#at least I can pretty much drawing either of them on command now

[alksnd]

I didn’t end up making it that much longer so I’m just posting the full comic as one big post! This was really fun to draw 😭🤲💕 I love them sm

[spoiled-fawn]

Lust by Nature {Part 1}

Masterlist, Part 2, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) slightly dubious consent, (eventual) Somno, he wants you but is stubborn, violence, succubus reader, sexual tension, reader is given a callsign, minimal descriptions of reader, will update tags as I go

Word Count: 4,015

Summary: A demon by nature; a succubus. Now finally designated to a team, you’re a pilot in how demons and hybrid creatures alike can change the war. However, your previous commanders didn't account for a man too stubborn for his own good. Captain Price stands firm in his morals and ethics, developed by his hardened years in the SAS. You, a lustful little devil, will put him to the test.

And maybe along the way, he’ll put your nature to the test.

A/N: For my own logistics, reader was born seemingly human but the traits and magic did not solidify until reaching adult years, making you appear youthful while stuck in that age. This was originally going to be PWP but I sit here 20k words later... I hope ye enjoy!

Being a far descendant of a fallen angel, you could laugh at the pitiful life you’ve led yourself into.

You’re a pretty thing- beautiful, really. Full of allure and a natural aura of sin that draws others in with a simple look. The blood that pumps and fuels your magic has been alive for a long, long time.

Boredom is a constant in the life of the soulless and damned. It’s agonizingly blurry if you don't set a task or just choose to meander around the world but fortunately for you, you’ve got quite the life ahead of you.

Coming from a state-of-the-art high-security prison base, you’re technically a super soldier with a special drawback. Needing humans to fuel your power; you suck the life out of them, literally, and take energy from their sexual desires and touch.

It’s almost the brunt of the joke when you answer the question of what you are, feeling each time such an expectant shame and laugh to be cast upon you like heavy stones.

A succubus.

Long-acting jester of the demons taken for a lust-driven fool.

Being detained early on in your young lifespan, you were trained to be used as a weapon. Not of mass destruction, but rather something to make these stupid games of war go by so much easier. Not having to slay countless bodies for information and getting a damn good meal from the lives you stole (maybe a few quickies when your superiors weren’t looking), it’s a considerably content life compared to others.

Graduating from training after a few decades was quite the celebration for you and the officials who have been overseeing you for a plethora of years. The military had found a suitable team for you, and you were designated to be put under the supervision of an elite task force.

Supernatural beings were not uncommon in the military, as a large amount were free to live their lives if docile. In the lands of gods and monsters, the humans still held supreme reign over the controlled populations. However, beings similar to you were quick to be captured and either trained or distributed- the world turning a blind eye to what you were capable of achieving in the good and the bad.

John Price. The name stuck to your tongue like you were thirsty and you had a thick paste in your mouth.

No, not semen. At least not yet.

Being appointed to Task Force 141 was exciting. It’s your first time with this much trust, but you know you’d never fuck around too much to land you back to your containment. Captain Price had steely eyes locked onto your form the moment you stepped out of the convoy; high-security cuffs around your wrists and a large band of metal wrapped around your torso. The assumption is to keep you from shapeshifting or lashing out at anyone now that you’re out from the heavy locks and fences.

To everyone else, you looked human. Nothing amiss besides the heavy security detail on your body.

“Captain Price.” Your General’s voice rings out for you, greeting him with a firm handshake.

“General, pleasure.” His eyes dart away from you to greet the man, and you take a small dissatisfaction at the notion, your eyes traversing the expanse of him, already ruminating and calculating his presence.

He’s strong. His energy is sturdy; A cement wall that has cracks laced upon itself, layers of bonding to cover them up and just barely sanded over to appear brand new. His physical appearance leaves your internal senses giddy with the sense of a new adventure. If you’d release your glamour illusion, your tail would be swaying slowly.

The contract was simple; Your powers would be used in specific operations under Price’s command. You were his, and his only, not being allowed to act under any other authority. Behave well and you’ll be integrated more into society by his terms, but the worse you were, the worse your containment.

Your payment? Being able to form a bond with Price, one that will satisfy your demon, while being sure to keep you useful.

The etymology humans created portrayed a slew of differing conditions for succubi contracts, most being a damning thing to land humans a hot spot in hell. Being able to create this tie meant that they’d be your selected mate while they’d bear your mark to ward off any other demons. Under this, it barricaded you from killing said person. Instead, the feeding would come from sexual desire, touch, and yes, semen.

Watching Price, the flames of your creation begin to already yearn for his touch.

It's with a simple handoff of your file, a thick manilla envelope, that gets passed off to Price with no other words spoken, and you can’t help but marvel at how they treat your ownership like a back alley drug. The General nods towards you, speaking your name before the simple “But we just call her Little Devil.” A small twitch of Price's mouth makes you wonder if he disapproves.

“She may be a demon but keep her well-kept, Price. Your trial run in this program is going to do more than change war tactics.” 

Shifting the envelope in his hands, Price takes a survey of how much documentation they have on just your captive existence. There could be some good and some bad, maybe all bad but the chance of letting a temperamental half-demon could cause serious repercussions to both sides. Hypothetically. 

“We’ll be in touch.” Price responds, the forced-looking grin making the blue of his eyes slightly disappear for a moment. A nod of his head, then attention back on you while judging how to best go about this.

“You speak…?”

It sets a bristle off inside you with an internal scoff. The chance to insult him for accusing you of being either incompetent or something of the silent type settles, but your probation period keeps you inside the lines of behavior. “Yes, Captain.”

When he hears your voice; It sounds ethereal. Like the crisp jingle bells while the sound is eclipsed if not swallowed by soft and red velvet.

A small tick of his right eyebrow was the only movement accompanying a hum in acknowledgment. “Right, well. Let’s get you settled in then.”

With the queue of acceptance, the General brings a small key from a pocket unbeknownst to you, moving to unlock the cuffs. There’s humor in watching you, the new operator being uncuffed while accepted onto base- and hey, maybe you could ponder the religious message it brings forward too.

But there’s not enough time for that notion.

Walking off the tarmac and into the nearby administrative building brings steady heed of stares. “So… Your previous situation. Was told it was more of a containment type of thing. Would you mind speaking on that?” Price’s toned-down voice comes out after more than a few paces into the building, leading you towards a stairwell into the third floor.

“The best way to describe it in normalcy would be similar to what you human soldiers do here- the barracks. Just imagine its very high security.” It takes a moment to draw up the answer, having expected the man to be as nitwitted as the normal “A sex demon, huh?” question asked in every new encounter.

 “You’ve always been in that situation?”

The clicking of both sets of feet confidently strikes the ground. A sense louder than the random soldiers milling around you and the lack thereof as others stop and stare in bewilderment.

“No. Not sure if you’re making small talk or haven’t read my file yet, but my demonic integration did not start manifesting until I was in my early adult years. Got turned in when I was walking around the streets in full form. No control whatsoever on shifting.” 

A broken-off hum leaves the man, sensing the almost frazzled static around him as he works to keep walking while maintaining an eye on you. “I have. Just wanted to hear it from you.” Truthfully, if you were in his place with an unshackled demon that had years of military experience walking alongside you, you’d have some sense of fear too. “And how long ago was that? When you matured?”

Eyeing him for a moment, he looks mid-40s if anything. Handsome, worn down from war so possibly a bit younger. “Quite some time ago. I’d say when your parents were born, Captain.”

He stops in a mid-step, balances perfectly set before turning to whirr his head at you. Eyes give an up-down motion on you before ticking his jaw. “Huh.”

He pushes his way through a wall of soldiers to an office door before opening it. “And how old-”

“Body stopped aging when all the changes settled. A second sense of puberty that I’m locked into.” The small upturn of your lips doesn’t pass him. All he can do is nod in response.

He makes his way to the desk against the back corner of his office room; The space is a good size, Having enough for his L-shaped desk with two chairs in front of it. A worn-in leather couch on an adjacent wall while a few framed documents hang on the wall, military in nature with medals attached to them while undusted fake plants serve as accents in the corners.

“Very well,” He gives a soft grunt when adjusting himself in his seat before opening up the large manilla folder. “You, are going to be judged based on your nature and human interaction during your uncontained enlistment. Ability to perform assignments, be of aid, and see what your specific capabilities can put forward with us.”

Head nodding in check with each item listed, “Understood, Captain.”

His blue eyes leave the documents for a moment to find your gaze already on him. “You’ve got a good rapport with every previous task, but your previous COs still didn’t state trust as a key factor. Why would that be?”

For a moment, you get lost in the focus of his body language; Price folds his arms over the table, holding his elbows as the pages become spread over his desk. The way he purses his lips after a question that holds an answer he will depend on. His lips make a small smack in the action, and it's cute in the way he’s so human.

“I didn’t trust them.”

An eyebrow arches at the vague response prompting you to continue. “Kept me like a lab animal, fed me or let me feed when deemed easy for them to write off in the report. That’s not how you treat a demon when expecting to use their powers, sir.” 

