Wow This Is Incredible!! :)

Wow this is incredible!! :)

a hypothetical d&d party

The bard is mute.

It’s not the first thing people notice about her, usually. The first thing is generally that she’s young, and female, and lovely–the first thing people notice about their entire party is that they’re all young, and female, and lovely, and that’s gotten more than one would-be thief or mugger in far over their head when they haven’t noticed the the paladin’s hammer or the ranger’s axe. It comes up rather quickly though, often enough. Whoever heard of a bard who can’t sing?

She plays a lute, mostly, or a lap-harp made of shell and sinew, string instruments she can pluck while she smiles in secret and watches everyone around her. She dances quick, except when she’s tired, when she’s scared, when she forgets to remember the feet at the ends of her legs.

She doesn’t tell her story to strangers, but enough of the other girls have learned to sign by now, and it’s easy enough to sketch out the outlines of the old bargain: the voice, the prince, the witch, the thousand shards of glass she walked upon on her way up the beach, the look in her sea-green eyes when they travel too near water. The thousand shards of glass she walked upon when she left the palace, and turned back towards the sea to throw herself upon the rocks, and then made her way up the road inland, and kept walking.

The warlock is beautiful and mild and self-effacing and shy, is tidy and generous and charming. She’s small with herself in exactly the right way to shout abuse to the half of her party who knows how to recognize that same look in the mirror in the morning. The bird on her shoulder is too small, too bright, too sweet for a real warlock’s familiar. The knife at her belt is sharp enough for anything that needs doing, though, cooking or otherwise.

Her fae patron visits sometimes, in the quiet hours between dusk and midnight, a sweetly old godmother made of moonlight and shadow. She’s kind to the whole lot of them in her own chaotic way, free-handed with transmutations and illusions that break halfway through the evening, for better or worse. She once spent three hours around their campfire drinking brandy and gossipping outrageously about the Feywild and teasing the wizard into fits of laughter.

She’s never told the story of how she met the warlock’s mother, or what debt was owed there, and the warlock doesn’t know herself. It was never meant to be a debt paid in power and violence and the deft will-sapping enchantments the warlock weaves now, but, well. The prince wasn’t meant to be cruel, the warlock says. The palace was meant to be warmer than the fireplace cinders in her stepmother’s house. The faerie was meant to be saving her from her lot, not throwing her into something worse. The power’s an apology of sorts.

The wizard is awkward and joyful and nervous. She has no fear of heights or small places, which just stands to be expected, she says, after all those years in that little tower, and she’s got no skill at lying or even edging around the truth at all, which is why she isn’t in the tower any more in the first place. She says too much or too little or the wrong thing entirely, always, but the most well-socialized member of the whole party is the ranger who walks around with a dire wolf at her hip, or maybe their mute bard, so who are any of them to judge.

There was nothing to do in that tower but read, and brush her hair, and sort through the witch’s endless stockpile of dried herbs and potions ingredients, and watch out the window as woodcutters and hunters and princes rode by, and dream. The reading was more interesting than the dreaming, most of the time, and the witch didn’t mind it as much when she talked about it. She never bothered to actually use any of the magic in the witch’s books until the thing with the prince and the haircut and the desert, which she’s told them all about in all the detail they could ever ask for, but most of the girls get uncomfortable when she starts talking about princes. It’s a little easier if she just starts rambling about conjuration and abjuration and illusion theory, about the 400-year-old history of a city that doesn’t exist any more, about the proper grammatical structure of Celestial, until maybe one of the quiet ones finally answers back.

Her hair is too short. She keeps an illusion up over it whenever she can, while it grows back slowly, tickling the side of her face and the back of her neck and leaving her head too light and unbalanced.

The ranger doesn’t care about princes, which makes one of them at least. Then again, the ranger doesn’t trust anyone, really, prince or no, not wolves or monsters or the men who kill them. She more or less trusts the rest of them by now, mostly, when the wind blows in the right direction.

She wears bright red in the middle of the woods and it shouldn’t help her slip into the shadows half as easily as it does, but most beasts can’t see color and red’s just another shade of gray if the light’s low enough. She never uses her axe against trees. She doesn’t need to. She can find a path through any brush without it. She picks flowers when she finds them, and tucks them into the other girls’ hair.

