#gosh this post is so long and it'll only get worst

[kiwiwinjindouche]

Masterlist of my Dishonored OCs:

(Half of them met Jindosh at some point because no one can stop me I fear) Some might be more specific to a game or period of time, and their story contains spoilers according to it. I'm linking their ToyHouse pages as well, but if you can't see it it means I'm not done yet. If you have any questions about any of them I'd gladly answer it! You can follow the tag ' dishonored oc ' on my blog, I use it to talk about them.

Thank you for your interest in them! <3

Last but not least, if you think one of your babeis could have some nice interactions or anything with one of mine, I'd love to hear about it and make some connections!

Kirin's childhood:

Adrian: My version of Kirin's big brother. He is his #1 fan and works at the mines for Aramis Stilton.

Marisol: Adrian's girlfriend at the time. Due to HHH unfortunate incidents, she'll leave Karnaca and go to Morley, only to come back around 25 years later with her new husband.

Ivanoe: Kirin's 'rival', he hated him so much. He's the only one in the friends group that actually disliked him (Kirin killed the cat he was taking care of so yeah).

Onésime: He was the Curator at the Conservatory, but before that, he was a teacher at the Academy. He was glad a young spirit like Kirin would be so interested by all that.

Ya-Hui (/Grace): Actual teacher at the Academy. She's always been by Kirin's side, until the Unfortunate Event. She taught him some bits of violin and made him growing fond of music even more.

Caleb (all 3 games): He was an Overseer, but to protect his sister (Abigail, below) he took her place and went to jail (not long before DH1 events). He'd eventually be given the chance to join the navy, but no one expected him to last this long.

Abigail (all 3 games): Witch doomed by the narrative. As you can imagine, being the sister of an Overseer was a bit complicated. Her love for the witches led her to places where she shouldn't have been.

Jennifer (all 3 games): Whaler OC, girlfriend of Abigail - a witch and a whaler was quite the duo too. They love each other dearly, despite everything.

Sybill (all 3 games): She lived on the streets with her sister, but the later got into the Golden Cat. Meanwhile, Sybill joined the Bottle Street Gang. She's the Sherlock Holmes of Dishonored.

Archibald (DH1/DH2): My first DH OC, he was supposed to be the one helping Corvo, but I ended up with the son instead (Vincent, below). He helped Sybill and worked with the City Watch.

Vincent (DH2): #1 fan of Jindosh in Dishonored events. He helps Corvo and works under cover with the Howlers.

Aldina (DH2/DOTO+): Her family are/were (for spoilers reasons) nobility in Karnaca, and had connections with the Duke, but Aldina always hated old men and find them boring. She wanted to become a witch, but Kirin found her instead and took her in his mansion to teach her things.

Nelly (DH2/DOTO+): She works for Jindosh, and takes care of Aldina too.

Octave (DOTOish): Marisol's husband. He's an artist from Morley, and works with Jindosh on the cinema and cartoon.

Sinclair (/Camille) (DOTO+): Singer at the opera, but they're into theater plays too. Their scene name is Camille Butterfly. They had the chance to play the Outsider from time to time.

Rosario (DOTO+): New Curator at the Conservatory. I still need to work a bit on them.

[theproverbialpen]

Mwahahahaha, it's my turn now. 😏 Dionysus lives rent free in my brainhole, sooooo, if you're willing to indulge me, maybe some Dio being a tease, maybe even at a party in a secluded corner. No matter what, I know it'll SLAP. 😌

Okay, that's it. LOVE YOU 🌸🌸🌸

Oh gosh I'm finally done with this one. No beta bc honestly this has taken me long enough and lowkey I need to go to sleep now LMAO but I hope you enjoy my dear 💜🍇

Wanna Dance?

Summary: You're a palace guard at Olympus who was taken from her duties into a role altogether unfamiliar for one of Zeus' banquets. You're out of your element, but you are in the element of a certain god, and said god has no problem showing you the ropes...

Word Count: 2,752

Tags: Alcohol, brief altercation, but if you can believe it nothing else LMAO

Line divider by @/vibeswithrenai found here Screencap from @/neal-illustrator's Rush animatic

This had to be the worst day of your life.

You were a harpy, one of the privileged few to have the honor of serving under the exalted Horai, standing guard over Olympus itself. Day after day, you would patrol its hallowed halls, your hand resting atop the hilt of your sword as you remained ever vigilant. You prided yourself on your skill with the blade and—when all else failed—the sharpness of your claws. Indeed, you were a warrior through and through, so when it came time for another one of Zeus’s banquets, you expected to take your place standing watch at the edges of the party once more.

What you had not expected was the number of guests that would be attending said banquet. Evidently, neither had Zeus. One by one, you had watched the servants of Olympus get pulled from their original posts to act as cupbearers for the overwhelming throng of deities that had come to bask in the God King’s opulence. When they ran out of servants, they began to pull soldiers. And when they ran out of soldiers, well…

Needless to say, you had found yourself in a fate far worse than death—serving wine to major and minor gods like some sort of dainty little nymph.

If it would not be so horrifically disrespectful to your sovereign, you would have thrown yourself off the edge of the peak by now, your wings be damned. You doubted Zeus would have cared about you specifically, but if you damaged his reputation by making such a scene at his banquet? You doubted even the plane between the living and the dead could have separated you from the Thunder Bringer’s wrath.

Speaking of making a scene, it seemed like some of the banquet guests did not have the same wisdom nor foresight that you did. You saw a wave of commotion ripple through the crowd and after depositing your tray on a nearby table, you made your way past the raucous gods and goddesses all the way to the source. At the center of the drunken horde, you came across one of the palace servants held at the wrist by some minor earth god whose name you could not be bothered to remember. He was yelling obscenities at her, barely intelligible through his pronounced slurring. The servant cowered under him, only tearing her eyes away from his enraged face to scan the crowd with a fearful and pleading look.