“And this feeding… There’s multiple ways listed here but to be frank- I’ve still yet to get my head wrapped around it. You’re a sex demon, yeah?”

Ah. There it is.

His eyes dart down to the few pages that cover your needs and methods of survival, studying the paragraphs of information. A how to keep your demon alive handbook if you will.

“The premise of everything I need stems from what is deemed as life force, or just called energy. Sex is easy, and feels the most satisfying.” A breath before continuing. “ But relying on just energy wont last me long, yet its easier in some situations. Those barely alive are easy to take from.”

He knows there's more to be had with you. A temptress trained well with a pedigree in what you were made for. But he can only hypothesize. “And what are you expecting from being here?”

A look of surprise flashes in the widening of your eyes, not used to someone asking in consideration. “I’m expecting more hostiles, interrogations, or kills that I could take to feed myself. And sex too.”

“Oh-” A half cough leaves him before looking to the side. Surely he should have known, it's stereotypical but at least true.

“If you want me at full strength, I’m going to need the energy. I’m sure you could understand that, Sir?” The small tilt of your head, almost an aloof look sends alarm bells into his mind. They wouldn’t have sent a succubus in here without some sort of plan already being formed, some procedure and measure being used to-

“I am expecting to form a relationship with you, Captain.”

And at that, a full choked sound leaves him. He deserves doubled pension for this.

“And in what right mind, was that established in, hm?” He grounds out, opening a desk drawer to pull out a cigar before taking a cutter to the end of it. You measure the time it takes for him to light it and take a first steady puff.

“Well, the way I see it- and having discussed it with my previous superiors, this is supposed to mirror a real dynamic. This is the only point of contact to report on my behavior. I don’t think engaging in what I need would go over well if I went wild with other operators or soldiers around the base. Confirm or deny?”

Price’s eyes narrow as you speak, dragging his gaze away to stare at his locked computer screen. A grunt in the back of his throat sounds before taking another inhale of his cigar. For a man who has been fighting on the front lines for countless years, he keeps the smoke in for a steady amount of time. Healthy lungs. Good for him. 

You haven’t tried a cigar, only have gotten a whiff of the burning tobacco coming from superiors. This smell is the lingering one you picked up on Price even when standing on the tarmac. Sweet, vanille and tobacco leaves.

“You said your previous company spoke on this with you.” He starts with a swift movement to rifle through the pages on his desk. “This in writing or are you taking the piss now?” He speaks in a deep grumble, holding the burning cigar between his lips.

An internal groan rattles your mind, already sensing this may be more of a struggle than ease of getting what you were promised. “Last few pages. It’s all in writing.” He seemed like a sensible man in the way that if a warm and inviting body was laid out to him while asking for himself, he’d take it.

“Commanding officer is to set an established and cohesive exchange, herein the succubus will be fed from a relationship in physical and sexual natures while in exchange not damaging or harming the officer.” His accent slides in a bit more thickly than you’ve heard up until now, eyebrows scrunched while he mumbles the page to himself. “And why in the bloody hell, was this not communicated to me beforehand?”

You can’t control the wry smirk that steals your lips while looking at him, trying not to laugh. “They thought it would be a no-brainer.” A pause, “Sir.”

Plucking the cigar out of his mouth, Price sighs while leaning back in his chair seemingly defeated. “You sufficed well without any previous relation in the company, there’s no evidence that this will turn out well.” His eyes now land on you in a quick movement.

“As I mentioned-” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No. I’m not going to sleep with my subordinate, less so one that can kill me if so pleases.” The uptick of his chin bleeds with firmness, a decision that screams arrogance of finality. 

Settling down in a way that almost matches his, your jaw ticks. “Yes, sir.”

And truthfully it's all you can say. Agree and accept to stay here and be the guinea pig for others like you. You can warn all you want but by the devil himself, humans won’t learn until their wrongs meet them in their face.

“If I could so much as advise you, Captain;” Your chin dipping, licking the front of your teeth, and feeling the small prick of your dormant fangs. He nods for you to continue, “If you want me at my full capacity, I will need every ounce of energy I can get. You’re going to need to keep that in the back of your head. It’s not simple like a meal you eat. It’s a life I take or the sex I make.”

Now, a quick smile flashes over him only disappearing when he takes a long, longer drag of the cigar. “I’ll keep that in mind, Demon.” Sitting up straighter, leaning on the desk again.

“But whether or not you are a good girl, depends on what ethics I choose to apply.” The smoke puffs out in small bursts as he speaks, tendrils leading up toward heaven before it stills in limbo at the weight of it.

—

The men- your teammates, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, each greeted you with somewhat seasoned restraint and respect by holding their tongues yet their eyes spoke their curiosity while roaming over you.

You could see the disappointment in their eyes. Being met with a seemingly normal human was not what they had been briefed on. Having let their imagination run wild at the title of a succubus, you’d guess they would have wanted to see every aspect of what kind of mystical enchantress you would be. Once the disappointment of not seeing such things the churches pray against, the view of your human form set in.

Lords above you were the finest piece of- 

It felt like a surefire version of winning the lottery to have you assigned to them. Banking on the fact that you’d be their little guard dog and they yours, Gaz already having to scare recruits away at PT while you stared on with a coy smile. Training was as you’d have expected. Executions of strategies, questioning of tactics, and scoring your shooting were all within the long hours of the day. What you hadn’t expected was the lack of insults thrown your way in passing when you met their standards. No degrading words of being a a demon, or a slut by association of your breed.

It was two weeks before you were allowed to come on an assignment with them; The mission in the bitter snow of the Russian Tundra. 

12 hours in and having stormed a bunker with countless bodies already strewn across, blood stains the polished cement and a flicker of sinister delusion makes you wish the snow was this color.

Tattered remains of your shirt sleeves show the color of your skin underneath, but miraculously no wounds present themselves even as your kevlar has obvious points of damage. The sight of you standing, gun raised and firing quick bursts of succession as the last body falls to the ground. It’s like a scene out of a soldier's bible.

Your chest heaves, mouth opens to lick your teeth as the adrenaline slows its production in your blood. Price is sure that if he put a body cam on you, it would be a haze of movements, a shadow clouding up the corners of the screen and filled with static. He’s still not sure what to think of you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Quiet and speaking only when spoken to. And it’s not what he was prepared for; The thick dossier of yours being filled with reprimands, complaints, and classified lines that hid your after-action reports with details on your kill count.

From the first meeting, he knew you were spoiled rotten in that compound, save the punishments given on your worst days. You knew how to get what you wanted. Bitting time and time again to still be fed. Yet, now all he can see is you biting at others if only to protect your men.

“Saint.” The spur of Price’s voice makes you jump, the scene of death halting, eyes darting to a stack of crates where he lays. His squinted eyes lock onto your form, trailing up and down for a moment before he tries to adjust himself with a grunt.

“Who?” You ask while taking a secondary cautious sweep of the room before moving to him in a quick few steps.

“You, sweetheart. Saint.” 

His grunt of pain doesn’t faze you, instead focusing the whiff of a sweeter metallic smell hits you. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Ghost, Gaz, and Soap have the outside perimeter locked down with getaway snowmobiles at Price’s word. He touches the side of his com to activate it, roughly alerting them you both had cleared the floor and will need to medevac in the next coming moments.

“Let me get that for you.” It was a severe contrast to the inhumane growling and yelling from moments before as you tore into the enemies, ones that had you in a blind rage for landing a shot on Price.

Shaking his head, he reaches out his hand to stop you. “‘M fine, just need a quick patch. We need to leave.” He grounds out, leaning forward while covering the wound on his thigh.

Common knowledge brought the understanding that succubi had a level of regenerative power, but most not having been raised in military secrecy or being able to develop themselves into having control.

“Stop. Just-” A breath settles in your lungs, measuring itself and the expanse of what you could do- how you could help and be useful. The previous rage and fight instincts transform with concentration and the swirling of conjuration. “I need a little…” You trail off, eyes sweeping upwards to his.

There’s a shame that humans hold. You blame it on them being entirely born of boring flesh, but that would be hypocritical to an extent. Taking his vest in hand, you pull yourself forward to lean in.

“What the bloody-” Price jerks back but can't even finish as you sush him, giving him a deep stare that almost sedates him. He stills and quiets at the same time, now holding your gaze that he swears he saw the current color be flooded by a deep red.

He blinks for a moment, already trying to fight the small calming waves you push into him but the sudden feeling of long talons priking into his shirt makes him freeze. Like an animal with food aggression, you keep him there while moving in to bring your lips together. 

You can taste a bit of blood, and the saltiness of his sweat, while trying not to groan at just how good he feels against you. His lips are surprisingly plump, probably from being irritated due to the cold, but it adds a level of eroticness to feel his wet lips slide over yours. 

“Stay still for me.” You pause the kiss that he’s surprisingly reciprocating eagerly, breathing into each other's mouths. The soft plea drives his heart rate up and you can feel the sense of adrenaline spiking. He’s going to sleep like a fucking brick tonight.

