#I’m sorry if there are typos

[stark-lord]

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES (2024)

1.05 - The Case of the Two Dead Dragons

Or,

Edwin. I saw that.

[remxedmoon]

What are your thoughts on ISAT's magic system?

AUTISM BLAST

okay long rambly post incoming. for the record like 90% of this is pure unfiltered headcanon. and almost all of this is about colors. sorry if this is hard to follow!!! i need to get this all out of my system.

oh also! a lot of this is based on a really good post by @/chronologically-challenged that shows off the differences between each character’s craft style! go check that out it’s really good

okay!! so!!! colors. this is just my own thing, but i personally like to color code the different types of craft!

don’t worry about those middle tones yet just put a pin in those

there’s still a little bit of color variety within craft types (for flavor), but generally, rock is blue, paper is yellow, and scissors is red. i’m not going to lie to you i only did this because the splatoon testfire had these colors. it’s also why my triplets designs are colored like that!

i think these colors also just fit the descriptions of these crafts? red feels like a more aggressive and active color, which matches how piercing craft is generally more focused on dealing damage, blue tends to be calmer, which matches protective craft being more supportive , that kinda thing. something something children’s hospital. yellow is a bit of a wildcard here lol, it just looks nice with the other two.

putting aside the colors for a mo! don’t worry those’ll come back soon. i’ve also been thinking a lot about how dual craft types work, though this is a little more speculative. i’m entirely basing this on how mira works. basically, one craft type seems to be more ‘dominant’ over the other. while mira is both paper and scissors, she’s still weak to rock, her basic attack is scissors, and her scissors skill (jolly round rondo) does much more damage than her paper skill (artsy silent burst). she behaves more like a scissors type, with an extra affinity for paper. which i think is interesting!!!

in terms of colors, i think this would manifest as mira’s craft being tinted orange, as a mix of both her craft type’s colors! this is partially what those uncategorized colors are for. while her scissors attacks are only slightly tinted, her paper attacks would be a lot closer to orange! and this would apply to other dual crafts as well. a rock/paper type would have more greenish attacks, a rock/scissors type would have more purply ones, etc etc.

i think this color mixing would also apply to single craft types trying to use a craft type that isn’t their own, though it’d prolly become less pronounced the more a person ‘gets used’ to using that craft type, so to speak. in a while rockodile would be pretty solidly purple, while rock bottom is more of an indigo color, and odile’s craft skills probably only slightly tinted as well.

ok!!! that was a lot about colors. i’m really fucking normal about colors. onto craft styles!! this is still kinda about colors tho sorry. also, again, go check out @/chronologically-challenged’s post if you haven’t already, it’ll prolly explain this better than i will

for a tl;dr on that post, each country has a different way of using craft. the forgotten island has lightless craft that tends to manifest as stars and zigzags, vaugarde has big, rounded bursts of grey craft (with smaller circles around it), and ka bue’s craft is more diamond shaped/triangular and tends to be on the lighter side.

this is also the part i’m a little less sure about. i haven’t drawn these out in my normal style!! so a lot of this is subject to change. sorry about that!

anyways. i wanted to preserve the island’s lightless craft while still making it colorful, so i decided to give it a sort of. halo effect? i guess? i wanted it to vaguely resemble the ring of light around a black hole or a solar eclipse, but that is a lot harder to do with the zigzag shape of the craft + my color limitations. and as i’ve recently learned, glow effects look really weird with my pixelly art. so this is all just flat colors 😓

shhh don’t mind the art here i’ve totally posted it before 🩶

vaugarde is pretty simple comparatively!! the craft is a sort of midshade ingame, so i just made the main color the normal craft colors. not much to say here!

and ka bue is in a similar boat! i did kinda draw it in my odile sprite redraw, but i didn’t really look at references so it’s kinda boring looking there. not much to say here either!!

