#and arguably touched by corruption

[reginrokkr]

Watch me vibrate on my seat about the incoming lore about dragons, more accurately speaking about the Dragonlord era most likely. Also me vibrating on my seat about Apep, about the apparent illness it has and about the fact that it has close ties with the gods of Sumeru (we know for a fact that Apep and Deshret were friends). I would love to see if Apep is one of the original dragons, as we don't know about their outcome other than the fact that they were defeated by Phanes and his Four Shining Shades.

[fuzziemutt]

The fact that Fritz's hand shakes with the gun when he comes out of the casket lives in my mind

A side effect of diazepam are tremors

But they're also a symptom of withdrawal.... Alongside sweating (pale skin), insomnia, and nausea...

And sometimes numbness

[bigshotautos]

I really like your theory about Spamton basically haunting a mannequin after death. Have you ever touched upon the reaction from Jevil (or anyone, really) upon seeing the new Spamton? Especially considering Spamton isn't even aware he 'died'.

^ how i think jevil's first sight of Spamton would go. i love this ask. this is referring to some headcanons I made a while back, I'll link it here for the one post and the general ghost spamton theory is linked in that one as well. Going to elaborate on it more under the cut for those interested + more art.

In general I think that people from Spamton's past wouldn't really care if they notice at all, since he wasn't in the business of making close friends with anyone. With the Addisons, in my interpretation he had a "weird co-worker" relationship with them, and while Addisons in general treated each other like potential business competitors that they had to make-nice with, Spamton is especially easy to single out for being visibly and temperamentally different. His altered, current state is something they'd feel at least uncomfortable by, but many wouldn't have been too close with him to begin with for them to talk about it with him directly. Would get whispered about between each other for sure, like we saw with them talking about Spamton after the NEO fight. It moves him from the "disgraced guy I used to know" category to the "actually unpleasant to look at or think about" territory. This goes for Swatch, Queen, and Seam (less so), who seem to buy heavily into the Lightner and Darkner dynamic, with Spamton corrupting the Lightner's dream being a strong taboo against what it means to be a Darkner.

As for what Jevil thinks, Spamton during the NEO fight is both a beautiful and horrifying display. Jevil at this point hasn't seen him in years since his imprisonment, and in their time apart Jevil has grown to find novelty in the cage that everyone else besides him is in since he's created huge emotional distance between him and the reality he lives in. Seeing the fact that Spamton had corrupted an abandoned dream of a Lightner and was causing so much chaos to the established order of the world would be exhilarating, but at the same time seeing that Spamton had accomplished this and still had his strings visible (and changed to a marionette puppet with no symbolic agency), it'd be a painful confirmation of his worldview that even Spamton, who deep down he still cares for, could never have been free.

Jevil would think at first he'd just gone through some nebulous situation to change what he looks like, since ofc he himself has toy-like traits (arguable if that happened with Gasterfication or not), Seam is a plushie cat, and other Card Castle Darkners are based on toys, but feeling the lack of life combined with the symbolic body of Spamton would mean to him something bigger had went wrong. He wouldn't dare to bring it up in an empathetic way, stuck in his mindset that it doesn't matter, but it'd still hit a part of him he doesn't like to think still exists. It's something he gets over quickly, almost performatively going back to fucking with him and taking advantage of his fear for entertainment, but it didn't sit well at first.

To me, the fact Spamton "died" isn't really a huge deal, kind of like with the ghosts in Undertale where no one really cares they're just ghosts. They're just doing their thing. To me it'd be fine if neither of them find out what happened for certain, but it's something that adds Flavor to his character.

[readychilledwine]

Do you think each court has their own winged fae? I read Home to Me and can't stop thinking of it.

Absolutely

The Winged Fae of Prythian Headcanons

Warnings - references to wing sensitivity in all ways, long post, sad back stories

A/n - poll at the end for giggles

Dawn - The Peregryn

Similar to the Illyrians, Peregryns are a warrior breed of winged fae

Liz personally pictured hawk to falcon like wings

Their wings allow them to be agile and very fast due to how narrow they are in comparison to Illyrian wings

Their wings are sensitive like Illyrians, but due to the protection the feathers provide, you have to be a little rougher for the same reactions.

Their wings are considered very sacred.

If you were to court a Peregryn male, if they intend to marry you, they will pluck one of their feathers, causing them pain, and offer it to you. Mainly, females will weave that feather in their hair, carrying a piece of their husband at all times.

Peregryn females offer similar tokens to their loves. Males will turn them to writing quills, signing important documents as if their wife is right beside them.

Day - The Celestine

The Celestine are a thought to be an extinct race. They were hunted down by Amarantha's forces.

She did not stop until every last one she knew of was wiped from the court, a cold and calculated move she knew hurt Helion and his father

The Celestine got their name from their wings. Feathers of pure white that glitter gold in the Day Court sunlight. They were thought to be celestial bodies until one of the former Lords of Day finally approached one and realized they were fae

They were a breed of scholars, specifically studying the pegasus. Before Amarantha's attack, you would commonly see them flying with the majestic horses and handling their care.

There are a handful left that warded themselves with the remaining pegasi. The race is slowly rebuilding, but like all fae, pregnancy is rare.

Helion has kept them secret, finding them much to valuable to his court to risk someone getting the same idea.

The Celestine do not have wing sensitivity the way Illyrians and Peregryn do. Their feathers are rather thick.

They do still use their wings as a courting symbol. They will turn a few feather into a clip for their partner's hair. The clips are traditional gold with gems.

Night - The Illyrians

Arguably the most powerful of the Winged fae, the Illyrians reside in the mountains of the Night Court

They are a race of warriors with strong bat like wings.

Due to their wings being so exposed, they are highly sensitive. You could gently run the back of your finger along the ridge and bring a grown male to his knees.

Wings are not used for courting purposes to illyrians, but they are seen as sacred. To touch an illyrian's wings is a great privilege.

Female wings are typically larger than male wings. Hince why they are clipped during a female's first cycle. It makes them non functional and stops them from overshadowing the males.

Autumn - The Leaf Folk

The Leaf Folk race is truly extinct. The Autumn Lords hunted them down like it was a sport for their unique wings.

Their wings were seen as treasures to the people of Autumn due to them being so similar to the leaves of the forest, thus making them a desired object for mating presents and a sign of wealth

They were peaceful fae. Their sole purpose was maintaining the apple trees, ensuring each and every single one was perfect and producing ripe fruits.

Their wings make crinkling noises like autumn leaves as well, giving them camouflage and protection.

Little is known regarding their courting traditions, but it is known they rarely bred or married outside of their own kind

Beron had met one. A female. It was during his youth, before he had been fully corrupted by his father. He learned firsthand how sensitive their wings were.

Just a breath could make this fae putty.

Since the last female was found, her wings now splayed in the Autumn Court throne room long after her death, there's rot settling into the court.

It started in the orchard furthest from the Forest House and has slowly spread.

The last female had whispered something in a tongue no one understood. Centuries later, Eris discovered it was a curse. One that would end when the love of the last female met his death.

Summer - The Stormmakers

The pride of the summer court.

Rich deep grey wings that spark with lightning, the Stormmakers can change the weather with just a breath of magic.

Their wings blend perfectly into storm clouds, their favorite place to play.

Touching their wings is dangerous. They carry lightning in every feather. It can make for an exciting experience if you are into that type of play, though.

They typically do not feel the touch on their wings due to the numbness the constant sparking caused

They are a thriving race, and most are found in their small community they have carved out in a cave.

Courting is not a thing amoung this race. They marry young based on deals made by their parents to ensure a strong bloodline

Spring - Flower Folk

The flower folk are treasures to the Spring Court.

Their wings come in a variety of colors, shapes, and styles, but they are all consistently irredescent and translucent.

They are very peaceful and almost always unseen. Their magic allows them to change their sizes, and most choose to live in fae gardens and houses set up by children in Spring.

They work with pollinators to keep the flowers and fruits growing and producing.

Their wings break very easily due to how thin they are. They do not partake in wing play with just anyone for that reason.

These fae learned to communicate with bees, so it is very common to see them dancing, little pieces of sparkling fae dust coming off them as they do

These are the fae humans warn their children most about, the playful pixies who will lead them into dangerous fae traps.

These fae offer each other butterflies as a courting gift. To exchange a butterfly with them is to accept their offer of marriage due to how sacred they see their winged friends.

Winter - Ice Spirits

Rarely seen and very deadly

These fae have been known to freeze others for discovering their hide outs.

They were once believed to be myth, a nightmare mother's warned their faelings about.

One was dragged to Kallias's father by her hair, and that bond snapping led to one of winter's most well-kept secrets.

They want to be left alone. Do you know how hard it is to maintain winter over four courts?

Their wings look soft, but they are actually made of snow and ice. You can't melt them, though, don't worry.

They hold a soft spot of their Lord and Lady, always willing to take a load off his shoulders and rebuild broken ice dams.

Rhys once approached them asking for more snow fall in Velaris. Mistake. Huge. Mistake.

These fae are well known for their ice sports, but be prepared to watch from a distance

They tried to teach Kal how to ice skate once, he is too muscular to be graceful on the ice and had to instead settle for what they call "hockey." The High Lord has received a few black eyes during his time playing.

These fae also tend to only marry within their own kind.

They purpose with a snowflake they hand crafted. The more intricate the pattern, the longer your love took to craft it for you.

