#OC drabble

[distantsongsofjoy]

sometimes you wanna write a starter and end up writing a drabble...so here's this little drabble I wrote and if someone ((preferably mutuals only in this case)) decides they want to use it as a starter to write with my baby boy, please feel free <3 tw; meltdown, anxiety, brief self-hate/suicidal thought mention, brief loss mention disclaimer: i'm not a parent && this drabble is based on my own research/minimal experience/personal sensory overload experiences

"Loo-- Look at me. Hey, bud? Bud..."

He's trying so hard not to raise his voice, not to do anything that would make him look like a shitty father. Knelt there on the tile while his son sprawls out on the ground, kicking and screaming, his entire body is rigid, warmth behind his eyes as he tries not to cry--tries not to have his own meltdown right there in the middle of the grocery store. He swallows hard, closes his eyes for a moment to try and center himself. Breathe.

"Buddy...It's gonna be OK, pl- please, I'm--" He can tell, even if he can't really hear the screeching, that he's not getting heard, not getting through to the little boy on the ground at all. He's careful not to reach out and touch him, though. Doesn't want to make it worse. A glance shot down the aisle when they feel the pinprick of the hairs on the back of their neck stand on end...The staring. It was the worst part. Just breathe.

And he tries. Dammit, he tries so hard to just breathe. Times like these made him wish it had been him and not his wife to go... Hands tear back through their hair, baseball cap left on the ground already as they fold their legs and just sit there for a moment, heart pounding.

"I'm sorry," they finally manage to say as someone tries to squeeze past them. A heaved sigh, their eyes stinging with the heat of starting tears. He chews anxiously at his bottom lip to try and stop it, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands to force them away. A slow, deep breath, then he's finally managing to move to sit closer to Judah, right in front of him.

"Look at me, bud. Remember? Look at me. Deep breaths, OK?" He demonstrates by taking in a slow, long breath through his nose and releases it even slower through his mouth. A hand stretches out, palm-up in offered comfort if the young boy wants to take it. "I'm right here, bud..."

Eventually, tiny fingers connect and he squeezes his hand lightly. "I'm right here. Deep breath. Look at me...OK?" More slow, steadied breaths as the screaming subsides, tears slowing as the two of them just sit on the floor in the aisle. Someone shuffles by and reaches past them for something from the shelf and Rhys mutters another apology. Once Judah gives the OK, they scoop him up and snatch up their cap, the cart of groceries left behind at the end of the aisle.

Maybe another day...

[neon-pink-leitner]

Working on my stuff with Seven again because I think I finally might have the balls to post it?

So her first meeting with V, V has a Relic malfunction and Seven is able to redirect it into herself. But before that point she's basically beating against V personal ICE trying to get in and see what exactly is wrong. Johnny is preventing this because why the fuck should he trust Seven?

This is a pretty important scene and it sets the tone for Seven as a character and for her and V's relationship. But I'm interrupted by this mental image of Johnny and Seven separated by a chain fence with Seven screaming "Let me in motherfucker the house is on fire!" while Johnny just flips her off and says "No bitch I don't fucking know you, I don't open the door for strangers"

[robotcorsair]

By its cover - part 1

"Shouldn't you be more whimsical? You look like a lawyer." 

The fairy squinted, crow's feet spreading around his eyes. "Shouldn't you be less whimsical? You look like you sell candles at the farmer's market."

The vampire laughed brightly. "How'd ya guess?"

"Wait, really?"

"Nah, can't be in the sun, would make it difficult." The vampire winked. "I teach midnight yoga classes."

The fairy pinched the bridge of his nose, dislodging his glasses. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

The vampire smiled. "No, sir! Shall we get on with this meeting? By the way, what's your name?"

The fairy sighed.

[witchy-shortcake]

That one Jade drabble i promised i would write.

TW⚠️: This story contains mentions of drinking and substance abuse, if you find those themes triggering i advice you to Skip this.

I really hope you all enjoy my first attempt at a semi-decent whump drabble.

Jade came stumbling into the apartment. She didn't even bother to take off her boots, which were leaving muddy footprints everywhere.

Slumping against the wall, she managed to reach the couch and crah face first into the cushioned surface, letting out a small muffled sound.

