’s hard for me to really see how he works with them, but these 4 pics are probably the best pictures I’ve found. I do think that nudes wash him out a bit and look underwhelming on him or overshadow him, or even make him look a bit ashy. Therefore, I think that he is more of a cool tone rather than a warm tone.

Cooler tones:

Cooler and brighter colors seem to work very well on him, they seem to brighten up his skin and don’t look dull on him, like more the warmer autumn colors. The white contrasts his skin quite well and doesn’t overpower him. The bright red and blue warms up his skin, and the pink accentuate his features. The cooler and brighter tones electrify his features and pull out his beauty and warm him up.

Conclusion 💡

I think that Eduardo is a Bright Winter. He looks the best in bright colors that are more on the cooler range, but a bit warmer Bright Spring colors look well on him too. This means that his primary color aspect of his overall appearance is bright, and the secondary aspect is cool – meaning cool colours suit him better than warmer ones.

I hoped you liked this, and if you have any thoughts or opinions, feel free to share them 😊💗

Disclaimer: I’m just experimenting and trying to learn more, so this is not professional in any means but exercise.

#eduardo camavinga #Cama #france nt #equipe de france #les bleus #real madrid #rm #football fashion #season palette #color theory

[ariendiel]

LITG S2 Colour Seasons

Summers (cool)

Lottie: Light Summer (we can see this executed perfectly in her hair dye options, and her lipstick. However black is too strong for her, it makes her a bit yellow-ish, but that just makes her "pop" more, which adds to the Gothic style)

Gary: True Summer (his hair is so yellow aka springy, his skin is so pink and purple, an his eyes are a vibrant bright blue... unrealistic design but I did my best to translate him to real life)

Bobby: Muted Summer (cool-neutral. The neutral tones come in with his season being a neighbor to soft autumn, he as some warmth but leans cool overall, and has an olive tone, low contrast)

Henrik: Light Summer

Arjun: Muted summer (his hair also has ashy tones)

Winters (cool)

Marisol: Deep Winter

Hope: Bright Winter (each color of her makeup actually compliments her, but it's just too many all at once)

Lucas: Clear winter (icey pastels King)

Carl: Clear Winter

Kassam: Bright Winter

Winters are easiest to spot for me,very distinct from the other seasons in thier electric and dramatic colours.

Autumn's (warm)

Priya: Deep Autumn (warm-neutral. Anything deep and rich. She can wear gold best, followed by rose gold- a deep autumn specialty, and even silver is it's not a very cold type)

Blake: Soft autumn (warm, low contrast, and can wear gold mainly, copper, metals and silver If they're brushed or patina finished. Her hair is a bit intense, so maybe she has a bit more warmth that leads her into true autumn...)

Noah: Deep Autumn- true neutral (I've struggled with him, true neutrals are rare irl, but based on the fact that he's rich, and can wear neutrals and navy like no on else I've settled on this or now.. he just has so much red undertones but also has medium contrast.. im not 100% satisfied, so any input would be appreciated)

Rocco: True Autumn

Elijah: Deep autumn (I don't have a quality screenshotnof him so this isn't confident, but he's warm-neutral, low contrast, and muted)

Springs (warm)

Hannah: Warm Spring

Chelsea: Light spring (her natural tan is very springy)

Jo: Soft Spring (neighboring the summer season, she has some coolness)

Shannon: Warm Spring

Rahim: Clear Spring (warm and bright, and he so happens to be blessed to wear violet... love that for him)

Elisa: Light Spring

Felix: Light Spring (he's wearing mostly summery colours, maybe to accommodate his dyed hair?)

Jakub: True Spring

Graham: True Spring (hes bright and his hair is warm.. I considered True Autumn.. do we really care about him? lol)

OK, my theory is that there are so many springs in litg because these colours are juicy, fresh, trendy, bright and eye catching. Which is perfect in a summery, hot setting like the villa.

In the colour season theory, things like overtone (freckles, tanning VS burning, and blushing, eye colour) aren't indicators of a specific season, however they can give clues to a person's place on the dial within thier base season: Soft, bright, true, Muted, deep, clear.

This art style doesn't add eye texture or patterns-probably due to size, space and distance-but those are the best tell-tale of someone's season, so obviously I couldn't work with that.

Anyways, it was fun to do this, I find it interesting how some characters don't always wear their best colours, just like real people :) overall, thier chosen clothes give insight into thier personalities! I'd love any feedback or corrections from anyone who's also into this x

This is so, so good! I'm in awe, anon 🤍

Absolutely loved reading the analysis for the different characters, and I'm definitely trusting your judgement on this one. For people not familiar with all this, here's a reference photo for you. It doesn't match the categories you mentioned perfectly, but I think it's close enough:

Noah is definitely tricky, as he does wear deep blues and neutrals and warm colours well (at least in my mind). We love complex characters though, even if it's "just" about colours 😌 My ideal colours for him are definitely these, but I'm not sure which category they fit in:

#this is so interesting anon! #I'd love it if others want to chime in as well #litg s2 #love island the game #litg #ask #litg everyone

[sinsandsweetness]

hi bby!! i’m thinking of dyeing my hair and i need hair inspo!!

i got my hair cut and layered a little over a week ago and it’s feeling very healthy so now it’s time to dye it🤭

but i don’t know if i should do blonde or maybe some fun color??

im very fair skinned, i don’t tan and i only burn and my cheeks are always really rosey so i don’t know what colors to avoid?? like black always washes me out and makes me look so ghostly

what color do you think i should do? !

bby anon

Bby, I’ve been thinking about getting my hair done too<3

I think something light sounds good for your skin tone. Maybe on the warmer side, not too ashy or cool toned. I’m thinking maybe a strawberry blonde? Think early 2000s Lindsey lohan … I’ll add some pics for inspo below.

(Fun fact about me is that I actually wish i had gone to hair school instead of university)

So I feel like the warm blondes would look great (on the left) or if you want something more fun and different for fall, the strawberry/auburn vibe (on the right)😊😊

#bby anon <3 #I have a Pinterest addiction

[dragynkeep]

Please if you want to, do the Amity Arena Summer Beach outfits so we can talk about positive things too, because goddamn the atlas outfits. Jeepers.

Really, Amity Arena has outfits all across the board. Some are great, others are average, and then there’s some that are just trash. The Summer Beach outfits are actually pretty cute for the most part, and I really like them. 

ALT

This is honestly really cute. I love the booty shorts, the tied shirt with the crop top underneath, even the sandals are adorable. It’s suitable for a beach outfit, it’s a Yang outfit without a doubt, and even the X octopuses are so adorable. 

Even though she has very little of her colour on the outfit, which for a RWBY character is still a negative, it’s not a huge deal for an alternative outfit on a mobile game. The colouring is still nice together, and I like how she looks in red. It really suits her. 

ALT

He looks so dumb and I love it. This is what Ironwood wears on the few holidays he allows for himself.

The Hawaiian shirt, the shorts, the little sandals, I love it. The blue of his shirt works with the red and green details, and the overall colour scheme is pretty coherent while still keeping to his established colour. It’s a cool colour palette, and his prosthetics being clear on show is nice to see so normalised. It’s also great for people like me to see how far his prosthetics go on his body.

Also his gun is a water gun and that’s great. 

ALT

Nora’s is a bit more average for me. The pufferfish swimming cap is a little dumb for me, and the colours together is kinda gross looking. I really would’ve prepared pink and white together, at least keep to the established colour scheme with some nicer colours.

I love his little floaties. It’s such overkill and great for Neptune with his little fear of water. He’s safe from drowning. 

I like that the red lifejacket is similar to his usual red jacket, and these colours work well with his bright blue hair and orange snorkel goggles. The only thing I’m not a fan on is the green on his swimsuit, it might work more with more blue, just to let the colour go through the outfit. 

She is so adorable. 

I love the swim shirt and shorts together, the red background works with the bright white emblems and white shorts, especially with the small red accents. With the shoes, it helps to keep her red throughout the outfit, especially without the red cape behind her. 

I love the goggles on her head. The blue is nice contrast with the red, and works against the colour of her dark hair. 

Adorable. 

It’s a bit difficult to see with how she’s posed, but the swimsuit with the purple and white works with the black shorts, especially with her long black hair. The bow and it’s design works similarly as well, since the bright colours help the bow stand out against the black hair. 

The goggles are a bit much in combination with the bow, either have the goggles or the bow, having both just clutters the top half. 

This is such a cute design. 

I love the hair changed into a ponytail over the shoulder, and the straw hat is such a cute accent for her. She looks like the type to carry a big bag of everything to the beach, especially sunscreen. Atlas doesn’t get sun. 

The blue dress is such a cute design, and the gradient to lighter blue and white is so pretty. It contrasts with her pale skin, and while I’d like some more white to show through, I do think this blue is very pretty.  

Sun is the perfect dude for a beach outfit. He looks so cute.

It’s a very casual wear, and the blue looks so good with the yellow of his hair and the white of his hat, it fits with his established colour scheme and fashion. The little waves on his shorts are cute and add a bit of details to the little clothing he has.

Plus, I think his eyes are black like they were originally, which I appreciate. It’s very neutral with his otherwise bright colour scheme. 

Her skin is so desaturated. Ashy crocodile. 

The skin tone aside, it’s a cute outfit otherwise. The green and black work well together, especially with her desaturated skin. I love the tock on her shorts and little decal on her chest, and the sunglasses on her head are cute. 

