#Amelie Naughting

[wuwmmdraws]

Made a paper doll of Amelie!

First time ever doing a craft like this and I'm super happy with the result. Definitely making ones of the rest of the crew

[karoiseka]

8) Free Day 1

((Here we go!! 7.0 opening spoilers, and naught else except for some major lore drops on my end for my OCs! Eeeeeeee! [and despite the mentioning of, I didn't take the time to edit int he hair tassels... maybe later...]))

Sea salt tickled her nose as the bright sun shone down.  It was the perfect day for the start of a new adventure.  A tad bittersweet that she was leaving her loves behind–but Thancred was at least out on his own adventure with Urianger, and G’raha had been the perfect gentleman, offering his own spot to Krile.  She did have the most intriguing reason for going, and Karo couldn’t wait to dig more into that mystery with her.

She had packed light, like she usually did.  A few good changes of clothes, personal items, and writing implements.  A handful of linkshells–if they’d even work at that distance–a warm cloak, and two distinctive pieces of jewelry that she never took off except to wash.  The first was the one most had gotten to recognize ever since she returned from the first, crystal and silver hanging from the braids she had styled her hair into.  Precious pieces of the Crystal Tower, crafted by G’raha while still on the First, a symbol of his love, and something to remind her of the First wherever she went.

The second was much more recent, but equally as precious and even more meaningful somehow.  The braided chain necklace that kept slipping under her tunic; tri-colored metals woven together and holding yet another shard of the First’s Crystal Tower.  What it symbolized was still only known to three people on the Source–and four on the First.  They had decided to keep it that way for a while–-the three of them–until the time felt right to announce it.  Between all the Void nonsense and now the travel to Tural–they hadn’t been all together much.  Karo’s fingers brushed over the shard, thinking happily of her betrothed.  Yes, they would keep it a secret just a little longer.

She had said goodbye to Raha privately, knowing that she would be a mess at the docks otherwise, and he respected her wishes to join Ameliance, Fourchenault, and Tataru on the harbor shore instead of walking her to the dock.  Having her emotions sorted before she reached the ship turned out for the best, for as she reached the bottom of the long stairs down from the Annex, the wanderlust hit with a force it hadn’t in ages.  This was finally a trip for the sake of adventure–and sure, to help a girl be worthy of her father’s throne–but a new land to be explored all the same.

The harbor was bustling as it always seemed to be, full of boats small and large.  Some simple fishing boats, headed not far from the shore, or returning with an early morning’s catch already.  Mid-sized ships heading to the other local isles with supplies, ready to return with raw materials and research paraphernalia.  And then there were the large sea-faring ships like what she was headed for.  Those that could and would span the great expanse, creating paths where there were once none.  Some lead back to Eorzea and even further East to Othard and Doma, but the largest in the harbor was the ship to Tural; able to withstand whatever the sea should throw at them.

Erenville was waiting for her as she strode forth, smile dancing on her lips.  They fell into stride, heading to the ship.  Not much was said–both glad to take in the morning’s fair turn as they strode to reach their waiting companions.  Tural awaited.

As the ship to Tural slowly filled with new travelers, a pair still lingered from the voyage to Sharylan.  A bored looking hrothgar lass leaned against the deck, as her companion, a miqo’te bounced to each new group of people to board, asking the same question over and over.  Did they know a miqo’te–looked similar to himself, but with black hair and blue eyes? Most ignored his pleas, others gave curt negatives, and some few he was able to coax a small conversation from.  Each time, the answer was nearly the same; they had seen ladies of that complexion before, mostly on the mainland of Eorzea, and none they knew personally.

He had already asked the entire crew before they were even a day away from Tural, several commiserating on losing a family member at an early age.  The story was an odd one though from anyone’s account.  When the siblings had been young–too early to read even–their father had taken the younger girl away on a long journey.  The boy and his mother had been left behind, their lifestyle changed radically to provide funds for wherever it was the others were traveling.  Well over a year later, the father had returned, sister nowhere to be found, and no mention beyond some mutterings of fate, the name Khrrosaka was never spoken in the household from that day forth.

Tail and ears low, Rremeyo finally nodded to his companion, and the two wound their way down from the deck to the dock–gently going against the influx of new travelers boarding.  The voyage had been longer than he realized, and from the time Tural’s coast disappeared from view, he had been on edge.  Never had he been on a boat for so long–nor had been not able to see land.  The rocking reminded him of flying in the dirigibles, swaying gently–and sometimes not so gently in the wind.  Those were always shorter trips though, and land always easily in sight.

He knew that his curiosity had both amused and annoyed the crew in equal measures, figuring out early who was willing to indulge him in sea tales, and what each part of the grand ship did.  It settled his anxiety, writing in his journal all he had found so far–and realizing that he was going to need several more of the books before his journey was done.

As the cold air hit his face, Rremeyo finally looked up at the city they had arrived in.  To say it was the opposite of Tuliyollal was an understatement.  One of the only things in common was that the two cities were built of stone–-but what difference the type of stone made!

Instead of warm reds and yellows being the undertone, everything here radiated stark white trimmed with a blue that matched the clear harbor waters.  Rounded roofs were common, the gentle curves off-setting the pointed angles of the rest of the buildings.  They were both built up from their harbors, steps winding into the city.  Whereas Tuliyollal was a riot of color, Sharylan oozed stark elegance and aloofness in its austerity.  Rremeyo shivered slightly as the breeze blew in off the sea, playing with his hair and chilling his ear tips.

A gentle nudge from Xik’nal reminded him that he had stopped like the country bumpkin he was to stare while on the gangplank.  Flushing, he started moving again, boots hitting the stone dock finally.  Swaying momentarily–regaining his equilibrium on land–he glanced up at his traveling companion with a nod, and headed into the city, starting to chat about where to go first–and the possibility of booking another ship to Eorzea sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it was Nymeia’s lasting influence on the situation, or Hydaelyn having one last little chuckle in the lifestream, but mere fulms apart, the two siblings did pass, neither realizing–or even remembering–whom the other was.  A new journey was beginning for both, and where it would lead, not even the gods knew.  

