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usuallyapirate · 4 years ago

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A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!"

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

– Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon.

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land.

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep.

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace.

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar.

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.”

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

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keilemlucent · 5 years ago

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lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; )

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You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days.

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared.

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it.

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made.

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

[unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply.

[you]: is this hawks?

The next reply came only seconds later.

[unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in.

[unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts.

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

[you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

[tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up.

You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

[you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’

[you]: ;)

[tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

[you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

[tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u

You felt your still and heat rush to your face.

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

[tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

“What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections.

[you]: u flatter me

[tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift.

[you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him.

[tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!!

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel

As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest.

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

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The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door.

Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut.

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

(Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more.

You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide.

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice.

Your mouth quirked up in surprise.

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound.

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying.

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting.

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up.

(You didn’t think that was possible.)

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them.

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him.

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking.

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back.

Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

“So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons.

(You didn’t.)

You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality.

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat.

Keep it in your pants.

While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage.

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body.

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him.

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass.

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip, devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact.

He gets stared at all the time, chill out.

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

“The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk, ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them.

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste.

You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks.

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele.

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him.

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away. With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths.

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be.

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically.

You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you.

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact.

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard.

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut.

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head.

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing.

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type.

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #takami x reader #hawks x y/n #reader insert #my hero academia #mha reader insert #bnha reader insert #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo #hawks

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inkslingersworld · 4 years ago

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Crowbar (Alternate First Meeting)

Hi guys! This here short story is my first participation in Adrigami Week! I was planning on posting it yesterday, seeing as it’s following the “Alternate First Meeting” prompt, but the time got away from me. Idk if it’s still eligible for the official reblog or not, but I still had a blast writing it all the same. Enjoy! (Contains very mild profanity)

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Her lip was bleeding. For whatever reason, Kagami chose to focus on this minute aspect out of all the other injuries she’d sustained. She dabbed it with a paper towel.

Kagami couldn’t recall how she’d gotten like this. There was so much she couldn’t recall, and the staggering immensity of all her forgotten experiences had weighed down on her for so long that when she found herself in a bathroom without a clue as to how she’d gotten there, she was able to handle the newfound situation better than someone who hadn’t been through what she had.

The only thing that confused Kagami was that her clothes were in perfect condition, despite her face being bloody and streaked with dirt. In fact, they looked as though they’d just been sewn by a master tailor.

She brushed the puzzlement aside - she couldn’t linger here in this mysterious bathroom. Lingering got you killed.

The door opened easily at her touch, and Kagami examined the bedroom that it led into. The walls were painted in an eye-catching shade of purple, but the bed itself was small and plain. Kagami also noticed that there was no furniture other than a small nightstand and that the window was broken. It framed the outside world in jagged glass.

This aforementioned outside world was cloudy and bleak. Based on how damp the street appeared, Kagami concluded it must’ve rained recently. The buildings matched the clouds in their shade of gray, with windows just as broken as the one Kagami was using as an observation point. No street signs were visible. No vehicles, no animals, no people. Not even wind.

Kagami couldn’t care less about the lack of other individuals; her attention was pinpointed on the crowbar leaning casually against the building opposite. Without a second’s hesitation, she kicked away the rest of the glass and crawled expertly out of the window.

She didn’t know how she knew there’d be a fire escape, but resolved not to ponder on it, because every second she didn’t have the crowbar was a second where it could fall into the possession of someone else. Crowbars were tools; tools were extremely helpful.

By the time Kagami had raced down the stairs leading to the ground, she could notice how old and rusty the crowbar was. In retrospect, it probably wouldn’t be much use against some of the more contemporary weapons others owned, but in times like these, Kagami would take anything she could get.

In no time, she had dashed across the street and grasped the crowbar in her right hand. Flakes of deceased metal fell to the ground like rotten snow as she twirled it experimentally. Even if it fell apart in combat, it was nevertheless pretty maneuverable.

“Drop it.”

Kagami turned around instead, searching for the voice’s master. She found the man in question stepping out the adjacent alleyway. His face was hidden under an old halloween mask, but Kagami could see he was wearing a green rain jacket and pointing a pistol in her direction.

Was it a pistol? Further examination led Kagami to realize it was no such thing; it was a water gun, and she almost pitied the hopeless idiot who brandished it at her.

“I said drop it!” the man shouted, though not very loudly.

“You know that’s not a real gun, right?” Kagami asked nonchalantly, deciding to break the truth to him.

The man lowered the toy firearm and hung his head. “Damn it.”

“Wait, you already knew?” said Kagami in disbelief. “Why on Earth would you use a water gun instead of, I don’t know, an actual one?”

“I’m a pacifist,” admitted the man, sounding guilty. “I’m a believer of nonviolence.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but nonviolence fell out of fashion a while back,” said Kagami, not knowing where she’d heard it from.

“Well, I always favored the old styles over the new,” the man said. “You hungry? I’ve got some food.”

Kagami’s mouth fell open in spite of herself. Who did this airhead think he was? You didn’t just go around offering people food. But before she’d even responded, he started walking over to her, removing his mask in the process.

Based off his recent actions, Kagami was expecting him to look innocent and tame, and she was not disappointed. However, she hadn’t foreseen blond hair and green eyes. She hadn’t expected him to look this... well, attractive.

“I’m Adrien, by the way,” he said, plopping his butt on the pavement and taking off his previously concealed backpack. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not about to tell you my name!” Kagami cried exasperatedly. “I know nothing about you!”

Adrien, who’d previously been busy unpacking, looked up at Kagami closely for the first time. His eyes widened after locking with hers and he dropped the box of Ritz crackers he’d been taking out.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, Kagami demanded, “What?”

Adrien flinched violently and faced the ground, blushing. “Nothing.”

“Why were you staring at me for so long?” persisted Kagami.

“N-No reason!” Adrien stammered embarrassedly.

“Then why were you doing it?”

“I don’t know!”

Kagami decided not to push the topic and begrudgingly sat down; she hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now.

“So...” began Adrien slowly, seeming to regain some of his previous placidity. “I never did learn your name.”

“We’re not there yet,” Kagami grumbled, snatching a plastic-wrapped sandwich out of his hands.

“Well, what are you doing ‘round these parts?” Adrien asked curiously, putting his chin in his hands.

“None of your business,” snapped Kagami, losing some of her intimidation skills to a mouthful of grilled cheese.

“How’s the food?”

“Awful,” Kagami replied, even though it was delicious.

Adrien laughed hard. “You’re funny!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are!”

“What’s your problem?” asked Kagami sternly. “You know nothing about me, I could’ve killed you without hesitation as soon as you came over here!”

“And yet you didn’t!” Adrien pointed out cheerfully.

Kagami took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. “Adrien, wasn’t it?”

Adrien nodded and smiled, seeming delighted that she’d remembered his name.

“Adrien, I don’t know what miracle allowed you to survive for this long, but in our society’s current state, you might not be around much longer. I suggest you drop this puppy dog attitude and learn to fend for yourself.”

“Why learn to fend for myself when we can fend for each other?” asked Adrien earnestly.

The sincereness of this question, contrasting with the playfulness Adrien had exhibited, caught Kagami off guard for a moment, though she soon regained her bearings.

“Adrien, no offense, but you’d be dead weight,” she stated. “Even if I wanted to stick around with you, my memory kinda wipes itself clean every six hours or so, only holding on to the most treasured information - my name, my personality, how to speak, how to read and write, knowing what stuff is, and the like.”

“No way!” exclaimed Adrien, before Kagami could continue. “I have the same thing! That’s why I started a diary!”

He zipped open his backpack again and retrieved a worn leather-bound book. Adrien opened it and showed Kagami its messily written contents.

“I originally didn’t remember how to write,” he explained, flipping through some pages to get to the beginning, “but I was able to relearn! It took like a year, though.”

Kagami peered at the even messier scrawl of a younger Adrien. She was shocked to see his name spelled incorrectly with crayon.

“How long’ve you been on your own?” she asked uncertainly.

“About twenty years, I think,” Adrien answered dismissively. “I can’t know for certain, I didn’t relearn how to understand a calendar until someone took me in when I was... fourteen, maybe?”

“Someone took you in?” inquired Kagami.

Suddenly, Adrien’s face began filled with sorrow and loneliness. “Yeah... yeah, I don’t like thinking about that.”

Noticing how sympathetically Kagami was gazing at him, Adrien quickly plastered his old smile back on. “That doesn’t really matter. Now I’ve got you!”

Kagami hesitated. One of the instincts her memory’d held onto was avoiding people, but Adrien seemed different. He in the same situation she was in, and he’d shown her kindness. Besides, it’d be nice to have a companion, and Adrien’s diary probably contained scores of valuable information to help the duo survive.

Even if not for all those reasons, there was something else, though Kagami wasn’t sure what it was yet. For whatever reason, Adrien made her feel relaxed, happy even. She didn’t know why, but he did.

“Okay, Adrien,” she said resignedly. “You can stick with me.”

Adrien’s face lit up with gratitude, and before she knew it, Kagami found herself buried in a hug. It was warm and comforting.

“Thank you so much!” Adrien said happily.

“No problem, Adrien,” sighed Kagami, already having her doubts.

Adrien released her and scooped up his backpack. They both stood up.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.

“West,” responded Kagami mechanically. “It won’t make too much of a difference, but we need all the sunlight we can get.”

The two started to walk. After trekking for about a minute, Adrien spoke again.

“You never did tell me what your name is.”

Kagami smiled softly and rolled her eyes. “It’s Kagami.”

“Kagami,” repeated Adrien thoughtfully. “I like that name.”