#rwby #outfit critiques #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #james ironwood #nora valkyrie #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #tock #answered #luke.txt

[wetbloodworm]

guess who cards reminded me of a thing i was doing fucking. years ago. comparing and contrasting the face designs of my former russia kids. this isn’t... 100% accurate b/c i’m bad with drawing faces the same way every time and also my style is. limited. but these are mostly just the basic shapes and rules i keep in mind when drawing these kids. notes under the cut

as a concept, ivan and asya are the 1Ps and sergey and anya are the 2Ps. obviously we’ve drifted from that being a hard rule but at least for ivan, sergey, and asya that was my starting point for them. anya’s journey has been more complicated but fhskdfj

ivan and asya are the closest in design while sergey and anya as the 2Ps have fewer similarities, primarily because they were designed separate from each other. i had a 2p nyo russia briefly named fyeodora who was closer to sergey’s design but i never clicked with her so she’s been retired. i might bring her back as a separate concept later but who knows.

ivan and asya are both blond, with ivan having more ashy blond hair and asya having a strawberry/cherry blonde color

ivan and asya both have vivid purple eyes with asya’s being a little more muted/slightly bluer tinted. i should probably change this for human AUs to make them less. y’know. anime-inspired. but i won’t. i pictured ivan with blue eyes once and i hated it.

ivan and asya both have angled eyes, with ivan’s being downturned and asya’s being upturned. ivan’s eyes are also deeper set so i usually try to make the line of his upper eyelid thicker to try to hint at that. they also both have bigger eyes in general. or they're supposed to, i don't think i did great with asya here/made anya's too big. big anime eyes are my art curse

i would categorize ivan and asya’s hair as ‘fluffy’ above everything else, though asya’s hair leans a bit curlier. the volume is more important to her Look than the curls.

i’m more likely to draw little blush lines on ivan and asya b/c, idk, Softer

ivan and asya have the roundest faces, though ivan's is longer than asya's. i'm not great with categorizing/recognizing face shapes but uhh i think his would be more oval with hers being round?

ivan and asya have their bangs more universally in their eyes, asya's flip out more on the outside like anya's does on her shorter side. both these kids need headbands.

all four kids have slightly more full upper lips, with ivan and asya having fuller lips overall. if the style allows for it and it doesn't distract from the facial expression, the line for their upper lips are usually there. examples!

also this pic of anya is what reminded me that i adjusted her skin tone at some point and just? didn't update her color palette swatch? that's why there's two skin tones for her in the main pic, i kinda like the darker tone but change is hard. so she's going to have the most variance in the example pics i guess. all the kids have had their palette's change over time, hers is just the most recent

as cousins, asya and sergey also have a few similarities!

sergey also has purple tinted eyes, though they’re more gray than anything

sergey’s hair is much curlier but he’s the reason asya’s hair has any curl to it

these aren’t profile pics so you can’t tell as easily here but asya and sergey have.. god i don’t know nose types. what’s the opposite of a straight nose. the bridge... indent thing is deeper/lower down and the tip angles out a bit more? hang on pics

that's what i mean. also example of the flatter fake smile ivan's got being more important than defining his upper lip.

freckles!! asya and sergey have very obvious freckles. ivan technically has very faint freckles but they only show up when i'm getting more detailed with colors, so i don't include them in simpler drawings.

sergey and anya both usually have their eyes half-lidded, though sergey's is supposed to look more tired/bored where anya's more... cool? seductive? idk. they just do that naturally. also her eyes are deeper set.

anya's eyes are the outlier with no purple to them; they're brown with a red tint

you can't see sergey's piercing but he and anya both have 'em, she's got her lip ring and he has a tongue ring. which i always forget for both of them, along with anya's double lobe piercings. she just doesn't always wear earrings that one's fine. asya has her lobes pierced once, ivan has no piercings.

sergey and anya have slightly sharper jawlines, anya especially, with anya's face being longer. i often try to emphasize anya's angles with the cheekbone lines or shading in that area. and again with face shapes, i think sergey's is more square and anya's is... triangular? maybe?? i'm less certain with these two. what are face shapes.

when i remember to w/ ivan, he and anya generally have the longer faces. this is shown best in the example above i did for their lips.

ivan and anya's default expressions are typically smiling, with ivan being visibly cheerier and anya leaning more towards a smirk. asya and sergey are more neutral, with asya having a flat effect and sergey having resting bitch face.

ivan and anya have the straightest hair, though again ivan's fluffs out more. if he grew it out it'd probably be more similar to anya's hair, just with more volume.

again, ivan and anya have straight noses, and i don't always do them justice. ivan's is supposed to be a bit broader and longer, more like it is in the nose example pic vs the lip example pic. anya's nose... changes a lot, i'm never sure if i want it to be flatter or longer. i like the straight and flat look for her, like what i've got pictured below, so i THINK that's more correct. but it's not always broad enough. her lips are a little fucked in the below image but it's FINE

LOVE that nose on her

anya and sergey both have 'part flips depending on what angle i'm drawing their face at' syndrome. it's incurable.

okay i think we're done for now

#ivan tag #asya tag #sergey tag #anya tag #art tag

[kettlequills]

c11, waking dreams: master of fate

Read on A03 here.

The next day dawned cold and clear over Raven Rock, heralded by a stiff and chill wind blown over the clawing peaks of the Moesrings. Frea gratefully kept her hood down for the soot-speckled snowflakes to kiss her hair and ruddy cheeks with flecks of welcome coolness. She was the only one; the dark, narrow streets of Raven Rock were utterly deserted despite the egg-yolk warmth of the pallid sun creeping over the churn of the seaspray out the harbour. Distantly, she could hear the mighty puffing of the forge bellows; old Mallory had seized an early morning start to his work. The night lamps were still alight, flickering with arcane-ruby warmth in the sunken recesses of the sullen houses with their glistening chitin shells.  

Stamping on the ale-soaked and ashy slush ringing the Retching Netch’s gutters, Teldryn ran chitin-plated gauntlets up his armoured arms with hair-raising screeches that jangled on her nerves.

Nikulas, stubbornly wrapped up tightly in his furs, was turning a slow, bilious red. “I’m not going,” he said, obstinately. “You can’t expect me to leave you here! Farani told me to go with you, to keep you safe!”

“Nikulas.” Frea couldn’t help the cut in her tone, they had been arguing since full dark when they’d woken in the bowels of the Netch. “You must, I need you to take word of what I am doing back to the Skaal. I will be days behind you at most, but I need you to warn them to keep away from the Tree Stone until I can return to cleanse it.”

“Frea…” His nut-brown eyes, shrouded by the fur of his hood, were deep and drawn under the furrow of his brows. “You are our only shaman.”

“And I will return,” Frea repeated as soothingly as she could, “Not long after you.”

Nikulas shifted his weight between his feet, thumbing at the seam of his glove. His breath misted like that of the frost-spitting dragon Frea and Laataazin had faced at Nchardak, streaming trails of icy mist even as it raised its glossy royal-blue and silver wings and fled howling into the great cup of the sky. Dragons seen flying over the temple of Miraak, the restless dead stirring from their tombs, the whispers that even now boiled from the Stones too far to hear but just close enough to sense like a tongue on the neck; myths and mysteries were stirring out of the unquiet earth, waking monsters enrapt by some unknown call to life resounding through every bone and stone of Solstheim.

Frea needed to protect her people, arm them with what she knew. The Skaal could not be caught unprepared by a disaster like this again, there were too few of them to lose. He knew it, as well as she did. They needed this knowledge and the awareness of threats on the rise.

“The Traitor turned to our people first for a reason, Nikulas,” Frea urged him, taking hold of his fur-covered shoulders. He avoided her gaze, cheeks reddened, but Frea tucked a lock of hair behind his lightly pointed ear, encouraging him to look at her. “He picked us off out of our village, familiar hunters, trappers and outriders disappearing from the icy paths, knowing the lowlanders would not know before his army was too strong. The lowlanders already think us all dead. Will you make us pay the price of our isolation a second time? Time to prepare alone will grant us the advantage, will firm our steadfast hearts against the whispering of the enemy.”

“…All right,” Nikulas said unhappily. A true Skaal, through and through, blood of the mountains. “I will return to the village.”

She exhaled. “Thank you.”

He glanced away from her, frustration written in the taut line of his shoulders, and she could not let them part in anger. Tugging his arm, Frea pulled him into an embrace, the fur of his hood tickling the snow in her hair as she pressed his forehead to hers. Something in her slotted into warm completion when he did not push her away, but closed his eyes and leant back into her, the heat and smell of his breath scented with onion from their hasty breakfast brushing over her cheeks like a caress from the concept of home.

He was warm and solid and there in her arms, her kin, her people, and in her burnished heart grew a fierce and loving desire to protect. No more Skaal would die. No more.

All it would take would be Frea to be separated from her people for a short while. It was agony, but it was a short price to pay. She had done it before, with Dragonborn Laataazin. This time, the victory against swelling threat would be absolute; she would ensure it herself.

“Be safe, brother,” she murmured.

“Shaman,” Nikulas said back, with equal reverence and quietude. “… Frea.”

His warm brown eyes found hers, steady as the deep heart of an oak. The warmth of his skin, the smell of his stringy hair, the streaky kohl under his eyes to protect them from the snow; desperately she tried to memorise him, pull him closer into her until the bones of their skulls ground through their foreheads, like if only she could try hard enough she could bring this fledgling part of her people with her, down from the mountains into the warm ashlands where the elves roamed, with their restless dead.

The hammer across her back dug painfully into the meat of her shoulder. Rolling it against the yoke of the strap, she ruefully stepped back. Nikulas turned to face the mountains, and it was as if the sunlight came into his eyes as he looked into the stony breasts of rock and snow where deep amongst the peaks the village awaited him. He was a son of the mountains; the sweat of the lowlands did not belong on his brow, the soupiness of the air was not meant for his lungs.

Without another glance back, Nikulas adjusted his strung bow over his shoulder and set off at a hunter’s easy lope. Amongst the houses and the rising kiss of dawn, he was briefly silhouetted against the sun, the furs of his hood glowing gold. The raking tip of his bow over his shoulder seemed to draw orange fire through the creamy twilight blue, like a god from Storn’s old legends of the Hunter Fox, whose ears were so sharp they rent the All-Maker’s veil between the living and the hall of the dead. All the old heroes came tumbling out, with gods-ale on their breath and dragon-song in their bellowing voices to root out the heresies striding the icelands that birthed Frea’s people, long ago, before even the Guardian and the Traitor, before even when Solstheim was a bigger land, unsundered by sea, in the old age of dragons and gods.

