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lumpofwhump · 1 year
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The Scavenger and the Forgotten 6: The Children of Io
Content warning: Minor character death, cult dynamics, bad caretaker
Continued from here.
--
"Look, ammo is what I've got," Clee insisted with a frustrated gesture. "Do you want it, or would you prefer to keep your stupid safe straw?"
The lean, sharp-eyed Girn on the other side of this negotiation scoffed. "Bullets for a KAM-5? The only guys using those right now would shoot me dead on sight. Meanwhile, it looks like Grampy here could use some stupid clean water from my stupid safe straw." She pointed to Radu, and smirked as the old genmod shrunk still further in on himself upon being noticed. "It's ten in coin or nothing."
"Coin?! Who the fuck carries coin anymore?"
"The two of you, from the looks of it," the other Girn said, sounding as calm as Clee did irritable. "Your friend's got some nice clothes. New ones, even. Can't buy those with bullets."
Clee groaned, tired of arguing with this smug bitch already. Up until a few minutes ago, this had been her first day in a week with no headaches. "Six," she conceded, all but tossing two pieces of metal currency at the woman.
She caught it easily, and inspected it closely before nodding with satisfaction. "Looks like the half-a-kriv can be halfway honest. Makes enough sense."
"Go to hell," Clee shot back.
The other woman smirked. "Which one?"
She was about to suggest Chemoghlu - the lady didn't seem like she'd hold up all that well being stuck swimming upstream through a river of scalding-hot shit in the midst of a stampede of angry deimels for all eternity - when Radu urgently tapped her on the shoulder.
"Yeah, fine, let's get going," she grumbled, managing not to snap at him even as her shoulders tensed. She snatched the water filtration straw from the other Girn's hand and turned around, her eyes settling on a group of five approached humans. Or humanoids, at least.
Clee felt a pit in her stomach seeing their hodgepodge armor, made up of lab protective gear patched together to fit people much bigger than its original owners. Of all the genmod factions she'd considered bringing Radu to, the fanatics calling themselves the Children of Io had been dead last on her list.
The guy in front, though… he wasn't from the labs, at not least as a subject. He barely looked genmod at all. He did look like he needed a good punch to the face, though.
Apparently the other woman agreed. "Shit, this guy again," she muttered, clamping her hand tightly over the coins she was holding.
He gave the group of them an unpleasant smirk as his four much more formidable friends raised weapons as varied as their armor at the group. "I thought we had this talk already… Izhekna, was it?" he said, eyes on the Girn vendor. "Just because you turned informant doesn't mean you can go back to selling us in our own territory." He gestured toward Radu.
"I-I wasn't -- the Hiukree here and her lab… her f-friend, they were robbing me!" Izhekna pleaded in thickly-accented Ganymedean, her eyes darting between Clee and the apparent leader of this squad.
"Nice try," the man said casually, ignoring Clee as she sputtered to defend herself against the accusation, right before one of the soldiers fired a shot directly into Izhekna's head. The older woman collapsed to the ground with hardly a sound, while Radu yelped and jumped back, his clothes now coated in blood.
Clee was equally blood spattered, but too stunned to react as two of the soldiers approached until their hands closed around her arms. She pulled and thrashed at her captors, jabbing one of them hard enough with the water filtration straw that they audibly hissed in pain. The same soldier pried the device out from between her fingers, not particularly gently, and threw it to the ground.
"Oh, are you fucking kidding me?!" Clee raged as this entire errand became worse than pointless.
As the straw hit the ground, though, Radu snapped to attention. "Clee!" he shouted. "Let go of Clee, she --"
"You don't have to worry about her anymore," one of the armored figures told him gently. "We won't let her hurt you."
"No, she helps me! I-I need her," Radu insisted.
"You know her?" The apparent leader groaned and squeezed the bridge of his nose. The arrogant bastard was unarmored, Clee now realized. "Well. this just turned into a giant mess," he said, sounding very put-upon by this situation. "Look, we're gonna take you both back to base and get things sorted out there, got it?"
"Doesn't look like we've got much of a choice," Clee pointed out. "Any way you can let me walk on my own here?"
He studied her for a minute without reply. There was a flash of something, maybe recognition, in his eyes, and he shook his head quickly. "Nah," he said, and started off back in the direction they'd come from.
