#AND SHES MAKING A DENNYS OC

[rustycopper4use]

GUYS

I FINALLY GOT SOMEONE ELSE INTO MY GREASE FIRE LIFE

[charmac]

The fact that The S.I.N.N.E.D. System is not only the reverse of The D.E.N.N.I.S. System by name, but in its actual goal:

The D.E.N.N.I.S. System ends with Separate Entirely and begins with the avoidance of going on a date. It’s purely about sex.

The S.I.N.N.E.D. System ends with Do You Want a Tissue? Dennis’ tried and true method to secure a second date, and:

it works for Dee but she sabotages herself—because she has no interest in pursuing a man romantically; it works for Mac but he bows out—because he already has a man he’s pursuing romantically;

The S.I.N.N.E.D. System is about romance. Dating, consistently, something Dennis makes very clear he doesn't do...

Except:

"This is a man we're talking about,

it's always about him."

[grimlers]

OUTLAST TRIALS OC POSTING

Dennis - Reagent

Backstory and how he got to being a reagent at Murkoff:

Born 1924 in Britain, raised as a Christian and came from a well-off family, his early years were pretty normal but as he got older, around 15-17 he realised he was a homosexual and due to societal hatred as well as how he was brought up he felt extremely wrong for it and was desperate to distance himself from it by marrying his wife, Sarah, at 19 in 1943.

Their marriage was arranged, Dennis asking for his parents to set him up and they did, Sarah agreed, genuinely interested in Dennis and having a family with him but that didn’t happen and ever since their wedding leading up to Dennis joining the RAF she began to pick up on hints of who he truly was. Their relationship was extremely strained, with Dennis being inattentive and cold to Sarah, he was never physically abusive nor did he intend to harm her in anyway, he just had a lot of hate for himself that was projected onto her.

After a few months of marriage, Dennis joined the RAF in 1944, becoming a pilot. He had a much more relaxed personality before joining the military and was overall much easier to get along with (apart from him and his wife) but came out much more blunt and cold. The military instilled a more practical and apathetic side to him purely because that’s what he needed to do when seeing death all the time. He liked the routine of the military and had three confirmed enemy aircraft’s destroyed during his service.

However nearing mid 1945 his plane (Supermarine Spitfire Mk XIV) malfunctioned and crashed, he survived the crash but was stuck in the wreckage and badly injured, thus two fellow soldiers came to help him and while dragging him one was shot dead and the other captured by the enemy, Dennis wasn’t captured because the enemy believed him to be dead and so Dennis was stuck there until eventually more soldiers came and rescued him, bringing him to safety.

He was taken to recover but was honourably discharged after his injuries deemed him unfit for duty, suffering from nerve damage to his left limbs as well as shell-shock (PTSD) .He had extreme survivors guilt from the incident and felt as if he was the cause for the two soldier’s that attempted to help him fates. This made him press to be released early so he wouldn’t have to face anyone and so his burns didn’t fully heal before release.

He then went back home and found that his wife had left, house sold, nothing to stay in Britain for and so he went to America, trying for a fresh start. But when he got to America, sepsis from his burns started and he ended up in a confused daze on the streets, seemingly homeless and a perfect candidate for Murkoff.

He was then taken to Sinyala facility where his blood poisoning got worse, making him extremely confused and aggressive, causing him to seem unapproachable to other reagents even after being treated and returning to ‘normal’ because of how he started, he was a very isolated man but this didn’t bother him, caring more about where he was and the actions he had to do in trials rather than friendship.

His story is still being tweaked so sorry if there’s any gaps 😭😭🙏🙏, I’ll be posting a few of my other outlast OC’s stories/information at some point too.

[mayisgoingnuts]

About me & my blog!!

You can call me May! I am 17 years old and use she/him pronouns. Bigender and bisexual, already taken. I'm also autistic! And brazilian!!

My content will be only around Spooky Month, maybe a few posts about other shows occasionally, but Spooky Month is the main thing. With that being said, I'm also SUPER hyperfixated on Roy, so expect a lot of him on my blog cuz I just love him./p I also tend to talk a lot about my OC's, ships, make fanarts and AU's, a lot of fanon stuff.

My only things for a DNI is: If you're an asshole, if you're a proshipper or if you're ""pro-fiction"" (you know what I mean). Besides that I mainly decide myself. If you ignore this I'll just block you, easy as that 🫡

Update: As much as I am friendly to everyone with any age, I do not befriend anyone either. We can still chat through asks about art, AU's, this sort of silly stuff, but it doesn't necessarily mean we'll get any closer than that. If you are too young or too old there's chances for me to not even be comfortable talking to you. <- when this happens, I will be direct, so don't worry./gen

Just please do not insist./lh

Besides this blog I got a LOT of other sideblogs, so go follow them if you feel like it!!

RP/ASK BLOGS; CANON CHARACTERS: @townbully-hatzroy (Roy), @carmen-vanido (Carmen), @ignacios-lawn (Ignacio)

RP/ASK BLOGS; OC'S + AU's: @jjd-is-here-again (JJD), @thegang-ophatzgang (Denny, Scar and Theodor), @mama-daisy (Daisy)

OTHER: @confessions-sm (Confessions blog), @daily-roy (Daily pics of Roy), @doomed-to-try (My comfort personas and OC's), @mayocs-dumpster (OC's rambles), @besilentintheticklecloset (SFW Tickle Blog), @ask-the-wicked (Wicked Month AU Official Blog), @maylovesalot (Selfship Blog)

PLEASE BE AWARE THAT:

— Not everyday is a good day for me to answer asks; I can be feeling bad, overwhelmed or simply too focused on something else (the last one happens a lot);

— I'm too insecure to chat on DM's right away;

— I am not comfortable with people venting to me (unless we're friends);

— I am NOT, IN NO WAY wanting conflict with anyone over anything, so don't expect me to participate in any dramas, I will run away like a coward☝️;

— And finally, it's more likely for me to draw requests if I actually ask for any. Otherwise, avoid to. I won't be mad/gen, but don't expect confirmation on me doing it.

MEANING OF THE EMOJI ON MY NAME

TAGLIST

IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED ON STUFF

MY AU'S

MY OC'S

OC X CANON LIST

That's it for now! :)

Rentrys are made by @catsockpuppet and @luzxii-graphics !

[bobfloydsbabe]

let it snow | rhett abbott x oc

a linger fic

SUMMARY: After an overnight snowstorm, Rhett and Lou are stuck in her cabin. Unsure where they stand with each other, losing electricity might force them to finally define the relationship.

WARNINGS: smut, oral (m receiving), aftercare, fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

LINGER MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST

A/N: written for @lewmagoo's christmas celebration where i instantly jumped in to snatch the song let it snow for our favorite cowboy. this is my first time writing a bj, so please don't judge me too harshly. i had no idea what i was doing.

“Rhett?”

At the sound of his name, he drops the curtain and lets it fall back into place. Turning around, he finds Lou sitting up in bed. She’s rubbing sleep out of her eyes while stifling a yawn, and with her dark hair falling in messy waves around her face, Rhett thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,��� she says, hands dropping into her lap. Her voice is still rough from sleep, and their activities the night before are probably not helping either.

“I was about to,” he tells her, crossing to her bed in long strides.

Her dark brows furrow, creating a cute divot in the middle that always makes him smile. Right now is no exception.

“But?”

“But,” he says, placing his knee on the mattress and leans in close, feeling Lou’s hot breath on his face. “My truck’s buried under at least a foot of snow, so you’re stuck with me.”

“We’re snowed in?”

The giddiness in her voice is obvious, childlike wonder rolling off her in waves as Rhett nods. She grabs his face, pulling his lips to hers, but not without knocking Rhett off balance, making him fall on top of Lou.

He wraps his arms around her naked back, the skin hot under his cold fingertips. He feels her grin into the kiss and suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing his clothes. Getting lost in Lou is dangerously easy, more so now that he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. 

Denver interrupts the moment, jumping up on the bed and joining in the excitement. Rhett pulls away from Lou and gets whacked in the face by a tail, making Lou laugh.

“Denny,” Lou squeals when he licks her face. Hearing her laugh and seeing her play with her dog sends warmth through Rhett’s chest. Some deep down part of him knows what it is, but naming it feels fragile and breakable. Like it would burst their comfortable bubble, but he’s not prepared for this to end.

“I thought he wasn’t allowed on the bed,” Rhett says with a grin, as he stands and strips off his jeans and t-shirt.

Denver faces Rhett, taking unsteady steps on the mattress and sniffs his now bare chest. He lets him. Denver has never shown any aggression or dislike for Rhett, but he knows the dog is distrustful of other people, especially men. 

“He’s not,” Lou answers, eyes raking over every inch of his skin. He feels hot all over under her gaze. “But cowboys are.”

He smirks, knows it’s a smug sort of look. “Are they now?”

“Mhmm,” she hums. Sensing the change in mood, Denver jumps off the bed and trots over to the sofa. 

Stripping out of his boxers, he climbs back in bed with Lou, kisses her lips, then down her throat. He gives in to the sweet taste of her and dozes off afterward, sweaty and with the smell of her hair tickling his nostrils.

When he wakes next, he’s alone. The place where Lou is supposed to sleep is empty and cold, and while he doesn’t see her, he can hear her voice.

“Yes, that is Rhett Abbott’s truck in my drive.”

He smiles to himself.

“I’m surprised you can tell,” Lou says into the phone she has pressed against her ear when she rounds the corner from the kitchen. “It almost blends in.”

She’s smiling at him when she notices his open eyes and mouths good morning at him. “Oh, shut up, Carrie, he does not.”

She turns back to the kitchen, Denver following closely behind. The cabin is bathed in bright white light from the open curtains and the stark snow from outside. Lou’s dressed in pajama pants and an oversized hoodie that looks suspiciously like the dark blue one he lost several weeks back.

Sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and pulls on his boxers. The cabin floor is cold under his feet, but he walks across it anyway, and wraps his arms around Lou’s middle from behind.

He feels her leaning into him as she finishes her conversation with Mrs. Taylor.

“Okay, that’s enough. Goodbye, Carrie.”

She drops the phone on the counter and Rhett places a kiss on the exposed part of her neck. “You good?” he mumbles against her skin.

“Yeah,” she says and turns in his arms. The darkness of her eyes will never not be shocking to him–they look like bottomless lakes hiding a long forgotten secret. “Mrs. Taylor’s just teasing me about you.”

“Me?” he asks, still surprised that Mrs. Taylor even knows his name.

