#arinne things

[fairlyoddwastelandremnants]

★×3 for any of your fantrolls :0

Oooo so

- Despite her strict appearance, Arinne's lusus is a unicorn and is very sweet to her child. Arinne is a sorceress as a result, though she also hides this for sake of reputation.

- Tivari and Sasivi are both part horrorterror due to tomb raiding going a bit too far. They make good money selling artefacts, but both of them have a bit of trouble staying grounded because of the eldritch blood in their veins.

- Every Deltar has a massive phobia of centipedes. Their partners from the Legacy crew will forever be the bug killers in the relationship.

[fairlyoddwastelandremnants]

Most of my insane women are mad scientists so here! Arinne, the blueblood, specialist in bioweaponry in a Fleet research facility. Meanwhile the pink, Anumii Deltar, is nicknamed "The Good Doctor" because she serves as a specialist in torture in Fleet facilities as well as being one of the medical team on a Fleet ship. They're both a little nuts.

IS IT TIME FOR FTC SHOW AND TELL

CAN I SEE YOUR INSANE WOMEN

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shot in the hip + Arinn?

from the make your whumpee limp prompt list! Thank you!!

Content Warnings: demon whumpee, implied captivity, failed escape attempt, guns/gunshot wounds

----

The woods are a blur around Arinn as he runs, panting out puffs of fog into the cold air. It is just after dawn, and they have noticed that he has escaped. The sound of their ATVs grows louder and louder, accompanied by dogs barking and taunting shouts.

And then, gunshots.

Terror chokes Arinn, makes it even harder to breathe. He looks around frantically for somewhere to duck for cover, but the forest is nothing but sparsely scattered trees and damp leaf-covered ground. There is nowhere to go but forward.

Several more shots ring out. A bullet grazes a nearby tree, sending splinters of bark flying. Arinn yelps and stumbles, just barely regaining his footing only to lose it again when something slams into him from behind. He makes a mangled sound of surprise and topples forward hard onto the cold ground.

Breathless and disoriented, Arinn turns onto his back and wheezes for air, holding his scraped, heaving chest. Slowly his senses return, and the first thing he feels is terrible agony radiating from his right hip. Arinn puts his hand over the source of the pain and panics when he finds it growing sticky with blood trickling from a wound. His pursuers grow ever-closer, more shots skimming the ground and trees around him.

Arinn forces himself to his feet and tries to stagger forward, clutching his hip with both hands to try to slow the bleeding that soaks his tattered clothes. He sobs raggedly, knowing by now that it is hopeless, that he is as good as caught. After a few steps he collapses, wailing as he lands on his injury, writhing on the ground, staining the leaves with blood.

He is barely conscious when the hounds reach him, sniffing him over and licking at his wound. The roar of the ATVs dulls to a hum and then goes silent completely, replaced by heavy footsteps. Arinn blinks up at the sky through tear-soaked lashes, too weak to even beg for mercy.

[cdralenko]

i was tagged by @rebelvakarian to make picrews of my OCs!! thank you so much, this was super cute!! 💖💖💖

arinne mahariel (dao) | luciano trevelyan (dai) | auria shepard (me) nickie murdock (fo3) | lucy hutton (fo4) | lucas greene (twc)

no pressure to any of y’all but if you’d like to do this i tag: @caitthekat @bisexualryder @drowninginthefandoms and anybody else who’s interested, please feel free to say i tagged you!

[fairlyoddwastelandremnants]

Judge the biochemist and bioweapons expert?

Be Judged by the Asassin turned Artist

Hey guys, it's been a while and I absolutely missed the fantroll community! So to celebrate my return I want to do a judgment with my gal Lilitu. Reblog with 1 character and Lilitu will tell you what she thinks!

(And thank you so much to my lovely wife for is lovely wife @clown-fuckers-r-us for her new sprites!)