and!! as we can see from the king’s special attack art, craft styles can kinda mix together. king’s style follows the general shape of vaugardian craft, but keeps the shade and stars from the forgotten island! i think it’d be fun to play with that a little more teehee. i imagine these are a lot more variable depending on how engrossed someone is in a culture, hence why odile’s craft doesn’t borrow from vaugarde’s style. unless she does? it’s not like we see other ka buans using craft in game. who knows.

also because i forgot, some extra bonus doodles of that craft color mixing i mentioned earlier! yipee!

and that’s it!!! there’s probably some other stuff that i am. currently forgetting. but this post is absurdly long enough!!! thank you so much for the ask i’m so sorry for autism blasting you about isat and color theory. am i still cool. here’s all of my craft doodles as compensation for reading this giant infodump. i’m so so sorry.

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[tetzoro]

the last enemy had fallen, slain and left for the false gods to decide what their fate would be. but the moment zoro sheathes his blades, his attention fixates on you. the way you were slightly out of breath, sweat glistening over your skin, enemies blood smattered over your clothes.

truly, you’ve never been more beautiful.

just because his weapons are no longer drawn, does not mean that the most primal, animalistic side of him is immediately caged. no, there’s still a frenzy of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood pumping and chanting in his ears — a deadly combo. times like these he’d either find some booze or meditate to return his mind back to normal, but the way you were looking right now had him wanting to indulge in something else entirely.

zoro didn’t utter a word as he stomped over in your direction, barely worried about the world going on around him when the only thing he wanted was right in front of him. your head snapped over to him, giving him a slightly fatigued smile, but the fire that burned in your eyes lit the fuse that engulfed him into a whirlwind of passion that made him feel reborn with a new purpose.

his aching hand needs to grip something as it misses the security of the hilts of his swords. instead, zoro finds purchase in your hip, pulling you flush against him while the other harshly tucks itself under your chin, leaning down ever so slightly to ardently capture your lips and thus, the next battle begins.

a kiss filled with fervor, desperation seeping into both of your tired bones as you melt into one another, fused and forged by the fruits of battle. being able to hold you in his arms like this, steal all the breath from your lungs eases him like nothing else. for you were with him, you were safe, you were alive.

[hawnks]

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

[thestrangestthlng]

This is all I heard during this conversation. 😂

[zorosdimples]

mdni. reader has breasts. yuuji is your personal heater!

“fuck, it’s cold,” you gripe to yourself. you’re curled up on the couch trying to enjoy a book. but even though wrapped in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks, you can’t seem to stay warm.

you call out to your boyfriend who’s in your shared bedroom. when he pops his head into the living room, you ask, “could you please grab me a blanket, yuu? it’s freezing in here.”

yuuji stares at you wide-eyed for a moment before his amber gaze heats and softens. he walks over to the couch and plops down next to you, pulling you onto his lap. “you don’t need a blanket,” he states, fingers kneading the plush on your hips.

the scowl that wrinkles your brow and curls your lips is adorable; he chuckles, pressing a featherlight kiss to your nose. you toss your book to the side. “i told you—i’m cold,” you huff. “that’s why i kindly asked you to bring me a blanket.”

the pink-haired man seemingly ignores you, slipping his hands under your sweatshirt, his calloused palms dancing up the curves of your body until they test the weight of your breasts. he lets out a pleased hum as he squeezes them softly. “how about i warm you up?”

you grip his wrists and try to pry his hands off of you to no avail, then swat his chest in frustration. “yuu—not now. i’m almost finished with this book and i don’t want to put it—” his strong fingers massage your peaked nipples, forcing a whimper from your throat.

yuuji swiftly pulls of your sweatshirt and buries his face in your chest, panting hotly, goosebumps prickling your flesh. his honeyed gaze is focused on you—syrupy and pleading and hungry. “please?” he mumbles before nipping the fat of one of your breasts.

in a last-ditch attempt to preserve your dignity, you roll your eyes and sigh. “fine,” you acquiesce, teasing the neckline of his shirt, eager to peel it off. “but you better put that tongue to good use.”