Lou grins and wraps her arms around his neck. “Yes you, cowboy,” she says and raises to her tiptoes to kiss his lips.

He takes a step, forcing Lou back against the counter, and runs his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opens for him without hesitation as her nails scrape along his scalp. He could get used to this, kissing her senseless in the kitchen in no rush to be anywhere else.

Lou ends his daydream by pulling away. He only chases her lips for a second, hooked on the taste of her.

“Get dressed,” she instructs him, shoving against his chest gently. “Denver needs to go out and we need to bring firewood in to dry.”

Denver loses his mind as they get dressed. He leaps across the floor, tail wagging wildly, and panting like he’s just run a marathon. The bond between Lou and her dog is incredible, so in tune with each other that they hardly even notice Rhett coming up to them to pull on his worn boots.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” Lou says as he puts on his coat that miraculously made it on the peg as opposed to the middle of the floor, where it usually ends up when he comes to the cabin.

He shrugs, leaning down to peck her lips. “I’ll live,” he mutters, giving her a second kiss. “Don’t have to worry about me, darlin’.”

Lou makes a vaguely disgruntled noise, but doesn’t argue with him further. It’s sweet that she cares, makes his stomach do somersaults and his cheeks feel warm.

Outside, Denver dives headfirst into the mountains of snow. The white parts of his fur blends in while the black stands in contrast. He looks like he’s having the time of his life as he trots alongside them, and Rhett’s almost certain the dog is smiling.

“Don’t you have plenty of firewood inside?” He asks when they arrive at the piles stacked against the back of the cabin.

Lou takes a crate and starts putting logs of wood into it, her breathing coming out like a fine mist while she works. Rhett wants to help, but he feels like he might just be in the way, so he hangs back.

“Apparently the frost is causing power outages right now, so there’s a chance it could hit us too. The backup generator has seen better days, so this is just in case.”

Denver bops his nose against Rhett’s leg, looking at him expectantly. He reaches down and scratches him behind the ear, making him elicit satisfied noises.

“He likes you,” Lou says and takes a step closer.

Standing back to his full height, he wraps an arm around Lou’s shoulder and pulls her to his side. He presses a kiss to her temple. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Alright, cowboy, you get the crate and let’s go back inside.”

“You bossing me around now?”

Grinning, she trudges through the snow back to the front door. Rhett shakes his head, but hauls the crate back to the door without protest.

They lose power around 2 pm.

One minute they’re watching a movie, some holiday house swap romcom Lou insisted he had to watch, and the next the cabin’s dark and quiet.

“How long does it take for the backup generator to kick in?” he asks, and presses a kiss on the top of Lou’s head. 

“I’m not sure,” she says, sitting upright and reaching for her phone on the coffee table. A notification pops up on the screen and Rhett reads it with her, frowning.

“We better get a fire going.”

He’s not much help, just hands her the logs and the matches under the watchful eye of Denver, who stands next to him with his eyes trained on Lou.

Afterward she rummages through several drawers looking for candles, and answers a phone call from Carrie Taylor, probably to give an update on the backup generator.

“I brought in wood this morning,” Lou tells her.

Rhett listens to their conversation. All he heard from his family today was when Royal called to shout about where the hell he was, and how behind they would be on ranch chores now that he wasn’t there. It’s moments like those that make it hard not to envy Lou’s relationship with the Taylors. They care about her, check in on her and make sure she’s alright, and the Taylor boys adore her like a big sister.

It’s bad news. The generator isn’t kicking in and needs to be replaced sooner than later, so they’re stuck without power for the foreseeable future.

“Carrie said we’re welcome at the main house,” Lou says while she lights candles on various surfaces. “We’d have to make our way through the snow somehow and they don’t have power either, but they’re more stocked up on groceries and blankets than I am.”

“Do you wanna go?”

She contemplates for a moment, that crinkle between her brows appearing. “No,” she says finally and wraps her arms around his waist. “At least not yet.”

“Okay,” he mutters and kisses her hair, enjoying the scent of her lavender shampoo. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror while washing his hands. He still looks the same. His brown hair is messy and in need of a trim, blue eyes, and a hint of stubble along his jaw. He looks taller, though, like he doesn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He dries his hands, opens the door, and leans against the doorframe, watching Lou get settled on the couch. She’s surrounded by candles, bathed in the glow from the fireplace, and she’s running a hand over Denver’s fur while he snuggles into her.

Rhett can’t help but smile at the view, a longing he can’t quite describe settling deep inside his chest. It’s unfamiliar, but not entirely uncomfortable.

Lou opens a book, but closes it again when she realizes she can’t see the words clearly. Hearing Rhett’s footsteps behind her, she throws a quick glance over her shoulder. “Were you okay in there? I should have given you a candle.”

Smiling, he holds out his hand to her. Lou looks up at him, eyes confused, and that divot between her brows looks deeper than usual.

“Dance with me?”

She grins and warmth spreads through his chest. “You dance?” she asks, but lets him pull her to her feet, anyway. The book that was on her lap hits the floor with a thud.

“Not really,” he admits, placing his hand on her lower back. “But I can sway.”

“Swaying works,” she says and rests her head on his chest, cheek pressed against the place where his heart thunders.

They move like that for what feels like ages, only illuminated by fire and candlelight. Denver naps on the couch, unbothered by the cold and relative darkness. Rhett is scared shitless of how natural this feels. Not just being with Lou in those stolen nighttime rendezvous moments, but like this, living with her.

“Rhett?”

He hums in response.

“What are we doing?”

He frowns. “Dancing,” he replies, squeezing the hand of hers he’s holding. “I thought that was obvious.”

She lifts her head from his chest and looks up at him with those unnervingly dark eyes. “No, I mean, what are we doing, like, together? Are we dating? Friends who have occasional but really good sex or just people who have sex because we’re lonely and need a warm body to get lost in?”

He’s so surprised by her question that he stops moving. How can she not know? He hasn’t said it, but thinks it’s obvious that he feels something for her. 

He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing to put his heart on the line. “This is real to me,” he tells her seriously. “This is not just physical, even though that part is great. Lou, I used my niece as an excuse to ask you to come see me at the rodeo.”

“You did?” She’s smiling now, and Rhett feels like his heart has grown to ten times its normal size.

He nods. “Kinda. She wanted to see you again, but so did I.”

She chuckles, but there’s a wetness in the sound that makes him realize she has tears running down her cheeks. In his defense, it’s hard to see in the firelight.

Reaching down, he wipes the tears away. “I’m yours, Lou Kinney. If you’ll have me.”

She rises to her feet, cradling his face between her hands and kisses him. Deep and real.

It occurs to him that this is what comfort feels like. He’s not just a warm body, not just a good time. Lou likes him, wants him. All of him, even the messy parts and the things he can’t change, and he feels her pour that knowledge into him as they kiss.

Placing his hands on her waist, he pushes her back towards the bed, and she stumbles with him. She laughs and licks into his mouth until the back of her knees hit the bed and she falls on her back.

He stands at the foot of the bed, watching her lie there. Dark hair fanned out like a halo around her face. Expectant and excited smile on her face, and that double chin that appears from this angle is still one of the things he likes most about her.

He crawls on the bed and hovers over her, watching as she bites her lip, driving him wild. “Do you know what you do to me?”

She smirks, hands roaming over his neck and chest. Leaning up, she captures his mouth in a breathtaking kiss that makes him drop on top of her.

She giggles into his mouth, one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever known. “I can feel it,” she breathes against his lips. Her hand travels down his chest, down his abdomen, and he can’t help the hiss that escapes his throat when she presses her palm against his hardening cock. “Ready for round three, cowboy?”

He pants into her mouth as she rubs her hand against his clothed cock. “Thought it was round two,” he mutters through strangled breaths while his hips start grinding against Lou’s hand of their own volition.

“I’m counting last night,” she tells him and flips them over so he’s on his back. He whines at the loss of contact with his cock, but he’s amazed at Lou’s strength. 

She places open-mouthed kisses to his cheek, his throat, pulls at his t-shirt to expose his collarbone. His hands rest lightly on her hips, never pushing her or demanding more.

Her mouth is fire on his skin, and the part of him that longs to decide how this goes is awfully quiet. He’s surrendering to Lou’s touch and doesn’t hate it.

She moves further down his body, pushing the bottom of his t-shirt up, exposing his skin to the cold air, and she kisses the ridges of his abdomen. He’s powerless, lost in the knowledge of where this is going and loving every second.

Reaching for his jeans, she undoes the button and pulls the zip down. He’s panting and so desperate for her hands on his cock again that his hips jerk at just the slightest brush through the fabric of his boxers.

“Someone’s sensitive,” she hums with a breathy chuckle against his pubic bone.

He groans, pulling at his own hair to avoid pushing Lou too far. He wants her hands and mouth on him, wants her to suck his soul from him and thank her for choosing him afterward.

He groans again. “You’re killing me, darlin’.”

She looks up at him, dark eyes hooded with lust and mischief. “Take off your pants then,” she commands. “Let me put you out of your misery.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Sitting up, he rids himself of his jeans and boxers in record time, but doesn’t lie back immediately. Instead, he reaches for Lou, kisses her lips, and pulls the hoodie over her head, sending it to the floor in the pile with his own clothes.

She pushes at his chest until he’s laying on his back, eyes concentrated on the ceiling. Lou kisses his exposed skin, scrapes her teeth across his hip bone and smoothes it over with her hot tongue.

He’s rock hard, and desperate to be touched. For her hands, her mouth, literally anything to satisfy him somehow. Her palms are hot on his exposed thighs and his breath hitches every time they get close to where he wants her the most.

He’s on the verge of begging her to touch him when her mouth closes around the tip of his cock. Letting out a strangled moan, he grips the comforter and gets lost in the feeling of Lou’s tongue flattening against the underside of him. Her hand holds on to the base, the parts she can’t reach with her mouth, and Rhett swears he’s in heaven when she starts bobbing her head.

His moans fill the air and babbling sounds that are supposed to be words fill the air. He’s pretty sure he’s never gotten head like this before. He likes to guide the women who suck him off, but Lou knows him and knows what he likes, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about letting her lead.

She pulls off him with a loud pop, making Rhett almost whine at the loss of her mouth, but she just grins and leans up to kiss him. He can taste his own pre-cum on her tongue.

“Scoot up a little, cowboy,” she says, her voice deep and sultry. She’s a little out of breath and he can just about make out saliva in the corners of her mouth. The sight is mesmerizing. 

