#(so sayeth their big boss)

[altruistic-meme]

currently feeling very djajfjjsjfjjs grrrrr at my apartment people >:(

[thestalkerbunny]

I designed Mini Boss Romero’s mom, Polly. (I forgot to edit the fact that their last name is Romeo and only Romero’s last name is the same as his first due to a mix up on his birth certificate)

She’s a nice lady, great even, and a good mom too. She loves her boy Romero a lot and often worries about the stuff he gets up to. She and her ex husband split up around the time Romero decided to do the BIG JUMP and become a necromancer and for a long while he believe it was because of that his dad left; but they were already on the rocks for a long while.

She does drink a good bit but that’s mainly to deal with her personal issues that come up with being married to her current husband, Kevin, and tries not to let that interfere with her ability to be a mom. Kevin is not a nice man an honestly Polly only married him because she feels like she’s unfit to be a single mother and a worker and needs someone with an actual income to support her. Kevin is never physically abusive; but he’s often critical of the things she likes and frequently gets into screaming fights with Romero.

Her favorite thing to do nowadays is to sit with a boxed wine on the couch, post a shower, watching Life Time Movie Network movies with her son’s undead Armadillo who isn’t supposed to be in the living room Armadillos belong in the basement (so sayeth Kevin) Her best friend in the world is Raymond who works at the liqour store who she grew up with and she’d do witchy medium things with him. Kevin doesn’t like her hanging out with him and doesn’t believe in that mumbo jumbo. She was sort of a real hippie before she married Kevin and since then she’s had to box a lot of that stuff into storage so to please Kevin’s picky standards.

[digital-meat]

People think you can’t have dragon PCs in ttrpg because they’re too stronk, too big. Well I control how strong dragons are. I control how strong everything are. They’re on par with other PCs because everyone works out and dragons have been just a little hyped up.

I know some people want dragons to be the ultimate final boss of monsters but then you can’t have lots of them. I’m OK if sometimes they lose to knights on horseback. So might a hippo? or at least a sufficiently unlucky lion. And knights in fantasy world can solo the average marvel hero so sayeth I.

[theculturedmarxist]

It is quite fair to say that I became a Socialist in a fashion somewhat similar to the way in which the Teutonic pagans became Christians--it was hammered into me. Not only was I not looking for Socialism at the time of my conversion, but I was fighting it. I was very young and callow, did not know much of anything, and though I had never even heard of a school called "Individualism," I sang the paean of the strong with all my heart.

This was because I was strong myself. By strong I mean that I had good health and hard muscles, both of which possessions are easily accounted for. I had lived my childhood on California ranches, my boyhood hustling newspapers on the streets of a healthy Western city, and my youth on the ozone-laden waters of San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. I loved life in the open, and I toiled in the open, at the hardest kinds of work. Learning no trade, but drifting along from job to job, I looked on the world and called it good, every bit of it. Let me repeat, this optimism was because I was healthy and strong, bothered with neither aches nor weaknesses, never turned down by the boss because I did not look fit, able always to get a job at shovelling coal, sailorizing, or manual labor of some sort.

And because of all this, exulting in my young life, able to hold my own at work or fight, I was a rampant individualist. It was very natural. I was a winner. Wherefore I called the game, as I saw it played, or thought I saw it played, a very proper game for MEN. To be a MAN was to write man in large capitals on my heart. To adventure like a man, and fight like a man, and do a man's work (even for a boy's pay)--these were things that reached right in and gripped hold of me as no other thing could. And I looked ahead into long vistas of a hazy and interminable future, into which, playing what I conceived to be MAN'S game, I should continue to travel with unfailing health, without accidents, and with muscles ever vigorous. As I say, this future was interminable. I could see myself only raging through life without end like one of Nietzsche's blond-beasts, lustfully roving and conquering by sheer superiority and strength.