Her wolf’s mother killed the man who taught her to use the axe, and the man who taught her to use the axe killed that wolf’s mate before that, and the mate had an old woman’s blood on his teeth when it happened. The ranger’s blade found the wolf’s mother’s throat. The ranger’s mother sent her out into the woods in the first place. It’s not as though anywhere is really safe, cottage or forest, axe or teeth. One of these days maybe her wolf will turn and go for her in return, and maybe one of these days her axe will be faster and maybe it won’t. In the mean time, there’s flowers and berries and pastries and enough game to keep everyone sated, for a little while.

The paladin’s hair is raven black and her skin is chalky as a corpse. She’s not undead, mostly. The undead are her job. She knows that much.

She was sweet, once (they were all sweet, once) but apples are bitter now and so is she, and there’s judgment to lay out in the world. Her grip on her warhammer’s all wrong–she holds it like a mining hammer, but it hits as hard as it needs to. Her armor’s all dwarven make, and her shield’s black and red and white like snow.

She was sweet once, and frightened, and when she says it quietly around the campfire in the night when none of them can quite make out the glimmer of understanding on each others’ faces, everyone still nods. She took a bite of poison and somebody left her a full year in a glass coffin of Gentle Repose, dangling on the edge of the Raven Queen’s domain while all the other newly-arrived dead passed by and faded away. She woke up to somebody’s lips and hands and skin on her lips and her hands and her skin. She doesn’t like princes. She doesn’t like necromancers.

She likes sunlight, and summer, and colors that aren’t black and white and red. She likes the way the bard grins when she whirls into a dance, and the look in the warlock’s eye when she sets her feet to say no, and the wizard’s laughter on high with a Fly spell, and the ranger’s gentle fingers braiding flowers into everything she can touch.

Possible Phantom Thieves: Mishima, Togo, and Sae (Part II)

Okay, I rarely do posts unless necessary and THIS is one of those times. For the last few days, I’ve been watching Persona 5 playthroughs (since I beat the ACTUAL game itself sometime prior), interact with other blogs concerning certain mechanics and scenarios in the game, and have been going fan crazy over certain characters *cough*Mishima*cough* Anyways, one of the things that I’ve contemplated at that time was the possibility of certain characters in the Phantom Thieves, if given the chance. I know, I know, the Phantom Thieves have enough people as is, but hear me out: what I’m about to analyze is merely a hypothetical. There’s no likelihood of it happening and everyone has their own opinions.

Now with further ado, let’s get to the topic at hand: “Mishima, Togo, and Sae as possible Phantom Thieves.”

Yep, I said it. These three specific characters if they were Phantom Thieves instead of actual Confidants. So beforehand, I should warn you that this post WILL get long because I will go in-depth to their contribution to the team, how they joined, and description of the Initial and Ultimate Personas.

These will be done in parts, as to not make the posts overly long and dreadful to read. For the other parts, choose from the ones listed below. Yuuki Mishima | Hifumi Togo | Sae Nijima

Warning: All artwork used in this work belongs to @5ru9 and reddit user, qphysx. All credit goes to them and I don’t claim any artworks as my own.

Keep reading

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libraryofalexandira11

11 years ago

Um... Why did I get ecchi terrorist? This is not a great omen.

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libraryofalexandira11

9 years ago

I have mourned several....

Reblog if you have mourned the death of a fictional character.

If you do not reblog this, you are in fact lying.

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libraryofalexandira11

6 years ago

This is indeed very helpful for writing.

Helpful things for action writers to remember

Sticking a landing will royally fuck up your joints and possibly shatter your ankles, depending on how high you’re jumping/falling from. There’s a very good reason free-runners dive and roll.

Hand-to-hand fights usually only last a matter of seconds, sometimes a few minutes. It’s exhausting work and unless you have a lot of training and history with hand-to-hand combat, you’re going to tire out really fast.