He does as he’s told, leaning his back against the headboard, and Lou crawls up the bed with him. Kisses his lips once before returning her attention to his cock. The red and swollen head is covered in an obscene amount of pre-cum, and he’d be embarrassed if Lou didn’t lap it up like it’s her last meal.

“Fuuuck…” he mutters and fists the comforter when she takes him back into her mouth and hollows out her cheeks. “That’s it, darlin’, so good for me.”

She reaches for his hand and places it into her hair, then looks up at him and gives him an encouraging nod. She knows he wants to feel her head moving under his palm as she brings him to the edge. He’s so in love with her that he takes back some of that control he gave up so willingly.

“So good,” he mumbles, followed by a strained groan as he tries to hold on just a little longer. She’s gripping the base of his cock tighter, letting him move her head up and down on him, and he’s fascinated with the sight. “Doing so good, baby. Fuck, I’m so close.”

He pushes her head a little too hard, making her gag and splutter. He tries to stop, but she holds his hand in place. Their eyes meet and she gives him a nod, encouraging him to keep going. So he does.

His thighs tremble as her tongue flattens against the vein on the underside of his cock, and he’s right there on the edge. “Shit, baby, if you keep going I’m gonna cum.”

She doesn’t stop, determined to get him off with just her mouth, and he’s in awe of her as she works him to the edge. Then he’s spilling over into her mouth with a drawn-out moan, and she swallows as much of his cum as she can.

“Oh my god,” he mumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. His whole body still vibrates with the aftershocks of his orgasm, all his limbs completely drained of energy. 

Lou gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom. He can hear her rummaging around, the faucet turning on and off, and she comes back holding a damp washcloth. “Here,” she says when she reaches the bed. “You need to clean up.”

She sits on the edge, watching him hiss at the touch to his sensitive cock, and accepts the washcloth once he’s done. He’s never been with anyone who makes a point of cleaning him after sex, but Lou always has, and he likes that about her.

After throwing the cloth in the wash, they climb under the covers, and Rhett takes Lou into her arms. She rests her head on his chest and breathes him in.

“Can’t believe I’m your girlfriend now,” she says, stifling a yawn.

Rhett smiles to himself, pulling Lou just a little closer. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @callsign-magnolia, @cherrycola27, @desert-fern, @purplevortexx, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @eternallyvenus, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @linkpk88, @attapullman, @sebsxphia

[lemoncrushh]

Seven Six Five - Part Two

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part Two Word Count: 3.6k+

STORY PAGE

26 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Releasing her hands from the keyboard, Bronwyn sat back in her chair with a sigh. She’d done it. The NPR review was completed; and after being edited and submitted for approval, it was now live. It had been a daunting task to write about someone she despised. But after a long, restless night, and heaps of caffeine, she’d managed to get something produced. Despite her inner voice wanting to express exactly what she thought of him, her article on Harry Styles was at the very least an unbiased one, if not a positive one.

Satisfied with her work, and glad to finally put it to rest, Bronwyn decided to get some rest of her own. Closing her laptop, she took a trip to the loo before settling under the piles of blankets on her bed. She’d barely closed her eyes, however, when she heard the all-familiar ringtone come from her cell on the nightstand. The screen announced it was Antonella calling, and had it been anyone else, she would have turned off the ringer and told whomever it was to piss off, albeit silently. But because it was her vivacious agent, she knew it was a pertinent call.

“Congratulations, darling!” Antonella declared as soon as Bronwyn pressed the speaker. “I knew you had it in you!”

“Thanks,” Bronwyn smirked as she shifted herself on her pillow.

“I assume your conflict of interest was sorted out?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“No? Well, I’m glad you put aside whatever differences you had, at least for the time being. I’m looking at the beautiful photos you took, and the fellow is...how do you say…”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Bronwyn interrupted.

“Didn’t what?”

“Say anything about how he looks.”

“Bronwyn!” Antonella tsked before lowering her voice to a hushed tone. “You had relations with this young man, no?”

“No. Not exactly,” Bronwyn muttered.

She could hear her agent breathing as she was obviously waiting for more juicy details. But Bronwyn wasn’t at liberty nor in the mood to give any.

“Fine then, I won’t press,” Antonella promised. “It’s over and done. Just called to tell you what a fabulous job you did.”

“Better than Dennis, huh?” Bronwyn chided.

Antonella snorted. “If I didn’t adore you so much, I’d tell you to fuck off.”

Bronwyn giggled. “The feeling’s mutual, love.”

Pressing the button to disconnect the call, Bronwyn noticed a notification for a missed one. It wasn’ a number she recognised, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. She was used to receiving calls about various jobs or from websites or magazines, so it was difficult to really screen her calls. The caller, however, didn’t leave a message, so she turned off her phone and situated herself into her own warm cocoon before drifting off to sleep.

The early afternoon sun shone through the flimsy curtains and awoke Bronwyn like an unwelcomed acquaintance. With a deep yawn and a stretch, she kicked off the blankets and reached for her phone, turning it back on. Before she could even check the time, the screen alerted her of two more missed calls from that same number that had rung earlier, but still had left no voicemail. Whomever they were, they were persistent but still wished to remain anonymous. Bronwyn considered just ringing them back, but first, nature called.

After a stop in the bathroom, she padded to her small kitchen with another yawn, prepared to make a pot of coffee. When she opened the cupboard, however, she was reminded that she’d used the rest of what she’d had the night before. With a groan, she settled for tea which wouldn’t quite satisfy, but would have to do. Just as she set the kettle on the stove, the phone that she’d left on her bed sounded its chime. Seeing the mystery caller’s number again, she decided to answer.

“‘Ello?”

“Bronwyn?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Thank God,” he said, exasperated. “I’ve been trying to get you all day.”

“I’m sorry. Who is this?”

The mystery caller gave a deep chuckle, and before he could give his name, Bronwyn knew who it was.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s Harry Styles.”

“Harry.” That was it. Just his first name. No hi or hello. No good to hear from you or glad you called. Just Harry. A statement, even, not a question.

“Hi,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m...okay. Uh...how’d you get my number?”

Harry chuckled again which made Bronwyn clench her teeth.

“I have my ways.”

Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

“I got it through NPR. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I guess not,” she muttered.

“I suppose I should tell you why I’m calling. I saw your article online, and I wanted to thank you.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t sure why she should’ve been surprised. It was about him. Of course he’d read it.

“Yeah, it was really well-done, and your photos were excellent.”

“Thanks,” said Bronwyn, nonchalantly as she traced the pattern on one of her blankets.

“Also, I’m…” Harry hesitated. “I’m also calling for another reason.”

“You are?”

“It was really good to see you again, and I hated that you had to leave in a rush.”

“Well, you know, those articles don’t write themselves,” Bronwyn remarked sarcastically.

Harry giggled then, making Bronwyn want to throw something. She looked around the bed, but only found a discarded empty tissue box. It made an insignificant thud as it hit the bathroom door frame.

“I’d like to thank you properly, Bronwyn,” said Harry. “I’m in New York now. I’ll be here for the rest of the week. Can we meet somewhere? For dinner or drinks?”

Nearly dropping her phone at his inquiry, Bronwyn jumped as the kettle began to whistle.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry,” Bronwyn replied in a rush as she reached for the stove. “I don’t-.”

“I know you’re probably busy, but I’d love to catch up. It’s been so long and...I’d hate to know we’re in the same city, and I can’t even say hello.”

Bronwyn gave a saucy laugh. “I thought that’s why you called.”

“I mean in person,” said Harry, still not catching on to her tone. “Doesn’t have to be dinner. Just coffee, if that suits.”

The warm kettle in her hand, Bronwyn remembered how badly she’d wanted coffee. She’d still have to get dressed to go fetch it, but at least she could go to her favourite cafe and have some company…

Wait. Am I really considering this?, she thought.

“Please?” she heard him ask.

Well, she was right about one thing. The mystery caller was persistent. That only added to the long list of other adjectives she had going for him like deceitful, fake, obnoxious and contemptuous, although admittedly that list also included charming, handsome and talented. With a sigh of surrender, she poured the hot water out into the sink.

“The Corner Cafe,” she said. “I’ll meet you there. Four o’clock okay with you?”

“It’s fine. What corner is it on?”

“Google it,” ordered Bronwyn. “That’s the name of the cafe.”

“Not a very original name.”

Managing to crack a smile, Bronwyn opened her bureau and pulled out a pair of jeans and a jumper.

“Four o’clock, Harry. See you then.”

Pressing the button to hang up before he could say anything else, Bronwyn dropped her phone on the bed next to the clothes she’d just picked out and turned for the bathroom.

“What the fuck are you doing, Bronwyn?” she asked herself aloud as she stepped into the shower. “You have gone and lost your mind.”

Despite the bright, cloudless day, there was still a brisk chill in the air. Bronwyn pulled the collar of her coat up, wishing she’d brought her hat and scarf. Fortunately, the walk to the Corner Cafe was short, and she arrived well before time to meet Harry. Ordering her favourite latte, she decided on a chicken salad sandwich as well, since she hadn’t anything to eat after her long nap. Choosing a table in the corner by the window, she shrugged out of her coat, placing it on the back of the chair. Biting into her sandwich, she saw a small crowd form just outside. She wondered what the commotion was about until a girl turned around with her hand over her mouth, her phone in her hand.

It was not uncommon for Bronwyn to see a celebrity or two on the street. Granted, it was not an everyday occurrence, but she’d walked by a few since living in New York. Just last week she saw Jimmy Fallon and his wife at a pizza joint she frequented. Even being somewhat in the business, she still got starstruck from time to time. What she did not do, however, was disturb a celebrity when they were having dinner or even stop them on the street to ask for a selfie. She adored her privacy, and tried to respect others’. She wondered how famous people handled it all. She reckoned she’d go mad.

Within minutes, by the time she’d just about finished the first half of her sandwich, the crowd dispersed and a tall figure in a black hoodie turned and made his way to the cafe door. When the bell jingled, Bronwyn looked up from her latte to see him pause and scan the room. Their eyes connecting, he smiled with a small wave of his hand before walking up to the counter to place his order. Bronwyn took in his appearance - a black hoodie, black sweats and black trainers. She wondered how on earth anyone had recognised him at all. Perhaps it was the large pink tote bag he was carrying on his shoulder. She snorted to herself, taking another bite from her sandwich. Grateful the cafe was somewhat empty except for a couple of people hastily typing away on their laptops, she waited as Harry received his beverage and strolled towards her.

“I promise I tried my best to be on time,” he declared, his free hand on his chest.

