#so there might be lore that i'm missing

[awkward-but-nice]

idk lads, but i figure that bo-katan probably feels a ton of guilt and regret about her past with death watch, and her part in the fall of mandalore and her sister's death. and i'm guessing that her quest, to reclaim mandalore and lead the people, is part of her own personal journey to try and right those wrongs she's done. so the fact that any hope of that happening went out the window because a random dad won the special sword by accident, and then he doesn't even want it? i feel like she's allowed to be a bit pissed off lmao

[ethowo-indeed]

etho was once again quite active in the chat of bdubs' latest stream, being the nr1 bdubs fan that he is, and i once again felt the need to compile as many chat messages that i could spot from him, being the ethogirl that i am.

context: etho finding out that bdubs gave away speedy supreme

context: etho being a scar apologist i guess. (in reality doc was flying over bdubs' base with a flying machine, holding a live-shulker. & doc was panicing about bdubs flying too close to the machine/shulker)

context: etho plugging his favourite piece of bdubs merch! go get yourself a pink hoodie that was specifically made for etho <3

context: etho's comeback to bdubs saying he's a horse whisperer, while he also just mentioned the mod he uses to see a horse's speed + that there was a vanilla way to measure the speed of a horse, used by etho, if u were willing to take the time to ride each horse through a million cobwebs.

context: horse rated trash/14 speed by etho xD

context: according to etho, bdubs' height is fake and does not exist. (i don't know how that would work, but etho is never wrong so)

context: bdubs put on the pink hoodie, which was a very exciting moment for etho.

context: bdubs saying that... he was tall where it mattered? in his heart? which resulted in this comeback from etho. (etho is referencing an old vlog bdubs did where he talked about putting lifts in his shoes)

context: bdubs said that part of the reason for the lifts was so that he wouldn't look small next to his wife when she wore high heels. etho did not relent.

context: hermits were telling jokes in the hermitcraft chat and etho wanted to participate.

BONUS:

context: bdubs' mods on their way to "take etho out back" as was requested by bdubs after the height jokes.

[nikolas-ghostbusters-fixation]

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how everyone thought Egon had gone insane. What Happened that made them think that. They've fought a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmellow Man TWICE (counting the 2009 video game because iirc it's canon? Correct me if I'm wrong), fought an interdimensional god, fought a blood thirsty ruler that killed thousands and was hated by all that was trapped in a painting (and managed to get in to beat him by making THE STATUE OF LIBERTY start walking down the street with slime that reacted purely based on vibes), found an underground abandoned transit system full of the moodslime, had a bathtub try to eat Dana and her baby, fought a giant murderous black widow lady, fought the fisherman ghost who turned an entire hotel floor into the bottom of a ocean, and that's not even mentioning them getting trapped on an island that randomly raised up from underwater that had been abandoned for decades created by Ivor Shandor who worshipped Gozer. So what did he do or say that made everyone else think he'd gone insane?? All I can think is maybe he was acting strange / eratic before, but he's always been like that to some degree.

I don't know. It's something that I've been thinking about. The correct answer is 'it's not that deep and they needed a reason that the others weren't together anymore and weren't aware of Egons death or know what was going on,' but also. What Was He Saying that prompted everyone, including Ray, to think he lost his mind when he'd been right almost every time before that.

I'm genuinely so curious as to what he was up to before this. What was he doing. What insane idea was working on prior to this or was he even working on anything at all??

Also want to clarify this post isn't negative 😭 I really love the newer movies and their lore / the newer storyline / characters, I just like thinking about small stupid things like this. Gives me something to think about / speculate about / figure out an answer to.

[whumble-beeee]

The Man in the Sweater Vest

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 7

Content: attempted noncon, threatened mouth whump, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, scissors, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, noncon touch, past captivity references, graphic threats, blood, crapton of whump. As a treat :)

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[Inevitably, there will be disagreements on how you should treat your captured hero. One villain might want to just hold the hero hostage long enough to finish their dastardly plans. Another will want to break the hero’s will entirely! Or anything else in between! 