Their wings are always numbed due to how cold they are, but they absolutely love temperature play. Warmth is such a rare thing for them to feel, and it makes their wings very sensitive.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

14: Bone Pun Number 69

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Papyrus.

Bless his soul.

As joyful and wholesome his aura immediately is…

He's tall and he's terrifying.

Just like Sans (perhaps arguably worse), Papyrus is a bone-ified skeleton straight down to the bone.

Oh, God. Nearly two hours with Sans has corrupted you so easily. Your humor usually involves verbally shit-posting, sex jokes, and saying the randomest shit just to see what happens. Wait, that’s technically shit-posting.

ANYWAY.

Papyrus is as tall as the damn door, and unlike Sans, his eye-sockets are a solid black with no hit of eye-lights. He is lot spookier than the Comic, and it breaks your heart that you feel this way about him because you love this (not so) little man.

You unwillingly tense up, “I…. Hello.”

Sans snorts. That was the exact same opening you gave him.

“GREETINGS, HU—AHEM! I MEAN, GREETINGS INDIVIDUAL OF WHO I DO NOT KNOW THE IMMEDIATE SPECIES OF.”

Okay, how are Sans and Papyrus doing that? You just feel it in your soul that Sans speaks in all lowercase, and while Papyrus is loud, he isn’t yelling. BUT YOU JUST KNOW HE’S SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS????

“WELL, DON’T STAND OUT HERE ALL DAY, WE HAVE AN INTRODUCTION TO DO.”

Papyrus reaches for you and first-you feel a strange tug at your soul. The taller skeleton puts his hands on the sides of your lower waist and you know what he’s about to do. Strangely, you don’t feel much in danger that he’d drop you. But you instinctively go to grab his gloved wrists when his hands are touching you.

It was as if your soul was being literally (not figuratively or metaphorically) lifted up as Papyrus thought it was a great idea to pick you up.

“Woah!”

[Whether it was because of your bigger body / Even though you were rather small / Despite that you’re sure you’re pretty average for your age], you think he’s using his magic to aid in lifting you up to ensure he doesn’t drop you no matter what. Probably because you knew Papyrus doesn’t do anything with malice, but you don’t panic as he just—takes you inside the house.

Sans, on the other hand, was nervous as fuck. He didn’t expect Papyrus to invade your space like that and fucking pick you up. He was so ready to intervene (either for your sake or his brother’s), but then you grab onto Papyrus’ wrists.

And that’s it.

You stare at his brother with wide eyes, and while you are tense, you’re not panicking or thrashing around. Just like in those fairy-tales he reads to his younger brother, Papyrus lifts you up easily and brings you inside (careful to make sure not to hit your head on the door frame) with a small, happy twirl. He sets you down on your feet in the middle of their living room, not letting you go until he’s absolutely certain you're on steady feet.

Sans sighs quietly in relief, closing the door behind himself to watch how this all unfolds. So far, so good.

Since you’re still holding onto Papyrus’ wrists, he does a quick maneuver to grab your hands and shake them both very eagerly.

“IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, HUMAN. ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF,” The happy monster lets you go and poses heroically. Wait—How is his cape drifting in the wind without any wind? Is he using his magic? “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FUTURE MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD, AND UNPARALLELED SPAGHETTORE!”

Putting your hands together and holding them over your smile, you nod along to his words as all previous fear just melts away.

“I WOULD LIKE TO PERSONALLY AND WARMLY WELCOME YOU TO OUR HOME. MY OLDER BROTHER, SANS, HAS TOLD ME ABOUT YOUR UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE AND WHY YOU WILL BE LIVING WITH US FOR A WHILE. HOWEVER!!”

Papyrus puffs out his chest, putting his gloved hands (that look like… soft boxing glove?) on his hips. Pelvic bones? Whatever, hips.

“WORRY NOT. SANS AND I WILL MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A GREAT—AND SAFE—TIME HERE IN SNOWDIN!”

“Wow…” You slowly nod your head, “You… are so cool!!”

The tall skeleton sputters at your sincerity, his cheekbones gaining that red hue. Finally, his eye-lights appear to give him that puppy look you see in the game.

“WHA-YOU—REALLY?!”

“Yeah, of course!” This time, you take Papyrus’ hands and energetically shake them, “I really can’t thank you both enough for taking me in, especially since it might be a little risky for housing a human. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for helping me.”

“SANS,” Papyrus looks at his brother with a big (toothy) smile, “THE HUMAN… IS SO NICE!!”

Sans, who was watching from in front of the door, winks while shrugging his hands, “guess we really lucked out, huh?”

“My name is [Y/n], by the way,” You try not to take the comment personally, letting go of the younger brother’s hands, “It would be best to avoid calling me “the human.” We don’t want anyone finding out.”

“[Y/N], THEN? YES, THAT IS AN EXCELLENT NAME FOR YOU.”

”Thanks, I picked it out myself.”

You look into the camera with a knowing look.

“by the way, bro,” Sans decides now to properly join the conversation, “we should probably talk about some house rules over dinner. living with a new person is gonna take some getting used to, especially since it’s just been me ���n you for the longest time.”

The other perks up, “YES, YOU ARE RIGHT, SANS. NOTHING BETTER TO DISCUSS A LONG-TERM SLEEPOVER THAN OVER SOME OF WELL-CRAFTED SPAGHETTI.”

Uh oh. You’ve only read about the legends, but to actually get the chance to eat some of Papyrus’ spaghetti? Let’s just say you’re lucky that it’s going to be made of magic/the same components of other monster food. Because these bitches most likely don’t have toilets either.

“WHY DON’T YOU SHOW THE HU-ERM, SHOW [Y/N] WERE THE WASHROOM IS WHILE I SERVE US ALL A PLATE?”

“you got it, bro.”

You lock eyes with the older skeleton, catching him as he jerks his head for you to follow him. You drape your shawl neatly over the couch’s arm rest as you pass by it. The house is bigger on the inside than you thought. Being inside, you realize that they don’t actually have much in here. You’re walking up the stairs behind Sans when he speaks to you in a very hushed voice.

“just a heads up, papyrus’ food is…” Sans grimaces, “slowly becoming more edible. i’ll do my best to help you out, but all i ask is that you just pretend it’s good, okay?”

You frown a bit, “Oh, uh…. Okay. But… why not tell him the truth?”

You both reach the second floor. On the left is Papyrus’ room. The door is decorated with a stop sign, fake police tape, a few red stickers, and a note that says the following.

“KEEP OUT OR SUFFER THE WRATH OF THE SUPREME SPAGHETTORE EXECUTIONER!!”

How cute! Down the right are actually three doors. The door on the  right wall was one you never saw in the game, so you can only assume it leads to the balcony. The second furthest with fire and dancing lights seeping underneath is Sans’, but the middle one is unfamiliar to you. It’s the same mahogany door as the other two. Instead of having the huge classic bone painting, it’s been reduced in size and hangs off a nail that’s been hammered into the door.

Is that the washroom??

Sans turns around to look at you with a weak smile, “after meeting him, can you really tell me that you can just say the truth to his face and break his heart?”

Well… Yes, actually. You 100% can. You’ve done it to Elliot and your brother’s before, and you can do it again. Yes, it can be hard because you don’t want to be the person who has to hurt their feelings, but…

You can’t lie to someone just to protect their feelings. It’s things like that that makes the other person even more fragile to criticism. Not only that, but when it comes to people you care about (Papyrus falls into that category already) you have too much respect for them to just lie to them.

But you really don’t want to start shit on your first day and make Sans hate you. Later though, when you and Papyrus are actually proper friends, you’ll tell him. You don't like straight up lying though since it can easily be used against you, so you suppose you can lie through omission instead.

For now, you just sigh, “I understand what you’re trying to say. Um, if that’s the case, how about we bring out that pie Toriel made? Maybe we can use it to cover up that we’re not eating his creepy pasta.”

Sans’s smile relaxes, “heh, yeah, good idea. go wash up first. i’ll have your suitcase downstairs by the couch. i don’t wanna go through your stuff.”

“Sounds good. Is…” You point to the furthest right room, “that a washroom?”

“close. middle door is the one. that one is my room.”

You start walking to the middle door, “Ooh, how ominous. Meet you downstairs, then.”

“yep.”

Their washroom is… messy in an organized way. Sticky notes plastered on the mirror with basic reminders such as: “brush your teeth” and “shave.”

???

Shave what??

There are two sides of the bathtub, too. One side has a shower rack with various shampoos, conditioners, body soaps, loofahs, and nearly all of it looks to be brand new.

The other side of the tub has a 13 in 1 bottle.

You fucking swear. If that one belongs to Sans-

You absolutely believe that Papyrus would use so many products though, but does he really need all of that? Slay, you guess. They don’t have ANY bar soap—both for their hands and for body wash. You guess it makes sense since it might get caught in their joints and be harder to wash out.

When you pump some of their hand soap, the scent of spaghetti wafts through the air.

…

You don’t know how to feel about that.

As you’re washing your hands, you take a moment to check your reflection. Wow, you’re a little messy but that’s to be expected after the journey it took to get here. Your hair is a bit out of place, there’s a smudge of dirt on your face, and there’s still some snow on your dress. Why hasn’t it melted yet? Is the snow magic, too?