“You are,” remarked Bronwyn. “I was early.”

“Ah!” Harry nodded, placing his cup on the table across from her.

She caught the look on his face as he paused again, clearly waiting for her to rise for a hug or kiss on the cheek. When she didn’t, he bit his lip, removed the bag from his shoulder and sat down.

“You look lovely,” he said.

For a second, Bronwyn was about to look down at her rose coloured jumper when she remembered his comment was probably automatic, and not necessarily sincere. Still, she wasn’t one to ignore or dismiss a compliment.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

“Sorry I look like a right slob. I was hoping to look inconspicuous.”

Bronwyn couldn’t help but smirk. “Didn’t work out for you, no?”

“Oh, you noticed?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I might’ve caught something through the window.”

Harry’s shoulders shook as she chuckled low. “Could’ve been worse. At least it was just a few.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” Bronwyn shook her head as she wiped her hands on the napkin. “I dunno how you do it.”

“You get used to it.”

“I doubt it. I value my privacy too much.”

Harry was quiet as Bronwyn pushed aside her nearly empty plate and took a sip from her latte. She eyed his ringed fingers as they picked up his own drink and brought it to his lips.

“So, how’ve you been?” he finally asked, setting down his cup.

“You asked me that already.”

“When?” Harry raised a brow.

“Yesterday. Unless you meant, how’ve I been since then.”

Harry smirked and shook his head. “No, I guess not. I reckon I’m just interested in what you’ve been doing since...I saw you last.”

“Are you really?” Bronwyn asked flatly.

“Of course. You live here in New York now,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“And you still take photos.”

“Yeah.”

“And you do freelance work.”

“Yep.”

“What else?”

Bronwyn pursed her lips and shrugged. “That’s...pretty much it.”

“Oh, c’mon, there must be something else,” argued Harry as he leant forward. “Tell me more about you.”

Trying not to roll her eyes at him, Bronwyn sighed.

“I…” she began, holding her arms out at her sides, “still look the same.”

“Yeah, you do,” Harry grinned widely. “That’s why I recognised you so quickly. Your hair might be a wee bit shorter, maybe a little darker…”

“Hmm…” Bronwyn pondered.

“No cute, short dress or boots though,” Harry added, taking a peek under the table.

A laugh left Bronwyn’s throat before she could stop it, and one from Harry soon followed. She felt the blush in her cheeks and quickly cleared her throat.

“You still into the vintage stuff?” Harry asked.

“Of course. I just don’t regularly parade around in it at four o’clock on a Wednesday. In February.”

Harry giggled again, his eyes squinting.

Please stop doing that, Bronwyn thought. This is hard enough for me without you being so...ugh.

She didn’t want to admit that she still found him so incredibly attractive. Years may have separated their last encounter, but it wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen his face since that night. Despite her persistence in trying to avoid having anything to do with One Direction, they had been a massively popular band. When she’d heard of their split, followed by the buzz of Harry’s rising solo career, she’d continued to keep her distance as much as possible. Sat across from him now in a quiet cafe, his green eyes trying their best to read hers, the memories of seven years ago came flooding back.

“That reminds me,” announced Harry, interrupting her thoughts. “I brought you something.”

Raising her brows in question, Bronwyn watched Harry pick up the tote bag by his feet and hand it to her.

“I remember how you prefer vinyl, so I thought you might like that,” he added.

Taking the bag from him, Bronwyn hesitantly opened it and pulled out an album, Harry’s pointing pose adorning the front cover.

“This is your album,” she frowned.

“You don’t have a copy already, do you?”

“No. I actually listened to it on Spotify.”

“Oh. Good, then,” Harry grinned.

“Thanks,” Bronwyn commented dryly. “Do you...um...want the tote bag back?”

“No, no. I brought that for you to carry it in. So you won’t be walking home with my face under your arm,” he laughed.

“How thoughtful.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she hung the tote on the back of her chair. Looking back at him, she caught the deep frown on his face before he lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. No doubt she had hurt his feelings, or at least bruised his ego a bit. But she didn’t care. She found it utterly conceited of him to assume she’d want a copy of his record. But then...of course he did. That’s why he was there with her. It was all about the article she’d written about him. His music. His album. How stupid she was to even consider anything else.

“Well um...I’m glad you liked my article,” she said, trying to soften the blow a bit, and also hopefully end their meeting soon.

“I did,” Harry nodded, lowering his cup. “But that’s not really why I called you. I said that, right?”

“Why did you?”

A smile twitching at his lips, Harry leant forward again. “You think I call everyone who writes something about me?”

Oh fuck off, are you joking?

“You mean, you don’t?” Bronwyn asked, playing his game.

Harry laughed, resting his chin in his hand. “Bronwyn, love. What happened that night?”

“What night?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry scoffed. “What’dya mean, what night? The night. The film premiere. You and I.”

“It’s you and me,” Bronwyn corrected. “Why do people always get that wrong?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I had to leave,” she answered softly.

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Something came up.”

“What something?”

Her eyes involuntarily began to water, and she looked around the room. “Can we not talk about this now? It was a long time ago.”

Harry stared at her for what felt like minutes as she finished the last sips of her coffee. Finally resolving to the fact that she wasn’t going to give him a legitimate answer, he sat back with a sigh.

“Alright then.”

“Right,” Bronwyn agreed. “So, if we’re done, I do need to get home. I have some work to do.”

Harry didn’t bother to hide the disappointed look on his face this time. He rose from his chair as Bronwyn stood and grabbed the tote bag and her coat. He startled her when he took her coat from her and held it out for her to slip her arms inside.

“Thank you,” she barely whispered, looking at the ground. “And thanks for the...um...vinyl.”

“You’re welcome. I’d hoped to buy you coffee and perhaps something to eat, but you’d beat me to it.”

“Sorry,” she managed a shy grin. “I was hungry. I’d slept all day, what with being up all night writing. That’s why I came early. I wasn’t expecting you to...I mean, you didn’t have to buy me anything.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry grinned back. “Well...I hate to say goodbye, Bronwyn. But it really was good to see you. I hope it’s not another...seven years until we meet again.”

Giving a tight smile, Bronwyn nodded. “Well, goodbye, Harry. Take care.”

This time she allowed him a short embrace as he kissed her cheek. Then he held the door open as she slipped outside into the cold air. Harry said another goodbye before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Bronwyn strode swifty down the sidewalk until coming to a stop, turning only to watch him pull his hood over his head and cross the street before wiping her wet eyes and walking the rest of the way home.

20 August, 2013 - London, England, UK

Nah, nah nah, nah nah nah nah!

Bronwyn giggled as she swayed against Harry’s body as he stood behind her, his arms wound around her while her own waved high in the air. The entire room had decided to join in a chorus of the Beatles’ “Hey Jude”, and in their overt intoxicated state, she and Harry were happy to include themselves in the mix.

Bronwyn felt like she was on cloud nine. She’d been having the best time with Harry all evening. Not only was he cute and charming, as well as a bit cheeky, but he was also a gentleman, continuously asking if she was okay, if she needed anything. After several drinks and a raiding of the buffet, she was surprised that he had stuck around, never leaving her side except to go to the toilet. They chatted with several people throughout the night, including a couple of his bandmates, but mostly they just enjoyed each other’s company and getting to know each other.

By the time the song was over, Harry had his face in the crook of her neck. His breath gave her goosebumps, but she hoped to God he wouldn’t release her just yet.

“Come with me,” he requested, his voice low in her ear.

“Where?” she asked, her hands on his arms that were still around her.

“Somewhere...away from here.”

Unsure if he was being literal or figurative, Bronwyn grabbed his hand, loosening his grip. Turning to face him, she smiled up at his heavily hooded eyes.

“C’mon,” she beckoned, pulling in towards the door.

They made it out into the hallway, a set of lifts in front of them, two more hallways on either side.

“Which way, darling?” she asked him. “Take your pick.”

Tugging her arm, Harry chose the hallway on the left, guiding her to where exactly, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She was just so happy to be with him, she would have followed him anywhere.

When they reached a closed door on the right, Harry stopped and tried the knob. Locked. Then he tried another. Locked as well.

“Bugger,” he scowled.

Bronwyn giggled, finding his pout fetching.

“I reckon they don’t want any hanky panky going on here,” she commented.

Harry glared at her, feigning shock. “Who said anything about hanky panky?”

“Oh please!” she ribbed, playfully poking him in the side.

“Heyyyy,” he laughed before pulling her closer.

Bronwyn stared at him as he beamed at her, flipping her insides so much it felt like a gymnastics team doing somersaults.

“Let’s see what’s down this way,” he urged, pulling her with him once again.

At the end of the hall was a small alcove. It wasn’t much, but no one was in view, and it was probably the best privacy they were going to get. Guiding her inside, Harry pressed her against the wall, his hands on her hips.

“I do kinda fancy you,” he confessed, his eyes dancing while his lips were so close to hers they almost touched.

“I kinda figured that out,” Bronwyn nodded with a smirk.

Another glorious smile spread across Harry’s face as Bronwyn slid her hands up his arms. He continued to stare at her, like he was examining every feature of her face, piece by piece. She liked the way he looked at her, but the fire that had already ignited down below was now aflame.

“Only one thing I can’t figure out though, and it’s been driving me mad, Harry,” she added.

His eyebrows lifted in question as his perfect lips fell into a look of perplexity.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Why it’s taking you so bloody long to kiss me.”

What do you think of Harry and Bronwyn so far?? Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[rosetyler42]

Hi! I'm curious to know about your Hotel Transylvania OC's 😁

Get ready for an Infodump below the cut! XD

Lucy and Simon Van Dracula, or the Van Dracula Twins, are my version of Drericka ship children. They're born 13 min apart by Cesarian, and were something of a surprise considering Ericka's advanced age.

Lucy (full name "Lucille") is the oldest, and despite her vampire powers and pride in being monstrous, she takes after her mother and Brother-in-law. She's a chaotic mischievious free-spirited laid back fun-loving charmer, a real little Terror who knows her legendary status and is proud of it. Unlike Dennis or Mavis, though, Lucy has a PRIDE in her monstrosity. She ENJOYS it. In a way, she's something like Ericka's chaotic inner child given voice, and given the monstrosity Ericka and Johnny never got. She's also has far more freedom and social interaction growing up than Mavis, having grown up around both humans and monsters when monsters no longer had to hide...and Ericka's far less uptight a parent than Drac or Mavis, as she wants her kids to have the freedom she never did and she herself was training from a young age. Drac's also relaxed a bit over the century since having Mavis, though he's still the more uptight of the two. I figured him having to deal with a bouncy crazy ball of chaos for a kid would be funny, considering he's not good with chaos XD She's into dramatics and art/drawing, is a natural at languages, and has her mother's skill in gymnastics and martial arts...augmented by her father's vampire powers, of course! Unlike Dennis, she can also hypnotize and has hypnosis resistance, and her animal transformations are fully dark brown like her hair instead of black.

