It's from an old OC of mine! Her name was Silver, and she was a sky pirate who's primary mode of transportation was on dragon-back. Then the 13 is because 13 became my favorite number for awhile there. So it's basically shorthand for Silver's Sky Pirates, lucky number.
I think I still have a couple refs of her kicking around...
Yeah! Here we go:
8. Favorite month of the year and why?
October! It's starting to cool down, the trees are changing color, there probably isn't any snow yet. It's just a nice, cozy time of year!
11. What kind of music is stuck in your head a lot lately?
That one AI version the Thong Song that has a bunch of people singing it like its a choir or whatever gets stuck in my head constantly. I wake up in the morning and it is playing in my head. I go to bed at night and it is playing in my head. It drives me nuts. And I can't stop it, because the way I stop songs from being stuck in my head is by finishing the song, and the song has no end because its a 15 second tiktok meme. I'm dying, someone help me please--
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genuinely curious about your intricate sun lore and if the design you posted represents sun 1 or 2 (or both or neither?)
HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!! :D thank you so much for the ask, and for enabling me!!! i love infodumping >:)
so i’ll preface this by asking that you’ll excuse me if some parts of this doesn’t align perfectly with blaseball lore. this is still something i’m very much rotating in my head, and working on!
OKAY! with that out of the way... the basis for my sun headcanons hinges mostly on the fact that, to quote lootcrates, parker macmillan the first is a “failed sun,” as well as a “failed son.” the insinuation being that there is exists a successful sun, and by extension a successful son.
in less uncertain terms, what i’m asserting is that the sun is the sibling of parker macmillan the first (who is implied to be the child of The Boss). or, at least, that his sibling is a vessel for the sun.
given parker macmillan is a player, we can assume then that he’s just a regular guy, as in not a god like his mother. it’d be safe to imagine then that a sibling of parker would be just as normal as he. ....unless they were made to be godlike.
in pre-history there’s a lot of diction implying creation and upkeep of the sun, with namerifeht “forging” and “refilling” the sun. unlike the other gods it doesn’t seem to have as much autonomy, and the use of words implying refilling makes one imagine that there is something that needs to be filled.
as far as whether my drawing was sun 1 or sun 2.. well, i don’t really think they’d bare much visual difference since,
given alternates were called for sun 1 just before it collapsed, i think sun 2 is an alternate for sun 1. (for clarity’s sake, the intention was sun 1! whether sun 2 would look the same or different is something else i’ll need to think about)
and, hey, that’s another connection between the sun and parker macmillan the first! who else in blaseball has had their later clone-like, minutely different iterations referred to by number? parker and the commissioners! perhaps something in the macmillan family makes them especially disposed to be replicated in the way of alternates? are the commissioners just alternates of parker, like how sun 2 is the alternate of the 1st? it plays a lot into why parker macmillan of anyone else was repeatedly chosen to be kept as commissioner, after how many times previous iterations have expired.
it’s a lot to ruminate on, and i’d love to receive feedback and thoughts >:)
thank you so much for the ask and the interest!! :D
idk if you're still looking for ttrpg recommendations / how you feel about games without GMs but this list has a lot of stuff i like ftlcast(.)tumblr(.)com/games
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i'm emo about flower siblings now - lauriam & strelitzia for the 3 sentence fic? either something about hair brushing (back on my bullshit) or an ib crossover (EXTREMELY back on my bullshit)
Lauriam’s waiting for her when she finally gets back from Agrabah, and he clucks his tongue when he sees how much sand is caught in her pigtails.
“Come here,” he says, patting the seat beside him. “Tell me about your day, and let’s see if I can’t do something to help with your hair.”
gently places “daisy and jon are friends and passive aggressively help each other Cope” into your hands
oh NO i lost control of the situation and it’s not fluffy and also, it’s more like ‘aggressively try to make the other a better person while also Coping’. i love daisy and jon’s weird friendship
The tension visibly eases from Daisy’s frame the moment the coffin is stuck back into artefact storage. That’s the first step, but it’s also the easiest.
Jon is no good at this. Martin would know what to do, but, well. He’s not available.
The first time Daisy takes refuge in Jon’s office, neither of them say anything. It’s not exactly a comfort to have her there, but it’s something. A reminder, perhaps, a softening of a blade he can’t stop.
The second time, he has to ask. “Do you want me to… get Basira?”
Something morphs in her face. The usually placid expression turns, twists, feral and wild and panicked and she practically snarls, “Don’t.” Then it falls, just as quickly, and she covers her face with one hand and breathes. “No. Thank you, but no.”
The reaction startles him, to be sure, but he gets it. He really, truly gets it. “Alright,” he says. “Yeah. It’s—… Alright.”