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@adrigamiweek

#inkslingersworld #inkslinger #miraculous #adrigamiweek2021 #adrigamiweek #adrien #kagami #alternate first meeting #long post #adrigami #crowbar

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chibimyumi · 5 years ago

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I saw your post answering an anon about kuroshitsuji, and I think about it a lot post for me kuroshitsuji is not about just two sides of the coin but about several sides: nobody is right or wrong because if we think about the characters and their ideology, everyone does what they believe and think they are right about even if it is completely distorted, a good character does not mean that he is a good person.

【Response to: Anon-senpai-sama who saved my immortal soul!】

Dear Moony-moonlight,

Indeed, the narrative that only a good person is a good character and vice versa is literal centuries outdated. I myself have a very strong preference for thoroughly flawed characters, but I guess that makes me an amoral person according to Anon-senpai-sama then ^^

Rather than teaching morality, I think Kuroshitsuji is a disclosure of the inherent human potential of being evil. Us humans are very prone to calling an evil person or act ‘inhumane’ or ‘monster’, but is that not just a way to distance oneself from the idea that as a fellow human they share the same potential of being evil?

I am still me, so I can’t be short (≽▽≼) So my apologies for hijacking your ask here. Please allow me a moment to discuss the following: “How does Kuroshitsuji discuss ‘Evil’?”

Kuroshitsuji’s Philosphy

Sebastian

The quickest answer to what ‘evil’ is in Kuroshitsuji is to point at the demon. For forever demons have been regarded as the personification of evil. However, in Sebastian’s function in relation to O!Ciel, the series proposes that a demon is only as evil as the human (master) makes him be. Almost all the atrocities Sebas has committed in the manga so far were under his master’s instructions. Otherwise his evil is limited to 1. a fight for his own autonomy, and 2. his toxic manipulation towards O!Ciel. And yet in both these instances Sebas’ position proposes the question: “is “evil” committed for the sake of your basic life necessities still evil?”

Besides, if we go along with the idea that “a demon is only as evil as the human makes it be”, it is worthwhile to ask whether Sebas would have been around in the first place were it not for human actions - the cult’s summoning and O!Ciel’s decision to keep him. As discussed in this post, it seems like Sebas had no say in whether he gets summoned or not, and that he certainly had no say in unsummoning himself. The fact that Sebas presented the option of just disappearing to O!Ciel is noteworthy. We know too well that Sebas would gladly withhold information from the boy if the information can disadvantage him. If he strongly did not want to be dismissed, he would have hidden this option. As it is however, it seems fair to say that Sebas probably had rather gone home instead.

This idea is strengthened by Sebas’ mention of the ‘ferry fee’; Sebas said that he ‘cannot’ physically appear if the fee is not paid using R!Ciel’s soul. Can we assume this payment is enough for a round trip ticket though? I don’t think we should.

Kuroshitsuji is pretty clear about a fate worse than going to Hell awaiting one who summons a demon. It is not inconceivable that Sebas' would need O!Ciel’s raw soul as the payment for his return ticket (and that the “seasoned” soul would be the payment for Sebas’ actual service on top). “You can just dismiss me, but then I’ll eat your soul without you getting my servitude in return” however, is not a very appealing advertising strategy, so it is understandable why Sebas wouldn’t mention any consequences to O!Ciel.

Regardless of whether O!Ciel’s raw soul would have been consumed or not, the fact is that the boy didn’t know there might have been awful consequences for dismissing the demon. For all he knew he could just send the scary demon away and that’s it. Though it had been an incredibly hard choice, O!Ciel did still make the choice to not dismiss the demon and make active use of it. He could just have made the demon help him escape, but instead he immediately decided he would turn it into a weapon for his own bloody revenge.

It wasn’t until O!Ciel had agreed to enter a contract with Sebas that he actively started to kill the cult members. Beforehand Sebas was merely trying to find his summoner. Sure, some people might have been killed in the process, but as discussed in this post, none of that was cruelty, but indifference. But then we’d have to ask whether ‘indifference’ is evil too. Is not watching out for ants as we walk evil?

In short, if a demon is supposed to stand for evil, then evil is the product of human actions. A demon like Sebas is no more than a tool to execute humankind’s depraved ideas, and therefore merely a scapegoat of human evil.

Our Ciel

Now let us talk about our little Evil Nobleman. Ironically I would say the human child that is O!Ciel is ambiguously more evil than a literal demon.

So... instead of only using Sebastian to escape his current situation, O!Ciel decided to employ a demon to execute his revenge. What is chilling here is that nobody - including the boy - knows just how much blood this revenge might demand, nobody has any grasp over the scale of this mission.

After the massacre of the Phantomhive family O!Ciel could very well have used everyone’s assumption of his death to live a peaceful life and start over using Sebastian’s help. I am sure that being summoned purely for great wealth is nothing new to Sebas. Perhaps O!Ciel would not want to let go of his remaining family and that would be entirely fair. But as a child so young he could easily have declined the inheritance of the Phantomhive name and duty. But he didn’t.

How did a child who dreamed of selling toys turn into... what he is now? Had it not been for the humiliation and tragedy that befell O!Ciel, then he’d never have become Earl Phantomhive, nor would he have to commit so many evils compelled by both status and trauma.

In short, if O!Ciel turned out so evil only because of what he’s been made to go through, then in resonance with Sebastian’s character, this character too indicates that evil is the product of human actions.

Conclusion

Kuroshitsuji is not trying to be pedagogical in any way, however, saying that the series does not consider morality at all might also be selling it short. Unlike a conventional pedagogical work, Kuroshitsuji does not try to present an answer to troubles. I think the series might be more similar to social criticism.

Kuroshitsuji prompts its readers to reconsider what evil is and where it comes from. The two protagonists aside, the definition of ‘evil’ is likewise interrogated using Madam Red and Grell’s story in their respective tragedies. Or in the Circus members, how they were compelled to evil because society had driven them to the utmost corners.

The very setup of a demon and its master being the protagonists who combat ‘evil’ is already a bit satirical, especially in how the Watchdog’s function is explicitly to preserve the ‘legitimacy’ of the sanctioned justice system - the Queen. It proposes that no glorious government can exist without a dirty side. But then, to what extent is ‘evil for the sake of necessities’ pardonable?

#Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #Analysis #discussion #philosophy #Evil #what is evil?#Sebastian Michaelis #Our Ciel #O!Ciel

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novainthevoid · 3 years ago

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Welcome to today’s edition of “Nova projects on their favorite characters.” Today we’re featuring my first ever Sanders Sides fic, which I will be posting and not looking back. Sorry if it’s rough.

“I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong with me,”

Virgil looked up from his phone, hand slowing to a stop as he quit absentmindedly petting the cat in his lap and eyes meeting Logan’s for a split second before darting slightly away. His mouth was pressed into a slight frown, likely from Logan’s use of the word “wrong” -- though Vrigil suffered from his own self-deprecating thoughts, he didn’t want others to suffer too, especially not those he cared about -- but he didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to continue.

After a few beats of silence, Logan finally did, his eyes locked firmly on the cat he was petting as opposed to the man in front of him. He found that statements that beat around the bush but acknowledged the existence of a problem were some of the most effective tools in forcing himself to say things he didn’t want to say. It let the other person know there was something going on and pressured him into explaining himself while also buying a bit of time to think.

“I feel like a cat in a world made for dogs,” he grimaced as he spoke, wishing he had an easier way to phrase how he felt, one that didn’t use those flowery metaphors Roman loved so much. And yet, this was the one that felt the most true.

When he didn’t elaborate any further, Virgil spoke up. “What do you mean?” he asked, not unkindly (not yet).

Logan let out a sigh, trying to find the words to explain the mess inside of him. He could talk someone’s ear off about every fact he had ever learned, from ways to maintain a healthy lifestyle to his beloved biology, but he never could seem to get the hang of describing his emotions.

“People tend to dislike cats because they don’t understand them. They take the knowledge that they have of how dogs act and behave and apply that to cats, not understanding that cats feel and express themselves in very different ways. Thus, when this strategy fails, the person believes that the cat must be selfish and evil and emotionless.” Logan stated. It was always easier to start on a global scale and work down to a more personal one.

“Right,” Virgil replied, looking more and more confused as Logan continued to dodge around what he really wanted to say in that masterful way only someone who had spent years perfecting the art could achieve.

The bespeckled man let out a sigh and hunched in on himself as he finally forced the words out, “People expect you to feel and express yourself in very specific ways, and when you don’t they consider you odd at best and evil at worst. I… have tried very hard for a very long time to fit into these things that are expected of me, believing that everyone has to force themselves to fit the mold and that I should just suck it up and push onwards. Recently, however, I’ve been trying to figure myself out more and I’ve been… happier.” Finally, he looked up at Virgil.

“I like being alone. I like keeping myself to myself. It comes more naturally to me to use logic over feelings to try and help others. I value my independence more than anything else. And I don’t want to believe that I am broken simply because I live in a society that pushes me to change everything about myself. I would rather be alone and happy than surrounded by people who want to change me, not understand me. Does… does that make sense?” He asked, a rare hint of hesitance creeping into his voice.

Finally, Virgil gave him a hint of a smile and resumed petting the cat. “Yeah, Lo. I think it does.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth quirked up, “Thank you, Virge,” he paused one last time and the lightest hints of a blush appeared on his cheeks, “I believe that… having you as a friend has helped me realize that. You made me realize that I can have friendships that do not force me to give up pieces of myself to make the other person happy. You don’t push me to give anything that I can’t or won’t give. So… thank you, Virgil.”

It was Virgil’s turn to blush, “Yeah, of course, Lo. You, uh. You too.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #could be romantic platonic whatever #i technically intended platonic #but as your local neurodivergent aro-spec #i continue to fail to understand how to write relationships #anyways #technically meant to be #human au #probably #high school au #but honestly could be read however you’d like

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Lost Lineage

Dofi hurried in the dark narrow corridors of the ship, in near pitch black darkness. They were surrounded by dead waiters and had to pull all the ship’s electrical power into the fight. He knew his brother Do, the Ship’s Chief Engineer, had designed the ship this way. This was a dragon-slaying ship. Every drop of fuel, every battery, every nuclear engine could reroute its full might into deadly weapons until the enemy was vanquished or the ship rested at the bottom of the sea.