She sat Up as best as she could, wincing in pain, and started undressing, tossing her blood-stained clothes aside, leaving on only her bra and panties. There's were still a couple hours before she had to pick up Sunny from school so she could clean It all Up later.

She examined the bullet wounds on her leg and forearm, she was sure she could dig the bullets out of there herself, she wasn't a newbie anymore, but, still, she would need a little... Numbing if she wanted It to work.

She crawled towards one of the drawers she always kept locked so her sister wouldn't try to play with it's contents, leaving a bloody trail on the floor, and took out some pills, gauze and a bottle of cheap liquor. Those would probably do the trick.

She stumbled back to the couch with the little strenght she had left and downed the pills in one go, followed by a big gulp of absolutely disgusting alcohol that tasted like rusty nails. She then closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside, taking another hit from the alcohol bottle every time she felt the burning pain of her wounds, which were seemingly already starting to get infected.

Jade finaly started feeling the effects of the drugs coursing through her system. She bit into the shirt she had casted aside before to try and avoid screaming and started digging her fingers into one of the wounds. The pain made her see black spots but the alcohol and The pills were numbing the sensations down to some degree, and she sure was thankful for that.

She managged to dig out both of the bullets and poorly wrap both the open wounds in gauze. She got Up from the couch, skinny legs trembling with the effort to walk to the bathroom to clean herself without putting too much weight in the injured leg. When she got there she turned the water on to draw herself a cold bath and disposed of her underwear. She took the rest of the pills out of their bag and swallowed them before going into the bathtub.

She slipped into the bathtub, letting out a sigh of relief as the freezing water made Contact with her sweat-soaked skin, her wounds stung like hell but It wouldn't last long, the drugs were already starting to take effect and She could feel It, she only had to wait a couple of minutes more.

Before she knew It, Jade was barely conscious, her head kept above water but not for long. She felt hot and nauseous and her head felt like It was stuffed with cotton. She could no longer tell when or where she was anymore.

If she could have looked at herself from outside of her body, Jade would have though It was ironic, She looked almost like he did, when she found him in his apartment almost three months ago, feverish, high out of his mind and injured beyond repair, marinating in a mixture of old bathwater and his own blood for god knows how long, but, somehow, still Alive and kicking. But, if she didn't manage to get Up before the bathtub overflowed and her head ended Up under water Jade would not have the same luck.

She woke Up again almost an hour later. The water had thankfully stopped running, and The one that she was bathing in was a brownish red, from her Blood and all the dirt that she had come home covered in. She crawled out of the tub, leaving behind the drenched and bloody bandages and managed to take a few steps before she fell to her knees, overcome by pain and overwhelming nausea. She held back her hair as best as she could, even though It was damp and plastered to her face, and started spewing out all the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She had barely eaten anything for the past few days, but still, she felt like her body was purging out all her sins, along with what seemed like an endless flow of watery vomit.

When her stomach finaly stopped convulsing she fell to the ground, too exhausted to even cry in pain when her head hit the cold floor, falling into a far from blissful sleep.

[dragstone-of-no-future]

Local_Storage_Only: "The Patience Dream-- One"

[recall: Operation Eagles of Leda]

In the dream? there was needed a careful plan.

An agrarian sector on Caelis (small lunar colony in the Annapurnas) was occupied by local separatists, armed by conservative interests and spurred on by decades-long cultural splits on-world. The conflict had for a while gone in the way of "noble" wars, but suddenly flared from sensible battle-lines and open engagements into a hostage doctrine-- military installations were being set up near civilians, promising ruin if artillery tried to liberate the sector. The standing military would have to re-order its forces for house-to-house skirmish, something they were not, as a rule, experienced in. The blow to crack the occupation's hammerlock hold would need to come from within.

Thankfully, the infrastructure of the area relied on large-bore stills for irrigation. That meant everything for the Mud Wasps' contract.

[you? hated the rain that day. it was bad even for the weatherproofing. a million fingers squirming into the skin, through it, soaking the bones and steaming in lungs.]

