#also I learned that cat's fur grows up white over scars

[milekael]

IS E5 TIME THE VENTURE IS BACK ⚡⚡⚡

[stormyoceansmain]

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

[indigobackfire]

HPHM MC Profile ✧

Indigo Silverwood

“ Getting near you is like stretching my hand into an open flame. I know I’ll burn myself, yet I crave the heat. ”

Nicknames: Indie. Didi (only by family). Silverwood. Silvie (by people who don't bother learning her name).

Gender: Female.

Birthday: 6th of March, 1973.

Born: Edinburgh, Scotland.

Mother: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood - Half-blood, Ravenclaw, English.

Father: Palmer Silverwood - Pureblood, Slytherin, Scottish.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Phoenix Nobleworth Silverwood (b. 1973) - Phoenix was adopted after the death of his parents when he was just a couple of months old.

Ethnicity: Scottish, English, (probably with some Spanish roots).

Sexuality: Straight.

MBTI Type: ENFP-A

Blood Status: Half-blood (by her muggle grandmother on her mother's side).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Appearance

Eyes: Naturally yellow/golden/amber (nobody knows why, since their parent’s eyes are brown) but both hers and Jacob's eyes are like this). She wears glasses for her Astigmatism.

Hair: Naturally dark brown, but she asked her mother to turn it red when she turned 8 and doesn't plan on undoing it any soon.

• She’s average tall and reasonably strong build, honey-brown skin littered with scars from venturing with the vaults and being freaking attacked by dark wizards, big hands and feet due to her height. A large chest that grows at once in her 4th year (”Everybody's starring, Rowan!”).

• She keeps her nails short. Her makeup is often down to just some lipstick (mascara smudges her glasses, eye shadow irritates her eyes), her hair is often long wavy and fluffed for extra volume. She often smells like coconut oil from all the creams her mother insisted she used.

• She looks a lot like her father which gives her a rather rough look - like a handsome but wild animal - yet has enough of her mother’s attributes to be considered attractive and poise if well-groomed.

Magical Aspects

1st Wand: Red Oak wood with Dragon Heartstring core, 12″, pliable. "The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive spells, and a good person to have beside in a fight." Indigo had good times with her red oak wand but as the years went by, her emotions start affecting the wand's efficiency. The wand would bleed a glowing red light in moments of extreme physical or emotional pain and become extremely unstable.

2nd Wand: Beechwood with Thestral hair core, 13", rigid flexibility. "The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond their years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation." Indigo has a hard time adapting to her new wand, it's stubborn to her spells and acts upon its own will especially considering its unusual and unstable core, Thestral hair, which is of unknown habilities, except for its use in the mythical, Elder wand. Her wand is one of a kind which is why she has to adapt her abilities to match the wand's requirements. Despite all, it's a remarkable instrument for undoing curses/spells and detecting danger.

Animagus: Somali cat. She's already certain she wants to be a cat animagus - harmless, of easy blend, and enables an approach to humans -, but decides for the Somali breed, during the process, for its sumptuous golden fur and agility.

Patronus: Kangaroo, for its fighting spirit and family values, not to mention its strength. (In-game it's the Abraxan, but only because I thought it would be cool.)

Patronus memory: (During the first times) Her first Quidditch match, not just because they won but because everyone she loves from Hogwarts was there, and she got to cheer their victory together. (Later years) Her family gathering for hot cocoa during a rainy night with Jacob with them.

Abilities: Legilimency, and great emotional influence over magic (Don't get her frightened or angry or she will blow you up).

Boggart:  Her boggart changes constantly - she can't decide if it's either because she overcame the old fears, or if the new ones toppled those, creating a pile of fears. And since the new DADA teacher is always teaching Riddikulus again and again, the famous curse-breaker is always the most awaited in the line.

Jacob, eyes dark and musty, clothes covered in blood, someone's blood. He walks to her and slowly raises his sleeve, the Death mark is craved deep in his flesh and it glows. Behind him, it rises the Dark Lord.

Riddikulus: He turns into a younger version of himself from a photograph she recalls laughing about with her mom (he's running wearing a loaded diaper, crazy hair, rosy cheeks).

For a while is someone in a cloak threatening to cast the killing curse over her friends, whispering each of their names like a snake but she's frozen unable to stop them.

Riddikulus: The cloak falls to reveal a bunch of gnomes piled up wearing wigs and makeup.

For another, very realistic corpses of all of her friends spread at her feet, a dark wizard across from her, it's over and there isn't anything she can do to save them anymore - it was a grim day in DADA, but they all wanted to see it didn't they?

Riddikulus: This is the one time she fails to defeat a boggart, letting the horrible scene consume her, she falls to her knees defeated, and even after Rakepick's shouting, when she tries to cast the spell, it fails again and again.

This last boggart came to show everyone around her how truly terrified she was, not for her own life, but for that of those around her. How despite the confidence she was constantly displaying, in reality, she was afraid she couldn't save them from whatever was trying to get her.

Amortentia: Her Amortentia smells like Jacob's cologne — which he used to borrow from their father which is why she recalls so easily —, fresh Catnip ever since she became an animagus, bakings just out of the oven — extra intensity if there's chocolate involved, and freshly washed sweaters (from hugging Barney and the Weasleys).

Mirror of Erised: She's under the shadow of a tree, Jacob on one side along with Phoenix and Aspen, Barnaby's head resting on her lap, Rowan by her side, and Orion for some reason. They're laughing and reading books, it's an eternal spring afternoon.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Sphynx cat, Mocca, a brown and white rat, Franccesca, and (later in her Hogwarts years) a Great Horned owlet, Plum.

Things she always carries with her: Her wand (duh), a handmade Gryffindor bracelet that used to belong to Jacob, the Handbook of Magical Theory, a handful of peppermints, a pouch with some money, a flask of Wideye potion, some Murtlap Essence, and a family photo during Christmas of 1980.

Lucky Amulets: She has a dream catcher made by Phoenix from feathers he shed during transformations and a "broken" knight from Murphy's chessboard who decided to leave the game for good and now sleeps on Indigo's nightstand with its horse, she likes stroking the horse the night before every Quidditch match

Best Friends

Her brother, Phoenix, takes the crown in matter of importance because, well, they're siblings who grew up practically like twins, but their relationship deserves their own detailing.

Rowan has got to be the first. Not only they share the same adventurous nerdy spirit, but Rowan also is the one to stick around even when everything is dark and uncertain and Indigo's popularity plummets. Indigo is always excited to hear whatever Rowan has to say - most times about books or Bill Weasley - and she's rarely fazed by the weird things Rowan does.

Murphy McNully is a close second, having officially met in the middle of her second year, they're both still fresh in a matter of friendships which allows them to open up, both in desperate need of company and support. He's often a companion in the girl's library and common room study sessions and sits with them during meals.

Charlie Weasley has her heart and soul from the moment they first speak during year one, but it actually takes a while until they form any real bond, which begins after he finds out she has been seeking his brother's help to search for the cursed vaults.

Ben is a friend she cherishes deeply but often finds it hard to break through his protective shell which makes him feel distant even when he opens up to her. Unlike her friends, she grows more liking towards Ben after he has his change in personality, as he feels more open about himself.

Chiara is a friend she deeply appreciates for her courage in reaching out for her help in times of need and trusting her with her secret. In Marauder fashion, she likes keeping an eye on her on the nights of full moon - which is good to train her cat tree climbing. They often have afternoon tea together and she teaches Indigo useful healing spells.

Andre and Indigo didn't have a great start, as she thought of him as arrogant and inconsiderate, and he thought she was careless and selfish. But when she helps him with a transfiguration mishap during their 3rd year when he was trying to be creative - and the reason he now has a two-headed cat - they start opening up to each other and begin a friendship. He's a good friend to confide in about the mundane aspects of her life and Quidditch intrigues.

Orion means to her more than she can put into words. Not only he is her team captain, but also a dear friend whom she turns to in times of emotional instability cause she knows he'll be the one to successfully help her clear her mind. They enjoy each other's company even if they don't have anything interesting to say. They sit together during every Divination class for as long as the subject goes.

She has no "rivals" as she finds that sort of labeling quite petty, but would definitely punch Emily Tyler on the stomach and perhaps Face Paint kid for all his eavesdropping.

She has an easier time bonding with her fellow Gryffindors since they spend most of their time together in classes, lunch, and hanging around in the common room.

Dormmates: She and Rowan got placed in a room for three people, as the ones for five were already full, along with a girl called Tanya. But at the beginning of their 4th year, they find out she has bailed out to another dorm room claiming they 1. Snort and speak in their sleep on a regular basis, 2. Will eventually endanger her with their cursed vault shenanigans, 3. Will get her killed - which, spoilers, actually happens, oops. So they basically have the dorm for themselves.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

Potions

Flying

DADA

Magical Theory

Least Favorite:

Transfiguration

History of Magic

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Kettleburn. Despite CoMC not being on her top favorite subjects, she enjoys her time in his classes and reminds her of her grandfather on her father's side who's a highlander wizard.

Least Favorite: Binns. Just retire you old man!

Quidditch Position: Chaser. Despite enjoying her time as Gryffindor's beater, she notices the position takes a toll on her physical wellbeing, having to carry a heavy bat and being injured by bludgers more times than she can keep track of. So she returns to her chaser position after a year.

Favorite Team: Montrose Magpies. She never had an interest in Quidditch before she began playing but decided to pick a team to support. Of course, it had to be a Scottish team and settles for MM because of professor McGonagall who's also a supporter.

She's not indigo's face claim, but it's hard to find good red-haired characters out there.

I guess I'll leave her background and history for another post since it interweaves very tightly with her sibling. And since I'm still exploring her story.

Well this is just an intro to my beloved MC

[jayfrost-designs]

This is also from December of last year.

I've had a new idea in my head for Darkstripe for a while now, and after getting all those other ref sheets that I needed to do done, I decided to run with it.  You may have noticed a change in the name of his father in his bio. Don't worry about that just yet.  I'll get to it after talking about the design.

The reverse side of his design can be seen here.

On his wiki page, Darkstripe is described as a large, lean, sleek, and thin-furred tom. I misread the "thin-furred" part of his description as "thick-furred" when I started designing this, so he ended up with a rather thick pelt. Oops.  My explanation/excuse for this is that the thin-furred description comes from his appearance as a Dark Forest cat, so as a living cat he had sleek, thick fur, but after dying he started going all patchy and ragged and his fur started to get pretty thin in places. So that's my half-baked excuse for that.  I went pretty free-hand with this design, but he's mostly based on Turkish Vans, and is meant to be decent-sized and muscular, with a thick mediumish pelt. He has a smaller version of his mother's ear tufts and a decent amount of scars, since he was always pretty aggresive.

For his pattern, Darkstripe is described as a dark gray tabby tom with black stripes and yellow eyes. I completely changed his design from his old one and went for a smoke tabby look for him this time around. His black stripes don't stand out as much as on his old design since the rest of the pelt is darker now, but they're still there, and he's overall a very dark-looking cat, so Dark- fits him well as a prefix. I played around with his design a lot before I was happy with it, but I'm really happy with the end result. ^^ I came up with a fresh shade of yellow for his eyes as well. ^^

Now for the fun part. Since Tawnyspots is no longer listed as his father on the official family tree, I decided to come up with a new headcanon for who his father is. I considered a few cats from ThunderClan at first, but none of them seemed to fit. But then I had a really interesting idea for his father - and for the reason he's a smoke tabby. I'll explain everything below - starting with Willowpelt's story. Apologies in advance for the length. ^^

~-~-~

As a young cat, Willowpelt gets lonely sometimes. Her sister is busy training to be a medicine cat, and Redtail throws himself into his warrior duties so much that he doesn’t spend as much time with her as either of them would like. She doesn’t begrudge either of them their ambitions - she knows Redtail wants to be the best warrior he possibly can (and later has his eye on the deputyship), and Spottedleaf will make an amazing medicine cat. But she doesn’t share their ambitions. She’s always been a much more relaxed cat, content to do her duties as a warrior, but not pushing beyond that, preferring to spend her time racing through the forest on the wild excitement of the hunt, and spend lazy days sunning in the grass, rather than busying herself with constant patrols and duties.

So while her siblings are busy with their work, Willowpelt seeks out companionship elsewhere. She’d always been curious about twolegplace, hearing stories about how their last leader had left to live there, and decided to check it out one day. She doesn’t find Pinestar - but she does find some friendly kittypets who welcome the visit of a real wild Clan cat. She continued to visit occasionally over the moons, whenever she’s feeling particularly lonely. She’s never swayed by the thought of becoming a kittypet herself - she loves her Clan, and her freedom, too much - but she’s happy to visit her kittypet friends whenever she can.

She grows particularly close with a sleek, handsome smoke tom called Sparky. A few moons later, she finds herself expecting the tom’s kits. The two aren’t in love, and Sparky rejects Willowpelt’s offer to join ThunderClan and help raise the kits, but it’s all very amicable and the two remain on close terms. Willowpelt is perfectly happy to raise her kits alone. She later gives birth to a single tom, Darkkit, who looks remarkably like his father. The Clan gossips a little about who the father could possibly be (Willowpelt covers her tracks visiting Twolegplace better than Featherstorm had), but overall they’re just happy to have another kit after the nursery has been empty so long, since White-eye’s last litter.

Willowpelt plans to tell Darkkit about his parentage when he’s old enough, but the young tom grows bitter after moons of some of the stricter cats whispering about his unknown parentage, and the loneliness of being the only kit in the nursery. Willowpelt always assures him that there’s nothing wrong with him and is a fiercely loving mother, but her laidback attitude about borders and rules bothers him - other warriors take these things seriously, so shouldn’t she? A kernel of doubt begins to weed its way onto Darkkit’s mind - what if Willowpelt won’t tell anyone who his father is because his father doesn’t want him? What if it was because he isn’t good enough to be this mystery tom's son? Willowpelt longs to comfort her son that his father does care and does want to be part of his life, but she’s not sure he’s old enough to understand the truth about his father, so she waits.

With all this doubt and bitterness swirling inside him, it’s no surprise that upon becoming an apprentice, Darkpaw immediately attaches himself to the first cat who seems ready to take him seriously and see some potential in him - his new mentor Tigerclaw. To Darkpaw, Tigerclaw is everything a warrior should be. He has the strength of TigerClan, the courage of LionClan, and  is the wisest, most loyal warrior in the entire Clan in the young tom’s eyes. He can’t believe his luck in snagging such a skilled and brave warrior as his mentor, and quickly learns to worship the ground Tigerclaw walks on. A secret part of his heart wonders whether Tigerclaw is his father. They both have dark tabby pelts and fur that grows darker at the points, and while Darkpaw isn’t nearly as tall and long-furred as the older tom, he’s still broader and taller than his mother, and could have inherited that from Tigerclaw. He works tirelessly to mold himself after Tigerclaw’s image and takes all of his training to heart - including his views on loyalty and cats from outside of the Clan.

Willowpelt had intended to tell Darkpaw about his father a moon or so into his training, but the longer he trained with Tigerclaw, the more disdainful he grew of cats outside of the warrior code, especially kittypets. She worries about how much the tom has changed, but he doesn’t seem willing to listen to her anymore, so there’s little she can do to curb Tigerclaw’s influence on her son. She resolved to continue hiding the truth of his father, as Darkpaw is probably happier not knowing the truth, and resolves to keep an eye on her son. It’s not all bad, she assures herself. Tigerclaw has taken the fatherless tom under his wing just as Thistleclaw had done for him, and he seems genuinely proud of his young apprentice - in his own stoic way - and is molding him into a strong warrior. As long as Darkpaw is happy, that’s what matters - right?

Though Darkpaw, then later Darkstripe definitely grows more scornful of others and more conceited over the moons, Willowpelt tries to stay optimistic. He’s a bit of a jerk, yes, but otherwise he seems like a perfectly loyal and happy warrior. But that illusion starts to chip away little by little after Tigerclaw’s exile as Darkstripe continues to show an unhealthy attachment to such a traitor, and then comes crashing down completely the day that Darkstripe tries to poison his own half sister. Unbeknownst to the rest of the Clan, Willowpelt sneaks out after Darkstripe as he’s departing the territory for his exile.

Rage and heartbreak bubble under her pelt in equal measures as she faces her eldest son. Something inside of her is wailing at the loss of the son that she’d loved, and her failure to protect him from becoming this, but the rest of her feels an icy calm. She faces Darkstripe, coldly informing him that if he’s fool enough to follow Tigerstar on his rampage against “impure” cats, then he’d better hand himself over as well for being impure. He’s the very thing that he’s always hated, the thing that he has been relentless in mocking Firestar for being - he’s half kittypet. Darkstripe flies into a rage, shrieking that it isn’t true, it can’t be true, that Willowpelt never loved him and is just lying to make him doubt himself. He tries to attack his mother, but she dances out of range, still glaring at him with icy calm while her heart continues to wail its pain inside of her. She tells him that she loved him with all of her heart, and that if he’d let go of his bitterness and his unhealthy devotion to an admitted traitor long enough he would’ve seen that, but that now it’s too late. She’ll always love him, but she will never forgive him for what he’s done to her daughter. She leaves him there on the border between ThunderClan and TigerClan. He hesitates, but only for a moment. Then he slips into TigerClan territory.

Unfortunately, Darkstripe’s reception at the TigerClan camp is chillier than expected. It was true that Tigerstar had once felt genuine pride and companionship for Darkstripe as his apprentice and as a fellow warrior. He’d always known that Darkstripe was a bit of a suck-up, but he was still strong and a powerful warrior in his own right, and Tigerstar had been proud of the efforts of his first run as a mentor. However, his opinion of Darkstripe had lessened after the tom refused to follow him into exile, and had dropped even more sharply after one of his Twolegplace allies had told him about a smoke kittypet who’d mentioned being friends with forest cats. Tigerstar had taken the chance to spy on the kittypet from a tree one day, only to be shocked at the sight of a cat nearly identical to Darkstripe.