But when working together with other villains, bounty hunters, henchmen, etc, it is crucial that everyone is on the same page about how your captured hero is to be treated, lest your hero end up with a few less limbs than you meant them too, or your months of breaking down the hero's fragile mind is undone by a single nice gesture.

Always communicate effectively, your hero will thank you for it (or curse the day you were born)!]

* * * * * * * *

Sweater-vest stumbled back, reeling from the punch and clutching his face before pulling his hands down and gawking at the blood staining his hands.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!!” Stan screamed. 

An intense elation washed through his chest despite the surprisingly sharp exploding pain that crackled up the very bones of his arm when he punched the man, and the now freshly ripped open scabs and bruises from where he’d forgotten to account for the handcuffs and yanked on them violently, streaming new ruby red over dried light brown that already carved down his arms; 

Because he'd got him. He'd got him! Punched him, made him back off! Stan did that! He'd finally managed to actually do something about the atrocities being committed against him and it was so, so sweet. 

Relatively short-lived, though. 

Vaughn, the sweater vest man, started to giggle to himself as he wiped the blood streaming from his nose onto his sleeve. Elation gave way to tentative confusion. Then a sinister seed started to take root in Stan's gut, the roots already reaching out and tightening around his body.

“You-...” Vaughn giggled some more. “You– you think–?...”

He started fully laughing, speech overtaken by an apparent hilarity that Stan must’ve just been too shocked by the sudden mood change to understand. He was cackling. Then practically shrieking, crazy, loud, heaving laughs.

He must be crazy. 

Insane. 

Well and truly insane, the way he was shriek laughing into his shining red-stained hands.

His gaze snapped up to Stan, and Stan could practically hear the horror movie crackling effect with how fast it snapped up, crazy maniacal shudders still overtaking his body, piercing gaze turned wide, animalistic.

“You think you can HURT ME?! HURT ME?! AHAHAHAHA!!”

Suddenly Stan slammed into the wall, cuffed wrists pinned above his head, chest to chest with the crazy man and staring up into his crazy bloodshot eyes.

“You can't hurt me,” he growled into Stan’s ear through gritted teeth. ”I don't feel pain. I carved that weakness out a long time ago, my brain doesn’t register it anymore! And I did it so I could deal with horrible little brats like you–” he slammed Stan's wrists into the wall, “--however I see fit! So I could do whatever I wanted to them. So that even if they fight back, they always, always, always lose.”

He pulled back and leaned into Stan's face, staring the captive directly in his glaringly defiant, wide and shining eyes. Hot shaking breaths misted surprisingly minty breath onto Stan’s cheeks, nearly overpowered by the metallic tang of blood that still poured down his face.

“Always submit. Just like you're going to.”

Stan pulled down hard against Vaughn's grasp, struggling and wiggling and tugging and screaming and kicking and doing every single little thing he could to, if not escape, at least make this as difficult as possible.

“Get away from me!" He cried. "GET AWAY FROM ME, get OFF of me, I’m not gonna let you do this you sadist, you can’t do this to me!! LET GO–!”

A punch to the gut. Stan tried to double over and wheezed as much as he could with his arms pinned up, which delivered him right into another punch to the face.

 Then something cool and sharp stabbed into the soft underside of his chin, straining his neck with how far his head pushed back into the wall.

“This is why I like to keep my victims gagged,” Vaughn gritted. “That bounty hunter of yours never does it, no matter how I tell him to. Always has to do stuff his own way, never listens. All he does is talk talk talk, always has a retort for everything. So defiant, and so is every single subject he brings in.”

A dull aching throb emanated from where Stan’s head pressed into the wall. Black spots dotted his vision. 

“You–... y-you can't–”

The scissors pulled back and dove toward Stan's mouth, eliciting a loud cut-off scream of revolt as he cowered and squeezed his eyes shut from some vain, animalistic instinct to protect himself. 

