#reminds me of my little sculpted wizard

[epicwizardpics]

Look at them

I AM LOOKING

[crabussy]

brief alter introduction because a lot of them use this account now and again!!

—————

robin- me!! the host. freak of nature, creature, horror/wilderness enjoyer. mentally i’ll about aotearoa for whatever reason. enjoyer of cringe. he/they/it, 16

phoebe- she’s soooo cool. overuses the cat face emojis but we love her. music taste is insane. projects images of cock and balls into my brain because she thinks it’s hilarious. she/her, 19

alastair- nervous wreck, resident academic, adores astronomy but knows next to nothing about it. messiest fucking room ever, thank god dust isn’t a thing in headspace. he is like a wizard to me. he/him, 24

bee- everyone’s mom. would make killer jam if she had access to good fresh fruit.. SUPER good hugs. literally the nicest ever, very concerned about my questionable life choices. she/her, 36

jasper- pretends to be stone cold and mature but in reality he’s kind of a softie. diet consists of cherry flavoured everything (GROSS) and cola (ACCEPTABLE) reminds me of a young crowley in some ways. he/him, 21

circe- local witch. pronounces her own name wrong. deeply appreciative of dark fairycore and fairygrunge, listens almost exclusively to molchat doma and phonk???? swamp enjoyer. very cool. she/her, 17

nat/nathan/natalie: shares names with both my aunt and uncle which is kinda weird!!!! the most pirate ever. very chill but also very unchill when shit hits the fan. she’s very very cool and intimidating and I am sometimes nervous to talk to him. she/he/they, 22

francis- geeky, nervous, extremely lanky and super sweet. she’s very nostalgic about kiwiana stuff (chocolate fish!!!! footrot flats!! waiheke!! L&P!!) and tied to our childhood memories. super fun, has awesome mint green frizzy hair. she/they, 16

claire- absolute hippie /t. tie dye tapestries and stained glass wind chimes and healthy food. she’s awesome, wine aunt of the system, somehow likes salad and kombucha. very nice gal!! she/her, 25

oliver- Normal Guy of all time. the only vaguely unusual thing about him is that he’s ginger. enjoys cooking, sculpting/stop motion, and browsing reddit. very exploratory with his hobbies which I admire (: he/him, 16

katie- shark enthusiast. gave herself sharp teeth just because. completely nuts, sharp as a tack, Observer Of Details. likes bugs too, and really enjoys street food. short LOL HAHHAHAAHA. she/they, 14

chester- I keep calling him max by accident. little bear cub ankle biter, first thing he ever did while fronting was put 10 kilos of hair gel in our hair and make devil horns out of it. evil. where the wild things are enjoyer. he/him, 11

julian- fashion king, makes zebra print look good, loves peacock feather motifs. possibly a satyr?????? or something??????? no clue. he’s very fabulous, reminds me of zulius from centaurworld. he/him, 27

silas- aspiring botanist, somehow both eccentric and super composed simultaneously. loves plants, finds them fascinating, approaches life with logic and strategy which doesn’t always work but hey. he/him, 40

jon- former head archivist of the magnus institute etc etc. gets up in the middle of the night to shuffle around, talk to my cat, and be paranoid. love him. he has long greying hair and a great fashion sense. very knowledgeable!! tired. he/they, 29

martin- polite but also a bitch. he’s allowed honestly. lover of pecan pie, and most pastries. stronk…. big…… Holder Of The Jon… enjoys travelling and occasional company. fluffy strawberry blond hair and thick dark eyebrows. has custody over our only turtleneck jumper. he/him, 31

zoe- like a mini phoebe (don’t tell her I said that /j). likes tennis and racing games, listens to music that sounds like you’re being put in a blender. enjoys neon highlighter-like colours and being a Menace. she/her, 13

caleb- super funny and creative. very neurodivergent, really likes dragons and other mythology. likes drawing and making up stories, very chatty. he/him, 10

sun- oh so cheerful!! so much fun, mischievous at times, super good with kids!!! resident robot. loves to wear clashing patterns and colours, sticks his tongue out when he thinks, a bit clumsy but also very agile. sweet tooth, loves shiny things and crafts. he/they/she/sol, ageless

moon- super graceful. calm and collected, great sense of humour where you can never tell if they’re joking or not, loves silky clothes and shiny accessories. capable of lulling anyone to sleep except itself </3 loves figure skating and deep sea life. other resident robot!! great singing voice… they/he/it, ageless

selene- bubbly and intense!! life of the party, wearer of the pinkest clothes ever, fashion icon, very passionate about womens rights and queer struggles. so much blonde hair. she’s like if a bimbo was a woman in STEM. love her. she/her, 23

aries- kind of an asshole, getting better, strong opinions about the way the system functions. they’ve decided they have curling ram horns and love the colour purple-red. good music taste, dresses like they’re from genshin impact. they/them, 18

xavier- cool boy swag, formerly known as crowe, super laid back and doesn’t talk much. wants a pet raven so bad, doesn’t listen to music much, wants to create music tho. Ive never seen him wear colour ever. he/him, 18

that’s everyone for now!! some of them have their own blogs accessible via @menagerie-crew

tl;dr: there are FRUITS IN MY BRAIN AND THEYRE COAXING ME INTO DOING DUMB SHIT. I LOVE THEM ALL

[succulentsunrise]

Where the Fire Lilies Grow

Content: SFW!

Sorry it took so long but I really wanted to amp the suspense!! I hope you like it 😁

Tag list: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare, @lyranova ❤️

< Previous | Next >

Chapter 9: The Dungeon

“I’ve fallen in love with adventures, so I begin to wonder, if that’s why I’ve fallen for you.”

E. Grin

The forest spanned a large area. To a certain point, it was like any other forest. Subtly, however, the vegetation changed: it was more vibrant, more invasive and much bigger in size. Large roots of tilted trees curled towards the surface, creating a difficult terrain to walk on. The grass and plants that had gathered on the ground cut off all natural paths from sight. The branches of the trees were intertwined together with large, beautiful leaves. The beauty of the forest was not lost on Tani. It was intriguing, too - she had never seen anything grow so large outside of the neutral zone. Some of the plants she couldn’t even recognize. She would occasionally, to the amusement of her teammates, stop and wonder at some of them. Either this side of Clover had plants that her books and adventures had failed to notice, or the dungeon had brought new plants with it. Whichever option it was, Tani was certain they’d know after they’d find the dungeon. That, however, was a little harder to accomplish. The entrances to dungeons were usually rather plainly visible. This one was not. No matter how much they circled around the forest, they couldn’t find a path, cavern or even a large enough hole to move through. It was as if there wasn’t a dungeon there.

“What the--what is going on here?” Icree asked, frustrated enough to almost curse.

“Dungeons aren’t meant to be sentient enough to hide, are they?” Tani questioned humorously.

“No!”

“If I had to make a guess, it has to be in the middle of this forest.”

“Luka--,” Icree started to turn towards the young man, but before she finished, he had already nodded to her.

Luka had always been good at reading Icree’s moods and acting upon them. He had worked long enough with her to know what she wanted. He muttered a few words underneath his breath and several sculpted birds sprung from his hands. In answer, Icree conjured a group of butterflies, guiding them to move towards the edges of the overgrowth. She closed her eyes, likely trying to sense the right positioning through the overflow of mana. She then moved her arms up, slowly. Tani knew that wherever they were, the butterflies were flying up to signal to Luka’s sculptures where the edges of the overgrowth were. Luka would then be able to see how far they were from the middle through the eyes of his sculpture and the mana that Icree was spending. It was a rather complicated combination of spells, but hardly the first time they did it. Tani kept one hand on her sword, making sure no one would surprise them.

“We are north of the center,” Luka said after a long pause. “Here, follow me.”

He began to lead the others carefully through the woods, ever so often closing his eyes and ascertaining they were coming closer and closer to the middle. Tani kept an eye out for trouble still. The forest was quiet and calm. She tried to listen for bird songs or the subtle steps of animals, but it was as if they were avoiding the area. Tani felt a small chill creeping up her back and she instinctively moved her shoulders to shake it off. It was a move she immediately regretted - her left shoulder painfully reminded her of still being in the process of healing. Tani let out a defeated sigh. It would take a while to recover. At least she could hear insects around her, if not other animals. A bee was buzzing somewhere close by. Her gaze scanned the area around her, concentrating on a plant that she didn’t quite know. Its white petals were papery and still in a bud - unless they were not meant to open. She peered at it a little closer. What had seemed like petals to her were not quite so. It was more likely that the sepals of the flower had grown to form a protective bubble around the flower’s fruit, whatever it was. Tani smiled a little bit. Perhaps whatever was causing this overgrowth was at least not harmful to the plants themselves. Not wanting to be left behind, Tani let her gaze travel up, deeper into the forest. Immediately, she recoiled with a jolt. In the blink of an eye, what she had seen had disappeared, and yet -

Tani was rather sure she had seen a form there. A form of a person with curly hair and intense, blue gaze. It had stared at her from between the trees, filled with an emotion that she wasn’t sure how to read. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain that it had almost been a hostile gaze - a cold, calculating one. Had it been a trick of sunlight that the hair had seemed so warmly orange? Tani searched the treeline with her gaze, uncertain. Whatever had been there, wasn’t there anymore. Perhaps the bush had made her see things. She glanced around herself. Yes, the way the bush swayed in the wind could be mistaken for hair. It was a bit of a reach, but perhaps. The sunlight and the slight twinkle of blue sky - she had simply seen things. Tani took hastily steps forward to follow Icree and Luka. The sight had made her jump, and it was hard to calm back down. She kept glancing backwards, as if to make sure the bush had not come back alive. It however stayed swaying in the wind, as if waving her goodbye.

“It’s here,” Luka stated, stopping suddenly.

Tani looked forward nervously. The central point didn’t look any different from the rest of the forest: it was filled with a haphazard collection of trees, roots and rocks.

“There has to be a way to find it,” Icree muttered, jumping over the roots with an ease to reach the moss-covered cliff. She examined it with a thoughtful eye.

“Let’s scrape the moss off these rocks. Maybe it’s underneath them,” she commented, already rolling back her sleeves to start.

“Don’t!” Tani said quickly.

She rushed to Icree’s side, gently placing herself between the moss and Icree.

“Why hurt them, when I can just ask them to move?” she lectured her friend with a hurt voice, ignoring Icree rolling her eyes.

“It’s moss, Tani.”

“Hey!” Tani reprimanded, turning to the covered cliff. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her hurt you.”

There was the gentle dark green glow of her magic, and the moss and the plants seemed to almost crawl away from her hands. At the same time, there was a rumble, as if from deep underground. Tani quickly pulled her hands off the stone, looking around. Icree and Luka were doing the same, taking out their grimoires. Everything around them was still calm and quiet. Unnaturally quiet, almost. Tani glanced back to the stone.

“Look - the entrance,” she gasped, pointing at it.

The peeled back moss had revealed chipped frames of a doorway, blocked by an enormous stone slab. The slab wasn’t even the right size for the entrance. It looked like it had intentionally been put in front of it to hide it.

“What was that rumbling?” Icree asked, still alarmed.

“Something reacted to your magic,” Luka said with a glance to Tani.

“Perhaps,” she considered slowly. “Nothing happened, though.”

“The entrance appeared.”

“Yee-ees, but--it’s not exactly a defense.”

“Maybe the wizard that made this place was a plant mage and it’s gone a little faulty during the years?” Icree suggested, scratching her head. “Either way, we have an entrance.”

“I’m not sure if that makes any more sense, but we don’t have enough to build on,” Luka sighed.

“Let’s keep it in mind and open the way for now,” Tani said, knocking lightly on the stone slab in their way.

The others nodded their assent, and the three of them gathered around the stone. Most of the pushing came from Tani. Out of the three, she was by far the strongest, thanks to her upbringing and her constant exercising. As soon as they had pushed the stone to the side, a burst of hot air emerged from inside. For Tani, it was as if someone had trapped a volcano inside the dungeon and this was the first chance the air had to escape. All three of them immediately backed away from the entrance. Fortunately for them, there was no fire or flame that would have followed. There was simply an unbearable heat as the burst of flame began to quell. The three of them peeked carefully in, uncertain what they might see. The corridor that opened before them was filled with ashes and charred remains of what had once been plants. They swayed and crumbled in the disappearing burst of heat. It seemed like the walls of the corridor had once been covered completely in plants and moss.

“What happened here?” Tani asked, looking at it all. “Was this--was this a trap?”

“I didn’t see any glyphs,” Icree replied quickly. “No, I think - either this place hides an incredible heat source inside of it or someone came here before us.”

“The entrance was hidden,” Luka chimed in, shaking his head. “If someone had found it, they would have left it visible.”

“A heat source like this - I don’t know. This stone was put here by someone, I don’t think it is this dungeon’s natural door. It’s--”

Icree sighed in frustration, staring at the charred entrance.

“It’s too big. It doesn’t fit. It would be logical to assume that someone didn’t want us to find the dungeon and hid it with the slab, but--but to make plants and moss grow over it, they’d have to have plant affinity like Tani--or--or illusion magic--?”

“They were real plants,” Tani interrupted her. “I--we would have noticed.”

“Would we have? There was that rumble.”

“I know that my magic affected something here, Icree.”

“This could have simply been a trap,” Luka insisted quietly. “Perhaps whoever came here triggered something. A trap near the entrance.”

“A trap near the entrance...yes, perhaps. Perhaps we are dealing with a mage, who didn’t notice it,” Icree agreed thoughtfully. “And this dungeon just has fire traps.”

Tani looked uneasily at the charred marks.

“I’ll be at a disadvantage, then,” she noted. “We should be careful. If the traps in this dungeon are of this caliber, we don’t want to trigger them.”

Icree nodded and began stepping into the corridor. She was the best at detecting magic and so had the highest chance of noticing if anything was wrong. She took out of her bag a magically infused lamp and created a little butterfly inside of it. Unlike a fire lamp, these types of lamps were unaffected by wind and brought better illumination all around them. Tani and Luka followed carefully, scanning the walls for hidden doors or glyphs. After the entrance, the burnt places became more like patches, revealing the extent of the overgrowth in the dungeon corridor. There was a galore of alluring greenery that had grown all over the wall and ceiling. Once more, Tani found her attention turning to the condition of the flowers. Most of their leaves were white. Some displayed other colours - a variation of red, yellow and even purple - but none of them were green. There was, in fact, a remarkable lack of green colour among them.

“Fire and plants,” Icree muttered, shaking her head. “If the creator of this dungeon was a plant mage, why would they put fire traps in?”

“It’s rather illogical,” Tani agreed. “Not only that, they didn’t leave any light source for these poor plants. Yet they are somehow alive.”

“Maybe the infiltrator - or rather, infiltrators since it would be weird for just one mage to come here - has fire magic?”

“Why would they have used so much magic just to the entrance, and then blocked it with a stone?”

“I don’t know,” Icree sighed. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now.”

“Maybe the plants are the infiltrators,” Luka suggested, half-jokingly.

Icree gave him a half-hearted glare and continued to move forward. Tani followed, wondering about the theory. What if there were no other infiltrators? Could she make the presence of fire and plants work? Perhaps it was meant as a counter - plant magic had understandable disadvantages with fire magic. If there had been traps with fire magic, it could have been to catch any fire mages unawares. Did the creators of this dungeon expect mages with fire affinity? If only they knew more about the dungeons and their creators. Tani sighed, directing her attention back to the corridor they were traversing. It was wide enough for two people to walk comfortably next to each other as it slowly began to slope downwards. She could see further away, illuminated by Icree’s light, the opening to a chamber of some sort. Perhaps there would be some answers there.