As soon as you locked eyes with the poor nymph, your body moved as if on instinct. Before you knew it, you had the minor god with his face pressed against the gilded pavement, his arm bent painfully backwards in your firm grasp. “Y-you!” the earth god shouted, his voice muted beneath his smushed cheek. “Get off me, you feathered wretch!”

You clicked your tongue at him and only pressed your foot deeper between his shoulder blades. “You dare to disrespect the King of the Gods with this disruption?” you hissed, twisting the god’s arm even further. He winced in pain then opened his mouth to retort, surely to call you every name in the scrolls, but was interrupted by the booming sound of deep, reverberant laughter.

“It would be in your best interest to listen to the harpy, my dear guest,” Zeus chided as he approached. The crowd went silent, each and every onlooker holding their breath in anticipation. You felt the god begin to shake violently in your hold and you released him, just managing to refrain from spitting on him as you stepped back and took your place behind your King. The earth god scrambled onto his hands and knees, spinning to bow at Zeus’ feet. From his mouth, epithets and apologies flowed forth like a dam burst until finally Zeus lifted his right foot and tucked the strap of his sandal under the lesser god’s chin.

With a flick of his ankle, he forced the god’s attention upward and regarded him with a baleful smile. “Since this is a party and I’d hardly want to ruin the mood, you may have my mercy—for now. Do try to mind your manners, though. Well-” Zeus tilted his head and you watched on, your lips curling downward into a grimace as lighting danced between his golden, textured strands. “You best do more than just try.”

Zeus lowered his foot and stepped back, leaving the god to offer one last pathetic croak of gratitude before stumbling to his hands and knees and all but sprinting away. You relaxed with a small sigh only to tense all over again when you caught Zeus looking at you over his shoulder. “Well done,” he praised with a mirthful chuckle. “Impressive moves you got there, little one.” You bowed at the waist, only lifting your head when you felt his hand on your arm, so large that his fingertips almost reached the base of your right wing. “Now then, back to work! These guests won’t serve themselves!”

Zeus laughed, larger than life and just as deafening, before releasing you and striding off toward a gaggle of sea goddesses who immediately began giggling amongst themselves. You straightened your back and inhaled deeply through your nose, your muscles already spasming with frustrated tension. With a slow, measured exhale, you rolled your shoulders and returned to the table to retrieve your tray.

No sooner had you picked up the platter and loaded two flutes onto it than you were interrupted by another voice, this one entirely unfamiliar to you:

“Our magnanimous king wasn’t wrong. You sure know how to put on a show, sweetheart.”

You turned to find a god sauntering over to you with a confident, sultry sway of his hips. His tanned skin contrasted well with his fluffy, sandy blond hair and his purple himation; though, for a himation, you would hardly classify it as a garment—after all, it failed to cover much of anything. The god’s torso was exposed for the entirety of Olympus to see, from his toned chest all the way down to the dip of his pelvis. To complete his flamboyant ensemble, he wore several pieces of fine jewelry and had a leopard’s pelt draped over his shoulders, topped off with grape leaves and an unmistakable golden laurel.

You had never heard this god’s voice before, but you sure as hell knew who you were looking at.

“Thank you, Lord Dionysus,” you bowed, bringing your free hand to rest diagonally across your chest. “I am honored to receive your praise.”

Dionysus threw his head back and laughed, and while it too sounded larger than life, his laughter was far smoother than Zeus’ had been. It was melodic, rich in tone yet somehow airy at the same time, and it was unmistakably jovial in the way that only the God of Wine and Festivity’s laughter could be. “Proper little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased, righting himself. “What a cutie~”

“I-I beg your pardon, my lord?” you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave before you could wrangle it back under control. Your eyes went wide as an unfamiliar heat crept up your face. Were you…were you blushing? Gods above and around, you couldn’t recall the last time you had ever, had ever…blushed.

Dionysus smirked at you, his eyes crinkling smugly beneath his long dark lashes. “I called you cute, wings,” he chuckled. “This is the part where you say, ‘thank you’.” 

You blinked a few times, still flabbergasted that a major god like Dionysus was exchanging more than a few words with you, much less complimenting you. Not on your skill, not on your technique, but your appearance of all things. Eventually, you were able to break out of your stupor enough to form a somewhat coherent response. “I, uh… t-thank you, my lord. You are too kind.”

Dionysus hummed amusedly, that smirk still plastered firmly upon his face. “And you are far too rigid for this kind of party. It wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little. Especially since you finally get to join us in the heart of it all and instead of being stuck patrolling the outskirts with that longing stare of yours.”

Now that gave you pause. This was the first banquet you had served as a cupbearer, but it was hardly the first banquet you had been on duty. Just as Dionysus said, your role had typically been to stand watch over the perimeter or to deal with the occasional rowdy guest. You were no stranger to these soirées, but you certainly considered yourself a stranger to their guests. So then how did Dionysus know you were a guard?

Dionysus watched the confusion twist your features with a self-satisfied purse of his lips. “C’mon, birdie—ya think I haven’t been to enough of these things to recognize a familiar face?” he teased. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen you in action either. Such graceful footwork…shame you waste it on tackling brutes when you could be out there dancing instead.” 

The god before you pressed his bent wrist to his forehead with a wistful sigh and, had it not been for how severely he outranked you, you may have even scoffed. Dancing, like some court charlatan, when you had a job to do? When you had beings of unquantifiable importance to protect? Perish the damn thought. Nevermind how fun it looked, twirling around through the crowd, weaving between the clamoring bodies to the lively beat of the drum and the bright strum of the lyre? No you…that kind of life was not meant for you. You were not meant for it. You were a warrior, a faithful servant, and it was about time Dionysus remembered that and stopped wasting his time and yours.