He shudders when you come back together with more force, purposefully dragging the tip of your fangs against his bottom lip as you crowd him. 

There. 

There is the sickly sweet thrum of arousal in his body that makes his mind stir, what you could give in a bastardized excuse of lust right now.

“Mmm, give me a minute.” Comes your wet slurred speech when pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you focus on on his bullet wound.

The sight of you could be his glory to fight. Tattered from battle, your lips are tinted red, clothes dirty from the gunpowder floating in the air, looking as if so carelessly lethal while your presence is a magnet to him. He's already caught himself wondering why you were chosen to represent a being that fell so far from heaven when your instincts screamed the opposite in small moments.

Looking down to be sure he’s healed just enough, you miss the look of blatant shock he gives when the pink and unmarred flesh greets his eyes. “A right fuckin’ saint you are.” He murmurs, watching you call the boys for exfil, no longer medevac.

[givemeanaccountalready]

The Anti-Team 7, Formally Known as Team 6 (Komorebi)

First, I’d like to thank the wonderful @pumiih for drawing my little heathens. You made them (and Naruto) so beautiful.

It’s kind of funny. I picked the number 6 as their team number because Naruto would be the sixth Hokage (Kakashi is serving as Tsunade’s Jounin Commander for now) in my little AU world. I then learned that Team 6 was the number given to Jiraiya’s team with Minato and I thought, “Well, that’s a better reason to keep it as Team 6,” so here I am.

The Word doc that I made to actually plot this thing out to a degree has the title above for the Naruto-sensei arc. That’s somewhat touched on briefly before Naruto meets his team in the flesh, where he’s joking with Sakura that “This is their Sasuke, this is our you, and this is our me,” as the two of them look over the files Tsunade gave him. And he’s technically not entirely wrong about it lol. They just have really superficial connections to the OG Team 7. I even asked Pumiih to put them in the same order as the Team 7 picture. I haven’t posted it yet, but fic will be called Komorebi which translates to, “sunlight filtering through trees,” and I liked the imagery of that, so that’s the name.

Anti-Sasuke: Chitose Hyuuga 🍬 (prestigious clan with magic eyes)

Anti-Naruto: Kaito Isobe 🪁 (orphan, known troll)

Anti-Sakura: Tsurigane Kashiwagi 🔔 (girl)

I feel slightly bad for reducing Tsuri to that but I’m laughing too hard at the summary to care. She is probably the easiest anti-parallel to spot. Whereas Sakura didn’t really have an overarching goal until the Forest Death scene, Tsuri is the only one on Team 6 with an overarching dream/goal. She wants to gain Kage level strength, even though she doesn’t necessarily want the hat, and go down in history as a legendary kunoichi. Tsuri pretty much has a five year plan, meanwhile, Chitose is doing this ninja stuff because it’s what Hyuuga do, and Kaito is simply trying to earn a living until he finds something else that he likes. There is enough internalized misogyny in this girl to power a small village. You can thank her parents for that one. Tsuri despises fan girl behavior and she even lost a friendship over her best friend choosing to like and giggle over a boy. Eventually, she’ll reconcile with her, but for now, no. Very stubborn, very bull-headed, and very driven, Tsuri does not do things by halves.

Chitose is probably the least anti-parallel of the three, since her story revolves around bonds just like Sasuke’s had. Whereas Sasuke formed new bonds within Team 7 and wanted to protect them until Itachi and the Sound 4 happened, causing him to think he needed to sever his bonds and fuel his hatred to achieve his goals, Chitose’s story is a bit different. She wants to form bonds with others, and while she doesn’t have a deeply traumatic backstory, Chi definitely has some serious hang-ups stemming from the divide between the main branch and cadet branches of the Hyuuga family. She is not close to Neji or Hinata, but she has seen them grow into stronger, happier individuals because of their teammates and the work they do, and she wants that growth too.

While she does not have the Caged Bird Seal, Chi knows that’s only due to who her sensei is and not because the clan has changed its mind. Hinata is doing her best to change the Hyuuga’s ways after the war, but at the very beginning of the story, it seems more unlikely than not. Chi and the rest of Team 6 are about 6 years younger than Naruto so Chi couldn’t have possibly been sealed on Hinata’s third birthday like Neji was. She was going to get the Caged Bird once she either finished the Academy and became a kunoichi or sometime later if she had failed. The only reason she didn’t get sealed immediately after passing the graduation exam is because a certain someone told Hiashi that Naruto was being considered as a possible jounin leader and Hiashi wisely decided to hold off on it. The Hyuuga compound is still standing… for now.

Kaito is my lil goblin. He’s a snot-nosed brat whose fear of losing another loved one and screwy sense of self/self-worth resulted in his constant trolling and mouthing off. A little hater who graduated the Academy with two full time enemies and one part-time enemy, an unrequited rival (unrequited on Kaito’s part, he doesn’t want it). Like Naruto, he is stubborn and very perceptive of others’ emotions, but while Naruto clawed his way to acceptance and changing the way things are, Kaito is more content to crash and burn in the status quo. As a result, he does not have any big dreams or goals. If Tsurigane’s story is about learning to constructively use strength for herself and on behalf of others, and Chitose’s is about learning to let others in without making herself small to accommodate them, then Kaito’s story is about finding internal peace and taking the chance that the past won’t repeat itself.

I definitely spent too much time trying to think of what I wanted the other rookies besides Team 6 to look like. There’s three other rookie teams, and Shikamaru is the jounin leader for one. I just hope that they’ll be liked when I have enough written that I’m comfortable posting so I don’t have too much dead time in-between chapters.

And because I can… NaruSaku for the main ship. Team 6 ships it.

[wellthebardsdead]

Lucy: *walking along side commander Zhalk as he proudly lines up some of his best men, the cambion visibly confused as his arch duchess stops and asks each of them their names and makes small talk before moving on* Yes. These men will do nicely. Listen up! When you reach the shadow cursed lands, and you will know when you reach them, trust me. Keep your moon lanterns high, guard the tieflings with your life and thus is very important. If you encounter a group called the harpers. Do not kill them! Ask them to guide you to Last light inn. Allow Zevlor or even the children to vouch for your entry if a woman named Jaheira is suspicious. And if you encounter a group of cultists belonging to the absolute. Kill on sight. No mercy. You’ll know them when you see them. But-… if a drider, is amongst them. Capture him unharmed. I need to talk with him. Alright?

The cambions: *nod* Yes your grace!

Lucy: hm, Sczark. Repeat my orders back.

Sczark: *a cambion at the end of the line, smaller than the others but still capable, quickly stands to attention* Moon Lanterns high, protect refugees, spare harpers, get to last light, kill cultists, capture drider.

Lucy: very good. Right, I’m satisfied.

Sczark: *giddly nudges the soldier next to him* she remembered my name!

Lucy: *looks to Zhalk* the cult cam hypnotise targets if they’re not careful. Make sure they’re all prepared.

Zhalk: You needn’t worry my lady. You have my word… *looks to the refugees* this is… a perplexing situation for me, you understand… You are, the polar opposite of Zariel.

Lucy: well I’ll take it as a compliment.

*several days later*

Lucy: *arrives to last light seeing everyone made it alive and safe, her cambions all flying over to greet her and the group, and all immediately drawing their weapons on jaheira as she tangled her in vines* STOP! HALT! YEILD! STAND DOWN! DROP WEAPONS! WHATEVER ELSE JUST DO IT!

Zhalk: *snarls looking equally confused and enraged at jaheira before lowering his sword along with his men*

Lucy: *sighs with relief* you sensed the tadpole right? You have one, in a jar?

Jaheira: indeed I do?… *holds it out watching it squirm*

Lucy: watch… *snaps her fingers blocking the connection*

Jaheira: how did, how did you do that?… it stopped reacting?

Lucy: I can block out the signal for now. Put it to sleep sort of… but I need it if I’m going to get into moonrise. The elderbrain these things are spawning from is there-

???: What in the hells do you think you’re doing?!

???: oh gods let them go right now!

???: they’re the ones who saved us!!

Lucy: *looks up and smiles as tears well in her eyes seeing everybody alive and coming to save them* It’s okay, I’m alright.

Zevlor: she’s the one who saved us and the emerald grove! Her cambions are the ones who brought us here!

Mol: yeah! She saved two of my friends! One from a harpy! And one from a mad druid! Didn’t leave a goblin standing neither! She didn’t make a fuss about thieving either! I pretty much trust her with my life!

Lia: You let her go right now or I’ll take you all on myself!

Rolan: that’s a terrible idea lia but- we are alive because of her… so let her go.

Cal: can everyone please just calm down-

Alfira: Calm down?! This lunatics about to kill our only hope of making it out of here alive!

Lucy: Nobody is killing anybody… not yet at least. There’s a traitor in your numbers and I know who. And I can prove it. With that very tadpole.