Tani’s hopes for answers were squashed immediately as they entered the chamber. Its walls were lined with variegated flowers and plants, and the ceiling had been conquered by hanging ivies. The chamber floor was strangely uneven, consisting of both small bumps and larger shapes, all hidden under the blanket of vegetation. If there was something in the room, it had been overtaken by the plants a long time ago. As Tani’s gaze travelled across the chamber, she noticed that only the western wall had been charred. Someone had very clearly burnt a door-sized hole into the wall of plants, revealing an actual door behind it. The wooden door bore signs of having been slightly burnt along with the plants. Slowly, as if realizing her gaze on it, the door began to move. A tortured, creaking sound emerged from its ancient hinges as it slowly began to open. Tani took a step back, alerting the others even though they had heard the sound as well. Icree swung the lamp in the direction to better illuminate the area. Nothing was there. Beyond the doorway lay a dark corridor, where the group could see giant thorny thickets on each side. The bushes climbed all the way up to the ceiling, seeming almost ghostly in their whiteness. The thickets were dense enough to block any sight beyond them.

“Hello?” Tani called out, but Icree shushed her.

Icree began to quietly approach the door, a finger on her lips. Tani frowned, but followed her lead. They moved silently, trying to peer through the door’s cracks to see anyone. The door kept opening, but no one seemed to be behind it.

“The magic is stronger here, but I can’t sense anyone,” Icree said finally, illuminating the pathway in front of them with her lamp.

“Someone has definitely passed through here,” Tani commented, glancing at the burnt doorway. “Maybe there’s enough wind for the door--well--for it to open?”

The three of them exchanged disbelieving glances. It was a little too convenient. None of them felt any kind of wind in the stale, hot air. As they stepped through the doorway, Tani put her hand on her sword. All her muscles were tensed, as she was prepared for an attack or an ambush of some kind. Nothing of that sort happened, however. The corridor seemed to simply continue forward. The plants were different here - they were thorned and difficult to see through. The three of them advanced through the corridor carefully. Icree walked in the front, the lamp showing the way, and magic occasionally flickering near her fingertips. Luka was more composed, not showing his tenseness as easily. Still, his eyes scanned the area constantly, and he kept rubbing his right hand’s fingers together - a sign of his nervousness. Tani kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, but her thoughts were almost fully on the plants. They had no sunlight here, yet there were so many of them. They thrived, despite the limitations. It was surprising and worrying. There were no insects or animals to harm or help the plants. In fact, the quiet of the forest continued in the dungeon. The only sounds that Tani could hear were their own footsteps.

The corridor in front of them divided into three different paths. It seemed like they had reached a crossroads of sorts. Despite Icree trying to bring the lamp closer to any of the corridors, it was difficult to say which way would lead them to answers.

“Any guesses?” Icree asked.

“I can’t sense anyone else here,” Luka admitted, shaking his head.

A small noise from their right caught their attention - a small crackle, like a branch or a twig snapping. They all froze still, gazes fixed to the rightmost corridor. Then they heard it: a gentle, muffled step, another. Someone was walking. Icree put a finger on her lips again and motioned towards the corridor. The butterfly in the lamp grew dimmer and darker, as Icree lessened the amount of mana she was channeling into it. The corridor turned in front of them. Instead of peeking, Icree motioned to Luka, who created a tiny sculpture of a ladybug. It crawled into the thicket, out of Tani’s sight. It was hard for her to stay still. The footsteps were quieter, but they had to be careful. Reconnaissance was more Luka’s thing than hers, but she craved to do something and not just stand there. Eventually Luka shook his head, signalling that no one was in the corridor, and they moved again. The path turned almost immediately again, but this time they didn’t stop. Luka had checked both corners. Instinctively, all three of them began moving quicker. They were all holding their breaths, trying to listen to the footsteps. With their own mixed in, it was more difficult to make them out. Another turn that they moved through quicker - just to be faced with a dead end. Tani looked down to the ground. There were subtle imprints there, big enough to belong to a human with boots. She raised her gaze from the ground to the white thicket. Icree and Luka were looking around as well, wearing as perplexed expressions as herself. The thickets still rose all the way to the ceiling. There was no way to go around, under or above. An idea struck Tani, and she moved closer to where the footsteps ended. She gently touched one of the flowers of the thicket, pressing her finger against it and pushing. It moved under the pressure, and then slid off, one of its thorns grazing her finger. It seemed like it wasn’t an illusion, after all.

“They can’t have passed through here,” Tani muttered, withdrawing from the thicket.

“Maybe they parted the plants,” Icree suggested, dissatisfied with their solutions. “Or they have magic that allows them to pass through certain death traps.”

“I could try parting it, but they are built rather densely. There’s not much space for them to move to, and the ground looks undisturbed here.”

“There’s not really anywhere else they could have gone.”

The three of them looked at the thickets again. They looked sharp and dangerous.

“I’ll try opening a path,” Tani sighed.

She hovered her hands over the thicket carefully, barely not touching them. She concentrated. These plants weren’t easy to manipulate out of the way. They resisted. Tani increased her magic a little, still trying to gently move them to the side. The thickets rustled their complaints, but slowly began to bend out of the way. Behind them, another path was revealed. It was identical to the one they had been traversing so far. Icree stepped into the new corridor, her lamp illuminating a turn ahead of them. Tani glanced at the ground. She couldn’t see any footsteps in it, but perhaps whoever had been there, had decided on a softer approach. They all stood silently still for a moment, trying to listen for footsteps. They shared glances, each of them shaking their heads. No one could anymore hear the steps. No one either wanted to break the silence that had fallen, as if to hear better everything that happened around them. They continued following the path, ever so often stopping to listen. The plants stayed as variegated as before. Tani could see some similar ones as those outside - the white, lantern-like flowers seemed to bloom at the lower levels of the thickets as well. She would have otherwise stopped to look at them, but she didn’t want to waste time right now. Perhaps later, when they would be coming out of the dungeon.

Suddenly, Tani felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around instinctively, looking behind her. There was no one. A small shiver passed through her, but her gaze found a nearby branch with plump, white leaves. It had probably brushed against her shoulder. The thought calmed down her racing heart a bit, and she let out a small sigh of relief. There was something else as well: pieces of dark red fabric, tangled deep inside the thicket. Tani frowned. The light suddenly almost disappeared, so she turned to look back at her friends. The corridor in front of them had turned to the right, as well as she could see in the dark, and the light was being obstructed. They hadn’t noticed that she had stopped.

“Wait just a moment, Icree, Luka,” Tani shouted.

The light stopped moving, though it was surprisingly dim. Tani listened for a moment, but was satisfied as she couldn’t hear the other two moving. Gently, she began to coax open the thicket in front of her with her magic. The branches opened up easily, allowing her to extract the crimson fabric. It had definitely been ripped out of a cloth.

“What a naughty thicket you’ve been,” Tani muttered under her breath and turned to walk back to Icree and Luka.

As Tani’s steps echoed in the silence, the light seemed to start to move again. In fact, it left her almost in pitch darkness. She hurried along, trying to catch up with the other two. However, when she turned the corner, she found herself still in darkness.

“Icree?” she called out.

Tani couldn’t see any light anywhere. She had been suddenly thrust into pitch black, and her eyes had difficulty adjusting to it.

“Luka?”

There was still no answer.

Confused, Tani reached into her own bag and retrieved a similar lamp as Icree had. Instead of a butterfly, she filled hers with a tiny shining plant. It illuminated less area than Icree’s, but it was enough to see around.

“Guys?” she shouted a little louder.

The corridor in front of Tani seemed to only stretch forward. No matter how much she waved her lamp around or investigated, she couldn’t find a corner or bend where Icree and Luka would’ve gone to disappear from her so completely.

Tani was alone, separated from her friends, and without a clue where to go.

[loonylupin5]

Sorcerers of the Arcane

'Let it be known who we are...'

A devastating massacre occurs at the Ministry of Magic on the evening of August 23rd, 1889. The murder of 127 witches and wizards sends the wizarding world into a state of anguish and worry. Who are the group of dark sorcerers that could commit such a crime? Will they be locked up in Azkaban? When will they strike next?

Ex-Auror turned professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Viran Leveret, is called upon to help the Aurors track down the cult of dark wizards and put a stop to them. He faces his past traumas, disturbing challenges and strained relationships, and must not lose himself to the task he has been set.

This is an original story with original characters set in the wizarding world of Harry Potter! Please give this series a chance, as I have worked very hard on it, and I really hope you enjoy it.

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

PROLOGUE (#1)

Faris Spavin was a man that loved to listen to himself talk. It was his favourite thing to do, in fact, and could simply go on forever about the story of how he narrowly survived an assassination attempt made by a centaur, who took offence to the punch line of his infamous 'a centaur, a ghost and a dwarf walk into a bar' joke; but changed the narrative each time to somehow make it longer than it really was.

Though he seemed like a complete garrulous fool, as his nickname of Faris ‘Spout-Hole’ Spavin would suggest, he was quite proud of his accomplishments in wizard legislation including the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, in 1875, thank you very much!

Sadly, little to his knowledge, a large portion of the wizarding world finally saw him for the long-winded annoyance that he was, when in 1883, the Muggle government made plans to flatten The Leaky Cauldron, with the creation of Charing Cross Road. Faris Spavin made a melancholy seven-hour speech before the Wizengamot explaining why the Leaky Cauldron could never be saved, which, to his word, “Will be the greatest loss of my entire lifetime. Countless hours I spent in that pub, drinking amongst friends, telling great tales, and cracking the best jokes. That reminds me, actually, of a joke I once told the Minister of Denmark may back in ’67, she absolutely adored it…”.

During the course of his tedious speech, however, the wizarding community rallied and performed a mass of memory charms (some say, although it has never been conclusively proven, that the Imperius curse was additionally used on several Muggle town planners), so that the Leaky Cauldron was now accommodated in the revised plans for the new road. After his speech, his secretary presented him with a note describing the developments that had just invalidated his words.

Miraculously, nevertheless, he still reigned as Minister for Magic for another year. In this time, Spavin made some particularly noticeable reforms to the game of Quidditch. One hot night on the 21stof June 1884, the Department of Magical Games and Sports decreed the institutionalisation of the Stooging penalty in Quidditch. This announcement caused widespread discontent among British Quidditch players and fans, who demonstrated profusely at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters: the assembled crowd bombarded a departmental representative with Quaffles, as well as threatened to stooge Minister Spavin himself. Wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were duly dispatched there and the crowd reluctantly dispersed. This was not without precedent: just over a year before, another riot had broken out at the Ministry when the Department of Magical Games and Sports had decided to get rid of "goal baskets" in favour of the modern goalposts.

Most disagreeable changes within the Ministry usually fell to blame on the gormless Minister. No sympathy was spared, however, since the country’s disdain for the man only seemed to fly over his head. Obliviously, he would hubbub endlessly to anyone who dared strike up a conversation with him. So, eventually, and almost naturally, people seemed to avoid him unless it was really necessary.

It was not a secret that people pitied the man’s most unfortunate wife.

Even in regard to his reputation, Faris Spavin was declared the longest standing Minister for Magic in history after his resignation in 1903. It was speculated that he was kept in office so long partly due to the obscure amusement of the wizarding world. Though, as Spavin sat in his office on a humid evening on the 23rd of August 1889, history, as we know it, had not yet run its course.

The Minister drew the fat cigar between his stubby fingers up to his mouth and sucked on it hard. He released the smoke from his lungs as rings in the air. Spavin smiled stupidly as he puffed again, continuing to entertain himself. Mounds of magical sweets littered his desk, with some of their wrappings discarded to the floor of the office. A rack of spirits stood against one wall, and grand, dusty, bookshelves lined another; but it was obvious which one was more frequently used.

Faris spun in his chair to gaze airily out the large window at the head of the room. It overlooked the atrium of the Ministry and the shining gold statues of the Fountain of Magical Brethren at the centre. A number of witches of wizards bustled around below, tending to their professions. He did this quite often, just to soak in the pride of the sheer fact that he was the Minister of Magic. In his eyes, he didn’t have many faults, and only rarely made mistakes when it came to how he ran the government.

It was a very quiet night at the Ministry. As quiet as it could get, anyway. No sign of a catastrophe, a mass breakout, a murder spree, or any damage whatsoever. Spavin sighed in contentment, drawing in another breath from his cigar. He had singlehandedly set the wizarding world on due course for peace and prosperity, he subtly agreed with himself. How could something go wrong at a time like this?

Then, as the clock struck 8:00 pm, the serenity of the wizarding world shattered.

Many miles away from the Ministry of Magic, a group of witches and wizards festered.

A chilling mist lingered in the dark cobblestone street, the moon hidden behind the clouds, with no other signs of life present, only the ordinary houses lining the street; the Muggles would be settled in to sleep at this time. There was no sound, except the noise of their shoes connecting with the stone beneath them. The cloaked figures brandished glistening silver masks, morphed into the shapes of moons or stars with strange, smiling faces delicately sculpted into them.

They silently formed a large circle; there were about thirty of them, or so. The air was tense, nervous, but full of excitement. None of the masked people could stand still as they glanced at one another and exchanged small touches. But then, as a significant-looking figure stepped forward, their restlessness quickly diminished. His golden mask, representing the sun, scanned them all briefly.

Two gloved hands were unveiled from under his black cloak, as the figure addressed them gracefully.

‘Welcome, friends. This day has been long awaited.’

The leader’s voice was deep, modulated, and mellifluous. His tone seemed happy, and the other figures fidgeted with heightening excitement. He stepped further into the middle of the circle, placing his arms under his hood. Everything fell quiet once more.

‘For too long have we lived in the shadows… cowering away in fear of what consequences we may face, if we are to be revealed,’ He began to say, slowly turning around to gaze upon each of the characters standing around him.

‘Our power should not be hidden!’ He pronounced, and his voice echoed down the street. ‘We hold a great gift. The darkest, most formidable, magic lays in the very tips of our wands, going to waste. But not anymore. That all changes, today.’

The cloaked figures nodded their heads rapidly, hanging on to every word, every syllable, uttered by the man. His quiet laugh protruded from under the mask, while watching the way his companions drew closer, their eagerness bouncing off one another.

The man held his hand up again, granting silence.

‘Now, you all know what to do. Let it be known who we are.’

Devilish laughter exploded into the air. The figures drew their wands, exchanged ready glances, then disappeared into the floor like shadows.

Witches and wizards dressed in neat, colourful robes were filing into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, preparing for a seemingly normal evening of work. Some chatted happily, while others had their noses buried in files and other important papers. Sorcerers of all different types appeared from the many green fireplaces lined on the high walls, making their way to their respected departments of work. Unbeknownst to everyone in the grand space; they were about to be greeted by many unexpected guests.

Screams and explosions erupted through the Atrium as the masked figures materialized from the ground. Their metallic masks shined brightly, and their wands were pointed at any person who dared move. They swept through the crowd with inhumane speed, knocking anyone who got in their way to the floor, cackling as they went. Flashes of red light flew through the air, causing the screams to grow louder. Duels broke out in the crowd as security arrived, but they were quickly ended by the masked figures with a single incantation.

