Got the new layout for my tumblr up. Much better then the last one. Profiles an such still need updated. XD As do the tags. An I am working on asks an drafts (RP responses) when I am not distracted. XD
However I was bored an the brain too tired to think last night. So I made new asks images for each of the kids. Including the three I’m not ready to answer asks on. (Well technically I could on Alexois but I want to get his profile done a bit first.)
There’s the main three kiddos. An then the three unfinished kids.
An the other three who are still WIP. I’ll probably end up redoing Keaira’s eventually . Did not have many images to pick from for her. Didn’t have many for Alex but he at least had better choices. Adel has been a fairly quite kid until last night. She’s just been chilling an watching the main three in their chaos.
Dest’s still turned out the best of all of them though. XD Though I do like Lance’s too.
Lance grimaced at the sound of a voice. However his eyes never left the group of pirates before him. Four of them versus him. He was down on one knee, hand over his side where one of them had caught him with a blade. An him without his usual armor. The wound itself was shallow but it was still a wound. There would be bruises in a few other spots later as well.
He had only meant to do some exploring of this part of the world. He had only seen a small portion from what Miu had shown him before. The last thing he had expected was to be accosted by a bunch of pirates.
He glanced to the speaker finally. “Well if you insist you are not leaving then give me a hand. Otherwise stand aside an stay out of danger. I can’t afford to protect us both right this moment.” He pushed to his feet an raised his sword again. Sky blue eyes once more focused towards those grinning pirates.
(Totally had to answer this one first. @ghostly0rigins and I have actually been working on something between Dest and Atix that this covers. :D)
She was more wild and active. Constantly finding something fun to do. Something new to explore. While his nose would rather be buried in a book an being left alone. He was always so passive and quiet compared to her more outgoing nature. Somehow though the two of them had become friends regardless of being near opposites.
Dest would often drag Atix off to see something she found. The two of them connected by their archery and their mothers both being botanists. However she lost touch with him when her parents sent her to Ishgard for a time.
Of course she also had her husband as a childhood friend but he wasn’t nearly as fun to drag about on adventures as Atix had been. He was far less likely to allow her to drag him out into the Twelveswood. An definitely didn’t understand the first thing about archery.
There’s a deep peace in the snow-covered forest at early dawn. The sun is trying to show its face, fighting through the clouds to sparkle where it strikes the crisp coating of snow and ice.
The first notes hang in the air, shivery and cold just like everything else. They are tentative, unsure. The sound fades, the artist pausing to adjust the tension of the strings to account for the chill before he draws out another piece of the melody.
Even in the stillness and cold of the early morning, he knows the vulnerability presented by this one act. But it’s more than a desire – it’s almost a calling, a need pressed on him by an outside force stronger than himself. He’s purposely far from home, deep in the trees of the Twelveswood where no one in their right mind would be at an hour such as this. Even so, his bow is strung and ready beside him where he can reach it in an instant.
Basteaux draws a bow of another kind over the strings of his violin, his fingers moving with deceptive ease to coax notes from the instrument. It sings under his touch, a soaring tribute to the brilliance of the shining world around him.
As the final strains ring through the stillness, he opens his eyes. She’s the first thing he sees, and he immediately drops one bow in order to reach for the other. But there’s recognition after that initial jolt, and he bends to retrieve the abandoned object from the crust of the snow at his feet.
Destiney didn’t mind that he was out of practice. He certainly didn’t play like he was. Though the difference in the two pieces was clear. As was the tension in his form. Either way it was still a pleasing piece. This piece was still less… Free then the last. It lacked the same heart and soul. Not that this piece didn’t have a heart of it’s own. It was just less. Too structured.
“I’m sorry, Basteaux.” She hadn’t missed that look on his face when he finished. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to play for her specifically. But there was something about it that she couldn’t resist. Now she felt guilty for ruining his mood. Never had it been her intention to disrupt his morning in this way. “I did not mean to ruin your morning.”
