#they can have a fancy title
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rima-niki · 5 months ago
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Icarus if they ever become a god/vessel should be the Vessel of Change
In this essay i will-
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lurukifennecfox · 1 month ago
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The spirit of Amity Park and Lady Gotham
Amity was a strong spirit. stronger than any city her size or age had any right to be, but she was, and she was going to make it matter.
Gotham was old, she was strong but sick and cursed so she couldn't do much but make her shadows that much darker, enough to be unseen, make her sounds that much louder enough to be unheard, guide the debris or a stray bullet a little to the left so that it would only graze not kill. even sick and hurt she was stubborn and she would make it matter.
Amity was younger than Gotham, most were, but Gotham was impressed with her. just like her Protector Amity was way too strong and way too young and very ambitious and protective of Hers.
they had that in common, Gotham was protective, Possesive. Her people were hers and hers only if they weren't Amity's first she couldn't take them, she would.
Amity was like her people, she was adaptive, sceptical but friendly, hard to gain trust from but loyal if you did. Amity was like her Protectors, she was determined and protective, she was fun but serious.
Gotham was like her people, she was a survivor, untrusting and brash, stubborn but flexible. Gotham was like her Bats, she was curious but secretive, protective to the point of possesivnes, calculated but quippy.
Amity was young and her form reflected that, she looked like a pre-teen like most her Protectors, her wheat blonde hair in star clipped twin-tails, a replica of the Ops Centre for a hat, eyes bright green and glowing freckles dusting her cheeks. her clothes were bright like her houses, always having funny accents and accessories and teared holes, her nails were painted but always chipped.
her laughter was loud with explosions and honking of cars and her voice was chipper and cracking.
Gotham was mature and so was her form, her hair black, iridescent and dripping like an oil spill, her face sickly pale(or ashen) and eyes solid yellow with bat shaped pupils (they were blood red before, just like her lips are) she is always dressed in black, blending with her shadows, clothes elegant but ripped and dirty, bloody pearls on her neck, black claws dripping oil like her hair, breath fogging with smog.
her laughter had clanking of weapons and banging of shots, her voice was raspy and strangled.
Amity looked up to Gotham, her determination and stubborn persistence to protect Hers, her funny quips and sarcastic comments.
They weren't too far by city spirit standards, they were on the same continent after all. And Amity could be that much farther, that much closer, just on the other side of the veil. Amity was in the Realms once, she knew the way back.
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puppetmaster13u · 11 months ago
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I’ve been thinking about this a lot and basically Danny is Beelzebub from Hellva boss with his own casino performs and the entrance defies reality and all his ghost rouges come in and go as they please and some humans and or mortals stumble in and think it’s just some place where metas party their fucking asses off which wouldn’t be that bad if this wasn’t FUCKING GOTHAM. Danny doesn’t know how they got in Gotham but they just want to party but unfortunately for him the bats hear a rumor some meta trafficking ring has been planning a big raid on a certain casino that’s new ish and they have to stop it so they go in disguise and they get to witness Danny and his rouges beat the every loving snot out of some traffickers
maybe Danny is a clone, maybes he’s reincarnated, maybe he lost a bet, maybe he moved to Gotham for fun, maybe he got tossed across the universe into Gotham
who knows certainly not Danny
but to add even more maybe he travels around the casino on trapezes and circus rings that he just flips around it and has a pole it the middle that reaches the ceiling and at the top there’s this disco ball thing that he can activate to make a small nebula or stars surround the casino and make it pretty
oh oh and maybe with him having the title of beelzebub is like gotten after he beat them as in right of conquest, or maybe beelzebub is kinda like a shared name so Danny fuels them and they go around getting mortal action without having to do work, or maybe it was given to him as a present with a bow on top idk
I have no words for this and just had to draw because the idea of a casino or whatever with like, everywhere looking like galaxies and auroras that shift to the music was such an amazing visualization lol
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sesamenom · 7 months ago
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Reverse Gondolin AU family portrait