The second pair of soldiers didn't put hands on Radu, but stood between him and Clee despite his attempts to push past them as they walked. The still-recovering older genmod was at a clear disadvantage against their much stronger, uninjured captors. At a certain point, he struggled to even minimally keep up with the group, and reluctantly accepted an offered hand from one of the two soldiers in front of him.
Twenty minutes later, they stopped just outside a single-story concrete building, miraculously all but completely intact. The plaque outside the gate was faded and rusted, and Clee could just barely make out some of the letters: R D OPM NT C NTE 8.
Before she could try to decipher it with her only tenuous grasp of written Ganymedean, though, she heard voices from above. A handful of sentries called out greetings, and the armed soldiers behind her waved.
"And look, he made it back," one of the watchers said in an amused voice, pointing to the unarmored man leading them. "'Ey Mira, you're taking over cleaning duty tonight, it looks like."
"Whatever," Clee could hear as they reached the gate. "You know I'm just gonna make him do it anyways."
One of the two soldiers pulling Clee along laughed along with the sentries. Meanwhile, their leader clenched his hands into fists with a low growl, his knuckles going nearly white.
No, not a leader, Clee realized. A human shield.
"So what's the Girn for?" Mira called down to her comrades, wrinkling her nose a bit.
The person to her left thumbed back at Radu. "Our new friend here wouldn't come without her."
"Huh," Mira said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, bring 'em in." With that, the group of them entered a walled-off sally port, which had traces of the same medical smell that had permeated Satellite Office 83.
"I'll search her," the apparent third captive of their group volunteered with a nod to Clee, a bit too eagerly, as the last of the four soldiers locked the door behind them.
One of her two escorts scoffed. "What, so you can take whatever she's got on her?"
"Can't be anything too valuable," the other said, raising an eyebrow at Clee. "'Sides. It's almost lunch. If we don't have to waste rations on this dipshit, so much the better." He turned to loom over the much smaller man in front of him. "Anything we find on you that hasn't made it into inventory, and the Commander'll be sending whatever bits of you are left to the GSH in a box."
He of the Punchable Face let out an undignified whimper and reflexively raised his hands. "Okay, I get the point!" he snapped with wounded pride, only earning himself a laugh.
The soldiers let go of Clee, finally, and headed for the door in front of them.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and fed," the soldier that Radu was now outright leaning on for support tried to coax him.
As they passed, though, Radu grasped Clee's hand tightly. "Clee, though," he said, he said almost pleadingly. "I need -- what are you going to do with her?!"
"She'll still be here when we're done," they replied, a bit exasperated. "We'll get this sorted out, and who knows, maybe she can join us."
Clee guessed that the chances of that were pretty low. She forced a crooked smile at Radu, though, and squeezed his hand briefly before pulling away. "Hey, see you soon, alright?"
The soldiers seemed to relax more at this display than Radu did. He nodded glumly, slumping and letting himself be escorted through the door into the base. He looked over his shoulder with a last worried glance back at her before one of the soldiers closed and locked the door behind them.
"What did you to get him so attached?" the remaining human asked after a beat, echoing her own thoughts. "And what kind of a name is Clee, anyways?"
"It's my name," she snapped. "What's yours, anyways? Or should I just call you Dipshit like they do?"
The man scowled. Up close, his gritted teeth only were only slightly better than Radu's, and his narrowed eyes were mismatched, one brown and one green. "'Sir' would be fine," he informed her, taking hold of her roughly as he started to rummage through her pockets.
"Pffft," Clee responded, leading him to tighten his grip, his uneven nails digging into her skin. "Not even your own guys like you that much."
"They're not 'my guys,'" he fumed. "They're just a bunch of…!" He stopped short, looking quickly back toward the door. "Anyways. What've you got on you? Let's see… bullets? Meh," he said, stuffing them into his pockets all the same. "Some coin, that's a bit better, and… hel-lo, what's this?" He slid the pack of lycadone vials out of her coat pocket just as she remembered they were there.
"Hey, give those --!" she demanded, struggling and grabbing for them, only to be cut off a grating laugh of triumph from Sir Dipshit as he read the label.