You dry your hands and clean up in other places as well.Your face, your hair, your dress. You only spend a minute or so to clean up, leaving the bathroom and starting going back down stairs. Already you see your suitcase by the side of the couch. You wonder where the hell Sans was keeping it this whole time.

You get on both knees by your suitcase and set it down properly to open it. You smile seeing that your things look well kept and in place. The pie also looks well intact with the whip cream only slightly smudged from being inside the clear container. You put the pie on the small table with the Quantum Physics joke book and zip your case back up. You sigh and put your hands on your lap, thinking when would be the best time to call Toriel to let her know you made it safely.

You hear someone walk towards you, so you look up with a polite little smile.

“how’s the weather down there?” Sans asks.

“Colder than the devil’s taint-”

“pfft!”

“-thanks for asking, though.”

He clears his throat (somehow), “if you’re ready, then-”

“-Actually,” You stand up and straighten your dress, “do you mind if I step out for a minute? I gotta make a phone call to Toriel and let her know I’m alive and not missing a leg.”

“huh? sure, go ahead. if it tickles your funny bone, you can go to the balcony instead so you’re not seen by everyone in town.”

“Awesome,” You pick up the pie and hand it to him, “Here ya go, bone boy. One Butterscotch Cinnamon pie made by Toriel.”

His permanent smile grows when he takes it, “ah, i’ll never get tired of eating these.”

…Was that another slip up? Sans realizes this too immediately and tenses up. You’ll let it go this time, but why are you catching this guy slipping?

“Oh, you guys made one before?” You ask with a smile, “They’re surprisingly easy to make, so maybe we can bake another in the future.”

“y-yeah, definitely.” He clears his throat again and jerks his head towards the stairs, “you better get going. papyrus is really excited for you to try some spaghetti.”

“Right, right, right.”

Showing your own brand of Mercy, you quickly drop the topic and rush back up the stairs to get to the balcony. Sans sighs out all his built up tension when you’re out the door. That was way too close and the funny thing is? He’s 90% sure that you knew, but chose to stay quiet for his sake. Sans isn’t usually this sloppy he swears, but being that you are a new addition to his monotonous life, it’s only natural that he’s thrown off his game.

He looks down at the pie in his hands. Sans meant it though, he’ll never get tired of these pies. He knows they’re not easy to make though. In one of the few, rare timelines where the monsters are freed and Frisk doesn’t Reset in months, he helped Toriel bake a Butterscotch Cinnamon pie.

Safe to say, it was a fucking disaster that got him banned from the kitchen.

Sans tightens his grip on the pie ever so slightly.

You know something, don’t you?

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

[soaps-mohawk]

i’m very new to the whole a/b/o scene, your fic is really the only one i’ve read cuz it’s just so good! but i’ve been meaning to ask, what happens during the presentation process?

Aww!! I love corrupting converting people to omegaverse fans!!! My favorite past time 💚

Alright, I think you're the first that's asked about presenting so far. I haven't really touched on it in the fic (and I'm not sure I will? I can't think of any place I would put it in but who knows 🤷) But essentially, the presenting is when pups (otherwise known as children in our universe) gain the traits of their second gender or status. It happens around the age of 16, some might present a little earlier, some later. Just kind of depends, like puberty. Everyone is different. Reader presented just after their 16th birthday, so about the normal time.

It happens differently for each status, but basically for a few days before you might start to feel a little off, perhaps some irritability, discomfort, exhaustion, some might get moody. There might be physical discomfort as well (especially with omegas and occasionally alphas since there's actual physical changes they go through.) The actual shift itself is pretty quick, usually happens overnight. You go to bed a pup and wake up an alpha, beta, or omega.

Betas have it the easiest. There's not a lot of changes they have to go through, other than their scent changing and they may be prone to some moodiness beforehand since they're more perceptive to emotions as betas and it's their nature as betas to help calm down the strong emotional swings alphas and omegas are prone to. Overall it's an easy process for them. They might be a little moody, to go bed, and wake up chill and relaxed and smelling nice.

Alphas also have it sort of easy when it comes to presenting. They're the ones that might get irritable and moody beforehand, they might get uncomfortable both mentally and physically. (Think like those horrible teenage mood swings where nothing is right and you just want to kick through a wall.) They might not feel much different after they've presented, they might wake up still in a bad mood, but with a stronger scent and they might get a little possessive of something (or someone, it's happened where a pup might present as an alpha and then get protective and possessive towards a younger sibling especially if they're close or they've been the ones caring for that sibling.) It doesn't usually last more than a couple days, though the moodiness might linger as those strong alpha instincts and emotions settle into place. That's usually where the parent that's an alpha will step in and guide them through how to adapt to those emotions and learn to control them and harness them if they need to. Not every parent does, though, and so teenage alphas can be absolute nightmares.

Omegas arguably have it the worst when it comes to presenting. They'll have mood swings, exhaustion, lots of physical discomfort. It's hard to predict if a pup is going to be an alpha or omega since they can have the same sort of pre-presentation symptoms. Some omegas might get irritable and aggressive, some might go the other way and get sad and depressed. Some might not have any emotional changes at all. It just sort of depends. They have the hardest presentation, as they go through a sort of mock heat while they're presenting. Their body temperature will rise, they'll have a lot of joint and muscle pain, they might swing through every emotion known to man in a short amount of time. Their scent sweetens to the point of being almost noxious, and can change rapidly depending on how badly the omega is suffering through the presentation. It can be incredibly painful and lasts for a few days. Parents can tell immediately when their pup is presenting as an omega, and if they're going to send them to an institute, day one is usually when they'll call and start the process of getting them enrolled. Then usually, a few days later, by the time the presentation is over and the "mock heat" has faded, the institute reps are knocking on the door to take the omega to the institute. It's a really rough process all around, not just for the omega but for the parents as well, as the omega parent can start to bond unintentionally with their omega pup as they help them through the presentation and then if they're getting sent to an institute, that bond has to be broken on both ends.

So...yeah. That's the details on that. I'm glad you asked because I hadn't really thought about explaining the presentation process really in detail. I think it'll get mentioned again in the future, but not really in much detail. I think knowing this stuff will make that part better, in truth.

As always, more than happy to answer any questions (as best I can, spoilers avoided) and explain anything that might be causing confusion or that you're just curious about.

[wishing-stones]

Are the boys into soulplay? Like- you know that trope where souls are incredibly sensitive in a spicy way? Would they be into that? -

This has been sitting unfinished so long in my drafts jfc

Killer has to be convinced. His is always on display and does get brushed on occasion. He's gotten good at ignoring accidental contact, but genuine touching of the soul with Intent to make him feel good? That's... an entire level of intimacy that he's... he's not sure about. You have to go slow and be gentle, but in the face of glaring acceptance and even love for him entirely, he's not going to object. Chances are he's not even going to be able to vocalize anything, he's too busy alternatively feeling the pleasure and feeling the all-encompassing warmth of being known. It's still a really scary thing, though so... this will be something done sparingly.

Dust is a little gunshy, too, but... mostly because he doesn't want to see the damage he's done to it. He hasn't really seen his soul since... well, everything. You can convince him, but he won't be comfortable looking at it. He'd rather lay back with his arm over his sockets and just... feel. Be very, very gentle, because he might have a bit of a hair trigger here. He could also very easily get overwhelmed if you pour on too much stimulation all at once, so slow and careful is the best way to deal with him.

Axe is a little more accepting of this if you've been together for a while. He'd be delighted to have you know him so intimately, actually, but it's going to be a mutual thing. He'll let you touch his first, just so you understand how deeply personal this is for him, and wouldn't you know it, you have a melty puddle of Axe. He can take a little more firm contact with his soul, but be careful you don't squeeze too hard. He basks in the feeling of all of your good Intent shot directly into the core of his being. His soul has a little damage, but is arguably the most normal-looking. Once you get your feet wet with handling his soul, he will handle yours, and you'd better be ready because he loves you so much.

Cross is hesitant, but if he really trusts you, he'll allow it. He's very tense until you actually have his soul in your hands. Show him your Intent, and he's absolutely putty. He'll put his head in your lap and just, enjoy it. He's practically immobilized by emotion, and depending on how you handle him, he might tear up. Still, he enjoys it immensely, especially when your Intent to make him feel good permeates his entire being. It's a little embarrassing being so vulnerable, but... he trusts you. He'd like to return the favor, if you'll let him, actually. It's an experience he thinks you should have.

Baggs is very hesitant to let anyone near his soul. He already messed with it enough, he's not sure he'd like someone else touching it. Nevermind that he will (and probably does) gleefully handle yours, your soul can take a bit more than his can. If you're patient and persistent, though, he'll cave eventually on the caveat that he has yours, too. He wants the insurance that he can stop you with a thought if it's too much. It... winds up not being too much because the instant he feels good Intent, he's a puddle. He'll cuddle closer so that he is as physically close to you as he feels he is with his soul in your hands. For someone so vocal with... more physical intimacy, he's very quiet if you're touching his soul. It's very cathartic to him.

