#were trying to do it more frequently but the character creation of it all is so fun and the story creating too is siiiiiick

[caninecowboy]

maybe my life is good.

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 16 - Aquillians

Hello cosmonauts! I’ve been almost non-stop sick for three months which hasn’t been great for progress, but this can’t be delayed any further. We’re going to try to do more frequent dev diaries again; next week I’ll do a diary on Meta-Campaign mechanics and the current state of character creation, but for now, it’s time to do some lore.

So, let’s talk the biggest alien species in Torchship, our local Space Elves, the Aquillians!

Aquillian Basics

Aquillians are a diverse species of humanoids who superficially resemble, well, green-blooded elves, and they’re very much inspired by taking a few of the greatest hits of sci-fi space elves and shuffling it all up. Torchship might be a deconstruction of a lot of common sci-fi tropes, but it’s also a reconstruction embracing fun ones along the way and wearing inspiration on our sleeves.

Though pretty human-looking on the surface, like all humanoids in Torchship, they look like that because of a mysterious process of directed evolution from very different routes. Humanity’s first inkling of just how dominated Local Space is by the mysterious forces of Star Gods and K2 civilizations was discovering an alien that looked just like them, but had totally different biochemistry, internal anatomy, and evolutionary history. The ancestors of Aquillians were gliding arboreal bird-like pack hunters, sent along the path to sapience by their increasingly complex social dynamics and changing climates on their relatively small, low-gravity homeworld. Flight proved less useful in lean times than dexterous hands and the intelligence to shape the massive, tangled trees into built environments.

Evidence of this ancestry is still present in their constant-volume unidirectional respiration system and energy-conserving metabolism (and fluffy protofeather hair). This is reflected through the only universal Aquillian Trait, which is also part of our new category of Evolutionary Origins Traits; everyone gets to pick one representing the evolutionary lag of their ancestral environment. (Most) Humans now get the Persistence Predator Trait, letting humans take more Strain before experiencing Fatigue penalties.

In contrast, the Efficient Metabolism Trait of the Aquillians allows them to avoid taking Strain on dice rolls if they succeed by a large enough margin; this encourages you to double-down on your specialities and lets you perform low-stress work more or less indefinitely. This was very handy for a species whose path to sapience involved becoming the galaxy’s best tree-pruners.

Aquillians are also generally encouraged to take the various Psychic traits. The thing about psychic powers in Torchship is that while they’re not genetic, they are heritable, in that people raised by or around psychics tend to become psychics themselves. The widespread emergence of psychics is predicated on certain social conditions, but once it’s become widespread in a species it’s unlikely to fade. Thus, nearly all Aquillians possess some level of psychic potential simply because their species has been puttering around all the psychic weirdness of Local Space for so long.

Aquillians are the most widespread and populous species in Local Space by a considerable margin; they’re either the primary species or a sizeable minority in multiple states and are otherwise generally present everywhere. One could make the serious argument that Local Space is defined by being the part of the galaxy that’s Aquillian-majority, and when you come across an independent planet with faster-than-light travel and humanoid aliens, they’re probably Aquillians of some description.

The reason for this is that the Aquillians have been around a very long while, and one way or another have been in a dominant position that entire time. They’ve had FTL travel for forty thousand years, and for at least half the time an Aquillian political body has been either a great power or the undisputed regional superpower. The nature of this dominance has varied massively over time, but it most recently manifested as the Aquillian Empire.

In The Empire/Remnant

If you listen to their propaganda, the Aquillian Empire was/is Local Space’s rightful heirs, existing for forty thousand years of unbroken and absolute rule. Under the guidance of wise Emperors, they did more to preserve interstellar civilization than anyone else with their ruthless enforcement of the Exploration Taboo, their rigid hierarchy of specialised castes and subordinate species, and the wonders of a massive, high-speed web of FTL beacons. They crushed the dangerous Argent Empire, drove the upstart Zinovians from their homeworld, and brought Pax Aquillia to the stars.

In reality, the Empire only existed for about fifteen hundred years, and they just claimed the entirety of their species’ spacefaring history; with total control over the presentation of their own history, it was kind of hard to call them out. 1500 years is still really impressive, as empires go, but it wasn’t quite grand enough for the swelling egos of the ruling class. It’s a bit like saying, “As you can see, Sumer prevails!” while pointing at New York City.

The Aquillian Empire was well-known for their historic use of genetic engineering on both themselves and their enemies, which creates the setting’s taboo on genetic engineering that humans are in blatant violation of. For this reason, Aquillians in the Empire were changed considerably from the ancestral template, modified for life on heavier worlds; their capital isn’t their mineral-poor, low-gravity homeworld, which is instead a bit of a sad backwater now. This gives the Imperial Aquillians and those derived from them the Downweller Gravity Trait, which is in-between the Freefaller Trait used by human spacers and the Heavyworlder Trait of Terrans; it’s the ‘average’ trait with no real strengths or weaknesses.

It also resulted in a degree of artificial phenotypical convergence, as waves of engineering were used to aesthetically modify sections of the species in-line with current fashions. This isn’t universal, but the higher in the hierarchy you go, the more Aquillians tend to be tall, gaunt, and have desaturated skin and hair colours to match their self-reinforcing image of nobility.

The biggest consequence, however, is the clades. The Aquillian Empire’s power structure emerged from a caste structure inherited from one of their precursors, now entrenched with genetic engineering. Initially this was in the form of creating a large number of specialised subspecies for different tasks, but as the Empire grew in strength, automated more infrastructure, and acquired more and more vassals, the priority increasingly became engineering for control, outsourcing labour to client states and modifying their own population for compliance instead of productivity.

At the time the Empire fell, the many specialised groups had been condensed into three diverse Clades; the ruling Nobles, the ruthless Enforcers, and the mass of numbed Commoners, all with their own Traits.

The Clades

The Nobles, or High Aquillians, are the highest Clade, forming a kind of industrialised aristocracy inside the Empire, acting as administrators, military leaders, governors, lawmakers, and scientists. Functionally immortal, fabulously wealthy, and relatively rare, the nobility have an agreement within their own ranks to only produce new Nobles for specific purposes in order to avoid diluting power or creating succession crises. This worked out fairly well historically, but has resulted in every major faction of the currently-simmering civil war in the Divine Empire cloning their own Ideal Monarch(s) for when they overthrow the upstart Empress and seize power (after they win the actively-boiling-over civil wars against the other remnants and crush the humans, of course). Those other remnants are mostly ruled by planetary governors or admirals who have seized power, but a handful are also hard at work in Build-A-Tyrant Workshop.

Each noble is tailored to their role and raised to serve that particular purpose, so as Traits go they are pretty much completely freeform, save encouragement to take Augment and various psychic traits. There’s not a lot of them in the Union for obvious reasons, but that makes playing as one and casting aside your birthright to fight for a fairer world all the more meaningful.

(We’re also playing around with a funny Trait, whose working title is Class Traitor, to represent how even with your defection, there’s a lot of places who still respect the title… and a lot of others who really, really don’t. Renouncing your title doesn’t necessarily destroy your claim; there’s probably a lot of servants and functionaries back home wondering when you’ll get all this communism out of your system and come back to run the planet again.)

The Enforcer clade constitutes the law enforcement, colonial bureaucracy, and military officer class of the Empire, and are as much defined by their upbringing and social isolation as their genetic modification. The Enforcers are descendants of a specialised clade to create the ideal secret police, which unsurprisingly meant they soon infiltrated, dismantled, or took over every other lever of power they could get their hands on and firmly established themselves as the middle managers of society. The only reason they never successfully couped the Nobility is the fact they are categorically incapable of trusting one another.

Enforcers are biologically distinguished by a change in their neurology which rewires the way they experience empathy. While humans initially believed (to their horror) they’d encouraged a subspecies of engineered sociopaths, the truth is more complicated; Enforcers have had their mirror neurons modified to basically receive the alien equivalent of a dopamine hit from understanding the emotions and thoughts of others. Genuine empathy is very difficult when your neurochemistry rewards you for treating other people as fun little puzzles to take apart and put together; it makes them very good interrogators, investigators, and spies, but also means the closest thing to emotional attachment most of them feel is having favourite subjects. This means they historically spend the time they could have used seizing power scheming endlessly with one another instead.

To represent this, Enforcers are recommended the Reserved Trait, which modifies how you interact with Relationships and the Unity system, the Turncoat Trait (because playing as one almost inherently implies defection), and Narrow Socialisation, which lets you select two types of Relationships (in this case Rival and Nemesis) to get a target bonus in social interaction with, while hitting you with a target penalty for all others. You also typically are a Psychic Void; the deeply engrained secrecy and distrust of their artificial anti-society makes them largely invisible to psychic powers as well as making them very difficult to access.

Finally, there are the great masses of Commoners, the dispossessed masses of once-workers who increasingly existed to be ruled in the Empire, acting as an enormous reserve army of labour and potential conscripts to give bulk to the Empire and be selectively employed for economic or military violence. In between those times, the Commoners didn’t really have much to do, and to keep them manageable, they were gradually engineered to be more and more easily controlled and managed.

This involved, essentially, breaking their motivation system by genetically curtailing the natural production of neurotransmitters and replacing these systems with electromechanical implants. If the Empire didn’t need the Commoners for anything, they left them in a state of numb apathy and executive dysfunction; they could get away with just bread without circuses. If they needed labourers, soldiers, or to stop the population declining, they would just start pressing the feel stuff again button as needed to reward useful behaviour. Crude but tragically effective.