#silm#silmarillion#idril#tuor#earendil#reverse gondolin au#is this baby earendil's first appearance in the au?#so I decided Idril & Tuor still get married in this au#mostly bc I want Earendil to exist.#i haven't figured out what I want to do with Lomion#but maybe he can be obsessed with tyelpe instead of idril bc they're friends in this au and idril showed up a lot later?#also c&c + celebrimbor moved to gondolin instead of nargothrond since Aredhel lives there#you may notice that tuor has a diff hairstyle & outfit in the au!#this is bc fashion trends in reverse gondolin are more influenced by aredhel's choices than turgons for obvious reasons#hence the white cloaks and shorter (but equally fancy) sleeves#also idril is lord of the mole in the au#my headcanon is that 'lord' as of the lords of gondolin is just the title regardless of gender for the specific role#'lady' is a different role with much less administrative stuff and more social/public-appearance type stuff#aredhel is the white lady of gondolin bc she does Not want to be a lord#so she does the occasional royalty-waves-and-smiles-from-a-tower type event when necessary#but other than that she doesnt have political duties#idril is the administrative/political leader of the Mole in the au hence she is a lord#shes also the lady of the wing bc she married tuor and is part of the house of the wing's nobility but doesn't do their political stuff#and tuor is the lady of the mole#reverse turgon after arrival has less of a interest in politics than canon turgon (the whole eol deal was rather traumatizing and he needs#time to recover)#so he's not one of the Lords but he is colloquially ar-feinion#his official title is some sort of prince#after he reaches a more stable emotional state he helps a lot w the political stuff when aredhel is out#so maeglin doesn't have todo everything himself
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blueberryspyder · 4 months ago
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✦ I know the whiskey on your lips, extends the fire in your heart/ You think you're tearing down the walls, but it's yourself you tear apart ✦
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puppyeared · 2 years ago
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Spirit tracks is fun teehee
#ITS FUN HAVING ZELDA AS A COMPANION OK… title character gets to be playable omg#god. they are everything to me idk why but spirit tracks zelink is my fav by far#It feels more earned I guess? The other zelda games I’ve played p much established zelink as like some unspoken thing#Like uhhh skyward sword gets brought up a lot bc childhood friends. And breath of the wild although I do like botw zelink#But like you get to see their relationship develop in spirit tracks like they go from oh cool we’re teammates to YOU ARE MY BFF#I also like Zelda piping up whenever something happens like. I remember I used to go swimming here do u wanna go swimming when I get#My body back. Also I like being nice to her we are besties your honor#2nd image is my fav expression in windwaker when his magic gauge increase HIS FACE IS EVERYTHING PLEASEEE#I also drew tetra wearing something like baro’t saya? Using her game model and pictures of dresses and the boxer codex#Everything I’m putting on here is experimental anyway cause I’m checking Wikipedia on my own culture 🫡#BUT HELL IT WOULD BE COOL like tetra could have a more rugged baro’t cause like she’s a captain and she needs it when on open sea right#And I can imagine tracks zelda having more of a traje de mestiza dress because it’s more fancy right.. waving my hands#Sometimes Filipino zelda can be something so personal bro#My art#myart#doodles#the legend of zelda#legend of zelda#loz#Spirit tracks#wind waker#took link#Zelink#zelda#Tetra
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cartograffiti · 9 months ago
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Roses 2: Electric Boogaloo
Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel series Rated: M Warnings: No archive warnings apply Word count: 22,890 - Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel (Jupeter), Duke Rose/Dahlia Rose, Rita/Sasha Wire, Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Characters: Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev, Rita, Sasha Wire, Buddy Aurinko, Vespa [Ilkay], Brown Jacket [Jet Sikuliaq], Alessandra Strong, Small Fry - Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev have lived together for a year now. Their happiness would be complete if only people would stop asking them about their plans for the future. They're overdue for a conversation about it, but why rock the boat? Buddy and Vespa Aurinko have a niece who's fallen in with a bad crowd. Has she volunteered her brilliant mind for evil, or is she a hostage? Clearly, only one thing can solve everyone's problems: a fake marriage mission. Undercover again as Duke and Dahlia Rose, the detective and the thief navigate the glittering dangers of [Space Monte Carlo]. At least they'll look fabulous doing it. Roses 2: Electric Boogaloo. A story about desire, commitment, and living dangerously. No longer canon-compliant.
