#Have some OC backstory I guess

[riiver000]

HELPE ME I DONT KNOW HOW TO DESIGN but im like kind of thinking of an adventure time au where its kinda mechanically and steampunky. maybe ill do more with it im only rlly posting this cause i like how the finn full body looks LOLLL

ohhh steampunk save meeeee ouhhhhhhhhh (:

[v1p0]

Ok FINE since everyone has been dropping their amazing irkensonas and cool ocs I'm gonna share mine as well, ehem...

BE AMAZED!!!

This is my sona, an irken without antennae, and this is her tragic backstory:

[trappedinafantasy37]

I guess I'll start my Daedra questions with one I've been curious since the beginning (since I think about this stuff way too much). What build was Daedra originally? Like class level division, notable feats or fun things you did/memorable moments that never made it into the story? Did it change for the story?

Also, which Tav voice? I have big feelings about all of them :3

Lots of good questions @alicelufenia! This will be a bit of a long one.

I'll do the easiest question first, Voice 4.

Before I get into it, since many people don't know what Daedra looks like, here's some Daedra spam:

Daedra's build

Her split was 5/3/4 Gloomstalker Ranger / Assassin Rogue / War Cleric of Lolth. I picked this build because Gortash describes Durge as an assassin so I wanted to go a full stealth build which is where the Gloomstalker Assassin came in. I also knew from the beginning that I was going to have her be a cleric of Lolth, but it was more for roleplay rather than any mechanic. I picked war domain because war actually is one of Lolth's domains (with the other one being Trickery. And we know from Shadowheart just how absolutely atrocious Trickery domain is). I started Daedra as a Ranger and then took the cleric dip at level 2. Afterwards, I focused getting ranger and rogue to their desired levels before finishing off with cleric in Act 3.

Like I said, I picked cleric more for the roleplay aspect rather than the mechanics. So, I did not anticipate how much synergy there would be with war domain. With War Domain you get a war priest charge in which you get an extra attack for the turn. So, you can start the game off being able to do two attacks. And then once you get 3 Ranger, you get Dread Ambusher which gives you an extra attack at the beginning of the turn. So for the very first turn, you can attack three times. Once you get to 5 ranger, you get the Extra Attack like with the other martial classes. So on the very first turn, you can attack four times.

Daedra also had all the brain worms (there actually are enough worms in the game in which you can max out two characters). For feats, she had Sharpshooter and Ability improvement for Dex (with Auntie Ethel's boon she has max Dex at 20).

Gear: Frayed Drow Hood, Deathstalker Mantle, Spidersilk Armor, Craterflesh Gloves (I forgot to give her in the story), Disintegrating Night Walkers

Jewelry: Amulet of Bhaal (gave to Minthara in the story), Shifting Corpus Ring (gave to Shadowheart in the story), Eversight Ring (gave to Minthara in the story)

Weapons: Justiciar's Scimitar, Knife of the Undermountain King (gave to Minthara in the story), and the Deadshot

Lemme tell ya, this build is nasty. It got to the point where it felt like Daedra was soloing the game. There were some times where Daedra would kill everyone in the first turn (so Minthara and Shadowheart never even got a hit off) and this was in Tactician! If Daedra didn't end the fight, then Shadowheart and Minthara would. The only time things were really tricky was during the major boss fights. But, even on the major bosses, if I had Daedra focus on the boss alone, she could get them very low on HP in the first turn. Daedra absolutely humiliated Orin.

Story Cuts

Now, onto the things that never made it into the story. First, Wyll and Karlach. Yes, I did initially have it so that Wyll and Karlach were in the story. But, I realized when I actually starting writing that Wyll and Karlach would not let the grove raid stand, so they died in the grove raid which was really hard for me to do. I also thought it was just beautifully tragic that Minthara was the one to kill Karlach in just the worst and most painful way possible.

Second change, I had initially planned a chapter were the elves met Ethel and Araj in Act 3. The reason why I wanted to do it was to kind of show how Daedra is starting to indulge on her urges as she would have chosen to kill Lora (the mom) completely on her own without discussing it with Shadowheart and Minthara. I also wanted to have Minthara interact with Araj as House Baenre was the one responsible for the destruction of House Oblodra and I wanted to have this interaction in which Araj would ask Minthara if she was here to finish the job her house didn't. But, when it came time to actually write the chapter, I really didn't want to do it, so I didn't.

Third change, I had two chapters planned in which the elves would destroy the Foundry and then go kill Gortash. Later that night, Daedra and Minthara would sneak back into Wyrm's Rock so Minthara can sit on a dead man's throne and then fuck Daedra on it. But when I was thinking about it, I couldn't find any logical reason to do so other than "just because". Minthara had made an alliance with Gortash and wanted to keep it until it proved inconvenient. But, it never proved inconvenient so there was no reason for Minthara to turn on Gortash and destroy the Foundry.

Fourth change was Mizora. I actually did have three chapters in which Mizora would just randomly show up just to be a pain in the ass. Because Mizora is a little upset that she lost her "favorite little pet" and she knows Minthara is the reason why. So, Mizora shows up and basically tells Minthara, "if I can't play with my pet anymore, I will play with yours" and Mizora just starts tormenting Daedra. There was a moment where Mizora stole Daedra's old bow and snapped it in half (which was the reason why Daedra bought the Dead Shot in Chapter 38), another moment where Mizora actually threw Daedra off the bridge between Wyrm's Rock and the Lower City, and another moment in which Mizora not only revealed the locations of the elves and broke their stealth in the fight with Dolor in Chapter 39 but she was also the one who snitched to the Fist Guards and prompted the chase. I cut Mizora from the story because I really could not find a reason as to why she would be there without Wyll other than "just because".

Another thing that didn't make it into the story was Withers! But, this was not actually intentional. I just forgot to write him in there and when I realized he was missing I didn't feel like going back and writing him. You see, I already knew from the get-go that Bhaal was gonna murk Daedra (that was a very hard in stone decision I made very early on as I was always going to have it so that Minthara killed Orin). So the question of resurrection became very tricky for me to answer, and I almost didn't resurrect Daedra. And then I remembered, Lolth is right there. The next tricky question was determining whether or not Lolth is actually willing to resurrect someone, at least with their soul intact and not as puppets. But, from the lore I've read, Lolth would resurrect a drow if she had really good reason to.

I also had a One Shot planned called "Dread Ambusher" that was meant to take place during the events of Chapter 38: Old Acquaintances. At the end of that chapter, Daedra sneaks back into the mansion in the middle of the night and Minthara questions if Daedra killed someone. "Dread Ambusher" was meant to go over those events. In this one shot, Daedra actually does sneak out of the mansion with the intent to kill someone and she runs into Orin. And the two of them hunt together, and they both enjoy their time together. Daedra even begins to feel somewhat of a sibling bond with Orin and how nice it is to have someone around that doesn't look down on her for her urges or treat her like a child. And Daedra ends up killing someone that Minthara told her not to (the victim was a patriar and someone who most certainly would be noticed if they went missing) and Orin almost convinces Daedra to kill children. But, Daedra reigns back some self control and spares the kids, but she injures herself as a means of control. This is why she is limping when she returns to the mansion and its because she has a massive stab wound in her leg. The reason this was cut was because I had ended up finishing the entire fic before I got around to writing the one shot. So, when the publications in AO3 caught up to Chapter 38, I had lost the steam to write this one shot and could not find the willpower to do so. But, I do want to be clear, just because I did not write it does not mean it doesn't happen. The events that I had planned for this one shot all actually do happen that night and are canon to the story.

There were also a few more one shots that I had wanted to do but also ran out of steam. There was gonna be a one shot that took place immediately after Chapter 44: Parting Wisdom in which Jaheira would get all the elves high, because they needed that good self medication to help them get through their damn problems and stop all this "woe is me" nonsense. I thought it would have been really funny to write Minthara completely zooted out of her mind. Another one shot meant to take place after Chapter 44 that I called the "One Eyed Paladin" in which Minthara is training and learning how to fight again now that she only has one eye and her depth perception was off. During the training, Minthara gets extremely frustrated with herself and starts beating herself up in which Daedra actually calms her down and helps her.

This post probably had more detail than you were probably expecting, but I did want to talk about all the things that I almost did, but didn't do. Really good questions! Keep 'em coming folks!