Even now, the ship was loud with constant machine gun fire and thunderous booms from cannons.

His brother Foli was captaining this war at sea. He was the firstborn and the leader of the Aido-Hwedo, destined to be on the Council in the future. Dofi had no such destiny. He was a shadow merchant, supporting his brother in covert actions to protect him from the rear. Dofi kept this vow of secrecy close to his heart. Even though his brother acted like a naive little fool in the sun, he would be there, in the shadows like a ninja, destroying anyone who came at him from the shadows.

Now he felt his brother had played the ultimate fool. He had trusted Grant Baldwin to keep this operation secret and now they were surrounded by ships from the Secret Society. Someone had fired rockets at the dragon being awakened in the sky, awakening him early. How was he supposed to save him from this?

Foli should have known that the sons of that Dark King Betrayer could not be trusted. All four of the quadruplets went to the same school and heard the same stories.

Nidhogg and the White Queen Izanami were inseparable rulers. Together they produced one egg that hatched the ten great serpents into the world. Each one they granted authority over humans. Quetzocoatl, Nuwa, Anima, Minona, Legba, Ouroboros, and the twin headed serpents, Taipan-Typhon and Mawu-Lisa.

For centuries they ruled over humans, some harshly, some more gently. But the Dark King was always fickle and full of suspicious thoughts. The White Queen could take it no longer and rebelled against him. Ouroboros, Mawu-Lisa and Legba agreed. But the White Queen was defeated and her children were forced into hiding from their vengeful father.

They hid among their human hybrids in Africa. But were revealed when war broke out among them. The hybrids of Mawu-Lisa attacked the hybrid city of Ouroboros, but were defeated. In retaliation, Ouroboros devoured Mawu-Lisa. Then, strengthened greatly by the meal, turned on Legba.

Legba fled back to Nidhogg. He hoped to be protected by his father, so he betrayed Ouroboros’s location to him. But Nidhogg killed him anyway, and then went to find Ouroboros. But Ouroboros somehow vanished, him and his people. He was a master of the sacred arts of Nibelungen and could produce them at will. When the forces of Nidhogg arrived, there was nothing left but a crater.

Nidhogg never found Ouroboros and turned on the rest of his children. It didn’t matter how loyal they had been in the past. They were the White Queen’s children and couldn’t be trusted. One by one, every single serpent that had hatched from the egg was destroyed and all their hybrids were slaughtered. In their place, he created the Four Lords and forced them into eternal submission. He erased every vestige of the existence of the original ten and their mother.

Yet, knowing all this, that silly Foli still put his head into the palm of these elites of Cassell College. These sons of the Betrayer King!

“Foli… Foli, I tried to warn you…” The ship was rocking like a tree against the winds and the waves. Every joint groaned as the waves lifted it and shuddered violently as it crashed to the ocean. The sense of vertigo was immense and he put his hand to the wall to steady himself. He was almost there.

He had to protect his brother.

And the key was in his pocket, wrapped in gauze. The vial of that girl’s blood. The girl who wasn’t on the roster of the Action Team. The girl who came from Ace Commissioner parents with no past. Born in a dragonslayer Academy. And yet somehow had no dragonblood according to the dragonblood divination.

His brother originally had this suspicion of her, but he’d discarded it after a little sweet talk from that Betrayer son. But Dofi was not so easily fooled.

He’d reached the end of the corridor and swiped his card; the door slid open to reveal a darkened lab, faintly lit by an alternative power source. At the center was a server rack that blinked green and blue and red like festive lights in the dark. A single laptop controlled it all. On a table, along with a microscope and other tools, there was what looked like a box. Dofi braced himself on the table and pulled out the vial of blood from his pocket.

He carefully opened the metal box. Inside, was a spinning centrifuge. The divining plate could only work based on the Four Lord’s Lineage. If she was not of that line, then the alternative was that she was either human or not of the four lords. And she was not human.

He tucked the vial with trembling hands into the centrifuge and closed it and flipped the switch. The vial began to spin until it was a blur, to break up the blood and reveal the genetic material. The computer here had more than the lineage of the four lords but also of Legba and Mawu-Lisa, the Ancestors of the West African Hybrids.

The lights suddenly started to flicker. Dofi looked up at them as they swung. Their shifting pools of light moved over a scaly clawed foot, like the claw of a dinosaur. When they swung that pool of light away, gleaming eyes peered out from the dark. Those eyes were embedded in a massive dark shadow, about the size of a horse. It crouched on all fours, it’s body stretching into the hallway where he had just been.

Dofi’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He had thought he was alone in the corridor, safe and protected by his brother’s stalwart efforts outside, but he was being stalked by this unseen and quiet predator the whole way down. And now he had reached a dead end in every sense.

Unlike his brother, Dofi had no aggressive skills, only the Soul Skill Mirage that could distort his form as he saw fit. But how could he fool someone who had already seen him as he truly was? They faced each other now, each one as they were. Predator and prey.

Normally, he could consider escaping, use his soul skill to frighten the enemy, confuse them, or vanish. But he could not leave this beast in this room and he had to stay here for the results of the DNA test. There was no clever escape this time. Only a fight until the monster was eliminated. He reached behind his back, his hand closing around a weapon there.

Dofi’s eyes moved first to the left, away from the computers. The monster’s limbs tightened and it rushed in, thinking Dofi was making his move. The split second error was all that was needed. Dofi pulled a grenade from behind him, yanked out the pin and threw it into the beast’s mouth, just as it closed. The creature’s teeth pierced the metal shell. Corrosive liquid, poisonous to dragons sprayed out under intense pressure right down the monster’s throat.

With the grenade stuck on his tooth, it could only shake its head. The silver solution spread all over the floor and under its claws and it slipped and fell. Its screaming as the solution burned its skin rattled the walls. Blood oozed from its mouth in a steady stream coloring the liquid on the floor. The vapors stung its eyes and sent blood weeping from there. Its scales loosened and hung from the skin of its neck.

But its target was gone. Disappeared from the room. Its nostrils flared to try to catch a scent of him, and then it coughed, jaw hanging open. A thin blade, like the foil of a fencer, had pierced its throat from the side. In comparison to its thick neck, it appeared like a hypodermic needle through the gap in its eroded scales. It wasn’t even a hole big enough to bleed through, but inside the throat, the jugular vein had been punctured, and the brain was quickly being starved of oxygen.

With such a precise attack, there was no need for a strong Soul Skill or Physical Strength.

Dofi revealed himself to be holding the end of the blade, having hidden himself when his Soul skill while the beast struggled with the grenade. He held a cloth to his face to guard himself from the noxious fumes, but he knew it was too late. Such powerful poison would be the end of him as well. Already, his skin was starting to turn soft and sore. It burned and turned a whitish grey as he staggered back to the laptop.

The Genetic test results were completed.

According to the blood test, this girl was a descendent of Nidhogg, as all dragons were. But unlike all dragons, she was also a descendent of the Whtie Queen Izanami. As he suspected, she really was of the stock of the original ten serpents out of the great egg.

She was not a descendent of Mawu-Lisa. She was not a descendant of Legba.

Leaning against the table, Dofi’s vision swam. He picked up the phone and put his brother on the speed dial. Despite the desperation of the situation, his brother picked up immediately.

“Dofi! What is it? Where are you?”

“Foli… my dearest brother. I have completed the investigation of the girl.”

“What? Dofi, I told you to stop. Where are you now? What are you doing?”

“The girl is of a Lost Lineage. She is not of Legba… or Mawu-Lisa.” He coughed and felt like he was drooling uncontrollably. But when he looked down, his shirt was stained red.

“Lost lineage…?” His brother’s voice was still in his head. “Where is the girl? Where are you?”

But Dofi couldn’t speak any more.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Class of 2032

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kiraofthewind · 4 years ago

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The 88 sapienti species of the Pentagonal Dominion

No, I’m not here to describe all eighty-eight lol. Actually, my plan is to write short bios about each of them and post maybe four or so at random intervals? Depends on how long it would take to write them up, it could be weekly or just whenever I finish. In the future, I’d love to have artwork of all 88, but of course that takes a lot of time and money lol.

Currently, I have art of specific characters of the following species. An asterisk means that species is represented in at least one character I have art of:

A note on my invented word ‘sapienti.’ Some might be asking “Erika, why don’t you just call them sapient?” I do, quite often in fact. However, when I was writing my books, I found that ‘sapient’ didn’t always do what I wanted it to do. ‘Sapienti’ is essentially my fantasy-world’s version of the word ‘human.’ If a characters stumbles across the bones of a person, they would refer to the bones as “sapienti bones” meaning “the bones of a sapienti person.” Imagine instead if they’d referred to them as “sapient bones.” That makes it sound like the bones themselves are alive and chatting with you!

So how did a world manage to get eighty-eight different species of people living in it? Time travel, son. The world is only 1450 years old anyway. Ain’t no evolving from a single-celled organism in that amount of time!

Many of the sapienti species evolved over billions of years in timelines that the Time Spirit left alone to just let nature take its course. These are usually the more “human-looking” species. Ones with opposable thumbs or which can otherwise use tools.

Some species were made sapient by the blessing of a Mind God. Wynnles came from lions. Yosoe came from goats. All the insect-based species came from, well, insects lol. In the Pentagonal Dominion timeline I write about, there were actually only 87 sapienti species to begin with. The Domovye (singular: Domovoi) were animals. They would be yoked together and trained to dig deep underground, uncovering metals for their sapienti masters. This was seen as no different than yoking oxen to plow a field, or dogs to a sleigh, or a horse to a carriage. The Domovye turned sapient overnight by the blessing of Lucognidus. His purpose in doing so was to punish Ulinor, whose dictator refused to accept the (at the time) new Spiritism religion. Ulinor was the primary civilization that used Domovye as working animals. The Ulese lived underground and needed the Domovye to keep their city functional. But the Ulese abhorred slavery, so when the Domovye became sapient, they could no longer be forced to work.