As for the unfortunates, the sick, and ailing, and old, and maimed, I must confess I hardly thought of them at all, save that I vaguely felt that they, barring accidents, could be as good as I if they wanted to real hard, and could work just as well. Accidents? Well, they represented FATE, also spelled out in capitals, and there was no getting around FATE. Napoleon had had an accident at Waterloo, but that did not dampen my desire to be another and later Napoleon. Further, the optimism bred of a stomach which could digest scrap iron and a body which flourished on hardships did not permit me to consider accidents as even remotely related to my glorious personality.

I hope I have made it clear that I was proud to be one of Nature's strong-armed noblemen. The dignity of labor was to me the most impressive thing in the world. Without having read Carlyle, or Kipling, I formulated a gospel of work which put theirs in the shade. Work was everything. It was sanctification and salvation. The pride I took in a hard day's work well done would be inconceivable to you. It is almost inconceivable to me as I look back upon it. I was as faithful a wage slave as ever capitalist exploited. To shirk or malinger on the man who paid me my wages was a sin, first, against myself, and second, against him. I considered it a crime second only to treason and just about as bad.

In short, my joyous individualism was dominated by the orthodox bourgeois ethics. I read the bourgeois papers, listened to the bourgeois preachers, and shouted at the sonorous platitudes of the bourgeois politicians. And I doubt not, if other events had not changed my career, that I should have evolved into a professional strike-breaker, (one of President Eliot's American heroes), and had my head and my earning power irrevocably smashed by a club in the hands of some militant trades-unionist.

Just about this time, returning from a seven months' voyage before the mast, and just turned eighteen, I took it into my head to go tramping. On rods and blind baggages I fought my way from the open West where men bucked big and the job hunted the man, to the congested labor centres of the East, where men were small potatoes and hunted the job for all they were worth. And on this new blond-beast adventure I found myself looking upon life from a new and totally different angle. I had dropped down from the proletariat into what sociologists love to call the "submerged tenth," and I was startled to discover the way in which that submerged tenth was recruited.

I found there all sorts of men, many of whom had once been as good as myself and just as blond-beast; sailor-men, soldier-men, labor-men, all wrenched and distorted and twisted out of shape by toil and hardship and accident, and cast adrift by their masters like so many old horses. I battered on the drag and slammed back gates with them, or shivered with them in box cars and city parks, listening the while to life-histories which began under auspices as fair as mine, with digestions and bodies equal to and better than mine, and which ended there before my eyes in the shambles at the bottom of the Social Pit.

And as I listened my brain began to work. The woman of the streets and the man of the gutter drew very close to me. I saw the picture of the Social Pit as vividly as though it were a concrete thing, and at the bottom of the Pit I saw them, myself above them, not far, and hanging on to the slippery wall by main strength and sweat. And I confess a terror seized me. What when my strength failed? when I should be unable to work shoulder to shoulder with the strong men who were as yet babes unborn? And there and then I swore a great oath. It ran something like this: All my days I have worked hard with my body, and according to the number of days I have worked, by just that much am I nearer the bottom of the Pit. I shall climb out of the Pit, but not by the muscles of my body shall I climb out. I shall do no more hard work, and may God strike me dead if I do another day's hard work with my body more than I absolutely have to do. And I have been busy ever since running away from hard work.

Incidentally, while tramping some ten thousand miles through the United States and Canada, I strayed into Niagara Falls, was nabbed by a fee-hunting constable, denied the right to plead guilty or not guilty, sentenced out of hand to thirty days' imprisonment for having no fixed abode and no visible means of support, handcuffed and chained to a bunch of men similarly circumstanced, carted down country to Buffalo, registered at the Erie County Penitentiary, had my head clipped and my budding mustache shaved, was dressed in convict stripes, compulsorily vaccinated by a medical student who practised on such as we, made to march the lock-step, and put to work under the eyes of guards armed with Winchester rifles--all for adventuring in blond-beastly fashion. Concerning further details deponent sayeth not, though he may hint that some of his plethoric national patriotism simmered down and leaked out of the bottom of his soul somewhere--at least, since that experience he finds that he cares more for men and women and little children than for imaginary geographical lines.