[ruvviks]

1, 5, 29 for Ravi?

ravi asks!

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

ravi himself is a big fan of light blue, but you won't often spot him wearing anything in that color. it's the apocalypse, he's trying to blend in with his surroundings and not draw too much attention to himself, so you'll mainly see him in dark clothes; brown, dark green, dark red, black, the occasional white t-shirt but only for underneath the rest of his outfit, stuff like that

5. how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

ravi dresses very practical! as i mentioned above, he can't really afford to focus on aesthetics because there's zombies trying to tear his limbs off and whatnot, so all of his outfits are based on how well he can move around in them, how well they protect him from the elements as well as a zombie bite, and how well they allow him to blend in with his surroundings. his most common outfit would be sturdy (hiking) boots, dark colored jeans or cargo pants, and a couple of layers on top depending on the weather (usually a t-shirt, flannel, and a jacket or coat; sometimes if it's colder he'll wear a long sleeve shirt or turtleneck with flannel instead)

when he's back at home in bleeding heart and doesn't have to worry about zombies for a bit, he'll dress more for comfort than aesthetics. he'll still be wearing the cargo pants (he keeps so much stuff in his pockets, he needs to have his things with him) and boots but he'll pair it up with a fleece sweater or a nice and warm knit sweater, or a big hoodie (or just a t-shirt when it's warm out). in his own home he'll wear sweatpants instead, or just walk around in his underwear. no one's gonna see him like that anyway

29. are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

thematically the element that would fit ravi best is fire. after portland fell, he moved to a settlement in salem with his family and was safe there for a good while, until a large horde of zombies traveling down south from portland bulldozed the place to the ground. ravi had to set fire to the remnants of the settlement, becoming the only survivor of town; after that incident, he gains a newfound fascination with fire, even going as far as crafting his own fire-based arrows to more efficiently kill the undead with

in-universe however, i'd say earth would be more associated with ravi than anything else. the classic fire traits just don't really align with his personality; he's grounded and calm, in touch with his surroundings and specifically with nature and animals, and he's patient and reliable and doesn't head into situations without properly thinking it through or planning it out

[pestercide]

...

[wpmz]

wow that's weird i don't remember that character in undertale...

hehehe self inserting my fursona into undertale go brrrr :3c

i wasn't trying too hard to make him fit into the undertale style bc i didn't want to change up too much about his design so idk if i'd consider this the super final version, but i liked how silly moss looked being all out of place next to the characters i was using for height reference so i am posting it anyways. also bc it makes me happy look its me and the blorbos yayyyy

also version with no markings bc i feel like it does fit a little better with the ut style (but also version with markings bc i like all his stripes and spots...)

[rivilu]

I have scientifically created the most mutually uncomfortable dynamic in my fucked up little lab that the world has ever seen. I'm being arrested for unsound character keeping practices

[lieutenantselnia]

I've been thinking about whether my way of naming my self-inserts might be a bit inconvenient ... to clear it up:

Selina with an i - My modern day s/i that I ship with Doofenshmirtz, she's probably the closest to my actual self, though I still take creative liberties in some aspects.

Selena with an e - My PotC s/i, I have two different AUs for her to ship her with both Barbossa and Davy Jones. She's a bit more like an oc, but I still also see her as a self-insert.

My original thought was to give them slightly different names, so I won't always have to mention about which universe I'm currently referring to. Since they're all based on the same "template" character though (which is just ... me I guess😂), I didn't want to give them entirely different names, plus while I didn't want to use my actual first name anymore, I still wanted a name that I can identify with. In my head it makes total sense, but I can see that this may also be a bit confusing😅

[goodnight-buer]

hey! this is chance & here’s week 2's prompt. when you write or create an oc, do you like to reference elements from your life? if yes, name a few. if no, why not?

I definitely do this!

One of the main examples is Lenora, whos a indirect self insert. Their music preferences, height, and personality for a the most part are based off of me irl. Also, many of my background ocs are based off of classmates or people I’ve met in public (examples: Lucian, Ruine, Xen, Maven)

[arolesbianism]

Remembers Tali exists and starts wailing and crying

[foxcassius]

this would actually be such a dream job if i ever made it big from writing and it turns out i did like all my writing on the clock here. in an interview ten years from now and they ask how i found the time to write so i say lol i wrote on the clock and the library like sues me or smth

[b4ll4d33r-06]

NO MARIELLA OR TSP ART BUT I HAVE MY SILLY LITTLE GAY PPL OCS

hugo (firsf panel) is a loser in love w her gf btw. absolute failure.

tfw ur wife is insane over u showing a lil emotion while u two hav a sparring match.

this is so funny theyre the most functional and sane (both as individuals and as a relationship) but hugo jus likes being dramatic. also hes the average philosophy major. wackass fuckin hag.

cw under the cut, slight undefined nvdity. nothing much jus tibbies nd like some top surgery scars.

shes so tired of her :333

[urmommysfavkisserrr]

End Of Her Rope.

°•☆•° - Paige Bueckers x Ex-Wife Reader (Brazilian)

°•☆•° - In which your life as Paige’s Ex-Wife and baby mama leaves you dangerously overworked and at the end of your rope, so you call the blonde for backup.

°•☆•° - I couldn’t figure out what I wanted ���you’ to look like, so I just ended up basing it off of an OC I already made…

°•☆•° - 3,075 words

Part 2 | Part 3

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

The divorce was messy, but needed. Paige had her career to focus on, her whole life, you didn’t. Her agent made sure you knew that when they called you in. They claimed they only wanted to do what was best for her, and they knew you would too. 

Of course you would.

You had your time to shine. You were one of the top soccer players at UCONN, then you got hurt. You had the looks, the family name, the ancestry, the backstory, but that's all you were. 

A story. 

Paige was making history. She was going to be history. She didn’t need some burnt-out Ex, and two kids attached to that.

And still through it all, she stuck around. She paid child support, weekly, even after you told her she didn’t have to. You even once sent the money back, which ended in Paige setting up a one-way transfer account. You didn’t argue again.

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

It was a Wednesday, meaning the kids were at your place, late at night, well past their bedtime. You got the girls during the week, and Paige got them on the weekends. Easy as that.

You were tired, having worked overtime the last two weeks at your job to get shit done just for some new company to come in and take over. The house was a mess, the kids were crazy, the dogs were wound up, and you were well over it.

So you called her.

Incoming call from ‘Pretty Mama🤍’

Paige sat on her couch watching mindless TV when her phone started to ring. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was you. “What’s up?”

"Is it too late for that abortion?"

Oh, good lord.

Paige let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair as she flicked off the TV, putting her full attention on the call. “What did the kids do this time? Are they still awake?”

“Yes.”

Paige could hear the frustration and tiredness in her ex's voice. “Want me to come over? I can put the kids to bed for you. They aren’t listening to you, are they?”

You huffed, tossing a rag over your shoulder as you moved to sit on the stairs. "It's like they know when I'm at my fucking breaking point"

Paige could hear the distress in your voice, a familiar feeling. She knew this all too well. “How much caffeine have you had today?”

"Not the point."

“No, that is the point. I can hear the irritation in your voice; you’re frustrated. You probably had a long shift, worked hard, came home, and got yelled at by our crazy kids, and let me guess the house is a mess, and you’re sitting in the middle of it because you’re too stressed to pick anything up?

“Fuck you.”

Paige let out a sigh. The fact that you couldn’t deny any of it is a win in her book. “Ma, why don’t I come over? I can get the kids to sleep and clean the house for you? You just need to put your feet up and relax for a bit."

You sighed, long and heavy, running a hand through your messed up messy bun. “It's..it's fine. Just..I'm gonna give Zahria the phone, will you just talk to her?”

Paige’s heart squeezed. Knowing what this meant, you were reaching the end of your rope. And fast. “Yeah…I’ll talk to her.”

After a moment of shuffling around, you got their 9-year-old daughter on the phone. “Hey, Mommy,” Zahria greeted her happily.

“Hi, my little angel,” Paige greeted back. “Are you being a good girl for Mama?” She asked.

“Yeah!” Zahria responded. “I helped with dinner tonight and ate all the yucky vegetables on my plate!” She told her proud of herself.

