#but tool improv rarely works at all

[callipraxia]

One day, I really ought to just go buy a proper rubber hammer.

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[shady-tavern]

Heart Song

The world was full of music and to you, that was beautiful. Everyone you met was surrounded by a melody, some louder and some quieter, some sad and some joyful, some struggling and changing tunes as they tried to find themselves and others marching forward, no matter the mismatched tones and half-broken sounding lyrics.

It had been difficult, growing up, to not get lost in the music constantly. Your parents hadn't understood what was going on, dragging you to doctors and trying out different medication, until you had been old enough to find the words, the proper explanation, to tell them how you saw the world. 

A gifted child, your lot were called. People born with abilities that showed as early as when they were infants or sometime late in their adulthood. But the powers always revealed themselves and very, very rarely were not put to use.

You had found yourself responding to melodies that had wanted to be heard and seen and recognized even before you understood what they were, singing back at them clumsily until they had lost a hurt edge, until they had found meaning, until the song surrounding a person's heart rang like clear bells with the sound of hope-relief-healing.

Becoming a hero had, in a way, been the only sensible conclusion. You wanted to help and you could help, so why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you help sand down rough edges, help people over a bump in their road, help someone hurting find the strength to reach out?

Your parents had thankfully been the sensible and sceptical ones and had cautioned you against accepting just any hero gig, any contract that was extended to you. You had been so excited you had nearly accepted the first offer without question.

They taught you to read between the lines and always question things, especially if people in power reached out to you.

Hero contracts, as you had quickly learned, were rather intense. There was so much red tape surrounding everything and your parents really hadn't liked some of the wording of some of the passages and with great reluctance and perhaps a couple of tears, you had tossed those offers into the trash.

Right up until Redemption & Recovery had reached out to you. They had been a comparatively tiny organization back then, doing their best to help others with what funding they got. Almost all members were volunteers and the contract they had extended had, admittedly, looked pitiful compared to the promised salary of the big hero offices.

But their offer had been just what you had been looking for. Next to no red tape and your values and theirs aligned. The moment your parents gave their tentative green light you had called them straight away, telling them you wanted to work with them.

In the years that had followed you had made quite the name for yourself and the organization, which had grown in members and funding until it was one of the biggest. You were so proud of everyone and their hard work. 

While you had become the face of R&R, fighting and going to interviews and fan meetings and doing your best to be present online, everyone else had been hard at work behind the scenes. Networking and outlining and signing contracts, choosing sponsors carefully and keeping the unyielding desire to make the world better alive, no matter how big the organization got.

Redemption & Recovery focused heavily on not only offering recovering villains all the tools to keep healing and improving, but they also offered services to the public to help people stay away from the villain business in the first place.

You still didn't have much of a salary compared to other famous heroes, but that worked just fine for you. You rather donated as much as you could feasibly give to R&R, to help finance the services they offered. The therapists and doctors they had on their payroll, as well as housing aid and financial advisors and lawyers to help people get back on their feet.

You still received offers from the big offices, who hoped to poach you from R&R and the latest offer had you choking on your breakfast when you had seen the salary and other perks they had offered. It had still gone into the trash, because the red-tape situation had been as bad as ever.

Besides, you were perhaps a bit...unique, among the heroes. The big offices would probably find working with you rather headache inducing.

You raced around a corner, heart in your throat at the sound of hurt-terror-helplessness that filled the air ahead of you as thickly as the dust and smoke from the collapsed building that had yet to settle. You leapt over rubble and debris, your breath catching when you heard another bit of building crumble somewhere to the left.

And among the injured civilians, the panicked people, one melody rang louder than the others. Loud enough to drench everything in agony-hatred-despair like a wailing siren.

You had heard bits and pieces of this particular melody in the past and you knew exactly who it belonged to. Eclipse, a high-level villain known for laying waste to entire city blocks whenever he appeared. 

He was one of the villains who broke heroes left and right if they weren't strong enough to stand up to him and who had endangered many a civilian carelessly. No death count yet, but he was getting closer and closer to it every time he appeared. 

Even now he had been lucky that people had gotten out of the building in time before it had started to collapse.

Official sources weren't sure if he even had full control of his powers, considering the often haphazard destruction and his at times openly visible frustration. Whatever was going on, however, everyone agreed that he needed to be stopped before he ended up killing, no matter if it was intentional or not.

Eclipse's focused face turned into a mask of fear the moment he noticed you from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to stare at you.

His heart song drew you unerringly to where he was in a showdown with two other heroes, newbies if you remembered correctly. The heroes were bleeding and limping but determined-angry-hurt and they would not stop until they could no longer get up.

You saw Eclipse raise a hand in your direction and you felt his power in the air, heavy like a yoke dropping onto your shoulders, with a sharp underlining that told you it was barely-controlled. The ground beneath you starting to crack, glass shattering further, steel beams yanking out of the rubble to hurl at you.

But you were close enough. You closed your eyes for a moment, senses honing in on his heart song and you took a deep breath and began to sing. You answered the anguished melody of his heart, desperate and with a hurt so deep it had stained every part of his life for far, far too long.

You were only peripherally aware of all the ammunition clattering to the ground, steel beams scraping to a stop, glass grinding into shards so fine they briefly resembled glittering snow.

The two heroes backed up, relief making their songs brighter as they turned to rush to the aid of the injured civilians, two who had gotten pinned by fallen concrete.

Eclipse collapsed to his knees, a keening noise escaping him, wounded and terrified and he burst into tears. His heart song was nothing but pain and hurt that was finally set free, like a wound that had needed to be drained of infection. Painful but necessary.

You hurried towards Eclipse as he helplessly sobbed in a way that reminded you of a child that had been abandoned by everyone, confused and terrified and so terribly alone.

Before you could reach him however, still singing, for you hadn't completed the melody yet, a different song sliced through the air like a serrated blade, sharp and cutting and jarring enough that it made you jolt to a stop. 

You had just one moment to drag your focus away from Eclipse and back to the world around you, when Vision leapt out of the settling dust and rubble, his heart song a deep, echoing drum of vicious anger-determination-worry.

The sleek black metal helmet covering his head was faintly reflecting some sunlight and you dodged back just in time to avoid a kick to the middle. Two quickly and precisely aimed blows forced you to focus on the fight entirely and you had to cut off your song even as it felt like you were suddenly walking on spiky stones in your shoes. 

Cutting songs short hurt and the rest of the melody still stuck within you started to claw at your lungs, demanding to be released. To be completed.

You managed to dodge around Vision, realizing that his heart song filled with righteous fury and blade-sharp worry gave you...nothing. It was rare, granted, but sometimes there were people who didn't want to be saved. Who didn't want or perhaps need your songs.

They wanted to be their own saviors.

You hadn't clashed with Vision before, but then again, heroes rarely did. He was a villain capable of seeing into the future and his ability to predict the outcomes of battles ahead of time, knowing the moves and abilities of heroes ensured that no one had ever won against him. 

No trap had ever worked and he was one of ten villains who managed to keep everything about themselves private. He was also pretty much all over the place when it came to his MO, he seemed to enjoy dipping his fingers at least once into every pie.

That he was here, now, getting involved with you when you had never so much as seen his shadow fleeing his crime scenes made you think of the rumors you had heard recently. Of unexpected villain alliances and joint attacks.

You ducked out of the way of his next attack, sliding around his guard to trip him up. Vision was skilled, however, easily as skilled as you were in hand-to-hand combat and smoothly turned his fall into a drop and roll, avoiding your sweeping kick by a hair. 

One thing however, became clear within even that short exchange of blows: He was willing to hit a lot harder than you.

You hated fighting. You loathed being the reason heart songs changed for the worse.

Fighting caused hurt and deepened the songs of pain-anguish-hate-loneliness. It filled the world around you with the sound of strings snapping and keys being smashed, as though an orchester had decided to get shitfaced drunk and now they were playing their instruments so hard they ended up breaking.

Hurting others was the ugliest song you knew and it made something in your very teeth ache like biting onto a bar of icy metal after drinking hot tea.

You managed to hold your ground, always peripherally aware of Eclipse, who was gasping sobs into his hands and the unfinished song scraping your ribs raw, right up until another villain joined the fray. She appeared so quickly you had no chance to react in time, not with Vision viciously on the attack. 

Silver was a tough woman with the fiercest heart song you had ever heard, strong enough to crumble mountains like cookies and with such a drive forward that her melody could sweep anyone up in her rhythm, driving them to reach for the stars relentlessly.

Silver flicked out a dagger and the knowledge that she didn't kill didn't help one bit when she was well known for leaving heroes with career-ending injuries. She was so damn precise it usually only took her one hit to take heroes down. Even the powerful ones couldn't afford to slip up around her and they only ever took her on one-on-one, because even an inexperienced, second villain spelled their doom. 

Vision already had you fully occupied and you had no chance to dodge, never mind counterattack.

You saw the flash of the blade, braced yourself for the pain, the songs around you suddenly too much, too loud, too – a sharp pop filled the air, followed by one of your favorite melodies in the world. 

From the corner of your eye you saw the sweep of a night-black cape and a night-black gauntlet came up to parry Silver's blow, as Areth appeared at your back out of nowhere.

"Yo," Areth said with a sharp grin, a mask covering the upper half of her face.

"Lo," her twin Sorrel answered as he leapt out of her shadow and at Silver, tumbling her to the ground with a snarl.

"Is someone bullying our Cloud?" Areth asked as she whirled past you, striking out at Vision, disappearing and reappearing behind him before the hit landed, but it had the desired effect – he had reacted to her feint.

It left his flank wide open and her kick landed solidly, throwing him off his feet and he tumbled into the dirt and rubble as Areth took up position at your side. "You good, little Cloud?"

The twins had nicknamed you Cloud since they thought you lived with your head in the clouds, always listening to things no one else could hear, humming and smiling or frowning at nothing.

"Give me cover?" you asked, already running for Eclipse and picking his song back up, relief flooding your lungs and Areth's melody resonated protective-care-determination, turning her usually pleasant heart song into something beautifully fierce. 

Her twin's song echoed hers as he dipped in and out of shadows, disarming Silver at last – not that that stopped her from being dangerous – while Areth moved to keep Vision occupied. Her teleportation skills were honestly some of the few abilities that could stand up to Vision's future-predicting powers.

She seemed to move too fast for him to reliably predict where she was going to end up next in the heat of battle. Which didn't mean that she had an easy time against him, but she at least was capable of landing a hit on him.

Eclipse's desperate melody took a metaphorical breath as your song rose over the sound of battle and you did your best to soothe him back out of the storm, to guide the hurt and bitterness and abandonment that drenched every single part of him towards release.

You had just barely finished the song, Eclipse's sobs slowly petering out as he sat sagged, utterly exhausted, when Areth appeared at your side, grabbing you. Sorrel slipped into her shadow and then you were gone. For just a split second, your world was...quiet. Quiet in a way it never was.

And then you stood a street over, sound and color and smell and taste filtering back and you needed a moment to reorient yourself before you turned around to where the battle had been, only for your breath to catch. A strange shimmer filled the air a few houses behind you, moving up and up at a rapid pace to create a massive dome.

"White Rabbit showed up," Areth said and her and Sorrel's melodies overlapped now, like two people singing the same song in perfect sync. They always sounded like this when he hid in her shadow and you were about the only person who had known from the beginning that Areth wasn't walking alone whenever she had shown up in costume.

You were about to hurry forward, when her hand found your shoulder. "Don't go, Cloud, you know that time's not on your side in there. Besides, the big league heroes are already on the way, though I doubt that by the time they break the dome they're going to find anyone but confused civilians."

You grimaced and reluctantly backed down. Your powers were absolutely and completely useless when it came to Timeless, who only needed to catch you up in either a time-freezing dome or had to rewind the last couple of seconds once you appeared to ensure you could be avoided. You had to get close enough to people after all for your powers to have the desired effect.

"Thanks," you said. "For helping me."

"Always, little Cloud." Areth gave your shoulder a gentle nudge, her and Sorrel's combined heart songs mellowing out into affection-kindness-protective. "You're one of the few actually, genuinely good eggs that we know." She paused looking up. "Aw, shit, bye!"

They teleported away and not a moment too late. Rescue heavily impacted where Areth had stood, having leapt from who-knew-where, straightening on powerful legs.

Rescue was a grizzled, old hero, one of the oldest and she rarely left her office these days, preferring to guide and teach the younger generation.

That she was here meant that Timeless' dome needed to go down stat.

Rescue tipped her head politely at you. "Anything you can tell me?" she asked, voice rumbling. "I saw the mess from my window and I'm sick and tired of meetings."

Or she had gotten bored. Rescue was more than established enough that she could get away with pretty much anything. You got her caught up to speed and she nodded before tensing and leaping away, asphalt cracking in her wake.

You hurried forward too, lingering near the shimmering glass-like dome until it shattered apart and then you were dashing forward. You could sing if there was no specific heart song to focus on, but those songs tended to have more of a general effect and they were softer and gentler. They were, however, more than enough to soothe and calm the civilians and ease the tension of the newbies.

"No one's left," Rescue muttered. "Fucking villains, they've been getting really damn bold lately."

"Do you know why?" you asked her. Rescue was pretty knowledgeable, there had been a few instances over the years where she had given you pretty damn useful advice.

She frowned. "Not a damn clue." Her phone started to ring and she pulled it out to glance at the screen. With an eye roll she added, "Gotta bail, these adult children need me to hold their hands. Becaus god forbid they just do what I say."

With a quick salute she was gone and you frowned at your surroundings. The villain activity was bothering you quite a bit if you were being honest.

Things always shifted, people grew in power or lost power, but it was an ebbing and swelling that was visible on both sides. There was a strange symbiosis between villains and heroes, a flow of power and control. 

Usually, a new arrival made waves on both sides for a bit, a new villain or new hero upsetting the previous balance. It was like integrating a new instrument to an orchestra that hadn't expected any arrivals in the middle of a play and now they had to improvise and adapt quickly on the spot.

But this, this was different. Whatever was going that had villains uniting who usually didn't work with each other, it had them antsy and downright worried.

Only villains were antsy and worried. This upset among the villains was not reflected among the heroes, which meant...

You finished helping with the rescue efforts and went back to R&R, allowing the resident medic to check you over like they always did after a fight. All the while you kept turning things over in your mind.

Vision was a loner, as was Eclipse. Silver occasionally worked with other people, but that was only temporarily and Timeless was an enigma on the best of days. Two of those villains teaming up you could have explained away, but all four of them? And they weren't the only ones.

You went home and booted up your computer to start noting everything down. Aside from today, you had other villains working together who should not have anything to do with each other. Tide and Meteorite had been seen aiding each other and Skull Crusher and Bard had teamed up with Ultimatum, who they had a notorious rivalry with.

Before you knew it, you had nearly twenty villains who had recently been seen either on downright friendly terms or actively helping each other. Picking up your phone you started to make calls, hoping to get a foot in the door before whatever was going on would come crashing down.