Though they believed this made their population a docile and cultureless stockpile of potential labour, the Commoners retain a complex internal culture built around their tactile telepathy, developing a sort of introspective philosophy of dualism, intellectualism, and fatalism. Unable to confront a system that had control over their own neurochemistry, common Aquillians instead developed a parallel culture which existed in their collective shared imaginations, sharing aspects of their thoughts and personalities with one another in a quiet network, with their philosophers living on in transmitted fragments alongside loved ones and comrades.

Commoners also get the Reserved Trait, for different reasons than the Enforcers but with similar effects. Plural System allows you represent transmitted personalities by essentially having Crew NPCs that fortunately don’t take up limited bunk space in your spacecraft, Stiff Upper Lip and Fearless reflects how the limits placed on them also mute strong reactions to pain and fear, and Prodigy simulates having cybernetic modifications which reward pursuing certain work.

This system survived a very long time in the Empire, and persists in its Remnants. Once you get outside them, though, it gets interesting.

In the Breakaways

The Aquillian Breakaway states are the Union-aligned or neutral bodies which broke away from the Empire during the civil conflicts which ended the Aquillian-Human War. Some of these still function more or less like the Remnant before them, but the majority are revolutionary states of some kind which have elevated Commoners to the top of the pack. You’re probably not playing an Enforcer or Noble; they, uh, aren’t too well liked there for obvious reasons.

If you play an Aquillian from one of these states, you’re probably playing a Commoner who still has the above modifications (as these states have very strong taboos against further genetic engineering they are still struggling with), but who now has their hands on the remote control for their emotions. 

This ties into one of the core principles of Torchship; you can always change your character’s Identity at any time you like, at no mechanical cost, provided you have a narrative reason. Your character’s external neurology interface is a special use of the Cultural Tool Trait which acts as that narrative reason to turn on and off many of the common Traits listed above whenever you like, as is advantageous to you. Of course, that also does mean there’s a remote control with your emotional state on speed-dial which is just lying around, taking up an equipment slot and just begging to be stolen for the sake of drama.

Regrettably, while the chances of experiencing Spock’s Brain are low, they are never zero.

In The Union

There are quite a few Aquillians in the Star Union, making up the largest alien minority by a significant margin (larger even than the Koath). These are a mixture of refugees taken on during and after the war, immigrants flocking to a place which might be able to undo the genetic modifications done to them, war orphans who wound up in the Union through various dubious humanitarian programs or ad-hoc adoption, and the former prisoners of war of Camp Aldrin on Earth’s moon. In fits and starts, they’ve largely undone or changed the way their various genetic modifications affect them to suit their needs better.

These groups live all over the Sol system now, and many of them have integrated into the various human cultures and, in so doing, have often taken on some of the genetic alterations used by those groups (seeing as they self-select for ‘cool with some level of genetic modification’). So one of the ways you can play an Aquillian, particularly a young one who has largely or entirely grown up in the Union, is by basically making a Terran, Martian, Spacer, etc, just swapping out Persistence Predator for Efficient Metabolism. It’s increasingly common to meet Aquillians in Star Patrol with the flag of their adoptive home country on their sleeve and no more connection to the Empire than peers of their age, for good or ill.

If you’re playing somebody from Camp Aldrin (first or second generation), then it gets a little more interesting, because these Aquillians aren’t being directly assimilated into human cultures, instead creating their own experimental one in their lunar enclave, with an abolition of the clades and an attempt to create a more egalitarian society. Any older Camp Aldrin Aquillian is going to be a Turncoat and War Veteran from the Imperial military, and traits like Augments or Prosthetics are quite appropriate.

This is also where you’d most likely find former members of the Enforcer or Noble clades, taken prisoner during the war. Though Solar Patrol developed a bad habit of pushing Enforcers they captured out of airlocks during the middle period of the war, they still captured an awful lot of them, and the process of many Aquillian Breakaways forming was made a lot smoother by the Union offering asylum to Nobles in exchange for laying down their arms. These groups, who don’t usually see their genetic modifications as burdens like the Commoners do, will have an interesting time figuring out where they fit in a more egalitarian world.

In the CNFT

Outside the Empire’s successors, the largest concentration of Aquillians are found in the multicultural capitalist empire of the CNFT, where they form a plurality of the population with a historical position of social and economic dominance. This is because the CNFT’s origins; about two and a half thousand years ago they were a colony of one of the Empire’s precursors. They took advantage of changing interstellar geography (astrography?) to declare independence, forming a network of political bodies which eventually solidified into an increasingly multicultural capitalist state.

This means that the Aquillians of the CNFT are, largely, pre-genetic modification Aquillians, predating the clades. They’re visually quite distinct, with vibrant multicoloured hair, much more diverse phenotypes, and a preference for low-gravity worlds that give them back their ancestral Freefallers Trait. A lot of them are even totally unmodified Baseliners, because their ancestors were displaced off the increasingly-irrelevant Aquillian homeworld and went looking for places that suited them. Being the dominant group in the Territories, they’re also recommended Foreign Connections with their former markets, and Driven, because being a workaholic is how you survive under Space Capitalism.

There’s also various Imperial Aquillians who ended up in the CNFT as refugees, in the recent war or earlier. They’re distinctly an underclass there, with little in the way of resources or help… well, except for the Nobles, who usually arrive with shiploads of antimatter and set themselves up nicely as investors.

Others

Being so common, so widespread, and having been around so long, you’ll stumble across Aquillians of one sort or another a lot across Local Space. They’re more or less the default, the alien you should reach for if you haven’t got anything else in mind.

Aquillians form a portion of the population on a lot of former Aquillian client worlds, which aren’t really breakaways in the traditional sense but where the Aquillian settlers still form powerful political blocs. Defusing tensions caused by these arrangements is a pretty common job for Star Patrol missions operating inside the Union’s de facto space.

There’s an awful lot of Aquillian pirates out in Local Space now, given they had the largest fleet in the region by a considerable margin and the fall of the Empire saw a lot of them cut off with nothing but a very powerful warship at their disposal. Many of these pirates are privateers who still mostly work for a Remnant power to keep up the wars against the Star Union and Universal Republic, but save their patron power money by also picking off civilian convoys for profit along the way. Others are now without allegiance, just hitting whoever they can and taking shelter around sympathetic planets. Some even side with Breakaways and prey on their former Imperial comrades. It’s equally likely you’ll be fighting them, scaring them off, or helping them.

Finally, the Aquillian presence in space is so old, and their history so distorted by successive waves of authoritarian censorship and purges, that there are many, many colonies that just slipped through the cracks. You’ll very often come across planets at just about any imaginable stage of technological and social development that were settled thousands or even tens of thousands of years prior by Aquillians, and were then cut off by some long-forgotten political cataclysm and left to develop or decay on their own. Sometimes it feels like you can’t turn over a rock without finding another weird space elf.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

How to Say I Love You [Five Things Trope]

Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Five Things style 1. Snippets of interactions between characters, with a common theme, showing five instances that follow the pattern and one that doesn't. "The four times Frank thinks 'I love you' and the one time he actually says it."

Warnings: 18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader, Fem pronouns. No direct sexual action/SMUT, but it’s mentioned enough that I’m marking this as 18+. Mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, mention of a hospital, mention of blood. 

WC: 2,500

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

The first time Frank realized he loved you was in the afterglow of a particularly raunchy round of sex. How cliche, he thought to himself.

You laid beside him, all doe-eyed and radiant looking, staring into his eyes as though you were trying to stare into his soul. And oh god, how you did, and you didn’t even know you were doing it.

“What’s going through your head, big guy?” you asked, stroking his face and trying to smooth away the crease that had formed across his brow. How easily you could clock when his brain was working too hard and his thoughts were a million miles away.

“Thinkin’ about how beautiful you look.” 

Which was partially true. After all, your beauty was one of the many things that made him fall in love with you.

You wouldn’t have suspected Frank Castle was one for pillow talk, but every time you fell in bed together, he managed to surprise you.

And like always, you saw right through him.

“That right?”

You both decided it was best not to put a label on this, whatever this was. Talking about feelings teetered a tightrope that was dangerously close to that. Especially talking about feelings like love right after sex. Not to mention the amount of his stuff that had begun taking up home in your place and vice-versa. No, you wouldn’t mention the hoodie he left every time he went on a long job so that you’d have something of his to wrap you in comfort, or the little notes and snacks you’d slip into his duffle before he left in the morning. Or the more and more frequent sleepovers that involved no sex, just wanting to be near each other. Nope, neither you nor he wanted to bring it up. He especially didn’t want to let on that the L-word was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

He shook his head and held back a smile.

“Okay, well whenever you’re ready to spill, I’m all ears.” you said, coy smirk painting your lips as you leaned in and rested your head against his chest, falling asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat. 

Goddamnit, he was down bad.

—

The second time Frank realized he loved you was in spring. The trees in Central Park were all in bloom and you danced down the path beside him, reveling in the recent break in the weather and the sunshine.

He had to chuckle, how pretty you looked when you turned your face upward to the glow of the sun and asked,

“Frankie, can we get ice cream?”

“Darlin, it’s still under 60 degrees.”

You took his hand and led him through the park, despite his protestations that it was too early in the season for frozen treats. 

You almost looked like a real couple, hand in hand sauntering along, not really in a rush to get anywhere and stopping every so often to admire the park.

You paused, suddenly turning about face on the path and pulling him along with you.

“Sweetheart, what’s up? Ice cream’s this way.” he pointed over his shoulder

“Ah. You’re right. It’s still too cold.”

You never admitted he was right. About anything.

Frank glanced behind him, making sure he clocked anything you might even think could be a threat. Then he saw it, the reason you so suddenly changed course.

Central Park Carousel, the sign read, big arrow pointing in the exact direction you had been heading. 

You knew what happened to his family and though he didn’t talk about it (because again, talking about feelings wasn’t what this was supposed to be) you saw the toll it took on him emotionally. 