Many of the species are capable of interbreeding, largely thanks to Life elemental magic. Biologically, without magic, most of them would not work. Their chromosomes would be incompatible or the sperm wouldn’t be able to merge with the egg. Life element magic just “makes it work, damn it.” It will fuck around with genetics until it creates something that can exist. I made this chart a while ago when I was playing a game with some people to create demigods:

It shows how some interbreeding works, but it was within the context of a certain time and place. For instance, the Morenzi can interbreed with any of the others that aren’t in colored boxes, but they currently live in the Quarantined Plane, so none of their hybrids currently exist. It also says Odonata cannot interbreed, but the entire point of Calinthe is that she’s the first and only Odonata hybrid.

The Pentagonal Dominionists use specific language to describe sapienti based on the number of limbs they have. A human might be described as a biped-bibrach (two legged and two armed). A few sapienti look a lot like humans, including the Olivians, Ulese, Umi, Omi, Yetrians, and Myralese. In these cases, the things that make them non-human are deeper than their appearances. Olivians will bond strongly to whoever they first have sex with. Ulese have advanced intelligence. Umi and Omi can control certain internal functions which are automatic and uncontrollable in humans. Yetrians can eat things that a human’s stomach would reject. Myralese are Ice elementals and can survive in frozen environments.

Note that I use ‘nullped’ for species without legs (Domovye, second-stage Orochijin, Poltergeists, Mizura). There is a single monoped species: the Collembola. They have a leg and a tail. They mostly get around by hopping on their tail, but their single leg helps to balance them.

Yet some of these species are so weird and nonhuman that describing them is… difficult. I still don’t have art of Päivi, who is fairly prominent in MoKaM, because I tremble at the idea of trying to describe her to an artist. xD

Many of my species are aquatic, too! Or at least *can* live and breathe underwater if they choose. Aquatic/water-breaking species include: Anemone, Daga, Ephemeropteran, Flora, Foma, Hemipteran, Kraken, Mizura, Phasmida (they can transform into other species, so a Phasmida wouldn’t drown likely because they could transform into someone else), Piniko, Poltergeist, Rubaiyan, Selachi, Sin-Derion, Thysanura, Tsuru, Vodyanoi, Zullia.

Wings are another common feature. Everything that has ‘pteran’ at the end of its name has wings. Other winged species include the Winyans, Pellas, Tsuru, Noklopae, Subrikae, and Nilians.

A few species are extinct in the time period the Merchants novels take place in. The Tellia and Pokki were exterminated by demons when the demons were first created and wanted to take over their homeland. The Mujin went extinct when the Death God Sawyer lost control of his powers in a fit of despair.

A few of these species are also so few in number that a person could go their whole life without meeting one. These include: Odonata, Iur, Mabera, and Phasmida. Technically Phasmida change into other species, so their true numbers are unknown. A Phasmida might live a lifetime in the body of another species and never tell their neighbors that they’re actually a Phasmida. The only one who has made her identity known is Mira, the Chancellor of Aloutia. Because Phasmida only age in the bodies they are currently using, they are effectively immortal. Mira has been the Chancellor since the founding of the Aloutian Empire. She has existed in the Pentagonal Dominion since its beginning. She is actually over 50,000 years old because she’s the Time Spirit’s toy, and she keeps getting put in alternate timelines.

In-world, people might refer to the sapienti species by other numbers. Some will say 87 because they’re excluding the Morenzi, who are unknown to everyone on Aloutia, Cosmo, Ophidia, and the Makai. Some will say 84 because they’re also excluding the three extinct species.

Some species have body parts that naturally produce elementrons, but they can only be used for specific types of ‘magic’ e.g. the Sin-Derion have teeth enchanted to shoot Death elemental beams. Wynnles have electric tails. Yosoe have electric horns. Most winged species have Wind elementrons to allow them to fly because otherwise their bodies would be too heavy/awkward for flight. Daga shells are gold, but enchanted to float on water. Sounites have fire for hair. It’s a whole lotta fun to design all these people!

One thing I want to be clear on, though: no species are monoliths. No species is ‘pure good’ or ‘pure evil.’ They don’t all belong to the same country or culture. They don’t all believe in the same principles, dress the same, speak the same languages, or worship their Gods in the same manner. Sometimes when I talk about my species, I may talk about the culture in which *most* of them belong. *Most* Wynnles live on the Wynndalic Plains of Cosmo’s Starsine planet, where they engage in ritual hunting, have strict sexual practices, and speak their own language which few other species speak. But… obvious not all Wynnles are that way. Amiere, Liesle, and their children are Wynnles, but they live on Aloutia, buy their meat at a market or fish it out of Deep Sea, eat a lot of tropical fruits, and speak a sort of pseudo-French patois most commonly spoken by Flora and Ebonoirs. All sapienti have individual, rational minds (some can connect to a ‘hive mind’, but they *still* retain their individuality, should they choose) and can come to their own conclusions about morality and society.

#writeblr #writing #original writing #my writing #am writing #writer #writers of tumblr #Kira writes #MoKaM #MoLaB #MoDaH #worldbuilding #Rainbow Fantasy #Pentagonal Dominion #Kira's fantasy species #Because I fucking like making them that's why #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy worldbuilding

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gibbering-miasma · 4 years ago

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I think I know how Warcraft’s casters work

It started with a simple question. Why can mages summon water elementals? It’s a simple question that resulted in me noticing other elements of overlap among the Warcraft casters. Not only can mages summon elementals, but fire mages and destruction warlocks can appear to be the same class at a first look. (Especially if the person doing the looking isn’t very experienced, we all know you, yes you, can easily tell the difference. The point is that two classes that seem to predominantly use fire magic are very similar.) eventually it got to the point where my initial question changed from “why can one class do this thing while another class can’t?” tonly to change again to

“What really is the difference between the casters of Warcraft?”

I want to be transparent here, I have not read Chronicle yet. I have the books (thanks again for that, you know who you are) but I wanted to get this theory properly formed first so i don’t spoil my biases. That leads me to another thing, this is just the theory of a guy who’s spent most of his life on this game who’s noticed a few odd dots and decided to connect them to see what picture they make. Blizzard can disprove this at any time with a word, because in the end, they’re the creators, and I’m just a fan. One last thing, I’m certain that there are some examples or details that i’ll get wrong (not playing the most recent expansions will tend to leave a sample size less than optimal) so if there’s an error that I’ve made, call me out on it. This may be a fan theory, but I want it to make sense.

To answer my previous question (what really makes the difference between Warcraft casters for those of you in the back), I think the primary difference is philosophy, not the type of magic that each class uses. What I mean by this is the general worldview, character traits, and relationship with magic that each class has. Obviously there are going to be outliers, mortals tend to mess with the systems like that, but this should be a good place to begin our analysis. When analyzing the casters, we see four main philosophies develop. I’d argue that those four are the philosophies of the Druid, Mage, Warlock and Shaman. I’ll include the other classes that I believe to best line up with those philosophies. I’ll focus on the primary casters of those philosophies, though I’ll use a few examples from the other classes that are philosophically adjacent.

And just so we’re all on the same page here, I’m assuming that magic is inherently sentient, and the overall type of magic used has no effect on your class. With all that out of the way, let’s begin.

Druid/Priest/Paladin- Philosophy of Faith.

The druid is the only class that willingly enters a state of unconsciousness and allows their magic to work through them, causing metamorphosis in the process. The primary tenets of the druidic philosophy are Faith and Dedication. The druid venerates the Wild much in the same way that a priest or paladin venerates the Light. What all of this means is that the druid views themselves as inferior to the Wild (or whatever source of magic you prefer). Power is attained not through study or ambition, but by submission and faith, resulting in power being granted as a boon. But it’s not all fluffy cats and boomkins for the druid, their submission and faith means that they are not necessarily in control. We clearly see this to be the case with the druids of the pack (and the same case can be made for the druids of the flame, but I’m unsure on whether ragnaros forced the flame druids to do his bidding or if they were just crazy like that). Spouting character traits with no examples won’t do us any good, so let’s rectify that by taking a look at Tyrande Whisperwind, a great example of the philosophy of faith. Yes, Tyrande is a priest, not a druid, but remember that the important thing about the classes is their philosophy, not the type of magic that they use. As a priest, Tyrande answers to the will of Elune, and will prioritize the will of the White Lady over anything else (consider the quote “Only the goddess may forbid me anything” from warcraft 3). Not only that, but Tyrande also becomes the vessel for a portion of Elune’s power during the Horde’s invasion, showing similarity to the powers that druids receive and use from their Wild Gods. The similarity between druids and priests could be a reason why those two classes are the major casters in Night elf society following the War of the Ancients. And before you start denying my claim that priests and druids are basically the same, let me ask you this: If Elune wanted Tyrande to willingly enter an unconscious state in order to become a more capable vessel of Her power, would Tyrande do it? I say that she would, because putting aside your own desires, fears and reservations in order to serve your higher power is the definition of dedication, it is the definition of faith, and it is exactly what makes a druid what they are.

Shaman- Philosophy of Synergy

The shaman’s relationship with their magic is exactly that, a relationship. I get the suspicion that I may have lost a few of you there so I’ll explain. The druid fully submits in order to gain power, whereas classes like the warlock will just take as they see fit. The shaman exists between those two extremes, they work alongside the elements and it is through that cooperation that they grow their abilities. Of course, the shaman also experiences their own fair share of magical difficulties. They are still drawing their power from sentient beings that may not always want to comply with the shaman’s wishes. This leaves the shaman with a difficult situation, especially if their magic rebels during a time where the shaman doesn’t have the means to deal with any of that nonsense. The shaman must cooperate with their magic unless they fall to dark shamanism and force their magic to submit, which is the exact domain of the Warlock.