Square Head's mech crouched flat to the sodden earth; WITHIN THIS HOME ONE HUNDRED KNIVES always looked splayed out and treefrog-like at the best of times, but now with its acoustic sensors deployed it looked something like a puddle of mining equpiment, or some deep-sea creature made of blankets and spines and many needle teeth. "I'm getting... ugh, okay. Yes. Yes, there we go. I should be able to get a stable bore in here for you two. Get to scouting, comms up when the infil's ready. Try not to bring us through inside the aquifers, please?"

"Gonna get you wet." Threadline sounded just like the little shit she was on deployment, voice sharp and creeping like an eager child. Always got three or four times as bold, times like these, as anywhen else. Its mech's head, or what passed for it, whirled like a spindle-- a creeping of space-time, aggregates of the immer into silk, into strange crystal about a skein. "Gonna have POLYDNA punch a hole in the universe just to moisten your shoes."

"Please don't?"

"Gonna."

"That's what you get when you don't go with the advance team!" This voice came from right in the cockpit with him, unfiltered by comms. "Soggy boots for all three of you."

[there he was. always managed to look forwards to the descent, no matter how boring, how miserable. you? felt like the tunnels were home, too, because when he was there.]

"Get that chatter out of your system now, you two. I'm gonna start excavating." The line immediately filled with annoying, mic-peaking nothingspeak as Square began digging, throwing sod and rock spray into the air. Most of it-- speech and dirt-- clanged harmlessly off the massive hexaped sitting nearby. The gnat of a stealth frame perched atop only chimed in when the job was done: a perfunctory "GET IN THE HOLE ALREADY" as the bit stretched into 'tortured' territory.

[had to appreciate Blue for being able to get everyone moving. imagine having to be the one to smother his spark.]

"Don't spend them all in one place." Threadline tossed a few small charges to the ground-- they affixed with a whining sound and a quick spooling of distance-- and leapt down into the hole. A few short steps, a hup of exertion, and down he went as well. Down into

[lunar-disillusionment]

The Blood Stained Knuckles:

[CW: Minor Depictions of Violence and mentions of Energon/Blood]

Eviscerate had finally gotten her sons to sleep, hyperactive gremlins they were; ever since their sparkling years. Eviscerate sighs tiredly as she pulls himself into bed, he lays down after a short moment and just stares up at the ceiling. She sighs once more as she slowly powers off her optics to finally sleep.

When he opens his optics. He finds himself in the pits once more, being cheered at by middle cast and leered at by elites in their precious box seats, away from the bloodshed and rabble rousers. Eviscerate look onward to the crowd not feeling the same way he did many years ago. He felt so tired and bored of it all, the sadistic joy he once had for this blood sport long since faded and all she felt was disgusted for being used so long.

She unfortunately didn’t have time to process her past sins as her opponent appeared before him. He took a breath as he looked up at his larger opponent. He wasted no time and begun his attack, even with one of his legs not being as strong as it used to, he maintained his speed and agility. She swung her fist right into her opponent’s face with all the trained force she could muster, busting her opponent’s jaw and disorienting them. The opponent stumbles back but as it does so more fighters appear in the ring, many of shape and size that she had defeated many centuries ago, all coming back to haunt her for all their energon she had spilt on the arena floor. He was overwhelmed but knew never to show that while fighting, opponents always took advantage of that.

She brutalized them all like clockwork. Torn off the wings of another flightframe, snapped the neck and torn the spark out of a Hauler, bludgeoning many insecticons with her bare fists. The crowds cheered and roared loudly as there was one opponent left standing, a speedster. They were always tricky but they found out much like flightframe as she was one, speedsters got cocky when they presumed they were untouchable due their speed. Eviscerate knew better and waited for the right moment and grabbed the speedster by their face and began to squeeze with practiced strength. Her demeanor immediately shifted when the shadowy look off the speedster slipped away revealing, “Scythe?”.

Eviscerate snapped opened his optics immediately from recharge, breathing heavily as he looked up at the ceiling once more. She hated that dream, nightmare? Didn’t matter which, she hated it. She would never do that to her children. Ever. He laid there a moment longer before drifting back to sleep. Feeling the energon staining his knuckles as he did so.

[necromancer-4-hire]

Mortal Kombat OC banter

(The statue of Lord Shinnok in the main hall has been destroyed under mysterious circumstances.)