You wanted him to have a day clear and free of worry and memories. 

You were being thoughtful and proactive about his emotions. Damnit, he was so in love with you.

—

The third time Frank realized he loved you, much like the first time, was late at night. This time, there was no steamy sex involved, just a lot of blood and bandages.

Damnit, he never wanted you to see him like this, see who he is on the job, what it turns him into. Sure, you knew he was the Punisher and you knew he killed people, but it’s different to see it up close.

He went to your place. Rationalization rattled around his head that your apartment was closer and getting to you to stitch him up instead of trekking all the way to his place would greatly decrease his chances of bleeding out. 

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth. Maybe it was because he missed you, maybe he really just wanted the comfort of your body beside his after an exhausting night, or maybe he realized how deep in it he was and wanted you to see this side of him before it was too late for both of you, so you could shun him away and break his heart like he deserved.

“Happiness is a kick in the balls just waiting to happen” he once told Curtis, so here he was, trying to self-sabotage and kick his own balls before life could do it for him.

But you didn’t even bat an eye when you swung open the door to your apartment and found him standing there, mangled and bruised.

“That one might scar.” you commented as you tied up the thread on the stitches

“Never too worried about em lookin pretty.”

“That's okay, your face is pretty enough.” you said, beginning the process of cleaning up the wipes and blood and bandages littering your bathroom counter 

He shook his head with a chuckle, trying to hide the blush growing across his face.

“Besides, it gives you character.” You kissed him on the temple as you exited the bathroom.

He placed his elbows on his knees and bent over with a sigh, biting his tongue until you were out of ear shot.

“Love you too” he whispered under his breath

—

The fourth time Frank realized he loved you was on Mother’s Day. It had become his ritual, visiting their graves on important days. Mother’s Day was one of them. Afterall, some of his favorite memories of Maria were of her being the most amazing mom to their kids. 

You insisted on going with him, not wanting him to be alone and drowning in the Frank Castle pity party.

“Stop being so fucking thoughtful cause it’s making me love you more.” he wanted to shout, but he didn’t. Instead he just nodded and smiled and held your hand in silence the entire drive from his apartment to the cemetery, not letting go until you’re well out of the truck and up the familiar path.

You gave him space once you came within reach of the grave. Peonies for Maria, daisies for Lisa and carnations for Frank Jr.

You sat together on the damp earth in silence for a long while. Your hand absent-mindedly rubbed and scratched his back and you wiped away a few tears that fell from his eyes.

He thought about saying it right then and there, admitting to you finally how much he truly loved you. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, instead just keeping the silence that hung between you.

On the off chance you didn’t run screaming in the other direction when he finally told you, he didn’t want to do it here. To taint a special new moment with the ghosts of his past and meld a new beginning with the old life he was so desperately clinging onto. So he didn’t say anything, eventually rising to his feet and taking your hand once more to walk back to the truck.

—

The first time Frank Castle laid eyes on Karen Page was in a hospital. Here he was again, stalking the halls of a hospital with the same laser focus on his mission. And there was Karen, standing stone-faced, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” 

“The fuck she does,” he tried to push past her

“Frank,” Karen shoved against his shoulder. Goddamnit, why was she nearly as stubborn as you?  “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“The hell you mean, she doesn’t want to see me? She’s not answering my calls and I haven't heard from her in days so I go to her place and she's not there but there's blood on the bathroom floor and I gotta call everyone in her contacts just for you to give me a cryptic ‘she’s in the hospital’ with no details.”

Karen looked to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

“Then I gotta go to every hospital on the west side just so you can tell me she doesn't want to see me? What the fuck happened?”

Karen just shook her head.

“Go home Frank. She’ll call you when she’s ready.”

If there was one person who could get Frank to stand down, it was Karen, which was precisely why you called her.

“Well he’s gone. For now. But you know he’s gonna come back and you’re gonna have to tell him eventually.” she said with a sigh, plopping down in the chair next to your hospital bed

“I know. I’m just scared of how he’ll react.” you replied, gnawing at your bottom lip

She nodded knowingly. 

“I’m gonna go hunt down some coffee. We both look like we need it.”

You almost fell asleep in her absence, until a loud crash came from behind the curtain drawn around your bed.

“Shit,” a gruff voice rung out amongst the beeps and whirs of the medical machines you were connected to.

“Frank?”

Sheepishly, he poked his head around the curtain, seeing you in your pitiful state for the first time.

“Hey sweetheart.” 

You swore you’d never heard this giant, tough man be more timid in his life.

“How are you here?” you asked with a sigh, rubbing at your temple

“Snuck in the window.”

“Okay, you’re never allowed to call me stubborn again.” you joked, causing a smile to crack along his hardened face

It broke the tension enough that he closed the gap between you, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your hand in his.

“You gonna tell me what happened, or why you don’t wanna see me?”

A sigh escaped your lips, tears threatening to spill over as you dreaded having this conversation with him.

“I didn’t want you to be mad,” it came out as almost a whisper.

“Why would I be mad?”

“A couple weeks ago– I realized my period was late. So I took a test and it was positive.”

Frank’s face went stoic, brown eyes usually so full of warmth when they looked at you now steely black.

“You didn’t tell me?”

You shook your head and continued,

“I was scared to tell you. And I didn’t know what I wanted to do about it anyway, so I figured there was no point in telling you until I decided. I didn’t know if that was something you ever wanted again and especially with me.” 

He listened as you rambled, not once taking his gaze off of you as he continued to grasp your hand in his. 

“But then yesterday,” you continued, “I started bleeding. I knew it probably meant I miscarried. But then the bleeding just didn’t stop. So I went to the ER. And they said I hemorrhaged. And I had surgery this morning.”

“What was your plan? Just never gonna tell me?”

“I don’t know Frank, I wasn’t really thinking things through, okay? I didn’t want you to be with me just out of obligation!”

“You think I’m here out of obligation? You think I snuck through a third story window out of obligation?”

“I knew you and Maria got married quickly because she got pregnant. You’re just so fucking noble and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do something that was ‘correct’ and end up miserable and resenting me. I know this isn’t the kind of life you want anymore. I know I can’t replace her.”

“Hey!” he retorted, leaning in to get closer to you “Look, I loved my wife. Even before she got pregnant, I knew she was the one, yeah? There was not a single moment I regretted my life with her. And there is not a single moment I’ve regretted with you, except whatever the hell I did to make you think you had to hide this from me.”

The tears were now flowing down your face and you had to look away from his intense stare. Taking a moment to choke back a sob before you spoke again, your words came out hushed.

“But there’s the difference Frank, you loved her. Even before she got pregnant, you loved her. But because you loved her so much, I don’t know that you’ll ever love me. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“I didn’t think I could either,” he sighed “but then you came along. And no matter how much I tried to push you away, your stubborn ass just kept comin.”

“What are you saying Frank?”

“I’m sayin that I love you.”

“You’re not just saying that cause I’m all sick and pitiful?” you asked

“Nah. I’m sayin it because you being all sick and pitiful scared the shit outta me enough to finally say it out loud. But I been thinkin about it a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

The widest smile you’d ever seen grew across Frank’s face. He leaned forward slowly, cupping  your jaw and placing the most gentle kiss on your lips. You had to smile as he pulled away, so elated that you almost forget where you were and that you were in a very unglamorous hospital gown in a very unromantic hospital room.

“So what happened with your surgery? You gonna be okay?” he asked, giving you another look up and down

“Yeah. They got me all fixed up and as long as the next blood transfusion takes, I’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

“Hey” he took your chin in his large hand, making you look at him “Don’t you ever keep something like this from me okay? I promise, I won't be mad. I just wanna be here for you cause I love you.”

The monitor beside you beeped, indicating your heart skipped a beat when he said it again.

“I love you too, big guy.”

[misc-obeyme]

I'm not sure if you're the right person to ask, but I want to hear your opinion on this.

So it's obvious that all the Demon brothers (+Dateables) have a crush on MC. Having said that, I think that even if some of the Demon brothers might get upset if MC decided to date one of them, they would still likely accept rejection and support whoever MC began a relationship with.

But here's something I've been wondering; Do you think Satan might get even more upset if MC chooses Lucifer over him? Satan already despises Lucifer, and he frequently draws comparisons between the two. He also finds it intolerable to think of himself as Lucifer's creation. I wonder if Satan's hatred for Lucifer might increase if that were to happen? Satan would never realise what Lucifer possessed that he did not. So I'm thinking he would merely let out his rage in his room, feeling somewhat betrayed by Mc's choice. This could be a good angsty story.

Well, anon, I'm certainly happy to give my opinion on just about anything OM related, so I'll do my best!

And yes, I do think Satan would be more upset if MC chooses Lucifer over him. In fact, I'm fairly certain this concept has been implied in canon? I can't remember anything specific, but for some reason that feels like something that's happened. If someone remembers, please let me know!

Anyway, from a writer's standpoint, considering Satan's character, I think it depends on the situation.

As it is in the game, all the brothers seem to be equally smitten with MC while MC doesn't ever choose one of them and tries to divide their attention among them. In this situation, if MC decided to choose Lucifer without any kind of evidence of their impending decision, I do think Satan would be upset about it more than he would be if MC chose one of his other brothers. It'd be like if it was anybody else, I see him being kind of like, okay weird choice, but I support you. Whereas if it was Lucifer, I see him being like OKAY. I support you, but WHY. Like he'd want to know what MC sees in Lucifer and he might even think MC is making a mistake. I could almost see him trying to talk them out of it.

But if you're writing a story about this and the MC has some build up that delves deeper into their relationships with both Lucifer and Satan, then you can kind of go a couple different ways with it.