Warlock/Warrior- Philosophy of Dominion

The warlock does not ask for power, nor does it work alongside their demons for mutual benefit (I mean really, do you think that your minions are there by choice?). I alluded to the warlock’s modus operandi earlier, and now I get to delve deeper. The warlock takes power as they see fit, often draining it straight from their enemies. The warlock will then add that magic into their own reserves, bending the magic to their will and growing in power. A warlock’s magic can be said to be a part of them in a more literal manner than any of the other four casters. This habit of taking power from others is actually quite common in the Warcraft universe, (look at all the Blood elves for instance) but i’ll highlight the 3 biggest examples of the warlock philosophy. Ragnaros the firelord, Garrosh Hellscream and Illidan Stormrage all are well known for having a desire for more power, while also having the ambition and skill to go out and get that power for themselves without having to plead to some other entity for assistance. Ragnaros consumed prince Thunderan, Garrosh merged with the heart of Y'Shaarj, and Illidan consumed the Skull of Gul’dan, and all three established control over their new power, and not the other way around. Just as a shaman who forces the elements to work for them isn’t much of a shaman, a warlock who is controlled by their power isn't much of a warlock.

Mage/Hunter/Rogue/Monk- Philosophy of Discipline

The other casters all have very distinct relationships with their magic. Warlocks must be constantly in control, druids are always trying to appease, and shamans just want everyone to calm down and talk about their feelings. And then we have the mage, who doesn’t have much of a relationship at all. To the mage, magic is a tool, one that should be respected, but a tool nonetheless. Khadgar used the skull of Gul’dan to close the Dark Portal with no negative side effects. Whereas Illidan barely has his hands on the thing for a minute before he’s undergoing radical transformations and sprouting new appendages. When trying to name this section, I had initially selected Mastery as a good means of describing the Mage’s philosophy. Mastery had made sense to me, the mage is the master of their magic, they display control and authority over their power in a way that is distinct from the warlock, and their utilitarian view towards magic separates them from shamans or druids. So why the change? Why does Discipline describe the mage better than Mastery? Because in a world where dragons rearrange continents, the dead walk, and where tyrants exist around every corner, the mortals of Azeroth need someone to keep a clear head when the demons are dead and their power is being divided among the victors. The mage is the embodiment of mortal authority in relation to magic, they lock questionable powers away so that those who would misuse that power could do no harm to innocents. The mage is a Guardian, the kind of person who has no interest in being warped into some sort of magical pawn to a higher power. They put their trust in their skill with their power, not the overall amount of power that they can wield like how a warlock would.

The Hero Classes

If you’ve been keeping track, you may notice that I haven't included two classes, those being the hero classes. The reason I haven’t included them yet is because of the fundamental difference between them and the other classes. A number of people have wondered what exactly makes a hero class, and while I don’t claim to know the exact truth, I think I have an additional pearl to add. Hero classes are a state of being, whereas the base classes are more like a career. If you want to understand a hero class, you have to understand what they are, not who they are. Furthermore, I believe that both the Death Knight and Demon Hunter are adjacent philosophically to two of the other philosophies previously mentioned. This doesn’t mean that Death Knights are automatically really, really edgy druids, just that they’re an offshoot.

Death Knight-Philosophy of Tyranny

Offshoot of the philosophy of Faith

What, did you think I was kidding about DKs being druids? Lets step back and ask the fundamental question: what are Death Knights? Simply put, DKs are dark magic inhabiting and controlling a mortal vessel. Yes, that does sound like something a warlock would do, but remember that it’s magic controlling a mortal, much like what we see with Druids. Plus, saying Death Knights are related to Druids has more panache, so i’m going with that one. To the DK, power is their birthright, and they will take and abuse and consume as they see fit. Nothing is sacred from their will, not the blood in your veins, nor the flesh on your back, nor the final, cold breath you give before you’re raised as an undead servant. The DK does not necessarily take to grow their power, they take to fulfill their desires-which is usually to kill a lot of people.

Demon Hunter- Philosophy of Unity

Offshoot of the philosophy of Synergy

Once again, what are DHs? While DKs are magic possessing and dominating a vessel, the DH is more than that. They are a combination of mortal soul and demon. The DH is the product of a perfect union between two distinct soulstuffs. Now here’s the important thing, I’m trying to distinguish between the Illidari, and the Demon Hunters themselves, which can be hard when you remember that pretty much every Demon Hunter is Illidari. The reason this separation is so important is that the Illidari with their whole “fight fire with fire, we shall take the demons' own magic and use it against them as our own” is a very warlock-ish thing to do. But I’ll maintain that the DHs identity points towards being more closely adjacent to the philosophy of Synergy than Dominion.

So why can mages summon water elementals? Because mages have power, just like anybody else. And power itself doesn’t have much significance, what matters is how you use it.

This has been a somewhat deep dive into the philosophy of Warcraftian magic, with the end goal of gaining a deeper understanding of the various classes, and the characters within the Warcraft universe.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#wow

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generallypo · 5 years ago

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“I heard your voice, so I came... Aoba-san.”

Hooo-boy, if that doesn’t get me emotional every single time. Call it my bias for eccentric bundles of sunshine and softness, or my crippling weakness for the secretly-handsome-and-devastatingly-earnest type, but you can’t change my mind: Clear is, hands down, DMMD’s best love interest. Character development-wise, thematically, romantically, he nails every trial thrown at him, gets his man, and proceeds to break your heart in the tenderest, sincerest way possible. I am hopping with Huge Fan Energy, so this post is gonna be unapologetically long and self-indulgent and grossly enthusiastic. Yeeeee.

————

Look, DMMD meta analysis has been done to death, I get it. This game is old. But I think it stands as testament to its excellent production that it’s still a game worth revisiting years later — especially during these times when social contact is so hard pressed to come by and we all rabidly devour digital media like a horde of screeching feral gremlins. (Have you seen Netflix’s stock value now? The exploding MMO server populations? Astonishing.) It’s pure, simple human nature to want to connect, to cling to members of our network out of biological imperative and our psychological dependency on each other. As cold and primitive at that sounds, social contact also fulfills us on a higher level: the community is always stronger than the individual; genuine trust begets a mutually supportive relationship of exchange and evolution. People learn from each other, and grow into stronger, wiser, better versions of themselves.

Yeah, I’m being deliberately obtuse about this. Of course I’m talking about Clear. Clear, who is a robot. Clear, who is nearly childlike in his insatiable curiosity regarding the human condition.

And it’s a classic literary tactic, using non-human entities to question the intangible constructs of a concept like ‘humanity’ — think Frankenstein, or Tokyo Ghoul, or Detroit: Become Human, among so, so many works in various media — all tackling that question from countless angles, all with varying measures of success. What does it mean to be human? To be good? Who are we, and where do we stand in the grand scheme of things? Is there even a scheme to follow? … Wait, what?

Jokes aside, there are so many ways that the whole approaching-human-yet-not-quite-there schtick can be abused into edgy, joyless existential griping. Nothing wrong with that if it’s what you’re looking for, except that we’re talking about a boys’ love game here. But DMMD neatly, sweetly side steps that particular wrinkle, giving us a wonderfully grounded character to work with as a result.

Character Design — a see-through secret

Let’s start small: Clear’s design and premise. Unlike so many other lost, clueless robo-lambs across media, Clear does have a small guiding presence early on in his life. It takes the form of his grandfather, who teaches Clear about the world while also sheltering him from his origins. It means he learns enough to blend sufficiently into society; it also means that Clear has even more questions that sprout from his limited understanding of the world.

Told that he must never remove his mask lest he expose his identity as a non-human, Clear’s perpetual fear of rejection for what he is drives much of his eccentricity and challenges him throughout much of his route. As for the player, the mystery of what lies underneath his mask is a carrot that the writers get to dangle until the peak moment of emotional payoff. Even if it’s not hard to guess that there’s probably a hottie of legendary proportions stuck under there, there’s still significance in waiting for that good moment to happen. And when it does, it feels great.

His upbringing contextualizes and affirms his odd choice of fashion: deliberately generic, bashfully covered from the public eye, and colored nearly in pure white - the quintessential signal of a blank slate, of innocence. Contrasted with the rest of DMMD’s flashy, colorful crew, Clear is probably the most difficult to read on a superficial scale, not falling into the fiery, bare-chest sex appeal of a womanizer, or the techno-nerd rebel aesthetic that Noiz somehow rocks. Goofy weirdo? Possibly a serial killer? Honestly, both seem plausible at the start.

And that’s the funny thing, because as damn hard as he tries to physically cover himself up from society, Clear is irrepressibly true to his name: transparent to a fault. He’s a walking, talking contradiction, and it’s not hard to realize that this mysterious, masked stranger… is really just an open book. By far the most effusive and straightforward of the entire cast, his actions are wildly unconventional and sometimes wholly inexplicable. But given time to explain himself, he is always, always sincere in his intentions — and unlike the rest of the love interests, naturally inclined to offer bits of himself to Aoba. It doesn’t take the entire character arc to figure out his big, bad secret — our main character gets an inkling about halfway through his route — and what’s even better is that he embraces it, understanding that his abilities also allow him to protect what he cherishes: Aoba.

So what if he doesn’t fit into an easily recognizable box of daydream boyfriend material? He’s contradictory, and contradiction is interesting. Dons a gas mask, but isn’t an edgelord. Blandly dressed, but ridiculously charming. Unreadable and modestly intimidating — until he opens his mouth. Even without the benefit of traversing his route, there’s already so much good stuff to work with, and sure as hell, you’re kept guessing all the way to the end.

Character Development — from reckless devotion into complaisant subservience, complaisant subservience into mutual understanding. And then, of course: free will, and true love.

