#They have matching cloaks/hats to hide their horns

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 260

You know what could be a really funny and fun crossover? Especially with my constant dragon AUs? Danny Phantom and Wakfu. 

See, Danny and Tucker have decided to reincarnate together, almost like a vacation after reaching the age of 100. But see, they let Sam choose where they were going to be hanging out for the next however long, for fun! 

And see, she saw world full of plants and life and an utter asshole trying to destroy a plant-person city what the fuck- and she tosses their souls into that world right away. 

Now see, they didn’t really have any request about their reincarnation except that they were able to stick together. And what better way than for them to come from the same egg! Okay so maybe they arrived a little early- thank you Clockwork- but it’ll take a while to hatch anyway. 

Okay, so maybe they’ve hatched alone, but that’s also fine! Sure for literal babies probably not, but they know how to do stuff- mostly. They’ll figure it out! Besides, Tucker is a freaking dragon now, and that’s so cool! And Danny has these cool wing-horns and mini portals too! Sure it’s currently only for this world, but still! 

It’ll be fun, and honestly they know how to survive a desert! Mostly!

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Appearances for the GG rivals au character.

I am no artist, so these will simply be written descriptions with a few images thrown in here and there. These are all subject to change at any time, as well, since this is still in its early planning stages.

For Gem, I imagine she looks a lot like in this gorgeous fanart, except her dress has slits up the side to allow for easier movement and her hair is a low bun with a braid wrapping around the front of her head, like this.

Scott and Impulse wear armour similar to how applestruda draws it in her au, with their cloths in shades of teal and yellow. Scott, I like to imagine, has long, back length hair, that he wears down and covering one eye. Impulse has shortly cropped hair and two little nubby horns that are tipped in black, as well as sharp clawed hands. Scott's teeth are sharp; no one quite knows why.

Grian's eyes are entirely black like a barn owl's and his hands end in sharp talons rather than nails. He doesn't have wings, not anymore at least. He wears a high collared red tunic and brown trousers, but both are rarely seen past the heavy, ankle length, black cloak he hides himself under, which is held closed by a silver brooch in the shape of an eye. The cloak has a hood but he never wears it. He always seems to be sliming, whether that smile is devious or genuine is up for debate. The brooch looks something like this, minus the blue center and the circlular details

Scar wears a similar black cloak, held closed by the same brooch, though he wears his with the hood up, and it has red flower detailing on the hem (so, similiar to his secret life look but its a full cloak). His eyes are still green, though, and he has a single grey streak in his brown hair. His tunic and trousers under the cloak are both black and he wears his shirt just a little bit too open at the top. He also always wears a smile, but pretty much everyone can agree it is deceptively kind.

Mumbo and Etho wear matching outfits, claiming it is professional since they share a job, but it is something they choose to do not something that is required of them (they are just silly, really). I imagine they are simple outfits consisting of white tunics with black trousers and thick, leather aprons on top (mumbo's is red and etho's is green). They both wear goggles and thick gloves, as well as chunky boots, all for safety since they work with explosives. Etho wears a black bandana on his lower his face. His goggles replace his headband in this look, being what keeps his hair out of his face. His scared eye is missing entirely; he does not have a false eye, it is just an empty socket. Mumbo wears his goggles around his neck when they are not on his face.

Bdubs dresses similarly, minus the apron and goggles, since he works out in the garder. His shirt is white, and he has brown trousers. Over that he wears a thick cloak that is almost always covered in some manner of flora and/or mud. He completes the look with a wide brimmed hat to protect him from the sun.

Cleo is also dresses similarly to Etho and Mumbo but her apron is a plain brown that is stained with soot. Her tunic sleeves are always rolled up to show off her strong arms and she doesn't wear her safety gloves nearly as much as she should, and she forgoes eye protection entirely. One of her eyes is missing (surprisingly not related to the lack of protective wear), replaced with a glass eye of a slightly different shade of green than her organic eye. Her hair is pulled into a much messier bun than Gem's, with frizzy stray hairs going every direction.

Ren and Martyn look like how they are typically drawn in third life fanart. Ren's eyes are red, as well as blood shot, and he almost always appears angry.

Pearl wears a white tunic with flared sleeves tucked into a pair of high waisted black trousers. Over this she has a deep, red cloak that stops at her waist. She has a crescent moon shaped birth mark on the left side of her face. She carries a sword around her waist. Her hair is always down and messy under her hood.

Bigb just looks like a baker, I am not sure how to describe it. But he always seems to have flour stains on his clothes no matter how hard he tries to wipe it off. Big strong arms for him as well.

Skizz wears the same armour as Scott and impulse, and his underclothes are black. The sleeves of his tunic are ripped off and he does not wear his gauntlets. He refuses to elaborate on why. He is a dove avian.

Tango wears a short sleeved red tunic and black trousers with big chunky boots. His hands are clawed, and his ears are pointed; both are tipped in a red to black gradient. His eyes are entirely red. He has a long tail that ends in a tuff of fire that doesn't seem to have any real heat.

Jimmy wears a blue tunic with a brown vest over it. Brown trousers and chunky boots. His sleeves are always rolled up and he is always covered in some manner of dirt, both because of the work he does on the farm, and from being very clumsy. He has bull horns, one of which is chipped. He also has a tail.

I still don't have set roles for joel and lizzie just yet so they do not have designs in mind either, unfortunately.

[grapemoon]

A kind of-theory post about Deltarune:

I Think Ralsei Could Be A Shapeshifter

So you’re probably thinking: what the hell. And I don’t blame you! But listen, just hear me out on this.

Ralsei is a Darkner, we know this much. However, he is shown to have an incredible disconnect from most of what is considered Darkner looks, acts, and just overall culture. He was separated from them for years, knowing only of the legend and some of what lied beyond the door.

Ralsei does not look like a Darkner- he is very brightly colored, but not in the same way that most Darkners are. But he’s not bright in the way the Lightners are. It’s almost as if he’s trying to imitate their shine, in a way.

I believe that he’s a shapeshifter because every single time we him in a different major outfit change, he looks completely different. Another thing; the dummy in Castletown. He claims to have based it off of himself, and he clearly has. However, if it was really the hat that made him a completely different color and shape, then he would surely be aware of this and make the dummy white in color. I know that, obviously, in Chapter 1 you’re not supposed to know until the end that he’s actually white, and the dummy was like that to avoid spoilers.

However, there is no in-universe explanation for this. And thus, I take to believing that he did normally look like that at the time of making the dummy.

Every time he dons a new major outfit, he takes a minute mumbling into it before changing. I think this might have been him shapeshifting, as his face was obscured during both instances of this. In the very beginning of Chapter 1, he was wearing a giant cloak, and the legend showed a character that did not resemble his current form at all. In fact, there were no discernible features on him, making it seem as though the Prince of the Dark could look like anything.

Then, when he takes off the cloak, he has horns and a big pointy hat that surely must have been difficult to hide under a robe like that. In one of his sprites, his hat is flying off in shock, and he does not change in any noticeable way. In fact, you can see the top of his head, and a bit of his horns as well, which appear to still be black. Note the dummy again- in the end of Chapter 2, the Blue Addison has taken the hat off of the Ralsei dummy, and revealed it to have what appears to be black horns.

When he takes off his hat in the end of Chapter 1, there is a noticeable delay as he mumbles into his hat for a while, as if he was purposefully taking his time. When he finally takes it off, he looks completely different. His horns are significantly more prominent, facing in a whole other direction. The fur on his ears is much less jagged, and he seems a lot less scruffy(?) than previously. Also, his fur is a completely different color.

In Chapter 2, he actually looks a little bit different than he did at the end of Chapter 1. Despite his hat likely not affecting his legs, they are now white, matching his face. He did get an outfit change, but I don’t think that part matters much. What does matter is the drastic change when he removes his glasses, revealing a completely different face to the one he usually has (where the hell did that eyeshadow come from???), and it visibly makes Susie a bit confused too.

I know that this stuff alone is not enough to base an entire theory on, so I’m using that term very loosely. What I am saying, though, is that it’s extremely plausible that Ralsei’s able to shapeshift somehow.

[elysian-noctuary]

Takuma Ino bio

“ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ. ᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ꜱᴏʀᴄᴇʀʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ, ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜʏ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ, ɪ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ, ‘ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴅᴏ?’"

THINGS / ASKS / HC / THREADS / MUSINGS / WIKI

BASICS

Name: Takuma Ino

Nickname(s): TBA

Age: 21

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 190 lbs

Species: Human

Sex and pronouns: Male, he/him

Birthday: November 27th (Sagittarius)

Orientation: Bisexual (femme preference)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Ino is a young man of average height with disheveled brown hair usually kept under his signature ski-mask rolled up into a beanie-type hat. Hidden by his hair, Ino has a scar going across the left side of his forehead. He wears a wide-collared black sweatshirt and matching black pants tucked into his high-topped sneakers.

PERSONALITY

Takuma Ino is a genuine and cheerful person with a more positive outlook on things than most jujutsu sorcerers. He doesn't believe he's the smartest person around and has a lot of respect for Nanami. Whenever Ino finds himself in a tough situation, he asks himself what would Nanami do.

Ino believes it's important to proceed through life doing things the right way, especially with dirty work like being a jujutsu sorcerer. This is a large part of Ino's honor code, so much so that he refuses to advance to grade 1 without Nanami's approval.

Ino is very young for a sorcerer and gives off a little brother type of vibe, so everyone tends to help him out. When he's around people younger than himself, he has a tendency to show off his jujutsu knowledge and maturity.

When it was time for Ino to step up and lead on Nanami's behalf, he was honored to have someone else rely on him. He took looking after Yuji and Megumi seriously and embraced the leadership role wholeheartedly. In spite of the risk, Ino's positive attitude and optimism helped hype up his team in anticipation for their dangerous mission to rescue Satoru Gojo.

ABILITIES AND POWERS

Overall Skill: Ino is a grade 2 jujutsu sorcerer but his rank does not reflect his true skill level. According to Nanami, Ino could easily become a semi-grade 1 sorcerer if he chose to. He is an exceptional combatant with a very potent cursed technique.

Expert Hand-to-Hand Combatant: Ino outclassed an average level curse user in close combat with no issues. However, he caught on to his opponent's plan too late, allowing Granny Ogami to outmaneuver him and activate her Séance Technique. After her grandson shapeshifted into Toji Fushiguro, Ino proved no match in terms of physical prowess.

High Cursed Energy: As a professional sorcerer, Ino possesses high cursed energy levels and has been trained to manipulate his power efficiently. When activating his innate technique, Ino's entire body is coated in surging cursed energy. He can use cursed energy to reinforce his body for close combat at the same time as his technique. Additionally, Ino is capable of sensing other individual's cursed energy fairly well.

CURSED TECHNIQUE

Auspicious Beasts Summon is activated when Ino hides his face by covering it with his mask, turning himself into a spiritual medium. This allows Ino to summon and use the abilities of four auspicious beasts: Kaichi, Reiki, Kirin, and Ryu.

Kaichi: Auspicious Beast number one. Summons a horn with a spiral pattern on it. Can be fired as a projectile cloaked in cursed energy that won't stop until it hits its target.

Reiki: Auspicious Beast number two. Covers Ino's body in cursed water that can be used to cushion him from danger and/or increases his overall mobility.

Kirin: Auspicious Beast number three. Effectively causes intracerebral doping, which nullifies Ino's own sense of pain. However, it also drains his stamina, causing him to become extremely tired but unable to sleep at the same time. Once Kirin has been summoned and the technique completes, Ino becomes immobile for some time.

Ryu: Auspicious Beast number four. Little is known about this one currently. The move was interrupted when he used it against the revived Toji Zenin. Up to that point, nobody had ever survived to tell the tale after fighting Ryu... according to Ino.

CURSED TOOL

Nanami's Blunt Sword: A cursed tool originally used by Kento Nanami, resembling a blunt sword wrapped in a cloth with a splattered black dot design. After his death, it was used by Ino during the battle against Sukuna. It has been imbued with Nanami's Ratio Technique, allowing Ino to enhance the power of his strike by dividing his target with lines and hitting the weak spot at the ratio point of seven to three. It was also durable enough to withstand a kick from Sukuna.

BACKSTORY

/

TRIVIA

Takuma's surname has the Nanori reading for "wild boar" (猪, i) and the Kun reading for "field, wilderness" (野, no). His given name has the Jinmeiyo kanji and Go-on reading for "to polish, to cultivate one's skill" (琢, taku) and the Kun reading for "truth, genuine" (真, ma).

Takuma is always getting help from others because of his little-brother vibe.

Takuma really respects Kento Nanami after accompanying him on a mission.

Takuma hopes that he'll get Nanami's watch as a hand-me-down one day.

According to Jujutsu Kaisen Official Fanbook:

Enrollment method: Family lineage.

His hobby is attending drinking parties.

Favorite food: Deep-fried horse mackerel.

Least favorite food: Pickled dish.

Cause of stress: None.

[galaxia-art]

[image description: 4 anthropomorphic cats in the same colour scheme as the asexual flag. the first cat is a astronaut with a black spacesuit with grey accents with lines around the joints, and an asexial flag patch on the arm and grey boots. they're holding a star in the form of a purple ball of light hovering between their hands, theyre staring at it with wide grey eyes. they have black and white fur like a mask.

the second one is part dragon, with their shaggy black fur turning into purple scaled limbs in their hands and feet, and a purple reptile taik and wings taller then themseld. they seem to be smiling, with purple eyes and white ridged horns. they have a ripped white dress, a ripped and moth eaten grey half cloak sort of like a poncho, and a black ring on a necklace.

the third is a cat dresed as a magician with a white button up shirt, a short asymetical black skirt with a side slit, and a black top hat and cape. the inside lining of the cape is a sparkly purple, as is a ribbon around the base of the hat. the cat has short grey fur, and is holding a a few cars in fron of their face and wide purple eyes. the cards are the aces of each suit, each in a different colour of the ace flag, and match their shirt buttons, also shaped like card suits. they also have a purple ribbon bow tie and an black ring on their middle finger (sort of. they have 4 fingers including the thumb so is unclear if thats meant to be a middle or ring finger)

the last cat is completely skeletal, their black robe hiding most of their form, facing away from the viewer. the inside of the robe is grey and their bones are white, although their is a purple shadow showing a shillouette of their flesh and fur shape. their body is turned away from the viewer but their head is turned towards, and a long bony tail peeks out from the robe. they hold a orb in their hand that has the ace flag on it.

the background is light purple with a purple gradient. the next 4 images is the 4 cats individually without the background. end id]

part 2 of my fantasy pride cat series! i did ace as the next one because i already had a good idea for 3 of them, not sure what flag to do next, so feel free to suggest which next!

I also have these designs up on redbubble if anyones interested! will link in a reblog

previous pride cats: aromantic | misc doodles

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Come As You Are

Blake: [To Sun] I still don’t think this is necessary.

Sun: C’mon, babe-a-licious, it’s perfect! You’re the life of the party!

Blake: *Raises eyebrow*

Sun: Okay, well you were the life of the party but that’s not your fault.

Yang: Yeah partner, it’s pretty hard to compete with [gestures at her body] all this!

Blake sighed, choosing to ignore that comment and glanced down at herself. They were at a “come as you are” party celebrating something (though it seemed like with the death of the Grimm Queen and the rapid downspike in Grimm activity, plus a collective loss of intelligence in the Grimm, that people didn’t need a an actual reason to party) and the theme was obvious.

