#LOOOORE *MatPat voice*

[onionhaseyeoo]

NEW Seiun Lore analysis!

“Parallax-polysemy” is a whole reference to her ability, I’ll break down both words.

•Parallax is a term primarily used in astronomy and photography, referring to the apparent shift in position of an object when viewed from different perspectives. In a broader sense, it can refer to the idea that something may appear different depending on the viewer's position or perspective. Which is a reference to Seiun’s ability to change her appearances, or even reality to an extent.

•Polysemy is a linguistic term that refers to a word or phrase having multiple meanings. Like how Seiun has multiple “selves” and is never sticking to just one persona.

When combined, "parallax polysemy" suggests the idea that the meaning of a word or concept can change or shift depending on the perspective from which it is viewed, like how Seiun changes depending on the task at hand or how she’s feeling. Essentially, it implies that the multiple meanings (polysemy) of a word or concept might vary or appear differently depending on the context or viewpoint (parallax) of the observer.

“Polysemic Monodrama” refers to again, the word polysemy, and then a “monodrama” refers to a dramatic work, typically a play, where only one character is present or one actor performs all the roles. It's often an intense, focused exploration of a single person's thoughts, emotions, or experiences. Like Seiun’s view on the world being “one big stage play” and how she refers to herself as an actor.

NAME: 

Seiun’s name (星雲), is a whole astrological reference, tying to the origin of the word parallax. 

•In Japanese, "nebula" is written as 星雲 (せいうん, seiun). This term combines 星 (hoshi), meaning "star," with 雲 (kumo), meaning "cloud," reflecting the concept of a star cloud or nebula.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION:

Seiun’s concept itself was heavily inspired by Sparkle of Honkai: Star Rail, and Heath Ledger’s Joker. A case of method acting gone wrong. Here is a brief summary.

TW: Mental illness, idk what else but I feel like it should have a TW..?

The Great Actor: Heath Ledger

(Seiun Performance No. 1)

those being hidden under the veil

Heath Ledger was an Australian actor. After playing roles in several television and film productions during the 1990s, he moved to the United States in 1998 to further develop his film career.

Heath Ledger made history with his performance as the Joker in The Dark Knight. The Dark Knight won Ledger a posthumous Academy Award and a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor.

Ledger's portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight was initially deemed "inappropriate," but he delivered an unexpected and incredible performance that silenced the skeptics.

Mirroring Character: The Joker

(Seiun: Performance No. 99)

those being reflected on the mirror

During the filming of Batman: The Dark Knight, Heath Ledger kept a scrapbook which he called “The Joker Diary”. It was a scrapbook where he kept everything that was related to or could be helpful for his role.

He sometimes wrotes horrifying stuff in the diary as the Joker himself, like how blind babies and AIDS make him laugh. He also placed pictures of villains from other movies in this Joker Diary.

Ledger isolated himself for weeks before the movie, in the hotel room, people used to hear him laugh all by himself and make creepy voices. He was trying to choose the perfect voice and laugh for The Joker.

The actor even tempted one of his famous co-stars to hit him while filming the scene. Bale said to Ledger: 'You know what, I really don't need to actually hit you. It's going to look just as good if I don't.' 

Then Ledger replied, 'Go on. Go on. Go on ...' as he was slamming himself around and there were tiled walls inside the set which were cracked and dented from him hurling himself into them.

Heath Ledger explaining his sleep troubles when portraying the character and summed it up on New York Times Interview back in 2007 while the film in production, he said: 

"It's physically and mentally draining role: psychopathic, mass-murdering, and schizophrenic clown with zero empathy."

Losing Himself: Self Doubt

(Seiun: Performance No. 990)

those being stared by her own mask

After Batman was filmed, Heath Ledger could no longer separate the character and himself, he suffered from serious depression. Some said he got too absorbed and didn’t know how to come back.

He wanted fame and then when he got it, he didn't want it. The whirlwind shock that came with a new level of renown struck the actor hard. Like many artists, Ledger grappled with self-doubt. 