“wouldn’t have it any other way,” he agrees. he grazes a nipple with his teeth before he wrapping his lips around it, suckling the pebbled peak. you clasp your hands around his neck and forget about the blanket and the book; instead, you allow yuuji to set your body ablaze.

[randomheadcanons1234]

Random Hermitcraft headcanons ( that I will not elaborate)

No one knows what Wels is, they just know that he’s not human

Scar can understand cats even though, he isn’t a cat hybrid

Beef is the one hermit, who Doesn’t seem scary but scares the other Hermits more than anyone else.

Joe is not mortal. Gods are scared of him

Xisuma has the highest kill count. He is terrible at self care.

Grian can shapeshift, his skins are actually his body. His sweater is a part of his body.

Mumbo eats redstone

Doc has a soft spot for kids and small animals.

Ren eaten stones before, as well as other inedible things.

Xb likes to hide in small spaces, he is also the best hider on the server.

Gem is the best fighter and used to be a professional fighter.

Pearl has the most muscle mass and the champion in leg and armwrestling

False used to be a survival expert

Cleo is the human embodiment of girl boss

Stress is a walking lie detector

Etho mostly uses dad jokes just to annoy people

Bdubs has once slept for 20 hours, he went back to sleep when it got dark.

Skizz and impulse always know what the other needs

Joel says things that seem gay but is 100% straight he also drinks his coffee with a unholy amount of sugar

Cub has eaten human flesh before

Hypno is a god

Jevin is blue because he drank to much blue slushy

Iskalls robotic parts are toy robots pieced together

Keralis knows just about everybody, he has gotten other hermits out of lots trouble thanks to this

Tango is a fire spirit, he has his human form, from a cartoon that he saw

Zedaph is the most impulsive hermit by far

[fluttershiesworld]

[ID: text reading,

“broken sonnet

you're 19 years old, and every day

you get out of bed

and brush your teeth

and eat breakfast

and don't want to kill yourself

feels like a miracle.

you want to be a martyr: a new age jean d'arc,

a beautiful symbol of some kind of change,

at least then you could mean something

in death. but you know dying would make you

nothing more than dead.

you want to bleed light but instead

bleed only the same ordinary red.” end ID]

broken sonnet, sunny valentine

[rinneverse]

꒰⚘݄꒱₊ xiao, my beloved · · · ♡

warnings: xiao x gn!reader. [n]sfw — suggestive content, minors dni or i will lose my marbles

notes: literally just my 1 am xiao thoughts cleaned up a lil’. i luv him.

xiao, who is too afraid to touch you at first. his hands are stained with blood and you are pure, untouched, like the white snow that falls upon the peak of dragonspine. he’s afraid of staining you red with the weight of his past sins.

xiao, who with a little coaxing, finally touches you. fleeting little moments, intertwined pinkies, a brush of his hand against your cheek. it’s progress, your patience unwavering as you navigate the unfamiliar waters of intimacy together.

xiao, who thinks he might faint when he kisses you for the first time. the press of your soft lips against his chapped ones send him reeling, and for the first time, his hands are on your waist and he’s pulling you back for more, more, more.

xiao, who learns he’s insatiable after one taste of you. a sip of the fountain, and suddenly he wants to take a swan dive into the deep end. he wants to see all of you—and show you all of him. he feels less afraid when he’s with you.

xiao, who finally bares his soul to you. under the moonlight shining down upon wangshu inn do the two of you make love for the first time, his every touch cautious and calculated. whenever he misses you, he thinks of this moment the most. of the way you called his name, the way you held onto him, the way you two fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

xiao, who yearns to hear the sweet calls of his name, dipped in honey, spill from your lips. who yearns for the feeling of your nails raking down his back as you squeeze around his aching cock, pulling him back for more.