For instance, if MC has a really close relationship with both of them and it kinda seems like they could go either way, I think Satan would be really upset. Like the other brothers aren't even in consideration and it's really just down to Satan and Lucifer? I think he'd be heartbroken, but also angry. And he'd demand to know why.

But if you had a situation where it was like more unrequited on Satan's side, like MC was likely going to choose Lucifer from the start, I think he'd be less angry about it. He'd have time to see it happening and probably would ask MC about it but in a more calm way because it'd be before MC actually made their choice.

Of course these are fictional characters and i really believe you can make them do whatever you want. If you wanted to write a story where MC chose Lucifer and Satan was cool with it, you could do that. It'd require an entire character arc that explains why Satan wouldn't be upset, though. But it's certainly possible. Anything is possible.

tl;dr yes I think Satan would be more upset if MC chose Lucifer. I hope that helps!

[williamkisser]

♡— Fake dating with the Cowboy

♡— my second fic on this acc!! Yippee!!! I should probably open requests… anyways, thank you to @fishermanshook for showing me the „fake dating” prompt, i IMMEDIATELY knew what character is going to be a great fit for this story! Hope you enjoy!

♡— Warnings: g/n reader, word count is 1100, slightly angst, sort of an unhealthy, manipulative relationship… but it’s all done for the greater good - isn’t it…?

♡— Kevin Ayuso was a man far from being subtle. Which is also the reason you connected the dots and very quickly found out the manor’s own cowboy has got his eyes on you.

♡— Kevin Ayuso, who under mysterious circumstances sailed here all the way from America, knew more than one or two things about how cruel, hypocritical and selfish the mankind could be. He experienced betrayal from his own parents, which resulted in his best friend getting murdered.

♡— Almost everyone in this cursed place had something serious hidden behind their ears. There were murderers, psychopats, outcasts… and yes, while you couldn’t exactly „die” outside of the games - still, being beaten up or violated maybe wasn’t the nicest way of spending your average Monday afternoon, though, does anyone in here even keep track of the time?

♡— Among everyone, he saw something special radiating from you. You weren’t like the others, he knew. There was no malicious intention behind your participation for the prize, right? Well, even if there was, it was now far too late. The cowboy’s mind already deep into delusion and desire to shield you from what’s evil.

♡— Kevin, upon his arrival to Oletus Manor, swiftly obtained the title of a huge flirt. He would try to flirt with almost everyone, men and women, he always got weird stares aimed at him, but he didn’t care. The cowboy was someone undisciplined, liberated, and who couldn’t be tamed. Surely, someone being disgusted by him wouldn’t be a big deal for the man. And besides that, despite all, he is someone extremely respected by the manor residents. All survivors could feel safe near him and his lasso. He was someone unexpectedly reliable. Little did everyone know, literally none of his romantic attempts were honest. Okay, maybe a few…

♡— Not a single person knew, because he refused to talk about his past. He didn’t even like thinking about it. The thought of losing someone close again sent shivers down Kevin’s spine. He promised, both to himself and his past friend, that he’s going to protect the person who accepts and trusts him until his final breath. That someone was you. Yes, maybe slightly manipulating someone into fake love wasn’t something a beloved cowboy should do, but is there any other way?

♡— So, when he began approaching you more frequently, you understood the intent very clear. You were next. You knew you’re not special and he’s did it with so many people, in fact, when you were the freshest blood of Oletus, you were specifically told to be vary of him by a certain perfumer woman. Seems like she went through a rough path because of him.

♡— But…. there was just something about Kevin Ayuso that rubbed you the right way. He was just so thoughtful, romantic, and on top of that handsome. The cowboy already had experience and exactly knew how to get through your shell. It was a classic court game, someone could say. Starting from the smallest simple signs and gestures: smiling to you more often, playfully winking… then, during the matches, he did all in his power to keep you safe from the hunter. You’re not getting hurt on his watch. It all ended with you receiving roses and trinkets under your door, even a poem - though, you were sure it wasn’t his creation. You knew he got you good when you constantly fidgeted with the beautiful pearl necklace he gave you. You fell into his trap.

♡— It was actually quite funny to him, how he’s being so dedicated to a fake act. He just hoped you won’t find out the truth any time soon.

♡— When you two got together, Kevin felt a little more at peace - knowing that you’re his lover, much less people would dare to hurt you, but there was still a lot of things to be done to ensure your safety. He had to make sure everyone knew that you both are now a thing. All hunters, all survivors, all staff. Which led to several moments of him initiating physical and verbal affection in front of the others, whether it made your uncomfortable or not. You were sure some, if not most, were absolutely sick of it, while others were relieved they won’t have to deal with his futile flirting, either way, you couldn’t care less if they like it or not, he made you feel so confident.

♡— The cowboy was a very convincing and caring lover. He’s even convinced the right people to let you sleep together in one dorm. You were head over heels for each other, or at least you thought so. Because you were not aware all he did, he’s done with not love, but worry in his mind. He had his watchful eyes on you all the time. He was paranoid and delusional, thinking even a minute of inattention could lead to you getting hurt. Meanwhile, you just assumed he’s possessive of you, after all, it took him some time to finally find someone.

♡— It has now been… a week? a month? half a year? since you were together, no one anymore could even tell, but to Kevin, each new day where he ensured you were safe was a step closer to saving you from doom. But not all went exactly with his plan. It happened late at night, on a cold autumn night. You were both laying in bed, you sleeping peacefully on his bare chest while you wore his poncho. Kevin was playing with your hair and caressing your face with his hands. He had many thoughts at that moment. All the hugs, all kisses and sweet nothings did something to him. He didn’t know what. But they definitely did. When observing you, he came to a conclusion that his heart is no longer filled with the sole need of defending the good, no. Pure love now took it’s place. That was no longer the cowboy who longed for justice and protection of his loved ones. There now was a Kevin Ayuso, a caring boyfriend.

♡— Kevin Ayuso realized very quickly that playing with someone’s true feelings could lead to the opposite of intentions. Instead of taking care of, he’s hurting his love, That’s why he promised to never tell you what exactly happened. It’s all for the greater good. What he did wanted to tell you, is that you both had to escape this hell to experience safety once and for all. He could show you the world, his world.

♡— He’s constantly having a certain scene in his mind. The cowboy imagines him and you in a deep, dark forest, leaving the Oletus Manor, your past lives, while riding a horse into the new world.

♡— He wishes he could do that. Somehow. Someday. He’ll do anything in his power to achieve this. He’s grateful you trusted him and he is going to make the most out of this love.

♡— And he hopes you never find out what has happened before that one night.

[wewerebornsextuplets]

@flowerakatsuka I actually LOVE getting excuses to talk about this kind of stuff so ill be happy to elaborate!! under the cut in case this gets too long (which it probably will)

so full disclosure, there was a pretty long gap between when proto-kiru (then called yoshimi) was initially Designed and when i started to flesh her out as an actual oc. i actually wasn't into ososan at the time and it was more a challenge of "how would I design an ososan oc Now now that im not 15 anymore", and i didn't pick her up again until february of this year when my BTAS hyperfixation started to fizzle out. the first drafts for keiko (then named hibari, which i changed since it was a bit too similar to one of my long-time ocs hikari) were drawn the same day i picked up yoshimi again. so she was both a day-one character and Not at the same time!

please ignore the poor lighting on these pictures.

i had a pretty strong Idea for what i wanted from keiko in terms of appearance at the start and a basic concept for her (a bit more bookish + "nerdy" than other ososan girls we've seen thus far), but I had a pretty hard time applying it to the design sensibilities of ososan. her first outfit was basically just uehara-san's outfit, and i struggled with rendering her curlier hair in the ososan style which made it look more goopy and awkward. i also wasn't quite sure what to do with her face yet.

still, i translated what i thought would be my final sketches for her and (then) yoshimi to digital, and from here I started to develop their designs at roughly the same time, sort of balancing them out and trying to make sure they look good together. i was proud of them for maybe 3 days before I decided i hated how they looked.

granted, there were a LOT of reasons for this; for one, I was color picking yanas skin tone for kiru, which didn't work well at ALL because he's way paler than it looks. but more than that I wasn't really referencing features that actual ososan characters had? so they looked more like strange fun house mirror imitations of ososan characters than anything else

see what i mean? they don't look right at all. but if you look closely you can sort of see me figuring out keikos hair!

a lot of the refining process when it came to getting to where we are now was just... referencing actual ososan characters. trying to make them feel more believable and like they could actually exist alongside the current ensemble. it was honestly more about them looking right in the style than anything else, since i like to stay pretty canon compliant in terms of design when it comes to fandom ocs-- I find that the limitations make me more creative!

for keiko specifically my main inspirations were nyaa and osoko, though i referenced dobusu's hair pretty frequently as well since they have roughly the same hair texture. she was honestly a lot harder than kiru to balance out in this sense, since i had to make sure she didn't look Too generic compared to the other pretty girls in the canon cast (i.e totoko, homura, etc). her more eccentric fashion sense is also an attempt to remedy this because plot twist! she's a weirdo!

ippei however I had down from day one. he's always looked the same and always will. my perfect creation <3

[zephyr-windss]

-Evocation of Air-

//Wanted to drop my Zephyr Summoning Lore just for fun and further character exploration for you all! Ghoul relations and summoning fascinates me and is one of my favorites to dwell on, so I hope you enjoy (Full under the cut)

(Cw for minor mention of a dead bird and troubles with breathing)

The summoning of an Air ghoul is one of great concentration. Being the Element of mind and memory, air ghouls cling to the freedom of their souls. The breath of life imbued in the flowing form, free from the binds of humanity- and thus, resistant to occupying a vessel. This was no clearer than the birth of Zephyr. 