"Oh MAN," he said, holding them just out of her reach with a gleam in his eyes. "You really made my day, you know that? Do you even know what this is?"
"It was my ticket offworld," Clee snapped. "What's it to you, a pat on the head? You heard them, they're not gonna let you keep it."
He shot her a glare, which she met with a smirk of her own. "You should maybe stick to worrying about your own problems," he shot back. "Like what'll happen when they find out you were gonna ditch the old guy."
"What do you --"
"'My ticket offworld,' wasn't that what you just said?" he said mockingly, with another unpleasant buck-toothed smile. "I'll let them figure that part out for themselves, though. I owe you one." He nodded to the vials in his hand, still frustratingly out of reach.
"Look," Clee said sharply in a low voice. "You don't want to be here any more than I do. We split the stuff, and we both get out of here." She regretted the words as she spoke them at the thought of spending any more time under the insufferable human, but she figured she could steal the already twice-over ill-gotten gains back soon enough. "And Radu… he'll be safer here. They'll know what to do for him."
The expression on her captor's face made her even less certain than she'd already felt. He shook his head and went on with his search, finding no further treasure to his obvious disappointment. "Let's go," he growled and edged her forward, driving a sharp foot driven down into the back of her heel. She let out a squeal of discomfort, and looked back indignantly at the human, who flashed her a nasty smile in response.
He pushed her through the door into the repurposed compound. She nearly gagged at the smell of what could be only described as that of death itself. She heard her escort swallow behind her, apparently no more inured to it than she was. He recovered enough to pull her collection of coins and bullets out of his pocket and hold them out for inspection, as well as inevitable confiscation. "And she would've had more if we hadn't caught her when we did," he said. "She was about to sell the other one off in exchange for passage to Earth."
"Not what we heard from him, Fletcher," a man lounging in a chair behind a long bolted-down metal table said in a bored tone, disregarding Clee's loud objections.
She immediately stopped short in her protests upon hearing his voice, one that she and every other resident of Ganymede had heard countless times over the vids throughout the dome. It took only a quick look to confirm it. He had light brown skin framed by pitch-black hair that seemed at odds with his strikingly pale grey eyes. Even sitting down he was a slight man, but had an aura of power about him that more than made up for it.
"'Oh, but we killed all the body doubles!'" the clone of Governor Jas Knossos said mockingly, echoing Clee's thoughts, before giving a casual shrug. "Is it really so surprising that they missed a few?" He gave her a smile that was not at all reassuring when coupled with his piercing stare. "So, Clee, if I remember right. Maybe you could help me figure out where things stand. Both of my sources at this point are hardly reliable." His gaze shifted over toward the human, taking on a look of contempt.
Clee swallowed. Double or not, speaking to someone with this voice, and worse still this face, was not something she'd ever expected to happen. "I-I was planning to bring Radu here anyways," she lied. The clone's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, suggesting that he saw through this, but she pushed forward into safer territory. "I had another way offworld anyways. Too bad this guy stole it." She thumbed at Fletcher.
"It'd have to be more than a few coins, then," the clone said, raising his eyebrows in interest but then pinning Fletcher with a sharp gaze.
"Try twenty four sealed vials of lycadone," Clee responded. "I can imagine that'd be pretty useful to you all."
Fletcher only laughed. "Search me, then," he said, arms spread out. "Just take me to a private room first if you're going to be thorough with it, will you?"
"That won't be necessary," the clone said. "Search their route here," he ordered the people behind him with only the slightest tilt of his head in their direction. Two of them nodded and passed by Clee and Fletcher, with one giving the latter an abrupt shove to the shoulder. He hissed in pain and tensed as if he'd been hit there before none too far back.
"Okay, I'm curious," Clee said after a long awkward silence that was making Fletcher visibly uncomfortable. "How'd you get this bunch, of all people, to follow the same guy who put them in the labs?"
Her captor chortled. "I'm not exactly 'the same guy' as the Lunan Exile. I grew up in the labs like everyone else here did."
The last person standing behind him, a woman with a distant expression who could have easily been his twin, spoke up. "Commander Alexei led us out of that place, and he leads us on to Io. He'll leave not a single genmod behind."
Clee tried not to grimace at the monotone recitation of the apparent party line. "And what about the rest of us?" she ventured.