So Blake had eventually caved to Sun’s pleas and was busy wearing what was effectively lingerie. A black bandeau top with a cartoonish hole shaped like a cat head (basically a circle with two triangles about where the ears would be) that left little to the imagination as to the size and shape of her boobs and a short black skirt, a studded belt and hanging from the studded belt was a black cat tail. Her ears were on display, she’d drawn whiskers on her cheeks and blackened the tip of her nose but she’d drawn the line at wearing cat paw gloves and slippers and had opted for a sensible pair of heels.

Sun had basically stripped down to a furry yellow speedo and a pair of flip flops and was carrying a bunch of bananas, his own tail swishing back and forth happily.

Yang on the other hand was technically wearing more but it hardly mattered. She’d somehow managed to fit her excessive curves into a skintight bodysuit that was somewhere between a leotard and a corset, her rump barely fitting in the back while Yang’s breasts were all but spilling out of the top. It was sleeveless, she wore no stockings as she was happy to show off her legs and she wore a pair of four inch black pumps and atop a head filled with lightly curled blonde hair was a pair of bunny ears. And as if to prove her statement right, Yang had had eyes on her all night, not that it mattered to the very taken brawler.

Three guesses what she’s was supposed to be and the first two don’t count, Blake thought.

Blake: Such modesty, Yang.

Yang: Pfft, modesty schmodesty. If you got it--

Blake: Let it all hang out?

Yang: *Snorts* You see anything hanging?

Sun: [Uncomfy] Hey, uh, isn’t Jaune supposed to be here? I mean you two did say you were gonna match outfits.

Yang: Yeah, well, lover boy changed his mind last second and refused to share with his loving girlfriend what he was doing.

Blake: You put him in a headlock and demanded he tell you again?

Yang: *Blushes* No! I haven’t done that in years!

Blake: *Waits*

Yang: [Sighs in defeat] I may have tried to smother him.

Blake:*Crosses arms*

Sun: With your--

Yang: With my tits. [Grumbles] I think I’m using them too much if he’s actually developing an immunity.

Blake: [Pleased] There we go.

Still, Blake couldn’t help but smile at the grumpy and still slightly red faced form of her partner even as Sun coughed and tried to pretend that he suddenly found something interesting about Oscar’s exaggerated farmer costume of heavy brown boots, heavy duty dark blue jeans and the black-and-red plaid shirt he had tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up, one hand carrying an actual hay fork.

Blake looked around and saw Ruby in track shoes, track pants and a sports bra with goggles resting at her hairline. She was busy talking to a group of admirers alongside Weiss, who was in a smart pure white pantsuit with a pale blue blouse beneath that really was no different from her everyday wear as the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. The only additions being a clipboard and a pair of fake eyeglasses to sell the look, her hair dun up in a bun.

Nora was wearing a horned helm of some sort, sleeveless chainmail that left her biceps open to admire and brown leather bracers on her forearms. She wore studded black leather pants that showed off an equally powerful lower body and furred boots. A red cape was tied around her neck and the young woman had Magnhild over her shoulder and was darting about excitedly, other partygoers ducking to avoid getting smashed over the head by the low hanging hammer.

Blake wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be, but the same went for Ren who wore poofy white pants, black flats (slippers? She didn’t know) and a green jacket that was similar to his first outfit, but he could hide his hands in his sleeves and rather than buttons, there was a length of white rope that tied it together. He was busily following Nora, trying to ensure she didn’t cause any brain damage in her hyperactive state.

Otherwise Neptune was wearing a toga and a golden circlet of equally golden leaves native to Mistral with strappy brown leather sandals. Sage was across the room wearing a ceremonial robe that was unfamiliar to the Menagerie born faunus with a wooden staff and Scarlet was both dressed as a stereotypical pirate and was clearly flirting with Yang’s uncle, who’d been lazy and added a small top hat and wraparound shades and was drinking liberally from a flask.

There were others they knew but the only others she could see at the moment were Fiona Thyme in what looked like wool footie pajamas and Maria Calavera in a hooded cloak, upside down and...doing a kegstand with two men near her age holding her feet, wearing what looked like a gimp suit, the other in slacks, suspenders, a bow tie and nothing else!?

Blake’s head snapped back to Yang who was staring, disturbed, at the same scene. Blake shuddered. Sun shrugged.

Sun: At least the old lady’s having fun.

Yang: Yeah. Kinda wished her fun didn’t make me wanna bleach my eyeballs though. [Grouchily and quiet] Where is he? I swear, if he’s skipping out on me...

Blake: I’m sure he’s just--

A ripple of laughter cut her off and Blake blinked, looked and--

Blake: [Disappointed] Late. *Big sigh* Oh boy.

Sun: [Breaks down into snorting laughter, turns away to avoid potential Yanger]

Yang: [Spins] What’s--

Jaune had arrived, but instead of whatever he’d agreed to wear with Yang he was wearing a large, stereotypical trash can around his torso with his bare arms moving awkwardly at his sides, his bare legs waddling slightly in the clanging and clunking costume. On his brightly grinning head was the top to the trash can, held in place by a strap that went under his chin.

Yang: [Sputtering incoherently]

Ruby: [Distantly] Yang, that’s so mean!

Yang: [Distressed] I didn’t--

Weiss: [Distantly] For shame, Yang Xiao Long.

Yang: [Upset] Nooo, it’s not--

Partygoer: Wow. Poor guy. [To his girlfriend] Please don’t ever do that to me. [Girlfriend hugs his arm]

Yang: [More upset] I swear--

Scarlet: [Finally looks over] *Squawking laughter*

Yang: [Even more upset] Stop, it’s seriously not--

Qrow: [Disappointedly] Firecracker. We raised you better.

Yang: [Can’t decide whether to cry or explode; pouts at Jaune while trying to glare] Baby, we talked about this!

Jaune: [Happily smiling] You talked. I ignored. Besides, everybody’s perfectly in character! Who am I to deny my nature!?

Yang: *Unhappy teakettle noises*

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

Dragonslayer’s probably my favorite RWBY ship, Black Sun’s leagues better than Bumblebee (IMPO) and I really couldn’t help myself here.

[emsartwork]

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!

[prodigal-sunlight]

How to Make Friends and Influence Demons - Chapter 1

Pairings: Moceit Characters: Patton, Janus, Thomas Chapter warnings: Minor blood, generic demonic activity Word Count: 8,317

Summary:

Patton stood up, dusting off his hands and checking the book, still open on the counter. There were a couple steps he’d had to tweak. Just little things, like a circle of scorched tallow (he didn’t know what that was) or the bones of a martyr (he did not have any and did not want to.) But he’d baked enough to know how to make recipe substitutions, so he figured he could do something similar with a demon summoning.

Patton M. Sanders is as sweet as a cupcake and gentle as a kitten. So why on earth would he possibly summon a demon? That's exactly what Janus wonders when he appears in dinky apartment surrounded by scented candles and offered a piece of homemade cake. Surely he doesn't think selling his soul to a demon is going to make him friends.

Right?

Ao3 Link

It had taken a whole weekend, but the preparations were at last done, and Patton was prepared to summon a demon.

Patton hummed cheerfully as he set out the last unlit candle around the edges of the chalk summoning circle. He had a bad habit of impulse buying candles that smelled good or had cute names, so it was nice to finally have a use for all of them. The library book didn’t say the candles needed to be unscented, so he figured Butterscotch Kitten Morning wouldn’t be a problem.

He stood up, dusting off his hands and checking the book, still open on the counter. There were a couple steps he’d had to tweak. Just little things, like a circle of scorched tallow (he didn’t know what that was) or the bones of a martyr (he did not have any and did not want to.) But he’d baked enough to know how to make recipe substitutions, so he figured he could do something similar with a demon summoning.

Of course, he hadn’t just followed the book. He had a pot of coffee brewing, and a vanilla allergy-friendly cake cooling on the rack. Demonic or not, Patton figured that any guests needed a warm welcome. He was a bit worried that he didn’t have any tea to offer if the demon didn’t like coffee, but he’d have to make do without.

While he considered whether to add sprinkles to the cake now or to let the demon add their own sprinkles, his phone began to ring. Patton pushed his bangs out of his face, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and answering with a cheery, “Hello hello! Patton Sanders household, Patton speaking! Can I help you out there?”

“Hey Pat! It’s Thomas,” came the cheery response. Patton quickly pulled out a kitchen chair, sitting down with a smile to listen. “I wanted to call in to see how you’re doing!”

“Thomas! I’m doing great,” Patton said, glancing around the messy apartment. “Just so peachy! But what about you? How’ve you been kiddo?”

“Great! This campus is incredible, and I’ve made so many new friends. There’s these students named Jamaal and Talyn, and they’ve been showing me all the best places to hang out. I love it here!” Thomas said.

Patton’s heart sank a little. In less than three weeks, Thomas had made two new friends. Patton hadn’t made one single friend since he and Thomas had gotten an apartment, and that record hadn’t changed when Thomas left for school. He felt jealous, and he felt guilty for feeling jealous. He should be happy for his baby brother. “Well I’m real glad you’ve been settling in alright. Have you been eating well? Taking good care of yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been uh, all up on the home cooking and stuff! Totally not just getting pizza every week,” Thomas said sheepishly. “I’ll make good food once I’m caught up on homework and I get around to unpacking!”

“Promise?” Patton said, putting a hand on his hip and pouting. “Don’t make me march right on down there to cook and clean for you, mister!”

Thomas laughed, and hearing him so happy eased Patton’s worries a bit. “Alright, alright! I’ll take care of myself, I promise. So how have you been?”

“Well, I—“

There was the sound of someone shouting on the other end, and Thomas cut him off. “Oops, that’s Talyn! I forgot we had class. Sorry Pat, I’ve got to go! Catch up with you later!” Thomas hung up, and the phone went quiet.

Patton sighed, bowing his head. “Buh-bye Thomas,” he said, even though the call had already ended. “Have fun at class. Love you.” He set the phone down on the table and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

He’d basically raised Thomas for the last few years. Between that and working two jobs, he’d been too busy to make friends or relax. Now, Thomas didn’t need him. That was bittersweet in and of itself, but it also meant that Patton had time to himself, and no one to share it with. After spending so many years worried about himself and his brother, Patton wasn’t even sure he knew how to make friends anymore. He tried, sure, but whenever he tried to greet someone he ended up tongue-tied and anxious.

Now that Thomas was all grown up, Patton was alone.

He shot off a quick text to Thomas, just a brief “Good luck!!!” with a string of heart emojis that looked far more cheerful that Patton felt. It’d probably be a few hours, or maybe all day before Thomas texted back. He was busy with college. He had a bright future. It wasn’t fair to hold him back.

Patton shook his head as if he could shake the bad thoughts right out. Thomas wasn’t the only one who was going to have an exciting new future. He put his phone away and stood up, stepping back into the kitchen proper.

He grabbed the box of matches he’d left out on the counter, kneeling down and striking a match. Slowly, he lit each of the colorful scented candles. They were all bright, and a few had cute patterns like flowers or puppy faces colored into the wax. The probably weren’t the right kind of candles for demon summoning, but they sure did smell nice. Once he’d lit the thirteenth and final candle, Patton blew out the match. He tossed it in the sink and washed the tiny smudges of ash that had fallen on his fingers.

Next, he picked up the library book in his left hand, trying to orient himself at the bottom of the circle, just outside the chalk and candles. Patton checked the instructions again. “Oh! A glass bowl, I almost forgot.”

He opened his cupboards and grabbed a tupperware bowl. It was transparent, so it was probably close enough, right? Figuring it’d do well enough, Patton leaned over to set it inside the chalk summoning circle, roughly in the middle.

Patton glanced at the library book again. “Okay, that’s pretty much everything! Looks close enough,” he said, feeling rather satisfied. Now the less fun part. He lifted his right hand to his mouth, biting down on the tip of his thumb. He flinched, but he tightened his grip until his skin just barely broke. He’d though this would be less scary than a knife, but maybe that wouldn’t have hurt as much. He leaned over, shaking his thumb until a few drops of blood fell from the tiny cut, into the tupperware bowl.

While he started reading the chant written in the book, he fumbled to wrap a spongebob bandaid around his thumb. “Okay… um, Bestias inferni, maledictus erit nomen tuum,” he read aloud. Suddenly, the kitchen lights flickered, then went out. Only the candles lit the room. A power outage?

By the candlelight, he could still make out the pages of the library book well enough to read. “Cadit regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in terris inferos.” The ground beneath Patton’s feet seemed to shake. The flames of the candles burned unnaturally bright, the color of their glow shifting from a fiery red to an unnatural, sickly yellow. Patton tried to keep his footing, tightening his grip on the book.

Patton swallowed the bile in his throat. “D–da hodie in servum vilem!” He said, his voice raising to a shout. The lines of chalk began to glow, shining with a golden light that pooled on the ground like a puddle of spilled water. As if a window had been thrown open, wind whipped through the tiny kitchen apartment.

“Et peccatis vestris daturum nobis, ut nos accipere debitum tuum,” Patton stammered, trying to rush through the last few lines. “Referte ad me, et libera me ad malum tentationis in unum.” The golden light burst outward, blindingly bright, so powerful Patton’s eyes burned even when he squeezed them shut. “Quia tuum est regnum et potestas et gloria in saecula… saeculorum!”

There was a burst of force, knocking the library book from Patton’s hands and knocking him to the ground. The intense light began to fade, and Patton sat up, rubbing his head with a whimper. “Ow…” His eyes slowly began to adjust, taking in his dim kitchen, the candles still faintly glowing. Had it not worked? But as his eyes finally cleared up, he could see a tall figure standing in the circle, right behind the tupperware bowl.

The figure was a tall, beautiful man, dressed in all black except for the simple yellow dress shirt beneath his cloak and the matching yellow band around his bowler hat. A pair of curled black horns sat on either side of his head just below the hat, framing his pale face. One cheek was marred in golden scales that shimmered in the candlelight. The man glanced about the kitchen with an unreadable poker face, any expressions hidden, but the sense of power and confidence utterly overwhelming.

“You,” the man said, looking down at Patton with a cold appraising stare. “Are you the mortal who summoned me to this place?” he asked, a faint hiss in his tone.

Patton quickly got to his feet, wiping his hands off on his hands. “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to fall over! Yep, I’m Patton!” he said, trying to hide his mix of awe and terror. He hurried over to the cooling rack and got down the cake, slicing it into even portions. He set a hefty slice on a plate and grabbed a fork, putting them in the demon’s hands. “Eat as much as you like! It’s too much cake for two people anyway,” he encouraged, grabbing a slice for himself too.”

The demon opened his mouth to speak, but then the electric kettle began to beep, so Patton rushed over there. He poured the kettle into the two mugs he’d set out, looking over his shoulder at the demon. “Do you want sugar and cream in your coffee?” he asked, pouring a generous helping of sugar in his own mug.

The demon narrowed his eyes. “Why did you summon me here?” he said, taking a step towards Patton. “You do know what I am, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Patton said, setting down his mug. “But it seems rude to get right into that sort of thing. I thought we could have introductions and small talk over coffee! But if coffee isn’t your cup of tea—“

“No, give it here. No sugar,” the demon said quickly. Patton handed over the mug, then started blowing on his own coffee to cool it down. The demon didn’t wait, emptying the steaming hot mug in a few quick gulps. “Let’s get to business, mortal. I’m rather pressed for time.”

