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thecomposerofstories · 3 years

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Information on Amy.

(Be warned it's a ~little bit~ long, any other pieces of information you want to know I'll gladly answer if you ask.)

~General Information~

Fandom: Toy Story.

Name: Amy the Ragdoll.

Nickname, if any: Amy, Ames, and Doll-Face(usually by more villainous characters or used in a joking manner).

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: ??? (I mean I know the gender of who she has a crush on, but I'm unsure on what her actual sexuality should be tbh)

Age: Mentally, mid-twenties in the first story second movie, thirties to forties in the third and fourth. Physically, she doesn’t have an age, but in regards to when she was made (the 1950’s) makes her fifty to sixty.

City they currently live in: San Francisco, apparently that’s where Toy Story takes place.

Any pets: Would Rex count? He just follows her around like a nervous puppy.

Current occupation: I mean she’s practically a therapist, but she’s a toy and she only treats Rex so it probably doesn’t count lol

~Physical Appearance~

Height: 10 inches.

Body type: Stocky, but a bit gangly too, similar to Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Eye colour: Black.

Skin tone: Light.

Clothing style: Pale green/turquoise shirt with short puffed sleeves, with a denim dungaree dress with a daisy print in the centre over it. She wears yellow rain boots.

Hairstyle: No style, it’s just there. It’s messy and gets in her face easily and is made out of dark brown thin string.

~Speech/Language/Communication~

Amy speaks quietly and politely, rambles a bit if left without a reply or under pressure, very nervous in front of intimidating characters.

First language: English.

Learned languages: A bit of Spanish (Ya’ll remember Toy Story 3!)

Accent: American.

Pitch of voice: High, but soft, not quite annoying, unless she’s stressed, then it gets very pitchy and shrill.

~Behaviour/Habits~

Amy tends to just stand there when she can’t find anything to do, and will immediately try to find Rex, Hamm, Buzz or Jessie if surrounded by strangers (Though she’s not sure if it’s for their comfort or her own) Amy is very polite.

Spending habits: She doesn’t like to be made a fuss of at all, the very fact of someone giving something to her is unnerving (even if the thing never costed anything at all) and she feels compelled to give the giver something in return.

Morning routine: She gets up same time as the others, but wishes she could stay in bed a bit longer though. Before she came to Andy’s room, her sleep pattern was all over the place.

Bedtime routine: Similar to above, now she goes to bed the same time as the others, but before she just slept and got up willy-nilly.

Nervous habits: Amy will try to find Rex if she’s nervous, and she’ll pretend it’s because she’s worried for him, which is quite true, but she also just feels most safe with him. Speaking of, Amy will let Rex hold her hand and squish it whenever he or Amy is nervous, it’s calming to the both of them.

Bad habits: Not a very good exerciser, but then again, she’s spend basically half her life in a small attic, so I’ll give her a break.

Skills/talents: She’ very logical, mind-over-matter, (mostly, very good at calming others down and/or convincing them. She’s very good at spelling and knows quite a lot of words, some of which others haven’t even heard of.

Hobbies: Reading, talking (especially with Rex, Jessie or Hamm), and generally just lazing about or walking around somewhere, on her own or with a friend.

~The Past~

Amy’s first owner was a little girl called Alice. Alice loved nothing more than to read Amy stories (Mostly fairy tales), but of course, Alice grew up like all kids do, and she left Amy in the attic for someone else to have her.

Amy waited for many years, and all that time she’d never given up that someone would find her.

She thought she’s hit the jackpot when Andy and his family move into Alice’s old house, but they don’t go up into the attic to collect her. Some weeks later, though, Andy’s mother brings a set of boxes filled with junk into the attic and leaves. Woody, Buzz, Slinky, and Rex were trapped in one of the boxes (Call me a cheater but this part was actually inspired by a Toy Story comic, where those four toys get stuck in the attic that way and have to escape. It struck me odd that they never met at least one new friend there, so I made one. It was also my first story, I needed some inspiration!)

Amy, in a fit of panic, goes and hides.

But then she’s found by Rex as he and the others try to find a way out.

They then decide to let the strange, dust-covered ragdoll come back to Andy’s rom with them. (well, Rex did, anyway.)

Home town: Would Alice’s old room count? But it’s now Andy’s Room, so it won’t count will it?

Happy or sad childhood: Pretty normal to be honest, as normal a life as a toy could have anyway. And as for sadness, having spent all that time on her own for all those years, having missed out on so much, is a little sad. But Amy made sure she never became bitter over it or used it as an excuse for anything.

Earliest memory: Waking up in her toy store, with a friend of hers for company (a ragdoll Prospector, a much as she remembers) and as she gets bought by Alice’s Auntie, she says she hopes he gets picked up by a kid. (Unbeknownst to her, she would meet him again in a while to find out he never got to experience it)

Saddest memory: One, being left by Alice, yet being so happy for her and how much she’s grown up, if she could cry tears of joy for her owner, she would. Two, some (or most) of the days she spent waiting for a new owner to arrive. And three, watching Rex have a mental breakdown of anxiety.

Happiest memory: One, the time she and Alice went to the park, (Amy absolutely adores nature) Two after sliding down a drainpipe to get to Andy’s room, and three, having known she’d helped her friend out.

Significant events: Being bought, being left in an attic, being rescued from the attic, while gaining some new friends.

~Family~

The entirety of Andy’s room, whether they like it or not, they’re all in this together and are some kind of mish-mash, found family in a sense.

Siblings: I’ve been thinking of giving Amy a brother (since I based her on Raggedy Ann, a matching bootleg Raggedy Andy seems reasonable) bur I’m unsure about it, since I’ve already mapped out Amy’s entire series of stories (Around six or seven all together, so far I’m currently writing only the third) and I can only fit him in the fifth or sixth if I can.

~Relationships~

Romantically? I’d like to say she has a crush on Rex, I don’t know why I thought of it, I was contemplating it one day as I sketched a rough (and terrible) sketch of her, and I drew Rex too because he’s just so fun to draw and I wanted to make a scale for Amy’s size, and one of my friends (who had been watching me) immediately said “I ship it!” and well, the rest is history, I made the decision to ship it too.

Friends: Jessie, Hamm, Buzz, and Rex are her closet friends, but she’d like to say that all the Gang are her friends. Later on she becomes good friends with Mr. Prickle Pants, Buttercup, Trixie and Totoro, and she absolutely loves the peas and Forky.

Best friend(s): Hamm, Mr. Prickle Pants, Jessie, and Rex.

What do people like about them? Amy’s pretty easy to talk to, she’s polite and attentive and will sit in companionable silence with someone if they need it. But she won’t hesitate to give hard truths and advice if it’s needed.

What do people dislike about them? Amy is quite a doormat, if someone is rude to her or breaches anything she just lets it happen, and sometimes she’s too indecisive about her own stuff, unsure whether she’s going to offend others or not over the smallest things, which annoys others quite a bit.

~Mentality/Personal Beliefs~

Amy is a toy of logic, and though she believes others can do it if they set their minds to it, she doesn’t quite believe in herself. She believes she must follow the rules of being a toy at all times, no matter what.

Phobias: Dust. She hates it. It took a good five weeks to brush all the dust out her hair and clothes, and even so there’s still some in her pockets and places she can’t reach. And being alone, too. Now she can’t be alone for more than an hour before she starts to get antsy and nervous. And for a short time books gave her a strange tiredness, after reading them for so long and for so many years she couldn’t even stand the sight of them.

But of course, not for long, since Amy found out Andy had a copy of Red’s Dream by a Mr. William Reeves.

Optimist or pessimist: Depends on the situation really, if her mind can’t come up with a solution, then there’s no point in trying anymore. Unless someone else can think of something, that is.

Personal philosophies: “You are here to make good things happen. No person here is made for one reason only, or even only one. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not just for the attention of others, no matter how cool they are. We should find are own meaning, as we’re the only ones who have control of it.

It’ll take a while, but I swear, it’ll be worth it.”

Biggest dream/wish: Amy wants nothing more than to find meaning for herself, but finds it rather hard to do so. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll settle for someone else’s meaning. As cheesy as it sounds, she just wants an adventure. She doesn’t necessarily want to be the hero, though, she’s just happy to go along with the ride so long as it gets her out the house for a few hours. She also, above all else, wants Rex to find meaning too, even if she never does, it would be nice to know that he had.

Greatest strength(s): Persuasion, story-telling, logic, and good grammar.

Biggest flaw: Despite being a ragdoll, Amy can’t sew because of her fingerless hands, which are just soft mittens in shape. Amy is also quite a doormat, as I said before, so if her calm persuasion and reasoning doesn’t work, she’s left to be walked all over.

Regrets: Staying in that dratted attic too long, the window was open, she could’ve just climbed out, but no, she had to stay there for some mind-rotting decades. But if she had just escaped, she would never have met her new friends. Amy just wishes she had met them a lot sooner.

Achievements: Escaped the attic, slid down a drainpipe, leapt onto the windowsill (though nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over in the process) stopped her friend from having a panic attack, and managed to remember the entire Dictionary and is able to recite it down from A to Z, and even Z to A.

Secrets: Not much, just strange feelings for one of her friends, but it’s not much of a secret, Bo knows, and Mr. Potato Head and Hamm could see it from a mile away, and the others have their suspicions.

Goals: Read the entirety of Andy’s (and later Bonnie’s) bookshelves, become more confident in herself, have her own book-worthy adventure, and figure out what those strange feelings for her friend is.

~Likes/Favourites~

Favourite colour: Even before meeting Rex, Amy’s favourite colour was always green. Every time Alice had taken her to the park, Amy adored watching the sunlight pour through the leaves with a golden-green glow.

Favourite book(s): Because it’s sentimental to her, being her owner’s favourites, she loves Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The Wizard of Oz. They all hold similar plots (a little girl in a blue dress goes to a fantasy land, has a few adventures, and then leaves said fantasy land to go home to her family and responsibilities) but it reminds Amy of her old owner Alice (who was actually named after Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland) and their playtimes together.

Favourite Book Quotation(s):

“Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.”

“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is facing danger when you are afraid.”

Favourite movie: Amy does much prefer books, since they allow her to imagine the setting and characters in her own way, but doesn’t mind movies, and isn’t picky on what they watch, though she does quite like horror films.

Favourite song: Amy likes any kind of music, new or old.

Favourite game: Amy never really cared for games, the competitiveness always bothered her and stressed her out. But she’s more than happy to watch Rex play his video games and cheer him on.

~Relationships with other characters~

~Rex~

- Hit it off pretty quickly.