There were plenty of villains who actively liked you after you had helped them with your singing. While most people feared your powers deeply – even heroes and plenty of civilians to your great sadness – the ones you had sung to tended to seek you out again.

Healing hurt, but afterwards...well, they were doing better afterwards, taking better care of themselves, seeking out therapists or other aid. You were probably the only hero around who could ask villains to poke into the business of their brethren and report back to you.

Only...for the first time, you got no answers.

You sat awake for hours, searching through the internet and online newspapers. You scrounged through the cesspit of social media, trying to find the red string that eluded you.

*.*.*

"Uh, Cloud? You good?" you heard Sorrel's hesitant voice and you whirled around, energy drink almost sloshing over your fingers. You probably looked half manic, had probably sounded half manic when you had called the twins earlier.

Both his and Areth's heart songs were worried-concerned-confused and you smacked the whiteboard behind you. Oh, your hands were kind of shaky. That was bad. But, no matter, you had finally gotten a lead in this mess!

You made a sort of incoherent but meaningful noise as you gestured at what you had pinned up. The twins liked old-school detective stuff and you had actually found it easier to keep track of things by spreading them out physically, rather than the messy note doc you had opened on your computer.

Areth picked up one of the energy drink cans littered around.

"How many did you have?" she asked and you didn't deign to answer her. It would only worry her. Considering her heart song became exasperated-fond-concerned anyway, that was a moot point, but you didn't have to make it worse. You'd also have to toss out all the cans before she saw the mess that was your kitchen.

You took a sip of your current energy drink and declared, "We are getting royally fucked."

The twins peered at the whiteboard which, alright, it might look kind of nonsensical at first, but you had put up colorful strings to help point things out! And pretty, glittery sticky notes a fan had gifted you!

You vaguely remembered posting a grateful little tweet about those sticky notes a few hours ago, because you appreciated your fans and you wanted them to know that.

Your fans had nearly exploded with the desire to give you more of those. You also vaguely remembered telling them that glittery stuff in general was great.

Your PO box was going to look like a five year old's birthday and you already looked forward to it.

You smacked different parts of the whiteboard, pointing out politicians and company CEOs, newspaper clippings and lastly, the documented unrest among the villains. You were talking fast enough to almost trip over your words as you told them everything you had gathered.

"And that leads me to one conclusion!" you said, the twins staring at you, standing tall and strong before you in all their anti-hero glory. They had always been a lot bigger than you, you only came up to their shoulders and they were quite dangerous and powerful fighters. Though, not dangerous for you.

"Heroes are in on this," you declared with your entire chest. "And the ones that aren't are kept in the dark." You gestured at yourself, the energy drink sloshing noisily in its can. "Like me. Because I'd kick their asses."

"You never kick anyone, little Cloud," Sorrel murmured, exchanging a heavy look with his sister. There was a plethora of micro-expressions as they communicated silently, before they faced you again. "Alright, I think it's time you meet some people."

*.*.*

You had no idea where you were, since Areth had teleported you through three different locations, but you trusted the twins. And maybe, you were still a little too hopped up on sleep deprivation and a number of energy drinks that probably shouldn't go together.

"Did you give them a heads-up?" Sorrel asked quietly and Areth sent him an unimpressed look.

"Oh no, absolutely not," she said dryly. "I was just going to drag our precious Cloud into the lion's den and watch shit hit the fan."

Sorrel rolled his eyes and they shoved each other for a little bit as they led you down a dark and dreary hallway. Couldn't villains have their lair somewhere nicer? More colorful? At least, you assumed you'd be led to a villain lair.

You reached a door made of heavy, thick metal and the twins glanced at each other, then you, offered you a reassuring look and then they pushed the door open. Oh, this was so a lair! How cool, you had never been invited to one despite having villain acquaintances.

"We're here," Areth called out, while she and Sorrel strolled forward and you trailed after them, craning your head to look at everything.

Where the hallway had been nothing but gray concrete, dreary and almost unsettling, the lair itself was bright with light and filled with different work spaces. There were inventions off to one side, minions scurrying about who all froze in their tracks and then you saw them.

The around twenty villains who had been seen working together, each and every one of them in costume and their overlapping heart songs anything but pleasant.

"Do not sing," Meteorite snarled as you opened your mouth to call out a greeting. "In fact, stay right the fuck over there."

You didn't tell him that you were already too close, that this distance was more than enough to work your magic, but you smiled disarmingly and mimed your mouth being zipped shut with jittery hands. Everything about you was still jittery and you felt a little like your bones were vibrating. Or was that your muscles?

"We are only allowing this because we trust the twins," Bard said, sitting on Skull Crusher's massive shoulders, expression intense and grim. "Having a hero here is really damn risky."

"Cloud already figured pretty much everything out," Areth said and you perked up hopefully, while the villains all stilled. The air was heavy with threatening and worried and tense heart songs, a cacophony of alarmed-mistrustful-angry-guarded-wary. 

Any other day and this would have given you a migraine. There was a reason why you didn't like crowds much and had to take days off after fan meetings.

"How?" Vision asked, voice incredulous and his heart song intense and battle-ready.

"The internet," Sorrel answered and now everyone stared at you like you were the weirdest, most baffling thing they had ever seen. You smiled disarmingly, still jittery. You probably looked, uh, slightly unhinged.

"What," Timeless said, voice flat and disbelieving and those assessing, sharp eyes fell to you. "Explain."

You barely got to inhale before the entire speech rushed out of you again, complete with big hand motions and you were sure you were giving speed-talking champions a run for their money.

A beat of heavy silence reigned after you finished, the twins still sticking close to you. You had no doubt that they would keep you safe if this somehow turned sour, but it wasn't like you were entirely defenseless either. 

With the villains requesting that you keep your distance, you'd get a song started before they could reach you. If you really put your all into it, you could get away unharmed easy-peasy.

You wouldn't like it, using your voice for anything but healing always felt like you were going to throw up at any moment, but you'd do what you had to to stay alive.

Not that anyone knew, you hadn't been forced to use those songs yet, thankfully. 

"How could you know that something was off?" Vision asked, his heart song wary-curious-impressed. Oh, the latter was new and...it was quite the nice tone. You focused on it to try and push the other songs into the background.

You wouldn't tell Vision that you could hear his and everyone's emotions around you, to the point where you could tell their intent.

People had never reacted favorably to that, they had always thought that it was creepy and invasive. You couldn't not hear their songs, however, so you just kept your mouth shut.

"When something happens, villains and heroes are always affected," you explained. "But you guys are the only ones who are getting upset." You spread your arms out. "So I looked until I found answers."

"Just like that?" Vision asked, disbelief openly audible in his voice, but his heart song grew a little bright and nicer, even as his guarded wariness remained. It had even gained a quiet, almost hidden note of curious-interested-fascinated.

You nodded and added, "It wasn't too hard in the end."

Considering the way everyone pinned you in place with hard, disbelieving stares, even the masked folk, you got the faint impression that it had, in fact, been quite hard.

"It's only possible to start noticing things if you don't consider heroes infallible," Skull Crusher mused, her voice deep and rumbling. "Did you figure out which ones are in on it?"

"I have speculations," you said and rattled off a list of names. Now all the villains' heart songs sounded impressed-incredulous-thoughtful.

Vision's heart song on the other hand sounded really damn nice now, almost no wariness left, though there was still no trust either.

"You know, it's a good thing you always live with your head in the clouds," Silver mused. "Or you would be a real problem for all of us."

"You already are, to be fair," Tide grouched, speaking up for the first time. "For someone who doesn't fight you are too good at taking us out."

There was a little tickle at the back of your throat, like a song wanted to break out as you honed in on his heart song and you swallowed it down with difficulty. They had asked you not to sing after all. Even if it was hard to keep silent, you had no desire to make anyone feel unsafe around you.

There was a moment of tension, before it seemed like the villains collectively exhaled. "Alright, get over here," Silver said, rubbing a hand over her face. "Let's talk."

The twins clapped you on the shoulders and flanked you as you walked up, Sorrel and Silver briefly nodding curtly at each other, a calm sort of wariness between them. There was no love lost.

"I hope we won't have another fight at our hands," Silver said. "I was not happy with your interference earlier today."

"And we told you our Cloud is off limits," Areth answered, hard and unyielding. "Let bygones be bygones, alright? He bruised you, you cut him, we have bigger fish to fry."

"Indeed," Bard said, accepting Skull Crusher's hand to hop down from their superior perch. "Alright, this is what we know."

*.*.*

It had been just as bad as you had feared. There were preparations put in place across the entire city for something big, skillfully kept from the public and fellow heroes who would have investigated. 

The villains around you had only noticed it themselves because they had their fingers in plenty of illegal pies and because they knew quite well who in this city was corrupt and who wasn't.

"We still don't know exactly why all these things are being put in motion," Vision mused as you looked at the evidence they revealed to you. "Money has been shifted around to people who should not get more power and they are very eager to comply."

It had taken you hours and some pulled strings to find those things out as well and only your inherent mistrust of those in power had ensured you looked where most did not think to look.

At first glance, things hadn't looked so bad, there were countless of business deals after all, but your punk parents had raised you well, had made you wary of anyone too rich, so you had kept digging deeper.

"And then there is this." Timeless tossed down pictures of the heroes you had identified as corrupt. "They are in the know, we are sure of that."

"Usually us villains are at least somewhat involved if something big is being planned," Bard added. "We don't like it if we're not getting invited to parties, after all. But this is...it's almost impossible to get any information out of the people we know have been paid to look the other way."

"Took us forever to gather this much," Silver muttered with a little frown-glare at you. She did not like that you had gotten done what they had struggled with so much.

You wisely kept your mouth shut about what your powers could do. Or how many connections you had, how many people felt grateful and indebted to you because you had helped them heal.

"But you might be just what we need," Vision spoke up, surprising you as he tipped his blank mask in your direction. "There is something these heroes know and we're running out of time. There is a big election coming up in a couple of weeks and if we don't stop whatever is going to happen before that, it will be too late."

"I do have an in with heroes," you muttered, studying the pictures on the table. "I can get into the big hero offices without trouble."

Many of the corrupt heroes were very publicly active heroes, very loved heroes – with ugly heart songs. You had met most of them and they carried melodies like starving dogs. Always hungry for more, never satisfied with what they had.

What was worse, they had no pure kind of ambition. The sort that spurred them to work harder and strive for the stars.

No, their ambition was ruthless and careless, they would step on as many necks as possible to get where they wanted to be.

You looked up, noticing that there was a sudden hush around the big table. "What?"

"You trust us and our word? Just like that? You don't think we want to use this to gain more power?" Vision asked, voice hard, but his heart song had suddenly soared a bit, it was curious-interested-hopeful. He sounded like he wanted to get to know you better, a quiet...yearning, of a sort.

You knew better than to tell him and the others that you could hear their hearts, their emotions. That it was impossible to lie to you.

"From what I understand, someone is pulling the strings and they are planning something terrible," you answered, serious and solemn and truthful. 

You just needed to meet that person. You'd only have to cross paths with them and then you'd know. Hearts couldn't hide or lie. Hearts were always honest.

It must be someone already powerful, a politician, a company CEO or perhaps even a hero. A maskless villain who had learned to hide in plain sight, planning patiently. 

This was...this was big, all these quiet and secret changes that had taken place would culminate in something that shouldn't happen.

"The mayor's election is up in a couple of weeks, we already suspect whatever is goign to happen will happen then," you murmured. "I looked at what events the city has been planning and what the hero offices are planning. Do you have a map?"

A map was quickly acquired and you noted down all the events taking place during the day of the mayor's election. There was the big gathering in the main plaza in front of the city hall, there were fan greetings with almost all the corrupt heroes in surrounding buildings and a big, long anticipated restaurant was going to open that exact day around the corner. 

Parades were planned and a big firework display was promised later, along with free drinks and food. No election had ever been this nice to its citizens and no election had ever been accompanied with so many events.

You drew the routes of the parades and each and every one of them led people past the plaza.

"They're gathering the citizens for something," Silver said grimly. "How many do you think will be there?"

"Most people," Vision murmured. "And, here." He set down his phone, scrolling to reveal how many big sales the surrounding shops offered on election day. Ridiculously low prices for expensive things.

"This reeks of someone planning to use their powers," Bard said, their lips pressed together unhappily. "What do you think, mind control?"

"The only super capable of affecting so many people lives on an island because she's sick and tired of society," Skull Crusher answered with a shake of her head. "And the power to control or affect that many people? That's rare."

"Unless there are artificial ways to enhance powers," Areth said. "We know a couple of mechanics and inventors, we'll chat them up and ask them if they heard any rumors."

"As will we," Tide agreed, glancing at you. "And you, uh..."

"Just call me Cloud," you said with a smile. "You leave the heroes to me."

"Can't believe us villains have to save the day," Timeless sighed. "That's what heroes are for, usually."

"Well, at least we have one hero to help us out," Vision mused, that blank metal mask tipping in your direction as he addressed you. "I know someone who can help you, a reporter who's been aiding us a lot and he's pretty good at hacking, would you mind taking him along?"

His heart song was a quiet calm melody of lying-hiding-hopeful. It wasn't hard to figure out what exactly he was lying about, his song gently rising above the others.

"Of course," you said with a smile. "Can he meet me later today?"

"I'll give him a call," Vision said with a nod, then pointed at you. "Just answer me this, have you slept at all?"

You smiled brightly. "I am full of energy, don't you worry."

Twin hands gripped your shoulders and you heard Sorrel say, "She'll sleep, don't worry. Come on, you manic genius."

With those words Areth teleported you away and the moment they had shoved you into bed, you were out like a light.

*.*.*

The journalist was indeed Vision out of costume. His heart song was anticipatory-determined-interested as he spotted you when you met him towards the evening.

You felt like death warmed over, the power nap the twins had wrestled you down for leaving you feeling like you had tried to chew cotton and your face felt kind of swollen and your limbs heavy. 

You probably made quite the miserable picture and still you were surprised to hear the shift in his song as it became concerned-determined-anticipatory.

"Vision told me about you, I'm Silas," he said and you couldn't help but think that he was quite the pretty man. With an intense gaze and earrings that framed his face perfectly. He even moved like Vision did, with quiet steps and an unshakable certainty of his path forward.

You wondered how many versions of this meeting he had gone through with his powers or what exactly he was capable of. Like your powers, like Sorrel's, he had made sure that no one quite knew how far he could stretch his visions into the future. What he could do with time itself if push came to shove.

"It's nice to meet you," you said with a genuine smile. If he wasn't telling you who he was, that was just fine with you, he could keep his secrets just like you kept yours. "Shall we?"

"What's the plan?" Silas asked as he fell in step beside you, his heart song thrumming with anticipation-curiosity-focus. Now that you were right beside him and outside of battle, you realized that his heart song was just as nice to listen to as the twins'.

"We'll start with Angel and their agency," you said. "They extended an invitation to me just last week to drop by for coffee and a chat. They most likely want to see if they can poach me." 

You knew the grin you offered him wasn't a hero's smile, not one of the sweet, reassuring ones you pasted onto your face when you were in costume. It was a real and genuine grin with all the dagger-sharp danger of someone who was a protector. 

