"Hair dyes or perms or just a quick snip, you can always count on your ol' pal Clip!"
it's about time i officially shared my design for Clip from my hairdresser au! here's the silly boi himself!
a.k.a. the most complicated character i've ever designed...
close ups and additional comments under the cut!
that's my boi, despite his crazy design, i love him. his silly top knot hat, the horn-like points around his faceplate, his speckled colours, his four arms, and his funky pants. he's just soooooo fun.
Clip likes to play games and knit! he even made the patchwork pants he wears (he made Sun and Moon a pair too, but they're too precious for them to wear... also a little gaudy to wear in public—doesn't stop Clip tho!). He actually makes everything the boys wear, since there's not a lot of things in their size/shape.
instead of resting at night, he can be found in their living room, playing Kirby 64 for the nth time and/or knitting something. he's just too restless to stay still, he's always gotta be doing something and if it isn't gaming, knitting, or hairdressing, then he's up to No GoodTM.
Clip... likes popping balloons. he says "Goodnight!" with each popped balloon and once he's done, he tosses up the scraps like confetti all while giggling joyfully.
needless to say, he is not fun at parties. Sun and Moon don't let him near balloons for this reason.
and yes, he has sewing needles on hand at all times. for fashion emergencies... and for unsuspecting balloons.
Clip's not allowed to have a phone (just imagine all the in-app purchases Sun and Moon would have to deal with), but he likes to keep up with his customers and their games, even if he doesn't get their fixation over bluenets he'll never openly admit it but he prefers curly-haired blond hunks that look sweet in soft pastels but could also squash him like the spider he is
also, he's great at microbraiding! though i imagine if Sun and Moon are free, they'd come help to shorten the wait but also to compete and see who braids the most (Clip always wins of course—make anything into a game, and he's winning)
aaaaand there's this! i wanted to make sure Clip would be able to freely rotate his waist so his arms could have their full range of motion, and this was the solution i came up with: a crop top on top and a wrap around his waist. and Clip here is being a sneaky little scamp about it.
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i don't normally make posts about things myself but i keep thinking about how the whole point of EW was that the strength you needed didn't come from a god, or a supreme being, or a primal or anything: it all comes from you
your love for this world and your friends and everything that you allow purpose and meaning- that is what gives you the strength to climb to your feet, even when you feel utterly alone at the end of the universe
In Shb we had Ardbert who gave us the strength to take that next step, but in EW we are alone (save for Zenos i guess but this ain't about him). That's why even though I agree that "it was the ancients" is becoming an extremely stale take, I still forgive MotR and the Twelve because it's hammering in EW's theme of being enough to handle what life throws at you without needing to rely on something much larger than yourself
EW's plot- and even the Omicron quests -point to the fact that dynamis alone does nothing. It has to be moved to action by feelings/emotions for it to work. As N-7000 says, "all [dynamis] requires is for us to ask "what if?""
Zodiark did not save the Ancients. Hydaelyn cannot save Her Children. The Twelve do not answer your cries. Primals are bound to the prayers of those that summon them.
The Warrior of Light is an imperfect being. More talented than most, but imperfect yet. EW does not make you a god. It shows that change can be wrought by anyone, at any time. You need not do it alone: there are others willing to come to your aid. But when you are alone, at the end of your rope, facing insurmountable odds: the strength you need can only come from within.
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I've only recently started having my own thoughts about Emanator!Sampo and I think my favorite version of this is that he is technically an Emanator, it's just that he doesn't talk about it because Aha is a dick who only blesses people that don't want it and Sampo hates it here dkjxkdkdck
Aha blessed the Mourning Actors! A whole faction of people who have specifically made it their life's mission to resist Elation! They made a literal worm their Emanator just to see if it would be accepted into the Genius Society! And when it wasn't, Aha just as easily killed it and tossed it aside! So I feel like there is a good possibility that Aha looked down at Sampo, this little oddball who doesn't seem to even like Epsilon or a lot of the Masked Fools and was like.
Hey.
You know what would be really really funny.
And I feel like being an Emanator wouldn't even be a plus for Sampo, because of how he operates. Sampo excels at blending in; he managed to smuggle himself onto a planet
that had been isolated for 700 years,
with only one (1) single city on it,
and going even further, he snuck himself into the Underground,
where the population is even more sparse,
and STILL. Not a single accusation of him being an alien! Not even after the Astral Express lands and proves that interstellar space travel is possible! Sampo is so thoroughly ingrained into Belobog that yeah, some people admit they don't know his origins, but none of it ever comes with the question of whether he actually is a Belobog native or not. Sampo knows exactly how to blend himself into his surroundings in the most subtle way possible. And being an Emanator, something far more powerful than any normal human or Pathstrider could ever hope to be, would only throw in a massive extra variable for him. Sampo would have to be so so careful to keep a lid on his Emanator traits, to keep up the appearance of being totally normal and average at all times. It doesn't help him at all.
And this part is pure indulgence, but I love taking Aha's closeness with mortals, and THEIR tendency to take human form, and twisting it into a case of THEM using Sampo as a vessel.
I want Aha to look at Sampo the same way all of us look at Sampo. A chew toy. A plaything. Something to shove through the meat grinder. Aha thinks Sampo is hilarious and a funny, silly little guy, and THEY want to put him in Situations just to see what he does. Sampo is not a fan.
This though, this is what makes Sampo so wildly entertaining as a vessel. Because Aha knows that Sampo does not want to be a vessel, does not even want to be an Emanator, and THEY find it SO much fun to watch the mental gymnastics he has to pull to convince himself he's ok with it, this is fine actually, because he's not exactly about to tell off a literal god. He doesn't feel like getting a smiting today, please and thank you.
Because squeezing yourself into a human vessel is so different than merely adopting a human disguise, there's already a human soul in there, it's kind of a tight fit. If Sampo doesn't make room, doesn't all but dissociate right out of his own body, it could cause. Consequences.
And so, Aha always gives a warning, just to watch him squirm.
It begins with the sound of bells.
Just little ones, at first. Small, clinking little sounds that could even be considered nice. Something almost gentle, like a wind chime in a pleasant breeze on a warm day. This is the signal for the countdown.
Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Makes himself as small as possible within his own body.
The bells rise and multiply, tinkling wind chimes give way to sleigh bells, to shopkeepers bells, the sound of something inevitable approaching, something entering.
Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Dilutes himself, weaker and weaker concentrations.
The bells rise and rise, multiply and multiply, celebration and tragedy resonating in the sound of church bells, ringing bright and loud, the sounds of weddings and funerals both the same.
Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Becomes like smoke, like vapor. Hollows himself out.
Empty, empty, empty until he echoes, like a bell, like something with the sole purpose of being shaken and rattled around, a thing to be struck, the sounds jarring and punched out and gasping and piercing the air, the lung, the eardrum.
Sampo breathes in.
Beaten he rings, bashed in he sings.
Aha breathes out.
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