[jcbs-posting]

many thoughts head full. thinking abt anin lae getting her full corruption arc in book two culminating in ben carrying her broken body out of the battleground and gently holding her hands and assuring her that he still loves her even as her guilt starts to burn her from the inside out and losing my fucking mind. tenderness as the response to incredible violence. he holds the hands that she dipped in blood and promises her that she can always choose goodness

also thinking about arinn finding blake and nick as they recover from act 1 and trying to offer her help and blake ripping into her, spilling his guts about how much he’s been in her shoes, how much he’s hated himself and everything he was and how his love used to turn people inside out and how he’s been clawing back to health on his hands and knees for years, exhausted and wishing sometimes to give up and just drown in himself but refusing to choose that because of the people who need him, who do love him, and how he understands her selfishness, but that she’s still a fucking asshole for refusing to put the actual work in and both of them ending up in tears because of it

also thinking about giving jade a more punk look to her jacket bc good god that thing is over a decade old, she’s definitely had to patch it up once or twice and maybe added her pronouns. maybe a symbol of the moon. made the only thing she has left of her father into a kind of armor for herself. sometimes when she wears it, it feels like, in a way, he’s always been protecting her

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Arinn (Vοσταλγία Winter Blurb)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Arinn: fireplace, hearth (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Winter Blurb #4. Pillowtalk and annoying priestess soft Ivar, that’s about it.

Word Count: 1312

Warnings: nope, just fluff and my writing lol. Teeny tiny bit of suggestive whatevers towards the end.

A/N: Yeah, idk what this is, but I’m Marie Kondo-ing the shit out of Nostalgia atm, so, since it sparked joy, I wrote it, and now imma share it cause why not, hopefully it sparks joy in you!

“Ivar?”

There’s few things Ivar likes more than his name on your lips, the way your voice forms around the short word, the still notable accent present even then. But, right now, it is not something he wants to hear.

But you are nothing if not insufferably stubborn. Determined, you’d call it, but Ivar prefers to call it by what it is.

“Ivar?” You move closer, and though he keeps his eyes closed you pay no mind. Your hand on the side of his face is soft and slightly cold. Again, waking up to your soft touches and your body pressed against his is something he’d kill for…but on the morning, not the middle of the night. You insist, voice breathy by his ear, “My love?”

“What.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can,” He retorts, still refusing to open his eyes. “Let me.”

“Do you still believe it?” You ask him, and Ivar bites back words of how it is the middle of the night and you both should really be sleeping, and instead turns to lay on his side with a sigh. He opens his eyes to find you wide awake, a slight furrow in your lips that tries and fails at hiding a smug smile. By all the Gods, the things he puts up with for you.

“Believe what?” He questions, not caring about stopping himself from reaching for you, trailing up and down your arm with the back of his fingers. You are always slightly cold to the touch, and at his weakest he thinks it fitting that you feel like relief from burning flames under his touch.

“That it was Fated, that…that the Gods somehow intervened for us to meet.”

“Do you?” He asks instead of giving an answer. You notice, of course you do, that he is deliberately choosing not to answer your question, but past a look that tells him he hasn’t fooled anyone, you don’t mention it.

He wants it to be true, if he is honest. On nights like these, especially now that these nights are not promised to one day be remembered as a relic of the past that has long since left him amongst those flames your cold skin saves him from; he almost believes it to be true. It seems impossible otherwise, that you are here now, that you love him and you chose him, if it wasn’t somehow mandated by the Gods that heard him too many times curse his weakness while pleading for reprieve.

If somehow the Gods sent you to him, as a reward or something else -a punishment, his sleep-addled mind complains-; then it is easier to accept it is something he can keep. The idea that it was something he did that made you stay, that made you choose him, is strangely terrifying, even if the alternative leaves him powerless, because it means there is something he can do to make you leave, to make you choose a life without him in it.

You reach with your hand for the amulet of Thor that hangs from your neck, a habit you haven’t let go of even if it is no longer your Gods that are represented in your pendant, as you consider his question.

“I don’t know,” You muse, voice quiet. Ivar lets his eyes fall closed as he offers a quiet hm of his own, a prompt for you to continue. Your voice, warm and comforting, washes over him as you say, “I was taught that the Gods may choose what happens to us, but we decide if or how we let it change us. That is something the Fates cannot decide for us.”

“Your Fates…Moirai?”

“You remember.” You whisper, almost to yourself. He hears the smile in your voice, and it fills him with pride to be the reason behind that softness in your tone, behind that openness in your smile.