He often felt there was a chance his performances could be better or that he simply hadn't hit the mark. He comments about his consistent nervous energy:

"It's pattern for me, going into any job carrying certain level of anxieties and doubt, self-doubt, fears toward my inabilities and not being able to. I fooled them, or I can't do this. I'm not an actor. I shouldn't be here. I think everyone goes through that. I certainly do."

I won’t say anything else cause this is already pretty long, but I’m sure you can see the parallels with him and Seiun.

@the-mafias-muzzled-dog here!

[ridecartwo]

went to alton towers today, here's some fun stuff I think you should take a gander at:

-the posters/flyers behind the lost and found/ service desk in Forbidden Valley;

- Percy's missing posters in the shop at Forbidden Valley (also seen on the board alongside the above, not pictured) ;

- the 'not every disability is visible' sign outside the accessible toilets in X-Sector;

[ya-shoujorei]

約束。 Promises — Ougai Rei and Kanehara Kotoko

It was midnight when Kotoko made her way to the rooftop, her footsteps light but steady. Two years had passed since she first found herself here, visiting the place where Rei lingered. Two years of missions, change, and loss. She didn’t even have to call out anymore—Rei always seemed to sense her presence.

“You look different,” came the soft, familiar voice as Kotoko stepped closer. Rei’s form emerged from the shadows, as it always did, her figure barely distinguishable against the dark sky. Even without a face, Kotoko could feel her eyes on her, taking in every detail.

Kotoko leaned against the ledge of the roof, casting a glance down at her own reflection in the window below. “Different how?”

“Older,” Rei murmured, her shadowy form tilting its head ever so slightly. “It’s been two years, hasn’t it? You were… 15 when we first met.”

Kotoko gave a small nod, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the sleeve of her jacket. “Yeah, I was. Everything was different back then. Riki was still… around.” She trailed off, swallowing the name before the weight of it could settle in her chest. Overthinking about someone who wasn’t around anymore was pointless. “I hadn’t even joined the Mafia yet.”

Rei shifted, her form flickering in the moonlight. “You wore your hair differently. Your clothes, too. Back then, you still had… an innocence about you.”

Kotoko let out a soft laugh, though it carried a trace of bitterness. “I did? Huh. Leave it to you to see innocence in people who never had it.”

“Maybe,” Rei replied. “But it’s not just the clothes or the hair. It’s in how you carry yourself. You’ve changed.”

Kotoko paused for a moment, feeling the weight of the words. She had changed, in more ways than just the surface. The girl who had once come to this rooftop was a different person—fifteen, still holding onto hope that maybe things would go back to the way they were. But now? She had learned that wasn’t how life worked.

“And you,” Kotoko said softly, looking over at Rei, “you haven’t changed at all.”

Rei’s shadow seemed to still, the air around her becoming colder, though her voice remained calm. “I suppose that’s true. I’m stuck here, the same as I’ve always been. You’ll grow, age… and I’ll remain like this. Forever.”

Kotoko’s expression softened as she pushed herself off the ledge and walked closer to Rei. The shadows that made up her form twisted and swirled gently, and Kotoko could feel the familiar chill that accompanied Rei’s presence.

“You don’t mind it, do you?” Kotoko asked, her voice low. “That I’ve changed?”

There was a pause before Rei responded. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s natural. You’re alive. You’re supposed to change. I only mind that… I can’t change with you.”

Kotoko swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. It was strange—two years of knowing Rei, and they still had moments like this. Moments that made her realize just how different their lives, or afterlives, truly were. Kotoko would grow older, move forward, while Rei remained bound to this place, unchanging.

“You’ll always have me coming here,” Kotoko said after a long silence, her voice soft but steady. “No matter how much I change, I’ll still visit you. I’ll fill you in on everything.”

Rei’s shadowy figure moved closer, sitting on the edge of the rooftop next to Kotoko, her legs dangling down, her presence comforting in its own way. “I know. That’s why I look forward to it. Every day.”

