#is this an oc? a real person? its all a mystery

[midmodmar]

Please be quiet guys he's studying for the civil service exam.

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[toxxicwrites]

Part 1: Broken Wings (Yandere Illumi x Oc)

Yandere Ilumi x oc

Warning: depictions of abuse, suicidal thoughts, death, pregnancy, kidnapping, Illumi being a completely terrifying person just in general, and Hisoka being... Hisoka

Ilumi made his way through the crowded bar, weaving through drunken dancers before finally making his way to the bar and the red-haired man who sat upon one of the stools, his white hands swirling around the dark whiskey he held. Ilumi sat beside him. 

“Why here?” he said. A wasted woman beside Illumi laughed loudly, sloshing her drink and bumping into him.

He continued, looking around blankly, “Why meet in an establishment… of this status.” 

Hisoka laughed. 

“Ah, rich boy, real entertainment is best found in the grimiest places.” 

Hisoka took a sip of his drink, already drunk, Illumi noted. A roar erupted behind them, back entrance doors swung open, and people rushed in. Hisoka quickly downed the rest of his drink. 

“It’s beginning.” 

He briskly walked through the doors, Illumi following closely behind, watching as eager faces passed. The back doors opened out into an abandoned warehouse. Whereas Hisoka said, the real fun began. A boxing ring jutted out in the middle, and the crowd rushed toward it, cramming for the best view, leaning on the elastic bands. Hisoka walked through leisurely, parting the crowd as customers made their way for him, a few nodding their heads in acknowledgment. 

“How long have you been coming here?” Illumi asked. 

Hisoka shrugged, “Here and there, I find these fights especially interesting…” 

A gong rang out, and Hisoka smirked. 

“Here she comes.” 

The crowd roared, and a figure entered the ring, adorned in a black robe that concealed any defining features. The mystery person raised their arms, and the crowd silenced. In a dramatic tear, the robe ripped off, revealing a young woman adorned in a dark purple one-piece and leotard resembling a circus girl. Her makeup, too, was exaggerated, with big doll eyes and bright red lips that extended her smile past its natural point, all but obscuring her natural features under its thick coating. Illumi scoffed; of course, Hisoka would bring him to a circus. She looked young, too, nothing like the fighter he was promised.

“Just wait,” Hisoka said, “You’ll see.” 

The woman raised her arms, and the crowd started chanting. 

“Red Robin!”

“Red Robin!”

“Red Robin!”

A big smile graced the woman’s features, playing into her character and further exciting the audience. A strand of white hair fell across her face as she bowed deeper, her smile widening as her eyes met his. His eyes widened slightly. How did she notice him? Hisoka stood beside him, grabbing another drink, oblivious to what he had witnessed. He continued watching after her, a growing curiosity- that would remain that and nothing more. 

The fight did not sate his curiosity. It grew louder and hungrier as he watched her dance across the ring, capturing his full attention and devotion like the pull of a lover’s grasp. One by one, she took down all the opponents in the most beautiful and violent ways, putting on an elegant show- only for him, colored dark red by the blood she spilled. 

The fight ended, and the voice of Hisoka faded in. 

“Would you like to meet her?” 

He looked sharply toward Hisoka, not answering. 

The red-haired man laughed, patting his shoulder, “I’ll bring her out.” 

Ilumi stood awkwardly by the bar, waiting for Hisoka and that woman. He grabbed another whiskey, tracing his finger on the edge, thinking about her. Hisoka’s drunken laugh drew his attention forward, where he saw the woman, closely hugged by Hisoka, his hand wrapped around her waist. Illumi stared at the pale hand, thinking about what it would be like, all bloodied and broken, detached from the waist of that woman. He blinked and looked up, meeting her eyes. Her face was bare of any makeup now, revealing her smooth pale skin, with a light spray of freckles across her nose that reached her rosy cheeks. 

“Here she is,” Hisoka said, twirling her around in costume, “the esteemed fighter and belle of the ball.” She laughed, smooth and elegant, like that of a songbird. He longed to hear her laugh again. 

She brought out her hand, meeting Illumi’s in a handshake. Her grip was firm, her hands calloused and rough, a fighter’s hands. He unwillingly let go, his dark black eyes meeting her warm brown ones. 

“My name’s Robin,” She said with a smile and a cheeky yorknew accent. 

“Illumi,” he answered, eyes not leaving hers. 

She laughed again before bowing down dramatically, “Pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Illumi.” She looked back up from the bow, blowing white hair out of her face. In that moment, he knew. He knew he had to have her. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Illumi,” She bowed low. Most of the patrons enjoyed the theatrics. He was different than the rest, though. He maintained an unrelenting eye contact that told her to run. But all men here were dangerous. Especially the pink-haired magician, whose hand had finally left her waist. He was charming in the way a game of Russian roulette called your name. Illumi, the man before her, seemed more composed, at least. 