The leader climbed onto the fountain underneath the towering golden statue of a wizard, watching the chaos that was occurring beneath him. Wizards and witches were being thrown through the air, suffocated by dark shadows summoned by the mysterious sorcerers, and stunned by the endless flashes of spells. Many tried to run and hide; but there was nowhere for them to go.

The sun-faced figure held his wand to his throat, and roared, “Sonorus!”

Silence filled the space instantly. All eyes landed on the man and time seemed to stand still. As he was about to speak, his eyes creeped up the furthest wall to the large window where Faris Spavin’s frightened silhouette could be observed.

‘Minister Spavin. What a pleasure it is to witness you, trembling away in your office which you so love to do,’ The leader drawled, his voice echoing loudly off the walls. The other masked magi screeched with laughter as if it was the funniest thing in the world, but he continued; ‘Your wife is doing well, I hope?’

The Minister did not move an inch. Obviously, he could hear every word the stranger was saying.

‘You thought, that by banishing dark magic, like your predecessors before you… it would simply disappear forever? You’re a fool, dear Minister.’

Limp bodies beside pools of blood littered the floor of the Atrium. Terrified faces of the wounded stared up at him. They did not bother to destroy their surroundings, but instead the people within, because that always portrayed a much more substantial message. The leader soaked in the glorious sight.

‘It is easier to walk with a friend in the dark than it is to walk with them in the light. I think you’ll all do well to remember this when our time comes…’ He uttered coolly, spreading his arms like a great dark eagle with a golden head. ‘Some can only dream of the powers we possess. Powers that had been kept hidden inside ancient texts that have been sealed away from the entire world. Fortunately, we learnt the secrets those texts depict, and now hold magic of the most prevailing. Magic so great, that is in incomparable to the nonsense you teach at your quaint schools of witchcraft and wizardry.

‘I advise you to succumb to us now, or sorely feel the consequence of what we will do to you, your family, your homes, and everything you love. It would not be hard to destroy you, I can promise that. This is a dark, cruel and twisted world we live in. Wouldn’t you agree, Minister? If my knowledge is correct, you are ignorant and unkind to those who belong to troubled backgrounds. And you do not accept those who are not pure of blood. You call us filthy and unworthy of magic. But look at what we have accomplished…’ His smile was almost audible. The man lowered his arms and gazed up at the golden statue behind him. He absorbed in its magnificence for many moments, before finally turning back to the crowd.

‘We are the Sorcerers of the Arcane. I’m certain you’ll be more aware of our presence from now on.’

With a swish of his wand, pure black vapour filled the air like a detonation. The attack had finished as suddenly as it had started. The darkness settled, minutes later, and there was no trace of the masked figures except the population of dead bodies strewn across the floor.

Mere hours later, in the Morning Prophet, it was revealed that one hundred and twenty-seven witches and wizards died at the hands of a group of mysterious and highly dangerous individuals that called themselves the Sorcerers of the Arcane.

Faris Spavin recounted the attack to journalists, Aurors, and anyone who could listen while his whole body trembled, and his face shone a ghostly white colour. He was later admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital for the shock of what he had just witnessed and left the dilemma to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to control, and demanded, shaking his fists and screaming, that they left him far out of it. After his short stay in the hospital, the Minister promptly packed bags for himself and his wife and fled the country. This was most unfortunate for the witches and wizards at the Auror Headquarters, as they were stumped on a plan of how to handle the situation best.

Naturally, panic had engulfed the entirety of the wizarding world in the United Kingdom by the next day, August the 24th. The tale of what happened the night before at the Ministry and their Minister’s flee was the only topic for discussion across the country. Never before had they suffered a blow this deadly.

Approximately one hundred and two miles away from the scene of the disaster, in a charming cottage on Kemps Lane, Painswick, Gloucestershire, a spindly wizard by the name of Viran Leveret gasped loudly as he gaped at the front title of the Morning Prophet: ‘127 KILLED IN BRUTAL ATTACK AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC’.

[sexywookieesquadron]

Origins: Mey-Gon

Hey all, we’re finally ready to start sharing our OCs! This is the first chapter of OC Mey-Gon Niek’s backstory, created and written by Megan. We hope you enjoy and follow along as we introduce the rest squad and their wild adventures!

Word count: 1487

Chapter 1/9

Summary: How does a famous, wealthy party girl end up joining forces with a controversial paramilitary group like the Resistance?

Next Chapter

xxx

26 ABY, Hosnian Prime

Despite the minimalist styling, it was still one of the most luxurious rooms Mey-Gon had ever been in; and it was only the waiting room. Even as her eyes roamed, she had to squeeze the fingers of one hand tightly in the palm on the other to keep herself from fidgeting further. She didn’t want the secretary behind the desk in the corner to think that a professional like herself was nervous about being here.

Excited or nervous, she couldn’t really tell the difference anymore. All she knew was that she loved these kind of dizzying moments, the icy tingle of adrenaline in her veins. It was this addiction that drove her back again and again to nerve-racking auditions from the time she was ten years old until she’d started to land acting roles steadily enough to call it a career. Then, when her tolerance for the fear and pressure of the industry grew too strong, she had discovered a whole new threshold of exhilaration in the high-speed sport of swoop racing. She bought her first bike at sixteen and was racing competitively by eighteen. In the four years since she’d joined the sport, she had worked her way up to a mid-level league and started gaining a whole new kind of fanbase. It was ironic that her notoriety as a racer had probably helped land her the role that had brought her to this office but also resulted in her having to take the entire coming season off to shoot the holodrama. She had read the script, though, and the swoop chase scene she would be shooting more than made up for a missed season.

Her daydream about weaving a bike between giant trees was interrupted by the secretary looking up from her monitor and announcing, “Senator Organa is ready for you now.”

“Thank you,” Mey-Gon stood up and smoothed her dress.

The door next to the secretary’s desk slid open, and Mey-Gon paused to take a deep breath before walking through into the office beyond. As she entered, she saw the senator stand up from behind her own beautiful desk and walk around it to greet her with an outstretched hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Niek,” the older woman said as they shook hands.

“It’s an absolute honor, Senator Organa,” Mey-Gon tried not to sound too giddy.

“Leia, please,” she said kindly, then swept her scrutinizing gaze up and down the actress’s tall frame, green eyes, and copper hair, “You look nothing like me.”

“That’s the magic of the business,” Mey-Gon assured her with a smile, “As long as I capture enough of your spirit, the visual wizards will do the rest.”

Leia gestured to a couch and admitted as they both settled in, “I must say, Mey-Gon, I have not seen any of your previous work. Politicking doesn’t allow for much leisure time to watch holovids.”

Unfazed, she maintained her energetic smile, “Oh, that’s all right. I doubt many of them have made it as far as the Core anyway. I’m only well-known in my home system of Haidoral and maybe a few other Mid Rim worlds. Maybe someday, though, yeah? This part is definitely a step towards galactic fame.”

Leia let out a genuine chuckle, “You have my ambition, at least. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

She smiled and nodded, “About the same age as my son, then. So you won’t remember anything of the Galactic Civil War, yourself.”

“No, ma’am. The battle on Haidoral Prime happened a year before I was born. I’ve only ever known the New Republic. But I’ve studied so much about you and those last years of the war. This holodrama is going to start with the Battle of Endor and cover the first few years of establishing the government. I know the whole plot: your victory, your marriage, your training with your brother, the signing of the Galactic Concordance, and the birth of your son. The beats are clear, I just need to know how each of these events made you feel . What was going through your mind?”

A veil of nostalgia fell over the senator’s pleasant expression, “Well, well, that is a lot to cover. Let’s start at Endor…”

The next hour and a half barely got them through the subject of Jedi training, but it took them on a roller coaster of emotions all the way. Leia seemed guarded with some details, but generous with her feelings. Mey-Gon studied her carefully, memorizing her mannerisms, cadence of speaking, and all the other subconscious details she would need in order to portray a convincing version of this amazing woman. At the same time, she engaged in the conversation by asking more probing questions or drawing parallels to her own limited life experience, hoping to find real emotional memories to draw on in her performance.

Gradually, a bond began to form between the two and both were shocked when Leia’s secretary peeked in to let her boss know that it was past time to shut down the office and remind her of her dinner reservations. How had the time gone so fast? To Mey-Gon’s surprise, Leia barely hesitated before inviting her to join the dinner and continue their conversation. She accepted immediately and felt that delicious prickling of excitement return. Dinner at a fancy restaurant on Hosnian Prime with Leia Organa? Dreams really could come true.

When they arrived, Mey-Gon was more relieved than ever that she had decided to wear one of her nicest dresses for this meeting and had sculpted her hair into a fashionable style to match. If only her accessories had been just a little more expensive, she would have fit in perfectly with the clientele of the restaurant. The only person dressed more casually than her was their dinner companion, who still managed to take her breath away when he stood up to greet her as they arrived.

“Mey-Gon,” Leia introduced, “Meet my husband, Han.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she whispered in awe as she held out her hand.

Nearly as legendary as the senator, herself, Han Solo was also still an incredibly charming, handsome man. Clearly he caught the dazzle in Mey-Gon’s eyes, so in lieu of a handshake, he brought her fingers up to his mouth for a polite kiss.

“Happy you could join us,” he said.

Leia shook her head with a scolding smile and slapped her husband’s arm gently, “Still such a scoundrel. Sit down, Han, and order us some drinks.”

Mey-Gon couldn’t stop smiling as she settled around the table with the couple, “I do hope I’m not imposing on an occasion or anything…”

“You’re fine, kid,” Han waved a dismissive hand, “We’ve just been eating out a lot because it’s easier than cooking at home. Leia has a habit of working late, as you probably know. I’m guessing you’re one of the new aides or, Force forbid, a lobbyist?”

“Worse,” she grinned, “Actress.”

“Mey-Gon will be playing me in an upcoming holodrama,” Leia explained.

“Oh, yeah?” he gave her another once-over, “You don’t look like nearly enough of a pain in the ass.”

Mey-Gon hid her laugh behind her hand as Leia combined her knowing smile with a glare. Looking pretty pleased with himself, Han paused for the arrival of their wine, then swirled his around and smoothly continued, “So who do they got playing me?”

“I look forward to finding out,” she admitted, “We won’t really meet until training. Production has us scheduled for some kind of bootcamp for the action scenes. I have to admit, I’m pretty excited to learn how to shoot a blaster.”

Leia sipped her wine thoughtfully, then looked at Han with a wistful smile, “Can you believe a generation has grown up without ever needing to handle a weapon?”

They shared something meaningful through their eyes, then Han reached over to hold his wife’s hand as he turned back to Mey-Gon proudly, “I’ve seen this woman take out a stormtrooper from a hundred yards and pilot a swoop bike through a thick forest, so that better be some kind of bootcamp.”

“I’m sure she’ll do fine,” Leia said, “Mey-Gon is already a swoop racing champion on Haidoral Prime.”

Han looked impressed, so the young woman humbly clarified, “Only a two-time winner of the Haidoral Besh-class Circuit Tour. I’m still hoping to get invited to the pro league.”

“Not bad, not bad,” he nodded, “So I’m guessing you gals already talked about Endor, then?”

“We covered it thoroughly,” Leia assured him, “But you are joining us just in time to discuss the signing of the Galactic Concordance and Ben’s birth.”

“Now, that was quite a day,” Han raised his eyebrows and took a long drink, “Maybe one of the best days of our lives.”

Mey-Gon leaned back with her wine glass poised in front of her lips and eyes glittering with interest, “Tell me all about it…”

[dxmedstudent]

DnD in the time of Coronavirus...

My own DnD group of friends has been on hiatus for a while due to grown up things like one couple getting divorced and another couple having kids. I have no doubt the group will, in some form, reform and keep having fun- we certainly haven’t stopped talking and looking out for each other. But it may take a little while for us all to pick up, and it’ll probably be new campaigns if it happens. That’s a little sad given the history we share, and the stories that will never be resolved, but it’s life. I’m particularly thankful that the Guy designed and printed a model of my evoker Illy - even after this was all paused. Because I feel it’ll be a fond reminder of the stories we shared, and it’s a fitting tribute to the years of fun I have had playing her. I’m not done painting her yet- I want to do her justice.   I have high standards when it comes to painting, not helped by the fact that the Guy is an awesome minuature painter (as in he paints miniatures, the man is a giant in physical terms) and therefore I can’t help but compare my handiwork to his pretty nifty work. One of the few benefits of lockdown, though is being able to participate in more fun with the Guy and his friends, now that game nights, pub quizzes and DnD are virtual. The Guy knows how much I miss DnD, so I was really excited when he asked if I’d like to guest in their campaign since they’ve moved from in-person games to roll20. I do feel a little like I’m cheating on my friends, because a huge part of the fun is doing it with them, and I still miss that. But I’d be more than happy to play in both groups and it’s not a competition between friends - just another opportunity to have fun. Right now, it’s great to have fun, get to know people, and get to see a different side to the Guy. Besides, in the era of lockdowns and covid, I’ll take all the cheering up (and time with him) that I can get. This time around, I’m playing a cheerful, trusting, very talkative Halfling necromancer whose parents were a prostitute and an executioner. She’s taken a level in Bard and she’s all about having adventures and meeting new folks. She’s not very good at being a bard. She overshares, a lot, and has a propensity to turn the conversation to morbid matters - the Guy would probably say that’s not unlike her player! Though really I’m probably somewhere between my two wizard characters, Art will follow - I’m still figuring out what I want her to look like. I think I went out of my way to have her feel like a different character, because I’d gone for another wizard. Illy was studious, a little mistrustful and withdrawn - great if you don’t want to be the party face and if you’re still just trying to get how this game works. Guesting in my Guy’s DnD group, I’d been warned that this particular party don’t go out of their way to make friends, so I knew my character would have to be more open and talkative. This did mean that she got a bit interrogated at first and basically spilled her life story (and the Guy still insight checked me twice, what the hell?!), but I do feel it’s what she would have done. I find it mildly amusing that she’s not particularly interested in his character, but he’s a pretty lowkey rogue so of course she’d much prefer bantering with the bard and paladin.  It also makes me realise how much of my DnD play was specific to my character. Illy could sculpt her evocation spells around people, which made using area of effect spells perfectly usable even in tight spaces. I’ve realised how many spells I rely on with her character build in mind. I picked (and like) lots of evo spells because I knwo she would. Now I’m grappling with a new kind of wizard, but there aren’t many necromantic spells, and most of them aren’t any good. I find myself taking some at every level for flair - but really she just plays like your usual wizard. Just without an evoker’s finesse. I do miss that evoker touch, though. Now I’ve been trying to pick spells for a new level I grapple with what to choose - my old faves have a strong evocation bent, and I don’t want to feel like I’m playing the same character with a different name. Even though I’m not sure if I’ll ever play Illy again, I still feel like it’s important to make each character feel like their own person. Plus it’s just fun to try some new spells once in a while. It’s also hard to know how your party will work - the Guy’s talked often about how with his group he struggled to make ‘clever’ spell use (like illusions etc) work, because that often relies on some kind of a plan, that doesn’t fall apart. Until I know their characters in terms of combat, it’ll be difficult to know how well I can set things up - I know my friends’ old characters well enough to know how they are likely to react and work around it. Mind you, with evocation spells, there’s not a lot of setting up to do. I've always liked battlefield control, but that relies on knowing how best to serve your party.