Patton grinned. “Pressed for time? Well don’t be bitter, it’d be better latte than never!”

The demon raised an eyebrow, a sly smile crossing his features. “Spill the beans. If you want my help, you must first ask for it.”

Patton set his mug down, hurrying over to pick up his library book. A few of the edges were burnt and crispy, but the cover and pages were in tact. Still, that would probably be a fine. He quickly opened the book back up to the page on demonic contracts. “Okay! So, it says when making a contract with a demon, you have to start by exchanging names! We can use them to call on each other so neither of us can just run out on the deal. I already told you I’m Patton. What can I call you?” he asked brightly.

The demon paused for a moment, then smirked. “You may call me Deceit,” he said.

“Is that your name?” Patton said curiously. “I thought demons had big fancy biblical names and stuff. Are you really called Deceit?”

“It is my professional title. It will allow you to call upon me, while still affording me a level of… privacy,” the demon said, folding his arms. “Does that suffice?”

Patton shrugged. “I mean, if it still works the same way, I can call you that! Or Dee, oh, that’d be cute! Can I call you Dee?” he asked brightly.

Deceit tilted his head to the side, as if considering Patton carefully. “You know, most people willing to summon servants of hell aren’t so cheerful and warm.” Amusement shone in his eyes. “So what sort of nasty secrets are you hiding?”

Patton frowned, not sure if he should be hurt of not by the question. “I don’t have evil secrets. I like to be honest with people! Besides, you didn’t answer my question,” he argued.

Deceit narrowed his eyes, his bemusement turning irritated. “No. I am not a little animal to be given a silly nickname. I will not be called ‘Dee.’”

“Awww,” Patton said, a bit disappointed. Well, maybe he could come up with a nickname Deceit would like? “Okay, well, the book says after names are traded, I should ask you to make an offer! So uh… make an offer please!”

The demon’s self-satisfied smirk returned, and he bent over so he and Patton could be eye-to-eye. “I can give you anything you desire. I can make you the most beautiful, most famous man in the world. You could be disgustingly wealthy, unspeakably powerful. I can give the reigns to any government of any nation, I can give you the power to fell armies, and I can give you enough gold to buy your own castle. Anything you wish, I can speak into existence. I can make you… a god.”

“No thanks! I don’t need that stuff,” Patton said, offering Deceit a friendly smile. “Okay, so, it says that the most common payments for demons are your soul, or the soul of your firstborn kid! I don’t think it’d be fair to sell somebody else’s soul, and I’m gay anyway, so the firstborn thing is off the table. So, my soul then?”

Deceit cocked his head to the side, eyeing Patton with fascination. “Awfully cavalier with giving up your soul. For most deals, that’s a bit of a… hard sell.”

Patton waved his hand dismissively. “If that’s the price you want, then I can work with it. It’d be worth it.” He tucked the book under his arm, grabbing his mug and slice of cake. “Do you want to continue this in my living room? It’s small, but we can sit on the couch instead of standing around?”

“Oh I would absolutely love too,” Deceit said. “Let me just follow you over there.”

“Okay!” Patton said brightly. He turned and walking into the living room, setting his mug and cake on the coffee table. He waited for a second, but Deceit didn’t follow. Patton frowned, poking his head back into the kitchen. “Hey, didn’t you say you were coming?”

Deceit, still standing within the circle of dirt, seemed unimpressed. “I was speaking sarcastically,” he said, motioning to the floor. “I can’t leave this circle until the deal is completed. Did your little book not mention that crucial detail?”

Patton’s cheeks burned pink. “Well, it probably did, but I just kinda skimmed the important bits! To be honest I didn’t expect to get this far anyway. I don’t really know anyone with demon summoning experience!”

Deceit glanced at the plate of cake in his hand, then at cartoon stickers on the fridge, then back at Patton himself. “Really?” he drawled “I never would have guessed, you do seem like such an expert on the matter.”

Patton pouted, crossing his arms. “Well you’ve probably never summoned a demon either mister pointy horns! Unless, uh, maybe that’s how demon’s talk to each other? Maybe. That’s not the point!” He paused, unsure of what exactly the point was. Maybe he really should have planned out this discussion a bit more than just summoning a demon and giving him cake and coffee.

“Now, I do love spending all day in urban nowhere, but I have a dentist’s appointment at five,” Deceit drawled, using his fork to cut his cake slice into bite-sized pieces. “You don’t want beauty, power, fame and wealth. Generally those are the ones mortals come to my sort for,” he said. “Is it immortality? It’s immortality isn’t it. We don’t do that anymore, Hell-wide policy. When their souls get collected their body still doesn’t die and honestly? It’s icky.”

“It’s not immortality!” Patton insisted. “Actually it’s… a people problem.”

Deceit nodded sagely, stabbing his fork into a bite of cake. “Ahhh, I see what you’re getting at. You want me to kill someone. Or make them fall in love with you. Or both, the night’s still young.”

“No!” Patton shouted, flustered at even the thought of getting someone killed. “That’d be awful, I’d never do that. I don’t want you hurting people or anything. I just… I want friends.”

Deceit’s eyebrows drew together, deep in thought. “Political friends?” he asked.

Patton shook his head. “No! Not like, big important political friends, or magic friends or anything. I already said I don’t care about power. I just want people who like me! People I can watch movies with and hang out with.”

Deceit began pacing the edge of the rather small summoning circle. “I could brainwash this entire city into wanting to be your closest friend,” he said.

Patton crossed his arms. “No brainwashing! I want real friends, the real way!”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Deceit said, rubbing his eyes. “Just go talk to other humans. Why in all the Hells would you summon a demon to help you make friends? What about my job description made you think I’d be any help?”

Patton puffed out his cheeks. “Well, you are kinda suave and cool! I dunno if it’s a demon thing or just you, but you could teach me that! Or just help me stay calm, so I don’t get nervous!”

“You are literally giving a demon your soul,” Deceit snapped. “At the end of the deal, your soul belongs to me. You’re going to be trapped in the underworld for eternity. And you’re agreeing to that so you can ‘hang out’ with some people?”

A moment of silent passed. Patton cleared his throat. “Okay well maybe it’s not the best way but I already tried a bunch of other stuff and this was the last thing I came up with.”

Deceit rolled his eyes, removing the silken glove from his right hand. “Fine. I don’t know why I’m trying to talk you out of it anyway. This is all the better for me. I help you find friends, and once you’ve had, say, five months being rather close, I claim your soul. Are you happy with that?”

Patton shrugged, offering his own freckly hand. “Sure! So long as they like me and I like them!” he said.

Unlike Patton, Deceit did, for a moment, hesitate. But then they joined hands and the pact was sealed. Patton winced, his palm burning beneath Deceit’s touch. When he pulled away, there was a faint white burn on his hand, a sigil in the shape of a two-headed snake.

“Now, I trust you did read the entirety of that book, including what happens after the pact is formed?” Deceit said, though his tone shared none of the certainty of his words.

Patton’s face burned with embarrassment. “Uh. You hang around and help me?” he said unhelpfully.

Deceit sighed, pulling the glove back over his hand. “More or less. If I am further that thirty feet away from you, I will be sent back to the underworld until you call on me again. You call on me by pressing my sigil and saying my name,” he said, motioning to the burn on Patton’s hand. “Whilst in public I can take a less… conspicuous form, in order to aid you without drawing unwanted attention. I cannot directly harm you or any other human while under this pact… though there’s nothing keeping me from more clever means of causing trouble.”

“Please don’t,” Patton said awkwardly.

Deceit flickered his long snake-like tongue at Patton, pouting. “Oh boo, don’t be a buzzkill. You’re the one who summoned a demon.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

But Patton wasn’t entirely clueless. He knew that trading his life for a few friends was a heavy price. He knew it was probably stupid, he knew Thomas would be so upset if he found out. He knew.

He had his reasons.

Patton was about to ask a few more questions about their new arrangements when a small buzz went off on his phone. He glanced at it, and his heart stuttered.

“Oh shoot! I didn’t realize it was Saturday!” he said, scrambling to throw plastic wrap over the cake and shove the demon-summoning book under his arm. “I’m so sorry!”

Deceit raised an eyebrow, watching Patton rush around the kitchen. “What exactly has you so worked up?”

“I forgot this book’s overdue at the library!” Patton said, grabbing his shoes and awkwardly trying to wiggle them on with his hands full. “I keep turning stuff in late, I don’t want the librarians to be mad at me!” “Is it really that time-sensitive?” Deceit said. “You can’t wait an hour?”

Patton shook his head. “If I wait I’ll forget, I always do! I’m so sorry, you can come with me! We can start on the whole friends thing!” Once both shoes were on, he sprinted to the apartment door. He glanced back, but Deceit wasn’t following. Was his sneaky form completely invisible?

“Come back here and let me out of the goddamn summoning circle, you unprofessional amateur!”

Oops.

Patton sprinted back to the kitchen, blowing out a few candles and kicking some of the salt circle aside. “Okay come on, there’s no time to lose!” he said, and immediately took off to the door again.

“It’s an overdue book, truly, the highest priority,” Deceit said, putting a hand over the door before Patton could unlock it. “Don’t go out yet. If I am going to accompany you, we can’t just walk out with me looking like… this,” he said, gesturing to his own face. “Hold out your hand.”

Patton paused, then held out his free hand, palm facing up. He shot Deceit a quizzical look, not entirely sure how this helped.

The demon’s bones began to shift beneath his skin, his eyes flashing and his form changed. It was oddly mesmerizing, but Patton decided it was also kind of gross to watch. And then—

Plop! A yellow corn snake appeared where Deceit had been, and dropped into Patton’s open hand.

Patton squealed in delight, his library rush briefly forgotten. “Oh my goodness! You’re so cute!” he cooed, gently stroking the tiny snake’s head with his finger. “Look at your little snake snoot!”

He could hear Deceit’s voice, though it sounded faint and muffled, like it was coming from inside his own skull. “Do continue patronizing me, certainly being non-venomous means I would never bite,” the demon grumbled. The little corn snake form of Deceit slowly slithered up his arm, settling in a pocket in the cardigan around his shoulders. “In here, I will be unseen. No one will know you are not alone.”

Not alone. The thought gave Patton a moment of pause, his usual smile gone for a brief moment. He shook his head, and faked a smile—fake it ’til you feel it. “C’mon Dee, let’s go make some friends.”

[release-the-sheep]

Thanks to @curriebelle for the prompt, "masquerade ball". I did a bit of research for historical accuracy and proper Venetian-ness, but I make no promises. Also, there's a bit of Italian throughout this that I didn't bother to footnote, so you may want to have google translate open, or you could guess, you'll probably be fine, it's not very involved.

Venice, 1724

Ah, there he is.

A bit on the nose, perhaps, the devilish red Volto-style mask, complete with sculpted horns, but then Crowley has never been all that subtle. It's been said that Carnevale is where people show their deepest, truest selves, hearts on sleeves and all the rest of it. A shame, Aziraphale thinks, that humans need the security of a mask to hide behind before they'll let themselves be truly free. A shame, but entirely understandable to Aziraphale. Humanity is often cowardly when it comes to profound emotion, and he can certainly relate.

Which is why it has been nigh on a half hour since he showed his invitation at the door - addressed only to Il Putto in a quirk of charming and enticing secretiveness - and he has yet to take a single step forward since noticing Il Diavolo. Well, in all honesty, "noticing" was probably not the best word for it. He had been fairly struck by the sight of Crowley in his crisp red velvet coat with its black brocade and gleaming gold buttons, vest and breeches in sleek black silk, a jaunty but elegant black tricorne hat adorned with a plump red feather perched on his head, and the look finished with frankly outrageous varnished red shoes with massive gilded buckles. The vision had rooted Aziraphale to the spot. Ever the flash bastard, was his... counterpart. A waiter had soon come by with a tray of drinks, to which Aziraphale had almost unknowingly helped himself, and he had been standing there ever since, sipping from it and watching Crowley prance and twirl from dance partner to dance partner, temptation to temptation. The latest song ends and the dashing demon bows low to his latest conquest, snapping up at the waist just as the musicians lift their bows from their instruments in unison, before removing himself to the edge of the dancefloor and disappearing among the crowd of revellers.

Aziraphale's corporeal feet suddenly remember how to move and begin to carry him through the crowd, not toward Crowley, heavens no, but to somewhere he can hope to catch another glimpse of that impressive red mask, the bob of a scarlet feather. It seems the feet in question had grown restless during his prolonged motionlessness, and they pull him along rather more zealously than the rest of his body can handle. It is only a matter of a few steps before he tumbles headlong into the arms of a fellow partygoer, spilling his white wine and dignity all over the stranger. "Oh dear, terribly sorry- or ah, scusa..." He straightens and brushes himself off, then nearly jumps at the fearsome sight of the Medico della Peste before him. He manages to turn the fright into a respectable chuckle, though, remembering that certain individuals have in recent years taken to making a costume of the plague doctor's dark robes and odd, beaked mask. He had thought it rather tasteless initially, but confronted with one now, close-up, he has to confess that it is rather impressive; dark folds of heavy cloth envelop the man like a panel of thick, black, night sky, a cowl fully covering the head and neck, the odd flat hat and characteristic white beak painting up a singular silhouette. "Ottimo costume, signore," he says, remembering his Italian. A terse nod from the other, and silence. "Ah, where are my manners, I've spilt your drink, too. Cameriere!"

~~

Crowley is stunned.

He had come here off-duty, with no intention of inciting, aiding, or abetting any sort of sin, for a few reasons. Firstly, humans were rather good at doing all that themselves without him; doubly so with alcohol present, triply or more from behind the anonymity of masks. Secondly, while temptation could be fun, it had been a long year of wiling and he was uncharacteristically tired. Wiled-out. Wild-through. Wiled-thin (and if there was more to it than that, if it had been an awfully long time since two adversaries met on a misty battlefield and talked about war and peace and the fomenting thereof, and if he was starting to feel the weight of those years empty of a particular bright smile and endearingly questioning eyes, well he certainly wasn't going to admit it).

The third reason was that it was Carnevale, da- bless it, and if no one else had to work for these few merry weeks, then he certainly wasn't going to. That was just basic sloth, that. Straight out of Sin 101. Besides, Crowley rather enjoys simply watching people, and there are many to watch here in this city, at this time of year. He likes posting up in the corner of a crowded room and letting the full spectacle of human virtue and vice and everything in between unfold before him, as dramatically or discreetly as it pleases. There has always been something fascinating about humans, Crowley thinks. They are clever things. Ruthless and tender, full of contrasts. They never fail to put on an entertaining show, and now they are even dressed as performers.

This is why he had pulled the great black cloak on, donned the pointed mask, miracled up a party invitation for Il Dottore Peste and set up camp here in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, where he can see widely without needing to be seen - though he is utterly unrecognizable in the doctor's guise. He likes this costume. It amuses him, somewhat morbidly. Humans had started to wear it to remind themselves that life was short, a message which fit seamlessly into the spirit of Carnevale. Crowley rather enjoys the irony of an eternal being walking around dressed in memento mori. Besides, it is warm. He is cold-blooded, and it is impossible to escape the way wind comes up off the water and snakes its way into your bones here, in this city of waterways. It is December for Hell's sake, he isn't about to go skipping about without a sturdy outer layer on.