- Amy helps him with his anxiety, and helps him find confidence in himself, she acts as a certain therapist to him.

- Both become very stressed without the other around.

- Rex will hold and knead at Amy’s hands sometimes; it calms him down.

- Rex will let Amy ride on his back if she’s tired or needs to see something (Because she’s so short).

- One of them can basically be talking about the most boring-est things ever, yet still the other will hang on to their every word.

~Jessie~

- Became friends pretty quickly.

- Will drag Amy along anywhere.

- Get along fairly well.

- Jessie does the talking and Amy does the planning.

- Jessie always pranks the other toys and makes Amy tag along (along with Hamm).

- Introvert/Extrovert dynamic for sure.

- Both were left in alone for years so like to find solace in each other.

~Hamm~

- Hamm begrudgingly warmed up to the timorous ragdoll.

- Surprisingly good pals.

- Have full conversations without saying anything.

- Like to sit and look out of the window together.

- Hamm makes Amy laugh when she really shouldn’t (mainly when he makes fun of the other toys, mainly Woody).

- Hamm makes fun of Amy having a crush on Rex every once in a while, though he doesn’t mean any harm.

~The Potato Heads~

- Mr. doesn’t really interact with Amy much, but finds her surprisingly tolerable, if a bit high-strung and annoying.

- Like Hamm, Mr. makes Amy laugh at the most wrong moments.

- She and Mrs. Are quite good friends, and she sometimes lets Amy take care of the aliens if she and her husband are busy.

~Woody~

- Are aquianteces.

- Don’t exactly interact much, even though the whole room practically revolves around him, in Amy’s opinion, though she would never say it to his face.

~Buzz~

- Amy thinks he’s super cool (then again, he is Buzz Lightyear, he practically invented coolness)

- Both are just as clueless as one another when it comes to social cues and interactions.

- Amy helps him with vocabulary and spelling every once in a while.

~Mr. Prickle Pants~

- Are absolute BFF’s.

- Go back and forth with book quotes to the point of driving the other toys insane.

~Bo Peep~

- Amy's not exactly sure if Bo has befriended her or not.

- (She has)

- They later become good friends.

- Amy misses their talks, Bo was one of the only toys she could talk to that could keep a secret.

#amy the ragdoll #toy story #oc #toy story oc #character information #original character #oc's #ocs #character development #fan character

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

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As the third day of the week begins its start, Fusion Anon began to work on his art. The submission is ready, and you better know it! Presenting Myth Anon, the Former Ultimate Poet!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

When it came to academic subjects, Myth was very skilled in anything requiring creativity, for she is able to gain creative inspiration from just about anything. While she has a love for all art forms, the one mode that catched her eye in particular happened to be poetry, particularly poetry related to people and romance. As Myth became a teenager and romantic feelings began to blossom on both sides of the hill, she began writing poems to try and woo the people she had feelings for, but alas, not many people returned the sentiment, mainly due to Myth’s odd mannerisms and speech patterns. But despite her odd speech patterns and mannerisms, no one can deny that Myth is a stellar poet, with perfect flow and emotionally-moving verses, to the point that she managed to get into Hope’s Peak, thanks to her poetic skills. As an adult, she is currently living off the revenues gained from her live poetry readings.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Procrastinator

When you consider the two’s personality traits, a friendship between Myth, the eccentric and flamboyant poet, and Wyre, the chronic slacker and part-time delinquent, would seem utterly and patently ridiculous. But Myth and Wyre have been the best of friends ever since they were young children. Whenever Myth gets rejected by a prospective love interest, Wyre would always be there with ice cream for Myth, and a little “something-something” for the people who rejected their best friend.

Outfit: A messy black gakuran over a white undershirt, longer hair that she didn’t even bother to cut, glasses from her original design.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist

As the mastermind behind various outrageous (yet credible) conspiracy theories, Scar proclaims herself to be the “Savior of All” and yearns to protect people from the hypothesized threats that Scar claims are looming around the horizon. Scar’s whole chuunibyo act provides inspiration for a lot of Myth’s poems, particularly ones themed around darkness and evil threats. While Scar is glad to help her senpai, she is also low-key embarrassed about her whole middle-school chuunibyou act.

Outfit: A camo-patterned t-shirt, a dark purple overcoat slung over her shoulders like a cape, cargo pants, mask, gloves, and boots from original design.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Ice Skater

Famed for his grace and sheer energy upon the ice, Fusion won loads upon loads of awards from ice skating tournaments, particularly specializing in Salchows and speed-skating. Fusion is currently attempting to teach Myth and the other conmates how to ice-skate. Myth is still far from an expert, but her newly-gained skill in ice-skating gave her even more inspiration for her poems. Because Myth’s vocabulary is very similar to his good friend Purple’s, Fusion can easily understand Myth.

Outfit: A fluffy blue parka over a red and yellow leotard, red mittens that were knitted for him by a fan, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Trivia Expert

Having appeared on various trivia game shows and often seen studying in the library, Fusion II has a vast amount of random knowledge on a vast amount of random things. While Fusion II views Myth as a confident role model and wishes to emulate her coolness and confidence, Fusion II wishes that Myth didn’t intrude in the middle of her study session and start loudly reciting her poetry. The irritation is not helped by the fact that Myth can’t seem to pick up on Fusion II’s sarcasm in the slightest.

Outfit: A blue and yellow baseball cap with a yellow question mark on the front, a blue letterman’s jacket over the same red shirt from her original design, the skirt and boots from her original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Personal Assistant

Despite being polite and very efficient with his duties when on his various jobs, when off-duty, Janon couldn’t be any further from that façade, being lazy and crude to just about anybody. It was very clear that having all of those jobs at such a young age really took a toll on both his psyche and his sanity, and he wants nothing more than to finish all of his duties in record time and then collapse on the spot. Janon can’t stand Myth and her flamboyant and eccentric mannerisms, for they give him a headache that just wouldn’t go away. But deep down, Janon envies Myth’s independence and confident in being herself, while Janon views himself as a slave to PR and can’t show his true and vulgar attitude towards his bosses.

Outfit: His hair and bangs slicked back, a brown vest over a white dress shirt and a pink bowtie, matching brown pants, black gloves and boots.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Voice Actor

Famous for starring as the leading ladies in magical girl anime, Sparkle’s loud and hammy vocals have garnered her fame, despite her young age. Even when she isn’t playing a character, Sparkle’s voice is still as loud and flamboyant as you can get. Because of their similar temperaments and personas, Myth and Sparkle got along very easily. Myth was over the moon in joy, from finding someone who behaved a lot like her (flamboyant, loud and appreciates the “fine arts”) and appreciated her poetic masterpieces, on top of that. Myth regularly lets Sparkle read her poems, as vocal exercises, and Sparkle’s voice just sounds so hypnotic, when she is reading Myth’s poems in a hammy and energetic magical girl’s voice.

Outfit: Same outfit from the original, but with bedazzled microphone and headphones.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Romantic, and Wet Sock, Former Ultimate Paleontologist

Egg is famous around their school for their romantic advice, while Wet Sock is a pioneer in paleontology. Despite the very different domains of their talents, Egg and Wet Sock are practically peas in a pod, particularly when it comes to inserting cursed comments into just about any situation. But just because they’re both cursed, that doesn’t mean they aren’t geniuses and respected in their respective fields. Egg, is willing to put aside their cursed comments and help Myth with her romantic troubles, and even giving her advice for her romantic poems. Egg’s twin harbor some more-than-platonic feelings for the poet, but good luck getting those feelings out of Wet Sock, for they just might threaten you with a bone shiv.

Egg’s Outfit: Smoothed down hair, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater with a red heart stitched on the front over a white tank-top, black leggings with small pink hearts on the knees, pink slip-on shoes, glasses from original design.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A brown sleeveless jacket over a white tanktop that shows off their scarred arms, a tan apron with a dark brown dinosaur skeleton on the front, brown cargo shorts, brown steel-toed boots.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Ornithologist

Having mastered the art of standing quietly and motionless, Curious is so placid and peaceful, that birds can’t help but perch on them. Thanks to their calm and passive nature, Curious is able to get closer to birds and study them. Despite being a respected genius in the study of all sorts of bird species and is even the discoverer of nearly-extinct species of birds, no one knows where Curious came from, for they spent pretty much all their life is the forest, yet is exceedingly formal and polite. Curious’s modest, polite and romantically-dense nature, contrasts heavily against Myth’s loud, dramatic, and flirtatious nature, but somehow their friendship still works, thanks to Curious’s heavy respect towards their senpai.

Outfit: A green poncho to help them blend into the grass over a white shirt, a brown belt, black pants, brown boots and binoculars across their neck.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Astronomer

Yearning to reach the stars, and stopping at nothing until he accomplishes his goals, Nerd has brains and brawn and he is not afraid to use either of those (his brown, in particular). Graduating at the top of his astronomy academy, both physically and mentally, Nerd’s disagreeable and explosive personality means that he wasn’t able to become an astronaut, particularly after he scouter-burned a teacher who gave him a bad grade. Bad grades aren’t the only thing that can enrage Nerd, for he particularly hates flirty and flamboyant poets who constantly try to seduce him at every opportunity. But Myth is one determined poet, for she will constantly write love poems for Nerd, even if she suffers in the process.

Outfit: Same suit from his original design, but with a galaxy patterned tie.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Essayist

Despite the sheer number of academically-acclaimed essays that Eldritch wrote, it’s near impossible to find any other traces of Eldritch’s existence, apart from his self-reviewed and academically-revolutionary essays. Eldritch double-shooted, to make absolutely sure that no one could find him and trace the essays back to him. Eldritch is truly a textbook example of a shut-in, who finds it impossible to trust anybody. Because both Myth and Eldritch have talents that involve writing, Myth keeps trying to interact with Eldritch, but Eldritch just repeatedly pushes her away, while loudly claiming that he doesn’t trust her, for reasons left unknown. But Myth keeps trying, hoping that Eldritch could let his guard down one day.

Outfit: A grey hoodie with the hood-up, shorts and slippers from the original design.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Puzzle Solver

Despite being physically gifted, Dream appreciates a great mental challenge, from time to time. Whenever she’s not dancing or playing volleyball, Dream is often in the corner with a sudoku puzzle or a Rubix cube. Eventually though, Dream made world records, despite her age, thanks to her sheer speed and accuracy at completing puzzles. Eventually, Dream managed to get into Hope’s Peak with the title of Ultimate Puzzle Solver. Whenever Myth gets writer’s block, Dream would supply Myth with a puzzle to get Myth’s creative neurons firing, and it usually works, at least half of the time. Dream may not understand half of what comes out of Myth’s mouth, but she’s still a great friend to her.

