onebillionbeans

[onebillionbeans]

You walk a path in the Darkwood. At the end of that path lies a temple. Chained in the Attic of that temple is a Bishop. You are here to Slay him. If you do not, it will cause the end of the world. 

Slay the Princess au, anyone? Here we have several designs of characters that will appear in my fic that I'm working on! I based them off several of the in- game fleeces.

The Lamb- The main character, in the place of The Decider (which is usually you, but not this time). They're easily distracted by shiny things.

The Voice of the Sacrifice- Counterpart to the voice of the Hero, the general moral compass and voice of reason. They Don't Want To Hurt Anyone.

The Voice of the Vessel- Counterpart of the Broken, they only wish to submit to their god. Dressed in a Golden Fleece suited for the pet of a bishop.

The Voice of The Favored- Counterpart of the Stubborn. Using the love of the fight as fuel for its continuation, they are particularly useful in games of perseverance.

The Voice of the Diseased- Counterpart of the Cold. They detach themselves from the situation at hand. Why are you so upset? Pain is fleeting, and so is everything else.

The Voice of The Hobbled- Counterpart of the Hunted. A lamb driven by the need for survival. dodge left, dodge right, and stay out of the surveillance of a certain cat's gaze. It is eat or be eaten in the world of nature, and they intend to last as long as they can.

These guys will all feature in the first chapter of my fic, which I am working on now!! I'm very excited as this is pretty much the first Big Project I've ever actually posted!! I want to have the first chapter out this weekend (though honestly it will more realistically be the week after)

[onebillionbeans]

50 Lamb Questions

1. Does your lamb go by any name other than The Lamb? If so, what?

2. How old was your lamb when they were sacrificed?

3. How long was your lamb held captive by heretics before their sacrifice?

4. Did your lamb kill anyone prior to their first death? If so, who?

5. When your lamb mourns a dead loved one from their past.. who is it?

6. Who raised your lamb?

7. Where was your lamb raised? A village? A prison? Constantly on the run?

8. Did your lamb have any specific skills pre-sacrifice?

9. How or where was your lamb caught?

10. How did your lamb feel with their head on the pedestal? Afraid? Relieved? Angry?

11. Does your lamb have any notable or unique features?

12. How tall is your lamb?

13. Is your lamb petite? Curvy? Fucking jacked?

14. Is your lamb’s wool pure white?

15. How does your lamb prefer to keep their wool? Short and shorn neat? Wild and untrimmed? Be honest are there branches in that bitch?

16. Do you base your lamb on any specific species of sheep? If so, which?

17. Do they use their own wool for anything?

18. On a scale of one to ten how floppy are their ears?

19. Do they bear any traits of forced domestication? Is their tail docked? Was their ear tagged? Do they have scars from being shorn (and nicked) against their will? Were they ever painted with or assigned a number rather than a name?

20. What do their horns look like?

21. Was your lamb born male, female, intersex, or do you have no opinion on their sex at birth?

22. Does your lamb use pronouns other than they/them? If so, which ones!

23. Are they capable of having children and would they want to have children?

24. If they were to be a parent or are, what epithet would they have their child use? Mom? Mama? Dad? Baba? Nony? Abba?

25. Do they wear something other than the canon cloak?

26. Does your lamb wear jewelry or makeup?

27. Is your lamb flirtatious?

28. Did your lamb have any partners pre-sacrifice?

29. Did your lamb take any followers as a partner?

30. Who is your lamb’s second in command or closest follower?

31. Is your lamb ever honest about their feelings or past? With who?

32. Is your lamb merciful? Did they ever refuse to spare someone? If so, why?

33. Is your lamb trustworthy?

34. Is your lamb quick or slow to trust others?

35. If your lamb could pick a cult job other than leader what would it be?

36. Is your lamb a good cook?

37. Does your lamb let cult members cook or heal or do they restrict them from certain duties?

38. What is your lamb’s favorite food or dish?

39. Does your lamb eat meat/fish/eggs?

40. What is your lamb’s stance on cannibalism?

41. What about their stance on torture?

42. Would your lamb ever kill a cult member?

43. How does your lamb deal with dissenters?

44. What is your lamb’s favorite weapon? Their least favorite?

45. Would they ever let a follower embrace their dark desire to eat poop?

46. What is your lamb’s favorite season?

47. Is your lamb’s favorite color something other than red?

48. How does your lamb really feel about death?

49. Does your lamb use substances? Are substance banned from cult grounds?

50. Freebie! Tell us any headcanon you want!

[onebillionbeans]