"It depends," Alexei responded. "When it comes to you personally, what were you really about to do with your captive?"
"His name's Radu, and he's not my captive," Clee couldn't help but snap despite Alexei's narrowed eyes. "If it hadn't been for me, he'd be back in --"
"We found it," called out one of Alexei's guards as they returned. "Turns out he'd gotten his hands on a whole number of things." The guard spilled out the contents of a small box onto the bolted-down table. Coins, the lycadone, and worse still for Fletcher, a IET-12 plasma arc weapon.
Fletcher went pale.
"I'd ask what you were thinking of doing with these," Alexei said, not even looking up at him, "But I can't see you actually coming up with a plan." He turned his gaze in the vague direction of his guards. "I'm sure the GSH would be interested in having this one," he said. "And her… she can help around here until we can find out who'll pay a ransom for her."
Good luck with that, Clee thought bitterly. "Help out how?" she demanded as one of the guards took hold of her.
"Like I said. That'll depend on what we can find out about you and Radu," Alexei said.
The woman standing behind them stared blankly at the group of them as the guards turned Clee and Fletcher roughly away and marched them off further into the complex.
--
For his part, Radu wouldn't have noticed any of this even if he'd been able to hear it. He leaned into the wrinkled hand of someone he thought he'd never see again as she slowly ran a comb through his mess of hair with the other. Her appearance was different from what he remembered - red hair, she was supposed to have red hair - but he would've recognized that touch anywhere.
"Now let's look at the rest of you," the woman said in a reassuring voice, reaching around him to lift a hand covered in scabs that suddenly stiffened in fear. "Radu...! How did this happen? It looks like we'll have to relearn how to handle that, then, won't we?"
Radu's blood ran cold.
--
Taglist (let me know if you want on or off)
@verkja
@whumpsday
@skinofafish
@whither-wander-whump
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unwelcome-ozian · 1 year
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Do you know if there's a word for intense, intentional, extremely deeply held manipulation that wasn't quite programming/TBMC?
I have a hard time finding groups or books or anything for a sense of understanding/validation about the intensity of manipulation and "teaching" I experienced from my abusive family, how deeply I hold the messages they gave me even when counter to logic, how automatic and out of my control my reactions are to things that would go against that "teaching." But I don't think I have DID/OSDD, that any of my abusers had the knowledge or resources to engage in programming (as the term is typically used), or that I experienced RAMCOA, so... I don't think TBMC is appropriate for me to use. So I'm looking for a term that might be more accurate to my situation.
The specific word that would describe your being forced to adhere to the “teachings” of the family would be “indoctrination”.  Indoctrination happens when one’s beliefs are imposed upon another through various forms of manipulation or control tactics in such a way that the victim’s  ability to think critically (through questioning the beliefs, evaluating the beliefs,  or exploring other beliefs) is overridden.   Indoctrination is a form of mind control.  Intense manipulation and indoctrination aimed at controlling a child’s thoughts and behavior is child abuse and causes complex truama in survivors.  
Abusive families often have some of the same dynamics as cults, and survivors of such famiy dynamics will develop some of the same kinds of responses to and effects of trauma.  The reason for this is that leaders of both cults and families centered around abuse would carry some of the same toxic personality traits. Survivors of these environments often experience complex-ptsd symptoms like that which you have described, regarding  the way you have held onto the beliefs imposed by your family and your strong reaction to any challenge of them, because upholding the beliefs of an abusive family is a form of survival.  Judith Herman’s book Trauma and Recovery may be a good resource that might provide more language for your experience.  Groups related to survivors of childhood trauma or complex trauma may offer some support.  It may also be helpful to check out groups specific to survivors of “narcissistic family abuse”, as often strongly held religious or political beliefs and worldviews are imposed upon children in these kinds of family systems as well. 
~Josha
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admaioremdeigloriam · 2 years
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This message is for all y'all EX-CATHOLICS out there so sit down AND LISTEN UP!!!