“I am perfectly happy with my responsibilities, my lord,” you asserted with a tight, thin lipped smile. Dionysus stilled, scrutinizing your face as if to pierce through to your innermost thoughts with his stare alone. The feeling of being studied, perceived, intensely unnerved you, but you tightened your smile even further and raised your tray toward him nonetheless. “Why don’t you go ahead and get back to the dance floor, Lord Dionysus?” you deflected, offering the flutes to him. “There are plenty of guests here who would make great dance partners.”

For once, the smirk that was practically etched onto his divine, annoyingly pretty face almost seemed to falter. Still, he finally reached out and took the flutes off of your platter. You nodded at him respectfully, prepared to turn back around and refill your supply. You did a double take, however, as Dionysus casually lifted both of his arms and bent his elbows back, flinging the nectar from the glasses. The golden liquid hit the ground with an audible ‘splash’ and your jaw followed before you could stop it, your widened eyes flitting rapidly between the marble slabs and Dionysus’ pleased face.

“Oh don’t look too distraught, sweetie,” Dionysus quipped. “That stuff was no better than juice—in comparison to what I can provide, that is.” 

He shifted to hold both flutes in his left hand and, with his right one now free, rolled his wrist in a small circle. Along with the motion, a streak of light filled the air, spiraling into a singular point and depositing a large golden goblet filled to the brim with a bubbling purple liquid. Dionysus then lifted the cup high over his head and poured the wine into the empty flutes with an elegant flourish. And he had said you knew how to put on a show.

You gave him a smile that you hoped didn’t look as terse as it felt, resisting the urge to applaud sarcastically. Eventually, you decided on a polite dip of your head, prepared to get back to your duties and let him get back to partying. However, when you lifted your gaze, you were shocked to find Dionysus was holding one of the flutes out to you, waving it back and forth enticingly. You stared at the cup with one brow raised before your gaze shifted to focus on the god behind it with his playful, ever-present smirk.

“Your offer is generous, Lord Dionysus,” you attested, evenly as you could with your patience waning, “but I must apologize for having to decline. Cupbearers are not allowed to take part in any libations—they are only to be enjoyed by guests.” You steeled your resolve, readying yourself to deflect any further insistence on Dionysus’ part. You expected a disappointed shrug, an offended glare, or perhaps even a few berating words.

What you should have expected was that Same. Damn. Smirk.

“Well,” he began, his voice low and inviting as he looked you up and down, “then consider yourself my guest for this evening, yeah?”

You felt your jaw tense, gritting your teeth behind what you hoped was a relatively neutral expression. “I…cannot abandon my post, Lord Dionysus,” you reiterated. Were you not keen on attracting attention by prolonging your interactions with the literal life of the party? Absolutely. Were you afraid of incurring Zeus’s ire, an ire which there was no chance in Elysium you’d survive? Undoubtedly so. But perhaps even more so than all of that, you simply didn’t know how to ‘loosen up a little’. And while you would always pride yourself on your discipline, you weren’t entirely sure at this point that you didn’t want to learn…

Unfortunately, Dionysus had picked up on your hesitation. Out of the blue, his eyes shone with a particular glint and before you knew it he was upon you. He walked you down, stalking toward you like a leopard who knew its kill was secured, flutes still in hand and a knowing smile upon his face. You lifted your empty tray in a feeble attempt to create space between you and your aggressor, praying your silver shield would be enough to fend off his effortless, persuasive charisma. Before you knew it, you found yourself at a pillar, back pressed against it with the uncharacteristically naive hope that you would melt into it and escape his smug stare and even more smug smirk. But alas, all you did was give him a surface to lean against as he towered over you, making you feel smaller than any cyclops or chimera ever had.

“C’mon, birdie,” he murmured, gentle and soft as if speaking to a cornered animal (which you very much were). “You’ve battled more monsters and miscreants than I could count, I’m sure. Is the big, bad harpy really this scared of dancing with me?” Against all odds, trapped between Dionysus’ toned bicep and his tilted head, you were scared. You were scared of your racing heart, your sweaty palms, and the flustered way he was making you feel. You were scared of the side of you he was bringing out, a side you never knew existed, and you almost felt like you were going mad.

Dionysus leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear as he chuckled. “I promise…I’ll take care of ya, sweetheart. So why don’t you relax and have some fun for once?” He pulled back, just enough for you to look him right in his lidded eyes, and you swallowed hard as you finally remembered how to breathe. He waited there in that same position, not advancing but also not letting you retreat, and patiently looked you up and down as his smirk grew wider and wider in the prolonged silence.

Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you were indeed a warrior through and through. You may not have had a damn clue about what you were about to get into, but damn it all if you were going to back down from this cocky bastard of god and his stupid challenge. You eyed the flute in his left hand and swiftly swiped it from his grasp, surprising him just enough for him to step away and give you space to throw your head back and down the wine in one go. 

The cup now empty, you snapped forward and wiped the trickling liquid with your forearm, staring Dionysus down with a fire in your eyes as you finally, finally got to see that damn smirk all off his face. But of course, it was back before you knew it, a playful, fae-like sparkle dancing in his gaze.

“‘Atta girl.”

With that, Dionysus grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the center of the banquet, his laughter so jovial and infectious that soon enough, you found yourself laughing right along with him.

[tbob-enthusiast]

Okay, I really need to reply to this post.