“Mhm. The three women.”

“They are three women for you too, aren’t they?” He replies with another sound, something that he thinks sounds vaguely affirmative, and lets you continue talking. “Bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you. My mother and father told me that, one of the only lessons I remember from them.”

“What is it supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea.” You reply honestly. Ivar chuckles tiredly, and you offer a breathed laugh to accompany it.

“Since there aren’t lessons to answer it…what do you believe, hm?”

He almost wants to ask himself at which point he decided he was the one after answers instead of you, but he doesn’t much care for it. He does care for your answer, though.

“If the Gods, if…if Freyja or Despoina are the reason I am here…it doesn’t matter,” You find your resolve halfway through your words, and Ivar can feel his lips pulling into a faint smile. You adjust in your place, quickly regretting it when you let a cold breeze under the warm furs, and so move closer to him. He likes it when you do that, when you burrow close to him and seek his warmth. It makes him feel…powerful, in some roundabout way. Like you need him as much as he needs you, like you can trust him to take care of you. You pull back slightly to look at him, and he blinks past the lure of sleep and forces his eyes to focus on you. You offer a small smile, “They are not the reason I stay.”

He finds himself smiling back, like the lovesick fool that you’ve made out of him; but after a breath narrows his eyes and points out,

“We could talk about this come morning.”

“We are already talking about it,” You retort, shrugging one shoulder. “We ought to finish the things we start, my love.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows that just by retorting with something he will be doing exactly what you want him to, which is staying awake and keeping you company, but he is too tired to think of a strategy around it now.

So, he insists, “Not really.”

“You were the one telling me to finish what I start a couple of nights ago, if I remember correctly.”

Ivar knows what you are talking about, mostly because he can identify that smug little tone in your voice. In the dim light of the morning, he had your legs wrapped around him and you were moaning quietly against his lips as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but you were interrupted and you just…left. Ivar grew increasingly frustrated during the rest of the day, and he is certain -even if you deny it- that at some point near the afternoon you noticed, and you started making it worse by lingering more than usual on your touches, putting a bit more force in your kisses. He knows at some point during the night, when he finally had you to himself, half-mad with lust he grunted by your ear how you better finish what you start. He still remembers the way the dark and hoarse laugh you let out made a shiver run down his spine.

He grits his teeth, and insists, “Not the same.”

You remain silent for a couple of breaths, and it is enough to intrigue him into opening his eyes again. He finds you smiling a little wickedly, and can’t help the thrill that look sends down his spine.

Another little shrug, and you offer, “It could be.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, “Go to sleep.”

“Sex would help me sleep.”

“Would it help you stay quiet?”

“I don’t know if you want that. You always say you want to hear me m-…”

Ivar interrupts you, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his, cupping the back of your head and bringing you closer to him. He pretends not to feel you smiling smugly against his lips.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls @ietss​ @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @the-a-word-2214​​ @fae-sedai​​ @crazybunnyladysworld​​    @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​​ @aprilivar​​ @msrawog  

[weirdletter]

What October Brings: A Lovecraftian Celebration of Halloween, edited by Douglas Draa, Celaeno Press, 2018. Cover art by Daniele Serra, info: celaenopress.com.

Halloween, a time for laughing children in white bedsheets and superhero costumes. A time for chocolate candy, and pumpkins, and Trick-or-Treat. A time for dark things everywhere to slink out of the shadows and into our lives, reminding those unlucky few that our charades of Halloween cannot erase the centuries of history and pain behind the facade. What October Brings celebrates the dark traditions of the autumn rituals, of Halloween and Samhain, in homage to the uniquely fascinating fiction of H.P. Lovecraft. Masters of the short story offer you a ‘once in a lifetime’ Trick-or-Treat experience... perhaps your last!