[the-littlest-kojin]

Writing with Shiomun: Love

I have noticed, in my time writing and reading the writing of others, a pervasive trend to conflate “love” with “romance”. I know that the best cure for this kind of misconception and conflation is education - so I am going to write about different kinds of love, using concepts I learned many years ago, derived from ancient Greek. A disclaimer: While I learned this and have done my best to research the information I am talking about, I am not an expert, and I could be incorrect - I am willing to be corrected and would love to see any material that contradicts me - I want to be educated myself, if I have misconceptions!

The types of love I am going to talk about today are Eros, Pragma, Ludus, Agape, Philia,  Philautia, Storge, and Mania.

Eros

Eros is erotic love, physical love.

Eros is the craving to have your hands on their body, their mouth on yours, entwined, close.

Eros is "I desire you as in physically."

In FFXIV, a representation of Eros is Haurchefant, towards the Warrior of Light.

“I say, be my personal steed!”

Pragma

Pragma is practical love, enduring love.

Pragma is waking up, every day, and making love work. It's the long marriage, the steady lifelong commitment.

Pragma is "I desire you in my life every day."

In FFXIV, a representation of Pragma is Ameliance, towards Fourchenault.

“Thus, did I pull them out of storage - to show you that he was not always the man who stands in vehement opposition to you now.”

Ludus

Ludus is playful love, flirtatious love.

Ludus is wanting to have fun with people, to laugh with them, play games, share experiences. 

Ludus is “I desire you have fun with me.”

In FFXIV, a representation of Ludus is Feo Ul, towards the Warrior of Light.

“Burn bright and shine as only you can. These blessings, your lovely branch will accept in your stead.”

Agape

Agape is universal love, selfless love.

It's the love for all living things by default, the abiding affection for the world because of the fact of its existence.

Agape is "I desire the world be happy."

In FFXIV, a representation of Agape is Venat, towards everybody.

“And amidst it all a people. Beacons of light and life. Laughter that warmed my heart like naught else before. They are my meaning and my purpose. My love.”

Philia

Philia is friendly love, companionly love.

It's your best friend who you'd never in a million years date but couldn't imagine your life without.

Philia is "I desire you stick around, my friend."

In FFXIV, a representation of Philia is Ardbert, towards the Warrior of Light.

“For what it's worth, I cast my lot with yours. If you need a push, I'll be right there behind you; if you lose control, I'll do my best to stop you. So─let us be about it, hero.”

Philautia

Philautia is love of the self.

It is to look inwards and see that you are as valid of love as anybody else.

It is self-compassion and self-esteem.

Philautia is "I desire that I be happy and cared for, by myself most of all."

In FFXIV, a representation of Philautia is Fray, towards the Warrior of Light.

“For I speak only for myself. If you find comfort in my words, they are yours for the taking, but that is your choice. Now and ever after, as it has always been.”

Storge

Storge is familiar love.

It is to look at your kith and kin and want them to flourish. It is gratefulness for them transposed into love.

Storge is "I desire you flourish for all you have done for me."

In FFXIV, a representation of Storge is Matoya, towards Y’shtola.

“It's good to see you again, my girl, and with your fiery spirit unquenched. But look at you - all grown up and womanly.”

Mania

Mania is crazed love, obsessed love.

It is the where things like codependency and toxic relationships live. It is also where obsession and jealousy live.

Mania is "I desire to possess you, no matter the pain."

In FFXIV, a representation of Mania is Asahi, towards Zenos.

“My lord was destined to lead us unto a glorious new age. Your light is nothing to his radiance.”

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

How Many Bachelorette Parties?!

After being tagged by the lovely @grenanigans, it's time to explore my ladies' bachelorette parties.

Agnetha and Astarion

When approached about a bachelorette party, Agi is hesitant because she doesn't want a whole ~thing.

After all, her and Astarion's wedding is already going to be the social event of the year.

It ends up being Nadia and a handful of friends from childhood playing card games, eating, and drinking at the Elfsong Tavern.

When she spies a white bat on the other side of the window closest to her table, she nearly bursts out laughing.

Astarion explained later that he was out hunting and wanted to check in on her. :3

"You are such a fucking sap, and I love you, Star."

Lily and Gale

Lily asked for a shared bachelor and bachelorette party with Gale.

"If things do get a bit mad, I want you there of course!" she tells him with a grin.

Gale ensured that nothing got crazy---it was an intimate affair with close friends as food, drink, and good conversation flowed freely along with breaks for stargazing.

Lily gets heart eyes when Gale talks about anything but especially when he describes the stars.

When they had a moment to themselves, Gale whispered that he would make love to her among the stars later.

"You never fail to make me blush, my magic man."

Anais and Halsin

Annie and Halsin don't get married, but Halsin gives in to the children's demand for a commitment ceremony. (He cannot say no to them lol.)

Annie has to explain what bachelor and bachelorette parties are, and like with Gale and Lily, Halsin and Annie decide on a shared get-together.

"Clothing optional, my heart. We have naught to hide from our friends. Let us share our love for all to see."

Annie.exe has stopped working

"That's not...what?!?!"

Amelie and Rolan

Oh lord.

Amelie wants a bachelorette party, so of course, according to Rolan, she should have one. His beloved deserves everything she wants after all.

She has to explain that no, he does not get to plan it---Nadia, her best friend and maid of honor does.

He is not a fan of that lol and worries that Nadia will go overboard with strippers and partying.

"SHE IS A BARD, MY LOVE. THEY DO ALL SORTS OF THINGS!"

What actually happened was Amelie, Nadia, a newly returned Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lia having a girls' night and sleepover at Wildheart Manor. (Lae'zel is still fighting Vlaakith, otherwise she would've been there too.)

Lia and Nadia double-team to tease Rolan the following morning.