Concept for the setup of my COTL au

The lamb is a good vessel. The best vessel. Fueled by the vengeance burning in their veins, they start their crusades with leaps and bounds towards progress. It stills, somewhere in the middle. They become comfortable in their situation. Summoned to their god at his whims- first to demand, then to plan, and then to chat. The one who waits is everything- their god, their savior. He is even, not so secretly, someone they hold a certain mortal kind of devotion for. Things that make them sigh when they look at camellias and stare at the ceiling at late into the night.

Affection, they think, is returned. Not in the ways of mortals- never that way. But their god lets them stand in his hands and peak under his veil when their curiosity is piqued. He allows them comfort, allows them to rest. There is a gentle nature within him, dead like the rest of the veil but not quite yet completely decayed. The Lamb’s devotion only grows as time is spent lingering in the place between.

The cult grows. It prospers. New buildings, new rituals, disciples crowned and friends old and buried revived. Five becomes four becomes three becomes two-

Becomes one. The last fight. The last slaughter. The last chain broken.

He speaks desperately, demeaningly, to them the second to last time they are to meet. None shall wear the crown but himself. None could wear it as well as he, admirable though they were. They will return to their home, and afterwards will lay down their life at his feet, and all will bask in his glory once more. (Are they afraid? Why are they afraid? It is too late for that)

The Lamb does not want to die. It no longer terrifies them like it once did, but to be the last sheep and lay down their life…? For a god, no less. Yet another sacrifice.

But of course they would. For him. The one who holds all the devotion in their heart. And also because they are tired. They hope they will be given a place to rest. They have faith that death will be kind to them, as he has so often before. A quick death, a restful sleep, a tool put back on the shelf.

They kneel before him, on that foretold day, and relinquish to him what they have borrowed.

Their death is none of the things they hoped for. (The crunch of bones is perhaps the worst part.)

They wake, gasping and shivering. The voices of those they have long since killed buzzing in their ears like flies.

“Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade.”

They could almost think it a dream, if not for how they hurt.

[onebillionbeans]

cotl. They could never make me hate you.

[onebillionbeans]

Hello I am about to be extremely neurotic about something no one else cares about on main.

It has always, always bothered me that in tangled the series the moon incantation/all of the things regarding the moon were made out to be evil. I understand that this is a common dichotomy between sun/moon dynamics but nontheless.

So. To satisfy me and only me. I have re-written it in the span of about thirty minutes to be not evil. Here it is.

Shadow of the sun

Guide us through the night

Dance among the stars

Reflect the given light

Bend it to my will

Fate I will rewrite

Rise into the sky

Reflect the given light

Our given light

[onebillionbeans]

Aha. It’s been a while, huh? Well, this is the first thing I’ve done in….a few months that I feel is vibey enough to post. A valentines trend..a day late. Oh well.

[onebillionbeans]

People stop being obtuse about calypso challenge; impossible

[onebillionbeans]

Mari lovers unite. My problematic fave.

[onebillionbeans]

What happens when a god’s vessel is disconnected from them?

-

A hand reaches out to touch his forehead, brushing his bangs out of the way. Careful, practiced. His friend brushes over the scar there. One breath passes. Two.

A cool energy collects on the surface of his skin, pain ebbs away like pricks of falling snow. Instead of peace, there is a moment of dread not unlike the feeling of an impending need to vomit. Power rushes back into the empty space the coolness left. It pushes against his head from the inside out itching crawling begging scraping to get out get out get out- let me in.

-

It’s dark above the place he finds himself. Rather, its dark above. Sapphires shine beneath his feet, a million tiny geodes providing friendly light. They go on for as far as he can see. Maybe none of this is real, and he’s only imagining them. That really is the most likely thing, now that he's thought of it. What was that? Why is he here? Will he ever have a normal experience with a doctor ever? The others must be-

-what is that.

A presence approaches. Massive, inconceivably sot. They are him and yet not all of him. Nothing could be all of him, infinity can never be filled. A million tiny sapphires coalesce into one structure above and below and around. Surrounded by light and the presence of a stranger. The presence of an enemy.