Contents: Introduction, by Douglas Draa That Small, Furry, Sharp-toothed Thing, by Paul Dale Anderson x  Waters Strangely Clear, by Ran Cartwright The House on Jimtown Road, by Ran Cartwright No Other God But Me, by Adrian Cole Down into Silence, by Storm Constantine Spider Wasp, by Tim Curran The Old Man Down the Road, by Arinn Dembo The War on Halloween, by Cody Goodfellow The Immortician, by Andre E. Harewood Nyarlahotep Came Down to Georgia, by Nancy Holder Summer’s End, by Erica Ruppert A Night for Masks, by Brian M. Sammons Inheritance, by Ann K. Schwader Uncle’s in the Treetops, by Darrell Schweitzer Hum—Hurt You. Hum—Hurt You. Hum—Hurt You , by John Shirley Cosmic Cola, by Lucy A. Snyder Hell Among the Yearlings, by Chet Williamson

[fairlyoddwastelandremnants]

Arinne has a unicorn lusus and sometimes I just giggle about it because she's the most unethical scientist and she just,, comes home and unicorn mom is like c:

[osnapitscookie]

Treatment Trauma

So there has been a lot of talk about trauma. Like how the things that happened to you as a kid, will bleed over into your adult life. That type of stuff. I have a different kind trauma tho, I want to bring to the forefront…. Treatment Trauma!! You might be thinking, what in the world is Arinn talking about?? If you follow my IG, FB page and here, you know I get a lot of treatments to keep my RA…

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shrink Arinn and give to Shae :)

Shrink Ray

CW: tiny whumpee, demon whumpee, captivity, experimentation, lab whump, shrunk, tail whump, broken bones, dislocation, caretaking, pain medicine, passing out, open ended

----

"What a rare one you are," the self-proclaimed scientist muses. He looms over Arinn, who is now mere inches tall and lying terrified on the lab table.

The man takes the demon's tail between his fingers in a way he probably considers gentle, but to Arinn it's like being clamped in a vise. When he cries out and tries to squirm out of his grip, it only tightens. Brittle bones snap like twigs and Arinn wails at the top of his tiny lungs.

"Where to put you..."

To Arinn's horror, his captor lifts him from the table. Even at this size his weight is too much for his fragile, broken tail. It pulls taut and pops as several joints dislocate at once. The pain makes him dizzy and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

By the time he is set inside a tank, Arinn is almost hyperventilating. He can't move his tail, can only feel it throb and twitch on the ground. A shadow falls over him when the man puts the enclosure's lid back on and locks it tight. Then the whole room darkens as he turns out the lights and leaves.

The moment he is gone Arinn hears the patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Through his blurry vision he just barely makes out a figure kneeling beside him.

"Are you okay?"

Arinn can't answer. He gasps and reaches a trembling hand for his tail, wanting to hold it, soothe it, keep it safe...

His cellmate gasps too.

"Oh...that looks bad..."

Fingers that aren't his own touch Arinn's tail and he shakes his head urgently, whimpering "ah - please d-don't - it h-hurts..."

The touch disappears with a soft 'sorry!' from its source.

"I'm Shae," says that same little voice. "He caught me, too. What's your name?"

Arinn takes a few deep breaths. "Arinn."

"Hold on, Arinn...I have something that will help..."

Footsteps fade away again. Trembling, Arinn curls up on his side and watch as the little creature hurries into a fake, decorative cave-like structure. Inside sits half a pill. Shae chips some of it off with a sharp pebble and collects it into a cup the size of a thimble. Arinn closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again Shae has returned to his side.

"Can you sit up? I have medicine. For the pain."

Slowy, carefully, Arinn props himself up and leans back against the wall of the tank. He glances down at his tail and touches it gingerly. Then he looks at Shae, taking in his weary but kind face for the first time. Something about him eases Arinn's frayed nerves. He hands Arinn the cup full of water mixed with the crushed pill.

"It's human strength, so it's strong," he warns.

"Good," Arinn breathes. He drinks the whole thing in just a few gulps. Panting, he wipes his mouth on his arm and leans his head back against the glass.

Shae sits beside him and folds his hands in his lap.

"You'll be okay. He doesn't hurt us on purpose...usually. He just...collects us."

Arinn tips his head to one side to look at him.

"How long have you been here?" he asks.

"...too long." Shae pulls his knees up to his chest. "I don't even know what season it is."

"Spring."

"...then, almost a year."

Arinn feels sick at the thought. This is only one tank of many that take up shelves lining the whole room. He looks around and can make out other small figures in most of them. Some peer back at him from their own prisons, their gazes hollow and hopeless.