To return to my conversion. I think it is apparent that my rampant individualism was pretty effectively hammered out of me, and something else as effectively hammered in. But, just as I had been an individualist without knowing it, I was now a Socialist without knowing it, withal, an unscientific one. I had been reborn, but not renamed, and I was running around to find out what manner of thing I was. I ran back to California and opened the books. I do not remember which ones I opened first. It is an unimportant detail anyway. I was already It, whatever It was, and by aid of the books I discovered that It was a Socialist. Since that day I have opened many books, but no economic argument, no lucid demonstration of the logic and inevitableness of Socialism affects me as profoundly and convincingly as I was affected on the day when I first saw the walls of the Social Pit rise around me and felt myself slipping down, down, into the shambles at the bottom.

[llampacaeatingguppy]

*me, shaking* if it's not too late, is it okay for me to ask for all 15 of those oc questions for jasper/friday? if that's too much, feel free to pick and choose, buT ALL ARE GREAT QUESTIONS??

THEY ARE ALL GREAT QUESTIONS AND MY MOMMA DIDN’T RAISE A QUITTER I’VE GOT YOU

Jasper:

1. Have they ever pranked someone? If so, who was it, what did they do and did the prank work?

He LOVES to pull pranks!! Just harmless, fun ones, and he feels like they have to be on “equal footing,” so to speak, so no pranking teachers/bosses/older adults or little kids in general (with the exception of his dads), but it’s definitely there. Shawn and Emily are two favorites

2. What makes them smile the brightest?

The BRIGHTEST? oof, that’d probably be pleasant surprises.

3. If they made a five song playlist, what songs would they want on it and why?

Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra – honestly? because this is the most Jasper song I know

Devil in Disguise – Elvis Presley – his favorite Elvis song

Somebody to Love – Queen – Because I said so and this boy is a sap who loves being in love

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart – Elton John – his dads would sing it a lot and it’s just attached to good memories

Overtime – Cash Cash – Bouncy

4. It is 3am, your OC is in the loopy giggling stages of being sleepy, what are they laughing about and who are they with?

This happens a LOT with Shawn, because 1) Shawn’s naturally a night owl and WILL keep Jasper up late, and 2) he’s usually been roped into helping him with his homemade monster movie projects, which all HAVE to have that “it happened in the dead of night” vibe because that’s just how Shawn is (and shot in the dead of night for authenticity). And they’re usually laughing about something cheesy and ridiculous

5. Your OC befriends a little bird who, every morning sits on their window sill, what name do they give the bird? What type of bird is it?

He’s probably call it something like Bird, and it’d probably be something mundane, like a pigeon

6. Your OC is at a karaoke bar and they see a cute person across the bar who they want to impress, what song do they sing?

Here’s the thing: my brain tells me that this would not at all happen because Jasper can’t sing without sounding like a wounded moose. My heart tells me he’s going to go completely ham on the first Elvis song he finds and humiliates himself and everyone he’s with

7. Out of an impulsive decision your OC dyes their hair and gets a whole new outfit, what do they now look like?

I can see him going with a dark maroon for the hair. It’d be fun/not a natural hair color that he might justify dying his hair, while still being understated enough to not be competing with his casino-sign-reincarnated-as fashion outfits (he actually does put effort into things like that, which is why he’s never gone through dying his hair even though he likes the idea. Who wants to match their clothes with their hair all the time? Too restricting). As for a whole new outfit? Anything is possible.

8. What is your OC’s favourite joke?

*insert bad pun here*

9. Your OC makes a poster and ships it to their best friend, what does the poster have on it and how does their best friend respond?

A badly-drawn picture of mothman. Shawn doodles little hearts and raunchy phrases all over it and sends it back

10. Your OC just got up, they are groggy and in a dark room, all of a sudden they are attacked by lots of kisses from a dog they do not own, what is their next decision?

Next (unconscious) decision: scream like a little girl

Next conscious decision: turn on lights and locate nearest father to see if they can keep it

11. Your OC is at a party and decides to start some chaotic fun, what do they do?

Unleash a jar of charmed anarchist origami frogs

12. If your OC has to describe their best friend, how would they describe them?

“Pretty chill, for a kinky weirdo.” 

