It Is Now A Skull With Crossbones. Not Nearly As Triggering As That MF Clown That Was Staring Into My

It is now a skull with crossbones. Not nearly as triggering as that MF clown that was staring into my soul with a vengeance, so that's a plus.

Still distracting as hell (OCD go brrr), and it impairs the ability to like posts (as in, you have to scroll all the way down so that you don't click the skull's square perimeter - which it has for some cursed reason - instead of, you know, the like button). Thanks, I hate it ✨

2023: missives from desktop tumblr suggest that per the latest update my mutuals are being hunted by some kind of grotesque clown. staff assure us this is driven by user feedback.

My soul almost left my body when I logged into Tumblr this morning and was greeted by whatever this clown monstrosity is floating on the side of my dash. That woke me up faster than my coffee ever will, what the true fuck is this -

My clown phobia really be wanting to kick in rn, lmao

(I know its from One Piece. Doesn't make what I had to witness any less horrifying lol)

Me reading this: looks at my OCs from The Last Wrath Trystan Grayspear this you?

i really love when a character, calmly and completely earnestly, is like i’m not important, i’m no one really, just a blade that people use and throw away. no one remembers me for long after i leave their life. and then you look at the evidence and it turns out that every person who meets them becomes permanently obsessed with them, for better and for worse, and the character has somehow completely missed this fact

WRITEBLR BATTLE ROYALE - Alex vs. Elyren Full Fight!

Hi, there! I am taking part in @your-absent-father's amazingly fun event, Writeblr Battle Royale, where I and other cool writeblrs choose our most powerful OCs and make them fight in an interdimensional arena. It's chaotic, it's badass, and more importantly, it is FUN (:<

Important: These events are not canon to our stories! They're just something very cool we as writers have decided to subject our characters to, for the sake of writing practice and Fun tm, though it is completely unrelated to our projects and the characters' actual experiences in the books.

Check out the rules and other amazing fight scenes at @writeblrbattleroyale!

In this fight, my teenage elven dark sorcerer, Elyren Tyrvommira, faces off against Alex, a Dreamer who takes the form of a humanoid void (character from @doublegoblin) in the event's arena.

You don’t remember how you got here. You were only going by the plot you were set to go, and now you were in a place of whiteness with people watching your every move. Your head is pounding, but you wake up standing up. Only thing in front of you being the weapon that is like your second arm, the one you usually use during battle, unless you normally use magic. The speaker on the box above you starts to speak. You look towards it, but it seems empty. You still get a feeling, like a vision that a young man is standing in there, even tough you couldn’t describe anything about how he looked like.

“Welcome to the battle my dear audience. Welcome to the bloodshed. I am M, your humble game master. In front of me are our contenders. Their weapons are in front of them. The enemy on their opposite. Their only way out is either killing their opponent or dying. These two are very interesting duo. I just can’t wait for the show.” You look opposite of you. There is a person right on the opposite side of the arena. You have a sinking feeling in your stomach. You are in a life-or-death situation. You can either fight or die.

Where once there was the idle chatter of coworkers and the hum of electronics a robbed figure found themselves suddenly displaced and disoriented. Awashed in radiance their head throbs and their form shudders for a time. Regaining composure their eyes adjust and allow them a reprieve from deprivation. For once they don’t seem to be the odd one out as far as looks go; with this menagerie a figure cloaked in ornate purple robes, the hood an empty void filled with only the teal illustrations of eyes and mouth, and limbs of equal bordered nothing while peculiar was not going to be compared to folks in suits and more casual wear.

With a voice not masculine nor feminine, “Where the hell-” Inquiry cut short they hear in a way the voice of the supposed coordinator speaking from the box above them. Their eyes drift and fall onto the figure standing opposite them. Surprisingly the hooded figure flashes an excited smile and waves towards their opponent.“Keep it together Alex, don’t look a surprise vacation in the mouth as they say.” -they mutter to themselves before calling out to their new foe. ~~~ He awakes with a start, practically jumping up to his feet as soon as his sight adjusted to his surroundings. This… isn’t Agrannor, not at all, he notices with a slight surge of panic. One moment, he was sitting in a shady tavern down in the outskirts of Etaruze and the next he was … wherever here was. It looked like some kind of arena, but it still didn’t feel right.

Elyren glanced around carefully, with growing confusion at every new figure that came into view. They wore strange clothes he’d never seen before, and he couldn’t even tell what most of the figures were regardless. He reaches for his weapon’s belt, realizing, relieved, that his runic daggers have not been lost or taken from him. Before Elyren can even think about what his next move should be, a strange voice echoed around the arena, supposedly coming from somewhere outside. It gave out instructions, confusing ones, but instructions nonetheless.

Mostly, it became pretty clear that this was a fight or die situation. And he’ll have to see this through if he wants to get out of here alive. He could work with that, Elyren shrugged. He’d done this before. Elyren narrows his eyes at the strange figure that slowly came into view before him. Was this a human? No, he realized, barely resisting the very strong urge to jump back at least three feet when he noticed that it was a hooded, nearly bodiless void walking towards him. Elyren immediately reached for his dagger, confusion growing when the void stopped and… smiled at him? With a little wave? What the hell is going on here? He mutters under his breath, in a sharp language you cannot understand. Elyren frowns as the void, surprisingly asks him a question of their own.

“Um, excuse me for being so forward. What is your name and…um…what are you?” The figure asks and Elyren stammers. What kind of question is that? He thinks, pausing for a moment to reign his voice and find an answer to this figure’s inquiry. “My name is Elyren Tyrvommira, uh … void. I am a woodland elf from the Hidden Cities, and a sorcerer well-versed in the practices of forbidden magic.” He pauses, keeping a poised composure “Who - or more importantly what - are you, and where the hells are we? Alex can’t help but chuckle, “Void huh? Been a bit since I was greeted like that. Well Elyren -I’m sorry do you prefer the full name or just your first? Either way; my name is Alex and if this form is distressing I could maybe” -the spaces of nothing under their robes are encircled in a layer of white bandages with their facial details super imposed above- “try this? Just lemme know. But I don’t think this answers your question. I am what is called a Dreamer.” With an indulgent smirk they speak in a overly theatrical tone,

“As for who I am, I am the manager of the Auditing Department of The Spire, head employee of the Outer Lord of Order and Regulations, The Iron Shackle Who Bind the Words, Chairman of The Board”-they pause for a dramatic effect- “Dave!” With a mirthful laugh they wipe a teal tear from their eye, “Oh he would have my ass if he knew the tone I took. Sorry kid, when you spend all your life cooped up in an office you take the chances you need to live a little. As to where, not a clue. Now do you people shake for a greeting or no?” Elyren's brows knitted at the void's attempt to make themself less terrifying. It didn't really work, but he knew it was better than to antagonize the person he was stuck in this arena with. He listened intently to the figure - Alex, he reminded himself - rambled about their occupation, with growing concern as he did not know what most of those terms really meant.