If Lucy is Ericka's inner child, Simon is Drac's. He's sorta what would have happened if Dennis or Drac never got Vampire powers. Like his father, he's on she shyer, quieter, more timid side and is the pragmatic braincell to Lucy's shenanigans. That said, there's something of a "Beware the quiet ones" to him. While his family is loving and accepting, he feels like the odd one out, both due to his lack of powers and unusual chunky size, and has had to work to be scary. Ericka and Drac both went to great lengths to make sure Simon never went through feeling like the "Weak little boy" Dennis did, and since Ericka and Drac aren't as overprotective, Simon's less over-sheltered than Dennis was. Where Lucy is the "Looks like she could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll," Simon inherited his mom's "Looks like a cinnamon roll, could actually KILL you" tendency. And like her, he'll do it either with deadly coldness or a smile. Ontop of this, the boy has a love of sailing and the ocean...especially the more scarier aspects like Pirates, electric eels, sharks, piranha, squid and octopi, and of course...krakens and other sea/water monsters. He also has his mom's love and nerd-dom of weaponry. It's part of his way of being scary. I've also drawn him and Dennis playing with the old "My First Guillotine" somewhat inspired by the scene in the HT2 novelization where Dennis uses the guillotine to chop off an action figure's head and that scene in Addams Family Values with Pubert, Pugsley, and Wednesday. Simon's more into cooking and playing the ukelele in terms of hobbies, and while he isn't as good with languages as his sister, knows a fair amount.

Dynamic-Wise, they're kinda like Ian and Barley from Onward, Wednesday and Pugsley from The Addams Family, Zack and Cody from the Suite Life, or Phineas and Ferb.

Both of them have slowed aging after 5 years old, enhanced durability, strength, agility, and speed (Though Lucy's is of course more obviously powered while Simon's more just beyond average.) They're a bit cooler than normal humans and have slower heart beats. And while they can both day walk, they can still sunburn and are allergic to both garlic and silver. (While Ericka and Drac taught them both to use weapons, they're not allowed to use wooden stakes or silver weapons just in case.) Although none of them are as deadly to them as they would be to a pure-blood vamp.

In terms of culture: James, Mavis, Dennis, and Abraham are the twins' main exposure to human things (esp. prior to school) as Drac and Ericka don't really have experience with normal human culture themselves. Since the Dracula family is Jewish coded and Ericka's family is christian coded, I decided the twins are interfaith, raised with both Christianity and Judaism so both cultures get celebrated without one overshadowing the other. Their Hebrew names are Shimown and Liorit for Simon and Lucy respectively. They're basically Russian, Romanian, possibly Hungarian going off the OG book, and Dutch. I also love the idea where... since Drac largely raised Mavis alone, and these two are twins to middle age parents...I like the idea of the pack helping raise these two. After all, Drac's apparently close enough to the pack for the Werewolf pups to call him uncle and Mavis to call Eunice "Auntie," so why not? Johnny and Mavis are even the god parents of the Twins and often the ones to help out since they live in the same building (and are the best options out of the pack.) They of course know everything about Martha and how Mom was originally trying to kill dad. Drac even made his own storybook saying how they met (The Drac-Tastic read along from the Bluray. "I saw it on a Blu-ray disc. Bonus stuff." XD) I also have a headcanon they're into Goosebumps, especially Lucy. Her favorite is Slappy. Simon also likes 2000 Leagues Under the Sea, and they both grew up with Sesame Street and Blues Clues. (I've been on a kick and hey, they're probably more tolerable than Kakie.) I also have the headcanon Lucy looks up to Johnny quite a bit, while Simon more identifies with Mavis, Dennis, and Frankenstein.

For names: Lucy is named after Lucy Westenra, the first female vamp turned on-screen in the OG book and adapations. Though in universe, Drac named her Lucille, probably from a mix of a female version of Lucifer and it meaning "Little Light." Lucy is a nickname. Liorit also means "My Light." As for Simon, I went with the in-universe idea Ericka simply had ancestor named Simon and liked the name. But in reality, I simply reused a name from an early version of Johnny (and possibly re-used into Ericka) called Simon Van Helsing, who was originally a monster hunter who fell for Mavis after finding the hotel. Simon and Shimown also means "Harkening" which is perfect considering Drac...could REALLY use a reminder to listen to others sometimes. XD

Their inspirations of course are something of a mix of Pubert Addams - both Normal and Addams-esque; Wedneday and Pugsley, Popeye and Bluto, @lovelylivelyv 's Bendy OC Jack Nephalem, Uncle Fester and Debbie, Abraham Van Helsing and the other large Van Helsing bricks + their bucktoothed overbite, Mother Gothel (kinda), Dr. Frankenfurter, Katharyn Hahn, Human!Drac, Vampirica, the HT2 Vamp Kids at Winniepecaca, "What if Drac had a humany son instead of a vampire after what happened with Dennis?", "What if he had a child like Johnny and Ericka?" The promo fakeout for Dennis being a "little terror", Martha art with brown hair, and "We've never seen a female Dhampir." They also kinda bear a resemblance to Pinky (PATB) and Young Man Rivers (Foster's Home.) Though that was unintentional.

I got alot more about these two, but I already stayed up too late and I need to go to bed. XD Will probably reblog with more pictures soon.

Tag list @lovelylivelyv @i1lyidkstupid @hotelt-resurrection @ssleeping-in-a-coffin

@oc-center @oc-celebration

[msgillianlattea]

Thad: "Hey uh Ash ain't that Dennys over there?"

Ash: "oh fuck, I think so! Is- is she singing???"

So I'm the kinda gal that makes damn near all my oc good at singing because I'm good at it lol also I couldn't miss the opportunity of using this song in at lest one fanart for @escapedaudios it just.. fits you know? 😇

Anyways I feel like dennys would like singing, but she would never do it if she thinks someone is watching or is there, so I feel it would be a shock to both Thad and Ash! So Dennys on her way home from college classes!

[problematicsashawaybright]

More free OC lore: August is very problematic and also trying to cut down on how many cigarettes she smokes, so whenever she is "good" (ie not insane, like not causing a fight at a Denny's and getting banned because some guy is annoying while she's trying to have a nice breakfast with her girlfriend) she gets one (1) cigarette from the same package (the package lasts a long time because she is rarely normal enough to earn one). The person who doles out the cigarettes is her beautiful girlfriend, Ivy, who is desperately trying to make her normal and not insane. August is so obsessed with her beautiful normal girlfriend that it has not occured to her that she is an adult and can just. Go out and buy her own pack of cigarettes instead of earning them through being a normal human being.

[nonplatonicsubtext]

Estate of the Bay Part 1: Johnny Law

(If you haven't read about @shakertwelve's Estate AU, go check out their victor lavere tag, or this won't make much sense)

Thought we'd put together a quick breakdown of the state of Brockton as of story start, beginning with the heroes. Names in italics are changed from canon

Protectorate Heroes:

Armsmaster (Colin Wallis)

Miss Militia (Hana)

Velocity (Robin Swoyer)

Dauntless (Shawn)

Battery (“Jamie”)

Assault (Ethan)

Redeye (Crystal Pelham)

Wards:

Clockblocker (Dennis)

Aegis (Isabela)

Scribble (Rune)

Vista (Missy Biron)

Kid Win (Chris)

Browbeat (Browbeat)

The Brockton Bay Protectorate core members are mostly unchanged, due to the point of divergence only being about ten years prior. The main differences are the absence of Triumph, who died in a horrible nepotism accident due to a lack of Panacea around for healing, and the addition of Redeye, who graduated from the Wards closer to a year before story start and rebranded from her Laserdream identity, severing the last tie between her and the Brigade, at least in the eyes of the public.

The Wards are a different story. Gallant was put permanently out of action in a horrible fucking rich boy accident, which was what precipitated Crystal being transferred in. Beyond that, Aegis is transgender but that doesn’t really come up except in the Wards interlude pre-Leviathan.

The biggest change to the Wards is the absence of Shadow Stalker - in her place is Scribble, aka Tammi. This is very much the same Rune as in canon, to be clear - no whitewashing here. She just got snapped up by the PRT while doing Plausible Deniability “Vigilantism” kind of like what Purity does and got press-ganged into the Wards. She’s not mask-off all the way about the white supremacy… at least not yet.

More importantly, she takes over Sophia’s Other role in the plot too - the Trio now consists of Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and Tammi Surname. Always Sunny font Emma Barnes Goes Alt-Right.

Outlaw Inlaws

The Arrows

Spitfire (Emily)

Morrigan (Sophia Hess)

Apsis (Whirligig)

Replacing New Wave as the independent heroes (or ‘heroes’ depending on who you ask) are the Arrows, a recently formed vigilante antifascist group. Spitfire, the leader, has a bit more steel up her spine than in canon (though she still struggles), Sophia’s still an angry loose cannon but just not. you know. in a racist way. She's got a lot of very good reasons to be angry. Whirligig in canon is just a power and a faction so she’s basically an OC - she’s slightly older than the other two, an even mix of the level head and the slacker. Doesn’t seem to quite fit with the vibes of the group.

For the most part, they’re concerned with not bringing the wrath of the Protectorate down on themselves - like in real life, killing Nazis tends to get more of a response than Nazis killing people does. A lot of what they do is lurk nearby during civilian antifascist action, ready to head off the Nazi capes if they try and intercept for their own side. A few months before story start, they killed Alabaster - more specifically, Sophia did, and while it hasnt been conclusively linked to them at story start, they’re keeping their heads down, to Sophia’s chagrin. 

They're still semi-associated with Palanquin, despite Spitfire not being a part of that group - they did approach her, and now they communicate sometimes, as the club with Case 53s is a pretty frequent target for neonazis and other shitheads.

Charlotte knows them by chance encounter, after Sophia saved her from a few skinheads.

Rogue One

Parian is still Parian. She’s aware of the Arrows, but disapproves of their use of violence, cause she’s a bit of a lib. 

[charmac]

Did someone just die?

[asexual-spongebob]

Dib headcanons part 2.