[turnsorrow]

i think alisaie’s relationship with father figures fucks me up specifically like ....... any time she develops that kind of bond it hurts her at such a deep level bc she never had that with fourchenault he just outright violently refused to ever even TRY to understand her or support her bc she was so specifically similar to louisoix and AGGRESSIVELY opposed him head on as opposed to alphinaud who is at least a little more eloquent and subtle about things

her relationship w ameliance is only strained bc of alisaie’s misperception that all her fighting with her father inherently damages her bond with her mother as well so it’s not as traumatically damaged as with fourche but like

ali getting any kind of parental love from anyone is such a huge deal bc she has literally grown up going through hardship after hardship bc she left her comfortable life to find out why her grandfather died to protect a world her father forsake and in the entirety of endwalker (almost) she’s getting all those hardships thrown in her face, belittled and spat on by a “father” who not only disowned her but is basically saying that everything she’s gone through wasn’t worth anything so suddenly having sb stand up for / support her / believe in her and validate that her suffering wasn’t for naught / that everything she’s accomplished was not only enough but is outright smth to be proud of (& they are proud of her) is like!!!! a huge deal!!!!

tbc this also kinda extends to when / if her relationship with fourchenault is ever repaired later on in interactions with him, not JUST found family members but like

alisaie craves parental validation and understanding So Fucking Bad dude she’s been fighting to keep her grandfather’s legacy alive in their family and make louisoix proud since she was like 10 years old when he died like cmon she is trying SO hard she’s a CHILD

[whatsupwithmymind]

My brother questioned me why Amelie has so many freckles and I was just like ??? because people who have freckles can have a lot of them?? Also because she's darn cute with them and my art development has led me to add more from when I first drew her. I didn't tell him that though.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

the last princess (10)

Sebastian resisted to urge to scream.  Loudly.  The past two hours had been a nightmare, and it was all Estinien’s fault.  Riven’s nameday was coming up in another moon, and the dragoon had claimed the actual date for all manner of special plans for her.  Which so far included a trip to the theater and a fancy dinner--which meant obviously Estinien needed formal gear. 

Somehow...somehow, Ameliance Leveilleur had found out.  Which meant an invitation to her house for tea.  And lying in wait for Estinien...tailors.

“Fury preserve me I’m never doing that again!”  The hiss made Sebastian remove his hand from his face.  He glared down at the elezen.

“Oh no you don’t!”  He snapped, jabbing a finger for extra emphasis.  “This was your idea!  You are not getting out of it!  If Lady Leveilleur says you need to come back for additional fittings, you’re coming back!  You’re the one who wanted to take Riven out for her birthday, you’re the one who wants the dinner!”

“I’m going to stab Waters.”  Estinien growled.  Of course the damn rogue-turned-gunbreaker had treated Aeryn to all manner of special things on her nameday.  And Aeryn had told Riven.  Estinien wasn’t an idiot, he knew how things went. 

“Get up, you’re acting like a moron.”  Riven had the absolute patience of a saint if she had to deal with Estinien acting like an overdramatic cat every time she took him clothes shopping, Sebastian thought.  Estinien huffed, pushing himself up off the ground.  Movement out of the corner of one eye made him turn his head.

“...Isn’t that the Fourm member that tried to kill Riven and Leveva?”  He rumbled.  Sebastian snapped to full attention, his eyes tracking--

“Sevestre.”  He breathed.  The Forum member was dressed in his normal astrolgian whites, walking alone down the path, no sign of his usual bodyguards about him.  “Without his minions.  That’s strange.”

“Maybe it would be in the best interest of affairs to see what he’s up to.“  Personally Estinien wanted to split the hyur on his spear, thus ensuring Riven’s safety from another threat, but that idea had already been vetoed.

“If he’s by himself, he’ll be even more on the alert, and I’m not too sure that G’raha’s spell could...”  Sebastian trailed off as Estinien held up a finger.  Red draconic aether crackled around it. 

“Mathye told me about a rather interesting trick he pulled off with Hrist and G’raha’s spell.”  He said.  “I think I can do the same.”  Sebastian blinked, and then looked up at the elezen.

“...By all means, then.”

-----------------

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you!”  The woman held up her hands in a shrug, and Sevestre had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing.

“That was it?  That’s all you could find, period?”

“You’re asking for information on a case that’s well over a decade old and to boot, got sealed away under the highest levels of security.  Security that I might add, you have the power to override!”  His informant countered. 

“I can’t do that.”  Sevestre ground out.  “Thus the reason why I ordered you to investigate.”  Astrid’s spies were possibly better than his own.  The moment the older woman realized that he was investigating her affairs, Sevestre had no doubts that she would immediately retaliate--loudly and publicly.  The bitch had no qualms in using every weapon in her arsenal--including her age.

“How can somebody just disappear from the public records?  That’s not possible!”

“When it came to that child, everything was done wrong.  The stepmother paid bribes to ensure that anyone who was supposed to check on her well-being never did so.  She fired every worker save for her manservant.  And then when the girl did finally resurface, there was naught left save for bloody rags against the rocks!  Of course there wouldn’t be any record of her!”

“You couldn’t even find anything from when the parents were still alive?”  The white-haired man demanded.

“The birth certificate, blood lineage, and one single school-sketch.  The only thing of use to you there ser, is the blood lineage--and I’m certain you know that’s inaccessible, period.”  Sevestre huffed in frustration, facepalming.

Seven hells!  More and more this seemed like a wild-goose chase on his part--Astrid clearly had the upper hand.  But Sevestre knew, just knew--she’d made a mistake.  Had been too overconfident somewhere.  He’d replayed the events of that day in his mind over and over, he’d astral-projected his memories to look at them on the physical plane--  The second astrolgian went quiet, seemingly lost in thought. 

“There might be one thing.”  She said.  Sevestre didn’t immediately respond, parting his fingers and peering at her from inbetween them.

“When I was looking through the records, I noticed in the days following the granddaughter’s death, a missing-persons report was filed for a healer at the Studium.  The last time anyone saw them was a day after the granddaughter’s murder was reported.”  Immediately Sevestre straightened, focusing his full attention on the other astrolgian.

“A healer?”

“Aye.  When the guards went to check his place, they found it a mess.  As if he’d packed up and left fast, quick, and in a hurry.  They also found a ticket-receipt for the ferry between here and Limsa.  But when they investigated further, they found no trace of the man.  It was as if the moment he got on the boat, he just vanished into thin air.  And the Limsan authorities were no help, either.”