At its core, DMMD is about a dude with magic mind-melding powers and his merry band of attractive men with — surprise! — crippling emotional baggage. Each route follows the same pattern, simply remixing the individual character interactions and the pace of the program: Aoba finds himself isolated with the love interest, faces various communication issues varying on the scale of frustrating to downright dangerous, wanders into a sketchy section of Platinum Jail, bonds with the love interest over shared duress, breaks into the Oval Tower, faces mental assault by the big bad — and finally, finally, destroys those internal demons plaguing the love interest, releasing the couple onto the path of a real heart-to-heart conversation. And then, you know, the lovey-dovey stuff.

Here’s the thing: as far as romantic progression goes, it’s really not a bad structure. There’s room to bump heads, but also to bond. The Scrap scene is a thematically cohesive and clever way to squeeze in the full breadth of character backstory while simultaneously advancing the plot. In this part, Aoba must become the hero to each of his love interests and save them from themselves. Having become privy to each other’s deepest thoughts and reaching a mutual understanding of each other, their feelings afterwards slide much more naturally into romantic territory. They break free of Oval Tower, make their way home, and have hot, emotionally fulfilling sex or otherwise some variation on the last few steps. The end.

That is, except for Clear.

Clear’s route is refreshing in that he needs none of these things — the climax of his emotional arc actually comes a little after the halfway point of his route. When Clear’s true origins are revealed, he comes entirely clean to Aoba, fighting against his fear of rejection but also trusting that Aoba will listen. It’s a quiet, vulnerable moment, rather than the action-packed tension we normally experience during a Scrap scene.

That doesn’t mean it’s prematurely written in — it simply means that he reaches his potential faster than the other characters. Because of that, he’s free to pursue the next level of his route’s development much, much sooner in the timeline: he overcomes his fears of his appearance, he confesses his love to Aoba, he leaves the confines of a largely dubious master-servant relationship and allows himself to be Aoba’s equal. Clear’s sprite art mirrors his emotional transformation all the way through, exposing him to the literal bone — and Aoba’s affection for him doesn’t change a single bit. Beautiful.

The whammy of incredible moments doesn’t just stop there, though. I don’t exactly recall the order the routes DMMD is ideally meant to be played in, but I believe Clear’s is meant to be last. And if you do, I can guarantee that it becomes a hugely delightful gameplay experience — in order to achieve his good ending, you must do absolutely nothing with Scrap. It doesn’t just subvert our player expectations of proactively clicking and interacting with our love interests; it grabs the story by its thematic reins and yanks it all back to the forefront of our scene.

In every route besides Clear’s, Scrap is a tool used to insert Aoba’s influence into and interfere with his target’s mind. Using his powers of destruction, Aoba is able to prune whatever maligned thoughts are harming his target; in any conventional situation, using Scrap is the right choice.

But one of the central problems in Clear’s route is his conflict between the impulses of his conditioning and his desire to live freely as a human would. Breaking free of Toue’s programming is what initially made him unique; growing beyond the rules imposed by his grandfather is what makes him human. In the final conflict scene, Clear’s decision to destroy his key-lock is an action of true autonomy, made with perfect understanding of the consequences and a sincere, selflessly selfish desire to protect someone he loves. In order to receive his good end, you have to respect his decision. It doesn’t matter which option you pick — by using Scrap, Aoba turns his back on every positive choice he made with Clear and attempts to exert his authority over him. This is Aoba becoming Toue; this is Aoba trying to reinstate himself as ‘Master’ right as he approved Clear as his equal. That’s blatant hypocrisy, and it doesn’t matter if Aoba is trying to do it for Clear’s ‘own good’ — that’s not Aoba’s call to make. If you truly wish to respect Clear’s free will, you will stand by. This is the truth of the moment: Clear has no emotional blockages that Aoba needs to fix. Believe in him, just as he believed in you.

The path to his heart is, and always has been, clear. Scrap was never needed from the start.

While Aoba might be the main character, Clear is undeniably a hero in his own route just as much. Tirelessly earnest and always curious, he leaps headlong into the unknown and emerges with his newfound enlightenment. He’s unafraid of weathering trials, even to the point of accepting death, and returns anew from oblivion to a sweet, cathartic ending. That’s about as textbook hero’s journey as it gets — if that doesn’t make him unquestionably, certifiably, unconditionally human, then I will scream.

And only finally… there is the free end. The final CG is like a throwback to our first impression of him: indistinct, purposefully obscured from proper view. But this time, we know better — and so does Aoba. Looks were never what mattered in Clear’s route. If you were patient, and you were open-minded, and you listened… well, what we realize now is that Clear was doing the exact same thing for you, too.

From a carefree, aimless robot-man with only the gimmick of “eccentric ditz” to carry him forward, we get a supremely more interesting character by the end: a man who has graduated from the well-intentioned but claustrophobic conditioning of his childhood; a weapon who has defied the imperatives placed on him by his creator’s programming; a wanderer who has, through unconditional patience and empathy, discovered love, and striven to become a better person for it. Who was it that ever doubted Clear’s character? He’s the goddamn goodest boy that ever wanted to be a real boy. Of course Clear is human. And in fact, he does it better than every single one of the actually human love interests. You can’t change my mind.

The Romance — kindness is really fucking attractive, okay.

Like I’ve said earlier, I have my Big Fan Blinds stuck on pretty tight. I might be conjuring sparks from thin air. But I think every choice was a deliberate creative decision on the writers’ part, and they deserve all the kudos for it — I’m just the lucky player who gets to enjoy it. But aside from Noiz (who I also think is a perfect darling as well — I could go on and on about him), Clear’s route is a model example for consent and healthy relationships in VN storytelling. This is reciprocated on both sides: never does Aoba infringe on Clear’s boundaries, and neither does Clear. They’re sensitive to each other’s needs and concerns; they ask for permission and stop when it isn’t granted (and when it is, boy do they get frisky — I’m not complaining!) I don’t need to say much more, because I think that consent is both fantastic and yes, incredibly hot (the scene in DMMD is tons more sad, go play Re:connect!). Good writing shows off the massive erotic potential enthusiastic consent puts into intimacy, and Aoba’s and Clear’s relationship is honestly a dream playground. The point is, I think Aoba and Clear genuinely do find equal balance in their relationship by the end of his route (and certainly through Re:connect). If you follow through Re:connect’s storyline, there’s even more thematic richness that comes through in the form of Clear’s greatest asset: communication. The couple get to discuss the long-term implications of them being together; they both offer concerns, points, and assurances to the other, and it’s just a soft, honest moment not so unlike the worries of a real relationship. Hearing is kind of Clear’s motif sense, but it’s really great to see that Aoba also subtly picks it up, really flexes his own communication skills to better engage with Clear.

Point is, Clear’s route spoke to me on a lot of little levels. Design-wise, he’s already got a ton going for him, and his story builds upon it rather than against it, enriching his development and grounding him a little more solidly in the DMMD universe (and in my heart). His route, aside from being emotionally ruinous, carries a pretty solid chunk of world-building (only beaten out by Mink’s and Ren’s, probably), and the romance feels organic, healthy, and realistic. He’s not the only one with an excellent route, but he’s my favorite. If you read through all of this, you’re a real trooper and I’m extremely impressed. Thanks for tuning in. Peace.

#dramatical murder #dmmd #aoba seragaki #clear #dmmd clear #long ass emotional screeching #lOL I FORGOT TO DRAW IN THE UMBRELLA HANDLE ahA #fixed

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emsartwork · 6 years ago

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Witch uniforms and power scale maybe?

yes!

Both witches and fairies have a set signature magic color, but unlike fairies, whose transformations are generated by their subconscious, Witches are not limited to a specific color palate. While it is traditional to match uniforms to the witch’s signature color, many modern witches wear whatever they want and only loosely follow the traditional uniform guidelines. My winxsona here will be in more traditional styles.

Novice’s only have the upper eye mark, this is equivalent to magic winx power wise. Apprentices have upper and lower witchmarks, but the shapes are not large or defined yet, this is equivalent to Charmix, but is a constant as opposed to the short burst charmix offers fairies. Graduation to full fledged Witches is marked by crafting an enchanted outfit. There clothes start as regular-non magical items, but are layered over with many different spells(such as a flight) and as a result it takes on a shimmery appearance. another common element is contrast edging on the bodice.

Sorceresses (ex. Griffin) are a general power boost, they are very well rounded in elemental magic and are the most common witch profession. This is sort of equivalent to Harmonix but not really. Sorceresses are identifiable by their vest/coat-tails and metal necklace. The necklace is a little dangerous to craft, but not much more than normal metal working. They are used as either a conduit to channel and direct the witch’s magic(basically if a spell backfires on them the necklace would break instead of the witch) or a power booster (”vibing” with the witch’s magic in a way that increases the power)

Enchantresses (ex. the trix in season 6) are the most flashy witch profession and they have a significant boost in core magic production. They are incredibly good at attack and healing, but are left with little defense because they have so much of their focus on pouring magic out of themselves, as a result this witch profession is a little more dangerous to live in. Witches become enchantresses by wrapping themselves in a physical manifestation of their magic for three days and three nights, this can sometimes make the witch VERY sick(and in some singular cases it does result in death) instead of boosting their core. They are identified by metallic accents and gigantic sleeves.

Coven Matriarchs are becoming less common as magic school have mostly taken over the training of young witches. Most of the time Matriarchs are older witches who take a group of younger ones under their wing to provide training and fellowship. Depending on the witch’s history she could have different skills than listed as this is definitely more of a status position than a magical profession (like griffin as headmistress could technically be considered a matriarch but she prefers not to go by that because she has a large school instead of a bonded group) On earth, Witches did the smart thing early and went into hiding, keeping their magic hidden or avoiding using it to avoid attracting the wizards. Coven matriarchs remained in their uniforms despite the risk because it was important to them that younger generations knew they could have a safe and supportive community to go when they started developing magic, which is how the “witch” look was associated with pointy hats and cloaks, essential parts of the Matriarch uniform. They also pin their cloak with a broach that is connected to all of their daughters’(the term for younger witches in the coven) and sisters’(witches of the same age or older than the matriarch) cores, allowing them to sense when something is wrong, and draw on or guide the other’s magic if necessary. Matriarchs tend to develop strong conscious(and unconscious but i forgot to add it lol) magics as their role generally requires them to guide and grow their coven.