Someone who had been raised by parents who believed in challenging every system, who had raised you to think for yourself. You loved people for all their faults. You especially loved them when their heart songs were guiding them towards happier and more content lives. 

You had pledged yourself to be a protector and if you had learned one thing during your career as a hero, it was that in every protector lurked a predator. A threat that rose the moment someone under their care got hurt.

You were soft and gentle because that was who you wanted to be, because hurting others was the worst song in the world, but you knew the danger that lurked within yourself.

The songs that lurked within you, and while you wouldn't use them unless you absolutely had to, you knew that you would. It might destroy the part of you that still felt innocent even after all these years, but you would do it.

So your smile was a little sharp, a little wicked and a little challenging as you asked, "Think you can play my agent, Mister Silas?"

Silas' heart song became a sweet and excited fascinated-interested-curious and he smiled back, a bit of villain shining through as his lips revealed a hint of teeth, his gaze sharp and cunning. "Most certainly. Is there anything I should know beforehand?"

You briefed him on everything he needed to know about Angel and their agency and by the time you were done, you had reached the big building painted with rising angels and the glory of a rising sun. There was a shitton of religious imaginary that you were not going to unpack, especially considering the corruption within.

"I will be humming," you told Silas quietly and he glanced at you. "Don't tell anyone, but humming has a weak effect on those around me. It will make Angel and others more talkative, are you comfortable with watching yourself and what you say more than you usually have to?"

He snorted. "I am not so weak as all that." He really wasn't, his heart song was strong and fierce and certain. Unshakable but not rigid and unyielding. It was fascinating. "Sing all you want, I will not fall under your spell."

And just like that, Silas had quickly and unexpectedly become one of your favorite people. Someone who, from the sound of his heart song, actually and genuinely didn't worry about your songs. He had been wary, yes, but never afraid.

He knew himself, you realized. He knew his emotions and his own mind and he was working on taking care of himself. You weren't needed, but...it sounded like he still wanted to get to know you anyway.

What a novel thing it would be, to not be needed but wanted.

You pasted on your sweetest, most unassuming smile, your fakest smile, the one you showed to everyone whose heart songs were rotten.

You pulled the front door open, starting a low, gentle hum that would set people at ease, would make them feel safe and comfortable and trusting around you.

*.*.*

It felt like you were dancing on wires, using your hummed songs so very gently and carefully, your questions peppered just as cautiously while you spoke with Angel. Angel whose heart song was a growling, dark melody of greed-envy-manipulation.

It was almost as bad as the sounds peoples hearts made when you hurt them. But only almost.

By the time Silas and you left, you wanted to curl up somewhere nice and quiet and fall asleep again, this time for longer.

"That was...a thing," Silas mused, sounding dry and sarcastic, his heart song a slow, unenthusiastic melody of unimpressed-underwhelmed-tired. "At least we got what we came for."

It had been a tiny slip-up from Angel, but it had been enough with the information Silas and you had. Angel had immediately looked annoyed when, after an hour of your coaxing and gentle, careful humming, they had revealed something they very much hadn't meant to.

They had expressed an annoyance of holding a fan event at the very edge of the plaza, but Iridescent had decided where everyone's meet and greet would take place.

Iridescent was a hero you had met only in passing and she was an unpleasant woman. Not because of how she behaved, she was always polite, always friendly, but those manners were nothing but fake.

You yawned and shook out your limbs. "I'll have to look into getting us an in with Iridescent, but I'm sure R&R can help me with that."

Silas made an agreeing noise. "You'll keep me involved, Singer?"

"Of course," you said. "And please, call me Cloud, that's what my friends do. I only chose that hero name because it was one of the few still available that fit my powers and weren't already snatched up by other heroes."

The copyright market was a veritable nightmare when it came to heroes who wanted to establish themselves.

"Are we friends now?" Silas asked with a raised brow, looking cool and collected, but his heart song had immediately changed to curious-interested-hopeful upon hearing your words.

You hadn't made villain friends before, at least, not in the same way that Sorrel and Areth were your friends. But...you liked him. You liked his heart song and you found yourself increasingly more curious about and interested in him.

"Why don't we give it a try?" you answered with a little grin and he smiled back, genuine and amused. You fished your phone out of your pocket. "Let's exchange numbers and arrange playdates, shall we?"

He laughed at that, mirth-fond-warmth, turning his heart song into a bright and light melody that you wanted to surround yourself with at all times. "Why did I ever think you were just a two-goody-shoes airhead?"

Now you had to laugh. "Oh, I am an airhead, believe me. There is a reason why my friends call me Cloud, but R&R firmly told me to not ever tell jokes on live television or to someone with a camera."

"They're that bad, huh?" he asked, still smiling as he saved your number and you felt ridiculously delighted at the little cloud emoji he used instead of a name.

"Worse," you agreed happily. "I'll call you later, alright?"

"Later, Cloud," he answered and you focused on his heart song, on the sweet, spring-light melody of fondness-mirth-interest for as long as you could as you walked away.

*.*.*

You met up with Silas numerous times more as the two of you hunted for clues among the heroes, the rest of the villains gathering information among the corrupt politicians and companies. 

What had started out as a curious partnership quickly grew to become an ever evolving friendship. You genuinely enjoyed Silas' company and considering his often delighted heart song, so did he.

You managed to make him laugh and he looked utterly horrified the first time you told him a joke of yours, immediately agreeing that you were never allowed to repeat it in front of a camera, ever.

"You'll be the joke of the internet, a meme in the making!" he had groaned. "Come on, let me tell you an actually good joke."

You liked him and with every day that the two of you met up, discussing things, approaching heroes with Silas as your agent and R&R playing along after you asked them to, you liked him more.

There was warmth and fondness and joy when you saw him. This curious villain who served himself but also, to your pleasant surprise, other people. He brought ruin whenever he put on the mask, but as you looked at things, you realized that he was like a wildfire.

He burnt things to the ground so other things could grow instead. And, well, some seeds needed fire and heat to come alive.

You'd never agree with him on everything, some days not even most things, but even then there was respect whenever he talked to you. It was fun to discuss your different moral viewpoints while knowing that you agreed on all the important things.

It was...good, to have him at your side. To have someone who was willing to do what it took to get answers, someone who didn't fear your songs.

Someone who trusted you.

Today he sat in your apartment, pinning up a new piece of evidence on your messy whiteboard. His heart song was content-caring-trusting and yet there was also something sweet tingeing it all. Something growing and developing and you wondered what he'd sound like as soon as those feelings finished growing.

"What is that look for?" Silas asked when he glanced at you.

"I've been lonely a lot," you found yourself saying and he blinked, briefly surprised, before he grew more serious, his heart song gentle and encouraging. "People didn't really...get me, you know? The twins like me and I love them, but..."

You offered a slightly abashed smile. "You feel like you get me, you know?"

Like he, too, knew what it meant to have powers that gave him a perspective of the world no one else had. Like he, too, had struggled with fitting in and had ultimately trashed the very idea of sanding down his edges and bending his spine to fit into the box other people wanted him to fit into.

He was unapologetic about himself, just like you were about yourself. You didn't care when other heroes or even civilians complained that you were too soft on villains. That they wished you'd give them what they deserved.

There was enough hurt in the world, you heard it after all. You just wanted to try and make the world better, which was why you would stick with R&R until your dying day.

Silas' gaze told you that he understood, a gentle, almost melancholic tinge to his song.

"I know what you mean," he murmured, looking away though you still caught a glimpse of a truly heart-wrenchingly sweet smile. "You feel like...home, as weird as it sounds."

"No, no, that doesn't sound weird at all. It sounds right." It sounded so fitting.

He smiled at you, his heart song nothing but delighted-loving-warm. "Come on, help me solve this riddle before we're out of time."

You got to your feet to join him by the board, your shoulders brushing against his. "Can't figure it out on your own, huh?"

"Dream on, Cloudy," he said with a grin.

It was a fun evening, despite the serious topic. Everything these past weeks had been fun despite the looming deadline. Maybe it was because you were a hero and you thrived in tense, high-stress situations, but every moment you spent with him you felt parts of you come alive that had grown quiet and small over the years.

It was indeed like finding home in someone else. He saw you and he had decided that he liked what he saw. 

It was only after you sent him home and cleaned up the dinner you had shared with him, humming and singing a song you had never sung before, that you realized it.

That you had fallen in love. That Silas, that Vision, had done what no one else had ever managed to do. He had found your heart and instead of holding it tightly in his hands, it felt like he was ever raising it up to the sun.

Telling it, telling you, to take flight. To demand more of the world. To demand better. To take a bit of a villain's hunger, a villain' ruthlessness, a villain's loud disruptiveness to demand the change you wanted to see.

You had no idea what to do, but you couldn't help but grin and dance and sing. Sing for yourself instead of other people. Sing because you were genuinely, truly happy.

*.*.*

"The election is tomorrow," Silas muttered, pacing up and down. "And we still haven't found out what exactly they intend to do. We're running out of time, Cloud. What are we missing?"

You stared at the whiteboard with intense focus. What, indeed, were you missing? Everyone was getting ever more tense and nervous and the villains had already discussed busting the gathering tomorrow if nothing else could be discovered.

Forcing the city to push their plans back was preferable to just letting things happen.

You wanted to avoid that, however, because you knew the heroes that would be present to both hold meet and greets and guard the event. They were all known for being harsh with villains, ruthless and brutal. It would be a bloodbath -

Wait.

You made a noise, hand patting a rhythm against Silas' arm, which he somehow understood as you raced for your phone. He was just...amazing like that. He got you. Weird noises and absent moments and strangeness and all.

You rang up R&R while Silas followed you, eyes bright and intense, heart song thrumming with anticipation-restlessness-relief. It was the relief in his melody that almost made you trip up. Because he trusted you to find the answer even before you had managed to do so.

He believed in you, fully and whole-heartedly.

It took an hour until you had gathered the information you needed.

"These hero offices were cut out of the event tomorrow. In fact, the reveal of the election is planned for when the patrol routes take as many of those heroes as far as possible from the plaza," you said, flipping the board around to scrawl across it. "And those heroes won't think twice about that, considering how many other heroes will already be there."

Silas took the pen with a wry little smile, only for you to snatch it back when you realized his handwriting was even worse than yours.

"What does that tell us?" Silas asked. "They're not part of the plan?"

"Yes, and!" You scrawled one more hero agency at the very bottom, circling it. "It tells us which hero got ignored entirely. He isn't hosting meet and greets, he isn't guarding and he isn't patrolling."

Silas caught on immediately, eyes widening and a grin spread over his face, wild and excited. "Because this is the hero behind everything. He can't guard the plaza if he's the one who's going to execute the plan."

You whirled to face Silas fully, finding him only inches away from you and you grinned. "We found him."

Silas laughed and a moment later you were pulled into a fierce hug, his heart song an exhilarating rush of awed-adoring-ecstatic. You were pulled off your feet to be twirled around and you laughed, clutching him back just as tightly, a song spilling past your lips and he suddenly thrummed with energy.

"Oh, wow, I had no idea you can do that," he said as he still held onto you. You just grinned and finished the song, every fiber of your and his being feeling fully and completely alive.

"What do we do now?" he asked, gently setting you down on your feet again. "Should we attack the office?"

You tapped your fingers on his arms, only half aware of the fact that his hands were resting on your waist as you thought. Hero offices were well guarded and they had multiple ways to call for help in case of an attack.

Besides, there was a reason this particular hero was the number one of the city and the number three worldwide. You still needed to find out what the plan was here.

You focused on Silas as an idea took shape. "Let's call the others and get everything we need. We ride at dawn."

He laughed, heart song a bright, bright adoration-loving-awed and you realized, startled and breathless and elated, that he, too had fallen in love with you.

You wished you could kiss him, you wished there wasn't something more important to take care of beforehand first.

But later, later you'd tell him, you decided as you committed his joy to memory, as the sound of his love took your breath away and made you feel like your entire being could barely contain the joy you felt.

You'd save the city tomorrow and then, for once, both villains and heroes would have a happy ending.

*.*.*

Your heart was beating fast and strong as Sorrel and Areth stretched, Vision standing beside you in all his villainous glory. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

"Ready, Cloud?" Areth asked, holding out her hand, Sorrel slipping into her shadow.

You could already hear the noise of the plaza a block over. The streets were downright stuffed with people, it really looked like almost the entire city had gathered, drawn in for different reasons.

Free food, their favorite heroes, a massive sale of multiple companies, a long anticipated restaurant opening, parades and the mayor's election. It was almost ridiculous how well it all worked.

You wished you could have informed some of the other heroes, but you hadn't dared to risk it in the end. Still, in case shit really hit the fan, the twins had Rescue's number and the woman was formidable and well respected for a reason. She could rally everyone else so long as someone told her what was going on.

You gripped Areth's hand and Vision did the same when she extended the other to him and there was a brief moment of complete and utter silence, before you popped out on the other side. The utility closet was a cramped little space and Sorrel unlocked the door from the outside, having slipped through the shadows.

You knew the route well from here after Silver had broken into the city library to steal archived blueprints of old buildings. Namely, the city hall. You knew where you had to go to find your way to the backrooms where everything was getting prepared for the big reveal of the election.

This was the riskiest part of the plan, since you had no idea what dangers lurked along the way and it was exactly why you needed the twins and Vision. Their powers could get you close enough to the one hero who had avoided you like the plague all these years: Starlight.

A shining beacon of a hero, beloved by the masses, always gentle and kind to civilians, righteously defending the downtrodden and he was lauded for his gracious manners even when he dealt with villains.

And if you were right, he had something horrible planned.

Like you had feared, the city hall was filled with patrolling sidekicks from Starlight's agency. After sending a last, confirming message, the rest of the villains already in place, you nodded and Vision fell silent, his heart song flickering through many quickly changing tunes.

He guided the twins, who popped away, silently taking down the first two sidekicks. One by one, your group worked its way towards your destination, moving quickly in a way that was only possible with two different kinds of teleportation powers and a man who could see the future.

"Starlight can counter me," Vision had warned you when you met him after sending Silas home, knowing very well that you'd see him at the lair.

He still hadn't told you about his identity and you had caught enough glimpses of worry-shame-fear to know that he thought you wouldn't take those news well. That you'd feel betrayed.

You'd tell him your secrets too, you had decided. When he revealed the truth about himself, you would do the same about your powers.

It was only fair, if he was brave to do the thing he feared, then you'd do the same.

"I thought someone was going to cause trouble." The ethereal voice made everyone stop in their tracks, Sorrel disappearing into the shadows with a snap and Areth and Vision taking up position beside you. They knew you didn't want to fight, after all.

They knew you needed to be uninterrupted if you wanted to sing.

"But color me surprised," Starlight continued and then you saw the shimmer of his existence, something incorporeal, like he was a distant, silver-golden starscape taking shape. Slowly becoming flesh. "I hadn't thought the softest hero in the world would ever team up with villains."