“For all their bragging, the Limsans can and often are extremely lax when it comes to whatever comes in and out of their ports.”  Sevestre said.  His mind was racing however.  People went missing every day, Sharlayan was no exception to this.  But for the suspicion he harbored...

“Did the man have any sort of trouble?  Gambling debts, perhaps angered someone?”  He asked.  The woman shook her head.

“They couldn’t find anything.  The one who reported it was his partner, who said they’d been having relationship problems.  But he didn’t think it was so bad that his significant other would just up and leave.”

A healer...  Sevestre fell silent.  It was weak, it was flimsy, and there was possibly no way he could follow up on it.  But...

It’s an opening.  The DeGlass family was considered to be one of the wealthier bloodlines on the island.  He could very easily see Astrid spending whatever amount that would be needed without batting an eye.  In fact, if he was right--she would have paid enormous sums of gil to ensure that her deception stayed hidden.  And money always, always left a trail.  But before he could do anything else...

I have to figure out how she pulled it off.  And I need evidence--ironclad, and irrefutable.  From the both of them.

Which promised to be extremely complicated.  Astrid was well guarded and could wield the many layers of Sharlayan bureaucracy both as blunt and precise weaponry.  Riven--and by proxy, Mace’s granddaughter held him hostage for what he’d done to ensure the city-state’s departure from Eorzea.  Even more infuriating, Riven was also now a high-profile Ishgardian citizen--along with being the savior of the star.  Sevestre had no doubt that if he tried to make a move against the summoner in any way--he’d be the first suspect--and his own duplicity exposed.  That was, if he could even get near Riven.  Her protectors--not to mention the other Ishgardian dragoon--were an additional problem.

------------------

Around the corner, Sebastian and Estinien were eavesdropping.  The combination of the invisibility spell and Estinien’s aether was working rather effectively--allowing the magic to blend into the area’s ambient aether. 

“What is he talking about?”  Estinien whispered, rubbing at his wrist.  Riven had given him a bracelet of aetherial silver to act as a focus--and the band was starting to vibrate from the power strain.

“He’s talking about Astrid DeGlass.  Or rather...”  Sebastian trailed off.  Estinien narrowed his eyes, that name sounded familiar.

“Wait.  The woman who paid for our meals and put guards on you all while you were recovering here?”

“The one and the same.”  Sebastian risked a quick peek around the corner, Sevestre had lowered his voice--shite-- and seemed to be giving orders to the other astrolgian.

“But he’s not talking about her specifically, he’s asking about her dead granddaughter.  Why in the hell would he be interested in that?”

“Maybe he had something to do with it?”  Estinien offered.  Sebastian frowned at that statement, doing the mental math.

“That...”  He paused.  Wait a minute.  Could he...?

“You look like you’re taking a trip to the Sea of Clouds and I would not recommend doing that right now.”  Estinien warned, rubbing at his bracelet again.  Sebastian shook his head, peering around the corner--just in time to see the white of Sevestre’s robes go around the corner.

“All clear, actually.”  He said.  Estinien exhaled in relief as the hyur dismissed the spell, though he swore he could still feel the bracelet vibrating on his wrist.

“That certainly got strange.”  He commented.

“Strange is putting it mildly.”  Sebastian answered, his mind racing.  It sounded as if Sevestre was trying to figure out how to make a move against Astrid, which meant it wasn’t their business.  And the gunbreaker would only all be to happy to ignore it..had it not been for the Forum member increasing his passive-aggressive attacks towards Riven.  The little voice that had been warning Sebastian that something was wrong someplace was now screaming a full-throated alarum.  Exhaling, Sebastian glanced up at Estinien.

“We need to talk.”  He said.

the last princess (previous parts here)

[sunnetrolls]

Planhz, I know you’ve met a lot of trolls in your time. Who are some of the most influential trolls you’ve met? To yourself, not to Alternia. Who’s made the biggest impacts?

"Oh...! Hm, that is... Hm."

"Well, the obvious answer would be Kallia. But I imagine that is dissatisfying..."

"Hm."

"I suppose I owe Amelie for the person I am now... I am not sure if I would have pursued music at all... had she not encouraged it."

"And I likely would not have made it this far at all... Had Helian not taught me to defend myself proper after everything with Kallia."

"There are several more. Any one person is naught but a product of those around them, yes?"

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Something Ends, Something Begins chapter 6/7 - still ‘Bad Witcher AU’. The song at the end is Quedate Aqui from Desperado.

Warnings: none (unless you count friendly ribbing and name-calling, weasels (one particular weasel), some saucy wording, and erotic food. kind of.)

*

The table is set, the white cloth covering it embroidered with shapes of flowers and animals stitched in vibrant colors, each corner adorned by a form of a stag raising on its hind legs with its head bowed, ready to fall with the full weight of its body on a contender. Rabbits and foxes - not one alike any other found on the fabric - peek from behind the green grasses and the bushes full of red and black berries. The smell of burning fat and caramelized sugar grows stronger as Mojmira pours another cup of rowanberry wine on the roast.

Jack tries to slink by Lila unnoticed but she still catches him by his ear as he passes, the disapproving twist of her lips never budging from its place.

"It is your brother's hair-cutting, and you're shirking your responsibilities. Go, help your sister."

"Yes, mother," Jack answers. He reflexively massages his ear for a bit before approaching Mojmira, who gives up her place by the spit to him with hushed words that put blush on his cheeks. He swats at her, and she ducks away with a giggle and a poke of her elbow to his side.

Gabriel, well aware it is his turn to hear admonishments, brings his attention back to Lila and her stern gaze even if his eyes want to linger on Jack for a moment longer.

"Witcher," she acknowledges him with a curt nod, "did you find what you were looking for?"

Did he? Gabriel observes Jack turning the spit, his face and neck still reddish, focused ostensibly on his task, but the half-smile and the twist of his hips tell a whole other story. Lord Murders-A-Lot sits perched on his shoulder with its nose scrunching as it scents the air.

Further in the back, in the shade of a plum tree, Sombra, with the lute hanging off her shoulder, talks with Adan. He postures - does he bark up a wrong tree, for in this one a cat that cares not for the dogs sleeps  - and futilely tries to stay his eyes from her barely fastened shirt.