Nightmare is a very hard sell. He's massively possessive of his soul and if anyone's ever seen it, they haven't said anything about it. This is not something he's terribly keen on, but you might be able to wear him down eventually. Being a Guardian, his soul is... unique. It is apple-shaped as opposed to the standard heart shape, and is similarly corrupted. it's kind of slimy to touch, but unlike with him, you can wipe it away to reveal the kind of purplish soul beneath. The corruption on his soul offers a small layer of protection, but to touch the soul beneath it is a very new sensation for him. Nightmare and vulnerability don't generally mix very well, so if you have gotten this far, it's forever. This may as well be a proposal. He clings to you and makes some very undignified noises, but since he can feel your Intent directly on his soul, he knows it's okay, that he doesn't need to stop you even if it makes him a little (a lot) anxious to be so intimately known, so have everything that he has built up stripped away and his true self seen for the first time in centuries. The frightened, defensive boy who did what he had to in order to survive, the person he grew into, still frightened of any form of weakness... except for you. He's going to be incredibly clingy and cuddly for a while after that while he processes the gravity of that. You are the only person in five centuries who has ever touched his soul.

It's entirely possible to make them come this way, but it's very different than anything done with ecto. It's so much more intimate and takes them a while to recover from. You have to be very good with aftercare here, reassurances and cuddles because none of them except for Axe, maybe, are very comfortable with being known so completely. Rest assured, though, they'll absolutely return the favor if for no other reason than to help you understand how truly intimate an experience it is.

[brothermoth]

1890s America and Red Dead Redemption

Part One: Violent Delights and Violent Ends

-----

The latter half of the 1800s was a time characterized by struggle. Off the back of the Civil War, a country divided in not two but four by the rising industry to the east and the stubborn pastoralism of the west. The southern portion of the country beaten down, burned and disgraced, and the northern portion rolling in gold and prosperity. Whether they knew it or not, the common American had their life ultimately shaped by these divisions.

As the opening lines of Red Dead Redemption 2 state: "The age of outlaws and gunslingers was at its end" (Rockstar, 2018). Yet contrary to the following text, America was far from becoming a "land of laws". Laws for the poor, perhaps, but the wealthy still thrived and skirted just beyond the boundaries of human decency.

From the 1870s to the 1920s, miners and railroad workers unionized and carried out often violent protests in the hopes of gaining better working conditions. The poor had little but their fists, and they had no qualms about using them. It is in this turmoil we find Dutch Van Der Linde with his Robin Hood-esque visions of a crumbling elite and prospering poor. The struggle between workers and their iron-fisted overseers was bloody, and Dutch would not have it any other way. Those he took under his wing were the beaten down lowest tiers of society. How could they not see him as a shining idol of American idealism? What he wants, what he fights for, it is for them. Outcasts with nowhere else to turn, given a cause and a home and something that perhaps felt real to them for the first time in a long time.

Race is a topic not wholly explored, but touched on certainly within the game. Tensions rose as racial divisions were made even clearer, black Americans fighting for their own foothold in a world that has just opened up to them and their children. Lenny Summers is the first in generations to be born free of slavery. Javier comes from a country that has been terrorized by colonialism and corruption, yet he still dreams of returning. 1890s Mexico (and what we see in RDR1) is a topic of its own, though the spirit of people downtrodden by colonialism is echoed throughout both games. Sean, who was chased from the country his father fought for. Whose father was killed in his own bed, likely in the same room as his son. Violence in this world is inescapable, a swirling vortex that consumes everything in its path.

Dutch embraced this, as many leaders of the past and future have. If you cannot fight with peace, then sticks and stones make for much better conversation. I can't say I disagree with him, in all honesty, and that is what makes him so fascinating. He's right. He has a point, a cause. What went so wrong? Do heroes not get a happy ending?

In 1892, railroad employees of Carnegie Steel in Pennsylvania's Homestead plant went on strike when chairman Henry Frick cut their pay dramatically. 300 agents of the Pinkerton detective agency arrived, escalating tensions. Violence erupted, the Pennsylvania national guard was called. Sixteen men were killed.

Leviticus Cornwall is Andrew Carnegie, Andrew Carnegie is Leviticus Cornwall. The Pinkertons are rightful villains in our narrative, the gang is a thorn in their side which must be cut free. Law and order, right? Dutch was right, his killing of Cornwall was arguably deserved. Yet what makes it so wrong?

Dutch's actions are selfish, in the end. Not because he doesn't care for the people around him, as I believe he truly does. He sees things getting worse and worse and only digs in his heels. Dutch is the American Dream. The bloody messiah to the poor and disadvantaged. He guts them the same as any railroad magnate. Power corrupts, this is what we learn. Power and vitriol and paranoia. The people left struggling in his wake are the common folk who get caught in the crossfire, used and abused only to prove a point. They know nothing but violence, and who is to tell them otherwise? Even Arthur in his end of life maturation cannot pry himself free. He kills and kills and in the end he dies for it. Even John, who tried to leave it behind. Even Sadie, who was ruined by it, embraced it in the end.

The American dream is indecipherable from the American nightmare. They are lovers and companions. There is nothing to do but fight, and even then you have no hope of winning. It's a beautiful tragedy, is it not? All these people who never had a chance, yet who tried anyway. Workers who gained little and lost everything still took their signs and marched for what was right. Black Americans who were beaten down again and again still got up each and every day and did whatever it was they had to do. Native Americans, who were nearly erased. Who still cling to their heritage and claw back what has been stolen. Red Dead Redemption is about the small people. The forgotten in the annals of American history.

[humanradiojmp]

Murder Drones Episode 8 Blind Reaction Part 2

Contains spoilers

Cyntessa’s “kay” feels like her version of “I love doing anything.” so cocky and up for anything, but that might just be her downfall.

Guys, the nightcore song is called “BiteMe!” Can this get any better?

It actually has some motifs similar to “Uzi the Drone Killer”, arguably one of the main music themes of the series, so yes, it can.

NOOO! Not Uzi stabbing N! It’s probably a trap or a trick, but still.

Bye J

I mean, yes, but no. Or like a number of blinks and winks

Not using N’s love of dogs against him. or more like the good memories they had before this whole thing

Guys pay attention! V is fighting the abomination alone!

I like the “Let them swallow you” lyric to represent the solver’s insatiable hunger

How you like it now Cyn?

Bit of a callback to the fact they are vampires, or vampire adjacent. The burning in the sun just felt like an appropriate ending for the abomination that’s been haunting everything

Is it over?

The solver has gotten eaten. And their reaction is priceless

But won’t that corrupt/take over Uzi now? or even kill her? that’d be a tragic way to go. Destroyed the monster but you destroyed yourself in the process.

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, e-

Oh no, she’s dead!

Nvm, we’re good. but is it over? Truly?

We really needed more Thad, honestly. So much characterization gone to waste

Heh, like mother, like daughter.

You could say their hearts are connected. Hope there’s a proper reunion. Please. Please. PLEASE! They’re literally soulmates.

OMG girl, seriously, OC?

But in all seriousness, the battle scars for what she’s gone through is such a nice touch. Her half toned eyes are there to show what happened happened, and she came out alive

And we all know everyone is going to have at least one oc with this new canon trait

It really is a hero’s journey. It came full circle. Now she’s more assured of herself, has friends, and the colony is safe.

We stan a supportive Khan. Character growth.

Not Doll’s corpse!

She’s still a chaos gremlin

Also can we just take a minute to appreciate how far the animation has come from the first episode to now? everyone at Glitch should be proud of their improvement. This series is a testament to their efforts and skills and it’s absolutely wonderful.

I really like how the end credits show everything that’s happened and how it’s changed. Like the partial solver symbol over the planet, Khan and Nori did get a reunion (YEEEEESSSS!) and N finally getting his rummy game.

DOLL?!?!?!?!

Liam Vickers 2D animation, nice touch

The funeral for Doll deserved

And the kids can be kids now. also deserved.

Honestly, everyone who’s worked on this should get a round of applause and a big ol’ “Thank You!” From the production to the voice acting, to the animation, to the sound and music, to the crazy ideas in general that happen to work so well. Thank you so much for making this series a reality. I may have gotten into it later than some others, but I love this show as much as those who’s been there day one. It is a little sad to see it’s done, but I’m also glad it ended as well as it did.

Cyn lives in Uzi’s mind now

F O R E V E R

first part

[lakesbian]

thots on blake's backstory? it may not be real but it still affects his characterization so its worth asking i think

insofar as it did not literally happen in real life it's not real but insofar as he remembers & is impacted by it + his friends remembered & were impacted by it up until he got eated, it's real to him and them. i would not have pegged "cult survivor" specifically but yeah that checks. it's so funny (terrible for him) that miss grandma thorburn was like. hmm i need to make sure he really doesn't like hugs. and then hit him with the double whammy of "survivor of cult where manipulation into sex was used to keep men satisfied enough to stay & entrap women, and also he gets sexually assaulted after he leaves said cult juuuuust in case the cult thing on its own wasn't enough." it's like customizing a picrew but with intense human suffering instead of fun outfits. anyway, yeah, it checks. paranoia wrt other ppls motives, intense discomfort towards touch, funnily enough still not great at noting when something is too good to be true or someone is a little happier than they should be about smth. love how existentially horrifying it is for him that he's really tenacious and vigilant but in a way that leads him to disastrous pyrrhic victories rather than long-term survival and that's Explicitly bc gramma custom-tweaked his brain to make him the ideal meatshield who draws fire and then explodes. i'm really really endeared to the character trait where he Admits to himself that as much as he responds like a cornered animal (one w/ the worlds lamest oneliners) when threatened, if those threats are actually followed through on, he Will immediately start freezing and crying and pissing himself. like he's haunted by the memory of begging carl to take him back so that carl will stop, and he very desperately wants to Never be that person ever again, so even when he runs into someone as big & terrifying as conquest, he refuses to give an inch--he can't stand feeling like he remembers feeling back then--but he very much knows that if conquest called his bluff & started dragging him off he'd instantly turn into that person he never wants to be. his life sucks! both in terms of apparent memories and in terms of the Sheer Existential Horror of why he has those memories! devastating for the guy who has an entire Complex about the sanctity of his body & identity that literally none of his body or identity is his, it was all cobbled together from other people for the sole purpose of using him as a tool. even his own rejection of touch isn't his, it was forced upon him.

which. hm. i will say i think that's why arc 9 is paradoxically a form of catharsis & freedom--despite it being a horrific low point, it's not so much corruption of his body as it is him realizing that the changes haven't been corruption but what his body has been all along being revealed. the form he takes on when he's filled in by spirits is arguably more His than his old body was, because it's something he's gained thru his own choices & life experiences rather than the simulated ones that were forced upon him. he literally described himself as a doll, he's experienced the ultimate violation of autonomy thru being custom-manipulated to serve a purpose--choosing to fuck his own hand up and grow branches in place of false flesh is more Him than the original flesh ever was. his life is going to be awful forever and he will be reduced to next to nothing but it will be His nothing, i think.