Jaheira: … *releases her* Let’s head inside, you’ve earned yourself the benefit of the doubt.

Lucy: *sighs with relief and nods* thank you. Let me check in with everyone and make sure they’re alright and I’ll meet you inside.

Jaheira: very well. *walks off*

Lucy: *watches them go before spotting a very worse for wear cambion amongst the numbers* Sczark? Oh sweetie pie what happened?!

Sczark: *somehow a brighter shade of red than he already is* y-you still remember me your grace?!

Lucy: of course I do what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t remember your names at Lea- oh right- *pulls out the bag of soul coins she’s accumulated, each randomly appearing for every enemy she’s killed and hands a couple to each of the cambions* here your payment- I don’t know the value is that enough?

Zhalk: *staring wide eyed at them in his palm* y-yes your majesty-

[cosmiccrushes]

Not Part Of The Crew

Law x OC || 2.9k word chapter; 18k total

notes: i'm glad i finally allowed myself to get into writing because it's been such a gift to have a creative outlet right now. without worrying about how good or not good of a writer i am (mostly- easier said than done sometimes). hope everyone has been able to be with their community, to find the love, safety and gentleness you so so deserve

CW: physical violence, blood, vomit

Read the rest here!

CH 8

After the jostling trip aboard, Rue would like nothing more than to pour herself out of this apple crate and stretch out her sore, cramped limbs. Instead she rolls an apple in her palm, listening to the unending parade of voices and footsteps past her hiding place, grating against her nerves like nails scratched down a chalkboard. Hours, it's been hours and still she hasn't been left alone long enough to crawl out of this crate. She knows she's been loaded on a ship. Undoubtedly has the bruises to match the banging route from the dock to the inside of whatever cargo bay she’s in. 

She munches on an apple, hoping the crunch and tart juices will distract her from her screaming muscles. The first pings of panic started long ago, and with every voice that drags itself closer to her, it pulses more urgently. At least these apples will provide even better ammo than mangoes when she is inevitably discovered. Because she’s pretty sure she will be discovered. That, despite her skill at sneaking into cargo, her luck at sneaking out is majorly lacking, perhaps non-existent. At least the Heart Pirates had the decency to discover her quicker than this. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, footsteps pound closer. Then a voice right beside her. “These were the apples, yeah?” A gruff, affirmative grunt in response. The sound of something wedging under the lid of her crate. Rue drops the apple pressed to her lips and clenches two unbitten ones in her fists. Call it survivor’s intuition, but Rue knows these people will not be as accommodating as the Heart Pirates. Can feel it in the ache of her bones from how they tossed their cargo around. People who had no time, no patience, no gentleness to tend their own sustenance were probably not people who would have time, patience or gentleness for a stowaway. Rue knew all too well that to some, apples and people were no different. Both served functions and it didn’t matter much if either got a little bruised. Rue can’t seem to shake the dark beast that settled around her in that alleyway earlier. It’s talons digging in and threatening to draw hopelessness like blood from her veins.

Fingertips slip under the wooden lid, prying away her false sense of safety. Rue doesn’t wait to confirm what kind of people they are. She springs up as fast as she can, sending the top of the crate flying. The person on the other side leaps back with a startled yelp of surprise. Rue uses the distraction to fling an apple at their face. From the snarl of pain she knows it connects, but she’s busy hauling herself over the side of the box to land in an aching heap between the cargo and one of the ship’s walls. Ignoring the stab of pain in her knee, she yanks herself up using the crate’s edge for balance. The rough rim bites splinters sharply into her fingers. She arms herself with more apples, scooping them out of the crate as fast as her body will allow. Hurling them at every target her chaotic movements allow her to clock.

At least five individuals shout exclamations and commands at each other, at her. There’s a buzzing in her ears that renders their words unintelligible. An approaching swarm, ready to descend upon her the second she runs out of apples. Her arm cocks back to launch another fruit as the first sting lands. Stars burst behind her eyes and her vision swims as she slumps forward against the crate, clinging desperately to hold herself upright. She didn’t notice the form creeping around in the small gap behind her, but she’s sure as hell aware of them now. Rue’s fingers scrabble for another apple, but it’s no use. A body crushes against her, forcing her ribs viciously against the wooden side of the crate. A hand fists into the back of her jacket, yanking her back against them, and a sword presses to her throat. Rue fights back the urge to vomit as the nausea from the blow she just took to her head crashes over her. With a blade pressed against her neck, she knows any movement now could easily be her last. The Heart Pirates didn’t draw their blades on her, she thinks dimly and absurdly.

“What the hell is this?” Someone demands, fingers pressed against a split lip, which Rue smirks upon with satisfaction. 

“Who are you?” The man gripping her questions. 

“Apple delivery,” Rue replies innocently. 

The sword at her neck presses harder, drawing a thin trickle of blood in warning. “Who are you?” He repeats. 

Rue grinds her teeth together. She didn’t cooperate when it was Trafalgar Law asking questions, she isn’t going to cooperate now. 

The man with the split lip is watching her intently. His eyes widen and Rue’s stomach drops. “Wait a second!” He says. “I know you! You’re wanted by the Fang Pirates.” A folded paper is pulled from a pocket and Rue’s wanted poster is passed amongst the group. A ripple of nods from the other’s as recognition sweeps through them. 

Fuck, Rue thinks. That blasted bounty. 

A fist in her hair yanks her head back so the man holding her can study her features. Rue’s eyes water from the brutal strain on her roots. “I’ll be damned. We just saw your picture up at Bell Island with the promise of a reward.” He sneers at her. “Let’s get her to the captain.” With that he shoves her roughly at a pair of people to his left and barks, “Bind her hands.” 

***

As Rue is led through the ship, she surreptitiously flexes her wrists in their bindings. But the rope rubs abrasively into her skin, making it clear there’s no leeway to wiggle her way out. At least they bound her arms in front of her, not behind. At this point, Rue will take whatever silver lining she can find. This is bad. Rue knows this is bad. Yet her mind doesn’t spin with escape plans. No, instead, it conjures up an image of how Trafalgar Law would look at her if he could see her now. His eyebrow cocked with a distinctly dry I-could-of-told-you-so tilt. Not that she’s ever going to see Law again to confirm his reaction. That would require her to remain alive and far away from Malax Fangle- all conditions that are becoming statistically more unlikely as she is marched towards the ship’s captain.

As she crests the steps onto the ship’s deck, the warm rays of afternoon sun do nothing to combat the chill that whips through her when she sees the Jolly Roger flying overhead. She doesn’t recognize the banner, not that it matters. There’s no mistaking what it means. 

Pirates, fucking pirates. Rue casts her eyes skyward in exasperation with herself, the universe. Unfortunately, her track record for picking cargo to hide in that doesn’t get picked up by pirates is zero for two. Are there even merchants in these waters? She thinks angrily, glaring at the flag flying overhead. If these had been merchants or sailors, maybe she could’ve outwitted them, bought herself enough time to escape. They likely wouldn’t be accustomed to hauling prisoners, might make mistakes she could capitalize on. But pirates? Pirates dealt in violence. Their currency was cunning and cruelty. Any craftiness she had to spend here, probably wouldn’t buy her much. Especially not with the promise of a reward and currying favor with the feared Fang Pirates. 

Rue hadn’t been serious in her threats to sink Law’s ship or throw herself overboard, but suddenly it wasn’t sounding like such a bad plan. Maybe she’d make friends with a kindly shark who would be delighted to transport her to safety. That seemed far more likely than Rue convincing a crew of pirates to let her go rather than collecting on the promise of gold. Trafalgar Law let you go, she reminds herself. Strange things do happen. Maybe this pirate captain would surprise her by carrying a massive vendetta against Malax Fangle. And maybe Trafalgar Law will magically spring out of the sails and save your sorry ass.  

Rue is shoved roughly to her knees at the captain’s feet. Her ribs groan in protest and she bites down on a whimper.  

“What’s this?” The captain asks tersely. A tall, slight man with a short brown beard. 

“Found her hiding in the cargo, sir. She attacked us. She’s got a reward out for her capture and return to the Fang Pirates, Captain.” 

The captain stares down at her with interest and a malicious twist of his lips. “You don’t say?” One of his crew hands him her bounty poster. “Well, well. Best not to keep a man like Malax Fangle waiting. Set a course to Ashita Island and-” He glances back down at Rue. “Lock her up in the brig. No food, no water.” Rue grits her teeth. “Wouldn’t want her getting it in her head that she’s a guest here.” Rue hates the way they’re discussing her fate like she’s not even there. Starving and dehydrating her, a nasty tactic to ensure she has no energy to fight back. 

Rough hands grip under her biceps, hauling her back to her feet. Rue feels her window of opportunity to escape closing over her as sure as if she had thrown herself overboard to sink beneath ocean waves. Fear flooding her mouth and nose, choking the breath out of her lungs. She can’t be taken back to Malax. He will kill her. Or worse. Fangle doesn’t let people who challenged him live. And he doesn’t let them die swiftly. The one thing that bounty poster dangling from the captain’s hand tells her is that Malax wants her back alive. No pirate is going to risk losing their reward- or pissing off Fangle- by killing her. Which means Rue is free to risk her life, her own damn self. 