OP, I LOVE HOW YOUR MIND WORKS. I love your ideas and the reason why you chose to go with them, the way you worked with each character's "worst possible outcome" feels so so nice, man AAHH

- I love how you played into Dipper's and Mabel's insecurities (Dipper's masculinity and Mabel's cuteness);

- I love (AUGH) how Stan was locked behind a mirror 😭 Oh my god. And he had to tell the truth to Soos in order to get the portal back on?! I love this man. Locked in a mirror and still dedicated to save his brother. Good man.

- Wendy has got to be my favorite. I love that you chose a wood giant as a species for her, which is LOVELY because it fits her perfectly !!!!! You said it yourself !!! "Freakishly tall" as an insecurity combined with "becoming a TREE monster while my entire family are lumberjacks"?? WONDERFUL, MAN. WONDERFUL. The detail of her shivering when she's anxious makes me so so happy, and I hope her friends will still stick with her regardless (though I have no idea if they would... I'd like to hope so, but mm.)

- I also want to mention that I was already going to follow you due to this awesome post (your ideas are FIRE !!!), but I had to pause my reading and click "follow" because you mentioned Robbie AND Thompson at one point. People never mention Thompson, so seeing you give him some recognition immediately got you in my good graces, even if this doesn't mean much to you in the long run bwahha

- I also love Soos as a gluttony demon awawawaw... I feel so bad for him though :(( !!!

- the Valentino family is ON POINT OH MY GOSH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I actually have so so many questions for them hold on:

- Will any of them ever rot? If yes, how do they fix it?

- As a zombie, it's sort of implied that Robbie won't get to grow up. How does his body work? What stops him from dying? What stop his from rotting? Does he still need air, food, blood and sleep? Does he ever crave brains like summoned zombies do? Is he weak to three-part harmonies like summoned zombies are? If not, is he, like, a different breed of zombie ??? If blood still pumps in his veins, can he reproduce??? Does he still feel pain???

- Assuming he can't grow up physically, can he be modified manually?? Pick and choose new body parts, Grandpa Frankenstein style 😭😭😭 ?

- On a related note... If his body is actually stagnated as a 14yo zombie, does that mean his brain is physically incapable of developing any further, essentially age-locking him into being 14, physically and mentally, forever?

- On another related note: can either of them die ??? Like, I assume they can die from accidents or murder or anything, but can they age out? Can Janice just die from old age, or would she live for hundreds of years and only change vessels at best? Can Greg switch bodies if his gets too old and wrinkly? Can Robbie just exist for an absurdly long time, assuming his body doesn't rot in a normal way?

- Also lmao— did Greg and Janice really produce a child themselves? If so, that's the miracle of life right there. How did that even happen. Gravity Falls, how did that even happen lmao HEHAHEE /LH

- Also also can they have Shifty as a pet or a little sibling? Please. PLEASE. It would be so funny. It would be SO FUNNY, this nuclear, suburban-looking little family conveniently composed of monsters, just chilling in the cemetery HEAHHEHEHEHEHR. Shifty and Robbie can bond about hating Dipper, I promise it'll be so funny /J . Shifty can also receive the parental love (a little suffocating kind of it, but still love) that he was denied from having from his OG "parents" (Stanford and Fiddleford) back in the bunker 🙌

I love Pacifica's family on this too 😭😭😭 the choice for Pacifica's monster connecting to her "being stuck in this life because she masked being an aristocratic jerk for so long that it became a part of her real self" is brutally cool, man. Tragic, but cool...

- Where did Priscilla go 😭 omg girl I hope you marry rich again. Go wild, dear . The way he IMMEDIATELY divorced you 😭😭😭😭😭

- Also would a dog whistle work on Preston? IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY. TRY THAT BELL AGAIN, PUPPY, COME ON 👹👹👹👹👹👹

Also, I really did miss Gideon, but I admit it'd be hard to find something for him. Arguably, he cares about his "cuteness" way more than Mabel does, because that's (one of) his greatest asset(s) in convincing people into doing what he wants. Losing that means losing everything (his crowd, his role as Lil' Gideon), especially if whatever form he gets makes it harder for him to see (read + write) or talk (charm people). It's not up to me though hehehehee.

Overall I'm so happy you posted this, man. Thank you for your input, I loved hearing your ideas :D !!!!!

Idea: Monster Falls but evil (by which I mean the nature of the curse, not the characters) (longpost)

So I was looking at Monster Falls stuff and thinking, "Hey, these characters keep ending up being cool." Like, it's not as if Dipper would be especially happy to be half deer but a cervitaur is cool, aligns with who Dipper wants to be well enough, and he totally gets abilities he likes out of the deal. Mabel's usually happy to be a mermaid or a unicorn and again, it fits. And no hate. I like Monster Falls because it's fun like that.

But what if instead of fitting the character, it fit their insecurities, traumas, etc., in the worst possible way?

It starts at Dreamscaperers. Gideon is trying to summon Bill, but there's been some sort of edit war in Journal 2 on the incantation (Ford trying to cross it out and Bill putting it back in) that makes it very hard to read. As a result, Gideon says the wrong incantation and, instead of summoning Bill, turns everybody inside the weirdness barrier into monsters. He himself ends up becoming a siren, and nearly chokes to death-- he is extremely lucky that Soos is there and not willing to let a child die on his watch even if that child is a total creep, although he hates that Soos did the rescue and not Mabel (Mabel was honestly debating if she should leave Gideon there, since he tried to kill her brother once and she's fairly certain Gideon would do it again if he had the chance). You would think that being a siren would be fun for Gideon, but it turns out he actually HATES singing and acting. It started as something his dad forced him to do because his dad couldn't cut it as a singer, then became a means of manipulating people post-amulet. He doesn't like being confined to Gravity Falls Lake because it limits how much control he can exert over people, and he hates how meaningless it is when humans agree to things now because he has no way of knowing if they truly want to or not. Forcing compliance from people who don't want to do things seems like something that should annoy Gideon, but it's actually the only part of ordering people around that he enjoys and now he's lost it. His abilities don't work on monsters, and everybody blames him for the monster transformations, so they want nothing to do with him either.