"You can't stop us," Areth said, but Starlight was ignoring her, which immediately made all your internal alarms blare. No one ignored Areth. She was too dangerous for that and even Starlight couldn't afford to take enemies lightly. For all his power he wasn't invincible.

You managed to grab her arm just in time and you realized that Vision stood very still at your side, his heart song snapping to a sudden panic-horrified-terrified. It was a jarring noise, like string instruments playing a discordant, high-pitched noise that grated on your very existence.

Your heart immediately leapt into your throat – whatever version of the future he had seen, it immediately had left him desolate. Scared. His hand reaching out to grip the back of your outfit.

"You're too late," Starlight said with a smile as he shook off the rest of his powers, stardust raining down like glitter to vanish into nothing before it could touch the floor. "I've put too much into this to fail at the last second."

Now that he was here, fully corporeal, you heard his heart song. It was overwhelming, a loud and fierce and bellowing hunger-victorious-domination.

For just a brief second, you felt like a farmer staring up at an armored and armed knight riding towards you on his massive war horse, blade glinting in the sun.

You felt like you stared up at death.

"I have become the end and beginning of all," Starlight said, his heart song clamping around you like a great beast's teeth, stealing your breath away. "And you will bow."

He raised a hand when a massive explosion rocked the building. Screams rose from outside as more and more detonations took place. His head jerked up, surprise visible on his face and that was all you needed to cling to a shred of hope, that there was still something that could be done.

There had to be, no matter what Vision had seen. His powers weren't perfect and if Starlight could be surprised, there must be something you could still do.

"Areth!" you shouted and your friend popped away with you and Vision just as Starlight lunged, the power of the universe at his fingertips – too much power. Far too much.

You knew what he was capable of in theory, you knew that all powers had limits and prices, that there were abilities that only revealed themselves in the face of death and could rarely be used outside of such dire circumstances again.

His powers had felt unchained. Like something had been broken and cracked wide open.

"What do we do?" Areth shouted as soon as she popped everyone into existence again down the hall, the three of you bolting. "Sorrel?"

Her brother didn't answer and she hissed a curse, following you as you led them down the stairs, your mind racing.

Starlight didn't actually want a fight, that defeated the purpose of bowing. That defeated the purpose of him becoming the god of everything.

For that was what he wanted, what his heart song had tried to carve into your very flesh, forcing you to listen, forcing you to bend and kneel. To accept his reality as your own -

Reality.

You jerked to a stop, eyes wide as you turned to Vision, his heart song terrified-horrified-hopeless.

"Go," you told Areth. "Help distract the other heroes, we need all the time we can get."

"Don't die, either of you," Areth hissed viciously, Sorrel finally appearing out of a shadowed corner, only to get snatched up by her as they vanished the next second.

"There has to be something we can do." Your voice came out as a whisper and you reached out to grip Vision, who clung to you like you were an anchor in a storm. "Vision, focus – Silas!"

He jerked, his heart song changing to shocked-surprised-startled. But he was focusing now, no longer lost in the throes of whatever he had seen.

"I know, I always knew." You reached out to grip the sides of his face, palms clasping cold metal and the walls around you started to shimmer silver-golden. "Silas, tell me what you saw."

"The end of everything," he whispered, voice trembling in a way you had never heard. "He's going to destroy the world. His powers aren't supposed to touch reality, but he will try anyway and the world, the universe will fight back. That's why he gathered all these people. The more minds accept his reality over fucking reality itself, the more it will give in to him."

Because the universe represented what was true and real and if he became the new truth...then that was what would happen. And no one could fight back.

"He's going to do it now," Vision whispered. "I saw it. Nothing we do can change that. We're already too late."

"How did he get that strong, can you look?" you asked and you felt him focus, felt his emotions flicker, only for something grim and resigned to settle over him.

"Nothing we can undo. He –" Vision's grip on your arms tightened. "He ruined himself for this. Cracked himself with his own powers until he could destroy all of his limits. He can only use his powers like this once, he needs to realign reality or it will kill him."

You knew that people could lose their physical limits with the help of adrenaline, breaking bones and tearing tendons and muscle in an exchange for unreal feats of strength.

You had never thought about what someone with superpowers could do if they removed any and all limitations of their powers.

"He's starting," Vision whispered. "It doesn't matter that we got away. We're too late. There are too many people here."

The ground beneath you started to shimmer and you could taste Starlight's powers in the air. You could sense him now, could sense as he walked to the front of the building, as he jumped outside to call out to the masses.

You could sense as everyone stopped running and panicking, all eyes focusing on him. His power grew thicker and more cloying in the air and you had precious seconds left, the building around you threatening to get swallowed whole and you with it.

You were not going to survive this attempt to change reality.

Until Vision gasped, gripping you tightly and suddenly you felt yourself get dragged with him, like you got jerked forward then back again and time stilled and stopped around you.

He was breathing hard, terror and panic bright in his heart song until he realized how still everything had gotten.

"Your powers," you murmured, eyes wide. "They're trying to save you."

"Us," Vision whispered back, fingers tightening on yours further. "Don't let go, Cloud." He lifted his head, looking around and you wished you could see his eyes at least one last time. "Can you hear that?"

You couldn't, but when he pulled you onward you followed. It felt a little like you weighed nothing, like the air had turned to water and you were drifting along with every step. Was this how he experienced visions?

Were your bodies going to stay behind or did you move through this version of time?

Vision lead you out of the city hall to where Starlight stood in all his glory, skin glowing and filled with stars and people staring up at him in awe.

You could see the cracks all over him, as though he was going to shatter like porcelain and if he did, he'd destroy so much. He'd kill so many. He had to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. His heart was too dark.

And then you heard it and now you were the one dragging Vision forward until you stood right by Starlight, eyes wide as you saw the song that slowly started to circle around him.

Your own powers had gone haywire you realized. Your own powers had, for this moment, torn down barriers that normally would have been there.

You had no idea if Vision's and your powers had somehow clicked together to make this happen, or if they still worked independent. Merging powers wasn't impossible, especially elemental powers could easily work together, but this...this felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.

You listened to the song and tears started to gather in your eyes.

"Cloud?" Vision asked and when you tore your gaze away to look at him, you saw that he had yanked off his helmet. "Can you fix it?"

Your smile was wobbly and your heart broke, cracking open like a raw egg and oozing all over your insides. There was nothing but resigned pain. "I can."

His grip tightened. "What's the price?"

Because everything had a price. Starlight's unhinged powers demanded his life – unless he changed the universe itself and demanded it to keep him whole.

You had no idea what price Vision was currently paying, but looking at how he was slowly starting to tremble all over, you could guess that it was going to drain him to death if he didn't let go soon.

"Memories," you answered, a sudden grief gripping you. "Starlight will have to forget everything, it's the only way to stop him." Or he'd try the same thing over and over and over until he was dead.

Vision's no, this was Silas before you now. Silas' gaze searched yours. "And we?"

You knew the nature of songs. You knew what every melody meant, where it came from, what motivated it and how intensely it was felt. You closed your eyes for a moment, willing the tears to not fall.

"We cannot remember the song, we cannot remember this moment. We're cannot remember what Starlight is capable of and what he's doing." You took a ragged breath. "We'll forget each other."

You had to. Vision had to forget how he came to this place, what his powers were capable of and you had to forget a song like the one before you existed. Everything had to be erased, from the very beginning of his plans, to ensure Starlight would never do this again.

"What if I run?" he asked. "If I don't hear it -" He stared at Starlight, at the powers on the cusp of being unleashed in all their terrible, world shattering glory.

There was no running. He'd hear the song and it would erase everything. Everything that had led to this moment in time, everything about Starlight and his plans had to disappear so what he intended to do could never be reenacted again. By no one.

Had you known each other before this mess, enough memories would have remained, but...you hadn't. Starlight had brought you together, as little as you had known it at the time.

And everything needed to be erased so everything could be saved. Not even an inkling of Starlight's machinations could remain. This song was going to erase everything.

"No, I won't forget you. I refuse to." Silas' grip on your hand was almost painfully tight as he tossed his helmet aside and it disappeared, vanishing as it left the timeless space you were stuck in. For now. He was quickly losing strength. "There is so much I have to tell you, I wanted to tell you -"

"I love you." The words escaped you unbidden and he closed his eyes, his heart song nearly making you cry. Your own tears made your voice wobble, "You have the best heart song I ever heard, did you know that?"

"I never believed in soulmates until I met you," he answered. "I never thought there could possibly ever be someone who would become this important to me. Who felt like I was destined to meet them."

Maybe you had been. Maybe there had been a grand design in the universe itself so the two of you met, so you both could be right here at this exact moment, stopping the destruction of everything. Some things should remain untouched no matter what.

You heard soft little cracks all around you as the timeless bubble started to weaken, chunks breaking away.

"I love you," Silas whispered, pulling you close to press his forehead to yours. "I promise I will find you again, no matter what. I'll find you and I will always love you."

You smiled and kissed his cheek before your lips found each other. The kiss tasted of salt. "And I will find you," you whispered just as time shattered and you inhaled.

The song flowed like none other had from your lungs, your eyes squeezed shut. You vaguely heard Vision curse and throw himself forward, intercepting Starlight as he tried to lunge for you, a deeply wounded noise coming from the hero, an almost animalistic screech.

You sang and slowly, everything grew quiet and still. The last thing you were aware of was someone getting thrown across the plaza by a tall, powerful man and your memories disappearing like dust in the wind.

When the last sound vanished, you stood still, the world around you silent in a way it shouldn't be.

Slowly, noise filtered back, people shifting, confusion-bafflement-calm filling the air around you. You blinked your eyes open, blinking in surprise when you noticed that you stood on the front steps of the city hall.

What were you doing here? And why was Starlight on his knees beside you, looking like he had lost everything and didn't know why he felt that way?

His heart song was unpleasant but muddled. A helmet laid near you, blank and black and metallic, reminding you of something the villain Vision might have worn.

Something tickled your jaw and you reached up to wipe at it, pulling back your fingers to look at clear liquid.

Why were you crying?

*.*.*

Tag List:

@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @aprilraine @warriorofbooks @pigeonwhumps @laureleikirsch @sillypeachduck @dracanea @fractalabomination @basilikum7 @labelleizzy @tikatu

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Vivzepop will always be the biggest issue with her own show if she doesn't change. And i'm not saying that because I desperately want to shit on her but rather because it's so clear that her attitude is what made Hazbin Hotel be so dissapointing after the long wait. The pilot released four years ago and Viv had these characters for much longer than that. One could assume that with this much time on her hands she would have a concise plan for how a series of her story would play out (I can imagine that having an own show is a dream for lots of creative people out there). And I get that that plan might get screwed up by a shorter episode count then expected, but she should be the one who knows her story best and who should know what stuff could also be cut out. The first season of Hazbin Hotel is so incredibly overstuffed with characters and plot that it completely looses the main premise the show was originally pitched with (the idea of a hotel were sinners are redeemed. As it is now the hotel is really not important at all). People have talked endlessly about how Viv can't handle criticism and it really sucks because criticism is one of the best ways to improve your writing, drawings, music etc. Without criticism you won't refine the thing you're working on in a meaningful way. Of course it feels bad when you put something out there you wanted to share and then people critique it, but that's part of pretty much every creative journey, or atleast it should be and Vivzepop shouldn't get a pass from this just because she doesn't like it. And there are great shows, movies or books that are rarely or almost never criticised. But the artists behind these works probably went trough years of honing what they do by being criticised for the stuff they put out. And I don't want to say that Vivzepop didn't work hard to make Hazbin Hotel, but it is hard to claim that she improves in her craft, when everytime someone says they don't like her show she throws a hissy fit. She wants the same reactions that these other amazing pieces of media get without ever listening to criticism. Which she sees as a personal attack rather than a tool that could help her to achieve the same level of writing prowess the creators behind media like that have. She believes she is already on the same level as them, just because she basically shuts anyone out who disagrees with her. There's this clip at the end of a Drew Gooden Video which I think sums up the situation with Viv pretty good (the Video is called "Leaving the YouTube Bubble"). He is talking about Lily Singh and her talk show but I feel like a lot of the stuff he says about handling criticism applies to Vivzepop as well.

(you might have to turn up the audio).

Unprofessional behaviour like that might be excusable when the creator is pretty young or they are interacting with publicity for the first time really. But neither of that applies to Viv. And Hazbin Hotel isn't just an indie animation pilot on youtube anymore. It's now a fully realized show created with a pretty prominent studio on a major streaming network and it should be held to the same standards as other shows or movies alike (not saying indie animation or animation on youtube doesn't have a standard but with more budget and support, there's obviously going to be different expectations for the show now). There have been issues in Helluva Boss and the Hazbin Hotel pilot ever since their release which could've been handled with more time and the new show. But Vivzepop shows time and time again that she isn't willing to listen to people who criticise her, which could actually lead to her show getting better. I don't like Viv or her work a lot. I think she is incredibly unprofessional and she has done her fair share of questionable or problematic stuff, which often leads to issues in her shows. There have been some characters I like, some songs or scenes that were pretty well done, very cool animation and an actually interesting premise on paper in HH and HB. There are things that make me come back to these shows to watch the next episode. And i'm obviously passionate enough about these shows to make whole posts about what I think was done badly and what could be changed. But for the aspects of HH or HB I enjoy, there are soo many more problems I have with it. Problems that won't go away unless Viv stops seeing every criticism as a personal attack. Because if Vivzepop doesn't stop acting like her writing is some unreachable stuff that needs no changes I don't really see a point in assuming that these shows will ever get better.

[theoutcastrogue]

Cold Iron in folklore, fiction, and RPGs

'Gold is for the mistress—silver for the maid! Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.' 'Good!' said the Baron, sitting in his hall, 'But Iron—Cold Iron—is master of them all!' — Rudyard Kipling, “Cold Iron”

Folklore

Drudenmesser, or "witch-knife", an apotropaic folding knife from Germany

The notion that iron (or steel) can ward against evil spirits, witches, fairies, etc is very widespread in folklore. You hang a horseshoe over your threshold to deny entry to evil spirits, you carry an iron tool with you to make sure devils won't assault you, you place a small knife under the baby's crib to ward it from witches, and so on. Iron is apotropaic in many many cultures.

In English, we often come across passages that refer to apotropaic cold iron (or cold steel). "All uncouth, unknown Wights are terrifyed by nothing earthly so much as by cold Iron", says Robert Kirk in 1691, which I believe is the earliest example. "Evil spirits cannot bear the touch of cold steel. Iron, or preferably steel, in any form is a protection", says John Gregorson Campbell in 1901.

Words

So what is cold iron? In this context, it’s just iron. The “cold” part is poetic, especially – but not only – if we’re talking about either blades (or swords, weapons, the force of arms) or manacles and the like. It just sounds more ominous. There are “cold yron chaines” in The Fairie Queene (1596), and a 1638 book of travels tells us that a Georgian general (in the Caucasus) vowed “to make the Turk to eat cold iron”.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang defines “cold iron” as a sword, and dates the term to 1698. From 1725 it appears in Cant dictionaries (could this sense be thieves’ cant, originally? why not, plenty of words and expressions started as underworld slang and then entered the mainstream), and from ~1750 its use becomes much more common.