With the retirement of the oldest ghoul from the pack, the band desperately needed a replacement. And Air would facilitate the creation of his predecessor. As a man of study and tradition, he was not phased when the flock of worshippers delivered a bleeding dove to the center of the altar. Upon summoning on a basic level, most will opt for a vessel to influence the spirit. Call it a desire for temperament or behavior. Human sacrifice had been frowned upon for some time, and thus the clergy had relied more on animals. A mourning dove was gentle. Loyal. Hopeful. Nothing like the imposing and quiet harpy eagle of Air himself. Birds were traditional for air ghouls, of course. It helped calm their desire for freedom. You could tame a bird, or at least get it to listen. To sing for you and sit politely in their enclosure, so long as you offer what they need. They will be as free as you let them. And what a perfect specimen that is for a manmade demon to be kept on a leash.

The candles were lit. Salt and dust sprinkled. Incense burning. Words recited. It only took the joint effort and calling of a stray spirit to serve them- an incessant prayer.

Zephyr did not crawl from Hell. To most, it was as if he had appeared from thin air just as swift as the dove had vanished to dust. A steady apparition, materializing before them. They floated for just an instant, before gravity took over and they had crashed to the ground, curled up and weeping like a newborn. The smoke of incense wrapped over their soft frame as if it were trying to comfort the poor thing. They hadn’t yet processed what had happened, focused now on the sting of air on their freshly formed lungs. But it did not seem right.

The cloaked crowd could see their troubled heaving, rejecting the new air around it. Though this did not deter the elder Air ghoul from crouching down to comfort the creature. Young feathered ears twitched at the sound of Air’s mask clattering to the stone floors. Finally, they opened their eyes, face to face with the one that resembled them most. Air had turned them onto their back with little resistance, placing his hands upon their bare chest. He closed his eyes to focus his breath before pressing his palms deep to their sternum, eliciting a yelp from the thing’s lips. Their lungs filled deeply, but they only cried louder. The two stayed like this for minutes, coaching through the process of breathing until they had stopped crying, trusted enough to breathe on their own. 

It took weeks for the ghoul to adjust to the earthly realm, where they quickly began their training and studies. It was helped that they had a muscle memory for the keys from a humanoid existence. A love of knowledge and practicality. Though it wasn’t without struggle. It became quickly apparent to the clergy that these weren’t the only remains of their time before. Breathing was always a struggle for them. Taking frequent visits to the infirmary following spills in the hall, it was decided that their lungs were riddled with scarring. It must have caused their death in the first place. But they were determined to do what they were made for. Now equipped with constant oxygen flowing to their nostrils, things seemed a bit easier. They would sit while playing, happily observing and bonding with their new pack. It was a relief on the behalf of Papa Emeritus III. Ghouls were not always an easy task for him, but this group was more than happy to be there. Even as their pain worsened, Zephyr performed with energy, hitting each key with enthusiasm. 

After the removal of Terzo, the ghoul pack faced a struggle. Zephyr’s symptoms worsened,  prompting an early retirement. While much of their pack continued on, they stuck behind, taking things slow at the ministry. You can find them playing organ on occasion for services in between their checkups at the infirmary and time resting. If not, they can be spotted in a quiet corner of the common room, knitting or reading. Soft, quiet hobbies to occupy their time. They are working on branching out once again, facing their fears of letting others close enough to see them fall short (Though it never keeps them from trying their hardest for those they consider their pack). The breeze symbolized a new beginning- Zephyr wasn’t named after the wind for nothing. 

[shewolfofvilnius]

New Story: Sisters' Redemption

Redeemed Dark Urge asks the gods to save her sister's soul.

For almost a year I've wanted to do something with my first character, a redeemed Dark Urge named Sofija who became a Paladin in service to Selune.

She'd always felt that Orin had, even if unintentionally, been the secret heroine of her story, as it had been her partially freeing Durge from Bhaal's control and influence that had given her a second chance on life, caused her to meet Shadowheart, helped Durge fix the problem she started, and eventually get free of Bhaal forever.

Orin died in a bloody pile, a victim of Bhaal's cruelty, having never gotten a chance at redemption, and she'd felt this BITTERLY unfair. So, she asks for a prayer stone / memorial stone built for her sister as her only reward for saving the city (besides wildlands near Rivington she and Shadowheart had already been granted) and decides to pray for her sister's redemption, too. (I go over this in my 'I Feel Sorry for Orin' post)

In the fic, Redeemed F!Durge and Selunite Shadowheart are married, but do not interact within the fic. Mostly.

It's a short and sweet little 2k word one-shot.

Read on AO3 Full story below the fold

A cool breeze drifted through a secluded meadow adjacent to a forest; as dusk gave way to a new morning, the lands were situated about a days’ walk outside of the village of Rivington, itself a short distance from the sprawling city of Baldur’s Gate.

In the year since the defeat of the Illithid monstrosity called the ‘Netherbrain,’ Rivington itself had prospered immensely, to the point that leaders of the village’s government and the ruling Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate had even broached the subject of annexing Rivington and its holdings into Baldur’s Gate proper.

One such holding at the outermost edges of Rivington’s territory were the lands containing the forest and meadow, claimed as property by a couple serving in devoted service to the Moonmaiden, the goddess Selûne. The land had been gifted to two heroes in service of the realms.  

One, a cleric, had become known as an accomplished healer whose services frequently led her to travel as far away as a tenday’s journey to help those in need. 

She was joined by her wife, a paladin whose oath had originally been sworn as devotion but whom had felt an urgent calling to re-swear her oath as an Oath of Redemption Paladin instead, arriving on scene to deliver first and foremost forgiveness and mercy and atonement, to try to help those who could be helped, and to only ever harm or take life as a last result.  Sometimes justice must still be held, but it must always be in the hope that the one who had done wrong had hope to one day better themselves.

More commonly, the cleric and paladin were known as Shadowheart and Sofija, two of the decorated Heroes of Baldur’s Gate who had saved the whole of Faerûn from said Netherbrain, from the so-called “Absolute”, and from the peoples’ own fearful desire to hand power to tyrants in the name of safety. 

As gratitude for having saved the whole of creation, at least on this plane, the pair had been gifted a sprawling amount of land near Rivington, which had annexed the wildlands in order to ensure that Sofija and Shadowheart were always counted amongst their number and could call on the city when needed. In return, those seeking the services of the Lady of Silver were encouraged to visit the pair and to try to seek communion with the Moonmaiden from their retreat. 

As a bonus, for the area’s more druidic peoples, area rangers, etc., the mostly untamed wildlands meant far simpler communion with either the Oakfather, Silvanus, or to the goddess of the forest Mielikki.

Weeks earlier, those in the know had been shocked, even aghast. Orin the Red had been identified as one of the key masterminds of the conspiracy that had nearly destroyed the whole of Faerûn. She had been the chosen of Bhaal, the God of Murder. Why, in all of the heavens and all of the heavens, would the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate ask, nay, demand a stone of remembrance for one of the city’s greatest monsters. Even for a Redemption Paladin, this was considered a bold request.

As they had fussed and fought at Sofija’s lone request excluding the land which had been gifted, the heroic paladin’s request had been agreed upon with the sole condition: Explain the inscription that Sofija had requested. Wholly and fully.

Knowing that true redemption meant being forthright with the truth, she complied. The furor among the city’s surviving patriars and rulers upon hearing the explanation had been beyond aghast, beyond contempt. The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate had been the one who had doomed it in the first place. But they kept listening. She described how Bhaal’s compulsion really worked (affirmed by several including Ulder Ravengard who had received access to his son’s entire history of memories with Sofija before the battle). That even before Orin’s attack she had tried to fight but couldn’t. Bhaal had pushed Orin, manipulated her, to try to kill her sister in a fit of jealousy, for her to become the new chosen.

Except she had been put back together again. Had become the very FIRST person infected by the tadpoles, the first victim of her own plan.  Her memory had been utterly destroyed and she had been forced to start anew. She had, and with her life her own, had committed everything to stopping what she helped create. She’d met the woman who was now her wife. Led her away from the dark influences of the goddess Shar. Saved numerous people including the city’s presiding Archmage and its’ Grand Duke. Recovered Reithwin Town after a century of loss. Stopped a vampire from trying to ascend to just a step removed from godhood. Stopped the brain, and Gortash.

And then there had been Orin. She had tried everything to convince her sister to turn against Bhaal, but the influence of the God of Murder whispering in her head had been too strong. The compulsion too firm. An entire lifetime of brainwashing made manifest.

And in that moment, with Orin turned into an avatar of pure slaughter, Sofija had struck her sister down. So Bhaal struck her down. She had been saved only through divine intervention, she was sure of it, and from there, had let Selûne’s grace enter into her life. She also held a special reverence for Kelemvor, the reigning Lord of the Dead as well as Jergal, a former holder of the office who was said to still sometimes work in Kelemvor or Ao’s service but refused to elaborate further.

But whereas she had gotten a second chance, free of Bhaal’s lash and yoke, Orin never had.  Even though without Orin, Sofija never would have been freed from the God of Murder. Without Orin, Sofija would have never met her future wife; never would have saved Faerûn even after being the one to almost destroy it.  Sofija could live with them all thinking she was a monster, but her sister had been a victim – of Bhaal, of Sarevok, of her since the day she was born until the moment she died.  Even if it was just a prayer to Selûne and to Kelemvor and to whatever deities were in earshot, THAT was the only thing she wanted for her sister, the only thing she asked in exchange for a half-elf’s remaining lifetime of dedicated service and the deliverance of mercy.