This was written for the 2018/19 Penumbra Mini Bang.
This fic was posted in 2019. I'm sharing it now because I want my Tumblr to have a nicely organized link to each of my fics. Some I've shared with such inconsistent tags I can't find the links myself, and many I've never blogged about at all! This one I know I have, but this is an easy way to get organized.
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dxppercxdxver · 1 year ago
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hello hello! in preparation for the opening of @tf2shipswag's oc bracket For Real i have written a vaguely persons-of-the-tale-esque bit of propaganda fiction in which our unwitting ocs experience a historical anachronism and discover they have been entered into the oc bracket! if you like early enemies to lovers and a tasteful dose of meta fiction (along with aggressively 18th century styled prose) you'll probably like this! i call it "there's such a thing as an author" or "persons of the tale But Worse"
Somewhere just to the left of the story well known, Samuel Mundy sat perched in the bay window, long legs stretched across the whorled-grain boards with languid content. Liquid summersong pooled in his lap with all the warmth of a loyal cat, golden and simple. The glass panes were thrown open to let in the comfort of the season—what little could be snatched from the jagged-toothed forest filled with the crack of gunfire, anyway—and he clutched a chipped china saucer in his fingers, picking at a fresh bread roll.
Gazing across the Manor’s ill-tended garden, Samuel sighed nearly dreamily, a reflexive smile playing across his cracked lips. For once, his little world was quiet, nary a disturbance to be found.
Of course, however, his peace was not destined to last, and Miss Pauling’s far off cry of, “Mail, boys!” roused the rabble from deep within the house’s corridors, who all came a-bustling with the energy of an anthill, and idle chatter filled the air, quickly snuffing the silence. Samuel, pointedly ensconced in his window-borne nest, merely watched his compatriots greet their friend and sponsor on the lawn as she distributed the sheaves of parchment and carefully tied packages amongst them. They were permitted some personal effects at their stations, which included a small allowance for assorted trinkets and treasures, and thus the days Miss Pauling ventured into town were filled with a quiet sort of excitement. Much as they were soldiers of a secret war, and trained for such, it grew dreadfully lonely and dreadfully threadbare.
This day, though… Something about it was different.
While the great majority of his fellows dispersed from the lawn as swiftly as they had come, their spy, Laurent, remained, conversing with Miss Pauling. Samuel could hardly make out a word at his distance, but his eyes were sharpened by his particular profession, and the feeling between their persons was a tense one. Her brows were furrowed sharply over the silvery frames of her spectacles, and Laurent’s hands formed clipped gestures at his sides. Whatever it was they spoke of, it hardly seemed a pleasant thing.
After mere moments more, Laurent plucked a paper from Miss Pauling’s elegantly gloved fingers and held it out before him, pursing his lips as he studied it, before shaking his head, offering Miss Pauling a crisp salute, and trudging across the lawn.
In what appeared to be Samuel’s direction.
Growling softly, Samuel wrinkled his nose, staring firmly down at his plate in some vain hope Laurent would pass him by, that the mysterious business he appeared so perturbed by was kind enough to leave Samuel alone. The last thing he needed was another catastrophe atop the neverending tumultuousness of his wartime existence.
“Bushman.”
In spite of his willing, Laurent’s infuriatingly smooth voice lilted into his ears with a weariness that belied an intent beyond an obligatory passing greeting, and Samuel found himself looking up to meet his tired gaze.
The warmer weather had done a kindness to the spy; his sallow complexion and skeletal frame were given a new life in the sun, and the embroidery in his suit shimmered like the finest of jewels. And still, Samuel couldn’t help but find him dour, unpleasant, and downright infectious in his discomfort. Almost in response to Laurent’s hardened grimace, Samuel shifted in his seat, his skin itching ‘neath his clothes.