So he had prepared, in a manner of speaking. But not for this. He had not prepared for Aziraphale to be there, let alone for the blasted angel to trip and fall literally into his arms like some tragicomedic heroine. And yet there he was, all wrapped up in soft pinks and blues, and a generous helping of cloud-white in the form of a flowing cravat and dainty tricorne. A white-feathered Colombina half-mask, too, which left his round little apple-red cheeks and soft-lipped pink mouth unhidden. Absolutely bloody cherubic.

Crowley had frozen in place at the sound of the familiar mortified voice, the scrambled apology threaded through two languages and pulled taut by fretting hands. Crowley had just had the time to blink a couple of times and ensure that he wasn't hallucinating when Aziraphale swept back around to face him again, brandishing two fresh glasses of wine, one of which he places in Crowley's gloved hand.

"There you are my dear fellow! Ancora scusa."

And with that he's gone, tottering off between the fine suits and frilly dresses, neck craned toward the dancefloor. Crowley's mouth opens behind the plague mask, then shuts. He didn't know it was me. He slumps back into the plush upholstery of the seat he's claimed, sprawls out over it as is his custom. Of course Aziraphale didn't recognize him like this. What would there be to recognize? His face? Mask. His hair? Cowl. The shape of his body? Cloak. His voice? He hadn't breathed a word. Crowley grits his teeth and scrunches his face up in a frightful expression of dissatisfaction, which no one sees. This is just as well, because it is entirely inwardly directed. He lets his gaze drift to the dancefloor, where bodies are beginning to gather once again, following the orchestra's quick break. A sea of masks filling up once more, white Bauta and black Moretta, the likenesses of Zanni, Arlecchino, Pantalone, and the rest of the cast of the Comedia dell'arte, old gossips and military captains and monsters and animals and - oh.

There, nearing the very centre of the dancefloor, is a dandy dressed in a vibrant red coat, with a blood-red devil mask to match. He is twirling and peacocking about in front of a row of ladies, an absolutely ridiculous puff of a plume lazily following his movements. What a prick, thinks Crowley bitterly. His eyes trace a line to the other side of the room where a cloud-white hat is poking up eagerly, angled directly toward the detestable man in red. Fuck. Now that will not do.

~~

Aziraphale has finally managed to push to the front of the crowd and get a clear few of the dancefloor. His eyes scan it for a moment before once more alighting on the vivid red shape of Il Diavolo. He jostles slightly, adjusting his position for prime Crowley-viewing, and prepares to drink his fill of the way the demon moves, the way the light plays on his flamboyant clothes. He finds himself wondering how long Crowley had been based in Venice; he seems to have picked up certain Italian idiosyncrasies since they last spoke, little locally inspired changes to his manner, new flutters of his hands. Aziraphale really has been away too long. He sips his wine and watches the show, keeping his hat low as if that would have any effect on Crowley's ability to recognize him should he happen to glance Aziraphale's way. There doesn't seem to be much of a chance of that happening anyway, frankly. Il Diavolo seems determined to dance the night away, and as such is quite distracted with his apparently endless parade of partners. At that thought, Aziraphale notices a suspiciously orderly row of people on the edge of the dancefloor behind Il Diavolo, and is that- it is! He's got them queuing up!

Demonic stamina, he marvels, surreptitiously shaking his head. What if he were to- no, no, certainly not. But after all... why not? It wouldn't be all that difficult to make his way around to the other side of the dancefloor, to join the queue. He'd continue to have a good view and in a while, he could take his own turn dancing with the demon. He wasn't usually one for dancing, but he hadn't known Crowley to be particularly either, and yet there he goes, nimble feet somehow managing not to tangle with those of the handsome Capitano now on his arm. Maybe it isn't so hard, he thinks. What does he have to lose?

He stifles a laugh. He has a great deal to lose. He has... missed Crowley, in a way, and he cannot allow their reunion to be marred by some clumsy, literal misstep. No, it would be foolish. Definitely foolish. He is happy to watch.

Il Diavolo's dance takes him across the dancefloor again, and again Aziraphale finds himself twisting his neck uncomfortably to see him clearly. He starts to shift back again the way he came, toward the silent plague doctor chap in his darkened corner.

~~

Crowley is propulsed out of his seat by the sudden pang of jealousy. And then, as soon as it came, the heat is gone.

What exactly would he have done, he asks himself as he settles yet again in his corner, body melting back against a cushion. Stormed over there and shouted at Aziraphale through the mask, something about "not him, me!", or pulled off his getup in the middle of the party to reveal himself, going against every unwritten code of Carnevale and drawing a mountain of unnecessary attention to the two of them, probably getting them both booted into a canal for the imposition? And even without considering the practical aspects of delivering such a message, what was the point of the message itself? Minutes ago he would have been perfectly content (well not quite, but never mind that) for the entire evening to pass without him seeing head nor tail of Aziraphale, and now here he is, scrambling to make himself known to the angel. What sense does that make?

No, he shall stay here, and let Aziraphale go on thinking whatever he thinks. He considers taking a drink from the glass in his hand, then remembers the mask. Just an accessory, then, this wine. Let Aziraphale have this, he thinks, he's clearly enjoying himself, watching the overstuffed fop put on his show.

It is an easy enough mistake to make, Crowley supposes. He is a bit hurt that Aziraphale could mistake him for such a- pompous, puffed up- arrogant- son of a- ahem. The point is, as much as it may hurt his demonic pride to admit, there could be said to be certain - minor, superficial, and only in a certain light - similarities between himself and the fellow in the red. Crowley knows he can scarcely be counted among the humble, that his style could certainly be described as showy, if not typically colourful, and he can even concede that there is something of his usual temptations in the way the man takes each new partner by the hand, as though he is about to show them a brand new world. But it's exaggerated and crass, almost a caricature of his own way of doing things, and he can't help but feel somewhat miffed in the face of Aziraphale's obsession with the bloke, obvious even from a room away. Or it was- at least, he was-

"You've got a good view of Il Diavolo from here, haven't you old chap? Ah, I mean, come si dice- oh bugger it all, it isn't as though you were much of a conversationalist earlier. I hope you'll excuse me, but the drink is rather impeding my ability to make myself understood in your language, and by no means do I wish to sober up at this time."

Aziraphale drops down into the seat next to Crowley, folding his hands in his lap as he turns his head back toward the blur of red controlling the dancefloor. Crowley forces himself to recover quickly from the minor shock of the angel appearing so suddenly again at his side.

"I know him," Aziraphale says, pointing, a proud little smile on his face. "I've worked with him before. He's a colleague."

Crowley tilts his head in what he hopes looks like an interested gesture.

Il Putto takes the encouragement. "Lovely fellow, really. A bit... stubborn, at times, but quite pleasant, deep down." Aziraphale looks to the dancefloor with wistful watery-blue eyes. "I quite like him."

Behind the safety of the mask, Crowley gulps. Is that so, then? He opens a gloved palm in a curious gesture. Go on.

Aziraphale's cherub cheeks darken further, and he chuckles. "Yes, I rather enjoy his company. It has been some time since we last spoke, and I was happier to see him than I had expected I would be, if you can believe it." At that he flexes one of his doughy hands, toys with a ruffle on his sleeve. "Do you know, I was considering going to line up for a dance with him? That must seem to you an odd thing to do, dancing with a work colleague at a masked ball. I'm not even much of a dancer really. Don't know where the idea came from." His eyes remain fixed ahead for a moment, and then steal sideways, to Crowley, briefly. For a moment Crowley is afraid the gig is up, that Aziraphale has worked it out and that he's going to have some uncomfortable explaining to do. But then he sees something in the heaven-blue eyes, a sort of question, a need for... is it assurance? Permission?

He drops his head to one side, letting the beak of his mask point toward the man in red, still dancing up a storm. Off you go, then.

Aziraphale lights up. "Do you really think so? It's not... silly? Foolish? You don't think he'll laugh?"

Don't push it, Angel, he thinks, but points his beak more sharply toward the dancefloor.

"No, you're right. You're absolutely right. It's Carnevale, after all, no inhibitions, all that business. Thank you my dear fellow!"

Aziraphale bounces off the seat and disappears back into the crowd in a cloud of pink and blue frills and ribbons. As soon as he is gone, Crowley drops his masked face into one gloved hand.

~~

Aziraphale is fairly buzzing with excitement. Here he is, at the edge of the dancefloor, next in line. And there is Crowley, twirling a young woman in a cat mask with his long, strong fingers, scarlet coat swishing behind him. At last, the furiously spinning pair approach the edge of the dancefloor as the music swells to its climax. He dips her on the final, sustained note, then draws her back up, kisses her hand, straightens his cravat and strides toward his next partner.

Which is Aziraphale. Il Putto steps forward, holds out a hand. "Posso avere questa danza?" he asks, and it comes out more sheepish than he intended by half.

"Beninteso," comes the reply and it's... wrong. This warm, rolling bass is not Crowley's. The hand reaching forward to take his is not Crowley's either. The curl of black hair slipping out around one ear and contrasting against the red of the mask is certainly not Crowley's.

Aziraphale stumbles back. "S-sor- ah, scusa," he manages, pulling away from the dancefloor and the stranger and back into the far more comforting press of bodies surrounding it.

Dazed, he makes his way back to where he was last. The plague doctor is still there, holding the same wineglass he was earlier. He welcomes Aziraphale back with a half-nod. For someone whose language Aziraphale hasn't been speaking this entire time, the fellow certainly does a good of job of seeming like he understands. Pretending, perhaps.

"It wasn't him," says Aziraphale quietly, mostly to himself. The plague doctor puts a comforting hand on his back and- Aziraphale tenses. Behind his eyes flash the brown dirt of Mesopotamia, the sands of Judah, the white tiles of Rome, the misty hills of England. A feeling of calm inspired by the soothing drag of black and red scales over soft skin. That touch... it couldn't be. His nerves calm, sensation returns to his muscles. He turns to face his adversary, his counterpart, his... friend.

There is no one there.

[nihilnovisubsole]

My fashion queen, incredibly important question: How would one go about figuring out fashion *style* for characters? I've noticed your OCs always have a Look(TM), and I've gathered from your blog (and fics) that you've got an eye for aestethics - please, could you give me advice at least where to *start*. I'm completely unaware of fashion and, frankly, completely overwhelmed at the prospect of just starting..

Ah! Previous Anon again - forgot to add a more specific question about fashion (I’m squeezing in 2 quesiton in one xD). Do you have fashion advice for sleek/distant female character’s clothing that doesn’t hinge on formal dresses? (as is discernable, I have literally NO idea what a Grown Ass, Self Respecting Woman would wear)

wow. that’s high praise. when i got this yesterday morning, i knew i wanted to give it the answer it deserved. this is over 1500 words long, so apologies to anyone on mobile, but i wasn’t letting go until i’d really sunk my teeth into it.

unfortunately, since you’re anon, i don’t know enough about your character to suggest anything specific. instead, i want to take a step back and see if we can solve the root of the problem - “where do i start?”

when i was a teenager, an english teacher told me this: “the biggest constraint in writing is no constraint at all.” when you have the whole spectrum of something - in this case, clothes - to pick from, it is overwhelming. the natural human instinct is to freeze up. so while it may sound strange, if you’re just starting out, you might feel better if you have some constraints to work within.

with that in mind, you can treat finding a ‘signature look’ for your character like solving a murder mystery. you eliminate all the suspects that don’t fit until you know enough to narrow it down to the one that does. that’s going to involve something else you’ll recognize from murder mysteries: you’re going to have to interrogate the character. open them up and get to know them - their background, their likes and dislikes, their quirks, the role they play in the world around them. every answer will give you clues and weed other things out, and eventually, you’ll get a box small enough that you feel comfortable working in it.

now, i love fashion, and i love using clothes to send messages about a character’s personality. so as someone who’s had that interest for my whole life, i work from the other end. the constraints happen, in large part, without me thinking about them. i tend to zoom right to a certain aesthetic or item of clothing, say, “okay, what outfit can i build with this,” and go from there. but since you’ve said you’re “unaware” of fashion and it’s intimidating to you, i’ll try to ease you in through a different route and see whether that helps.

so, if we’re going to pick your character apart, let’s think about some practical questions first:

what setting does your character live in?

if you’ve narrowed your setting down to a historical decade, you’ll find most of the style questions already - firmly! - answered for you. for example, a victorian woman would, by default, wear skirts. if the character is contemporary, you’ve got a lot more wiggle room. if you want to mess with historical fashion rules for symbolic or story purposes, awesome, but i think that’s probably more advanced than you’re looking for right now.

if the setting is fantasy or sci-fi, what’s its dominant aesthetic? is it cyberpunk? sleek ~apple~ sci-fi? or is it more like star wars? is it medieval fantasy? woodsy faerie fantasy? JRPG-style fantasy? you get the idea.

what does your character do?

speaks for itself. what’s their job?

what is your character like, just in general?

this is where everything you know about their personality goes. if they’re a fussy courtier who’s worried about their reputation and appearance, they’re probably not going to be comfortable in plain, casual clothes.

what can your character afford to wear?

again, speaks for itself. do they buy designer brands? are they trying their best with what they have? or are they super strapped for cash and just have to get the job done?

does their social scene have an easily-identifiable aesthetic that you could work with?

does your character wear urban/street fashion or preppy rich-kid clothes? are they part of a subculture that dresses in a certain way, like teddy boys? do they have the desire or freedom to go all-in with that style, or do they have to play it down, like being corporate goth?

do they need to wear something they could travel, do hard work, or fight in?

goes with the job question above. do they need some kind of outerwear or accessory where they can hide weapons? do they always need to be ready, or is it situational?

basically, where does the character’s aesthetic need to sit on a chart of form vs. function?

what do other characters who are similar to your character wear?

look at your favorite movies, games, and TV shows and see what professional designers are doing with characters like yours. what colors and cuts are they using? what other elements do they choose? do you like them? if you don’t like them, what would you change? sometimes you can learn more from what you hate than what you love.

hopefully, you’ve already culled a huge swath of fashion ideas that you Know You’re Not Going To Do. you may still not know what you do want to do, either! that’s fine. let’s move onto some more artsy questions:

are there any colors your character would prefer or avoid?

it sounds silly. it’s not. a limited color palette will go a long way toward making a character’s outfits look unified and purposeful. obviously, in real life, most people don’t restrict themselves as much as fictional characters do. but if you were a costume designer, you’d want to have some guideposts to work with.

are there any motifs you associate with your character?

animals, elements, religious or cultural symbols, plants - you can sneak all these into their clothes’ details. maybe their dress has beading in the shape of a peacock, or rose earrings, or icy sparkles, or a bear pelt for a cloak.

have fun with meanings! moon motifs for mysteriousness, poisonous flowers, etc. let your inner lit major out.

do you want your character to have a certain silhouette?

this may seem odd if you’re just going to be writing your character and not drawing them, but think about it anyway. do you want to emphasize that your character is tall? is everything they wear skintight? do they have a large, unique hat?

a great example of this is maleficent. not only does she have a horn-shaped headdress, her huge, flowing robe tells us there’s a much bigger power in her than her body would suggest.

is there a certain ethos you want their clothes to project? what, in their world, would do that? what in our world would do that?

let’s say you want your character to look very powerful, to the point where people would find their looks alone intimidating. should they wear sharp, simple, severe clothes, maybe in dark colors? or should they wear very embellished clothes, like royalty? what are your setting’s ideas about beauty? modesty? does your character play by the rules, or do you want them to stand out?

what colors, shapes, and styles appeal to you personally?

for all the time i’ve spent talking about restrictions and guidelines, it’s important not to lose the fun of it, either. use your favorite color! give them clothes you’d want to wear in real life! character style is a playground where you can let wish fulfillment run wild.

at any time, feel free to turn to google or wikipedia if you’re not sure how to answer one of these questions. if you see an interesting idea, pick it up and follow it - what you’re doing here is training your eye, and that’s how you’ll learn. that said, if you’re already intimidated, i wouldn’t dive too deep into couture/aesthetic blogs until i had a more solid grip on how i wanted the character to look. it comes back to what i said earlier - there is such a thing as too much to choose from, especially when you’re not sure what you should be looking for yet.

there’s one other thing i want to mention that can help bring a character’s wardrobe together: repetition. if you’re planning several outfits for a character instead of just one, echo some of the motifs, shapes, or colors from one to the next. they don’t all have to be identical takes on the same thing, but if they have certain traits in common, they’ll feel less like separate outfits and more like a matched set. they could all be in members of the same color family or have similar patterns on them. maybe your character has a certain accessory that they wear with everything. you get the idea.

while i may not be able to plan your character’s wardrobe outright, i hope this makes the whole process seem more straightforward. or that it gives you some ideas to work with, or any other kind of help you might take away from it. this post is getting unfathomably long, so i’ll wrap it up, but i’d be happy to put any of my own characters through a “question test” like this one if you’d like to see how it works in practice.

finally, if you can find an interview with an artist or costume designer who worked on something you like, those things are worth their weight in gold. i read an interview with colleen atwood when i was in middle school, and it revolutionized the way i thought about fashion and storytelling. and when i say “revolutionized,” i mean “i owe basically everything i just told you to that article.” dig into them and see how they think and talk about their art! they’re more qualified to teach you than i ever will be.