xiao, who takes to marking your neck like a moth to a flame. he relishes in the pretty moans that he draws from you, and the way you smile at him and point at his marked neck and tell him that you were matching. he feels a possessive streak run through him as he drinks in the sight of the hickeys blooming across the expanse of your chest, like a work of art meant for only his eyes.

xiao, who treats your body as if it were the most holy temple, worshipping every inch of you and then some. he loves like a tidal wave, consuming every corner of your body and soul, and not a moment goes by where you doubt his undying adoration for you.

xiao. i just think he’s neat.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[plutopools]

lucaby drabbles

• rocky either putting his jacket over a small puddle for lola when it’s raining or covering lola with an umbrella while he gets pelted with rain

• lola muttering “mio caro” against his lips while they’re kissing

• fantasizing about having a big house for their family while still in their apartment

• lola patching rocky up after a bad day of rumrunning

• rocky catching lola overworking herself and dragging her to bed (cuddles ensue)

• lola teaching rocky italian when they’re teenagers (it doesn’t work well)

• teenage rocky constantly asking lorenzo (lola’s father) for his blessing for when they’re older

• them cuddling and rocky begins sulking when lola gets up to use the bathroom. “you don’t love me anymore.. :(“

• rocky crying when he holds rowan for the first time, reveling in how much he resembles himself

• rocky absolutely spoiling lola when she’s eventually pregnant

• rocky proposing under the same tree they shared their first real kiss

[ebonytails]

Hey everyone! this is where the zebra is currently with the design.

It has knee braces!! I will most probably be drawing the zebra usually with them on, but it’s no requirement, for example if anyone else wants to draw the zebra :-]. I always like to make sure an animal design has official colors underneath any clothing and accessory anyway. I think this will be final! thank you everyone for your feedback!

As a reminder, aside from why the zebra was requested for this flag, this is also just a zebra with the disability pride flag on it. It’s just a deisgn to fit the flag, with input from other disabled people in our community. It doesn’t mean other animals can’t have designs with these colors, too! I don’t mean this design to be the only mascot for all disabled people. It’s just a silly series i do of pride animals, and at the time, during disability pride month, I wanted to see what everyone wanted me to start off with for this flag!

the goal with my pride animals is to take requests and make people feel happy and seen.. that’s all <:-)

[shizunitis]

No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

[lunarsolar1]

Did anyone else noticed that Charles seems to be the only one that puts effort to save them from death or being taken away?

Maybe I need to watch the show again, but of all the times they were in danger of being separated, Charles is the first one to step in and defend them. I don’t think I remember seeing Edwin step in or fight or do something to avoid the situation, I wonder why that is? (Unless he did but I don’t remember because I have a brain of a goldfish) but I wonder why, some times it gets me thinking if it was Edwin’s turn to fight for them, is he going to do it? WILL he do it? Is he willing to go as far as attacking someone (like Charles did with the night nurse) or even worse? What would he do in that situation?

It gets me thinking as well, even if Charles doesn’t feel the same way. His feelings for Edwin (platonically) are so so deep and immense that he would literally do ANYTHING to not get separated from him almost like he literally CANNOT live without him, maybe he cannot imagine what he would do if he doesn’t have Edwin by his side. They have been together for so many years, he’s used to him. Losing him would probably send him into a mental breakdown or worse, and that is something interesting to think about.

[peteytheparrot]

ALL ABOUT FIREFLY FOUNDATIONS ☆

Toyhouse World - Timeline - Mini Comics

↓ Main Plot ↓

Set in 1918, Ginger - an ex-war veteran - in a desperate attempt for cash to keep his mothers old bookshop open, starts working under Firefly Foundations, a mafia-like organization that deals around money laundering, gambling, and bounty hunting. Although this all goes south when he gets a bounty for someone by the name of Obsidian, who is wanted for murdering the once boss of FF Murphy, with the new boss being Milo, Murphys son. Although, he accidentally gets himself trapped in a scenario that involves him and Obsidian teaming up. And in doing so he gets himself wanted by FF, and now all of FF plus his now ex-friends Hazel and Oswald are sent to go hunting after the two.