But those were simply stories of the heroic past, just as the Traitor would be again – a footnote, in the Skaal’s legend.

Behind her, Teldryn was packing crushed herbs in his pipe. With a flick of his finger, he lit it and puffed deeply. He hummed low in his throat and the gravelly sound seemed to travel all the way through Frea’s spine down to the soles of her boots. His hair gleamed with oil like brushed night, his grey skin stippled faintly with blues and yellows, carded through by the stark lines of his facial tattoo. His lips were wet with balm that kept them from cracking against the sharp, ashy air. His fingers were long and graceful, arched like the great ribcages of whalebone washed up on the rocky shore, harvested and picked clean by the wildfolk. Frowning, she glanced away before he could catch her looking at him, tugging at the straps of her gear.

“That’s the stuff,” he murmured to himself, then, “Ready to go, Skaal?”

“My name is Frea, Dunmer,” Frea sighed, and he grinned at her impishly. His smile made his red eyes sparkle like rubies in firelight. “Where is Talvas?”

“I’m here!” the elf in question cried, dashing out of the Retching Netch. He had half his buttons done up in the wrong holes on his sunshine yellow robes so they hung off him like a strange, colourful tent. His arms overspilled with papers and there was sauce on his cheek. “Oh – you would not believe – you see, at Tel Mithryn, I – well…” His grey cheeks purpled at the sight of Frea’s impassive expression, stony as the Bulwark. “… I overslept.”

“Lead the way,” she said, gesturing to the well-trod path out of town.

“Oh, right, yes of course, we should be heading…” He turned round and round, holding his map up to the rising sun until the squiggles of ink were backlit, as striking as Teldryn’s tattoos.

“White Ridge Barrow?” Teldryn intervened, not without a cynical glance to Frea that had her pressing her lips together in a refusal to smile, “It’s this way.” He pointed.

“Right,” said Talvas, again, and blushed. “Well, off we go then.”

He set off, made it three paces, and stumbled over the hem of his unfastened robes. Maps and papers went flying. Talvas yelped.

“By Azura,” Teldryn muttered.

“Aye,” sighed Frea.

They shared a look, then Frea bent to help the hapless mage gather his papers.

After their slow start, it proved to be a gruelling trip. Barely had they stepped out of the gates than they were attacked by more of the shambling, eyeless ash-spawn lurching out of the dusty grey soot. The early morning chill and calm proved evasive under the humid ash-cover, and Frea had to rewrap her eyes and mouth with damp cloth that stuck unpleasantly to her skin every time they stopped, lest she choke to death on the dust. Bitterly, she envied Nikulas his ability to take the switchback Skaal hunting paths up the mountains, quicker, safer, and cleaner, to boot.

Teldryn seemed entirely unaffected, strolling through the ash clouds as if his boots did not kick up plumes that roused the ‘spawn, at times even smoking his pipe. His atronach followed them at a distance, heat simmering off it like the fire round a cookstone. It was a slim comfort that Talvas appeared just as miserable as Frea; the young mage clearly struggled to keep up with Frea’s mountain-bred stride or Teldryn’s apparently indomitable stamina. He shrouded himself in magical flames that no matter how hot they burnt never seemed to touch his robes or the rings he wore on his bare hands, but still shivered even with sweat on his brow.

The Dunmeri sellsword refused to keep his mouth shut, turning every quiet moment into an opportunity for aggrandisement. If the best damn swordsman in Morrowind wasn’t making sly jokes or complaining, he was bragging. A headache quickly took root behind Frea’s eyes and stayed there, but she gritted her teeth, thought of her people, and marched on.

It all began to go truly downhill after the sixth time they were attacked on the road. This time, reavers, a band of four skinny and ragged, one elf mage and three humans; Nords, Frea thought, by their salt-rough accents as they swore at her. One had a tattered mask hooked to his belt, still glowing faintly with enchantment, pale as bone and as striking as the very first time ones like it starred in Frea’s dreams, when the cult of Miraak had begun swarming around the Tree Stone, stealing free minded Skaal with their purple-tongued lies.

Immediately, Frea had gone for the ex-cultist, swinging Laataazin’s hammer as hard as she could. The momentum was intense; the wind whistled and shrieked, and the hammer all but leapt eagerly through the air, its brutal blunt face a vision of crushing evisceration. The cultist danced back, and the hammer met nothing – arrested by its weight Frea continued to spin, and narrowly avoided a rusty axe in the back.

Afterwards when the reavers were corpses bleeding dully into the ash, Teldryn rounded on her and snapped, “Is your sentimentality going to get us killed, Skaal? You don’t know how to use that damned thing!”

“I know enough,” she spat back, hot, tired, and angry. “If you’d not been distracting me all the way – what’s that?”

For Teldryn had scrabbled in the bloodsoaked dirt and come up with the ex-cultist’s rusted axe. “Here!” he thrust it at her, “Use this, and maybe we won’t all get killed.”

“No!” Frea hefted the gory-headed hammer, its threatening weight a solid and steadying burden. Reminding of her purpose, her people. What she was doing all this for. And Laataazin’s gift, to protect her people. She had to keep it safe for them, until they returned.

“Why carry around that thing?” Teldryn demanded. “It doesn’t make you the Dragonborn!”

His scorn hit too close to home, and Frea blushed hotly with anger and embarrassment. She slung the hammer off her shoulder and stepped up to him, squaring off against the shorter elf until his face was in shadow from her broad shoulders and looming height.

“You do not understand, elf!” she told him, jabbing him in the chest. “I was charged with using this weapon until its rightful master returns to claim it!”

Teldryn’s red eyes burned like coals. “Grow up,” he snarled, “Are you truly waiting for that drunken s’wit to come back and save you? They’re not coming back, Azura be praised, they’re dead in a ditch!”

“You may think the worst of the world, but I don’t,” Frea hissed back, “I believe in my friend. I believe the All-Maker sent us what and who we needed. I believe in all the sacrifices we have made to reach this point!”

Teldryn started laughing before she was done, bitter and raucous. His atronach did an uneasy flip behind them. “Tell me, Skaal – what kind of warrior leaves their best weapon to fight a would-be god, in the hands of someone who doesn’t even know how to use it?”

Frea hardened with fury, but he only shook his head at her, the poison in his fiery eyes so disappointed it seared her. “Face it, I knew it when that fetcher, rat-faced off more sujamma than Geldis’d sold all year, swaggered into the Netch looking for a local to take ‘em up to that temple, and I told them: no amount of money’s worth that death-wish, and I knew it when they came back with some pretty, brainless Skaal in tow with a blindspot as big as your precious fucking honour!”

“How dare you-!” she began to hiss, but he cut her off with an impatient swipe of his hand, the silver ring on his finger glinting like a star.

“The Dragonborn’s abandoned us to whatever the fuck’s going on now. Get used to it, kid, the heroes don’t care.”

“Enough!” a clap of lightning, and Frea looked at Talvas. His eyes were red rimmed, he was shaky and pale. “We just killed four people, and you two are arguing about – what, how you could have done it faster? No –!” He raised his hands, forestalling their objections. “Shut up! It doesn’t matter! Both of you, shut up and help me find this damn barrow, so I can go home!”

He turned away, his breath rising on nearly a sob. Frea glanced down at the four dead bodies, cooling slowly besides the path. Blood sprayed liberally across the dirty ash, dripped slowly from the head of the hammer over her back. She could smell its iron tang even through her cloth, feel its warmth against her back. Talvas held the sleeve of his robe to his mouth and shuddered, like he was going to be sick.

Silence.

“Fine,” said Frea.

With one last glare at Teldryn, she shouldered the hammer again and went to Talvas. She tried to reach for his arm, to comfort him, but he shook her off, marching away with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was keeping himself held together. His cheeks were very pale; Frea suddenly saw how very, painfully young he was, even through his elven features and strange, luxury-softened skin. He stood out in his cheerful yellow robes like a butterfly pinned to a board, a familiar hollow misery tense in his eyes.

Dropping her hand, Frea fell back. The first were never easy. Had it truly been so long since her own that she was numb to the brutal cost of violence?

In the dust behind them, Teldryn searched the pockets of the dead and rolled them into a pile. He tossed a flame spell into the corpses and left them there to burn, the pillar of greasy smoke like a trail marker in the sky.

They reached White Ridge Barrow after one long, tense night spent camped out in the wilderness, huddled up against the ash-blown trees. On the morning of the second day, snow had started to fall heavily, slowing their progress. Frea went ahead, breaking the snow with her sturdy legs for the smaller elves. Teldryn walked behind Talvas now, in case the mage stumbled and did not rise; his flame cloak had long flickered out, and he shivered like a sad plant in the harsh gusts. Unable to bear the pathetic sight, Frea had leant him her cloak which presently swallowed him in a mound of furs, until only his black hair and chilly, red-pinched ears peeked out the top.

Frea could not help the rise in her mood as they worked their way higher into the mountainous, rugged landscape. The air seemed easier to breathe, fresher and clear. The snow was dirty grey from ash, but the further they got from the warmer lowlands the less they found. The path was not hard to find, either, broken by wandering feet; perhaps a herd of wildfolk had come through this way, leaving no trace of their presence but softened snow over hard-packed, pressure-crushed ice.

Not hard to find for Frea, anyway, the two elves followed her like sooty ducklings, complaining about the chill on their boots. But Frea heard the earthsong of the All Maker in the rock and snow, in the playful wind that tossed at her hood and pinched her cheeks. The All Maker smiled down on them from the chilly sun, and Frea was at peace.