"Okay…" Elyren said, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say as Alex finished his explanation. "Firstly, don't call me kid" Elyren protests awkwardly, though you realize it just makes him sound even more like a kid than otherwise "And I do not know what you mean by office. Secondly, we don't really shake hands in my culture. That's a … human thing."

They hold their hands up in acknowledgment of the mistake, “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind.” -they lower their hands and resume a relaxed but guarded posture- “Well if we are to be combatants how do your people greet and show respect? Also don’t worry about’ office’, it uh…well I don’t think it’ll matter much.” Their eyes subtly did move over the elf before them taking stock of their visible weaponry.

Elyren notices the way Alex’s eyes flit over his runic bow and many daggers, a look of worried distrust appearing in the young elf’s face but he refrains from saying anything at the moment. He thinks over the person’s question, about how they should greet each other, and debates whether he should stay silent or use the traditional salutation from his people. He chooses the latter, mainly because his scholarly background made being polite far too second nature to him. He gives you a quick, very stiff curtsy-like movement, never once breaking his wary eye contact with you, and says something in elvish.

Noticing that you clearly wouldn’t know what he said, he quickly adds, though with a slightly deadpan sigh, “It means ‘may the stars guide your path’. That’s my people’s salutation” Nodding Alex, with not as much grace, tries their best to mirror the movement. Slight hesitation before sighing out a dry chuckle, and trying their best to replicate the words spoken. “I, uh, hope I didn’t accidentally insult any relations you deem important.” A wary look crosses their expression and they stand at rigid attention, “Hey um…can you give me a moment I just realized I need to call my boss real quick.”

They grab a hold of the silver medallion under the lip of their hood; the star cut purple gem sparkling in the ethereal light of the arena. Elyren immediately freezes when he sees you pull out the medallion, eyes going wide as marbles. Oh, nonono… That’s not good, what the fuck is that? Elyren thinks, panicked. Before Alex has the opportunity to do something, or even say anything, a bright swirl of dark purple smoke surrounds the young elf, and once it dissipates, he is nowhere to be found. Mouth open, hand raised with one finger up, Alex sighs as the elf vanishes letting the finger drop and curl back up. With a shrug, they begin to pace around the arena as their medallion pulsates and vibrates. Soon enough the gem shines brightly and fades to a bone-white

Taking notice, “Dave? Hey yeah…what…sorry...look I tried to call as soon as I could!” As they speak they are trying to keep an eye on the arena, their words punctuated with animated gestures, “Okay so long story short…it means I’m cutting out the unimportant bits…no Dave not everything is-nevermind. Look I got sucked into another dimension or reality…I can’t debate the difference right now.” -They lean against a far wall and pinch the bridge of their nose- “Look I’m in a tournament now, and I’m going to need some authorization…Dave, please explain how I was supposed to anticipate this…uh-huh…well not everyone experiences the concept of time as free-flowing as The Board, Dave! They hold the medallion away from their face as harsh static flows from it, once the deluge ceases they return it close. “I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t have snapped…yep…yes please Dave I can’t be a” -a heavy sigh- “good example of the company unless I’m at top performance…okay cool…thank you Dave…yes Dave…thank you Dave…yes Dave…goodbye Dave!” Flustered they groan and stomp their feet before collecting themselves and glancing around the arena.

“Hey um, you can…come out now. Like I know how that all sounded but I’m not the one to lie.” They shudder and shakily exhale as energy fills their form and their eyes glisten. “I guess I’m good to start whenever you are!” They shout to the empty playground of violence.

Elyren stays silent, watching the hooded figure from a safe distance, completely shrouded by the veil of his invisibility spell. He narrows his eyes. So he was really going to call someone… that's interesting Elyren considers lowering his spell, but then Alex's last comment reminds him of what they're here to do.

"I'll make this quick then!" Elyren yells out to his opponent, immediately running in the opposite direction of where he'd just been standing, so as not to be a target. Then, silently, careful not to speak loud enough that Alex would be able to hear, he casts a spell.

With a twinge of disappointment, “Could we not? Like not in a bloodlust way more in a 'I get to be away from my job' way.”

The ground around Alex's feet moves as if it were alive, the artificial stone morphing into glowing purple and gray chains. They slither like snakes, moving to wrap around their legs, presumably in order to leave Alex immobilized, an easier target for an arrow.

Taking notice of the coiling purple chains Alex reaches into their robes and pulls out a, at the moment, small hammer no bigger than one for pounding in nails. Training their sight down at the ground they speak in an dry and inflectionless manner, “Under the jurisdiction of Dave of The Board, I Alex; acting manager of his department hereby acknowledge my inclusion in an interdimensional blood sport.” -the robes that cloak them darken and begin to shrink around an emaciated form-

“Prior authorization obtained.” -the robes now fully enwrapping a humanoid shape and glistening in the light shift violently and where there was once cloth a chitinous material coats their entire form as they raise the hammer high into the air- “As a wise Dreamer once said; let the games begin.”

In a blur of motion the hammer doubles in size and is slammed amongst the chains, the ground splintering and being pulverized into a tsunami of dust and pebbles. From across the arena, shrouded by his invisibility spell, Elyren watches Alex’s first counterattack carefully, head tilted, studying the other’s technique. He smiles, satisfied.

Now I know their first move. Elyren thought to himself Interesting weapon of choice, I must say. But I always did like a challenge.

He knows his invisibility spell will only last for ten more minutes, so he knows he needs to be quick to win before that. Not giving his opponent a chance to locate him, Elyren uses the distraction caused by the wave of dust - aftershocks from Alex’s first attack - to cast his next spell. He reaches a hand forward and glowing runes appear in the air around it, taking aim. A dark smoke, sizzling like thousands of bodiless bees, shoots towards Alex to surround and envelope the Dreamer in a torrent of poisonous fog.