"I found a thing I never knew to look for."

Lila nods again, the incline of her chin still sharp - but deeper - the rings in her hair tinkle against one another with the movement.

"Take good care of him, witcher. There might not be another one of my son's ilk left in this world."

"You knew?"

"The babe slept dead in my womb only to wake up." Lila twines her fingers together over her stomach. "When he opened his eyes, I saw a boy I'd seen once before, when my mother brought me along to the village's alderman to see about the tylwyth foundlings."

Gabriel remembers it, Jack's small arms wrapped around him, chin propped on his shoulder, and the woman, her rich brown hair freely slipping from behind her back as she leaned down to speak in a language he was yet to learn, with a girl child at her side holding nervously her flowing skirts. Soon after, they were both handed off to the witchers regardless of Jack's promises of the village taking in the cubs even as strange as Gabriel. In retrospection, Jack was the stranger one, with eyes too blue and the complexion that knew no sun. A changeling, if there ever was one.

"And will you give him up to me, just like that?"

Lila scoffs, her lips quirking up almost imperceptibly as she regards him silently, enjoying his jest.

"He isn't mine to give, witcher, no more than the wind swaying the wheat or the songbird's trill."

It is true Jack belongs only to himself - there is no power in the world to force him to do naught but what he wants as long as he is what he is - and it is this fickle nature Gabriel had once dreaded, for no reason other but his own concern.

"He isn't yours to give, but mine to take."

Lila smiles, her forehead bowed; under the lashes, her dark eyes seem so much older, like they'd seen the world turn whichever way one too many a time.

The eyes of a sorceress.

Gabriel glances to the forest. No wonder she and hers were spared from the scourings.

"Come, witcher, sit, for today is the time of revelry, and you are our honored guest," Lila directs him to the table with a motion of her hand, turning already as if she considers their chat finished. Gabriel nods. The contract has been fulfilled. The fate won't be denied.

Sombra slipping into place by his side disperses those thoughts.

"Melitele's nips, am I hungry," she mutters and stretches vicariously before she switches her attention from the table to him, fingers idly tracing the line of her collarbone. "You look younger."

"I feel older."

"You're just tired."

"I don't tire," Gabriel counters, but Sombra smirks and pats her chest above her heart.

"You're as stubborn as I am, but take it from someone with more experience than you, just let yourself feel, let him take care of you."

"Like Amelie had of you?" The bait is tempered by the name, one of the many small concessions Gabriel made over the years, and the lines of Sombra's face soften into a shy expression of contentment.

"Yes."

"Have you...?"

"He's been... most accommodating."

Gabriel merely nods, his attention stolen for a moment by the commotion Jack and Mojmira make, both laughing as they try to take the roast off the spit while struggling to keep it in one piece, broken up only by Lila showing up to help.

"How is she?" He acquiesces, finally.

"Better than ever." Sombra quietens, an unguarded smile flickers across her lips. "Thank you. For asking."

They spend minutes in shared silence, neither wanting to break the moment of understanding - the interruption comes from Wrenund's booming laughter from the inside of the house. The man himself appears in the doorframe shortly after, leading Nielub in front of him with his hand on the boy's shoulder; they're both dressed in festive linen shirts bleached impossibly white, with cuffs and collars embroidered with red thread in a simple pattern. Gabriel finds he can't not smile at the boy's almost unrestrained energy, his wide eyes shining with excitement while he struggles to act solemn even if the day is one of celebration.

"Should I be the good godmother,” Sombra whispers, “or the spurned sorceress?"

"The versemonger.”

"Ah, so be it." She braces her elbow on Gabriel's shoulder and leans against his side. They both watch Nielub sit on the prepared stool - his legs bounce up and down, and he grips the wood of the seat hard enough for the color to leave his fingers. Wernund looks to his wife, who now stands together with Mojmira a few steps away. She nods, and Adan brings forward a jug of water, Jack walks behind him with shears in his hands.

"Nielub, my son, today, you become a man." Wernund gently tilts the boy's head back. With barely a trickle of water, he soaks Nielub's hair through and slicks them to his head before exchanging the jug for the shears. The sound of metal grazing on metal and hair being cut fills the sudden silence even the birds don't dare to disrupt. In the fields, cicadas sing.

Each lock shorn, a piece of childhood shed for the new responsibilities. Wernund works with gravity and care - and when he's finished, and Jack retrieves the shears, he stands in front of his son, urging him to stand up too.

"Today, you leave your child name behind. It has served its purpose and protected you. From now on, you are Woj, and you will be as strong as your name, you will be strong for your family, and no evil will ever best you."

Nielub - now Woj - smiles wide and throws his hands around Wernund's waist in an exuberant hug.

Jack thrusts the shears at Adan while giving him a determined look; Adan accepts them, rolls his eyes at Jack's back as he retreats towards the table in a hurry. Lila and Mojmira both take their turn to hold Woj close for a fleeting moment, whisper secret silent words to him.

This time, Gabriel's medallion stirs under the cloth of his shirt, the movement barely perceptible, but it's there: a relief, grounding him in the feeling of reality, the last vestiges of doubt dissipating like tendrils of morning mist blown away by the noonday breeze. Sombra notices, too, her face lighting up with well-hidden interest, and her arm shifting against his side - until the short reverie is broken by Jack planting the whole roast on a wooden board in the middle of the table before he unceremoniously forces himself between them.

Living. Breathing. Moving not unlike a drop of quicksilver in a juggled vial.

"Away with your bony elbows, ungulate," Sombra chastises him as she makes space. "One could cut jewels on your hips."

"I'm still growing!"

"The wrong way around."

"The right way," Jack pouts. His arm sneaks around Gabriel's neck, palm hanging loosely over his shoulder, fingertips brushing against the fabric. Gabriel covers Jack's hand with his own, his thumb pressing slow circles into warm skin. "You just wait, I'll show you."

"Surely, I am scared out of my wits."

"Of course, you are, you third-rate lute-ruining bard. After all, I am me," Jack pulls her close with his other hand and presses a heartfelt kiss to her temple, at which she laughs, pushing him jokingly away.