[dystopyx-blog]

It’s moth time baby

Ivo the Io moth.

He’s the delusional archetype. Funnily enough, he is the most sane, rational, and normal one of the group. So excuuuuuse me, princess if he assumes that he’s the one you’re dating! hes just a sane, rational being, and you’re his exhausted partner (exhausted cuz you have to deal with the other freaks)

Another weird delusion is he treats the other moth men like they’re your kids?? You’ll tell the others to knock it off/stop fighting and he’ll come in like “listen to your mother.’ And everyone’s just “???” I imagine business casual attire, medium length hair pulled over one shoulder idk how to describe it…

Appearance: Pretty tall, Kuu and Atlas are just fuckin freaks /hj. 5’9 As I mentioned I have a specific hairstyle in mind but ajsjdhdudnududdi idk man. Wears a simple pale yellow dress shirt, his wings draped behind him. The biggest/fluffiest antenna of all the bois. Soft, kind eyes. Fluff around neck, arms, and legs.

Okay so does anyone know the “sex-crazed moths” meme?

Because my obsessive moth i inspired by that.

Kuu the Luna Moth

the poplar hawk moth is the one associated with that particular meme But I’m using the Lunar moth for my obsessive boyo because fuckin look at it. Luna moths, like the poplar hawk and most other large moths, have no mouth and cannot eat or drink. They fuck then die. My boy Kuu has a moth, but that doesn’t make him any less desperate to get with you. He is the prettiest fuckin boy. And he is so so so fuckin desperate for you. He’s also fuckin pathetic. Pretty boy who’d [REDACTED my blog is all ages!!] if you so much as touch him istg With the other boys he’s an egotistical sassy drama queen but with you he’s just desperate lmao

Appearance: Tall and thin. 5’11 Loooooong white/pale green hair trailing all the way down his back. Man exclusively wears robes and kimonos and the like. Handsome man. PRETTY BOY.

Ash the Cinnabar Moth

Okay actually I’m unsure of possessive I want a bigger moth but also I kinda wanna go with cinnabar moth? Edgy boi who feels entitled to you. Gets into the most fights. Possessive but also kind of tsundere. He is smaller than most of the others, arguably a lot simpler looking too, but he has a BIG personality. His name is Ash.

Appearance: Second smallest. 5’6. Least fluffy. Black hair with a red highlight, black antena. Red pants, black boots. Red bandana on neck. Black leather jacket with red accents. Piercings. Rounded sunglasses. And cinnabar wings ofc.

Atlas the… well, Atlas Moth

heheheheheh i am very basic when it comes to protective type yanderes and i refuse to branch out 🫵🫵🫵 My protective guy is a biiiiiiig big big man, big softy, big teddy bear. Who will hammer someone’s head with his bare fist if they hurt you!!! Wraps you up in massive, soft wings 🥺 He just stands behind you… menacingly (to anyone else, as soon as you turn to look at him he’s all smiles!) So what better than the atlas moth? And Atlas is already a perfect name, so Atlas!

ATLAS: BIIIIIIIG BOY BIG. 6’1 Dorito shaped tbh. Wears flannel but the flannel is the pattern of the moth teehee. Brown pants. Work boots. Gloves probably idk. I think for hair hmmmm braided? Man bun? I dunno!!!

Roman the Rosy Maple Moth!

Finally We have our Manipulator. His name is Roman, but darling pleeeease call him Maple 🥺 The rosy maple moth. He’s just a lil guy! He’s baby! But oooo he’s schemin and plottin. With you he’s just baby, just an absolute delight, and so fuckin cute and fluffy. How could you possibly say no to this soft boy?! But he will tear another’s throat out. He will lie and corrupt and manipulate. He’s secretly incredibly rude, vulgar, and sassy. But with you he’s a perfect angel <3

Appearance: the smallest. Like 5’3. Fluffy yellow and pink hair, bog soft yellow attend, big precious puppy dog eyes. Massive fuckin yellow hoodie that is SUPER fuckin fluffy, with pink sleeves. Smallish pink n yellow wings. The hoodie goes down to like just above his knees. Pink leggings and pink calf high converse.

[sunderedandundone]

In which UrSkeks are actually very dramatic

So fam, I’ve been working really hard on the Twice-Nine, and it’s winding up being less of a survey of their crimes against UrSkekdom than it is a survey of UrSkekdom’s crimes against them. XD

SoSu the Philosopher: Was an incredibly psychically-strong and headstrong (probably not unrelated) young UrSkek whose passions often got the better of them, and while this was generally more disruptive than harmful, as we know, UrSkek society tends to consider disruption itself a form of harm. So at an unconscionably young age, they were forced to choose between Exile and Purgation (the editing of their personality and erasure of ‘problem’ memories), and while the therapy certainly seemed to have took, it must not’ve took that well, because they continued over their career (which was in all other aspects illustrious) to maintain a suspect interest in the reconciliation of their society with its discontents, which theories eventually developed into their infamous Heresy…and the Heresy itself committed the incredibly awful crime of proving attractive to a number of UrSkeks, particularly the young ones. Whom SoSu was accused of deliberately corrupting. Oops.

ZokZah the Presbyter: Their ‘crime’ was coming out of the Chorion (the UrSkek-spawning chamber, basically) with a natural tendency toward sadism [with a touch of masochism included] -- which a more tolerant society might have been able to help them better sublimate into their spiritual work, and/or channel into safe/sane/consensual activities; but Homeworld was not that society. As a result, their entire life story was one of ice-cold self-repression and flawless hypocrisy. They thought the Heresy might be their compassionate answer at long last. And it might have been, but obviously we can’t have that.

SilSol the Musician: Wasn’t spawned with anything especially wrong with them, except for being astonishingly talented which arguably is a bit of a flaw; but somewhere along the way they twigged to the fact that their perfect classless harmonious society that totally didn’t have power relations, totally DID have them. So they started studying this interestingly contradictory phenomenon the way most very intelligent people would have, with comparative sociology, which unfortunately involved a lot of consumption of ::whispers:: foreign cultural material from more primitive societies. And while yes we do study primitive societies, we’re not supposed to do it like THAT, and we’re definitely not supposed to put stuff we’re learning from them about how to influence and persuade other people into PRACTICE. And Crystal itself help you if you turn out to be good at it…even when you’re doing it for what you consider the best cause ever, like OH SAY A REVOLUTIONARY HERESY. (SilSol also had quite a fan base as a composer and performing artist, which did kind of the opposite of helping their case when trial time rolled around.)

GraGoh the Explorer: Was an unfortunate case of incorrigible juvenile delinquency, and Crystal knows the Eldest did what they could. When the young former Rigger from the outer colonies proved to be too rough-hewn and jostling for the refined precincts of Homeworld (they thought practical jokes were actually funny, for one thing), the Council decided to spare the rod and try to educate them in the graces by sending them to the Academy, where they were supposed to finally learn to be a proper UrSkek. And what did they learn instead? Heresy! Honestly. They didn’t even try to resist the slide into depravity; indeed, quite the contrary, they decided to become one of SoSu’s most prominent and enthusiastic disciples. So really, what else was there to do?

AyukAmaj and EktUtt: Fell in love. This may seem fearfully pedestrian to the savage likes of the Gelfling (and let’s not even talk humans), but in UrSkek society this is both an incredibly alien, hard-to-imagine aberration, and a crime against the ironclad obligation to love all one’s fellow UrSkeks fairly and equally. Like…absolutely fairly and equally. No matter what. No playing favorites. Yes OF COURSE love and friendship are high virtues among UrSkek, but again -- just not like -- that. What do you two think you’re doing, seriously, you don’t even have physical bodies to conventionally sin with but I guess where there’s a will, etc?