Alex, caught in their own dust cloud coughs and tries to swish away the particles. “Son of a- cough.” The large hammer shrinking down back to a more manageable size, they spy the purple haze headed towards their location.

Once this forbidden spell finds a target, it doesn’t let go easily. It’s called the Poisoner’s Hail for a reason, after all. Elyren casts the spell and watches as it surrounds and traps his opponent. Cocking their head to the side Alex lets the mist ensnare their body and hatches a, at least to them, devious little plan.

Before the toxic miasma reaches towards what could be considered their face they let out a blood curdling scream, “It’s burn oh it burns! My throat is on-” they interrupt themselves with a flurry of wretchings and rattling inhales. “Kid! What have you do-” their body crumples to the ground laying supine and they go deathly still. Sure their body was screaming for them to breathe and their lungs were burning, but if this worked it was about to be a very good time.

Elyren narrows his eyes. The spell should have taken effect by now, his opponent should be showing signs of suffocation, but instead, he sees the Dreamer simply lying still on the floor. Realization hits him. He doesn’t need to breathe, does he now? Fine then. The young elf rolled his eyes, searching his mind for another attack as he maintained the Poisoner’s Hail spell. Just because his opponent wouldn’t breathe it in, it doesn’t mean the spell’s other corrosive properties wouldn’t work. Finally, he remembers one that the Dreamer won’t be able to cheat his way out of.

C’mon why isn’t the kid checking on me? They thought, maintaining their feigned expiration.

It was there that Alex started to feel the more external portions of that spell. Sharp spark-like jolts of pain danced across their black and polished exterior, dulling its luster. A wave of an emotion close to panic began to set in. Okay fine, you won’t come to me… They felt a strange twinge in their core, they had lost their connection to the portal network here! Shit. The stinging was getting worse now, no longer something easy to ignore. Their mind raced thinking all the way to the first days of orientation long before the new network was set into place. Son of a Learer! Okay no, think Alex, was it three parallel lines towards the center of the….gaaaaah! Their finger traced in the sediment of the ground only to erase it over and over. The ground begins to rumble. Each iteration of the rune hisses and spittles sludge back at the Dreamer.

A variation of his first spell, but instead of turning the ground into chains, he would turn it into sharp spikes as tall as spears. Let’s see you try to deceive me now, Elyren smirked.

As he reached forward to cast the next spell, Elyren briefly felt his hands shaking, before steeling them once again. The effort to hold his invisibility while casting two simultaneous spells was taking its toll on him, but Elyren refuses to let it hinder his victory. He can’t. In his hurry, however, he makes no effort to conceal the runes he uses to cast the spell. With a final rune, he sees the ground around Alex rumble, rocks rearranging quickly into the shape of spikes. Before the Dreamer has a chance to react, Elyren attacks - and multiple spikes shoot outwards around his opponent.

Suddenly piercing pain! Using some of their reserved energy Alex hastens their perception, essentially slowing the world down. They see the small pebbles and larger stones coming together and stabbing through them.

“C’mon!” They cry out in frustration. Then elation as under them, an ancient symbol of gloomy red snakes its path in a tight perimeter. Then in a flash of white and the smell of charred blood, the Dreamer and the top of a few spikes vanish. For a moment, silence. Then from upon high Elyren could perhaps hear the shrill whistle. Those who could look up would see, falling, the figure of Alex with several new piercings but missing their hammer.

“Hey, kid!” They shouted in their freefall “I maybe can’t see you, but I can see your ruuuunes~” -they grabbed a hold of their right arm with their left hand-

“Here!” -the sickening sound of sinew and bone snapping and tearing as they tear the arm from their shoulder “Hold this for me, would ya!?” Spinning in the air they use the momentum to hurl the arm down towards where the runes were shining.

Elyren’s eyes immediately shot up as Alex appeared in the sky above him. With a newfound surge of panic, Elyren realizes that not only the Dreamer could see his runes - a rookie mistake on his part not to conceal them - but that there was something plummeting towards him at remarkable speeds and it wasn’t just Alex.

As the arm gets closer and closer to the rune the hammer reappears, it had been shrunk down to fit in the palm of the hand. The arm now moving of its own accord grips the handle tightly and the head of the weapon shimmers in the light transforming into a spiked club that was as large as Elyren was, and on a direct trajectory to the glowing targets he had so graciously provided.

Deeply confused he narrows his eyes at the approaching form - and sees. An arm. A falling severed arm holding a giant club. “Oh hells no -” He screams, eyes going impossibly wide, letting all three of the spells he was casting fall - including his invisibility shroud - as he crosses his arms above his head, focusing all of his energy on casting a force shield above and around him.

When the club falls, he manages to hold the spell up but staggers a few feet backward, his boots dragging on the coarse floor as he struggles not to let himself be crushed. He screams through gritted teeth, pushing the shimmering shield upwards against the strength of the falling club hitting it. Elyren knows he has screwed up, he shouldn’t have cast the runes without hiding them, but it is too late to go back now.

Gasping for air, and blood thundering behind his ears, through the struggle of holding up the shield, he sees the Dreamer falling from the sky, also at a remarkable speed.

Cheeky bastard - The elf thinks through the chaos, only for a moment, before returning his attention to the problem at hand. That problem being the disembodied arm still hammering that club down at him with all its might. He looks up. Fuck this.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold the shield for long, Elyren makes an executive decision. It will hurt like hell - yes it will - but at least he’ll stay alive. He searches his mind for the right spell, as the club comes crashing down again. Finding the words, and steeling himself, he looks up at the arm, focusing in on its shape and form. Once he knows his aim is true, he speaks the words of the spell. Well, he screams them, at this point. The ancient words leave his tongue a desperate cry, eyes glowing white as the necromantic incantation forms pitch-black runes around the arm.

Noctera’s Rot, the name of the spell in plain English, is an incantation that accelerates the death of any small amount of organic matter it touches. It takes almost all his strength to cast it without lowering his shield or blinking, but he manages it. Searing pain burns through him, but the spell begins to work, tearing and burning at the arm’s matter. The meteoric might of the arm wanes, withers, and falters as Alex lands.

The Dreamer had intended something graceful or powerful but truthfully they stumbled and fell a few times, ending up several feet from Elyren. Once the spell had chewed through their arm the pain finally set in.