The ruin itself crouched like a squat reikling in the lee of a rocky cliff, the hump of its stony back gathered with wicked icicles. At first it was nearly invisible, a hulking shadow of black rock nestled resentfully against the sturdy lip of unhewn stone, but Frea felt it, that stillness in the air that whispered of the resting place of the old elders. The elements here were poisoned by ancient magics, necromantic spells and dark, twisted energy bent to the service of dragons and their priests, gods amongst men. It manifested as an eerie chill that crept up Frea’s spine. The All Maker’s presence in her blood dimmed, a couched warning she did not need.

There was darkness here, ancient and slumbering.

They approached in cautious silence, Teldryn recasting his flame atronach for some needed light. The daedra’s crackling face stared eyelessly forward, the graceful arcs of its soaring body sending twists of light across the old stone, painting the ice with rubies. The vast porch of the ruin was held up by a wavering column of ice-packed brick, blackened by the remnants of some ancient fire and thousands of years of scouring. A hollow coolness enveloped them as they stepped beneath its shadow and faced the wrought-iron doors, sealed against intrusion. Talvas clustered uncertainly close to Teldryn’s atronach, seeking the heat.

Frea glanced at her companions. “Ready?”

Talvas swallowed, but nodded, his grey face pallid and blue. Teldryn only smirked, flipping his sword easily in his hand. Facing forward, Frea pulled the hammer off her back. With a creak, she pushed the door open, and then as one, they stepped into the abyss.

The first thing Frea noticed was the cold. The second, the silence.

It was deathly still, so cold that her breath plumed in front of her as she stared into the slick, icy darkness. The tunnel’s mouth was ringed with ice, sleeting over the steps down into the dusty ruin. There were no whispers, no skitters, no uneasy shivers in the rock with the presence of watchful eyes – nothing but silence, and cold, and death.

The frost-choked walls stretched on and on into the bowels of the earth. Not even dust fell in the wobbly, watery gleam of light through thick ice. It was like the whole place was suspended in time, caught between one breath and the next.

Frea’s boots handled the slippery ice well, but Talvas and Teldryn had to crawl at points, easing themselves down smoothened steps on their hands and knees. The fire atronach Teldryn kept behind them as to not weaken the ice they scrambled over. Her passage left little runnels of melted icewater, dripping clear over entombed shadows of what looked like hundreds, thousands, of tiny, spidery bodies.

Entire cobwebs had been plastered against the wall and frozen solid, egg sacs had ruptured in the howling cold and frozen mid-explosion, spiders trapped in perfect form, some still curled up in their webs, beneath the ice. Their eyes gleamed, bright and dead.

“I hate this,” Teldryn announced, “In case you were wondering, I truly hate this.”

He eased himself round the frozen-solid corpse of an uncomfortably translucent spider the size of his torso with a grimace Frea could all but feel even behind his chitin helmet.

“This ice is not natural,” said Frea, “I wonder if we will meet the mage who cast it?”

“By the Three,” Talvas moaned, and no one said anything for a little while.

Eventually, the cramped, winding tunnels opened out into a hall, and the spiders began giving way to bodies, instead. Mostly human, a few others, and all absolutely dead. Some were frozen still sat in chairs or in beds, abandoned games of dice stuck to their cold, frost-bitten flesh. Others had fallen, their expressions twisted up in terrible shock and horror. Whatever had come for them, they had not expected it.

“Loot’s still here,” said Teldryn, prising some coins off the table with his dagger, “No one cleared this cave.”

“Then where are the elders?” asked Frea, and an uneasy silence fell. Numbered among the dead, they had seen no draugr, no walking dead, but plenty of niches, tombs, and resting places. They had been here – but where were they now?

“Where’s this artefact you’re looking for?” asked Teldryn, and Talvas shrugged uneasily. “Experience tells me its probably at the ass-end then,” sighed Teldryn.

They proceeded further through the ruin, into the sanctum of White Ridge Barrow. Here too, it was dark and still and silent, but there was barely any ice. Only a trail of frost, oddly familiar, blazed the way down through the ruin like a clairvoyance spell. It was only when Frea’s eye landed on Teldryn’s atronach doing a lazy flip that she realised what the frost trail reminded her of; the fire that played at her ankles, blurring and burning along behind her in a smoky line.

Frost atronachs did not float with ice trailing under their feet, though, they stomped. Their ice, though it felt different to true ice, did not feel as rigidly unnatural, as dead as this ice did. This ice was near-sentient with a palpable aura of sorrow and the rigid, static anger of the dead. It seethed, crunching bitterly under Frea’s boots like it resented her and every living thing that passed over it. With a subtle and malignant glitter, it reflected the shine of their weapons, the elves’ glowing eyes, like it watched them.

And in the distance, a soft scratching started. Nearly inaudible, like a grating against the inside of Frea’s eyes.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, it went.

Squeezing the grip on the hammer, Frea swallowed around a dry throat. She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her and edged forwards, wishing that Teldryn had taken the lead. Talvas behind her cleared his throat.

Scratch, scratch – silence.

The scratching paused.

Frea froze in place. With a grunt, Teldryn collided with Talvas, and they both hit her. She lost her grip on the ice and slid, and with a hoarse yell all three of them tumbled down the sloping staircase to the icy bottom. Teldryn swore loudly the whole way down, his fire atronach flickering after them with the smug air only the flighted could, at the flightless.

They landed heavily on Frea, crushing the breath out of her. She started to complain, but Talvas shushed them both impatiently.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. In the silent darkness, the scratching started up again.

“Can you hear that?” Frea hissed, and she felt Talvas nod against her shoulder.

“Let me guess,” Teldryn said, dourly, “We are going towards the creepy noise.”

“We have to investigate,” said Frea, shaking them off her like puddles of sulky, armoured rainwater. Teldryn groaned in resignation.

The scratching got louder the further down the trail of ice they went. They edged round the corner into a wide hall capped by a magnificent subterranean wall, carved with strange, archaic words that bit at Frea’s vision, demanding attention. She scanned the darkness carefully, but nothing moved.

“I don’t see anything,” she whispered, and felt Teldryn press up behind her. His warmth tickled at her nape as he came up behind her with a creak of leather and the soft rasp of chitin on chitin. She waited in taut silence while he judged the room ahead.

His closeness made the pit of her belly shiver and roll over itself. She was near enough to smell the musk of leather and sweat, armour oil and soot that clung to him. His lips brushed her ear as he settled forward on his toes, leaning into her space. Her heartbeat picked up.

With a flick of his fingers, he gestured his flame atronach forwards. She drifted past, a pillar of gracefully twining flame. Insouciant, unbothered, she made her way into the centre of the room, and executed a single, lazy flip.

Then, quite promptly, she exploded.

Teldryn’s hand clasped immediately over Frea’s eyes, pushing her back against the stone. She yelped, but he shushed her, his warm voice catching in her ear like smoke in her throat. Her toes curled. She felt the strength of his grip, his fiery heat, the tough wiriness of his arms, his compact chest. He was like no man she had ever touched; no Skaal with their sensible layer of padding and hair, no, he was all raw, lissom elf, blazing with rude heat.

Quite against her will, Frea’s face flooded with pink.

“We’re good,” he said.

Teldryn released her, and she yanked out of his arms and stormed away before he could see her bright blushing cheeks. She did not want to deal with his teasing. And she knew, she knew he would have something to say about this. It was just – blood. It was warmer next to him than it was anywhere else, it was just a simple reaction to temperature. She was still angry with him.

It didn’t mean anything.

She was distracted by Talvas’ loud cheer. “This is it!” he darted over to examine the rock wall, fingers trailing over the jagged carvings. “There should be a stand…”

He turned, and his face palpably fell. The towering lectern Talvas was approaching sat directly across from the wall of dragon words and the large tomb between them. It radiated a fearsome aura of darkness. Tentacles squirmed forever just inches away from their goal, hidden eyes nestled between their thick, oily strands and glistening wetly, even as immobile stone and metal. It loomed threateningly, just tucked out of sight of the entrance, but planted opposite the silent tomb of the barrow’s most powerful elder like a terrible, ominous watcher.

A vicious black stain scarred the top of the lectern, where a Book should be.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the eerie noise.

“This isn’t right,” he said, “No, no, there’s supposed to be…”

He started forwards, but Frea grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. His sunshine yellow robes bunched up around her hand and he wheezed indignantly.

“Stop,” said Frea, “That looks like Herma-Mora’s work.”

“It’s not…” Talvas grimaced. “Fine, it’s the artefact I was sent to retrieve for Neloth. He knows how to study the Books! There are no safer hands for them than his.”

“No,” Frea snarled at once. “Those Books are evil-! We should be so lucky that they have all gone, back to their dark master.” She spat on the ground, like it could shake the image loose of her father’s body, pierced through with Herma-Mora’s writhing, hungry corruption.

“I’m more concerned about where the dead are,” broke in Teldryn diplomatically. “Perhaps one took the other?”

He had wandered off to the side during Talvas and Frea’s exchange, and now as she turned to face him, he kicked the front of a coffin. The eerie scraping redoubled itself, along with a faint, nasty snarling Frea swore she could feel on her throat. Teldryn flipped his sword, grinned at them, and wrenched the coffin open.

A desiccated draugr fell out.

Darting to one side, Teldryn raised his sword for a killing blow, but the draugr did not attack him. It did not even look at him. Instead, it dragged itself forward on its skeletal arms, its blue gaze burning with a ferocious and unspeakable purpose. Teldryn’s glittering red eyes tracked it crawling across the floor towards a dark passageway.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t suggest following that,” he said, “That’s creepy shit, that way.”

“We should follow it,” said Frea, and Teldryn groaned. “It could be a trap.”

“Exactly!” said Teldryn, “That’s why we shouldn’t follow it!”

“Wherever its going could be where the rest of the draugr are,” suggested Talvas. “Maybe they have the Book?”

“For the record, I don’t like this,” Teldryn grumped, but fell in line behind Talvas anyway.

“You don’t like anything,” Frea snapped.

“Nothing that’s likely to kill me, no,” Teldryn retorted.