Or not so mysterious... Shinnok is pacing back and forth rubbing his face while his wife, Rashid is standing far enough that he can't reach her but not too far to see the red glint in Shinnok's eye.

" I am at a loss for words."

She gulps and hesitantly looks at him. "Does this mean I'm punished for all eternity?"

He breathes out, "It could be but that wouldn't solve anything."

"Just say whatever is on your mind Lord Shinnok..."

He walks closer to her and balls his fists tightly.

"Of all the damned things you destroy IT HAD TO BE THIS!?"

Rashid shivers at Shinnok's anger.

" By the Gods, woman, I'd drive a stake through your heart, but I don't think anything could kill you!"

It's silent in the main hall for several minutes until Shinnok breathes in and sighs.

"Alright, this can be fixed. In the meantime stay out of this room and away from me for at least another hour."

Rashid swallows a sob and bows, "I'm sorry..."

The dark lord shuts his eyes and nods, "You are forgiven; just... go keep yourself busy."

Rashid rises and scurries out of the destroyed room meanwhile Shinnok turns his attention to Quan Chi.

"See to it that this is all repaired, my statue replaced, and... that no one breathes a word about what happened today."

The necromancer smirks at the humorous turn of events. Well humorous to him anyway.

"How do you think this happened?"

Shinnok pulls out a chair and slumps looking at the destruction his wife made.

"I have no idea."

[faewritesshit]

Another NPC drabble. This one is more fun less angst

—-

It was cold, the wind sharp as it bit at Micah’s cheeks, despite this, his hands felt sweaty shoved in his pockets. Austin’s grocery was right around the corner, and Micah could feel his heart in his throat. He shouldn’t be this nervous, and yet he found his breath shuddering as the flickering “Open” sign came into view. The straps of his backpack were digging into his shoulders, a bead of sweat sent a shiver down his spine, it felt like there was a stone stuck in the toe of his shoe, and the bell above the door seemed entirely too loud as he pushed it open. The buffeting wall of warm air was effective in shocking his system back into regular functions again, and he took in the room around him. The teenager behind the counter barely glanced up from whatever she was doing at the noise of the door, letting out a barely detectable sigh as she tugged a headphone out of one ear and let it dangle. He hadn’t seen her here before. That was fine. He was fine. He turned, a bit too abruptly, to head down the aisle closest to him. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, in fact he hadn’t even planned to buy anything here at all, but he needed time to regroup.

Leslie wasn’t here, so he has no reason to be here either. He could just buy the granola bar that had made its way to his hand, and a drink once he stopped staring blankly at the wall of soda, and then leave. And never come back- no.

Leslie wasn’t here, and he was out of time. He was headed up to the register, items in hand, and cleared his throat. The clerk shoved a notebook under the counter as she finally acknowledged him.

Leslie wasn’t here, but clearly this kid has to know them. He could just buy his things, a Dr. Pepper and a snickers had made their way into his hands now, leave a message for them, and then leave. And go into hiding immediately- also no.

“Hey, anything else?” She was small, definitely young with light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. A sticker name tag on her shirt read “Olive”.

“No.” He answered on autopilot. It was too late to back out now, Micah would never come back if he stopped here. “Well-”

She had already finished scanning and bagging, and her hand paused over a button on the screen. A raised eyebrow was the only form of question asked.

“Is Leslie here?” He hoped the question didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.

Given the suspicious narrowing of her eyes, it did. “Why?” The question was drawn out as she leaned back away from the counter, arms folding over her chest.

“I just-” The words caught in his throat. “We uh- Well I just thought I’d stop by to say hi,” that’s a normal thing to do, right? “but they’re not here, so. Another time.” Something about those blue eyes were too sharp for his stress levels currently, instead he chose to keep his eyes locked on the pin pad, it was stuck on a rotating processing screen.

“Who are you?” The question startled him enough to break his stare.

“Micah?” It came out as a question more than an answer.

The narrowed eyes widened a bit in recognition. Not a good sign. “I can get them if you want.” Finally, the processing screen ended and the pin pad chimed urgently for him to remove his card.

“No, that’s alright.” Play it cool. This was fine, Micah wasn’t panicking at all. “I’ll catch them some other time.” He tried giving her a smile.