(why did it take me so long to make a second part to this??)

PRT 1.

• his full name is Dibert Andrew Membrane. (his middle name is a reference to his voice actor.)

• he learned how to fix sinks. handy man much?

• they love fried plantains. their eyes widen in the cutest way imaginable anytime they eat them.

• they love scobby doo and grew up watching it. their favorite installments are Zombie Island and Alien Invaders (it makes them cry.) they know all the lore and shit.

• he reads goosebumps. he screams goosebumps addict to me.

• he smells like a mix of onions, stale pizza rolls with a dash of fish and shitty dollar store cologne 90% of the time.

• They suffer from executive dysfunction and constantly scold themself.

• They play guitar hero. But other than that they don’t really play video games because they end up rage quitting.

• He loves cats and dogs despite being allergic.

• He loves napping.

• They say the weirdest things in their sleep.

• They love being held and cherished.

• He once beat Chuck’s ass in a Denny’s parking lot at three am as revenge for Chuck giving him a wedgie in room with a moose.

• He is surprisingly strong.

• One of their favorite foods is salmon.

• They make the worst adult jokes imaginable.

• He once beat up Gaz for getting into his secret candy stash. (Cut the guy some slack. He had cramps.)

• He gets really sweet when he’s not feeling well. He also gets clingy and doesnt want anyone to leave him.

• They need a hug. And bad.

• They have rsd (rejection sensitive dysphoria.)

• He is shockingly good at dancing. And also singing. You’d think he’d sound like a dying horse but he actually sounds like an angel. He surprises everyone.

• He has a kazoo and uses it to annoy Gaz.

• They dye Gaz’s hair, and in return, she paints their nails so they’ll stop biting them as much.

• They are really bad at flirting.

• He has wavy hair but you wouldn’t know because he uses way too much hair gel. Anytime someone tells him he looks cute with wavy hair, he assumes they’re lying. (Even tho it’s actually very pretty.)

• He used to be ashamed of his brown eyes until he received compliments on them.

• They love Weezer. Their favorite song is surf wax America. They also love the smiths and lemon demon and stuff. They like a lotta music.

• They hate math and are really bad at it. • He loves sweets and has a massive sweet tooth.

• He doesn’t take good care of himself and needs a spa day. Sir, please go take a bath. I promise you’ll feel better.

• They have zits.

• They love hot topic and similar stores.

• He makes patches but doesnt know what to do with them. they just kind of sit somewhere in his room.

• He has a bunch of Mothman ocs. They all have tragic backstories, relationships, etc.

• Local bi disaster.

• they either eat in the neatest or most feral way imaginable. there’s no in between.

• They are a dogcat creature.

• He loves deep sea fish and animals. His favorite is the vampire squid. He thinks it’s cool af.

• He makes references to the most random things.

• They sleep with a fan on.

• They are touch starved.

• His coffee order is either extremely sweet or very bitter. Though there is an in between.

• He watches Beavis and Butthead with Gaz sometimes.

• They are a coffee addict.

• They love are afraid of the dentist because they used to have bad oral health.

• He bites Gaz sometimes. She bites him back as revenge.

• He becomes extremely flattered, and swoons anytime someone calls them handsome. They become overwhelmed with gender euphoria, in a good way. • They appear out of nowhere and scare tf out of people.

• They hate it when Zim calls Blink 182 “Twink 183”.

• He learned to cry silently so no one would worry about him. He constantly shuns himself for crying.

• He has depression.

• They use aqua reef old spice deodorant. When they actually remember to use it.

• They collect lps. They get embarrassed anytime someone walks in on him playing with them, tho.

• He’s that one bitch who goes outside in a pair of jorts, a normal shirt and just his coat in freezing weather. He tries to prove to everyone that he’s not a freeze baby when in actuality he is.

• He constantly wears his coat because he 1. Thinks it’s the coolest shit ever. And 2. Because he’s a freeze baby and gets cold easily.

• They use :D, :3, XP, :p, etc. when they text.

• They either use all lowercase or all caps. No in between.

• he never eats burgers because he vomited one up once.

• He has a MySpace.

[pbam0ney]

"We can't change what's done, we can only move on. There ain't no shame in looking for a better world."

___________________________________________________________

I should definitely introduce myself! Hello there, fellow reader and/or person who's just passing by.

My name is PBAM0NEY. Preferably PBA for short. I'm just someone who's hella bored so I decided to make a Tumblr account (again)

___________________________________________________________

Now the rules are very simple!

1. No NSFW asks of any kind! I will reject those asks if you do. However, a little tiny bit of suggestive stuff can fly.

2. No racism, transphobia, anything related to these kinds of things.

3. Don't be harassing anyone for any reason whatsoever.

Now, last but not least!

4. Just have fun! Ask me whatever ya want! Just don't go too far, capiche?

___________________________________________________________

Onto the OC, we have the retired, sad yet hopeful god named "PB, The Retired God" I'm always gonna be talking and walking around like him. You can call him TRG or Sean. Whichever one works for y'all!

[Yes, I will also run this acc as both the mod and the character!]

He who seeks redemption for everything he has lost wanders the world and other dimensions helping those who want to redeem themselves and move on from their past.

___________________________________________________________

Sean speaking and speaking (Alt version)

Hatred speaking and H A T R E D speaking (ALT version)

Fuzz the cat speaking!

[Mod PBA speaking: YOOO WHAT'S UP!!]

(Actions) or (Actions)

___________________________________________________________

Sean's styles of fighting

Old Styles [1st ever moveset]

Timeless Moveset [2nd moveset via adapting 1x1x1x1's moves]

Sean's learned moves!

Rampage

True evil

___________________________________________________________

Seans final moments...

Talking to his son. [Part 1]

Chaos lords letter [Part 2]

Talking to his brother. [Part 3]

Final moments with Arti. [Part 4]

Sean being respected... [Part 5]

Tug finding Sean's grave. [Part 6]

The radio. [Side-Story]

REVIVAL. [Part 7]

REUNITED [THE END]

The song Sean hears when he's finally deceased:

___________________________________________________________

Seans corrupted soul

Possessed [THE BEGINNING]

False Identity #1 [Part 1]

False Identity #2 [Part 2]

A body renewed [Part 3]

Reunited [Part 4]

Demolished Hatred [Sooner than Later Ending]

___________________________________________________________

People Sean knows about and his status on them! [Real time updates]

The mortals!

@askthe-littlepoet - An amazing crow friend.

Status: We gotta stop meeting like this, poet. You have to better yourself even if I fucking despise you for what you've done...

@askdennycotl - Denny the Alpaca!

Status: May not be in good terms with her but... I'll do what I can to help them anyways.

@yarnor-the-timid-raccoon - Little brother, Yarnor.

Status: I'm proud of you, brother. I will do everything in my power to be beside you every step of the way to see you get better.

@marko-the-yellow-cat - Leshys partner

Status: He's a cool guy. I appreciate his help. He's got a lot of power due to being in a relationship with Leshy.

@tug6056 - Tug, my son.

Status: My dear son... I will always believe in you regardless of my little appearances. Be very careful and be better than I can be.

@fluffpuffsofwar - Aster and Willow, my children.

Status: Cottons kids but they were given to me. I'll protect these 2 with my life just like I would protect Arti and Tug...

[Mod Note: Lost souls once again. So many people are leaving.]

@bloodthirstyanon - Poets ex

Status: I'm gonna fucking kill you when I find you... Just you wait, ya piece of shit.

@dragon-in-the-old-faith - Ethan's girlfriend.

Status: I may not know her enough but I know she makes my brother happy... May their relationship last forever as I give them my blessing.

The crownbearers!

@askacultleader - The lamb....

Status: I genuinely wanna beat the shit out of this damned lamb but I cannot. I'm not willing to hurt them... Not yet.

@tomb-the-god - God of insanity. Tomb and his Brother...

Status on tomb: I don't expect you to forgive me for I could not, would not, forgive myself for what had happened...

Status on his brother: Am I really his brother? I don't know who I am at this point...

@kali-lamb - A person to me.

Status: You have no right to have that damned crown... You are not to be considered family either. May you seek redemption by yourself!

The gods...

@ask-theredcrown - God of Death.

Status: My lord. I worship the god of death despite being a god myself.... It's crazy but it happens I suppose.

@ask-thegreencrown - God of Chaos.

Status: A simple guy for a world full of chaos itself. I can't deny that he's chill and that he's pretty awesome!

@he-ofhavoc - Another God of Chaos.

Status: This Leshy has given me a card to call him while in a battle and I helped him train with the sword I've given him. I'd consider him as my best friend for sure...

@the-sleepydragon - Imora, She of sleep.

Status: I am happy that you see me as a son, mother... I am honored to be part of this family and I will do everything to fight for you all.

@ask-darkwood-hunter - My lover, Arti the darkwood hunter.

Status: I love my sweet little Arti... I'd do anything to protect them even if it meant sacrificing myself or any of my own powers to do so!

@spellcaster-dude - My best pal, Spellcaster!

Status: I can respect somebody like you man. We've done a lot together... Universal or not. Our bond is special and I'll protect you with all of my power.

Other entities!

@scannys-back - Ethan/Scanny, my brother.

Status: He's the best brother I could've asked for... I had to give him a ring engraved with his name on it and a house for him to live in!

Status on Tally: Guess I got myself a dad and a mother now! What a good combo. This is an amazing family!

@flashbang-guy - The flashbang guy, Chaos lord and HIM.

Status: I'm alright with them existing here. I was annoyed at first but I guess I can get around them... However for HIM? I don't know what I'll do to them if I get my hands on him.

[Mod note: Deactivated friend, RIP to you homie. Wish you were still sticking around]

@the-justified-anon - Anon of Justice, Ens.

Status: Well, I got nothing to say except for hoping that I can be one of Justice one day and that you're cool as hell! Hope we can get to talk when you're not doing your job!

[Mod note: Another Deactivated homie... I'ma miss you, king. Keep it real out there bro 🗣️]

@kenis-goobers - Umbra, the man in the shadows.

Status: I met this guy once and I already think they're pretty nice. He wasn't hostile to me so I wasn't hostile to them. He could be a good friend.

@sally-the-turret - My daughter.

Status: I may not know you as much but I know you're young... You're safe here and I'll protect you from GLaDOS and the others. You are now a daughter of guidance...

___________________________________________________________

[The art of my OC was made by my nephew: @slimsurvivalmax and they're on Tumblr so go support them!!! :3]

[manorpunk]

Are you writing a book? Or which story format are you aiming to publish your story with?