Outfit: Two pink barrettes shaped like jigsaw puzzle pieces, a black t-shirt with a Rubix cube design on the front, a pink and cream flannel shirt tied around her waist, sheared green shorts, shoes from the original design.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Speedreader

Iris has a reading comprehension way above even most adults, and reading is practically a breeze for this clumsy, yet well-meaning, bookworm. Being a massive book nerd and proud of it, Iris proudly read the entirety of her local library two times over, at unparalleled speeds, all with a big smile on her face, causing her to become a local sensation, until she was accepted into Hope’s Peak’s middle school division. Because of the vast walls of text that she reads, Iris can easily understand Myth’s eccentric and grandiose speech patterns, and translate for people who can’t understand. Iris’s naturally positive and friendly personality also helps in making friends with the otherwise eccentric and friendless Myth.

Outfit: A blue overcoat over a black shirt and skirt, black stockings and blue slip-on shoes.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Surgeon

As a veritable medical prodigy who was born to two affluent medical professionals herself, Purple primarily specialises in surgery and operations. Despite her age and general timidity when in social situations (to the point that she often hides from others behind much larger doctors), Purple is a master at surgeries and is revered by her patients for her maternal attitude and her kind heart. Both Myth and Purple bond over their hard to understand and oddly-vocabulary, and Purple’s vocabulary helps Myth come up with new words for her latest poems. Myth is also working on giving confidence lessons to Purple. It’s taking some time for Purple, but Myth is confident in her skills, and claims that it’ll work one day.

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but without the beret and an added white lab coat.

This series would center around the egotistical yet lovable poet, getting the love that she truly deserves.

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PERSONALITY

Poet!Myth is flamboyant, eccentric and likes to think of herself as a charmer and a genius, and wouldn’t hesitate to show off her talent and intellect, at every chance that she gets. Poet!Myth speaks a lot like her poems: with odd metaphors and old-fashioned vocabulary, and quoting famous poets and playwrights. She usually responds to her haters by claiming that they “just don’t understand art”. Ultimately though, Poet!Myth yearns to find love and people who could accept her for who she is, and she constantly puts up the charmer facade, in hopes that it’ll work out one day.

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APPEARANCE

Poet!Myth wears her purple hair in a ponytail that is pinned by a feather quill, and the glasses from her original design. Myth wears a black overcoat with internal velvet that is slung over her shoulders like a cape, a blue vest with pink stripes on each side and a matching pink cravat, over a white dress shirt, black pants and matching black loafers.

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I hope you like this talentswap! Let me know what you think of this AU!

-Fusion Anon

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prisonrose · 4 years

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Nobody wanted it, but it’s here anyways. Eeveelution Tier Ranker, let’s go. (Note: I don’t hate any of these and it’s less about whether they’re good competitively and more from a design standpoint -- i.e., how well I think they represented their chosen element and were creative when doing so. It’s okay if you disagree! But don’t click if you don’t like hearing opinions that are not your own.)

S Tier Explanations:

Vaporeon: Honestly one of the more creative Eeveelutions, and it hit it out of the park on the very first gen! It’s notable because instead of simply representing the element of water, it looks like a creature that might actually dwell in the ocean depths. I love its little neck fringe and the mermaid tail and how literally everything about it (except for maybe the feets) seem changed from the base Eevee form.

Leafeon: Probably personal bias, but I don’t care. Leafeon kicks ass. They could have gone the super cutesy route and made it like a flower-cat-dog-rabbit-thing, but they instead gave it a look of an insect that would be using leaf camouflage to sneak up on prey. I love the little bits and pieces taken out of the leaf growths, and also the cute detail of its feet being brown, like it grew out of the mud.

Espeon: Complicated doesn’t always mean good (foreshadowing for later) and Espeon proves it. It is a beautifully simple take on a psychic version of Eevee, with no real frills. It’s a soft lavender (which, being a shade of purple, hints at mystical origins without shoving it in your face, its thin, forked tail reminds me of a tuning fork that some use to meditate, and the red gem in its head I guess makes you think of the Third Eye of the mind. It doesn’t do a bunch of crazy stuff, but it doesn’t need it. Amazing stuff.

A Tier Explanation:

Umbreon: I feel like I want to like Umbreon as a concept more than I actually do. On paper, it’s pretty promising. The name Umbreon itself is a very clever play on the Umbra of a shadow -- the darkest part of it. The rings all over its body makes you think of an eclipse. But that’s... Really it. It has cat like pupils...? Which does set it apart from the other Eevees, and is also fitting of its reputation as a night lurker, but that’s really it. I think the biggest problem with Umbreon is its overall shape. The silhouette doesn’t really change between it and Eevee a whole lot, and not in a way that would make you think of its chosen element. To put it another way, if Umbreon was color-shifted to be, say, a bright orange, would it still look like it represented darkness to you? That’s the best way I can explain it, but I do have to acquiesce that it’s just a hard element to design for in general. They did the best with what they had and I respect them for that.

B Tier Explanations:

Glaceon: Literally the only reason it’s here is because of the Ushanka-shaped hair do / ear flaps. It’s enough to communicate “this is something you’d encounter in cold weather!” while also being relatively creative about it instead of giving it an icicle for a tail or something. There’s also the subtle diamond-shape to its ears, fur flaps, and tail, kinda making me think of a snowflake in a way? But the rest of the body, other than its fur color and patterns barely changes at all. They even get rid of the fluffy neck scruff, which seems a bit counter intuitive since this is a COLD weather Pokemon, but I digress. It’s something all of the post-Gen-1 Eeveelutions have in common for some reason.

Eevee: Basic can be good! Eevee doesn’t really do anything super extraordinary to me, other than be cute. TBH when I look at it, I don’t really see a “Pokemon that can adapt to any climate” -- it just looks like a cute fox cat dog thingy. But that has its place in the world, too.

C Tier Explanations:

Jolteon: It feels like a sin to have two Gen 1 Pokemon as the sole C tier tier holders, but they fall so short of Vaporeon in my honest opinion. I do like their designs! They’re cute! But they’re not super transformative to me, and that’s their cardinal sin. Jolteon is the Lightning Eeveelution so... It’s Yellow. And they made it spiky like it stuck its paw in an electric socket. Done and done! That’s not very creative to me, though I do rate it as a half step above Flareon just because they basically got rid of its tail. That at least distinguishes it from the Eevee profile pretty well.

Flareon: It’s literally just “Eevee but Hot Cheetos Flavored”. If you color shifted it to Eevee’s base colors, you’d barely be able to tell the difference between them and that’s a problem to me. Yeah, the neck fluff, tail and head fluff kinda resemble flames I guess, but that’s just really lazy in my opinion. If it wasn’t literally the embodiment of fire, it looks like it would overheat in the exact environments it’s supposed to inhabit. Definitely deserves its spot here.

D Tier Explanation:

Sylveon: So I know what you’re thinking. “Mittens just hates anything they didn’t grow up with / thinks the Fairy typing is lame!” No. Absolutely not. Fairy is probably my favorite type, and I was psyched for Mega Evolution, Dynamaxing, and basically any gimmick the later games came out with. Nostalgia is a factor with me, but I make a concerted effort not to let it cloud my judgement. I don’t even hate that we got a Fairy Eevee before getting a Dragon one. My dislike of it is 100% just the way it’s designed. It’s the laziest take of “Eevee, but Fairy Type!!!” imo, and I have similar complaints about Galarian Rapidash. Like what about it says “Fairy”??? The fact that you gave it a cute lil bow and ribbons and made it soft pink and white and stuff??? Lazy! I kind of don’t like the assumption that “Fairy Type = uwu cutesy girly shit” and not because I don’t like the girly shit, but because I feel like that sort of stuff shouldn’t JUST be relegated to one or two typings (Normal type tends to also be kinda guilty of this imo but at least there’s WAY more diversity there). That’s why Klefki, Grimmsnarl, Mawile, and Shiinotic are some of my favorite Fairy Types of all time. Because they do something that both pays homage to the lore they’re taking the Fairy typing from and also making something genuinely original with it. (And it’s also why Mienshao is probably my favorite fighting type Pokemon! Because it’s this situation but just in reverse!) Sylveon just feel like something they banged out with a day or two of brainstorming. “Yeah, just make it pink and cute and shit. Good enough. Let’s go get lunch.” And unlike the first Gen, which I can forgive for being a bit unoriginal because this was still a very new concept for them, for them to bang out something THIS substandard in the 6th gen just makes me kinda mad. Sylveon deserved better and it should have been cooler, more creative, and played with its theme way more. It was cheated. But! that’s just my opinion.

At the end of the day tho, the Eevee line is probably one of my favorite families in the Pokemon universe and all of these Pokemon are super cute and I’d cuddle them in a heart beat. I just think some could have been designed a bit more creatively, but that’s just me! I’d love to hear your opinions. And I might make something like this for Dhimani too (either also doing the Eevees or doing something like rating all bug Pokemon and stuff.)

#{ooc}; i will not shut up #accurate tag is accurate #i cant do drafts but i can shit this out in an hour i guess lmao ok @ brain

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umbralich · 5 years

Text

History pt. 8 - Home (fin)

Part 7 <---

Lareine was looking at her reflection in the mirror and nodded approvingly, not giving a damn although she knew she was grinning stupidly. She was wearing a black, curvy and long-sleeved satin dress she had chosen when Arsene had finally taken her shopping. She had also bought some make-up for covering her lifeless looking skin and dark circles around her eyes. Though she wasn't quite sure did it count, since she had just drawn even darker circles on them. "When you look better you'll also feel better", the butler had said. And it was true. Her old, a bit too big nightgown combined with her partly grown crop had made her look plainly horrific. Even her crude hairstyle looked better now with her new dress and beautiful face. Lareine had spent the last half an hour in front of the luxury - also known as mirror - in her room admiring her new looks, but mostly just brushing her hair. Though she could've sworn its appearance hadn't changed at all during the time she had tried to do something to it. "I'm faabulous~", Lareine noted to herself.