Ignoring them, Talvas forged on after the draugr fearlessly, conjuring a magelight that floated above his head. Frea brought up the lead, glaring at the back of his head. She remembered being pressed against his chest in the passageway and fought the spreading warmth in her face. Her own blush roused a sour taste on her tongue, remembering the bitter flash in his eyes as he mocked her for her belief in her friend.

She looked down at the hammer she held. It was too heavy to carry it without an immediate threat present, not like Laataazin had, hoisting it on one powerful shoulder like it weighed nothing at all despite having a head almost bigger than theirs. For all her size, her strength, Teldryn was right. She was used to her dual hand axes, quick and biting and good for scaling cliffsides in a hurry. She wasn’t a warrior, like he was.

But she was a shaman, and she would always fight for her people.

She felt the touch of the All Maker in the sun that pierced shyly the long tunnel, warming her cheeks. It was wan and pale, but all their steps picked up with palpable relief. No one wanted to linger here.

The passageway was steep and dusty, winding up to the surface. In places they had to scramble up on hands and knees, goat-hopping up collapsed stairways. A chill, fresh wind wisped past them, ruffling the sweat on Frea’s brow.

The draugr was unaffected by the ice and had already made it out onto the broken snow by the time Frea scrambled out of the half-collapsed exit. The snow here was crushed and spotted by dozens of walking feet, spotted with decayed fragments of cloth and rust. A skeleton was sprawled across the path, its rat-gnawed bones ancient and brittle. The dead had passed through, heading inexorably away from the ruin, into the snow.

“Where are they going?” Talvas asked.

Frea did not answer. She frowned at the skyline. The tracks were headed loosely southeast, towards the heart of the mountains. Were the missing deadwalkers of White Ridge Barrow planning to go through the mountains to the lowlands, or worse, to the temple that lurked in its centre? What was the likelihood that Frea’s suspicions of the Traitor’s murky and incomplete defeat had something to do with this as well?

A glacial wind picked up as they followed the draugr, scattering snowflakes and bites of icy hail. A roiling fog lingered at the peaks of the mountains, obscuring the glittering snowfields. The broken snow stretched on, punctuated by the detritus of death; fallen organs pickled and dry, scraps of skin and bone. The snow fell, swift and remorseless, threatening a gathering blizzard. Above, clear and unconcerned, the sky was smooth and untroubled by clouds.

“It is magical,” Frea called over her shoulder, reaching back for Talvas’ hand. He took it, his grasp hot and sweaty against her glove. “I cannot feel the All Maker in this.”

“Great,” Teldryn muttered, gripping onto Frea’s belt.

“We must be getting close!” said Talvas.

They kept close to her as they pressed on, using her taller body as a wind break. Frea pulled her scarf up over her nose so the wind had less of her cheek to bite. Bending her shoulders to the unnatural wind, she grit her teeth against the sting of prickly, defensive magic that steered the wind’s howl. It almost pushed them away with intangible hands, protective and malignant.

Teldryn saw them first. With a hiss, he pulled on Frea’s shoulder, halting her in her tracks, and pointed. Through the thickening snow, Frea glimpsed a knot of strange, tattered figures, standing motionlessly in front of a collapsed cliff as if uncertain. A few draugr were braving the climb up the ice-slick rock, tumbling back down again almost as soon as they got up.

In their centre, a great and terrible figure hovered. Not in the way Teldryn’s atronach had, as if buoyed by its own flame and heat, but like an image, pasted onto the world after the rest had already been drawn in. It did not fit, hanging there listlessly like a corpse from a tree, at once too animate to be truly dead, and not enough to be alive. Forewarned by some arcane sense, the figure turned towards them, the blizzard swirling around its tattered robes. The mask on its face gleamed coldly, cruelly, with ancient and deathly darkness. It spoke, in a rumbling, inhuman voice, guttural and harsh, its skeletal hands gesturing in front of it. Icy blue scales guarded its shrunken chest, royal blue and white.

Though the wind was harsh, its dead voice carried clearly through the air, echoing with an uncanny resonance like the wind loved its words too dearly to let them die. Dragon-tongue, and dragon-words.

“Bronze balls of Seht! That’s a dragon priest!” cursed Teldryn, “We need to get out of here.”

The words were familiar, tickling the back of Frea’s mind. It almost sounded like old Skaal, the tongue of stories and myth. She picked up odd words, here and there, and when the dragon priest stopped it extended its hand and beckoned to them. That was a gesture she did know.

“Drem. Bo-aav het, mal-briinah,” the undead priest rumbled. Its bleached white hair blew softly about its mask, escaping from holes in its ragged hood.

“It’s not unfriendly,” said Frea quickly, and Teldryn scoffed disbelief.

“It’s an undead,” he hissed.

“These are her ancestors,” said Talvas, peering uncertainly round Frea’s shoulder. “By the flame, shut up and let her handle them.”

“Los Frea,” she said, mustering herself, and clapping her palm across her chest.

The dragon priest drifted forward a step, the light shimmering over the icy scales on its chest. Closer, she made out the intricate details on the frayed and tattered robes, fractal patterns that reminded her of snowflakes. The mask gleamed coolly, like the reflection of a still pond under moonlight. Unholy blue eyes blazed out from behind the mask. It radiated wrongness, an offence to the sky that held it.

“Zu’u Dukaan,” the priest, Dukaan, growled back, imitating her. “Koraav hi drog-Krosulhah? Bo mu krii se munax nau golt. Zu yah thuri-Miraak. Aav-mu, Frea-briinah?”

“What did it say?” Teldryn asked her urgently. He was gripping his sword, staring at the dead with terrified hatred.

Frea recognised only one word, Miraak. She bared her teeth, reaching for the hammer. “Traitor!”

“Vahlok-aar!” The dragon priest screamed back, and summoned its staff to its hands. “Alduin rel ko Solstheim fen al! Mu fen stin! Aar – krii daar wo krif thuri-Miraak!”

“Mu fen stin!” a deathlord bellowed, and the fight was on.

There were too many of them. The draugr swarmed them like locusts across the snow, blown back by Teldryn’s fire and Talvas’ wild, explosive spells. Frea guarded their front, swinging Laataazin’s hammer like an instrument of doom. But they kept coming, and all the while Dukaan tossed chunks of ice and pure force at them, forcing them to run behind rocks.

“We need to run!” Teldryn shouted as one such temporary shelter shattered around their heads, sending chunks of razor sharp rock rocketing through the air.

“Miraak!” Dukaan wailed, as if in answer. “Faal Dovahkiin bo! Rok aak mu!”

“We can’t outrun that!” Talvas yelled back, “it’ll shoot us down from behind!”

Teldryn swore loudly. Frea swung Laataazin’s hammer into the chest of a draugr, grunting as the hammer nearly spun out of her hands in its eagerness to maim.

Teldryn shot across the ice and parried the blow, jarring Dukaan’s staff from its grip. It dropped the staff and retaliated with a blast of frost that he dodged nimbly, his sword dancing out flickering with fire. He traded swings with the priest for a minute, and then hastily scrambled backwards as his atronach bulled in and exploded in flames, its summon expired.

Dukaan seemed unfazed, and blasted him backwards. Teldryn collapsed into a snowdrift, but Frea could not spare a second to check if he was alright, she was already charging forward to re-engage. The draugr knotted around Talvas, who yelped.

Lightning forked – a sudden, hard flash of stark purple. A ring of draugr collapsed into fire, and a powerful storm atronach swirled up from the ashes, tossing thunderbolts. Talvas was screaming, somewhere, but magic was snapping over the sky, frostbolts and thunder crackling among the fire.

“Zahkriisos!” Dukaan howled with such clear grief that Frea bit her own lip, hard. “Ahzidal! Aak hin fahdon! Krosulhah! Hon-ni dii zaan?!”

Frea closed with it, going for an overhead strike. Dukaan swayed back out of the way, its eyes glowing fiercely with magic. Its scale armour glinted wickedly.

“Your people are dead!” she taunted the priest, “Your time is gone! And soon, so will you be!”

Dukaan’s guttural snarl was her only reply.

Dodging a blast of frost from Dukaan aimed at her head, Frea squinted over the battleground. Teldryn, there – sword in hand, back to back with someone – Talvas? But then – who was that, on the ridge, graceful arms upraised like a conductor, hurling thunderbolts like snowballs?

She had no time to question it, because sensing the battle turning, Dukaan flung itself at her with an immortal screech of rage and grief.

The dragon priest pushed her down, its skeletal hands going for her neck and squeezing. She coughed for air, pushing at the intractable arms. Dukaan’s masked face loomed over her. This close, Frea could almost see hints of what Dukaan had once been; alive, mortal, like her and her people. Before the gruesome pact with power, following the traitor past death. Stringy, brittle white hair poured out from around the hood, a veritable mane when it was alive. Dukaan had Nikulas’ small pointed ears, Farani’s thick hair, but harsh blue eyes that glowed with fierce undeath. Whatever colour they had been was wiped away by the cursed magic that animated it now.

Its hands were icy cold, fighting for purchase on the thick furs around her neck.  She knew, somehow without knowing, that the dragon priest could not even see her, that some other foe had gripped its deathless mind. It screamed as it choked her, insane with rage and a brutal sorrow that burrowed into her heart like an ice spike, aching and chill. Frea writhed under its hollow-boned grip and wheezed for breath, dark spots appearing before her eyes.

She was going to die. It was going to break her neck, and she was going to die here, without ever going home again.

Uselessly, her fingers twitched for the haft of the hammer knocked out of her hands. Hot tears squeezed out of her eyes, blurring the gruesome visage of the dead priest, the rasping gasps of her final exhales muddying the icy visage of the scalloped mask.

A spell rippled over her head and struck Dukaan in the chest like a clap of thunder. The dragon priest was blown backwards by the force. Frea’s ears rang. She scrambled to her feet and lurched for the hammer, grabbing it and swinging it over her head. She still couldn’t breathe, wobbling for steadiness around crashing, discordant colours.