“Sure…” He didn’t like the tone of her voice as she pushed the bag towards him and held out the receipt. “See ya, then.”

“Yeah.” He was thankful to have something to hold again. “See you around.” It was a small town so it probably was true either way.

The chime of the bell was jarring again as he rushed to leave the store. He wasn’t looking where he was going, too focused on his feet and what to do next that he didn’t process that there was a person in front of him until they had fully collided. Micah was bounced backwards, and would've surely ended up on his ass were it not for the hands on his shoulders, holding him upright.

“Fuck, I am so so sorry.” The apologies were rolling off his tongue before he had even looked up. The rest of whatever he had planned to say was purged from his head when he found himself face to, well, chest, with Leslie.

“Chill,” They brushed the creases out of the fabric of his sweater and gave him a half smile. “No harm no foul.” The smell of sandalwood and something sweet invaded Micah’s senses, artificial cherry clung to their breath. “You got somewhere to be?”

“No, not really.” Micah tried to take a deep breath as he took a step back, out of their space. “I just stopped by to say hi, I thought you weren’t here today.”

“I’m always here, Micah,” They said it with an eye roll. “but I’m glad I caught you, it looked like you were in a hurry.” With a hand on his shoulder, Leslie turned Micah around before throwing an arm over his shoulder, pulling them both back into the store, out of the biting wind.

“Oh good.” Olive was back to being focused on her notebook as they re-entered the store. “Your friend found you.” Micah didn’t have the brain power to decipher her tone, being pulled so close to Leslie’s side.

Physical touch was something that Micah had never been used to. Always overwhelming and forceful on his nervous system, usually sending it into a spiral. Leslie didn’t seem to have that problem, always ruffling hair or putting an arm on your shoulder or a pat on the back. They were touchy, and Micah hadn’t yet gotten used to it.

“Micah,” Leslie finally released him, but kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arms length, using their other hand to gesture at him, and then to Olive, “this is Olive. Olive, Micah. She works here on occasion.”

”Leslie violates child labor laws.” She didn’t look up from the notebook, continuing to detail the eye that Micah could now see.

“I don’t.” Leslie chuckled as they gave Olive’s hair a rough tousle, which she ignored. “She hangs around enough, figured I might as well put her to work.”

”Careful,” Olive finally looked up at Micah, “They’ll get you too. I think they’re starting to form a habit of it.”

”So what’s up?” Leslie seemed content to ignore the warning as they reattached their name tag. “You free for the day?”

”Y-yeah, my last class got out a bit ago.” He was starting to relax into the environment, the bickering reminded him of his siblings. “Figured I’d get some snacks before getting into my readings.”

”We’re kinda out of the way aren’t we?”

”And I wanted to say hi?” Again it came out as more of a question than he wanted it to.

Leslie took a moment to study him, eyes searching and laced with worry. The anxious itchy feeling was coming back, he could practically feel the pressure of their eyes on him, and the quiet in the room wasn’t helping. Carly Rae Jepsen was playing softly over the speakers. Apparently Leslie had found what they were looking for because they finally broke the silence.

”Wanna hang here? We won’t bother you if you need to focus.” Neither of them had noticed Olive studying the exchange.

”Sure,” Micah hadn’t expected the wave of relief that washed over him at the offer. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

”Cool.” It was the only response Leslie gave before working to pull a small folding table and accompanying chair closer to the counter for him.

Before he knew it, Micah was settled at the table, heavy anthropology textbook open before him, with notebooks and highlighters spread around it. Leslie and Olive were on opposite sides of the counter, Leslie in the process of teaching her how to play poker. It took Micah three games to realize that Olive was hustling them. It took Leslie five. Eventually, Micah was roped into the game, his reading left half-done and pushed to one side of the table to make room. Their pot consisted of a handful of snack sized candies and raunchy stickers, and they were all playing to win. Customers filtered in and out, but all of them seemed accustomed to the shenanigans of the store. One joined in for a round after making their purchase, but almost all of them at least inquired as to who was winning. Olive proudly told them about her initial con. It was amusing to watch her puff out her chest, and see Leslie try to defend themself by guilting her. It wasn’t effective.