It was something unlike anything they had felt before and it shook their vision with its intensity. Clutching at the stump where it had attached they sealed the opening behind more of the platting and glared at the elf.

Something within them was starting to boil up to the surface. With their remaining hand, they clenched a tight fist. The link between the owner and arm severed the pain subsides. Something was off however, the wounds inflicted by the stone spikes were also persisting. Was this by chance due to the highly chaotic nature of the elf’s magic? They weren’t sure of that, but on the other hand…an expression now found in poor taste, they were sure of one thing

“Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost me to fix!?”

With a stiff and seething demeanor, they advance upon Elyren. “And what in the hell is this magic you have!? I can stand some kind of corrosive and vile smoke, but this is playing dirty! Who the hell do you work for!? Waste management? Unemployment?”

The hammer rattles on the ground as they open their left hand to call it to them. “Nooo no, you strike me more as some hapless dope who found their way into a shady start-up!” Flanking Elyren are now golden glowing orbs.

As the arm dissipates under the wrath of his necromantic spell and the club falls to the ground, regaining its hammer-like form, Elyren shudders violently, all strength leaving him as he falls to his hands and knees. The force shield dissolves with a hiss above him. Panting, he struggled to breathe, until, he coughed, spitting a handful of blood onto the floor before him. Using such a powerful enchantment while maintaining a protective shield was not an easy feat - quite simply, it could’ve killed him. Right now, he almost wished it had, because the pain searing through his veins was unbearable. Vision swimming, however, he looked up and noticed that his opponent was still stalking towards him.

And speaking something. Shaking his head to clear his muffled consciousness, Elyren finally heard what the Dreamer was saying - at least the last bit of it. And it wasn’t good.

“Rule 5A: Subsection K of the Guide to Combat Sports and Other Violence Based Recreational Activities. Seventh Cycle Addition, states: All combatants found to be conducting in the above-approved activities will abided by several good sportsman-like conducts including but not limited to the use of unregulated reality-based effects that can induce a state of severed connectivity between a Dreamer and their corporeal forms! I did you the courtesy of shortening it down to the relevant information! You are welcome! Remove your own arm as recompense at this moment or I will sever it for you and not be held responsible for the monetary cost of reattaching a disjointed object!”

They have halted their approach a respectable but cautious distance away. The golden orbs spark with metallic wisps and a faint clicking can be heard from beyond the glow.

Elyren's heart skipped a beat, and time seemed to slow down.

They wanted him to cut off his own arm.

“… What?! No.” Elyren asks, voice hoarse and shaky as he watches his enemy approach, terror dawning on him.

He doesn’t have the strength to cast another spell, at least not in this short distance. He needs at least ten minutes to fully recover, and at the speed that the Dreamer is approaching him, that won’t be possible. He also notices the glowing golden orbs around him and almost jumps back.

Scrambling, Elyren reaches for one of his runic daggers on the side of his hip, closing his hand around the handle and pointing the blade towards his opponent. He focuses on the runes on the blade, his eyes flitting between each of the strange golden orbs surrounding him. Elyren knows he may not have the strength to use his magic to cast a spell, but he can use the dagger’s magic to fuel it. With his other free hand, he shakily reaches over the blade, speaking the runes aloud. A shimmering purple glow shoots out in the orb’s direction, enveloping them safely away from him in a freezing containment. Still, Alex had not once stopped their approach.

“Stay away from me, void!” Elyren demands, standing up on uncertain legs as he tries - and fails - to make his voice intimidating, though his eyes are as proud as ever.

He clears his throat, wheezing as he coughed up more blood onto the back of his free hand. The rational part of him knew his plea wouldn’t deter his opponent, but the terrified-out-of-his-wits part of him didn’t care nor listen in the slightest. His runic daggers still had some magic in them, but that magic was limited to how much magic they were imbued with. And given the speed of his opponent’s approach, that magic - though useful to contain the orbs - was limited and running out fast. Just ten minutes, that was all he needed.

“Stay back, don’t… don’t come any closer!” Noticing that the Dreamer had not wavered in their approach, Elyren started stepping backwards, glancing around frenetically for anything he could use to get away.

A pillar, on the other side of the arena, catches his attention. He could topple it onto the quickly approaching threat.

This will have to work. He thought, and with one last look towards the now furious Alex, he took off running at a desperate speed in the pillar’s direction.

Rage. Or perhaps a self-righteous fury? It did not matter truly. The fires of something were burning deep within Alex now. With a snap of a finger, the golden chains within the orbs shattered their bonds but Elyren had already fled from the spot. This was merely a display of power. As the elf took off into a desperate sprint the Dreamer sighed heavily, steam billowing out from the spaces between their joints, a dramatic flare to be sure. They had patience and gave chase at a slow but deliberate pace, no faster than a stroll in the park. Their wounds still had not healed and were giving them a noticeable limp and unease to their own steps; fighting back the emotions they raised the remaining hand once more and the hammer rose and flew back to them.

As they pursued their voice boomed through the arena, “So you run? Where is this elf who tried to wrap me in biting poison? Where is he that pierced my body with stone and anger? Hiding in plain sight, taking an opponent from afar, and worst of all defying all rules for a chance at victory. You are nothing less than a child!” Their voice rippled across the ground

Still holding on to his dagger for dear life, Elyren was sure to keep his trajectory erratic enough to not receive a hammer in the back and kept looking over his shoulder constantly as he made his way toward the one thing that he could use to buy him time.

The hammer returning to the wielder they stumbled back at its weight; plunging the head into the ground to steady themselves. A toxic deluge of malice had reached the tipping point and now this geyser was set to erupt. With the sound of keening porcelain and the screams of bladed edges being ground against a whetstone, they lost themselves as the world turned red. Yanking the hammer violently the ground buckled and cracked before exploding outwards. Shouldering the behemoth the Dreamer resumed the pursuit with awful vigor.

“Look at you, running like a hare. What right do you have to wield the magic you have?” -another lightning crack of the fingers and chains emerge suddenly from other orbs crashing just behind the heels of Elyren, their vision was getting blurry from the damage and rage- “Who did you steal it from? There is no way you could have earned this rite! You coward, an infant who sees themselves above all rules!”