"Piss off, ungulate," Sombra murmurs with no malice, "or I'll have you stuffed and mounted.”

"The horror. Just promise you won't be fucking anyone on my back, I've heard stories, you know."

"Melitele's holy teats!" Sombra moans, looking to the sky, and Jack, taking the advantage of her indignation, turns to Gabriel to sneak a quick chaste kiss to his lips.

Gabriel smiles against his mouth, the whispered 'later, little cub' coiling warmly behind his ribs even as Jack backs off slightly, eyes cast down but not really, not a shy or proper bone in his body, nor in the toothy grin languishing on his face.

"So, who's hungry?"

In an answer, Gabriel's stomach rumbles with anticipation.

"Shouldn't we wait...?"

But Jack is up and hunched over the table with the knife in his hand, fingers pressing down on the roast as he masterfully carves out thick slices of the meat bleeding sweet-smelling juices. Just in time, too, for the whole family to approach - Woj led to the seat of honor at the head of the table, Wernund at his right and Lila on his left - Adan and Mojmira bring the bread and the wine before settling down, her giggling and him merely rolling his eyes in kind. They scuffle for a moment under the table, Mojmira emerging with a triumphant smirk and Adan giving up with a pained hiss, his palms raised in an admission of defeat - yet he still gives Jack a knowing look before Lord Murders-A-Lot scurries up the tablecloth to chitter at him. Almost swatted away in return, the weasel runs into Jack's waiting palm, and then up the length of his arm, to perch on Jack's shoulder shortly before it settles pressed against his neck.

"You dare to raise a hand to my cherished retainer?" Jack mock-challenges Adan.

"'Tis a foul beast you entertain at your court," Adan plays along, eyes narrowed with a smirk. "Good the vatt'ghern has arrived to slay the bloodthirsty creature."

"Only if you have the coin, good sir, half upfront." Gabriel chuckles, and Jack collapses into a fit of giggles. Mojmira shushes them and pointedly looks to the head of the table.

Woj, with his father's guidance, picks a loaf of bread and breaks it in half. The first piece he offers to Wernund, the other to Lila; repeats until every guest at the table has their own piece of bread.

"I'm hungry!" He declares with unbidden enthusiasm - Adan toasts to it with his cup and a holler of 'hear, hear'. Gabriel hardly notices the meat making its way to his bowl in the sudden boom of liveliness - Jack and Sombra argue loudly over some insignificant trifle. Adan takes sides and Mojmira laughs unbidden before dishing out a scathing remark Sombra takes with no grace whatsoever, sputtering and tongue-tied for once - but that might be the doing of Mojmira’s bodice inconspicuously slipping lower.

Life goes on, regardless.

"Little cub," Jack draws his attention with a whisper, his eyes almost black in the most human way, cheeks flush with rowanberry wine as are his lips - a droplet of it in the corner of his mouth; Gabriel wonders if it would be sweeter if tasted in a kiss, almost succumbs. Jack presses a cut morsel into his mouth; fingers brush against his teeth and tongue, slip out and trace his jaw, stop at his neck, press on the pulse of his heart in a deliberate caress. "Eat. And drink. You are a guest at my feast, too, cub."

Gabriel chews on the meat, slowly. The roast is surprisingly succulent, meat aged even if the game was caught yesterday, with a hint of bitterness broken by the juices, and chased by the tang of the wine.

"Good," Jack murmurs and offers another bite with his fingers.

The conversations flow around them as if no-one takes notice, Jack's eyes imperceptibly darker - a shadow clinging to his irises - his smile light and possessive, like nature reclaiming the once carved out of it domicile, embracing it back after the time of long separation. Which is, probably, the truth of it, on some level of an abstract interpretation. Gabriel does not mind, for it is the way Jack is and loves - and he wouldn't have it any other way, not since the moment he had asked a god to step out of his forest domain, foolish as he was then.

Banishing the traitorous doubting thoughts, he settles into the quiet comfort of being cared for, unfamiliar and foreign after being denied it for years. They will be back, he knows, the whispers of disbelief questioning his own sanity - but for now, Jack straddles his lap. And the wine Gabriel was right about. It is sweeter when drunk from the offered lips, the taste of it mingling with the living chaos.

Before she disappears from their side, Sombra glances fondly at him over Jack's shoulder. A shape of a magic-wrought creature hovers above her stretched-out palm. The light weaves into a dragonlike form that takes flight as soon as it's finished - joined soon by others of its ilk in a slow dance.

Woj chases after the illusions with laughter, enchanted both by the show and the wine flushing his face with a blush. Sombra smiles as she joins him in the play. A moment later, horseback knights woven with magic enter the fray.

Jack untangles his fingers from Gabriel's hair and slips into space she's left behind - his palm still rests on Gabriel's thigh, light and warm - and rejoins the conversation as if he's never abandoned it. Gabriel lets it flow around him, sipping on his drink. The sun starts to dip and the boy, tired out by the playtime, naps with his head on his mother's breast. Jack gives up his seat to Sombra and her lute, a fleeting touch sliding down Gabriel's back before he leaves.

Mojmira and Adan light the torches, Jack brings cold fish in a still crisp batter and, somehow, more of the wine. Gabriel wonders if Lila brews that much of it - or is it only for the festivities - or maybe there is an else thing afoot, and if Sombra might glean the secret to it.

The first notes of the lute sound over the cicada song that grows steadily in volume.

Jack unceremoniously deposits himself sideways in Gabriel's lap, with a full cup in his hand he tosses off as soon as Gabriel puts an arm around his waist to keep him stable and in place.

"I do think, the day calls for the most splendid songs," Sombra strikes a chord, a devilish smirk on her lips, and Jack almost lunges at her with a squawk - if not for Gabriel's grip over his stomach.

"Don't you dare, witch!" Jack sputters.

"Oh, but I do dare, ungulate, it’s the least you deserve!"

She continues the melody in spite of Jack spitting and hissing like a cat at a witcher. Gabriel chuckles over the comparison before he presses another cup into Jack's palm and feels him capitulate in time for Sombra to start the song not fit for any place other than a tavern, or a brothel.