Suddenly she heard approaching, heavy steps from the corridor. She sneaked towards the door and waited. "Vaarg-Vaarg~!" Lareine yelled while leaping playfully towards him while he was walking past the doorway, and embraced him. Varg twitched compulsively, dropped a bunch of parchments he had been carrying, and violently yanked himself mostly free of Lareine's grip. "What the hells do you think you are doing, girl? Hands off me!" he snarled while tugging his another, loose sleeve still held by Lareine, free. The au ra crouched to pick up his papers and kept glaring at Lareine meanwhile in case she decided to get close and personal with him again. "I just wanted to hug you, Varg-Varg", Lareine answered, trying not to sound too disappointed. "You looked like you needed one." "Do not call me that", Varg snapped and got up. The parchments had been a tidy stack before Lareine's endearment, but now they were a mess. "And I do not want any hugs. Do not touch me ever again, especially not without telling me first." "Meh...", she bleated. "That's awfully lotsa rules for a married couple, Varg-Varg." "We are not getting married!" he barked, eyes sparkling with enmity. "Not now, not ever. I am over twice your age, and even if I was not, I would not be interested." He turned to leave and continued his way striding downstairs. Lareine followed right after him like a puppy. "I'm sure you'd learn to like me in time", she insisted while trying to keep up with him. "You can't deny I'm quite adorable, can you? And I don't care about years! They're just guidelines!" "But I care. And it would be disgusting."

Arsene happened to come back in just when Varg and Lareine reached the front door. Judging from a rake and shovel the butler carried he had been doing some early gardening.

"Ah, there you are", Arsene noted cheerfully. "I was just about to take a break and have some tea. You two want to join me?"

"With pleasure, gramps!" Lareine answered even before Varg had opened his mouth. "I think Varg-Varg here needs a break as well. As far as I know, he's been working all morning although he's supposed to have a day off."

"Today it happens", Varg grunted at Arsene. "Make sure she is out of here before I return tonight. I am no longer even sure which one of them is the worse one."

He crammed the papers into his briefcase, not caring were they crumpled or not, snatched his coat from the rack, threw it on his shoulder and dashed out of the door without closing it.

Arsene and Lareine watched him go and disappear into the crowd. Then Arsene closed the door, put his tools next to it and took off his scarf, coat and boots.

"Which one of... them?" Lareine asked and glanced behind her, but there was no one, just an empty hallway. "Gramps, what was he talking about?"

"Nothing, miss Lareine", Arsene answered, nearly whispering. "Nothing at all."

Lareine decided to enjoy this day to the fullest, if it was to be her last day in here. She started by having peppermint tea with Arsene, and it was without a doubt the best cup of tea she had ever tasted. There was also three raspberry cupcakes left in the box Arsene had bought earlier that morning, and it had been the best cupcake Lareine had ever eaten. After that Arsene continued with his gardening, and Lareine demanded to help. The butler was digging holes and Lareine planted saplings and seeds. Before that she hadn't been much into plants, but she felt like she could do that forever if she was allowed to stay.

Now she also had time to admire the estate from outside. It had three floors, four if the attic on top of a small tower-like structure was included. It had a black gable roof so steep the heavy snow couldn't build up on it. Its walls were dark grey stone apart from the pillars, which were slightly paler. All windows were ornamental glass, almost like in a church, except for the couple of windows at the top right corner in the third floor - in Lareine's room. A lone, bat winged, grimacing gargoyle sat on top of the office. A spruce fence encircled the estate, giving more privacy to its inhabitants while they spent their time in the garden. The garden looked quite barren right now, but in a few weeks Lareine knew it would look amazing.

When Lareine and Arsene were finished with their chores outside, they proceeded to polish some silverware indoors in front of the estate's biggest fireplace in the living room. Lareine rubbed the pots and cutlery like her life would've depended on it while enjoying the soft, huge and beautiful carpet she sat on, colored by black, dark red and golden patterns. Although the floors were wooden - very, very pretty, polished dark wood - it still tended to become chilly at times. A common problem in Ishgard, Arsene had sometimes said. Lareine would've wanted a similar carpet into her room too. Currently there was no carpet at all.

Then came the moment Arsene notified they'd have work to do in the cellar. Lareine felt a little tug somewhere at the back of her mind, but she brushed it aside. "Shut up", she said soundlessly, before following Arsene down the steep stairs into the darkness. When they stood in the middle of an empty blackness, Arsene fumbled a torch from somewhere and ignited it, illuminating the whole small room.

It was just a storage. There were craft tools hanging on the wall opposite of the stairs: hammers, screwdrivers, scissors, a couple of saws, pickaxe, spare shovel and the like. Below them was a small, worn out desk with a single thumbscrew on it. The other walls were covered by shelves with different boxes and jars piled on them. Lareine and Arsene underwent every box, checking them for usable items and throwing away everything that had gone old or beyond repair.

When they finally ascended from the cellar, it had almost gone dark outside.

"Well, it seems we should start packing", Arsene stated after glancing towards the nearest windows. "I wouldn't try and test my master's patience in this matter if I were you, miss Lareine. He made this decision before he even brought you in."

Lareine didn't say anything. She obediently plodded upstairs after him and into her room. She didn't have much to pack. The only good looking clothes she had she was currently wearing, and her few spare lingerie didn't take much space in her bag. At the end her luggage was mostly food, a pouch of gil and toiletries. Arsene had a somber expression on his face, but not even once he complained about the situation.

The front door was opened and closed downstairs. While they walked back down, Lareine felt like she would throw up at any moment.

"She is still here?" Varg asked accusingly while hanging up his coat.

"She was just about to leave", Arsene said. "Right, miss Lareine?"

Lareine squeezed her bag and swallowed so loudly she could've sworn it echoed around the hallway. Varg was holding the door open for her, waiting and frowning. Lareine stood in front of him for a long while, just staring at his high heeled boots without saying anything. When she finally opened her mouth and was about to bargain, Varg said:

"No. Get out."

Without warning he grabbed her arm and shoved her outside. When she turned around teary-eyed, Varg thrust her coat, scarf and mittens on top of her bag, and threw her boots next to her feet on the paving. The door was slammed shut and Lareine heard a faint click from the other side.

Tears were running down her cheeks and she felt like she could as well just die. Lareine would've wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but screaming was bad. Usually screaming had lead to something else that was also bad, and that in turn had lead to straps. Stubbornly she just bit her lip until it started bleeding. Lareine didn't have the slightest clue where she should've gone, so she wrapped her coat and scarf around her, put her mittens and boots on and sat down on a small rug in front of the door, hugging her bag. Usually such rugs said "Welcome", but there wasn't any text in this one.

"You silly little shrimp", she whispered. "Just go to the stables and ride out of this shitehole. You've survived alone so far. You can still do it."

She continued chewing her lip and accidentally opened the wound she had earlier made. At least it had become silent again.

She wasn't sure for how long she sat there. When she was thrown out, the sky had been dark blue. Now it was black. One by one people disappeared from the streets, and soon Lareine felt she was the only one in Ishgard who sat outside in the cold. Her sight started to get blurry again and she sniffed, annoyed at herself.

Then the door was opened behind her. Lareine jumped on her feet and stood there perfectly straight like those silly marines she had sometimes seen marching and saluting at the port. Varg glared at her grimly. Lareine stared back, pleading with her eyes.

"No more Varg-Varg. No more touching. Especially sudden hugs. No more rambling about marriage or disturbing me or following me around. And you will work", he listed.

Lareine couldn't believe this was actually happening. She was just nodding silently.

"I'll... I'll do anything", she whispered. Then the tears came.

Varg rolled his eyes and nodded towards the hallway. "Get in then."

Epilogue

Lareine took a long look at her room's new appearance and nodded approvingly. The walls had a black wallpaper with blood red rose patterns, the roof was painted all black and the floor polished as it was elsewhere in the estate. She also had her own canopy bed, soft bedding, ornamental, mostly black counterpane and lots of black and red pillows. There was a new desk, also made of dark wood, and it had huge, oval shaped mirror attached to it.

She had a bigger and prettier wardrobe too, and during the last week she had gotten permission to buy a couple of more outfits to her liking. Is she wanted more, she should save her own money for them. All the extra space left Lareine had filled with moogle, chocobo and other plush toys, ivy vines and candles. Lareine herself was wearing a new, long and delicate nightgown made of black silk and lace.

"Are you done?" Varg asked from the corridor.

"Yes, I'm gonna go to sleep", Lareine answered. "Good night... Varg."

Varg looked at her with narrowed eyes and closed the door. Lareine jumped into her bed and while she was rustling her blanket and fluffing her pillows she didn't hear the door was locked.

Varg dropped the key into his pocket and walked back into his study. He locked his own door as well and closed the thick curtains. There was a lantern and few candles burning on his table. He stepped to the cabinet in the farthest corner of the study and took a half full bottle of whisky and one glass, and put them on the table. Then he reached into the cabinet again and took out syringe and a small flask containing pale, transparent liquid. There was a tiny "Sedative" tag on it. He put them on his table as well. He opened the bottle and poured the glass full.

Finally he took a box of cigarettes from his drawer, lit one of them and inhaled deeply. He sat down, straightened his feet, exhaled and watched the smoke rising towards the ceiling in gloomy candle light. Then he looked at the rest of the items he had collected on the table. There was the whisky on his left and the syringe and the flask on his right.

He tapped the table for a while with his claws, before choosing the whisky. He would try it at first and hope it was enough.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #stories #viera #lareine kira #elezen #arsene dreadeois

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as-be-low · 7 years

Text

THCM, Chapter 10

Won't You Take Me Home?

It poured down from the mouths of babes Locusts in a land of grey I am wild-eyed and gone astray Oh brother dear, bear me away

It was cold, but there was still a smattering of other children in the area that Stella could play with. Stanley and his child seemed to move like a well-timed machine; as soon as he plucked her from the carseat, she shoved a little hand in his and the pair ambled exactly three feet to the trunk, where they dropped hands long enough for Stanley to fish through their worldly belongings to unearth a scuffed little ball and a half-crumpled cigarette carton, the latter of which he shoved into his pocket with a mumbled “nice.”

Ford frowned for a moment. He hadn’t known Stanley smoked. The little hand slipped back into Stanley’s much larger one and the pair inched their way towards the grassy field, with Ford following close behind. He couldn’t help but snicker as he watched Stanley’s arm jerk and jostle with the child’s skipping and jumping. Her doe eyes were locked on Stan as they made their way into the park, and she hovered by his side even as he ambled his way towards a vacant bench. She hiked a wobbly little leg up to climb onto the bench, though her eyes never left Stan long enough for her to give the endeavor the full attention required, and ended up just waving her foot in the air. Stan himself had a deep scowl in place as he scanned the small park, one arm outstretched towards his child and slowly dropping as though he got distracted halfway through reaching for Stella.

“Alright, kiddo. Go ahead.” And with that, Stella dropped all climbing attempts and darted off, doubling back around only to grab her forgotten ball. Stanley’s hawk-like eyes never left her for a moment.