They twist and contort; elongate and bend between each stride. The hammer once held is hurled in the air as their torso rotates to be parallel with the floor. The back opening caught the hammer between backward-bent ribs and held it in place. With another hellish screech, the Dreamer now moves in an animalistic way, much like that of a cheetah chasing after a gazelle.

“Accept your punishment!” They howled as they tore off with blistering speed, dust hanging like earthen clouds behind them with each bound.

Looking over his shoulder, Elyren caught sight of the rapidly approaching Dreamer. He wouldn’t be able to outrun them, not in this state, and he wouldn’t reach the pillar in time to topple it over them.

“Nonono…” Elyren muttered in a panic, grasping the runic dagger in a white-knuckled grip as he looked back one more time. He had to act, now. With a grimace, knowing this would only make the searing pain coursing through him worse, Elyren cast the words for the portal spell, cutting through the air in front of him with a slash of his dagger, runes glowing as it cast a shaky, fizzling portal in front of him. He jumped through without thinking twice. The portal closed behind him just as the Dreamer was about to catch him, and Elyren tumbled onto the coarse stone floor gracelessly, hands scraping for purchase to break his sudden fall. He was now all the way across the arena, looking at the back of a furious Alex.

Elyren knew he did not have those ten minutes, and that if he wanted to live, he may just have to suffer through without that mercy. Not wasting a second, Elyren got to work on the next spell. His vision was blurring around the edges, and his hands were shaking like never before - he knew he was running out of borrowed time and working on strength he didn’t have.

Elyren also knew what he had to do, though it didn’t mean it would be pleasant. This spell was one of his darkest discoveries, the Spirit Flame. It was a dangerous, unstable, and likely to end in a lot of pain kind of idea. But it was the only one he had.

Having missed their target Alex was set to impact the far wall. With some last-moment adjustments, they lower their body towards the floor, and using the momentum that had accumulated they snap sharply to the side. A whip-crack echoes as they do. The maneuver placed them parallel with said wall, and with a well-timed jump, they planted their limbs along its face and launched from it like a springboard.

Elyren watched this all unfold.

He had to do this, there was no time. Resolutely, he dragged the blade of the runic dagger over the palm of his free hand with a wince, just enough to draw blood, but deep enough that there would be a lot of it. As the crimson liquid covered the blades’ runes, he spoke the words of the ancient chant, hoping to all gods that he remembered them correctly. His voice became deep and his eyes turned bright white, as the runes in the dagger rearranged and glowed.

Just as the Dreamer was almost reaching him, Elyren slammed his hands onto the ground, and a burst of dark necromantic flames shot out, surrounding the young elf and engulfing his enemy’s aimed weapon, the hammer, as well as the top of Alex’s upper body, in a vice grip.

Trying and failing to bite back the scream that threatened to come out, Elyren turned all of his focus onto the flames now coiled around his opponent, holding them in place.

“I did not steal this magic” He gritted out painfully, struggling to contain the growing dark flames around him as he stood up. “I was born with it, I… just learn the spells… along the way."

The pain Alex felt was immediate and searing, unsurprising for fire. Coiled in something just as hot as their anger, something was now apparent. They were actually in some trouble.

With that, Elyren held his arms outwards, and the flames holding Alex flew across the arena, dragging and hitting his opponent on the coarse floor, slowly breaking their armor. The pain building within was getting hard to ignore as the spell consumed him like he was fuel, but Elyren forced himself to stand steadfast, focusing everything he had onto the sentient flames, even as he felt blood begin to trickle down his nose, yet again.

Soaring through the air and running against the cutting ground Alex couldn’t help but laugh. A laugh of genuine joy and excitement. During their pyroclastic flight they let go of the hammer and it spun thrice before landing on the ground handle first. Yes, the pain was becoming beyond what they had expected but this was once again so much fun. They were beaten, given the match-up the kid- No, the man, had range while they needed to get close.

“Well done Elyren, well done!” They screamed as their halves bisected; the lower rolling along the ground like a damp pair of socks. Now only a torso, an arm, and a head they cackled in child-like joy as even their arm was sent careaning across the arena.

The spell burns through him as Elyren fights every instinct telling him to give up and let them overtake him. Breathing coming up short, he keeps his hold on his opponent for a moment more, terrified that they would escape and throw their weapon right at him. His blood is boiling inside of him, searing through his veins as if it wanted to evaporate.Distantly, he hears the Dreamer’s laugh echo around the arena, shaking him back to reality, though he couldn’t register what they were saying.

… Oh gods, why are they laughing now? Elyren thinks, already bracing himself for the worst, but before anything could happen, a sharp, blinding jolt of white-hot pain shot through him as the flames he’d cast grew in strength around and before him.

“You’ve got me beat! I am unable to fight any longer! I think this would be as close to a…what was the word…death? As I can become. Release your flame and let us chat before…well…before whatever our observer has in store for the loser of the fight!” They shouted, still bound by the flames' scalding embrace.

Pain soared through him as his own spell started to eat away at his insides, making Elyren let out a wounded cry, falling to his knees. His arms didn’t seem to obey him at first, stiff - like following the spell’s command, not his own - but then, with an inhuman effort, he managed to force his way through the exhausted haze of his mind, focusing on the flames shooting out of his palms. Willing them to stop proved more difficult than it should have been, the dark flames fighting back against his command. If he didn’t make it stop, they would consume him completely.

“Stop, stop, stop!” The elf screamed, aloud, closing his open hands into fists and bringing his formerly outstretched arms closer to his chest.

In the distance, he noticed through tear-filled eyes that the flames had released his opponent, and were coiling back towards him. At this moment, Elyren couldn’t care less if the Dreamer was going to make another move. He just wanted this burning pain to end. And also, he knew that he didn’t have anything left to give in this fight - if his opponent wasn’t defeated after this, Elyren didn’t have the energy to fight his fate either way.

The flames inched closer, before disappearing around him with a final, death like hiss. Elyren sobbed, falling to his knees like a limp ragdoll, breathing coming in ragged heaves as he started coughing and throwing up the blood currently drowning his own airways.His head was spinning, and he closed his eyes tightly for a moment as he fought the urge to pass out.

Not now, not now, please… Elyren thought as he willed himself to just… breathe. And not die. He could do that, maybe. Help me, Kiran, don't let me die too...!