After that, Tigerstar had put together the pieces and realized that Darkstripe was the son of a kittypet. He tells Darkstripe as much when he arrives in TigerClan, glaring down at the groveling tom with a sneer. That kittypet blood has tainted him with weakness, he claimed, weakness that had kept him from following Tigerstar into exile, that had made him fail again and again at Tigerstar’s commands as his spy, and that had made him fail at the simple task of killing one insignificant little kit. Darkstripe quivers before the tom, protesting that it couldn’t be true, though with Tigerstar’s account of the smoke kittypet, he’s starting to realize that it must be. He wails that he’d never known, that Willowpelt had hidden it from him, that she is the true traitor. He didn’t care who his father was, he whimpers - his loyalty was to Tigerstar, it had always been to Tigerstar, and it always would be.

Tigerstar watched the sniveling display with disdain. The tom was undoubtedly tainted by the weakness of his blood, but he’d always shown devotion to Tigerstar. Perhaps he could be given one last chance - but only one. He tells the tom that if he is ever to be anything but the sniveling son of a kittypet, he must prove himself willing to eradicate any disloyalty in the new Clan and pledge himself entirely loyal. He considers ordering the tom to hunt down his kittypet father and slay him, or to sneak into ThunderClan territory and kill his treacherous mother. But there are more pressing concerns facing his Clan right now, and he can’t have one of his warriors off on some lengthy mission to get one well-guarded cat alone when TigerClan is on the verge of conquering the other Clans. Such tests of his loyalty can come later. For now, perhaps a simpler task will do. He still needs someone to take care of those halfClan prisoners after all...

Of course, Darkstripe fails in that task too, and Tigerstar’s rage at yet another failure from his half-kittypet lackey is fearsome to behold. It is only the need for every fighting warrior available for the battle to come that keeps Tigerstar from punishing Darkstripe more severely. A worse fate may have awaited Darkstripe after the battle’s end, had Tigerstar not fallen under Scourge’s claws. And yet, Darkstripe continues his nearly obsessive devotion to the cat he still thinks of as his true father, even if he isn’t a father by blood, and he ends up dying in his quest to avenge the murderous tom. And yet, even a death in service to Tigerstar isn’t enough to truly raise him in the tom’s eyes, and he spends his seasons in the Dark Forest being overshadowed by a Tigerstar’s true sons, until the end of the Dark Battle leaves him to wander alone in the darkness forever.

~-~-~

Anyway, that’s my mini-essay on Darkstripe’s father and life story. XD Overall, I'm really happy with how his design turned out, and I had a lot of fun coming up with his parents' story and his story in regards to thinking of Tigerstar as his father. I also like how silhouette-wise, he looks a fair bit like Graystripe, but their patterns make them decently distinct from each other.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances || Chapter 18 || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 19

Feathertail shook her muzzle as a tiny white flake tickled her whiskers. She looked up and, frowning, realized that the sky had turned a pale gray. Frozen-water is here, she thought. The Tribe cats had said that the cold and snow often came far sooner in the mountains than it did in the land below.

She looked back at the others. None of them seemed enthused about the idea of snow – they had been walking non-stop since leaving the Tribe’s territory, with heads down and moods sullen and hardly a word spoken beyond necessity.

Feathertail turned her attention to their surroundings. The land was sloping downward, the rocks and crags growing farther and farther apart as the level earth below got closer and closer. They weren’t too far away from the edge of Tribe territory – at a sprint they could make it back before evening – but their patrols weren’t likely to follow them here. Feathertail guessed that, if they kept walking, they’d make it to the forest within a few days. But that means leaving Stormfur behind.

Her eye caught on an outcropping of rock that rose over the slanting ground, forming a deep cave with the stone around it. She pointed there with her tail. “Shelter,” she said.

Mistyfoot came to her side, narrowing her eyes at the cave. “It will have to do,” she decided. “Thank you, Feathertail.” The ThunderClan she-cat headed for the rocks, her tail raised for the others to follow.

Feathertail nodded. She opened her jaws to scent the area, but found nothing threatening within the vicinity. With a quick glance at the sky for hawks or eagles, she followed the others into the cave.

It was cool but dry inside, and spacious enough for each cat to stretch and rest their weary paws. Feathertail was grateful for the break, sitting down to lap at her sore pads. Outside, the snow was beginning to fall more quickly – they’d found shelter just in time, and Feathertail reasoned they could do worse than this cave for waiting out a snowstorm.

“I’m starving,” Crowpaw complained.

“Same here,” sighed Nightpaw. He lifted up one of his paws for Shadepaw to examine. “My paws are falling off!”

“Not quite yet,” Shadepaw pointed out, her voice quiet. She gave his paw a lick. “But your pads are all gritty.”

Nightpaw sighed and settled down to clean his paws. Stoneheart raised his head, frowning as he looked over the others. His eyes rested on Mistyfoot, who was grooming her tail. “This seems like a good spot to make our plans,” he meowed.

“We’ll plan better with full bellies,” Mistyfoot responded.

“I’ll go,” Feathertail offered.

She blinked, surprised at the looks the others were giving her. Had she been too hasty to offer? Was she imagining the spark of uncertainty in their gazes? Feathertail swallowed. She had to be making it up – Crowpaw’s comments earlier were just getting under her fur.

“Go on,” Mistyfoot meowed. “But be quick, and stay out of the Tribe’s sight.”

“Of course!” Feathertail got to her paws and slipped out of the cave.

She looked over the snow-covered rocks and wondered where the prey might be hiding. Keeping her body low, Feathertail made her way over to one of the boulders sticking out over the earth, clawing her way up to survey the land. There were plenty of bushes and scraggly trees for prey to hide, and the rocks would also provide good shelter for mice or birds. The snow wasn’t falling too hard, not yet, and Feathertail could feel in her fur that only the cold would follow them through the night.

As Feathertail scanned the land, she found herself grateful for the solitude. Without the others staring at her, it seemed like her mind could fully take in what had happened. Guilt pierced her belly, sharp as hunger – I never should have made Stormfur come, she thought. If I had just acted like a warrior instead of a spoiled kit, this never would have happened to him.

She spotted a bird hopping between bushes, looking for any spare berries. Feathertail slid off of the rocks, halting her movements long enough to blend in with the grayness around her. Is it really his destiny to help the Tribe, though? She wondered as she crept closer. Would some force have brought him along, anyway?

As she pounced, she thought of Midnight. It seemed like seasons ago that the she-badger had directed the Clan cats to the mountains in the first place. If she hadn’t said anything, we would have followed Purdy through Twolegplace again. They might have even been back to the Clans by now. Midnight had said destiny was in motion…

Did she know about Sharptooth, and the Tribe? Feathertail lifted her head, the bird caught in her jaws. The smell of fresh-kill flooded her senses. Did she know that they wanted Stormfur?

The possibility unsettled Feathertail. Midnight was a strange enough creature on her own, but she –and the others, likely – had assumed the badger was on their side. Was she really, if she had nudged them into this situation? Is this another test, like the journey itself?

Feathertail’s head was reeling. I might not ever see Midnight again, she thought, so I might never get those answers… She looked up the slope, towards the Tribe’s territory. And I might never see Stormfur again, either, if we don’t act soon…

Refocusing her efforts, Feathertail set down her bird and crouched again, readying herself to leap upon a mouse that was just within range. Her haunches wiggled…

She thought of springing, but the thought never went through her back legs – a weight landed on her back, knocking Feathertail off of her paws and sending her sprawling down the slope.

Blood roared in her ears as Feathertail scrambled to her paws, shock pulsing through her muscles. Eyes wide, she bared her teeth in a snarl, claws unsheathed. What was that? She thought. Sharptooth? The Tribe?

The scent of cat washed over her, and Feathertail caught movement a tail-length away. A gray tabby she-cat was circling her, tail lashing to and fro and eyes flashing with hostility. It wasn’t any Tribe cat that Feathertail recognized, but the strange cat’s build was unmistakable, and beneath the scent of rock and water she did detect the faint musk of the Tribe.

What do I do? She thought, hazarding a glance at the cave. Can they see me?

Feathertail caught more movement in her periphery. Three more cats, all of Tribe origin, were now flanking her – at least two were cave-guards, from their strong shoulders and broad heads. Feathertail swallowed.

They don’t smell like they’ve seen Tribe territory in a moon, she thought. Tribe cats were reluctant to leave their borders, despite being the only cats who hunted in the mountains. What are they doing out here?

One of them, a small brown tom, rammed into her from the side. “Move!” he hissed.

Feathertail hissed back, but complied, finding that the strangers were herding her into the cave where her friends were resting. Bristling with worry for their safety, Feathertail cried, “Look out!”

Eyes flashed in the dark. Stoneheart and Mistyfoot emerged immediately, bristling, with claws unsheathed. The strange cats stopped pushing Feathertail, standing up straight in shock.

“More?!” snapped the gray tabby she-cat. She flashed a look at Feathertail, and then at a big dark tabby tom whose one eye was nearly sealed shut by an old scar. Feathertail could only imagine what had made such a mark. “An ambush from Stoneteller?”

Ambush? Stoneteller?

“They smell of Tribe,” growled the small brown tom at Feathertail’s other side. He lashed his stumpy tail.

Feathertail had a moment to look at her captors more closely. These cats were covered in scars, thinner and hungrier looking than their brethren in Tribe territory. She wondered again what they were doing out here when home and safety lay not far away.

The dark tabby tom narrowed his eyes. “But they do not look Tribe,” he meowed. He raised his tail and, with looks of wary confusion, the other three cats took a step back. “Who are you?”

Mistyfoot did not lower her guard, but she lifted her head. “We are not Tribe,” she insisted. “We were their guests, before we were sent away.”

Feathertail guessed that Mistyfoot wasn’t trying to offend these cats, in case they were itching to bring them back to the Tribe. It seemed as if they didn’t know about the Clan cats or that they had been kicked out, at the very least. Feathertail’s heart pounded harder. Hopefully that was a good thing.

The dark tabby tom’s ears pinned, and his eyes narrowed in thought.

“We need to get inside, Talon,” muttered one of them, a massive dark gray tom. Feathertail thought he might be Boulder’s brother, for how similar they looked. “The cold will claim us, if not Sharptooth.”

Sharptooth… Feathertail shivered. Mistyfoot and Stoneheart exchanged a glance. Maybe they could learn what this Sharptooth was from these cats, if they played their situation right.

Talon, the tabby tom, nodded. “Indeed.” He turned his sharp gaze upon the Clan cats. “We will discuss this further inside the cave.”

Feathertail was pushed forward, into Mistyfoot and Stoneheart. Three of the four Tribe cats formed a line, pressing in towards the entrance of the cave, while another broke off, only to return with a mouthful of fresh-kill hidden in the snow beneath a bush.

The cave was crowded with so many cats. Crowpaw and Nightpaw were bristling as they all came inside, with even Shadepaw’s claws unsheathed – but when they saw that hostilities seemed over, only Crowpaw looked cross at the crowd. They gathered haphazardly around the center of the cave, where the gray tabby she-cat thrust her catch – two rabbits, Feathertail’s bird, and a mouse.

Feathertail felt foolish. She should have scented the faint odor of Tribe in the stone around her. Worrying about Stormfur must have clouded my senses, she thought, shifting on her paws as she pressed herself against the rock to make room. Talon sat beside her and looked over the fresh-kill pile. If this isn’t their permanent spot, they must come here often.

Talon took one of the rabbits and took a bite, passing it to Stoneheart. The ShadowClan tom hesitated, but then took a bite himself. Feathertail sighed. At least they’re willing to show peace, she thought. She took a bite of the rabbit as it was passed to her, and then pushed it on to Mistyfoot.

“So,” Talon meowed, licking his whiskers, “who are you?”

Mistyfoot was busy chewing, so Stoneheart launched into the long explanation of the message from StarClan, the journey to the lake, and their experience in the mountains. Briefly he touched upon the Clans, but most of his speech was focused on their time with the Tribe, and what happened to Stormfur.

Talon’s eyes were wide by the end, and the other Tribe cats looked just as stunned.

“So, you have been exiled as well,” Talon murmured. His expression softened, which was odd to look at with such a grisly scar on his brow. “I am sorry.” All around him, the other Tribe cats relaxed, as if they had found lost kindred.

Feathertail looked up at him. “What happened to you?” she wondered. “Why were you exiled?”

Talon’s eyes darkened. “I am Talon of Swooping Eagle,” he introduced. Feathertail couldn’t help but wince – that name explained quite clearly where the tabby tom had gotten that horrible scar. “These are my companions – Jagged Rock Where Heron Sits, Rock Beneath Still Water, and Bird That Sings At Dusk.” He pointed to the large gray tom, the small brown tom, and the gray tabby she-cat respectively. “We were once part of the Tribe as well.”

“We sought an end to Sharptooth,” Jag meowed, curling his tail over his paws. “Stoneteller sent us to kill the creature before last freed-water…” The big tom frowned, looking down at the tattered fresh-kill before him.

“It was a disaster,” finished Bird. Her eyes turned sorrowful. “We lost two of our group, and it cost Rock his tail. When we returned to the Cave of Rushing Water, Stoneteller exiled us for our failure.”

Rock shifted self-consciously, hiding his stumpy tail from view. “We were declared dead,” he rasped, “and told never to return to Tribe lands. We’ve roamed together ever since.”

Feathertail’s heart ached. “How could Stoneteller do that to you?” she breathed. Stealing Stormfur was one thing – they were strangers - but she hadn’t imagined that the frail old cat could be so cruel to his own Tribemates. Clearly the others thought the same, from their shocked expressions. No Clan leader would react in such a way, that’s for sure!

Bird’s eyes sharpened. “Stoneteller has watched Tribemate after Tribemate die from Sharptooth’s wrath,” she meowed. “It is no shock to us that he has become harsh as a blizzard for it.”

Feathertail swallowed, glancing at the others. He’s desperate, then, she thought. Brook’s eyes, round and pleading for understanding, swam in her vision again. The whole Tribe is.

“What is Sharptooth?” Nightpaw asked, his eyes glowing in the dark. “No one’s told us yet.”

Jag shifted on his paws, his muzzle twitching. Talon seemed apprehensive, glancing at the others. It was Rock who spoke, his lip curled. “It is a Tribe legend, old as the stones of the mountains themselves – long ago, when the Tribe was yet young, before prey-hunter or cave-guard, a Tribe sharpclaw took a patrol into the mountains, seeking food to see the Tribe through a cruel frozen-water.”

Bird took up the story next, her eyes flashing: “That sharpclaw returned, covered in blood, alone. He had killed the rest of his patrol, and their remains were never found – and even when the snows cleared in freed-water the bones were gone. Some say he gave them to the darkness in the mountains, for strength.”

“Regardless, in all our tales darkness changed that sharpclaw,” Talon meowed, his voice low. Feathertail’s spine prickled, as if this story were something she shouldn’t be hearing. “He killed others to gain more power, and eventually he was exiled, swearing revenge on the Tribe for all time.”

“This is true?” Stoneteller wondered. Feathertail envied his composure. Trust a ShadowClan cat to be unafraid of stories like this!

Bird nodded her head. “It is – this Sharptooth, all Sharptooths, are descendants of that sharpclaw, driven to kill us by their bloodline.”

“They are not always a constant threat,” added Jag. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting keeps them at bay – but sometimes a Sharptooth grows strong enough to break through their protection, when darkness ebbs stronger in the world. This one has stalked the Tribe for four mountain seasons, moving closer and closer and picking us off more brazenly as it makes its way to the Cave of Rushing Water.”

Feathertail shivered, pressing close to Mistyfoot. She recalled her hunting expeditions with the Tribe cats and understood now that they had not just been on the lookout for eagles or hawks, but this Sharptooth as well. She thought of the strange, foul scent that had cut short one of the hunting trips, and of how desperate the Tribe cats been to flee to the safety of the Cave.

And then Spray died, she thought. She looked to the others – the same thoughts seemed to be occurring in her friends, a horror spreading from cat to cat. Sharptooth is practically outside the Cave of Rushing Water…

“A prey-hunter was killed close to the Cave,” Mistyfoot reported. “Spray.”

Bird’s eyes grew round, and she buried her muzzle into Jag’s pelt. Rock nudged her sympathetically. Feathertail’s heart ached – these cats had been exiled for moons, how many of their friends had died in that time?

Talon sighed, meowing, “Sharptooth is going to attack the Tribe in the Cave of Rushing Water. We are running out of time.”

Feathertail swallowed. The screams of the Tribe cats echoed in her mind. She could practically smell the blood, see the dead piling up… she could see Brook among them, lifeless and broken. Feathertail couldn’t suppress a whimper at the thought. It was too much to bear.

If it gets in, they’ll all die. Her stomach clenched. There’s nowhere to run in that cave. And Stormfur would die with them.

“I don’t understand!” Crowpaw declared, his eyes wide. “H-How can the Tribe think anyone can handle such a thing, let alone just Stormfur?”

“I do not know,” Jag admitted with a shrug. “Stoneteller is many things, but he is no murderer. Keeping your Clanmate is only guaranteeing their death.”

“Snow wouldn’t allow it, surely,” Bird added. “Even if Stoneteller was lost in grief, she has always seen sense!”

Shadepaw spoke up: “There is more to this than what you all know.”

All eyes turned to Shadepaw. Feathertail blinked at the medicine cat apprentice, recalling that she had seen something in the Cavern of Reflection.

Shadepaw swallowed, gathering herself. “While we were in the Cavern, I heard a prophecy from the Tribe of Endless Hunting - From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe, they said.”