Soon enough, the sky was darkening and the street lights were turning on. As full dark began to set in, Olive received a very worried call from her foster parent, which Leslie had to take over. Ten minutes, and plenty of complaining, later, a car pulled up to take her home, and it was just the two of them left in the store.

“Thanks for letting me hang around today.” Micah was slowly packing up his supplies, keeping his hands busy.

”You’re welcome anytime.” Leslie was partway across the room, starting the actual work that had been avoided throughout the evening. “I know it can be hard.”

Their honesty never failed to take him by surprise, and a stillness hung in the air. For some reason, he felt like he should apologize. “It was a lot of fun, if I’m honest. Olive is… a character.”

”Better get used to her.” Leslie chuckled. “I can’t seem to get rid of her.”

The zipper of his backpack drew Leslie’s attention away from their sweeping.”I guess I should probably be heading back.” Neither of them moved.

”Where’s your roommate?”

He didn’t understand how they always seemed to know what was happening before he said anything. “Left for home yesterday night. Early weekend.” It felt like an admission of guilt.

There was another pause, they just stood, each watching the other. “I can at least give you a ride home.” They crossed the room in a few slow strides, leaning the broom against the counter as they started to go for their keys. Micah watched as they hesitated, turning halfway to look at him. “Or you could stay, if you want?”

“I’ll stay.”

[toastthewolfie]

Sole Survivor [ A Drabble about Whisper ]

We started this together.

I remember it like it was yesterday, how we laughed, how almost all of you had fallen asleep before the sun fell below the horizon.

How me and Zachary were the last ones up, staring at the stars. How we had an actual conversation for the first time in months.

I remember how quickly it was taken away from us.

How Azure bled out.

How Hazel was rushed when she was about to recover.

How Echo was forcefully ascended into godhood, only to fall in the battle of the heavens.

How Ezra sacrificed themself for a risky experiment that, if it succeeded, would give humanity the ability to fight back.

How Zachary was killed in an attempt to save Ezra from their twisted reality.

How none of it mattered in the end.

How in the end, all of your sacrifices meant nothing, that the end of the war was brought by a two person team unrelated to us.

We started this together but…

Why am I the only one left?

“Because it is you who never truly existed in the first place.”

Note: the last two sentences are what inspired this Drabble, feel free to use the idea if you want?

[oc-heaven]

“You want to go after a unicorn that has killed multiple hunters?” Arlo squeaked as he looked at Adonis searching for any sign of a joke.

“Yes. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this.” Adonis grunted.

“W-what! You’re joking… right?” Adonis didn’t answer or look up. “...Oh, he’s not joking..." Arlo’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you get into a situation where you had to kill a unicorn?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ashir said as she sat next to Adonis. It probably had to do with his past. One that she herself wished to know, but Ashri knew it was a sensitive subject.

“I’ll kill it tomorrow, but I’m going to bed now.” He said standing to go into the inn.

“Night, daddy!” Mila said as she played a card game with the twins and for the briefest moment Adonis smiled. Something both Ashri and Aisley caught.

“Yeah, night kid," Adonis murmured as he picked up his sword and left.

“You’re a lucky kid,” Aisley said as they watched the flames of the fire. “That guy doesn’t care about people, but he would throw his life away for you.”

“I know he would,” Mila said as she took a card from Allen. “And daddy does like people. He just got hurt by someone he loved…” The young werewolf knew the most about Adonis considering she was his adopted daughter, but she never spoke about what she knew.

“Yeah, can’t you tell he has a kind heart?” Ashri asked the witch. Aisley just grunted as they got up and said goodnight. Leaving Ashri, Mila, the twins, and Arlo around the fire

[dread0narrival]

https://www.tumblr.com/mostly-funnytwittertweets/734701467294973952?source=share

And answering Vesper is cheating :P

I hope you have a wonderful 2024 ❤

Well I haven’t introduced em yet since they’re a fairly recent creation but I have basic info to share! That’s my luchador OC Furiosa and exciting profession lol when she’s in the ring her persona “Furiosa” is a pompous fighter that bullies and goats her opponents when she’s not show boating. She’s a seasoned wrestler and has been in the lucha libre scene for years. She puts on a good show I like to think the fans see her as an antagonist and they cheer for the “good guys” team to win LOL but outside of the ring she’s laid back and friendly. Completely opposite to the role she plays in the ring.