Elyren didn’t know why he was still crying, but he didn’t have any resolve, energy or even the ability left in him to force himself to stop. Or care. He just stayed like that, for a while, curled up at his knees, over a puddle of his recently-coughed-up blood, sobbing for the first time in ages. Until, he blinked open his eyes - unbidden tears of pain still falling from them - and saw his opponent move, where they had fallen across the arena. So be it then, Elyren felt numb, and surprisingly, resigned to whatever his fate might be, I hope they at least make it quick.

The flames had not been the thing to sever the connection between Alex and their limbs. A planned calculation had taken place and from their spot, they could observe the pieces they had control over, much easier to manage than groping around blindly. The legs with a hop rose back to their feet and the arm had clawed its way up the trunks and attached itself to the midline, resembling the sprout of a young tree. The arm wasn’t quite as rigid though so there was a comical flopping as the legs wobbled over to the hammer and squatted down letting the hand grab a hold. Taking a wide stance the legs and arm all bent backwards as one. The head of the hammer scraped against the ground before, with the sound of several tendons all snapping taut at once, the makeshift trebuchet snaps forward and the hammer is shunted off at blinding speeds.

Had Elyren the ability to comprehend it, it would have appeared as a blur. What could be perceived was instead at one moment near his head there was no hammer, no crater, and then the next; there was. Tiny pebbles were the only thing to gingerly tap against his flushed cheeks.

Elyren stared at the crater on the wall, utterly frozen, as he took in the fact that he was not, in fact, dead and that the hammer was just lying on the floor beside him. Blinking rapidly after forgetting how to breathe for a moment there, Elyren let out a shuddering laugh. “Neat. I’m not… dead, huh…” His voice was hoarse and the words were so faint he himself could barely hear them before he laughed again one more time - a louder, but still very nervous sound, bordering slight hysterics. "- I'm really not dead."

He took a moment to just take it all in. He wasn’t dead - he was in a fuckton of pain, yes he was - but he wasn’t dead, he was breathing and he was alive. That’s a lot better than how he thought his day was going to end.

The legs jogging past the arm wave at Elyren as Alex pipes up, “Could have killed ya, and I didn’t! I want to chat c’mon over! I’d uh…pick myself up but…Well, I may not look it but I’m a kind of two-handed or team lift job. I can wait as long as ya need, not going anywhere!”

With the aid of their other limbs, they had propped themselves up along the stump of their torso and were supported by their kneeling legs, all reverting back to the robed form that they had entered as a decidedly shit-eating grin stretched across the void.

Elyren looked up at Alex, from where the Dreamer had reverted back to their void-like form.

They were grinning.

They asked him to come over to them.

Elyren’s brows knitted. Should he listen to them?

What if this was just some other trick? He thought, a single surge of fear coming back to him before he shook it away, thinking. Then again, they hadn’t lied those times before. Like when they had said they needed to talk to their boss.

They could’ve killed him. Elyren reminded himself.

They could’ve, but instead, they threw away their weapon and purposefully - or so he hoped - missed his head.

Maybe… I can give them the benefit of the doubt. He thought, biting his lower lip as he mulled over the decision. This was important.

Finally, he decided to take a chance. It wasn’t like there was anything left to do. Slowly, oh so slowly, Elyren began to try and push himself off the bloodied floor, and into a somewhat standing position. His weakened legs faltered at least twice, and he almost tipped face-first to the floor before managing to steady himself and take a, stumbling, step forward.

Elyren tried to ignore the fact that he was still in pain. It felt like he’d been danced on by a mountain dragon, there wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hold that horrible, dull pain, as if he’d taken a very bad fall. His head was pounding, and everything seemed too loud, even though it was just the two of them in the arena.

After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to walk - or better, drag - himself all the way to his former opponent. Elyren stopped when he reached a reasonable distance, crossing his arms over his chest and plopping down like a lanky puppet to the stone floor. He looked at Alex, then to the floor, as they sat there. In awkward silence. Staring at each other. The Dreamer still had that shit-eating grin on their face. Elyren scoffed, before tapping his fingers rhythmically on the back of his arms, thinking of something to say to fill the deafening silence.

“Uh… What do you want to talk about?” He asked, wincing at both his lack of originality and how screwed up his voice was. His throat ached just from speaking, and he went silent, waiting for the other to answer.

“That was a wonderful sparring match. Before I, well I’m not sure what happens now, but before that I wanted to look my opponent right in the eyes and say thank you. It has been cycles since I’ve felt in any kind of danger!” T

hey shifted on their stump letting their legs move back and do that little curtsy Elyren had shown them before…well the best they could in their state.

Elyren looked up as Alex tried to do the curtsy. The young elf kept his face even, biting back an amused chuckle. Oh gods they look like the little ten-year-old elflings back home practicing their salutations for the Summertide Festival. Did I look like that on my first try? Gods, that’s why my Aiyan was laughing so much that day, all those years ago, wasn’t it? The young elf smiled briefly at the fond childhood memory, shaking it away before it inevitably turned sour - as memories always did.

"If that wasn’t appropriate I’m sorry." The Dreamer finished their curtsy, and Elyren gave him a hesitant nod in approval. At least they’re trying. That should count for something.

Alex continued. “But my goodness! I’m used to interdimensional beings that one could call deities and you sure gave me a run for my…well whatever your people use for currency!”

Tiredly, Elyren listened intently as Alex continued their rant. Now that the rush of adrenaline was wearing off, he was starting to feel exhausted, and sleepy. Well, more than he already was before. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, pushing tiredness away.

They cleared their throat.v“Now that is my feedback to you, do you have any feedback for me? I’m always looking to improve customer relations and work on my interpersonal skills.” - spying the drained looks on Elyren- “Take your time though, I’m getting the sense this has taken so much out of you, and look at me just chattering away, OH I feel like a fresh hire all over!”

As the Dreamer finished rambling, asking him a question; Elyren frowned, trying to come up with an answer. “Uh, thanks for the… compliment?” He said, referring to their comments on his battle abilities.

Elyren decided that sitting up was more effort than he was willing to make right now, and laid down on the floor, splayed out like a starfish, as he continued to speak. “Okay, my feedback about your performance in the fight… alright, the fight, let’s see…” -he looked up to the sky above them, sighing- “You put up quite a struggle, I must say.” Elyren paused, clearing his throat and immediately regretting it as it only made him sound worse.