The instrument fit into a small, padded case that he slung over his shoulder alongside his quiver. With it taken care of, Basteaux turned the full weight of his attention back to Destiney. “You did not attack me, nor did you request anything I did not choose to give freely. If there is any blight on this morning, it would be one of my own making.”
He looked past her, up to where the sun was beginning to make its climb in earnest. “I must be going. Though I wish you well on this morning, and hope whatever task has brought you out here is one that does not bring you trouble.”
She watched in silence as he carefully took care of his instrument. Somehow his words really did little to soothe the feeling of guilt over the sudden change of his playing. But she kept that opinion to herself. He would probably just blame himself again. That was far from what she wanted.
She stepped up beside him, a soft smile on her lips. Intentions perfectly clear that she meant to follow him for a bit. “Where are you heading? I could walk with you for a bit. If you don’t mind of course. I was mostly out here for a bit of peace. My company can be quite chaotic at times. An the woods are calming.”
Piercing blue-green eyes softened slightly as he looked to her again. There was something about Destiney that reminded him of Elle, somehow, and it made it difficult to shrug her off the same way he did with most people. “I was going to find a place to make camp for the day,” he admitted, ducking his head as the sun found its way through the trees to strike him directly in the face.
“Surely you have places you’d rather be than the middle of nowhere with someone like me,” Basteaux added with a small shake of his head.
Kind blue eyes stared back at him. There was a certain amount of joy in that look, mixed with just a tiny bit of mischief. Her hand raised to shield her eyes for a moment as they walked through that patch of sunlight. Dropping that hand back to her side once they were no longer in that patch of sun.
“Even I am allowed to have nothing to do on occasion. Well… Correction. I have things to do but I don’t want to do them right now. They aren’t something that needs to be rushed.” She shrugs an waves a hand dismissively at the thought of the work that needed done. “I needed a break honestly. Work for the Order isn’t bad but it can be stressful at times. On top of my other work even. Is it wrong to want to merely enjoy a bit of a walk with someone you want to get to know better? An do not talk of yourself that way.” She shakes her head before going to mimic his last few words in a rather comically bad attempt at a male voice. “Someone like me.”
Destiney couldn’t help but laugh. Not that his words of him being blinding without a shirt were funny. Merely because she was sure she knew someone who could top him in that. “I bet I have seen someone more blinding then you without a shirt. We do a different beach at the end of each week. Imagine getting to see that once a week. I’m surprised I have any sight left.”
Her easy demeanor faded a bit the closer they got to Wineport. Eyes drifting towards the northeast more then once. Yet she managed to hold onto a smile even if it was not nearly as bright anymore. “Hard to believe it’s been a little over three years since I left here an became who I am today. Though for the better I will admit.”
Riski glanced down at her, not answering immediately. They walked in silence for a little ways before he shook his head, saying, “What is it about three years ago? It seems like everything terrible that happened to most people was either the Calamity, or three years ago.” There wasn’t much humor in the chuckle he couldn’t stop. “We’re all stronger for it, sure, but the timing is just… weird.”
There was a sort of melancholy that was trying to creep in, but Riski shrugged it off. He grinned, skipping ahead again and looking back at her. “Hey, look on the bright side. If you ever want a coeurl kitten, you know where to find one now.”
“Maybe it was something the Twelve had planned in a larger scheme then just individuals. Maybe it is merely the fate of each soul at that time. It is really hard to point a finger at any one answer on the whys of something so complex. There may even be a completely logical answer even if one was to dwell deep enough into the events that happened. Yet something so complex might take years to unravel if one could at all.” The words were mostly to herself though they were in response to Riski’s words. Her brain tumbling over the reasons or possibilities like a puzzle needing solved. She probably would have continued pondering over the answer until Riski skipped ahead of her again.
“Oh I doubt I want a kitten running about my house. I already have a wolf pup and on occasion a dragonet when she is visiting. Adding a kitten to that mix would be absolute chaos.” Destiney laughs brightly as she tries to imagine her house with another pet running about. A cat of all things paired with the wolf and dragonet. No that was one scenario she was not ready to endure.