Rue waits until they’re halfway back across the deck before she throws her body to the left. Using her momentum and weight to crash against the pirate still gripping her arm, sending them both careening to the ground. Rue blocks out the howl of pain from her shoulder, rolling into a low crouch. She quickly scans her surroundings, aware she is probably making terrible decisions currently. Aware she’s concussed and that has to be a mark against her governing faculties. Rue isn’t a fighter. She can be scrappy, sure, but there’s no way she’s successfully taking on a ship full of pirates. She’s not a bad swimmer, but she has no idea how far she is from any land nor can she swim with her hands tied up.

As surprised shouts rise around her and the pointy ends of swords thrust her direction, Rue makes a choice. She releases a guttural, rageful growl that bares her teeth and charges the next pirate closest to her. Her sudden aggression seems to surprise the man and he draws his sword away so she doesn’t impale herself. Finally, something works out in Rue’s favor. Using the shoulder that hasn’t recently slammed into a hard surface, Rue smashes into the pirate. Throwing her elbow as hard as she can into his stomach, the rope rubbing burns into her wrists.  

He grunts and his grip loosens on his sword as he doubles over. Rue latches onto the hilt, wrenching it from the winded pirate’s hand. One of her nails tears, breaking too far down. She lurches towards the side of the ship, plunging the sword as hard as she can into the deck. Mercifully, it wedges into the boards. Rue drags the rope bindings against the blade, nicking the tender flesh of her forearm in her wild haste. As the rope drops to the ground, Rue narrowly dodges away from a fist sweeping in her direction. She scrambles towards the ship’s railing. No longer caught off guard by her assault, the pirates descend, closing in an organized semi-circle around her. 

Rue heaves herself up, swinging a leg over the railing. The shark it is, she thinks morbidly through the feverish haze in her brain. She’s either about to make the single stupidest decision of her life- which is probably going to be cut incredibly short- or she’s done the only thing to give herself a chance at survival. She’ll never get the opportunity to learn whether it would’ve been a sympathetic sea creature or a predictable drowning, though, because an iron bar of an arm wraps around her waist. 

Momentarily, Rue is airborne, then she’s flung to the deck, her head smacking hard enough against the planks that her vision goes fully dark. Her teeth clack together and she tastes blood in her mouth. She frantically blinks back the black shadows crowding her sight. She makes a fraught attempt to drag herself back towards the ship’s side, but a boot savagely stomps down on her hand. She curls into herself as another boot barrels into her stomach. This time she does cry out in agony. It’s the last sound she hears before the silence of unconsciousness washes over her. 

***  

Rue doesn’t know how long she’s out. When she wakes up, her wrists are bound in iron shackles and a chain around her ankle tethers her to the floor of a small cell. Every nerve in her body pulsates in a way that has Rue wondering how long the kicks kept landing after she passed out. Breathing hurts, her head throbs. She knows she must have a concussion and broken ribs. 

Rue refuses to blame herself for her half-baked escape plan. What else could she do but try? When she ran from the Fang Pirates, she knew she’d have to keep running. That the possibility of being dragged back to Ashita Island would chase her like shadows after a setting sun. If she was to be pulled into the dark, she’d sink her nails in deep and leave a trail of gouges in her wake. The only evidence that she ever existed at all. There certainly weren’t going to be people mourning her. Carlo was the only person who cared what happened to her and she’d already failed to keep him safe. After he was gone, Rue was left alone to pick up the pieces. Only there weren’t any pieces to pick up. She’d never made an effort to be closer to the people of Ashita Island. She kept people at arm’s length and called it self-protection.

Then, Carlo stopped breathing. His blood soaking into her shoes, sinking into the soles of her feet, leaving behind an uncleanable film of failure separating her from the feeling of ever being grounded again. Leaving her with a lonely answer to her foolish question- why would she expect the villagers of Ashita Island to think of her as anything other than another pawn in Malax Fangle’s schemes? She wasn’t a part of the town, not in any way that mattered. She’d designed her life that way. To get what she needed to survive, never an ounce more and never through any means other than her own. 

Guilt throbbed through Rue like a bruise, settling in the cracks on her ribs and the hollows of her lungs where a deep breath couldn't reach. For a year she’d appeased Fangle to keep people safe. But all she’d bought was a few more grains of sand in a steadily draining hourglass. When she realized this, rather than staying and actually trying to do something meaningful, Rue had chosen to run. She abandoned Ashita Island. Told herself she couldn’t really abandon something that was never hers to begin with. Told herself she’d find a way to make Malax Fangle pay. 

But what might it have been like, if she'd stayed? If she made an effort to know the people on the island and help them survive, help them fight back against the Fang Pirates’ foothold? What would it have been like if she let them know her? If she’d stopped thinking that she could- or should- do it all herself?

Rue tries to pull herself up into a slump against the ship wall, but her body simply won’t acquiesce. The attempt stirs up the nausea she felt earlier and she just barely props herself on an elbow to vomit to the side of where she lays. Each heave drives spikes of agonizing pain through her. When the contents of her stomach finally run out, she collapses back to the floor, tears streaming down her face. A blurry murk creeps in at the edges of her eyesight. Rue welcomes it, lets it lap over her, lull her into a mournful melody of self-pity and shame.

No, people didn’t know her. She didn’t let people know her. Maybe this was her karma. To be sitting in this cell, thinking about another offer of help she refused, another opportunity to be known she didn’t take. And if some of her last thoughts in this life were woeful wonderings about what might have been if she’d let Trafalgar Law know her? If she’d accepted that tentative help he’d extended to her? Well, it would be a misery she deserves. Made all the more maliciously ironic by the knowledge that Trafalgar law was exactly the kind of person she needed right now- a doctor. 

[i3utterflyeffect]

So in the King merc au, avm season 3 happened before now, so the color gang all met King before? Just wanted to clarify

So when Chosen got Second to fight against the mercs, Second recognized King, right? Wonder what they thought about that

yep! they all know King already, and i imagine that season 3 happened sometime between ava 4 and 5 since there's a big gap that wasn't really defined with anything happening, at least in this au because i just bend the timelines to whatever fits best at the time lol

by the time that ava 6 began, King was on pretty good terms with them in this au; he's doing better and even though he usually only visits the computer when Purple drags him along, he's been on much better terms with everyone.

(drawing from a little while ago)

that's why Second Coming is so majorly freaked out by him initially, to be honest. King HAS had a genuine change of heart, but seeing him with the command block staff definitely makes it look like he's just turned on them.

King tries his best to explain but there's not really an opportunity to do so until after SC has already been captured by Agent.

King more or less tries to make it as painless as he possibly can, mostly by keeping SC still... but because of him avoiding fighting and debuffing SC instead, Chosen starts targeting them (because if SC is stopped, there's no way either of them could get out of this--)

If it wasn't for Agent, King wouldn't be so worried about it-- but I think that when he sees the Glitch Gun, he's IMMEDIATELY reminded of how painful it was to be in the destruction beam of the Minecraft² staff.

[a-minke-whales-tale]

This is a pretty heavy vent post. Just be warned. My emotions have been particularly volatile lately and I am not well. Hopefully we will return to regularly scheduled whale nonsense shortly of either more engineering (I came up with some breathing notes as well as tongue notes), or more cute drawings.

Vent below the break.

Tw: vent, unreality, abuse, captivity, death

I am so exhausted and stressed. I have been honestly much of the past year, it got really bad towards summer and summer holiday did not help. I worked very hard for the humans, I did whatever I was commanded without question or resistance. I was a good animal and did what I was told to. This block it was finally going to start to get easier because I was going to reduce my time. But the humans lied to me and betrayed me and threw me away. I was not good enough for the humans still. And this past month and a half has just destroyed me so much more. I think the increased stress had already caused me to need my crutch again months ago. I am just not handling things well, but I also right now have no choice. I cannot rest, I have to solve this or I go away and if I do I likely never come back.

They took away the stability I was promised, and the relief I was promised, and replaced it with so much more stress. I have to be useful, I have to find new humans to serve. But I am exhausted in a way nothing seems to fix. I try desperately to be good but the exhaustion is just overwhelming. Before I could push myself forward, there was promise of relief of the horizon and the humans I served I thought were happy with me and valued me and I was a good animal, but then that was taken away. I have to still be good, put a smile on my face and obey the humans even though they made it clear I am not valuable to them even working my hardest and they did irreparibly fuck me with their lies.

There is no standing up for myself, there is no defending myself, and no human will help me. The humans did as they are allowed by their own rules, not that the humans would have helped me if they didn't. They are in charge and they decide what happens to me. I can only comply with them and try to make them happy. I have to try to be good, if I am not I go away.