“Let’s be honest, you almost killed me here, at least twice - that takes some serious talent…. I’m impressed. I’m sorry, for the arm I mean, I really, really am. I didn’t have much of a choice though, you … you were literally trying to crush me with a club. But regardless…” He trails off for a moment with a sarcastic roll of his icy eyes, catching his breath.

In the quiet peace, with no looming threat of violence, Alex was relaxed enough to appreciate their former combatant as another being rather than a challenge. They held themselves in an assured manner, yes, but, well, it was easy to recognize or at least assume some darkness and stormy skies in the past. It hit them suddenly, and a twinge of sadness or perhaps melancholy nostalgia, but they held their tongue until Elyren had finished their part of the conversation, though not entirely, a snicker escaped when he mentioned the arm and hammer…they were proud of that one especially.

Elyren finally continued, a sly smile on his face. “Though I do have slight complaints… about your ‘damage policy’, as you call it. Uh, I’m sorry to break it to you, friend, but if people - like me at least - cut off their arms, they don’t grow back. It doesn’t work like that for us mortals. Plus the person might bleed out and uh… die a slow and painful death. That’s why I was running away from you…” - they exhaled, running a hand through his hair to push the messy strands of silver away from his face- “but otherwise, great fight. You should be proud… of yourself.”

There was a moment of silence, and Elyren realized the Dreamer wouldn’t continue without prompting.

Gods this guy… Elyren rolled to the side, now facing in Alex’s direction without needing to crane his neck every time.

There were dark circles under his eyes, and Elyren had to blink rapidly every once in a while not to fall asleep, “Uh… you can keep talking. Or asking something else. If you want.” He told the Dreamer. Before adding, mumbled, eyes downcast “Please. I don’t like silence.”

With tenderness in their words, “I understand, the quiet can sometimes be worse than the storm.” They were about to offer their lap as a headrest but that thought was quickly discarded.

Looking to the side and exhaling with embarrassment, “That reaction was a touch overdriven,” -they shift on their stump- “I am dreamer enough to admit when I am wrong, I’ve had quite the bit of practice mind you! EhemI had been, until recently, operating under the assumption that reality here works the same as where I hail from. Where I come from I am a part of a depa-team, I am a part of a team that sees to the regulation of the fundamental rules of reality” -as they speak their hand moves and gestures in line with the words- “we are condition early in our service to escalate in our directness rapidly when we are met with noncompliance. It is a needed thing. If these rules are broken and left to linger, well, reality in its entirety could be at stake so it is imperative we act quickly and harshly.”

Elyren listened as the Dreamer started to talk, thankful that the other had chosen to listen to his request not to be left in silence. The memories were always the loudest when he was silent. Alex fell silent for another time, their eyes narrowed and their brow furrowed. The hand on the legs points and waves a finger towards Elyren.

“You people truly are a fragile thing. Now I do not mean this as an insult mind you. I am more concerned that our captor has played a cruel prank on you. It does puzzle me though how you live life with such little control over your forms.” -the hand waves dismissively- “Bah, nevermind the ramblings of this cycles long Dreamer.”

Elyren couldn’t help but laugh. “We really are.” He smiled, noting how especially true this was for him right now, lying half-broken on the hard floor.

Alex had much more they wished to say, so much knowledge they desired to know but they could feel the cold gaze of the one who stole them away. That and they could feel their body starting to regenerate. They worried though, could this infant of a person even start to comprehend the enormity of their life? What good would this information do for them? The silence was starting to set back in. So, they smiled sadly.

“Elyren, I am unsure what memories, if any, we will retain from this encounter. And you may not agree, I do not blame you as I was literally attempting to murder you under the false assumption you woul- I’m sorry I’m rambling.” -they exhale and collect their thoughts- “Despite our circumstances, I am thankful to have met you, even for this moment. I will most likely forget you once I am gone, and you me when you return to your world. But while you remain where I can not…you know what, nevermind.”

The legs of the Dreamer stride over near Elyren and squat down, the hand outstretched. “I understand your people do not shake hands, as it is a human thing, but, will you do me the honor of shaking my hand as a Dreamer?” The hand waits patiently but not demandingly, “That is if you can physically do so!” Alex laughs awkwardly.

As the Dreamer’s words came to an end, Elyren nodded at their offer to shake hands, “Of course I will.” He answered, pushing himself up from the floor with difficulty, and clusily reached for the hand stretched out to him.

Elyren didn’t have much practice with this. He’d avoided humans and their customs like the plague ever since… Well, he shook that memory, and the screams at the back of his mind, away. But it was only fair he did this now, to answer his former rival’s request - after all, they had been courteous enough to oblige by his customs. They shook hands, and Elyren smiled up at the Dreamer, before laying back down, exhausted.

“It was nice meeting you too, Alex. I hope I don’t forget you, when this is all over” He said, before rolling onto his back and looking up at the sky above him. What a day, what a very crazy day.

...Unexpected events always make for the best stories, Ely... A familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in a long time, echoed faintly in his memory, Elyren frowned, surprised, before smiling. He sighed. I guess Kiran always did have a way with words, didn’t he? Strangely, that thought was comforting, where he was expecting otherwise, and he didn’t find himself having to shake away the memories. He just laid there, in peace, looking at the sky, a former-enemy-turned-friend beside him.

“Well,” Alex leaned back on their stump, but without the legs, they fell over onto their back and laughed, “I can feel myself getting to a state to fight so, I think that’s my cue to as they say, tap out.” The legs standing they waved their arm, “I, Alex hereby declare to no longer be in a state worth fighting. I am a being incapable of death, but you may find this state a close substitute. I concede this battle to Elyren!”

An uneasy nothing from the mysterious person above the arena.

“Give ‘em hell Elyren, don’t die at least until a third round alright? Who knows though, maybe a piece of you will make its way into my end of forever? It’ll be well cared for, plenty of new friends to meet and only minor mental trauma to experience.” They sighed and let themselves fade away back to their home.

Elyren nodded, looking up at his newfound friend. “I will try to win, my friend, I promise you that.” He laughed, glancing up at the fading Alex one last time before closing his eyes, and waiting.

M's voice echoes across the vast arena, rattling him with unease.

“What an emotional round for our magical comrades. Let’s see if Elyren can keep his promise.”