“Good girl.” Paige praised her. “Are you ready for bed and everything?” She knew Zahria didn’t go to bed without a good 10-minute argument.

“Ugh, no!” Zahria whined, her happiness quickly vanishing. “It’s only 8:30! I’m not tired at allllll! I want to stay up!”

“No.” Paige shut her down fast. “You need to go to bed, you have school, and a big girl like you needs to rest to have the energy to learn tomorrow. No arguments.”

“But mooooom,” Zahria whined again. “Can I just stay up five more minutes? Puh-lease?”

“Five minutes is all.” Paige relented. “And that means you go straight to sleep. No fighting me on it. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zahria agreed. It was quite possibly the easiest she’s come to agreeing to go to bed.

The a faint and muffled 'god damn it' came through the phone. Your voice.

Paige’s heart squeezed again. She could hear you losing it again. She knew this was the breaking point for her ex.

"Zahria, can you run downstairs and grab the Lysol, please? Leave it in the bathroom, don't come in here."

“Yeah, okay, mama.” There was some shuffling as the phone changed hands again.

Some more shuffling. A door closed. And then a sigh. You were on the line again.

"Glad she listens to someone."

“Only because it wasn’t you who asked,” Paige replied. “How are you holding up?”

"I have fresh vomit in my bra, I think I'm doing just fine."

“Lovely…” Paige sighed. She knew that you were close to your breaking point. “You’re overloading yourself again.”

"I don't have a fucking choice." You spoke back in the same tone.

“You do,” Paige said in the same tone. “You’re pushing yourself past your limits, Ma.”

A soft 'thank you, baby' came muttered from you as Zahria came back with the cleaner, followed by a deep and heavy sigh.

“Is the place still a mess?” Paige asked softly. She heard you sigh, and her heart squeezed again. It pained her to hear you like this.

"I'll take care of it."

“No, you won’t.” Paige immediately shut down that idea. “You always say that, and you never do. You’re too tired.”

“Paige-”

“No.” Paige interrupted. “I’m coming over. Take a shower. Relax. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, baby.”

"The kids are awake, it's late, the house is a mess, you don't need to be here-"

“That’s all the more reason for me to be there tonight,” Paige said firmly. “You need help. I’m coming over and you’re not going to stop me.”

"Paige, please-"

“Please, what? Let you run yourself into the ground? This isn’t new. I know how you are. You don’t stop. You don’t take a break. You overwork yourself. You’re miserable and you can’t see that you’re too hard on yourself.” She scolded you.

“Just…” she sighed. “Let me come over. I’ll put the kids to bed. Clean up and you can relax. You need to stop for one night.”

“...Fine.”

“I’ll be over in 10. Don’t argue with me.”  Then she ended the call and let out a sigh.

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

You had just gotten out of the shower when Paige arrived and let herself in. You stood at the top of the stairs, just watching, but not really. You weren’t looking at anything at all. Your mind stuck in a daze. Then you started to sway, just slightly, but enough.

“Ma?” Paige looked up the stairs and noticed you were swaying. She could see the exhaustion and stress radiating off of you from all the way downstairs.

Immediately, she took off up the stairs. “Come on.” She said in a soft voice. “Let's get you in bed.”

“What…”

“You need to sleep.” Paige gently took hold of your arm and started to lead you to the bedroom. Your legs were wobbly and seemed like they were close to giving out. 

Paige led you into the bedroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. Your eyes were slightly glazed over from the exhaustion. “Lie down,” Paige instructed, her voice soft.

"But what about.."

“But what about what?” Paige could already guess what you were going to say. She knew you, you wouldn’t do anything until the kids were in bed. Hell, even after them, you would go around cleaning up the whole house.

"The girls...Zahria needs her homework checked, and Medora just threw up, so I have to check her temperature to see if she can go to school. Then gotta make lunches, and clean up dinner...then laundry...is it laundry day? Then then...um...I gotta..."

“Woah woah woah.” Paige quickly stopped you. This was exactly what she was expecting. “No. You’re done for the night. You’re not doing anything else but sleeping.”

“You’re exhausted.” Paige took hold of your shoulders and gently guided you back to a lying position. You felt like dead weight, like you didn’t even have the energy to hold yourself up anymore.

"just...needa minute..."

“No,” Paige said, being firm but gentle. “You need to sleep. You won’t even be able to form coherent sentences in a minute. Let alone get up and continue doing things.”

Your eyes went glossy with sleep, but also longing. Then they fluttered, feeling heavier and heavier by the second. You missed what the two of you used to have. That kind of love, that connection.

Paige continued to watch you and saw your eyes begin to shut again, this time heavier and slower.

Her heart squeezed as she took in her ex’s appearance. You looked so tired, completely drained from the day. Paige knew that you would push and push until you collapsed. Then you’d push yourself harder. It was a problem.

In a moment of weakness, Paige found herself reaching out to brush some of your hair away from your face. The action was purely on instinct. She used to do this when you were still together and you couldn’t sleep.

Her hand lingered on your face for a few seconds before snapping back to her body.

What was she doing?

Your final words were mumbled and incoherent before she completely fell asleep.

Even though your words were incomprehensible, Paige still knew what they were. 

Thank you.

She knew once you fell asleep, you were out like a light. There was no waking you up until the next day.

Paige let out a sigh as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. She could tell you to take a break and slow down a thousand times, but you would never listen.

With you finally asleep, Paige got up from the side of the bed, deciding to go check on the kids.

She quietly closed the door behind her and went to check on the children.

Walking down the hall, Paige first stopped at Medora’s room. She knocked on the door softly and slowly pushed the door open.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said, peeking her head through the door.

Medora was fast asleep with her favorite bunny in her hand. It was the bunny you had bought her during their relationship. She was a sound sleeper, just like you. 

But she looked so much like Paige. Her blonde hair, her blue eyes, her smile, and still your curls fought hard to make themselves known on her little head.

Paige smiled softly, then backed out of the room. Next, she walked across the hall to where Zahria’s room was.

Opening the door, she peeked into Zahria’s room. To her surprise, Zahria was still up. “Hey angel.” Paige greeted her softly, walking over and sitting next to her on the bed. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Paige inquired, giving her a soft smile. Zahria was very obviously watching something on her phone.

“I’m not sleepy,” Zahria answered, quickly shutting her phone off. “I don’t want to go to bed.” The 9-year-old said with a pout. 

She was like a carbon copy of you. Your dark hair, your curls, your tanned skin, your almost magical gaze.

“Oh yeah?” Paige questioned with a soft smirk. “And why’s that?” She asked, gently poking Zahria’s side.

“Cause it’s too early!” Zahria said, swatting at her and giggling. “I wanna stay awake!”

“Alright, alright.” Paige relented. She knew it was best to just give in to Zahria. Even if they had made that 'five more minutes' agreement earlier.

“Get your homework and let me see.” She said, keeping her tone gentle but firm.

Zahria sat up properly and began to dig through her backpack for her homework. After a few seconds, she pulled out her folder and handed it to Paige, still pouting.

Paige took the folder and opened it to look through the schoolwork. She knew Zahria was a smart girl. It was one of the many things she took after you. 

“Mama made you a list?” She asked, noticing the list of math problems.

“Yeah, “ Zahria spoke up, a slight hint of annoyance in her tone. “Apparently, I was doing my math ‘too fast’ so mom thinks I’m not paying attention to the problems.” She explained.

Paige let out a soft sigh, closing the folder and placing it on the nightstand. “She just wanted you to do it right. She’s looking out for you.” She said softly, gently guiding Zahria to lie down.

Once Zahria was laid down, Paige pulled the blanket over her. “No reading or looking through your phone. You need to sleep.” She sternly warned her, seeing the slight look of defiance on her face.

“And I’m going to check to make sure,” She said, pointing a finger at Zahria, as if to say, ‘Don’t you dare try to get away with reading or looking at your phone.’

Zahria huffed and dramatically flopped back onto the pillow. “Fine.” She said with a defeated sigh.

“Good,” Paige said. She stood up and checked to make sure Zahria was all covered and had her bunny within reach, and quietly left the room.

Once out of Zahria’s room, Paige shut the door gently behind her. She didn’t need to worry about waking the kids up. They were both very sound sleepers, just like you.

She walked down the hall to check on Medora one more time before going back to check on you.