But so far, I’m having fun. We nearly all got petrified last time - and they nearly couldn’t fix my character. People were mortified but I always find new experiences like that awesome, and it’s not like I’m majorly attached to this girl I’ve played twice. So they were all mortified that their guest player got petrified and were like “OMG I’m sorry!” because their characters opted to help their friends of many quests over a literal stranger.   And I was pretty much grinning and enjoying the whole thing regardless.

[dndeed]

Critical Role Miniature Rollout: C2E89

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and review of the minis used on Critical Role.

To be clear, I think this episode is fantastic. I think the map and miniature compositions look great on camera. At a distance, on film, all the chosen minis look good. However, when closely examined, some are better looking than others. The criticism I level at some of the models is directed at the manufacturers of said models. I am not criticizing Critical Role.  

In most campaigns, a random underground fighting pit encounter could be very boring. With little impact on the characters or plot. The CR cast is so talented and entertaining however that even a simple side quest unrelated to the main plot is super engaging. Mighty fine stuff.

Place ya bets, place ya bets, it’s time for Critical Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 2 Episode 89!

The List

Dungeons and Dragons Condition Markers by thelukec

Dwarven Forge City Builder

Dwarven Forge City Builder LED Lighted Walls Add-On Pack

Dwarven Forge Dungeons

Dwarven Forge Castle Stairs Pack

Dwarven Forge Dungeon of Doom Cages

Dungeon Lair Chairs 

Rusty Dragon Inn Dressing: Table

Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #039 Lord Victoro

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #005a Noble

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 8 Rivani Human Psychic

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 8 Aric Human Noble

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 8 Meligaster Halfling Mesmerist 

Tomb of Annihilation #021b Tabaxi Hunter

Storm King’s Thunder #015 Bandit

Storm King's Thunder #007 Crag Ungart

Kingmaker #021 Tristian, Human Cleric

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #012a Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer

Baldur's Gate Descent Into Avernus #034 Sylvira Savikas 

Guildmasters' Guide to Ravnica #017 Blood Drinker Vampire

Kingmaker #010 Shadow Rogue

Giants of Legend #09 Aramil, Adventurer

Elemental Evil #015 Gold Dwarf Guard

Dungeons of Dread #35 Human Fighter

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #011 Human Sun Soul Monk

Assorted Miniature Furniture

The Clones

Time for another conspiramini conspiracy theory. Just seven episodes ago these members of the crowd were seen in the Halas cloning lab. The presence of these figures makes me a little uneasy. What is Halas planning with his clone army of blood sport serial gamblers? Again, obligatory disclaimer, I’m not especially serious about or invested in this idea. But who knows how I’ll feel after two or three more Halas sightings.

The Nonplayer Characters

Baldur's Gate Descent Into Avernus #034 Sylvira Savikas

I’m not familiar with this Descent Into Avernus NPC, but she must be important to have warranted such a quality miniature. Good detail work on the clothing paint, neatly painted eyes, a dandy little translucent effect on the orb accessory. The best thing about this miniature is the core concept. A tiefling noble woman? Amazing. Exactly what my NPC collection needed.

Kingmaker #021 Tristian, Human Cleric and Storm King's Thunder #007 Crag Ungart

Two miniatures with terrible faces. NPC minis in noncombat poses are inherently useful and somewhat uncommon, so these are not a total write-off. At least Tristain has a pretty sleek outfit. A white tone cleric outfit that reminds one of Saturday Night Fever. Clergy Knight Fever, if you will.

Crag Ungart looks like a character equipped with a disastrous combination of Skyrim mods. Such an awkward character design. This dude’s head is almost perfectly spherical, just like his armor. Not to mention, what kind a name is Crag? It’s like the dwarven equivalent of Craig. I assumed this model was of some canon D&D NPC, but I can’t find any information on him. It’s like Wizards of the Coast made him up, ordered the manufacturing of this mini, and just lost interested. I can’t blame ‘em, this is a wholly uninteresting character.

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #012a Dragonborn Draconic Sorcerer 

So I think this is a decent pose. But I’m distracted by the awful Icon of the Realms orange dragonborn scale color. Has anyone ever played an orange dragonborn? Wizkids must be sitting on a surplus of VLC Media Player Orange. Really no other reason to use this pigment.

I am totally here for akimbo spellcaster minis. But this sculpt is just a tad too awkward. And these spellcasting focuses are lame looking. They could have done better than a hiking stick and an oversized wishbone. I really like the outfit though.

Kingmaker #010 Shadow Rogue and Guildmasters' Guide to Ravnica #017 Blood Drinker Vampire  Blood Drinker Vampire image sourced from minisgallery.com

Shadow Rouge, is a great name for a cosmetic product. Shadow Rogue on the other hand is an almost great miniature. The sculpt detail on everything but the face and hands is tight. It is unclear whether the model itself lacks finger and face definition or if the definition is being obscured by caked on paint. Unfortunate. Unrelated, crop top is my new favorite rogue subclass.

Blood Drinker Vampire is another quality noncombat NPC. Also another mini with rough face and hand detail. The paint is messy, the sculpt is blobby and ill-defined. I can’t help but like it though. This pose and costuming are very amusing. MC Hammer pants and Hammer Horror collar. I’m very into beverage consuming minis in general. For all its flaws, I still recommend this figure.

Giants of Legend #09 Aramil, Adventurer

This miniature was included in a 3.5 basic boxed set, released in D&D Miniatures Game booster packs, and later recast and repainted in the 4E Player’s Handbook Heroes series. It’s good. The detail in the sculpting is very impressive. But the flat paint lets down those details. A little highlight and drybrush work would go a long way.

Pathfinder Battles Iconic Heroes Set 8 Meligaster Halfling Mesmerist

I like this hombre. I like his hat. I like the fun patterns on his cloak. I like that the Pathfinder wiki is informing me that the thing in his right hand is a sword cane. That’s rad.

Elemental Evil #015 Gold Dwarf Guard Gold Dwarf Guard image sourced from minisgallery.com

An incredibly boring dwarf. Messy paint, wonky base, forgettable character design. The fight club champion deserves a better mini. As for this mini, let’s not talk about it. On an unrelated note, how’d Yasha’s sword handle get bent?

Waterdeep Dragon Heist #011 Human Sun Soul Monk

Quality beard, quality dreads, quality pose. If Khary Payton’s Walking Dead character was a monk, he’d look like this mini. The paint is about as sloppy and flat as Gold Dwarf Guard. But the face looks way better and the colors are bright and vibrant, making for a far more attractive model. The mold line is rough, but forgivable given all the miniature’s strengths.

Dungeons of Dread #35 Human Fighter

This dude has some tiny feet, distractingly so. Maybe it’s some sort of stealth feet feat? The sculpt and paint conveys numerous textures quite effectively. The scaly metal, the flowy cloth, the leathery gloves and boots. This is a very crisp model with magnificent sculpt resolution. Looking at the back of the miniature you can see the fighter’s individual fingers grasping the sword handle. Since this is an older miniature, we know that these digits were physically sculpted and not 3D modeled. Wildly impressive.

Closing Thoughts and Predictions

Next session I am anticipating some sort of random travel encounter. Possibly in the form of a teleportation mishap or a Xhorhasian countryside monster battle. Very glad the break is almost over, eager to see whether the Mighty Nein can facilitate a peace deal. 

#criticalroleminiaturerollout

[scripts4dreamers]

All’s fair.

All’s fair pt. 1

AN: Maybe you’d been wrong about Theseus Scamander. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy at all.

Characters: Theseus Scamander, Newt Scamander.

Pairings: Theseus x reader Spoilers: None

Warnings: None Prompt: Could you do a Theseus x reader where he and the reader start out as really competitive (almost rivals) at the ministry but reader saves his life one day and idk he tries to protect her a lot after that and they fall for each other? (Also your Theseus series is SO GOOD OMG) for anonymous

(Ps. Thank you so much for that lovely comment! It’s messages like that that really give me the confidence to keep writing and posting, also oops! This is gonna be like twoish parts.)

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

You loved your job. You really, really loved your job. Every day when you woke up you were excited to go into the office, because you knew that what you were doing was important. You kept order, pursued justice and kept dark magic at bay. The night before your first day of auror training, you’d been so excited that you’d barely been able to sleep.

Now, nearly two years later, you were still every bit as excited.

“Hey, Y/L/N,” a voice called, distracting you from your work, “You ready to get your ass handed to you during assignments today?”

You sighed. Theseus Scamander, the one flaw in an otherwise perfect job. He was arrogant, ambitious and fiercely competitive. Unfortunately, he was also exceptionally brave, fiercely intelligent and very good at his job, nearly as good as you. He was leaning up against your desk with an infuriating smirk on his perfectly sculpted face.

“Charming as always, Scamander,” you sighed, ignoring his analytical gaze, “and I wouldn’t count your assignments before they’re handed out if I were you.”

Theseus opened his mouth, a retort ready on his lips, but the ding of the elevator cut him short

“Morning,” your boss, Avery Thicknesse, called as he swept through the room, “Y/L/N, have you got the Abbott case cleared up yet?”

“Yes sir,” you answered with a smile, jumping up to hand him the completed file, “I finished the paperwork last night.”

He scanned the page and gave a satisfied grunt, “Good work, very thorough. Scamander, same question. Have you finished the Avery case?”

Theseus blushed, and gave you a furtive look, “Uh-no, not yet, sir.”

Thicknesse gave him a disapproving look and sighed; turning back towards his office, “Get it done, Scamander. We don’t have all day here.” He chastised, “Aurors, be ready in ten minutes to receive your monthly assignments.”

The office buzzed with excitement and you turned back to Theseus with a smug smile.

“What was that you were saying about getting your ass handed to you, Scamander?” You poked, “Not so confident now, I suppose.”

“I was talking about assignments, Y/L/N.” he replied, “Being a pencil pusher is very different to actually being out there in the real world.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “Yeah, whatever. You’re just mad that Thicknesse is pleased with me instead of you for once.”

Theseus maintained a sulky silence next to your desk for a few moments longer, before stalking back to his own. You turned back to your work with a satisfied smile and started daydreaming about your upcoming assignments. Theoretically, no one assignment was any better or worse than any other but, in reality, the assignment you were given was generally a reflection of your standing in the office. Annoyingly, Theseus and Prewett generally got the best assignments (working in the field), with you getting the slightly more tame postings in either Observation or Research. Thicknesse said it was because he could trust Theseus to follow orders in emergency situations, while you….well, let’s just say that you’d always been more of an independent thinker.

“Alright, assignment time,” Thicknesse announced, “as you all know, we’re still focusing our attention on the apprehension of Gellert Grindelwald and his band of fanatics.” He reminded you, “So I’ll be assigning people to the Field Team, Observation, Research and Administration.” He paused, letting the suspense in the room grow, “The Field Team will, as always, be working in patrols and pairs. Patrol one will be headed by Deinard and will be made up of Deinard, O’gara and Smith, with Smith as second-in-command. Patrol two will be headed by Gibson with Dawlish as second and Bones rounding it out. Patrol three will be lead by Scamander and will include Prewett, Cattermole and Y/L/N, with Y/L/N as second-“

Your heart stopped and you instantly forgot how to listen. You’d done it! You’d finally made field agent, and as a second no less! You were so wrapped up in your little bubble of happiness that not even serving under Theseus could bring you down. You looked over to him and noticed that he’d crushed his mug. Your heart sunk a little bit at that. You knew that he didn’t like you, but you’d never thought he hated you enough to crush a mug just because you had to work together. Whatever, you thought, shaking it off. You’d made field agent and nothing he said could take that away from you.

When the assigning process had ended, you made your way over to the patrol briefing.

The senior auror, Alderon Deinard, stood and addressed you all, reminding you of your roles and assigning each patrol an area to take control of. You listened intently, soaking up every last bit of information.

“We’ve gotten word that Grindelwald has sent a signal to his followers telling them to cause mayhem tonight, which means we’re on high alert. We’re authorized to use maximum force and Travers expects results,” he explained, “so cast to kill.”

Your stomach pinched. You’d never killed another person before. You’d always found a way to take them down with non-lethal force and the idea of taking a life when there was another option unsettled you. Almost unconsciously, you looked to Theseus and saw, with a rush of relief, that he looked equally uncomfortable. He was sitting right at the front, biting down on the back of his jaw, his face stern. As though he could sense your gaze, he looked back and caught your eye. His gaze was dark and intense, completely different from the joking man who you were used to. Deinard dismissed you all and, as you made your way out of the briefing room, you felt a hand grab your elbow. Theseus Scamander was almost glaring you down.

“Can I have a word, Y/L/N?” he asked, pulling you the side before you could even answer, “Listen, I know that you’re probably really excited about finally getting in the field but this shit is real.”

“I know-“ you started, but he cut you off.

“I need to know that you’re going to listen to me,” he said, “if everything goes to hell, I need to know that I can rely on you to follow orders and get the job done.”

The look he gave you was so intense and serious that it made you swallow the sarcastic retort that you had had waiting in your throat. You had never seen Theseus so serious and, for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear in your stomach. You suddenly remembered Theseus’ first time in command. His patrol had been ambushed by a group of dark wizards and three of the five aurors had been killed, including his second. Theseus had faced an inquiry and had taken nearly a month off. You remembered how destroyed he looked when he’d returned, as though all the joy had been sucked out of him forever. He had been through hell, more than once, and yet he kept going, he kept fighting and you had to admire his strength.

With some difficulty, you met his eye, “You can rely on me Theseus,” you promised, “I know what’s expected of me, and I’ll get it done, I promise.” You maintained eye contact, hoping that he would be able to sense your sincerity, “I won’t let you down.”

In the ensuing silence, you felt a tenuous connection form between you and your workplace rival. Underneath all your mutual peacocking, there was an understanding. At your cores, you wanted the same thing, and you respected Theseus both as an auror and as a man. Theseus studied you intensely, searching for something in your eyes.

He must’ve found it because, eventually, he let your elbow go and gave you a curt nod, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I know you wont Y/N.”

You smiled, trying to break the tension, “Aw, sweet, you know my first name.”

“Oh ha, ha,” Theseus grinned, “don’t go getting a big head now. We’ve still got to work together and there’s not enough room in here for both of us and your inflated ego.”

You laughed and, for a moment, your rivalry seemed to fall away. It felt nice to be laughing together instead of at one another, you thought.

“Go home and get some rest Y/L/N,” Theseus suggested when the laughter had faded, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You nodded and worried at your bottom lip, the flicker of fear reigniting itself in your chest. Theseus noticed and gave you, what he hoped was, a comforting smile.

“It’s going to be fine Y/N,” he assured you, “chances are nothing will even happen.”

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

You hit the wall, ducking behind a corner as a burst of green light missed you by centimeters. Your heart was pounding and adrenaline was pumping through your veins at one hundred miles an hour. Grindelwald’s followers had, indeed, come out in full force that night and they’d quickly overwhelmed you with sheer numbers. The sound of rebounding curses and hoarse voices filled the night air, filling up the narrow street. You desperately searched for your allies with your eyes, catching sight of Helena Cattermole, hiding down an alleyway and Theseus crouched behind an overturned car in the middle of the road. Four patrols had started off the night together with fifteen fully trained aurors. From what you could see, only five of you were still in action. You’d helped three escape down the back roads, sending them back to the ministry for help. It had been nearly twenty minutes since then and the fanatics had you pinned down. You couldn’t even apparate out without exposing yourself to danger.

For a moment, there was silence. The remaining aurors had hidden themselves so well that Gindelwald’s fanatics had nothing to aim their wands at. In your mind, you heard Theseus’ voice as he’d grabbed you and shoved you behind him, once it was clear that you were outnumbered.