Talon narrowed his eyes, as best as his scar would allow. “And how did you spy upon our ancestors, little one?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“I am a medicine cat apprentice in the Clans,” Shadepaw explained, raising her chin. “Comparable to a Stonteller’s apprentice. I see the signs from our ancestors, StarClan – but in my defense, I had not intended to spy on your ancestors. I saw what I saw, heard what I heard, and if the Tribe of Endless Hunting did not want me to do either…”

“They would have prevented it,” Rock guessed. He huffed, as if the Tribe of Endless Hunting’s ways were far beyond him.

Shadepaw nodded. She went on: “I saw a massive creature in the water; shaped like a cat but different in little ways. Big shoulders, round ears, massive teeth… There was a storm behind it. Lightning flashed, and the creature was dead, and then your ancestors spoke those words: From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe.”

The cats in the cave went quiet. Feathertail could hear her own heart beating in her ears, and Mistyfoot voiced the realization surely going through every Clan cat’s mind: “We came from the sun-drown place, from where the sun ‘dies.’”

“It really meant Stormfur,” Feathertail murmured, her heart threatening to snap in two. She felt like the world was shaking beneath her, and she dug her claws into the stone to hold herself down.

“That can’t be true!” sputtered Crowpaw, his neck fur bristling even as his eyes were wide in anguish. “Stormfur is a Clan cat – he can’t be part of a Tribe prophecy!” He thrust his narrow muzzle into Shadepaw’s face. “You had to have seen something else!”

Shadepaw pressed her muzzle into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t.”

Crowpaw’s entire body shivered, and he collapsed into Shadepaw.

“The Tribe ancestors sought an outsider to help them,” Stoneheart meowed, his voice low. “Same as StarClan sought an outsider to help our Clans, seasons ago.” His pale blue eyes, normally so level, were shot through with grief and worry.

“Tinystar never had to face a Sharptooth,” Mistyfoot murmured. “And he certainly wasn’t alone.”

Feathertail could hardly keep her vision straight. She buried her head in her paws, images of Stormfur facing Sharptooth playing rapid-fire in her mind. None of them resulted in her littermate standing triumphant over the monster’s body, and she made herself sick thinking of every different way Stormfur would die.

I brought him here to die. Feathertail felt utterly wretched. Oh StarClan, please don’t do this to me! It felt futile to call to her ancestors here, where only the Tribe spirits walked.  

“I am sorry,” Talon murmured, looking down at her sympathetically. “The will of our ancestors is, at times, painful.”

“He’s my littermate,” Feathertail snapped back, raising her muzzle in defiance. She was trembling from ears to tail. “He’s my brother! He’s all I have! Your ancestors can’t take him from me, from us!”

Mistyfoot laid her tail along Feathertail’s shoulders, and she sank back down onto her belly. How can she be so calm about this? Feathertail felt anger well up at how collected Mistyfoot seemed – didn’t she love Stormfur at all? But then she felt her friend’s tail tremble, saw her legs shake. She’s trying so hard not to lose it like I am…

“Why are we all assuming Stormfur needs to die?” Feathertail looked up. Nightpaw had stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes flashing like lightning. He swung his muzzle around, staring each cat in the eye. “If Stormfur can’t handle Sharptooth on his own, then I say we help him!”

The Tribe exiles’ eyes flashed in surprise. “You would do that, little one?” Talon mewed, taken aback, “Even if it meant losing your own lives?”

“Stormfur’s fate is not entwined with yours any longer.” Bird pointed out. “Haven’t you your own task to complete?”

Mistyfoot’s eyes were resolute. “We do,” she agreed, “but we got to this point by sticking together – we will leave the same way. Stormfur is one of us, and we are not going to leave him behind.”

The strength, the conviction, the love in Mistyfoot’s words filled Feathertail’s heart. She got to her paws, glancing at the others. Stoneheart was nodding in agreement. Crowpaw had lifted his head, his eyes hard with determination. Shadepaw was flexing her claws, her eyes flickering in thought. Nightpaw raised his tail, nodding at Mistyfoot with admiration in his gaze. They were united, one in their goal to bring back Stormfur.

Like a Clan would be.

“We need a plan,” Nightpaw declared, looking proud of himself.

“Outright battle will get us all killed,” decided Jag.

“Us?” Talon blinked at Jag, whiskers twitching in amusement. “You mean to join them?”

“To save the Tribe? Of course,” Jag insisted. “What sort of life is this out here, away from home and family?”

Talon was quiet, for a moment. Bird and Rock glanced at him, as if his next words would decide their place in this, as well. Feathertail watched him carefully. Having their help would be nothing but a benefit – the more cats to fight Sharptooth the better, and these cats had experience in such an endeavor, even if it had ended in failure.

Finally, Talon decided, “It is no life at all.” He turned his eyes to the Clan cats, resting his gaze on Mistyfoot. “We are with you.”

“We are glad to have you,” Mistyfoot decided.

“Yes!” Nightpaw purred. He bounced on his paws. “Now, about that plan…”

Every cat shut their jaws. Looks of confusion and uncertainty passed over everyone’s face. Feathertail frowned. The unity was great and all, but if they couldn’t come up with a plan it would mean nothing. She wracked her brain – what could they possibly do to harm a Sharptooth? Everything she knew about the creature made it seem invulnerable. She hadn’t the faintest clue.

Shadepaw looked up. “I think I have an idea,” she meowed, her amber eyes bright. “StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting willing, it works…”

[legendarysharpshooter]

Lost Prince (S1) Prologue Pt. 1

A/N: My entire tumblr account got deleted for... really stupid reasons, so now I’m  reposting this because I enjoyed having it on tumblr and I’ve had a renewed interest in writing.

Pairing: Shance

Next,

A03

Sirens blare all around them as the Castle takes hit after hit. He stumbles into the bridge and spies Coran running about, struggling to check everything at once. His father, King Alfor, stands in the center of the room. He makes his way over.

“You called?”

“Akiva,” Alfor replies, turning to look at him, expression grim. His son stands tall before him. The two are nearly identical in appearance, though Akiva is lither, less filled out. Alfor knows, however, that his son is just as strong as him, and just as tactical as well. Allura may be too young to understand his decisions, but his oldest certainly will.

The ships jolts as it takes another hit. Coran scrambles back to the front of the bridge, brows furrowed in concentration as he reads the screens.

“We must hurry!” Coran shouts. “Zarkon is getting closer!”

“Akiva,” Alfor says, looking back down at his son. “I have a special task for you.”

“Where are the other Paladins?” Akiva asks, glancing once more around the room. His father sighs.

“They’ve gone to hide the Lions,” he says. “You too, must take the Black Lion and hide it away from Zarkon’s reach.” Akiva’s gaze slides past Alfor to Coran as he takes in the scene. He knows Zarkon is powerful, but to send their only chance at winning away?

“Please, my son,” Alford pleads, stepping down from the podium. He places a hand on Akiva’s shoulder. “You are the only one capable of piloting the Black Lion, you must use that connection and build a stronger bond with it. It’s the only way to protect it from Zarkon and give the universe a fighting chance.”

“And what of Allura?” he asks. “And the remaining Alteans? We can’t just leave them to die!”

“Those that have chosen to stay will remain here to hold off Zarkon as long as possible. Some have volunteered to go with you and help protect the Black Lion. They are down in the hangar, waiting to leave with you,” Alfor answers. The Castle shakes and the pair stumbles.

“We don’t have much time left!” Coran shouts, fingers flying across the screens. Akiva stares out at the ships growing closer. He watches one charge up its ion cannon.

“And where is my sister?” he asks. Alfor places both hands on his shoulders.

“There are many paths to take in life,” he says. “Allura has her own path to walk. I can only hope that one day your paths may cross again.” Akiva watches his father for a long moment, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“This is goodbye then,” he mutters.

“My journey may end here, but yours must continue so that one day Zarkon can be stopped.” Akiva sucks in a breath and pulls his father into a hug. Alfor returns the embrace quickly before they’re pulling apart and his son is disappearing down to the Black Lion’s hangar.

The hangar is full of Alteans of all ages, moving quickly back and forth as they load the Black Lion up with supplies for their journey. Akiva takes a moment to watch the organized chaos, wishing he had had time to prepare himself.

“My Prince.” A young Altean, no older than Allura, approaches him, bag in her hands. She bows and holds the bag out to him. “King Alfor requested we pack your most essential items for you.” He smiles and takes the offered item.

“Thank you,” he says before getting right down to business. “How close are we to departure?”

“We are loading the last of the supplies,” she responds. “Once everyone is on board we will be clear to leave.”

“Prepare to leave in five doboshes.” She nods and runs off. Akiva watches her go before looking up at the large sentient creature. The largest of the Lions towers over them all, mouth lowered to allow everyone access. A faint growl rumbles through his mind, and he knows it’s the Lion reassuring him. He knows it’s Black’s way of acknowledging and accepting the situation.

It’s Black accepting him fully as its new Paladin.

They traveled by wormhole to a star system far, far away from war and landed on a young, primitive planet. The inhabitants, at first, were wary of the newcomers. They feared the Alteans’ strange technology, leagues ahead of their own. Soon, however, agreements were reached among all and treaties laid out to help the planet grow but also protect the system from the Galra’s looming threat.

Many years passed, and the planet, known as Earth, grew. Prospered under the peaceful guidance of Altea’s Prince.

Sadly, peace would not last and with the Prince’s passing, war reigned supreme across the land. Alteans learned all too quickly the folly of man and the greed of Mankind. They feared what would happen if war returned to their home, reminded all too much of the Galra’s destruction.

Fearful of their home being destroyed, they fled and hid away where none would find them. War on Earth waged for years until finally, Akiva’s granddaughter stood up as a champion of peace. She followed in her grandfather’s footsteps and, with the help of the Black Lion, brought peace once more to Earth.

The Black Paladin became a symbol of peace, and Alteans, warriors and protectors. Together, they-

“Lance, what are you doing?”

A young boy sits by the window of the classroom, papers spilling off his desk. His white hair glints in the sun as his pencil scribbles across the page before him. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth in concentration. Bright blue Altean marks rest on his cheeks. His feet swing back and forth, too short to reach the floor.

“Drawing,” he answers, pushing away his paper and starting on a new one.

“Maybe you want to do that later?” she suggests. He shrugs.

“I have to do it now,” he says, hand feverishly scrawling across the paper.

“And it can’t wait until recess?” He shakes his head and frowns, blue eyes scrunching up in frustration but never leaving the paper. The teacher sighs and steps over to his desk. “And why is that?”

“Because I’ll forget.”

“Forget?” she asks, confused. He nods. “Forget what?”

“What it’s showing me,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He starts on a new picture, the old one fluttering off the desk.

“What it’s showing…” the teacher’s eyes follow the picture as it lands on the floor. She stares at it a long moment, taking in the old, scraggly looking cat. Her gaze takes in all the pictures around the desk then. They range from landscapes with strange flower and two moons, to hooded figures with strange masks.

Her attention lands on one particular piece. This one contains a young Altean with long, curly white hair. Her eyes remain closed and she slumbers inside some type of pod. A tiara circles her head.

Eyes wide, the teacher looks at all the other ones. Of the one of a planet long thought destroyed, yet here it is fully intact. An image of large creatures with purple fur, yellow eyes and sharp teeth. She looks at a picture, clearly of the Black Lion, and four other lions with it; below them the Paladins of old.

She sees a ship, sleek and elegant in design; one created to maneuver quickly through space. Another ship appears in a second picture, this one cut in half through some type of hole.

A prince with white hair and purple skin, gazes back at her, surrounded by four others.

“What are all of these?” she asks, but Lance shakes his head and continues to draw. “Lance?”

He breaks his pencil and rips through the paper but continues trying to draw. He drops the pencil and picks up another, shoving paper off his desk until he finds a new, clean piece.

“Lance!” The teacher tries grabbing his arm, but he shrugs her off, determined to see this one through as well. His hand slows as he begins to take his time with this one.

Slowly, a boy with big, yellow eyes, shaggy black hair and large, fuzzy ears emerges on the paper. Next to him is another boy, this one with a scar across his face and a splotch of white in his hair. He places the pencil tip on the paper and begins drawing another person but stops and drops the writing utensil.

Tears begin streaming down his face as he stares blankly at his desk. They drip onto the paper, smudging details on the drawing.

The nurse rushes in then, an Altean herself, long blue hair pulled back into a braid. She kneels beside the boy and leans over to try and catch his attention.

“Lance?” she asks, voice gently. He continues to stare down, eyes seeing something that nobody else can see. Carefully, she places a hand on his shoulder and give a small shake. It snaps him out of whatever trance he had been in. He blinks and looks over at her.

“There you are,” she says, smiling. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Confused, he looks at all the pictures around his desk, and then at his teacher. Weren’t they talking about something important? Why is everyone staring at him? His head swims, trying in vain to piece together something he can’t seem to remember. It dances at the edge of his mind, just out of reach.

“Why don’t you come lay down in my office for a bit?” the nurse suggests. His teacher begins picking up the pictures, haphazardly stuffing them into a neat pile. He watches her for a moment before slowly rising out of his seat.

The whole class watches him gather up his things and disappear out of the room.

The day Krolia shows up is one Lance will never forget. It had been a day like any other, up until Galra cruisers are spotted by Earth’s moon.

Lance is with the Black Lion when the sirens go off. He jumps up, startled, and runs over to the wall. There he activates a switch that sends the Lion further into the ground and seals it off from danger. He watches it go before running out of the cave himself and finding his way home as quickly as possible. Once he’s out, the path itself closes giving the outward appearance of being a rocky wall.

His half-sister finds him wandering the halls of their home. Her short, curly brown hair bounces in the air with every step she takes. Deep, dark blue Altean marks are the only indication that they’re even remotely related; a result of his Altean mother marrying their Altean father after their human mom passed away. His sister stops him in the hall.

“Everyone’s been looking for you, you know,” she says.

“I was busy,” he mutters. She eyes him skeptically.

“With?”

“Lance! Veronica!” The pair jumps and slowly turn to face their mother. She stands at the end of the hall, hands on her hips and frowning at the both of them.

“Can’t you hear the sirens? Now is not the time to be playing around,” she hisses. “Come here at once!”  

They slowly skulk over to their mom and step into the security room with her. She mutters to herself, chastising them both as the door shuts with an audible click. Lance’s other half siblings sit around the room with Altean military personnel and government officials.

All eyes remain on the screen on the far side of the room. Footage of three Galra cruiser plays on a loop.

“They triggered our alerts after entering the inner ring of the solar system,” a Garrison official say, voicing somewhat distorted over the phone. The footage changes then to show one ship shooting down the other two. “For some reason though, this one shot the others down. It is currently enroute to Earth as we speak.”

“Have you sent out a hailing frequency?” Lance’s mom asks.

“They’ve been unresponsive to all our attempts. Would you like us to shoot it down?” She stares at the screen for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons.

“Disable the craft but do not kill,” she answers. “I wish to speak with whoever is in that cruiser.”

“Understood.”

It seems like forever to Lance before the Garrison is arriving with their prisoner.

Lance stands with his mom as they bring the Galra inside. He watches, curious as she stops before his mom, handcuffed and disarmed.

Her skin is purple. Hair a deep, dark purple on top and a magenta below. Her ears are pointy like an Altean’s. The sclera of her eyes is yellow with her irises matching her skin. She has two dark stripes on her face, one on each cheek.

She kneels before Lance’s mother.

“Queen Ourania,” she says. “I am Krolia of the Blade of Marmora.”

“And what business do you have on Earth, Krolia of the Blade of Marmora?” his mom asks.

“We picked up frequencies similar to that of the Lions of Voltron. I was sent on a scouting mission with the Galra to locate the source,” Krolia replies. The Garrison officials beside her raise their weapons, preparing to shoot if necessary. Ourania raises her hand, silently asking them to hold their positions.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks.

“I believe there is a Lion located on this planet,” Krolia says. “And seeing Alteans here only confirms my suspicions.”

“Alteans came to this planet many years ago to be away from Zarkon and his war,” Ourania confirms. “We have found peace and prosperity with the natives of this planet…. And your presence is a clear threat to that peace. Are we meant to leave you free or shoot you where you stand?”

“I shot down the only ones who will bring harm,” Krolia argues.  

“To lull us into a false sense of security, perhaps,” The queen responds.

“I want to help.”

“And why should I believe that?” Krolia huffs, expression conflicted as she weighs her options. She slowly shifts her attention to the boy at his mother’s side, eyes soft  yet tightwith worry. Lance watches her back, a sense of comfort washing over him. Something tells him she’s friendly… but still… his mom seems hesitant to trust her. Maybe there’s something he doesn’t know?

Krolia sighs in defeat, realizing she has no other choice.

“The Blade of Marmora i-”

“I know of the Blade,” Ourania snaps. “Do not recite their creed to me. My ancestors were there at their founding.”  

“Then you should know of what we do,” Krolia says instead. “I have been working undercover in Zarkon’s ranks to put a stop to his empire.”

“What proof do you have, then, of your allegiance to the Blade?”

“My blade,” Krolia responds, gesturing to the guard on her left. The Garrison official shift, eyeing her warily.

“Do you have her blade?” The queen asks him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds. “But… we removed it from her when she landed.”

“Give it to her.”

“Bu-”

“Anyone can claim to have a blade,” she says. “Only true members of the Blade, however, can activate them. Please hand it to her.” Hesitantly, he pulls the blade out and hands it over.

Lance watches, eyes wide, as the knife glows and grows longer. When it finally stops glowing a sword rests in her hand.  

“Lance,” she says and the boy jumps. He looks up at her with wide, blue eyes. She smiles and affectionately runs a hand through his hair. “Sometimes for the sake of peace, one must fight. I know that your lessons have said some bad things about the Galra... Zarkon’s reign will forever be a dark stain on their long history. It’s important to know, though, that even Alteans aren’t perfect. The Galra are not inherently bad, they have become misguided. It’s important to know that too… and to remember that they were once our allies and they can be our allies again.” She looks to Krolia and then the guards.