“You know, Stan, I…” Ford trailed off as he turned towards Stanley, worrying his lips together. Stanley’s eyes were still locked on Stella.

He tried again. “She’s quite adept at tag.” More drawn-out silence. “I mean, she’s—”

“She likes runnin’.” Stan grumbled back. Somehow, the simple response startled Ford into a brief silence as Stanley dropped down onto the bench with a faint whump. It took Stanford a moment to follow suit.

Ford had to go and open his mouth once more. “You certainly keep a vigilant watch.”

“It only takes a second.”

His mouth went dry. Ford nodded, the movements slow and jerky, before giving his feet an idle shuffle. “I suppose you’re right.” The fact disheartened him. What had made Stanley so afraid? It was a far cry from the childhood they had known. He remembered the two of them, running wild wherever they pleased as long as they weren’t overtly in anyone’s way—which, in retrospect, he had to admit, they often were. Until they found the boat. No one had cared where they’d gone off to, ever. Free-range children. Was that not a thing anymore? He turned his attention back to his niece, who had found herself a little friend to run in circles with, her ball clasped between mittened palms. Ford wasn’t sure who was chasing whom. Her grin was broad and infectious and he found himself chuckling along with her from a distance.

He had to speak.

After a while, Stanford let out a small, shaky huff as he steeled himself. “Stanley.”

“What, Ford?” his flat tone unnerved Stanford.

“I know…” he trailed off. “I know we haven’t had the best…track record for communicating with one another in a long while. A long, long while.”

“Oh, geez. Here we go.”

Ford made it a point to ignore Stanley’s derision as he continued. “But I’m trying.” Stanford leaned forward and dug his elbows into his knees, his fingers sliding through his hair. “I’m trying, Stanley. I’m trying. Look, I… I know we’re likely to continue to fight. I know these things will take a while. It’s been three days, counting today, and I think we’ve only stopped bickering for a collective few hours, discounting time spent sleeping.” He ran a hand over his face. “I know I can’t rightly ask you for anything—” he ignored the huff, “but I just need you to know that I’m trying, okay? I don’t… I don’t want things to stay like this for us, alright? Even… Even with my head so far up my ass, as you so eloquently put it, that’s not what I truly wanted.”

Stanley remained still. Once again, he went back to keeping his silent watch, though after a few torturous moments, Ford caught a strained, slight nod as Stanley clenched and unclenched his jaw, working the muscles in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The tense muscles of his shoulders seemed to loosen, if only slightly. Stanford couldn’t help the tentative smile that fought to break its way across his face, nor the hand that reached up to slap his brother across the back one, two, three hesitant times. Maybe they could figure things out. Not simply, not painlessly, but at the very least, it seemed distantly, tentatively possible.

Ford’s eyes wandered back to his niece. “Is that a dog?”

“Yeah.” She and her little friend had plopped down in the dead grass to pet a small, fluffy dog that seemed quite happy for the attention.

“I wish she’d found another dog instead of the leprecorn.” Ford mumbled. “I still need to decide how to get rid of the damned thing.”

“Switch it out with a dog.” Ford turned to Stanley, his eyes searching.

“You’re serious.” A laugh began to bubble up, deep in the back of his throat.

“I’ll hold the damn thing down ‘n help you dye it, if it gets rid of that weird ass thing.”

“No, that wouldn’t suffice. We’d need to attach an artificial horn to the dog as well.”

“I got glue.” Stanley shrugged. “I hate that thing.” Ford guffawed.

Sooner than anticipated, Stella tired of the puppy and retrieved her discarded ball, abandoning her friend in favor of toddling over to the bushes. Stan tensed once again. She stared at the bushes for a while, which unnerved Ford, before finally moving to nudge the ball into the bush.

“Oh, kiddo. Why?” Stanley rubbed a hand across his face. Soon after, the ball popped out of the bush and over Stella’s head, bouncing away a few yards behind her.

“Well, that’s new.”

The little girl darted off after the ball and ran back to shove it back into the bush with a similar result. This time, she clapped and squealed before chasing after it once launched. Was there a gnome or three in the bush intent on playing fetch with children? He’d have to return later to suss them out.

Stella’s little friend reappeared and they both stared at the ball before shoving it back in and chasing after it once more, bounding off hand in hand across the park. Stan snickered beside him. “Atta girl.”

Ford had to admit, it was easily one of the sweetest things he’d seen in a long, long while. Ball retrieved, the two tottered back, taking a detour towards the bench. They started what Ford assumed was meant to be a skipping contest, though neither child was particularly coordinated enough to do much more than hop. Uncoordinated as she was, Stella tripped and landed face-first in the brown grass. Stanley was on his feet before Ford could process that she had fallen and darted over to stand the child upright. He brushed her off while she looked confused with the entire situation.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He gave her a once-over before nodding. “Good. Who’s your little friend?”

“Where?”

“Standing right next to you, pumpkin.” He tilted his head towards the other child. “Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi!”

“Hi. What’s your name?” The child just grinned.

“Ooookay. Fair enough.” He patted his daughter’s tummy. “You two go play some more, okay?”

“’Kay!” Stella picked up the ball she’d dropped, shoved it towards her father, then darted back off with the mystery child.

“Stay where I can see you, okay?” he called out.

“Okay!” her voice wavered with her bouncing steps. Ford heard Stanley chuckle as he ambled back to the bench. He dropped back down into his seat and Ford spared him a quick look, watching him scrub at his face briefly with his palm. As Stanley stooped forward with his elbows on his haunches, Stanford leaned against the bench’s back. Silence settled over them for a long while and, for what felt like the first time in ages, Ford felt no compulsion to break it. The pair sat quietly and watched as Stella and a gathered assortment of children worked their way through the lightning-fast rounds of whatever game they’d made up.

Had it been that simple when they were children? It couldn’t have been; they were always off by themselves. They wouldn’t have been so ostracized if that were the case. Though, Stella had to have gotten her easy charisma from her father.

“She certainly isn’t shy.”

“Nope.” Stanley popped the ‘p.’

“…That must be some sort of record in friend making. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it happen so quickly.”

“Eh. Get it where you can, I guess.” Stan shrugged.

Ford stared off somewhere behind the children. Why had it been so difficult for them, then? Had Stanley been born a singleton, he likely wouldn’t have had such issues. An uneasy weight pinched at the nape of his neck and settled across his shoulders and he scowled down at the dead grass between his feet. Now wasn’t the time to dwell.

Hours passed before Stella’s short little legs carried her back over to Stanley and she climbed her way into his lap. He lifted her up.

“Hey, pumpkin. You tired?”

“No.” The way she nestled down said otherwise, but Stanley made no comment, just raised his brow.

“Just wanted to come sit down?”

“Yeah.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, watching her make herself at home. “Can I have a hug?”

“Yeah.” She wiggled around and slung herself over Stanley's shoulder.

He laughed through his cooing noises as he patted her back. “You havin’ fun?”

“Yeah!”

“Good. I’m glad.” He hummed before leaning back to inspect her face. Ford craned his neck to do the same. Her cheeks were rosy, as was her little nose. She grinned down at Stanley for his troubles, her smile punctuated by a wet sniffle.

“Uh-oh. You okay?”

“Yeah!”

“You sure?” She gave him an emphatic nod.

“Wanna go play some more?”

She began to bounce along with her nod. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” Stanley cringed and lifted her out of his lap, setting her back on the ground.

“Alright, kiddo. Go play, then.” He looked a bit startled when the toddler latched on to his hand and began to tug.

“Okay, you come, too!”

Stanley shoved his eyebrows upwards. “Me? Don’t you think your uncle’ll get lonesome by himself?”

Stella leaned to the side to squint at Ford, still dangling herself from Stanley’s wrist. “Nope.” Well, damn.

Stanley cackled. “Alright, I mean, if you’re sure…”

“Yes, I’m sure! C’mon!” she tugged with all her might.

“Alright, sweetie pie. I’m comin’.” He hummed. “What’re we playin’?”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t? We gotta figure it out, then, don’t we?”

“Yeah!” The two voices trailed off as they loped away and Ford settled back to watch his brother and niece. Stanley had one of her little hands in each of his and marched around, hunched over while she stood on his feet. Ford jumped at a shriek she let out, but found himself smiling as Stan lifted her into the air, her feet flying outwards.

“Again! Again!” That much he could discern without difficulty.

They moved on to running in circles. Stanley had scooped her up onto his shoulders and was bouncing his daughter with each prancing step while her shrieks and giggles trailed far behind them. It was a sight he’d have to catalogue for posterity when they got back home. Maybe he could figure out a way to transcribe memories into photos. Surely Stan would want one for his…scrapbook.

He needed a proper scrapbook before anything else, but Ford knew any such gesture would be most unwelcome coming from him.

While Stanford was lost in thought, Stan and Stella returned, the child flushed but obviously pleased with herself while Stanley looked worn-out though content.

“Alright, missy. I think it’s time to head back.”

“’Kay.” She stuck a small mitten in Stanley’s bare hand and he used his free hand to snatch up the ball as Stanford shuffled to his feet.

“Ready?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Have we—”

“I was talking to Stella, Ford.” Again.

“Oh.” Stella dissolved into a fit of giggles. That was reasonable. “Fair enough.” Stanley snorted at him, and was surprised to note that his eye rolling didn’t seem particularly ill-natured for once. He’d take it.

He watched as Stanley contorted himself into the backseat to fasten Stella into her carseat. “Good to go.” He patted her tummy. Ford folded himself back into the passenger’s side to the tune of the child’s self-made song. Was it a song? He couldn’t discern any actual words. “Oookay.” Stanley sank behind the wheel and Ford watched him peer back at Stella in the rearview mirror before pulling off. She seemed content, if her little smile was any indication, and Ford chuckled at the way her little feet kicked to and fro.

“Hi.” She’d spotted him looking at her from the rearview mirror.

“Hello, dear.” The pause was not uncomfortable for once. “…Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah!”

“I’m happy to hear that.” The small child sent him a bright little grin and Ford was grateful to have been dragged along and subjected to such stilted conversation, if only for that smile.

But now what?

She had played through the majority of the day into the early evening. Surely she’d be tuckered out.

But what if she wasn’t?

What if she had another untapped reserve of energy to draw from? Surely coloring would only keep her entertained for so long. What did Stanley usually do to keep occupied? His brow furrowed as he preoccupied himself. He caught Stanley stealing odd glances at him from the corner of his eye and forced himself to straighten his expression.

