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older neverook

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Spin this wheel first and then this wheel second to generate the title of a YA fantasy novel!

(If the second wheel lands on an option ending with a plus sign, spin it again)

Share what you got!

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reblog game put in the tags how you found prev

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"i asked chatgpt" well i calculated the number of the beast. it is napoleon. six hundred three score and six. and i will kill him one day. he's no great man, none of us are great men, we're caught in the waves of history. nothing matters; everything matters, it's all the same. Oh, if only I could not see it, that dreadful, terrible, it.

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Yes there's a typo in the first option but I am not redoing the whole thing

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I’m surprised and glad to be mentioned! Thank you! First I will give a shout-out to @galahadiant and his Laz von Valancius, who I’m still learning about but he seems like such a funky little guy; an Iconoclast Psyker in a (doomed but I may be wrong) romance with Einrich, what I’ve read about him so far makes me think he brings a needed working/lower class perspective to the game’s story, being a Voidborn from a clan overseeing pipes on a ship’s lower decks.

Also pointing back at Zefir to check out their other Rogue Traders, Astra and Vinti, fellow Abelard romancers; Astra is some kind of geologist (I can’t remember a specific rank or title off the top of my head) with the Naval Officer origin in-game, a lanky Voidborn who’s quite shy but doggedly determined to be kind to others after a rough past of being abandoned and raised by a ship’s Navigator. Vinti is pretty new, but she was previously part of the Imperial Guard and grew up on a Feudal World, which just seems interesting as a background in a setting that’s so futuristic.

Putting my own OC idea under a cut for length and mentions of child death; drawing primarily from the 6th edition Codex Militarum Tempestus, my idea is basically “what if a Commissar was a twin who lost his brother at the Schola Progenium and got to feel guilty and monstrous about it in a career that piles atrocities and even more regrets on over time and is now at a breaking point, physically scarred and visibly affected by a lifetime of fighting for a system that ultimately doesn’t care about him”

Gabriel von Valancius is a former Commissar in his 50s who was born to nobility on a Hive World but was ripped away from that life at age 12 by conflict within his family (I don’t know what happened there but I’ve considered Chaos being involved) that left him and his twin brother Michael orphans with nowhere to go but to the Schola Progenium. Michael, the more outspoken and the “leader” between the two, hated their new life and his refusal to conform ultimately led to his death at the hands of their classmates, with Gabriel dealing the killing blow himself and being forced to help dispose of the body for hesitating to participate until the last minute. (Students being made to hunt down peers that refuse to conform is mentioned in the 6th edition Codex Militarum Tempestus. Gabriel’s refusal to heed Michael’s pleas for help before the hunt out of fear haunts him just as much as actually being the one to end Michael’s life)

Losing his brother shaped everything in Gabriel’s life afterwards; to escape the lingering stigma of being related to someone who rebelled, Gabriel became one of his school’s best students, ultimately qualifying for Commissar training. Out of the Schola, I think he had a surprisingly compassionate but still “rough around the edges” mentor in an older woman who recognized his moral injury and taught him to not be so demanding of the regular soldiers, who haven’t had the same level of training to fight he did at the Schola, lest he be the first to die in a mutiny. I’ve considered her influence being the seed of Iconoclast convictions, but I’m not entirely sure and won’t be until I know more about how he thinks beyond feeling like he crossed a line by killing Michael that makes him feel monstrous and is wrestling with the fact that acts he feels guilt and regret for are condoned (Michael’s death being treated like a lesson to be learned from the Drill Abbots, shooting his best friend as part of the final test to show he can make it as a Commissar being similarly encouraged, just having caused and seen so many deaths in the name of the empire and God-Emperor… I don’t know if he’s actually asked himself “what kind of god and society approves of all this, are the necessary sacrifices truly necessary” but I think that’s what he struggles with) (I’m also thinking that these feelings of monstrousness make him willing to do things that are terrible because he’s already crossed a moral line, but at the same time he wants to shield others from having to make harsh or cruel decisions in the name of humanity/the empire and is willing to shoulder the weight of those actions and any hatred because of them. This is all still pretty rough, I hope it makes sense. I wanted a guy who feels like he’s already done the unthinkable and that affects everything)

Time has left Gabriel with visible scars, namely the loss of his nose in combat; it’s been replaced with a metal prosthesis that I’m thinking will need the iconic Nose Tubes to help filter and/or warm the air as he breathes. (If the game allows for burn scars on the face, I’m thinking he’ll have those to signify losing it in an explosion, but we’ll see. I’ve not figured out the specifics, I just want to utilize the metal nose and related tube augmentations in-game)

I’ve tentatively been thinking he suffers from shell shock or PTSD in ways that notably affect his daily life, like tremors that make handwriting shaky and gripping a sword or aiming a bolt pistol noticeably more difficult than they used to be (partly to “explain” utilizing the Officer archetype, which is very support-oriented when the lore I’ve read so far in the codex emphasizes Commissar’s martial skills as much as their oratorial and leadership ones). This is still pretty vague and I need to read more about how such symptoms manifest and how people deal with them. I just felt like this would be a tangible representation of Gabriel having lived through the horrors of war; being changed irreparably by it, physically and mentally/emotionally, would put him at odds with the Imperial “ideal” he used to embody.