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” Hisoka said, giving her a wink before disappearing into the crowd. Great. The man’s expression didn’t change, his dark- dead- eyes revealing nothing. He wasn’t bad-looking, not at all, just strange. Their conversation continued by the bar, with Robin mostly leading it as Ilumi answered personal questions very vaguely. After a few more drinks, Robin found herself intoxicated. Despite the man’s quiet nature, his cheeks flushed red, and his eyelids hazed down. Robin watched as he took another sip of the whiskey, long eyelashes pointed down as his soft pink lips touched the glass. She smiled, then, leaning over, she whispered in his ear. 

“Come with me.” 

The pair stumbled through the backstage halls. Robin’s giggles echoed as she ran toward a door, dragging the man behind her. She fumbled with her keys, unlocking the stage room door. She pulled his tie, dragging him into the room and bringing her face to his. Her eyes half-lidded, she leaned in apprehensively, a small peck, and she moved back. Meeting his black eyes with her brown. He grabbed her waist, pulling her close to his body. In an instant, he was on her, hungrily returning the kiss with more passion and aggression. She gasped into the kiss, and he pushed harder. Her hand reached his hair, engraining themselves in the long, silky strands. He sat her down on a chair, continuing to kiss her throughout, leaving her gasping for air as his mouth trailed down her neck. 

“Illumi,” she whispered as he trailed down further. 

He reached the waistband of her skirt and slowly pulled it down, kissing her thighs as he went lower and lower. He reached her inner core with nimble fingers, and he brought himself up for another needy kiss before going down. 

“What are you-” She gasped as she felt him. 

“Oh-” 

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both Worlds (part 1)

Tw: yandere oc guy, but i dont think this chapter shown that yet, but readers a fuckin stalker loser this time, university horrors

Okay guys so this story im literally pitting Yves and Montgomery together, gonna be a little slow burn but we r gonna get 2 da conflict like eventually

Also da settting in university cuase its da most relevant 2 me 💯

Enjouy

PART 2

He's so beautiful and ethereal. The man has been plaguing your mind for the entire week, you're being distracted from your assignments just because of this unbelievably gorgeous man with silky, long hair and dressed to the tens.

You grinded your teeth and scratched your skin, you know where he frequents. The university's library. And you obviously want to get closer to him after he caught you from falling. You slipped on a sheet of paper that you dropped and this mysterious stranger was there to catch you by the waist before your body could make any devastating impact. Unfortunately, your stacks of textbooks and other miscellaneous documents were scattered to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was smooth and pleasant with a unique, suave accent to it.

You were reduced to a nervous, stuttery mess. He gently brought you back up to your feet, he helped you gather your things and even arranged it by size and weight, so that it would be less likely for it to topple over. The man took a further step to smoothen the frizzles of your hair, fix your collar and sleeves. He even zipped your backpack up, you were unaware that it was open in the first place, adding to your embarrassment. You couldn't really push him away because your arms are occupied with your belongings.

It was hard to look into those stunning emerald eyes without flustering yourself even further, so you looked away while you stammered a "thanks" to him.

"Be careful." He said as he tilted your head by the chin to make direct eye contact. You know that you're as red as a tomato, but he didn't comment on it. The man lets you go before walking away, he fixed the handles of his luxury bag on his shoulder. Luscious curls bouncing with every step.

You felt like you wanted to explode right there and then, it took you a while to regain composure, other university personnel wondering why you're just standing in the middle of the path like that. Aren't you tired of holding all that stuff? It looked heavy.

You were snapped back into your senses when someone who you assumed had a bad day, told you to get out of the way. You scurried along the traffic, having the incident fresh in your mind.

You wonder who that man is, a student? A professor? A staff member?

You came to know that he's in the library for a few hours every weekday afternoons. He doesn't have a particular spot, the mystique spontaneously appears in random but fairly secluded reading spots in the library.

You felt like a stalker, but that's what you are. Too shy and afraid to talk to him, yet content with watching from afar. His ears are covered by his hair, so you don't know if he had any earbuds in. Fuelling your hesitance to make any contact first.

He could be reading a thick novel, handwriting something down on his notebook, or he could be typing away on his sleek, black laptop. In either instances, you have no idea what he's doing, it's either in a foreign language, full of numbers or completely made up of technical jargon.

You don't know why you're doing this instead of studying for your midterms. You're never like this to any of your crushes, not this obsessive over a real person, so why now? What compelled you to become this... creep? It's like you can't stop. You're scared of rejection but you can't get rid of the butterflies in your stomach.

You had no one to talk to about it because university is a very lonely place. At least, for personality types like you. You didn't want to bother your other friends, they have their own problems to worry about.

It reaches a point that you tried following him out of the library, wondering where he will go next. Before you could step past the automatic sliding doors, you looked at the book in your hand.