"Please, just kill me," Jack whines with his face buried in the crook of Gabriel's neck when everyone at the table seems to know some semblance of the words that go with the tune, snorts angrily at the final chorus of 'Jack the Stag, he's never going to leave a lass unsatisfied'. "I demand reparations, for my slandered reputation."

"If you, maybe, had a reputation first, to slander," Sombra waves him off before starting on another song.

"See, the next time? I'll leave you hanging up there in some tree, just so you know, so you can reap what you sow."

"Cry me a river, ungulate."

Hiding under Gabriel's chin and with his fingers kneading into Gabriel's sides, Jack whines about ungrateful traitorous witches - it's all too familiar, as if nothing has ever broken this idyll up - and for this, Gabriel is thankful.

Soon, Lila retires, with Woj barely conscious in her arms mumbling sleepily as she carries him into the house, and Wernund follows, leaving the night to the youth, as he says, his old bones needing their full night's rest.

Sombra switches up her repertoire for an even raunchier one, perfectly happy to just entertain them all with a song between the sips of the wine Jack, despite his words, feeds to her to keep her throat wet. Her eyes follow Mojmira's silhouette with unbidden appreciation when she leaves - and then with pure adoration when she comes back with two more pitchers.

Somehow, Adan and Jack get into a drinking contest, each trying to drink the other one under the table in the shortest time possible, and, inexplicably, Gabriel finds his cup always full when he brings it to his lips, even after Jack bumps into it with his elbow and spills all. The effect is not a too-long wait away, Aden lies braced on the table, with his head buried in his arms, half-awake and clutching at the empty earthen jug.

"And don't ask me if I love you, don't you worry about what I think," Sombra hits low mournful notes on her lute.

Jack slips off his lap and Gabriel snatches his hand before he has a sliver of a chance to disappear; Jack meets his eyes with a demure look and fingers wrapping around Gabriel's own wrist as he pulls him off the bench.

"Just know I'm yours in my own way," Sombra sings. And Gabriel knows he's a sacrificial lamb led to its slaughter under the full moon - led past the dying torches - past the threshold of the barn he steps over out of his own unprompted volition. "But when I want to be your dream, I won't be satisfied with just your kisses."

[wuwmmdraws]

Some “beans” of my main OC crew - Amelie, Daimion, Xander, and Liz

(Aug 2021)

[blackvenvs]

Amelie by Sandra T

@fluoresensitive @butchniqabi @princeofrosepetals (if anyone else wants to be on my tag list let me know)

I also wrote this when I was 17 (2011 was a productive year lol)

It’s about a girl with a strange habit who decides to debunk a myth she secretly wishes is true.

This was a part of a abecedarian book I was writing but grew a life of its own lol

.

Amelie come with us to grab a bite to eat!" Most times she would say yes immediately. Most times she would go along with her friends' adventures, whether it's “out to eat” or loitering in the other town, enjoying watching her friends’ shenanigans, basking in their carefreeness, something she can’t quite grasp. She lives vicariously through them, being satisfied with that than envying them which would be for naught.

read more

[hepermeates]

❝ you broke more than trust when you betrayed me. ❞

he can hear his pulse beating rapidly as he lies, bruised and beaten on the floor of the abandoned shelter. he can do naught but listen to her… he wanted to know how he was found by her — did she come looking? the thought lingered in his mind, pestering, pulling at his heart strings, he was desperate for someone to care again, to feel that connection with another person as he has with amelie, no… he’d remind himself harshly, he knew there was no reason for fragile to look for him. but he couldn’t help that he hoped, he clung to that sliver of “maybe”.

his face is crusted with blood, around his eyes, on his forehead, on his mouth — he can taste the metallic taste — he was useless now, to her, to Amelie, to anyone. why couldn’t you just do it…? he screams at himself internally. when the silence is broken, his mouth slightly opens to release what sounds eerily like a whimper. weak…. you’re weak, a voice echoes inside him. ❛ fragile ❨ @timesoak ❩ … ❜ her name comes out soft. he tries to hide it as he softens under her glance. he starts ❛ — are you looking for an apology? ❜ the words are slurred, his mouth is dry. ❛ i ain’t got nothing left, fragile. no dooms… nothing. ❜

he could hear the hurt in her voice when she spoke — he was a fool to have hurt her. but he knew this… he had broken every bond and connection he had ever had for power… power that wasn’t worth it. amelie wasn’t worth it. ❛ just finish me now. you ain’t got no use for me. ❜ he wanted to beg, but that was unlike him. he just wanted it over, but as it turns out… he was too much of a coward to do it himself.

[changethecircumstances]

Thank you for replying to my ask about Fragile and Higgs! I loved reading your reply, and I also agree: Fragile respected Higgs and his goal to connect people. He was extremely ambitious, but at least he directed all his energy to a noble cause... before the power Amelie granted him made him almost mad. And, yeah, his relatinship with Fragile is shrouded in mystery (maybe regret?) and I would love to find more about their past together.

No problem :D and yeah, I think part of his reasoning for wanting to connect people and outdo the UCA was for power. I think it’s tied to his trauma and how he had no power as a child, so as an adult he’s gone overboard with thinking he needs it to stay whole, which also made him more susceptible to Amelie.

The things is, power can be good. People like to feel in control of their lives, like they have a say in what they do and that they make their own destiny. For Higgs, he was always fighting for that control because he never learned the proper filter between healthy power and tyrannical power. And then with Amelie, his actions make even more since if we analyze him from this angle as Amelie presents a complete lack of control. That no matter what, Higgs and humanity will all die, that it’s all for naught. Because of this, it makes even more sense that Higgs tried to take control because that was what his life was centered around, trying to find a sense of power and control and though he can’t completely end extinction, he can at least end things on his terms.

That being said, considering his comment in his bunker about Fragile being better off forgetting him, I think he understands that what he is doing is wrong, but his partnership with Fragile doesn’t allow for his desperate search for control. He doesn’t fully understand the difference between healthy and destructive relationships and though his relationship with Fragile was probably much healthier before everything went down, Amelie presents far more control and power.

[whatsupwithmymind]

@headphonescinderella Have one of the girls at least (I did one of Daimion in Xander's gear but I messed up his skin tone which isn't great...and I ran out of space on my page for Xander). Drawing this out, I realized that I practically never draw Amelie in pants...it felt so weird to draw her in Liz's outfit.