↓ Main Characters ↓

🌼 Ginger Brown 🌼

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male  Age - 26 Height - 5’4” (162 cm) Species - British Shorthair cat  Cat Coat - Tortoiseshell Sexuality - Bisexual  Birthday - Oct 29, 1892  Job - Librarian  Other - Military Veteran Although he acts calm and collected / prim and proper, deep down he has anger and anxiety issues some of which is due to him being in the war. He tries his best to be kind to others but he will break if someone pushes his buttons long enough, which could result in violence if it’s bad enough.  After an event resulting in his childhood friends wanting nothing to do with him, with shortly after his mother’s death occurring, he was all alone. With himself in such a bad headspace and having no other ideas on what to do with his life, he decided to join the war. Although what he thought would make him feel a sense of purpose turned out to be a living nightmare, giving him massive amounts of traumatic experiences and resulting in him being permanently disabled, with the only plus side being him making a friend by the name of Oswald. Now back home from the war, Ginger decided to try and open up his mothers old bookshop, but it wasn’t going very well, with him not making enough money to keep himself in a stable position. Desperate for cash, his friend Oswald tells him of an organized crime group by the name Firefly Foundations, which could help him get the money he needs. But that doesn’t all too well with the Foundation only causing his anger and anxiety issues worsen with time, and Oswald and Hazel weren’t helping it all that much, as Oswald would rather take him to parties to gamble then to talk about their feelings, and Hazel just wasn’t very nice and or talkative if it wasn’t related to a job in FF. Although the money was nice as it kept him in a more stable position in life, he was starting to regret ever joining FF in the first place. After getting a bounty for someone by the name of Obsidian he ends up finding him, but instead of killing him he becomes quite interested in him, and they end up hanging out quite often with Ginger keeping this a secret from FF, and also never telling Obsidian he’s apart of the Foundation. Although, Oswald ends up finding out about this, which leads into Ginger and Oswald getting into a fight, and Ginger having to finally leave FF, but this doesn’t come with no consequences, as now FF is after him and Obsidian, which leads into a lot of problems for Ginger, one of which includes the fact that Obsidian finally figures out that he was working for FF, which doesn’t go well for them for awhile.

🌸 Oliver ‘Obsidian’ Carmine 🌸

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male Age - 25 Height - 6’1” (185 cm) Species - Oriental longhair cat Cat Coat - Solid black Sexuality - Gay Birthday - May 22, 1893 Sibling - Hazel he’s very optimistic, silly, a little irrational, and pretty high energy, always wanting to go and do something, but before really figuring out what he’s doing he can lead himself into scenarios he doesn’t want to be in at times. He’s very charismatic and loves complimenting people on their looks. Raised by his brother Hazel after their father abandons them (although he was too young to truly remember him) he lived in a very poor environment throughout his life due to him and has brother having practically nothing, and his brother being pretty mean to him because of his rowdy nature didn’t help him all that much. Due to Hazel barely having any money to keep themselves both in a stable living condition, he manages to join Firefly Foundations. Hazel told Obsidian to stay out of it all due to the bad nature of the job, but Obsidian didn’t listen, and got himself wrapped up in all of it, if he wasn’t getting any love and support at home maybe he could get some there. Obsidian manages to become close friends with Milo, (the son of the boss of FF) but later down the line Obsidian gains feelings for him, and they end up getting into a secret relationship. Although, this isn’t as great as he thought it would, as Milo would slowly start getting more and more abusive towards him. Obsidian, in a state of guilt due to this all and hoping for some form of comfort, tells his brother he’s been apart of the Foundation, and that he’s also been dating Milo, Hazel is pissed by all of this, even after Obsidian tries to bring up that Milo’s been horrible to him, with Hazel practically saying he deserves what he’s getting as he was the one to get himself into that mess. Obsidian, now utterly distraught by this, later leaves Hazel, completely cutting contact from him. Milo manages to convince Obsidian to stay with him instead, but the abuse doesn’t go away. At this point Obsidian doesn’t know what to do with his life, he tries to convince himself that Milo is the right person for him but he knows deep down he’s devastated being with him. Suddenly, one night he accidentally witnesses the murder of Murphy, the boss of FF, by Milo. Milo, in a sense of panic over Obsidian seeing this, blames him for the murder, and Obsidian has to run off with this now all resulting in him being on the run from the people in FF trying to hunt him down. Although, he uses this as an excuse to get revenge on how much FF - and his brother - ruined his life, having to kill practically everyone that tries hunting him down. He even starts thinking this just gives him new opportunities to have fun. One fateful day he meets someone by the name of Ginger, and they hit it off immediately and end up becoming decently close, with them hanging out quite often. Obsidian finally thinks he has his life going back on track, for the most part that is.