Druids are one of the more solitary witch professions, often living as hermits or nomads far away from cities. Druids are masters in healing, being able to direct the natural magic in plants and the land almost as well as their own core magic. It is a little dangerous living as a druid, just because the lifestyle leaves a witch open to the wilds, and working with natural magic can occasionally backfire on you. They are identified by a wooden staff with a gem, and a tunic vest pinned across the chest. Many druids favor pants over skirts for ease of movement. Druids also have a high tolerance to Wild magic compared to other witches.

Priestesses(i spelled it wrong oops) are structurally ingrained in most societies, tho whether they are magic users depends on the individual. Priestess Witches connect to the natural magic around their temples, and are the point of contact for Ethereal fairies and the human population. They are blessed with some amount of Ethereal Magic. As always, dealing with Ethereal fairies can be fraught with danger and most priestesses hope to live an uneventful life in case the Ethereal they deal with is feeling cranky. Priestesses are identifiable by a floor length skirt/dress, sash, and metallic garland in their choice of magical plant(this one is belladonna/nightshade)

Mediums are a rare breed, needing to posses some natural talent for spiritual magic, a magic type that fairies don’t have a transformation relating to. the closest equivalent is time and unconscious magic, as mediums usually contact the spirits of people who have died(so they don’t have a conscious mind) in the past. Mediums are experts at sensing thin spots in the fabric of existence and spirits of all kinds(whether human or not) and are often used to cleanse spaces of negative ones. Though mediums can sometimes contact the dead, they are unable to bring spirits back to this plane of existence. Some Mediums have to take special precautions because they are so receptive to spirits they are easily possessed, which is why they wear veils and subdued colors. they are also identified by their crystal orbs, a tool used to clarify spirits and channel magic through it.

Psychics are like.... a less dangerous, redirected, sister of Mediums. While mediums can learn of the future from some spirits, their magic is usually directed towards the past. Psychics’ magic are directed towards the future, and they posses both conscious and unconscious magic as they divine the future usually through sorting through another person’s traits. Psychics are identified by their paneled belt and by their use of cards. The kind of cards used can be individualized as the Psychic will create her own language and connection with her cards, the most common used are very similar to earth’s tarot cards and are called Craft cards. Craft cards are also the inspiration for the Maiden, Mother, Crone card game which is the second most common card set to use and its what Tecna and Stormy are playing here!

Ancestral Type witches are a one-off category in the current winx timeline, only the ancestral have been seen in this form, and sometimes especially powerful witches are called ancestral with out actually being in this category. It is unknown what exactly caused the ancestral witches to reach this form, and while they weren’t blessed by the Ethereals as far as anyone knows, the bar for Ethereal magic is where scholars have decided to put their magic level because nothing else really seemed to compare. specializations in magic could also influence the other bars but i just did the basic. The core magic bar is technically OVER the highest levels recorded but the ancestrals are usually not counted in statistical magic analysis. Being at the level of Ancestral is incredibly dangerous and unstable. Ancestral power levels can be achieved by some witches but only for a VERY brief moment and have a lot of bad consequences afterwards. The ancestral “Form” isn’t quite a uniform, and isn’t quite a transformation either, its thought to be the high magic levels mutating the witch’s clothing. It’s identifiable by being terrifying the floor length tails, signature magic color becoming highly saturated and combined with black, some sheer aspects, glowing sections, and a “solid light” set of horns+symbol. The witch’s eyes also change to the signature color, the top mark becomes black and the bottom mark has magic leaking into it from the eyes.

Hope this is understandable!

#winx #winx club #winxems #witch #witches #trix #winx trix #winx griffin #askems #also yes i sent this ask to myself it felt weird to put this as an image or text post #long post #anonymous

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severalspoons · 5 years ago

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Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, Episode 20

Surprise, this blog series continues! I have no intention of letting it end at episode 19. (I mean, that’s not even a nice round number!) While these aren’t liveblogs any more, they still give me an opportunity to discuss meta.

Life lesson learned: once you start a series of anything, do not stop until it’s finished--no matter what other projects come up, no matter how shiny they are, and no matter how much you’re dreading watching episode 23. Since I do my best work when feeling inspired, I hate to wait and let my enthusiasm for the new project cool, but jumping ship only ends in two unfinished projects instead of one.

This is going to be arranged by theme, not so much chronologically. Also, it ended up being more about Wolfwood than originally intended. Including a spoiler, so be careful.

Millie’s Transmitter

Millie reports that the Chief of Bernadelli gave her a transmitter/tracking device, which must be a rare, valuable piece of technology -- to prevent anyone from outwitting her. Meryl replies that this is nothing to brag about. I disagree.

First of all, the chief cares about her enough to entrust her with this bragworthy technology. She must have earned his trust and good opinion, also an achievement. He could easily punish or fire her, but instead gives her a tool to perform better. Countless people with learning disabilities dream of bosses like this.

People tend to take a harmful all-or-nothing attitude towards disabilities. Either PWD are incapable of doing things and nothing can be done about it, or they are capable of doing things, and shouldn’t need help. Since people with disabilities themselves live in society, they end up indoctrinated and taking the same attitudes towards themselves. Shame and self-hatred often result. People strive for years, often with therapy, to get to the matter of fact acceptance Millie shows here.

***

Vash in Hell

Everything is red, from the beginning. The sand, himself and his clothes, the sky. Knives comes into view, blurry and mostly in shadow, only one eye visible. What looks like meteors, probably chunks from the ships, fall through the sky like rain. We’re seeing from Vash’s point of view.

When waking Vash, Knives’ voice is normal, sounding like a real child. It doesn’t change to his growly evil voice until Vash accuses him of being a murderer. Then, his eye loses its pupil, and he suddenly appears to have fangs. He looks like he’s become some sort of monster. Not human, as Vash says.

Knives beats him up for even daring to compare him to a human. What hurts the most about this is you know it’ll be a long time, and probably many more such beatings, before Vash leaves.

Was it ever possible to take care of Knives? Was Rem’s last request reasonable?

Vash announces he’s finally ready to face Knives. What impresses me most: he’s finally making a significant decision for himself.

***

Meet the Folks

How is Vash more attractive in normal clothes than his signature coat, even in scenes showing only his face? Speaking of which, this episode is full of beautiful shots of Vash’s face. Wolfwood’s, too.

How the hell did Wolfwood get here? He said he was concerned about Vash crying then jumping off a cliff, and followed him. However, he seems to have climbed up from below. How would he have found a floating platform? Certainly, none is visible below him. And since he seems to know nothing about the flying ship, he can’t have taken Vash’s strategy and jumped onto a platform at just the right time.

“Come meet the folks!” Yes, they actually do have a summer cottage in the sky. Ever wonder why Vash’s head is always in the clouds? ;)

Wolfwood actually says “I’m getting sick of your lies.” Hypocritical much?

Wolfwood is the first guest Vash has brought “home” in over 20 years (in other words, since he became The Stampede)!

Does that mean that the whole time Vash has been on the run, he hasn’t visited the SEEDS ship (probably to prevent anyone tracking him from discovering it)? Vash could have simply hid out for the last 20 years in the SEEDS ship; it’s his home, after all. Instead, he chose to go out and protect people from Knives, and each other. (How many of us would have made the same choice?)

***

Inside Legato’s Lair

What does this informant know about Chapel’s duties? From the way Legato dismisses his concerns, it seems like Knives’ followers aren’t given much information about each other.

Wolfwood is now doomed. “You’re such a fool. Had you behaved, you might have lived to see Doomsday. But I’m pleased, for I now have the opportunity to carry out another of my master’s wishes.”

A surprisingly restrained evil chuckle from Legato. Thank you for sparing us a full-on villain laugh.

How does Legato get shoulder padding that sticks out that far? Each shoulder is almost twice as big as his head.

***

A Series of Awkward Events

The ship has a whole observation team. No one should be able to get up here without the SEEDS leaders knowing, right? Right? ...

The old man tells Brad Vash has changed over the years. How?

After all this buildup, Brad opens the door, letting in blinding light, and this is what he sees:

The legend acting like an idiot and getting his butt kicked. Very dignified.

This is Brad’s reaction:

“Is that your great legend?! Huh?!” “What a relief! He hasn’t changed at all.” (A relief? What were they afraid would have happened to him?)

Brad is not amused by Wolfwood’s touchy-feely ways.

“Who’s he?” Vash, looking embarrassed: “I’m not sure.” Fair enough, but not very helpful, and Wolfwood doesn’t elaborate. We already know and love Vash’s embarrassed grin, but I can’t get over Wolfwood’s almost sinister smile in the mirror.

A cute moment where Vash looks back like, “isn’t my place great?” and Wolfwood just gapes like an idiot. (Close your mouth, my dude. Flies are gonna get in).

Vash last visited about 20 years ago, and Jessica was a small child then, so she should be about 23 or 24. However, she looks and acts like a teenager. Vash inadvertently becomes part of an unwanted love triangle.

To his credit, Vash tries to put her off, in a joking way (”I have a reputation for being easy but even I need a bit of advance warning”). Wolfwood makes the whole situation worse by teasing Vash about his “girlfriend” in front of a fuming Brad. It’s as if he were going out of his way to antagonize the people on the ship.

When Vash actually has a chance to look at Jessica’s face, he remembers her. Think about that. He may only have met her once, it’s been 20 years, and he still recognizes her and remembers her name. How many other people does he remember from the past ~130 years? This is how he uses his powerful plant brain--Knives would view it as a waste.