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Sunday 8 September 1991 - by Alinda

Sunday 8 September 1991

Dear mom and dad,

I’ve survived my first week and weekend at Hogwarts. After that first Monday, I made sure I woke up every morning before my classmates to shower and have breakfast in peace. And then I would hide out in an alcove until it was time to go to class. But it was hard to avoid Malfoy and Nott during class. On Tuesday Malfoy made sure he was sitting next to me during Charms and History of Magic. In Charms, he kept pushing my feather that we are using to learn the levitation charm off my table. And during History of Magic, he was shoving his elbow against me all the time, so it was hard to take notes.

They left me alone during Herbology since Ron had pulled me to their side of the greenhouse. He said he wished I was in Gryffindor with him. But we didn’t have a lot of time to catch up, because professor Sprout gave a lecture about Herbology safety. After class, I walked with the Gryffindor’s to our last lesson of the day, Transfiguration. This is taught by Professor McGonagall. She’s a strict and clever teacher. This class I was able to sit down next to Zabini. Like I told you before, he’s the only Slytherin boy that doesn’t bully me. We had to take a lot of notes and at the end of class, we tried to turn a match into a needle. Only the smart Gryffindor girl had made any progress. Her match was silver and pointy.

After class, I went to do my homework in the library. The Gryffindor girl was there as well and we shared a table. She helped me with my potions homework for the next day. Her name is Hermione Granger. She’s muggleborn and a little stuck up. She reads all the extra literature and really likes schoolwork. But at least she was nice to me. I think she also doesn’t have a lot of friends because much of our classmates think she’s a know it all.

Dinner is always hell. I try to stay away from Malfoy and eat by myself. But they always end up next to me and steal my food, our accidentally push over my drinks. So I’m not eating that well since I also stay clear of the great hall during lunch.

In the evenings I hide away in my bed, with the curtains closed. When the other boys come into the dormitory they just say mean things about me, but leave me mostly alone. Zabini once told them to stop making fun of me, but they were mean to him the next day, so he stopped saying anything. Malfoy keeps saying it’s a shame that the great Harry Potter is only a half-blood and that my victory over the dark lord was probably over exaggerated. No way could a small insignificant wizard like I have stopped the greatest wizard of the age.

By Wednesday Malfoy started to call me Scarface all the time. He joked that the lighting scar was the only pretty thing about me. Since I have horrible black hair that looks like a raven landed on my head. And my eyes are so poor that it’s a shame the glasses don’t hide them any better from view.

We started that day with Potions, and professor Snape made me sit next to Malfoy, in the hope I would learn some from a student that was more gifted in the art of Potions than me. He gave a lecture on how to prepare a potion to cure boils. Telling us to study it before our double lesson on Friday, where we would have to make one ourselves. Malfoy didn’t really pay attention to me. I think he really likes Potions and wants to do well in the class.

During our next lesson of Herbology, I tried to partner up with the Gryffindor’s again. But Ron partnered up with a fatty boy from his house, so I had to stick with the boys from my own house. Zabini gave me the silent treatment. And Goyle and Crabbe kept pushing me around until I fell on the ground, making the entire class laugh at me. Only Hermione didn’t laugh. Seeing Ron laugh at me hurt. I thought he was my friend. But maybe he was afraid he would also get the special treatment from Malfoy if he was seen being my friend, like Zabini.

In the afternoon we hat Magical Theory for two hours. And since the only empty spot in the class was next to Hermione when I came in after hiding in the bathroom all of lunch I was saved from getting bullied during this class. We went and did our homework in the library again. I waited till almost eight to go down for dinner and I was happy to see that my classmate had already finished, so I finally had a decent meal. I cried myself to sleep that night. I felt so alone. Mom, I don’t understand why they have to be so mean. Is it just because I didn’t want to shake Malfoy’s hand during the train ride to Hogwarts?

Thursday was okay. We only had three classes, because flying lessons will only start in two weeks. First, we had charms and I partnered with Hermione. She’s really good and made her feather fly. Next, we had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. She’s very strict and I think Malfoy is afraid to pull anything in her class. After lunch, we had Defence against the dark arts and again we didn’t really learn anything. Hermione and I finished our homework quickly in the library and went for a walk around the lake afterwards. She told me about her parents, they are dentists, and about how surprised she was when she got her letter for Hogwarts. She said she was sorry that my parents are dead and asked me where I lived. I told her I lived with my aunt and uncle, but I didn’t tell her they bullied me just as much as Malfoy and Nott. It was a fun afternoon.

On Friday morning Hedwig brought me a letter from Hagrid, asking me if I wanted to come over for tea after my lessons. It was something to look forward to because I first had to survive a double lesson in Potions. And since professor Snape wants me to work with Malfoy its hell. We had to make the potion to cure boils. Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching how we weighed dried nettles and crushed snake fangs. He criticized everyone except Malfoy. He got a lot of compliments about his work. He made it sound like Malfoy did it all by himself and that I didn’t help him at all. And maybe he is a bit right there because Malfoy kept pushing me out of the way, telling me that I will just screw it up. And when Snape was about to tell the class how good Malfoy was stewing his horned slugs the room got filled with clouds of acid green smoke. The fatty boy that was Ron’s new friend had managed to melt his cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the floor. Everyone jumped onto their stools while the other boy moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Snape got angry and told Ron to take Longbottom to the hospital wing. Then he rounded on Hermione who was working behind them and asked her why she didn’t tell Longbottom not to add the quills and took points of Gryffindor.

I went up to the hospital wing during my lunch break and see how Ron’s new friend Longbottom was doing. Ron said Neville was going to be fine. I told him I was going to visit Hagrid and asked him to come along. Ron agreed, so after a double lesson of Transfiguration, we made our way across the grounds to Hagrid’s small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. Hagrid asked how my first week had been. I said it had been fine, but Ron then told Hagrid that Malfoy and his friend had been bullying me all week. Hagrid told me I should try to stand up to them, let them know that I will not be messed with. I nodded, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to stand up to them. Hagrid then changed the subject to Ron’s brother Charlie, like he knew that I didn’t really want to talk about Malfoy and his friends. I didn’t really listen, because I saw a small cutting from the Daily Prophet about the break-in of Gringotts that Ron told me about on the train ride to Hogwarts. The robbery was on the same date as Hagrid and I had been at the bank. And when I asked Hagrid about it he grunted and offered me another rock cake. Which are horrible by the way, but I didn’t want to be impolite so I took one and stuffed it in my pocket. But what was most interesting was that the vault had been emptied earlier that day and that Hagrid had taken something from a vault that day, emptying it. I think Hagrid had collected the package just in time. But where is it now?

And then it was weekend. No classes to distract me and hardly any homework, since I’ve done most of it already during the week with Hermione in the library. I still got up early so I could have breakfast before Malfoy and his friends woke up. Afterwards, I walked around the grounds and met up with Ron and Neville, who was released from the hospital wing. We talked about their families and what it was like to grow up in a wizarding family. I wish I had grown up with you, mom and dad, so I could have had magical toys and stuff. It really sounds amazing to be able to grow up like that. Ron asked me why I was hanging out with Hermione so much and I told them it was because the library felt like a place where Malfoy and his friends would leave me alone. And Hermione was just always there and she was nice to me. I asked them about how it was to be in Gryffindor House and they talked away about living in the west tower. I had fun that morning and they invited me to sit with them for lunch. Some of the older Gryffindor students were not happy about it, but Ron’s brothers Fred and George told them to back off and that Gryffindor should feel honoured that the great Harry Potter wanted to join them at their table. After that everyone left us alone. Seamus and Dean, the two other Gryffindor boys joined us and we had a nice afternoon, talking about Quidditch and how horrible Snape was. Dean apologized for being mean about my head of house, but I told him it was okay, that I also didn’t like Snape. I stayed at the Gryffindor table until after dinner and I had a lot of fun. But when the Gryffindor’s went to their common room I had to leave them and head back to the dungeons.

Malfoy and Nott were waiting for me when I came back. They shoved me around while telling me I shouldn’t be hanging out with the enemy. Nott took me in a headlock and said he was going to hex me if I would spend another day at the Gryffindor table. We Slytherin’s have a reputation to uphold and I was disgracing all of them by hanging out with those filthy blood-traitors and mudbloods. Nott pushed me into a wall after his little speech and punched me in my stomach.

This morning I saw that I have a bruise on my abdomen. I stayed in bed all day, reading one of the books I took from home. It’s called On My Honour and is about a boy that loses his friend when he drowns in a river. It was a sad book but I felt a little less lonely reading it. I’ve finished it in a day and now I’m writing to you. I’ll have to go to dinner tonight because I haven’t eaten all day and I’m getting a bit hungry. I wish I could sit with the Gryffindor’s again, but I’m sure Nott is going to hurt me even worse if I do. Nott and his friends haven’t really been in the dormitory today, so it was nice and quiet. Only Malfoy came in once, but he didn’t say anything to me. I hope next week is going to be better.

Love you,

Harry James Potter

(find the entire story at https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351042/chapters/35620452)

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt16: Flowers of the sand

[Atlas military airship]

*tap tap tap tap tap tap tap......*

Illia:*Flying the ship*.............

*tap tap tap ta-*

Illia:Sienna if you don’t sit still right I swear.....

Sienna:*stops tapping her chain on the metal wall* S...sorry ma’am..... *ears fold down, puts her hands in her lap*

Illia:Sigh, thank you. *focuses on the radar*

*creeeeaaaaaakkkkk!*

Sienna:........*fidgeting in her seat*

Illia:Sienna!!!

Sienna:Can you blame me!!!? I’m currently sitting in airship hoping that somehow we’ll make it back home before I find my home up in flames by crazy cult leaders. Who have a head start on us by the way!

Illia:Relax, we’re flying the personal airship of the Schnee family. There’s no aircraft that can fly faster.

Sienna:Yet it’s still gonna take hours to get home. *slouching in her seat*

Illia:Hmph, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you believe your foster mom couldn’t handle a few lowlives.

Sienna:Just because she’s a maiden doesn’t make her invincible. Besides, odds are she won’t be the only one fighting...

Illia:Jael will be fine; I mean she’s 15 and pretty talented. I’ve seen her keep you on your toes and you’re six years older than her.

Sienna:*mumbles* excuse me for not having a semblance or anything. I’d be amazing too if I could do the things she does.

Illia:*pokes her side* Stop moping, you are amazing too. You are our youngest Sinister Shadow to be recruited after all; also I can I think I’m pretty and I don’t have a semblance.

Sienna:*small smile* Thank you ma’am. It’s just not all cult members are exactly normal. *gestures to her eyes and hands* and they’re in menagerie of places.

Illia:*watching the sunset* We should be there a little after dark and hopefully they’ll be in the desert at the end of dusk. Grimm tend to get more rambunctious at night; I don’t they can control them if this is just some splinter group.

Sienna:That’s a dangerous assumption....

Illia:I know...*biting her lip* we’ll just have to cross our fingers for the time being; and hope if someone encounters them that they know where to stab.

Sienna:Sigh.....*crossing her fingers* hell of a first mission. (Please let it end on a high note)

[Desert Oasis]

*Jael wearing a black kimono with a dark red sash that matches her long hair. An ice box on her left while a fishing pole and tackle box are on her right*

Jacquelyn:Awww I haven’t seen you wear that in awhile. You look lovely.

Jael:*tying her shoes* I got a feeling your opinion might be little biased.

Jacquelyn:Maybe a tiny bit; I guess you’re going into town?

Jael:I gotta return the fishing gear to Deloris. Not to mention *shakes a pill bottle with one capsule rattling inside* refill.....

Jacquelyn:That prescription seemed like it didn’t last as long. You sure you’re okay; maybe we should up the dosage or-

Jael:*standing up* Mom.....I’m fine, honest. I got a little more worked up this month more than usual is all.

Jacquelyn:.....*rubs her child’s slightly pale face, robbed of its usual peach color from the sun* Maybe I should tag along; you know how the grimm out here love digging tunnels.

Jael:Hmph, I think the white fangs and I have finally realized the pecking order around here. I’ll be back before it gets too late.

*walking out the door with the fishing pole and a bucket hat for her horns; ice and tackle box float behind her*

Jacquelyn:If you happen to see Blake then thank for the clothes she gave you.

Jael:I know, I know. Don’t wait up for me. *closes the door*

Jacquelyn:Pfft, like that’s gonna happen. *looks to her left* Oh geez....

*opens the door*

Jacquelyn:Aren’t you forgetting something!?

Jael:*turns around* Hmm? Oh yeah....

Jacquelyn:*Tossing her a katana and sheath similar to her father’s

*both items slow down mid air and float down to her side*

Jael:Thanks mom *bows slightly and continues walking*

Jacquelyn:*shaking her head* (Hopefully she won’t need it, but better safe then sorry)

[Desert, about an hour into the walk]

Jael:*watching the sunset completely* (Beautiful as usual. I wonder if sis is watching right now) *looks down to see the lively sea port as usual*

*festival lanterns and people filling the streets ahead*

Jael:Guess another festival is happening. Wish I could-

*a small sand mound circling around her*

Jael:Ah, I was wondering when you would show up. *grabs a giant catfish from the ice box*

*A dingo like grimm Jumps our the sand. One eye missing and battle scars on the bone platting around it’s face*

Jael:What brings you around here Alpha? Can’t be me; I’m in a good mood for once...

Alpha:*snarling and bearing its fangs*

Jael:Apparently you are not though. Don’t let it be the reason you don’t make it back to your pack though; sit...