Hi. I hope you're doing well on your journey and I just wanted to remind you that you are loved, always and forever. :)
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lonely-business · 2 years
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for me, the story of RDR2 is watching a cult fall apart at the seams. Dutch the charismatic leader, the man with the plan, born with the gift of gab and at the beginning his actions did seem to match his words. He spoke passionately about how the white man actively hurt Native Americans, he speaks like women are his equals, and he touts lofty ideals of morality with him as the guiding light for his gang of lost souls.
throughout the game the facade that Dutch overlaid on himself began to crack. He treats the women he entangles himself with abominably. He also chooses much younger, easier to manipulate women. He despises criticism, even from those who have known him the longest, getting angry at those who dare defy him. He comes to despise Arthur for speaking up against him, to the point of actually trying to murder him, to regain his sense of control.
Micah didn’t change Dutch, he just encouraged Dutch to be who he truly was all along. A racist, misogynist, whose love of power and control over people was what truly drove him to lead the Van der Linde gang. Dutch’s growing paranoia about members of the gang leaving, his willingness to throw their “friendship” with the Native American’s away so he could gain an upper hand, and his escalating erratic behavior truly showed that Dutch was beyond what any of the gang believed him capable of. Even the “true believers” were finding him a bitter pill to swallow.
He is very much like cult leader Jim Jones. Jones began as a preacher speaking about loving your fellow man and had a large following of POC. His speeches stoked fires in people. He was active in the civil rights movement, had integrated congregations, and promoted socialism and communal living. His followers happily joined the Peoples Temple (his “church,” later his cult.) However, the more people that followed Jones, the more he control he exerted over their lives.
Arthur was lucky that he was allowed to wander and explore during this time frame. He would pop into camp, do the occasional job with the gang, but largely on his own. This left him (and the player) free of much of Dutch’s influence and mind games. However, those left at camp were inundated with it. Having a free thinker in a cult is bad, especially one as liked as Arthur, but this did set the player up to help save as much of the gang as they could when Dutch went Jonestown on them. When a cult leader overextends themselves and sees no way out that puts them on top? Kill the followers and start again. and that is exactly what Dutch aimed to do. Except, he let Arthur too far off leash and that allowed Arthur the exert agency in his rapidly crumbling world and save who he could.
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jaymonae · 2 years
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so no one was gonna put a trigger warning for severance
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weatherbane · 6 months
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area Durge willing to experience potentially unrequited love as long as they get to try brand new things such as TouchTM
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anuphim · 4 months
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two idiots
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Furina, who while devoted to the creator, knows that they are not all powerful nor all knowing- after all, they still referred to her as Focalors, they still treat her as an archon and one of their acolytes.
Furina, who regularly questioned her faith and her loyalties- after all, she was attempting to fool the Heavenly Principles, the loyal attack dog of the creator, but at the same time, why didn’t the creator try and stop the prophecy? If the creator had the power, and truly loved all their humans and archons, why let Fontaine drown?
Furina, who when an impostor appeared, received the same order as every other archon- hunt down the imposter, the heretic who defied their revered creator, and destroy them and their treasonous behaviour.
Furina, who during the search, wondered if she would be hunted down with the same vigor if others would learn of her duplicity.
Furina, who found you in a grotto only able to be accessed underwater, who saw the way the creatures of the sea attempting to help you patch up the wound in your side, spilling golden blood, and realized her faith was misplaced with far more ease than any other archon could have mustered.
Furina, who helped her creator heal in that grotto, apologies soft and regretful on her lips. She should have realized sooner; After all, she knows how easy it is to impersonate a god.
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im-a-freaking-joy · 14 days
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CALLING ALL EXMORMONS/PIMOS
i have a proposition- lets all write the nastiest, most unhinged, atrocious mormon themed smut that we possibly can. It was honestly weirdly healing for me to read wild ass smut on ao3 that was themed around the religion and not the musical, and i want it to become such a popular trend for exmos and pimos to start doing that they have to start vagueing about it in general conference. It doesnt have to be good. It just needs to *be.*
Once im done writing my Ammon×Lamoni smut fic I'm absolutely reblogging this post with the link added, please join me in this unhinged rebellion
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youtube
Don't you want devoted followers who leave their families for you, give their money to you, give their bodies to you, give up their lives for you, consider you god, and will kill for you?
Don't you want to become a cult leader?
Since the death of God there's been a vacancy open. You could fill that void. Here's how.
Structure your cult like an onion, with the most benign and helpful features on the outside, and the most controlling, kooky and evil parts of the secret inner core.