Alex will find me, he thinks. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on that thought, forcing himself to hang onto it no matter how impossible it seems.

Soon the medicine kicks in, bringing sweet relief. All the tension eases from him. He starts to droop to one side, and Shae catches him and eases him into his lap. He holds Arinn as he falls asleep.

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

Top 5 OCs/OC moments you are excited to explore!! 💖

AAAA THIS IS SUCH A SWEET QUESTION GRAY THANK YOU!! this is so hard tho oh god

Jadyn Cultwhin (my oldest fully formed oc, and unabashedly my favorite ;~; she)

Ben Keighley (*slaps top of he head* this guy can fit so much aching in him)

Anin Keighley (goes in tandem with Ben. Their relationship makes me so normal)

The big fight/showdown between Arinn, Serena, and everyone else. I just *clenches fist* want so many fucked up things to happen at once and then the guilt to come breaking down on Arinn's shoulders. putting everyone in the pear wiggler. c'mon

Honestly a lot of the side characters backgrounds/roles! I really want to dive into everyone's personal tragedies and saving graces and how they interact with their own losses and each others, and how that makes some of them cruel and others kind and etc. I wanna talk about how Naomi's life passion was weaponized against her. I wanna talk about Aiyden's scars and grief. I wanna show the team meeting [REDACTED] and what that means for everyone both personally and as a wider systemic solution. I just *bites directly into my wall* would LOVE to actually flesh out this story someday hglksjg

[jcbs-posting]

Arinn and Anin as two different kinds of rage:

one which is a reaction, an initial response; nature, instinct, gut

and one which is a last resort, the kind that’s bottled up flaming and kicked under the bed to rot until it burns down the whole house; clumsy, unknown, irresponsible

Anin knows exactly what to do with her anger. She is calculated in her rage because it’s all she knows, it’s all that’s ever kept her safe. Arinn doesn’t. She’s always been afraid of her own anger, seen all the damage it can do in the hands of others and now that it’s her turn? She has no idea what she’s capable of. She’s so very afraid but also so beyond caring.

Anin is a steel blade. Intentionally built for destruction, intentionally an extension of her rage, lashing out with intent to resist and to cut and to maim.

Arinn is a stovetop gas fire. Created for sustenance, touched by the wrong fumes. Explosive, lethal even in antithesis to its purpose.

Anin’s anger is the only thing she thinks is safe. Arinn’s anger is the one thing she fears most.

[thorraborinn]

I’ve been meaning to add an addition for clarification to this for a while. I was going to add a whole bunch of info about what we know about the actual use of hearths in worship in pre-Christian times, but it’s actually quite a lot and I haven’t gotten around to it.

Actual literal hearths (arinn), both indoor and outdoor; inside of homesteads, at public places, and likely also in restricted spaces like women’s work areas; probably both separately including normal everyday cooking fires in the home as well as fire pits designated specifically for ritual use; were in fact part of pre-Christian worship, probably a very important part. This is just quite a bit different from the bundle of concepts that they call “the hearth cult.”

I know that more than zero people read my post as suggesting that literal hearths were not part of worship, and I’ve been meaning to correct it since. My gripe isn’t the literal hearths, it’s they way some heathens construct the metaphorical one. The fact that there were public hearths (or at least, there were fire pits located at hofs in Iceland that were accessible by a wide range of people that seem to have been designated for ritual purposes) tells you right away that this is something other than what is being described as “the hearth cult.”

Another point of clarification: I don’t really care what terms people use for anything. As long as you’re not doing the “redefine an Old Norse word to backdate your own beliefs into Old Norse times” thing, I consider the names we use for stuff to be basically arbitrary. So if you are referring to [worship at/using a hearth] as “hearth cult” that’s totally fine by me. If you’re referring to your own private worship at home as “hearth cult,” you’re not even what I’m criticizing here and by all means continue. If you personally vibe with what The Longship is suggesting here then don’t stop doing it, but do it because it seems right to you and not in obedience to a contrived tradition being handed to you.

I keep seeing the notion of heathen hearth cult eg I’ve read comments of heathens saying they “skipped hearth cult yesterday because they were tired” or “I’ll join you later once I’ve done hearthcult.”