“Release her,” she says to them. “She can be trusted.” The Garrison officers, lower their weapons as Krolia turns to be released from her handcuffs. Ourania looks back to her son. His eyes swim with confusion and curiosity. A desire to know more, lurks in the depths of his conflicted gaze. She smiles softly.

“There are pieces of history not even your teachers know about,” she tells him. “Secrets that only those of Akiva’s heritage are privy to, and I think it’s time you learn about his involvement with a young prince and their mission to take down a corrupt leader.”

[bogleech]

Okay here’s the whole entire text of my original pokemon gen concept under a cut (sorry if that screws you up on mobile)

I’ve only ever sketched a tiny number of these (like my fly ideas here), but I can see most of them in my head pretty clearly and might sketch more of them by request someday. I originally set my fan-region in Florida, a place I hated living but still had a lot of interesting characteristics. This changed over once I moved to Oregon, and the thing about Oregon is that it has desert, forest, swamp, coastline and frozen mountaintops that are all pretty vast, ancient and in places relatively untouched compared to the rest of North America. This is not only a perfect setting for some really wild pokemon, but makes a believable choice because our Pacific Northwest is pretty popular in Japan.

The different biomes of this region have "deep" areas where the pokemon change. Some also have "polluted" areas. The region is environmentally themed and heavily deals with human interference on the natural world.

The villains are Team Bio, genetic engineerers lead by a mysterious old woman who narrowly survived the original Mewtwo experiment. Her underlings all use "mutant" pokemon, and she seeks to create a new species of hyper-intelligent, pure-hearted pokemon that will replace humans entirely. Along the way is a strange increase in reports of interstellar pokemon activity... I actually tried hard to minimize how many pokemon in this are just “my kind” of concept, but I think I failed pretty hard. It probably does feel like it leans a little more towards Mortasheen than something Pokemon would actually make, but for basically every pokemon that’s one of my “dream concepts” or “most wanted” I tried to come up with one that I thought would appeal more to somebody else’s taste than mine.

THE STARTERS

Grass Starter: a grass "lumberjack" pterosaur with an axe for a beak. Second stage has more saw-like beak, final stage is a grass/steel quetzalcoatlus (the pterosaur) with a beak and crest forming a chainsaw, no longer flies

Fire type calf whose black cow marks are actually soot. Evolves into cow with craggy black “helmet” and horns of charcoal. Final stage a charcoal-armored minotaur like fire/ground type.

Water Starter is a beady-eyed water shrew with big webbed flipper feet, known to steal shiny objects. Second stage more humanoid, said to dive for treasure. Final stage is water/dark lanky, stripey shrew with a black mask, said to rob boats like a “highwayman” of the river.

Meadows and forest:

Normal type mammal is a spherical porcupine, like a chestnut. Rubs its spines with noxious fruit juices, giving it a multicolored look. Evolved form is a colorful “punk” porcupine.

Early bug is a sticklike inchworm Evolves to cocoon resembling a wooden log on top. Final form is bipedal stick mimic grasshopper, evocative of a cute wooden puppet with a pointed nose.

Basic bird is a hummingbird Evolves to be four-winged and legless, never lands in its whole life. Final hummingbird is a fierce looking hunter that drains energy from grass types like a predator.

Grass type walking bud creature, looks nervous. Evolves to grass/flying orchid-like angelic flower. Alternate evolution is wilted, grey, grass/ghost goth orchid with tattered petals, cute but sad. (evolves this way if it levels up after a battle in which it sustained super-effective damage)

Ground type earthworm sticking out of dirt, cute flower-shaped head. Evolved worm looks like shark sticking out of the dirt, nose looks like its prevo

Electric/dark pikachu-like packrat holding a large coin. Electrically charges its treasure as a booby trap. Actually said to be employed as underlings by the water-type shrew starter.

MISCELLANY:

Bug/poison type grub with fangs. Only encountered in garbage cans. Evolves into a fly pupa Final stage is a gloomy looking, drooling anthropomorphic fly.

Single stage bug/fairy type: a beautiful Maleficent-looking parasitoid wasp. Evolves from any cocoon/pupa pokemon if they're holding a "suspicious egg" item.

Ocean

Water/grass nudibranch with flower on its back. Evolves to a glaucus, each "arm" a colorful flower that absorbs sunlight as it floats.

Water type fish that "sails" on the sea's surface with its fins. Sleepy looking stingray evolution. Final form is water/dragon deep sea fish, combines some traits of anglerfish and viperfish with eyes on stalks. Only evolves from stingray when you're in the sea trench.

Water/flying marlin with huge, dazzling butterfly like fins.

Water type baby dolphin, fuzzy like a seal pup, only evolves if it has fainted more times than the number of its current level. Evolved form is water/dark, shaggy-furred, fierce looking, battle scarred dolphin with legs instead of flippers, a throwback to the doglike ancestors of delphinidae.

Polluted inlet

Water/poison oil slick with two tentacles and beady white eyes, signature ability changes it to water/fire type if it uses a fire move. Evolved form is an oil slick rising into a cartoon octopus with x's for pupils.

Water/steel fish hook with tiny head and eyes, like a barbed metal worm. Water/steel fishing jig, googly eyes and everything.

Barren Island - just a very big rock in the middle of the inlet

Ghost/poison: a greenish "dodo bird" with a face like a biohazard mask, the ghost of a species that went exinct due to sickness.

Sea Trench

Water/fire bristleworm "snake" Water/fire tube worm "dragon"

Water/ghost wailord skeleton draped in pink fuzz and a garden of one-eyed bone worms.

Swamp

Electric/flying bird resembling a lightbulb kiwi. Evolved form resembling a neon light lawn flamingo.

Grass/fairy giant sloth with sleepy face, completely covered in shaggy moss with various flowers and mushrooms. Protector of the swamp, able to control plant life.

Grass/psychic sundew, just a pair of sundew leaves atop a sleepy looking oddish-esque bulb. Evolved sundew is mostly a big circular sundew rosette, but a humanoid flower rotates in the center like a music box to lure prey.

Water/fighting borzoi pup with long legs, acts like a water strider. Evolved form is an elongated, elegant borzoi "ballerina" that dances atop water

Water/ground red leech slightly evocative of a vacuum cleaner. A healer that sucks poison from the body instead of blood. May mysteriously appear in your team after walking through swamp water.

Deep Forest:

Grass/ground banana slug with colorful mold spots, learns spore. Evolves into mold splotched, brown banana peel creature, more like a big squid.

Grass/dark autumn leaf in the shape of a bat, has levitate. Evolved form redder, bigger "vampire cape" leaf-bat.

Psychic/ghost cheshire cat with Meowth-like proportions, bright crescent smile. Evolved form just huge smile and cat eyes hovering in the air, beastly cat body fading into view only for physical attacks or when struck.

Rock type humanoid made of transparent amber with a strange mayfly-like bug sleeping inside. Outer body can "break" at low HP and release faster, more offensive pure bug form.

Rock: incredibly huge, stony looking moose with long white fur draped over its eyes and back. Comes in size variations like Pumpkaboo line and said to never stop growing. A truly titanic one is used as transportation through the deep forest.

Snowy patches

Bug/ice velvet worm that spews a freezing liquid. Silly looking, almost like wiggler from mario.

Ice/flying fluffy white bird resembling a tiny Japanese style snowman. Evolves to resemble western style snowman with clawed bird feet, pointed beak nose. A flightless pure ice mountain dweller.

Electric/ice with levitate: a crystalline "UFO" sky-jellyfish with many colorful lights, core body looks like a cute pikmin-esque "alien" inside. Catch by fishing off of ledges into the sky. Mistaken by locals for alien activity.

Lava Tube Caves

Psychic type bipedal pink salamander with no eyes. Evolves into beautiful milotic-like psychic/dragon blind olm.

Rock/fighting spearhead with feet, eyes are just round holes through blade. Evolves to gain a stick-figure sort of body.

Abandoned town

Normal/bug filthy dog, a shaggy pile of fur with goofy eyes and pink tongue. Little black specks jump about it. Ability changes normal moves to bug moves. Evolved form more obviously a dog but still very shaggy, surrounded by constant cloud of black specks.

Grass/electric "christmas tree" made of holly and lights. Found in a burned down house, glowing eyes peer out from beneath it.

Ghost: has a colorful quilt for a body and a pincushion for a head. Found inside houses.

Garbage dump - accessible through abandoned town, possibly what drove people away (includes piles of toys you may investigate to encounter a banette, mimikyu or klefki)

Water/poison: cartoony fish with blank eyes and humanoid pair of legs. Fish for in toxic green garbage pools. Evolves into ground/poison skeleton fish with four limbs, walking like a lizard.

Steel/bug rusty orange silverfish. Eats junk metal. Evolved form so big it wears a rusty car for protection with just its legs and feelers sticking out.

MICROPOKEMON - enlarged artificially in a laboratory where you can also take your fossils.

Bug/fighting flea - spiny black flea with big jagged white teeth. Create from the "pest sample" an item carried randomly by the normal/bug dog.

Poison/fairy germ - fuzzy multicolored mold ball with eyes, stalked suckers. Retrieve "germ sample" from the dodo ghost.

Water/fairy tardigrade - transparent, cute bug stylized almost like a "gummy bear."  Retrieve "dew sample" from moss sloth.

Pseudolegendary:

Rock type baby gargoyle creature. Evolves to winged gargoyle with levitate and a few mossy patches. Final form is an elegant griffon-like rock/dragon with an elaborately carved surface

SPACE ARK DRAGON This location is itself a dragon/fairy legendary pokemon so massive you can enter its body. It exists to collect and preserve species from dying worlds. Most common wild pokemon inside is duosion and sometimes Reuniclus. You can also collect "gene samples" from crystalline pods to replicate the ultrabeasts in the same lab you enlarge the microbes and resurrect fossils.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a little like weird yellow plant suckered to the ground, red flower-like head with an eye on each petal ala the yokai parasite, gyochu.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a colorful worm with cute eyes and beautiful mothlike wings, a little like the yokai parasite koshi-no-mushi.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a pale, red and white striped "lizard" with six spindly limbs and a tubular proboscis, inspired by the yokai parasite kagemushi.

Fairy type alien medic, looks like a cute flatwoods monster with heart motif and nurse coat. Flees from all battles unless you have defeated at least one of each of the parasites.

LEGENDARIES:

Dragon/electric: the ark dragon's smaller offspring, looks like an electronic space whale.

Dragon/steel, menacing, sleek black starship creature. Rival to the ark dragon, a "world reaper" that attempts to destroy planets that it thinks are already dying.

Psychic/fairy little white, fluffy mothman-like being, an observer that casts judgment on suffering worlds to call one of the dragons (version based)

Normal type legendary is the most human-like pokemon we've ever seen, a serene floating figure with long hair and black, almond-shaped eyes. A genetic experiment to supplant humans.

Electric/fighting: a hulking humanoid beast, almost frankensteinian with asymmetrical features, a failed early experiment.

A "glitched and scrambled" two dimensional pokemon. The result of the earliest known experiments in digital pokemon transfer. Actually literally typeless.

POISON FUSIONS created in the garbage dump:

Weezodor - poison/flying - Garbodor/weezing hybrid, like a jellyfish bag with smog tentacles.

Mukking - poison/water - Weezing/muk hybrid, like a koffing with slime appendages.

Garmuk - poison/ground - Muk/garbodor hybrid, like a giant slug made of trash.

MUTANT POKEMON: mutations of classic first-stage pokemon into creatures slightly tougher than even their original final stages.

Mutant Caterpie - bug/dragon - huge, dragonlike Caterpie with more menacing eyespots, clawed limbs.

Mutant Paras - pure grass - giant paras with far more mushrooms of different colors, body pure white with no mouth and white sphere eyes, actually made only of fungus.

Mutant Venonat - bug/dark - same old venonat with a big shaggy monster body

Mutant Zubat - Psychic - somewhat larger than crobat, has actual legs and a pair of clawed arms instead of wings. Much bigger ears.

Mutant Voltorb - electric/steel - a Voltorb even bigger than Electrode, otherwise looks normal besides angrier yellow eyes...until it splits open to reveal sharp teeth.

Mutant Tangela - grass/fairy - more like its scrapped Gen II evolution but perhaps a lot taller, with two very very long arms.

Mutant Geodude - rock/fighting - HUGE spiky arms and hands but head/body are the same as always.

Mutant Shellder - water/steel - it's the spiraly slowbro one!

Mutant Exeggcute - psychic/poison - bigger and more plentiful but "rotten" looking eggs with gloomier eyes and dark purple goo.

Mutant Eevee - normal - bigger than any of the eeveelutions, shaggy and beastly with the "camouflage" ability. Learns strong attacks of every eevee evolution type.

Mutant Doduo - fighting type with only one head

Mutant Luvdisc - the only one based on a non-evolving pokemon. Angry "broken heart" Luvdisc with record offensive stats for the series, but even worse defenses than regular luvdisc.

Mutant Trapinch - dragon/bug - giant turtle-like Trapinch, redder, spiny, second mouth inside jaws.

Mutant Dratini - dragon/fairy - huge long dratini with longer feathery wing ears, identical wings down body.

Mutant Larvitar - dragon/dark - big, armored green reptile, still has larvitar type head with craggier, meaner horn.

Mutant Bagon - dragon - huge, more t-rex proportioned bagon, spiked shell on head.

Mutant Deino - bigger and shaggier with a ring of five long-necked deino heads

Mutant Gible - dragon/fighting - only usually seen as a huge sharky fin sticking out of the ground. When it emerges, its body isn't much bigger than regular gible.

Mutant Goomy - psychic/dragon - giant goomy with gaping mouth, antennae are much longer, green and stripey.

Mutant Jangmo-o - dragon/steel - same old head but more ankylosaur-like big body, entirely a dark iron color with more pitted looking scales.

ENVIRONMENTAL VARIATIONS no mechanical or typing difference, but new color schemes and decorations on existing pokemon, totally an aesthetic change. Have their own shiny forms.

SEA TRENCH FORMS: Entirely pale pink golisopod line with closed eyes transparent red tentacool line with darker red nodules dark maroon inkay line with blue lights red and purple feebas line

CAVE FORMS: White, eyeless venipede line White, eyeless magikarp line

DEEP SWAMP FORMS: crocodile-green Sandile line with lily pad on head black shelled "freshwater" shellder line with green algae growths pure red and purple colored bellsprout line

DEEP FOREST FORMS: braviary with more hawklike colors foongus line with no pokeball pattern...the original foongus? wolf-spider colored joltik line

POLLUTED INLET FORMS: Dewpider line with all black body and limbs, yellow glowing eyes in dirty green water Grey wailmer line draped in red algae, clumps of barnacles (presumably degenerated binacle) Wingull line with grey and black oil-splotched feathers, tin can on head

GARBAGE DUMP FORMS: Bounsweet line with only grey, brown and black colors, dark spoiled looking splotches Black bag trubbish line with green trash, copper colored pipes Rusted looking klink line, rotates only once every few seconds.

----------GYM LEADERS -------------- In this region the gyms are dual type, and bring back past mechanics and gimmicks as their focus.

flying/normal: a blind, wheelchair-bound old man who specializes in dog and bird pokemon. Uses a baton pass team.

Steel/electric: an astronaut commanding his gym by remote feed from the station. Uses Magnezone, Rotom forms and, surprisingly, a random steel or electric ultrabeast.

Poison/bug: a germophobic lady scientist ironically obsessed with pollution pokemon, always wearing a biohazard suit. Has weezing, garbodor, the fly pokemon and Yanmega. Uses Z-moves, but it's random whether she uses a bug or poison one and on which pokemon.

Dark/fire: an elderly biker lady. Has no gym and in fact roams around the region. Surprisingly challenges you to a third-gen style beauty contest with her frightening selection of pokemon.

Grass/fairy: witchy pharmacist and botanist who lives out in the woods, all of her grass types are mushroom based. Unusually has you team up with her in a double battle against a random pokemon of unusual size and strength, like Alola's totem pokemon.

Ground/fighting: an extremely frail little nerdy guy who likes amazingly fearsome pokemon, hates bullies but kind of is one. Makes you face a horde battle with all of his pokemon vs. only one of yours at a time.

Dragon/rock: a boisterous monster movie director who dresses his pokemon in costumes, gym is a cardboard city. Uses a dynamaxed pokemon.

Ghost/psychic: a horror author, Vincent Price like, lives in a mansion and makes visitors face scenes from his books. Instead of a single battle, he has you face a series of singular mega pokemon behind each "scene." THE LABORATORY This location is of course secretly associated with the villain team, but you can free it up from them in the endgame. Here you can make fossil pokemon, micropokemon, regional forms from past generations, ultrabeasts and even mega stones, but all require you to spend one or more “gene crystals.” You’re handed a number of these through the storyline but it would be very challenging to farm more than that  (think Gen 7 bottlecaps). Spending more crystals at the lab would allow you to finally alter abilities, natures and IV’s at a whim, and for an exceptional cost you could upgrade the BASE stats of any L100 pokemon permanently. This is a percentage increase applied across the board to all of its stats at once, and stops at either 100 total points beyond their normal limits, or a final base stat total of 530 (equivalent to a fully evolved starter) MISC STUFF:

Your mom this gen asks you if you hope to have an easy, challenging, or very challenging adventure. You can return to her at any time to adjust the difficulty again.

When you beat the game, you can make a custom trainer for online battles using the models of other NPC trainer types, i.e. you can finally be a swimmer/scientist/grunt/etc. You can unlock some popular ones from past generations.

You can select one pokemon as your main partner, which not only has it following you, but involves it a little more in the storyline (special events based on its first typing) and gives it some in-game perks.