↓ Side Characters ↓

💞 Robyn Astor 💞

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Age - 28  Height - 5’1” (154 cm)  Species - Shorthair cat  Cat Coat - Grey Tabby  Sexuality - Heteroflexible  Birthday - Oct 3rd, 1890  Husband - Oak Very snarky, sarcastic, and never serious. Kinda wild and will willingly go off and do things she shouldn’t supposed to be doing. She would die for her friends but would never admit it, being very bratty in the way she shows appreciation towards others, but she’s never actually trying to be truly mean towards anyone. She grew up with her best friends Oak and Ginger, with her later falling in love and much later marrying Oak. Her and Oak later moved out to a small farm house next to the city, they have a couple of farm animals. Although, one night she got into a horrible argument with her friend Ginger, mangling up her ear in the process, with this all resulting in never wanting to see Ginger again. Already pretty sad and messed up from this all, Oak then decided to leave for the war, so she was truly all alone for a long while, worried sick for his safety. She also had to practically take care of their small farm all alone, which was struggling for her, she became pretty sad, anxiety-ridden, and snappy in this time. Luckily, Oak came back from the war at last, and she finally had some peace again knowing he was okay, besides having to help him get through the struggles of what the war did to him, but she’d gladly help him. Some time after that, in the middle of a rainy night, her once friend Ginger came along with his friend Obsidian knocking at their door begging for help, Oak obliged in concern for them both but Robyn wasn’t as enthusiastic about it, still disliking what happened all those years ago.

🍂 Oakley ‘Oak’ Astor 🍂

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male  Age - 28  Height - 5’6” (167 cm)  Species - Laperm cat  Cat Coat - Solid cream-tan Sexuality - Straight Job - Veterinarian Other - Ex-Army doctor Wife - Robyn Birthday - May 20, 1890 Kind, caring, and soft spoken, he’s always trying his best to lighten other peoples days. Although, he can get pretty anxious at times, which was heightened after his time in the war, especially around large groups of people. Deeply loves animals! He grew up with his two best friends Robyn and Ginger, with him later falling in love and much later marrying Robyn. Him and Robyn later moved out to a small farm house next to the city, they have a couple of farm animals. Due to his love for animals he ended up becoming a veterinarian for specifically farm animals, which he enjoyed doing as he always liked an opportunity to help. Although, after the war had kicked off and getting into a horrible argument with his friend Ginger, resulting in never wanting to see Ginger again, he was quite lost. So he decided to join the war, using his skills he learned as a veterinarian to become a doctor in the army. It messed him up pretty badly as he witnessed a lot of death and mutilation, but in a strange way he then gained a fascination on how death all worked, and liked trying to figure out how people died. Finally out of the war, he got to be with Robyn again, and all was great for a long while, albeit with the trauma he had to deal with. Some time after that, in the middle of a rainy night, her once friend Ginger came along with his friend Obsidian knocking at their door begging for help, Oak obliged in concern for them both but he could tell Robyn wasn’t as enthusiastic about it.

