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#ilbound: a creative space where everything's made up, and nothing matters. curated by maverick ( 30 / ENBY / PSYCH GRAD STUDENT ON INDEFINITE LEAVE ) - this , a labor of love , a method of madness , dedicated to ( un )happy endings.

roster:

i. ysbeau | headcanons | introduction

ii. soon ( tm ).

rules:

i. communication. that is all. as a grad student of clinical psychology , anything else is arbitrary and unnecessary. as long as you understand how to have a conversation and reach out when there is an issue , we will be fine.

regarding the blog:

i. "is this a roleplay blog?" yes and no. yes , to the extent that if someone shows interest and sends a prompt , then i will respond to it. no , as for the most part , this is not intended as a roleplaying space , but rather a separate place from my main blog where I can ruminate on my OCs.

ii. "can i write with you even if this is not meant as a roleplaying blog?" yes. go for it. i cannot guarantee i will be prompt about responses , but i won't turn you away , either. typically , my interactions will be via one-off asks sent from my mainblog ( malfabulae ). if you want something more long-term , we should plot about it beforehand.

iii. "what happened to your old OCs ( kaen , verona , etc. )?" effectively indefinitely suspended. who you see here is who i want to develop and explore.

iv. "how will i know if we're mutuals?" you won't , sorry to say. my mainblog - which is my personal space - is not somewhere i want to use to follow anyone from the rpc or related content. if you follow this blog , just assume we are mutuals.

v. "how active will you be / how often will you write?" whenever i get the urge. that can be as often as a few times a week , to as little as once every few months. my content will vary from personal thoughts on the development of my current muses , headcanons / lore , and the very rare roleplay or drabble post.

#pinned.#dni with pinned.#ooc.#beloathed.

i. mother-maiden , miserable leech craving what you lack ; seeker of the truth of immortality ( the consequences of alchemy: annihilation ). burdened with the genuine artifact of truest , purest power , swallowed in own body , blood , and bone , you re-create humankind one paltry creature at a time , tearing off own flesh to make them your own ( to make self the maire of monsters woman-made ).

ii. you are less an alchemist and more the forgemaster beyond comparison , able to tamper with the essence of all matter , straight down to its collective soul. for this , you have covered yourself; sheathed in veils , cloaks , and gloves. no-one must see , no-one must know ... midas was more real a tale than the Enclave bargained for.

iii. you wield a hammer more than a head taller than you ; this , the craftsman tool you chose from girlhood.

iv. your transmutation sigils are carved and self-seared into your flesh ; all along your palms , limbs , torso ... and between your legs ... no part of your body is untampered and left unmarred , unscarred into a living , breathing work of alchemy ( the perfect husk for the lapis philosophorum ).

v. although you can re-create humans , you - yourself - would no longer consider yourself human , and yet collapse every time someone mistakes you for one , praises you for seeming as if you still might be one.

vi. the Enclave has sent a few of their numbers to corner and execute you ... you opened your chest and swallowed them into your lapis-heart-core , ingesting and emeshing them into your essence. you are now unsure if you are one or many. this is not the first time you have consumed people in this manner ; it makes you feel powerful , it makes you feel like GOD ( i am a god ).

#beloathed. ysbeau.#i. headcanons. ysbeau.

some alchemists called midas the forefather of their practice. others disdained the conspiracy, collectively considering him the common folktale meant to ward against greed for gold ( &. yet, every alchemist is, in their core, only worth their weight in the caliber of precious coin they can &. shall produce ).

gold was precious, certainly.

but playing god was far more enticing, and transcended the very matters any human conquest could ever conjure. for who, at all, could contend with someone that could reproduce the elements of a human body, a living golemn, a true sapient creature?

ii.

some things are well better left alone—but you know what they say about idle hands ( the devil, the devil takes hold, festers in the fingers &. makes fools of great/good men ).

we were taught young as possible, soon as able we were to hold a book and turn pages, to pick up chalk for transmutation circles, that certain fundamental truths were not to be tampered with, that GOD &. MEN were not to commingle in the art, the nature, the ethical relish of our science. even so, the ENCLAVE had their own secrets to keep to the graves dug by better, kinder hands ( those unblemished by own practices... rituals ). for it was the ENCLAVE that bestowed knowledge unto us, and it was the ENCLAVE that refused to restore us when we sought salvation for pushing beyond the borders of our ethics, wandering few steps too far into the land of GOD, seeing what ought not be seen, and did what ought naught be did.

after all: although we had rules, progress was not intended to be stunted; it was intended to be cultivated.

thus it was. even if in secret. even if at the expense of flesh ... LIVING OR DEAD.

iii.

"women are, by all accounts, to be condemned and refused to practice alchemy," proclaimed the ENCLAVE, "should one be discovered, destroy them and their evidences."

well, fuck you, too.

science – alchemy – is ungendered ( novel, we know ); women have died to prove it.

it is recorded in hidden ENCLAVE texts that a WOMAN is the only soul to have successfully forged a homunculus ... and to have been able to calculate the ratios for the lapis philosophorum.

but they don't want us to know that, do they?

too bad history repeats itself.

iv.

ysbeau ( stolen name. stolen knowledge. ).

nothing then, nothing now; and certainly nothing left to lose. so what worth is a life when limitless potential dangles ripe and risky for the taking? who else but a faceless urchin lost in the shadows of the streets would be brave enough, foolish enough, to chance the ENCLAVE's storing chambers in the catacombs and pilfer the science from the source?

ysbeau.

if they did not remember that name, they might as well start now.

from girlhood into womanhood, continued the self-taught practice of alchemy, her hands so adept that she no longer required the drawing of circles and sigils. instead, she carved them into her flesh; found that the flesh-blood offering was far more potent ... for science.

and yet—

and yet.

when would it sate? perhaps not until the ultimate goal of such practice was achieved: the lapis philosophorum.

if a woman did it once. a woman could do it again.

and ysbeau, carrying the namesake of such the same woman, was capable of it. and did. transmuting flesh, transmuting blood, veins, bones—the whole collective of, not another, but her own very self, in sacrifice, to inherit the fabled stone, to endure the fracture-breaking of her ribs flayed like angel's wings as it wedges between, embedding into her heart like a parasitic tumor.

then, only then, does ysbeau feel ... whole. real. nearly and sublimely like a man. a person.

POWERFUL.

for she has walked on GOD'S DOMAIN, and did not intend to return to earth.

#beloathed. ysbeau.#new muse.#oc.

&. truly ... what is this blog here for if not to clap my chronically ill hands together and performatively bark about overly-complex muses

#ooc.#atp this blog is defunct; i am sure