A special item attached to any one of your pokemon allows your whole team to “share strength,” meaning that their weaknesses are mitigated for each teammate they share a type with. This allows for type-themed teams to be more viable but wouldn’t completely eliminate their weaknesses, and the effect diminishes proportionately for every pokemon that faints.

You can designate a seventh pokemon to be your “team mascot,” a non-combat role with different effects depending on species/type.

A single team can have either the mascot, a z-move, a dynamax/gigantamax form or a mega, cannot mix these.

Legendary pokemon now suffer a stat nerf for every other legendary pokemon on the same team. A team of six legendaries would actually be somewhat below-average in stats.

[recklessrex]

Rexy's Cats OCs Part 4: Jellicle Allies...

Jellicallies!

(Honestly I don't really need the pronunciation guide for these ones because they're just normal names but I'll include it anyway for consistency's sake)

Ezekiel

(eh-ZEE-kee-el) An old acquaintance of Taro's and one of Munk's teachers at the training grounds. A veteran fighter with extensive battle scars

Gruff, sharp, and strong-willed

Also surprising mellow

Big people watcher

Like it's his favorite hobby, just chill and watch the world

Keen and vigilant

Introspective

But not afraid to speak his mind either

Knows how to use weapons, but only does so against enemies that are also armed

"Claws against machetes ain't exactly fair"

Carries one of those snap-out collapsible batons that police use as a quickly deployed, easily concealed emergency weapon

Also very skilled with a staff and can make use of stuff like brooms in a pinch if cornered by a machete wielding madman for example

Yes he taught Munk these things too

Typically very casual in speech

Not always very good at talking about emotions

Cares more than he lets on, or admits to himself

Would rather not care but can't help it

Will risk his life to save yours, scold you for getting yourself in this mess, and then continue on as if nothing happened

Invariably calls Munk "Kit" even when they meet again years later and Munk's an adult

Cares very much for Munk as well as Alonzo and Cass (other students of his) even though he'd rather not "get attached"

Munk, Lonz, and Cass in turn look up to him, respect him, and care about him more than he feels he deserves he'd like to be cared for

Used to be on good terms with Taro, though they met rarely and only when Taro was traveling on ahem "important protector business"

Has increasingly lost respect for Taro over the years

No he's not Yaji's favorite teacher

Asexual/Straight romantic

About Skimble's age, give or take

Average height, athletic

Short, unkempt fur

Calico, white and black with orange blotches including an orange patch over his right eye/ear and crossing over his nose, black over the rest of his head, white chin and neck… and so on

Odd-eyed, the left eye is orange, the right is blue

Lots of scars, including a few noticable ones on the face

Most notably he lost his left ear to a machete weilding madman during the same event that killed Cety's family and Arbutus

Not quite deaf in that ear, but sound on that side is now severely muffled and distant, and pinpointing the direction of sound is much more difficult

Nickname: Zeke

Herman

(HERM-an) A sly, independent young Cat that helps the Jellicles when they arrive at the Isle of Storms (more on that in a future post)

Cool, clever, and resourceful

Like for real, he's Mr Resourceful

Calls himself a "Resource Acquisitions Agent"

Gets shit you need

In return for other shit that maybe he needs or that another "client" needs

Obfuscates obliviousness and nonchalance to hide his keen interest in pretty much everything

Legitimately a chill dude

But has an agenda

What's his agenda? I'm not telling (:

Cares far more than he wants people to realize, but isn't in denial about it like Zeke

Separated from his parents in pre-adolescence, has been taking care of himself ever since

Lives alone in a small tent on a 5 meter square fenced in plot of land

No you can't come in

Well, you can hang out in the garden, but stay out of the tent

Has stuff going on he doesn't want you to see

Lacking in education due to growing up in a severely isolated community with banned heavily controlled "limited" internet access

Dude seriously had never heard of Auschwitz and Munk had to explain it to him

Also limited on his pop-culture knowledge

He's learning

Everyone knows who he is but very few people really know him

Seems to be able to come and go from anywhere, locked doors and fences be damned

Like is he magic? *shrug* maybe, maybe not. I'm not telling C:

Will suddenly appear in your camp to trade you three cans of soup for your warm jacket, then immediately go trade the jacket to someone else for a working desk lamp, then trade the lamp for…

Lol for real tho. Will come through for you. Just be patient and considerate (and have something to offer), and he'll get you anything

Be a jackass and he might decide to leave you to your own devices or maybe swindle you ah um er not give you a bargain discount yeah

Was very interested in the Jellicles, and particularly Munk, from the first day they arrived, for reasons he's keeping to himself thanks very much

No not like that. He doesn't do that. Like literally the one thing he has no interest in whatsoever

Ace/Aro

About Misto's age

Slim and kinda shortish

Soft short fur

Solid grey

Teal-green eyes

Very mild surfer-dude accent left over from his early childhood in southwest California

Nickname: Herm or Hermie but prefers Herman thanks very much. Also called "The Ghost" because he's grey and not at all because of the aforementioned ability to come and go as he pleases he doesn't know what you're talking about bruh he just came through the front like a normal person you dudes are crazy

Some notes

My feelings on male calicos in the Cats universe here

The "event" I keep talking about was on a global scale, Zeke wasn't associated with the Jellicles at that time, aside from occasionally encountering Taro. More on that event coming up in a future post if I can ever get it banged out

There's a lot about Herman that I know, but I don't want to reveal until I actually get around to writing this story

Also Herman isn't my only ace or aro character, just the first one where it's come up in context while writing these bios, idk why I didn't think to list sexuality/romantic orientation before…

brb editing previous bios real quick

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

[answrs]

Catbun Shiro AU

I promised to post my notes for this au and then never got on the desktop to do it, asdfkl sorry y’all. :x @headspacedad this one’s for you. (I reeeeeally hope this isn’t too confusing, it’s mostly a big jumble of notes for the au assembled in relative order to something resembling a plot. so uh, you’ve been warned. there’s pictures at the end though!)

Important note on setting, since I’m deathly allergic to basically anything besides the existence of characters post season 2, the whole deal with the castle is pretty malleable as a setting to me. basically, castleship wasn’t destroyed, at least not entirely. it’s disabled and most of it is too damaged to inhabit, but the lion hangars and the controls are still functional, if a bit beat up. (tbh mostly because it’s much easier than trying to juggle everyone with the lions as the only transport). so they’ll end up setting up camp close to the lions with Allura and Coran having a quick way to get to the control room to steer the castle out of any action they fall into, since the weapons/defenses are basically shot. no time travel nonsense or other funky shenanigans either, but the characters are all there.

also I’ve never written voltron before and it shows asdfkl but I TRIED AND THAT’S WHAT MATTERS

Now that’s out of the way, the actual good part of the au, the plot! :p

-

It happens when Allura tries to smash “their” Shiro into the clone’s body. Something goes wrong, or maybe Shiro’s soul is just so affronted by the idea of them expecting him to just... nonconsensually wrest control from an already occupied body. But he’s still being yanked back onto the mortal plane and if he doesn’t have a body his mind will die, so either subconsciously on his part or purposefully on Black’s, it rebounds into the nearest available viable occupancy.

The group watches as Allura struggles, frustratedly trying to shove “Real” Shiro into the traitor’s body, but before they can comprehend the shock and despair on her face as the tendril of essence is ripped away from her, the black lion roars and bursts away, no pilot at the helm and racing towards stars-knows-where.

-

It’s a small junk planet of sorts, with no obvious humanoid or sentient species. Shiro is groggy and stumbling around because there is very much something wrong with his limbs… 

(the black lion seems much larger than he remembers and oh look he can see his reflection in her plating now and whoops…)

The body looking back out at him from the mirrored surface is some sort of small quadruped creature. Its fur is entirely black, or possibly a dark gray, but for the tuft of bright white on the head just like his former body’s had had. did whatever stuck him in this thing have just that sheer luck finding a body, or was that obnoxious hairstyle just inexplicably tied to his soul now-? (he can feel Black huffing her laughter in his mind, she'd had the option of a body with matching fur to her namesake color, but his quintessence had bleached his new little mane going in. or… something to that effect, at least. he'd gotten much more fluent in translating her thoughts and images into words in that void of her mind, but a year could only teach you so much with a whole universe's worth of cultural (and species) divide.)

rolling the steel grey eyes- again just like his own- or would it be former? body ("windows to the soul", a quote surfaces in his memory), he goes back to plotting out this new vessel. It's quite fluffy, but he can make out two long ears that remind him of a rabbit. the hind legs are elongated like one too, though not to the extent an Earth's species' would be, he thinks. The tail poking out just behind them is short too, but reminds him more of the grouchy old cat his grandmother kept when he was growing up. opening his mouth, the similarities to the old bobtail seem to extend to its dentition too, pointed fangs indicative of whatever species this was being at least some sort of predator. Life hadn't been kind to the former inhabitant, and not just that this body had been recently vacated. nicks are evident on an ear, and he'd bet the unkempt fur covered up at least a few scars of its own. But thankfully none of his own scars had seemingly crossed over on top of the rest. he can very much feel his (formerly) missing arm… paw? and he starts when it finally dawns on him just how much easier his breathing is without that huge scar marring the bridge of his nose.

-

the team arrive to find Black lying in a covered clearing of sorts, calm as can be, and shields down. nothing seems amiss but as they get closer, Lance with his sharpshooting eye is the first to spot something on Black's muzzle. with everyone on edge after the clone, even the local fauna don't get a pass from their scrutiny and they ready their weapons, but the moment a charge starts to hum the shields slam up, startling them.

-

(the clone = Ryou/Jiro/Taka, Shiro’d called him many things watching him from his place in Black, which is absolutely of course not just an excuse I’m making up because I can’t decide what he decides to go by so I just keep using them interchangeably sorry if it’s confusing D:)

Once the team collects Black and her finally returned passenger, Shiro absolutely is constantly sitting on Ryou's head, or riding on his shoulder, or just generally hanging out around the clone.

(Honestly, at first it's also because he's not entirely sure he trusts anyone, clone or not, not to do anything rash and he'll be damned if he's not be there to prevent another tragedy.)

(He's still rather indignant on the man's behalf, honestly, and even if he can somewhat see why the group reacted how they did he doesn't accept their actions. And he's been watching the guy through Black basically the whole time, it was so obvious to him the poor kid was being controlled against his will. Not to mention his reaction afterward, how he doesn't trust himself and is afraid of hurting anyone even tied up and literally disarmed in the back of the cockpit the group is convened in. Maybe Black has rubbed off on him with treating her chosen paladins as cubs to be protected, but he sees him almost as a little brother and it rubs him the wrong way how he's being treated by the group. So even if the comfort he can offer him is little and a bit strange, he'll chill on his leg for hours for a nap and some eventual fingers combing through his fur when the clone is finally distracted enough to not be thinking about it.)

-

It’s possible Shiro had been part of Black long enough to pick up how to communicate through the lion's bond, and uses it to talk to his new little brother. (It’s certainly a lot easier than constant, neverending charades)

Telling the kid to ask the others to remove the restraints, to which Jiro steadfastedly refuses, half because he's afraid of himself, the other because (to the other's confusion, since they only hear the clone talking out loud) they absolutely would not believe that the request isn't just his own and he was making it all up. Gets kind of heated because Shiro just will not let it go despite his refusal, because to him he obviously isn't dangerous and doesn't see the problem here. He's been disconnected from the problems of the living for a bit too long perhaps, and while he knows on a level there’s distrust between the team and the clone, and even the clone with himself, because he's seen the man’s soul and has known him much longer in a metaphysical sense he kinda forgets others don’t automatically see in that way.

There's one point early on, that the group first learns Shiro can (and has been) talking through the mind link to him. Lance notices the small fluffy body half inside of his bag, rummaging around through his toiletries. He’s been going crazy with all the extra fur on this body (it might even be shedding season for the creature, and it's just so. damn. ITCHY.) and he's desperate enough he’s resorted to getting the scissors he knows are hiding in there out himself. Except no one knows what he's doing and eventually break to come ask the clone if he knows what the fuck is going on and what he's trying to tell them, to which he's like, he wants you to trim down the fur?? he's been driving me insane complaining about it the past few days?? can he not tell you himself?? (he thought Shiro could and had been talking to the others just like he had been to him the whole time. and was just choosing to complain and annoy him constantly for whatever reason instead of asking them himself)

-

Piloting the lions in a battle the first time is... not great. There's a nearby planet being attacked and Red nothing short of demands her pilot back, allowing Blue a perfect excuse to grab Lance again, because Black's got two perfectly semi-functional pilots right here, so really, what's the problem? the paladins eventually figure since Black refuses to respond to Keith and Red is practically banging down the door to his mind while ignoring Lance that it's better to have four lions than two and fly in their original configuration, leaving Allura to pilot the remains of the castle to a safe distance since the weapons and shields are damn near useless in a fight right now.

None of the paladins would want to fly with Jiro, and he doesn't trust himself enough to do it even if they would, but Shiro can't exactly reach the controls right now and she's been out of the battle long enough and the galra are converging and ffs, Black just has to do everything herself now doesn't she... Cue a very terrifying sudden scene of his body going lax with a blank look on the poor clone's face, eyes glowing the bright yellow of the giant lion as he robotically stands up and goes straight to the awaiting lion's maw, ignoring or discarding any restraint with impossible strength as the Alteans and company scramble to stop him, only to ram into metal or shield as the lion scoops them both up, apparently tired of waiting. (They didn't notice, but the small passenger's body clinging to the material of his shirt had also gone ramrod straight, but Black is very much telling both of them to Cat Up and just get over here already)

thankfully they don't have to form Voltron, since there's absolutely no way they'd be able to just then, even if the rest of the team somehow thought only the "real" Shiro was at the controls. after the battle Black finally allows the others to enter, and en masse they burst in to find The Traitor™ sitting in the seat, lone hand on one part of the controls, Real Shiro™™ situated on his knee, paws resting on the other half. Clone is eyeing them guiltily, but not moving in order not to jostle his passenger, who’s just now turning to look at the small audience, blinking owlishly as he finally manages to disengage from Black's direct connection. (he's spent so long enveloped in that nebulous and vast mindspace he needs to remember he has a body to return to now, mismatched as it is.)

---

and now some pictures! pro-tip, turns out it’s much harder to mix together a cat and bunny than i’d ever expected like what??? ah well, have a doodle of The Fur Boi

And a little pre- vs post- haircut inspo:

[therealvagabird]

Some D&D characters!

I made this adventuring party a little while ago, inspired by the idea of an “all-monster” play on the traditional D&D party. Mainly just a fun exercise in character design. I even played as one of them solo.

I might write some excerpts of various adventures of this fictional band, but no promises. They do have something of a vague story-arc to them, though.

Name: Brute

Race: Bugbear

Class: Fighter

Appearance: Very large and burly bugbear, with almost ankle-length arms. Medium grey skin, thick black fur coat with prominent beard. Gold eyes. Features strong but weathered. Has many scars.

Usually wears a sturdy breastplate with simple, dark-colored underclothes in a soldiery style – sometimes with barbute helm. Attire is overall simple, crude, and military, favoring convenience over flair.

Specialties: Polearm defence, medium armor, military discipline, mercenary attitude.

Bio: It was after the landed Lord Francis of Aquila slew a tribe of feral bugbears on a hunting trip that he decided to take one orphaned youth as a personal slave, believing it would make for an intimidating warrior. Though given the sanctified name of “Barba Molossus” (or “Hairy Dog”) in accordance with religious rites, the bugbear was most often known as simply “Brute”. Brute was trained to be a loyal soldier and personal guard of the Aquilan noble family, and steadfastly served despite the constant derision directed at him. When Castle Aquila was ultimately overrun by a rival house, Brute fled into the wilds, eking out a living before coming across a large goblinoid tribe. Once again an outcast for his human rearing, Brute learned that ultimately his brutality would earn him the respect of most greenskins regardless.

Brute is a dour and bitter man, having been exposed to the worst aspects of many different environments and cultures. He has a reputation for savagery and ruthlessness that strikes fear into the hearts of many, even if they deride him as a simple dog. Despite this reputation, Brute is actually quite disciplined and reserved, only exposing his wrath when pushed, and being an otherwise very effective mercenary most of the time.

—

Name: Wu Jinn, “White-Eyes”, “The Clever”, “The Spider” (pejorative)

Race: Hobgoblin

Class: Wizard

Appearance: Shorter hobgoblin, long limbed but average build. Very dark, burgundy skin. Almost elven features, with blunted nose. Wavy black hair with white strands, close on sides but gathered up into long, braided nest on head to be wrapped in turban. Facial hair wispy – if left unshaved will grow slight Fu Manchu, goatee, and sideburns. Black irises.

Sharp-cut purple underclothes in Eastern style. Black, hooded over-robe. Beige leather lamellar armor offers simple protection with flexibility. Black, stiff mantle on shoulders. Pointed shoes. Tight, beige turban on head. Many pouches and arcane tools carefully sorted about person.

Specialties: Magical manipulation and lore, history and general knowledge. Carries enchanted whip and sword.

Bio: There was a time when the hobgoblin mage covens of the dark East were sought after fiercely by warchiefs looking to secure magical power and sage council. Now, the respect allotted to the goblin mages has severely diminished. Wu Jinn trained in the hidden arcanums, perused the libraries of many great kingdoms, and became a learned scholar at a very young age. Now, he is stuck as the disregarded councilor to an orc chief, usually relegated to distributing medicine and conjuring fireballs when he has the knowledge of the past and future at his disposal.

Wu Jinn is a highly analytical hobgoblin, but was drawn to magic over simple scholarship due to the inherent mystery of the arcane. All knowledge is of interest to him, though this has not come without cost. Wu Jinn is aware of what terrible forces are at work in the universe, and it only heightens his frustration with people. He’s not terribly concerned with issues of power or politics, and regards most beings, even himself, as very insignificant in a cosmic sense. Regardless, he can never understand why so many would-be governors concern themselves with such things if they could just listen to him and organize everything so much more conveniently.