I’m thinking his Triumph will be Illustrious Glory and I’m currently torn between Grim Portents and Brand of Shame for Darkest Hour. Grim Portents apparently leads to the RT being seen as cursed, and the flavor text of being “haunted by those lost in a brutal offensive” would fit Gabriel, who does care about the people he serves with and has been affected by their deaths, but I’d have to think about the apparent emphasis on Warp-related trauma this Darkest Hour mentions in-game (according to Reddit, anyway)… Brand of Shame interests me because its flavor text involves a false accusation of cowardice. In reading about symptoms of shell shock in particular, I’ve found that it led to accusations of cowardice among World War I soldiers, some being executed on such grounds and later given posthumous pardons by the government responsible. It seems easy to set up that a cadet or junior Commissar working with Gabriel wanted out of his shadow and somehow utilized his symptoms of shell shock and/or PTSD in a public accusation of cowardice that, while ultimately deemed not credible by the Commissariat, irreparably damaged his career and put Gabriel through the wringer of a humiliating tribunal that left him feeling ashamed and broken. Theodora’s people could easily show up when his future seems uncertain in the aftermath. The duality of being seen as a hero by some and a coward or traitor by others also seems interesting, but if Brand of Shame ends up playing out in narration/dialogue like “you actually were a traitor in your former life,” I will stick to Grim Portents.

I know how he looks relatively well already… He’s a tall, lean and pale man with angular features, some degree of facial scarring, and haunting light blue eyes who wears his gray-streaked black hair shoulder-length to be practical; he’s got a widow’s peak and receding hairline (there’s a default hairdo that captures all of this). Honestly I’m not typically one to use voice claims—this is actually a first for me—but I’m thinking his is Alan Rickman. His naturally deep voice has been rendered somewhat unusual thanks to his nose prosthesis and I feel Iike Rickman’s voice would match the vibes I’m going for. No ideas for who he’ll romance, if anyone; Zefir made me interested in Rogue Trader at all through their Abelard/RT thoughts and fics and drawing my attention to Cassia. Like many of my OCs, Gabriel is bi and I’ve wondered if he’ll continue the theme of Bisexual Wife Guys that’s also common among them, but we’ll see.

Good Morning Babes! Today I present to you:

Rogue Trader OC HYPE TRAIN:

Please reblog with someone else’s OC that you really like and find fun or interesting and tag them!

I’ll start. I would love to highlight @swordbisexual’s Enid Von Valancius nee Stubbs.

She’s a banging hot red-headed crime lord with all the swagger and charm of a Peaky Blinders character. Shes funny and a little vulgar with these beautiful hints of vulnerability that make your heart ache a little. A+ characterization, she feels really and truly connected to the setting.

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Stage left:

Idira: Hey old man, the whispers are saying you feel some kinda way about our Lady Hotpants...

Abelard: Please stop. She does not want me like I want her.

Stage right:

Cassia: Your colors shine so bright when you are near the Seneschal! Are you perhaps —

Lumen: Please stop. He does not want me like I want him.

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Random OC ask time: Do you have a favorite aspect of writing Lumen?

She is Annoying That Old Man. A lot of my OCs are fully dedicated to Annoying That Old Man, starting from my very very first Skyrim OC I wrote fanfic in English for ( @mutantenfisch you may remember her), who went around annoying Ondolemar. I am excited to see that my writing had improved enough that the readers find Annoying That Old Man to be endearing rather than grating.

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I was invited to an in-person DnD game at a local library this weekend (my first DnD experience ever outside of playing BG3), so this is the art for my future character token. I am very nervous, as even though the game is meant to be beginner-friendly, some people in the group chat are already talking shop about builds and numbers and stats, and the DM is the only person whom I know well, so my character's personality will reflect that. She is a foundling raised in the local temple of Lathander in isolation from the world "for her own good" (think Quasimodo), and is thus very naive and socially inept and will probably just stand in the background during most (if any) social interactions like 🧍‍♀️

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This is no Magnae Accessio.

This time around, they don't have any grand ballroom dancing, or any fiery jets of gold and crimson scattering across the starry sky. There are no sprawling gardens and screeching cyber-peacocks up here in the void; no party games for visiting nobles. Even the feast that Master Danrok has hastily thrown together has a "meager five courses" (so the High Factotum laments into a lace handkerchief).

All that greets the Lord Captain, when she at last ascends upon her throne, after such a long time away in the claws of xenos, is a crowd of applauding voidsmen. Their blue and grey uniforms blend into a living river, and as the soft watery babbles of a newborn stream become louder and louder, as it swells and rushes to meet the sea, so do their awestruck murmurs soon turn into a thunderous roar. The rising tide froths and rumbles all around the ship's beloved mistress. Countless hands rise up, fingers trembling in reverent disbelief, hungry for a mere brush against her gold-tipped fingers or her glittering frock.