Daisy responds by burying her face into her knees, hugging her legs to her chest, and becoming a silent fixture in his office.
Eventually, days later, she relaxes.
Eventually, a week later, she asks, “How can you keep going, after everything?”
At first, Jon bristles at the question. He’s asked himself that so often, has had Georgie’s door slammed in his face (he doesn’t blame her), has all but lost Martin (he blames himself), and still he keeps going.
But then her head lolls on her shoulder, and her dark eyes focus on him, a wounded predator coiled and waiting and tired. And she asks, “How do you not just give up?”
Jon doesn’t have to pry to know exactly what she means. “Honestly? I wish I knew how.”
She snorts at this and looks away. “You don’t mean that.”
Doesn’t he? Doesn’t he wish that he could put the damn recorder down and it would just stay down?
“I do,” he finally says, “at least a little.”
Her jaw tenses, the shadows at her throat flicker, but she doesn’t say anything.
So Jon pushes on. “All I see are just the pieces that I’ve left behind me, and you know what the problem is? I don’t even stop to wonder if they’re okay. If they’ll be able to put themselves back together again. I know you know exactly how that feels.”
Daisy winces. “Jon, you’re not coward enough to stop, and that’s your problem.”
He stares at her. Really stares at her, and there’s a buzzing in the back of his head that demands recognition so the answers could just appear before him without having to do the hard work of talking about it. But then he laughs — once, cold and sharp — and Daisy’s expression shifts to mirror the sound. “You’re joking.”
Jonathan Sims, not a coward.
Even if he lets himself pick apart her words, her tone, even with all the powers of understanding in the world, it still sounds like a lie.
Daisy waives a hand at his desk — at his office, the Archives, the Institute, this whole damn mess. “You’re surrounded by so much fear and still you keep going.”
His lips purse, and he lifts an eyebrow. “Are you accusing me or praising me, because even I’m having a hard time telling the difference.”
She laughs at this, actually laughs. Her head tilts back against the shelf of folders and books she was hunkered against, and her limbs go loose as she struggles to keep herself upright.
Jon’s frown quirks just a degree, despite his best effort to reign it in. “Daisy, if you choke, I just want to warn you I am not CPR certified.”
This only gets her to laugh harder, to the point that there are tears in her eyes.
He has the decency to not point it out, though there is a dangerous moment where he thinks that she might actually start crying.
“Fuck you,” she finally says, though there’s no real anger behind it. The wary look is gone from her expression, and the only thing left behind is a woman chewed up and spit out by a rabid dog.
Jon knows that feeling well. He’s been there.
Daisy drags her hand down over her face and hauls herself upright. “Alright, Archivist.”
He leans back in his chair, aware that the tape recorder is still whirring on his desk. A silent reminder. “Alright?”
“What will make this easier for you?”
He stops, considering her, considering the question. “What do you mean?”
“You’re all knowing. Figure it out.”
Her words are like a mental push to the buzzing and before he can stop it, the information trickles out. Ideas and feelings and memories drop into his lap and threaten to become a flood.
Jon slams his hands on his desk as if that will help slam the door shut, and shoves himself to his feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daisy,” he says, voice whip-sharp. It cuts his throat on his way out.
It’s not even a dangerous thing that she suggests. He’s been through worse — hell, he’s done worse to himself.
“Oh, there it is,” she teases, leaning in across his desk towards him. “I found the one thing that you’re scared of.”
“You’re making this out to be a much bigger thing than it really is—”
“Jon the All-Seeing, being asked to just be normal for a day.”
“It’s not like I can just turn it off, Daisy.”
She makes a face, like this is the most disappointing thing he could say to her. And, perhaps, it is, in a way. “I know. You know I know.”
The tape recorder continues to hum.
“It’s what you are. It’s what you know.” Daisy lifts a hand, as if to reach for him, but stops. “And it’s scary to be without that. But also it’s terrifying to let people know you with it.”
He thinks of Martin, despite himself. Of how, really, he would appreciate a cup of tea right then.
He wonders if that’s what Daisy thinks when Basira gives her that look. That knowing and that fear.
Jon pushes the STOP button, not like it will really help. “Alright,” he says, and she looks at him with an understanding that he refuses to read. “Alright.”
hey oryx i just watched ep 39 of kyurangers and i’m losing my mind. they didnt have to go that hard and put a whole champ/stinger MV in the climax of the episode but they DID. for US
mr mouri writing that episode: gonna give the gays everything they want.gif
still so galaxy brained that champ was the princess they had to rescue at the end of their rpg quest... the embarassingly earnest romance of it all....