Kotoko offered a small, sad smile. “Good. So, want to hear about what happened today?”

Rei tilted her head slightly, as if she were smiling back, even though no expression could be seen on her face. “Yes. Tell me.”

And just like that, they settled back into their usual rhythm—Kotoko talking about her day, the quiet mission she had handled with Chuuya earlier, and Rei listening with her quiet, undivided attention. Even as the world changed around them, the rooftop remained their constant, a place where they could meet, unchanged by time.

Kotoko might get older and age and change, but Rei won’t. But until her end, Kotoko will keep visiting Rei at the roof of the Port Mafia HQ until she physically can’t anymore. Living Shadow or Human, a friendship is a friendship no matter what.

ㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍㅍ

NOTES: 아아아아아 my babiesssss I almost cried writing this frfr

Taglist:

@animelovingmultistan

@myluckymoon

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 4 | Soap x Reader

Summary: Taken by someone from your past and tortured for information, memories from long ago, and truths unspoken begin to resurface.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Warnings: water boarding, torture, gas, dead bodies, guns, blood, grenades, flashbacks, injuries, kidnapping, yknow, the usual

A/N: (in matpats voice) the LOOOORE bonus: can you guess the two people at the end?? if you can you get extra creditt <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Your head was pounding.

The first thing you registered was your aching wrists, rubbed raw from what you assumed to be a rope around them. You slowly tried testing out your body, trying to find any injuries or at least a general feeling of what was still functioning.

Your fingers were cold, but still movable. Arms worked all right. Your torso was sore, especially your ribs and your cheek was throbbing as well. Feet, legs, and toes still seemed to work, from the feel of it, though they didn’t feel great either. A thick blindfold lay over your eyes as you tried to open them.

Your memory slowly started to come back, and you quelled down the panic that rose within you. The accent of the men that had taken you…it sounded as if they were vaguely Iranian. And with the slight roll of their r’s? Maybe a hint of Mexican.

Not good.

Forcing yourself to focus on something else than the mind-numbing pain of your ribs, you strained to hear anything that could give you more information. You could loosely hear a fan in the background, or some sort of AC at the very least. A steady dripping, probably from the roof to the floor. Sounds of scuffling outside what must’ve been a thick door, before the sounds of metal creaking reached your ears, and you heard footsteps. Walking closer.

Very not good.

“Well, well…we meet again, compadre.”

A mocking tone. One you recognized all too well. You tried to focus on anything else, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking nervous or afraid. You stopped your fingers from fidgeting, and your wrists from squirming beneath the ropes.

“Aw, not going to talk? That’s alright, we have some convincing methods in store for later.”

A lilt to his tone, the accent still there. The black canvas blindfold was ripped off, and your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room.

He paced around the four stone walls, occasionally glancing at the tiny, barred window too high for even you to reach. The steady dripping continued. A constant melody.

“I have a few questions for you, mainly about those new roommates of yours, or that little plan you’ve been putting together for so long.”

Drip.

The puddle seemed to echo.

You wouldn’t tell him a thing, not when he’d already taken Nalani — oh god, poor Nalani.

Who would find her body? Would the boys come home from a mission and find it? Or would other friends come to visit and find her sickly dead form, contorted with a hole in the back of her head? How long would it be before her family knew?

She hadn’t known anything about it. About you. Who you were, what you were. She’d been innocent, a mere pawn in the game, and she’d still been crushed and pushed aside. No hesitation, no mercy.

“They had no idea, did they? Who they were living with. You really fooled them, didn’t you?”

Your gaze focused on the puddle.

Drip.

These walls became a cage all too quickly. A familiar cage, one you’d been forced in before. A cage you’d escaped before, spreading your wings and taking off. But now, your wings were clipped, and there was nothing to save you. No one to help.

“So,” He drawled, pulling out a rag and a watering can full of a liquid you assumed was water.

“Why don’t you tell me all about the reason behind your little trip to America?”