Alpha:*sits like a proper dog, yet still snarls*

Jael:*tosses him the fish that promptly gets eaten* your table manners are about the same. *slowly reaches under his chin to rub it*

Alpha:*snarls calm down a little*

Jael:Good boy, now get out of here before someone finds another reason to avoid me.

Alpha: *points his nose back towards the desert, west of her house. Snarls intensify before diving back into the sand*

Jael:.......*looking in that direction* what has you riled up? Maybe I should-

*pill bottle floats in her face*

Jael:Sigh *grabs it* first things first, meds. *continues her walk*

[Faunus Pharmacy]

Jael:*walks in taking off her hat* Deloris I’m here with your stuff. You in here or do I have to talk with your parents? Please don’t let me have to speak to your parents. *walking down an isle* Dory, you in he-

*A young woman with tough pale blue skin and gills on her neck, face down on the counter sleeping. A life gaurd whistle next to her*

Jael:*Walks up shaking her head* And they say sharks don’t sleep.....Dory wake up, you have a customer. *shaking her*

Dory:Zzzzzzz

Jael:Unbelievable......you asked for this. *grabs the whistle.*

*a small purple orb forming near the mouth piece as she takes a deep breath*

Jael:(A one and a two and a-) *a hand covers her mouth immediately* ........

Dory:*raising her head to reveal sleepy gray eyes* Last time you did that I heard ringing for a week. Why night scream like a normal person?

Jael:Have enough energy to work two jobs. *smiles* good to see you as always.

Dory:Of course it is; you look nice by the way. Showing off your curves I see; I thought you’d be wearing- of course....

Jael:*opens the kimono slightly to reveal Blake’s old V1 clothes* What? They’re comfy and form fitting.

Dory:That top is telling a different story. Looks a size too small; you sure you’re part goat and not cow?

Jael:*red* I should hit you in your nose.

Dory:You want your hand that close to my teeth?

Jael:You mean your baby shark teeth that you still have? Yes

Dory:*snorts* Screw you dude. Hmmm? *spotting gossiping customers*

Jael:*turns around to see them flinch a little and promptly leave*........where they staring at me?

Dory:I mean.....yeah probably. Don’t let it get to you.

Jael:Whatever....*puts on her hat again*

Dory:There’s no way they know about, you know *makes horns with her fingers* I mean besides my parents and I, civilians aren’t allowed to know.

Jael:You’re right but when you live apart from everyone and a few higher up don’t like because they know, rumors run rapid. *clenching her sleeve*

Dory:At least you have the Belladonnas, Mr. Wukong and couple others watching over you.

Jael:I don’t care about being watched if no one is going to listen. What I want is....*takes a breath*......it doesn’t matter.

Dory:......So, any reason you’re here? Don’t get wrong it’s nice to see you, but it’s kinda late.

Jael:.....*points to the floating items around her* you’re joking right? Your fishing gear; also I need my pills.

Dory:Shut up I’m half asleep. You think you put the pole back on the wrack like gravity intended to before you started messing with it. *search for pills*

Jael:*putting it away* You’re just jealous that messing with gravity is cooler than breathing underwater.

Dory:Say that when you’re stranded at sea. I have looked through the F section three times now and can’t find your pills.

Jael:*whispering* Taurus......

Dory:Duh...sorry about that. *tosses her a new bottle* I’m surprised you’re already out; everything okay?

Jael:It will be *taking the final pill from the last bottle* now I can probably sprint home if I wanted.

Dory:Let’s not increase your heart rate for no reason okay?

Jael:Eh, if I’m gonna be a huntress then I gotta test me limits right. *walking away* Later, there’s fish for you in the ice box.

Dory:*opens it to see several huge bass* You’re worth your weight in gold Jael.

Jael:You calling me fat? I’m keeping your whistle by the way. *holding it*

Dory:You can keep the tackle box too; dad won’t notice one missing.

Jael:Cool *grabbing it* night Dory...

Dory:You should invite me fishing sometime. I’d love to see your home.

Jael:You’d eat all the fish off the line.

Dory:*watching her walk away* I’d be trying to eat something alright....

Jael:*blushing* Night Dory!!!! *leaves*

Dory:Hehe (she so wants me)

Jael:(I swear, talks about staying calm one minute and tries getting me worked up the next. Maybe she’s the one who needs meds)

*moon completely out*

Jael:Already this dark huh? Guess I should head back. But first.....*walks in the direction the Alpha pointed to* let’s see what got the old fur ball so grumpy.

•

*Three people roaming the desert in gray cloaks the one on the left a slim frame with gloves on his hands marked with an H. The right one marked with an C and has black veins on her arms; while the middle one was blessed with solid frame as black veins crawl up his arm and pulse around his eyes. The letter M on his hood*

H:How much longer are we gonna trudge in the sand!? My feet feel like they’re getting burned to the bone.

C:Stop your bitching and keeping walking. If it was easy to travel in the desert then it would be a poor hiding spot. Besides *snaps his fingers*

*several wild grimm pop out of the sand, including alpha*

M:It’s why we have scouts to take care of the heavy lifting. Find me the maiden... *eyes glow read*

Alpha:*remains still while the others reluctantly move slowly*

C:Did you not hear us you mutts? *eyes and hand glow* he said-

“Yeah they don’t take orders well...”

HCM:*look ahead*

Jael:*standing on a sand dune* They take orders from the Alpha and he only responds to strongest authority around. Well, or fish.

H:...I’m sorry, who the hell are you? *juggling two machetes*

Jael:Well from the looks of it*pats her life*

Alpha:*backing up to her side while the others remain*

Jael:Apparently I’m the strongest one here.

M:Is that so? *folding his arms* very amusing. A young woman in the wilderness alone that’s so strong a grimm dares not risk harming. I can only think of one person who can be that peculiar. Tell me.....are you the winter maiden?

*moonlight illuminating the vast terrain, shifting sands from a calm wind blows constantly*

Jael:.....In the flesh

M:If that’s the case, die........

[greeenchrysanthemums]

UPDATED appearances for the GG rivals au characters: now with Lizzie and Joel!!

Once again, i am no artist so they are just written descriptions with pictures here and there. Most of them are largely the same as the previous post, but I have added little tidbits to certain descriptions, some of which are lore related!

Gem looks similar to this gorgeous fanart, except her dress has slits up the side to allow for easier movement. This look is sometimes replaced entirely by a trouser and tunic combo of the same colour if she knows the mission she is being sent on will need a great deal of movement in close quarters or something to that affect. No matter the outfit, her sword never leaves her waist. Her hair is in a low bun with a braid wrapping around the front of her head, like this. I do not imagine her with horns in this au.

Scott and Impulse wear armour similar to how applestruda draws it in her au, with their cloths in shades of teal and yellow respectively. Scott has long, back length hair, that he wears down and covering one eye. He was born with heterochromatic eyes, one blue and one hazel. His teeth are sharp, and he has fin-like ears due to his Coral Crest heritage. Impulse has shortly cropped hair, stubble on his face, and two little nubby horns that are tipped in black extending out of his forehead. He also has sharp, clawed hands.

Grian's eyes are entirely black like a barn owl's, and he has feathers on the high parts of his cheek bones and ears. His hands end in sharp talons rather than nails. He also has bird-like legs and taloned feet. His wings are not visible, if there at all. He wears a red shawl/cloak that has a high collar and ends around his waist, held closed by a brooch in the shape of an eye, similar to this but golden instead of silver. It has a hood, but he only wears it if he is trying not to be seen. His undershirt is black, and it is a long sleeve. His trousers are brown.

Scar wears a similar black cloak as Grian, held closed by the same brooch, though he wears his with the hood up. The cloak has red flower detailing on the hem. His eyes are green, and his hair is brown. He has a single grey streak in the front of his bangs. His tunic and trousers under the cloak are both black and he wears his shirt just a little bit too open at the top. He also always wears a smile, but pretty much everyone can agree it is deceptively kind and fake. He looks the most human out of the whole cast, so much so that it is entirely uncanny. EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention! Scar has a cane as well. It's wooden with a gold handle.

Mumbo and Etho wear matching outfits, claiming it is professional since they share a job and shop, but it is something they choose to do, not something that is required of them (they are just very, very silly). They are simple outfits consisting of white tunics with black trousers and thick, leather aprons on top (mumbo's is red and etho's is a dark green). They both wear goggles and thick gloves, as well as chunky boots, all for safety since they work with explosives very often. Etho wears a black bandana to cover his lower his face, both to hide his scars and his identity. His goggles replace his headband in this look, doubling as what keeps his hair out of his face. His scared eye is missing entirely; he does not have a false eye, it is just an empty socket. Mumbo wears his goggles around his neck when they are not on his face.

Bdubs also wears thick gloves to protect his hands in the garden. His shirt is white, and he has brown trousers that are a tad bit high watered, something he claims is intentional as he does not want mud all over his trousers. The previous argument becomes moot, because over this outfit he wears a thick cloak that is almost always covered in some manner of flora and/or mud. He completes the look with a wide brimmed hat to protect him from the sun.

Cleo is also dressed similarly to Etho and Mumbo but her apron is a plain brown that is stained with soot. Her tunic sleeves are always rolled up to show off her strong arms and she doesn't wear her safety gloves nearly as much as she should. She forgoes eye protection entirely. One of her eyes is missing, replaced with a glass eye of a slightly different shade of green than her organic eye. Her hair is pulled into a much messier bun than Gem's, with frizzy stray hairs going every direction. She is NOT a zombie in this au, she is completely human.

Ren is dressed in all the typical regalia of a king, complete with a diamond encrusted, golden crown and a thick red cape with a fluffy collar. His thick beard is long and braided. His eyes are red, as well as blood shot, and he almost always appears angry. He, of course, has wolf ears and a tail. He simply would not be Rendog without them.

Martyn is dressed in the same armour as the other knights. His under clothing is green, as is the bandana he wears around his forehead. He usually appears worried, but he smiles often in the presence of the king. He always has a hand on the sheath of his sword, ready to draw it at any time.

Pearl wears a white tunic with flared sleeves tucked into a pair of high waisted black trousers. Over this she has a deep, red cloak that stops at her waist and is held closed by a circular broch that, when unclasped, takes the shape of crescent and wanning gibbous moons. She has a crescent moon shaped birth mark on the left side of her face. Her hair is always down and messy under her hood. When she is on the job, she carries a scythe strapped to her back, along with a crossbow. There is a sheath on her leg which contains a dagger.

Bigb wears a blue tunic with brown trousers, along with a thin white apron when he is working. He always seems to have flour stains on his clothes whether he is on or off the clock, no matter how hard he tries to wipe it off. Big strong arms for him as well.

Skizz wears the same armour as the rest of the knights, and his underclothes are black. The shoulder of his armour has a cross emblem on it that delegates him as a medic, and he has medical supplies carried across his chest. The sleeves of his tunic are ripped off and he does not wear his gauntlets, showing off a plethora of scars along his arms. He is a dove avian, but one of his wings is heavily damaged and half missing as a result of an old injury he sustained on the field. He has white feathers on his upper cheekbones and ears, but he lacks the talons that Grian has.

Tango wears a short sleeved red tunic and black trousers with big chunky boots that are never free of mud. His hands are clawed, and his ears are pointed; both are tipped in a red to black gradient. His eyes are entirely red. He has a long tail that ends in a tuff of fire that doesn't seem to actually have any real heat.

Jimmy wears a blue tunic with a brown vest over it. Brown trousers and chunky boots. His sleeves are always rolled up and he is always covered in some manner of dirt, both because of the work he does on the farm, and from being very clumsy. He has bull horns, one of which is chipped. He also has a tail and bull-like ears. He has a gold ring in one of his ears.

Lizzie wears a flowy purplish-pink dress that is thin, both to allow for free movement and to allow airflow in the Coral Crest heat. Her teeth are sharp, and her ears are fin-like. Her nails are very sharp. She wears her pink hair down with a string of pearls like this. She wears many silver and gold bracelets on both wrists, along with a few anklets on both ankles. She does not wear shoes unless she is out of the castle.

Joel Wears a thin, short sleeved white tunic and brown trousers under a set of armour. While Wintertide armour is more thick and sturdy, as well as a darker greyish colour, Coral Crest armour is more thin and agile, and is a lighter grey, almost white, colour. He wears no gauntlets. His hair is short and messy with the back pulled into a tiny ponytail. He has a short, scruffy beard. He also has fin-like ears, sharp teeth, and sharp nails. He puts on a tough guy act by scowling all the time.

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 5/13

Chapter Title: Love Lies

Words: 4,137

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico walked through the gate to Jason’s back porch just as Reyna stepped out the back door. Both of them were fully in costume, so they took a second to admire the other’s choice.

“Nice horns,” Nico commented Reyna, who had gone full Maleficent in all-black, complete with a black cape and staff. Thick black horns were glued onto a headband, and she wore delicate silver wing-shaped studs.

 “Are the wings to symbolize the crow?” he asked, with a vague memory of the movie plot when she had shown it to him.

“No, stupid, I couldn’t get giant wings for her so I got mini ones,” Reyna rolled her eyes, and Nico nodded as more of the movie came back to him. He had forgotten about the wings if they were being completely honest, but he kept that part to himself. “And thanks, though I have to duck every time I walk through a doorway because of the horns.”

“You wouldn’t if you weren’t going on six feet tall.”

“You’re just jealous,” she quipped, and Nico hated that she’s sort of right. Being 5 '4 in a school where every guy seems to be over 6 foot is both a blessing and a curse.

Jason stepped out the door just then. “Nico what the hell are you supposed to be?”

“A dementor? From Harry Potter?” Nico replied incredulously, pulling his hood over his head. It was Bianca and Reyna’s idea, and it meant he got to wear a black cloak, so he went along with it. 

“Haven’t you only seen like, three of the movies?” 

Nico flushed. “Unimportant.” 

“Jason, this is like a new level of laziness for you. Where is your costume?” Reyna interrupted with a sigh, looking defeated. Nico pulled his hood back down, noticing for the first time he appeared to be dressed in everyday clothing.

Jason always encouraged them strongly to dress up, but when it came time for him to find a costume he seemed to go the easiest route. 

“This is my costume! I’m Where’s Waldo?!” he defended, gesturing towards himself. Nico tilted his head and squinted, sort of understanding it with his red and white striped crewneck and the red and white hat, as well as a pair of blue jeans and his normal glasses. 

Without context, though, he sort of just looked like he was dressing for the cold weather. 

Reyna sighed again. “Come with me, I think your sister has a cane from one of the shows somewhere. It’ll at least help instead of making you look like a casual Santa.”

“I do not!” he protested as he followed Reyna back inside.

Nico sat down on one of Jason’s lawn chairs, knowing it would probably be some time before the two came back out. He sort of always suspected that Reyna liked Jason, but unfortunately his crush on Piper was clear to everyone except for him, which ended in some harsh friendzoning. At least Piper and Reyna got along, for the most part. 

Up until recently, Nico considered trying to help try and get Jason and Piper together because as far as he could see, Piper maybe liked him back. 

Now though, he was working against them, and that was crushing to his spirit. 

He debated sending Blue and email about it, but unfortunately, that was just part of the secret Nico was keeping from him.

It still sort of hurt knowing that he was hiding something so major from Blue. It hurt knowing that Blue didn’t want to reveal their identities yet because that would just make life so much simpler. 

That was Blue’s business, though, and Nico was willing to cross any line for him. Which was how he got caught up in all this shit anyway. 