NGram Viewer diagram for 1600-2019.

In other contexts, cold iron is (surprise!) iron that’s not hot. So let’s talk a bit about metallurgy.

Metals

In nature, we can find only one kind of iron that’s pure enough to work with: meteoritic iron. It has to literally fall from the sky. Barring that very rare occurrence, people have to mine the earth for iron ore, which is not workable as is. To separate the iron from the ore we have to smelt it, and for that we need heat, in the form of hot charcoals. Throwing the ore on the coals won’t do much of anything, it’s not hot enough. But if we enclose the coals in a little tower built of clay, leaving holes for air flow, the temperature rises enough to smelt the ore. That’s called a bloomery.

clay bloomery / medieval bloomery / beating the bloom to get rid of the slag

What comes out of the bloomery is a bloom: a porous, malleable mass of iron (that we need) and slag (byproducts that we don’t need). But now we can get rid of the slag and turn the porous mass to something solid, by hammering the hot bloom over and over. And once the slag is off, by the same process we can give it a desired shape in the forge, reheating it as needed. This is called “working” the iron, hence “wrought iron” objects, i.e. forged.

a blacksmith in his forge, with bellows, fire, and anvil (English woodcut, 1603)

This is the lowest-tech version, possibly going back to ~2000 BCE in Nigeria. If we add bellows, the improved air flow will raise the temperature. So smelting happens faster and more efficiently in the bloomery, and so does heating the iron in the forge, making it easier to work with. And that’s the standard process from the Iron Age all through the middle ages and beyond (although in China they may have skipped this stage and gone straight to the next one).

If we make the bloomery bigger and bigger, with stronger and stronger bellows, we end up with a blast furnace, a construction so efficient that the temperature outright melts the iron, and it’s liquified enough to be poured into a mould and acquire the desired shape when it cools off. This is “cast iron”.

a blast furnace

So in all of this, what’s cold iron? Well, it’s iron that went though the heat and cooled off. (No heat = no iron, all you got is ore.) If it came out of a bloomery, or if it wasn’t cast, it’s by definition worked, hammered, beaten, wrought, and that happened while it was still hot.

Is there such a thing as “cold-wrought” iron? No. In fact, “working cold iron” was a simile for something foolish or pointless. A smith who beats cold iron instead of putting it in the fire shows folly, says a 1694 book on religion, so you too should choose your best tools, piety and good decorum, to educate your children and servants, instead of beating them. When Don Quixote (1605) declares he’ll go knight-erranting again, Sancho Panza tries to dissuade him, but it’s like “preaching in the desert and hammering on cold iron” (a direct translation of martillar en hierro frío).

Minor work can be done on cold iron. A 1710 dictionary of technical terms tells us that a rivetting-hammer is “chiefly used for rivetting or setting straight cold iron, or for crooking of small work; but ’tis seldom used at the forge”. Fully fashioning an object out of cold iron is not a real process – though a 1659 History of the World would claim that in Arabia it’s so hot that “smiths work nails and horseshoes out of cold iron, softened only by the vigorous heat of the sun, and the hard hammering of hands on the anvil”. [I declare myself unqualified to judge the veracity of this statement, let's just say I have doubts.] And there is of course such a thing as “cold wrought-iron”, as in wrought iron after it’s cooled off.

Either way, in the context of pre-20th century English texts which refer to apotropaic “cold iron”, it’s definitely not “cold-wrought”, or meteoritic, or a special alloy of any kind. It’s just iron.

Fiction

The old superstition kept coming up in fantasy fiction. In 1910 Rudyard Kipling wrote the very influential short story “Cold Iron” (in the collection Rewards and Fairies), where he explains invents the details of the fairies’ aversion to iron. They can’t bewitch a child wearing boots, because the boots have nails in the soles. They can’t pass under a doorway guarded by a horseshoe, but they can slip through the backdoor that people neglected to guard. Mortals live “on the near side of Cold Iron”, because there’s iron in every house, while fairies live “on the far side of Cold Iron”, and want nothing to do with it. And changelings brought up by fairies will go back to the world of mortals as soon they touch cold iron for the first time.

In Poul Anderson’s The Broken Sword (1954), we read:

“Let me tell you, boy, that you humans, weak and short-lived and unwitting, are nonetheless more strong than elves and trolls, aye, than giants and gods. And that you can touch cold iron is only one reason.”

In Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn (1968) the unicorn is imprisoned in an iron cage:

“She turned and turned in her prison, her body shrinking from the touch of the iron bars all around her. No creature of man’s night loves cold iron, and while the unicorn could endure its presence, the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain.”

Poul Anderson would come back to that idea in Operation Chaos (1971), where the worldbuilding’s premise is that magic and magical creatures have been reintroduced into the modern world, because a scientist “discovered he could degauss the effects of cold iron and release the goetic forces”. And that until then, they had been steadily declining, ever since the Iron Age came along.

There are a million examples, I’m just focusing on those that would have had a more direct influence on roleplaying games. However, I should note that all these say “cold iron” but mean “iron”. Yes, the fey call it cold, but they are a poetic bunch. You can’t expect Robin Goodfellow’s words to be pedestrian, now can you?

RPGs

And from there, fantasy roleplaying systems got the idea that Cold Iron is a special material that fey are vulnerable to. The term had been floating around since the early D&D days, but inconsistently, scattered in random sourcebooks, and not necessarily meaning anything else than iron. In 1st Edition’s Monster Manual (1977) it’s ghasts and quasits who are vulnerable to it, not any fey creature. Devils and/or fiends might dislike iron, powdered cold iron is a component in Magic Circle Against Evil, and “cold-wrought iron” makes a couple of appearances. For example, in AD&D it can strike Fool’s Gold and turn it back to its natural state, revealing the illusion.

Then Changeling: The Dreaming came along and made it a big deal, a fundamental rule, and an anathema to all fae:

Cold iron is the ultimate sign of Banality to changelings. ... Its presence makes changelings ill at ease, and cold iron weapons cause horrible, smoking wounds that rob changelings of Glamour and threaten their very existence.... The best way to think about cold iron is not as a thing, but as a process, a very low-tech process. It must be produced from iron ore over a charcoal fire. The resulting lump of black-gray material can then be forged (hammered) into useful shapes. — Changeling: The Dreaming (2nd Edition, 1997)

So now that we know how iron works, does that description make sense? Well, if we assume that the iron ore is unceremoniously dumped on coals, it does not. You can’t smelt iron like that. If we assume that a bloomery is involved even though it’s not mentioned, then yes, this is broadly speaking how iron’s been made since the Iron Age, and until blast furnaces came into the picture. But the World of Darkness isn’t a pseudo-medieval setting, it’s modern urban fantasy. So the implication here is that “cold iron” is iron made the old way: you can’t buy it in the store, someone has to replicate ye olde process and do the whole thing by hand. Now, this is NOT how the term “cold iron” has been used in real life or fiction thus far, but hey, fantasy games are allowed to invent things.

Regardless, 3.5 borrowed the idea, and for the first time D&D made this a core rule. Now most fey creatures had damage reduction and took less damage from weapons and natural attacks, unless the weapon was made of Cold Iron:

“This iron, mined deep underground, known for its effectiveness against fey creatures, is forged at a lower temperature to preserve its delicate properties.” — Player’s Handbook (3.5 Edition, 2003)

Pathfinder kept the rule, though 5e did not. And unlike Changeling, this definition left it somewhat ambiguous if we’re talking about a material with special composition (i.e. not iron) or made with a special process (i.e. iron but). The community was divided, threads were locked over this!

So until someone points me to new evidence, I’ll assume that the invention of cold iron as a special material, distinct from plain iron, should be attributed to TTRPGs.

[genericpuff]

Do you have any tips for beginner artists? Also I love your art style

Reference lots! There's no 'learning how to draw', only learning how to study and reference things you want to draw. Even experienced artists are constantly pulling up references and tools to assist them in their process, it's not all drawing from imagination, there's research involved!

And keep in mind that no matter the style of the work you're studying and learning from, the core foundations of drawing - composition, structure, perspective, anatomy, lighting, and color - will usually always be present in some way. Learn to identify those foundations, even if you're not actively trying to learn them directly, because that identification process is part of referencing.

Keep your old art! Always! You don't have to save every absent-minded doodle or scribble, but any time you create a piece of art that feels significant to you, hold onto it! If you have sketchbooks full of old drawings that are taking up space in your home and you can't justify keeping, scan what's inside / take photos and store them digitally! Don't let hindsight after you've improved tarnish the joy you had making it! It just gives you something wonderful to look back on so you can see how much you've grown (even when you feel like you haven't; if you cringe looking at your older stuff, that means growth HAS happened! And that's good!)

As for specific learning tools, there's no single "one size fits all" approach to improving your craft. It's more like a patchwork quilt that you have to weave yourself from all the things you reference and get inspired by over years of trial and error. For myself, that quilt looks something like this:

That said, this is my quilt, for you, it'll look very different! Maybe online tutorials are a much bigger patch, or maybe some of the patches seen here are completely absent from others (and alternatively, maybe there are patches that I DON'T have that another person might!) The point of it though is to get across that getting better at art and "learning how to draw" isn't achievable through one single means.

I've said this in previous posts, but this is why I try to stay away from the blanket advice "just practice", because it doesn't truly convey how to practice properly - if you're exclusively practicing the same stuff every day, then there's a lot of other elements you don't even realize you could be missing out on that could benefit you. It would be like trying to become a world-class chef just by cooking omelettes all day - you'd be really good at cooking omelettes, but if you want to learn how to cook a perfectly-seasoned medium rare filet mignon, knowing how to cook omelettes isn't going to contribute to that at all.

I know all of that is both specific and vague, but I hope it can help you find your direction in your learning! Ask yourself what art you like, what you really want to learn, and how the art you like can help you learn it. Don't just look at an art piece and go "cool", really look at it and learn to identify the foundations within it, find the "why" in your praise. It can and will benefit you in your own art journey along the way because the better you get at analyzing the world around you, the better you get at analyzing your own work and where it can improve, and most importantly, how you can improve it ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part IX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Mentions of smoking (not reader, though) and lung cancer.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

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

You heard steps behind you.

“Is it any good?” Suguru sat down next to you, eyeing the manga you were reading.

You lifted your head and looked at the training fields in front of you. “Ikeda recommended it to me. I just started it, so I don’t know yet.”

Suguru noticed your tone was a bit flat and taking into account that he had just passed by a fuming Satoru, he assumed his classmates were not in great spirits that day.

“Did something happen to Satoru? He was…” Geto's voice trailed off.

“Being childish,” you cut him, your eyes returning to the book in your hands.

You had been trying to improve your attack speed and close combat technique, and Satoru was naturally good at both, so you had made plans to spar with him. But when he showed up at your room, you were on a call with Haruki, who just wanted check if you were free that weekend.

As soon as Gojo realized who was on the other end of the line, he started speaking way louder than usual and chasing you around your room. “[name], let’s go now”, “Are you done yet?”, "Stop ignoring me."

You swore it was a two-minute call, and he was being impatient for no reason, but you finally had enough when Satoru grabbed your phone and told Ikeda “Sorry, they are busy now,” and hung up.

“Satoru!” You almost ripped your phone out of his hand. “What...Why did you do that?” You watched him in disbelief. Of course, you knew he liked pestering you and everyone, but you could not believe he had done something so rude.

He shrugged. “We have things to do; he can’t keep you on the phone all day.” His expression showed no remorse. “Oh, now you are texting him.” He turned around and sat on your bed.

You were pressing the buttons of your phone as quickly as you could, not really wanting to imagine what Haruki could have thought of someone hanging up on him that way.

You sighed. “I’m apologizing on your behalf and telling him not to mind my extremely rude friend.”

“Emphasis on ‘friend’,” Gojo mumbled, but his tone had been too harsh not to hear.

You sent your apology to Haruki and looked at Satoru. “What did you say?”

The boy blinked and shook his head. “Nothing, just that I’m your best friend unless that’s his place now.”

“So you’re trying to say you’re jealous?” The thought was almost amusing, and you had not meant to sound accusing, but the question seemed to bother him, and a frown was clearly visible on Satoru's face now.

“Why should I be?” He sounded offended just at the thought of envying anything on your friend.

“Right,” you replied dryly. You knew he did not like him much, but why were you two getting so worked up over this?

You thought it was better to drop the subject as you picked up the bag where you had put the cursed tool you wanted to try and the manga Haruki had lent you. “Just forget it... Let’s go.”

You looked at him when he did not move. Gojo had rarely looked so serious as he did now, sitting still on your bed, looking at nowhere in particular.

“You are just wasting your time with him.” He did not sound angry anymore but as someone stating an undeniable fact.

It made you frown. You esteemed your new friend, and Satoru knew that. Why would he say something he knew would upset you?

“You don’t get to decide who I hang out with, or who is a waste of my time or not.”

You had always spoken your mind to Gojo. You thought that may be the reason why you had become friends in the first place. However, you did notice the bitter ring of your words just now.

“I know.” Satoru got up and walked past you in direction to the door, without sparing you another glace. “Have your boyfriend train you then,” was all he said as he left.

You stayed there for a minute, bag clutched to your side, before deciding to head to the training fields alone.

Suguru did not say anything once you had finished telling him what had happened. He had taken out a cigarette at some point and seemed thoughtful, watching it burn between his fingers. When you did not say anything else, he looked into your eyes and smiled softly.

“He really is childish.”

“Right? Sometimes I really can’t stand him. He is so immature.” You sighed.

And oblivious; you both are, Suguru thought.

He had some suspicions but supposed you would not be in the mood to hear them.

“People with strong emotions are hard to understand sometimes. Being on the receiving end of their wrath or their love can be equally risky.” Geto’s voice was soft. “Still… You know he cares about you, right? I’m sure he did not mean any harm.”

At least not to you.

You pondered his words. Love? Yes, you loved Satoru, he was your friend. It was reasonable to think he loved you too.

“I know,” you replied almost in a whisper.

Suguru smiled and puffed some smoke. “Cheer up, okay? I’ll spar with you.”

You smiled. “Stop smoking so much first. You’ll get lung cancer or something.”

He chuckled, standing up in front of you and offering you a hand “I know I will die someday, but I assure you, [name], that will not be the reason.”

You took his hand.

***

Shoko flinched when she heard a loud thump from the corner of the room. She sighed after realizing it was just Gojo kicking the vending machine.

“Don’t take it out on the sodas,” she told him and went back to her phone.

Another thud and a clank announced whatever drink he had tried to get out had been unstuck.

Gojo sat down across from her, but she did not look at him, already suspecting he was not in a good mood.

Shoko had noticed that you and Gojo had not been talking much in the last couple of days. You still sat next to each other in class in the mornings, but she had definitely seen Gojo stealing glances at you and averting his gaze each time you looked back. Besides, you had asked Suguru to spar with you that afternoon instead of asking Satoru.

He took a sip of his drink and let out a loud sigh that Ieiri continued to ignore.