Your lips remained sealed, even as you mentally began reciting what had happened leading up to this, up from the very beginning. The boys had no idea. You’d tried to lay out hints, clues, a breadcrumb trail, but they hadn’t caught on.

He gave a tsk, wetting the rag with the water, and placing it over your face. It was cold and damp, biting against your skin. His hand slid to your throat, where he shoved your head backward, to tilt back, before pouring the watering can down.

Drip.

Water was filling your nostrils and your mouth opened to gasp for air, but-

You couldn’t.

There was no air.

You turned to one side, gasping, getting half a breath in.

Before the water came down again.

“Let me know when you’re in a talking mood.”

He said, continuing.

Even as you thrashed in that chair, a bit of your mind began reminding back, reflecting on events without telling. It had all started two months earlier, in the meeting.

~

“We have reason to believe a terrorist group is taking refuge near [REDACTED], we want you to find cover in a nearby area, assume the role of a new transfer student, and keep your eyes peeled. This won’t be quick, and it won’t be easy, but you’re the most qualified we have.”

“Bullshit. What about my men?”

“They’ll be taken over by [REDACTED].”

“You’re sending my team to that American pussy?”

“Are you in or out?”

“…”

“Wasp?”

“I’m in.”

~

Water poured down.

Drip.

Your senses filled up with what felt like cotton balls, and you only got a moment of reprieve, a few seconds to breathe before the water began pouring down again. The cloth was heavy and irritating against your skin.

You didn’t speak.

Memories blurred together in your mind, too disoriented to tell what from what, you let yourself fade back into that dark space. The little cave that became your refuge when it was all too much to handle.

The back of your mind, where you’d buried some of those memories so far deep that they could barely be coaxed out now. Older memories.

Drip.

~

Gunfire reigned everywhere.

You ducked behind a pile of sandbags, gun held tight to your chest. Your hair was dirty, tied back with spare rope. Two magazines left. You needed to get to him.

“Grena—“

Your ears rang as dust exploded into the air, bodies of your brethren shredding as angry Arabic made it to your ears. Some Spanish, too, but not as much.

The main building was to your left. You couldn’t cross over.

That was, until, that grenade had gone off and given you all the cover you needed to sprint into the building.

Gunfire that narrowly missed you, and your finger pressed down on the trigger, putting holes in the bodies of more soldiers. You moved, running, up the stairs and clearing it if you could. You were running off of pure adrenaline at this point, and you knew it.

A few more minutes, and you’d be out cold, dead, or worse.

Five doorways in this hallway. He was in one of them.

You opened the first one, unlocked. Nothing more than an office, much like the second and third.

The fourth was a weapon’s room of sorts, five men inside. As soon as you opened the door, they were shouting. Numb fingers unclipped a grenade, pulling the pin, throwing it in before shutting the door.

Shouting. A loud pop. Silence.

Moving to the fifth door, you heard it. His voice, in there.

“Hermanos mios, esta escoria no nos puede desanimar!”

Kicking the door open, you found him seated at a wooden chair, talking on what looked to be a live video. He turned, whirling around, brandishing a small gun that he didn’t get a chance to use before you smacked it to the ground with your gun.

Shoving him into the chair despite his screams and struggles, you took another grenade from your belt, or the poor excuse of a belt you had, anyways. The last one left.

Forcing his jaw open, you pushed it in, shoving his mouth closed around it even as he began muffled begging and a bit of tears as well. You had no pity. Not when you’d seen what this man had done to people, these people in this camp. You leaned in close, right near his ear, looking him in his soulless eyes.

You began humming, a simple song, even as you pulled the pin out. A song he would understand despite any language gap.

“Round and round the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel,”

He began crying, shaking his head in a silent expression of horror, begging for something, anything else. He wouldn’t get it.

“The monkey thought ‘twas all in fun…”

The live continued going. He knew this, as he frantically glanced towards it. You wouldn’t turn it off. Let them see the truth behind their ‘fearless’ leader.