NaNol the Botanist: Was a spy. Not that they knew they were a spy, mind: UrSkeks don’t have spies, and if they did have them, what they were doing would not be spying. In fact the Botanist’s whole problem was they didn’t have any actual name or conceptual box to put the thing in that a few naughty Eldest were making them do -- especially to the plant-stored planetary-memory records they were supposed to be nurturing and protecting. I mean, it must be all right somehow, because it was Eldest asking; but then why did it have to be such a secret; but then why was it even their business, since it was records about stuff that happened eons before anyone they knew was spawned; but then if it didn’t really matter because it was all so long ago, why were they still being asked to -- **melts into quiet gibbering noises** But in any case…such a pity that it was their fellow Heretics that they eventually decided to confess their nameless burning sins to. More normal UrSkeks would have known enough to just shut up and do what they were told.

HakHom the Architect and YiYa the Builder: Didn’t know that the technical term for what they were was frenemies; they thought they were just friends. Who competed for the same non-virtual architectural gigs, which HakHom just happened to win more often than YiYa, which was also why HakHom ended up outranking YiYa. But of course there was never any trouble putting that behind them when it came time for them to work together hand-in-glove on the winning projects; Homeworld is a place of harmony after all, with architecture being one of a very, very few fields where there even was still anything resembling competition. Nor did YiYa carry any grudges against HakHom for dragging them out to these crazy salons and forums this weird Professor SoSu kept holding. As a friend, they were simply looking out for their friend’s mental and spiritual cultivation, and after all these were merely dialogues about how everyone, even the most erring UrSkek, could better be brought back to the bosom of the Crystal and the collective soul of their people through the transforming power of compassion and honesty. What was there to object to? And later, when the Eldest were investigating because apparently there was something to object to -- and they needed someone to infiltrate and report on the increasingly worryingly Heretical gatherings -- who would blame YiYa for assisting them with that high-minded work? Certainly not HakHom, who understood and deeply regretted their grievous sin in doing…well, there must have been something terribly wrong with the whole thing. Even if Professor SoSu did have both a sterling reputation and the high permissions as a Councilmember needed to access the Crystal for experimental rites if they deemed fit! And just because even after giving the Council all that help, YiYa still found themselves exiled right alongside all the unrepentant criminals, that was no reason to take out any frustrations on their old partner, who hadn’t exactly been in control of the proceedings either after all. Surely the Eldest had their good reasons…so…yeah. Definitely nothing there for either the Architect or the Builder to hold against one another in the immediate aftermath of their souls being torn asunder to set all the Twice-Nine’s ids free.

LachSen the Gnostic: Was an ex-cultist. No, I’m not joking. Although they’re scattered and vanishingly few, there are places even yet on Homeworld where some UrSkeks practice Heresies in the much more old-fashioned sense -- that is to say, disapproved spiritual rites and disciplines, which are generally holdovers from pre-Ascension cultures. Young LachSen’s group was no exception: indeed, it dated from that supremely turbulent era just pre-Ascension, when some UrSkeks fervently believed that through the practice of radical enough asceticism and self-lessness, their kind could attain a permanent ecstatic group consciousness, such as they had heard group minds from other worlds speak of with such reverence and serenity. (No wonder SkekLach wasn’t so keen on the Ascendancy…) This belief turned out to be more a denial of the UrSkeks’ own nature than even the ancestors of the Council of Eldest could tolerate. But LachSen’s group still stubbornly clung to this more-or-less impossible ideal, and to an ancient sub-Crystal of their own which gave barely enough energy for them to subsist on; but since privation was what they craved, that was fine. As they matured, LachSen found themselves questioning the group’s ways and eventually ran far away to Crystalgate City on the great peninsula, blending in with the other UrSkeks as best they could. But it was more difficult than they could ever have imagined, blending in with people from so different a worldview -- and they remained always torn in their feelings toward their old kin, their penitent, self-denying monkish side and their newly-discovered love of plenty and peace among the Crystalgaters. Thus, they were prime and easy ‘prey’ for a new Heresy, particularly one that claimed to embrace the lost and lonely, even the strangest of Deviancies…

ShodYod the Mathematician: TBD

SaSan the Marine Biologist: TBD. I’m not sure that Heresy was something she came into in the course of her work. She’s just such a strong personality at base. I expect her to be tricky.

VarMa the Seal-Bearer: TBD, but however they came to it, they definitely they would have been SoSu’s #1 fan and most loyal acolyte.

MalVa the Guide: TBD, although they would have been exposed to a lot of ‘foreign ideas’ in the course of their work, so that may be how they first got into trouble. :-) I have a tiny inkling they may even have been a bit of an anti-colonialist, which would be a problem for other UrSkeks even though other UrSkeks will swear up and down that they’re not even sort of colonialists. ;oP

TekTih the Inventor: TBD. TekTih was an Inventor, which kind of by definition meant they were a bit more ‘interferey’ than the average UrSkek, but that in itself isn’t quite enough to push a sib into Heresy, so I’m going to have to think about it some more.

UngIm the Restorer: TBD. However, there wouldn’t be much call for actual restoring work on other UrSkeks on Homeworld, the species having long since left death, disease and war behind. Therefore, they were likely either more of a veterinarian, or else had a history of traveling around on colony worlds, where again as noted, an UrSkek can run not only into disturbing concepts, but into disturbing events of the sort that flesh-and-blood beings are all too easily prey to. Which provides restoring work, of course, but not only that.

OkAc the Scholar: TBD, though it’s harder to think of places a Scholar couldn’t get themselves into doctrinal trouble than places they could. XD

LiLii: TBD. But – yanno – I mean, it’s LiLii. I have a feeling that like GraGoh, they may just have an unfortunate habit of annoying others, particularly with blurted-out inconvenient truths, and certainly they had a mischievous turn for an UrSkek.

[tewwor]

NEWEST MUSE LIST 07-05

*** doubles as an interest check so like this and i'll cook up a starter! highly suggest specifying muse(s) for this one! i will be focusing on them more between drafts!

jackrabbit ‘ines ortiz’

Civilian occupation: hacker. Marked position: techie. Ability: body temperature manipulation. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). A bit too proficient with technology that’s starting to crosses over into biotech. Implemented a way for overseers to see health status of active members (and alerts healers when conditions are critical ). Likes to stir up shit just ‘cause. Doesn’t like talking about the past and doesn’t like to be alone.

rem ‘alon galvez’

Civilian occupation: hacker. Marked position: handler. Ability: hypnokinesis. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). Reborn to calmly knock everyone off their asses, forced to babysit most of the problem makers. Usually divvies out the more complicated hunts and helps newbies picking easier ones. The only person that can handle Ricochet. Has the vibe of smoking at least six cigarettes at the same time. Glossy shoulder length hair — no, you can't touch it. Isn't usually one for spite, but has induced chronic insomnia on people that have crossed him.

the unnamed

once a normal girl turned into a fragment of saul's liminal world. she spoke to an aspect of void and made a trade of names. thus, erasing hers while also being in ownership of the void's own. said void fused with her, stamping an archaic spiral symbol at the base of her throat and causes a never-ending hunger in her gut. her true form blurs into a soft darkness that tricks the eyes. only the feeling of fuzzy static comes from making contact with her. she dares not speak in fear that the void within her will consume parts of the other person like it had done to her. crime verse is pending.

bishop 'cain roth'

Civilian occupation: journalist. Marked position: scout. Ability: soul manipulation. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). One of the few that were exposed to the supernatural prior death. Keeps close tabs on the hunter group he was raised in and betrayed. Swears to hunt down the corrupt creature that granted his wish in trade of half his soul. Has to live with the repercussions of having reaped what he stupidly sowed. Tries to befriend the other Marked, but honestly doesn't hold it against them if he's disliked.

caesura 'chiru sato'

Civilian occupation: TBA. Marked position: wheelman. Ability: door manipulation. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). Flighty, little thing. Doubles as a honeypot for high threat hunts, but would much rather make a quick escape rather than fight. Almost always with a partner on any job. Arguably the most in tune with her emotions. Often sought out for deep conversations or quiet companionship.

soothsayer 'saraj cai' .

Civilian occupation: stenographer. Marked position: advisor. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). Mother of this local sect, does dote on pretty much all of The Marked but in her own semi-strict way, has prosthetic eyes, it’s ok to accidentally make a pun or two around her — she does it too ( no, the irony of of her saying ‘i see’ or being titled as an overseer isn’t lost on her ), prefers to use a cane, has her way on keeping tabs on everyone.

amant taylor boudreaux

just a guy that's been obsessed with harborview's happenings. he's dedicated his life to accurately detail not only it's citizens but also the mysterious people that return from the sea. is the author of the harborview codex. would 1000% try to get nasty with someone just to lowkey research them. brainrot on god ( aka oram, even if he doesn't know that weird soggy man is the sea god responsible for all sea creatures )

[levy120]

Different kinds of Nightmares in the Rayman Franchise (Headcanons)

I feel like rambling a bit about my headcanons concerning the different kind of Nightmares in the Rayman franchise.

While editing Reverb I came across a segment where this is touched upon, but I just don't have the time to spare to infodump all of those little nuances without interrupting the story at large, so I thought instead of rambling to the folk in Discord I could just take this here for once :D

In the Dreamcatcher Lore Nightmares are not created equal and there are definitive differences among them. There's a bit of a Hierarchy amongst these, too.

Examples include (in no particular order):

Shadowborn  Sentient Nightmares born from very strong negative feelings towards another individual. Jano (from Polokus) and Raymesis (from Rayman) are prominent examples of this. They usually are equally as powerful as their counterpart and inherit the dislike for the ‘original’ they spawned from.