Dipper winds up becoming a tooth fairy. This kid, who struggles so much with his masculinity and not being taken seriously because of his youth, has to learn to live as a sparkly (I'm thinking he literally emits glitter instead of sweat) eater of bones. He's initially really tiny too and has to get a blast from the size-changing gem to get to the size he's used to. Even so, he's never going to grow facial or more chest hair. He has to subsist on bones-- while he can get by on animal bones, he needs to get the trace-mineral-plot-stuff that's only in human bones every now and then. He's in zombie country, not a murderer/butcher, and the teeth need to be in decently good shape to be nutritious enough for him, so that pretty much leaves children's lost teeth as his best bet for food. While he can eat non-bones, he doesn't get any nutrition from them and it's sort of like a lactose intolerance where if he overdoes it he's in for a very bad time in the bathroom. He isn't compelled to leave money or trinkets behind-- it's more of a bribe for kids not to call the cops on him, since he kind of breaks and enters to get those teeth ("Hi, may I feed upon your child's discarded tooth?" isn't exactly something you ask people and get a yes often for, even in monster town). Also, Dipper can't hide being a fairy because his toes are gone. Fairy legs and feet are vestigial. He has to fly to get around with his sparkly pink wings that feel like getting kissed by a butterfly when they hit people. Upside: he gets magic access! Downside: Whenever he uses it his Big Dipper birthmark glows and he sparkles more intensely!

And Mabel, who values her cuteness so much and loves bringing smiles to people's faces, ends up being a gorgon-- the last thing anybody wants to be face-to-face with. She looks a lot like what Bill made her look like in Dreamscaperers when he took her cuteness, but with more grayish skin and rubber boas (the snake species is native to Oregon. Rubber boas are friendly, peaceful noodles but they are dirt-colored and most enjoy chilling in dark places away from non-boas) instead of hair. She has a mental link with the boas and can use them like short-range grappling hooks, but they get extremely stressed out when she hasn't got a hoodie or something like it that they can hide in, and that makes her stressed out. Also rubber boas hibernate, so that makes her extremely tired for a good chunk of the year, and she has to accommodate their dietary needs too as they rely on her for food (Fun fact: Mabel juice is very bad for rubber boas). She has to wear very dark sunglasses to protect other people-- only humans are turned to stone when they look her in the eye (and it is possible to reverse, but a really big PITA), but monsters feel a very sharp and sudden bolt of cold that briefly stuns them (it often scares fellow monsters away). Mabel struggles because she's, like, not a superficial person at all! That's something she really values. But at the same time she hates her gray-green skin and having these weird poop noodles for hair that give her the Torments when she drinks Mabel juice or uncovers her head too much. And people outside of her family who aren't Grenda or Candy (both would most enjoy being monsters, and so of course were out of town when all this stuff went down) definitely treat her differently now that she's not as conventionally adorable as she used to be. It's hurtful.

Stanley, who has always struggled with feeling like a shittier clone of his brother and who is determined to stay out of everybody's business, ends up as the Reflexorcist. The Reflexorcist was a monster introduced in the Book of Bill. It is confined to the mirror realm (good luck getting that portal running now, Stan! Actually, he winds up asking Soos to do it in a moment of desperation. It does delay things by a lot so Ford is able to slay Bill before it's activated.) and compulsively lists off everybody's insecurities when they see themselves in the mirror. I do think it would be interesting to expand the Reflexorcist's powers so it also reads intrusive and embarrassing thoughts as opposed to just talking about your appearance. Stan does not want to hear and definitely does not want to blurt out to Dipper what Dipper thinks about Wendy, his puberty voice, and his lack of chest hair when he brushes his teeth. Stan has to fight every instinct in his body not to do that, but it's a lot easier to resist the urge when it's somebody who has accepted their insecurities and embarrassments. Meaning that Stan feels pressured to get involved and help people, even though he'd truly rather not know and projects an image of not caring about other people at all.

Soos, who is so good hearted and kind to everybody but clumsy to a fault, ends up becoming a demon. If he's not careful, he can induce nightmares in people and monsters, and his powers relate to lowering people and monsters' inhibitions so they're more willing to commit his assigned sin. Fortunately his sin is gluttony, so nothing violent, but unfortunately gluttony is very ill-defined and can include acts of greed like hoarding money-- and he can't share his snacks, as any food he comes into contact with or helps prepare is automatically tainted with sin and will not satiate people or monsters. It makes life hard at the Mystery Shack because his sin-fluence tempts customers to steal, and the only thief allowed in the shack is Stan. He's sort of structured his identity around being Stan's son-ployee, so not being able to work at the Mystery Shack really, really hurts him and he has to find meaning outside of that. It also sucks because Stan (being stuck in the mirror realm) is one of the few folks who can actually interact with him without getting influenced by sin. Plus it's hard for him to help people when his sin-fluence makes them more inclined to be uncooperative and ungrateful. Poor guy is constantly hungry too-- it's not like he's starving or anything, but he never feels quite full and it sucks. At least he doesn't put on weight as a demon, but he doesn't lose weight either.

Wendy, who was so embarrassed by being freakishly tall as a kid and comes from a family of lumberjacks, ends up becoming the same species as Steve. For the sake of the story we'll call him a wood giant. The wood giant is a huge creature that latches its soul onto gigantic trees and more recently machines to give itself the ability to interact with the physical world. It is a solitary thing that generally hides out from lumberjacks, since lumberjacks cutting down their trees hurts them. Unsurprisingly, being a giant makes it very hard for her to interact with her friends, and she hates how she is constantly conspicuous. If she's feeling anxious, she can't exactly play it off like it's nothing because people will see her shaking. And Steve is not a very nice giant-- think of the worst things about Robbie combined with the worst things about Thompson, and you have Steve's personality.