It was only a matter of time before…

“Pop, goes the weasel.”

~

“Still not eager to speak, eh? You’re tougher than before, chica.”

He gave you a moment of a break again. This time, however, he peeled the wet cloth off of your face. The drain under your chair made deep noises as it sucked all the water up. The puddle beneath your chair was large.

You blinked away whatever water remained by your eyes, and he glanced down at the now-empty watering can, making a little mocking pout.

“A shame, yes? I’ll go fill this up, and give you time to think about your roommates. I want to know all about them.”

His footsteps echoed through the now empty room that held you. Your mind began working overtime, trying to get out.

You weren’t sure how long you could last, and if you broke…it would be disastrous. On the boys. On you. On your entire team. Everyone would be in danger. So you had to get out of here.

You tried maneuvering your wrists, wincing when the raw flesh rubbed against the rope. Your ankles were left untied, for some strange reason.

Odd.

It was common knowledge to tie the ankles. You’d never exactly tied anyone down more than once or twice, but even you knew that. Was it on purpose? To make you doubt yourself? Or just to give you a glimpse of hope and snatch it away?

For whatever reason it was, you could use it.

Slipping your shoe off by pushing the back of it against the leg of the chair, you did the same and managed to push your sock off as well.

Your knife was gone, still embedded in some man’s neck, so there was no getting that back. Glancing around the room, you tried to notice anything nearby. Anything that could be used. The very basics of guerilla warfare, use anything around you to your advantage.

Nothing much in the room. The puddle, the dripping, your chair…

The chair.

There was a small piece that was fraying off down on the bottom of one of the legs, and if you managed to get that sharp wood off, it might be your ticket out of here.

Using your free foot, you trapped the piece of wood between your toes, and began pulling against it as hard as you could. A few cracks. Some more footsteps. Shit, you needed to get out of here.

Shouting from down the hall.

The wood splintered but didn’t break all the way.

Almost there….

Frantic Arabic, Spanish, and even a few other languages you didn’t catch became more than apparent throughout the building, a hissing sound releasing faintly somewhere else.

The wood broke free.

It cut the sole of your foot open, but you grabbed the piece of sharp wood with your toes, somehow maneuvering your leg over to put it in your hand. Your numb fingers grasped it as that one foot began struggling to slip the sock and shoe back on amidst the slippery blood now coating the floor.

You began moving the sharp wood against the rope. It began fraying before….you were free on one hand. Immediately moving to the other wrist, you freed that one as well.

The shouting slowly went further away, and your head began feeling fuzzy. Your shoe was back on now, at the very least. Getting up, you rushed to the door, pulling it open, immediately being greeted with a thick green gas in the air, wafting through.

Gas.

You broke into a sprint down the hall, looking for any sort of gas mask there was. The people in the hall’s cells were coughing before collapsing, their eyes brimmed red and some throwing up stomach acid. There were no gas masks.

One struggling soldier who had fallen behind was around the corner. The only reason you knew was because you heard the heavy breathing of him.

Crouching down, you tried to wait, before deciding there was no time and lunging around the corner. He fell to the ground as you tackled his legs, groaning, reaching for a gun, but too late as you lodged the piece of wood in his throat. He gasped, fingers fumbling still, but you grabbed the gun first, yanking his gas mask off as you shot him in the head.

You shoved the gas mask on as quickly as you could, holding the gun close, trying to force your weak limbs to move. Your head throbbed from the injury you’d relieved earlier, aching in pain.

Maybe you’d already inhaled too much of the gas. It might be too late already. Your knees gave out five steps into the exit, and you began crawling, arms and hands hauling your otherwise limp body across the floor. Your arms gave out about six feet in.

Two people came rushing in, gas masks on, guns up. A woman, and a man.

You tried to signal that you were still alive, to barely any avail, only able to twitch and try to crawl to them. They didn’t look like the rest of the soldiers.

“Bastards tried to gas us out. Killed their hostages.”

The man spoke. He sounded American.