13. Your OC is taking care of a child that is not theirs, what happens next?

Depends on the kid, really, but if they’re even remotely high-energy he’s probably going to have as much fun as they do running around playing games until the kid’s tired out. But Jasper’s good with kids, and has been the favorite babysitter of multiple childhoods

14. Your OC decides to live life on the edge for a day, what do they do?

Jasper: I’m gonna try deep dish pizza

Shawn: Dude sweet!! Is it a recipe or did you find a place that sells it?

Jasper, holding a box of very not gluten free deep dish pizza: uhhhh yeah… that’s totally what I mean… of course I’m not going to potentially hospitalize myself just because I want to try the mysterious mushy crusted pizza

15. The moonlight is shines upon your OC as the stars dance upon them, there is a near by river filled with gentle waters as fireflies hover above the tall grass. What does your OC do next?

Stares at the fireflies. Maybe tries to get close to one after a while, but I don’t actually know if Jasper’s seen fireflies before and they’d completely mesmerize him

Friday:

1. Have they ever pranked someone? If so, who was it, what did they do and did the prank work?

She has, actually! She would attempt to prank her parents when she was little. They didn’t really work, because she wasn’t good at it, but her dad would have the decency to pretend they did

2. What makes them smile the brightest?

Any sort of recognition/positive feedback from her mom

3. If they made a five song playlist, what songs would they want on it and why?

Istanbul (not Constantinople) – Milan & Phoenix (electroswing remix) – This has always been a Friday song. No idea why. She’s an electroswing girl

Big Bad Handsome Man – Imelda May – she just likes it

Jasper and Winter are the two characters I have with much of a playlist so I’m going to cheat out of this one I guess Mom did raise a quitter. Sorry, Mom.

4. It is 3am, your OC is in the loopy giggling stages of being sleepy, what are they laughing about and who are they with?

Her Dad’s bad radio karaoke on the drive home from a convention

5. Your OC befriends a little bird who, every morning sits on their window sill, what name do they give the bird? What type of bird is it?

What name: Ferdinand

What type of bird: some kind of chubby-looking finch thing

6. Your OC is at a karaoke bar and they see a cute person across the bar who they want to impress, what song do they sing?

I’m too busy trying to imagine Friday trying to impress a cute person instead of just trying to exist in their presence, awkwardly give them gifts, and hope that they notice to even think of anything

7. Out of an impulsive decision your OC dyes their hair and gets a whole new outfit, what do they now look like?

Friday’s always wanted to try the biker look, but doesn’t think she can pull it off, so we’ll go with that. And red hair, because she’d look pretty with red hair and that’s a great hair color anyways (so sayeth the ginger)

8. What is your OC’s favourite joke?

Sarcastically saying “no” when someone asks you to do something, while doing the thing

9. Your OC makes a poster and ships it to their best friend, what does the poster have on it and how does their best friend respond?

A collage of some sort, probably based off of something she found on Pinterest. It’s hanging on the wall next time she comes to visit

10. Your OC just got up, they are groggy and in a dark room, all of a sudden they are attacked by lots of kisses from a dog they do not own, what is their next decision?

“Get off me, get off, yeah, you’re a nice dog, but you need to get off-”

11. Your OC is at a party and decides to start some chaotic fun, what do they do?

Friday doesn’t really start chaotic fun. Well, there was one snowball fight she started with Jasper, but that doesn’t count it totally does she just doesn’t want to admit to it because she lost

12. If your OC has to describe their best friend, how would they describe them?

Lovable idiot that must be protected at all costs

13. Your OC is taking care of a child that is not theirs, what happens next?

Nothing bad while the kid’s there, but she’ll be so done if they stay for too long. She loves kids, but they drain her energy like tiny gasoline thieves if she has to interact with them for too long

14. Your OC decides to live life on the edge for a day, what do they do?

Throws a party. Does a sexy cosplay. Talks about her feelings instead of living in a state of constant emotional constipation. Any of those would work, really.

15. The moonlight is shines upon your OC as the stars dance upon them, there is a near by river filled with gentle waters as fireflies hover above the tall grass. What does your OC do next?

Stargaze