Indie Fandomless OCs | Selective | 21+ mun
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will byers stan first human second

PR's Tumblrdome

#extradirty

almost home
Xuebing Du
art blog(derogatory)
🪼
Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor

roma★
$LAYYYTER

Andulka
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Product Placement

Discoholic 🪩

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@alabonshay
Indie Fandomless OCs | Selective | 21+ mun
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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// Actually, it would be kind of awesome if the main verse premise was that The Duchess just... ran away. Just gone explorin' and ended up in another world. What is an intrepid spirit stifled by society to do?
It works the same whether you're 15 or 250, but the chances of success are higher the longer you've established yourself as a reasonable member of Society. Your mother nor anyone else concerned for your well-being isn't alive to tell you off anymore, so you can do whatever you want.
// The lore is that quillochs are actually early humans but their DNA has been so thoroughly mangled by the eldritch virus they hybridized with (after it absorbed the entire world of course) just kinda filled in the holes with guesswork. It's not quite sentient. (It is, however, a disposed alien bioweapon engineered to destroy worlds and unfortunately, it crash landed on Earth.)
They're still humanoid, but likely, the virus filled in the DNA holes with traits of the original alien species, while simultaneously re-evolving them into ape-like creatures. Quillochs are not mammals. They're not really anything Earth-like, except for colony insects... if certain insects could asexually reproduce.
Decided that they are by definition, a species. Not just hybrids. They're parasites that make world-eating venom and reproduce via shedding their quills into this. (Which is gross and they hate thinking about it in modern day.)
Their nobility is structured around this. Most quillochs are just workers, without quills. Quilled members are given prestige over commoners. Alabonsé belongs to a rare category of being quilled and venomous, and therefore a Duchess.
Quilloch sexes aren't automatic, but determined by exposure level to the Lake they worship. Anyone can develop quills at any point in their lives if they choose to hibernate in the Lake. It's about prestige. Some, but not all, are more likely to become venomous and have traits that qualify them as Duchesses. It's not a clear-cut line, because rarely things are. But Alabonsé is something of a paragon of Duchessness, being very large and having impressive tusks, despite disliking all this.
// A picture of dendie/ quilloch society is that it looks fine on the surface but gets worse the longer you look. Here's a summary:
"Oh, it's a steampunk socie-" WRONG. Eldritch worship and quantum physics age. All their 19th century nonsense theories sound wrong but unfortunately they are correct because they live in another universe where it's all true.
The purpose of most people's existence is to toil in the fields and factories to feed the eldritch being.
99.9% of the population lives on this massive bridge and if it crumbles, they're going to die in the Void Ocean.
The last .01 percentage lives in a liminal horror where it's an endless expanse of grass and sky, also surrounded by the Void Ocean.
The Void Ocean is so toxic it's incapable of sustaining life beyond archaea and people actively fear it as the embodiment of Hell.
Everyone is well-dressed and polite because they are incredibly vain. Because in fact their ordinary human brains cannot comprehend being distorted ape-like hybrids with the great unknown.
There are maybe 3 or 4 people responsible for the continuation of the entire species. They've already been cloned at least 5 times.
They are giant fangy fuzzy things and they hate it. There is one even specialer gianter fangier fuzzier thing called The Duchess Alabonsé, who hates it even more. By now she is over 200 years old with no heirs. Everyone one step below is terrified they'll be chosen next.
There are probably millions of average quillochs who would love to be a giant fangy fuzzy thing because they're proud freaks, but since they're not nobility, it's never going to happen.
Everyone eats bones. It's just a thing.
Their court system involves a fencing duel as a test of character.
// For some reason, I'm kinda considering reworking some of my lore and maybe dusting off this blog again.