“What are you doing?” Gojo asked.

“If you are bored enough to ask me that, maybe you should have gone with them.”

“I think you were not paying attention, but I wasn’t invited."

She let out a soft laugh. "That has never stopped you from going anywhere."

"I doubt [name] wants to train with me anyway.”

Shoko finally looked at him. She recalled a conversation you and her had had not long ago. You had asked her what she wanted to do in the future, to which she had said she would be a doctor.

“That means I’ll get to call you Doctor Shoko” You grinned.

“That if I figure out a way to do it quick.” She smirked. “What about you?”

Your gaze drifted to Gojo and Geto bantering near to where you were sitting.

“I’ll join the podium with those two.”

Shoko knew you wanted to be faster, stronger, better. You were intent on improving. She could not see you turning down a chance to try out your growing strength.

“I don’t think they would turn down the opportunity to punch you,” was what she finally said to Gojo.

He huffed. “Yeah, they may be up for that.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Are you fighting?”

Satoru ripped the tab off the can he was holding. “I don’t know…. Maybe.”

So you were. Had it been something he had done?

“I just think that waiter guy is a waste of their time.” Satoru sounded deflated.

Ieiri looked at him. “Don’t tell [name] that.”

“Already did.”

Oh.

“They must not have liked to hear that.” Ieiri looked at him blankly.

“You bet,” Gojo agreed with a resigned look on his face. “But isn’t it true, though?” He looked back at Ieiri. “He is a non-sorcerer. Keeping him around in any way is foolish. Even if they dated him, it’s not like they are going to marry the guy.”

“You don’t know that. It’s true he belongs to the normal world, but...”

“But what?” Gojo did not believe there was any argument in that guy’s favor.

“What if [name] wanted to be part of that world?” Shoko shrugged.

They want to be a sorcerer now, but people can change, and this life is tough in the field. It isn’t uncommon for sorcerers to end up running away.

It had been just a stray thought, but when directing her eyes back to Gojo, Ieiri realized the impact of her words. The wheels were turning in Satoru’s head.

She tried to take it back before he snapped. “I am not saying that’s what they want, it’s just…”

“No, they wouldn’t…” Gojo shook his head lightly.

Was that it? That you now enjoyed your bits of normality with Ikeda more than your actual life?

If you wanted a normal life as any other person living in the bliss of ignorance when it came to curses, Satoru was not sure he could follow you there. There were high expectations hanging over his head, his clan and the world were counting on him to become a sorcerer, and a strong one at that. What would he do if you ever wanted to leave this world? Would you also leave him?

***

“Are you fighting?” Shoko asked you from across the table.

She had sat at the cafeteria to wait for you, but Gojo had made an appearance and struck up conversation with her; however, he had practically run away when you showed up.

Were you fighting? Honestly, you were not sure. He had walked you home last weekend, and despite the awkwardness that had surrounded you both following your one-sided talk about Ikeda, he had not seemed angry. There had not been any spoken disagreement nor an argument per se, but he had been avoiding you like the plague since then.

“I don't know... Maybe,” you finally admitted.

The way you were gazing at the path Satoru had traced when fleeing the cafeteria let Shoko know that you wanted to go after him, so she gave you the same piece of advice her younger self had once given to Gojo. “If you don't know, go ask.”

You smiled at her and marched after Satoru.

***

“You look beaten up.”

Suguru had decided to let you take a short break from training and you were lying down to catch your breath.

“Turns out Geto is good at close combat too.”

No, good no; he excels at it.

Satoru crouched down next to you, and you were too tired to move, so you did not.

“Yeah, he is,” Gojo agreed. “Hey, can we talk?”

“I’m busy,” you replied.

Satoru looked at Suguru, who was some feet away lively conversing with Shoko and gave you a half smile that said ‘Really? I think you can take a few minutes off.’

You sat up with a sigh but did not look at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Are you still mad at me?”

You shrugged. “Are you?”

He shook his head. No, he was not. He had been mad at Ikeda for taking so much of your time, stirring his best friend away from him, and then he had been mad at himself for acting the way he had, but he was not mad at you, he could never be mad at you.

“I’m still gonna be friends with him.” Your tone was rather lower, and your expression was puzzled. Satoru thought he knew why, and he wanted to hold your hand, but he did not.

Instead, he smiled softly and said “As long as you are still friends with me.”

He knew you probably felt torn between him and Haruki. As much as Satoru wanted to keep you for himself, he had decided he would accept whatever you gave him if it meant he had a piece of you to hold on to.

You pushed him, and he fell sitting down. “Don't be ridiculous. You are my best friend.” Satoru was glad to see you smile at him again.

As you told him about whatever was rounding your mind while a gentle breeze removed some loose hair strands off your face, Satoru thought you were prettier than ever.

“I think they made up.” Suguru half-whispered to Shoko. “They really can’t live without each other.”

Ieiri thought of the stormy look on Gojo’s face earlier. That made her think he actually cared about you, maybe more that he let out, and taking in the way you were looking at him, maybe you cared about him just as much.

She smirked. “They look…”

“In love?” Geto offered watching Gojo gently remove a leaf that had gotten stuck in your hair.

Shoko believed you had feelings for some other non-sorcerer boy, and you had always referred to your friendship with Gojo as something platonic on both sides, but the scene in front of her, would make anyone doubt that.

She let out a laugh as response.

Maybe I was wrong.

She would remember this moment years later when watching Satoru not-so-unintentionally scare off anyone who would dare approach you with romantic intentions.

And if Suguru had stayed with them, he would have had a good laugh hearing her say ‘Geto, you were damn right.’

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

Note: Please don't take it the wrong way, but I'm thinking of mischief for next part.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part X

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas

[margaretoakgrove]

Taking care of Heisenberg

If once you decide to open an old huge dictionary and find the word ''workaholic'' within this book, i bet the name of this handsome man certainly will be its definition.

It is just incredible that each day Heisenberg finds so many hours to build his metal army of mechanical undead soldiers and, unfortunately, such a small amount of time for taking care of himself.

The lord tends to put his own self-care and state of health aside, but you, on the very contrary, put them on the first place along with yours.

Actually, it will be fair enough to say, that you enjoy taking care of your loved one, and the undeniable fact that you are able to make his life easier and better turns you into one of the happiest people in the world.

Heisenberg is definitely a man of a good appetite, but in spite of that he prefers a simple food over rare exquisite dishes. Therefore if you just cook a fried meat with boiled potatoes and a simple vegetable salad, be doubtlessly sure that your pretty hands will be covered with little kisses of his endless gratitude.

Oftentimes, the old worn clothes of the lord become dirty and damaged as he usually works with motor oil and different metal scraps with rather sharp edges, but you are always ready to remove any oil stain from his trousers and sew up every hole in his shirt.

One needs to mention that your loved one's work is not only physically hard, but it's also hazardous, and, at times, sharp tools, metal scraps or even his own creation that, all of a sudden, went totally crazy can injure him. After such unpleasant situations you carefully patch his bleeding wounds up, and Karl, seeing a concerned look on your face, every time gives you a reassuring smile and tells that you shouldn't be so worried because of just another scratch. (Well yeah, just another scratch which, in the afterwards, turns into another deep scar.)

As Heisenberg strictly forbids you to wander the lowest levels of the factory completely all alone, warning that it's super dangerous, you cannot go down there and check on him when he burns the midnight oil, creating one more addition to his army.

But when the lord sits in his workshop on the highest and safest floor of the building, designing and improving scatches or writing down important notes, you always bring him a healthy snack and a mug of aromatic strong coffee even in the middle of the night which is not a problem for you at all.

When your loved one, after working hard during all day almost in nonstop regime, tirely flops down on your shared cozy bed, you don't ever mind to provide him with a wonderfully relaxing massage. The caring hands of yours slowly and gently rub his weary neck and shoulders, and Karl doesn't even try to hold slight moans of an absolute pleasure, letting you understand like this how unbelievably good you make him feel.

By the havoc which practically daily happens in his life Heisenberg, rather often, feels very stressed out, and you perfectely know that at these gloomy days of his Karl needs the comfort of your company more than usual. You caringly offer him to drink a nice cup of hot relaxing herbal infusion and take a slow walk on the fresh air somewhere in the woods, trying to speak on positive themes in the process of your little trip, at the same time listening to the calming ambient sounds of the nature.

In winter you are especially worried about the health state of your dearest man, noticing that despite a cold weather he is quite lightly dressed, and his neck is perpetually open to the strong gusts of freezing northern and western winds. Does one need to say how surprised the lord was when you timidly gifted him a simply-looking yet so soft and warm scarf knitted with your own golden hands? No, the man wasn't just pleasantly surprised, he was baffled, even shocked by this gesture because literally nobody in his entire life has ever done such a nice thing for him.

Having the new accessory wrapped around his neck (which fits him well, by the way), Karl attends special occasions by the name of family meetings where he with a smug-ass smile on his face lively brags to the siblings (especially to Lady D) about what a kind, caring and attentive person his precious darling really is, unlike someone's annoyingly buzzing bloodthirsty bugs.

Heisenberg is sure as hell that he will never be grateful enough to you for everything you do for him every single day, understanding very well that without your divine presence in his life he would never ever feel so truly loved and cared for.

But the lord does not even imagine that the short sincere ''thank you, Buttercup'' of his makes you melt like a sweet sugar cube in a hot fragrant tea.

And each new day you are willing to keep tirelessly surrounding him with your priceless love and tender care because this so close to your heart man means the world for you and, surely, even more.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship at a hardware store, from someone who works at a hardware store:

sam: is in the nursery!! goes straight to the discount/dying plants and piles his cart full of wilted and sad plants. likes to rescue the houseplants first, has a soft spot for perennials and citrus trees. is a nightmare to check out but is very sweet about it. dirt and leaves everywhere. like, everywhere. they have to sweep after he’s gone. surprisingly strong and hauls big bags of dirt.

frodo: enjoys home improvement!! likes to wander carpeting and organization, hunts for good deals and keeps tabs on the sales weekends. he likes to peruse the shower curtains and closet accessories. likes to refurbish old furniture he finds off the side of the road- currently fixing up an antique dresser to put in the master bedroom.

merry: doorknobs, handles, dresser nobs. he likes to pick out the interesting and antique ones and customize his home with them. he really likes the oddly shaped ones, he has one starfish and one pickle on his nightstand table. likes to joke about touching all the knobs and fiddling with the knockers.

pippin: is lost in the lighting department. he’s staring up at all the pretty lights and hypnotizing fans. likes the remote controlled lights, enjoys messing with the demos. also likes collecting paint chips. (pippins also the kind of person to get really high and shit in the display toilets.) does not buy anything, maybe some beef jerky and skittles at the check outs.

boromir: this man has like 80 projects going on and is remarkably proficient in every conceivable area featured in the store. he’s here so much people think he works here. he kinda does. he’s happy to advise you, lead you to products, and lifts heavy things for little old ladies and swooning maidens. he’s happy to grab the things on the highest shelf as well as carry those bigs bags of dirt out to your care. he is just a naturally pure and helpful soul. <3

aragorn: has lost himself in scrap wood. straight to the lumber yard, straight to the pile of damaged and recycled wood. once a month, he comes and loads up as much as it will fit in a pickup truck. no one knows what he does with it but he keeps coming back. there are several theories around the store. either he’s building a bunker, has a side hustle by reselling it, makes massive fires or he does wood work. alternatively, he’s a homeless man building his own cabin in the woods so he can live away from society. that’s one’s probably the closest.

gandalf: mixes his own paint. he doesn’t work there but somehow he keeps getting back there and making his own custom colors. was known to pull a miracle and turn gray paint back into white. no one knows how he did this. likes to camp out in the seasonal section. enjoys lounging on couches and swings for long periods of time.

gimli: is so excited to walk into the tools section. wants all the toys. likes power tools in a way that’s both funny and scary. really likes chainsaws and leaf blowers, possibly because they pose the biggest threat to legolas. often gets flagged out the door because no one person needs that many tools and he must be up to something. he always beeps out the door because inevitably someone forgot to take off one of the sensors of his many, many tools. he used to be nicer about this but lately has lost patience with always being stopped out the door, and often will make a show of waving his receipt before leaving.

legolas: spends a good amount of time in the garden. i imagine he gets enamored with the fountains and ponds rather quickly, also likes the statues and fun pots. also, wanders through the garden and samples the plants. by samples i mean eat small bites of it, and if he finds the quality satisfactory he will purchase it. this is rarely the case and he often just goes around eating small bites of houseplants.

[bettyfrommars]

E1, ?, 🤍

Chels 😫

Your Person is Gargoyle Eddie

Your Place is a Cemetery

Your Thing is a Guitar

Pick Your Poison

18+ONLY, smut, monsterfucking, unprotected piv, reader wears a dress, creampie, f! receiving oral, slightly public sex

word count: 1k

There were only a handful of public places you could be with your gargoyle boyfriend during the daylight hours, and one just happened to be a cemetery. You took walks and had little picnics at the one in town, holding hands along the rows like any normal couple would if they had graves to visit. It was rare for people to cross your path, but when they did, he'd literally make like a statue and freeze, wings pinned to his sides or expanded wide.

One day, a woman thought he was so breathtaking that she stopped to snap a photo of him, long dark hair flowing over his slate gray flesh and shoulders, face upturned to expose his throat, hands positioned to shield what was between his legs. Meanwhile, you were on the lawn a few yards away nibbling on some cheese, casually sipping your beverage.

You wondered what she thought his hair was made of. Plants or ivy, perhaps?

Come to find out, Eddie was familiar with quite a few instruments. He'd been a huge lover of music back in the day, back in his world. Picking up notes by ear on the guitar came second nature to him, and he'd brought the acoustic, obsidian Fender that was a gift from you on the trip that day. He offered you a few of the songs he'd been working on while you sat reading against a sugar maple tree near a few ornate headstones, yet far enough away not to disrespect the dead.

He had his new wire rimmed spectacles perched on his nose (pair number 22 since he kept breaking them) which worked in curious contrast with the pair of slightly curved, menacing horns coming out of the top of his head. He went through a phase when he wanted to file them down, to make them more palatable for polite society, but in the end, you were glad he changed his mind.

Near the spot you frequented was a collection of graves that no one seemed to visit anymore, and you talked with their headstones every so often, while Eddie loomed behind you mumbling about the fragility of mortals.

It was dusk by then, and the burial ground was empty of the living as far as you could tell. The early June air was crisp, smelling bright, a gentle breeze sweeping a few strands of hair across his full lips.

You'd transitioned to your back on a blanket in the grass, staring up at the gathering night through the tree boughs, when you happened to glance over and catch how beautiful he was. Propping up on an elbow, you inched your way over on hands and knees to plant kisses up the muscles of his smooth bicep as he held notes on the fret board, removing his glasses to kiss his eyelid.

"Hmm, do you not like this song?" Even at a whisper, his voice bellowed deep. Over the last couple years, his English had improved by leaps and bounds, and verbal communication between the two of you was coming easier. Learning his language, on the other hand, was still a challenge. It forced your throat and tongue to produce sounds that were utterly foreign in every way.