But whenever I’ve looked any deeper it seems the notion of hearth as a religious focus is more related to Greek/Roman pagan traditions.

I’m not disparaging the practice, but it doesn’t seem very historically accurate.

What’re your thoughts on this?

There’s a higher-than-normal risk of me talking out my ass about something I’m uninformed about here, because I honestly don’t really pay much attention to the online heathen spaces where this sort of stuff proliferates. But yeah, we have very little evidence for how at-home worship was done among Norse people. Not no evidence, but I don’t see a lot of influence from Völsa þáttr and St. Birgitta’s missionary work in Sweden on modern heathen hearth cult stuff.

I don’t think there’s actually anything wrong with hearth cult existing, it makes sense to me given that we are all so atomized even when we don’t have a pandemic going on but the idea that it’s “the most important, foundational practice in Heathenry” (from the Longship website) comes from absolutely nowhere and it’s a serious problem that the same sector of internet heathenry that pushes it is constantly vying for their articulation of heathenry as the objective, universalist one. They’ve managed to both insist on our fundamental, irresolvable isolation from each other and still dictate what we’re allowed to do.

Recently I’ve been recommending this book a lot, and I’m going to do it again... An Arena for Higher Powers by Olle Sundqvist makes it incredibly clear that at least in the times and places where we can compare and contrast saga descriptions with archaeological evidence, we can’t isolate private worship from social connections, positions, obligations. Admittedly, it’s exactly what we would expect to have better evidence for public (and legally important) forms of worship and celebration. But the idea that individual approaches to religious practice were fundamental rather than being in flux and reciprocal co-determination with collective approaches, or that either of these weren’t, in turn, in reciprocal co-determination with the changing social, political, and material circumstances of the Migration Age, the Viking Age, the settlement of Iceland, the formation of kingdoms, etc, etc, etc.......... is a bad idea.

It’s telling that on the Longship site they start the page on hearth cult by universalizing Durkheim as if we have learned nothing in the last hundred years, yet there is not one single reference to any pre-modern text. Abstract theoretical models are more real to these people than reality is. On their reading list they also don’t list any primary sources until the end of their suggested self-education, I guess we’re not prepared to listen to the stories our ancestors told until we’ve properly internalized early-to-mid-20th century analytics.

I have concerns that I think most people will find alarmist or overblown about Neoplatonist entryism into heathenry. I encourage heathens to read up on Neoplatonism (a lot of my own knowledge of the subject comes from these podcasts: https://historyofphilosophy.net/ and https://shwep.net/) because it’s an interesting subject for study anyway, to better understand the various lineages of Western thought generally, and so that you can recognize it when it enters heathen discourse. And if someone finds it more fulfilling than heathen reconstructionism then, cool, that’s great. But let’s please be honest about it, and I’m personally not interested in participating.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

hello! i have a nostalgia winter question/request if you would like! we saw in Κόρη that the priestess was starting to take a more forward-facing role in kattegat that put her in situations that made ivar just a teeeeny bit jealous—but I wanted to ask if there were ever times where priestess was jealous? i remember forever ago freydis mentioning that earls used to shove their daughters at him, would truly hate to be the one who didn’t hear that he’s p fond of his wife!

Hi sweetheart! Of course, I always welcome these!

She is a tad territorial by nature, we've seen it before. We've also seen he is really into her being a lil possesive lol

I hadn't really thought about something like, but omfg you betcha that a piece on it is coming. I love the idea behind it so much, thank you so much, I've already started writing it lol.

I'll hopefully get Arinn finished today and post a piece on a jealous Reader/'that's my wife!' Ivar tomorrow or the day after that. Two pieces, actually, cause I have 0 impulse control and I wanna write more smut (¬‿¬)

Btw, I'm still baffled that you guys remember things like that Freydis line about Ivar not taking a woman to his bed, it makes me all mushy inside to think you care about this story enough to remember the little things, so thank you so much!

Sending you my love, thank you for requesting this!! I'll get it done as soon as I can!