Darkness Particularly Powerful Nightmares with mysterious origins. Usually shadowy creatures, sometimes amalgamations of multiple Nightmares.  As a raw force of nature they are usually driven by instinct and no more intelligent than an animal, with the exception of Mr. Dark. His intellect is what makes him particularly dangerous. Prominent Examples of this are (as stated above) Mr. Dark, the “Hades Hand” and “Dark Creatures” from Rayman Legends or “the Beast” from Dream Catcher (1). Arguably the Darkmess from Mario + Rabbids if we want to include this. 

Jano-Spawn Nightmares that were directly created by and from Jano; “the cute ones” - in his own words. These include the Mini Janos, the Psychlopses, the Antitoons. These can be used by Jano as scouts for him to scry and peer into the world without having to move from his spot by the Cave entrance. They usually sport an uncanny likeness to his own physique. Sometimes Minor Nightmares (like Boney Arms and Darkroots) are used for these purposes as well.

Magically Conjured Created with the purpose to be a living weapon. Not sentient, but highly dangerous and deadly to the touch. Notable examples include Bad Rayman from R1 and Shadow Rayman from the Haunted Paintings.

Corrupted Sentient beings that started out as regular dreamfolk but turned to “the dark side” at some point. Usually more powerful due to their broad experience and history. Prominent Examples include all the Bosses from Rayman 1 and Origins, Ales Mansay or Glombrox. Technically the Hoodlums if we want to stretch it, though Jano does not consider them part of his jurisdiction. (You do not mess with the Lums, the Lums are older than the Gods themselves).

Cave-Tethered Can be born off of anyone; any horrendous fear or bad dream in itself someone might have at night, may that be Polokus or your neighbor Teensy. These are born into and usually never leave the Cave of Bad Dreams and thus do not pose a threat to the Glade at large; but they are likely to cause trouble in the Cave itself and do not listen to anyone (not even Jano). Raymesis loves to “purge” them to let off steam. 

Flora E.g. Darkroots and Tulips. These are not sentient but are reactive to their surroundings. Those Nightmares are not usually created consciously and more so an effect of a Nightmare infestation to a plot of land (aka the ENTIRETY of the Land of the Livid Dead, the Cave of Bad Dreams). Not to be confused with the common Flora that just happens to be dangerous like the green darkroots or sea anemones.

The Livid Dead E.g. the toxic fumes with faces from R2, the Skeletal Arms from the Cave or the Tomb of Ancients, the Zombie Chickens or the inhabitants of the Land of the Livid Dead. What makes them exceptional is that they refuse to die (e.g. the First King) or are born undead (Zombie Chicken Eggs). These Nightmares have the means to repopulate naturally. Usually, they are content and peaceful if left alone, though they can be territorial or protective (of their nests or gardens e.g.). 

Not-Really-Nightmares

Minions Often confused for Nightmares this category encompasses anything that passes as regular Dreamfolk. The “Common Enemies” encountered in the games that are never seen redeemed and are actively out to cause trouble. E.g. the Lividstones and Hunters, less so territorial native wildlife, like the Piranha. Calling someone a "Nightmare" is a popular insult for people who are a nuisance (depending on the situation either used jokingly or as a legit slur).

Various Just because a character is an enemy doesn't strictly make them a Nightmare. The Knaaren are their own culture from their own god, and the Pirates were an outside force (which is why Polokus was willing to deal with them and Jano attempted to help by spreading rumors of a treasure hidden in his cave - but that's a headcanon for a different day :D)

Is all of this a shameless plug for my fic? Maybe :'D (you can find more about that here /cough). Is it me just wanting to Infodump? Also Yeah. I do it rarely enough here - and the Rayman Nightmares give me brainworms.

[miseries-mistress]

MY LITTLE DOVE | ANAKIN SKYWALKER

Synopsis: You were his dove. His dove. His reason for living, for breathing in the air you spare into his lungs. Anakin might be a man who was damned from the moment he met you, but it didn't matter as long as he had his dove, his last fleeting connection to the light you were incarnated from. 

Warnings: okay...here we go… possessive anakin, unhealthy obsession, fanaticism, obsessive anakin, jealousy, almost smut, definitely spicy, making out, obsessive behavior, female reader, possession, i can not stress enough that this is a darker fic. W/C: 3117

Notes: well, this was a thought!

star wars masterlist

Anakin knew you. Arguably he knew your insides and outs better than anyone else, reading you like a book and practically predicting what you are thinking without the force's aid, which was something he chose to take pride in. However, there came a responsibility with knowing you, and that was taking care of your every need, even if that meant waiting on you hand and foot. It's not like he wanted to go drinking, but you had begged so sweetly that he couldn't help but say no. What a mistake that was. 

You two had arrived at a bar stacked with people, blood-pumping music with a base you could feel reverberating in your chest, with the faint stench of alcohol that definitely wasn't legal, but that's none of his concern, only you. It was beyond him why you had voluntarily wanted to go drinking when you two could be using your rare silver of time together in the warmth of each other while he doted on your every burning need with your ravishing moans filling the air instead of whatever this was. Both of you took a seat in the back of the room on sticky cushions while the waiter took your order in an organized flourish. 

"I know you wanted to do something, sweetheart, but I didn't exactly have this in mind." His calloused hand ran down the expanse of your thigh, and you leaned eagerly into the touch. 

"You never give yourself a break, Ani. So I thought this would be a good way to loosen up and enjoy ourselves without the Maker-forsaken war looming over our heads." Oh. You were indeed a dream, for your consideration of his needs and putting them first, knowing how more often than not, he neglected himself of a break was rewarding, moving even. His hand involuntarily squeezed your thigh, trailing up further before stopping right where he could feel your need practically dripping for him. 

"You're such a sweet little thing, aren't you, pretty girl?" You ducked your head, your face burning with heat licking up your cheeks. He chuckled, wallowing in the sensation of your thighs clenching at the sound of his voice. But, Maker, how did he end up with you all to himself? Certainly, he didn't deserve it, no, not at all, for his mind was corrupted with the sin a Jedi should never indulge in while his hallo, his angel, his saving grace, basked in the pool of a sinless life known only to purity and all the things he should be in his role as the savior in the galaxy of the damned. 

Anakin should be apprehensive about the wandering eyes and the soldiers that frequently occupy the place, but depravity had him in its grasp, and he wasn't strong or willful enough to break free from it, for what could be so wrong when he could embrace all that which he longed for, a love lecherous as it was vitreous. As innocence became an afterthought to the fantasy of your corruption, debauchery became a gentle caress. The utter need for you warped into a possession that could never be slaked by even the silver of his soul carrying the light of a Jedi. 

"Thank you for taking care of me, my dove," he leaned in and whispered, his teeth nipping the shell of your ear as you dissolved under the warmth of his skin into putty in his hands. 

Two drinks were set carefully in front of you, and Anakin's hand retracted from your thigh, pulling the credits out of his pocket and sliding them to the waiter, her eyes gleaming as she grabbed the money, heading off to another table the next moment. You took the drink, taking a long sip before melting into the back of the cushions, your head tilted upwards as you allowed the alcohol to run its course. 

Anakin's gaze befell you once more, and Gods, he could memorize his pretty dove's face for the rest of eternity. His dove, his incarnation of the light, deserved an altar to be worshiped on, a place where he could free his sins and receive penance in the drip of your euphonious voice, your saccharine words sweeter than any fruit and lighter than any song. His endless devotion would lead him on the road to salvation. He was a sinner, a damned man, but you offered him solitude where he was wandering in the unknown. The purpose you gave him breathed air into his lungs and filled him with a passion, a possession, to never be lost in those unknown regions again. As long as he was possessed by the purpose you had bestowed upon him in your first encounter, he would remain your devout disciple, bound to your side. 

"I'm off to get another. Do you want more, Ani?" The voice of an angel, he thought before shaking his head and pulling out the appropriate credits for you. You looked wearily at the money, and Anakin felt your hesitation as he placed them in your palm, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. 

"My treat." Your lips extended into a wide grin, and before he knew it, you had placed a delighted peck on his unprepared lips, pulling back with that same joyous sparkle in your eyes. It was moments like these that made Anakin feel fulfilled, like he had done his job of serving you. He knew the kiss was risky, that being this close to you was risky, but he didn't care. He had spent the entire relationship being careful, cautious of every set of eyes and ears that could spell your expulsion from the order, and now he was desperate for that closeness, for your kisses, the beautiful arches of your body that leaned into his touches whether feather light and soft or rough and demanding. 

Anakin's eyes held an unrestrained hunger, his body tense with anticipation before his lips descended upon yours forcefully and feverishly, spreading a wave of passion across your skin. His right hand came to cup your face, tracing over each dip and line to revere the body that looked as though it was crafted out of marble by the most gifted carver on the face of the galaxy.

"My pretty girl," he groaned in ecstasy into the kiss, his lips bearing wicked desperation that knocked out your senses as they molded against yours once more as his other hand left your face to explore the uncharted regions of your body you so gracefully offered him. His figure pushed yours closer to the seat in a way that hid your faces easier and made Anakin appear as a wall of unbreakable muscle. 

You were practically trembling underneath him with your own hunger as your hand found his chest, grappling onto the robes to keep you from dissolving into the seat. His hand impatiently slid under your robes, grasping at the flesh near the root of your lust. You whimpered at his scarred hands, and he greedily drank the sound. Your noise of pleasure was a scripture meant to be prayed upon and worshiped by him, the only person capable enough to listen to a divine being such as you. The growing tightness in his pants from your soft sounds was becoming unavoidable as your lips parted for breath. 