"No, I love it," you found his mouth with yours, stroking the leathery ridge of one of his wings as you went. "I was just missing you."

Eddie moved the guitar aside for you, and it wasn't long before his length bobbed like a bludgeoning tool between his thighs.

There were clothes in his wardrobe that you had made for him by sending measurements to a tailor in the city, but his outfit of choice was usually nothing at all.

Looking around before straddling his lap, you also scooped the top of your dress down so that your chest was bare against his, eliciting a low growl from him.

"Should we go home?" You asked as his strong hands palmed the meat of your ass. You prepared to secure your arm around his neck so that he could fly you up and out of there.

In answer, he sank the throbbing tip inside of you, making you curse into his mouth, shifting your hips to take more of him.

With foreheads locked together, he whispered vows of devotion edged with lustful, filthy promises that made your arousal drip down his shaft.

The way he took you was always animalistic but soft, pinning your hands above your head while he dove in again and again, making you whine, bucking up against him for more.

He was always insatiable, but never selfish. He'd pull out before he was finished to move between your legs and taste you, touching you, bringing you close with his forked tongue before entering you again, dragging out the inevitable burst of pleasure that would make you explode around him, white hot and blinding.

The breathless words of love seemed to accompany every thrust, but somehow it was never enough. You needed more of him, you needed to rip him open and bury yourself inside.

The first orgasm shattered you with a cry, watching his wingspan spread wide above you, blocking out any view of the sky.

"Look at me," he said in his language, just before locking his chiseled, stone pelvis to pour himself inside with a groan, staring into your soul, his seed dripping out with each additional pulse.

He moved down to lap you up, and you held tight to his horns, rolling through the aftershock with gasping whimpers.

In the distance, one of the caretakers paused with a shovel in his hand, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Was that a gigantic pair of wings he'd just watched expand in the darkness? The wind picked up, so forceful that he had to plant a palm on top of his head to keep his plaid newsboy cap on, training his pointed stare over the long stretch of headstones.

An owl hooted, more night creatures gathering in the shadows.

He blinked a few times, mumbling to himself. He'd go home and tell his wife later that after twenty some years in the business, he's sure he finally saw a ghost.

[mrghostrat]

hi! Sorry to bug you wih a dumb question, but I gotta ask: what settings do you use on csp to get the emotes you made so dang smooth and crispy? I make emotes as well, but I can't make my lines to look that dang good.

ohh not dumb at all!! crispness makes all the difference for emotes but people rarely talk about how to actually achieve it

i use the default g-pen with level 2 anti aliasing. clip studio tends to default most brushes to level 3 or 4, which gives the brush a much softer look. you can change your anti aliasing level in the tool property menu (window > tool property to pull it up)

if you don't have this option, you can pull up the full tool menu by clicking the wrench icon. and if you want easy access to any of these settings, you can add them to your tool property window by clicking the eyeball box next to the setting.

(hiding settings you never use is also a really nice way to slim down your clip studio UI and make it less overwhelming)

if you're already using a weak anti aliasing setting or you want to improve lines you've already drawn, you can sharpen them! i used to have to do this to every single emote when i used photoshop and its fuzzy ass lines 😭

filters > sharpen > sharpen, or sharpen more. you can sharpen as many times as you like to stack the effect. unsharp mask is also a handy tool when you're sharpening more than just lineart, which lets you control the intensity and radius.

all these menus are the same on pc, mac, and ipad, and work in every version of clip studio :)

[thegalaxysedge22]

Evol

This is the first part in my collection of lore from love & deepspace.

important info: anything that is italicized (after the quote) is conjecture based off of what we do know

masterpost

CONTAINS SPOILERS

"A special superpower only possessed by a small portion of the human population. Those who have Evol are called Evolvers. After many studies into the field of Evol, scientists can now extract its power, create new weapons, and use it to improve daily life." - Spacepedia

*Even compiling all traces of Evol lore, it still is not explained that well so this has more conjecture than normal.

Despite nearly every person we meet having an Evol, they are supposed to be rare. There is not really any information on how they evolve. They could have existed before the Catastrophe, which would make sense because everyone we meet is older than it, or be a mutation/effect of some sort from the presence of Metaflux. It is likely the former as Ever, a research company who seems to be older than the Deepspace Tunnel, was at least at some point, and perhaps still is, researching them. We know for certain that Ever has been around for a while researching Evols as there is abandoned equipment on the rooftop of the Solon Hotel, a place in the N109 Zone.

Due to this superpower, Evolvers excel in fighting and combat, which explains why Deepspace Hunters are also Evolvers.* We know that Evols grant their owners an array of different powers. Examples of different Evol powers that are cannon include; fire (Rafayel), light (Xavier), ice (Zanye), telekinesis (Caleb), energy manipulation (Sylus). It is unclear if Evols are unique to each person who has an Evol or if they come in various types (like benders in ATLA).

Evols can also be used to craft powerful weapons or have their power extracted from them, although it is unclear how either of these would happen. Ever, a powerful big name tech/research company, is the leader in Evol research and weapon development. 

On the note of energy extraction, a flux stabilizer (not to be confused with a flux nexus) is a tool that can use “stored Evol Energy to balance out Metaflux,” and is the primary tool for controlling the presence of wanderers. You can often find flux stabilizers in areas open to the public. It is unclear how many exist or how far their reach goes, but it is reasonable to assume that there are multiple, especially in any heavily populated areas. It is also reasonable to assume that there are redundancies too (multiple flux stabilizers with overlapping fields). Evol weapons, like the ones that Hunters use, also appear to utilize the energy of a Protocore, which reportedly strengthens Evols and Evol Energy. The Evol-enhanced weapons that Hunter’s used are designed to eradicate Wanderers without harming humans; how they do this is unclear. Hunter Weapons come in a wide variety (all of the weapons you can choose from are, including the one that Sylus tries to gift to you).

* In the Spacepedia entry for Protofield, it mentions how the Hunter’s Association requires two Evolvers for field work, which implies that only Evolvers are able to be part of the Hunters Association, or at least they are the only ones who are allowed to actually be UNICORNS or doing field work

[imogenkol]

— RELAX

pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen words: 2.3k rating: Mature warnings: nudity, intimate bathing READ IT ON AO3

summary: When tensions in the Rebellion rise, Imogen is in need of a bath.

notes: wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to my Bix Bestie @e-the-village-cryptid for introducing me to the Hard of Hearing Bix headcanon and talking me through that kind of experience so that I could portray it here. Thank you so much for your insight and reading through this for me 💕

Imogen was not a fan of briefings. The Rebellion very rarely offered information that she didn’t already know or could figure out on her own in far less time. Or they were too restrictive in their instructions, treating her and the others like hounds trained to fetch only to be rewarded with scraps. Really, what these meetings boiled down to was a group of people who each thought they were the smartest person in the room all talking over each other at once. Imogen would rather receive a lecture from her long dead master than listen to this band of fools. 

Instead, her attention drifted towards her mechanic. 

Bix didn’t seem to find much enjoyment in all the chatter either, but Imogen noted the focused tension on her face as she subtly fiddled with the device behind her ear. The hunter clenched her jaw and fought the urge to reach through the Force and silence all of the voices by blocking the airways of every senator and general within range. 

As if sensing her stare, the mechanic locked on to her gaze in the small gathering of bodies and Imogen tilted her head ever so slightly. Bix answered with a short nod in reassurance and lowered her hand, standing up straighter and crossing her arms. 

Ever the one to endure, she thought.

Once the briefing concluded, the crowd dispersed and Imogen saw Bix inhale and exhale slowly as everyone filed out of the rather cramped space. Now it was time to prepare. Imogen would have followed her, but the hangar bay was closer than their quarters, so she made way for The Huntress to ensure she was fit for travel. Besides, she thought Bix might desire a bit of peace and quiet. 

After running diagnostics on her ship and eating a quick meal, Imogen found herself back at their quarters. The mechanic sat at her makeshift workbench and tinkered with the blaster Imogen had given to her. While Imogen normally would have frowned upon any modifications to her weapon, she found herself glad that her beloved found a way to occupy her hands and trusted her judgment enough not to object. Imogen was confident in the superiority of her blaster, but if anyone could think of a way to truly improve it even more, it was Bix. 

As Imogen approached to peek over her shoulder, Bix squeezed the bridge of her nose and massaged up to her brow. 

“Does your head hurt?” Imogen asked. 

“Huh?” The mechanic frowned back at her, then quickly shook her head as her hand dropped. “No. No, I’m fine.” 

The hearing aids were still in her ears, despite being alone in her own space. Imogen decided to lightly prod at the subject. “How are those devices of yours faring?”

“Uh...” Bix muttered distractedly as she reached for various tools and dismantled blaster parts. “It’s an adjustment.”

Imogen could relate to that. Even after all this time, the metallic limb that helped keep her upright for years sometimes felt so foreign to her. She could still feel her own leg, all the way down to her toes. The first few weeks she had her cybernetic made her feel like an infant learning how to walk for the first time. She wobbled and tripped over herself. It had been humiliating, but her balance and strength eventually returned, though her stance would never be the same again. In spite of the pain, the frustration, the initial embarrassment, Imogen could hardly imagine life without her prosthetic now. 

“I know the feeling.” The room fell into silence once Bix went back to work. Imogen saw the tension in her face and body as she hunched over the workbench and set her hands on her beloved’s shoulders. As she gently massaged, Bix started to gradually relax into her touch, but still shook her off after a minute. Imogen retreated and hummed thoughtfully. “I’m in need of a bath,” she said, lingering for a reaction. 

Bix didn’t even look up. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” 

“I would not object if you wished to join me, my love.” 

The mechanic threw an inquisitive look over her shoulder, then shook her head and returned to her project. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

“Very well, then,” Imogen said with a knowing tone and disappeared into the washroom. 

When she indulged in a bath, she did it right. It was only proper. Imogen needed her body relaxed — her senses clear. She filled the tub with water hot enough to steam and collected the necessities. Oils to soothe the mind. Salts for her muscles and joints. Oats for her skin. Any other little additions she preferred to enhance the experience. The combination turned the bath water into an inviting milky-white color that she could just barely see through. 

Imogen perched on the edge of the tub and reached down to release the hidden latches on her cybernetic leg to detach it from the rest of her body. While the prosthetic could handle a surprising number of conditions to a certain degree — water, heat, cold — Imogen very sparingly removed it, and almost exclusively when she had to. Though, there were nights like these, where she simply wanted to be free of it for a short time. 

She laid the metallic limb down and maneuvered her bare body into the beckoning steam that coiled into the air and filled the washroom with a thick cloud of warm fog. The way the hot water encompassed her entire form made her release a pleased hum. She felt the coldness in her blood melt away to welcome the heat that pooled all the way into her bones. It had been too long since she indulged in a bath. Imogen shut her eyes and let all of her weight suspend in the warm water as she rested her head back on the lip of the tub. Her muscles praised her for the rare moment of pure relaxation. 

It did not take long for her to hear the door hiss open. Imogen kept her eyes closed, but she heard the gentle footfalls of a gait she knew by heart. With a quieted mind, she could feel the vibrancy of life grow brighter the closer her lover drew near — like flames in a soft wind. 

“You have decided to join me after all,” Imogen calmly noted. 

“Maybe I liked the idea,” Bix replied. 

The mechanic sat on the edge of the tub, not yet prepared to enter for whatever reason. Long moments of silence lingered in the washroom. Not uncomfortable, but anticipation still hung in the air as heavily as the steam. Imogen felt Bix’s gaze shift up and down her exposed body in the cloudy water, studying her in such a moment of vulnerability. 

“It hurts you sometimes, doesn’t it?” Bix stated gently. It took a moment for Imogen to sense her attention lingered on her partial leg. The mechanic had never seen the prosthetic detached before.  

“Sometimes,” Imogen confirmed. “Typically after I have exerted myself.” 

“Like after Ferrix?” she asked and then mirrored the nod she received in answer. “I could tell.” 

It bothered Imogen to admit it. She supposed if anyone were to take notice, it may as well be Bix, but she still scraped her teeth together briefly before she forced her jaw to slacken. “You have always been able to tell.” 

“Because you shift your weight onto your other leg. That’s not good for posture, you know.” 

Imogen opened her eyes to shoot a glare up at the other woman. “There is nothing wrong with my posture.” 

Bix smirked and playfully traced the shallow ripples on the surface of the water with the tips of her fingers. “Just making an observation.” 

“I endure when I must.” 

The mood shifted in the mechanic. Imogen saw the way her smile dropped and her brows creased with the smallest amount of tension. Bix glanced down and her jaw twitched. “Yeah.” 

“But here and now, I have no need to endure,” Imogen continued, softening her voice. The soothing sound of water droplets echoed in the washroom and she reached out of the bath to caress up Bix’s arm. She felt as warm as the water and Imogen watched drops race down her smooth skin. “Neither do you.” 

Another beat of hesitation passed before Bix finally nodded in acceptance of the earlier invitation. She rose to remove her clothing. “You never told me how you lost it.”

“I have not,” Imogen agreed, not taking her eyes off of the mechanic as more and more of her skin became bare. 

“So?” Bix urged, tossing her discarded clothing aside. “What Jedi got lucky?” 

An offended scoff bounced off of the washroom walls. “No Jedi has ever gotten the better of me. At least not enough to claim a limb.” 

“Are you gonna make me guess?”

Imogen pursed her lips and answered curtly, but truthfully. “My last Master. He wanted to make a point to me and my peers, I suppose.”

Bix stepped into the tub and made a sour face. “You don’t seem to have a lot of luck with masters.”

“More like they do not have much luck with me,” she corrected with a soft chuckle. 

“I can see why,” Bix remarked. 

Imogen tapped her ear as Bix lowered herself into the other side of the tub so that the two of them faced each other. With a flash of recognition in her eyes, the mechanic removed her hearing aids and set them on the counter within reach to not damage them in the water. She finally settled into the heat of the bath and released a heavy, content sigh. 

Imogen smiled and nudged her with her good leg. Once their eyes met, she signed “Have you been keeping up with the lessons?” 

Bix nodded. “Yes.” 

The bounty hunter raised a brow and continued in sign. “Could you repeat that?”

The next sigh out of the mechanic’s mouth was a little exasperated as she clearly wanted to simply relax, but she sat up and summoned encouragement to sign back. “I’m not deaf, you know.” 

“No. But it will benefit you to learn, darling. It will benefit us both.” 

One thing Imogen could freely admit to finding enjoyment in was language. As a padawan, she would most look forward to her language lessons at the Temple. It fascinated her to learn the various tongues that spanned the known galaxy and how they have evolved over thousands of years, though she was only fluent in a handful of them. Even now, Imogen committed herself to being as well versed in speech as she could for a variety of practical reasons. Learning how to communicate with her hands offered a unique perspective that she found as engaging to familiarize herself with as any other complex dialect. 

Bix frowned in thought for a moment, then blinked back up at Imogen. “Benefit?” She signed the word methodically with a question in her gaze. 