Even when her friends had heard of Sofija’s involvement via Gortash, they’d stuck by her. Even if they had been furious. Irate. Ready to turn away, every single one stuck by her; hells, forgave her.  She had been granted two second chances Orin had not. One of escape, one of mercy. 

Orin was dead, escape in this life had not been an option. But that still left mercy, of forgiveness.

The Illithid Master Plan horrors and menace, and the Dead Three’s aims, had threatened the whole of cosmology.  Mystra had told her former Chosen, Gale Dekarios, as much herself.

So that’s what Sofija wanted. For saving the whole of everything that still was and ever could be within their domains.  For the people to acknowledge Orin had been a victim of Bhaal’s cruelty too. For forgiveness. Planted on her own land, where she could come and reflect and pray to the Moonmaiden or anyone else who might be listening. 

For others seeking redemption with the strengthened paladin to know exactly how far she was willing to extend that redemption. For one of the gods to take note that Orin had, even under a lifetime of the death grip of Bhaal, still somehow been the one who had truly saved them all, because she had saved Sofija and Sofija had finished the job.

So, the patriars relented. Nearly all of them had been forgiven of some injustice they had visited upon another at some time. Many had just been grateful not to currently be sporting tentacles and an intense craving for brains.  The monument stone was built. Sofija, whose strength and build now nearly rivalled even that of the daughter of Selûne herself, Dame Aylin, had left alone with the stone on the day it was completed. Her wife had been dispatched to Reithwin as one of the adult refugees they had aided was due to deliver a baby.  As the new life in Reithwin began to cry for the first time in Shadowheart’s arms, Sofija had placed the stone into the ground, having constructed a small frame around it to support its’ weight.

----

In Reithwin, with one final push, a new life had entered this world. Crying and screaming, Shadowheart had prepared a towel and began fussing over the infant while preparing to wash off the most immediate fluids. Another healthy delivery! Nothing gave the Cleric of Selûne greater joy than bringing new life into this world.

A short time later, the baby’s condition had been checked – “You have an incredible new daughter”, Shadowheart had told the parents.  The little girl, human like her parents (always be surprised for a surprise tiefling birth, a senior healer had once advised her), had her father's dark eyes and fair complexion, and a shock of light blonde hair atop her head. Curiously, both of her parents had dark hair, although for all she knew a grandparent or two had had lighter hair. Or sometimes the gods like a joke. Any further would be prying.

“Have you picked out a name for your daughter?” Shadowheart asked. Names were often personal, private things. It may be some time, but if parents already had an idea, it was always still easiest to get it recorded while the healers and clerics were present. As Shadowheart talked to the couple, a small idol to Selûne glowed with the faintest of silvery shimmering lights.

----

Days’ walk away, Sofija had begun the process of inserting Orin’s two weapons into the top of the stone. One, a shortsword, Crimson Mischief, had fit perfectly. Sofija quickly applied some of the sealing compound she had been instructed on how to make and use to permanently embed the weapon into the stone.  The second weapon, the dagger Bloodthirst, featured a curved blade design and a wide centre circle that had once housed one of the Netherstones, which Orin and her associates had used to control the brain. The second aperture in the stone had featured a wider opening. Tav once more placed the weapon into the rock, twisting and adjusting it’s fit to try to ensure it would stay secure while the sealant was place. Soon too the dagger became part of the rock.  Only the two weapons’ pommels would remain above the stone, her sister's cutting blades permanently blunted.

In the meadow, at the edge of the wild forest, Shadowheart’s wife worked diligently to apply a layer of polish and a coating to both clean and protect the stone, which had gotten slightly scuffed in transit, against the elements as well as time.  She then took to polishing the protrusions from the now-embedded weapons. Upon cleaning the polish, the Paladin began crying after being once more hit by a wave of grief, followed almost immediately by resolute prayer.

“Moonmaiden, hear me. Kelemvor, God of the Dead, I ask your favour too at the recommendation of your seneschal. Mystra, Lady of Magic, hear my request. Oakfather, may you take this to heart within nature’s bounty. Mielikki, goddess of the forest and of rangers, may you put this prayer to the winds and see that it is answered. As I was forgiven, I ask you now, hear me. Forgive my sister, she who was Orin the Red. Please, I beseech you.

----

The parents of the baby Shadowheart had handed to them had given it thought. The girl’s father had been present the day Sofija had made the request, having come to the city to make a final run for supplies and to fetch Shadowheart, who had already become a renowned healer.  The man had in fact been Zhentarim and had only avoided death at Sofija’s own hand due to his having gone out on a date the night before – with a refugee woman no less - and having decided that her company beat a raid of the Thieves’ Guild. He had quickly realized he loved her and had picked that moment as his new “Day 0”.  Never again would he be that violent mercenary. If the Gods allow it, never again to his dying breath.

To the point his last words out of town when he left to be with the mother of his child had been asking Sofija to help grant him redemption and to be the best patriarch of his new family he could be. She had rushed over to him and granted it, willingly, a white glow even briefly enveloping him as both Sofija and Shadowheart had then offered a spell for protection on the way out.

“Tell your wife, we’re going to name our girl after her sister.” The girl’s father had noted, Shadowheart’s eyes threatening to redden with tears.  “She’s right, every name deserves a second chance. Tell her we’ve named our daughter Orin. May THIS Orin know love, all her life.

Shadowheart could have almost sworn she had heard a book close with a start. The healer and cleric embraced them both, clearly moved profoundly at the gesture.

--------------

Sofija looked upon the completed monument.  Upon the stone, running across nearly it's entire vertical and horizonal legnths were a series of small markings condensed to fit into the space. An epitaph. A prayer. A request.

Orin, My Sister 1469 - 1492 May you know true peace in the life ahead; May my goddess claim you as her own. Without you, I would have nothing. As in your pain, I was born anew, May the light of the Moonmaiden Shine upon the one who saved me, and grant her a second chance. With love. Sofija.

[welcometoteyvat]

i already malded but sethoscara... hmm... (moderate haterisms below)

generally i find cyno and sethos more interesting, and not just as a ship i swear, bc like. ok i understand sethos story 2. "busy little bee" vs "bow down worm". the whole "you're not just a normal guy, aren't you?" exchange and how wanderer seems to have met the one (not so) normal human who might be able to level with him without knowing anything about his past. yeah thats a cool dynamic and all

but based on flat material, sethos is introduced in cyno's sq2, has two stories mentioning him—they seem to have gotten closer post story quest, gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

why do i not see more sethos and cyno posts focusing on them and them alone pls.... the most popular or frequent depictions as of now are sethos as a 5th (?) wheel to cynonari and haikaveh. i understand ppl not wanting to take apart their ships and whatever, but oh my god. their visual designs, the entire thing that happened when sethos and cyno were children, how they grew up, how that ties into the separation between the rainforest and desert, etc. also sethos's story 5 is lit like '[Sethos] couldn't tell you exactly what he'd forgotten. Perhaps his birth parents, or the faces of his childhood friends. Fortunately, with the exception of Cyno, all of his childhood friends lived at the Temple of Silence, so learning what they looked like again wasn't difficult.' helloooooooooo baggage? sethos picking up hearsay abt cyno's past and maybe glimpsing him in passing in sumeru, while cyno knows nothing about him??? they both knew each other once, and then forgot, and then sethos/bamoun engineered it so they'd meet again.... like bro

i have a bunch of other gripes about sethoscara from scara's POV and the thoughts he'd have in canon (eg why does the current fandom portrayal seem to skew towards fluff and cuddling where sethos is golden retriever maxxing and scara's a tsundere) but yadda yadda ships are people's sandbox for potential so i'll try not to yap about that... basically: what im saying is please give me at least one [fan creation in any medium] exploring sethos cyno's past please. LISTENNN the bamoun cyrus sethos cyno storyline was underutilized in his quest they need expansion i'm begging

ok why did i bring sethoscara into this? bc fandom has the tendency to have ship tunnel vision, and this could be doomposting, but i generally find that when there's one dominant ship for a character (especially if they're a 4* lol 💀) creations/thoughts/posts about the rest of their relationships start dying out one by one :\\\\ ok yapping done good night everyone

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #184

When I woke up today, I wasn't in as much pain as I expected, given everything I did yesterday. I still didn't get quite enough hours of sleep, though, so I woke up with fuzzy soup brain. That is expected, though. It is allowed.

I had to get up early because I had an eye exam at 8:30 this morning. That means I had to wake at 7:30 so that I had enough time to get ready. J drove me there; I was aware that they were gonna dilate my pupils, and since pupil dilation leaves a person with impaired vision and increased sensitivity to light, it wasn't gonna be safe for me to drive back home.

Here's how that looks, in case you wondered:

I gotta have eye exams a bit more frequently than normal people. It's because of the Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. My collagen is defective, which means all of my connective tissue is defective, and since the retina is glued to the back of the eyeball with connective tissue, they gotta check to make sure it ain't falling off.

…It's pretty lame if you ask me. Sigh.

It takes a while for the dilation to wear off, and of course, you can't read or do anything until it wears off, because it messes with your vision. And since I was already tired anyway, I decided to take a nap, to give it time to wear off. It was a beautiful nap.

Once I was done, I began using the software that R gave to me in order to begin building… something. I'm not going to say exactly what just yet. But it should suffice for me to say that if you are not safe at the end of all this, I will build a whole world for you with my bare hands in which you will be safe, if I have to. I meant it when I said it. I am laying the foundations for what will likely need to be decades of work, if you don't make it through to the end of whatever it is that you're doing over at the Edge of Creation.