I am not people like others. I am a useful thing. I was made to be useful to the humans and if not then I get put away. I had believed I was owned by the school, they gave me money to buy food and an enclosure and doctors, but they owned me. I do not see an option but to give the humans whatever they want, if I am not sufficiently useful to them I go away. And once they have used everything they can from me they will discard me and get a new one. But if I am not useful I will be locked away again, and I fear eventually I won't come out or they will eventually just have me put down. I often think things like me belong locked away, that I am not capable to really be good, to be useful enough for the humans. I am a broken thing which cannot follow the rules and cannot be good how hard I try. But still I have to try to be good or the humans will make things worse, if you do not comply they will force you to, and they have more power than I could ever fight.

I know the rules and I know my place. I do not have a choice. It is part of why I dream so much to return to the water and spend time to try to design some sort of whale suit. Beyond just fixing my body it would hopefully let me escape this nightmare I cannot wake up from, to escape the overwhelming power of the humans. Or even if I lived in captivity at least I would have my body back and the humans would not be able to pretend they do not have overwhelming power over me and sometimes they would be nice to me. It is honestly the only hope I have right now to cling to that things might someday be better.

Even life as a captive cetacean in a tank offers me more freedom than I can ever have like this. I keep hoping I will wake up. I had a dream/half asleep moment I thought I had died and was a calf inside my mother. The sense of relief that it was over was incredible, until sometime later I woke up and was devastated because it was not done, not yet.

Humans can be extremely unkind and uncaring to those in thier care. It is for me though an insurmountable power. A few times I have been jealous of whales like Tilikum, maybe it wasnt what he was doing when he killed those humans, it strikes me as possibly overly anthropomorphizing with insuffient proof, but he had the strength to pull them beneath the waters and enact some form of revenge. I do not want to hurt the humans though, even if I had the power to. I just want them return me to the water and stop hurting me so much. Let me exist peacefully and let me swim forever until it is time to rejoin the current and rejoin the others. Even in a tank, I would swim more free than I ever could now.

[sadruru]

Part 2 of Springfinder. 3) Temptation:

How could she have known where this talk would lead? Unexpectedly, the commander accepted the young tiefling's feelings. Without even thinking, the words came off her lips. Only then came the realization of what had been said. Woljif was silenced by the feelings that came over him. He hugged Melissa tightly, smiled broadly, and laughed softly, either in disbelief or relief. Melissa was embarrassed by the unexpected embrace and froze. This display of affection was too unfamiliar, forgotten. Pretty strange description for someone who was always making obscene jokes and acting out of control, huh? The pleasant feeling burned her heart again. Melissa's hands reached for the boy in response, and for a split second they stopped, trembling violently.

Doubt. Maybe even a little fear. Did she deserve this? Maybe fate wanted to laugh at her again? To give something and then take it away, like always. Wouldn't it ruin everything again?

The temptation to feel at least a little happy and truly needed was too great. Taking a deep breath, the commander quickly calmed herself. No matter what, let it be. No one else would give her a third chance to fulfill all her desires and right her wrongs again. One loving look from Woljif was enough to make her extremely greedy. Now Melissa can only hope that this sin will not kill her.

The cold no longer bothered anyone, for this winter night was the warmest in many years.

4) Capture:

Captivity begins with your own mind, tiefling. In your case, you don't even have to make the extra effort. Your mind and soul are already nearly destroyed. All I need is a little nudge. There's so much you're trying to forget. Your pain, regrets, rage, resentment. Remember, you're being used. They have been, they are, and they always will be. There's no place for you in this world.

Surrender, mortal. You're nothing.

Your end will be as pathetic and lonely as you are. In the end, you'll destroy everything you've achieved. You will lose everything you hold dear, become like a broken mirror and disappear. 5) Healing:

I'm tired of lying helplessly in four walls. That's enough. Nice try, goatface. You're gonna make me apologize to the others for my behavior. Some of them especially... You're wrong about a lot of things, Baphomet. The world really sucks and isn't worth a drop of my time, but I'm not going to just give up at your behest and miss my second chance. There's too much at stake now. I'm not alone. Not anymore.I've made peace with my past and will write my own future and ending. No one else will dare stand in my way: not humans, not gods, not pathetic demon lords like you.

... Someone - When are you gonna stop drawing the same characters?!!!

Me - ...Yes 🗿 I look at the first art and know what awaits them... I love eating glass *COUGHING HARD*

I wanted a soft green background instead of purple. But I got mad, freaked out, and painted it my favorite color. Well, you know, а little symbolism and meaning ha-ha...

[sonicasura]

Based on the asks by @foolmariofest, I figured why not share my view of a Pokemon/Kaiju No.8 crossover. Any spoiler related material(last two episodes) will be found at the end past the read more tag!Let's start with the teams before I get into meat of this post!

I decided to choose Miraidon as the Ride Pokemon for this while the Egg Pokemon are Goomy, Milcery and Tyrunt. Treecko will evolve eventually to Sceptile but they are the latest catch in Trainer's team. Goomy will evolve into the Hisuian varient of Goodra. Now let's get started.

Trainer doesn't know who their real parents are. For most of their life, they were raised by migratory Bird Pokemon alongside their starter(Torchic/Quaxly). A kind-hearted stranger in Galar would later introduce them into society when Trainer's was about 5. PokeSpeak was their main language before then.

Kafka is planning to draw up adoption papers. All of him pretty much adopted Trainer mentally and emotionally so why not? The Monster Sweepers already sent him some research on how to adopt unregistered children.

Amongst the Battle Frontier, Trainer's gym is the most difficult to win against. Their badge has three variations as they have two other people to help manage the place. Bronze and Silver are the most common badge earned while the Ideals Badge is the least.

A Legendary/Mythical/Ultra Beast magnet. Due to Trainer's more open minded nature towards wild Pokemon, it isn't uncommon for rarer ones to seek their company without concern of possible capture. Any who do join are either willingly or captured for their safety(Eternatus). Best to watch out for Ultra Wormholes in case of spontaneous visits.

Trainer tends to travel out of curiosity and a penchant to learn. Something that eventually leads them to the KN8verse. It isn't uncommon for Trainer to offer their new friends a chance to explore their world on the group's days off.

Reno and Kikoru often join training sessions with the young Frontier Brain. They aren't as intense like Kafka's but does put them through the ringer. All of them use inspiration from these experiences during missions or Defense Force training.

Berry mishaps are a given especially around lunch time. Kafka once took a bite out of a Tamato Berry in human form. Apparently he can only safely eat it as a Kaiju or else has to deal with swollen lips from the spiciness. Pecha and Oran Berries are popular with the group.

Making Pokemon treats is unavoidable. Poffins, Pokepuffs, Pokeblocks and the like. Kafka is the type to eat them as they are apparently very delicious to Kaiju. Same goes for Dynamax Honey, Dynamax Mushrooms, and Gigantamax Curry. (In Ai's opinion anyway.)

Picnics and picnic related shenanigans will always happen. You can say it was quite the sight for the Defense Force once Trainer officially joins them. They make sure the beach ball doesn't go into the curry or sandwiches.

Before Riot No.8 could attack Isao Shinomiya, Trainer teleports in with help from their Pokemon. They use the song Oración to calm down the enraged kaiju who lovingly nuzzles them and reassures he's still here before collapsing from exhaustion of the forced transformation. In righteous anger, Trainer challenges Isao Shinomiya to a battle for Kafka's safety.

The Commander is humbled by their Hariyama and is forced to listen to the youth. Kafka later receives this very news once he wakes up again. Even footage of the battle was shared and recorded to him.

[healersadjust]

makeup - for the single-word fic prompt!

Thank you so much for the prompt!!!!!!!!

Aki shouldn’t be here.

She should be off with the Scions, helping them with… Well, she doesn’t exactly know. But she should be there, at least as motivation, or whatever Minfilia said she needed her presence for last.

In the aftermath of the Crystal Tower, that’s honestly all she’s been able to do. Sit quietly at a table while people either look at her with pity or praise her for past deeds. Depends on how much they know, and who thinks they can get away with speaking to her when she’s so obviously not in the mood for chatting.

Aki’s pretty sure she had a meeting today, or needed to watch over some new recruits training, or something like that. But instead, she’s sitting on her aunt’s bed while they engage in some “girl time.”

“So, you’ll let me paint your nails, right? They’re so long!” It was technically a question, but Aki knew Cecelia meant it more as a statement.

“Oh, are my nails not fun to paint anymore?” Constianne teased as she leaned against the wall. “Suppose I’ll just paint them myself from now on.”

“Shush! Aki’s been gone for months!” Cecelia gave her sister a pointed glare. “Besides- I know that’s an empty threat.”

Constianne sticks her tongue out at Cecelia, and they continue their sisterly banter while Aki watches.

Its… Nice.

Aki is sure that both of them know that something’s wrong with her, but they certainly don’t show it. They know better than that. The two of them act like they always do, even if Aki doesn’t engage as much. They don’t give her knowing looks, they don’t ask about her time away from home. They let her set the tone, and they keep it the same until she switches things up again.

