#sid posts ocs

[siduael]

Did some full body reference for Spark. Close up under cut

[absurdumsid]

thank you for a great year, lets live well !!

horror! sans belongs to sour-apple-studios murder! sans belongs to ask-dusttale

[ragsy]

Kenny the retired dentist receives a cursed post

[dissvicious]

With the way Kid is shit talking Nina right now, and the fact that Killer went to go find Nina, something tells me he's gonna turn his anger on them both and end up losing Killer too for the time being. He's self destructing just like Nina, but I'm starting to think his spiral is going to be targeted at others instead of himself. The ego death crash out is gonna be insane, and probably worse when Kid and Killer find out about Loki.

.

[lavampira]

after I have traveled so far we'd set the fire to the third bar

[viiviidlights]

Overblot Theatre - Overlord of Darkness

So since I ran an overblot arc for Casimir on my rp blog...

It's only fair I upload the conclusion to it here!

No one asked to be tagged, but I'll be sharing this on my other blog anyways, so please don't fret!

Content warnings for explicit mention of bullying, um... idk if this necessarily constitutes as verbal abuse, but Casimir's dad kinda totally sucks here so... idk?

Yuna awoke to the same old theatre in its drab monochrome state. Another Overblot meant another journey here that she was bound to forget when she awoke, but she knew that she wasn't here to complain about only seeing this place at the most inopportune times.

Instead, she listened around for the open screening room, searching for the faint light and sound that would escape from it, guiding her to the familiar seats and screen that always held a different story,

Observing the scenery, Yuna noted an almost fuzzy darkness that lingered in her vision as she explored - a vignette around her surroundings that cemented the idea that this was a story she needed to hear; a flashback that she couldn't physically experience, but would learn about nonetheless.

The standard posters and cutouts that typically resembled what one would see in a movie theatre were more akin to a mainstage auditorium instead - with abstract, silhouetted depictions of a young boy in various situations. In one poster, the perspective and colors depicted him as small, but sticking out like a sore thumb, a bright yellow dot amidst a sea of cobalt. Another one painted the boy in a similarly small image, but with a looming shadow that towered above him, a mirror image of the frail silhouette yet older, more commanding. Most of the posters followed a similar theme, with no real features to identify the boy, save for the recognizable pair of wings and horns plastered on every one.

Yuna continued down the hallway when she noticed a faint glow at the end of the he doors open and all. She proceeded quickly, her pace picking up when she detected the sound of quiet, fearful sobbing in the background.

"I-I don't wanna die," Casmir sniffled to himself as Yuna poked her head into the screening room. "I-I don't want to be dead and I don't want to be in hell- I'm- I'm so sorry…"

Yuna softly cleared her throat, causing the young fae to jolt up, fear and anxiety swimming in his orange eyes.

"A-ah?! Y-Yuna?!" He exclaimed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "A-are you real? O-or are you a spirit here t-to taunt me for my failures?! I don't-"

"Easy there, Cas," Yuna replied, sitting down in one of the plush seats and making herself comfortable. "I'm real as ever. You don't have to worry, okay? You're not dead, nor are you in Hell… at least, I'd certainly hope that a place as quiet as this wasn't Hell… I still dunno what this place is, if I'm being honest…"

"Y-you mean to say that you've been here before?" Casimir asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion at Yuna's statement.

"Well, yeah, but I don't usually remember too much of what happens while I'm here…"

"Ah… well, I suppose that's nice at least. It means you won't recall some of the stuff I've been forced to rewatch for the last while…"

Casimir gestured towards the screen and Yuna's eyes followed, her attention drawn to the colorless memories shown before her.

'Gee. Thanks stupid brain theatre. You won't tell me what you are but you can sure as hell show me people's trauma out the wazoo, can't you?' She thought sarcastically, before settling in for whatever "show" the theatre had to offer her this time.

-

"I heard he curses anyone that gets too close! A friend of mine heard him mumbling one day and then she broke her leg!"

*"I heard his family does deals with demons, so every generation or two they have a kid that gets possessed by em so they can run around freely… Maybe that's what his problem is!"

"My mom says that he was a changeling who failed to swap with anyone because he was so scary!"

When he was little, these were the sorts of playground rumours that plagued Casimir day by day. He was never a talkative child - no, he was the odd, silent child who sat in the back of the room and kept to himself. All the other children noticed his sharp horns and devilish wings, taking it as a sign that he was of the demonic tribes, no matter how well-known his family was by this point (even if only for their failures in recent years). They avoided him whenever possible, whispering curses behind his back and snickering at his failures. When it came to games in class, he was always the last one picked and the first one out. During partner work, he was always the child stuck in a duo that had not been looking for a third. At recess, he always sat alone underneath the shade of the trees, digging in the dirt, but not even the insects would come to keep him company.