…My reason for getting employment is also going to be largely in service to this. I no longer have the skills to draw, but I know someone whose skills are unparalleled. I want them to create things for the purpose of building this world, and I want to be able to pay them fairly to do it. In the end, I intend for it to be a haven for every single version of you who is still lost in the dark. And already, I know exactly what I need to do; it's just a matter of gathering resources and getting it done. I will stop at nothing. Even if there are obstacles, it's just a matter of finding ways around them.

…And if you're wondering why… you saved my life. I'm not going to allow you to fade into nothingness or obscurity. Not until you are able to witness firsthand all of the ways that life can be beautiful.

But there's a lot that I must do. Some days, I'm not really sure where to begin. It's very daunting, and there are a lot of skills required for it that I simply do not have. But I can't do nothing.

…I can't do nothing…

Somehow, it's already past 10pm. I blinked and suddenly the day was gone. I'm not really sure how that happened, but it is what it is. Tomorrow, I go to the place of imminent employment in order to complete some paperwork; it's called I-9, and��� I don't really care enough to understand it. I just gotta go and fill it out and then be done with it. Then I can return home and continue trying to build.

Suppose I ought to go to bed so that my brain is not made of fuzzy soup tomorrow, too. Today's letter is short, but that's only because there's so much that I cannot write to you about in this space, for fear of accidentally delegitimizing the safety I'm trying to strive for, for you. Popular opinion in my world about you and your circumstances seems to have a non-trivial effect on the outcome of events in your world, and this is very sad, because by and large, the people of my world are not very merciful or kind towards people who make mistakes, especially if they're autistic or if they've survived abuse, or if they deviate from what is considered "the norm" in any way.

Sephiroth. Please stay safe out there. Please make kind and good choices. Please take care of yourself, and please protect yourself, your planet and the people around you. I love you and I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[leynaeithnea]

Introduction:

Hehylo, I'm Leyna or Ley

-> she/her, sometimes they

-> I can legally drink in the US (I won’t, I'm boring, I don't rly drink, smoke, i don't even drink coffee or energy drinks, I'm boring, I’m also not from that continent)

-> probably bi, idek not straight probably

-> trying to be a functional member of society but not doing great with that yet, keep questioning my life choices every few weeks

-> my blog is probably not family friendly

-> I'm mostly active on discord, you can add me under @ leynadeyemi ....but I tend to ignore unknown requests so maybe lmk on here first

Tags:

#LeyAnswers (ask replies)

#LeyWonders (asking questions to myself or others)

#LeysDoodles (stuff I draw or doodle)

#LeyRambles (ranting about stuff, probably trying to make a point)

#LeyWrites (anything related to my writing projects)

-> fandom tags

-> might add more tags i.e. for reblogs or stuff like that eventually

-> the writing projects get their own tags too

Content:

I'm a writer....well, I’m working on it, I'm neither good at writing nor storytelling, worldbuilding or character creation, but writing is the only thing that when I do it I don‘t feel like I’m secretly wasting my time, so imma keep doing it

Occasionally I draw and slowly getting a tiny bit better at that, mostly practicing digital, sometimes on paper, I also like playing around with all other stuff of digital arts: animation, trying to get into music again, editing,….long list, but mostly writing probably

Main writing projects:

Stolen Kingdom (working title) (#DayNightDusk): fantasy - trilology - no day-night cycle, political conflicts, no magic, mc wants to go home, enemies to lover's - worldbuilding, planning, plotting, character creation [-> still new and fully up to change]

Minto Wild (#MintoWild): epic/portal fantasy (probably?) - series - nine worlds, wild magic, the gods are gone, mc can manipulate and feel fear – worldbuilding, planning

Changeling King (#ChangelingKing): fantasy, folklore - novel (probably, duology maybe) - changelings, curses, withering world, otherworld, fairies – worldbuilding, planning

Starless - Starlit - Starborn (#Astaranay): gaslamp fantasy, galaxy core - series/triology - scholarship, constellations, stolen magic – worldbuilding

Rustle of Wings (#RustleOfWings): gaslamp fantasy, folklore - short story - moth, death omen, apothecary, fairies – editing

Shadows of Truth (#CakeMelonSword/ ShadowsOfTruth): lgbt fantasy romance - co-written novel (with two friends) - gods, fey, angels, truth and lies – plotting

(More that arent more than a single line or idea)

Hobbies/Interests, that I might mention or rant about:

Editing, history, mythology, folklore, fairies, writing, english, linguistics, culture, storytelling, witchy stuff, gardening/foraging, psychology, sociology, science like astronomoy (kinda, not the maths and physics behind it) probably more stuff

Fandoms I might reblog or mention/reference more frequently:

Epic the Musical

The Odyssey

Captive Prince Series

All for the Game series

The Silmarillion

Additionally:

-> reading mostly fantasy and lgbt, sometimes non fiction…mostly for research, sometimes for the brain

-> whatever I'm currently watching

-> i don't play a lot of games (mostly genshin and assassins creed syndicate) nor am I rly involved into any game fandoms, want to explore more games in the future though

Friend shenenigans with:

@underexasperation

@rudegizmo

@diovoppio

(Might start tagging interactions with #mydearestfriends)

#mutuals for interactions with other friends :>

Oh, i also tested out what these new communities were and made one for my stories, but considering I've only have two somewhat acceptable short-stories and an actually good co-written one, I don't think that's gonna be relevant anytime soon 😬 Unless you want me to ramble about my WIPs, in which case I wont refuse

[krys-loves-otome]

Stolen from Scummy's reblog because I wanted to do it too!

Note that most half-filled squares are ones that are technically true, but it's under specific circumstances and rules, will explain below

So, for now, some Blorbos from me:

-Intense in loves and passions (for Nobunaga, for MC once they get together, for trying to get Mitsuhide to take better care of himself, in his care for others, dude is just passionate for his loved ones!) -His love for Nobu and his interactions with Mitsuhide can get a little fruity, not gonna lie. -Technically orphan since we don't really hear much about his family aside from his poor upbringing and having to be a bum to get by until Nobu came into his life. Agas in discord has also told us about RL Hideyoshi and how much his mom loved Kennyo and I think that's funny to think about sometimes. -Frequently violent but only when it comes to protecting his loved ones. He thinks one of them is in trouble and the man will go feral trying to find a way to help them. Overall speaking, he's not particularly violent, I don't think though.

-----

-Nothing anyone says is gonna make me change my mind about this man being bisexual. Nope, not happening. -Technically a tragic backstory as he frequently does Team Oda's dirty work of spying and torture, but his tragic backstory is not quite to the extent that some other characters go through, like poverty, figure-headness, and killing a loved one.

-Technically frequently violent, but it's mostly in the pranks he pulls. Not ferally violent, in a sense. He's sneaky about his violent tendencies. You don't want to mess with his wife, after all. -Divorced? He's a double agent that always goes back to his ex (Team Oda).

------

-Being an immortal vampire means you must have some complexities and that doesn't excuse you being fruity, monsieur. -Technically an orphan as I don't think we hear much about his birth family as we do Leonardo and Vlad. They're mentioned sometimes but no word on their current status as he tends to focus more on his found family. Until I get confirmed status, he's orphan status to me, thus why the creation of his found one. -Divorced from Vlad, duh.

------

-Listen. Listen. Devon/batteryrose was onto something with shipping Nokto and Slivio. Plus, been thinking of finding ways of shipping my OC and him with Rio. Just something about Nokto and the Bentonite princes does something to my mind, okay?

-Technically an orphan after what happened to his and Licht's mom, plus the whole reason for the Belle procedure is because his dad died. Maybe it doesn't count because he was an adult when his dad died, but, technically speaking, both his parents are dead, so... -Murderer by technicality because of Blood-stained Roses Day (all the princes at the time were said to have participated, so, technically speaking). He also tried to poison some merchants for a business deal, so attempted murderer too, technically?

-----

-Have you seen this demon when his family is in danger (actual, perceived, or otherwise)? He will go absolutely bat-shit feral when his family is in danger! Once you're under his wings, nothing will stop him from going to the absolute limit and beyond for you.

-Technically divorced from the Celestial Realm because of Circumstances™️, not from a specific person.

-Also on a technicality, because of that... whole war with the Celestial Realm, so some angels were more than likely killed, right?

[lost-harts]

The Destruction of Creation: How bobbin lace versus machines relates to digital art versus AI

This is something that is completely my own opinion, no real research has been done, just observation. I, as a whole system, have been thinking about this for a while and just needed to get these thoughts out.

In the back end of September 2023, I began to learn a skill I've wanted to learn for over a decade, lacemaking. It's one of those hobbies that is always on the edge of dying out, but there's always resurgences and weirdos like me making sure it keeps its head above water.

To some lace is something ugly, for old grannies and yellowing curtains in old houses. To others lace is only for the romantic and sexual moments in their life, a wedding dress and lingerie. But most people can agree, it's a bit old fashioned and not for the every day. I thought a lot of lace was ugly myself when I was young, but then I saw antique bobbin made lace and suddenly I could see what people wanted really. The beauty of fine lines building up something like an eternal snowflake.

When I had an income I used to commission artists fairly frequently, but one sort of artist I couldn't afford to ever commission were those with the highly detailed, beautifully shaded, realistic backgrounded art. Theirs was around £300 and rightly so with the hours of work they would spend on each piece and the years of honing that skill beforehand. But these pieces of art were wanted and some people when they can't bear to part with money, or an appropriate amount of money, will spend their time instead working out work arounds.

In the 18th and 19th centuries lace was found all over clothing, especially clothes for the upper classes. But as industrialisation thundered ever louder in the 19th century and the middle class became truly distinct, they wanted this lace for themselves to appear more like richer folk, but also to adorn more numerous items of clothing that factories allowed one person to own. And so it becomes, why pay a village woman to take a good couple of months on your lace collar when we have machines and factory workers now that can make the rest of the outfit in days? Surely a machine can be made that will do it quicker and require less money? And yes they could. These machines very quickly became the main way people would get lace, especially Bedfordshire and Bucks Point style laces.