“Get out of here,” he cried over the din, “get the others and get out. I’ll hold them off.”

Your stomach pinched with guilt. You’d promised to obey his orders but, you were his second, you couldn’t just leave him there to drown, so you’d stayed and he’d noticed. From his position behind the car, you could feel his cool blue eyes on you. The dark wizards, led by Carrow and Kraw, started to advance slowly, searching for the remaining aurors. Their numbers were greatly depleted, credit for which both you and Theseus had a rather significant claim. They were slowly approaching the car, behind which Theseus was hiding, but you didn’t think they’d spotted him yet. Unfortunately, it didn’t look as though Theseus had noticed them either.

His eyes were still fixed on you and you could tell that he wasn’t at all pleased. You watched, horrified, as he raised himself, preparing to move to a more defensible position. He was still mostly hidden, but you shook your head frantically, knowing that any step he took would expose him to Carrow, who was making her way closer and closer. Theseus didn’t notice and he stepped out into the street, hunched over and still half in a crouch.

It was as though everything slowed down. Carrow’s face lit up, she raised her wand and began to mouth a curse that you knew, with overwhelming certainty, that Theseus would never have enough time to respond to and block. At the same time, you knew that you needed to be closer in order for your spell to be strong enough to override hers and that, as soon as you stepped out, you yourself would almost certainly be killed. There was no time for hesitation. You thought about Theseus, his joking smile and his commitment to justice and made your choice.

You stepped out from behind the corner. Theseus saw you and his eyes widened, he opened his mouth to call to you but, before any sound made it, out you screamed “Protego!”

Carrow’s killing curse rebounded, glancing harmlessly off the car, and giving Theseus enough time to reach his wand and disarm her. You felt a momentary pang of relief, heard a rough voice yell something twisted and cruel, saw a flash of purple flame, felt a sharp pain in your chest and the world went dark.

Your first thought was that death was extraordinarily comfy. Your second was that, to your surprise, you were breathing which meant that you couldn’t be dead. The third was that your chest felt like it had been kicked in by a hippogriff. Slowly, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring at a pristine white ceiling. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone hunched over in a chair next to your bed, his head hanging low and his hands clasped together as though he was deep in prayer. You were lying in a hospital bed at St Mungo’s, you realized, which meant that, somehow, you must’ve escaped from at alleyway. The battle, Theseus and the other aurors. You sat up suddenly and winced. Your body ached, as though you’d been crushed by something heavy. The noise had, however, made your visitor aware that you were awake. Theseus’ head snapped up and grabbed your arm, supporting you as you struggled into an upright position and fluffing the pillows behind you so that they supported your back.

“Thank God you’re awake,” he croaked, his voice hoarse, “I was starting to think-“

“Theseus?” You asked, still groggy from sleep, “What happened? How did we-“

He looked exhausted, as though he hadn’t slept in days, and his clothes were rumpled and untidy, but his eyes were alive with relief, “Help came. Ogden and Peakes made it back to the ministry and let them know that we were pinned down,” he explained, “Carrow and Kraw escaped, but we managed to round everyone else up without too many casualties.”

“Casualties?” you asked, your heart dropping, “who did we lose?”

Theseus’ face darkened, “Edgecomb, Fenwick, Suzuki and-“ he swallowed hard, “and Deinard.”

“Deinard?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes, “No, no it can’t-he can’t.”

“Kraw got him in the chest with a killing curse,” Theseus explained, his voice dead, “he didn’t stand a chance.” You sat in silence for a moment, each of you lost in your own memories of the hardened auror who’d taught you both so much. Eventually, Theseus cleared his throat, and fixed you with an intense stare, prompting you you wipe the stray tears from your cheeks, “Y/N,” he started, “I told you to leave.”

“I know but-“

“I told you to leave,” he continued, “and you stayed. You disobeyed a direct order from your commanding officer and, because of that, I owe you an apology.” He said. You frowned, confused, but Theseus gripped your hand in his and squeezed it tight, “I’ve made your life miserable since the day we met and you still defended me. I was your commanding officer and I led you into danger and I’m so so sorry. If you hadn’t been there, I would be dead. You threw yourself into harms way, you risked your life and you saved mine.”

You blushed, oddly embarrassed by the intensity of the moment, “You would have done the same for any of us.”

Theseus shook his head but didn’t let go of your hand, “You could’ve died, all because I was too stupid to watch my own back.”

“Theseus,” you insisted, sitting up straighter, “we were outnumbered and pinned down, people were dropping like flies all around us, it was chaos. What you did was smart, you were trying to move to somewhere more defensible. Any one of us probably would’ve done the exact same thing.” He opened his mouth to argue but you cut him off, some of your old fierceness coming back, “No, Theseus, stop. You are a brilliant auror. I wouldn’t be surprised if they made you head of the whole department soon enough. You made one, simple mistake that anyone could have made and I will not have you beating yourself up for it, okay?”

There was a long silence, during which you noticed, for the first time, how startlingly blue his eyes were. Eventually Theseus nodded and you relaxed back onto your cushions, grateful for the reprieve. To your surprise, he didn’t leave, preferring to lean back in his chair and chat to you. Theseus stayed for hours, catching you up on the tings you’d missed and talking about everything and nothing, from school memories to his fears for his brother, until eventually the nurses had to ask him to leave because visiting hours had long since ended. Grumpily, he stood and pulled you into a gentle, but firm hug, thanking you again and promising to come back as soon as he could before waving goodbye and disappearing out into the world again.

You were stunned. Never before had Theseus Scamander had an actual conversation with you, let alone given you a hug. As you laid back down to sleep, though, and quietly grieve the loss of your comrades you realized that you’d enjoyed it. You liked him, when he was being himself and, as you drifted off to sleep, you wondered if, maybe, you’d made a new friend.

Theseus insisted on coming to visit you every day and bringing you a different present each visit, no matter how many times you told him that he didn’t need to. The nurses had asked you if they ought to tell him to back of, but you’d waved them away. Theseus was sweet and gentle with you and, as much as you hated to admit it, his visits had fast become the highlight of your day.

By the time you were discharged, nearly a week later, you were weighed down with gifts and, somehow, had acquired a new best friend, a best friend who, luckily, was there to help you carry your litany of gifts. Theseus was kind, you’d realized, and funny with a penchant for physical contact that made you laugh. You’d commented once, that you’d received more hugs in two days, from Theseus Scamander than you had from your mother in the past year. You remembered how he’d blushed and apologized, swearing to do that less, before you’d cut in and told him that you liked it, you thought it was sweet. Now, as he walked you back to your apartment, he seemed to be treating you with extra caution, insisting on holding your hand every time you crossed a street and double checking each side road for danger. You would never tell him, of course, but it helped. Ever since the night of the ambush, you’d been terrified of running into Grindelwald’s followers again and you’d started to have powerful, vivid nightmares.

Upon arrival, Theseus searched your apartment before letting you in and then helped you unpack and rearrange your belongings, so that your bed now faced the door, before giving you another hug and waving goodbye, apparating you and leaving you on your own. The second he was gone, you missed him terribly. You sat down on your couch and looked around your apartment. It seemed smaller, you thought, less vibrant, without Theseus in it and, for the first time since your accident, you felt well and truly alone.

[madeleinetorregg-blog]

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[fadingcoast]

Death of the Lie  ||  Chapter 9: Sanctum

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism & @fadingcoast

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!! Taglist is open!!

@igotloki @xalgaliareptx @wolfpawn @fairlightswiftly @christy-winchester  @silverhart93

Chapter 9: Sanctum

The next morning, despite all the excitement of the previous night, Loki woke up energized and well rested. He had slept the deep, dreamless sleep of someone finally at peace, and there was something soothing about waking up to the chirping of birds and gurgling water instead of shouting soldiers and clanking metal.

Loki took a deep and joyful breath as he sat on the bed, watching the patterns cast on the floor made by the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees outside his room. He couldn’t wait to explore more of the land. The lake and the forest looked inviting and new. Everything on Asgard was so artificial and hand crafted, and Alfheim was full of seemingly endless resplendent wonders. Loki could only imagine how many surprises nature could hold when left to act in her own way.

But today was not the day. Today, King Frèyr would take him to the Sanctum.

The King hadn’t said much regarding Loki’s admission to the Sanctum. All Loki knew was that he would have to go through some tests, like an audition. The nature of the tests, Frèyr could not divulge.

Loki’s smile faltered, all his insecurities dawning on him. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he didn’t get accepted? Would they send him back to Asgard? He bet his father would be really happy about yet another failure on his part. The thought of going back to Asgard after seeing how happy he could be here made his stomach drop.

A small knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he shouted, and Gwyn opened the door.

“Your highness,” she said with a small bow. “The King has requested your presence for breakfast. May I assist you in getting ready this morning?”

She didn’t wait for Loki to answer, and busied herself in running a bath and picking his outfit. Loki looked at her as she worked, amusement distracting him from his anxieties.

“I could say no, but it seems you won’t listen to me,” Loki said with a smile.

“I am happy we have reached an understanding so soon.” Gwyn smiled back, her hands on her plump hips.

Already bathed, dressed and pampered up, Loki met the King and the Princess in the hall for breakfast. They discussed the previous night and the positive impression Loki had made on the nobles. Loki felt terribly self conscious about the whole thing; part of him wondered how his father would feel about his subjects’ judgement. Another part of him thought Odin deserved it.

“Should I have said something?” Loki asked, more to himself. “I mean, I am the representative of the House of Odin, but--”

“My boy.” Frèyr patted his shoulder. “Your father has no eyes here,” he said with a wink. “Now, finish your breakfast. There are people waiting to meet you.”

Suddenly, Loki lost his appetite. “Right…”

“Don’t be nervous,” Sigyn chirped in, trying to lighten his mood. “You’ll do great.”

“You’ve been to the Sanctum? You go there too?”

“Only as a visitor,” she explained. “I won’t be taking the trials for another decade or so.”

Frèyr briefly explained the schooling system to Loki as they ate. The Sanctum was reserved for those who excelled in the magical arts, those who could pass the trials with no exception. Some professions intrinsically linked to magic had to go there to study, such as healers. Loki knew this much: the healers of the palace in Asgard had attended this Sanctum. It made him feel even more anxious. Sigyn grabbed his hand on the table.

“Loki, we’ve seen your magic. Stop doubting yourself so much,” she said with a smile. “As you saw last night, things work very differently here. Your magic won’t be ever made fun of or brushed aside.”

Loki knew Sigyn was right, and her assurance lessened the knot in his stomach, allowing him to finish his breakfast.

.-

King Frèyr led Loki to the back of the castle and through the gardens. A white cobblestone path led to the base of the mountains. It was surrounded by trees that kept the walk light and cool. Loki couldn’t help but think that this same task would have made him extremely uncomfortable back home, even during this time of year.

They walked in silence, and Frèyr noticed how nervous Loki still was. He wouldn’t stop scratching and pulling at his fingers the whole way. Breakfast sat heavy in Loki’s stomach and felt more like ice the closer they got to the Sanctum itself, and he found himself wishing he had waited to eat until after the exam.

After a short flight of stairs, they reached the entrance to the Sanctum, and the sight that greeted him was exquisite and nearly made him forget his nerves. Much like the rest of Alfheim, the Sanctum had been built as part of its natural surroundings. The rounded white stone structure had been carved out of the mountain itself. The arch and pillars at the doorway were peppered with leaf patterns that shone green and gold in the light. An ash tree had been sculpted in extreme detail at the top of the entrance - a symbol of Yggdrasil, of strength as well as magical potency and power. The building itself didn’t appear to be as big as the palace, but the light and the colors made it look ethereal.

A guard was stationed at the entrance, and he bowed to both Frèyr and Loki before they crossed the threshold. A thick man dressed in a linen beige and green tunic hurried to greet them.

“Your majesties!” He greeted them with a bow. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Master Céleben.” Frèyr nodded and Loki copied him.

“Please, come with me. The rest of the council will see you shortly,” Master Céleben said, leading them inside.

If the view from the outside was breathtaking, Loki wasn’t sure how he could describe the inside. He was stunned when he realized that the small building outside was literally just the entrance. The mountain was the Sanctum, and it was more beautiful and inspiring than anything Loki had seen in his life.

Master Céleben walked them through an expansive corridor. Long pillars that lined the walls had been carved from the stone of the mountain, respecting its colors. White marble, shining granite and black obsidian were just a few. One side of the corridor boasted statues of many celebrated Seidr masters. Loki knew the names of a few and wasn’t at all surprised to see Asgard’s archives had left the men out. The men of Aesir stories were fierce and strong warriors, not wizards. It was both refreshing and encouraging to see men from his own realm represented among the greatest to have learned at this Sanctum. The other side of the corridor was all windows at the top, the lower half of the wall covered in bright and colorful murals, depicting different crafts and uses of magic. Alchemy, chemistry, astronomy, healing, engineering, different types of art… The gardening bit reminded him of Frigga.

“My prince,” master Céleben brought Loki back from his admiration. “This way, please.”

The master opened a wooden door and waited for Loki to go in. Frèyr smiled at Loki before taking a seat by the windows. Loki took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and entered the room. Céleben followed right behind him.

“Prince Loki, may I introduce you to Master Arannion and Master Indilwen.” Both man and woman bowed their heads slightly, and Loki nodded in response.

After exchanging pleasantries and informing him they had received a very lengthy and heartfelt letter from Queen Frigga, they made Loki sit at a long table. Master Arannion, head of the Sanctum, made a short introduction of the place and laid out the tests Loki would have to go through.

“There is a practical part and a theoretical part,” he said. “From what I gather, you should not have problems with the practical part of it, seeing you have already mastered conjuring, cloaking and some degree of illusionary magic. As for theory, we know your education in Asgard must have been… less than optimum.”

“My mother suggested many volumes to read…” Loki said tentatively.

“I don’t doubt the Queen did as much as she could, but Asgard has very little practical information about subjects that don’t interest them,” Master Indilwen offered politely. “Keeping that in mind, we will give you access to our own archive so you can study for the theoretical exam,” she added with a smile.

Loki’s eyes went wide in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be given extra time to prepare.

“As for the practical trials…” Master Céleben stood up and motioned Loki to do the same. “Your examination starts now.”

Loki was about to protest, but decided against it. He knew the extent of his magic, he didn’t have to rehearse it. He had noticed how much easier was to gather his energy in this realm too, so he took a deep breath and stood in the middle of the room, awaiting instructions. The three masters had him following several tasks, going from simple tricks like conjuring everyday objects to more elaborate ones like cloaking and teleportation. Everything was going pretty well, if Loki had a say, but the masters were unreadable.

After what it felt like a long time, Loki was finally allowed to rest. He hadn’t realized how drained he was; his hands were shaking and he was sweating lightly in his heavy Asgardian attire. In an automatic move, he made his clothes cooler, but only just. The last thing he wanted was to start gathering frost in front of the teachers.

“Very good,” was all Master Indilwen said, with a tiny smile. “Master Céleben will take you to the library and give you the proper books for you to study. Your theoretical exam will be held next week.”

