#i am but an instrument of my oc's will

[the-rebel-archivist]

unusual muse associations.

not tagged by anyone, Aurie is just noisy and demanding tagging nobody explicitly but if you want to take a stab at it please do

Aurelian Sidewinder, the Gilded Gorgon (the exile)

SEASONING: honey, tamarind

WEATHER: blistering, rock warming heat waves

COLOUR: iridescent green, burnished gold, warm brown

SKY: starless night

MAGICAL POWER: enhanced senses, glamour and manipulation, a lifetime of training in war

PLANT: edelweiss (courage, perseverance, devotion), snapdragon (deception, graciousness)

WEAPON: envennomed fangs and twin daggers, Fang and Talon

SUBJECT: psychology and military strategy

SOCIAL MEDIA: [cancelled immediately]

MAKEUP PRODUCT: bit of oil for half-translucent scales, patented Fantasy Fuckboy cologne, you know he smells good when he's not knee-deep in mud and blood and hate him a little for it

CANDY: too cloyingly sweet on his tongue, milk chocolate pretzels at most

FEAR: (you are a murderer, you have always been a murderer, you will always be a murderer, you are fit for nothing else)

ICE CUBE SHAPE: anything that won't get sucked up a twirly straw

METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: horse, griffon taxi (once)

ART STYLE: baroque

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: is gorgon too on the nose?

PIECE OF STATIONERY: long-travelled diplomatic pouches full of other people's doodles

THREE EMOJIS: 🐍🗡💔

CELESTIAL BODY: the sun

[anbaisai]

Happy birthday to @crystallizsch and the lovely Yuusha! May you have another wonderful year full of happiness and currynoodles💜

[wolvesbaned]

one of these is a sona another is a pfp and another one of them is a fucked up people eating alien <3 and all three are going to be in a band bc i say so !!

[konveeart]

Sketchpage of my characters <33

I closed my eyes couple days ago and half-slept under the cloudy weather. It's the first time in years I get brave enough to draw my characters in a scene right after I experience it.. I sleep immediately at night (no complaints, I am indescribably grateful I don't experience insomnia), but I miss the time before I snooze where I dive into my headworld..

I've been doing so many things in-between working split shifts that I've given myself possibly another ibs episode, resulting in taking the day off yesterday. I felt ok by noon so "I'll draw for 2 hrs" became 7 ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I'll do my best to take it easy for the next few weeks u u ^^^love how I wrote so and as soon as I recover I want to go back to doing a billion things!!

Since you're here, here's the full page~

It was super fun to draw and I am extremely shy about it but also super proud and I worked hard!!

[dalvs-wife]

heart beats fast- colors and promises

how to be brave? how can i love when i'm afraid to fall?

but watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

/lyr

[blujayonthewing]

you know what I think the problem with trying to build a playlist for melliwyk is that I need to listen to more lemon demon

[sanchoyoscribbles]

metamorphosis / attack ✨

second one is a redraw of a tmm screenshot, comparison under the cut :)

not a 1 to 1 redraw but in my defense, the screenshot i was using for reference is CRUNCHY quality TwT and her cape covered a lot of the sketch :(

[mankillercalledbunny]

How to get around making characters OOC for a fandom you're not in when you've never witnessed the source material but the fanfic/fanart/etc got you interested:

Step 1: abduct them

Step 2: tweak them just a little bit, change names and maybe a few things about their appearance/accent/backstory, take out things from the canon material that you don't like, incorporate headcanons that you do, etc

Step 3: they're your OCs now, canon has no power here, it's more of an inspiration if anything

Step 4: do whatever you want however you want to. What are people gonna do, tell you you wrote your own OCs wrong? Fuck 'em

You can repeat this process whenever and however much you want until you have a veritable army of OCs, have fun

[baelavelaryon]

anyway all that being said: here's saera's playlist.

[whatudottu]

Because Ben 10 introduced mutants in OS as a baseline ‘they exist’ presence to a ‘Ben has encountered multiple mutant individuals across the states in one (1) summer roadtrip’ ratio of commonality, I’ve been thinking about how mutants in Ben’s Earth are actually out and about in conjunction with alien life before they were able to legally exist as aliens in human public when OV rolls around. And because I’ve been thinking as much as I have, I think I can have my cake and eat it too when it comes to whether or not Kevin is mutant or osmosian-