↓ Antagonists ↓

💎 Milo Maddison 💎

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male  Age - 32  Height - 5’9” (175.26 cm)  Species - Highlander cat  Cat Coat - Albino Sexuality - Unlabeled  Job - Boss of FF  Birthday - Oct 27, 1886 Although he acts sweet, charming, presentable, and posh in public eye, he’s quite the angry and abusive guy behind doors, and will do anything to keep his business running, including murder. Lies about practically everything if it has to keep his kind appearance believable. At this point, he doesn’t even know his own true self, but he tries to not think about that. Raised by his cruel abusive father Murphy with his mother nowhere in sight, he was already dealing with the dark nature of criminal organizations at a young age, which messed him up quite deeply, including giving him bad anger issues. Due to him having to go through the foundation and his fathers antics regularly, he would go out and party, gamble, and get wasted a lot, just to forget about everything for a moment. One night, at a party set up by the foundation, he met Obsidian, and they hit it off immediately. Although Milo tended to have a lot of one-off flings with people, Obsidian was different in a strange way, he wasn’t fully attracted to him but he saw something interesting within him, and they ended up getting into a secret relationship after a while. Milo recognized Obsidian as Hazels brother pretty quickly, as he would hang out with Hazel every once and awhile due to him also being in the foundation. Although, things ended up not going so smoothly for Obsidian and Milo’s relationship, as Murphy had found out about it, and he tells Milo that he’ll spill the relationship to the public if he doesn’t do his bidding for him, Milo agrees to this, but is not happy about it. Due to the nature of the jobs he had to do, this slowly made him more and more angry, and he would start taking out his anger on Obsidian, who would just deal with the abuse as to not upset him more. After a long time of dealing with his father, he finally had enough of it all, and after walking with him into an alleyway, he shot him dead. Although, this didn’t go as he had planned, as Obsidian happened to follow them, and witnessed everything. Milo, terrified at the fact that Obsidian saw him do this, had no other choice, and blamed the murder on him. He managed to get everyone to believe him due to his high status and sweet nature due to him being Murphy’s son, and Obsidian had to run off in order to not get caught and killed by FF. Milo managed to get Hazel to believe this as well quite easily, as Hazel already hated Obsidian quite deeply at this point, Milo later made Hazel his higher-up and even a bodyguard of sorts due to how good Hazel was at his job. Milo went on with working in the foundation, as he was now the boss of it all.