You had shifted to your side, still out like a light. Although there was a deep blue something wrapped up in your arms, held tightly against your chest.

One of Paige's old hoodies. From college. From when they were still together.

Paige stopped dead in her tracks once she took in the sight. You were holding one of her old college hoodies in a tight grip, like it was a lifeline.

Her heart ached, seeing the old article of clothing being smothered by her ex. A part of her felt a twisted sense of hope.

Paige wanted to take the hoodie and throw it away. Her mind was telling her to. But her heart, her heart was another story. That one wanted her to let you hold it. It wanted her to leave it right in your grasp.

She slowly and quietly walked over to the bed, being sure that her steps didn’t bring you out of your deep slumber.

She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to you. She studied your face, noticing how much more relaxed it looked when you were asleep. There was a soft, somewhat peaceful expression on your face.

Her eyes lingered on the hoodie, wrapped up in your arms, pressed against your chest. It was almost like you were holding Paige again.

Paige stayed on the edge of the bed, the image of you holding the old hoodie stuck in her mind. It was hard for her to take her eyes off it.

In a moment of weakness, she slowly lay down next to you, trying not to disturb you.

You shifted anyway, a soft, jumbled sound coming from the back of your throat. "Hm..?"

“Shhh…” Paige hushed you gently, trying not to break the moment. Her voice came out in a quieter tone, barely above a whisper. “Go back to sleep.”

"whatdoin.."

“Nothing,” Paige said softly. She was lying on her side, facing you. Their faces were only inches apart. With you facing her and Paige lying right next to you, it was like a little cocoon surrounded just by the two of them.

You moved closer to Paige in your sleepy haze, like two magnets coming together. It seemed as if your body was moving on instinct. Your head now rested against Paige’s chest, and her arm lay across your waist.

Paige didn’t reject you. In fact, she pulled you closer.

“Hm..”

“Shhh…” Paige slowly began to run her fingers through your hair, her touch gentle. Her other arm wrapped around you and held you close. “I got you…” She whispered.

"...obrigado.." (Thank you.)

“Eu sei. Você está segura.“ (I know. You are safe.) Paige responded softly. Her fingers continued to run through your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

"..you 'member.."

Paige smiled softly, her hand slowing for a moment, before resuming the rhythm of her fingers running through your hair. “Of course I remember.” She said softly, a hint of affection in her voice.

“...Stay.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Paige responded with a soft laugh. She knew you were still half asleep, probably incoherent. There was no way she would leave regardless of what you said, though.

"..ever..stay ever.."

Paige’s heart skipped at your words. Did she mean it?

She held onto you tighter, her arms wrapped around your body. She would hold you all night if she had to. “I’ll stay.” She whispered, her voice a soft reassurance.

“Mhm..”

Paige kept her limbs around you, trapping you in a gentle embrace. Your head was still nestled against her chest, and Paige’s nose was buried in your hair.

She inhaled, the familiar scent bringing back a flood of memories. She felt a sense of comfort, having you so close.

Your last words before you fell back asleep were two plain and simple words.

"...love you"

Paige’s heart almost leapt out of her chest when she heard those words. She froze for a second, unsure of whether she heard you correctly.

But she did. She heard every word.

“I love you too…” She whispered back, her tone soft and full of emotion.

And with that, you were out like a light.

Paige continued to hold you in her arms, her grip on you not loosening. Her heart was pounding as she took in your words. ‘I love you..’

She knew you were asleep and probably didn’t realize what you were saying. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t meaningful.

[leidensygdom]

new scam just dropped

We know of the scammers that dwell on Discord, Twitter, or Bsky, and ask you to commission them, either giving you an AI generated picture or charging you 300$ and giving you something they commissioned on Fiverr for 5$ . I literally have a whole-ass guide on them. Then there's the ones who ask for commissions, trying to get you to draw their pet or whatever, then sending you a fake cheque or something, which has been very common on Tumblr. This post explains it well.

But now we're bringing the first type of scam (where someone tries to force you to commission them) onto tumblr! Our buddy miruuuwuu here is going to provide a really good example. Let's start with the circumstances this happened in. I got two DMs from this account, who had followed me few minutes prior to DMing. As always, I checked their profile first.

Few things to note in here that already told me this was a scammer: The account had a grand total of two posts in their profile, posted four hours ago. Nothing else. Completely empty account. The "femenine" name and the anime pfp already were kinda suspicious alongside this. A large portion of the "commission me" scammers will have a generic anime profile picture and a woman's name. The generic-ass description didn't help.

And well, since I haven't got this type of scammer on tumblr before, I decided to go along with it, because there's something inherently funny about some scammer trying this with someone who's specifically been doing guides about scammers for years. You will notice that my responses are rather mean, which... ngl I like being sassy about scammers what can I say

First initial impression: This person was trying very hard to try to be friends with me. Very weird from a complete random who just followed. The weirdest part here is, of course, how they instantly dismiss me saying "I'm not sure I think" about their random attempts to be like "you're my friend now" and simply proceed with their script. Now, this scammer is SLIGHTLY more specific than usual, since they mentioned DnD- which is closer to my interests than they tend to target. So uh, props to that I guess.

They inmediately tried to inquiry about my character. At this point, I know they'd be offering to draw them for money. I know these scammers tend to steal people's art as examples, so I just grabbed some shitty AI-generated tiefling from google. If they steal that and then try to use it as an example for someone else, I hope they can easily realize this is a scam. Notice how little they care about me being very rude and short-responsed: They're following a script. Afterwards, they sent me an example of "their OC". Alongside a massive AI-generated backstory that has no relation whatsoever to the character, which is supposedly a half elf.

I decide to poke a bit about it. Their response is pretty detached to someone who would actually know about RP or anything. "My setting's elves are green" would've been great. But nope, they immediately jump to trying to share me more examples of their art, and send me about 6-7 pictures in rapid fire. Some of them stolen, some of them traced, some of them commissioned from people in Fiverr for five bucks.

And then we jump immediately to the core of the scam: asking me to commission them. I already knew this was coming, but let's go for it. Their entire massive blurb on how they "work on paid and unpaid platforms" is extremely unhinged to read as an artist myself, but sure, whatever they wanna use to tell me why I gotta pay them. THE CRUCIAL PART HERE IS: YOU SHOULD NEVER COMMISSION PEOPLE WHO DMED YOU FIRST AT RANDOM! I have seen WAY too many people fall for this. If an "artist" DMs you to ask you to commission them, block them! Legitimate artists WON'T do that unprompted! I have way more information in the guide I linked in the first paragraph, but yeah.

At this point, these scams tend to go in different ways. If you insist you can't pay for them, they often will jump to guilt tripping you, or bringing some sob story on how they need money desperately. We had one in our Discord trying to convince two different people to commission them with entirely different stories (one of them was "I need to buy a gift for my wife" and the other one was "i need to buy hearing aids ASAP!!!"). DO NOT FALL FOR THESE SOB STORIES. They're just trying to get you to feel bad and agree even if you're suspicious.

This is the point where I just stopped going ahead with the conversation. They will try to haggle you. You tell them you have 100 bucks, they'll try to raise 150. A lot of artists online tend to have a pricing guide, a website, some sort of TOS kinda stuff. They won't try to see how much they can milk out of you by testing the waters. Again, please check out this guide if you're suspecting anything weird, or even feel free to DM me if you need someone to double check. Don't put your money on these scams: They will either run with your money, commission someone in the global south on fiverr for literal cents, or they'll just get you some AI generated mess.

Anyways, many thanks to miruuuwuu for helping me put together this post, very kind of them to let me know this scam is now coming on tumblr too!

[whowrotethenote]

Write a cm punk x reader x Roman smut but they’re basically Paul Heyman in the situation

Disclaimer // Main Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

A/N // Thank you to the anon for that creative ass request. @novamystxcxox sent me something similar, but I had already started this💗 Hope you both like it!

I did not make this x reader because I'm not good at those. I have to give my characters personality, backstory & physical characteristics. That's just my preference.

Also, the smut is reserved for the OC & Roman because... that's my man and I love him.

I do not take requests yet. Mostly because I barely have the time to write as is and I know they would just be sitting in my asks collecting dust like this one was for so long. This was just too good to not pursue. One day. Just not today lol. Okay, bye.