It’s nice, not to be treated like a stray kitten that people are afraid to scare off. Her aunts just treat her the same as they always do.

“Here, make a sign, won’t you?” Cecelia passes Aki a piece of paper and a marker. At the top, ‘No boys allowed!’ is written in big block letters. “So we can make our girls night official.”

Aki cracks a smile. “Like old times.”

“Duh!” Constianne pushes herself off the wall, taking a peek at the paper as Aki starts making silly drawings of Lucien and Florian.

After a few minutes, Aki hands the paper to Cecelia. “Write ‘Amil welcome’ at the bottom, please?”

Constianne raises her brows. “Amil?”

“He wouldn’t want to come in anyway,” Aki shrugs. “But if he did, I think some sparkly eyeshadow and bright lipstick would look quite nice, don’t you think?”

At that, her aunts laugh. Something about this makes the weight Aki’s been carrying for months ease.

“Your wish is my command!” Cecelia giggles as she writes it down. She walks to the door, opens it, and tapes the sign to the door.

“Alright, where do we start?”

The morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Lucien isn’t one to turn down any peace he can get in this house, typically. But with Aki home… The silence typically means Constianne has looped everyone she could into coming up with a prank to play on him. And as much as he wanted to cheer Aki up, he was NOT in the mood to have his clothes dyed an obnoxious shade of orange again.

He moves quietly, tip-toeing up the stairs. He’d like to catch them in the act, if possible. He opens the door to his room quietly and is shocked to see everything looks exactly how it should.

That must mean they’re planning something more like a glitter bomb- the most annoying of Constianne’s pranks.

He cursed under his breath and continues moving. When he reaches the door with the “No boys allowed- Amil welcome!’ sign, he presses his ear to the door.

He’s entirely shocked at what he hears. Instead of the usual chatter and sounds of chaos, he hears… Snoring? That can’t be. For all their faults, most of the family are morning people with a habit for causing chaos as soon as they rise.

He opens the door carefully to take a peek, and he’s even more shocked to see Cecelia, Constianne, Aki, and… Wait, is that Amil? Is he wearing bright green makeup?

He rubs his eyes. How in the seven hells did they talk the cryptid in the family to not only join them, but stay long enough to have neon green lipstick put on him?

Well- Lucien knows his duty, now. The others have to see this.

[possiblyi4657]

:o woah an intro!!!

For the longest time my pinned was a reblog that i really liked, but i may as well try to be More Social or something and actually say a bit about myself! introduce myself to the world outside my little void!

So heyo! The name's Icey, also known as Tora I4-Icey, aka the fellow who lurks in the shadows and only posts on socials every once in a blue moon, here to try and actually exist despite my awful social anxiety!! They/them, 19, and uhh everything else important is hidden under a wall of text so hopefully you like reading?

I have a variety of interests, and I'd like to consider myself an artist, through i mainly draw my ocs (I'd like to change that! I just need to get over my anxiety about messing up other people's character designs first lmao). I also really like editing videos, and of course there's my always present appreciation for the one and only Baymax. Though from the way this tumblr has been going, im preeettyy sure all youre getting here will be my minecraft builds or mcyt reblogs with a side of original content. I have no clue how i keep on returning to this little corner of the internet year after year, but I can't complain much 'cause minecraft is a pretty fun game!!!

oh also here's an unfinished drawing of my sona alongside two other pieces of art i drew of my little guy!

Aaannd now that all the important (?) stuff's finished, here's some questions i'm sure at least some people have (and one friend asked me that i thought were kind of interesting)!

- "So what's with the name?"

My online friends call me either Icey or I4, depending on where you met me. And the name I go by irl is Tora, so i threw all three names in a blender and Tora I4-Icey sounded the best! There's also another name i go by in ffxiv- Ira Icey, so the folks i met over there call me Ira, but I couldn't figure out a way to add Ira to my name.

- "And why's your username a string of numbers?"

Funny story! Back when I was around 12 or so, i kept on forgetting the password to my library account, so my dad changed the password to "4657" and told me to never forget it, cause he's not changing the password a 10th time. It then became my favourite string of numbers, and 4 became my favourite number. I then changed my minecraft account name from "Iceyshadow46" to "I4657", as i hated typing in that username every single time i wanted to effect myself with a command, and somehow I liked that name enough to adopt it as my own! Alas, I am aware the username makes me look like a bot. I'm not changing it, ive stuck with it for this long, and if the bots want it so much, they can pry the name from my COLD DEAD HANDS-

- "Wait, where did the "possibly" part of your username come from? Why possibly?"

I may possibly simply be I4657, also known as Icey, I4, or Tora. Or i may be a cat. Or a squirrel playing a harmonica. You shall never know, and i shall neither confirm nor deny. (read: i4657 sounded too much like a username a bot would choose on here and id rather not get blocked by people assuming (wrongly) that i was a bot.)

- "Why's your sona a glitchy shadow eye creature?"

Fancy lore explanation: As ive been mostly lurking, rarely interacting with anyone on the internet, i kinda pictured myself as nothing more than just eyes, watching others juuust out of sight. But since one can't just look like a blob of eyes and shadows if they want to interact with humans, I stole borrowed the form of a human. Minus the fact that this form (usually) only has two eyes, leading to my lack of spacial awareness, its pretty comfortable. As for the glitches... I don't really have an explanation for that yet.

Actual answer: I had a vision and I thought it'd look super cool. AND I WAS RIGHT!

And I think that's it! I am really, and i mean REALLYYY bad at social media so chances are ill disappear from the face of the earth for days at a time. but ill always come back with something. or at least, ill try to. :D

[niuttuc]

Would love some recs for a Nethroi, Apex of Death deck with a Kaheera companion. Self Mill and reanimation are the general game plan, but the theme is "Cards from a Forgotten Pokemon Clone from from the 00s"

Mmmmh, a tough one. Hard to recommend creatures because the restriction means you likely already saw most of them, particularly the good ones, but hard to recommend noncreatures either because the deck likely wants to be mostly creatures.

Let's see... For the vibes and the gameplay the main recommandation will be...

Vivien is pretty much a Pokémon spinoff character, she captures defeated monsters' spirits in her bow to summon in her assistance later on. I love these three Vivien and try to find them homes regularly, but this deck might be a fit. Vivien on the Hunt is six mana, but for this deck, she mills (you can draw the creatures, or just leave them in the 'yard if you want them there), she pods which is always a fun way to tutor when it's not a combo, and then she has a fallback for defense.

Three mana Vivien is very fragile in a game of commander, but Vigilance and Reach at least means one blocker, if you can keep up your mana you can threaten to flash in stuff, and at worst she can draw a card when she enters with her -2 so she replaces herself. I just love the gameplay of every creature having flash, and notably, Mutating is still casting a creature spell, so with her out you can mutate at instant speed.

Monster's Advocate is the most generically good, but the one that I think fits a bit less well here. Still, she's powerful, and the tokens she makes are beasts for Kaheera's purposes.

Now for some other recommendations that might already be in the deck:

Dinosaur Egg is technically a Dinosaur for Kaheera, has zero power for Nethroi to bring back, loves being mutated onto because it likely got a few counters and has a trigger based on toughness, and seems close enough to some Pokémon mechanics to end up in a clone.

Season of Loss is a modular board wipe from the upcoming set that has a lot of options, but a self-mill creature deck in particular should be very capable of turning that last mode into a potent wincon, and shouldn't have too hard a time to combine the first two modes for profit considering how much stuff Nethroi can bring back.

I feel like I recommend this card to every other black decks, but in my defense, it's really good, really fun to play with, and for now, still relatively affordable.

It's a classic, but it always gets real big real fast which does work with Nethroi's lifelink or any Mutate's evasion, has 0 power from Nethroi, and the new art does have enough pokémon vibes.

Sometimes, you just want to return your Nethroi to hand to just be able to re-mutate it without paying commander tax. Cheap flash creatures that allow you to do that or can be brought back with Nethroi to do their thing immediately.

[josefavomjaaga]

Hello! To start out, I REALLY love your page! The detail put into your posts and responses are so fun and interesting to read. I especially love when you interpret quotes with, like, I guess “stage play” versions. They’re so funny.

So I wanted to ask something of you for the first time. I’ve been writing a story that takes place in the Napoleonic Wars era for a while now, so I’ve been doing a lot of research in that era (and a lot of that research is guided by your posts haha). There are several important characters who are supposed to be police in an 1805 French town, but I’ve been having trouble finding good info about them, like what those police wore, what they carried, what their responsibilities were, etc. I’m not even sure if they have like a police station kind of headquarters or something in 1805 France. If you have anything that’ll help me out just about those french police at the time, that would be much appreciated. So far, I’ve been drawing comics about them, but whenever a police shows up I just draw him in the normal napoleonic soldier uniform…although that’s probably not accurate. Thanks!