“Hm, it does sound like you’ve got a pretty full house. I’m something of a cat person, myself.” Riski’s grin softened, but the way his eyes lit up with a wicked gleam was in direct contrast. “Nothing like stroking a happy cat that’s sitting on your lap and purring at you.”
He beckoned to Destiney as they reached the gates of Wineport. “So a wolf pup and a dragonet, huh?”
Destiney couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Riski’s face, blushing softly. Her mind was already making guesses based on that look in his eyes. Though she had a feeling he definitely wasn’t directing that at her. But her mind could definitely make assumptions.
She pushed the thoughts aside as they reached the gates of Wineport and he asked about her own pets. “Tucker and Lady. Tucker is my wolf pup I found abandoned. Lady just seems to like to follow me out of curiosity now that things are less tense between Ishgard and Dragons. She hates being called a pet though. Will bite my ear if I do it. I can’t speak her language but she is very vocal in actions.”
Crow winced in pain, leaning against the wall and wiping away few blood drops from his face. None of his wounds were too serious, but still not good, he should find a way to take care of them. He glanced at the man in front of him and shrugged. “Apparently, after I managed to return to Ishgard after few years of absence, some of my…
acquaintance… weren’t too happy when I refused to continue the wonderful reunion in a more intimate manner…”
Crow let out a bitter chuckle and tilted head. “Anyway… Thank you for your concern, sir, but I don’t think that we’d ever met?” There was some suspicion heard in his voice, he tensed ready to run away if he needs to. The elezen knight who approached him didn’t look like he had bad intentions, but in places like this you could never know, and sometimes it may be a little too late.
“Here.” Lance pulled out a red square of cloth from a pocket an held it out towards Crow to wipe the blood. The frown had only deepened when the man had explained the reason he was beaten. He didn’t find it right what had been done but things like this happened in Ishgard. More often then he cared to admit. Especially in the Brume. He had been fortunate to never be in the situation this young man had been in. It still angered him but it was Crow’s problem. All he could do was offer his concern or help if the man asked for it since the men responsible had already fled off.
“No we have never met. At least not that I recall. Lancefer Aurifore, in service to House Haillenarte.” Lance gave Crow a slight bow of his head as he introduced himself. “Should get those injuries treated. Maybe report the assault to the Temple Knights.”
“A shiny knight, huh?” Crow grinned. “Who but someone like you would know better that Temple Knights rarely show their asses in Brume, not sure though if they are afraid to be hit on the head with a bottle by some drunkard, or simply don’t care about people living here…”
He accepted the offered cloth though, still looking a bit tensed. “Ah, but where are my manners. Name’s Crow, Crow Brume, sorry for not bowing properly, but I’m afraid I feel slightly dizzy to follow all the formalities.”
Sadly, it was truth. He didn’t feel too well, one of the men beating him probably hit his head a little too much. But Crow wasn’t going to admit it out loud, at least not yet.
Lance couldn’t help but agree. The Brume wasn’t exactly the safest of places for anyone born of a higher class. He didn’t even usually wander this way often himself. He still remembered one of the few times he had. He knew just how dirty some of the people in the Brume could fight.
“No. It’s fine, Crow. You don’t have to bow to me. I was not expecting anything of that sort. But if you are feeling dizzy we should definitely get your examined by a healer. Head wounds shouldn’t be taken lightly.” Lance said with a frown as he looked Crow up an down, trying to assess the condition the man was in. However he was not a healer like his cousin. He didn’t quite have her eye for it but he had seen enough battle wounds. “Can you walk on your own or would you like a shoulder to lean on? I can look into what happened later myself if you want. But first you need medical attention.”
SEND ME A NUMBER AND HELP ME DEVELOP MY CHARACTER
Memories
01: A memory from your character’s childhood
02: A memory from your character’s teenage years
03: A memory from your character’s career
04: A memory that your character cherishes
05: A memory that your character wishes to erase
Emotions
06: Something that makes your character angry
07: Something that makes your character happy
08: Something that makes your character laugh
09: Something that frightens your character
10: Something that turns your character on
People
11: Describe your character’s childhood friend
12: Describe your character’s parents
13: Describe your character’s former lover
14: Describe your character’s present best friend
15: Describe your character’s worst enemy
Activities
16: What your character does on a day of
17: What kind of books your character reads
18: What kind of music your character likes
19: What your character does when they wake up
20: What your character is like at social events
So I might have done a thing cause I haven’t been thrilled for a while now with the image I have been using for Dest to answer asks.