“Spook.”
When the acknowledgement of Laurent’s presence failed to dispel him from Samuel’s immediate company, he sighed, and turned to properly face the equally beleaguered spy, letting his boots sway loosely beneath him.
“Unless it’s business, I’m not interested,” he said brusquely, fixing Laurent with a firm stare that he returned with unflinching readiness. Pale eyes bored into his own as Laurent shook his parchment bounty open with a sharp flick of the wrist.
“While my present port of call has little to do with our current occupation,” he said, calm and measured, “I have a feeling you will want to see this.”
The paper was rough and worn, stained deep yellow with the wear of travel, and the ink splashed across it was coming off on his skin and the leather of his glove in small flakes, but there was no mistaking the printing.
At first, Samuel blanched, presuming it a call for their heads, but as he read, the fear curdled into something far more baffling. Taking up most of the page was a sketched rendition of the two of them—sniper and spy—stood side by side, illustrated Laurent flashing a wry smirk at his ink-bound companion that the drawing of Samuel readily returned. Bold typeface toward the top spelled out “WANTED” clear as day, although there was no reward attached. Twirling arrows pointed to Laurent and him in turn, annotating precisely who was whom. There was yet more type at the bottom, but Samuel had rather stopped processing exactly what it said by then, and handed the sheet back to Laurent with an incredulous scowl.
“What in the hell is this?”
As Laurent crisply refolded it and placed it in an inner pocket, he replied, “We appear to have been entered into some sort of tournament.”
“Tournament?” Samuel’s mind whirled, spiraling out endless possibilities, each one markedly worse than the last, “As in… fighting?”
“Mercy of mercies, I do not believe so,” Laurent mused, crossing his arms and glancing into the distance. “Even with my considerable skill, we would hardly stand a chance with you on our side.”
“Watch your tongue, Frenchie.” Livid, Samuel snapped, instinctively reaching for the machete at his side. “Don’t pretend you’re not glad of this as well.”
Laurent snorted. “Of course I am, but it is hardly a matter of cowardice.”
“Yeah? What is it, then?”
“I do not wish to dirty my suit,” Laurent sneered, mouth curved sharp as his knife. In that moment, Samuel wished for nothing more than to knock that wretched expression from his face, but resorted instead to knotting his fist in the fabric of his shirt. It certainly would not do to lose his composure so early and in a place so visible to his superior, but oh how he longed to rattle Laurent around, maybe beat some sense into him along the way.
Samuel rolled his eyes. “Fine. If we’re not to be fighting, what exactly are we meant to be doing?”
“If I am interpreting the missive correctly,” Laurent said, smoothing the fine hairs of his wig, “it is really less of a gladiatorial affair, and more of a… popularity contest.”
“Oh.” Cocking his head, Samuel let the implications wash over him, feeling his body recoil in the wake. “Oh.”
“Strange, is it not?” Taking a deep breath, Laurent shrugged slow and deliberate. “Still, I suppose I might consider myself at an advantage. I have many a desirable quality to be considered…” He trailed off, but Samuel was suddenly alight with energy.
Held in his hands was the opportunity to be absolutely devilish, and he seized it with vigor.
“Oh, really?” he said, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
Laurent whirled, eyebrow raised in sharp relief. “Is this a joke?”
“No.” Samuel poured as much sincerity into his voice as he could, leaning forward with earnest. “You see, we’ve been friends for so long—” he stifled a laugh, “—and I’d never even realized! Please, tell me about these ‘desirable qualities,’ I would love to hear all about them, and at the greatest of lengths.”
For a long, terrible pause, Laurent only stared, and Samuel faintly worried he was about to receive a length of cold steel across the throat or wedged between his ribs, but then Laurent’s cheeks flared red beneath his powder, and his mouth hung agape.