I sketched up a quick ref of her luchador outfit the other day but it’s only a first pass so it’s still a bit rough lol (ugly censors bec I know how trigger happy tumblr gets with the shadowbans)

[why-did-i-move-here]

Instead of just full on answering these questions I might write little blurbs around the answers instead.

Basically, using them like a writing prompt...

Ready, set, go!

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[robotcorsair]

By its cover - part 2

(part 1)

“Since we’re supposed to be showing goodwill, you can call me Dandelion-,” he stopped when he saw the look on the vampire’s face.

“Really? Now you’re the one who’s fucking with me, dude!” The vampire could barely hide his mirth.

Dandelion pushed his glasses up with a finger. “Flower names are actually common in my culture. I’m named after my great-grand-uncle, who-“

“Cool, my man, but I will not be calling you Dandelion in front of the humans!” The vampire was outright laughing now.

Dandelion held back from erasing him from existence.

“Anyway, I’m calling you Dan!”

Dandelion blinked. “What?”

[logsforblogs]

"Flowers in cement"

A short depiction of my oc

Everyone knows death has a sweet smell. It's sweet and has an unforgettable sent. If it wasn't for the fecal matter and grime that came with the stench of death.. Death would smell pleasent. Comforting and inviting.

Leer has always been a pleasant woman to be around. A woman who'd make you relax like no other, a woman who you'd yearn for once you met her. She is the comfort you'd find under the rot, the healthy flowers under decay. She brought life to death. Making undeniable deals, pacts, seals, *binds*. She could make immortality Accessible to the poor and impossible for the rich. Feed the hungry and starve the full. Leer is the push and pull of life. Twirling the strings of life in her deadly grasp. She reaped the reapers and sold their cloaks to the mortals who wanted to escape death. She made life comfortable for any creature, mortal, demon, or angel. At the right price, she'd put the world in your hands.

But Leer was mortal once. The sin of mortality still flows in her poisoned veins. She'd take and steal what she wanted and when she wanted. Under the rot their are flowers, health, and life, but the flowers grow from dirt and grime. She was made from death, and death is what she is.

[rotoa]

Tyler Scott Drabble

Prompt: If you could go back in time to change one event, would you do it? Why, or why not? Word Count: 811

Tyler Scott had a gift.

Maybe it wasn't a rare gift, or anything particularly interesting, but it made her feel abnormal - special, even. And she lived for that validation. It was hard not to, when you've had an entirely normal life in a city of freaks.

Everyone had some sort of sob story. Normalcy was a myth in a city running rampant with fear and chaos. No, correction; Normalcy was chaos.

So Tyler wasn't special. Not really. But she was the type to roll with the punches, throwing out a witty comment here and there to cope. That wouldn't stop her from acting like hot shit, though, if she could help it. Did that mean antagonizing the GCPD and Bats to an irritating, but not threat-level degree to feel like she was important? Yeah. Dangerous, reckless, stupid - but she was desperate for the thrills.

So imagine her surprise when something truly strange happened.

Tyler makes portals. A fairly average gift, teleportation was. Maybe it wasn't super common - she certainly wasn't well-versed in the statuses of other metahumans - but it definitely wasn't unique as far as comic-level superpowers went. Even outside of Gotham, there were speedsters, aliens, gods- She heard about it all over the internet forums she scoured with a relentless fervor.

It was terrifying.

It was cool.

She'd spoken loosely about her abilities on the aforementioned forums, and the speculation was absolutely insane. An ability like portals was entirely dependent on how her power bent the fabric of reality to link two points together. Did it fold reality, creating warp points on the world map, or was there potential to go deeper? Could she fold spacetime itself, creating the potential for interdimensional- or time-travel?

There was so much she hadn't considered. The common denominator was always her blood, but the potential was seemingly infinite. It got her thinking.

And thinking.

And thinking.

Until she remembered something. And she wondered.

Was it possible to change something so small but so significant?

-o-

It was her twelfth birthday. She remembered it clearly, remembered the date overlapping with her parents' wedding. She wasn't upset. Her parents hadn't been able to wed until then, so it was a wonderful occasion. She even got presents, too, alongside her parents! It was a win-win.