With the memory of his conversation with Octavian parking in his brain, Nico leaned back and cursed quietly to himself. He still had no idea how he was actually going to help Octavian to get Piper to like him, considering she’s already threatening him, and changing Piper’s mind wasn’t very easy.

Speaking of Piper, Jason and Reyna were just walking back out the door with a wooden cane when Piper walked through Jason’s gate, dressed in a Wonder Woman costume, including a red tank top tucked into denim shorts printed like the American flag, and a small circlet of gold rope hanging from one of her belt loops. Her hair was in a half up/half down ponytail, a gold headband with a red star was pushed back on her forehead, and white socks were pulled up along her ankle from her pair of red Converse high tops. 

“Wow, Piper you look… amazing,” Jason paused from his spot in the doorway, taking it all in. 

Nico didn’t miss the way Reyna’s eyes flashed before she, too, complemented Piper’s costume.

She thanked them both just as Nico sighed, realizing that he was going to have to tell them about Octavian.

“By the way,” he stared down at his shoes, already regretting his decision. “I invited Octavian to ride with us.” Immediately, there was a chorus of groans and Nico winced.

“Why did you have to invite him,” Jason asked, throwing his head back at the same time Reyna asks “Is this a Make-A-Wish situation?”

Nico swallowed. “He’s cool, trust me.”

—

Needless to say, Octavian was not very cool, and neither was his costume. He tried dressing like some sort of greek god in a toga and laurel wreath but ended up looking more like someone’s failed beach wedding.

 After a painful 10 minute car ride that felt more like 10 hours, they finally got to the Stolls’ house. Nico was hoping that Octavian would disappear, but he clung to Nico and Piper as they walked inside the house. 

“Hey, guys!” Travis Stoll greeted them, clearly already tipsy.

He was dressed in a pair of overalls with a matching red shirt and hat embedded with a white M. Nico could only imagine that Connor was then wandering around somewhere with an identical green costume. The Stolls’ made it a habit to dress in ironically matching costumes, which only confused people more whenever they tried to explain that they weren’t twins.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” They all nodded except for Octavian and Reyna. As Nico and his friends followed Travis into the kitchen, he was glad to notice that Octavian dropped off somewhere along the way. Hopefully, he wouldn't be back for a while.

The kitchen was less crowded than the rest of the party. It was mainly just people stopping in the get drinks and then leaving. Only two figures stuck around to have a conversation at the bar. One was Lou Ellen, who was dressed in a black dress and a pointy witch hat. The other was currently looking down at their drink.

The shark person lifted their head at the noise, and Nico instantly smiled at who it was. “Will, you made it! And that’s a great costume!”

Will returned his smile with a dazzling grin of his own, and Nico felt his heart skip a beat. “Thank you! I’ve been recycling it for a few years now so I’m glad somebody still likes it.” 

Next to him, Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.

“You’re costume is great. A dementor, right?”

Nico’s smile grew. “Yeah, exactly.” 

Will gestured over to Jason. “And Jason is dressed as… as Jason.”

Apparently, Jason heard them though, and turned around, looking exasperated. “No, I’m Where’s Waldo?!”

Will nodded. “Right,” he said seriously, before turning to Nico and giving him a look of amusement that made Nico’s heart thud in his chest. 

Travis handed Piper three cups, who handed Jason and Nico each one.

 Nico took a sip from his and cringed immediately at the taste. “What the hell is this?”

Will leaned over and takes a sniff of the cup. “Dunno. Smells fruity. Screwdriver, maybe?”

Nico wrinkled his nose. “It’s a little vodka-heavy. Tastes like an actual screwdriver,” he said before taking another sip, once again pulling a face of disgust. 

“I’m taking you don’t drink often?”

“Once a year, always on Halloween,” Nico rolled his eyes. “And maybe wine at Christmas.”

Will laughed softly, shaking his head as a few curls fell in front of his eyes, and Nico felt heat pooling in his stomach. 

If Will wasn’t Blue, well, they might have a problem.

—

At some point in the party, Nico found himself walking past the living room where drunk karaoke was taking place, and outside. His eyes were trained on Will, who's standing next to a ping pong table full of red solo cups. The sleeves of his onesie are now rolled up to his forearms, showing off more tan, freckled skin. 

When Will noticed Nico walking towards him, his eyes lit up. “Nico! Hey, you wanna play beer pong?”

Nico didn’t, not really, but he’s tipsy and he needed an excuse to be around Will more, so he found himself agreeing. The way Will grinned at him made it feel sort of worth it, at least. 

“Okay, cool! We just need two more people.”

Nico glanced around them. “Okay, how about me and you on a team, and then…” he trailed off, searching for someone he at least knew so he’ll be able to laugh about this later with them. 

His eyes fell on Piper and Reyna dancing together with Annabeth, who’s dressed as Harley Quinn. He could see Octavian trying (and failing) to budge his way into their little circle, and an idea sparked in his head. “And Octavian and Piper?” 

Will’s eyes narrowed for a second at the mention of Octavian’s name, and Nico cursed himself internally for forgetting about the unspoken feud Will had against him. Thankfully, he seemed to shrug it off. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind kicking Octavian’s butt.”

Octavian looked up at the mention of his name, and Nico nodded at him and Piper.

‘Me? And him?!’ Piper mouthed, waving her arms. Nico just shrugged and nodded in response, and Piper groaned. Annabeth and Reyna both gave her a pitying look as she walked over to Nico and Will.

“You are gonna pay for this, di Angelo,” she hissed as she walked past him to the other side of the table, although Nico didn’t feel all that threatened by her anymore. (Which was probably the alcohol in his blood talking.) 

“Okay, have you ever played before?” Piper asked, rubbing her hands together.

“Oh, totally, yeah,” Octavian nodded, clearly lying. Both Nico and Will refrained from rolling their eyes at him; they exchanged a look of exasperation instead. 

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea…

Piper, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care (probably the latter) continued with the rules. “Alright, two reracks, no blowing, and two balls in the cup means you have to take three, okay?” 

Will and Nico both nodded, and Nico’s glad he’s played beer pong with Piper before, otherwise he would have no clue what she meant. 

Octavian, on the other hand, clearly had no idea what she was talking about. He mumbled something about thinking they were playing a different game, and this time, Nico couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Will doing the same.

“We’ll just explain as we go along,” Nico sighed, getting in position to toss the first ball.

“Oh, wait,” Will interrupted him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Nico felt like an electric current was running through his body. “Maybe you should tie these sleeves up. Wouldn’t want to prohibit your shot.”

He helped Nico tie the long sleeves of his cloak up at his shoulders, and Nico was definitely blushing now. “Thank you,” he told Will, who just smiled and nodded.

Nico kissed the ball before shooting it, and mentally thanked all the times his friends forced him to play with them as it landed in a cup.

Octavian looked over at Piper, who shrugged. “All you.”

Octavian just nodded, picking up the drink and chugging it. He attempted a throw after that, completely missing. Both Nico and Will had to bite their lip to stop themselves from laughing.

They went back and forth for a while, Octavian doing most of the work for him and Piper’s team while she stood by the side and watched, both tired and amused by his antics.

As for Nico and Will, well, they’re killing the game. 

They ended up winning with four cups left still on their side. Nico was drunker now from the few cups Octavian did manage to get a ball into, and he and Will hugged. The contact is more than what Nico could process at the moment, making his senses completely overwhelmed. 

It’s not in a bad way though, and it’s the most fun he’s ever had at one of these parties. Heck, it’s the most fun he’s had all week, ever since the whole mess with Octavian started. 

Except Nico’s forgotten about Blue for the time being, because right now he’s here, living in the moment with a really cute guy in a shark onesie, which is honestly all he could ever ask for. 

—

After a rousing drunk duet with Will, followed by an embarrassing karaoke solo of his own, Nico found himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He could still hear the party music pounding outside, and he’s probably drunk out of his mind, but at this moment, he feels stone-cold sober. 

This is his time to tell Will that he’s Angel. 

“Hey, Will, it’s me, Angel!” he slurred, practicing what to say. This was his moment to let it all go; he couldn’t afford to mess it up. And maybe it’s drunken confidence that he’ll regret the morning after, but at least it will be out. 

He tried again. “Hey, Will. I’m Angel.”

That didn’t sound right either. Maybe something witty… “Hey, did you fall from heaven? Because you look like an angel. I’m an angel too! Y’know… Angel? That’s me!”

He sighed. “Just had to pick Angel, huh, di Angelo?”

Despite his failed efforts, he left the bathroom in search for Will. He’s still upstairs, and he saw Will disappear up the stairs earlier when he was singing, so it’s his best bet as to where he is. 

He moved through the hallway, not sure which door to try first.

There's some sort of movement coming from the room at the end of the hallway. Praying he’s not walking in on Travis and his girlfriend, he opened the door.

What he found was something worse.

Will sat on the edge of the bed. The sleeves of his onesie were pushed up farther than they were before, nearly to his shoulders, and his hood was pushed down. The first button or so is unbuttoned, revealing a white shirt underneath. 

All of this could be due to overheating if it weren’t for the girl in his lap.

Nico felt his heart drop as they both stopped making out to turn and look at him in surprise. He vaguely recognized the girl; Lacy, who was dressed in some sort of slutty Snow White costume, was in the grade below them.

Will stood up, making a move to go towards him, but Nico started backing out of the room as he choked out an apology. 

“I thought this was the bathroom, sorry,” he said quickly before running from the room. He moved back for a second to close the door, apologizing again. 

He sat down for a second outside the room, clawing at his hair. He wanted to unsee it all, wanted to forget it. Wanted to unsee the way Lacy was running her fingers through Will’s hair. Wanted to unsee the way Will gripped her waist, pulling her towards him. Wanted to unsee how she moved back towards Will as he was closing the door. 

He wanted to forget Will altogether, how he looked so apologetically guilty of something when Nico walked in on them, and how his eyes followed Nico on the way out. 

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. It would have been too easy if it was Will. He needed to keep going, needed to keep looking.

He tried to ignore how broken he felt inside on the way back downstairs.

When Nico reached the bottom of the staircase, his eyes quickly scanned the room for Reyna. He was way too tired to try and make it through the rest of the party. He really didn’t want to hang out with anyone but Will right now anyway. 

Nico spotted Jason, who was passed out on the couch next to Piper. She had on Reyna’s horn-headband for some reason, but at least that meant Reyna was probably nearby. 

Just as he spotted her behind the couch talking to Percy, who was wearing a bucket hat and a leopard print shirt, appearing to be dressed as Mr. D (probably out of spite) when Octavian walked up to him. 

Nico sighed, shaking his head. “Not now, Octavian, alright? I’ve had a long night—” He was interrupted, though, by Octavian puking all over his shoes. 

“God, really?” Nico cried, stepping back from him.

Octavian lifted his head, looking more drunk than apologetic. “Sorry,” he muttered, before running off.

Nico just grimaced, trying to look anywhere but down. Thankfully, Reyna witnessed the entire situation and made her way over to him.

“Let’s go home,” he sighed, and she nodded. 

—

The car ride home was peaceful; something Nico was relieved after the night he just had.

 They had left the party with Jason and Piper, who had basically fallen asleep on top of each other in the backseat until they reached their respective homes. Thankfully, Octavian didn’t follow them out.

Once everyone was dropped off and Nico was sure Reyna was asleep on the mattress at the foot of his bed, he pulled out his laptop. 

Reyna had seemed off that night. Usually, she was this confident, respectable figure that everyone wanted to have the approval of. She was usually sociable at parties, and tonight it was no different, but she seemed to always be watching everyone from afar. Like she wasn’t totally in the moment.

It was weird to see someone you look up to be in the exact same situation that Nico felt like he was in most of the time.

Nico decided he was going to consult Blue about his friend group. He may have said that he wouldn’t, but now he was so sick of being in between everything, and there was one person that could clear some of the fog from his brain.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 31 at 12:44 AM

Subject: Advice Needed

This isn’t something I would typically ask for help with, but I honestly don’t know what to do. One of my friends likes the other, but he has no idea because he likes someone else. Any idea about what to do?

Anyway, to not make this email completely useless if you have no idea either, I’ll talk about what I’ve been thinking about recently.

Have you ever realized that straight people never have to come out? I mean like, besides the unfortunate situation when someone assumes you’re gay and you’re not, but nobody is going to get mad about you being straight. So why do I have to come out? Why does my family have to know I like guys for it to be respectful before I hypothetically have a boy to bring home?

(I don’t.)

Love, Angel

It felt like second nature writing the email; just typing as his thoughts went. He sent it without reading it over like he usually does.

He was about to close his laptop and go to sleep when something he had written caught the corner of his eye.

Love, Angel.

“Shit!” Nico whispered to himself. He quickly tried to see if there was any way to reverse what he had just sent, but the damage had been done.

Nico just had to hope that Blue doesn’t flip out because of it.

—

Nico was sitting in his fourth period math class the next day, barely paying attention and counting down the minutes until he could go take a nap in the library during lunch. The consequences of last night were hitting hard, and he was dealing with a pounding headache and nausea every time he looked at the math problems on the board. Whoever thought most kids would actually show up to school the day after Halloween wasn’t thinking clearly. 

More than half of Nico’s grade was missing, including the Jason and Piper. The Stolls weren’t there either, though that was to be expected. Nico would be surprised if they even showed up on Monday.

Will Solace was in school, which unfortunately shattered Nico’s last hope of what he walked in on just being entirely alcohol-influenced. Nico felt his heart pang as he realized it was probably time to move on from Will in search for the real Blue.

Anyway, math was hell in general, but especially worse today. His Algebra 2 teacher, Mrs. Dodds, was an actual demon. (She once threatened a kid by telling them she drank baby tears.) As she tried to teach them compound inequalities, Nico felt his eyes drooping further and further. He eventually just gave in to the risk that he might face the wrath of the demon for sleeping in her class, and he let his eyes slip shut. 

(Besides, maybe a quick nap would help his headache.)

Just as he nearly fell asleep completely, Nico felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and his heart dropped.

He had been dreading Blue’s response ever since he sent that email with the L-word last night. Best case scenario was Blue would just skip over the ending, but judging by the way Nico read and reread every email that he received, he sort of doubted it. 

Some excitement that came with it. It was the truth, wasn’t it? Otherwise, Nico wouldn’t have written it. Obviously, there was a huge amount of fear, but it also made Nico’s heart pound dizzyingly every time he thought about Blue.

Sparing a glance at Mrs. Dodds, who still had her back turned, Nico quickly pulled out his phone. He hoped he’s not risking a Saturday detention for a text from Jason, but when he saw the Gmail icon alongside a familiar email address, his breath caught in his throat. 

Nico held his breath as he swiped open the notification, ignoring the way his eyes strained painfully from trying to read with this cursed hangover headache. 

This could be it, he thought, then shook the thought away and began to read. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Nov 1 at 10:52 AM

Subject: Re: Advice Needed

You have to be 21 to gamble, and it’s too bad I’m not because if I were to bet that you were drunk emailing me last night, I think I’d hit the jackpot.

(Luckily, it seems I’ve hit the jackpot getting to meet you.)

You’re probably freaked out about what I’m going to say here, but don’t be. I liked it. 

I like you, Angel, but I think you already knew that.

And you’re right about the coming out thing, that does suck. But I’m actually glad you mentioned it because you’ve inspired me to come out to my mom. So thank you, really. You don’t understand how much you’ve done for me.