Let’s start off by introducing a little term I’ve been calling pseudo-human (or pseudo-humanity). I’ve been using this in my head in reference to aliens or alien hybrids (human/alien hybrids or Earthling alien/alien hybrids) born on Earth during the prior to Omniverse just introducing legal recognition of alien residency, and the whole ‘pseudo-human’ coming from the concept of being raised to be or as a human despite otherwise. This does not apply to adults who have immigrated to Earth as they have extraterrestrial heritage, even if they have lived a long time on Earth having to pretend to be human (whether that form comes under perhaps plumber provided ID masks - I guess if your immigration is recognised by the plumbers - along with inserted human documentation that only specific levels of government know is in fact a plumber provided documentation, by shapeshifting a la lenopan or anodite immigration, or those that keep VERY MUCH to themselves because ‘woops that’s not human’ is something they can’t very much help without the mutant community existing as a safety net). And pseudo-humanity doesn’t inherently mean ‘no connection to alien culture’, it just means that what ever alien community there is (whether it’s kept to family or extended to a much larger group), the kid still in that period of not being legally recognised as a person has to pretend to be human if they’re a participant of society, raised as one instead in the absolute lack of extraterrestrial community.

This term would apply to three of my OCs, the previously mentioned and created live on screen the crystal twins Lucía and Blanca - one human passing, the other not - and the ‘has been sitting in DMs’ lead singer of the all alien band Thing/s Jed - a lenopan/loboan who with the power of shapeshifting REALLY gets to pretend to be human - who grew up with pseudo-humanity. But what I find interesting about this is that indeed, this term could even apply to the Plumber’s Kids too.

If I recall, it was Manny and Helen that had come across as indeed confused as being referred to as aliens. For all they knew they were Earthlings, and yes they are, but they have existed (along with Pierce) on Earth potentially under the assumption of - let’s hear it - mutants! In a Ben 10 world that mutants exist in, especially open enough for Ben to randomly encounter multiple individuals across the US in only one summer’s worth of roadtrip, what else would one assume you’d be if you were born on Earth and have a human parent? Even Alan Albright was just ‘suddenly’ a pyronite one moment, waking up to a burnt bed that he left without injury. Heck- Pierce could have (if mutant league wrestling competitions were broadcast) just identified as a mutant since Porcupine and Gaterboy were indeed siblings, in fact if they actually could watch older episode or even grew up on them Manny could see Fourarms and go ‘Hey that’s me!’ under the same assumption of being a mutant.

And tell me - tell me to my face - why wouldn’t there be, with as many mutants as there are, why indeed wouldn’t there be a mutant community? It’s part of the reason why I my Mutants and Magic au acts as my OC verse in conjunction, characters like Jed, Lucía and especially Blanca (who cannot begin to pass let alone know she’s specifically an alien) would have a better chance of having just some sort of community if mutants were around already having to deal with ‘not being human enough’ for non-mutant humans, because so long as there are mutants, pseudo-humans can find a culture that connects them to something if they cannot find community in extraterrestrial peoples.

And this, my friends, indeed turns to Kevin Ethan Levin, a runaway so human passing that even his powers hide beneath his skin. Though this kid had no community to fall to, though this kid had no alien culture to connect with, he exists as someone that can call to the mutant community just as other pseudo-humans can. Just as the Plumber’s Kids identify with the mutant community, presented perhaps as spectacles to gawk at on TV screens (one of the easiest ways a mutant could earn a living) yet human all the same, Kevin can fall under the community of folk just being human, no matter what others say. The developments in Kevin’s identity of instead being an alien - an osmosian - is really just an evolution of what information about himself is known, and though perhaps it is not quite the same as going from ‘i don’t differentiate attraction between genders’ bisexual to ‘okay so equal attraction just means 0/0′ asexual discovery, but like- isn’t that just more interesting?

And - AND - this means that I don’t have to retcon the Rooters from all this either, another bonus. It could indeed be that Kevin was identified as a mutant - Servantis certainly has a point of reference what with mutants being just another part of the Ben 10 world - it’s not like the Rooter’s are up to date about the universe outside of the Null Void. What does Servantis know of Aggregor, of the Andromeda 5, of perhaps even the Map to Infinity?

Anyway I hope that was cohesive enough- idk if pseudo-human sounds a little slurry or not I guess you could say this is a peer review non-beta read little post of mine but like- it sounds more like a clinical term rather than a community name but eh. Just really wanted to like... establish that mutants have an actual impact on the world so... I hope you like it!

[squiggyy]

they are having fun :D

[nebulainatree]

My superpower is that I get so obsessed with something that I cannot stop thinking about it long enough to sleep. It's also not a superpower and actually is a curse

[mackmp3]

mack mack mack did i just read that strangeways plays both violin and fiddle well???????? cus if thats the case than uhm 💍(to strangeways)

hehe yeah she does! to be fair she has had like 60 years to practise (fell into a time vortex when she was 19, now ages very slowly) & she has a particular interest in british folk music so put A Lot of time into learning the fiddle style in particular hehe.

[selvnite]

I might have to write a post about Theia, I have so many thoughts about them and their past...

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part one

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p