Then he pried open his eyes again, confused when no cutting metallic pain ripped through the fragile flesh of his face.

The handle of the scissors were fuzzy, too close for his eyes to focus.

They weren’t that far into his mouth.

Just enough that if Stan tried to close it, his teeth would clip on the tip of the metal blades instead. 

The scissors lifted slowly, tapping on his top teeth, tilting his head up until he stared into Vaughn’s metallic blue eyes once more.

“I could always prep your throat with these if you like,” he drawled softly, letting go of Stan’s cuff chain and instead lightly grasping his thumb and forefinger under Stan’s chin, forcing his mouth open further. A small sob crackled out from Stan’s throat. 

“It would be so easy… I could just–” 

The scissors lurched further into Stan’s mouth, and Stan let out another involuntary squeak and an open-mouthed, unintelligible pleading of “no, no, no, no…” as tears started to sting at his eyes.

But he let him do it. 

He even still held his arms up, because surely if he tried to fight back now, with the scissors in his mouth quite literally pinning him to the wall… He didn’t even want to think of the consequences.

“Careful, dropje. Wouldn’t want to cut yourself. Be quiet, be still, be good for me, right? You can be good for me? You can finally shut the hell up. No more fighting.”

He let go of Stan's chin and let his hands wander lower, caressing Stan’s sides, the curve of his waist, making his entire body tense and shudder. His breathing turning loud and shallow as he cringed away. 

Vaughn just giggled.

“See? Isn’t this better? You’re not getting hurt, you’re doing what I say…” His fingers slipped under the waistband of Stan’s pants again. Slower this time. More deliberate. 

It took all of Stan's willpower to not start hyperventilating at what he knew was about to happen. He knew. It was always this, wasn’t it?

Vaughn’s voice lowered as he leaned closer, pressing his body into Stan’s. He could feel the fibers of the stupid damn sweater vest against his stomach, deceptively soft, almost pleasant. The hard blade of the scissors tapped on the tip of his nose. “Because you physically have no other–”

BANG!!

Stan screamed. 

Vaughn screamed. 

The ghost of the gunshot echoed off the cinderblock walls. 

Vaughn also nearly fell backward, pushing off of Stan just in time for Stan to fall to the floor in a duck-and-cover position and pray to whatever gods would listen that his last day on earth wouldn't have been spent dealing with two of the worst people he'd ever had the displeasure of being kidnapped by.

Wait, scratch that, his knee reminded him. He'd had worse.

His heart threatened to jump out of his chest completely, but he finally realized that in fact, he was still alive. So he opened his eyes to what he never thought to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world;

Deeby. 

Gun pointed to the sky and streaming a light grey smoke into a small puff of explosion that hadn't had time yet to dissipate. 

“What in the ever-loving SHIT are you doing?!” he shouted.

He was completely maskless, face now on full display, fiery eyes matching his equally fiery sneer. The sudden absence of the mask almost scared Stan more than the gunshot, the sight making his heart beat in his throat.

Then, for just a split second, Deeby's enraged eyes met Stan's stare. His eyes scanned down his body, looking him up and down, his face changing ever so slightly when his gaze caught in Stan’s chest. A slight crinkle of the eyebrows, a small tilt of the head. Then his eyes widened in some sort of realization, and Stan felt his heart turn to ice. 

Recognition.

No. 

He couldn't have realized who he was. 

Just because of the binder?!

Stan choked on his own throat as the collar suddenly constricted once more and he was dragged violently forward to his knees.

“Your fucking dog punched me in the face!” Vaughn shouted, jangling Stan around enough that he had to grab the collar just to gain back his breath.

“Just because–!” 

Vaughn jolted Stan's collar back hard and cut him off with a violent gag.

“I was disciplining him.” Vaughn narrowed his eyes at the mercenary. “Like we're supposed to.” 