Pairing // Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC (Paula Heyman) x CM Punk

Warnings // Profanity // Smut [minors DNI] // Toxic behaviors // Age Gap

Word Count // 6.5k

“It’s going to be five versus five…”

Paula watched in the adulation that replaces the smug pride after waiting for his music to play. The entirety of Green Bay, Wisconsin buzzed with every emotion given to the human race as they recognized the infamous theme song.

Nothing feels like this. No amount of alcohol. No drug. Nothing can mimic this feeling of a live crowd giving back tenfold what’s given to them. 

He brushed past her, wrapping his hand to meet the rest of them inside the ring. A full on war breaking out the minute he slid inside. Five exceptionally large men, all cleared out the ring by her boys. With ease. It's how she knew she made the right decision. She knew no one else would carry it out like he would.

She made her way to the side of the ring just in time for their stare down. All the faces in the stands losing their minds.

CM Punk! CM Punk! CM Punk!

The pressure of the cheeky grin pushing through was heavy. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t seen Roman in months. Hadn’t seen Punk even longer. But as soon as she called—he came. 

“Why are you here?” She read Roman’s lips as he squinted. 

“To save your ass,” was his reply. 

He was pissed. His pinched brows. The tension in his broad shoulders. The tightness of his mouth. The flexing of his jaw. His hand, opening and closing in a tight fist. No—he was fuming. But that’s only because he couldn’t see the bigger picture right now. That’s where she came in. That’s what warranted her presence in his life a necessity. If it wasn’t more obvious before tonight—amongst all the chaos that had ensued in her absence— it was now shoved in his face.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Punk smiled unwrapping his hand. “That was only half the job.”

Her head swiveled slightly watching the hustle of the backstage crew. Gathering equipment, everyone mic’d up and moving with a purpose. She missed this. 

She nodded. “He’ll come around. Trust me.” The pressing matter of Roman’s disapproval of his presence was heavy. It lingered above them like a storm cloud. It put the biggest wedge between them. Something that was never there before in their relationship. “I just have to talk some sense into him. He’s emotional right now.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you, Paula.” His eyes, sincere—always opposed to his appearance. The tattoos, the foul language, the attitude—none of it ever complimented his kind eyes. “I’ve seen the way he talks to you. The way he talks to everyone he loves.” He raised his brows.

Immediately defensive and strangely protective of her current client, she shook her head. “He’s just…used to betrayal. He keeps everyone at an arm’s length. It's his way of keeping control.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He stood firm. The affection for his best friend and former manager, overriding any excuse she felt compelled to give him. He didn’t care for any of it.

“I guess I’ll let you go, then.” She scanned him once more, already thinking of her next phase of business. She didn’t have the luxury to sit and tangle in emotions. She was a woman working in sport’s entertainment. They already looked at her as if she was Barbie dropped in the jungle. And they expected her to get invested in her work in a way that was overlooked in men. Flirting and sleeping around and whatnot. But that wasn’t Paula Heyman.

She vowed to never get entangled with clients. It was business first, always. She was about business. That’s what they loved about her. The men—charismatic and dominant as they are—were off limits. But every now and again, she found the lines between client and manager blurring. Things get sticky. Lines get crossed.

Her first blurred line—Phil Brooks. Best in the world. And to the world he was CM Punk. The bad ass that swept the WWE universe off their feet.

They developed a friendship that transcended client and manager. An intimate kiss between the two, one drunk night celebrating another victorious defense of his title reign—almost led to something more. Thankful for the little voice in her head, she stopped it. Things were different after that. She put up boundaries, but it did nothing to ease the ache of what if. That same ache presenting itself right now, like it did every time they found themselves this close and secluded.

“Thank you, Paula.” He held a hand out. A spot in WarGames benefited him as much as it benefited the Bloodline and she made that possible. She gladly took his hand, until he pulled her all the way into him—foreheads kissing. “You think about what I said the other day?” He whispered. 

She sighed deeply. “Punk…”

“I know you remember what it felt like. All those years ago. Just the two of us. Young, wild, and hungry as hell. Kicking ass and taking names.” She released air from her nose reliving the memories. She had never felt more alive than she did with him. She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to missing those days—and him. But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t that girl anymore. So, she kept that sentiment to herself. But he didn’t need to hear it. Because the same way she was now in synch with her current client, she once was with him. He could still feel it. “It’d be just like that. But better this time.” She opened her eyes that were met with his—specks of olive always so alluring. 

“Just think about it…Alright?” He pulled away as she nodded. Their hands lingering before he completely turned and left her there. 

She looked around, now aware of the world around her again, hoping no one saw their moment. Everything gets back to him here. Him.

Paula swallowed knowing she’d have to face him. She made a menacingly slow stride to his trailer after leaving the arena. She knocked twice. Then three more times, before she heard the familiar voice tell her it was open. 

She walked in the small but familiar space as he removed his OG Bloodline shirt with a heavy sigh, releasing all the weight that’s been dumped on him since losing his title. You’d think the load would be lighter now. The saying is supposed to go—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He had given his crown up, or rather it was stolen by the American Nightmare, and yet he still felt like the King. On top looking down at everyone else, even in his untimely absence. And Solo had presented him with an entire new set of weight with this whole New Bloodline mess. 

The muscles in his back flexed as he slightly stretched and rolled his head. The silence was agonizing. Gnawing at her because she could already feel whatever he wasn’t saying. 

“Where have you been?” He finally questioned. His back still to her. “I’ve been calling.” He took a sip of whatever he poured. 

She squinted at him once he finally turned to face her. His chest—one she’s seen plenty of times—still, a distraction as she attempted to just zero in on his static expression.

“That’s funny. Considering you went M.I.A. long before I did.” She crossed her arms, causing her full breast to push up, catching his attention for a split second. “My calls fell on death ears as well.”

“I asked you a question.”

“After Mania you vanished. You left me here. Vulnerable. Alone. Defending you. Fending for myself—”

The cup met the counter harder than he intended, summoning dead silence again as she swallowed the remainder of her rant. He had already lost his Bloodline before all this—then his title. He didn’t need another crash course on all the ways he’s fucked up. 

“I’m here now.” She spoke again when she felt it was safe enough to. “You’re here. Jimmy’s back. Jey’s back. Sami’s here. Things are back to normal.” As close to normal as possible without Solo and that belt hanging from his waist. 

He gradually nodded. Her words sinking in. He didn’t want to fight. He fought enough tonight. She turned to leave, knowing he preferred solitude at the end of the night.

“Don’t forget who you work for.”

She scoffed. Only Roman would leave her to fend for herself after he lost his little title and decided to tuck tail, just to come back and want to run shit again—as if he never left. But that’s just the kind of man he was. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and he didn’t care who he had to run through to get it. That’s what drew Paula his way in the first place. Her contract was ending and she was looking for some else to counsel on the roster. There was not a single person that housed half as much charisma and hunger as the Roman Reigns. 

Their journey has been the epitome of a rollercoaster. By his side in feuds and every climb of the ladder. Reaping the benefits of accompanying such a charismatic figure in his own right. Her life went from great to legendary. Now, she sits on the Island of Relevancy as they call it—pockets as fat as they had ever been, and her life looks exactly the way she’d dreamed. 

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“How could I?”

Roman checked the time on his expensive watch again—only moments after the last check. Leg bouncing, jaw ticking, with that infamous stone cold exterior, that screamed he was not to be fucked with. Long fingers smoothed the hair above his plump top lip, until he reached the dark and greying hairs of his chin.

Whatever he was feeling, Paula felt in her bones tenfold. She shifted in her seat, unable to keep still. In the dark room, the only thing they could hear was her irregular breaths and his less than impatient sighs. 

She couldn’t explain it if someone were to ask her. It was as if signing the dotted line and agreeing to manage him put a hex on them. This invisible string—this unimaginable force pulling them together in every instance of every universe formed. She felt this burning,  unwavering loyalty to him. It was sick and twisted. The lengths she’d go to please him—to carry out his wishes. How empty, aimless and useless her life had felt these past months without him. Not even so much as a text from him. It took every fiber of strength to not answer that call. But she needed him—if only for a second—to feel what she had felt since Wrestle-mania. 

His brown eyes pierced her, feeling like another beam of light in place of the one they sat under at the stretched table. Three seats. One at the head where Roman sat of course. Another next to him, always reserved for her. Lastly, a vacant one at the other end. 