Love, Blue.

(P.S; I guess you didn’t catch on from the Nutella story, but I’m really bad at advice. I’m not quite sure what to do about your friends, but I honestly don’t think it’s anything you can fix. You can’t force someone to be in love with someone that they just… aren’t. Good luck, though, and make sure you’re there for them when they need you.)

Nico felt like he had just stopped breathing altogether. Honestly, he didn’t think he breathed at all while reading that letter, and he sure as hell wasn’t breathing now. He reread the words “Love, Blue” over and over again, as he finally exhaled. 

(Secretly, silently, he cursed at himself for reading the email in Will’s voice. That second to last line hit too hard after last night. It’s time to move on, di Angelo!)

Blue liked him. No, Blue loved him. And he was going to come out to his family, which maybe, maybe meant he was one step closer to revealing his identity. 

Nico switched off his phone and shoved it into his bag, refusing to let his hopes get too high.

Nevertheless, he had never looked so happy in a math class.

[cacophony-eg]

Half-Breeds

(inspired by @uraraaaaaaan’s fantasy AU kidge pic. https://uraraaaaaaan.tumblr.com/post/183705938537/can-i-see-keith-as-a-half-dragon-and-pidge-as-a ) Being a half dragon was a lonely life. Feared by humans, ostracize by dragons, most small magic based creatures scurried away from him. His father died many years ago, and he never knew his mother apart from the stories his father had told him. Thank goodness his father had taught him how to fend for himself since a young age or Keith doubt he would have survived those harsh years after his father's death. He could feed and shelter himself, the forest had everything he needs to survive and few creatures or humans could match him in a fight. The only thing he didn’t learn was how to mend himself, relying on his thick skin and dragons scales to prevent most injuries and if something had managed to break his skin it would often heal within a day, two at the very most. This ignorance eventually led to his current predicament. Keith had fought a chimera three days ago, it’s snake tail had managed to bite Keith on his side; just below the ribs. The bite had not gotten better in the past three days, instead, it had only gotten worst; the purple that once only surrounded the puncture marks had now spread halfway over his stomach and starting to head up towards his chest. He reluctantly had to admit; he needed help or death could be on his door. He had recalled hearing rumours, whispers in the forest from creatures and human that passed through about a half-elf that lived on the west side of these woods. One that was a healer, with talent like few others for potions. Though he shouldn’t trust the person that most likely gave potions to the adventures that tried to fight him; like some kind of proving ground for their skills…. Even so, he didn’t have many other choices, there was a chance a half elve would help him and there was no chance, any human healer would help me... That was if he managed to make it into a village without being attacked. So with the bare essentials and a hooded cloak over his regular clothes to hide his horns. Keith travelled to the west edge of the forest, slower than he would have liked but the poison was taking its effect, slowing down his body. Keith assumed he found his destination when he came across a wooden cottage, with a roof covered, and growing more plants than he could name. Dusk was beginning to settle and the fireflies began to wake and glow, flowing around the house. Keith assuming they were drawn by one of the many plants growing on the roof. With a deep breath and some hesitation, he approached the cottage, knocking his glove-covered hands against the door. “Comming” Called a female voice from inside the building, Keith raised a brow listening to the footsteps, they sounded much too light, either the half-elf was agile on her feet or… The door creaked open, Keith finding himself needing to look downwards as the half-elf barely reached his chest. It was strange since usually half-elves and elves, in general, were known to be fairly tall. Her hair and eyes were a soft honey brown, when most half-elves; at least the ones that tried to fight him, usually had pale coloured hair and eyes that were some kind of shade of purple or blue. Though she could have gotten her height and colouring from her human parent, as she still had the ever-present pointed ears of an elf. “Hi do you need healing or are you lost?” the little half-elf asked. “Healing” Keith answered his left-hand instinctively covering his injured side at the question. She softly smiled and opened the door all the way for him. “Than come on in and let's take a look” she replied, turning her back towards him ushering him in with a wave of her hand as she wandered further into her home. Keith freezing as he saw glimmering shinning wings on her back; covered in some kind of thin fog. The fog was probably caused by some kind of glamour she used to hide her wings. If it wasn’t for his dragon eyes they probably would have been hidden from him as well. Suddenly her height made sense, this small woman was a fairy or part fairy, not an elf. Keith almost decided to run at the sight, Fairies were tricksters, with maleficent tendencies when the mood struck them, and given their emotional nature, it was said that could happen at a drop of a hat. The throb of his injury the only thing grounding him from running and choosing to take a step into the fairy’s home. There was a soft gentle light that illuminated the place, the source seemed to be bottles filled with some kind of glowing liquid, hanging from the roof. It was much nicer, steadier light than using candles or a fireplace for light. As much as, fire was a necessity for his survival he wasn’t particularly fond of flames. The place was a mix of neat and messy, there wasn’t a speck of dirt or dust anywhere he could see, but the shelves looked stuff to the brim, with mismatch bottles and other nick-nakes he couldn’t name. “Please close the door behind you” she requested, as she placed a new sheet over her examination table. Keith gently shut the door behind him, before gradually approaching her. Wanting help but also preparing himself for some kind of trick. “You can take your clock off if you want” she offered “you don’t have to hide what you are here” “But you do?” he questioned back. She paused for a moment looking puzzled before realization flash in her eyes “oh you can see my wings” she concluded. Keith simply nodded in return. “Sorry I deal with a lot of humans, it’s easier pretending to be a half-elf than deal with their paranoia” she explained her wings fluttering a few times brushing away the fog before dropping back down and resting flat against her back once again. “Humans always seem to think I’ll steal their children or curse them at any given moment” she sighed. Keith feeling guilty for having similar assumptions, he had his fair share of peoples prejudiced and paranoia. He still didn’t trust her, but he didn’t truly trust anyone. Keith returning her open gesture by taking off his cloak, revealing his horns, and his eyes becoming more visible as well. She smiled up at him and patted the examination table next to her, Keith taking a seat. “How can I help you today?” she asked with a smile, the fairy almost a head shorter than him even while sitting down. Keith undid his top, pulling it off to the side, revealing his injury. The Fairy’s happy demeanour quickly shifted to a much more serious one, as her eyes scanned over the injury, her glasses reflecting off the light in the room as she leaned in to get a closer look at the bite mark. “Bite from a Chimera’s tail?” she questioned. “Yes” Her replied. “How long ago?” the fairy asked her small fingers gently grazing over the purple tint of his skin that surrounds the bite. “About three days” he answered. “Dragon blood or not you’re lucky to be alive, but I have just the remedy for this,” she said with a nod, Keith not sure if she was talking to herself or to him. As she wandered away and towards her supplies. The Fairy using her wings to hover up to one of the higher shelves as she gathered a few different supplies. Keith wondering if had to climb those shelves when she had human patients. She gathered what she needed and quickly returned to him, her small hands were gentle and nimble as they worked to clean the area around the bite, before dipping a needle into some kind of green liquid, then proceeding to poke serval spots along his purple tinted skin. There was only slight discomfort but it surprised Keith that the needle was able to break his skin at all. “The needle is made out of dragon claw, and don’t worry it was a chip off. The dragon was never harmed,” she replied to his unspoken question. Cleaning and drying her hands, before smearing some kind of cream over his skin and injury, washing her hands again then finally wrapping it all up in bandages that wrapped tightly around his torso. “There that should do it for now” the fairy nodded moving to wash her hands one more time. Keith was halfway through putting his shirt back on when the fairy suddenly grabbed his arm. “Woah~” she awed in amazement looking over a patch of scales along his upper right arm. She probably didn’t notice them before too focused on the injury and the task at hand. “I’ve never seen Dragon scales in person before, they're so vibrate and pretty.” Keith feeling a blush creeping onto his cheeks at her words, he had heard many words to describe his appearance especially ones that showcased his dragon heritage. ‘Pretty’ had never been one of them. Her small fingers gently running over the surface of his scales “their so smooth as well” she added with wonder. Keith felt a warm shiver run up his spine at her touch, forcing a little uncomfortable cough out of his throat as he tried to fight back the growing blush on his cheeks. The small fairy suddenly realized what she was doing then and quickly retracted her hands. “Sorry, I’ve only ever read about dragons before your the first one I’ve actually met” she explained bashfully, embarrassed for her actions. “It’s alright” Keith assured surprised she was so calm around him if he really was her first dragon. Keith shrugging the rest of his coat back onto to him. “Anyways” the fairy began, trying to change the subject.  “You should probably stay the night, just so I can make sure your healing properly in the morning” She replied shifting back into doctor mode “I have a few beds in the next room for patients” she explained, while cleaning up her supplies and other tools. Keith nodded in agreement glancing outside, the sun had long since set and the night only brought out more danger in the forest. “I will, thank you-” he paused, realizing he didn’t know the little fairies name. “You can call me Pidge” she replied putting the last of her things away. “Thank you, Pidge” he nodded “my name’s -” Keith was suddenly stunned silent, the little fairy magically flashing in front of him, pressing a single finger against his lips. “Never tell a Fairy your real name, it’s dangerous” she warned, with a soft almost sad smile, “just give me a nickname” Pidge suggested as she slowly pulled her finger away from his mouth. “I… I don’t have any nicknames” Keith confessed, his father only called him Keith or son, and he never had any other kind of positive interactions with others to gain a nickname he wished to repeat. “Than how about I call you Red?” Pidge suggested. “That works for me” Keith replied with a small smile and a nod. Though a part of him couldn’t help but wonder why telling a Fairy your real name was so dangerous, he had never heard anything like that before. Or why Pidge had such a sad far off look in her honey brown eyes as she warned him. Can also be read on: Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249998 FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13245175/1/Half-Breeds

[fandom-collective-writers]

Halloween Prompt

Prompt: #21 (“Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”)

Pairing: None?

Warnings: None (for once)

Author: @sleepyfoxspirit

Alice had brought Halloween to Cradle. She had insisted on throwing a party for both armies and had thrown herself into the preparations the second the two kings had agreed. After explaining what she wanted, both armies set to work on creating costumes, decorations, and food for the event that would start when the sun went down on Halloween. Her excitement was infectious and the armies found themselves enjoying the idea of it more and more as the party drew near.

The night of the party, the Red Army officers entered the Central Quarter in their costumes to find that most of the Black Army officers had already arrived. Luka was arranging food on an overflowing buffet table, clad head to toe in orange with a green stem for a hat, orange and black makeup converting his soft features into those of a grinning jack-o’-lantern. (Jonah squeaked something about how adorable his precious little brother was at the sight.) Seth stood at the top of a ladder, arranging the last of the lights, resplendent in opalescent white, his hair loose down his back and a pearly spiraling horn strapped to his brow. Sirius, dressed as a wolf with ears, paws, and a bushy tail, appeared exasperated already as he watched Ray (dressed in cat ears, paws, and a long tail) and Fenrir (covered in bandages that trailed behind him) chase Alice (wearing a Black Army uniform that looked suspiciously like Ray’s) around the fountain.

Blanc sat nearby, wearing a pair of long white rabbit ears, a pale blue bowtie at his throat, and an elegant white suit, watching the goings on with amusement. Oliver stood beside him, tall and dark in a cape that swallowed the light around him, his usual green silk hat exchanged for black. Alice attempted to hide behind him and he curled his lip in irritation to reveal a pair of fangs. He sighed and tugged his cloak away from her when she tried to hide under it and Fenrir grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder with a whoop, running back over to the fountain with Ray racing behind him. Sirius buried his head in his paws, defeated.

The Red Army officers exchanged looks. They didn’t often get to see the antics of their darker counterpart, but when they did it was always an interesting sight to be sure.

Kyle, wearing his usual lab coat with the stethoscope slung around his neck ambled over to the buffet table and immediately found the beer. Lancelot moved with the same grace he always did despite the thick golden mane, ears, and the golden crown on his head. His usual cloak flowed behind him as he took a seat beside Sirius, who immediately handed him a beer. A tall man wearing a shimmering black cloak and a matching floppy hat sat on Sirius’s other side and after him bounded Loki wearing a patchwork cat ghost costume and he immediately began chasing after Fenrir, Ray, and Alice (who had somehow managed to escape Fenrir’s arms and was running away again). Jonah (a knight in perfectly polished armor) attempted to visit the buffet table but was immediately glared at by Luka - who really couldn’t look threatening when dressed as a pumpkin but he was trying - and so he backpedaled and sat near Lancelot instead.  

Edgar somehow managed to look regal despite his duck costume modeled after the Creeks, although the effect was rather ruined the moment he started walking and had to resort to waddling because of the costume. Zero rolled his eyes and shifted the crystal ball in his hands. Dressed in black slacks and a black vest over a brilliant crimson shirt, a colorful silk scarf tied around his neck, and a magic crystal hanging from each ear, he was regretting the prop he now had to carry around. It was simple glass but it was large enough to be rather heavy after carrying it through Cradle. Resigned to his fate, he followed after Edgar and then veered away as soon as he realized that the Jack of Hearts was already raiding the sweets part of the buffet.

Kyle lifted his beer in salute, having already scowled at Edgar and been ignored for his troubles. Alice finally managed to escape Ray, Fenrir, and Loki and frowned at Kyle. “Why are you wearing your uniform?”

“I’m a doctor.” He sounded entirely too smug saying this and it only made her frown deeper.

“I guess…” She tilted her head and then stepped closer, fingers deftly undoing several more buttons on his shirt, tugged the hem out of his pants and undid two of the bottom ones, too. She stepped back and eyed him critically, not seeming to notice the crimson blush that colored Kyle’s cheeks. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded and gave him a brilliant smile. “There! In London, if you’re going to dress the part of a doctor you have to be a sexy doctor. That should do it.”

Kyle swallowed thickly, staring after her as she walked away, completely oblivious to his gobsmacked expression. It took Edgar placing a candy in his open mouth for him to finally snap out of it and bring the beer back to his lips, finishing the bottle in one go. He didn’t seem to notice the candy until he had already swallowed it and then he spluttered, spewing beer on the cobblestones and a bit on Edgar’s costume, much to his irritation. Edgar brushed away the beer with a wing, a look of disgust on his face. “How rude.”

“Did she call me sexy?”

Apparently Kyle hadn’t gotten over it yet. Edgar picked up another candy, eyeing it critically before popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. “She never said that. Just that your costume was of a sexy doctor.”

“She was stripping him,” Zero said and fought back a laugh when Kyle’s face turned as red as his hair again.

A sharp gasp sounded behind them and Zero turned to see Alice running up again, petting Edgar’s wing with stars in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice before, but this is so cute!”

Edgar preened under her scrutiny, holding up an arm for her to pet more of the feathers. She grinned at him and grabbed a handful of candy before skipping away again, almost immediately caught up in the arms of Loki who pulled her into a wild dance that consisted of spinning in circles. They were soon joined by Fenrir and Ray and then the four of them were spinning in a riot of laughter, Alice being passed from one to another.

“She said I was cute!”

Zero rolled his eyes at Edgar and smoothed a hand over the smooth glass of the crystal ball, looking into the glittery depths, and intoned, “I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

Kyle burst into a fit of drunken laughter, having finished a second bottle of beer in an effort to hide his embarrassment, and Edgar sighed. “You’re so rude to me.”

Zero passed his hand over the crystal ball again, barely containing a smirk. “The spirits speak only the truth, and the truth cannot be rude.”