Get to Know 9 People Game

I was tagged by @digital-chance and @thesoftestofpetals for this one! Thanks for the tag, friends! (:

Favorite Color - Turquoise, Purple (all tones but especially lilac and violet), and darker tones of Gray

Currently Reading - Had to take a reading break the past weeks due to college exams, but now that my routine is back to normal, I'll be finishing Journey Across the Hidden Islands by Sarah Beth Durst.

Last Series - The Legend of Vox Machina (on Prime Video) and Castlevania (Netflix, Season 3)

+ Bonus: Last Movie - The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug

Sweet, Savory, or Spicy - Savory and (light) Spicy! (I like sweets but my blood sugar doesn't let me enjoy them as much lol 😭)

Currently Working On - The Last Wrath (Manuscript Writing), Writing a DnD Campaign (set in Exandria) with my friends, a digital illustration of one of my TLW characters, Student Life (:

Gently tagging - @lola-theshowgrl, @aziz-reads, @clairelsonao3, @writernopal, @exquisitecrow, @cabbojage, @your-absent-father, @rickie-the-storyteller and @liv-is

🧢 share a snippet about clothes

Thank you for the Ask, @clairelsonao3!

I have some snippets that mention clothes, and though they're not necessarily the main focus clothes certainly play an important role in starting these interactions. I chose two:

(Misunderstandings at the Imperial Masquerade. A bittersweet snippet from Luciya's POV)

They walked into the Great Hall, where the festivities of the week were about to start. Tonight, the Glimmering Waltzes would be the talk of the Capital.

Luciya groaned. “I look like a baby pigeon that fell from a tree. I mean - look at this dress, it’s not even fitted. I’m sure Lady Avaline chose this as a cruel joke, because nothing explains this.” She pouted, looking down at her wonky and bland grey dress and pointing at her unimpressive mask.

Still, she looked just like any of the other maids in the castle, which had technically been her unwanted occupation for a couple of years now. It was supposed to be a good thing, no one could recognize or catch her in this costume, but she still envied those who actually got to enjoy the finest of the festivities she used to dream about. 

“On the bright side, you won’t have everyone looking at your every move like hungry vultures. I feel like a damn preened peacock”  Quinn chuckles, gesturing to all of him. It seemed like there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t covered in the burdensome myriad of shimmering jewelry that adorned his flowy and gold-trimmed silk clothes. A walking gemstone. 

“You do have a point, but at least you get to look I don't know, pretty.”

The words soured as soon as she spoke them, and Luciya wished she could take them back. She had meant them as a compliment - just hadn’t realized soon enough that she’d chosen the worst one. It’s that specific word, Luciya scolded herself, she should’ve chosen anything else. Quinn blinked a couple times, before he quickly shook his head. He tried to laugh it off, but he had gone paler than the statues around the now bustling great hall.

Pretty thing. She suddenly recalled what Quinn patrons had often called him.

Luciya grimaced, hating herself even more as she remembered that. How could she have forgotten? She had accidentally all but rubbed salt in that fresh wound. More than nothing, she wanted to take her careless previous comment back before she even said it.

“It would seem so,” Quinn answered her previous comment, barely audible through the masquerade’s rising music. The faint touch of bitterness in his voice faded away into a sigh as straightened his posture, placing the party’s golden mask, that had been chosen for him, over his expertly expressionless face. Before she could fix her mistake, her friend continued with his trademark carefully crafted smile.

“Anyways, the party is about to start,” Quinn said out loud, words perfectly smooth despite her recent slip-up. He continued, lowering his voice so that only she could hear what he was about to say. “If our friend’s plan is going to work, this is as perfect of a time as we’re ever going to get. When the masquerade reaches its peak, you’ll slip away to the gardens, unseen. You get to the gardens, give Cassander the information, get that scroll in return, and come back before the last song ends. The Emperor wants the masquerade to last until dawn, so I don’t believe timing will be much of a problem for us.”

Right, there was no time to wallow in feelings or how they looked, Luciya reminded herself. They had work to do, and there were lives on the line. She nodded. 

“I know a small hallway that leads down the palaces. It’s only ever used by the nobles - and the occasional servant - but now that they’re all here, the hallway should be empty. I’ll get in and get out before the songs even finish.”

Quinn nodded at her, a mix of satisfaction and worry where his eyes peeked through the mask. He turned to walk away with a playful flourish. “And I’ll make sure to put up a good show.”

He smirked, and turned away, smoothly walking to his assigned seat at the high tables. 

A curious realization (A snippet from Darian's POV)

Darian could almost feel Seira staring at him but said nothing until his curiosity got the better of him. "What are you doing?" Darian asked, amusedly.

Seira, patted her chin, pensively, before pointing at his cape as they walked.

"Darian, I'm pretty sure my uncle made that cloak." She paused, tugging at the fabric so that she could pull one of the edges closer to her eyes, and hummed. "Yeah, it even has his signature stitch pattern on the velvet trim. Interesting."

Darian huffed out a chuckle. "Wait, are you serious? Let me see." He leaned closer to the edge of the cloak she was holding up, finally recognizing the patterns. "I'll be damned... I never even realized that."

"Well, well, well, would you look at that," Seira smiled warmly, throwing an arm over her friend's shoulder "It seems our Rebel Boy got clothes made by the finest and most highbrow tailor in all of the Free Realms."

She laughed. "Oh, I would pay to see the look on his face if my uncle ever found out the rebel heir was his number one client. Oh, that would've been precious to witness."

Darian looked at her, a sly smirk on his face as he giggled.

"What can I say, I am a man of good tastes."

Seira shook her head playfully. "I'm glad to see you haven't changed a bit in the past three years."

In front of them, Lukan looked over his shoulder, almost stumbling into a moving cart. "Would you two focus? You're going to make me make a wrong turn and lose the address - and then we'll have a real problem on our hands. Be more careful and less loud."

Darian felt Seira snort out a laugh. "Since when did you get so bossy, Luk?" She asked playfully, though Darian noticed her moves becoming more cautious, like Lukan had suggested.

Lukan didn't turn around. "Ever since you dragged me into this city which I'd rather forget." The mercenary answered drily, before looking around, talking to himself. "... Now if we continue through here - No, wait, there. Yeah, that's it. How can one place change so much in so few years, my Gods...?"

Seira nudged Darian, who was staring concernedly at their unwitting guide's struggle to figure out where they should go from here. "Don't worry, he usually gets it right after a few tries - well most of the time."