She knew what was coming next.

“Paula.” His deep voice made her heart stutter. Out of fear, relief and every other emotion in between.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?” She answered trying her best to keep her voice steady amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside of her. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Turning to meet his hard stare, she hesitated. Raking through her brain to find the words that wouldn’t tick him off. But considering the flex of his jawline, she could tell it was too late and it didn’t matter what she said—he was already at the edge of the cliff. 

“He’ll be here,” she assured. Only she hoped. Punk just like Roman liked to play mind games. Toy with his prey before he caught it. Please not today, she thought. She prayed their years of friendship and building a bond outside of their old contract was enough to get him to pull through for her. 

“I don't understand. He’s going around calling you his Wisewoman. He’s butting in on family matters. And now he’s got me waiting like I’m some errand boy. As if my time isn’t valuable.” The legs of the chair made a violent shriek as his towering frame began to rise. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, nor was he looking for her opinion, but Paula still placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Roman—”

On cue the slam of the heavy door that granted entry to the empty vast room sounded. Paula’s heart sighed watching him make his way to the empty seat. Looking back at Roman she silently challenged him to sit and he obliged. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Punk checked the time on his watch. Paula rubbed her forehead feeling an oncoming migraine. These two men—with the whose dick is bigger games—were going to be the death of her. She had never faced a bigger challenge in all her years in the business. They were going to collectively chase her into an early retirement at the ripe age of thirty-one. 

Just get through the weekend, she thought. Then it’ll all be over…right? A dream. That’s what she was selling herself. As long as that hex she spoke about was still alive between her and her current client, she’d never know peace. With the fuck you, pay me attitude he rendered and big bully on the playground persona he carried with him like a purse, pissing anyone within a five mile radius off—it’ll never be over.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at your watch for. We’re on time. You’re the one that’s late, Junior.”

“Yeah, well I’m here. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But you need something from me. So, I’d think you’d turn your asshole down just a little bit.”

“I don’t need shit from you.”

“You sure about that?” A snort pushed through his throat. “Cause the way you’ve been face down on the mat every week at the hands of your family says otherwise.”

Paula sat back like a child witnessing her parents have their first post-divorce argument. It was no point in getting in between these two. She knew better. They had to figure it out.

“Listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me. I came here for two things. One,” he held his pointer finger up, “to make it very clear that I’m not doing this for you.” He nodded in Paula’s direction. “I’m doing it for her. I’m not here for you—it’s all for her.”

Roman smiled so deeply his dimple showed as fine lines creased around his mouth. He sat back in the chair eyeing them both. Paula could feel the heat radiating off his body as she fiddled with the Bloodline ring he gifted her years ago, refusing to return eye contact. 

“I’m happy for you two. Really, I am.” Whatever feeling was opposite of happy on the spectrum, was what he was actually feeling inside. “Finding each other again after all these years. The story’s lined up perfectly. It’s beautiful. Poetic almost. But, that also has nothing to do with me. That’s y’all shit.” His hand shifted between the two of them. Paula flinched at the heightening aggression she recognized as a precursor before he usually put his hands on someone. “I don’t want—need—whatever you wanna call it—your help tomorrow night.” He spoke like a dragon emitting fire with his every word. 

Over his antics and borderline temper tantrum, Punk adverted his gaze to the only person in the room he deemed worthy of any acknowledgment. She took the deepest breath before finally speaking up for the first time since he entered. 

“My Tribal Chief.” She placed a dainty hand in front of where he sat on the table to disarm him first. He looked down at it as if it was a cuff restraining him. “With the way Solo has gone about things—especially after Crown Jewel—it wouldn’t be very wise to turn down a helping hand.” She spoke like a circus tamer trying to calm the big cat before it went rogue. “Now, I can find someone else. But there’s no one I trust to do this as much as him.”

Roman tried his hardest to accept her words, but the smug smirk on Punk’s face was pulling him in the direction of irrationality. 

“And you.” She continued only turning her head in Punk’s direction. “You think Solo is just going to forgive and forget what you’ve done?” The smirk vanished. “You speak like someone who has a choice, but let’s be all the way real here. If you don’t help, you’ll just move up on the list of people he plans to run through after he wins. We can do more together than apart. You mean to tell me the two of you can’t put these petty ass differences aside for just one night, to conquer a common enemy?”

Both men regarded one another. A silent battle that couldn’t have been louder in the ears of the woman between them—who knew both like the back of her hand. Punk was the first to come forward as he slid his forearm on the table.

“You don’t like me and I don’t like you. That much is clear. But Paula’s right. We can get through one night. One common enemy. One win. One time.”

“One time,” Roman agreed. 

“When it’s all over and done—you and I can have a different conversation in the ring, maybe.” He smiled pushing the chair back.

“What was the second thing?” Roman interrupted his attempt to remove himself from the meeting. The room grew eerily quiet. “You said you came here for two things.” He clasped his fingers together. “What was the second thing?”

Paula’s relief was short-lived as she watched the look he always had when he was up to no good present itself. “To make sure I get what I’m owed when it’s all said and done with,” he revealed. 

Roman scoffed with wide eyes. “I’d owe you a favor?” Punk immediately shook his head. 

“No—no, you don’t owe me anything.” His eyes flicked longingly to his best friend who he’d been removed from all these years. “My best friend—our Wisewoman will owe me a favor.” 

Paula subtly shook her head, hoping her eyes could relay what her mouth feared to speak. She remembered the conversation after he came out to help the Bloodline. How he begged her days before to just consider the idea of coming back home—as he referred to it as. In his corner, supporting him and counseling him. Keeping him on top. Although she never gave him a direct answer, she knew after tomorrow night, it’d go from an inquiry, to something owed—just as he spoke of now. 

Oh, but she was so wrong. About everything. While Punk did yearn for his friend to come back and play for his team—he had a bigger picture in mind. One he didn’t plan on revealing until every thing was all over, to eliminate the risk of this said favor not being carried out. 

Joy reflected in his eyes as he watched the shift of tension build within the two other parties at the table—but that wasn’t his problem. So, he got up and left them to deal with the mess. 

“Wisewoman,” his authoritative voice called to her. 

She winced. Her wish that he would just leave it alone until after WarGames, completely in vain. 

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?”

She met his dark eyes. “What is this favor he’s talking about?” He pressed.

“Uh—” Paula didn’t truly know and she knew that wasn’t an answer he was going to accept. She was only guessing that the favor had to do with their previous conversations. A topic way too touchy to present to Roman. He was already hanging onto his sanity by the thinnest thread. The contingency of losing his Wisewoman after just gaining her presence back, would sever that thread completely.

“Let’s just get through tomorrow night. Okay?” She flashed that pretty smile. Not at all ready to become the object of his wrath—like she’s been plenty of times before. “We can talk about it after. I promise.”

Again, she twisted the band gifted to her by the man seated next to her. Always by his side. Always the master pulling the strings to ensure him and his family stayed out in front. What she tried her best to conceal, was that she needed him as much as he needed her. It was a two way street. It wasn’t just the inevitable betrayal that she anticipated. It was the unprecedented emptiness she’d feel again without him.

WarGames was its namesake. A full on fucking war. A civil war amongst men of the same Bloodline, which made it that much more brutal—because it was rooted in love in place of hate. But in the throws of the obvious war between the original Bloodline and this new one—there was an equally intense war within what was supposed to be two men playing for the same team.

Every side eye and hateful glare that transpired, she shifted and sighed to herself. Anxiety growing until she had a garden full of concern and angst with her at the ringside table with the announcers. Two bombs that always seemed to be ready to detonate at any given moment.

She paced. She ran hands through her blowout frustratedly. She had to do away with the suit jacket. She was hot with worry. She didn’t know which was worse. Them in the confines of a cage outside the ring, or them inside a bigger cage in the heat of battle. She just kept praying that they made it through the night without killing each other and winning of course. 

When Roman wedged a hand out to prevent Punk from entering the match, Paula nearly lost it. She was sure they were going to kill each other before even stepping foot inside the ring, then. Mean ass, she thought as he waved a hand at an exhausted Punk whom he disregarded to help the rest of the Bloodline on their feet.