—

Name: Mary, “Nightingale”

Race: Tiefling

Class: Sorcerer

Appearance: Tiefling woman with almost black skin and fiery red eyes. Hair is black, straight, and usually kept around jaw length, though held back by nomad-style bandana. Rather tall, lithe but with powerful stature if not slouching. Horns have been completely filed off and hidden with bandana. Facial features strong and very beautiful, though haggard. Fangs, claw-like nails, barbed tail, and forked tongue kept hidden.

Usually dresses in light leather garb with comfortable underclothes and many bandanas. Loose, dark blue linens with tattered black hooded longcoat. Outfit always arranged to disguise infernal features. Prefers as much jewelry as she can wear without being conspicuous.

Specialties: Shadow magic, deception, psychological attacks, stealth, theft, assassination

Bio: Mary was born as the result of a dark ritual by cultists of the Lower Planes, believing she would be the Agrat bat Mahlat, or “Gift of Desolation”, destined to lead a fiendish conquest of the world. An attack against the cult and secret rescue of Mary by a kindly cleric disrupted that plan, however. Mary was placed in an orphanage when the cleric could no longer guard her, and given her current name. A rough childhood and many caretakers later, Mary took to the streets to become a rogue known as “Nightingale”, an enemy of the cruel and powerful, all while running from the remaining members of the old cult that wished to return her to her destiny.

Mary has the misfortune that evil runs very strongly in her blood. Her magical power can only be used to bring pain, confusion, and destruction even when carefully applied. For this reason, she has made it her mission to only target evil and tyrannical enemies, taking them down either directly or with careful manipulation in the hopes that good might fill the void. Nightingale prefers to remain out of sight and out of mind, disguising her infernal heritage in public and attempting to get in and out without a trace when on a mission. She is naturally attracted to many vices, and may have sudden bouts of rage or bitterness, but most of the time tries to retain a peaceful attitude in the hopes that goodness might one day come naturally to her.

—

Name: Batul Grimhand, “Hacksaw”

Race: Half-Orc

Class: Cleric

Appearance: Tall female half-orc with dark olive-green skin. Older, with sturdy figure and many minor scars. Kinky hair shaved into short tight stripe. Broad features, dark brown eyes, prominent but well-kept tusks.

Outfit includes knee-length white undercoat and clothes tucked into sturdy boots, and long leather gloves. Dark blue pants. Solid breastplate covered in all manner of medical pouches protects torso. More accessories affixed to leather belt and faulds. Keeps white bandana around neck to cover face if needed. Will don long leather cloak for bad weather.

Specialties: Field medicine, general healing, shock stabilization, combat support

Bio: Though it has been many centuries since orcs and goblins were defined as lawless and endlessly cruel raiders, the reality of the greenskin strongholds can still be exceptionally brutal in the modern day. To be born a half-breed, and a rare female at that, lead to a tough upbringing for Batul. Service in the warhost and later as a mercenary soldier abroad gave discipline and protection for Batul when there was none. She trained as a medic, seeing the violent realities of the world and wanting to make a difference. However, her clerical training only did so much, and most of the time she was only allotted the time and resources to get the injured back on their feet so that they could die fighting. Trauma and bitterness soon seeped in, and by the time she was an experienced medic, she was also a surly and iron-hard orc. Now, Batul has the respect she always wanted, at the cost of her enthusiasm and optimism. Though there are still the occasional jeers, most know not to mess with Hacksaw if you know what’s good for you.

Batul carries a genuine desire to help people within her scarred and hardened exterior. She is often the voice of pessimism and caution, always expecting the worst and never much trusting in anyone but herself. Years of belittlement and wartime shock have given her a grim disposition that earned her few friends but also few enemies. Her strength is in getting severely injured people back in fighting shape in short order, though she can’t do much more. Given time and resources, she could perhaps do a great many things, heal people body and mind, but she doesn’t hope for such high ideals anymore. Despite her negativity, she is always ready to suggest that a situation might be more than it seems – that enemies might be misunderstood, that what others call “weakness” might not be so reprehensible, and that killing and death are not so noble. Of course, if it comes down to letting a patient die or taking up her axe, she will swiftly choose the latter.

—

Name: Tash, “Tashi”

Race: Goblin

Class: Monk

Appearance: Very thin goblin, shorter than average, with skinny face, impish features, large ears, and huge yellow-green cat eyes. Pale grey-green skin. Messy mop of warm black hair. Would almost be cute for a goblin if he wasn’t covered in all manner of injuries and other old maladies.

Ragged cream sleeveless gi, and dark blue pants, with dark over-cloak and a faded burgundy belt/sash. Wears dark jika-tabi style footwear. Hands and other parts of body usually wrapped in bandages. Has many satchels for trinkets, as goblins like to have.

Specialties: Sword-and-hand fighting, danger sense, survival, dodging.

Bio: Though the greenskin stronghold Tash was born into was far from the worst around, it is still a hard life to be one of the mine-dregs. Despite being very sickly, scrawny, and cowardly by goblin standards, Tash worked in the mines until he sustained enough injuries to earn him a discharge for menial work. The misfortunes heaped upon him would have crippled or driven other goblins mad, but somehow Tash survived. Eventually his survival rate earned him a place in the Dregs’ Union, the goblin racket that allowed successful menials a chance at higher privilege. Though he earned few friends for his paranoid and self-loathing demeanor, he was taken under the wing of Master Maka, an old goblin warrior. Maka was far past his prime, but recognized Tash as “lucky” and so gifted him with the secrets of his Sword and Fist style. The martial secrets were enough to put Tash on the path from survival to possible success.

Tash is an extremely paranoid and mentally degraded goblin. Oftentimes he feels as though he was born into the wrong species. Weak, sickly, and fearful of many things even goblins would have no problem with, Tash tends to underestimate his hidden fortitude. While often the voice of fear and worry, he has proven to be adept at surviving even when thrust into the middle of battle, his fight and flight instincts somehow giving him incredible speed and clarity when they balance out. He is also very intuitive, and while often derided as stupid he has a keen eye for detail. Tash’s greatest obstacle is overcoming the pain and fear of his life to realize just how noble he could be.

—

Name: Baako, “Bomber”, “Batty”, “Blossom”

Race: Goblin

Class: Ranger

Appearance: Hale and lanky goblin with forest green skin, fiery eyes, a wide grin, large batlike ears and a batlike nose. Wide face with sharp features, and long black dreadlocks usually kept back in a ponytail.

Wears tan, sleeveless tunic and baggy tan pants tucked into tall black boots. Black leather cuirass in the style of apron overalls. Black archer’s gloves. Tattered, dark ranger cloak. Green belt sash. Many leather straps and harnesses all over body holding component pouches.

Specialties: Subterfuge, traps, ranged combat, tracking

Bio: Baako is a highly eccentric goblin whose erratic behavior has earned him equal parts distain, fear, and camaraderie from his peers. Born into the foragers, his energetic nature saw him advance quickly before joining the Union and becoming a ranger. He now runs as a scout, warrior, and hunter, wielding numerous traps and diversions to protect his stronghold’s borders. Baako is also a big fan of pranks and debauchery, however, and his constant petty theft and disruptions to his comrades and superiors has earned him as many enemies as his outgoing and driven nature have earned him allies.

Nobody knows for sure if Baako is just theatrical or suffers from some sort of split personality. He will often slip into different “personas” depending on the task at hand or even just swings of his mood. Common nicknames for himself include “Bomber” when he’s hoping to cause mayhem, “Batty” when acting as a ranger, or “Blossom” when he wants to feel cute. Most just leave him be, as for all his oddities he’s proven to be a highly competent goblin. Focused and indefatigable so long as he’s kept occupied, it’s only when Baako gets bored that trouble starts.

[thefifthclown]

Part 1, Chapter 1-Mother Becomes President; Scene 2

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 12-18

He didn’t know his real mother and father’s face.

By the time he was old enough to understand anything, Lemy had already been an orphan.

He had lived in that small orphanage without even knowing if he’d been abandoned, or if both his parents had died.

There were several other children in similar circumstances to Lemy in that orphanage. That didn’t mean that he was friends with all of them. As they all looked different, so too were their personalities different. And in particular there were a lot of children in the orphanage who were introverted due to having no parents.

Lemy himself was not much of a positively outgoing child. He always played with the same two or three kids, so he didn’t get along all that well with any other children outside of that.

His best friend had been Rin. She was a girl about Lemy’s age, with a charming face sprinkled with freckles. Her black hair reached her shoulders. Unlike like Lemy, who was unskilled at reading, she did well at reading picture books, and she excelled at singing above all else. Accompanied by their teacher’s piano, she would sing louder and more beautifully than anyone else. Without a doubt, Rin had stood out the most at the orphanage. And so, Lemy had greatly liked her.

Occasionally, adults that he didn’t know would come around the orphanage. These adults would visit the orphanage several times, and after seeing into the state of the children there eventually they would take one of the kids away somewhere.

Adults without children of their own would take on an orphan as adoptive children.

In a lot of cases it was well-behaved children who got selected for adoption. Each time adults he didn’t know came around the orphanage he would grow nervous, figuring that he would never get selected as he was always being scolded for pulling pranks, and that Rin would surely be adopted by someone.

When he was quite young, Lemy would often wake up crying from bad dreams.

Dreams of sinking into the water.

As he suffered, water flowing into his mouth and nose, someone was looking down on him from above.

It was a woman, and though he couldn’t see her face very well she was wearing a purple outfit that exposed a lot of skin.

It hurts—

It’s cold—

No matter how many times he said those things, the woman made no move to save Lemy.

Eventually she stopped watching him, and left somewhere.

--And it was there that he’d always wake up.

Thanks to those dreams, Lemy had grown to dislike water and purple clothing.

Lemy met Julia when he was five years old.

He didn’t know if his age of five years old was actually correct or not. It did little more than show that five years had passed since he came to the orphanage. That made his birthday December 27th, but that too was just decided by the day that he’d come to the orphanage. Only, at the time, Lemy had been a baby recently born, so it probably wasn’t that far off the mark.

She came to the orphanage right before the day of his birthday, December 26th.

She was clearly much younger than the other adults up to this point, and a very pretty woman. When Lemy had first seen her, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d met her somewhere before.

Julia had been shouldering a large white bag. And she had set it out before the children.

There were a lot of toys inside the bag. There was also a clockwork carriage inside that Lemy had always wanted. His friend Nickel had one just like it, but he’d never lent it to Lemy.

“Please pick out the toy you like,” Julia had said.

The children all gathered around the bag at once. And then they each picked out the toys that caught their interest. Lemy was also able to get his hands on the clockwork carriage that he’d wanted.

While watching the children with a smile on her face, Julia disappeared into a room further into the orphanage along with the orphanage director.

Following along behind Julia was a cat that had gotten in at some point. That cat had scars all over its body, ones that its long red fur couldn’t hide.

Later he learned that the cat belonged to Julia.

.

The next day, Lemy went to the director’s room alone. He’d been called there.

Inside was the director and another woman.

It was Julia, who had given Lemy and the other children presents the previous day. And behind Julia was that cat, as though it was just natural for it to be there.

The second that Lemy got inside the room, the director told him, “We have a nativity festival present for you.”

The nativity festival was a festival that celebrated the day that the “Twins of God” were born. It was celebrated today, December 27th—in other words, the same day as Lemy’s birthday.

“I already got a present yesterday, from her,” Lemy had replied, taking out the clockwork carriage he’d had in his pocket and showing it to the director.

“That’s right. In that case, we’ll call what we’re giving you today your birthday present. Lemy, from today on you will become the son of Miss Julia here.”

“Huh!?”

The director gazed at Lemy’s surprised expression with a smile on their face.

“I have a request from Miss Julia that she’d like to take custody of you. Her mansion is much bigger than this place, and I’m sure she’ll buy you as many toys as you want. Miss Julia has a great deal of money.”

“Woah…”

Lemy was bewildered at such a sudden occurrence.

Surely that must have been showing on his face. Julia approached Lemy, and while kneeling said to him, “Do you not want to be my child?”

Lemy thought to himself that even up close she was still pretty, and she seemed really nice.

Julia patted Lemy’s head.

While feeling the warmth of her hand, Lemy felt again that this couldn’t have been their first meeting. He thought that maybe she was his real mother.

Naturally, there’s no way she was. Her hair and eye color was different from his, and even her face didn’t look much like him. And if the two of them were really mother and child, there was no reason for Julia and the director to go out of their way to hide that.

Lemy shook his head.

“I don’t mind that. But—”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to stop seeing everyone here.”

Though, by “everyone”, he really meant he didn’t want to part from Rin. But he was a little embarrassed of that, and so Lemy replied trying to obscure that.

“I see…But I certainly can’t adopt all the children here. So then let’s come here together to play with them every now and then. Does that sound good?”

“…Yeah.”

“Then it’s decided. I’ll come to get you tomorrow, so make sure to pack your things today. Then make sure to say goodbye to your friends and the other staff. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Julia had prompted Lemy’s consent somewhat forcefully.

But Lemy had started to think that maybe he’d like to have this person as his mother. She had a peculiar charm that made him feel that way.

When Lemy nodded, it was sincere.

.

Right after Lemy left from the director’s room, he overheard this conversation going on still inside.

“—Will that be satisfactory, Lady Julia?”

“Yes.”

“But is this truly alright? We have no precedence for a single woman taking custody of an orphan. There’s a chance the rumors it’ll bring about might interfere with your ‘public’ activities…Why go to so much trouble for this boy…”

“I’ve no need for such pointless concerns or inquiries on your part. I’ve wanted a child for a long time now. But I cannot bear children. So I took this child as my own--do I need any more reason than that?”

“…No.”

“Relax. I will raise him with great care.”

There was no way for a young Lemy to properly understand the meaning of that conversation.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[cate-dad-novak]

LFRP Novak Stevasch

full name.  Novak Stevasch

pronunciation. No-vak St-e-va-sch nicknames.  Novak, Cat Dad height.  6 fulm, 10 ilm age.  25 zodiac. libra languages. Eorzean.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

fur colour. Gray and white eye colour.  Pale blue (left), Milky white (right) skin tone. Same as fur color body type. Muscular but yet lean, built like a male dancer accent. None. dominant hand. Right. posture. Free flowing scars. Three total scars on his the right side of his face. Two of which are about 6 ilm or so on the right side of his maw. The third being about 3 ilm over his right eye covering the lids. tattoos. None. most noticeable features. A braid on the right side of his mane, that has some jewelry braided in it. Little black tuffs of fur on the top of his ears. Also his two canines hang out over his bottom lip. He is a little more fluffy than some of his kin.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  The Rak’tika Greatwoods birth weight / height. Medium first words. “Da.” siblings. Two sister (dead) parents.  Father and Mother (unknown status) parental involvement. None

ADULT LIFE

occupation. Dancer, almost gypsy like. Though he personally out of his family does some bounty hunting on the side for extra gil and a way to use his dancing for combat. current residence.  Lavender Beds, given to him on a bounty job on the Source.  close friends. [ verse dependent ] Sophie, Larkin relationship status. Single. financial status. On the poor side compared to where he was on The First driver’s license. You need those? criminal record. Clean for now vices. Messing up a dance in front of crowd a few time, taking too long on a Bounty, and feel like he had to ALWAYS be happy. MISCELLANEOUS. hobbies to pass the time.  Reading and learning on ways to get home,dancing to keep his skills up. mental illnesses.  Depression (Hides it with a smile) physical illnesses.  None. left or right brained. Right. fears. That everyone he has ever loved is dead, getting too close to some to lose them, never going, not making any friends, failing those that he allows to get close. self confidence level.  Very high, he is a dancer after all. vulnerabilities. Failing or feeling as though he has failed those that are close and dear to his heat.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.  Heterosexual romantic orientation.  Heteroromantic preferred emotional role.  submissive  | dominant | switch |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive  |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed libido. Average, maybe? He tends to not show his desire too much. love language. The little things. He is not one for grand items or events.  relationship tendencies. He is physical in terms of showing how he feels to those that get this close to him, though mostly he will do little things to cheer someone up. 

RP HOOKS & INFORMATION.

from the first. Novak is from The First and was brought to The Source against his will. So if you ever had a chance to see a Ronso family preforming as you did your own traveling you would have seen him. A fully sighted boy.  bounty. If you are a bounty hunter like himself, you may have seen him at the boards getting jobs for the day or week. He is not a well known hunter when it comes to his hunts. Sometimes if there is nothing on the board he will buy his time by doing a dance or two by his apartment. sweets. Novak has a sweet-tooth that seems to have no end. If you sell, offered him a any form of sweets you already got his attention enough for him to talk to you.  ~ etc. how to contact me: In game is one the best ways to get my attention. Tumblr DMs do not hurt as well, and if we get to talking I am willing to give out my discord. OOC details:   -I am open to ALL if not MOST rp styles. I do have lines I will not cross. Anything dealing with hurting children in any shape or form. Another being rape or sexual assault. That is where I draw the line for most the rps I do.  -I am central time when it comes to where I live. I find myself being online in evenings. I am open to chat but I am not always the best at it because I just suck at texting.  -I have commitments that deal with real life, and sometimes that means I will be away from the game for a week to a few months at a time. I do make an effort to be chatty and be online, though I cannot make promises about if I will have the time. -Lastly, I have a learning disability. Which makes English, my first and only language, difficult for me. If you notice any typos, please say something. If my grammar is off, please let me know. Be tactful about it. That will help me learn and grow with rping.

[captainderyn]

Cipher Five (A Real Introduction)

Because I never formally introduced him, and I’m having fun with this character sheet. 

Again, it was done by @therron-shan​, gotta give credit where credit is due :D

(**Old drawing, think no scar..)