Old Image:
New Image:
The old one was a screenshot unedited other then cropping an resizing. My brain is too tired to write but seems to be fine to goof around with the adjustment filters on photoshop. XD So yay new image for Dest for asks. I was literally just goofing around. Really like how it turned out though. Nothing fancy other then goofing around seriously. XD I wasn’t even trying for anything in particular.
(Actually is pretty fitting for her if you read the detailed information. Dropping it behind a read more cause it is a bit lengthy.)
INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the
unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in
outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference
for closure and completion, they are generally
“doers” as well as dreamers. This rare combination of vision and
practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of
responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be
drawn.
INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as
well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes
mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so
genuinely interested in people – a product of the
Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary,
INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and
fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family,
or obvious “soul mates.” While instinctively
courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon
them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into
themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent
paradox is a necessary escape valve for them,
providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to
prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as
inherent “givers.” As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most
confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character
to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood – particularly by
those who have little experience with this rare type.
Due in part to the unique perspective produced by this alternation
between detachment and involvement in the lives of the people around
them, INFJs may well have the clearest insights of all the types into
the motivations of others, for good and for evil.
The most important contributing factor to this uncanny gift, however,
are the empathic abilities often found in Fs, which seem to be
especially heightened in the INFJ type (possibly by the dominance of the
introverted N function).
This empathy can serve as a classic example of the two-edged nature of
certain INFJ talents, as it can be strong enough to cause discomfort or
pain in negative or stressful situations. More explicit inner conflicts
are also not uncommon in INFJs; it is
possible to speculate that the causes for some of these may lie in the
specific combinations of preferences which define this complex type. For
instance, there can sometimes be a “tug-of-war” between NF vision and
idealism and the J practicality that urges
compromise for the sake of achieving the highest priority goals. And the
I and J combination, while perhaps enhancing self-awareness, may make
it difficult for INFJs to articulate their deepest and most convoluted
feelings.
Usually self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they
tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess
a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the
“inspirational” professions such as teaching
(especially in higher education) and religious leadership. Psychology
and counseling are other obvious choices, but overall, INFJs can be
exceptionally difficult to pigeonhole by their career paths. Perhaps the
best example of this occurs in the technical
fields. Many INFJs perceive themselves at a disadvantage when dealing
with the mystique and formality of “hard logic”, and in academic terms
this may cause a tendency to
gravitate towards the liberal arts rather than the sciences. However,
the significant minority of INFJs who do pursue studies and careers in
the latter areas tend to be as successful as their T counterparts, as it
is *iNtuition* – the dominant function
for the INFJ type – which governs the ability to understand abstract
theory and implement it creatively.
In their own way, INFJs are just as much “systems builders” as are
INTJs; the difference lies in that most INFJ “systems” are founded on
human beings and human values, rather than information and technology.
Their systems may for these reasons be
conceptually “blurrier” than analogous NT ones, harder to measure in
strict numerical terms, and easier to take for granted – yet it is
these same underlying reasons which make the resulting contributions to
society so vital and profound.
Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the
weightier matters of life.Those who are activists – INFJs gravitate
toward such a role – are there for the cause, not for personal glory or
political power.
INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden.They often are
found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute
distress.INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who
victimize the defenseless.The concept of ‘poetic
justice’ is appealing to the INFJ.
“There’s something rotten in Denmark.” Accurately suspicious about
others’ motives, INFJs are not easily led.These are the people that you
can rarely fool any of the time.Though affable and sympathetic to most,
INFJs are selective about their friends.
Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.
INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in
communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to
know and be known by others intimately.
Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.