"I-I should go get the drinks," you stammered, and he chuckled, reluctantly releasing his grip on you. His dove was flustered. Anybody could tell by how you wobbled out of your seat, your body jittery as you headed toward the bar. He grabs his glass, his eyes never leaving you as he swirls the drink in his hand before taking a swig. He watched the way you twisted as you asked the bartender for a drink, sliding the credits across the counter. Your foot tapped anxiously against the hardwood, and the anticipation radiated from you in waves only he could feel through your bond. 

A clone approached you, formally greeting you before waving down the bartender. He quickly identified the soldier as none other than Rex, who seemed more than enthused to start a conversation with you while you waited for your drink. You turned your back on him, greeting his captain with a smile that seemed too perfect for a man of such imperfections to witness. A pang of jealousy struck him like a blast from a rifle. He should have never agreed to let you travel to this place. You should be at home, safe from the world and the prying eyes of the men in it. No one should be able to touch his little dove because he would be the only one to fill her heart with sin, her mouth with wickedness, and her body with heat. No one but him.  

"General," Rex greeted, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, "it's always a pleasure."

He's too close, his mind urged, but his focus on overhearing your conversation wavered over the pounding in his ears as he remained still, taking a sip of the bitter alcohol, the gush of darkness pouring over his heart corroding his signature with a dangerous sense of jealousy. 

Your laughter broke him out of his stupor, and he turned his cold stare to you. You had placed a hand on Rex's arm, and the both of you doubled over in laughter, broad smiles breaking across your faces. He took another swing at his drink, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through his body as you two collected yourselves, your eyes never catching his icy glare as you gathered your drink, finding yourself back in the conversation with his captain. The shadow of vice loomed over his heart, his being, with a ferocity that wrapped him up in its spell, pulling him down the rabbit hole to welcome the shadiest part of his fermenting soul. The possession, which was initially a poison spilling slowly through his brain, engulfed it within seconds, tunneling his vision as the blasted feeling crept into his heart, making it beat impossibly faster. The subside into jealousy was a vicious one. It thrashed against his skull, rushed through his veins, and sent his chest tightening with the feeling he wanted to crawl out of. 

He didn't know what you and Rex were saying anymore, only that it had captured your attention and prevented you from rightfully returning to his side. Your head dipped, and Rex stepped forward, running his hand down your arm. He recognized your flustered expression anywhere. It was the dip of your head, hiding your face, fidgeting, the embarrassment oozing into your signature. He could feel and see it all. Rex, the man he fought alongside and trusted with his life, was touching his dove, his angel composed of pure light, and defiling you with his wretched ardor. The jealousy wrapped like tendrils around his mind, forcing every ounce of darkness he harbored to the forefront. Your gaze shifted to him for a moment as you felt a tinge of anger corroded with an infinite blackness seep into his signature. Then, when your eyes met, he straightened up, discarding his darkened expression and trading it for a content one. He saw the worry exude from your body as they remained on his for a second longer.

Under your gaze, Anakin felt seen, like he was more than a Jedi, more than the Chosen One, more than any of the labels life had tagged him with but a person. He was the only person in the world when you looked at him so tenderly, the only person deserving of your sweet affections that unknowingly twisted into what would be his demise. Your love was the first taste of iniquity, the first step from the light for the sole purpose of wanting more. He wanted more of you, more of your love that set his soul alight, more of your body wrung in its own purity while writhing in need he alone could slake, your mind that bore the truth of your affiliations, everything. It was never enough to sate the swelling devotion, contorted in its desire for his beloved dove that breathed life into his lungs, and he would be damned if he let a single clone rip his only source of light away for his own childish pleasures. Not that he wasn't already damned, but he would stop by no means from returning his dove to where she belonged.

The two of you parted a moment later, saying your goodbyes as you finally headed back to him with your drink. You slid back into your spot, finding your place at Anakin's side before you decided to look up, your expression falling. 

"What's the matter, Ani?" That was a rich question coming from you. His dove lets another man touch her, replacing his touches with their soiled ones. 

He leaned in, his lips hovering over your ear before he spoke in a thick, dark voice that made your skin prickle. "What were you doing?"

"I-I was just talking to Rex, you saw. We were just catching up, Anakin. There was nothing to it," your voice trembled as you struggled to justify what he saw. His hair brushed against your cheek, and he could practically hear your heart pumping as the tinge of fear diluted the radiant light of your signature. "Do you not trust me?"

"I trust you with my entire being, my everything, my dove. What I don't trust are the men who put their filthy hands on what is mine."

"It was just one touch–"

He chuckled darkly, the sound bouncing around your skull like a crude game of pinball as your chest constricted, waiting for what he was about to say. "It's never one touch."

You gulp, your tongue suddenly too big for your mouth, your eyes darting around the room as you refuse to meet his gaze. You knew Anakin was a possessive man, one riddled by his own feelings, but his jealousy was an emotion he couldn't quell, and it was times like these that you questioned his connection to the light. Yet, you had never talked to Obi-Wan about it out of fear he wouldn't believe you because it was only you who witnessed this side of him, tortured over his own feelings. 

"Oh, my little dove, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get jealous." You sensed the change in his signature to be apologetic while his voice softened. He felt your body relax and melt into him again, and he pressed his nose to your pulse point, planting a kiss where your heartbeat pounded against your skin. He was far from okay from what happened mere minutes ago, his mind still tormented over the idea of someone else touching what didn't belong to them, but he felt the beginning of your worry for him, the wisp of fear amongst the light, and that wouldn't do. He wouldn't defile your pretty connection to the light like that. No, it was the attachment, the desire, arousal. All of it would be your undoing as you would devote your body to a sinner and succumb to your own lust belonging to him entirely like he was to you. You would forgive his sacrilege, let him repent, forgive him like the saint you were. You already had his life. It was only fair that he had yours. 

"It's late. We should start heading back," you comment as you nuzzle your head into his chest, breathing in the scent of him. He stays there for a moment, admiring his dearest, who appeared as an angel before him, kissing the top of your head in agreement. 

The trip home is filled with silence, one that seems comfortable to you, but to Anakin, it's insufferable. His mind kept returning to the scene of you and Rex talking, laughing, and touching each other. It stirred those forbidden feelings that the Jedi must extinguish, and once you arrived back at the Temple, sneaking into your apartment together, Anakin felt the cold encounter of darkness over his spine. You lock the door, and Anakin hurriedly presses his lips to yours with a shattering of passion as you clash together in a combination of tongue and teeth. Your noise of surprise is muffled by the sinking of his lips on yours as his hands move to your waist, pressing your back firmly to the wall. Your lips reciprocate the action, and he feels the bleed of your building arousal in your signature as you let out a muffled moan as his hands fondle at your chest, pulling you close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off you. The ferociousness of his movements is enough to make you dizzy, your head reeling from the sensation of all of it. 

"Your mine," Anakin growls, his hand reaching up to press firmly against your windpipe to give that familiar buzz of intoxication. His pleasure he's bestowing upon you is addicting, and like the addict you are, you want more. Your hands fly to his chest, blindly reaching to undo his robes. 

Your thoughts were clouded by the thrill rolling over your body in waves you couldn't control, the harshness of his touches only spirling him deeper into the frenzy that had eradicated his waking mind. It was endearing how desperate you were, how you craved his touches to relieve your burning arousal. In moments like these, he took his pleasure in defiling his pure angel, desecrating you in the only way he knew how.

"My filthy girl, your mine." 

"Say it," he spits darkly, and for a moment, just for a second, you feel the cold brush of fear part through the haze of your mind. You knew Anakin. You knew him like the back of your hand, and the darkness penetrating his signature was not him but something else…or someone else. You didn't allow that moment to blind you or push through the veil of your mind. Anakin's a Jedi. It was fleeting, and you let it go. You knew Anakin. 

"I'm yours."

[rivetgoth]

Favorite genre of album in the whole world are albums where they aren’t quite true concept albums in that they aren’t explicitly and directly telling a cohesive narrative or something but that still follow like a coherent thematic thread from beginning to end with like, an intentional beginning/middle/end etc. Skinny Puppy does this a lot but Last Rights stands out far away as the strongest form of it. The apocalyptic wasteland landscapes and the recurring iconography of angels and demons and the destruction of the home and drugs and addiction and mental turmoil that permeates the album from start to finish in a fashion that could ALMOST be arguably a cohesive narrative. You also see it a lot in ohGr’s solo work, none more blatantly than Devils in my Details flowing seamlessly from one song to the next and cycling back around to recurring samples so that the last song ends where the first song began. TR/ST’s Joyland touching on the highs and lows of love and the nightlife while remaining almost entirely free of discernible lyrics or PIG’s Risen following this consistent aesthetic of corruption in religious leaders and excess and glamour and sex at the cost of any semblance of morality, Lead Into Gold’s The Eternal Present seemingly talking about the cyclical nature of life by opening the album talking about the end of a relationship and describing the moments leading up to this backwards up until the final song asks, “Could it ever fail?” I love this shit so much dude. I love being able to sink my teeth into the recurring themes and motifs and lyrical or sonic cues across songs of an album to make connections and draw conclusions.