“We’re here.” Good. Finally. Ford stood and pushed himself out of the car, stretching for good measure while Stanley crawled into the backseat. He emerged with a very confused child on his hip. “Wake up, sweetie pie. We’re here.” Oh. She’d fallen asleep. Ford supposed that answered his question.

“Where?”

“Ford’s house.”

Stella squinted at the exterior of the cabin, cast in shadow by the last tendrils of sunlight throwing their light behind it. “Why?”

“‘Why?’ Because it’s where he lives?”

“Why do we go too?” Ford strained to hear her mumble.

“I don’t get what you’re asking, honey.”

“We’re not s’posed to go too.” Ford paused with his keys in hand. What was the child getting at?

“Not supposed to—I don’t understand, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

The little girl let out a huff he barely caught. “We go in the car. When do we go back to the car?” Oh. Oh, fuck. Ford was going to be sick. He froze in place, eyes averted from parent and child. She wasn’t supposed to understand. She wasn’t supposed to have those questions. She wasn’t. If he’d said it once, he’d said it a dozen times. Stanley was more than welcome to stay with him, but Stanley kept brushing him off.

Living out of a car was preferable to living with him.

He’d thought they were making some sort of progress, slow though it may have been, but damned if he wasn’t wrong. No. That’s not right. These things would have to take time, and he knew that.

It didn’t change that fact that Stanley still preferred a car to him, and so, it appeared, did his child.

It took a while for Stanley to respond. “…I don’t know, sweetie.”

“Uncle Ford’s gonna come with us?”

“No, sweetie, he’s not.” He mumbled back to her. Sweet Moses. Ford had to strain to hear him and the small peck he pressed to her forehead through the fumbling jingle of his keys. No more. He shuffled his way up the porch steps, making as much noise as he could to avoid eavesdropping any further. He didn’t need to hear any more. He didn’t have the stomach for it.

“Ohh, fuck you.” He narrowly avoided tripping over the leprecorn sound asleep on the doormat. He’d set the damned mat on fire if it kept the stupid beast away.

“Bad word.” Stella whispered in the distance. He shuffled his feet in faint apology. The stupid creature scrambled to its feet in a clatter of hooves and turned from side to side as it tried to find the disturbance.

“Oh, come on. It shouldn’t take you that long to spot us, all, we’re all right here.” Ford shoved his key into the lock and turned the bolt, pushing the door open with a light shove.

“Hi, Lucky!” Stella shrieked. Stanley leaned as far away from her screams as he could without dropping her.

“Jesus, Stella. My eardrums.”

“Hi, Lucky!” she hissed in a poor approximation of a whisper. The stupid beast swatted its tail and pranced from foot to foot as Stella all but leaned herself into falling out of Stanley’s arms.

“Stella, sweetie, please.” He sighed, leaning with her to counter the sudden drop of her weight. “Oh, fine.” He set her down on her feet and straightened her coat while she wiggled out of his grip and away towards the multicolored abomination. She flung her arms around its stubby neck and the faint bagpipe music hit a high note Ford could have lived without hearing.

“Mwah!”

“Oh, no no no no, we do not kiss that thing!” Stanley swooped his daughter back into his arms and skidded through the threshold. “That thing is dirty. You don’t know where it’s been!” The little girl let out a single wail of protest as he took her into the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s go rinse your mouth out.”

Ford heard the faucet run as he battled the leprecorn with his foot, hopping backwards as he tried to get inside without the creature slipping past him. “You are not getting in. You shouldn’t even be on my porch. Why are you even here? Go bother someone else!” he paused. “Is that…Is that Danny Boy with everything flat?” The faucet turned off and Ford heard a soft thud, followed by pattering footsteps as Stella zoomed down the hallway, past his line of sight. “Stan! She’s headed for the stairs!” A metallic clatter left the kitchen, followed by Stanley’s thundering footfalls.

“Stella! No stairs!” He caught her hiking her leg up to stumble up, one small hand pressed against the wall. She pouted as he placed her on his hip.

“But I wanna go upstairs!”

“I get that, sweetie, but you can’t go by yourself. You could fall, ‘n that would make me sad. Okay?” he bounced her gently, his soft voice belying the panicked spark still fresh in his eyes.

“Lucky needs a blanket!”

“No, he doesn’t, sweetie. He’s like…half horse. Mostly horse. He’s got fur. He lives outside. He’s used to outside. He doesn’t need your blanket, but it’s awful sweet of you t’ wanna share.” Stella didn’t seem to agree.

“I’ve got a blanket for it, Stan.” He sent the man a quick nod as he roughly pushed the creature out the door with his foot, swinging the door halfway closed. He hurried off towards the treeline. Hopefully that towel was where he’d left it earlier.

Ford came back several minutes later, disgruntled but carrying the towel. “Here. Leprecorn blanket.” He held it high in the air for Stella to see, then dropped it onto the creature with a distinct lack of concern. “Now he’s not cold and we can all go inside without him.”

“Great! I think that sounds good. Does that sound good to you, sweetie?” she opened her mouth to speak, but Stan cut her off and hurried back through the door. “Great, that’s good, now let’s go inside where that thing isn’t.”

“That sounds preferable, yes.” Ford shuffled them all back inside and slammed the door in the beast’s face. He told himself the little twinge he felt was just allergies, nothing more. Certainly there was no guilt. That thing was objectively awful, and he stood by that statement.

It didn’t stop him from opening the door just a sliver to check on the damned thing.

≈

Dinner that evening proved to be uneventful. Stan and Ford slapped together sandwiches and Stanley settled in with Stella in his lap to share one.

Just the one.

Ford hid a frown. Stanley had always had the appetite of a ravenous beast. It was unlikely that part of a sandwich would sate him, though granted, Stella wasn’t much interested in food and only accepted the minimum amount Stanley deemed acceptable.

Now only if Stanley would do the same for himself. Ford stared at the pair for a moment, while Stanley stared at some uncertain point on the kitchen table. Stella had made herself at home against Stanley’s chest and was playing with the long tendrils of his hair that had come loose, her eyes slowly falling closed and shooting back open, only to drift back off again.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.” She mumbled, tilting her head up to stare at his jaw. Stanley rubbed at his scalp.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”

“Sorry.” She repeated. Stanley propped her up in order to give her a peck on the forehead.

“You look sleepy. Time for bed, huh?” He stood with a grunt and swung her onto his hip. “Let’s get you ready to go to sleep.”

“No.” She buried her face against him and closed her eyes despite her protest.

“Right.” He drawled. “Upstairs it is. Say goodnight, I guess.” He shifted the child onto his shoulder, where she peered over at Ford. She sent him a sleepy little wave and he smiled, wiggling his own fingers as a farewell. He wouldn’t wish her sweet dreams. He’d heard it enough in his own nightmares to send thick, inky dread down his spine at the thought of it.

It was too much of a threat at this point.

His eyes dragged across the sandwich materials still strewn across the counter. If he made another one, maybe he could “forget” about it and get Stanley to eat it when he came back down. That sounded like a reasonable course of action.

And so he waited.

His thoughts kept him company, unwelcome though they were. Stella was so used to the car, staying in one place for any length of time seemed unnatural. They were only on their third day with him, and she expected to be gone by now. He’d only just met her, Ford thought they were beginning to make headway in getting acquainted and reacquainted, but what did he know? Fuck-all, apparently. Stability must have been a foreign concept to the child.

Get it where you can, I guess. Wasn’t that what Stanley said? Was that why Stella was so…effervescent? If she didn’t make friends on sight, would she make any at all? She hadn’t bothered to learn any of the other children’s names. Was that normal? He wasn’t sure. None of the other children seemed inclined to care, either. Maybe it was.

He had to convince Stanley to stay. None of this was alright. It likely wouldn’t be until he and Stanley could actually talk without couched words and unintended slights and more fights. He didn’t know how long that would take, but he had to do something now.

When Stanley returned after putting Stella down, Ford was still lost at sea in his own little world, his dread and dismay crashing against him from all sides as he drummed his fingers against his cheek.

“Uh, hey.”

Ford jumped, staring up at the distraction. “Oh! Stanley. Good evening.” Stan gave him an odd squint for that.

“Uhh, yeah.” He hesitated near the doorway. Stanford didn’t know whether he should urge him in or let him be. Stan inched forward of his own accord. That settles that.

What unsettled Ford, however, was the brown blob he caught moments later drifting past out of the corner of his eye. His hands slapped against the edge of the table and his knuckles whitened as he jumped, sending Stanley into a stiff, defensive stance as it drifted towards the table.

Stan spun around. “Wh—Stella?” his arms fell limp and dangled for a brief moment before he lifted them up in disbelief. “What the heck, sweetie? What did Daddy say about the stairs? You could hurt yourself.” He fussed.

“I didn’t hurt myself.”

Stanley crouched down to lift the child, her little mouth puckered into a pout that clearly defined her feelings on the matter. “Yeah, but you could have.”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.” He hummed. “The point is,” he drawled, “that you’re not supposed to play on the stairs.”

“I didn’t play!” How could someone so small sound so affronted? “I walked.”

“Mmm-hmm. No playing on the stairs and no walking up or down or on or around the stairs without a grownup with you, okay?” She frowned at Stanley. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, come on.”

Ford chuckled at the pout pasted on Stella’s face as Stanley carried her away once again, her head bobbing along with his steps.

“I didn’t play.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay. But don’t go on the stairs again, okay?” their voices trailed up the stairs and Ford smiled at the fading noise, his cheek pressed against his fist. Maybe the second time would be the charm.

Stanley returned a short while later and dropped into the seat across from Ford with a sigh.

“…Kids?” Ford offered.

“I guess.” Stan propped his arms against the table as he leaned forward. A fond smile wrapped across his face. “Yawnin’ ‘n tired, but still won’t go to sleep.”

“I’m certain she comes by it honestly.” Ford hummed into his fist. “I seem to remember a certain someone refusing to sleep himself.”

“Hey, now, I loved my sleep. Used t’sleep all the time back in the day. You can’t pin that one on me.” Back in the day? What about now? Ford wasn’t one to speak. He could admit to that much. Insomnia was one hell of a state.

“That never stopped you from staying up late with a flashlight trying to read comics.”

“That was your idea, and you know it, Ford.”

“I think you’re missing the point.” The huff that masked Stan’s snicker was one of the most welcomed sounds Ford had heard in years.

“If the point is that you came up with that idea first, then yeah. I’m missing it.” He mumbled. “I’ll also miss the point’a the time you had us up reading that scary book until we were too scared t’ sleep at all.”

“Ma was so pissed off.”