Arrows are very effective and you can’t just yank them out without doing a lot of damage. Most of the time the head of the arrow will break off inside the body if you try pulling it out, and arrows are built to pierce deep. An arrow wound demands medical attention.

Throwing your opponent across the room is really not all that smart. You’re giving them the chance to get up and run away. Unless you’re trying to put distance between you so you can shoot them or something, don’t throw them.

Everyone has something called a “flinch response” when they fight. This is pretty much the brain’s way of telling you “get the fuck out of here or we’re gonna die.” Experienced fighters have trained to suppress this. Think about how long your character has been fighting. A character in a fist fight for the first time is going to take a few hits before their survival instinct kicks in and they start hitting back. A character in a fist fight for the eighth time that week is going to respond a little differently.

ADRENALINE WORKS AGAINST YOU WHEN YOU FIGHT. THIS IS IMPORTANT. A lot of times people think that adrenaline will kick in and give you some badass fighting skills, but it’s actually the opposite. Adrenaline is what tires you out in a battle and it also affects the fighter’s efficacy - meaning it makes them shaky and inaccurate, and overall they lose about 60% of their fighting skill because their brain is focusing on not dying. Adrenaline keeps you alive, it doesn’t give you the skill to pull off a perfect roundhouse kick to the opponent’s face.

Swords WILL bend or break if you hit something hard enough. They also dull easily and take a lot of maintenance. In reality, someone who fights with a sword would have to have to repair or replace it constantly.

Fights get messy. There’s blood and sweat everywhere, and that will make it hard to hold your weapon or get a good grip on someone.

A serious battle also smells horrible. There’s lots of sweat, but also the smell of urine and feces. After someone dies, their bowels and bladder empty. There might also be some questionable things on the ground which can be very psychologically traumatizing. Remember to think about all of the character’s senses when they’re in a fight. Everything WILL affect them in some way.

If your sword is sharpened down to a fine edge, the rest of the blade can’t go through the cut you make. You’ll just end up putting a tiny, shallow scratch in the surface of whatever you strike, and you could probably break your sword.

ARCHERS ARE STRONG TOO. Have you ever drawn a bow? It takes a lot of strength, especially when you’re shooting a bow with a higher draw weight. Draw weight basically means “the amount of force you have to use to pull this sucker back enough to fire it.” To give you an idea of how that works, here’s a helpful link to tell you about finding bow sizes and draw weights for your characters. (CLICK ME)

If an archer has to use a bow they’re not used to, it will probably throw them off a little until they’ve done a few practice shots with it and figured out its draw weight and stability.

People bleed. If they get punched in the face, they’ll probably get a bloody nose. If they get stabbed or cut somehow, they’ll bleed accordingly. And if they’ve been fighting for a while, they’ve got a LOT of blood rushing around to provide them with oxygen. They’re going to bleed a lot.

Here’s a link to a chart to show you how much blood a person can lose without dying. (CLICK ME)

If you want a more in-depth medical chart, try this one. (CLICK ME)

Hopefully this helps someone out there. If you reblog, feel free to add more tips for writers or correct anything I’ve gotten wrong here.

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libraryofalexandira11

6 years ago

Reblogging because now I’m nostalgic about Justice.

Why do more people love Cole than Justice? Is it because Cole is considered “cute”? Because I’m here to inform/remind you that Justice is adorable. Some examples!:

He thinks our world is "a world so full of beauty that beauty goes overlooked.“

He ties his things to his belt so that next time Sigrun tries to steal them it will remind her that stealing is wrong, but since he’s told her ahead of time that he did this why would she try it again? He doesn’t have an answer. He didn’t think of that.

He’s scared of becoming a demon because he just wants to be good

He believes that cats deserve freedom too. He is worried that Ser Pounce-a-Lot isn’t free

(He’s fine with it after Anders explains Pounce wants to be there and it’s a mutually beneficial thing.)

He wants a piece of lyrium (and books about both it and the Fade) to remind him of home because he’s homesick

He’s absolutely devastated at the thought that his presence has upset Aura (look at his face)

He’s a bit jealous of Aura and Kristoff’s love. He wants to find love too

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libraryofalexandira11

3 years ago

This is quite helpful