“Not all of them, look..” The woman had a thick accent. She reached down to you, feeling for a pulse, and getting one. Their words slowly faded in and out.

You were being dragged. Your body limp. Someone eventually took your mask off even as you tried to protest, your tongue a dead weight in your mouth.

Minutes, maybe hours later, you were gulping down fresh air as you were pulled into a truck and sat up against what felt like maybe a seat in the back. Seats on the sides.

“…you hear me?”

Voices flitting in and out as you toed the line between unconscious and conscious.

“Find…-ntification.”

“..ma’am.”

The more air you took in, the more everything came back to you. Someone was digging around in your pockets. The American. They pulled a silver necklace out, but not just any silver necklace.

A silver necklace that wasn’t a necklace at all.

“Ge’ your’ bloody hands off ‘at.” A raspy voice spoke. Your voice, you realized. Much more British than when you’d been in that school.

The American didn’t flinch, reading the dog-tag aloud.

“Y/N “Wasp” Riley.”

He said, before dropping the dog-tag into your buzzing hands. He cocked a brow at you.

“Well, Y/N, why were you-“

“Don’ call me that.”

The woman driving the vehicle upfront spoke.

“What do you want us to call you, then?”

A pause.

“It’s Captain Riley to you.”

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kurokitty6

@popcornlauncher

@karleequinn

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

@kiwibao

@juneonhoth

[tokenstraightman]

*in matpats voice* LOOOORE

[ask-aces-future-warners]

OKI Admin here for a quick LOOOORE* dump :P *best read in a matpat voice

thing one, their Parents

OK so in this AU Angelina II and William aren't the Warner's Parents, their parents are named Annabelle and Winston, and are the OPPOSITE of William and Angelina. (because I love Will and Angie sm I don't wanna make them bad guys)

Annabelle and Winston are basically just those kinds of parents that think they basically just own their children, they are Narcissistic, and act like their just the greatest people in the world. they forced their kids into a spotlight they didn't want, forced their kids to look a certain age for the entire run of the show (Dot had it the worst)

and they also think Wakko is confused because they're non-binary and refuse to gender them correctly

(designs for them still pending and in progress)

thing two, Abby's mother

OK so, if you saw the info sheet you'dve seen that Yakko is a single Dad, and in this AU reproduction is alike to us humans. so Abby DOES have a mother,

her name is Sasha, she was a model for Wakko and Dot's company, and had a brief fling with Yakko, which resulted in Abby.

now, Ashleigh is not a nice person, she was fired from her modeling job after complaints of her being toxic and rude to her peers,

she also left Yakko with a child he never knew existed until she was just dropped off at his door without a word.

(Ashleigh design also in progress)

thing three, the placement

now, location wise, this takes place in New York, (no more context there, as I am very fuzzy on the US, as I am Canadian)

and time wise, it's 2009. I've done the math and that is the best fitting option. I was very young then so I will have to do some research on what has happened at that time. so please don't come at me for any inaccuracies on that front

thing four, how the characters are portrayed here. (so headcanons)

Yakko is Pan, and uses he/they pronouns

Wakko is Transfemme, nonbinary and Aroace (Asexual/Aromantic) and uses they/them pronouns

Dot is Asexual and Biromantic, and uses she/her pronouns

Abby, Undetermined sexuality atp, and uses she/her pronouns

that's all :) have an Abby doodle for getting through the whole thing

[asmrtist-brainrot]

Give me any and every Scythe thought. I want to see if our thoughts are matching up (the video notes are kicking my ass)

First of all, I haven't been looking too hard at the YouTube hints that Scythe left in the community posts, so I had no idea about the puzzle apparently leading up to the announcement???

Also, video notes?

I was on the polls for the first universe to travel to so.... I did end up voting for the World of Witches because I was curious about how he'd handle the Siren.

Jay-Jay is my baby, one of my favorite bois, and I'm really worried about him, and I've been so on edge since the beginning of this whole thing.

I've been trying not to post anything about the Patreon stuff because Maverick's got hold on most of Scythe's social media right now.