[writer59january13]

Late morning today (February 17, 2021)

I (accompanied by missus)

drove to bed bath and beyond

Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania

off Chemical Road location for naught.

After arriving

at said destination alas and alack

with intent to purchase:

ZeroWater®

10-Cup Ready Pour™ Pitcher - $17.50

and ZeroWater®

4-Pack Replacement Filters - $39.99

(we discovered aforementioned store shuttered)

both of us essentially undertook round trip

to Schwenksville and back

without rhyme nor reason.

Subsequently, an idea dawned

(came to mind) to craft a poem

with immediate insight

since yours truly likes to write.

Our eldest daughter, an engineering ace,

(who lives in Oakland, California,

and conveniently employed to chase

the buck courtesy remote technology

within walls of her dwelling place

by B-corp) frequently politely reminds us

to purchase environmentally friendly product

to help sustain earthly creatures

besides human race

who about bajillion years from now

will vanish without a trace.

She nsync with youngest offspring,

(a lovely lass awaiting

her prince charming

ah...if only her fantasy

to marry available bachelor

singer constituting the

British band One Direction, -

would be dream come true)

insync with alluded to first born

unwittingly contribute immense happiness,

whereby meaning of life,

liberty and pursuit of happiness

doth resonate

despite both adorable girls,

(an unbiased opinion courtesy their papa)

in Oakland, California

and Bend, Oregon respectively.

Eco-friendly ethics

informed courtesy older sister eons ago,

she (Amelie Beth) hypersensitivity,

a contemplative introverted bro

who as a socially withdrawn boy

rather puny and scrawny body

standing with knobby knees

unknowingly foretold skeletal escrow,

viz arms akimbo point each elbow

perpendicular while moving to and fro

geeky and nerdy

improvisational dance intro

exhibiting nonconformist Judeo

spontaneous boyish schtick

just before onset anorexia nervosa manifesto.

[snarkyowl]

Last Appeal

Prologue

kinda based on othello, basically just me fucking around with some ocs

“Of all the people for him to choose, of all his loyal followers he chooses a man with nary a piece of field experience!?”

A deep-seated rage makes itself known in the form of a broken picture frame, a shattered lamp, and a book thrown around so many times the pages still bound to the leather are torn.

He breathes in once, long and odd with his anger. As his breathing steadies out, the room is clouded thickly with silence. Unlike the silence he usually relishes in, this silence is nothing short of oppressive.

Brutus had chosen Ryder to be his right hand. Ryder, a young man who knew only of strategics. No field experience. He was as new to combat as a lamb. Ryder over him, Percival, who had fought by Brutus’ side for five years now. Five. Years. Did it mean nothing to him?

And here he had thought he and Brutus were close.

This was unfair. Improper. One is to choose a right hand based off of experience because experience is wisdom, experience means an ability to survive that others don’t have. Book smarts will get a man killed, but Brutus ignored all common sense and chose someone he had a soft spot for.

Why?

Ryder hadn’t fought by Brutus’ side like Percival had. Ryder hadn’t seen men die, Ryder hadn’t killed in the name of their country. Of their people. Ryder was weak, pathetic. A playboy, young and stupid.

Percival was experienced. Percival had fought with Brutus, defended Brutus, supported his endeavors. Percival had seen battles, fought in battles, seen and caused death in the name of their great cause.

Percival had loved Brutus, they were a dynamic duo on the field, and Brutus had chosen Ryder over him. Why? Was Percival not worthy of such a role? Was there some kind of weakness he had exposed to Brutus?

He wouldn’t stand for this. It was an insult to him, an insult to Brutus, and an insult to the country. Ryder was too young, too green, to be in the position he held. If Percival was the only one that could see that, then so be it.

The man felt more than willing to get done whatever had to be done to get Ryder taken down a notch or two.

It was then, an idea struck.

“He what!?” Percy ducked as a hand flew over his head, rolling his eyes at his companion’s tendency to strike out when feeling strong emotions.

“You heard what I said, Ian. And, unfortunately, what I say is the truth. Our work with Amelie has all been for naught, my friend. She ran off with Brutus to be wedded tonight, and she plans to return home by morning to avoid her father’s suspicions.” Percival explained, quoting (to the best of his abilities) the plan that Brutus had laid out for him.

Ian turns to him, eyes wide and desperate. It’s disgusting, this weakness he shows. And for what? A woman? Pathetic.

“You have to be lying to me. This can’t be true, this isn’t legal! This isn’t proper!” “When has any of that ever mattered to Brutus?”

Ian’s face darkens, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. “It doesn’t, never has, unless it’s to scold one of us.”

Percival nods his head once in agreement to that, sighing softly. “Nothing about being lawfully good is relevant to Brutus unless it’s to try and force it onto someone else. So of course he would go and marry a dame without the family knowing.”

Ian’s entire frame seems to shake with anger as he begins to pace, stalking like a caged animal while Percival watches with a sick twist of excited amusement in his gut.

Ian stops suddenly, and Percy quirks an eyebrow at him. “I know what I’ll do.” Ian whispers, and Percy tilts his head to one side. “And what’s that?”

Ian turns to him, eyes near-crazed. “I’ll tell her father. I’ll tell Markus.” “Are you insane? The man will shoot you just for knowing more about his daughter than he does.” Percy scoffs, waving his hand dismissively at a very agitated Ian.

“I don’t care. I’ll tell him, and you know he’ll kill Brutus, general or no. Then, even if I’m dead, Brutus can’t have Amelie to himself.” “You’d widow her just to prevent him from having her?” “I would. I will. Just watch.” “Oh I’m going to watch.I’m going to have the best seat in the house to watch the fireworks.”

Ian nods his head jerkily before turning on his heel and stalking towards the door. “I’m leaving, Percy.” The announcement isn’t really acknowledged with much other than a grunt, but that’s enough for Ian. The apartment door slams shut, and Percival is left alone.

Tugging his hand roughly through his hair and breathing harshly out through his nose, Percival steels himself. He had a phone call to make.