Deeby’s jaw set. And still, he managed to find a slight smug smile within his fury. “That why your face is gushing blood, then? Disciplined him too hard?”

Stan didn't even realize when they started, but tears were practically streaming down his cheeks now, chest heaving in panic. “Deeby, Deeby, he was gonna–”

“Shut up!”

A kick this time, straight to the back of his spine, and Stan's throat strained hard into the collar before breaking free of Vaughn's grasp and nearly face-planting into cold concrete. He scrambled to get up, but the same foot planted on his back and slammed his chest right back to the floor, grinding the heel of its shoe into the captive’s spine. Stan clutched at the ground, screams barely bit back by force of sheer willpower.

“Christ, man! Stop it, get off!” Deeby yelled with uncharacteristic urgency.

The force pinning him down suddenly released, followed by the scattered footfalls of someone catching themself from nearly falling over. 

Stan just lay there limp. Heaving and shivering. He couldn't move. His limbs felt like heavyweights, the world tilted on it’s axis, and he was sure that if he lifted his head up, he would lose every last morsel of that protein bar he'd shoved down earlier.

But at least now no one was methodically turning him into a fine red mist anymore. 

Deeby stood between the two of them like an impenetrable stone wall, hand resting on the unlatched holster of his gun and pointedly ignoring Vaughn’s stuttering disbelief as he patted at the pockets of his jacket, pulling various probably very sharp things out and shoving them into his pants pockets.

Protecting him.

“You– You just–...” Vaughn finally composed himself. “You pushed me off! You're saving him? He needs to be taught a lesson!”

Stan tried to push up despite the dizziness. “Only–... D-Deeby, he was trying–”

“Shut up, Stan, I know, let me handle it! Here.” Deeby slid his jacket off and dropped it practically on top of his captive’s head, never once letting his gaze slip from Vaughn. Stan shakily pulled the brown leather of the jacket over his shoulders before he had time to think better of it, doing his best to just enjoy the show and not think about the implications of what was currently happening.

 “Because he wouldn't let you put your dick in him without a fight, right?” The bounty hunter said sarcastically. “Or– or– or because he wasn’t gonna let you mouth-gore him without complaint? Let you ‘teach him a lesson?’ Yeah, I am stopping you. Piece of shit.” The bounty hunter grabbed the scissors off the floor where they landed when Vaughn dropped them after the gunshot. Then he used them to point sharply at the door. 

“Get out.”

Vaughn scoffed and melodramatically rolled his eyes.

“You got the message from Lana then? Is that why you're acting like such a belligerent wittle babeee?” Vaughn posited in his most obnoxious baby voice.

Deeby bristled. Stan could've sworn for a moment he could see the man shaking. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “I talked to Lana. Your useless job is done. You can go back to being an even more useless sidepiece now.”

Vaughn’s shoulders tensed, and he laughed.

“Good! And I’ll make sure to tell Lana all about you taking the side of the disobedient dog of a test subject–”

“Yeah, go cry to your girlfriend about it, he's under my jurisdiction and I'm not gonna let you fuck that up because you feel the need to live out your perverse power fantasy with the helpless people you kidnap and torture. As if it isn’t torture enough to have to be in the same room with you at all.”

Vaughn clenched his fists at his side and forced on the worst imitation of a smile Stan had ever borne witness to.

“You better watch your tone, Deathberry,” he said, sickly sweet voice doing nothing to mask the hissing rage. “I could have you in the same spot as him in ten seconds. Don't ever–” he jabbed Deeby in the chest. “–forget that. You're only allowed to be out here roaming around with your fancy gun and your fancy cowboy boots because you're useful, otherwise you'd be locked up with the rest–”

Vaughn had just started to reach for the holster on Deeby's belt when, faster than Stan could perceive, a flurry of movement between the two men, a cry of surprised fear, the shuffling of feet and spinning of bodies and suddenly Vaughn was pinned back first to Deeby's chest, a wire that Deeby pulled from somewhere stretched taut between his fists and pressing a hard line directly under into the skin of Vaughn's throat.