Pacifica, who is haunted by the sins of her family that she is conditioned to participate in and values her beauty and public relations so much, ends up being a krasue. A krasue is a spirit in Southeastern Asian folklore who looks normal during the day but by night detaches the rest of her body from her head, neck, heart, stomach, and intestines and floats around looking for rotten and disgusting things to eat (Lucky for Pacifica but damning for the American food system, ultra-processed food counts as trash so she can live off that-- although she's very ashamed of it). They are largely harmless, but basically nobody likes them because they get bile and slime all over the place, and they are particularly attracted to placentas and clothes. In Thai myths, they are women who lived sinful, fraudulent lives and thus were cursed. Sometimes the spirit and the woman are one and the same, sometimes the spirit and woman are separate but the woman can't survive after being cut off from the spirit, whereas the spirit will just find a new host if cut off from the woman-- I am thinking this might be interesting to toy with as a metaphor for social status and the upper class. She finds it and things her family has done for it grotesque, yet she can't live without it and she knows she'll just be replaced if she leaves. She's been pretending to be a superficial, snobby aristocrat just like her mom and dad for so long that it became part of her true self. Her mom and dad are not doing much better here-- Priscilla has become a Killbilly and Preston has become a werewolf. Her mom's personality and interests are largely intact, but now it causes her severe pain to wear shoes, jewelry, or uncomfortable clothing, she has claws instead of nails, and she is more comfortable communicating in hambone code and "banjo songs" (like whale songs, but for Killbillies) than English. However, Preston rejects her for being a filthy hillbilly and files for divorce immediately. He on the other hand is in deep denial that he has become anything at all. It's not clear if he blacks out in wolf form because of something the form does or because he thinks he is about to black out and that makes it real. He refuses to see the significance in the additional hair he has been growing even during the day and does everything he can to hide it. Although his wolf form looks fearsome, his behavior is more in line with a really intelligent, rowdy dog. While he will put his dirty paws on the couch, shred pillows, counter surf, and hunt deer, he is actually a lot easier and more fun to be around as a wolf than as a human. If he wasn't in denial of being a werewolf, he'd be utterly furious and baffled about people preferring his wolf form.

Old Man McGucket, who worked so hard to forget his traumas, ends up being a shapeshifter. His true form is now the same as the Shifty who traumatized him so long ago, and he doesn't have a good grip on his powers thanks to his scrambled mind so he regularly transforms into whatever comes to mind without realizing or even thinking about it. He is in for a lot of sleepless nights, and so are the people neighboring the Gravity Falls city dump. He does get a better handle on things after confronting his past and the Society of the Blind Eye, at least, but it's still incredibly tough for him to resemble the thing that hurt him so much so long ago and remembering the past has its own toll.

I like the idea of a twist where the Valentinos actually weren't changed at all. Greg was the product of Victor's experimentation with the bodies at his funeral home to produce the perfect son-- basically Frankenstein's monster if Frankenstein actually loved him. Janice is a lich puppetting another deceased woman's body, and she feels so blessed to have found her kind of "people" in the Valentinos. Robbie was somehow born human despite the circumstances, but has been a zombie since he was 14 when an accident at summer camp resulted in him drowning. His mother performed a profane forbidden ritual to defy god and save him, and that was the consequence.

Those are my ideas so far. I have no idea where to take them but figured it was worth sharing. I hope you like them.

[veterveter]

YO MANU THIS FINALLY CAME THROUGH I'LL LIKE READ AND DO COMMENTARY AND EDIT THIS LATER BUT I WANTED TO POST IT WHILE I HAD IT!!!!

Bless, tumblr finally working for you.

Anyway, here's the post from @delirious-and-slightly-murderous

So seeing as Tumblr hates me, I'm trying this darling, hope it reaches you.

So just read rat king.

[You should all totally read rat king if you haven't yet, it's fun I promise :) But also read Manu's commentary on it!!]

Tuuli I hope you know I love you and completely adore you and I am in awe of you but right now I HATE YOU. 

You broke me AGAIN. And I was just mending myself.

This was great and beautiful and fantastic and completely awful and the worst thing I've ever seen in my life. 

I'm crying.

So now I'm going to make a habit of coming to scream at you on tumblr every time you post something. 

You already know how I feel about your characterization and Andrés' POV and the angst. So there, it applies here too.

Here we go you awful and magnificent goddess.

“Martín,” Sergio clarified, moving up his glasses, the prescription of which was much too weak for his continuously worsening eyesight, “I think you should stop sleeping with him: Yes, Segio and his judgement. That couldn't not be there. But Andrés and Martín are sleeping together? I know this is going to hurt.

Martín was a constant in his life, something carried over from before. Martín? Martín wasn’t a problem; Martín was the only one thing that was good: at least here he appreciates him. Thank god.

Before, he would have found some entirely healthier way of loving his soulmate. Maybe they would have even had an old-world relationship, eventually. Andrés felt like he might have liked that, once. He knew Martín would have loved it: 😭 I want this for them and it hurts that it's simply not going to happen. I'm afraid of the MCD tag, Tuuliiiiiiiiiiii! Who did you kill, you murderous genius?

Andrés needed Martín, desperately. Too desperately to love him the way he should have: I'm going to die. He could at least try but nooooo, god forbid the day Andrés de Fonollosa makes things simple for anyone.

Andrés could see the way orgasms had loosened some of the tensions that so often gripped his body, and he hoped Sergio could too.😏

 If Andrés had to choose only one, he would have certainly chosen— : repressed asshole. I hope that was going to end with the word Martín. Why are you even getting married? What's even the point. But I see Andrés will continue to be emotionally stunted even when the world is ending.