“Benefit,” Imogen answered verbally as she signed the word to confirm its meaning. Once Bix nodded, Imogen leaned forward and flashed a flirtatious grin. “Darling,” she signed. 

“I understood that part just fine,” Bix responded with a playful roll of her eyes and signed back with emphasis “Sweetheart.” 

“Just making sure.”

“Uh-huh,” Bix hummed with a scoff. 

“You like this, don’t you? Talking this way.”

“It’s… different. But good, yeah.” She nodded, her smile becoming soft. “I’m getting used to it.” 

“You’ve picked it up quickly,” Imogen said out loud and pulled Bix in closer by the back of her knee. 

“I’m kinda surprised you like it. I didn't think you’d have so much… fun?” Bix chuckled through the last word as if she never expected to associate it with Imogen. 

The bounty hunter felt heat rush up her neck and to her cheeks. “Do what you wish, but yes… I enjoy it.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun to learn,” Bix signed and then switched back to verbal speech. “It’s just funny to see you excited.” 

“You make me sound like a child.” 

“Oh, get over yourself.” Bix splashed water at her pout, which Imogen failed to dodge. 

Despite her annoyance, Imogen smiled — one of those rare genuine smiles that only her beloved mechanic had the pleasure of witnessing. 

Bix leaned against Imogen’s intact leg, wrapping an arm around her thigh and caressing at the sensitive skin absentmindedly. Imogen did not mind such candid intimate touches. In fact, they made comfortable warmth spread into her chest in much the same way as the bath water. “Cass is trying to learn, but I think he just wants to know what you and I are gossiping about.” 

“He is a fool,” Imogen signed.

Bix laughed softly. “Sometimes.” Before Imogen could repeat her statement with more emphasis, she quickly added “Okay, a lot of the time.” 

A comfortable bit of silence gently rolled over them and they enjoyed the solace of each other’s company in the pleasantly scented steam of a hot bath. 

“How is the engine running?” Imogen eventually signed. 

Their own little code. The phrase meant a few things all at once without having to say them explicitly: How are you doing? Have you recovered well? Do you need anything? Are your demons tormenting you more than usual or have they granted you reprieve? 

Bix smiled beautifully. “Right now? Like a dream.”

An improvement from the usual, Could use more work, that was for certain.

“Then let us stay in the now for a little while, shall we?” Imogen leaned forward and placed a tender kiss to her lover’s temple.

Bix did not allow her to retreat. A light shower of water droplets echoed in Imogen’s ears like rain as the mechanic cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for something deeper. Imogen surrendered to the other woman’s desire and felt her heart flutter when Bix parted her lips, lifting her up to dizzying heights. 

“I thought you’d never stop talking,” Bix murmured into her mouth. 

Like a dream, indeed, Imogen thought.

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[artificialpillow]

Meet Eloise!

The time has come - let’s introduce you to my OC!

I will not be writing a regular fic, so it might be a little bit harder to properly get to know her. But! There WILL be one shots, mostly about the most important events in her life and obviously some to describe her relationship with the love interest (😏).

Let’s start!

Eloise’s profile

Basic information:

Name: Eloise Veredi

Age: 17

Birthday: March 26th

Blood Type: A

Love Interest: Yuno Grinberryall

Birthplace: Outskirts of Clover, town of Guerdia

Magic: Glass Magic

Appearance:

Height: 165cm

Eyes: Dark green

Hair: Shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair with curtain bangs. She mostly ties it in a bun as it bothers her during training or work.

Clothing: Eloise values comfort, so her clothing generally allows a wide range of movement. As a commoner she does not own lots of fancy clothes (however she gets some when she starts working with the Magic Knights). Her favourite outfit contains a dark gray high-neck shirt, brown pants and leather knee boots. Her favourite piece of clothing is a green cape, which she received as a gift from her dad. Eloise rarely wears dresses, but with time she grows fond of them and puts them on for special occasions

Special features: With her magic being glass magic, she used to get hurt a lot while training. Currently, on her neck, arms and the right side of her abdomen are noticeable scars caused by her past lack of control over spells. Eloise’s face is partly covered with freckles, her ears are pierced - she wears small, silver earrings.

Personality:

Eloise is an introvert, however she enjoys spending time with people she knows. Due to her being a commoner she is cautious in making acquaintances as she fears being belittled by higher-ups. On the other hand, she appears confident while fulfilling her duties and doing things she’s skilled at. She prefers working on her own and is not a great team player. She may appear as reckless.

Eloise hates conflicts and is incredibly patient; however when the line is crossed, she bursts out with anger and lets all the emotion out. She has no problem with apologizing but would only do it when she actually believes she was wrong. She rarely confronts anyone, rather keeps comments to herself.

Despite not showing it so much, Eloise is emotional and quickly grows fond of people (the hardest part is actually meeting them). She finds it difficult to let go of things important to her and holds grudges when she gets hurt.

She tends to overthink and assume other peoples’ intentions. She is quick in judgement, but when proven otherwise she eventually changes her opinion.

Background:

Eloise is a daughter of Delano and Ann Veredi, known craftsmen. Her parents and her grandfather, Gerald, ran a business based on agricultural tools trading. As a child she would travel with them around Clover to find new clients and sell merchandise. One of the places they visited regularly was the Hage village, where Eloise met Asta and Yuno. She quickly befriended Asta, and played with him a lot. Her relationship with Yuno was not well developed, as the boy was too shy and guarded; therefore she did not know much about him. After her grandpa’s death, Delano came up with improving their products with magic. At this point regular citizens couldn’t afford to buy them, so the family started visiting the capital and wealthier towns. Eloise lost contact with Asta and Yuno completely. During one of her stays in the capital, she happened to see a Captain scolding an injured Magic Knight. Not so much later she heard an older mage bullying a squadmate for his status. At that moment, Eloise decided not to take part in the entrance exam.

When she was 13, she wanted to focus on her magic and stopped travelling with her parents. She would spend hours in the forest, trying to learn how to control the only spell she knew how to cast - The Glass Daggers. Due to her lack of control, Eloise would often get injured and come home with ripped clothes, and wounds that left visible marks on her body. Through the years she had encountered many strange creatures and step by step learned how to tackle them. At some point she became and expert and would take care of magically influenced animals and plants around the town.

Eloise never had close friends. She got on well with her classmates, but never considered them that important in her life. Her lack of closeness with people her age did not bother her, she knew how to entertain herself on her own and maintained good relationships with older and younger members of her community.

One shots background:

One day, when Eloise was figting magic boars in the forest, she suddenly got shot down. She found out that the Golden Dawns' knoghts arrived to take care of the problem on their own. When told to go home, she showed them her method for dealing with these animals. Mimosa, in awe of the girls knowledge, suggested taking her to the capital and introducing her to the Wizard King. He proposed that Eloise stays in the capital and teaches the Magic Knights her methods. (That's where the one shots start!)

Fun facts:

She has a habit of speaking too loud

She would often talk to herself

Her parents like to call her ”Apple pie”

She gets easily attached to objects

She loves teasing

At some point Eloise finds out, that with her glass magic she can cast a reverse spell and fight with sand

When asked about her scars, she jokes that she fell out of a window

Eloise does not know how to properly fly a broom, as she never really travelled outside of her town

She loves cooking but only knows how to prepare basic meals

She easily gets bored

[shiyorin]

I wish that you would write a fic where you and Perty spend some time together creating/engineering god machines.

Here you are. Actually I think it was 'Perty is building a machine and he thinks you're bothering him'

Perturabo scowled down at the machine taking shape under his hands. Countless hours spent crafting each girder and gear to exacting specifications, yet still it was not enough. There was always more to be done, more to improve, more deficiencies to root out and correct.

A noise behind drew his gaze, finding a solitary figure observing from the walk above. Perturabo sighed irritably as you followed close behind. Truly, was there no end to this creature's insolence? He had made it explicitly clear you were not welcome in his place. But here you were, barging in once more like you owned the place. Well, no matter. Soon your inevitable blunders would force him to eject you, like others. And if not… There were other means to remedy pests.

You nodded respectfully at being noticed, making no move to approach, a rare show of wisdom, in his view. Most would bombard him with pointless questions or fawning praise at this stage, hampering his work. But he sensed no such intentions from your gaze. Merely open curiosity as eyes traced each component with appreciative care. Studying, but passing no judgment. It was… tolerable, at least for now.

Ignoring you completely, Perturabo returned to his labors, focusing intently on welding a joint into place. He set about assembling components for his latest augmentation. Tools danced skillfully under his guidance as intricate mechanisms began taking shape.

You fell silent, observing with keen interest as joints and pistons slid neatly into place. Perturabo was grudgingly aware of your gaze tracing each minute motion, as if to unfold the creative process unfolding before steely eyes.

It was… disarming, to have such unfettered focus directed his way without demand or expectation. He scowled. What could a paper-pusher possibly comprehend of the ingenuity and graft involved in his works?

But a small, traitorous part inside relished the rapt attention nonetheless. To have one so near who saw his delicate work, it stirred echoes of gratification long thought dead. As if in that moment, his craft held all your fascination simply for its own merits, not his name or reputation. A novel experience, to say the least.

Perturabo redoubled efforts to focus on circuit splicing, mentally banishing such fanciful notions. This was no pleasure outing to indulge idle spectators. There were calculations to finalize and field tests to prepare for, not entertain petty curiosities.

A soft gasp drew his notice despite vows to ignore the interloper. You had moved closer, peering in awe at neatly bundled wiring coming to life under activation. Perturabo froze, hyperaware of her proximity yet loathe to break concentration and perfection almost achieved.

Time passed without remark as systems began integrating fully under his touch. You still watched without complaint or query.At last the final components locked into synchronization in a shuddering crescendo of sound and light. Perturabo straightened, surveying his handiwork with a critical eye. An imperfect machine, as always, he was not satisfied.

He turned then to find you regarding him with a small, knowing smile, as if this imperfect machine were an achievement through your own eyes. He blinked, taken aback by the acknowledgment in your eyes.

Caught off guard, Perturabo found words deserting as emotion welled unexpectedly. What did you want? His mouth moved, words emerging gently, at least he thought so.

"Would you like to know what this machine is?"

[thecreaturecodex]

Skelm, Soul

Image © Paizo Publishing, accessed at Archives of Nethys here

[Hey! A new monster! I am feeling a bit more rested and rejuvenated after my long hiatus. I'm still only planning on releasing one or two new monsters a week, but I feel much more motivated to write now, and think I've worked out why my block has been what it is.

The soul skelm is the last and most powerful of the skelms in PF2e's Bestiary 3, and I like that it has a similar ability to the weakest, the street skelm. I wonder if all four of them had a "X Strike" ability at some point in development. I added some more spell-like abilities to play into their "bullying the dead" flavor text.]

Skelm, Soul CR 10 LE Outsider (native) This humanoid male has translucent gray skin and a rack of antlers. His face is contorted into an expression of mock agony and terror.

Soul skelms are among the most powerful of skelm-kind, and are some sort of occult parallel to night hags. Unlike the more metaphysical connection between night hags and mortal hags, soul skelms are a further transformation, and can form from any kind of skelm. A soul skelm is one that has completely abandoned its original personality and mortality for pure hatred and ambition. Soul skelms are especially feared because their cruelty does not stop when their victims die. A soul skelm continues to bully the souls of their victims, calling them from the grave to interrogate them as to the weaknesses of their friends and loved ones, and using them to invigorate their withered flesh. Soul skelms do not have a natural lifespan; they only die through violence or misfortune, and many of their souls immediately go on to reincarnate as rakshasas, asuras or oni.

Soul skelms enjoy using the undead as tools, and often collect a region’s undead under their banner, using bribes, threats and magic if the first two fail. Soul skelms are even more isolationist and paranoid of their fellow skelms as other varieties are, and rarely associate with them except as part of a plan to get their lesser killed. Soul skelms delight in breaking apart group unity and cohesive tactics, using illusions to separate each of their victims into a solipsistic reverie before picking them off one by one. They prefer spiked chains, whips, or other ostentatious, showy weapons.

Soul Skelm CR 10 XP 9,600 LE Medium outsider (native) Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +17

Defense AC 24, touch 14, flat-footed 20 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +10 natural) hp 126 (12d10+60) Fort +9, Ref +11, Will +13; -2 vs. emotion effects DR 10/cold iron; Immune death effects, possession

Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee +1 spiked chain +19/+14/+9 (2d4+10/19-20), gore +13 (2d6+3 plus trip) or slam +18 (1d4+6), gore +13 (2d6+6 plus trip) Special Attacks bully the departed (7/day), isolating strike Spell Like Abilities CL 10th, concentration +17 (+21 casting defensively) At will—dimension door, ghost whip, invisibility, silence (DC 19) 3/day—call spirit (DC 22), command undead (DC 19), inflict critical wounds (DC 21) 1/day—entrap spirit (DC 22), greater oeneiric horror (DC 21), mind probe (DC 21), plane shift (self only, Material and Astral Planes only)

Statistics Str 23, Dex 17, Con 20, Int 16, Wis 20, Cha 25 Base Atk +12; CMB +18 (+20 disarm, trip); CMD 32 (34 vs. disarm, trip) Feats Alertness, Combat Casting, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (spiked chain) (B), Improved Critical (spiked chain) (B), Improved Disarm, Improved Trip Skills Bluff +17, Climb +16, Disguise +17, Intimidate +21, Knowledge (arcana, local, nobility, religion) +10, Perception +17, Sense Motive +17, Spellcraft +13, Stealth +13 SQ change shape (Medium male humanoid, alter self), conspicuous combatant, ghostly grasp, skelm traits

Ecology Environment any land or urban Organization solitary Treasure standard (+1 spiked chain, other treasure)

Special Abilities Bully the Departed (Su) As a move action, a soul skelm can call upon the souls of his victims to invigorate himself. Until the end of his next turn, he gains regeneration 15 (force, good), and deals an extra 1d6 points of damage with all his melee attacks. During this time, his melee attacks count as evil for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction and regeneration. A soul skelm can use this ability a number of times a day equal to his Charisma modifier. Conspicuous Combatant (Ex) A soul skelm gains Exotic Weapon Proficiency and Improved Critical for one exotic weapon of his choice. Ghostly Grasp (Su) A soul skelm’s natural weapons, and any manufactured weapons he wields, are treated as being ghost touch weapons for the purposes of interacting with incorporeal creatures. Isolating Strike (Su) As a standard action, a soul skelm can exert himself to make a single powerful attack. When he does, he adds an additional damage die of the same type to the attack, and the creature struck must succeed a DC 23 Will save. If they fail, they are invisible, inaudible and otherwise completely imperceptible to their allies for the next 4 rounds, and their allies are likewise invisible, inaudible and completely imperceptible to them. Regardless of whether it succeeds or fails, that creature is immune to that soul skelm’s isolating strike for the next 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma based, and this is an illusion effect. After making this attack, the street skelm is treated as being flat footed until the beginning of its next turn. Skelm Traits (Ex) All skelms gain a +4 racial bonus to Intimidate checks, but a -2 penalty to all saving throws against emotion effects.