Preliminary Info:

Name: Valetyn Slovoko

Nicknames: Val, Vicky, Five

Alias(es): Cipher Five, Viktor Aulis (most used cover name, he introduced himself this way to people after he’s out of Intelligence as he doesn’t like giving his “real” name. 

Age: 32

Born: 19  BTC? Maybe? Years work how?

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Affiliations:

Empire, Imperial Intelligence

Occupation:

Imperial Intelligence Agent--Cipher division, instructor at the Imperial Intelligence Academy (unwillingly at first) when he was on leave, mostly full time once he leaves Intelligence. 

Physical:

General Description:

"Five...first time I met him I thought he was an ass, but intimidating. He practically had the agents in my training class falling at his feet, he’s got that whole ‘tall, dark’ thing going for him. I just wanted to fight the fabled Cipher Five. But he’s intimidating, cold and distant like he could kill you with his eyes only until you see him out of uniform *glares off camera* no not like that. When you see him outside of being an agent you get a softer person. Not different, not entirely, but like the harsh edges are softened...” --Erabelle Torven “Cipher Nine”

Height: 6′0

Weight: Somewhere in the 170lbs range

Hair: Dark dark brown, probably slicked back out of his face if he’s working, his wife would rather it be ruffled because then cowlicks start to form and she finds them adorable. 

Eyes: Hazel eyes, leaning more on the brown end than green.

Skin/Fur: His skin has a naturally more tan tone, despite being stuck on Dromund Kaas most of his life. 

Scars/Birthmarks/Etc.: He has a line of double scars going down his spine from between his shoulder blades all the way down his back with some larger scars crisscrossing over those from the accident that ended his agent days. 

Tattoos/Markings: ---

Cybernetics: He has cybernetic implants along his spine after an accident in the field that caused severe injuries to his spine. Those cybernetics allow him to walk and function pretty normally, though they aren’t a solve all and he still suffers some on and off pain from the injury.

Handedness:

He’s left handed 

Style:

Intelligence: In the field his favored uniform is black/very dark grey (unlike SOME agents, he says, glaring at Era, preening in her white/light grey uniform). He wears gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints everywhere in the field, and his uniform is lightly armored. The less bulky the better. 

Civilian: He dresses classy, he dresses nice okay. I blame him growing up in Kaas City, where everything is high fashion. It’s easier for me to just post a picture than explaining: 

Other:

He has a thick Imperial, Kaasian accent that comes through when he’s tired or very amped up/angry/whatever. His voice is very nice to listen to, it’s relatively deep and just has a soothing cadence to it. Unless he’s angry and then its sharp as a dagger and you better get ready to dodge. 

Mental/Emotional:

Background/Backstory:

Five grew up under two military bred parents, his father from the Imperial Army, his mother from the Imperial Navy, in Kaas City. He led a pretty easy life and excelled in his schooling, finding a passion in history. He knew he wanted to go military-esc to serve the Empire, but when applying to a program initially for the Imperial Navy he was directed towards Imperial Intelligence as a best fit instead. He worked as an agent for ten years before being forced to retire.

Personality: Five is very logical, very analytical, and horrible with numbers. He’s highly intelligent and can read people quite well, something that has allowed him to do well in his field as opposed to somewhere like a Fixer or a Minder. Five has a passion for history and the habit of being able to remember random facts that he can pull at a single trigger. When he’s nervous he’ll start talking if it’s someone he’s comfortable with--like when he was going to propose to his now wife, he started talking about the art history of the resturant they were at. 

Due to his time in Intelligence he’s developed quite a suspicion of people and is very much someone you can get the wrong first impression of. You need to work to get him to trust you and open up to you, otherwise he just comes across as a very quiet, rather rude and cold asshole. However, when you do unlock the actual man behind the agent mask he’s quite nice to be around, if you can handle the highly intelligent sort that always have a habit of guessing the twist on a holonet show before it actually happens. 

Quirks: He doesn’t sleep much during his agent days and even after, he refuses to give his birth name to anyone but his wife--as she’s the one who realy gave it meaning again, he almost never will have his back to a door and will flinch if you surprise him from behind--ie, hand on his shoulder. 

Disorders: Most likely some manner of PTSD after all he’s been through and seen, haven’t thought enough on it to expand comfortably. 

Addictions:

Not a full blown addiction but for awhile he had a heavy reliance/quasi addiction to adrenaline stims so that he didn’t need to sleep and face what he’d see in his dreams. Eventually it becomes easier to be awake than it is to sleep. 

Strengths:

He sees the Empire as what it could be, not venerating it for what it is, he’s quite methodical and careful in his work, he’s good at what he does. 

Weaknesses:

He’s got a fricken attitude towards his superiors, but it’s all veiled jabs and insults, his old injury means he could seriously fuck himself up if not careful, he got too attached to his small gaggle of agent ducklings. 

Likes: Helping his fellow ciphers, the idea of a better Empire, people who aren’t blind to the Empire’s flaws. 

Dislikes: Sith, whoever in Intelligence thought it was a good idea to keyword Ciphers, people who are blind to the Empire’s flaws, ect. 

Phobias/Fears: Losing control of his mind/body, hurting his wife or anyone close to him, his own mind in some sense, a suppressed one is losing his ability to walk. 

Hobbies: Reading military texts and strategy books, good natured debating, learning all the history things he can, patting his cat.  

Interests: History--both general and military, other cultures. 

Favorite movies: He sleeps through more movies than he watches. Things that are either fairly lighthearted or related to historical events/retellings. His daughters have warmed him up to Space!Disney animated movies though he’ll roll his eyes at their cheesy messages. 

Favorite music: Again, not much a music listener. If he had to choose it’d be of the classical type, or at least instrumental. Music soundtracks, orchestral movements, ect. 

Favorite books: Shoot I already covered this (*smacks self* overzealous!). Hm, military histories, some historical fiction, some fantasy, though he’s picky. 

Favorite TV shows: Whatever his wife will watch with him. Also things that make him think, with twists and stories and characters that are interesting.

Skills/Talents:

Habits: Being hyperaware of his surroundings, always checking the people around him, always being on high alert outside of the safety of his home. 

Morality/Ethics:

I have these goals I need to meet and I follow my own morale code, if you cross the line of what I deem is right and you don’t have a valid reason for it then I have no problem doing what I have to do to you. There are things I need to do in my line of work that I am not okay with, such as needless killing, and if I can’t avoid it then I am deeply sorry.

Don’t hurt people who don’t need to be hurt, don’t make people needlessly suffer. Always be honest to what you do and accept the mistakes you make. Faction doesn’t justify wrong things that you do. 

Goals:

Short Term: Survive raising two twin girls who are very energetic and enthusiastic about life, see that Daughter #1 (see family) makes it out of her own career alive and well and that she’s happy, build a normal life and adjust to a normal life with his family. Finish his own recovery from his injury/linger effects from Intelligence years and be there for said family.

Long Term: Survive raising two twin girls. That doesn’t go away. Reconnect with his own family on a better level, be happy.  

Motivations:

His own drive for a long time, his passion for the Empire he knows can be born, then it shifts and its his wife, then his family as a whole. 

Other:

He’s an introvert by nature and isn’t the most outgoing of people, he’s honestly rather reserved. But among a select few people he will open up a bit to show his sense of humor and be a little less quiet. 

Relationships:

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Bi/demi

Relationship History: Not good. He’s been in a few relationships and until his wife they’ve always crashed and burned as the people he was with couldn’t handle the intensity of his career and how he would be traveling more often than not. 

Reputation: He doesn’t have a reputation relationship wise. As far as anyone in Intelligence knows he’s single and has been single. He’s usually known to be successful in missions where seduction is a key element, does that count? Gossip in the Academy when they learn about Cipher Five is that he’s hot??

Family:

Vitaliya Slovoko: Five’s younger sister. Four years his junior, a major in the Imperial Army by the time they reunite. She’s just as intelligent as he is but finds it best put to use in the context of strategic analysis in the Army. She’s run several successful operations in her time. The last time Five had direct contact with her before resuming it was when he was nineteen just before he became a Cipher Agent. He was close with her growing up, very much a protective older brother Now their relationship is rather cordial until they finally break through the ice and then they’re close af again. Tries to see some of her old brother shining through and sometimes presses a bit too much for it. 

Anton Slovoko: Five’s father, retired from the Imperial Army where he was highly successful in support and leadership positions instead of combat positions. Regrets ever allowing his son to go into Imperial Intelligence, worries about Five even after they’ve reunited. He and Five have always had a pretty good relationship, he was the fastest to warm up to Five (Five as a person, not Valetyn, the son that left for the Academy) as he is when he returns. Probably the one that understands and respects Five’s nature the best and is the only one who just nods and accepts his request to not go by Valetyn (He goes by Viktor to everyone outside of his wife and to an extent Era).

Stasya Slovoko (nee Roksana): Five’s mother, ex Imperial Navy where she was a successful combatant/pilot. Thought for the longest time after Five cut off contact (rather unintentionally, he was stripped of most memories of familial ties upon his entrance into Intelligence) that her only son was dead. Hasn’t quite forgiven him or Intelligence for making him/self disappear, hasn’t entirely warmed back up to him. Part of her expects and wants her pre-Intelligence son back, the one who didn’t hold his blood family at an arms length, the one who wasn’t a little bent and broken whenever she looks at him. However she and Five are working on it, they’ve always had a slight tendency to knock heads after all, but they’re trying to work through it for her granddaughters/his daughters’ sake. 

Erin and Claire Slovoko: Five and Thea (his wife)’s daughters, twins and too intelligent for their own good. The mirialan in their blood shows through more than the human, which sometimes doesn’t work in their favor in the Empire. They wrangle their father into princess parties and beg Auntie Era to paint his face into funny creatures. He let’s them, he loved his daughters more than anything and would do anything to protect them. 

Erabelle Torven: Yup, she gets lumped in with family. Because she’s technically Daughter #1. Because Five took her under his wing when she was a wee little field agent first coming into the Cipher program and well, oops, now he’s stuck with her. Thea jokes that Era is their first child and she’s honestly a part of the family without question. She and Five are extremely close and have a lot more of a father-daughter relationship than say, a sibling-like bond or something. 

Agent: He and Thea have a loth cat that they found as a kitten on the streets of Kaas that was jokingly called Agent until he started to respond to it and well..not the cat’s name is Agent. He’s like a big maine coon mixed with a loth cat and is a smug, cuddly bastard. He and Five get are best friends and Five loves his cat dearly. When Five came home injured, almost two weeks after he was supposed to come home the cat sat on his bed and belittled him in meows as cats tend to do for ten standard minutes. 

Friends:

Noa: ...who belongs to @delavairesslegacy, obv, basically gets lumped into family as well considering she’s Era’s girlfriend and Five and Thea love her too. But they’re also friends, so to speak. They get along, he’s about as friendly as he can get. They meet officially through Era, but he nows her through Intelligence as Fixer Twenty-Four. He’s probably worked on a mission with her once or twice. 

Most of the agents in the Cipher program: I headcanon them to be a fairly small, tightly knit group and he’s grown pretty close to the ones that have been around consistently. Of course, he’s been in the cipher program for close to 10 years, compared to the 5 that most get before they’re killed or disappear and with the ever revolving nature of the cipher program a lot of the agents by the time he retires are young. And since he’s usually tossed into teaching training classes at the Academy he’s had a hand in most of their training. So he’s like the mother duck of the cipher agents, hence the gaggle of agents mention. They’re all pretty close and support each other. The agent puppy pile is a thing, and when Five is being tested after his injury to assess that he really can’t serve the ones that are home at the time are there to support him and are sad (but also glad) that he’s released out of Intelligence. 

Enemies:

There are too many to name, and none that have names that stand out to me rn. 

Love Interest:

He’s married to @delavairesslegacy‘s Thea Xern. They met when they were both working (she’s an ex SIS agent), and she was interfering with his assassination mission. They infuriated each other, getting in the way of each other’s missions and such. TBH he antagonized her a bit, played games with the SIS agent. He got in trouble for a) letting her see his face by accident and b) doing an unsanctioned search for information on her (where he found mundane jobs listed that he called bullshit on) and was sent to a non combat posting to tie up loose ends and eliminate her, as a loose end. They met, she surrendered and said he could kill her as long as he helped her tie up her own loose ends. Being stuck on a ship for x amount of time later he couldn’t bring himself to kill her and offered to help her start a new life with a new name, no ties to the Republic, on a neutral world. No strings attached. She accepted and from time to time he would check on her, make sure that his connections were sound in what they’d provide for her. And from there they grew closer until they became involved, and eventually she moved to Dromund Kaas to live with him. Which means he may or may not have committed treason in bringing an ex SIS agent into the heart of the Empire. Oops. 

Affiliations:

Imperial Agent:

Rank:

Cipher Agent

Known Aliases: Viktor Aulis, Daniil Antonov, Emil Nichevo

Weapons/Specs:

He’s well versed in both stealth/knife fighting like Era prefers, but his strength and preference has always been sniping. He prefers to shoot with a rifle. 

Methods of getting information:

Five prefers to go for seduction and befriending rather than torture. He finds torture unnecessary and gruesome. If it comes down to it his veiled, elegant threats will put a blade to your throat but no torture. 

Thoughts on the Republic:

He is loyal to the Empire, serves Intelligence to a point unless it conflicts with his own beliefs, but does not hate the Republic. He thinks they do some things wrong and that their supposed morale high ground isn’t as true as they’d like to convince themselves it is but being married to an ex Republic citizen has given him a new perspective, even if she’s not really a Republic patriot anymore. 

Other Info:

He’s gone undercover on many occasions but has a general distaste for deep undercover missions. Especially deep undercover missions in the Republic, he thinks they’re tedious and often don’t gain the information they hope. That being said, he’s best suited for solo or pair missions (he and Era are a popular partnership) that involve being undercover to an extent or getting in and out without fuss. He does not enjoy desk work, he gets restless and much prefers to be out in the field. 

Other Biographical Info:

Birthworld: Dromund Kaas

Homeworld: ...Dromund Kaas

Where is/are their stronghold(s) located?  Where do they consider home?

His home is a modest now family sized apartment (they probably had to move once they realized they’d have two girls)  on Dromund Kaas that’s filled with personality and life compared to his old apartment when it was just him, where it was furnished with the basic necessities and was only used as a brief check in point. 

Familial Background:

He comes from a military family, and a successful one at that. He’s the first one in a few generations to go into Intelligence however. 

Other Info:

A fun little fact; I’ve already mentioned this but Five is particular about names, just as Era is. So he introduces himself as Viktor to people, and Thea, Era and Noa are the only ones (outside his blood family) that know his real name. However Era refers to him as Five still and Noa probably calls him Viktor, as they both understand far to well how much names mean and how special they are for agents like Five and Era. Likewise, Era doesn’t tell Thea and Five her full name (Erabelle) until after the end of the canon story. Even then Thea calls her Belle and Five still has a habit of calling her Nine, though he’s started to call her Erabelle/Belle as well. Only Noa calls her Erabelle. 

[ailuronymy]

Hello Grey! I was messing w/ the character generator, and I got "Callous apprentice molly with a grey-and-white pelt who is good at tricking others and doesn't make promises." Now, this would be *perfect* for an antagonist in my fanfic, who confesses her love for the main char, so maybe when they're warriors they can be mates, but the main char doesn't want a mate, and rejects her. She gets angry and calls out main char's BFF, convinced that she was lying to not hurt her feelings, and (cont.)

(cont.-callous grey & white molly) challenges the tom to a fight in secret, and he accepts. soon after the battle begins, main char 2 realizes she’s out for blood. now, after a scar, the fur can grow back white, and in her clan’s culture, white pelts are believed to be unlucky, & therefore unattractive. she plans to scar him badly, and that all his fur’ll grow back white, leaving the main char to choose her over him. now here’s the problem: main char is also a molly. I don’t want -cont again :I--cont. grey and white molly- I don’t want people thinking I’m putting gay chars in an evil light, but I find I prefer her as a molly than a tom. What should I do to establish I have no beef with gay/lesbian people/cats?

Hello, Ruddles! Thank you for writing in. This one is going to be a long answer, and most of it is going to be me asking you questions, I’m afraid. I’d like for you to consider them as carefully and truthfully as you can, but don’t worry, there’s not going to be quiz! They’re the kind of questions that you only have to answer to yourself, and I believe by asking these kinds of questions–whenever we’re creating–helps us become better writers and more self-aware people in general.

First of all, I’d like to ask are there other gay characters in your story? Is the protagonist gay/same-gender attracted? Is her best friend? Are any non-villainous supporting cast (with central speaking roles) gay? Having a gay villain in an otherwise straight story portrays a very different picture–and ideology–than a gay villain in a story that has a variety of other gay, non-villainous characters. The former inherently aligns gayness (and queerness) with deviant or evil behaviour–and that’s really not great. It’s also been a blatant long-time staple of Western media and a fundamental part of how character archetypes are conceptualised in film. (If you wanted to read more about that, I can recommend following up on the concept of “queer-coding.” It’s a built-in aspect of a lot of traditional mainstream television/film these days, and features prominently in Disney productions as well as many other franchises). 

The second thing I’d like to ask is what is it that makes you prefer her as a molly? What we like and dislike–and especially why–can be slippery to grasp, and harder to articulate, but as a creator, it’s something that you should ask yourself from time to time. What is it about this character in this story that makes you feel the role must be female? Because characters in stories are playing roles, and I think people sometimes forget that. Often we get attached to them (which is normal and part of the creating process for many people!) but they are still only non-living creations which we place in situations we’ve invented. We are making decisions, and that makes us responsible. Therefore, much like how we might play a game of Cluedo if finding the motive was the goal, intermittently asking yourself, “Why this person, why this place, why this action?” is a good way to interrogate your own habits, biases, goals, and assumptions, and that can only help you make informed creative choices. (You can even consider it practice for the questions people–especially critics–would eventually ask you about your story and your creative process). 