Martín and Sergio had gotten along well, before. Andrés could remember so many pleasant evenings, just the three of them and a bottle of wine. But ever since they had to move to this base, the tensions had been palpable. They were both desperately trying to keep them alive, but were constantly disagreeing on the how: I'm starting to like Sergio more than Andrés here, how is that possible? How? See what you do Tuuli?

He turned around at the doorway and left the room, because he had no doubts about it: they would listen to him: Andresito, you are being too egocentric, this is not going to end well, for anyone.

Andrés understood just enough to know he was proud.: I don't know how to feel about this Andrés. I can't.

Andrés always tried not to take the slights of this brave new world personally – it was cruel, but they all had to endure loss of unspeakable magnitude – but this? Having to choose between his Martín and his brother?: Oh no, Oh no, NO. This isn't fair. Why do I get the terrible feeling we already know who he's going to choose? Please DON'T do this.

Andrés knew with unwavering certainty that either one of them would be willing to do it, and that they would consider it a great big favour to Andrés, and not the horrifying curse it truly was. He was the one who would have to pay the ultimate price, and live, knowing how much it had cost: Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it Andrés. You fucking deserve it.

Andrés could appreciate such a malleable room, because it reminded him of Martín, who always became what Andrés needed him to be.😡😭💔

Martín had never cared about plants, before. Actually, he seemed to have held a certain disdain for them. He had always said they were stupid and lifeless. Now he was looking at these ones, their lifeline, and he was filled with reverence and sorrow. If Andrés could have given him one thing, he would have liked to return to him his complete disregard for flora, and all the things it had since then come to imply: This hurts, and not only for obvious reasons. But nature? Fuck right in the feels.

Martín was entirely too pretty to look like this. They hadn’t even been having sex, because suddenly Martín looked like his eternally calcium-deficient bones might now break from the strain. Pretty Martín yeah! And you are a genius. Now this is my official headcanon as to why Martín drinks milk, he has fragile bones, the poor baby.

The weird walking corpse at the table smiled, and it almost made him resemble Martín.: He's already halfway dead. The MCD tag is him isn't it? I hate you Tuuli.

Andrés had to remind himself that he was lucky to have this. He may have had so many better things, before, but now he had this, and that was good. They had it better than most, him and Martín, for they had each other. Andrés still had his brother, and now he would have his wife, too. He was lucky: Not for long, buddy. And you deserve it. Poor Sergio I normally hate him but gosh.

“No,” Andrés said without waiting for a single beat, because he couldn’t let Sergio think he considered it. Even though he almost— “No, I don’t. I want you two, both of you, to figure out a way. A different way.”: He loves them both and he accepts it? Why does the world have to be ending.

Andrés tried not to think too much about Martín from before, but sometimes he did anyway. That night, as he wrapped his arms around Martín’s pathetic, weak and shivering frame, he thought about his true soulmate, the one this body had once belonged to.: Now I understand Martín sacrificing himself is the only way. He's already dead. And because of Andrés no less. How tragic.

Andrés had never said it back.

That night, he didn’t say it back.: Now Martín is going to die and it'll be horrible isn't it? Tuuli I want to murder you.

I’m so sorry, Andrés,” Sergio said quietly, slowly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

Andrés recoiled from it, sharply. “No,” he snapped, “No. We are all going to die. Say those words, Sergio. We are all going to die.” He had made his peace with death long ago. There were worse things, many things so much more horrifying—

“We are not all going to die,” Sergio said, “The generator—” His words were cut off by Andrés’s hand on his throat, squeezing.: You are the king of denial, bad decision, being stupid, emotionaly stunned and not appreciating your soulmate enough Andrés. You deserve all the pain.

“He doesn’t deserve that,” Andrés said, his voice breaking again as he thought of it, Martín’s body, his corpse, frozen and preserved like that for as long as they would live. Martín, out there, while Andrés was in here, unable to ever go and give him even a proper burial. He had always been able to give Martín so little, and in death he would fail him yet again: I really have no words for this. But Martín being forever preserved out there and Andrés knowing that and not being able to mourn him. That is genius and it hurts and it's the perfect ending for them.

Andrés had never told him. Not once. How could he be certain that Martín had known? How could he insist that Martín, the brightest of them all, had known, when Andrés had never told him? Martín operated in words – how could Andrés have forced him to read his love in a language he didn’t even speak?: Now you confront your feelings too late, like always you repressed asshole. You deserve all the pain.

God, he wished Martín hadn’t been so bright. That he had been an idiot, dim-witted and slow like the rest of them.

Then the two of them would have let all of humanity perish.: You already murdered me with 'stay a while' and now this. Tuuli I'm coming back as a vengeful ghost and haunting your perfect ass.

So yeah, I don't have words but that's what I could spit out.

And Tuuli, you know the thing I showed you about the spider? Well when I finished reading this I was crying and wailing. My professor came running because he thought it was another spider or something even worse like a serpent.

When he asked what was going on I was in such a state I could only say 'rat' like a dumbass. 

RAT.

Like seriously? And when he asked again I said Rat king fic and pointed vaguely to my phone. 

He thought I was talking about an actual rat.

So imagine this. We are there, at night (in Costa Rica nightfall is around 6:00pm all year round, so now it's 9:00pm and here in the tropical rainforest it gets Dark), camping in the middle of nowhere in the wild with a tropical storm falling over our heads and I start crying about Rats. 

Congratulations Tuuli, you put me in such a state that I managed to send the whole of 9 biologists into a frenzy, frantically checking out the tents over an imaginary giant rat. 

It was literally terror in the jungle. 