All the way to the library, Loki wanted to ask how had he done, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. And anyway, he was still being distracted by the decoration. When they got to the library, Loki forgot how to speak again. The room was massive. At least 3 stories high, ornate black iron stairs moved magically to allow the scholars to move around. As the rest of the Sanctum, the mountain was the wall and the ceiling. An intricate system of mirrors allowed the sunlight coming from one side of the room to flood it completely. Loki was sure he could hear bubbling water somewhere, no doubt they were underground springs. The whole time Master Céleben was gathering his books, Loki stared at the place with his mouth open.

“Here you go,” Master Céleben presented him the books and a small list.

“Sorry.” Loki said, shaking his head.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Master Céleben smiled. “We hold the largest collection in the Nine Realms. Not only magic, but history, myth, fantasy and other subjects.” He said, then brought the attention back to the books he had given Loki. “These will help you with the basics, and the titles on this list you can get at the palace.”

Loki thanked the master many times while they were on their way out. He was practically beside himself with nerves and excitement. Frèyr was waiting for Loki outside, and he stared at Loki expectantly until the master went back inside.

“How did it go?” the king asked with a smile.

“I think I have never wanted something so much as I want go here,” Loki said, still in a state of shock.

Frèyr laughed and patted Loki’s back affectionately. “You will, my boy. You will.”

.-

The following week, Loki spent nearly every waking hour reading and studying, filling a small spare blank manuscript with his new notes. He had many things to thank his maid for. Gwyn made sure he didn’t exhaust himself, having him bathe in his relaxing oils every night. You must get a good night sleep so your head is clear tomorrow. He might have skipped meals too if it weren’t for Gwyn watching him very closely and checking every plate he sent back to the kitchen. You’re but skin and bones! You must feed properly if you want to perform magic! Loki was quickly growing fond of her mother hen nature and was grateful she was there to help him.

Princess Sigyn was also quite helpful, showing Loki the best spots to read in the gardens, teaching him some of her studying skills, and sometimes dragging him out of despair when he got stuck.

The day of the examination, Loki was still nervous, but confident that he had done everything in his power to prepare for this. He arrived at the Sanctum early, just in case. A short, skinny man who introduced himself as Master Manadhon was waiting for him. Soon, five other people arrived to the foyer: three men and two women, fairly close to his age. Loki recognized them as Vanir. The sound of the Bifrost broke the usual calmness, and a while later two Aesir women arrived. From the light blue color of their robes, Loki knew they were healers in training.

Master Manadhon led the group down the same corridor Loki had been the first time, and into the same room. But now, the hall was full of comfortable working stations. Each of them got a blank notebook and a question sheet. A big golden clock chimed, signaling the start of their examination time.

Loki took a deep breath and started to work. The sound of the wind and the water outside relaxed him enough to finish in the allotted time. But in all honesty, he had no idea how he had done. After he turned in his notebook, Master Manadhon informed him his results would be announced the following day, and allowed him to leave.

Frèyr and Sigyn took Loki riding that afternoon, just to keep his mind off the exam. The beauty of the land and the low temperature helped to make him less anxious, but at the same time it made him want to stay even more.

Next morning, Gwyn got him out of bed, as usual, and urged him to have breakfast in the gardens. But Loki could not stay still. He just wished he could sit by his door, waiting for news from the Sanctum.

When he returned to his chambers after lunch, he found a fairly big square object on his desk, wrapped in unmarked gold paper. Attached to the top, there was a rolled parchment with the ash leaf seal of the Sanctum. Loki’s heart started pounding. He opened the parchment with trembling hands.

Prince Loki of Asgard, the letter read,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a student of the Sanctum of Alfheim.

Your application and examination were exemplary, and we look forward to advancing your education in seidr and the magical arts.

Term begins one quarter moon from today. You will receive your textbooks once you start your classes, and we have sent the study manuscript for your notes with this letter. May it serve you well during your time at the Sanctum.

Best regards,

Master Manadhon.

Loki couldn’t believe it! He had been accepted! Eagerly, he ripped open the gold paper, already suspecting what the pack was. As he read the cover his smile grew even wider, if that was possible: his first Grimoire.

He had never seen one in Asgard, and Odin never let him own one. That’s why his notes were scattered over several journals and loose pages. But no more.

A rush of exhilaration ran through him as he opened his Grimoire. The countercover was green, black and gold. The front page had his name and his apprentice rank, in gold ink. The first pages were already occupied with a brief history lesson, some minor spells, basic magic mechanics and moving images. The rest of the book was blank, and Loki couldn’t wait to start filling it with his own annotations and spells. But he first had to write to his mother and tell her the good news.

Frèyr held a small celebration for him that evening, his favorite pudding included. They all assured him that they had never doubted his skill and that he would surely excel under the guidance of the greatest seidr masters in the nine realms and the support of people who believed in him. Loki knew it was a lot of pressure but for once he actually felt like he could live up to it.

In the days leading to the start of the term, Sigyn and Gwyn decided Loki needed new clothes. He shouldn’t be around in his heavy Asgardian attire, they insisted, so they took him to the tailors and the shoemakers. Loki got new tunics, shirts, trousers, breechers, shoes and short boots, all made in bright forest green, black, and dark brown, and threaded with golden leaf motives. They were all made out of linen, silk and wool, which made them comfortable and cozy. Leather was reserved for his combat training armor. His heavy Asgardian black boots would come handy in the snow season, and his new brown boots would suit his new wardrobe better.

“Girls and boys will be falling at your feet in no time,” Sigyn said with a glint in her eyes, while Gwyn was again braiding his hair after he tried on some of his new clothes.

Loki just smiled at the compliment, face turning slightly pink. He hadn’t given it much thought, as he had been raised beside Thor, who was usually the one whose attentions were sought by their peers, but now Loki had a chance to prove himself without being compared to his brother. And he had to admit the new clothes did flatter him in a way that all-black never did.

At last it was the first day of school, and Loki couldn’t remember being this excited in his life before. He woke up before Gwyn could drag him out of bed, and she insisted he ate all his breakfast, nevermind that Loki was nearly bouncing off the walls.

It was a chill morning, so Loki donned his new woolen coat, and packed his quills and pens with his notebooks and his Grimoire. He had heard the Bifrost earlier, so he correctly guessed the healers in training had arrived from Asgard. The Vanir group he had seen walk by when he was getting ready to leave.

The whole time Loki walked the corridor that led into the heart of the Sanctum, his heart was pounding. He could hear a smattering of voices inside the classroom, and his heart jumped to his throat. Loki took one final breath to calm himself before he touched the doorknob and opened the door.

.-

<< Chapter 8  –  Chapter 10 >>

[debtblog381]

Mac Huggable Lipcolour Out For

Mac Huggable Lipcolour Out For Men

Mac Huggable Lipcolour Out Forget

MAC Huggable Lipcolour will be available in twelve shades with a January 4, 2014 release date. MAC Huggable Lipcolour seems similar to products MAC has already released like Sheen Supreme Lipstick and So Supreme Lipstick however, I felt the formula was different. How To Use MAC Huggable Lipcolour? Exfoliate and moisturize your lips. Swivel up the MAC Huggable Lipcolour. Starting from the cupid's bow, apply the lipstick to your upper lip following it's natural contour. Glide it across the entire bottom lip. Blot your lips with a tissue paper to even tone the. That little splash of color is like a nap, doughnuts, ice cream and chocolate rolled into one. I almost want to hug it out with these pretty lippes, the appropriately named MAC Huggable Lipcolours ($20 each, coming to the MAC website May 7, and a week later to MAC counters and stores). Do you remember this line of medium-coverage lipsticks? Yup, the 12 Huggable Lipcolours have a completely new gel-based formula, and they make their big debut January 2nd at all North American MAC locations and internationally the same month (in all countries outside Asia). MAC claims the formula makes them mega moisturizing and capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound!

Free shipping and returns on MAC 'Huggable' Lipcolour at Nordstrom.com. Cover your lips in gorgeous hues with Huggable lipcolour by MAC. The high-shine formula features a blend of creamy emollients to give you a lasting, glossy color that leaves your lips smooth and sculpted. Its unique gel base allows each shade to smooth effortlessly onto your skin with a featherlight finish that lasts.

OK, so…what the heck is it about wearing lipstick that instantly makes me feel so much better? That little splash of color is like a nap, doughnuts, ice cream and chocolate rolled into one.

I almost want to hug it out with these pretty lippes, the appropriately named MAC Huggable Lipcolours ($20 each, coming to the MAC website May 7, and a week later to MAC counters and stores).

Do you remember this line of medium-coverage lipsticks? (Cue flashback to waaayback in 2013.) Of the 10 slick, moisturizing shades coming out next month, all of them, with the exception of Fashion Force, look new to me (as far as I’m remembering now).

They last from 2-3 hours for me and have that classic MAC vanilla flavor and scent.

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The MAC Huggable Lipcolours…

Bare Hug — a creamy, soft peachy orange

Soft Talkin’ — a warm peachy nude

I’m Game — a creamy raspberry (which, incidentally, sounds incredibly delicious to me right now)

Love Feeling — a deep, vibrant orange

I’m In — a warm rose

Play It Soft — a bright coral-red

Glamorized — a creamy, vibrant pink

Flaming Lips — a deep creamy red

Fashion Force — a soft tangerine

Dramatical — a bright cherry red (not pictured)

As you might imagine, Tabs is a big fan of these, mostly because of their name.

You see…he is extremely huggable as well. 🙂

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

Mac Huggable Lipcolour Out For Men

MAC Huggable Lipcolour Limited Edition Collection Swatches: Feeling Amorous, Rusty, Touche, What a Feeling, Rich Marron, Love Beam, Red Necessity, Cherry Glaze, Commotion

Okay so this has to be the most ignored LE MAC Collection in the lipstick history! Whats up beauty bloggers? Why no noise about this new launch? I can’t say about the rest of the world but Indian beauty scene is so quiet on these new MAC Huggable Lipcolours that I can’t help but wonder if I am the only one who seems to like these glossy lipsticks. The other day when I went to check if the Retro Matte is back yet, I saw these Sheen Supreme look-a-like tubes sitting at a corner and I asked the MUA if thats the Huggable Collection. You see.they didn’t have even a rack or stand to themselves! Okay seriously whats up? I collected the swatches of the 9 shades out of 12 I could find at the MAC Store in DLF Promenade. Two shades have not been launched in Asia.

As far as the reviews go, they seem to be quite good. The texture is very creamy and they glide on like butter. And give this gloss like shine. Even though these are quite creamy, they still seem to last a decent amount of time (according to Temptalia). The pigmentation varies with shades. But mostly these are sheer lipsticks and have to layered a couple of times to show up. The deeper shades are quite pigmented but the lighter shades lack pigmentation and look almost like the MAC Lustre finish lipsticks.

Swatches from left to right:

Rich Marron: is described as a “mid-tone nude.” Its a sheer nude brown shade and reminds me of MAC Hug Me.

What a Feeling: is described as a “mid-tone cool pink.” Its a lilac toned pink shade which would probably wash out Indian skin tones.

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Touche: is described as a “light beige.” A sheer peachy nude. Again not for medium and dark skin.

Rusty: is described as a “deep auburn.” A warm brick brown shade.

Feeling Amorous: is described as a “mid-tone fuchsia.” A blue based hot pink. Liking it a lot.

Commotion: is described as a “deep cool plum” A deep berry which looked a little vampy. Totally a fall shade. Applied unevenly. I like it ever since I got into such reddish berry shades!

Cherry Glaze: is described as an “orange red” A bright warm orange toned red shade. Reminds me of MAC So Chaud. A little less bright than Lady Danger. My favourite out of all!

Red Necessity: is described as a “deep warm wine”. A deep cherry red shade.

Love Beam: is described as a “mid-tone warm pink” A light warm pink quite similar to MAC Lustering. Less brighter than Speak Louder.

Pros of MAC Huggable Lipcolours:

Very creamy and buttery

Hydrating and moisturizing. You can skip lip balm with them.

Glide on like butter. Literally!

I can see a lot of shades working for Indian skin tones.

Cons of MAC Huggable Lipcolours:

Uneven application of a few shades.

Pigmentation varies according to the shade. Lighter one are more sheer than the darker ones.

The main problem behind these lipcolours is the uneven application. Even while swatching I found the texture a little difficult to work with. Adobe photoshop free download. You need to be extra careful while applying or they can look blotchy. Commotion is the unevenest and creamiest out of all.

Dupes: Revlon Lip Butters

Price: Approx Rs.1600 (not sure)

Shades meant for Indian skin: Commotion, Cherry Glaze, Red Necessity, Love Beam, Rich Marron, Rusty, Feeling Amorous. Err.okay all of them except Touche and What a Feeling! My favourites are Cherry Glaze and Feeling Amorous.

PS – Happy Holi!

PPS – What’s the mystery here? Girls I don’t want to be left out!

Mac Huggable Lipcolour Out Forget

Have you tried the MAC Huggable Lipcolours? Share your views with us.

[ehhdgarbones]

Damages | drabble

“‘Supose this is the type of service you can expect from a damn mudblood.”

Molars ached from how hard Edgar was grinding his teeth. If he glared any more intensely into the amber depths of his brandy it’d burst into flames. Slowly, he forced his eyes shut. Behind the black backdrop of his closed eyelids, he tried to focus on his breathing. Deep inhales through his nose, hold for ten seconds, long exhales past pursed lips.

It wasn’t helping. Nothing bloody helped.

In spite of his concentrated attempts to steady his heartbeat, the muscle in his chest refused to be subdued. Each breath, forcibly slow as they were, only seemed to fan the kindling within his ribcage. Anger caught with the ferocity of an oil fire. It spread in an instant, racing through his veins like an unpurgeable poison.

His heart rate doubled, then redoubled, and accelerated some more until he could hear the furious rhythm throttling behind his eardrums. Blood pumped hard and hot, molten as it churned and boiled, singing everything in its path. Too late he realized his breaths were circulating in time with his sprinting heartbeat. Rage had its claws buried too deep for him to shake himself free once more.

“Well,” Rosmerta’s tone had a chill to it, a finality most would think twice about arguing with. “If you lads take issue with being told to sod off by a mudblood, I recommend finding a new pub to get yourselves bloody pissed. Might I suggest the Hog’s Head? I’m sure they’d be thrilled to take your money ‘cause it’s no good here.”

Unswayed by her clearly dismissive tone, the wanker persisted. “Don’t think we will,” he sneered. “As long as I have coin you are going to shake that pretty little--”

Edgar tossed back what was left of his brandy and pushed himself out of his seat so hard that the barstool toppled to the ground in a clamor. Footfalls were heavy as he barrelled across the bar to the table Rosy was servicing. If he’d been paying her any mind he’d have noticed the witch shaking her head, wordlessly reminding him that she had the situation well in hand.

Trouble was that Edgar wasn’t paying her mind. Anger, as uncontrollable as it was all consuming, had his undivided attention. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. The railing, torrential seas of his rage finally had an outlet. He wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

Grabbing the undesirable patron by his collar, Edgar ripped the man out of his seat and shoved him toward the door. “Get. Out,” he seethed through grit teeth. “Now.”

The older male caught himself on the corner of a nearby table, keeping himself standing upright; if just barely. His own belligerent anger rose to meet Edgar’s. “Would you look at that,” he sneered to his mates. “Pup’s lookin’ for a fight.” Chuckles sounded from the other men as they rose from their seats.

You have no idea, thought Edgar with a scowl. His fingers curled to shaking fists at his sides.

Hoping to derail an altercation while she still could, Rosmerta stepped between Edgar and the other wizard. A hand splayed over Edgar’s chest and pressed against the taut muscle. Such a small gesture from such a small hand. It shouldn’t have been enough to hold him back. Amelia was typically the only person with that kind of sway over him.