Well, first of all: Thank you! 💖 Truth be told, I often feel quite impertinent, mocking all these illustrious personalities, who have both achieved and gone through things I cannot even imagine. But sometimes I just can’t help it. Laughter is the weapon of those without power (and in my case, without merit). Plus, it renders all these grim warriors a lot more human, and, as far as I am concerned, more amiable.

As to your question – as I’ve said in the other Ask below, it’s quite easy to find the end of my knowledge 😁. That would be one of those cases.

I actually have read up a bit on the development of what we call police today, but only for German territories. But I presume developments in France were similar, with innovations usually starting a little earlier. The German word »polizey« originally was applied to all sort of public tasks, from the organisation of markets to cleaning of the streets. It was only during Napoleon’s time (and presumably under French influence) that the term was somewhat reduced to public security measures (but that still included, for example, firemen). When it came to crimes, it usually meant what we today would call a »secret police«, i.e., surveillance of the population rather than investigation of crimes already committed.

But investigation could be part of it. Napoleon’s famous minister of Police Joseph Fouché (that one has to be named first) is mostly known for his spy network and his detailed files on pretty much everybody who was somebody in France. But, for example, after the »infernal machine« asassination attempt his men did some excellent investigations and found the culprits within days. I do not know where in Paris the Ministry of Police was located.

One of the main task of the police was to look after foreigners in town and to issue passports, as in theory nobody was allowed to travel without one.

For Paris, the police headquarters was the Préfecture de Police. It still exists today, but I do not know if it’s still in the same location. The different arrondissements of the city all had their own chief of police, who answered to the préfecture. An interesting personality to look into more might be Jean-François Réal, a co-worker of Fouché and possibly more the kind of »policeman« as we understand the term today.

As to keeping up security in the capital, that was – I think! - at least to some degree also the job of the gouverneur de Paris (who commanded the military forces stationed in the city and for a very long time happened to be one Andoche Junot, so I hope maybe @snowv88 can either confirm or correct me 😊).

It is to be noted that Fouché’s (secret) police was not the only police under Napoleon’s rule. Actually, there were several police organisations all spying on each other. On top of that, the army units had their gens d’armes who kept order and investigated possible violations among or by soldiers.

From what I have read, outside of Paris the police may have been subject to the préfet of the départment, but I am not even entirely sure about that. There seem to have been »bureaux de police«, police offices, so some kind of headquarters for the local police agents must have existed.

And that, I fear, is already all I have. I very much hope for input from people with more knowledge, because now I’ve gotten interested and want to learn more myself.

Thank you for the question and all best wished for your stories! Please share whenever you feel like it!

[thelordofgifs]

very excited for the next tfs arc, hopefully maglor has time to recover from his many wounds in time to get more pincushion-ed. I love how maglor has the most and least plot armour simultaneously. Any pointed objects in a metre radius spontaneously attack him but he will. not. die. He persists.

Also, very funny that curufin is lost. You don't know where he is, he might not know where he is! He could be anywhere. He could be in your house! He could be in my house! If i see him i will let you know!

where did most of the feanorian soldiers go? If any of them are still loyal i imagine they could be useful later.

Anyway I'm looking forward to the return of everyone's favourite feral woodland princess!

Is thingol's fate going to change in this fic? The feanorions have even less political clout than they did in the silm so he's probably not going to be negotiated with without a really good argument. Without Celegorm and with Curufin missing/not going to do any more arguing and the lack of forces for them to use I don't know how a second kinslaying could happen but I am excited to find out!!

lol I think I’m going to give Maglor a little break from the pincushioning – he has Been Through It lately and now deserves a nice long rest in which to recover and get many hugs from Maedhros and prepare for his next character arc!

WHERE IS CURUFIN. WE DO NOT KNOW. tbh if he’s in anyone’s house it would be yours – he knows how much you love him!! Although I am now dying to see a giant wanted poster for Curufin. Or not even wanted in the criminal sense but more like a lost dog poster. Maedhros and Maglor can stick them up all over Hithlum like hi have you seen our lil brother he’s the absolute worst but we’d like to know where he is

Ok so I actually went down a rabbit hole here thinking about numbers. According to random websites whose sources I have not thoroughly checked, the average fatality rate in a medieval battle would have been about 10-15%, going up to maybe 25% for really bad ones. (Sadly the small sibling is away at university now so my usual source of military facts has disappeared.) Since the Nirnaeth was probably THE worst military defeat in the legendarium, and it involved Balrogs and dragons, we could put an upper limit of like 30% on fatality rates on the battles of Beleriand? Although Barahir somehow managed to get his entire fighting army presumably numbering at least a thousand down to thirteen guys so maybe that’s an underestimate! Also most fatalities taken by the losing side are apparently during the retreat, not the battle itself; and since Maglor managed to draw off the orc armies during the fall of Himring, let’s say that Maedhros lost… 15% of his people in the fight. So definitely a pretty bad defeat, but not awful. Then of the remaining 85%, let’s say 75% went south to Amon Ereb and the last 10% have decided to join up with Fingon instead. But Maedhros has explicitly renounced his command of them, so that lot aren’t really Fëanorian soldiers any more. Meanwhile Caranthir and Amras just received a LOT of reinforcements, not to mention some extremely confusing news about what’s been going on.

Anyway yessss I am SO excited to have our feral woodland princess back and causing trouble!! More than one person in the notes was wondering if she’d show up and stop either the execution or the fall of Himring as a whole and I felt really sad about not being able to do that, but the timelines just don’t work out. But she’s going to have Stuff to do (some of which I know about and some of it I only have very vague ideas about).

Ok so Thingol… I really need to do some thinking about him. What I can tell you is that the fall of Nargothrond, Húrin bringing the Nauglamír to Doriath, and the subsequent death via entirely preventable racism thing is not going to go down the same way in tfs as it does in canon (which isn’t to say none of those things will happen – but if they do happen, they’ll happen differently). So his fate is going to be different, but that doesn’t mean he’s going make it out okay necessarily! My instinct is to just make a bunch of people have conversations and see what conclusions they come to. The AU is going to get into some very uncharted territory soon, and I will absolutely be making everything up as I go.

Thank you for the ask ❤️❤️❤️

[mail-forwarding]

(How Hidehira's Sons Were Hunted Down) It was in this manner that Yasuhira obtained Yoshitsune's head to be sent to Kamakura. "Those men are despicable," said Yoritomo. "They killed Yoshitsune after he had gone to them for protection. Worse than that, they had the effrontery to use the ex-Emperor's command as an excuse to lay hands on my brother." He cut off and exposed the heads of Yasuhira's entire delegation––the two senior retainers who were its leaders, and all the others as well, down to the lowliest servants. Soon afterward it was agreed at a council of war to send a punitive force against Yasuhira at once.

(excerpt from Yoshitsune: a fifteenth-century Japanese chronicle, translated by Helen Craig McCullough)

FUUUUCK okay okay, I know Housamo doesn't draw from Gikeiki and doesn't even draw from Heike Monotagari all that much either, but listen. Assuming Yasuhira exists in Housamo-verse. Can you imagine? Yoritomo, faced with the head of the little brother's he's alternatively afraid of and concerned over. The little brother no one could ever beat––least of all by a man as cowardly and disloyal as Fujiwara no Yasuhira.

I mean of course a guy as fucked up as Housamo's Yoritomo would refuse to believe in the authenticity of the head. That's his little brother's head. Sure Yoshitsune was a threat, sure he was completely unpredictable except for all the parts where he was actually pretty reliably predictable, sure he scared the living fuck out of Yoritomo at every turn and had no regard for propriety or personal space or privacy. But that was the best warrior in the Land of Wa. In what circumstances could Yasuhira have ever taken his head?

(Unless he let Yasuhira take it, but that would be letting Yoritomo win, and why would he ever let Yoritomo win?)

(And why Yasuhira? Someone so undeserving of Yoshitsune's trust, someone so undeserving of his land and post?)

And we know they were on at least okay terms before the breakup because Yoritomo slips pretty easily back into the role of the long-suffering but doting big brother. Again, that's his little brother. Grief does funny things to people in real life, let alone in Housamo. Of course he's skeptical. He can't even let himself contemplate the idea he was the one to betray Yoshitsune first. Can you imagine? Yoritomo seething with rage and disbelief, turning towards the safer target (Yasuhira for his slanderous lies) rather than try to examine his own grief. A+ angst.

(Along that vein, the irony of Gikeiki Yoritomo raging at Yasuhira's effrontery, when he was the one who made Go-Shirakawa give Yasuhira the imperial command to kill Yoshitsune. Like buddy. You got exactly what you asked for. Including the Oshu gold now that you've conquered the Fujiwara land.)

[alparlaboratories]

My OCs Masterlist

I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.

These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.

(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)

1)

Metchi

You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.

2)

Nico

He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.

3)

Tulip

‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.

4)

Hope and Hunter

These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.

5)

Ska

Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.

6)

Shadi

Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.

7)

Eatos

Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.

8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)

Shadi... 2!

Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.

9

Cole

PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.

10)

Machi

Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.

11)

Tala

Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.

Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.

No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.