Dukaan’s eyes seared her, wrought in horrific agony, a grief so potent it ached. A second spell clipped the edge of the mask and it spun, pinwheeling away from the rotten face. Laataazin’s hammer crashed into the weakened skull half a breath later, shattering it into an explosion of bone fragments. The awful blue gaze winked out, but she kept going, couldn’t stop. The hammer lurched in her hands like a living thing, directing her, moving her, driving her to a final and brutal vengeance. She kicked the dragon priest’s body off the hammer and struck again, pulverising the chest this time, ancient bone and scale cracking under the fierce warsong of the hammer like eggs.

Dukaan’s deathless body began to flake and ash. Her next swing scattered the ash into an explosion of mothwing softness, arcane remains glittering in the foul snow. Dukaan’s mask, empty and still, lay a short distance away. Abandoned there among the blue-purple shimmer, it was almost beautiful, like captive silver in the heart of the aurora.

Breathing heavily, Frea raised her head, sweat stinging into her eyes. She blinked it clear – and saw the impossible.

A stone stood, pulsing with power, around the chest of a she-elf, whose fingertips dripped magic. She lowered her hands, her flaked-blood eyes throbbing with that terrible, wicked glow. Her summons flickered around her, the shapes of one – two –  three storm atronachs, standing at her shoulders like sentries, like bodyguards. Her body looked wrong, moved wrong, the joints stiff and unrolling, a blank, voidlike spot in the world where a normal body should be. The red stone sat in her chest like a disease, lurid, livid veins crawling up round her ears, into her brain like a cancer.

“Friend or foe?” Teldryn called from somewhere.

Frea hefted the hammer over her shoulder but fell before she could get it up past her elbow. She wheezed for breath, tugging at the collar of her furs. A slow agony spread over her shoulders and spine, starbursts pinwheeled angrily behind her eyes. Dukaan’s hands were still around her neck, clenching on, cold as the grave. The snow was wet against her knee, which throbbed with a distant ache – the forewarning of a mighty bruise.

The elf’s eerie glow died, and she pulled her robes around herself, shivering faintly. Through blurring eyes, Frea watched her stumble over to them, her gait uncertain and unsure, like the recently blind or terribly cold. She leant heavily on her lightning staff like it was a walking stick, burrowing into the shawl wrapped around her shoulders and face as if it were a security blanket. Her summons winked out as if they had never been there at all.

She reached for them like a child for comfort, her small grey hand crusted with ice crystals and snowflakes. Talvas met her, cautiously, and took that outstretched hand, gasping at her coldness. He gathered her against his chest, a flame cloak flickering weakly to life, despite his exhaustion.

“Frea.” It was Teldryn, Teldryn, coming up next to her. His warm hand clasped around hers, the other wrenching at his gauntlet. The chitin came off and he tossed it carelessly into the snow, his shimmering eyes red and concerned. “Frea, breathe. Where are you hurt?”

She wheezed, voice stoppered in her throat. He hovered above her, alien and handsome face twisted with some expression she couldn’t identify. Though he was gentle, the first touch of his fingertips to her throat made her hiss a strained objection.

“Azura,” murmured Teldryn, not a curse but somehow a prayer, and at once the pain in her throat dissolved to warmth.

Frea choked, and then coughed. She curled over herself, his restoration magic tingling in her bones like glitters of starfire, licking the inside of her skin. She could taste the goddess in the back of her throat, impersonal and twilit, a cold kind of glow that spoke of the gaps between the stars. A terrible knowledge and potent, esoteric grief ebbed at the agony Dukaan’s scrabbling madness had left behind, soothing the bruising of her throat with a coolness like a stranger’s chilly hand to her skin. Teldryn supported her onto her side in the wet snow, rubbing her back smoothly to ease her breathing.

“Thank you,” she rasped out, eventually, and his hand hesitated on her back.

“Think nothing of it, Skaal.”

“Travellers.” It was the she-elf. She spoke the mainlanders’ Cyrod thickly, through a grating voice. She lingered against Talvas’ chest, who brushed her down with a gentle, distracted air. After a stilted moment, her own Dunmeri fire began to lick against her skin, outlining her in a glowing wreath. Talvas smiled at her encouragingly, and stepped back, his own flame cloak as bright and boyish as he.

Teldryn rolled his shoulders back and matched them, his own fire strong and hot. She felt it from where he crouched next to her, the arcane birthright of his elf-blood burning like pitch in his veins, warming him with the hearts and ashes of his ancestors.

“Who are you?” Talvas asked her, curious but not unfriendly.

“Pardon my interruption,” continued the stranger, as if he had not spoken. Her fire was muted and dim, as shifting and strange as she was. Beside the brilliant bright yellow of Talvas, the rich and fierce heat of Teldryn, it reminded Frea of embers recently splashed with water, the faint memory of heat amongst sodden, silent ash.

Teldryn shifted beside her, groping for his gauntlet in the snow. His flaming hand cut a path through it, melting the thickly packed snow like it was freshwater. The light from the three elves blazed against the gathering teeth of the storm, outlining them like pillars, like beacons against the dark. The snow whipped at the robes of the mages, dusting the rich black of Talvas’ hair like dots of stars. Around them the ice was softened, dampened, gleaming with its own watery blood and the smoking remains of the dead draugr. Dukaan’s ashes shimmered.

Feeling human and alone, Frea gingerly pushed herself to kneeling. Her chest ached at the movement but surrounded by fey elves burning with their own magic, she did not want to lie dead like a corpse in the snow. Besides, it was getting cold, even for her.

“Sadrith accent if I ever heard,” he muttered. “Mainlander Telvanni,” he clarified for Frea, in an undertone.

Frea nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what a Telvanni was, but Teldryn spoke as if it was a bad thing. One of the Dunmeri clans, perhaps, a rival one to his own? The Dunmeri fought like scrapping foxes, always snapping and snarling. They warred with one another like they did not fear the winter.

“Are any of you … injured?”

“Thanks to you, nothing that magic can’t fix,” Frea managed. Her voice still sounded strained, but at least she could breathe easily. “May we know your name, stranger?”

“… Sarothril,” she said, slowly, as if struggling to recall.

“Sarothril?” Talvas repeated, “That’s funny – I saw, that is…” he trailed off, and then cleared his throat, “It’s just, I could have sworn I’ve heard that name before. Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Ildari Sarothil. Any relation of yours?” He beamed up at her.

“Ildari,” she repeated. “Ildari Sarothril.” She lurched a step closer. Her movements seemed wrong, sickly, as if she shivered with a vicious premonition none of them could see. “I am Ildari Sarothril.”

“Oh…” Talvas’ eyes widened. “I have to tell Master Ne-!” Her eyes gouted with red flames, and Talvas backpedalled hastily, as if thinking better of mentioning his irascible, often unfriendly mentor to a powerful stranger. “I mean, maybe I’ve made a mistake, I just, I swear – I swore I saw your name… somewhere at Tel Mith- uh, never mind. Are you a mycologist? An author?”

“I … was … learning,” she said, with great and painful effort.

“A researcher, then, I must have read one of your books, you are impressive with conjuration,” said Talvas. “Are you quite well, Miss Sarothril?”

It was a question Frea couldn’t fault him for asking. The conjurer may have helped them with powerful magic, but now the battle was over she stood hunched over, leaning on her staff, and looked nothing so much as lost. There was a dullness in her red eyes, more brown than the vibrant glitter of Talvas’ and Teldryn’s, and her skin was greyed with pallour. She looked half-erased, like charcoal washed by the waves, all blurred lines and silent misery. Her fire kept close to her body, like it was shy.

Uncomfortably, Frea was reminded of Dukaan, of the silence in the Skaal who were taken by Miraak, beating away at the Tree Stones. It was the expression of somebody who was transfixed by a darker, higher calling, perverting their mind and stealing their senses.

She had no doubt this elf was more than she seemed. Simply insane, or dangerous?

Frea was not willing to bet a sick woman’s life to a magical snowstorm to find out.

“Come,” said Frea kindly, “Sit by our fire tonight, mage. Your help was timely. I am Frea, of the Skaal.”

Not to mention, Dukaan’s conjured storm had not blown itself out yet. It would not last long without its caster to sustain it, but Frea could feel the snow soaking through her furs, and she had no desire to be out late in it. She would not leave a stranger who had aided them out to freeze – let alone a sickly, strange one, who she was not certain had the wherewithal to find shelter on her own. Where had she come from?

“Sero. What were you doing up here?” Teldryn asked her flatly, and her lip pursed at the thought that their minds had followed a similar track. “Isn’t anyone taking care of you?”

“Niyya,” offered Ildari, dazedly, as if that meant anything to them. A name, perhaps? It sounded human. “Timely.” She looked down at herself, as if surprised by the concept that she could ever be something so convenient as in the right place in the right time.

“I’m Talvas,” said Talvas, brightly, and took Ildari’s hand. It seemed as if he meant it to be a brief gesture, but she clutched onto him like a lifeline. Talvas’ smile wavered, but he bolstered himself with kindness, and leant into her as if granting her his heat. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you.”

“Are you Telvanni?” Frea heard her ask, voice soft as ash on snow. “You look just like Master Neloth.”

“I – oh, well,” Talvas stammered back, “I don’t – really, I’m just an – do you think so?”

He sounded as if he couldn’t decide if he were flattered or insulted by the comparison.

Ignoring this interaction, Teldryn grunted, pocketing what looked like a necklace from the corpse of a draugr, stripping them of their valuables with the efficiency only a mercenary could have. Teldryn scooped and picked up Dukaan’s mask, flipping it in his hands.

“Cursed thing, this,” he said. “Probably worth some money.”

“Cursed,” said Ildari, and extended her hand for the mask. Talvas took advantage of the distraction to step away, resettling Frea’s cloak around his shoulders like it could hide his blush.

“Hey,” said Teldryn. “First pick of loot is mine.”