“Easy, Bones,” muttered the witch under her breath before refocusing on the man whose glare was locked with Edgar’s. She lifted a hand toward him, too; dissuading him from taking another step closer. “I’ll have no fighting in my bar. Collect your mates and leave.”

Whatever came out of the man’s mouth went unheard. Edgar was deafened by the thunderous whooshing of blood violently pumping behind his ears. Blue eyes narrowed to pin pricks as the drunk bastard reached a hand toward Rosy. Time slowed as his fat fingers wrapped around her wrist. The moment his grip tightened on her arm to yank her out of the way, Edgar’s vision went red and his mind went blank.

Thoughts couldn’t exist within the fog of his rage. It was too dense and too demanding. Time had even less of a foothold. One moment they were standing yards apart and the next Edgar was on top of the man, pummelling his fist into his face with mindless abandon. When grasping hands gripped him by his shirt and arms he shrugged them off, refusing to be pulled free from the focal point of his fury.

A kick to the ribs pushed him off balance and, suddenly, Edgar found himself on the receiving end of a beating. Steel-toed boots met his side several more times before he launched himself back into the fight with a beastial roar. Lost somewhere in the haze of his wrath was the knowledge that he was outnumbered and couldn’t win this fight. But he’d be damned if that meant he stopped fighting.

Rosmerta’s loud, “Enough!” had his muscles locked in place.

Edgar was held in place, unmoving, imprisoned by magic as if he were made of stone. Eyes still free to scan the room, he noted that his combatants were equally frozen. Rosy moved between him and them. Something was being said to the other men, but all he could hear was the low mutter of the redhead’s voice.

She waved her wand and the men were released. With her hands on her hips she nodded to the exit and barked, “Go on, then. Before I make good on my word.”

They lingered for a few long seconds before glancing among themselves and turning for the exit. It wasn’t until they cleared the bar and the door was shut behind them that Rosmerta freed Edgar as well. In an instant he fell back into his body, regaining control of his limbs. The scolding in her eyes didn’t quite make it to her lips.

“Come on.” She gently gripped him by his elbow and urged him to turn around. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He allowed himself to be ushered behind the bar, down a long corridor, and into a room in the back of the building. Briskly instructing him to take a seat on a crate near the utility sink, Rosmerta moved around the room with well practiced steps. Edgar wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. His glare was on his boots. A sharper pain pulsed through his jaw when he clenched his teeth.

Now that his anger had faded all Edgar felt was numb, exhausted. His muscles were heavy with fatigue. The lack of adrenaline flooding his system meant that he was becoming acutely aware of the injuries he sustained. Edgar relished the pain. This was the sort he could contend with. This was the pain he preferred.

Thousand yard stare still aimed at the ground, he didn’t acknowledge Rosmerta when she kneeled in front of him. He barely winced when she began to clean the blood from the cuts on his face. For a long, uncounted stretch of time neither of them said a word.

Eventually the silence was broken between them. “You’re a little young to be this angry, Bones.”

He realized one of his eyes was swollen when he glanced up to meet her gaze, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her focus was on clearing the blood from his face. Edgar stared at her for a moment, not replying. Somewhere in his mind he knew there had to be a time when his fuse wasn’t so short, where he wasn’t so explosive and so effortlessly triggered. But he couldn’t remember that person anymore. Some part of him wondered if he’d ever truly existed.

These last two or so years, following his parent’s murder, he felt less and less like himself by the day. He was a vacant vessel, filled by whatever extreme came over him first. It was easier when he was with Amelia, which was why he spent so much time with his sister. His protectiveness of her was all that mattered in those moments. Her world was as leveled as his, her heart equally shattered. Being her strength gave him purpose, it reprioritized her pain over his, numbing his anger until life’s responsibilities pulled them apart again.

Perhaps Rosmerta was right. Maybe he was too young to be so angry. The problem was that Edgar didn’t know how to be any other way.

Dropping his gaze back onto the floor, he grumbled an indignant, “He touched you.”

“Oh, so that little display was all for my benefit, was it?” When Edgar shrugged halfheartedly she shook her head, unconvinced and unimpressed. Rosy muttered a level, “How gallant of you.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. The witch wasn’t keen on believing him, and he honestly couldn’t blame her for it. Ever since he’d met her Rosmerta saw clear through bullshit.

Done with his face, she turned her efforts onto cleaning the cuts on Edgar’s knuckles. Without looking up to peer into his eyes, she reminded him, “I’ve dealt with worse than the likes of his lot, love. Comes with the territory. I’m not some doe eyed lass in need of saving.”

“I know that.”

“And yet here you are, looking like something I’d scrape off of the bottom of my shoe.” Finally she glanced up, holding him prisoner to her searching eyes. Finely sculpted eyebrows were furrowed and there was a thoughtful frown on her lips. “I’ll not have you fighting my battles for me, Edgar. Nor anyone else, for that matter. You’ll need to find another crusade.”

For several beats he was held captive to her expectant gaze, both of them unmoving as she made sure he understood her meaning. Eventually Edgar nodded that her message had been received and a warm smile was flashed at him in return. She pat his cheek and he winced at the pain the contact sent coursing through him.

Tossing bloodied gauze into the utility sink, Rosmerta stood with a sigh and eyed her handiwork. Arms folded in front of her bust, her head tilting to the side a bit as she stared down at him. “Well, I’ve done all I can do. You’ll have to see a healer for the rest.”

Edgar nodded, even though he had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

As he stood from the crate to tower in front of the redhead once more, she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon on the dot.” At the confused look he shot her, an eyebrow cocked and a foxy smirk curled the side of her mouth. “Your chivalrous theatrics did a number on my bar. You’re a daft bastard if you think you’re not working off the damages.”

He couldn’t help the small, barely discernible smile that fought its way onto his lips. With a nod, he accepted his fate. “Tomorrow at noon, then.” He lifted his hand to her shoulder and gave it a gentle, appreciative squeeze. After a second nod, this one departing, he walked past the redhead and toward the exit. For a reason he couldn’t begin to explain, he was rather looking forward to being put to work.

[chuchoose]

ive started reading the online mtg stories can you guess my favourite character #01

“You? hunt me? a Vine Walker of the Henge?” 

Hunt was a strong word. The red cloaked traveler bit her tongue. She didn’t even know this one’s name, let alone that he had been tailing her, but it seemed her reputation (and her mission) proceeded her. It was bad enough she had been taken unawares, and worse that the dolt had announced himself, thereby demonstrating how ridiculous his feat of stealth truly was for him, but that he had caught her here, of all places, was the worst of all. 

They stood a small clearing apart, circled by overhanging vegetation and thick trees. Before the fire mage stood the vine walker (of the Henge, apparently). A vine walker was a mage who manipulated the earth and foliage in their spells. Manipulated, she reminded herself. The fire mage twisted her face in disgust for the word. Manipulated.

“Then know death!” he howled. The vine walker must have taken her grimace as a challenge. True enough, the pyromancer thought, as the elementalist's face contorted itself into outrage and his eyes pulsed with the green glow of mana being channeled to and from the nature around him. 

“Come to me, Lady of the Land, and lend me your strength. By your might, we shall rebuff this intruder with impunity.” In answer, the land quaked beneath the feet of both mages. The pyromancer, in one smooth motion, flashed one hand over her face, materializing her smooth, obsidian black battle mask in a puff of brimstone and a flash of fire, while using her other to blast a plume of flame at her own feet, flinging herself to relative safety, as the ground she had moments before stood on cracked and balled itself into a fist emerging from below, as big as an old oak was wide, before it splayed out and slammed itself into the ground from where it had emerged as if to lift its lithe and lean body of roots and dirt from the edges of an otherwise serene pool.

The pyromancer stabilized herself in the air with a cacophony of minor explosions and a magically enhanced updraft as the writhing and vaguely humanoid shape of the elemental rose, towering before her as a gargantuan and uneven woman, its fists the size of boulders and its face, a featureless tangle of nature, but radiating enough wild and ill-sculpted mana that the pyromancer could make no mistake in its summoned intention. 

“Wild Mother!” the vine walker howled. “In the name of root and stone! By the strength of the Father!” The greenery that surrounded the clearing bloomed into bulbous pink blossoms that unfolded themselves into falling petals. With wide flourish, the vine walker swung his arm around in clumsy and angry arcs as the petals and leaves and grass and weeds that circled the clearing whirled within a twist of wind and mana into the shape of a long spear that formed in the elemental’s raised fist. The vine walker roared and the elemental lumbered forward with weapon poised to strike. “Destroy the heretic! Break this raze mage with all our rage!”

The pyromancer snarled. This is what she got for being ambushed in an enemy’s arena of choice, she thought. Watching the elementalist spin his arms in such a wild and ridiculous fashion for his spells only cemented her feelings for the mage further. The pyromancer hated these warlocks and deal makers and so-called wizards. They are all mere borrowers to her; only children trying to grasp at something greater that they can only hope to hold. She watched intently as the spear of solid mana hurtled ever closer in the Wild Mother’s thrust. The world to her was silent, drowned out by her focus and the perpetual chorus of explosions she had summoned to keep herself aloft, not that she cared for anything the vine walker would have to say if she could hear him. True magic belongs to those who live it, she knew. The ocean is not yours because you can cup a part of it in your hands. You are not the ocean because you drink of it. And you are especially not the ocean because you can scream and you claim it answers. 

If there were any onlookers, they would have sworn that the fire mage had met her end right then and there. As the tip of the spear looked to make its impact, the mage erupted in a bloom of flame. The spear of mana caught against the impact, and the elementalist let out a victorious whoop, thinking the strike had found true, before the jerk and stagger of the impeded spear’s thrust registered for him. In panic, he redoubled his investment of mana in the construct, as the fire mage knew his short-sighted panic would impel him, but the spear’s destruction had not been her goal. Know this: mana and magic cannot be broken so easily, but that is to say nothing by the mediums with which it is conducted. The wilderness and green within the sheath of mana went up in unnatural and voluminous smoke.

The fire mage knew she would have only moments to act. This was not a concern for her so much as it was her reminding herself how much time she had to do what she wanted to next. The smokescreen would not hinder the elemental, for it did not see, but moved with the ripples within the lines of ley and its weaves. No, the smoke was so the vine walker knew not what spell he would need to beg to his Wild Mother for next. Rather than allow him his insipid cries to the thing he bound and claims himself in service to, rather than have to navigate what insulting contrivance of magic he’d subject her to next, the fire mage knew that before the smoke cleared, she would only have to worry about the elemental’s devastating swings, and once that strength was answered, the vine walker would have little recourse left to him. 

All of those thoughts raced through the fire mage’s mind in that moment, that singular moment, when the constant booms of fire and force that kept the fire mage airborne were superseded by the pyromancer’s own primal rebel scream, even from behind her mask, as her body coursed with the mana that poured out from the very center of her being. Then, in a roar of explosions in overlapping clamour, the pyromancer shot out like a lightning bolt shrouded in cinder and smoke. The Wild Mother’s other arm swung wide in recovery and recompense of its first repelled blow and missed while the pyromancer raced and twisted around the elemental’s arm and spear in jagged and short lines of violent flight, then down its torso and up and around what should have been its neck. The vine walker looked on in horror as the fire mage emerged from the smoke screen and scorched a path into the sky above where the smoke trailed after her until it thinned into the barest of a thread-like wisp and she took it within her grasp and pulled with all the force her flight magic could afford. The elemental’s encircled arm jerked towards the sky, screeching in indecipherable rumblings of stone and protest as parts of its earthen form fell away from beneath the smoky binds cutting into its earthy flesh. The fire mage fumed, flared in a pulse of fire and mana, and then redoubled her efforts, but instead of flying further up, tugged down, as if using a pulley. In turn, the line of smoke zagged down with her and the elemental’s arm was drawn up as it struggled and thrashed and screamed in the unknowable language magic. The elemental’s great strength, a consequence of its mass more than the mana that moved it, unsurprising of something so large and strong created in the ways a mage-in-name-only would, had been frozen in a raised arm like it meant to surrender.

The pyromancer looked down at the elementalist below whose mouth hung agape. His precious Wild Mother squirmed and clawed at its arm sluggishly as if underwater, the elementalist having marshalled mana to make it move, but now it fought against the gravity of its own unwieldy size. With a triumphant smirk unseen from behind her mask, the fire mage lit a little flame at the end of a smug thumbs-up on her free hand. The elementalist shook his head pleadingly. The pyromancer made no show of noticing, so inordinately pleased with herself as she was, before holding the flame to the thread of smoke in the other. It burned down like a slow fuse. The Wild Mother could feel the vibrations of mana from the spark ripple through the air as the fuse inched closer and closer and the Wild Mother redoubled its struggles to free itself in vain while the elementalist only looked on dumbstruck. 

A tinge of regret twisted in the pyromancer’s chest as the elemental’s keening found a crack in her resolve. This is why you don’t dabble in life magic, she thought. Magic is already alive and these monsters twisted it into a form that could feel pain. For what? She cursed them all. She knew no answer of theirs could suffice.

Where the spark met the mana that made the elemental whole, the elemental’s limbs hissed and popped and fizzed before giving way to a cascade of explosions in the spark’s wake. The blasts chewed away chunks of earth and stone and wood, leaving the mana beneath bare and leaking free like a thick and oozing blood of luminous green. With each blast, the elementalist shrieked in pain as his control of the mana that made the elemental shattered and rippled through him as if each were a gut emptying punch. In moments, the whole elemental fell apart in a rain of dirt and charred vegetation. The vine walker lay motionless save the slight rise and fall of his chest with haggard breath.

The pyromancer released a satisfied sigh and descended in free fall, cushioning her landing with an updraft of hot air that rustled her cloak like a banner whipping in the wind. The elementalist looked up from the dirt, his face drenched in the cold sweat that followed the exhaustion of mana drain. The pyromancer leveled an outstretched palm at him like a cannon and conjured a roiling ball of flame in its center. 

“Do you see now, pretender?” the pyromancer spat. 

The elementalist shook his head weakly no, but the pyromancer cared not. She leaned in and held the fireball only inches away from his chest. The flame of her magic danced eerily across the perfect smoothness of her mask while the heat of it began to chew and smoke through the hemp and vine that made the elementalist’s garb.

“Whatever devils you made your pacts with -- whatever deals you struck so you could move the earth in our mothers’ forms -- I will burn it. From whatever spires or swamps your kin since claimed sanctum? I will cast you all out before I burn them down and you shortly after. Never again will you invoke a woman’s form for your weapons. Never again will you take our weapons and call them yours. Tell your mentors and your masters and what snivelling cowards you call your minions this when you see them next.” She pressed her hand into the vine walker’s chest and he screamed himself white before going quickly quiet. “This magic does not belong to you.”

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Worship from Home: June 11, 2017

This series aims to provide folks who can’t make it to church for any variety of reasons with prayers, songs, and sermons. My hope is that these posts will help you worship from home, knowing that others are using the same content and thus, though we may be miles and miles apart, we worship together. See this post for more information.

If you prefer to worship with different material, see this masterpost of sermons and full services online that should all be LGBT+ friendly.

This Sunday is considered Trinity Sunday, when we celebrate the One God who is Three Persons. This is a good time to ponder what it means that we have a relational, social God, a God of love and diversity -- what the Trinity means for our relationship with God, with one another, and with Creation.