“Psh. You ain’t foolin’.” Stan shifted and leaned back against the chair.

“We were in for it when Pa found out we neglected to sleep the entire night.”

Stanley was silent for a long moment. “Yeah.”

And once again, it seemed, Stanford Pines managed to ruin something. Stanley refused to look at him as he dragged his finger along the whorls that stretched along the kitchen table.

As the pair sat in prolonged silence, Stanford heard a small but determined whump and turned to his brother. Stanley tensed for a moment then sighed, pushing himself into a standing position as though resigned. Ford followed suit and the pair slipped into the hallway to find an errant toddler sitting confused at the foot of the stairs, her fingers splayed out on the floor at her sides.

“Stella.” Stanley huffed. His tone was firm as he crouched down to lift her to her feet, his joints popping. Ford almost winced. “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be in bed. And you’re not supposed to go down the stairs like you did.” His child frowned up at him. “You know why? Because you could fall, like you just did, and you could hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t fall!”

“So you just decided to sit on the floor? Okay.” Stan moved to squat so that he was eye-level with his child.

“No. I jumped.”

“You—Stella, that’s not good.”

“Yes.”

“No, sweetie. You jumped ‘n fell ‘n you could’ve hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. That’s why you’re s’posed t’ be in bed, missy.”

“I didn’t fall!” Her little voice was outright petulant. All she’s missing is a foot stomp.

“You jumped ‘n you landed on your bottom, huh?” Stanley deduced.

“Yeah. I didn’t fall.”

“Sweetie, that’s fallin’.”

“I didn’t!”

“Okay. You didn’t fall. Fine.” Stanley paused to run a hand through his hair, stopping as his hand snagged against the vestiges of the bun he’d put it in earlier. “You can’t be jumpin’ off the stairs, okay? You scare me doin’ that. Okay? It’s really important, Stella. Daddy’s scared you might really hurt yourself that way.”

The little girl let out a sniffle. Uh-oh. She looked absolutely distraught. “But I w-wanna be with you!”

Ford witnessed the very moment Stanley’s heart fell to pieces. “Oh, babydoll.” He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, honey.” He rocked back from his haunches to sitting cross-legged in the floor, pulling the child into his lap. She wiped her nose across his shirt, Stanford noticed, but Stanley didn’t seem to mind. “Were you lonesome? Is that what it is?”

The little girl hiccupped.

“You just didn’t wanna be by yourself did you, sweetheart? That’s okay.” He swayed side to side as he rocked her in the floor, his own voice wavering. “That’s okay, sweetie. That’s okay. Just… Just let me know next time, okay? That way we can skip the whole me-fussin’-atcha thing.” He tried to force a little laugh into his words. As far as Ford could tell, it didn’t work. “Sweet lil’ girl. You didn’t mean t’do anything you weren’t s’posed to.”

“I didn’t fall.” She wailed.

“I know you didn’t, sweetie. I know. Just… Please don’t scare me like that, okay? Please.”

The sudden realization that he was an interloper watching the two doused Stanford like a bucket of ice water. He excused himself from the intimate scene.

It felt strange to watch Stanley do something so mundane, so gentle as to comfort a worked-up child, and even more so for him to be worked-up by it himself. Stanley was supposed to punch away his feelings, but here he was, talking them through with a baby. Stanley’s baby.

Filbrick would have never.

The thought tasted like dust in his mouth and was just as welcome. He heard the floorboards creak as Stanley moved to stand, the sound ebbing and slowly slipping away. He must have been pacing. Sure enough, Stanford looked up in time to see Stanley turn on his heel, jiggling the child in his arms with each careful step as he patted her small back.

“Daddy’s here, sweetie. You know that. I’ll always be here, okay? Always.” He buried his face in the girl’s hair.

Ford felt an inexplicable ache deep in his chest as Stanley spoke.

A hushed silence stifled the kitchen as Stan and Ford sat, while Stella curled herself into Stanley’s lap.

“Finally asleep?”

“Yeah.” He could hardly hear Stan’s response. His brother ran a ragged hand down his face as he sighed. Stanley wasn’t supposed to make that face. He wasn’t supposed to look so vulnerable. He was the strong twin.

“I…You certainly are popular today.” Stanford offered.

It took Stan a long while to respond. “Yeah.” Another stiff bout of silence. “Gotta stop ‘n enjoy it while I can.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Stanley looked agitated. “She’s still little. They still like you when they’re little.”

“Stan, that’s not how that works. That’s not how that’s supposed to work.”

“Sure it is.”

“So you’re telling me you hate Ma now that you’re an adult?”

“What? No! Of course not!” he fidgeted. “That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

Stanley pursed his lips as he glowered at Ford. “It just is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Enlighten me.”

Stanley rolled his eyes, his tone tinged with whatever longsuffering indignation he’d engineered for himself. “I screw everything up, so it flip-flops. She’s the one who’s s’posed to—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought, Stanley.”

“But I mean—”

“If Stella gets older and makes a mistake, will you suddenly hate her?”

“Of course not! I could never—”

“Then why would you expect Ma to hate you?” He stared at Stanley for a long moment.

“That’s just how it works, Ford. I ruined things for everyone.” His voice was just above a faint grumble.

“Why would that—oh.” Fuck. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up on a large scale. A large, overarching scale with no discernible end in sight. “Oh, Stanley…”

“It just is.” He wrapped his arms tighter around the child in his lap.

And how could Ford argue? Their father had tossed him out like trash without batting an eye. If he didn’t want him, why would their mother? He didn’t have much reason to think otherwise, did he?

Worst of all, Stanford had made it so. He’d enforced that mindset himself. I ruined my brother’s life. He’d ruined his brother’s life and made the man shoulder the blame himself. How could he have fucked up so badly?

“I…Then surely you must hate me as well.” He ventured, wincing as he opened the proverbial door. No, he didn’t just open it. He might as well have kicked it down. Maybe Stan could have a good time wading through the rest of the insecurities he’d tucked away inside there, while he was at it. Stanley remained silent and refused to look at him, and it put Ford on edge. “I certainly made my share of mistakes.”

Stan groaned. “Ford, everything I got, I had comin’ to me ‘n we both know that.” Stanley bit his lip with a frown as he paused. His shoulders slumped. He looked so resigned. The last time Ford had seen that look was when they were teens and Stanley had gotten rejected by some girl or another. No, this wasn’t the same. There was something dark and heavy and quiet lingering behind his face now, more so than the morose ambling he’d known years ago. “I don’t… I don’t know, Ford. Okay? I don’t know about a lot of things. I think I’m still mad. I know I don’t wanna be here, that’s for damn sure, ‘n…” Ford winced at the look of sheer distaste curdling Stanley’s face, “ ‘n I know this is all one great big mess, but I don’t think I hate you.” Stanley sighed. “I’m angry, for sure. With you? Sure. Maybe. I guess. About? I dunno. Somethin’. A lotta things. Nothin’. Everything. I don’t know.” His hand flew back to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look. Can we… Can we not do this right now?”

Ford gave him a chalky nod, soft and crumbling. “Of… Of course. Certainly.”

“Good.”

Neither man spoke or moved, save for Stanley’s hand rubbing gentle circles along Stella’s back. Stanley broke the lingering dread with a sigh. He shifted the child so that she rested on his shoulder and pushed back his chair to stand.

“Are…Are you going to bed?”

“Nah. I need a cigarette.” Stan grumbled. Ford frowned, but caught himself.

“Do you… Do you want me to hold her?” his fingers twitched and he moved to push them under the table and out of sight. He caught Stanley scowl at him for it.

“I got ‘er. It’s fine. And stop…stop doin’ that, Ford.” He grumbled as an afterthought. “Quit hidin’ your hands. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Ford ignored him. “I’m fairly certain you aren’t supposed to smoke with small children that close.”

“Yeah, well, do what y’ gotta.”

Ford frowned. “Stanley, you don’t have to. I’m right here, I can hold her. She’s asleep.”

“She might wake up.”

“If she wakes up, I’ll tell her you went outside. It’s fine.”

Stan was silent for a moment. “But she wanted to stay with me.”

“Stanley. You’re going outside. It’s cold. She’s not dressed for cold. Look at her. She’s dressed to sleep, which she is. Asleep. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt. You can’t take her out like that.” He wasn’t dressed for the cold, either, but Ford was willing to let that slide. Stanley shuffled his feet, a frown crossing his face. You know I’m right. “Look. I’ll stand right here with her. I can see you from the window. If she wakes up, which she probably won’t, she can see you and it’ll be fine.”

Stan shuffled his feet. "You'll let me know if she wakes up?"

"Of course."

With a reluctant huff, Stanley crept close enough to pass off the child. "Here. Just...Just be careful, okay?" He whispered. Ford felt it obvious that Stanley didn't tend to let others hold his child.

"I can assure you, I'll stand here, in this exact spot, with the utmost of care." Stan either ignored the light jab or missed it altogether, giving Ford a shaky not as he fumbled through his pockets.

"I'll–I'll be right back. Right back." Moses, the man was spooked. He hadn't had this much difficulty in leaving when he went off in search of a fight ring. As he watched the man all but back out of the door without taking his eyes off of the child, it occurred to him that he might have gone through the same reluctant song and dance when he’d left to go and fight. Stella shifted in her sleep and Stanley all but leapt back through the half-closed door, eyes wide.

"Stanley. It's fine. Go smoke. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can take her back."

"Right. Fine." The door shut with a gentle click, and was immediately followed by Stanley's muffled yelp. "Fuck! Fuckin’ leprechaun! Can't you sleep somewhere better? Fuck's sake!" His footsteps thudded down the steps and Stanford turned on the porch light as an afterthought. At least now he’d be able to see the leprecorn. Better late than never.

Stanford began to pace as well, doing his best to imitate the motions Stanley had done moments before. He froze the moment Stella began to squirm, letting out a puff of relief when she settled back down. He knew he'd acknowledged it several times before, but she was miniscule. How could a person fit in his arms so completely? He found himself suddenly overwhelmed.

A tiny arm shot up and whacked Stanford in the face, nearly knocking his glasses askew.

Maybe the concept of holding small children was more involved than he anticipated.

*slides new chapter across table and runs away*

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #stella pines #reverse portal au #angst is my first middle and last name #thcm

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lilgreenfox · 7 years

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D&D 5e Homebrew Kitsune

Hi! I know it’s been a little bit since I last posted something here (it’s been a busy week), but to make up for it I’m finally posting my first bit of writing!

What I have for you today is a write-up for a playable Kitsune race in D&D5e, inspired heavily by the Pathfinder Kitsune.

