now i've watched a fair amount of d&d i've started to pick up on the differences between dm style i think
like brennan IS all the bad guys. every game he dms is brennan vs the players. he makes npcs and battles that make his friends throw things at him and he smirks the whole time. he makes them tell him their worst fears and then he makes them do it. and it's awful and amazing and really funny
matt IS exandria. his characters and battles never feel written or constructed, they just feel like things that already existed in the world. it's all about verisimilitude with him, and he's amazing at it. he tends to fade into the background and let the players react to the story and it makes everything he does incredibly cinematic
aabria dms like she's just another player at the table reacting to the story, right up until someone gets lulled into a false sense of security and tries to fool around and THEN she throws a curveball by making them deal with the consequences of their choices. she's like oh you think that's funny?? then i'm about to be hilarious, bitch. and she keeps getting away with it bc she's just that good!
basically, brennan's an evil bastard, matt's the world, and aabria's the queen of consequences
or:
brennan - fuck
matt - around
aabria - find out
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Do you think you'll draw the nimbasa trio catching their first Pokemon that's not their starter on their journey?
Definitely! It’s just a matter of getting there, haha. I am but one vaguely man shaped blob with a hyperfixation. Mortal needs like sleep and hand pains stop me from vomiting every brain idea I have.
I actually got this question multiple times, so to answer! I am not going to be drawing the nimbasa trio getting another pokemon until their late teens unless a brainworm strikes. (So no new pokemon during the current snapshot series haha.)
Why?
From a canon perspective, well:
Most npc trainers you meet on route have 2-4 pokemon, so I’m gonna try to keep within that amount until the trio settles in Nimbasa and have the revenue/space to upkeep a full pokemon team.
From a meta perspective, wellllll:
Another caught pokemon means character development, and I, ah... right now, I just wanna draw a candle, a zebra, and an eel. I love painting. But fitting seven or more characters on a canvas is, er… Make me draw more guys and I’ll melt like a vanniluxe on a summer day.
If people are curious for some pokemon headcannons though (note that this is not canon— pokemon gave me a puddle of information, so I’m taking the shovel to dig an ocean.)
- ingo saw a colony of dwebble collecting rocks while in the desert, and he’s been enamored ever since. He’s been trying to convince a dwebble to join his team for a while. Unfortunately, Ingo’s very excited and dwebble are naturally shy. (It doesn’t help that litwick can get mean when jealous.)
- emmet loves double battles and teams up with a lot of wild pokemon— but he doesn’t click with anybody until much further in the future. Me thinks his expectations are a tad too high from having such a good start with tynamo. He’s worked with multiple growlithes and thinks Helping Hand is the coolest shit ever.
- emmet’s first “caught” pokemon would be archen. More like “lab grown” and “lovingly hatched”, but it’s the thought that counts. Thinking once again about squab archen…
- elesa found her two emolga in the trash. She was going to release them after fostering, but got attached.
For future plans:
(The pokemon the twins live with and are officially part of the team (named at what stage the twins meet them! Note that everybody becomes fully evolved at somepoint.)
Ingo— litwick, dwebble, drillbur, and axew.
Emmet— tynamo, archen(lint roller), joltik, and durant.
They also have pokemon coworkers that don’t live with them, but agree to help in battles for exp and wages— kliklank twins, garbadore, shelmet and karablast, boldore (atlas), and gurdur)
And for our favorite electric gym leader:
Elesa— blitzle, the emolga twins (em and molga), stunfisk, mareep
(She has pokemon coworkers Eelektross (eela), zebrastrika (motorbreak), and Galvulanta (Lanta) who have a similar set up to the twins— the pokemon agree to work with Elesa for exp and wages, but otherwise have their own lives.)
(Fun headcanon: pokemon who are raised by humans tend to keep human nicknames. It’s not always the case, but it’s a common enough trend for research studies.)
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ragged breaths pour out of you as you scrub your hands clean of the crimson liquid which stains your hands and your very soul. it was brutal and beautiful—the colour and how the red strands swirled around as it united before falling down the sink pipe.
you blink and clench your hands. the very hands which so effortlessly carved up the heart from inside the man laying on your rough ‘operating table’. you are terrible, yes. there was no other word to describe you. a vigilante, maybe? but did it even matter when there is a part of you which feels the thrill of the killings and torture that you so cunningly come up with no mercy?
no, actually, there are other words to describe you. heartless, being one of them. the irony of that when you quite literally removed someone’s heart recently is not lost on you.
rotten. sadistic. torturous. depraved. murderer.
it was how you revelled in the pain you caused others; how you can’t stop the excitement spreading across your body when you see the utter terror in their eyes; how you sometimes let them have a moment of freedom, just to tear it all away at once and see as hopelessness encompasses every cell of their body. the scalpel that you used in carving the man’s heart probably possessed more sympathy than you did.
you are not the same, the voice taunts you. you are not the same person who cried over the dead raven for night’s on end. you can’t even recognise yourself. you are twisted and depraved and oh-so sick in the head. you are broken in ways you don’t even know.
you try to deny it at first, try to resist with every shaky breath that you do this for the greater good. but you know, deep down, you know that this is what you are: a monster masquerading as a human. you have as much heart as the corpse on your operating table with the empty chest.
you try to find some semblance of yourself on the broken pieces of the vanity mirror scattered around you. but you can truly see your twisted visage on the abnormal reflections. it was as if a sculptor had chipped away at you to add all the cruelty of the world and none of its gentleness.
you were made of jagged edges and sharp thorns. made to admire, not to love.
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