But people adapted, learnt how to make quicker simpler, less impressive lace that was still pretty, known as torchon lace. They fended off the machines for a good thirty years too, the machine makers unable for those thirty years to get machines to copy torchon lace correctly and quickly. They jammed and tangled, causing more trouble than it was worth in the eyes of factory owners. But come the 1870s, lace making machines had 'improved', making torchon lace also and a skilled art quickly began to fade.

I see this in artist communities I'm a part of too. Digital artists discussing how to imprint their art with un-copy-able code, make the AI falter and spend longer to make something worse. I've seen other artists saying they are dropping their hyper realistic art styles though, so they can be quicker and lower their prices so people will still commission them maybe? Trying to remove a distance between arguing with AI through prompts and reprompts to get sort of the picture you want for free and paying a human who you can clearly describe what you want and pay them. It truly is the same story happening once again.

But the most sickening thing for me is my thoughts on the hyper realistic art style. I had been on DeviantArt since I was 12, I loved this sort of art, seeing book characters, anime characters bounding about, leaping through the air, hair flapping and clothes swishing about with gorgeous lighting.

So much time and skill and learning went into getting there. I know this really. But now, I have to catch myself when I see art in this style because my first thought is 'Oh, AI rubbish is getting better with hands'. Art, that is beautiful, just on the off chance it is cheaply or freely made without skill, is rubbish. Put in the bin and discarded. That doesn't mean I think we should admire AI art. We should hate it for what it is, the machine that snatches food, ideas, skills and artistry from people, just as machines did over a hundred years ago. It really sickens me.

Because I know people began to think the same thing about lace. It became tacky, nothing special, rubbish. Something that was once an asset just like jewellery, trod into the dirt because everyone could have it now as it was churned out by machines. But hundreds of years of skills were stolen by those machines. Those machines and inventors couldn't come up whole cloth with those lace designs. They needed the lace makers to even exist.

I have no real conclusions other than, please don't let AI art make you hate an art style just because it steals from it. And maybe people should like lace more, especially bobbin made lace like I'm learning to make.

[ranticore]

hello... 5-15 of those asks if you'd like for John (any iteration!) and Nico... hehe

yay 🧡

5. Is there any significance behind their hair color? 

not really lol. john's hair is brown because it's the most common hair colour, nico [pascal's object of obsession from 2017 inver] has black hair because i wanted to further visually distinguish him from bowman. both have visible grey streaks because it's an easy way to help define the shape of the hair when drawing it

6. Is there any significance behind their eye color? 

yes but only in that they (and all my characters) have brown eyes because i got tired of ppl seemingly on purpose avoiding brown eyes for their interesting characters. so i only make brown-eyed characters on purpose. the only exception is cuinn (harpy) because he has albinism but typical members of his species have dark brown eyes.

7. Is there any significance behind their height? 

yes, john is my height on purpose (5'4") and nico is 5'3" because i'd unintentionally made my previous trans man characters pretty tall so i thought well let's make one who is short hashtag representation

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

i relate to john because i'm also a beautiful brunette who sucks so much. nico is unrelatable to me because he's a cop (he's not really but the plot does follow a buddy cop format)

9. Are they based off of you, in some way? 

john from long long ago (2011, my first major setting) was a direct self insert thus the similarities in appearance. he has some parts of me in him because he's my main dnd character and it's hard not to project when doing 5 hour improv sessions once a week but he has never been less like me tbh. nico ehhh not really, we don't align personality-wise because i would not tolerate pascal for more than 5 seconds without wanting to hit him with my car

10. If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

for john yeah 100%, they were made for each other. the angle i'm going with for their arc is a "perfectly synchronous" relationship being no protection for some bad shit going down between them, showing that if two people are SOO perfectly made for one another, it can often lead to one person taking the other for granted, assuming they can predict how the other person will react in any given situation, and ultimately it all results in a messy breakdown of communication.

for nico i meannnnnnnn he is a horse trainer and pascal is a horse so there is that, but in terms of personality they are intentionally very opposed and clash frequently, get on each other's nerves, fight, and not always smooth over those incidences. they are not very compatible.

11. Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation? 

yep

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

I'm going to be real with u I could draw and write John in my sleep. Nico i find difficult to write, I have a hard time finding his voice. The ranger uniform also annoys me.

13. How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all? 

john as a dnd character has no future whatsoever aside from a planned multiclass, he could fall off a cliff next session and die idk. Nico is one of the few characters i haven't thought much about post-canon, i don't feel like it's relevant.

14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

john: 1. literally just say the first thing that comes to mind, always. 2. keep em guessing

nico: 1. hes scared of boats and this is surprisingly relevant, i keep forgetting it lol. 2. i try to keep in mind my studies of horse trainers & their work, how they interact with their animals and what subtle body language they might use; these are people who frequently have to convince giant frightened animals that they are in charge here, this translates into how they hold themselves, how they speak, how they approach conflict etc.

15. What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

john's secret fear which we have discussed in dms (iykyk)

nico let himself get tricked into going on a theme park date with pascal while on duty and didn't even realise until afterwards that it was an elaborate setup of fabricated evidence all so that pascal could get him in the tunnel of love

[writerofweird]

This piece of writing includes violence and implied enbyphobia.

They walked into Abigail's office for what they hoped would be the last time.

Abigail. She frequently said 'Ms. Adams was my mother, call me Abby!' as she attempted to sound like a big sister-type cartoon character, so they thought they would just call her Abigail. They certainly didn't want to think about Abigail's mother, considering she and Abigail's father were responsible for a lot of the ideas the company used. She wouldn't address them by their preferred name, so why would they do the same for her?

Despite the fact they were in the office regarding their resignation letter, having received a job offer from a rival company, Abigail still had that ridiculous smile. With that smile and hairdo, she looked like she escaped from a romcom poster, made all the more noticeable by the standee in front of her desk. The company's mascot, who appeared at the beginning of every one of their games, fixing the logo onto the screen and blowing it a chef's kiss. The mascot was created by Abigail's parents, so she often called him her brother.

They smirked as they entertained the idea of being rid of that pandering.

'I'm very sorry you're leaving us,' said Abigail, her smile shrinking.

'Don't give me that. That act might work with your adoring public, but you never respected me or who I was.'

'I understand,' replied Abigail, every syllable of her Mrs. Claus voice feeling like teeth digging into their brain, 'I may be a bit old-fashioned, silly me, but I want all my employees to feel comfortable with who they are. In fact, you and your letter inspired me.'

She then talked about the company's magnum opus, the game her parents had been working on before she took over and made sure to keep developing.

'I've added new options for character creation,' she continued, gesturing to the helmet next to her, 'and I would like you to be the first to try it!'

'Pull the other one,' they snapped, intentionally knocking the standee over. 'If I never see you or that freak again,' they added, nodding at the standee, 'it'll be too soon. Goodbye.'

A man stood in front of them. A fellow employee, though one they didn't know the name of.

'Out of my...'

He grabbed them by the wrist, digging his fingernails into their skin.

'What...'

Their left wrist was released, but only so the fellow employee could place his hand over their mouth.

Abigail placed the helmet on their head.

-

'Ah, a new friend! Always need some of those! Now, what's your name? Wait, don't tell me! You look like a Z...'

-

'Well done,' said Abigail to her employee as the two of them hoisted the inanimate body onto a chair. With a nod, the employee left.

Abigail took another look at the defiant employee, thinking of how much more useful they would be after the new personality was downloaded into their brain.

She had to keep them alive, as it were. The new personality was going to be more obedient and hard-working, but it couldn't be too different lest people get suspicious. So into the circus they went for the purposes of studying.

After looking over the resignation letter again, Abigail turned to the screen to see her brother and his newest playmate. She laughed to herself as she thought again of her parents and how they didn't know what they had with their project.

Well, she thought as she turned her attention towards the shivering chess piece, you're getting a good look at it now, aren't you, Dad? Shame about Mum...

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

I am willing to guess that most of the dolls that Golden Butter Cookie makes are named and based after herbs and spices. Like you've got Rosemary, you've got Basil, and you've got Thyme.

GBC probably sketches and plans their designs on a little notebook way back then and used to share their ideas with Shadow Milk Cookie who enjoys listening or commenting on it because this is the most motivated she seemed in years, so he adds a bit of his own ideas to the mix. (Some are rejected for obvious reasons). And it becomes one of the small things they bonded over.

yeah! I'm glad you picked up on that! Rosemary was the first name to come to mind and then i thought; " well what if all the dolls were named after spices?" and boom, there you have it.

As for the other half i entirely agree! I do believe how Shadow Milk first found out was by accidentally sneaking up on her, it's just that she doesn't really use a regular notebook... It's more like a magical character creation screen? I dunno how to explain it really.

The two of them used to bounce ideas off of each other frequently, but as Goldie descended further into her burnout it turned into her listening to Shadow Milk's ideas and giving him feedback. Until eventually, he couldn't find her at all.

After that was the first time he discovered the Toy-Box, at first Goldie had called it a 'storage space'... but he wondered if that was still true now.

He was also surprised when he was able to open it, and was soon met with the world inside. At first, he was amazed... And then he eventually found Goldie.

She had looked, surprised? At least, he thought she looked surprised despite the faint expression on her face. But she clearly didn't expect for him to be here. After realizing how she was, he put effort into trying to help her.

However, like some stars, she eventually crashed and burned. It was inevitable after all. She had changed, and he was in the process of changing himself. Did either of them want to change this way? Did they want to turn out like they had? Who knows, maybe only they themselves would.