WELL WELL WELL FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK

I’ve spent this year bouncing several different ideas in my head (Manorpunk: The Rock Opera?) but lately I've been focusing on an outline for a novel, mostly because once the central idea got in my head it wouldn’t leave, and the ideas around it and related to it have been cohering well and I like how it’s developing. Let’s start with the one-sentence pitch! 

Manorpunk: To Seize and Hold - In a balkanized future-America, a small-town gay kid (in the adult sense) catches the affections of an eccentric military commander and becomes a pawn of the vtuber-president’s political schemes.

The Kid is Liam Hessian - Having suffered the thousand cuts of growing up gay in a conservative small town, Liam has become withdrawn and disaffected, retreating into a rich inner life where he may or may not be haunted by an wealthy ancient Roman woman named Leona. Beneath his aloof and disaffected shell, he struggles to maintain a sense of compassion and justice in a world that seems so cruel and nonsensical.

The eccentric military commander is Jacob Martin Rider - after leading a ragtag army to victory during the Quebec War, Jacob retired to a life of luxury, larping as a vainglorious Victorian dandy and living in a mansion full of strapping young men dressed as maids. His relentless charm and confidence hides a cruel, selfish, and cunning side - the sort of person with a smile so bright it makes you forget that he’s killed people. He takes a liking to Liam and sweeps him out of his small town and into a life of delirious indulgence.

And the vtuber-president is, of course, Sunny Roosevelt - the president of Usonia, who has cultivated an image as something of a tutelary deity, a ‘nationsona’ if you will, a bubbly cloth mother in public and a bratty child-empress in private. She has access to all manner of methods for hijacking electronic devices, appearing on people’s screens at a whim. She contacts Liam in private and ‘asks’ him to keep an eye on Jacob for her, to make sure he isn’t doing anything too irresponsible, given his reputation and previous experience.

I like this trio, not just because they’re my OCs and therefore they are my evil stupid babies but also because (I hope) they are thematically rich - each of them are a different take on the theme of one’s public vs. private persona, and each has a sort of historical resonance - Liam has his ancient Roman ghost-buddy, Jacob has his 18th century dress and demeanor, and Sunny’s avatar is a piece of future tech which also hearkening back to an age of patron saints and town protector-spirits (and Sunny is naturally quite happy to be perceived by her fans as something like a demigod).

It also (again, I hope) gives the story a sturdy backbone to build off of. “Oh no, I like you but also I’m supposed to spy on you (and also I’m not sure if I actually like you)” gives the story some stakes to support all the pondering about the fall of American exceptionalism, the goofy Pynchonesque names, and the yaoi.

Right, I haven’t even mentioned Webersberg yet! That’s another big plot thread. Actually, that’s a handy way to transition into an overall plot summary. 

We open on Liam Hessian in his hometown of Webersberg, in the year 206X. 

Back during the Polycrisis - the period in the 2030s when the US federal government collapsed - Webersberg was a mall-fort run by a local gang of bandits, but now it’s an isolated little farming town (the joke here being that bandits are the larval stage of landowners). The initial exposition is justified by having Liam sit up too fast after getting too high, based on personal experience. Liam works at the local Denny’s managed by his father, Roy Hessian, where he waits tables for a handful of bit-characters who help flesh out the setting: local schoolteacher and wine mom Aubergine Poot, affable black-market goons Liquor & Gusto, and the Tractor Samurai, the fourth-best tractor salesman in Manistee, none of whom are deserving of bold text.

We are also introduced to Remington Weber, the boss of Webersberg - calling him a governor in any capacity would be giving him too much credit, he’s in charge by virtue of having a cadre of large adult sons and a monster truck with a gun rack; we also meet Liam’s friend and pseudo-intellectual stoner Solomon van Gekkenhuis.

But, as tends to happen to small towns in the beginning of stories, everything is about to change. All the internet-connected screens in Webersberg are suddenly hijacked to announce the inauguration of president Sunny Roosevelt, who’s here to put America back together again in the form of Usonia, an EU-esque union of independent states There’s a 25% off sale in her merch store to celebrate. The unanimous response to this news is “wait, there was an election?”

Yes, there was an election, but Webersberg was never officially incorporated into the Great Lakes Republic, despite selling their produce all over the state. (I once heard that fascism is ‘the frontier coming home,’ taking techniques of colonial governance and applying them to the imperial core, and I’ve been chewing on the idea ever since. Unrelated, but also there’s an annual fee for ‘citizenship subscriptions,’ and if you have a Platinum tier subscription or higher you get one free hit-and-run a year.) Thus begins a spree to finish centralizing and consolidating the territory within Usonia, which brings us to Bogdan Comprendo, governor of the Great Lakes Republic. Bogdan meets with Remington to discuss the options for town’s future, and the big catalyst ‘things are happening’ scene is their meeting in the Denny’s, which includes this exchange that I’m rather proud of:

“Are you at all familiar with how the construction sector operates, Mister Weber?” Bogdan said, precise and punctilious with a hiss of the s and a click of the t, “the construction sector employs millions of people across every economic stratum, from day laborers to architects to investment bankers, and consumes vast quantities of steel, timber, concrete, rubber, copper, glass, and aluminum. This hunger for raw material creates entire industries which exist just to fill its needs - scores of miners, loggers, refiners, manufacturers, purchasers, and distributors, each industry employing more and more millions of people. If construction were to stop, not only would those construction workers be out of a job, but the demand for all of those raw materials would plummet, causing the price of those materials to plummet as well, ruining the profit margins of those industries which depend on the construction sector's demand. Businesses would go bankrupt. Unemployment would skyrocket. The economy would collapse. There would be chaos and riots. Construction must continue… but there is only so much land to build on. Do you know the best way to ensure continued employment in the construction sector, Mister Weber?”

Bogdan folded his hands and rested them on the table. Remington leaned back and folded his arms and smiled, looking rather satisfied with himself, like a mouse who was so excited to find an unguarded piece of cheese that he hadn’t noticed the cage hovering right above his head.

“By getting my permission to build some shiny new development here, isn’t that right?” he said.

Bogdan flashed a thin, poison-tipped barb of a smile.

“No. The best way to ensure continued employment in the construction sector is to find some shithole, bomb it to the ground, and rebuild it from scratch. That is option A. We are here to discuss option B, Mister Weber.”

Needless to say the construction begins shortly afterwards, giving Liam a glimpse into the new amenities of 206X, first in the form of the NomBox: a vending machine which dispenses fully-cooked meals in conveniently edible box shapes, like a naan cube stuffed with butter chicken or a spaghetti cube stuffed with bolognese sauce. Also, it won’t dispense your food until you say “baby wants a treat.”

On a slightly less whimsical note, Webersberg also gets an Aivrcade cafe - it’s the future, so VR is finally good now, finally, and Liam immediately gets sucked into playing Eternal Frontier, the massively popular fantasy VR MMO. Liam has finally escaped into a comfortable but stagnant routine of working at Denny’s, playing Aivrcade, and sleeping, but Bogdan’s gunboat diplomacy has wounded Remington’s ego, and he won’t take it lying down.

+++++

Whew, that’s a lot, and Jacob Martin Rider hasn’t even shown up yet. Felt good to get this all out, I’ve been rotating these shapes in my head for months and now I get to see it all pay off. Stay tuned for act 2!

[ragsy]

Filled out this entire character ask list at sid's request! There's only 20 of em, but this got long, so there's more under the cut.

1. Describe your OC physically- what do they look like? What notable features do they have, or what’s your favorite part of their design?

Sloane: Brick shaped. Shoulders like a pro wrestler. Square jaw. She’s a hefty construction of muscle and fat. 

Mark: Scrawny, bony, and awkward. The legendary half-man half-dog who never knows what to do with his arms. Carries an air of starved hunger about him.

Kenny: Dad bod, soft rounded shoulders, dark hair that’s thinning and graying at the temples. Gentle, placid face etched with smile lines. Suspiciously older than he looks. 

Everett: Handsome, lean frame. Perfectly manicured nails, perfectly straight teeth, meticulously styled hair. Conventionally attractive like a photoshop airbrushed tv star. Which is appropriate, because it’s all an act anyway

2. What role would your OC fill in a friend group?

Sloane: Drives you to egg your ex’s house, and/or dad friend

Mark: Guy you always forget is there, but mostly just likes to be included

Kenny: Uncle friend. duh

Everett: Only here as a networking opportunity

3. What is their stance on religion? Are they a devout believer, against the idea of gods, or somewhere in between? Do they make their practice or their opinions public, or keep it private?

Sloane: It’s complicated. She grew up in a bible-thumping community, which she was relieved to be free of when she left home, but some things are hard to shake when they’re such a deep part of her foundation. 

Mark: Hard pass.

Kenny: Agnostic, but appreciates the holidays. He was extremely thrilled when his wife introduced him to Christmas. 

Everett: If “wants to be worshipped like a god” counts as a stance on religion,

4. How do they act when they’re sick, and does it change depending on who they’re around or how sick they are?

Sloane: Crawls off into a hole where no one can talk to her and rides it out until she feels better. If you try to fuss over her while she’s sick she’s going to slap your hand away.

Mark: The saddest, wettest, most pathetic beast you’ve ever seen. Tries to keep it to himself, but there are a few people who he will let see how much he wants to whimper and whine about it.

Kenny: Does his best to stay positive about it, but always crashes sooner or later. “No, please, don’t worry about me,” in the most polite midwestern way possible.

Everett: Turns into a puddle of sentient goo. Super embarrassed to have been seen like that.

5. What’s one hill your OC will die on (anything from a guiding moral position to a strong opinion about combining mint and chocolate)?

Sloane: The lives of those she’s in charge of protecting are more important than hers. Fullstop.

Mark: The star wars prequels weren’t that bad, you guys are just mean

Kenny: Floss. Your. Teeth.

Everett: There’s nothing wrong with clickbait youtube videos, that’s on you for continuing to watch it after you clicked. Keep posting angry comments, they’ll only drive his channel engagement–

6. How did you choose your OC’s name?

Sloane: Trying out sounds and names until I found one that felt like her vibe.

Mark: Suggestion by a third party. I did recently change his surname from Stevens to Kessler though; Kessler being the last name of the guy from American Werewolf in London, and also it was pointed out to me that Kessler Syndrome is a very Mark-like sci fi concept

Kenny: He started out as Dennis but the S at the end of his name didn’t sound right with the beginning of his last name, so he became Kenneth Song instead

Everett: He started out as a player-written NPC in my old motw campaign, so the player named him. Never changed it.