Frea planted the head of Laataazin’s hammer in the snow and used the haft to lever herself to her feet, blinking away spots. Her legs ached, and there was cold snow clumped on her knee and hip, where she had lain against it. Thinking of the Dragonborn’s warm small palms folding against hers as they scrambled over the mountain paths together, she ate some of the cold-staying berries from her pouch, their tartness popping over her tongue like kisses.

“Come on Teldryn,” said Frea. “She probably just saved our lives.”

“Your life,” said Teldryn, churlishly, but gave the mask to Ildari anyway. “Suppose it saves me the trip to Skyrim to find a decent buyer,” he said.

He heaved his pack onto his back, squinting round the half-circle of light the flaming elves made. “That’s everything.” He turned to Frea. “Where to, Skaal?”

She would have been irritated at the assumption that she had planned out the route for them already, but she had spent the walk up keeping a weather-eye out for shelter as a matter of instinct. She was Skaal, and he was a lowland elf – off the beaten path, it was her word they followed. She refused to admit to the small kernel of pride that his deferral conjured in her; it was practical, nothing more.

She cast an eye at the sky. “Come,” she said, “I saw a cave not far back.”

They set off, Ildari trailing after them like a ghost. Talvas hung back to speak with her, his chattering bright and interspersed with her awkward, confused replies. When Frea glanced back, she saw them huddling under her borrowed cloak like a pair of orphans, her white hair on his shoulder like a splay of bone. Teldryn walked closely behind Frea, letting her break the snow for him. The cave Frea had in mind was not far, a crack of shadow against the ice wall. She had stayed here once with Laataazin, nestled in the heart of the earth as a freak summer storm shook the peaks. The Moesrings were a haunted place, unquiet with the memories of long unburied dead and whispers from beyond. It was not uncommon to find cracks in the mountains, like the pressure of the stubborn, strange presence from beyond had tunnelled into soft rock.

In its shelter, Frea set to lighting a fire from the rolled fuel she carried with her, compact dung, quick to catch and slow to burn. Teldryn helped her, sticking his hands fearlessly into the young fire to rearrange it to a perfect shape to hold the heat all night. He kept his helmet on. In the dim light, from beneath, the shadows made the shell glimmer like living snakes across his body.

Talvas sank to his seat and groaned, rubbing his calves. “So much walking,” she heard him mutter. Ildari more fell than sat next to him, as if she had forgotten how to bend her body. She didn’t seem bothered by the graceless descent, but instead watched them all with wide, too-still eyes.

Frea set snow to melt for water, idly brushing at the frost still clinging to her hood from one of Dukaan’s misplaced attacks. Teldryn roped Talvas into helping him set out their bedrolls and break into the rations for their meal. In quiet agreement, no one asked Ildari to do anything. She curled her legs against her chest, staring at Frea with a divot between her brows, like she was trying to work out where she’d seen her before.

After an uncomfortable moment, Frea sighed and rose to her feet. She went to the elf and tucked her cloak firmly around Ildari’s shoulders, encouraging her onto her side. Ildari, pliant, went without a fight, letting Frea cover her up in the furs. Her skin was very cold to the touch, like stone, and her eyes absorbed the light rather than reflected it.

“I’ll bring you some food in a moment,” Frea told her kindly, resisting the urge to brush her straggling white hair away from her forehead. “Will you be alright here?”

Ildari stared at her. “Alright here,” she repeated, and then bit her lip, a darkness creeping into her gaze. She touched Frea’s cheek, her nails digging into the meat of her jaw, then lightly dragged a fingertip down the bruising of Frea’s throat.

Gently, Frea caught her hand, and replaced it under the blanket. “Try and get some sleep,” she said.

Obediently, Ildari closed her eyes and went limp. In moments, she was breathing softly, rhythmically. Feeling eyes on her, Frea looked up to see Talvas watching her, his unfathomable red eyes liquid and dark in the firelight. She felt at once a strange and sudden distance from her travelling companions, and missed Nikulas so strongly it ached.

She turned away, setting out her own bedroll. Their rations warmed on flat stones by the fire, and she busied herself poking at them. She did not look up when Teldryn hunkered down next to her, but blinked in surprise when she saw his bare arms, unarmoured, in the corner of her eye. His forearms were corded and lean with muscle, the right trailed with the dark shapes of another tattoo that disappeared tantalisingly up the sleeve of his shirt.

“Need warming?” he asked gruffly, after some time.

Realising he was referring to the frost that still clung here and there to her boots, Frea replied ruefully, “No. My people do not mind frost. Besides, it will remind me to duck an ice blast faster, next time.”

Teldryn chuckled. It sounded like stones grating in his throat – an unpleasant descriptor for a sound that made the tips of her ears warm. “Have it your way, Skaal.”

He did not move away, despite the conversation lapsing. His closeness brought a prickle of first awareness and then a stilted kind of guilt. She had been so angry at him all day for daring to question her, to poke so brazenly at her grief, but he had remained patient. Protecting her from the fire in the tunnel, healing her from the dragon priest’s attack, even now, lingering by her side in case she needed the benefit of a Dunmer’s powerful internal warmth.

Grumpy, irascible Teldryn shamed her with his kindness.

After a moment, a tentative kind of peace offering, Frea said, “Laat took a sword and shield with them, to fight the Traitor Priest.”

It was difficult to get the words out. The press of memories was hard to ignore, her father’s body pierced through with tentacles and horribly mutilated, bleeding wetly into the snow. Laataazin’s grim, resolute eyes, crimson in the dying light of the sun. The plume of their breath misting before their scarred lips as they pressed their hammer into Frea’s shaking hands.

“For your people,” their unreal, too loud voice whispered, dual-toned and throbbing with godly power. Frea’s ears cracked and bled and her nose streamed ruby, but she had leant forward into them regardless, too pain-stricken to stop them from leaving, too furious to want them to stay.

The Dragonborn had given them a strange, wry smile that had reached nowhere near their flat, sad eyes, and ducked into the cabin they had been sharing with Farani while they worked with the Skaal. The last Frea ever saw of them was their short, stout frame cresting the top of the hill, the shield on their back blazing like a molten eye in the setting sun.

Teldryn eyed her warily, as if uncertain what to make of this strange offering. He snorted softly. “A shield would have been useful today.”

“Aye,” Frea sighed, glancing down into the fire. A shield, to block Dukaan’s powerful magic attacks, without needing to run and duck behind rocks? Yes, it would have been better than the hammer. If Ildari hadn’t been there, Frea would have died from the need to get close enough to use it properly without a good defence. “It would have. Or my axes – you were right. I am not made for this weapon. It could have killed me, today.”

“I often am,” he said slyly, and when she glowered at him, he gave her a roguish smirk. Then his countenance shifted, became more serious. “A Dragon Priest – we were lucky. Nothing would have changed that. And,” he admitted, “that strike on the lich’s head was a good move.”

“Your parry, across the ice?” Frea countered, “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”

“Hah!” he grinned. When he smiled like that, his tattoo bunched strangely over his cheek, drew attention to the softness of his pale grey lips against the rasp of his stubble. The line of his cheekbones, the gleam of his teeth in his cheeky smile, transfixed her.  “Best swordsman in Morrowind, what did I tell you?”

She rolled her eyes, face warm from his teasing, and then made to move.

“Listen,” he touched her arm to hold her back. “I don’t trust that mage.”

“Nor I,” she said. “She is hiding things from us.”

“Glad we agree,” he said, and released her. His eyes were gimlet in the firelight. He glanced down at his hands, turning a strange ring round his finger. The embossed moon and star glittered silver with strange power. “Watch the kid’s back.”

“And who will watch mine?” she retorted.

“I wouldn’t mind the view,” he replied without missing a beat, and had the temerity to grin when she shoved him.

Though their teasing had made her smile with a lingering and strange softness, a knot had formed in her stomach, tense and uneasy. She went to bed that night with hazy dreams blurring to a backdrop of the Dragon Priest’s betrayed screams and the haunted look in Laataazin’s eyes. In the dream, she begged Laataazin to come back and help them, but the Dragonborn only shook their head, placing hammer after hammer into Frea’s arms until the weight dragged her down, down, into a sea of inky, writhing tentacles, and Teldryn’s warm, laughing red eyes.

Notes:

“Drem. Bo-aav het, mal-briinah.” – A greeting. Come help us here, little sister. "Los Frea." - She is Frea. (Grammatically incorrect introduction). “Zu’u Dukaan. Koraav hi drog-Krosulhah? Bo mu krii se munax nau golt. Zu yah thuri-Miraak. Aav-mu, Frea-briinah?” – I am Dukaan. Have you found lord Krosulhah? We go to kill the cruel in these lands. I seek Lord Miraak. Will you help us, sister Frea? “Vahlok-aar! Alduin rel ko Solstheim fen al! Mu fen stin! Aar – krii daar wo krif thuri-Miraak!” – Servant of Vahlok! Alduin’s rule over Solstheim will be broken! We will be free! Servants – kill those who oppose Lord Miraak! “Miraak! Faal Dovahkiin bo! Rok aak mu!” – Miraak! Beware, the Dragonborn comes! He guides us! “Krosulhah! Ahzidal! Aak hin fahdon! Zahkriisos! Hon-ni dii zaan?!” – Krosulhah! Ahzidal! Help your friend! Zahkriisos! Do you not hear me calling your name?!

#my fic waking dreams: master of fate #frea #miraak #tes #elder scrolls #dukaan #ildari sarothril #inkwrites

[mejomonster]

Color theory is interesting. I mean for many a reason but like. Okay so I learned it one way for drawing/making art.