With the most benign and helpful features on the outside.
And the most controlling, kooky and evil parts of the secret inner core.
Use deception. Don't tell them who you really are. Lie. Leave out important information or distort information.
Promise to fulfill their dreams.
Offer them something free and get them to feel obliged to give you something in return,
You can tell them time is running out and that they must make their decision now or it will be too late.
Don't give them time to think. Diminish doubting commiseration by separating your new recruits from each other. Surround them with happy true believers so when in doubt they will tend to do what everyone around them is doing and believe that is normal.
Surround them with happy true believers so when in doubt they will tend to do what everyone around them is doing and believe that is normal.
Surround them with happy true believers so when in doubt they will tend to do what everyone around them is doing and believe that is normal.
Start with a prolonged period of love-bombing. Surround them with unconditional love and attention.
Your cult family should act friendly and interested. Gradually over time you'll begin to shape the recruit's behavior by granting or withholding this love and attention. After they've bonded, slowly start making your demands upon them. Control their behavior.
Control their thoughts.
Control their thoughts.
Control their thoughts.
Control their thoughts.
Control their emotions.
Induce guilt and fear.
Control information. Keep them from knowing all the workings of the cult. Block out any information which is critical of the group.
Claim authority. It can come from a divine source, bogus scientific research or special knowledge.
Make up stories about yourself to boost your importance.
But don't be stupid about it.
Start slowly. A good con man takes a little bit of truth and a lot of lies and pulls the wool over the eyes of the ignorant.
Induce trance states and self-hypnosis by practicing thought-stopping rituals and repetitive acts like dancing, spinning, singing and chanting.
Revert them back to childhood dependence and mindless obedience.
Revert them back to childhood dependence and mindless obedience.
Revert them back to childhood dependence and mindless obedience.
In these trance states, they are more receptive and suggestible encourage separation from their family.
Encourage dependency and conformity and discourage autonomy and individuality.
Have confessionals where people demonize their early lives and only praise their life in the group. Rewrite the past as terrible.
Tighten your group's bond by establishing scapegoats and enemies. Demonize outsiders as less than human, biased, corrupt or conspiring against the group. Develop an "us versus them" mentality. Tell them their critical thoughts are evidence that they have committed crimes against the group. Start investigating them and make up crimes.
Make them feel guilty.
Make it easier for them to die for you by calling their bodies "containers" that are shed before they evolve into higher life forms.
It's that simple. Now don't you want to become a cult leader? Don't you want devoted followers who'll leave their families for you, give their money to you, give their bodies to you, give up their lives for you, and will kill for you?
==
It's disturbing how both the gender cult and traditional religions want to encourage you to surrender and disregard your body, the only thing that makes you you, in preference to a disembodied, nebulous "essence."
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krysmcscience · 5 days
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Trying out a mix of my own style and the game's. I can't seem to get Narinder to look quite the way I want him to, because of course that precious bastard cat has to be difficult. >:\ I was expecting the Bishops to be a lot harder to draw, but they were pretty cooperative. Ratau, on the other hand...man, fuck that little dude. I redrew him five times and I still don't like how he looks. >:[
I decided to take a few creative liberties with what Leshy and Shamura are wearing under their cloaks. Mostly because I find it funny to ban Leshy from freeballing down there, and also because I wanted to incorporate the many bandages Shamura has for their eldritch form in some way.
ALSO I GAVE THE APPROPRIATE ANIMALS BACK THEIR TAILS BECAUSE BOTH THEY AND WE WERE ROBBED D:<
Oh, right, and there's this weirdo, too
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In the full file of all these goobers together, they're judging everyone else with that look.
I should have been asleep hours ago BYE
(yeets this post into the tumblrsphere and collapses)
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n-o-eyes · 8 months
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tee hee
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nomname · 6 months
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drak2000 · 3 months
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narilamb is so funny cuz its basically a god going “here take my powers and make me strong again!” Only for lamb to realize hes a jerk and decides to beat the shit out of him then go “ill give u this cool present if u be friends with everybodyy ^_^”. Then when narinder responds out of line they make him do manual labor
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oneofthosenightbees · 10 months
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“I don’t know how to talk to my estranged sibling so I’ll send them that thing they like instead”
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