Vaughn's hands quickly flew up to the wire to try and pull it off his throat, then just as quickly let go when he realized the wire would sooner cut through his hands before it would be pried off.

Stan couldn't help but stare.

“You're just about at the end of my rope, Verhulst,” Deeby growled, accent fully presiding now as he stepped backward and pulled Vaughn toward the door. “Don't you ever put your filthy hands on my gun.”

A slight rasp to Vaughn's voice was the only thing that denoted anything was amiss. “You sure this is about the gun, Deebs? Sure you're not taking your frustrations at Lana out on me?” 

“Trust me, if I was takin’ my frustrations at Lana out on you, bud, you'd be dead.”

Vaughn's eyes shot to Stan, and his smile broadened. 

“Ohhhh, I see. So what then, you are falling for the captive? I'm sure Lana would love to hear about how you're going soft, how you miss her, and how spectacularly you're failing at finding someone better so you have to–”

A small gurk finding its way from Vaughn's throat as he was pulled to a sudden stop.

“You know what, maybe I am. And maybe you should use your mouth to do something not completely useless for once.” He spun the both of them around to face Stan again. 

“Apologize to ‘im.”

What?

Vaughn stared at Stan, apparently more stunned by the notion of apologizing than the motion of having a garot wire to his throat. Stan… honestly had to agree.

“Come again?”

“Apologize to Stan. For tryin’ to rape him. It's the least you could do.”

“You want me to… apologize?? To the test subject? You really are losing it, Deathberry, let me go.”

The wire dug into his throat more. “Say sorry, doctor.”

Vaughn glared at Stan. Stan glared back as well as he could.

“I can't feel the pain of this, you know,” Vaughn's voice came, even raspier. “You're not doing anything.”

“You can still bleed out from a slit throat. Still drown to death in your own blood as it slowly fills your lungs,” Deeby dismissed lightly. “Still bleed out. Very quickly. I wonder what would happen if I hit your carotid–

“And I wonder how Lana would feel about you slitting her head scientist and boyfriend’s throat.”

“Probably call you a little bitch boy for invoking her name every time you need to defend yourself like a spoiled toddler ‘steada bein’ a man about it and defending yourself. Or maybe not. You’d never know, you’d be dead.”

“You wouldn't–”

Deeby twitched the wire across Vaughn's throat and a line of red bloomed across the light tan of his neck. Vaughn's face grew just a little bit paler. He brought his hands up to graze across the wire and felt the warm wetness smear across his fingertips.

“Apologize.” Deeby growled. “Now.”

Vaughn's eyes flitted back to Stan, fully appraising the wonderfully wide-eyed mess he'd had pinned against the wall only moments before. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

Took a deep breath. 

Stared daggers directly into Stan's soul.

“Sorry.”

Oh you bastard.

“Go jump off a cliff!” Stan yelled, erratically reaching into the jacket pocket he'd seen Deeby pull the protein bar out of earlier and luckily finding many more, one of which was immediately thrown directly at Vaughn. He couldn't even attempt to dodge it, and it hit him directly in the chest. 

The mercenary let out a singular loud laugh and spun Vaughn back around, letting the wire retract into what Stan now realized was a little housing box on his weird arm sleeve thing and shoving Vaughn at the door as hard as he could.

“Guess he doesn't forgive you. Better luck next time!” he laughed. Stan genuinely thought (and hoped) Sweater-vest would fall flat on his face, but he managed to grab the door and right himself before that happened. Shame.

“Now get out.” Deeby said.

Vaughn glared with a literal snarl, jaw half a second away from cracking in two. Right before he took a slow, deep breath and reset his features to a forced neutral. Then an easy smile. “As you wish, my liege.” 

He bowed exaggeratedly low in a show of mock respect, retrieving his scissors from the ground in a surprisingly graceful sweeping motion as he went. Deeby just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and Stanny?” He drawled, peeking back from the door as he left and pointing his scissors directly at Stan's face with a flourish. “I look forward to seeing you soon~.” 