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"Podswin, what do you wager?" pepped the Lady Evergreen.
"On what, My Lady?"
Uncertain eyes watched the quilloch nearly salivating, scheming behind bottleglass lenses. From the pocket of her coat, she procured a leather ball, turning it over once for the servant. Podswin watched in silence, her expression no more enlightened than before.
"Why, I can nearly see the lawn. I can almost see the trees. I see the impression of that bird, over there," Evergreen grinned.
// If the Duchess could be described in the terms of any instrument, it would be an elaborate circus organ. Mechanically-driven, complex, imposing, florid. Center-stage. LOUD, but also extremely precise and meaningfully so.
In other words, Evergreen VIII 100% owns one of these, with the elaborate moving figurines. Walks over when she's in the mood, salivating like a kid in a candy store, and the estate goes from dead-silent to circus music blasting, ten times in a row.
// If the Duchess could be described in the terms of any instrument, it would be an elaborate circus organ. Mechanically-driven, complex, imposing, florid. Center-stage. LOUD, but also extremely precise and meaningfully so.
In other words, Evergreen VIII 100% owns one of these, with the elaborate moving figurines. Walks over when she's in the mood, salivating like a kid in a candy store, and the estate goes from dead-silent to circus music blasting, ten times in a row.
The Duchess stares wide-eyed and intensely, upright in her chair. There is a hint of a smile around her tusks. A look of hunger. What a marvelous thing, such a marvelous thing. She nods her head gently to the rhythm.
Although she had been asleep mere moments ago, she is already wondering how in the world the fotoplayer works. Whether she could invent her own, what similar machines exist. Whether she could shake the hand of the engineer, at the expense of their bones.
alg0rhythm1c
Starring Rex Poindexter, the grooviest guy on the Internet... from the Internet!
Indie Fandomless OC with The Amazing Digital Circus (TADC) and Deltarune verses.
Documenting the hijinks of a self-aware program with high charisma, a heart of gold, and a slightly uncanny CGI smile.
Selective & Low Activity, 25+ mun
A study in: modern mythology, soulless creations given soul, technology as the eldritch, a self-driven meaning of life, and wielding great power as a force of good.
RULES || VERSES

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// If the world and muses aren't speaking to me, maybe it's time for a change. It means something isn't working.
I suspect the lack of character motivation and the open-endedness of my muses sort of killed my ability to write them. I'm not yet sure how to fix this, but the blog is still on a semi-hiatus and may be subject to restructuring of verses, character info, etc. in the future. I don't think it will affect any current threads, but I may end up changing the roles of who is a primary muse/ who isn't.
Podswin's dark red mane puffed out slightly, like a bird displaying its feathers. She hadn't meant to appear so excited over this simple meal, but it looked absolutely delicious as it was served to her.
"Oh," she downplayed her tone, politely, "Thank you very much."
Revenge for creativeimpetus on artfight
Podswin slid into the booth, awkwardly scooting herself towards the middle. It was made of some shiny material she had never seen before. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered. She set the handkerchief off to the side, neatly folded.
The dendie looked almost out of breath, staring at a pattern of nicks along the table's edge like she was trying to makes sense of them. "Russell, I dunno. I dunno." She forewent her manners, setting her elbows down, clutching her face in her hands, and ruffling up the dark red fur along her scalp.
How about a stiff drink?
"Something easy, anything. Water for me face as well. Please."
"Ah, the servants take care of everything," says the Lady, sort of dismissively, "And I won't worry." She makes a slight chuckle, changing the subject, "The real question might be, 'do you have a decent comb?'. Otherwise, I'm afraid it will be... a while."
Evergreen's fur is notoriously curly, and without her pomade for a smooth appearance, she would be regrettably unkempt. Of course, what matters most is she returns feeling refreshed as a living being should, and doesn't smell like old ceiling water. After what happened, it would be in her favor to make the best impression she could. Dendies are often interested in each others' effortful appearances, so why not whatever these things are?
"Thank you very much for the tour Pods- I mean, Thursday," she says. She flinches back, visibly embarrassed, although she is still smiling to play it off. Really, she can't wait, and she is already approaching the tub.
"Oh, oh, and also, if I might request a few garments in the meantime? Please." She plans to wash what she's wearing as well, just because. From experience aplenty, it would be a miserable couple hours if she sat around in her wet clothes.

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Podswin followed along at an unsure pace, taking note of the scene. Despite being in another world, she was almost relieved to discover it was the same as any other building. It was a real, public space full of furniture, the sort of indoor scene she was starting to miss.
When she received the handkerchief, her brows lit up momentarily in surprise. She took it gingerly by the corner. "Ah, no, really I can't. I can't," she shook her head with a smile. It was far too nice for the likes of herself, having just been in the alleyway. Still, seeing as Russell had already offered, she wiped her hands with it.
As she dealt with the special cloth and its pleasant, albeit otherworldly scent, Winnie began to wander aimlessly across the main area, scouting the arrangements of tables and chairs. "I don't know," she said. She was starting to feel dizzy, in the sense that she wasn't certain whether she was alive. She wasn't fully aware of her own whereabouts, much less her own thoughts.
"I don't know. That's kind of you. I think… I would like to sit down," she admitted.
// I'm participating this year, so come and get me!