[Image description: An abstract painting in which three figures dance, each on one toe with the other leg in the air, with their arms around each other -- their arms blend so that it is hard to tell where one figure ends and the next begins. There is no distinctive gendering of the figures. Colors include deep blue, shades of goldish brown, and shades of green and pink. This image represents the attempt to describe the Trinity as Perichoresis, Greek for “Dance around.” See this webpage for more on this concept: “The choreia or dance of God is the choreography of the cosmos, the interrelationship of Creator, creation, and life itself, the holy creativity of the All in All.”] 

Let us worship God, together. 

(The worship material is under the readmore -- let me know if you are unable to access it!)

Gathering

Prepare yourself to worship.

Meditate on the below poem, pondering what God as Trinity means to you. How do you understand the Trinity? What questions do you have about it? How do you relate to each of the three Persons of the Trinity -- Father (Mother? Parent? Source? Creator?), Son (Child? Word? Redeemer?), and Holy Spirit (Wisdome? Sustainer?) -- and how do you relate to the Triune God as a whole?

A piece by Michael Coffey, “Trinity is a Poem”: 

Trinity is a poem uttered free verse as cosmic love gift sending sound waves through earth to hurl speech into the ionosphere stirring radio waves to hum

Trinity is a synchronistic dream we and God have nightly about the interface of human and divine the matrix of connections between holy and common

Trinity is a syncopated counterpoint of melody lines referencing each other and making music as sonorous as whales and pulsars and seismic waves all held in tension

then someone inscribed the free utterance in indelible ink and someone analyzed the shared dream with Freudian precision and someone forced the messy melodies smooth in straight time

behold: just when they think they finished the job and brush the dust of such work off their hands and rest Trinity dances out the door and finds willing partners to twirl

Call to Worship

God of delight, your Wisdom sings your Word at the crossroads where humanity and divinity meet.

Invite us into your joyful being where you know and are known in each beginning, in all sustenance, in every redemption,

that we may manifest your unity in the diverse ministries you entrust to us, truly reflecting your triune majesty in the faith that acts, in the hope that does not disappoint, and in the love that endures.

Amen.

(source)

Hymn: “How Wonderful the Three In One” (one of my favorite hymns!) lyric text here (see page 3 of the PDF)

Confession

Loving God, 

By speaking you create all that is and give order and goodness to the universe.

You place it all in our hands, and thus we think it belongs to us. Your order is that the world would sustain us,  but our plan is to own it and mess with your order.

Your Son came and showed us the grace of your love, and he commissions us to baptize and teach all nations -- but we do not even reach out to our neighbors.

Every day we are wrapped in your grace and love, yet in the arrogance of our lives, we wrestle free of your embrace.

Save us, O God, from the sins we know in our hearts. Save us, O God, from the sins we hide.

Assurance of Pardon

Our loving God never desires to be separated from us. Into our human existence God sends Jesus Christ, God’s own son, and our sins are forgiven. In repentance and forgiveness we are created again, and renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Again we hear the Son’s commission and live as the saints of God’s church. Let us give thanks to the Parent, and the Child, and the Holy Spirit, for such mercy and transformative love. 

Amen. 

[Source of confession and assurance; edited slightly]

Prayer before Scripture

God, whose fingers sculpt sun and moon and curl the baby's ear; Spirit, brooding over chaos before the naming of day; Savior, sending us to earth's ends with water and words: startle us with the grace, love, and communion of your unity in diversity, that we may live to the praise of your majestic name.

Amen.

(source) 

Scripture

Genesis 1:1 - 2:4a

... Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” ...

Psalm 8

... When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,    the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them,    mortals that you care for them? ...

2 Corinthians 13:11-13

...The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you. 

Matthew 28:16-20

Full passage: Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Sermons

Option 1: “A Glowing Oven Full of Love;” text only; a little long

A sermon on God as relationship -- how the dance of the Trinity informs our own call to relationality as well as our understanding of God as living among us rather than aloof from creation and suffering 

“God is not some simple, solitary, isolated, individual being. God is not some kind of Wizard of Oz hiding out behind the curtain of the stars. God is not personal in that sense. That’s anthropomorphic. Rather, God is personal in the sense that God is the love that creates, redeems and sustains everything that exists. The life of God is like a divine dance of persons in love from which sparks fly, the love that moves the sun and the other stars. At the heart of the universe is the divine dance of persons in love, and if God is the love that creates and reconciles and transforms all that exists, then God must be relational in God’s essence. So when we say that God is Trinity, it is a way of saying that God is love, nothing but burning love and a glowing oven full of love, a love that overflows into all of creation. ...”

Option 2: “Diversity in Divinity,” video only; 17 minutes

(My favorite of these sermon options, but unfortunately it doesn’t have subtitles)

A good sermon for those who struggle to understand or believe in the Trinity. It also goes into the history of the doctrine of the Trinity and discusses expansive language about God. How does our language around the Trinity affect our relationships with God and each other?

“Might the Trinity be asking us this morning that it’s not something to be grasped intellectually ...The Trinity is something that wants to be experienced -- that it’s about this dynamic relationship between the three in one or the one in three that continues to play, and tweak, and change. That the Trinity is this mystery that keeps our heads and our hearts spinning. That just when we think we have it figured out, something in our life changes the way we interact with God -- or Spirit, Mother, Daughter, Son, Father -- in a new way.”

Option 3: “Three in Order”; text only; very short 

(Not my favorite option but good if you don’t have time for a longer one)

Not exactly a sermon, more of a reflection on the nature of the Trinity: “Pentecost reminds us that God's power sometimes works in the midst of chaos - heck, sometimes God's power is the very thing that causes the chaos! And, Trinity Sunday reminds us that even in the midst of that chaos, God has some kind of order happening whether we can see it or not.”

Option 4: “Sermon for Trinity Sunday”; text and audio available; medium length 

A sermon by a Native American Christian that addresses the pain that the “Great Commission” of Matthew 28:16-20 has all too often wrought, with hope for the future of this commission 

“The question on this Trinity Sunday, when we stand at the moment of understanding the great mystery of our faith in the triune God, I think we have to once again confront the question of our attitude about whether or not we believe Christianity should continue to be a missionary church. Do we have to go to one extreme or the other? Do we have to deny any missionary activity on our part, or do we have to just simply bow our necks and go forward, forgetting, forgetting, all that has happened before? ...”

Prayers of the People

Holy, holy, holy God, in calling forth creation from the void, revealing yourself in human flesh, and pouring forth your wisdom to guide us, you manifest your concern for your whole universe.

You invite us, as your people, to gather the world's needs into our hearts and bring them before you. Pray now for yourself, for the people in your life, for strangers and enemies and friends, and for Creation -- for whatever is on your heart. 

Holy, holy, holy God, fill us with strength and courage, with discernment and compassion, that we may be your instruments of justice and love in this world, that it may be on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

(source) 

Benediction 

Triune God, whose self-sustaining love overflows into all Creation, you whirl into our lives and sweep us up in your lively dance.

Now send us dancing out into your world, to fill its empty aching with your love, to subdue its pain with your peace, to make your good news known far and wide in what we say and what we do.

Source of life -- we glorify you and grow in your love.  Redeemer of life -- we follow you and strive to be like you. Sustainer of life -- we walk with you, as you whirl through the world and use our hands to transform death into new, radiant, abundant life.

Amen. 

Hymn: “Anthem”; lyrics here  alternative (more traditional): “Go My Children with My Blessing”

[Image description: an embroidered version of an Orthodox icon representing the Trinity as three winged figures sitting around a table. No figure has any features that really “genders” them, nor does any one seem “above” the others. See here for more on this type of depiction of the Trinity.]

[frogsandfries]

Taking the night off

Put another drop in the job hunting bucket, gotta keep hoping for rain. I applied to be a dog groomer.

I was going to work on my tart Princess Bubblegums, but I was also kind of inspired by a coworker to do a tutorial on my s'mores. Then my friend got home and passed out. I didn't want to disrupt him by turning on the light, and in our cramped quarters, he's taking up the space by my desk. I wanted to just watch some Hulu tonight, or something.

I also kind of have this itch to make little macarons, but that's a whole category of ideas unto itself and I would just end up with dozens of mixed clay colors in my WIP box when I haven't even finished my sprinkles-- my sprinkles probably account for the majority of the unused colors in my box. I'm also considering making a bunch of balloons for more UP houses. The colors I'm using for the balloons and sprinkles are the pure color mixed with translucent, so they could be put back on their respective bars and used for other projects. Once I feel like actually making sprinkles (which is tough for me at the scale I want them), I can either trim off the already-mixed color or mix more.

The custom mixed colors will just taint whatever color I might try to put them back with so I end up just putting my scraps aside until I think I can mix them into a new project. If I want to, say, make more little witches (or wizards) on brooms, I could probably figure out what colors I used to make my initial brooms.

I'm trying to be more deliberate about mixing colors, trying only to mix what I need or use what I have. While it might be interesting to gob up all of my scraps and maybe one day, for example, slice up the mess and see what I can make of it, the thought gives me this weird cognitive dissonance. Even if I organized the scraps by color type, I just don't think holding onto scraps like that is in my character. Although, I have contemplated more of a mokugane, where I would, organically, just with my fingers, flatten each color scrap into a layer, maybe separate some layers with glitters or mica or alcohol inks. Obviously, this would have to be more organized than just smooshing all the colors into a blob. This would work better for my style/personality, but....... what would I do with something like that? I don't think my style really...... involves something patterned like that, with an organic kind of life/pattern/vibrancy/complexity?? Plus, to get a really strong appreciation for the pattern, you have to have the scale. I guess I could scale down a mokugane like any other cane...... Maybe that's how I get my macarons. Scraparons. XD

There's my incentive for holding onto my scraps, instead of mixing them into something else. Maybe in time, another use for my scraps will occur to me.

I really want to have sprinkles, but to me, the best way to do that would be to make sticks, bake them and trim them when firm. I may have to concede this is, in fact, for me, at the scale I want to work, not practical. It doesn't help that my clay is incredibly soft, in my opinion, and terribly sticky. It might just be better to roll the clay to the desired thickness and trim it right off. I've been using starch to keep everything clean and from sticking to everything else; I might have to clean out my baking container, empty out the excess starch to keep from losing my sprinkles. It's probably going to be a pain in the butt; it's a pain in the butt to sculpt the chocolate dribbles on my s'more books, but I just have to remind myself how adorable the effect is. It'll be rewarding to have jars full of the tiniest sprinkles. It will be rewarding to have sprinkles on my donuts and cupcakes. I may just have to concede that polyclay just doesn't do what I want this one time, and work around that.

I know the goal was to be bored tonight and hopefully fuel my imagination. But..... I'm really bored. And hungry. I have food..... but I don't want to climb over him to use the toaster oven.

I've been talking to one of his friends about him. This guy seeeeems to agree with me regarding our mutual friend's current romantic relationship, but of course, everyone has to have their own experiences and learn their own lessons....I know I was one of those.

In my last relationship, my younger sister and my dad, the ones I would report to when my ex was stressing me out, would constantly ask, why are you staying, he's a jerk, he's using you, his family hates you--basically pointing out how this was a really toxic, unhealthy relationship for me to be in. But I had every excuse to stay-- it doesn't matter if his family hates me, there's nothing wrong with a woman supporting a man (unless that woman can't singlehandedly build a life for herself, let alone two people), he loves me, I've been through worse, not having sex almost ever doesn't really bother me.

I really should have listened. I should have listened to them, I should have listened to my gut. That was my lesson to learn.

In this, even though I'm sure he has lied in some way shape or form, for reasons and incentive unknown to me, I don't get that gut feeling that I should leave--it's been more an animal reaction to flee from an unfamiliar, scary, confusing situation, to something safer and more familiar. Honestly......I won't know until I leave, but I feel like we make a really natural team; we have incredible sex, when we do have sex, which hasn't been for a while. However, I think the belief that compatibility is having everything in common is immature; he seems to believe that having everything in common is true compatibility. Which explains why he's into an overgrown little girl who will do whatever it takes to keep him, including molding herself to him, perhaps at the risk of having her own unique personality. But that's what you get when you date a barbie doll. And that's what I get for inadvertently falling for someone who........ isn't fully in touch with the common reality.

Perhaps when I leave, I'll reflect on this situation and realize I don't actually care about him. Maybe my feelings will dissipate because he let me leave and didn't try to keep me. Maybe he deserves his barbie doll. After all, my feelings quite cooled off when we were experiencing tension from all my early shifts. We basically didn't see each other at all then.

[shadowtajun]

This is going to be a long post. (Sorry) 

It’s all about me moving, what art I’ve done and how I’ve been. I miss you my UK lovelies.

Alrighty, people! I’ve moved back to Brisbane. It was a bittersweet leaving and the flight itself was harrowing but we arrived safely in the morning to a bunch of friends and family ready to eat pancakes. Huzzah!

Since we’ve been back I've had to adjust to the heat, the price of everything, dealing with hugs being sweaty and gross, and living with family members again. It’s been tough and I've had very few days where I've been about the house to work on my art. The few days that I have, have been excellent. 

Last week I bought a new GTX1070 so I can finally work on photo-realistic textures and I downloaded Blender, Krita, Spriter Pro, Hexels 2, and Affinity Designer. 4 out of the 5 programs are brand new to me so I’ve been playing around with them to understand them. I even tried my hand at learning some Unity Programming. I’ve been searching for jobs - nothing yet. And I’ve been looking a other careers that might interest me. The current top choices for work going is Metal Machinist or possibly Carpenter. Will keep you updated on that choice.

Anyway, on to the art. Here’s what I’ve been working on recently. 

Reddit/Imgur user “Androze” has an amazing  Rhacodactylus leachianus aka  Leachies I was inspired by her photos http://imgur.com/gallery/5XdwM calling it a baby dinosaur. I thought it would look amazing as a dragon. So I’ve started drawing from the photos and that first image is my 2-hour progress. 

The head’s the wrong shape, the arm is too short and too long, the tail too flat. However, I can really feel I've made progress over the past two years. 

I did some work on my notebook for D&D. We’re playing a pathfinder game and I made the logo for The Watch that we are in. The DM is pretty excited to see it. I really want to have a more see-through white to show the shade of everything. It’s supposed to replicate a stain-glass window.

Next up is tattoo designs. I’m looking at getting tattoos - have been for about a year now. I realised I wanted a sleeve of art from all my artist friends based on a style I love. http://www.vanishingtattoo.com/tattoo_museum/pazyryk_mummy_tattoos.html it just makes me think of those cave art tattoos with a little twist (pun intended) It reminds me of stories and memories like those classic Celtic arts. 

Last but not least, before I left I had been doing some sculpting. I saw an amazing image of a chameleon as a wizard done by someone, it’s glorious and so I took that image and turned it into a sculpture. The image of the two BAFTAs (holy crap!) is of my sculpt of Mo from Tee and Mo. The company I worked for has their own IP - Tee and Mo. I created a one of a kind sculpt, and then made silicon moulds of the sculpt, and finally creates a single resin cast. It was a lot of trial and error and I learnt a lot. They loved it, and said it was their first toy prototype - which I feel is quite the honour and i’m so happy they decided it was worthy enough to go with the BAFTAs they have won. ^~^

Anyway, I promise from now on I’ll be posting more regularly with less walls of text. I have this gecko dragon underway and I’m working on a very small game with my husband that I will be sharing photos of here and there. 

Thanks for staying with me :)