7. Lots of people don’t have a favorite food when put on the spot, but what’s a food or drink that your OC would never turn down if someone offered it to them?

Sloane: She’s not picky, there’s very little she’d turn down. Her faves are anything warm, hearty, and substantial.

Mark: He’d turn down anything the first time it was offered to him. Though if you offered him a chunk of human meat he’d probably snap it out of your hands before he had a second to realize what he was doing

Kenny: Fresh baked goods.

Everett: Cigarettes.

8. What’s something that your OC owns that means the world to them? What’s something they own that they don’t like, but can’t bring themself to part with?

Sloane: Her car is her most prized possession. She hates her arm brace, but there’s no way she’s going around all day without that thing on.

Mark: He keeps the engraved tag from Tuck on his person at all times. He hates his backpack, because he stole it from a hiker who had experienced an “unfortunate” “””accident””” while he was still living in those woods. But it’s a really nice backpack, he can’t just throw that away–

Kenny: The magic cane that Charlie gifted him! He hasn’t needed to walk with it since the situation with the tape recorder, but the cane means a lot to him. He still currently owns the remains of that cursed tape recorder, which is locked in a safe whose key has been long disposed of. But he’s just not strong enough to get rid of it.

Everett: Silas’ soul. And Silas’ soul.

9. How do they fare in cold or hot climates, and which do they prefer?

Sloane: She’s built from hearty stock, she can handle most temperatures just fine. But if she had to choose, she’d go cold. Hard to look cool in a leather jacket when it’s 90 degrees outside

Mark: He’s got no fat on him, so he’d freeze to death in slightly cold weather. And he’s very pasty, so he’d burn to a crisp in the hot sun. So neither, guess he’ll just die.

Kenny: Cold! He’s a cozy sweaters kind of guy. 

Everett: Whichever one has the most people in it. The sweltering heat of LA in August it shall be. 

10. Share a sentence of dialogue from your OC that you think represents them well.

Sloane: [long string of colorful profanity as she’s dodging active gunfire]

Mark: “Um-... No, that’s. Uh. Don’t worry about it, it’s… Fine.” <- (it was not fine)

Kenny: “Ah, wonderful! That reminds me, have you heard about the [extremely corny joke]”

Everett: “Of course you can trust me. I only want what’s best for both of us.”

11. How are they seen by people around them - family, close friends, colleagues, or strangers?

Sloane: Tough. Authoritative. Surprisingly goofy. 

Mark: Skittish. Keeping to himself. Doesn’t want to be there.

Kenny: Sweet, warm-hearted uncle. 

Everett: Manipulative grease stain.

12. What does their bed and/or desk look like? Tidy or cluttered - are they both the same, or is one neat and the other messy?

Sloane: Aging cotton sheets on an unfortunately old mattress. She never makes her bed and she never tidies her desk. Her desk is just a Surface for Items to Accumulate On though, so it doesn’t ever really need to be tidy.

Mark: His bed the tiny cot inside his camper, with a little pillow and a handful of shabby throw blankets. The bed he sleeps on the most often, however, is Tuck’s couch. 

Kenny: A simple twin mattress and basic bedframe, which he bought when he thought he was only staying in that apartment for a few months. He’s since bought a nicer bedspread, which he mostly keeps nicely made. His desk is an absolute mess of notebook pages and journal scribblings, forgotten coffee mugs, file folders, etc.

Everett: He doesn’t sleep, but he has a mattress and sheets that he got as a free sample from one of his stream sponsors that he just keeps around to make him look more human. His desk is decked out in gamer LEDs and expensive hardware– at least, it is where his webcam can see it. Beyond that, it’s totally empty. 

13. How do they deal with pain (physical or emotional)?

Sloane: Grits her teeth and curses through it.

Mark: Fight or flight like a cornered animal.

Kenny: Unravels at the seams.

Everett: Lash out at the closest target.

14. How comfortable are they relying on other people, and what situations would change their comfort level?

Sloane: They should be relying on her, what are they doing?? But, when it comes to it, she’ll shut her mouth and lean on a trusted ally.

Mark: Avoids it when possible. There’s always a condition, isn’t there? He’ll always owe them back, won’t he? But a pair of gentle, understanding hands would change that.

Kenny: He’s been doing a lot of relying on others already recently. He worries that he’s overstayed his welcome. He also worries that there may not ever come a time when he doesn’t need to lean on them.

Everett: Disgusting. Ew. Yuck.

15. How does your OC take up space? What do they do with their hands when they talk, or how do they sit in chairs?

Sloane: She commands as much space as she needs. She’ll save a seat for you, but she’s not going to make herself smaller for anyone.

Mark: If he shrinks himself any further, he’ll slip into a crevice and never be seen again.

Kenny: Not overbearing, but he allows himself to take up space. Arms over the back of the couch, a friendly tap on the shoulder, just enough to signal “I’m here in this room with you.”

Everett: He wishes he could fill a room with his presence, but the best he can do is drape himself languidly across armchairs and manspread on the subway.

16. Point assign D&D ability scores to your OC (STR, DEX, CON, INT, WIS, CHA; out of 27).

Sloane: STR 13, DEX 8, CON 15, INT 11, WIS 15, CHA 10

Mark: STR 10, DEX 13, CON 16, INT 14, WIS 11, CHA 8

Kenny: STR 8, DEX 11, CON 10, INT 15, WIS 15, CHA 12

Everett: STR 10, DEX 13, CON 10, INT 13, WIS 12, CHA 15

17. What are three moments in their life that impacted your OC the most?

Sloane: Left home, came back home to find home was wiped off the map, fucked up her arm

Mark: Killed and ate his abusive ex after becoming a dogman, got shot by the guy who thought he hole-punched that farmer, was offered a place to stay at Tuck’s place

Kenny: Wife died, fell into the Other Place, fell out of the Other Place onto Alice’s doorstep

Everett: Just one. The part where he* died.

18. If they can or would drive, what would their car be like?

Sloane: She drives a fuckoff huge obnoxious black suv that she has named Patty Bouvier. She keeps it in solid working condition, but the inside is always a little messy. She’s not the most careful driver out there, so sometimes she hits a turn real hard and loose bullet casings go rolling across the floormats.

Mark: He used to drive an extremely near-death sedan. Parts of it were constantly falling off, but it still ran, and it beat walking, so…

Kenny: A tidy little royal blue Toyota prius. The backseat is usually occupied by empty shopping bags and a banker’s box or two full of papers. The passenger seat is always clear, in case Charlie needs a ride.

Everett: He doesn’t drive, but if he did it would be some showy rich boy sports car with a spoiler and custom headlights. It might even leave the garage every once in awhile.

19. How do they connect with the people around them? Love language, how they offer comfort, etc.

Sloane: She knows the power of a good compliment or a check-in. “Nice work out there,” or “You doin’ okay?” or “Good to see you again.”

Mark: He just wants to be good to them, that’s the most he can muster.

Kenny: Humor, kindness, little gestures of goodwill. Offering a ride, making a bad joke, bringing them soup. 

Everett: He’s always on the lookout for common ground that he can then exploit for his own gain. Anything he can do to put him in their good graces.

20. What kind of clothing do they feel most comfortable in? What kind of clothing do they wear most often?

Sloane: Anything practical and sturdy. Lots of denim and leather, usually leaning toward biker gear or army surplus. She thinks the biker gear makes her look cooler though, despite the fact that she does not own a motorcycle. 

Mark: Casual and outdoorsy. Lots of jeans and flannel, hiking boots, occasionally a denim jacket or a windbreaker. That’s pretty much all the clothes he owns, he’s not about to waste money branching out to anything he’s never going to wear. 

Kenny: Same kinds of clothes he’s been wearing for decades; polos, sweaters, slacks, long sleeve tees, tennis shoes. If it ain’t broke–

Everett: Anything that’s sharp and fashionable at the time. 

[catindabag]

Can you make oc’s based off your Au? :)

Well, sure! That’s not an issue. Besides, there’s already a lot of original characters running around and causing havoc/chaos in my crazy TBOSAS on Crack!AU.

I mean, we already have:

Peacekeeper Joe (AKA: Officer Jovilius who wants to quit his job because of the Mentors’ nonstop shenanigans)

The poor pizza delivery guy (AKA: Pizza Pertinax of the Pizza Palace)

Mad Uncle Achilles Ravinstill (He’s the youngest son of President Ravinstill who got arrested for smuggling illegal fireworks)

The “sacred” Bichon Frisé puppies (AKA: the real leaders of Panem)

Mama Monty and her deadly apple pies (She’s a real nightmare national treasure and an infamous “war hero” of Panem)

Mama Cardew (AKA: The Capitol’s scariest and deadliest entity to ever exist)

Mommy Anderson (She’s the one who blackmails people for a living)

Mommy Anderson’s underpaid camera crew (No comment)

Vice President Aurelia Ravinstill (She’s Felix Ravinstill’s mom who’s allergic to charity, poor people, and homeless Hilari)

Elmer Coin (the current Mole President of District 13)

Poor Aeneas Crane (The unfortunate older brother of Arachne Crane who sleeps in a tiny doghouse)

Little Plotinus Heavensbee (the favored and “perfect” younger brother of homeless Hilarius Heavensbee)

Creepy Mr. Heavensbee Sr. (No comment)

Freaky Mrs. Heavensbee (No comment)

Festus Creed’s mom (The current ✨Queen of Neglect✨)

Festus Creed’s dumpster (Darling Demeter the Dumpster)

Festus Creed’s freaky pet rats (Odysseus and Penelope)

Tigris Snow’s cheese fairies

Coryo Snow’s cabbage deities

Coryo Snow’s lima bean elves

Clemensia’s hamster (Hercules)

Gaius Breen’s possum (Patroclus)

Domitia’s emotional support cow (Lady Claudia)

Dean Casca Highbottom’s goldfish (Venus)

Hilarius Heavensbee’s crusty chihuahua (Caracalla)

Domitia’s father’s emotional support cow (Lord Claudius/the real Mayor of D10)

Dennis Fling’s doctor (Quack Dr. Majorian who works at the Capitol Black Market)

Great great grandfather Vipsanius Cornelius Felix Ravinstill (He’s the man who married off his 24 beautiful daughters and 16 sons to every single Capitol Noble House in order to make the ultimate/craziest/most complicated ✨Royal Family Tree✨)

Don’t worry. There will be more weird original characters popping here and there as the story continues. Lol.