But.

Tyler had wanted to cut the cake. Her mother had laughed, her voice full of mirth, and relented.

There was an accident.

Blood spilled.

It would have been fine - it was a small cut, a slip of the hand, Tyler would have been fine-

If she hadn't begun falling. If time hadn't shifted around her, accommodating her sudden travel through reality. Searching, searching, searching for a place to plop her down, another waypoint to send her to-

She was eventually spat back out of the portal, rising from the warp point like rising from a puddle of ink or paint. She was fine, thankfully - the wound was already closing. (Did she have a minor healing factor? It would make sense, given her blood has to be the source of her transportation-) But there were stares.

Everyone had seen her use her power.

And there was fear in their eyes.

She wasn't a superhero, after all. With her disposition, she was more a liability than anything. It made sense. She wasn't mad. She understood.

And yet, it still hurt.

-o-

Tyler wondered idly, staring at her open palm - she had no destination that day, so reality spat her back out. But what would happen if she tried to slide through the cracks in reality made by her own power?

Would she and her younger self trade places?

Would a younger Tyler inhabit a modern gotham? Or worse, would they mentally trade places? Would there be a way back?

Questions, questions, questions.

Tyler bit the nail of her thumb. A nervous habit, meant to help her focus her chaotic thoughts. She wanted to try. She really, really wanted to see how far her warping and portals went.

But she could not deny that she feared the inability to return. She was unhinged, but she was not fearless. Right now, she was capable - well-versed in her power, as well as she could be on vigilantism as practice and rampant theorizing. If her twelve-year-old self was shot forward in time, it could lead to all sorts of questions, and chaos, and-

The thought was too much.

It was a huge personal risk. One she was not willing to take. If she could use it to send someone else barreling through time, she would in a heartbeat. But Tyler had no one she could use, much less anyone she could trust with that kind of knowledge.

Tyler was alone.

Tyler filed away that line of thinking for a later date. She promised herself she wouldn't return to it unless absolutely necessary.

It was enough.

For now.

[sprst4r]

Fuck it, Oc Posting

His name is Peter K. Thomas and his wife is named Clara.

One more time. One more time, and he’d swear he could kill him.

The same stupid coworker just had to do his stupid shoulder grab he did every time he was around Peter.

And just like that, the same stupid memories of being hit and shoved into a closet instead of eating dinner resurface again, and again, and again.

That damn coworker.

Peter didn't know how many times he had told him he didn’t like being touched. Physical contact just didn’t mean as much to him as it did Peter, he supposed.

However, there was physical contact he did like sometimes. The physical contact from one person, the only person he truly loved.

”Clara?” He called into their house. He set his keys in the dish by the door.

”Yes, honey?” She called back. He could tell she was in the kitchen.

”I’m home,” Peter replies softly. She comes over to him with a smile and it shines from her black lipstick.

“Obviously. You’re home.”

He grabs hold of her first, cupping her hips gently and leaning up to kiss her.

”Missed me?” She asks.

He hums and plops his head into her shoulder. When she wraps her arms around his back, he breathes out a sigh.

”You did,” She answers for him.

For a moment, she runs her hands up and down his back, rubbing in the places she feels the most tension.

”What’s wrong?” She whispers to him.

”Don’t like being touched…” He murmurs.

”I can stop if you want.”

”No. Don’t stop…please,” He wraps his arms around her in return and brings her closer.

“Bad day at work, sweetie?”

“Mrph…That asshole Cortez keeps putting his hands on me no matter how many times I tell him not to…”

”Oh. I see. You wanna talk about it? Wanna tell me how you feel?”

”No….No. Just wanna feel you.”

She then pulls away from him a bit so she can place a soft kiss on his forehead. At that, he smiles.

She giggles, “Oh, is that all you need? You’re all too easy to please, honey.”

He chuckles, ”No, I..-“

She cuts him off by placing another kiss on his lips. Then another, and another, then several more on his cheeks and his chin and his jawline. Once she pulls away, she sees the numerous lipstick stains she’s left on his skin.

As she cups his face lovingly in her hands, Peter giggles and the slightest hint of a blush crosses his face.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

”C’mon,” she giggles, “I made you some dinner.”