And yet it is him. Him as he never will be, and he never has been. And yet he is here, right now. A doppelganger like he has never seen before. Holding his hands. Stepping forward, placing his head onto his shoulder. Something sharp almost digs into his skin.

A god holds their vessel like he is the most precious thing in the world. The Land is silent. The vessel should be angry at him. He isn’t. The Land has a crack in his forehead shrouded in blues and coppers. Despite the lack of any real gore, it upsets tempus more than he thinks he could ever put into words. They hurt the same. They are the same.

They stand there for minutes or seconds or hours or years. All of them at once. A god cries tears of relief into his shoulder. Ichor drips down his wrists as he holds his face that is his own. A feedback loop of sorrysorryhurtreliefconnectioncomfort pulses between them in the spaces where they are far away enough not to feel like they share the same skin (but they do and always will they hurt the same they are the same)

And then he wakes up.

[onebillionbeans]

Mari lovers unite. My problematic fave.

[onebillionbeans]

hi hello

first reference of many (I think technically five and some change). from a group of characters named the Ascendants.

Ignis is tied intrinsically to a deity called The Snow. The prince of the domain The Snow claims as home, Ignis has only ever wanted to be a healer. He is rarely afforded the time to be anything but a warrior. He hopes, in vain, that his upcoming reign will be half as peaceful as his mother's.

more elaboration on that to come.

[onebillionbeans]

What happens when a god’s vessel is disconnected from them?

-

A hand reaches out to touch his forehead, brushing his bangs out of the way. Careful, practiced. His friend brushes over the scar there. One breath passes. Two.

A cool energy collects on the surface of his skin, pain ebbs away like pricks of falling snow. Instead of peace, there is a moment of dread not unlike the feeling of an impending need to vomit. Power rushes back into the empty space the coolness left. It pushes against his head from the inside out itching crawling begging scraping to get out get out get out- let me in.

-

It’s dark above the place he finds himself. Rather, its dark above. Sapphires shine beneath his feet, a million tiny geodes providing friendly light. They go on for as far as he can see. Maybe none of this is real, and he’s only imagining them. That really is the most likely thing, now that he's thought of it. What was that? Why is he here? Will he ever have a normal experience with a doctor ever? The others must be-

-what is that.

A presence approaches. Massive, inconceivably sot. They are him and yet not all of him. Nothing could be all of him, infinity can never be filled. A million tiny sapphires coalesce into one structure above and below and around. Surrounded by light and the presence of a stranger. The presence of an enemy.

And yet it is him. Him as he never will be, and he never has been. And yet he is here, right now. A doppelganger like he has never seen before. Holding his hands. Stepping forward, placing his head onto his shoulder. Something sharp almost digs into his skin.

A god holds their vessel like he is the most precious thing in the world. The Land is silent. The vessel should be angry at him. He isn’t. The Land has a crack in his forehead shrouded in blues and coppers. Despite the lack of any real gore, it upsets tempus more than he thinks he could ever put into words. They hurt the same. They are the same.

They stand there for minutes or seconds or hours or years. All of them at once. A god cries tears of relief into his shoulder. Ichor drips down his wrists as he holds his face that is his own. A feedback loop of sorrysorryhurtreliefconnectioncomfort pulses between them in the spaces where they are far away enough not to feel like they share the same skin (but they do and always will they hurt the same they are the same)

And then he wakes up.

[onebillionbeans]

*puts bendalbug in a jar and shakes em to get the cuteness aggression out*

[onebillionbeans]

another miraculous redesign! this is Chloe- Celine in my rewrite- and not the replacement. she'll have an actual redemption arc slowly over the course of the 'seasons', starting out as an antagonist and eventually growing into a better person in her older teenage/early adult years. she,s a spoilt child. not an irredeemable monster.

so yes. Holder of the bee miraculous, representative of the guiding light, Queen Bee.

[onebillionbeans]

Spriteboba's design my beloved

[onebillionbeans]

god I am so cool and sexy

hello kaloscope smp. my beloved. my icon. my current way to project something into a selfsona

[onebillionbeans]

hello kaloscope smp. my beloved. my icon. my current way to project something into a selfsona