But then there's hair dye color theory. Knowing the base colors of hair underneath (black bleaches red, brown bleaches orange, blonde bleaches yellow, and finally lightening yellow or very light blonde gets you to the light inside of a banana yellow). When you dye blonde hair black you need to add red tones, or the dye formulation will have too many cool tones and not enough warm (red tones) because the dyes are usually formulated for going 1-2 levels up or down (levels of lightness). So the dye formula is made for putting on black hair or very dark brown hair that already had a red base, so you must put some red tones into the black dye if dying blonde hair. Or else you get the cool bluish-black hair color (which is fine if it's what you're going for). This is the same reason you can use brown dye and get green - brown hair is a mix of warm and cool tones (cool being green) so if you dye blonde hair brown it may not have the warm tone required (that is naturally in neutral brown hair) so you may get an ashy (cool toned) result. So generally if you dye to a color much darker than yours it's better to use golden/warm toned dyes (if you really dont want ashy hair), or add red protein filler, or use neutral tone dyes (if you're okay with a slightly ashy result possibly). If you use an ashy tone dye (like ash brown dye) you are MOST likely to get green hair. And if you do fuck up, and get green hair, it's fixable, just put a warm tone dye over it (or even a neutral dye at that point may add enough warm tones to save it) or put in some red protein filler. Neutral hair dyes typically contain some warm and some cool tones, ash/cool hair dyes contain More cool tone colors (blue, Green, violet), and warm hair dyes contain more Warm tone colors (red, orange, yellow).

And in the reverse, up to platinum blonde. You have to strip out all the original color, up until it's lightened to inside of a banana shade. Then there are platinum blonde toners (toner is like hair dye but weaker as it does not lighten/darken hair as much and fades quicker), OFTEN with a violet base, which will turn the hair "white" and turn rhe hair full on silver then full on lavender depending on how little yellow is in your hair and how much violet is in the toner. If your hair is still very gold and not light enough, sometimes adding a toner may turn hair swamp green (yellow and purple cancel each other out in hair dye, but if there's too much yellow then it gets muddy, or if there's too much orange left it turns purple+orange which is a bit muddy). Adding grey toner, which often has a green and violet undertone, increases the chances of turning green because ANY gold tone originally in your hair will mix with the green to turn greener (instead of the desired grey). That's why when using pastel/light green or blue hair dye you try to get the original hair very pale yellow first to try and prevent that. When trying to go lavender, you also want hair as pale as possible, because if it's too gold the yellow-purple will just cancel each other out and it will be silver ish, just paler blonde, or muddy grayish colored.

When buying toner, I like to find ones with a bit of warm undertone added (so platinum blonde toners with both violet AND some gold - beige blonde toners often have both) because I like a neutral blonde result instead of a silver platinum (though I recently fucked up and picked an all violet base toner so my hair is silver as 2B right now lol). A warning: toner for bleach blondes usually has gold or violet in rhe base, which will only make a platinum blonde warmer toned or cooler toned (which is a good thing, the toners only slide the warmth of your color but can't mess it up so it's no longer blonde... usually, and if they do fuck it up making it too silver like me you can simply pick a warmer toner next time to fix the color). But do NOT buy a toner that's meant to be put on darker base hair. Usually level 7-8 blondes (a level of lightness with 10 being bleached platinum, 6 being medium brown, and 4 closer to black) use RED AND GREEN as the undertones. So if you put level 6 blonde toner dye onto bleached platinum (pale yellow) hair, the green may mix with yellow and turn the hair greener, or the red may mix with yellow turning it oranger, either way you're mixing the yellow with something it's not going to mix pretty with and potentially getting a muddy color. Sometimes you'll get lucky, but if the base color undertones of a dye don't mix well with your original hair color it can become a mess. In those situations, usually adding red protein filler may help (gives the green something to cancel out instead of your original yellow), picking a neutral color may help (so the red and green mostly cancel each other out), darkening hair gradually (so only darken a couple levels at a time - like from 10 platinum blonde to 9 blonde, then 9 to 8, etc). Also simply leaving toner in LESS long and washing out the color a bit if it does go too green - sometimes a few good initial scrubs with dandruff shampoo will wash out the excess green tones and you'll still end up wirh your goal color. I tend to try neutrals when darkening my hair, in combo with scrubbing some of the color out immediately after dying if it turned too green. If it turned too red it's not as big of a deal (darkening hair requires adding more red tone anyway), so I might just go over the toner/dye again wirh a more neutral shade to lessen the reddish-shade if it turned too red. I'm a level 8ish blonde naturally I think, last time I saw it, so I usually don't darken to a shade that is more likely to add red, just the ones that fuck up with too much green (usually darker blonde dyes add some green rather than violet, but other than that keep the gold/violet main colors so there's rarely red introduced to fuck up the color in the warmth direction except to just make it golder - which is easy to fix wirh purple shampoo/toners etc).

And then, what happens if you fucked your hair and it's got NO gold undertones left either? Or it's turned green on you and you can't scrub it out enough?! Well, neutral dye is an option as is warm toned dye (if you think it will have enough warmth to bring ur hair color closer to balanced). But with bleached platinum blonde hair, even beige blonde (the color with the most gold undertone I've found) can go greenish easily. I don't know how other people fix it, but to this day pink and peach dyes have been my best fix for turquoise, green, or pale greenish or grayish green hair. Slap on some pink (salmon colors work best for me to add gold/warmth back starting peachy-blonde then fading to a light golden blonde then warm-neutral blonde, other neutral pinks like bubblegum and cotton candy pink tend to neutralize greens/greys into lavender-pink which then will later fade to a neutral nice cool toned blonde). I've done just a full pink (since it will thankfully cover the greenish/greyish fine), or I use it like a purple shampoo but pink instead (add some pink dye to conditioner and leave it on for 20 min to 1 hour). I'm guessing pinks base color has some red, orange, and violet (but I am not sure at all). But pink generally fades to peachy blondes then gold blondes then sometimes also neutral blonde eventually, so it's got orange and gold in the base. I would assume theres a little violet, and rhats why it fades to a usually pretty blonde rather than a strawberry blonde or light red shade at the end. So yeah, pink is my go to color correct when your hair is too cool toned - which happens a lot, even though as far as I can tell most products are made to add cool tones (purple shampoo, most platinum blonde toners) not add warm ones. Also anecdotal lol, but whenever I use vitamin c to strip out hair dye, the result tends to be warm toned. So I would imagine if trying to get out green or blue or purple or silver or grey dyes, using the old vitamin c/dandruff shampoo color remover trick might help strip out the cool tones a bit if bleach doesn't (or before trying bleach). But that's only my own experience, stripping out cool tones tends to be hard af for me so I imagine it's also stubborn for a lot of ppl and that might not work at all for them.

Anyway I wrote this post lol. To say I bought a cool toned eyeshadow pallete and already look way better complexion wise than yesterday when I was using my warm toned brown eyeshadow. Since my hair is silver rn lol, the brown warmth clashed pretty bad. I didn't even think about that until I saw yikes. Anyway hair color tones affect a shit ton when it comes to what dye to use, how much to lighten, what extra stuff you need to lighten or darken to get the result u actually want. And it also affects if ur new hair is gonna compliment or clash with ur usual makeup colors ToT

#rant #my hairdying woes #hair #this was fun ToT #im not a #licensed professional do not do ur own hair unless ur well aware ur likely to fuck up #and have to learn what works.

[bincognit0]

out & about + self-discovery.

what a day.

first, we dropped off our fur baby at my parents. it truly felt like we were dropping our kid off to have a proper date night. next, we hit this small diner. the bar sitting wrapped around the kitchen. service was quick and it was a unique experience. we ended with some apple pie, by then I was too stuffed. but, the ice cream was amazing.

another major component to our date was the film, poor things. i was deeply intrigued by all the buzz. to be honest, i very much wanted to watch anyone but you. but, i wanted to keep that to myself. truthfully, i wanted to pick the movie that would make me seem the most interesting to my husband. and for once, i'm not mad at that. we had to drive back to our city to be able to watch it because all the seats in downtown were already sold.

before we left, we stopped for a quick coffee. the place i wanted to go to was part barbershop and park coffee shop. and, that right there should've been my sign. to begin with, parking was a bitch and the neighborhood was sketch. once inside, the place had an odd smell. it was a weird mix of hair and coffee, except it produced an odd scent resembling neither. also, the bathroom situation sucked. it just felt exposed. not tucked away in some hallway. i didn't like it.

we drove in traffic for some time until we finally arrived to a nearby theater. the film was terrific. i'm so happy i went down that route. my husband and i went into it blindly and we were more than happy with the outcome. we enjoy doing that, and more often than not, it yields good results. afterwards, we stopped to pick up wine. when we got home, we started the docuseries, twin flames on netflix. it was crazy. we watched the first episode with popcorn, and moved on to watch forgetting sarah marshall.

it is now nearly 4am and i can't sleep. in my restless condition, i began to look for light pink blushes. i have a medium skin tone, so they either look ashy or somehow too orange. buying any makeup requires a bit of research as a brown girl. i succeeded and i can't wait to try them. i also went overboard and bought 5 charlotte tilbury lipsticks and one lipliner. some are minis so, i don't feel too bad.

i mean, i don't feel too-too bad. looking good is an investment well worth my money and time. i feel good and then my husband can't get enough of me. today, i got all dolled up again, only this time-i experimented with my look. i wore these low-rise true religion flare jeans, a black cropped tee, black cardigan, and platform boots that made me look like a bratz doll. my hair and makeup was done to the nines, and i had a cool red italian leather purse to seal the deal. i was on cloud nine.

i finally took out some of my winter wardrobe. it's finally cold enough to use it, only to discover that it was not what i anticipated. in my mind, i thought i was to unpack all of this heat. i was wrong. i only found some items i liked, some to hem, some of my staples and basics. this happens a lot. i have struggled with personal style for a very long time. my husband had to help me pick my outfit because i was doing a god-awful job at it.

i want to change that. i can feel myself connecting to my femininity. i also feel like dropping some acts. i used to think making somewhat cringey jokes to emulate cringy things (?) was funny and now i don't feel like doing that. that probably sounded weird, but sometimes i use the stupidest humor and i've realized most people go with it, but now, i can totally see them laughing at me when i'm not around. i just feel like being more cool, calm and collected? i hope it lasts. maybe its my age? like something finally clicked?