“Get outta here!” Deeby yelled with a threatening stomp toward the door, at the same time Stan stuttered out a very surprised and agitated “In hell!”

The door slammed shut. 

Stan could swear he could still hear Vaughn's deranged laugh echoing through the room even as an eerie silence fell over them.

He was finally gone. Finally.

See you soon.

He didn't completely understand why his breath continued to quicken. He'd won that encounter, right? Or… well, Deeby had. But still.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

He felt dizzy. More than the concussion could have caused. This was different, made him feel like he was suffocating, even though Vaughn was no longer here to strain the collar against his throat. Yet he could still feel the knuckles digging into the back of his neck.

I look forward to seeing you soon. In hell.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything | @paperprinxe

[jichanxo]

how it started:

how it's going:

[outeremissary]

🌈🌍🐉 for Carmen and Ismene?

Oh man. Big night for women with issues!!!! I went through a full spectrum of emotions answering these, thank you

[prompt]

🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?

Oh for sure. On both counts, haha. I feel like this is a thing for most of my OCs- at least, it’s a major point of trying to like. Visualize a design for them when drawing. At any rate.

Carmen has always been strongly associated with red to me. It’s a very vibrant, strong color, and it’s also a very heroic and regal one. Maybe it’s just the kinds of books I read as a kid, but when I think of kings and knights, I think of crimson and scarlet and all that jazz. She’s proud, principled, and aspires to be a paragon of what she considers virtue. I’ve also always portrayed her with a rose as an emblem- a romantic symbol. Of course, the obvious flip side of that is that there’s a lot of negative association with red as well- fire and blood are the obvious ones here. She’s not fiery in the sense of raging passion or blistering anger per se, but more like… a destructive flame that would burn everything to ashes, maybe. Someone with burning ideals and zealotry so hot that it’s searing her too. Of course, the less fanciful aspect of the red is that it’s a color that was also associated with the chivalric order she was a part of in tabletop (also an anchor point of the rose). Carmen’s kind of a funny character for color though. She’s been around in some form or other for ten years or more at this point, and she’s always had the red association. It’s something that’s kind of transformed over time.

Ismene is an easy purple. And one day I swear to fucking god I will manage to color some of my art of her. Although I guess it wouldn’t be posted here so uhh maybe it doesn’t matter. Anyway. Purple. Regal and mystical. That’s the kind of vibe that I always want her to give off as a first impression, so purple is an obvious choice. I think there’s also something to purple being a kind of cool, somber color- she’s become a more mischievous character than originally planned, but I think it’s right for her to have a certain self-serious gravitas. This is a bit of an open and shut one I don’t have much more to say ^^;;

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Oh good god.

Carmen’s religious views are Very Different in Wrath from her original tabletop iteration (where her schtick is generally kind of inverted from part of Wrath), so I’m going to preface this by saying I’m answering for the Wrath iteration of the character. Carmen is a dogmatic atheist. You know the goofy edgelord atheist dialogue in this game? Honestly totally on point for her. She doesn’t believe that people should rely on the gods, and she believes that gods are ultimately all self-serving and tend to use mortals as proxies for their conflicts and the most extreme expressions of existence. The affairs of mortals should belong entirely to mortals. She’s not a person who sees the good gods as fundamentally better than the evil. In the end, they’re still imposing the same manipulative systems on their followers. They still inspire violent, irrational conflict. And they don’t “inspire” their followers. They breed helplessness. They make people reliant, cause them to wait and pray for salvation instead of searching for it themselves. The gods are cowards and parasites. And one day, it would be nice to see them torn down from their thrones.