[wovenstarlight]

rambling about ocs

ihani of the viridian tides (cis female, she/her; bi)

“I wanna eat some ice cream!” “is... is that the whole tub?” “...Maybe so.” “ihani,” “You can’t stop me!” “babe, please dont eat the whole tub of ice cream-” [ihani looks mikir dead in the eye as she shoves an entire chunk of solid ice cream into her mouth and promptly gets brainfreeze]

impulsive disaster

easily distracted, but once she’s fixated on something she’s stubborn as all hell

extremely friendly to people when she first meets them. trusts easily and doesn’t let go of that trust quickly

natural leader, you can’t help but get dragged along with her boundless energy

super perceptive but bad at processing it so she’ll notice stuff but won’t understand what it means until wayyy later

best subject is math; favourite subject is physics

mikir of the weeping cliffs (demigirl, she/her or occasionally they/them; lesbian)

“ihani, i love you so much, but im about 99% sure that doing that is going to kill you.” “Haha, don’t worry about it! I got this!” “BABE NO WAIT-”

gets anxious very easily/is super cautious

cares for all her friends like an extra mom

doesn’t trust easily but once you’ve earned her trust she’s a ride or die friend

kind to people mostly for ihani’s sake. she gets upset when mikir is rude to someone ihani considers okay

really intelligent; thinks through all her decisions carefully and as a result is the advisor to the group

best subject is chemistry; favourite subject is english (is super into studying languages, ciphers, other language-related fuckery; is fluent in 4 languages including serhin and is learning a fifth)

jaxeh of the shadow seekers (trans male, he/him; heteroromantic ace)

“JAXEH WHAT’S UP-” “ihani please” “Ah, sorry, I’ll be quiet. Anyway, you wanna come with me to the goods house? Xepho’s working and I wanna keep her company.” “youre going to prank her while shes working” “...” “thats not good you know if you get caught youll be struck from the duty slots” “...” “fine lets go i have a shitton of glitter back at my house”

his magic lets him see/hear/interact with the dead, which has shaped a good deal of his personality

is generally serious, not easily distracted from his topic/goal

will occasionally say super chaotic stuff but in his usual deadpan and his expression doesn’t change at all so everyone wonders if they imagined it

has headaches from all the ghosts talking; he’s pretty quiet and doesn’t like loud noises. frequently carries his noise-cancelling headphones

doesn’t always think through his actions and see their implications

because of this, he mostly lets other people (currently mikir/xepho and sometimes ihani) decide stuff for him

a tiny bit socially anxious- he doesn’t like taking a leading role or acting differently from the “norm” unless he’s following someone else. too much focus on him alone makes him nervous

best subject is history, favourite subject is music

xepho of the silver trails (genderfluid, he/she/they; pan)

“IHANI MY DARLING!!! HOW ARE YOU MY BEST FRIEND?” “I’m fine, Xeph! Got a class, so I gotta rush- sorry, I’ll talk to you later :D” “Thats alright you go ahead! Wouldnt want you to be late.”

“Mikir am I right in saying Ihani doesnt have any class right now?” “yeah, why?” “...She seemed worried about something. You might want to talk to her you know since she trusts you most.”

picked up the art of Being Trustable unintentionally from their diplomat mothers

puts up a front of being overdramatic, overfriendly, and loud; like ihani but More

is a self-proclaimed idiot- pretends to not hear or understand certain things

they’re actually rather quiet, clever and observant

very careful about what they say and how they say it

their decisions, similar to mikir’s, are extremely deeply thought out

are very good at analysing people and correctly predicting whether they can be trusted; they seem to be quick to trust but it’s really just them being perceptive

trust a lot of people but only Trust a handful, the latter of whom they would die for

best subject is english, favourite subject is psychology

ambassador blackthorn pond (nonbinary, fae/faer; demi)

fae has trouble with differentiating between similar sounds- b and p mostly, but also to a lesser degree t/d, g/k, s/z, etc.

is a snarky little shit

not a massive fan of humans, low on trust reserves when it comes to them- but extremely friendly and caring with other Fae or daemons

is civil to others if not well known, but relentlessly teases those fae is close to

(more to be added)

tejasezo (cis male, he/him; aroace)

Big Anxiety

(more to be added!)

arinn of the spirits (trans female, she/her; straight)

to be added