Proud. That’s what the pinball of her emotions landed on at the end of the night. Her boys fought valiantly and the win was well deserved. Punk and Roman even shook hands. Two of her favorite men, now coming to an understanding. A mutual respect. She did that. 

At the end of it all, Roman met her down the steps of the ring—a strong hand cupping her face. His thumb grazing her cheek three times. I love you was the hidden significant message. Something he started years ago. Too prideful to speak it, he’d stroke the words with his thumb. On her wrist, her arm, her knee. Today, her face. It’s when she knew she made the right decision. The war was over. 

In the wee hours of the night, she found herself in his trailer. He called her over and offered a bottle of champagne that they popped open together in celebration. Things were finally looking like they were coming together after being abruptly dismantled. 

On their second glass now, they stood reminiscing on all it took to even get to this point. How far they had come and how much further they planned to take it. Somewhere in the expensive champagne and the fog of taking a jog down memory lane, Roman was feeling more sentimental than usual.

“You know I appreciate you right, Paula?” Thank you would’ve been too much. But even him extending his appreciation was something she didn’t see often. It had her momentarily melting like ice cream on a stick in ninety degree weather. 

He knew he lashed out more than what was needed. Talked to her like the shit on the bottom of his shoe at times. He threw more than enough responsibility in her lap. Threw a fit when things didn’t go his way. Created more problems for Paula to come behind and clean up, instead of solutions. But his worst crime of all—leaving her alone after losing at Mania. He was ashamed. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to face the universe of WWE yet. More importantly, he wasn’t ready to face her. She worked her ass off, day in and day out, to guarantee he made it to the top of the mountain—and he lost it all in one night. 

“Next phase of business—putting that Ula Fala back around your neck where it belongs.” Already onto the next phase—moving the goal post back. “Only halfway there, Chief.” She offered a half smile.

Always so professional—so well put together. Composed. He always yearned to see her come undone. Touched himself to vivid imaginative flashes of what that must look like. Loose curls cascaded around her, head rolled back and mouth agape. Him beneath her, admiring his new canvas—her. He couldn’t help but to paint a picture of what Paula Heyman would look like as a mess, losing control—just for him. Desperate. Begging.

She was strong. Resilient. But even the most unwavering women—solid as a sculpture in Italy—could always use the reactive force of a stronger man. 

Those lips. They were naturally pouty and plump. Every time she talked, he found himself drawn to them and how they curved at certain letters. He deemed them perfect. Only able to use his imagination, he thought about how they’d feel wrapped around him. How’d they look. 

“When’s the last time somebody fucked you?” He blurted out. She nearly choked on the bubbling champagne. He stood unmoved, expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” He placed his glass down. His dick pressed uncomfortably against his pants. He was losing every ounce of patience and composure he had. He was done playing games. He respected her and her hustle, but it did nothing to put out the fire inside of him whenever he watched her interacting with other men—especially that motherfucker Punk.

“And I’m not talking about the last time you had sex—no. I mean the last time somebody fucked you so hard, you forgot to breathe. So good you felt it everywhere. It was all you could think about after the fact.” 

Her skin heated up to an uncomfortable degree. The kind that warrants tiny tingles and possible rashes all over your body. Her breathing pattern kicked up at the smoldering look in his eyes. She couldn’t mistake his intentions now. Especially after her eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants. 

He made a step toward her. The heavy thud of his giant boot meeting the floor sounding as a doomsday soundtrack for her professionalism. She knew she was in trouble. “Roman—”

“Shh,” he hushed her and smiled wickedly. His sharp canines on display. He relieved her of the glass and sat it on the counter her ass was rested on. She didn’t even understand how he’d gotten so close so fast. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat, as it was booming in her own ears now. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me thank you properly.” The wicked smile had vanished in a flash and in its place was an intense concentration. His brown pupils blown and trained on her lips.

He was going to kiss her. And as much as Paula’s head screamed no—her body conforming to his and her mouth falling open before he even reached her, told a completely different story.

The air around them was so charged, if anyone else walked in they’d be electrocuted on sight. His fingers found their way into her hair, tangling and fisting it, earning a gasp from her. Leaning in, his tongue swept her mouth fiercely. He didn’t need to test the waters with a timid peck. For what? She was his Wisewoman and he planned on making that very clear tonight. In the sickest part of his membrane, he wished he could sit Punk down and make him watch what he planned to do to her. 

Paula’s hands found his muscular and tanned arms as his free one roamed the meaty flesh of her ass though her skirt. Always galloping about in the highest heels, shortest skirts and tightest dress pants. He craved to know what it felt like under his palms. To squeeze and knead it as he was now. His dick was so stiff, it was almost painful. 

The eruption of their kiss quickened. It was messy now, as they couldn’t even keep up with their own lust—passionate and scorching with the heat of hell. 

“How long?” He mumbled in between the kiss. Still, expecting an answer. 

“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had blown her mind in bed. She tried for years to make some sort of connection, but it was pointless. This job—governing Roman, had become her life. It consumed her and men could see that. She opted for the occasional fling here and there, but they were all pointless. Always leaving her dissatisfied and half full. So she scrapped the idea of men and dating altogether. 

Roman roughly turned her by the hips. Pushing his pulsing member on her ass and growling in her ear at the friction of her writhing against him. She was soaking and he barely touched her.He could smell her and it ignited the beast in him. 

This was a new frequency of intimacy for her. No man had ever been so exhilarating and demanding in his approach. He commanded things from her body without even speaking a word. It was sorcery, really. 

She felt his hands next. Big, calloused, and firm. They slithered over her thighs as his warm breath and facial hair tickled her ear. Under her skirt, they disappeared until it was bunched around her waist. She got lost in the heat and hardness of his body. Her eyes popped open after hearing the violent tear of stocking material. The cotton of her panties snapped next. 

“Ro—Unnh!” 

She gasped violently at his entry and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. No condom. Nothing between them except passion and the longing of two people who underhandedly craved each other for years and couldn’t do anything about it. Hatred and frustration, that only two people who loved one another could muster—sprinkled on top.

He eased his length in, inch by inch, watching the pinched look on her gorgeous face. This was better than he had imagined. Crinkle between her curved brows, hands spread on the wall, mouth as wide as it can go. All because of him.

He stretched her out to his liking, until he reached the end and then pulled back. He slammed back in almost losing his nut at the squeeze she granted around his thickness. It felt like the best hug he ever received—warm, wet, and tight as fuck. A small hand slithered between them, to which he easily caught. Using one strong hand to pin both her wrists together above them on the wall. 

Leaning back slightly, he admired the view. Her round ass perked up and pushed out. Puffy lips  wrapped tight around him, glistening under the lights of his trailer. The deep line in the center of her arched back with a thin layer of sweat.

“You’re perfect. Just like this.”

“Roman,” she whined. Frustrated and helpless to move as he had her trapped. 

He smiled against the side of her face. “You feel so good to me.” Another gasp as he began to push in and out at a steady pace. Squishy and sloppy sounds filling the small space around them. “Can’t believe you kept this shit from me for so long, baby.” His free hand came down on her left ass cheek before he dug his finger in her hip, guiding her up and down his massive dick. He let her adjust and find her own rhythm—too fixated on the little sounds from her mouth and the contortions of her pretty face, to do anything himself. “Yeah. Keep throwing that pussy back on me.”

“It's so big,” she moaned. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He talked too much shit to not have the means to back it up. He grinned smugly.

“You can take me. Right, baby?”

Struggling to locate her voice she just nodded against the wall profusely. Afraid he might stop and put an end to this immeasurable sensation he awakened. It hurt so good. He was creating a monster and he didn’t even know it.

“Keep them hands right there. Don’t move,” he instructed. He used his own to grab handfuls of her ass in both palms, stretching her wide so he could get a clear shot of her wetness pulling on him. Every time he withdrew she sucked him back in. A trail of white stuff lingering as evidence to how good he was making her feel. “Making a fucking mess,” he grunted. He let his possessive hold go, loving the recoil of her ass on his pole. It was hypnotizing. He questioned how long he could hold out like this. 

Against what his body was advising him—which was to pace himself—he violently pounds into her drenched hole over and over and over again. Beating her up. 