I might know a lot of things y'all don't but I'll keep them to myself unless you wanna go into DMs for it.

(Putting it under the cut for the people that haven't listened to the Reddening yet. :3c)

I've been crying about Marcus for forever, I am very sad. He ded now but hasn't stopped me from simping before, so, I guess it doesn't change much?? Seriously, I have so much suppressed brainrot for him, and I am devastated he is gone.

I would have also loved more Cole because, well... He was just a silly little guy, and he was really funny. 😭

I also kind of got like a separate idea of how the World of Witches storyline will go, but it's more my interpretation. More so, the forward move for Creed and the Chosen Witch.

I feel so badly for Creed, man, this is gonna be rough.

I'm happy Siren had the mind to just... Fly away because he's got self-preservation.

It's interesting to know that Maverick can overpower Celestials.

... And strong enough to blow up a planet! (It actually feels very DragonBall Z.)

I really liked Killian and Sparkles too, so I'm sulky. I'm kind of relieved Blaine is okay, and very interested where Dominic and the Goddess of Decay will shoot for after they find out Zappy is gone. :T

Maverick had literally dropped into the Demon Hunter universe just to get Hunter to unravel and fucking off elsewhere is a little funny.

Also the small bites of...

[MatPat voice] LOOOORE.

//clears throat

Sorry about that.

But uh, also live for the thought Scythe is just angrily floating in a void - it brings me so much amusement.

He was literally just chilling in his home, and Maverick just yoink.

But anyhow, finding out who Maverick's shooting for next made my heart fuckin' drop.

~ Dari

[v-anrouge]

Guess whos back some more of that juicy LOOOORE (read in Matpat voice)

In due time her mother would soon buy a shock collar disguised as a choker and would not let the device leave her daughter's neck, by the time all of this had occured, Medea had only just turned 10.

It was three years later, at the young age of 13, did Medea meet what she describes as her 'first love'. The first love in question was a 16 year old young man who accepted her advances. They started a secret relationship.

THE AGE GAP??? MEDEA RUN GIRL

[i-am-megalodonna]

(matpat voice)

GiMME THE LOOOORE

I'm going to assume you're talking about my au so have some lore friend

When it all starts Luz has to take a few days off of school pretending to be sick to figure things out.  Let the dust settle.  She feels bad about lying to Eda, but in her defense she’s pretty much nonfunctional.  Homegirl’s barely sleeping because the new voice in her head won’t shut the fuck up, there’s no way she can go to school.

She can’t skip school forever though, and if she stays away any longer her friends are gonna start showing up wondering how she’s doing, and she does not have the capacity to have that kind of interaction yet.

School is just as interesting as she expected it to be, but it turns out to not be as much of a nightmare as she’d feared.  The Collector is older than the Isles, but he’s been trapped under it for a good portion of its history, to say the least.  There’s a lot he doesn’t know because he’s just missed it, from events to animals right down to the magic, and he's actually quite intrigued with this opportunity to do a little catch up, even if it was largely involuntary.  They can’t really leave, so they might as well learn a thing or two.

They learn more than just a thing or two.

They try to be annoying, and largely succeed when they do, but it’s pretty hard to deny that they’re just as interested in the classes as Luz is.

Once they’re familiar with each other, he can even be helpful at times.  They’re the friend who whispers you the answers when the teacher calls on you, except no one can see or hear them.  It’s saved Luz from embarrassment more than once.

It certainly helps make up for the fact that he’s commonly the reason Luz wasn’t paying as much attention as she should have.  As if her own thoughts weren’t distracting enough, now she has to deal with someone else’s incessant prattling while she’s trying to focus.

[ridecartwo]

fun fact - Arlo is also called 'The Gateway' by Oblivion and others who know of their eldritch side, because they are the being that communicates with both the humans and the primordials. They were given the name 'Arlo' as a cover name when they were told to infiltrate the Ministry Of Joy (this was before the ministry knew their true identity, obviously).