The whirlpool of bodies hits its utter boiling point of excitement when the mighty giant in power armor, one of the Emperor's Angels here in the flesh, strides up to the throne and, with the effortless ease of plucking a ripe Janusian peach from its tree, lifts the Lord Captain up and hoists her onto his massive shoulders. She laughs. He growls in return, baring his wolfish fangs... And together, they begin to chant.

Amid all the deafening frenzy, the joined voices of the Rogue Trader and the Astartes ring the loudest, drowning out the adoring crowd. In a triumphant, rhythmic chorus, they recite a saga — born on the spot yet perfectly in sync — of how the ferocious Space Wolf from his cage rose and at the foe-flesh claw'd, and how beside him, shone the soul-flame of the cunning Aett-Vater... A curious name for a tiny lady in a frilly dress, yet in the moment, oddly fitting. Glory to her! Glory to the Aett-Vater, home returning!

When the saga reaches the part where the Space Wolf and companions on Webway's threshold stood and into darkness leapt, where creatures dwell of many eyes and dripping fish-teeth where none are meant to grow, the Lord Captain dives off the Astartes' shoulders, as one would from a tall cliff. And the crowd reaches up and catches her, carrying her forth. One pair of hands after the other works with the unfaltering precision of tank wheels, passing the precious burden from one voidsman to the next; and on the Lord Captain floats down, down the river, a beautiful blossom of gold upon the blue waves...

Until a single figure wades against the tide, forehead furrowed and augmented eye flaring a warning crimson.

"Stop manhandling the Lord Captain!" the Seneschal yells.

The voidsmen freeze. Her Ladyship slips down to the ground, as graceful and light on her feet as she was during her Magnae dance (none of the crew know what happened afterwards; the secret of what the Lord Captain looks like falling-down drunk is the Seneschal's to keep).

"Jealous, darling?" she asks, with another laugh.

And again, none of the crew make anything of it. She has always talked like this to her retinue, and might be the only person alive in the Expanse to make the old Werserian such a beetroot red, and get away with it.

The voidsmen do not notice the glance that passes between Her Ladyship and the Seneschal — the flutter of half-lowered lashes against the burning stare of mismatched eyes, steely grey and cybernetic red.

Only the Lady Navigator lingers. Only the Lady Navigator wonders. Only the Lady Navigator raises her silvery talons to pale lilac lips, and gasps in understanding.

She has been gliding like a ghost on the far shoreline of the living sea, with an untouched glass of amasec in her hand and with crew members nearly keeling over in her wake — stricken by the golden pulse of her joy to be back on the voidship. Eventually, her path crosses the Lord Captain's, and a blush swirls under her skin like the liquid in her glass.

"Your colors," she exhales softly.

The Lord Captain exhales too, and her breath is broken by a stifled half-sob — audible only to the Lady Navigator and the Seneschal, for most of the voidsmen are now distracted by a new thunderous recital started by the mighty Angel.

"Oh, Cassia," she says, glancing from one of her companions to the other. "You were right — back there, on Footfall! You were right! Those dawn hues... They did not come just from me! Oh, you beautiful, beautiful mind reader, tomorrow I am going to gift you an entire library!"

The Lady Navigator's hand slides from her lips to her throat.

"You are going to do something scandalous now, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes I am," the Lord Captain grins like the best-fed cat in the lap of the most pampered noble atop the tallest hive spire.

"Lord Captain!" the Seneschal splutters. "Not in front of Lady Orsellio!"

A gilded finger lands on his lips, silencing him.

"She knows, Abelard. She has known for longer than either of us. Now let's go, before Cassia's joy for us both fries our brains."

And with that, the Lord Captain and the Seneschal vanish from the bridge, leaving the ebb and flow of the jubilant sea far behind. And only the Lady Navigator remains the wiser, gazing upon the elevator with a dreamy look on her gaunt face, as if her favorite romance novel had just reached a happy ending.

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Happy Friday the 13th, our ceiling just collapsed.

We're okay, the cats are okay, we will figure this out.

If anyone wants to kick a few bucks our way that would be real swell.

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knights can be created by other knights like vampires except instead of biting them they wack them on the shoulders with swords

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"How do you look so fair and bright? Under the cloak of sorrow Look at these wings you’re made for flight Cut down before you could know" — ♫: CLANN - Arise

·· Cassia Orsellio, Lady Navigator of the Navis Nobilite

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something interesting is happening on the nexus this week

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u ever wonder if ur associated with a character forever to someone else. like. when ur scrolling ur dash and u see a url u don't recognize and after going to their blog ur like ohhh this is the Character person. yeah ok i remember now.

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Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction

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u ever wonder if ur associated with a character forever to someone else. like. when ur scrolling ur dash and u see a url u don't recognize and after going to their blog ur like ohhh this is the Character person. yeah ok i remember now.