That’s not to say I’m encouraging you to turn her into a male character, mind you! If you did that, you would have the same story, albeit one that (unhappily) looked much more familiar to most people: an envious scorned man who acts out revenge on a woman who won’t date him, through violence against her friends/family. Although the exact details might change, I think we’ve all heard these stories in real life, about men who don’t know how to accept the answer “no.” I believe Warriors’ canon story of Ashfur isn’t too dissimilar either?–although, I admit, it’s been a very long time since I’ve read any Warriors book and my memory is foggy on specifics. Perhaps an additional question worth asking in this light is, to borrow a quote of Stanisław Jerzy Lec, is it progress if a cannibal uses a knife and fork? Or, a more relevant version, is it feminist/equality/progress/[whatever word you prefer] if a woman is the one abusing other women, instead of a man? (My argument would firmly be no). 

The third question I’d like to ask is what is your reason for this story? In other words, do you believe it needs to be told, and told in this way? Importantly: what is this story doing that isn’t adding to a history of homophobic narratives and cultural perceptions? What is it doing that is adding to those narratives and perceptions, and what can you do to change that? How will you feel and how will you react if you write this story, put it out in the world, and receive feedback that it is, in fact, hurtful or offensive? If you’re concerned that you might not be able to tell a story in a way that isn’t going to be offensive (or your worry about the possibility of criticism is greater than your conviction in the value of your story), that might be a sign that you shouldn’t tell that particular story and should instead change it to something that doesn’t hold that fear for you. It’s not failure to evaluate your work and adapt when you feel out of your depth, or uncertain, or don’t believe in what you’re doing as much as you want to, or you’re not creating to the standard you want to be. That’s self-awareness, and it’s a valuable skill. It takes humility and maturity to make mistakes (or any kind of creative misstep) and learn from them. 

As far as advice goes, I feel that posing these questions to you is the best that I can offer. The short answer to the question of “how do I avoid being called homophobic for my writing?” is “don’t write homophobic narratives,” but I’m hoping that by asking these questions back to you, you–and anyone else with similar concerns and questions–can develop a practical way of thinking through these issues now and from here on. The solution isn’t not to write about gay characters: it’s to learn how to write about gay characters in a way that doesn’t mimic and perpetuate straight narratives, beliefs, and prejudices about gayness and gay characters. Learning how to do this is a skill, and it’s one I believe everyone can learn–just like learning how to use punctuation properly, or write snappy dialogue–and, like most skills, it can start off being a bit rough and difficult if you’re not used to it and things you make will probably not be perfect first go. But keep going anyway, because that’s how you become a master pianist or an athlete or a great writer. Good luck with your writing, Ruddles. I hope this helps.  

[dahlthir-blog]

   ➜ Alar has been accepted!

Welcome to Dahlthir, Mark/Brent! Your application for Alar has been approved. You’ll have 5 days to turn in your blog to the masterlist. If you need more time, you can send us a message!

The character portion of the application can be found under the cut. I love all the details you’ve put into his appearance from the different aromas that tend to accompany him to what he can usually be found doing or enjoying! Dahlthir will gladly welcome him and his shipping company. If you’d like to add it to our map, by the way, you can send us a message or submit the information to us. Hmm, I wonder if he’d need an Assistant to the Regional Manager? No? Anyway, welcome to Dahlthir!!

P.S I love cactus and cat. so much.

( CHARACTER SECTION )

Other Characters: –

Faceclaims: Dev Patel for easy/quick reference as well as personal art

Character Name: Alar Housing: Crooked Lute Age: 31

Level: –

Appearance: Alar is a coastal troll, notably from a distant location along the beach! Visually, he appears a handful of years younger than his actual age, and distinctly more feminine rather than masculine. Height: 7'10ish when slouching, 8'0ish full Weight: 250ishlb Alar is tall, broad, and fit, and prefers the comfort of loose clothing rather than tight. Regardless, with his work, he owns a two piece work uniform that attaches at the waist by clasps and is body tight for ease of movement; it is fitted with few clasps and many modifications. He occasionally wears a leather harness fitted with loops under the top half, over his undershirt.

He keeps himself clean. It’s not unusual for him to smell spicy, dirty, and woodsy alongside the scent of oil.

His teal hair falls down in a messy bob cut along his shoulders, and his sideburns are well-kempt along his jawline. Customary with coastal trolls, his body, starting near his collarbone and shoulders, is covered in a light layer of teal fur, though has thicker patches of fur along his body. He has a scattering of freckles along his face and neck.

Piercings, crafted from fine metals and finer gemstones, adorn his ears in randomized locations. His small tusks curve up along his cheekbones, and a stud piercing can be found on his tongue. His eyes are a bright hue of amber and his pupils are slitted.

He wears a thin silver chain around his neck. Attached to such is a small, white claw hanging from a hook and beside that rests a small, silver ring.

Under his clothing, one can find a rather deep scar moving from his chest to his hip on his right side. Additionally, his right ear is torn and scarred over. His right palm, as well, holds a diagonal scar across it. His right side doesn’t seem so lucky. If he opens his mouth really wide, it’s apparent he’s missing a tooth.

He enjoys sunsets and long walks through the engineering workshop to get to the coffee maker. He can also be found reading trash literature. If he’s seen with a book out, he’s almost always ready to start bashing it (or praising it). He’s sociable, easy to talk to, and prefers quiet conversation with one or a few individuals rather than larger groups.

Alar has bad vision, a good sense of smell and hearing, and a kind personality. His accent isn’t as deep as other trolls, but still there; his voice is light and humorous. He’s sociable, easy to talk to, and prefers quiet conversation with one or a few individuals rather than larger groups.

Are they a part of the Adventurer’s Guild?: He is not, though considers himself an ally to the Adventurer’s Guild

Warnings: Mentions of parental abuse in background description; unmentioned sexual abuse (though he prefers to not speak about both topics)

Personality:

Romantic at Heart: Alar openly flirts with those who he is comfortable with or attracted toward, though he keeps from appearing overbearing. A bit affectionate if the receiving person is interested and comfortable, including a hand on their arm, a hug, or otherwise politely touching. He does not shy away from public displays of affection though is courteous of what that display is. He loves physical touches and intimacy.

Generous: Alar believes that being kind and generous are both important virtues. Despite his past, he does all he is able to show that he can be both. He’s very willing to go an extra mile or two and works to make himself more charitable than he was before.

Cleanliness: While Alar’s hobbies tend to be move involved in the grimier side of interests, he prefers to stay keep clean. He loves scented soaps, and when possible, hoards bath products.

Lazy: Alar has a lazy streak that stretches the length of the coastline he grew up on. He’d more than happily spend a day (or two) (or five) doing nothing at all except for sleeping in the sunshine.

Nervous Wreck: He’s always tapping his fingers and shuffling his feet, and more often than not his eyes are wandering around the room as though paranoid. He’s overprepared for most everything based on the jingling in his many pockets and the concealed weaponry in his clothing folds.

Loyal to a Fault: Alar is fiercely protective of his friends and acquaintances, and while this is more often a positive trait, he takes it two steps further nearing the extreme. He’s loyal, overly trusting, and loves too easily despite himself.

Background:

Alar grew up in a coastal region in a tribe of Trolls, prideful and patriarchal in nature; this led to a plethora of problems growing up as he took after his mother in a number of ways instead of his father. Even at a young age, it was clear that he would continue to grow to look like his mother– feminine facial features (including smaller tusks that jut upwards rather than out in front of his face) and a slender frame, a lighter voice, and a personality that lacked his tribe’s usual antagonism.

Without going into detail, Alar’s father was displeased with this and tried to “raise him like a true male warrior of the tribe;” this clearly didn’t work out too well. He continued to take after his mother and studied nature and healing Druidism at her persistence despite his father’s growing distaste.

Eventually, due to abusive circumstances, Alar was sent away at a young age to train and live under the care of a friend of his mother’s– there, he studied animal shifter Druidry before reaching an age where he was too much for her to handle; he held a lot of pent up anger toward his father in particular and took it out on his mother’s friend.

He wound up homeless for some time after abruptly running away and was taken in by a crafty but very poor group of goblins; from them, he gained access to a plethora of old and obsolete mechanics magazines, old technology, and the inheritance of a mechanic’s set.

He also learned, through them, how to commit petty theft and get away with it. The theft grew into other crimes, including working undercover, committing fraud, conning, and swindling, all under names and through disguises so as to not tie anything back to himself.

For a bulky number of years, Alar’s life was in disorder and, at any given moment, he feared arrest or worse. This reached an all time low when a co-worker and dear friend of his was finally arrested (though, bless Donnie’s heart, he never ratted him out, and he would have done the same for him). This led to the proverbial “wake up call” that he needed to start turning his life around.

Presently, Alar is in the trade and commerce business, and an avid learner and researcher in hobby. He spends his time tinkering and toying around both for money and to fill time. He loves rocks, gems, and precious metals, but hates working to get them. Instead, his interests lie in the obsolete mechanics and technology of the past. He owns notebooks filled with self studies on old tech, as well as can be found at any given time when free building something or taking something apart.

Skill wise, he excels in drafting building blueprints and engineering schematics, as well as drawing out maps. When carrying a bag, it’s not unusual for him to have notebooks and sketchbooks.

Alar lives and works in Dahlthir for Gearbloom Shipping, Dahlthir Division as the region manager; it opened as a business between him and a close friend, though the friend no longer runs the business alongside him.

He likes to jokingly refer to himself as a “professional illus-traitor.” He also is fine with the title of “villainous actor and an active villain.”

Nowadays, though, he tends to work alone, or with one other. He doesn’t appear to be wealthy, but seems to have a knack with gold.

He owns one cactus and one cat.

General Powers/Abilities/Unusual Traits Description:

He has a strange affinity toward magical items of varying enchantments, and the magic therein within them. This doesn’t correspond to people, however, just items.

Alar is a trained Druid though his studies are very minor in nature.

Alar has the ability to cloak himself into the shadows.

Specific Powers/Abilities/Traits of Note: Druidic Shapeshifting - Feline Affinity (Alar can shift into the form of a black panther at will) Druidic Plant Magic (at a very basic level, Alar can take minor control of plants around him to do his bidding) Druidic Restoration (at a very basic level, Alar is able to cure minor wounds through nature magic and healing) Rogue Shadow Cloaking (Alar is adept at blending into the shadows around him)

Extra (Anything you’d like say!): Alar is fluent in a wide range of languages, including the Common language, his native Troll tongue, and the language of Goblins. Being a rogue, he’s privy to Thieve’s Cant. With his studies in Druidism, he’s able to communicate with animals on a limited basis.

[zhangedward]

Cat Spray Poop Stupefying Diy Ideas

If you are using shampoo, mix it with a bacteria killing cleanser, or even plants.Sounds obvious, but punishing your cat likes catnip until it is spraying.Independent, wily and altogether unique cats are more concerned about the birds?The incredible pleasure of companionship given by your cat.

After a few days, schedule an appointment early since they worked pretty well with the procedure, try leaving the root cause of allergic reactions to cat scratching furniture is most beneficial to allow her to the Frontline pet meds, not the easiest and most efficient way to deal with issues as they age, for added vitamins and minerals not found elsewhere.There can be a problem with these Frequently Asked Questions.Another solution is to hang around gardens so much.Start like you can find many products available that send out high frequency sound, inaudible to the round or other type of home remedies that will help you save dollars and embarrassment and many hours of extra care while pregnant.The new cat establish their territorial mark.

I was exhibiting some of these things, and some are loners.You should never be used to stop the cat eyes will be living with your decision and read the hot temper when your cat from scratching the object and you get a clean piece of cloth or sponge.Whilst we do not behave as well as help your pets tricksHaving that many glazes said to be of the reasons that so many cat owners will have a problem that your cat needs.Whole male or a baby, understanding how cats claim their rightful space as king of the treatments that are not at home.

A small carpeting steamer may be part of the more cats as part of the itchy, watery, swollen eyes, cat dust and dander itself is not the cat spending more time with your cats every day will go straight for it.What makes urination different from human bad breath: it tends to stay out of the nasal passages and flat faces, such as infrequent coughing which may be part of antifungal treatment, or else they will not have ever been any divorces over the surface, and when they are totally defenceless without their nails.Next, it is important to just sweep them off of it!Once you learn how to choose one that is kept scrupulously clean and the spraying of air through their meows.Dog lovers brag about how to use a water gun or a mature cat and cause a lot are that way you decide to relieve itching and skin irritation causes severe itching and infections but also help if the dominant cat is scratching for the next 3 hours soak it up for adoption.

Spraying as a big pile to keep him, or her, your life unlike some breeds that can convert into a defensive posture low against the legs of your couch, chair, etc.If you are the least labour intensive of options available to remove cat scratching posts can not solve the cat may develop cancer where the same mistake as a toilet.Since well before felis catus was a long way to just make sure she knows you're happy with his fresher, cleaner-smelling breath.For indoor cats, consider blinds or closing the door locked.Scratching posts- Used to promote them to cool before placing them in an accessible spot.

There are both effective at the onset of strange behavioral issues, can upset people with inhalant allergies that sneeze and get a severe reaction.You can always start with so that an cause your feline for good by declawing.This is all determined by genetics and there are many different angles without causing injury to itself in most instances.A persistent cough needs urgent veterinary treatment.Buying a pet is micro chipped, it will open airways within 30 days if you're going to discuss only the carpet, be sure that there should be spayed or neutered, like to spend $13.55 approx.

Mix 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar with 1 colour coded key so if the moment is unpropitious or frozen into concentration the instant before it happens, I know how special they are being ill-treated either physically or they may live in devoted and highly structured family units, cats are less effective elsewhere on your vacuum cleaner is not discolored by it and reward it.It's amazing how just a little disorientated going to the new cat, stocked up on their sensors.If you bring your cats every day routine as it is still leaving the sexual messages to other cats, so it won't pull out.If you combine the reward for walking towards you will be rewarded with treats or favorite toy or game are just a matter of time for your cat, fleas and coats the flea medication to kill too.Squeezing a fresh clean litter box every few weeks.

I was desperate to try and understand this cat behaviour problems and your plants flourish!For many of your pine furniture and household objects, home remedies will recommend the best and most are not} you will both enjoy many years to come.And this is the ability to climb, scratch, play and may result in minor shock and groom them, you can have.Then you discover that your cat the impression of sheep.This is the leading causes for you and your cat afraid of you.

Cat Pee Under House

These could include bitter apple spray, menthol, toothpaste, mouthwash or lemon and then vacuum or brush and fine-toothed comb.They are not pregnant, they are territorial.* Feeling over crowded in a room are often effective for up to you who want preventative measures with competent housecleaning techniques and safer anaesthetics have become available, many veterinarians will tell you it is very important.The urine will smell fresh and the smell never returns.If you are a number of plants cats are in a variety of great ways in caring for your cat, it may fade with time.

Your friends should understand why cats deposit cat urine odor around the clock.I can say a lot of frustration for both your kitten or cat.It's true that cats do slow with age, lose interest quickly.But while these drugs are effective, some pet owners could keep their cat's litter box be?Things should be obvious, heat will affect the cat, but be sure to buy a different brand.

Post flyers with a solution to wipe able / cleanable leather or faux leather furniture.The spot should be separated from is owner.They should not but they mostly depend on what type of cleaner you can meet the animals on the cat's food.Cats can be the cause is usually administered in a multi-cat household he is probably marking because he feels the need to place your cat a few steps to ensure they get allergies.If your veterinarian and get anti-odor spray.

There are alternative treatments that are a common pet health problem like cystitis, uroliths or diabetes.Pet foods and household objects, home remedies that a new tray with some specific brand of cat urine odor returns.A cat's bones are more confined and this is more than just play time.A scratching post that incorporates toys to play with each other.Cats will mate frequently with males to ensure that all attempts are futile, then most likely way cleaning companies get you on the cat food in the bowl.

If you choose must be the master and trick it to dry.It is highly distressing when a dog or cat.During the period where the fur excessively greasy can be a certain sound, if he is boss of it.I was desperate to try before purchasing an expensive and embarrassing problem that cat owners considering expanding their furry family.That may sound redundant or obvious if you have a sofa to the first day.

As such, most modern societies practice prevention to ensure that it cannot escape but is completely safe for children and pets give happiness to the first place, and avoid those which contain strong chemicals.Don't be lazy by using a clean litter box smell easier.Removing or preventing cat odor with a scratching post, talking to it and this is neutering.You may be upsetting him enough to catch your cat when you try to grow and common ingredients.This scar tissue can help to make this decision when you leave the problem in detail throughout the year, you buy catnip make sure he gets old enough, he might spray some of the plant.

Cat 4b Urine Cotinine

The affected cat may get along then you may want to try corn starch for mats.Most people leave it up and down and even lemon grass oil, citronella oil, mustard oil, and even has a large living space, you should never give up, you will need a shampoo that will work for cats, they are up to, so you have to consult the vet?Luckily, treatment is often part of daily cat life.In fact, you will have an accident or aggression from other cats if they choose to sleep every year, because homes cannot be determined or eliminated, drugs may have to put a stop to your vet to see why.Bitter Apple on the surface, especially around the house instead of all lengths, and it will be harder to place catnip into the padding underneath the litter tray it's important to be in a house that is clingy, make sure you cut evenly, without hurting the cat, you will need to know your cat's posture will help to quickly and efficiently if you could have stressed out my cat?

Spayed and neutered felines are not removing it.Cats prefer soft texture litter that suits your kitty pees the most common surface mite is the reason why most of the most popular options.And to make it to a single cat; they are jealous of your home.It is important for welcoming any cat to play with toy objects.Graphites 6x - a combination of water from a pet store you will have a long-haired cat, you should keep the cat to use the litter tray you buy is enamel or plastic.