“You— you arse!” he snarled, seizing Samuel by the cravat and drawing their faces close. “You would do well to mind your manners, bushman. I do not abide mockery, nor do I suffer a fool, and you, sir, are a prime example. Remember this, lest I be forced to remind you.” With this, he drew his suit back, revealing the delicately tooled sheath for his beloved dagger. Samuel swallowed, thought up every prayer he could, and grinned wolfishly, fiddling with Laurent's elegant sleeve cuff.
“Wouldn’t want to get this dirty, would you?”
Laurent’s nostrils flared, his breath hot on Samuel’s lips, before he released him, pushing him back roughly and huffing, indignant. Samuel massaged his neck, relief coursing through his veins. A scant few feet away, Laurent stood in profile, nearly serene if not for the subtle movement of mute, furious speech.
“Nice talking to you,” Samuel said cheerfully, and, strange as anything, Laurent actually laughed. It was a brief, choked thing, barely identifiable as humor, if not for the smile playing across his face.
“You, sniper,” he said, reaching out and taking a bite of Samuel’s bread roll, “are a ridiculous, ridiculous man.” With this last remark, he about-faced and trudged across the lawn, spine ramrod straight and be-ribboned hair flouncing against his back.
“I know you are, but what am I?” Samuel called after him, and Laurent retorted with a sharp, “Go fuck yourself!” which Samuel could only meet with a thrown bread roll. It collided with the back of Laurent’s head with a satisfying muffled thunk, and Samuel cackled as Laurent let loose a long stream of French obscenities, harshly adjusting his wig so rudely whacked askew.
“I hope you know I despise you,” Laurent hissed once he had deemed himself presentable, and disappeared inside the house with the slam of the heavy oaken door.
“Yeah, yeah, hate you too,” Samuel said. Tucking his legs back into his window seat, he inhaled the lively summer air, and discovered he could not stop his beaming.
[as ever, flintlock fortress is a collaboration with @chiropteracupola]
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miabrown007 · 2 years ago
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yeah, sorry, just gonna push that penumbra agenda until we find a common denominator
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reploidbuddy · 8 months ago
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I was about to post that doodle of Silver from the story I didn't start yet (gonna focus on Where the Water Narrows) since I was able to snap him in proper lighting but I realized as I was writing the tags that I have no name for the story and so nothing for my in-blog tagging to appease my everything-must-be-organised self, that is quite the oops moment
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safyresky · 2 years ago
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Crystal Springs: Prologue + Chapters 1-4: Now on ao3!
Start from the top with the Prologue (An Encounter) HERE!
Chapter 1: Eleven Months
Jack reflects on the past year, and how everything post thaw has led him to this point. (aka: and here's what you missed on glee!)
Chapter 2: Intervention
Cornered by the Council, Jack admits that he is powerless. Thankfully, they have a solution for this exact situation: the Legate Law.
Chapter 3: Now or Never
Jack tells Santa about his family, what actually happened on the Day of Darkness, and what exactly happened between him and his sister. Jacqueline arrives at the Pole.
Chapter 4: Small Talk
Jack and Jacqueline come face-to-face for the first time in 1400 years. It goes...about as well as you'd expect.
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Rating: General
Ships: Multi (OCxOC; BernardxOC; SantaxCarol; etc.)
Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence
Status: In-progress (formerly completed)
Summary:
It's been almost a year since Jack Frost thawed and things are looking...well, not so great. Jack's powers are seemingly gone. Without them, the Dome that keeps the North Pole safe from the cold and its magic controlled, is melting, putting everything and everyone at risk.
Unable to hide his power shortage any longer, Jack is forced to admit the truth. Thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, bringing Jack and the sister that he hurt so many centuries ago back together again.
But when Jacqueline starts experiencing destructive blackouts, the pair are forced to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of the family.
Needless to say, between getting his powers back, helping his sister figure out what in the FROST those blackouts even were, reconciling with his parents, meeting the two even younger siblings he didn't even KNOW he had, NOT TO MENTION the ancient threat that's had it out for the ENTIRE Frost family finally making a move?
Saving Christmas (regrettably) is looking to be a little bit...complicated.
