#but i have my types

[honourablejester]

Blades in the Dark Character Concept: A Fishy Journalist Whisper

First thought for a Blades in the Dark character, and I’m going to do the wholly expected thing and make a Tycherosi Whisper. Because, well. Demonic occultist in a haunted dieselpunk city. I have types?

Starting from the heritage, because if you’re going to make a Whisper, naturally you look at the demon-blooded inhabitants of a mysterious semi-mythical land far beyond the northern Void Sea. So Tycheros. And. If you’re Tycherosi, you choose a ‘demonic telltale’ like black shark eyes to mark your character. So I bounced down to the section on devils to look at demon features, and there’s some cool stuff down there, but those are for full-blown demons. So wings, tentacles, tails. I could have gone something milder, like the scales or the eyes, but …

Tentacles. I do want the tentacles. But full-blown tentacles is too much. But. What about tattoos of tentacles? Or ‘tattoos’ of tentacles, inky marks that shift and undulate and move beneath the surface of her skin? Because Tycheros is far beyond the Void Sea, Tycherosi are strangers from ‘beyond the Void Sea’. So lets bring some Void Sea into the proceedings here. A traveller who arrived in Doskvol on a ship from the Void Sea.

And. With that thought. Moving to background. There is a landmark in the Docks called Ink Lane, a twisting back street full of tattooists and journalists, because ink slingers. And maybe when she arrived she hung around there, because her demon marks fit in at least a little bit better among the tattoo artists, and while she was rubbing shoulders with the other sorts of ink slingers, the journalists, maybe she took a shine for the career. So maybe she’s been in Doskvol for a few years now, and maybe she tried her hand at the press. So we’ll go Academic, a journalist.

For my action dots, Whisper automatically puts a dot in Study and two in Attune. My background dot I’ll put in Consort, because journalists have contacts. My heritage dot … I’m not sure. I might put it in Wreck? Just for the demonic angle. Maybe she channels something a little bit dark sometimes. And my two free dots I think I might put in Survey. She’s got her eyes open, this one. So she’ll have two in Attune, two in Survey, and one each in Study, Consort and Wreck.

For the special ability. I was tempted by Ghost Mind, by Occultist, by Ritual. For a journalist, they all make sense. But. I think I’m still going back to the Void Sea, to demon blood, to tentacles. I think I’m going to pick Tempest. Because the leviathans are demons, and, a little bit, so is she. So storms and lightning. So tentacles and void ink and drowning. Yeah. I think it’s definitely Tempest.

My friend and my rival … Are we going to side with the demon, Setarra? Are we that wild and that tempestuous, that full of sympathy for the devil? Possibly. I think we just might. And then the enemy … I mean, we could go Scurlock. That might be a bit too neat. But it would also make sense. Heh.

(In terms of factions, I suspect she’s nursing some antipathy for the Leviathan Hunters. And, obviously, Lord Scurlock. Gets on fine with the Ink Rakers, though).

My vice, naturally, is Weird. Because she enjoys oddities, flotsam and jetsam. And for the purveyor, there is apparently a hooded proprietor of a half-flooded grotto tavern near the docks, which folds so neatly into everything else.

For our name, look, and alias … She’s a tall, bony woman, with cheekbones like knives, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair in a reporter’s bob cut. She wears tired three-piece suits with high collared shirts, but as high as they are you can still sometimes glimpse the inked darkness of a tentacle slither along her neck just above them. I definitely also want her to have one of those caped greatcoats. Her name …

Indira Sevoy. Alias Undine. She’s got a watery sort of reputation.

One final detail, Whispers get a ‘Fine Spirit Mask’ among their equipment, which enables them to see supernatural energies in detail, and somewhat protects them against possession. Each mask is unique, and strange, and disturbing. So what does her mask look like? It looks like the Void Sea. It’s carved of a slick, smooth black stone, carved with faint ripples and wavelets, and faint lights appear to glimmer beneath the surface of the stone as faint stars appear to glimmer beneath the sea.

So here we are. A very fishy journalist, a stranger from across the sea, a long-time inhabitant of Ink Lane, a connoisseur of the strange and the delightful and the oceanic. A Tycherosi Whisper.

[apollos-boyfriend]

having such an obvious favorite character trope is life ruining bro

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x03 - “Finally Got The Name Right”

[cryptocism]

It would have taken another immortal to keep up with him.

so i haven't read the books but i did read the Devil's Minion chapter and this part made me laugh out loud:

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[chalkrub]

autumnal chill....featuring the girl

[artsymeeshee]

[shoukohime]

babygirl the way you forsake your happiness on your relentless quest to vengeance, your complicated relationship with gender and the way you're covered in blood have bewitched me body and soul

[nordsea-horizons]

lily’s home on nixie, with video bc the ✨vibes✨🌱🫧🍀

[spectraling]

"They're soulmates" oh it's way worse than that

~ quote from marsadist

[notherpuppet]

Sloppy comic based on me and my friends conversation on my bday last week 😝🥳 this is pretty much verbatim hahaha

[naiad-r]

Inspired by this Twitter post.

Blonde ex-nobles that catch on fire.

Only one of them doesn't do it voluntarily.

[1alchemistart]

dont got much to offer for The Holiday but have these sillies!

happy valentines day :D

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x06 - “The Message Hidden Within the Pattern”

[counting-stars-gayly]

I’m actually LOVING how Rick Riordan, and the other writers of the show, took his initial concept of a Percabeth rivalry fueled by that of their parents and kind of turned it on its head?

Now, instead of Annabeth being wary of Percy because he’s a son of Poseidon, he’s wary of her because she made a callous impression on him. They get off to a rocky start even before finding out who Percy’s father is, and when they finally do, Annabeth doesn’t care. Instead of them fighting because of who their parents are, they’re fighting over their own opposed worldviews.

Then, instead of them arguing over which of the gods is cooler and who was right in the story of Medusa, they realize that, just like Medusa, Annabeth is a victim of her mother and that, unlike Medusa, she is a far kinder and stronger person, unwilling to repeat the cycle of hurt. They realize that, like his father, Percy often acts without considering potential consequences and that, unlike his father, he is a far kinder and stronger person, willing to step up for someone he wronged and whom he cares about.

Instead of Percy and Annabeth’s rivalry being focused on that of their parents, it’s focused on who they are, themselves. But the path to friendship is still the same: a realization that they have each other’s backs, no matter what, because they’re not their parents after all.