"…Casimir, dear? I know you don't often speak much in class, but I was wondering if you'd like to try something new…"

His first experience in the theatre was in the fifth grade, much later than some of his peers, but still rather young. His teacher had come to him looking for boys who wanted to join the cast, and Casimir figured he was probably a last resort as always. Still, though, he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to actively be around his peers, no matter how afraid of him they seemed to be.

His acceptance of the offer was swift, yet hesitant.

The first few rounds of rehearsals, though, were… almost a miraculous change for Casimir, compared to how he acted previously.

"I don't think I've ever heard him talk before. It's kinda uncanny."

"Yeah, but he's… actually really good at this! Hey, Casimir, wait up-"

"Who would've thought such a quiet kid could make such a terrifying villain?"

For once in his life, his classmates actually wanted to be around him and speak to him. For once, he was being included. The people loved him and his performance! Casimir was practically on cloud nine with how often people spoke to him, asking for him to perform impressions and play games with him on the playground.

So once the show was over, the logical next step was to keep up the act.

"Kyahahaha! Bow before my might, mortals, and cower! For I have come to proclaim myself your new overlord!"

Each stutter had been replaced with a declaration, each whimper replaced by a cackle. He spoke with a flourish, one that matched his very demeanor. With just a few months of rehearsal, he had turned into a completely different individual. It went over well the rest of that year, but once he entered middle school, it became a different story.

"Dude. You know this isn't a show, right? You can quit the act. It's kind of annoying."

"Oh great, here comes the 'evil overlord' on his way to claim us as his servants again."

"Casimir, you can't keep calling us all your minions. Everyone's getting the wrong idea. You're too old for this, now."

People continued to talk to Casimir, yes, but their formerly reverent tone was filled with disdain now, and even the adults in his life began to treat him as odd for his unique manner of speech. Whereas previously, he was just a "well-behaved child with a bit of quirk", he was now "childish", "dramatic", "nonsensical".

His father, though, found the whole schtick to be nonsense from the start, but tolerated it before. Until one night, his father sat him down after a violin rehearsal.

"Casimir. You're fourteen now. Don't you think it's time this 'villain' nonsense comes to an end?"

"But mother said-"

"It doesn't matter what she said. You're fourteen. Next year you'll be a member of the Grand Symphony with Duscha, and in four years you'll be a bonafide adult. You can't keep up this childish game if you want to be taken seriously… I blame that teacher of yours for making you like this."

"Father, it's not her fault that-"

"If that woman hadn't told you to join that stupid show, you wouldn't have developed that 'evil villain' persona that you put on! You would have been the well-mannered, quiet, polite young boy you should have been!"

"But father, if I didn't help with the performance, people would have kept ignoring me. I don't want to be ignored-"

"Well you certainly shouldn't be wanting to stand out, either. Once you're in the symphony, you are a part of the collective! You need to be able to blend in. There's no room for your antics with this. I've scheduled for you to meet with everyone before your audition in a few weeks and-"

"But… but what if I don't want to be in the Grand Symphony? I like being on stage with my friends and-"

"Sevens, Casimir, can't you think of someone other than yourself?! This isn't just about the Symphony, this is about the Spirit Sending- this is about Sabbatine! You need to give up this silly pipe dream of yours in favor of reality. I won't tell you again."

That was the beginning of his constant battle for approval, not only with his peers, but with his father as well.

Every year after, Casimir was sent to audition for the Symphony. He went out of his way to flub the first one, but that only served to cause his father to press him even harder.

"…Vladimir, you don't suppose you're being too hard on him, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm just as hard on him as I was on Duscha. He just happens to be a hard-headed idiot who won't think about what's best for everyone."

"But he's still your son!"

"And no son of mine is going to shirk his duties for the best of the town. I won't be discussing this further, Carmilla."

The next few weeks, Casimir was silent. He spoke to nothing and no one. Those were the longest weeks of his life, he thought, and it was almost as if he had faded back into the background, a monster defeated by the light and forced back into shadows for the forseeable future.

Every audition after, Casimir performed well, if only to sate his father, but would reject every offer after. It became a battle of sheer willpower to see who was going to cave first - Casimir? Or his father?

"Don't tell me you're rejecting such a generous offer again, Casimir. You should know better by now, so stop being so stubborn and just accept that this is how things have to be for us."

"I'm not joining the Symphony, father. I've told you time and again that this is not what I want to do-"

"Don't speak back to me, young man. You know how important this is. This is bigger than you. This is bigger than the family-"

"I don't care, father… This is what I want to do- what I'm meant to do!"