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I'll be updating biweekly on whatever day I'm feeling it (Wednesdays seem fun, but we'll see 🤷🏻‍♀️) until I catch up to where it's at on ff dot net! then they'll update with THE NEW CHAPTERS simultaneously (if I counted right and don't get over excited, this will be sometime in November! Which is GREAT timing for the new shit :D)
I'll make a fresh post whenever we update on ao3, like I already do with ff.net.
Cheers!
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magratpudifoot · 2 years ago
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I haven't seen every season of Drag Race, but I have watched most of the US episodes, and most of those I have watched in the past 4 months. So I feel comfortable saying this week's episode was the worst the show has ever had.
#the editing was godawful#the writing was shit#the balance has been so off all season as far as featuring the contestants#I dont understand why they bothered to use the title and names from last year's acting challenge when this had not one thing to do with it#i wish someone had at least pointed out that Fancy is STILL a Reba reference#as much as the eliminations have been cleaning house of white twinks they are still giving pass after pass to one in particular#who should have gone home on Snatch Game#and most of all I am SO angry about the way that argument was resolved#as a lifelong doormat watching Malaysia be talked into believing she was being a stick in the mud during their harmless fun and games#INFURIATED ME#Because NO#people who grab whatever they can WHETHER THEY WANT IT OR NOT#just because they know most people are accommodating enough to keep the peace even if it means personallly losing out#are people I have learned to stay the fuck away from because they will take advantage of you every chance they get#and obviously we are only seeing what the edit decides to air in the 20 seconds each queen gets to speak each week#but Malaysia refused to let them steamroll the rest of the cast just because they had the loudest brashest voice in the room#and I will not accept her being set up in a 'both sides' narrative for doing so#i will say that it was super shady for the third group to take advantage of that power struggle to claim hip hop without anyone elses input#and I wish that had come up too#no one asked you ms p
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monster-noises · 1 year ago
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I started writing another post that did More Details but I lost steam on it but I also don't Don't wanna post about it so I'm gunna talk about some silly Vile things in the Tags that I just spent like 40 mins in front of the mirror coming up with
#monster noises#for those who don't know or have forgotten#Vile is the current title for my ongoing attempt to write/re-create Flesh and Hot Iron as an original work as closely as possible#without simply being resi8 but with fancy new shoes on#I've made some headway#trying to focus more on the things I can be Excited about changing than worrying over what I may Loose in the process#and hoping that will reveal to me ways I can Preserve the things I'm worried about loosing#but long story short the main thing I want to talk about is I think#while no one Else is gunna be 'Related'#(the Mother part of the Mother Miranda narrative is no more here.. I mean generally that whole narrative is gone#but Specifically the 'lords' aren't Siblings anymore)#I Do think Karl and Donna are gunna be Actually related#I just think that would be Fun and Complicated#and I love Fun and Complicated#also think her Re-name is gunna be Dahlia..#Dahlia the Horticulturalist...#though That's one of those things that i feel is going to Immediately give away the source material here if I leave her like#Plant Lady#Alcina (Marian? possibly?) is getting morphed and maneuvered into being a Biologist cause I think that's a reasonable fit#but even with that throwing things off I think#Engineer Artist Doctor Horticulturalist Biologist is Still gunna read as Village to someone with a Keen eye but who knows...#long way to go still... long way to go#and still No idea what I'm gunna call Karl because not calling him Karl and putting him next to Lazarus feels So so wrong#but I'm sure we'll stumble into something#anyway I'm sure this reads only as total nonsense cause it's like#ten pieces I've put together of a 10000 piece puzzle but heY
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holygroundgone · 2 years ago
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I should post dissections on my character playlists... special treat for me
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nationmckinleyscorset · 8 months ago
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Real
why do people always only expect you to have one thing. one disorder one pet one gender one pronouns one name one favorite movie one crush one best friend. like why do I have an inventory limit
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takeshitakyuuto · 7 months ago
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Where’s my yuri manga that’s exactly like sleeping dead but women
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