I had to look up/double check FR lore for this one, which was half the time spent on this whole thing if I’m being real with you. Anyway. Ismene’s upbringing obviously meant a lot of exposure to gods of knowledge, and she tends to regard these deities with a reasonable level of respect. Knowledge, to her, is the highest power; those who reign over it are the highest Powers. She identified particularly strongly with Savras, Alaundo’s patron, from a precocious age- one of a number of ways she has taken aspects of the life of the one true prophet for herself. This seemed like a bit of childish fancy when she was young, but the release of Savras during the Time of Troubles gave it more gravity- another uncanny bit of foresight from the girl. For her, it seemed a sign in and of itself- thought not a person of deep devotion, she quietly claimed the returned god as her patron, developing a personal belief that her prophetic abilities had been an omen of his return and deepening her sense that she was personally connected to Alaundo. In the years between the Time of Troubles and the revelation of her Bhaalspawn heritage Ismene developed a conviction that she had a destiny to take up Alaundo’s mantle as a true prophet of Savras in the new age. Her personal dedication to the god is partially responsible for her aversion to outright lying- to speak untruth is anathema to the All-Seeing, though she never quite internalized his dedication to wholly avoiding misdirection and deceit. The revelation of her divine blood shook her faith deeply- in some form or other, her abilities originate in truth from Bhaal. Of course, with pride and precocious self-importance as the origins of her devotion to the Lord of Divination, she’s certainly able to adapt to the idea of being a demigod given time. I don’t want to say more when I have yet to y’know. Finish the original Bhaalspawn Saga. But I certainly have an idea of the trajectory of a hubristic young wizard who gets to live with the smug satisfaction that she can outfox a god.

🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?

Carmen is an easy dragon. It’s the fire thing. And the knight thing. What’s the opposite of a noble knight? That’s right, a dragon. And also being very cool despite objectively killing a lot of people, which isn’t so awesome.

Ismene is like a unicorn because she’s just so goddamn special. I wrote that sentence as filler for later but you know what? I’m right. What else needs to be said, really. And also it’s the princess-y thing. The maiden-y thing. The magic-y thing. Like. Y’know.

[flopbftheo]

SU SU SU SUPER NOVA !!!

[hvkyre]

doing some coloring practice with one of my future khml keykids, nál!

[tortoise-teapot]

if you like 1) weird electronic music 2) solas, then this playlist i'm cooking is for YOU!

[voidfragments]

ok so i know i basically said like a month ago that i had no intention of working any theories about stelle's background into my portrayal of them in any meaningful capacity bc hoyo's burned me with this before and that's still pretty much true. BUT i also said i'd be open to weaving in small hints of these theories or writing them as distinct verses separate from my main stelle muse. aaaand it occurred to me that people can't request that stuff unless i share my thoughts! so here they are, below the cut bc this is probably gonna get a bit long.

first and foremost i want to address something that i do NOT think is true or likely and will NOT be incorporating, and that is the idea that the trailblazer was created in the scene where you choose which one you want to play as. like... this is pretty solidly confirmed to not be the case (unless they're like, a copy of someone else? which admittedly could also be true but occam's razor and all that), but i still see people buying into it sometimes, so it seems worth mentioning. if you aren't aware, near the end of kafka's companion mission, blade says this:

they existed before the start of the game. he distinctly recalls where he's seen them before. they have a past, they just don't remember it.

SO with that point of clarification out of the way, let's talk about the two big theories i wanna put out there:

1. stelle as a reincarnation of akivili

i don't actually have anything to say about this one tbh bc it's not one i really buy into or anything, but there's some interesting dynamics this could open up, so i figured i'd at least put it out there. onto the one i actually have thoughts about!

2. stelle as a fragment of nanook

okay.

what the fuck is this?! why, among memories clearly related to their past, are they shown something that seems to describe nanook from their perspective?!

not to mention that their body is able to stabilize and contain a stellaron, which supposedly come from nanook. also, nanook's golden blood always makes me think of kintsugi, which then suggests to me that they've been fractured and--given their detached limbs and gaping chest wound--may not have been 100% reconstructed. so... if, say, the stellaron hunters got their hands on a piece and decided to use it against them... that could be interesting, i think.