DISCLAIMER: This race is completely untested! DMs, allow play at your own risk, and feel free to allow/ban any features as you see fit. Also, if you utilize this please lemme know how it goes!~

Additionally, I don’t describe them as Kitsune in the writing itself, instead referring to them as Voxen (Vortex Isles). This is because in me and @captainmista’s homebrew DnD realm Kitsune are a variant race off of Voxen, a wolf-based humanoid player race. For all intensive purposes, though, you may call them Kitsune in your own games. Feedback is appreciated. Thanks!

Not unlike their kin from Kaiken, the vulpine Voxen of the Vortex Isles are cunning individuals who use their natural talents in charisma and trickery to get their way. Though they are an incredibly rare sight, they can be spotted on all four corners of the Big Stretch as they seek out arcane power, riches, or whatever other treasures they may seek. Though they have a nose for trouble and an attitude to match, few can deny the fox variant of Voxen’s charm and inherent magical abilities.

Physical Features

Like Kaiken’s Voxen, the fox Voxen have furred, padded hands and long ears. Unlike the Kaiken variant, however, the claws of a fox Voxen are retractable. Combine that with a means of hiding their ears and tail(s), and one could easily mask themselves as human without any magic. While the range in appearance can vary, most fox Voxen also tend to have shorter, more manageable fur than a wolf’s, easily groomed if time is taken throughout the day.

The oddest feature of a Vortex Voxen that differentiates it from its lupine relatives is the arcane potential that is reflected by their tails. As a Voxen grows there are certain “checkpoints” in its life that cause its tails to magically split, multiplying as they become more accomplished. What exactly causes this is unknown, but is attributed to the race’s constant hunger for its personal goals. The more tails a Voxen grows, the more powerful they become, being able to cast spells even if they’ve never touched an arcane tome in their life. It’s rumored that if a Voxen can manage to obtain a total of 9 tails they become immortal, but no case has ever been properly recorded.

The sclera of a fox Voxen changes as they age. Children and young adults' eyes are hardly different from a human’s, with the only noticeable different being the odd iris color variations and of course occasionally slit pupils. As they age and their tails begin to split, the sclera starts to tinge the color of the iris, and when the fox reaches it’s “maximum potential” the sclera blends into the iris completely to form fully one-colored eyes.

Fur color and ear size varies based on the physical build of the fox. Shorter breeds (around 4’-5’) tend to have larger ears and lighter colored fur, usually white or tan. As the size increases (5’-6’), the hue darkens to oranges and browns. The largest of the breed cap out about about 6’6” and can be as dark as midnight, with black or navy-blue fur. The patterns in a fox Voxen’s fur vary based on the individual, but usually they have “caps” or “mittens” on their tails, hands and ears that are a significantly lighter/darker shade than the rest of their fur. Spots on the fur and skin are also common, though they’re often mistaken as freckles or vitiligo.

Culture

Vulpine Voxen don’t have much of their own culture- unlike the wolves of Kaiken they don’t have established territories or even villages. Instead, they stay with their guardians in small families until they find out their heart’s ambition. Once it’s been discovered they set out, either on their own or with the support of their family or party of friends. They pursue their goal, often referenced as their “Ambition”, until either they die or are completely incapable of pursuing it further. When a Voxen is incapable of pursuing their Ambition further, they typically settle down wherever they were stopped. Usually they do so believing that someday they may be able to continue their pursuit.

Children of Vortex Isle Voxen are similar to Tieflings in that when one parent is Voxen, the child always comes out 100% Voxen. The only manipulable traits of the non-Voxen parent, if any, usually is the height and therefore the color pattern of the child. A Voxen’s Ambition is also heavily based on the aspirations of their parents, whomever’s is stronger. The kits are born in sets of 2-6, with closed eyes, folded-over ears, and single, nearly hairless tail. Their growth directly correlates with the pressure to grow up in whatever community they’ve been placed in, capping at as early as 16 in stressful or war-torn territories. Their personalities, like Plantfolk, meld to match said community as well.

In whichever lands they grow in, Voxen are known to be passionate perfectionists in whatever crafts they apply themselves to. They’re excellent performers, being especially sensitive to pitch and tune thanks to their large, perky ears. They also can be seen enjoying craftmaking that requires a quick and dexterous hand, such as jewelry and glassblowing. On top of that, many Voxen are born gifted with arcane skill, pursuing magical power as their personal Ambition.

Playing a Voxen

Vortex Isle Voxen are so rare that it’s hard to really pin a stereotype to them. But like their lupine kin, they have a penchant for getting into trouble for their shenanigans. Luckily for them their wit and natural charm help them squeeze out of sticky situations. These Voxen are also very adaptable, allowing them to squeeze into any niche that a potential party of allies may require. As a Vortex Isle Voxen, you believe your future is yours for the taking, as long as you’ve got the willpower to continue chasing it.

Ability Score Increase You get a plus 2 to Charisma and a plus 1 to Dexterity Age Vortex Isle Voxen reach maturity at around 18-20 years of age. With a single tail, they live for up to 60 years- but for each extra tail they manage to obtain, their life expectancy doubles. It’s speculated that a nine-tailed Voxen is functionally immortal, with how long they can live. Alignment Fox Voxen lean towards the chaotic side, driven by the primal arcane urges that allow them to sprout more tails. Size Though there are very few Voxen in existence at a time, their sizes have a great range. They can be anywhere between 4’-6’6” in height, with weights that vary with their body types. Language You speak Common and Voxen, along with one third spoken language related to your travels or upbringing. Speed You’ve got quick feet and can move at 35 ft/round. Darkvision You have darkvision, which allows you to see up to 60 ft around you even in complete darkness. This vision allows you to see things in that radius but only in black and white. Retractable Claws You are born with a set of slim but dangerous claws that can be retracted to look like normal, albeit sharp fingernails. It’s a free action to sheathe or extend your claws. In combat you are proficient with them, and on a hit they deal 1d4 and have the Finesse property. In addition, if you are proficient in Sleight of Hand you can use them to pick locks, though they do not provide any bonuses to the check itself. Fox Form While fox Voxen don’t have the same bonuses to senses or the counter-charm ability as their wolf brethren, they have the unique ability to shift into the form of a fox. While they appear to be a completely normal fox when transformed, those proficient in magic can detect their true form using a Perception check (competing with a DC equal to the fox’s Charisma modifier + their Proficiency modifier + 10). Your particular fox form is based solely upon your height, listed below. (Note: These are the “default” settings for deciding form. If you’d like to be a different height than the forms assigned, go ahead! Rules were meant to be broken)

The abilities you obtain while in Fox Form, which you only have in Fox Form, are listed below:

All forms have the Pounce Ability, with a DC equal to 8 + Proficiency mod + Dex mod

Pounce: If the fox moves at least 20 ft. straight toward a creature and then hits it with a claw attack on the same turn, that target must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. If the target is prone, the fox can make one bite attack against it as a bonus action.

All forms use the base stats for a Cat, except for these changes:

Intelligence of 4

Wisdom of 14

No climb speed

d6 hit die

Claw attack deals 1d4 + Dex mod damage, and can be used as if they were a weapon with Finesse

4′11″ and under: Fennec Fox Form

You have a Burrow speed of 15 ft, which increases to 30 ft in sand

Keen Hearing: You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks based on sound

5′-6′: Arctic Fox Form

You have advantage on Stealth checks when outside

You have either a Summer (brown) or Winter (white) coat

The Summer coat gives you resistance to fire damage

The Winter coat gives you resistance to cold damage

6′1″+: Red Fox Form

Your size is Small instead of Tiny, and your Dexterity is 16.

You have proficiency in Survival, and advantage on Survival checks done in urban areas.

When in Fox Form, the items on your person meld into yourself and become inaccessible till you transform back. The rules on your transformation are the same as a Druid’s Wild Shape ability. However, some things are different- you can speak the same languages you do in humanoid form, and you can transform into this form as many times as you’d like per day, though it costs a full round action rather than a bonus. In addition, you must be able to concentrate on holding the Fox Form while in it. You automatically lose concentration on any concentration-based spells you’re casting in humanoid form, and if anything were to overly distract from your concentration (ie, being knocked prone, taking damage, getting drunk/laughing too hard, or becoming incapacitated) you must make a Constitution saving throw with a DC determined by the DM based on the distracting force, or be forced back into humanoid form.

Vulpine Ambition The ultimate way a Vortex Isle Voxen shows it’s true power is through the usage and display of their tails, which are earned by making progress in their personal Vulpine Ambition. This Ambition must be a broad goal that can be segmented into proper milestones. For example, a Voxen Bard may have their Ambition be “to become famous, a household name that everyone recognizes”. Proper milestones are up to DM discretion, but it’s advisable to pace them so that the player can obtain their 5th tail at about 12th level, and their 9th tail around level 18-20. Each milestone should have a requirement that’s far better than the previous one.

Continuing the bard example:

Their second tail could be earned by performing at a nice restaurant,

Their third by drawing a crowd in a fairly large town,

Their fourth being asked for an autograph in a town they’ve never visited before,

Their fifth performing for a duke or other noble,

Their sixth by being offered great sums of money by multiple people to the point where they have to turn down very wealthy individuals,

Their seventh by playing for and impressing a king or likewise ultimate ruler

Their eighth by abruptly ending a great battle or war with their music, and

Their ninth and final tail by appeasing an almighty force such as an ancient dragon or a god, stopping them from causing an apocalypse.

These milestones can be set by the DM, or simply rewarded whenever the player does something especially incredible. Lastly, all Voxen grow at a different pace, and so earning multiple tails while the same level, not learning any for a long time, or even not earning all tails by the end of the story are all fine and natural.

When a tail is obtained, the Voxen obtains a spell-like ability that is usable twice per day, per tail. They are born with their first tail and obtain more as they complete their Ambitions.

Dancing Lights

Disguise Self

Charm Person

Nyustul’s Magic Aura

Suggestion

Mirror Image

Greater Invisibility

Confusion

Dominate Person

Your caster level for these spells is equal to your hit dice, and your spellcasting modifier and DCs are based on your Charisma.

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I know the abilities of the race are pretty complex, but they were the best I could do to mirror the power level and flexibility of the Pathfinder Kitsune. I do hope you enjoyed reading this, and if you have criticism or wish to utilize this race just let me know. Thanks!

-Christian Byrnes, aka Lilgreenfox

#writing #dnd5e #kitsune #custom player race #homebrew #dnd #d&d #voxen #halintar #the big stretch #vortex isles

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