I wanted the earth to shallow me. I didn't know how to explain that all that circus was because of a fucking fic.

I think now I no longer have satelital internet rights.

I hate you.

(P.S: But don't worry I still absolutely adore you, even if now I am the laughing stock of my fellows 🥰😘♥️)

Here have my friend the spider to show how I'm feeling.

[bbq-hawks-wings]

On Hawks' Injuries

Alright, let's get this out of the way.

"His back... It's... gone!"

I may like to act like an intellectual, but no amount of analysing the color of the curtains changes the fact that I'm a married, mother of two, in her mid-twenties fixated on a fictional character from a series aimed at teenagers about superhero high school. The innuendo from Dark Shadow, the implications of what this means for Hawks on a personal and professional level - that shit stings and I might actually cry when this dumpster fire ends up in the anime in a few years.

We won't know about the extent of his injuries until he's been examined by a doctor, but considering how quickly his wings went up (this all happens in seconds which means those flames are extremely hot)...

...We're looking easily at huge patches of third degree burns with first and second scattered across his body. The area most affected is in the center of his back which does not have a lot of soft tissue to insulate before you're getting to very important nerves and organs, and the scar tissue that will likely form in the muscles and skin after healing may leave his movement heavily restricted.

Depending on how gruesome Horikoshi wants to be, Hawks not only will never get his wings back, but he could be looking at significant permanent disability for the rest of his life. This isn't even taking into consideration the acute complications he may face on the road to recovery including fighting off bacterial infections, fluid loss, and his immediate increased risk of hypothermia. Left improperly treated, someone with this level of burn injury faces an agonizing death (though, a quick one after passing out without treatment), and proper treatment would likely require huge amounts of pain medication to make the long road to recovery even bearable. This doesn't even take into account any additional injury he may have sustained when he hit his head after Dark Shadow dropped them off the balcony.

Remembering for a minute that this is a battle Shonen we're talking about, this is an absolute worst case scenario, and this post goes over how it likely won't end up this bad in the narrative, but that doesn't minimize the sheer brutality of the beating he just took. The fact that he only passed out after hitting his head is pretty miraculous in and of itself, but I'll force myself to suspend my amazement a little bit given the nature of the source material.

Let's assume at the very least his wings aren't coming back, and he'll need at least a week with good medical attention and healing quirks to just be able to get out of bed again. What then?

It should always be obvious when I predict the future that it's all speculation because I'm not actually clairvoyant, but you know disclaimer or whatever.

We have some nasty red flags staring us down in regards to where this fight is going right now. Shigaraki is awake. Dabi's words after Tokoyami escapes with Hawks insinuates there's an alternate plan than the MLA had, Gigantomachia is moving, and the tides are quickly turning for the heroes without even all of that. This fight looks like it's about to go south real fast.

If the heroes lose with significant losses - with any amount of death or injury - and with the added knowledge they at least partially relied on young, inexperienced kids to help bolster their numbers in the hopes to end this quickly, by the time Hawks wakes up he'll not only be staring down his own personal loss in the wake but the weight of the guilt of what he'll perceive as his own failure will crush him. I also sincerely believe that worst detail at the end of it will be him knowing he personally killed a good man for nothing to even come of it in the end.

Remembering also that the Hero Public Safety Commission is the one who tasked him with this mission in secret and the fact, again, that they pulled children into this failed fight - I do not believe they will take responsibility. This doesn't even take into account the fact he'll be useless as a hero and that they don't even know the extent of his knowledge of their inner workings which makes him a dangerous potential leak.

What's more, news of Hawks' betrayal of the MLA will spread through the ranks and file into the public consciousness. On every single side Hawks will be the scapegoat while he is fighting for his life from a hospital bed. He'll be in more danger without the fierce protection of trusted friends than he was while deep in enemy territory. If he doesn't have a tribe he can trust to keep him safe, maybe even going as far as to clandestinely steal him away where he can't be found, attempts on his life are not out of the question.

Hawks will have a choice to make - rise up and make some real god-damned change while we're already up to our necks or roll over and let the world come crashing down around him as he sinks into despair. He can either settle for being a symbol of failure or he can take the chance to rebirth himself.

Could Hawks' wings ever come back?

This injury is insinuated to be permanently damaging. Whatever mechanism grafted Hawks' wings to his back and allowed him to control them is implied to be damaged beyond recovery, if not completely gone.

However, given Eri's mere existence it's absolutely possible to rewind that injury. Before the battle began it was insinuated Eri will end up using her power again, perhaps even out of necessity. It's an absolutely broken quirk, to be sure; but running with the idea that at some point her power will be offered to Hawks to let him have his wings back - perhaps it's even her idea - I posit two scenarios:

Hawks accepts and he's given a second chance to be whatever he wants to be. His freedom completely restored to him physically and figuratively, he begins life anew with a zeal and solemn appreciation for life and the people in it because the opportunity to make a full return like this is a one in a million chance he's lucky to have.

Hawks turns her down, at least uncomfortable with the idea of using a child's quirk for his own benefit given his own history, even if she offers it freely with no additional obligation to herself. He takes a moral stand in the moment to say, "It's not your job to fix my mistakes and shortcomings" and lives as an example of accountability and living with the hard choices you've made in life and learning how to be happy despite the loss.

I would personally be happy with either if Horikoshi intends to take either route. It's more than possible neither will happen, but with the Eri angle, I hope the possibility is at least touched upon. Maybe it's a one-shot thing and he chooses to let her restore someone like Mirio instead. Maybe it'll get completely broken and bring back every hero - Hawks, Mirio, Mirko, etc. - perhaps even triggered by her own determination to help in any way she can. We'll have to see. The story can take any number of directions after this, and it's not so much where we're going that has me antsy as much as the wait it'll take to get there.