[hersweetrevenge]

3 movies, 3 books and 3 songs that changed my life (or that i love)

@slutforstabbings keeps giving me the impossible task of self-reflection lol. i tried to do a similar eras system (child, teen, young adult), but it's not perfect. watch me defend my choices below the cut ✌

i will pass the torch, without any pressure, to my beloved @solivagant-muse 💗 (and anyone else who feels like doing it, of course !!)

films

scooby doo and the witches ghost (1999): one of the movies i had on vhs as a kid. the first appearance of the hex girls? of course it changed the trajectory of my life. every single day i think about how cute it was that luna's dad ( a dentist) made fang implants for the hex girls to wear.

natural born killers (1994): i was an edgy teenager. i love the cinematography and the editing and how meta it is and the fucked up romance. and it was one of the films that made me want to study film, so i guess i should send my university bill to oliver stone?

halloween ends (2022): is anyone surprised? anyone at all? i've had other films i've loved in adulthood (looking at you, house of wax), but i've never become to instantly obsessed as i did with ends. i've never developed so many hcs and aus and possibilities for one thing. do i really have to defend this one? just look at my blog lol.

books

withering tights (the misadventures of tallulah casey) by louise rennison: there were so many books i loved as a kid, but this is one i come back to even now. it's about friendship, finding your passions, having a silly teenage romance. i'm glad my tweenie self read this book.

the secret history by donna tartt: another teenage cliché. i was actually recommended this book by my own classics teacher in college. i've re-read this book at least 5 times i think? i love it, it's passionate and dark and funny. you fall exactly into the trap that richard does in romanticising these dysfunctional people. no one can change my mind.

the wasp factory by iain banks: do you wanna read something fucked up? then read the wasp factory. i think about this book a lot, just because some of the images were just so weird and disturbing and visceral. it's blunt and brash and has no frills at all. it'll make you feel weird and i heavily advise reading some content warnings beforehand, but it is an experience.

songs:

the tide is high by blondie: the first song i ever remember liking. when i was a kid my dad would drive me to school and ask what i wanted to listen to on the radio and i would ask for this song (and surprisingly it actually was on the radio a lot in the early 00s?).

maya the psychic by gerard way: this song reminds me of a bright grey day in march with a cold breeze and a new found will to live.

respite on the spitalfields by ghost: my favourite song from the first ghost album i ever listen to (recommended by a friend). respite (the final track) literally makes me feel like my heart is going to explode, and the way the last riff merges back into imperium (the first track)? obsessed. i fell asleep to this album so many times at university, so respite was really the soundtrack to my slumber.

[thebardscipher]

*asks for help on how to write a character* *Gets either "Wait? You want to write THAT character? Who would wanna write that character?", contradicting advice, or advice that is like....sorta helpful but not really what I need/want* *Internal screaming*

[loregoddess]

so I've been watching the KH Union Cross stuff (in order, thank goodness, this would be so confusing to piece together otherwise), and like, I knew enough about UX that the appearance of the foretellers at the end of KH3 wasn't confusing bc I knew who they all were, but getting the expanded, explained lore and I'm like okay, actually these weirdos in animal masks are pretty cool, glad to know they'll show up (presumably) in future games

also I'm glad that memorizing the Latin names for the seven deadly sins is finally paying off

[ravensroleplays]

Y’know, if I wasn’t getting ready to start drifting away a bit from my AUs and focusing more on my new original story, Oasis to Oakwood, I might actually consider incorporating the events of Security Breach into my FNAF AU?

[aberooski]

Since today is Thanksgiving and all that, I'm thankful for the conversation I had with my sister yesterday that led to me figuring out a lot of stuff for my Stormshipping Cinderella au so I can start writing it a lot sooner than I thought I would because I'm slow as shit. Chazzerella is on the horizon! Next year babes 👀

[astrxealis]

i miss dos2 i miss my lil elf guy