Jessica cooks a feast for Vash, which, tragically, he won’t get to enjoy. How did she cook all this food so fast? It’s enough to feed the whole ship.

***

Wolfwood is mistrusted for the wrong reasons

Wolfwood actually takes off his shades and armor of acting like a jerk while introducing himself to Jessica. This is unusually open and vulnerable of him. He actually is trying to behave. But Brad, worried about “a bunch of outsiders” bringing war to their flying paradise, hits him where it hurts.

...Did I mention Wolfwood has beautiful eyes?

Anyway, everyone gathers around staring at Wolfwood from a distance, while he drops cigarettes on the ground. There’s an entire pile lying at his feet. The whole scene is the definition of passive aggressive.

What seems to anger Wolfwood is not so much how they treat him personally, but their denial combined with moral superiority. Not to push a metaphor too far, but these folks are able to take the moral high horse because their literal high position keeps them safe. Yet, they use this immense privilege not to help the world below, or to prepare for the ship’s inevitable fall, but to hide in their castle in the sky. It clicks for me that Wolfwood probably feels about running away the way Vash does about suicide (think back to episode 11).

The SEEDS dwellers do not seem to understand that Wolfwood is both trying to help them and a little resentful of what they have. To them, he is everything they’ve been taught to fear and hate, up here poisoning Paradise for them with his unpleasant ideas. Of course this sort of dynamic never happens in real life.

Also, keep in mind that none of them know anything about the people below directly, only from hearsay. They’re not wrong about Gunsmoke as a whole, but they treat Wolfwood like a monster rather than a person. That also never happens in real life.

Then he gets to the scene of a crime too late--but just in time to look like the one responsible. Although the ship dwellers would love to see him dead, he leaps to defend them against his own colleague. Knowing, perhaps, that doing this would confirm he switched sides, and his own days might be numbered. He doesn’t even pause to think, he just goes, the same way he did when the child went missing in episode 9.

***

Vash Will Save The Day

“Like you care. Five years is probably like a blink of the eye to you anyway.” Vash denies it, but the second part is probably true. He looks so surprised to hear it’s been five years.

It can’t be easy for Vash to admit that he was responsible for the “Fifth Moon Incident,” and is probably more dangerous than Knives. Once again, his only argument is “please.” But there’s no buffoonery or melodrama here. He’s dead serious, and that’s more convincing.

Wolfwood tries to stop Leonoff from saying his name. No one who would understand the significance or matters to him is present, just Brad and Jessica. Is he merely afraid others will hear? Does he still consider himself to be Chapel?

Even facing Leonoff, Wolfwood still hasn’t put his shades back on.

Now imagine if Vash managed to find ways out of no-win situations and save the day without all the whining and crying.

Wolfwood can pause and wait for once, having faith that Vash will show up. He knows there’s always a third option for Vash. He does not yet see any for himself. Still, progress nonetheless.

***

Unfortunately for me, Vash is back with his red coat in Vash the Stampede mode, yellow glasses hiding his face.

OK, I can see how Leonoff’s puppets get into the ship without being noticed, but how on Earth did the big guy even get here?

#liveblog #liveblogging #trigun anime #trigun #millie thompson #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #seeds ship #legato bluesummers #gung ho guns #leonoff the puppet master #character analysis #meta #brad and jessica #love and peace #ethics #faith

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simply-shakera · 4 years ago

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Embodying Black Joy

Before Black History Month 2021 comes to an end, I want to take this moment to reflect on how significant this time truly is. Although my belief is that Black History and culture should be celebrated throughout all months of the year; for now, I do believe it is important that we continue to utilize this time to acknowledge the historical feat against monumental odds that Black people have been able to achieve. It is the responsibility of the current and future generations to take what we have learned and keep the momentum going. It is also necessary for us to utilize our talents and gifts to uplift those around us.

As a natural caregiver, I nourish the people around me by creating and sustaining a community of care, joy & connection. Carnival Spice has allowed me to complete much of this work and I am truly grateful for that. Typically in February months I see an increase in Carnival Spice bookings due to Black History Month. Our most popular offering during this time is our family-friendly cultural presentations that highlight Black culture using dance, fitness and story telling in such a unique way.

I feel so full-filled when leading these presentations - especially when it is for our school-aged groups. Seeing kids of all ages so excited to learn and embrace the richness of Afro-Caribbean culture really motivates me to keep going. I particularly appreciate how engaged they are in the experience and the high vibrations they exude. Though all of our presentations were virtual this year, you could still feel their energy and joy through the screen.

"The most radical and revolutionary thing we can do for ourselves is to connect to joy and to allow ourselves to feel. That is how show up positively in the world and complete dissolve ancestral trauma." -- Devi Brown

Joy, that deep-rooted inner feeling that inspires that outward expression of happiness... But Black joy goes far beyond that. Black people have contributed so much to this world yet sadly the way we as a people have been treated does not reflect that. Racism, social injustice, and trauma runs rampant plus there isn't enough spaces that allow for healing. Thankfully, joy is a form of healing; and while society often condemns Black people for being "too loud", "too angry" or "too much", revelling in joy is an act of resistance too.

Engaging in Black joy sends a message to your mind and spirit that you are worthy, you are important, and you are loved. We should make a habit of taking inspired action to bring joy into our lives. I put together a few light-hearted lists for you that may help you engage in Black joy daily:

The Beauty of Affirmations

I believe the universe has the power to align us with people, things and experiences that match our vibrations. It is important for us to keep our vibrations high to increase the opportunity of positive attraction. Practicing the act of repeating and affirmations (positive statements) is a powerful way to strengthen our mindset by helping us believe in the potential of an action we desire to manifest.

I encourage you to write out an affirmation related to joy and set it as a as a daily alarm on your phone. When the alarm goes off repeat the statement out loud and be present in the moment and positive energy.

Listen To Music

Music is a powerful tool that unlocks joy. From the beat, to the lyrics, to the melody certain parts of songs just know how to hit our soul. I created a playlist with a mix of feel good songs from different eras and genres - take what you'd like:

Can’t Take My Joy by Terri Lyons

My Dream by Nesbeth

Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See by Busta Rhymes

The Anthem by Todd Dehaney

Blessed by Wizkid and Damien Marley

Beat of Life by Sarz ft. Wizkid

Jerusalema by Master KG ft. Burna Boy

Skip To My Lou by Ding Dong, Serani & Biggy

Just Dance - Wacky Dip by Ding Dong feat. Voicemail

Go Crazy by Chris Brown

High Life by Machel Montano

Full of Vibes by Voice & Marge Blackman

Lose Control by Missy Elliot - ft. Fat Man Scoop

Happy by Pharell Williams

Dance Heals

Dance truly does heals and it is such a positive way to embody Black joy. Here are some of my favourite dance moves from the African Caribbean Diaspora - taken from popular genres such as afrobeat, soca, dancehall and hip - hop.

Shaku Shaku (Nigeria)

"Although the dance is credited to Olamide, the truth is that he is not the inventor of the dance. But he played the major role in the crossing over of the dance to the mainstream media. The dance originated in the streets. According to DJ Real, Shaku Shaku name is for street guys, and the dance was named after their particular style of dances when they are hanging out" - Source. The move involves crossing one arm over the other and bringing that same arm toward the ear as if you are making a phone call.

Palance (Trinidad)

In 2010, the world was introduced to the song and dance that is palance. The song by JW and Blaze ’s popularity was established when it took the "Road March" title at Trinidad’s Carnival that year where it was played along the parade’s judging route 417 times.The move involves jumping side to side on one foot at a time while waving yuh flaggg. Back then, soca song's weren't known for having dances - so palance truly broke the mold. We have even seen Beyonce and Justin Trudeau do it.

Krazy Hype (Jamaica)

This mid school dancehall move will always be one of my favourites. It was created in 2003 by choreographer Crazy Hype from the The MOB Dance Group to Elephant Man hit song of the same name. The move involves hopping from side to side but landing on your heels.

Harlem Shake (Us)

The dance was created by Harlem resident Al. B. in 1981. However, in 2001 the dance resurfaced and was renamed when it featured heavily in G.Dep’s music video for the song "Let's Get It". When you hear this song one can't help but get to shakin'.

Enjoy A Movie

Get your laugh on or enjoy a flick that makes your heart smile. While your at it, support a Black art! I have helped you out by compiling a list movies that exude Black Joy.

Soul (2020)

Critics Consensus: A film as beautiful to contemplate as it is to behold, Soul proves Pixar's power to deliver outstanding all-ages entertainment remains undimmed.

Synopsis: A music teacher who dreams of performing jazz live finally gets his chance, only he travels to another realm to help someone find their passion, he soon discovers what it means to have soul.

Soul Food (1997)

Critics Consensus: Much like the titular cuisine, Soul Food blends a series of savoury ingredients to offer warm, generous helpings of nourishment and comfort.

Synopsis: This hit domestic comedy-drama concerned the fortunes of an extended African-American family recalled through the eyes of young narrator Ahmad Hammond.

Love and Basketball (2000)

Critics Consensus: Confident directing and acting deliver an insightful look at young athletes.

Synopsis: A young African-American couple navigates the tricky paths of romance and athletics in this drama. Over the years, the two lead characters begin to fall for each other, but their separate paths to basketball stardom threaten to pull them apart.

Sister Act 2: Back In The Habit (1993)

Critics Consensus: Sister Act is off-key in this reprise, fatally shifting the spotlight from Whoopi Goldberg to a less compelling ensemble of pupils and trading its predecessor's sharp comedy for unconvincing sentiment.

Synopsis: In the sequel to the hit comedy Sister Act, Whoopie Goldberg reprises her role of Deloris Van Cartier, a Las Performer. It appears Deloris is needed in her nun guise as Sister Mary Clarence to help teach music to teens at a troubled school in hopes of keeping the facility from closing at the hands of Mr. Crisp (James Coburn), a callous administrator.

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