"You're meant to play the violin so we can restore our family's name, Casimir- What has brought on this level of stubbornness? Was it that letter? I knew allowing you the chance to go to high school was a mistake, of course you would-"

"It was not the letter from NRC, father. This is me. This is who I am and what I want to do! Why can't you just accept that I want to be on the stage. I was meant for it! Why can't you see that?!"

"You can be on the stage with the Symphony, Casimir, it's not like I'm taking performance away from you forever."

"But it's not the same. It isn't! Gah…. why can't you just be happy for me, father? Mother and Duscha support me, so why can't you?"

"Casimir- stop. Just… go to your room. I can't discuss this with you any further tonight."

"… Fine… but I won't be accepting that invitation."

It became almost a game of back and forth between Casimir and his father - He would be accepted by the symphony only to reject the invitation, his father would lecture him, the two would storm off at a total standstill. It made the house grow tense, with anger and frustration left to fester. Casimir and his father rarely spoke in the off time past a certain point, but that all changed once Casimir left for his freshman year at Night Raven College.

It was supposed to be the last time.

"*Sevens, have you seen that Diasomnia freshman in the drama club? He's so annoying…"

"*I know, right? He was kinda funny the first few days, but that bit of his gets old real fast."

"It's like he never grew out of playing pretend in kindergarten."

"Pfft, yeah! It's always 'Overlord of Darkness' this and 'all my evilness' that, heheh… jeez it's so dumb…"

"Wait, I think that's him over there- Hey! Dark Overloser-"

He thought he had escaped this kind of behaviour. His peers mocking him. Treating him like he was just comic relief in the background. Openly berating him for his actions.

But… at least people talked to him, now. That much was nice.

He never did talk about the nights he spent sobbing to himself somewhere on campus. The random injuries that he'd come back with late at night. The constant jeering and harassment.

Because as long as he could cheer other people up, as long as he could keep acting, as long as he could keep talking to people? He was satisfied.

This just… happened to be the last straw.

The rigging whizzing in front of his face. The laughter from his peers. His father standing up and leaving mid-show. It… it hurt.

It hurt so much.

Why did they hate him?

What did he do wrong?

Was he really that bad of a villain?

He thought that that was what they wanted to see.

So why…?

Why did it hurt so much?

He was always so tired… so, so tired.

And it hurt all the same.

-

When the reel finally stopped, Yuna turned to face Casimir. She could relate, at least partially. She knew all too well what it was like to be treated with scorn and disdain directly to your face and having no ability to challenge it.

"Well… now you know of my dark past… or… well, how stupid it is…" Casimir muttered, not looking up to face her.

Yuna simply sighed, placing a gentle hand on Casimir's shoulder.

"It's not stupid, Cas… You felt trapped. You adopted a role because people liked it, but only until they decided they didn't… you just wanted to be seen. Not just by your classmates, but by your dad, too."

"…I did. But he probably is going to take me out of school now that I've fumbled my last chance to prove myself-"

"He won't," Yuna said, a fire beginning to burn in her viridian eyes. "I- no everyone will make sure of that. Me, James, Rusul? Everyone else? We've got your back. Anyone who wants to get to you will have to go through us first."

"You don't know that." Casimir went to protest, but Yuna put a finger to his lips.

"I do." She replied, standing up and stepping directly between Casimir and the screen. "After all…

we're your loyal vassals, aren't we?"

Casimir barely held back a sob as he launched up from his seat, all but throwing himself into a hug with Yuna, who's eyes widened only for a moment before she returned the gesture, making sure to be careful of Casimir's wings.

"It's okay, Cas. I've got you. I'm right here…. I'm right here."

-

After a few minutes, Casimir finally stopped crying, wiping at his eyes before sitting back down in the plush seats of the theatre.

"Hey, Yuna?"

"Yes, Casimir?"

"…Can I still call you my vassal? Is- is that okay?" Casimir asked, his thumbs twiddling in front of him as he stared back down at the floor.

"Of course," Yuna smiled, patting him on the head. "Am I not perpetually in your service, my lord?"

Casimir looked up, eyes sparkling as he beamed.

"That is… correct. This is… this is most excellent, indeed!"

"Hehe, that's perfect, then."

Yuna chuckled to herself as she stood up.

"Well… I think I'm going to have to give you a few more minutes to yourself, but….

I'll be right there once you wake up. We all will. So keep your head up in the meantime, Casi."

"W-wait!" Casimir cried, rushing up to Yuna and tapping her shoulder.

When she turned around, she was quite surprised.

Casimir was bowed in front of her, a wide smile on his face.

"What's all this?" She asked, and Casimir stood back up.