“Oh my—fuck! Yesss.” She was a glutton for punishment. His punishment disguised in gratitude. His frustrations took control of the wheel. Her going ghost on him was unacceptable. He was losing his fucking mind. A fact he’d never admit out loud. It didn’t go well with his, I don’t need anybody—head of the table—persona. 

Teeth barred down and upper lip curled into a snarl, he continued his assault, but that little pussy packed some power. It fought back. A fight he wasn’t prepared for. She was leaking. Juices running down her toned leg and his balls that hit her clit with every connect. 

“Damn, girl.” His head falls back for a second. 

“Right there—oh my goddd!”

“He can’t help you right now.” He teased huskily. 

“Please, Ro.”

“Please what? Huh?”

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. Mercy? Release? She wanted more of everything. More of him, if possible. 

They found themselves in the space of his bedroom. He wanted to try every position, but he knew he’d have her in here until this same time the next day to fulfill that fantasy. So he opted for the position where he could see everything.

He had her on full display. Button down now completely off, her breast hung freely over the lace bra after he pulled them out. Stockings still obliterated, the hole he made had grown. He could see everything. Her swollen lips surrounding her poking clit. The tight ring of her ass that he vowed to play with later. The wetness smeared everywhere. 

He gripped himself—heavy and strong—at the base to ease back in where they both needed him, but not before slapping it down twice, loving how reactive she was to every little thing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she hadn’t been touched in years.

She was enamored with his body. The way his smooth bronze skin stretched over every defined line and cut. How his tattoos—reflecting the armor of a Pacific warrior—danced with every flex of muscles. He had the body of a god. If only it wasn’t attached to such an asshole.

His hand found her breast. He pinched the chocolate nub until it hardened again. 

“Push ‘em together for me.”

Hastily, she cupped both D cups together. Her chocolate peaks to the forefront as they bounced with every salacious thrust of his hips. 

He planted two swollen fists on either side of her head to lean all his weight down. His mouth latched onto her, igniting a tingle in her clit as she clenched around him. 

“Mmm,” he hummed like he was tasting the most delicate and richest piece of chocolate straight from the factory. Flicking, sucking and swirling. He was in heaven as she watched in awe. The most dominant man on the current roster, feasting on her. He bit down on one nipple causing her to jolt up slightly. One last suck as he pulled back, releasing her, and leaving her nipples tender. “Tastes sweeter than you look.” He bit down on his bottom lip. 

He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed until they met the bed to get a deeper angle. The sounds—loud and erotic slapping of flesh, as he buried himself inside of the softest place on earth. She fit like she was molded specifically for him. And in this moment, you couldn’t convince him that she wasn’t.

“You’re mine.” He growled in between pants. “You belong to me. You hear me?” There it was again. That deadly sense of loyalty encompassing her. The looming of Punk’s claim and this damned favor, hanging above his head. 

“Yes,” she barely whispered. 

“Yes, what?” He pushed. Thrust growing erratically sharper and more intense.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief.” 

Satisfied, he rewarded her with another overpowering, sloppy kiss. His hair covered them both. Her hands came up to cup his face—grabbing desperately at his beard as their tongues tangled. But his mission was only halfway complete. He wanted that nut. She earned it. She made him feel like a winner even in the absence of a title or Ula Fala. 

He didn’t want to, but he rose up breaking the intimate kiss. Picking his pace back up. All the way in and all the way out. Hitting that spot that had her pulling at her own hair. Eyes rolled back into her brain like she was possessed.

“I wanna feel you cum on this dick. Come on,” he begged. “Cum for me Paula. Cum for Your Tribal Chief.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Like an unforgiving flood coming through a broken dam, she exploded on him just as he requested. Forgetting to breathe. Shaking uncontrollably—she felt him everywhere. 

Attentively, he ogled at every change in her beautiful face, every shake of her body—as she unraveled on him, shedding every bit of composure she had left. “That’s it,” he commended breathless. Loving the scene before him. His big palms, rubbing up and down the length of her soft thighs and stomach, to help her come back to center. 

She was shook. World completely knocked off its axis to the point where tears threatened to spill from the corners of her almond eyes. 

She knew working for him came with its perks—but this? This shot straight to the top of the list of all the benefits that came with being his special counsel.

A/N // Of course, if you read it or even a portion, thank you. Feedback is always welcomed💗

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[dkniade]

🌌💫🌒

Fan art of @kianamaiart’s characters from I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl! (with glasses, ft misc glasses characters & two IDWTBAMG universe fan characters)

I’ve been following this project from the start so it’s been great seeing interactions between the characters and how the fandom is so excited for it. ^^

I tried to draw the cast from memory and, while Miss seems a little different from canon, at least I got the dark hair roots and strands sticking out lol. But details aside they’re all recognizable! Which means they’re lovely designs that are unique from one another✨

Eclipse’s shades are a combination of his usual eye mask and the shades from this artwork, and Hoshi’s glasses are inspired by this one!🌒⭐️

Designs… (I don’t have a name for her yet but) the pigtails girl’s shapes are a combination of curves pointing downwards and curves pointing upwards. The idea ended up being that she’s on Eclipse and Lady DeVoid’s side so (after reading this post by Kiana about how most of the characters had Aika’s design as the springboard and are designed to complement eachother) I wanted her design to complement those two’s, with some influence from Zira. I like that the strands of hair on her forehead and the shape around them mirror both Zira’s hair and DeVoid’s horns haha. Plus, I was trying to figure out how to design her glasses and they ended up being kind of the inverse of Eclipse’s eye mask, which is very nice. Eclipse and DeVoid seem to be associated with sharp curves and circle shapes; maybe her outfit could be a lot fancier…

As for what her role might be in the story… I dunno, if she works with Eclipse and DeVoid, and Eclipse is all ~theatric and grand~ then maybe she could be like… his assistant… or something? Who knows. Or, I say “observer from afar” so perhaps she actually gets along with Zira well and they’d watch on the sidelines while Aika and Eclipse duke it out…?

Eclipse… Moon… Umbra… man what if I just name the pigtails girl Yueshi (月食, lunar eclipse)(for both the moon motif that Zira and Eclipse have, and the darkness motif that Eclipse and DeVoid have haha)

Shooting star and telescope don’t feel quite right, but with the circular shapes and the lunar eclipse, I could kind of see her having some star trail motifs with her sweater…

I guess Umbra would be the same type of elf (? darkness/concept personified?) as Lady DeVoid but I’m not sure haha. We don’t have much information on DeVoid other than the fact that she is darkness itself and that she lost most of her powers which she can’t remember how to use. Banished by a Star Guardian, revenge, recruiting Eclipse to help spread the darkness particles to destroy the Star Guardian… If she has a similar backstory to MLP:FIM’s Princess Luna then does that mean she was originally Aika’s teammate or something? haha

About Umbra’s hair… (Feel free to correct me for any inaccuracies.) I think from the reference photos I was trying to draw box braids but got so focused on also making the braids look like moon phases that I’m not sure if it’d still be box braids in the end? They seem more like cornrows now, at least for the side ones?

Here are some earlier versions of the OCs! and more rambling about designs

Well, initially I scribbled down Yueshi so I could experiment with values because I was thinking about how light-coloured pants draw the eye too much if the outfit or the top half of the character is darker. (Half way through she ended up looking like a IDWTBAMG character so I tried to match the proportions with Aika’s turnaround.) But I suppose if there’s enough contrast for the upper half (and IDWTBAMG’s stark black design style gives a lot of contrast) then it works out better. I think the combination of making Yueshi’s hair and the top half of her sweater black and the circle shape white worked out okay. Initially she had large round eyes so I tried giving her round glasses too but since she ended up being a fan character in the universe, it was too similar to Aika and Zira.

Umbra’s design kind of popped into my mind today so I tried to scribble it down and experimented with hairstyles. But green and purple are already associated with Zira, and that shade of lavender is more like Eclipse so I guess I’ll fiddle around with her colour scheme more. Maybe there’s not enough of the signature black there, and both could use some more details to match the level of details in the canon designs… (If Yueshi works under DeVoid then she’d probably get a fancy outfit too.) Then again, Umbra is more like Miss in terms of detail so it seems she’d be a background/supporting character or something…🤔

(I can’t seem to escape the puffy sleeves/cone shape silhouette🤔 Gotta diversify. Also, not sure if it’s ‘cause of the project’s style or if I just really love circles in character design haha)