🩸 Hazel Carmine 🩸

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male  Age - 35  Height - 5’11” (180 cm)  Species - Oriental longhair cat  Cat Coat - Solid black Sexuality - Aroace Sibling - Obsidian  Job - Higher-up of FF / Milo’s bodyguard  Birthday - Jan 1, 1883 Deadpan, easily annoyed, and rude. Heavily dislikes hanging around people for anything not related to work. Has major abandonment issues and tries to avoid making friends, and will push away anyone getting close to him in fear of them leaving him. Devoted Christian, goes to church a lot. He grew up in a small apartment with his mother and father, but after his mothers death due to the birth of his brother Obsidian, things became a lot harder for him, as his father wasn’t a nice guy and would constantly berate him. Suddenly he guessed his father had enough with him and his brother, and he ended up abandoning them with nothing. Hazel had to raise Obsidian all alone, and they grew up in a very poor environment because of it. Hazel didn’t really like Obsidian due to his rowdy nature and constant need for attention, so Hazel ended up being quite mean to him, even if he didn’t necessarily mean to at times. Due to Hazel barely having any money to keep themselves both in a stable living condition, he manages to join Firefly Foundations after stumbling upon Murphy, the boss of FF. He was in FF for years after that, even becoming a more well respected member throughout his time there. Hazel made sure to tell his brother to not join, as it was dangerous. But after telling him, unknown to him, Obsidian actually joined the Foundation. Hazel would notice he would be hurt every so often, but assumed it was due to his wild nature and didn’t question him on it much. After a long time of Obsidian in FF, he finally spilt the truth of him being apart of the Foundation, and that he’s also been dating Milo, Hazel is pissed that he would lie to him for so long, and the fact that Obsidian was dating a man didn’t help due to Hazel being heavily religious, Obsidian tries to bring up that Milo’s been horrible to him, but Hazel practically says he deserves what he’s getting as he was the one to get himself into that mess. Obsidian is devastated and runs off to his room. Hazel now upset, tries to sleep this all off but slowly starts feeling guilty for being so cruel to him, he gets up and goes to his room as to apologize for some of what he said, but Obsidian is already gone, leaving him all alone, and this only makes Hazel angry. Later on Milo tells him about Murphy’s death, and that Obsidian had murdered him. Hazel doesn’t necessarily believe him fully but ends up rolling with it, so blinded with rage at everything Obsidian has done he’d be willing to hunt him down. He then meets Oswald, who joined the foundation in order to pay off his gambling debts, they start working together and become quite the close duo, but Hazel could never admit that to himself or Oswald.

🌿 Oswald Green 🌿

Toyhouse page - Artfight page Gender - Male  Age - 30  Height - 5’7” (170.18 cm)  Species - Abyssinian cat  Cat Coat - Tan Sexuality - Pansexual Job - Half private detective half FF worker  Birthday - feb 5, 1888 Smug, stubborn, and tired detective that’s not the greatest at his job. Will never admit that he’s doing bad and always tries to put on a ‘better than you’ attitude. Although, he does have problems regulating his emotions, tends to cry out of nowhere, and or freak out for no particular reason, but he tries to tell people that never happened after episodes like that occur. Gets very attached to people very quickly, this can also result in jealousy if his friends are talking to others. Oswald was a major gambling addict and tended to go out practically every day to gamble his money he would get as a private detective - albeit, a bad one, so it wasn’t much - as he loved the thrill of it all. Although when he started to run out of money, he just kept going, resulting in him ranking up a massive amount of gambling debt from the casinos he went to. Which was making him have to deal with the organized crime groups running some of these casinos to be watching him at all times, even trying to confront him if he ranked up debts really high. At one of these casinos, he meets Milo, and when telling him about his debt Milo tells him about the foundation as it could help him get the money he could use to pay off his debts, and Oswald is instantly intrigued and agrees to join it. He meets Hazel in FF, and they end up working together quite a lot, becoming a close duo. Although, Oswald in a state of wanting to help others and to possibly stop his gambling addiction, decided to join the war. But this all turned out horribly for him, as a bad incident later happened leaving him heavily injured, including making him lose his right eye, which he later put in a glass eye for. The only good thing that came out of it all was him becoming close friends with Ginger, another person he met in the war. Later on, now out of the war, he stayed at Gingers place quite often due to him never really having a place to stay. Although, he could tell Ginger was having a hard time running his bookshop, so he mentioned the foundation to him, which resulted in him joining it. Now him, Ginger, and Hazel all worked together in the foundation doing jobs together. But, after noticing Ginger tended to go off on his own to places, he followed him, and witnessed Ginger and Obsidian - a person wanted by FF for murdering the once boss of FF - hanging out and chatting like they were good friends. This pisses off Oswald immediately and later confronts Ginger alone, with them getting into an argument, and Ginger leaves the foundation. Oswald is upset by this but Milo convinces him that Ginger is in the wrong and is a bad person for hanging out with Obsidian. Oswald then starts gambling again, and has to stay over at Hazels place due to not having a home to go to.

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[pearfight]

Zak Brown said the goal for McLaren is to have 2 Number One Drivers and turned to Nico and was like “just like you and Hamilton!”