"It's my way of showing gratitude. Thank you, Yuna, for a most excellent show, indeed."

[shalpilot]

well one of us is going to have to change

[ace-shenanigans]

Xianxia-beamed my best boi Sid, who proceeded to crash at LEAST 3 discord chats in response so ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[hidingoutbackstage]

wait making tumblr sideblogs for ocs is so awesome has anyone ever thought of this?

[sapphodera]

18 year old recruit Shepard vs. 32 year old Commander Shepard

[siduael]

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP Whenever/Last Line/Six Sentences/Music Monday

Tagged by @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @cassietrn @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @simplegenius042 Thank you for keeping me in the tag loop and sorry its taken me well over a month to post something!

So, since John's little art project won the poll vote, naturally that's what I'll post... (John really said I'm about to be the funniest mf around Hope County, & then did a DIY scarification on Willa's back... Slight tw for very brief descriptions of a scarification piece)

With the steam from the bath keeping her from catching a chill, she turns away from the mirror. Sucking in a deep breath, she turns her head to look over her shoulder. The air in her lungs slips from her lips as if her soul was departing her body. A mixture of hot rage and nausea swirl in her chest. There were no words for her back except mutilated. That bastard had carved away at her flesh and left behind a mark that would never fade, not even with time.

John's little art project covered the expanse of her upper back and even stretched out across her shoulder blades. In the center of the design, a near perfect circle had been carved out. Surrounding it, strips of flesh had been peeled away, revealing the deep crimson color that lay beneath the epidermis. There was no mistaking the design on her back, as she'd seen it plenty of times both before and after the helicopter crash. Every peggie, vehicle they used and outfit they wore, flag and banner hung up, even most buildings she'd come across sported the same logo: Project at Eden's Gate. Fury coils itself around her heart like barbed wire. Her fists, bare without her gloves, clench so tight that her nails begin to dig into her palms. Deep-seated, white hot anger contorts her face into an expression of rage. Her lips pull up into a snarl, her teeth gnash together, and her eyebrows furrow. "That fucker… that motherfucker!" Her hand reaches over her shoulder, fingers angled in a claw-like motion, tempted to tear into the wound that John had spent so many hours perfecting. Her hand trembles in hesitation before tangling itself into her hair instead, digging at her scalp and tugging her hair until a stinging sensation stops her. Her feet turn away from the mirror and carry her from one side of the bathroom to the other. Rage vibrates inside of her with no way to escape. The room felt too hot, too small, too quiet. Even the smallest drop of water falling from the faucet into the full bath made her irate. Jaw still clenched and motions jerky, she makes her way over to the bath and tightens the knob. The dripping ceases. Her anger does not.

Also sharing a song from the playlist I have going for the first part of this AU (The lyrics are seriously on point for the newest chapter)

And lastly, sharing a small snippet of The Lost Boys AU I have going for Sidra as well because why not

The plane ride from New York to California had been nothing short of both agonizing and euphoric. Crying babies, sketchy individuals with staring problems, and boozed up soon-to-be divorcees couldn't dampen her excitement, though they could irritate her. So when the plane had landed and they got the all clear to leave, she'd elbowed her way through the crowd and hustled out of the airport. The warm California air was a refreshing change from the bitter cold she'd grown accustomed to, but Los Angeles was not her end destination. If (Trevor) ever decided to look for her—which she knew he was likely to—she had to get further away. A few hours later, she's leaning up against the rough brick wall of a gas station, eyes closed in pure bliss as the cloying smoke of her recently purchased Djarum Blacks flow into her lungs. Reluctantly pulling the cigarette away from her mouth, she slowly exhales the smoke, already itching to take another drag. She can't remember the last time she'd had one. (Trevor) had once told her he didn't like her little habit, that the smell of them and the sight of her smoking nauseated him. After that, she started smoking them in secret, but covering the scent from his keen nose was easier said than done and when he caught her smoking… Well it wasn’t a night she’d soon forget. Taking the occasional drag now and again, she walks toward the sidewalk and holds a hand up, hailing a taxi as it approaches. When it slows to a stop beside her, she opens the door and slides in, setting her duffel bag on her lap. "Where to, miss?" "Santa Carla." "You got it."

[my-name-is-siduri]

AU where @starkatstories listened to Yes instead of Sounds of the Universe

[dissvicious]

It took less than a week for @a-killer-obsession @nethhiri @wgwingguns and I to generate a big girl lovin' girl kid pirates polycule I love internet

(Kid, Killer, Heat and Wire are here too)

[lavampira]

well, aren't we a creature of habit.

[skipperbunnyrabbit]

Just a quick piece, but here is Sid yapping Patrick's ear off lol

(They going to the pool after their smoothies)