'Wait a minute, this is fucked up.' You thought to yourself. This isn't like you, exams are in spitting distance and you're subjecting this poor person to this harassment just because of a singular interaction.

You made a 180⁰ turn and marched back to your all-time favourite seat. Which happened to be occupied by the stranger earlier, maybe that made you a little peeved because you "claimed" it first at the start of the year. But he took it for the day.

To your surprise, there lies his notebook on the ground. He must have accidentally left it. You picked it up and looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then you flipped through it.

You were blasted with numericals, diagrams, words you weren't sure if it was written in English or otherwise and even floorplans of a building of some sort. You couldn't understand anything.

"Excuse me."

You whipped your head to the whisper. It was him! Your blood ran cold as he caught you snooping through his item. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

You struggled to form a coherent sentence as you pointed at it, you're done for, you're going to be confirmed a creep. But he only watched you with the utmost patience.

There came a point where you gave up, placed the closed book on the table and pushed it towards him.

Luckily though, you didn't have to say another word.

"You found my notebook. How careless of me to have dropped it." He pulled a chair opposite of you and sat down. You watch him place his handbag on another chair.

He elegantly picked the journal up and slid it into his bag. You were sweating at this point, the dread is about to make you vomit on him and that's not great. You wished that he would go away now, but seeing that he's locked onto his seat, it's highly unlikely.

You prayed hard for it though, he finished his business for the day. There shouldn't be any reason for him to linger.

"Thank you for keeping it safe. I hope you found whatever it is you were seeking from me." He continued, crossing his legs and resting his hands on the table.

What.

You asked what he meant by that.

A teasing smile made its way to his rouge lips.

"You were watching me." You grew pale and you scrambled to explain yourself, but he raised his index finger to signal you to let him continue.

"Your tact could be improved upon; I could see you trying to hide behind the shelves, I could hear you mumbling to yourself, and you shouldn't think so lowly of yourself." He propped his head up on one elbow.

Your cheeks felt hot. That is true, you were berating yourself for being too wimpy to go ahead and talk to him. You just didn't think you were that loud.

"I would have enjoyed having a chat with you. I wouldn't have thought that you were-- and in your own words, a 'creepy, loser-freak'."

Oh. He heard that too. You wish that you could disappear this instant.

"I'm flattered that you thought highly of me. However, I was disappointed that you thought that I was intimidating." He pouted playfully. "I won't bite." He twirls a lock of his hair around his fingers.

Your nerves are frazzled as he leans in. You didn't know what to say or what to do. He seemingly picks up on that and continues leading the conversation.

"Let's start with names. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." You felt his shoe brush against your leg.

You almost forgot your own name as you watch the bead of sweat drip down your nose in horror. He must think you're a stinky slob.

But all he does is stare straight into your soul while drumming his fingers against the table.

You told him your name, with a severe stutter. Each passing second felt like a serrated knife slicing through your flesh.

He repeated it, syllables rolling through his tongue wonderfully. He pronounced it correctly on the first try despite your cripplingly anxious enunciation.

"Yves." He replied. Finally, you have his name. You're totally not going to use that to dig for more information on him.

"You have a beautiful name." He complimented.

You nervously returned the compliment and let out an awkward laugh. Trying your best to ignore the growing sweat stain between your pits.

"How charming of you, (name)." He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. Yves collected his bag and turned his attention back to you.

"I'd love to talk longer, but I must go now. I believe you have an exam to prepare for. Best begin your revision now, I hope our brief conversation has helped to quell your worries."

...and you mumbled that part about yourself too. It's pretty safe to assume he heard all your thoughts.

Yves extended a manicured hand to you. Taking this as a clear request for a handshake, you accepted it.

Only for him to bring it up to his lips, tenderly and fleetingly kissing your knuckles. This entire time, his piercing gaze never left your eyes.

You wanted to claw yourself out of your flesh and die out of embarrassment.

"Study well."

He lets your hand down and presses it momentarily with his larger ones.

You watched him saunter away with his back turned against you.

You brought the back of your palm to your sight.

There is a faint, reddish tint on it. It must have been from his lipstick.

You're not sure if you ever want to wash your hand after this.

[aeleif]

A whimsical poll for the people of tumblr

Hope people enjoy this. I spent a long time making it and I'm really proud of it :D

You are walking through the woods and suddenly you come across 7 tree stumps laid out in a perfect circle.

As you move into the circle, an unknown voice starts speaking, "I've been waiting for you."

Searching for the owner of the voice you look around, but find no one. You decide to look at the tree stumps instead. On each of them lay an item.

"You may choose only one, each come with great power. Choose carefully as you cannot change your mind after," the faceless voice stated.

Only look below the cut once you've chosen.

Once you pick up your item, a scroll appears right in front of you. The ivory paper wrapped in a crimson ribbon floats before you, waiting for its contents to be read.

Once opened it reads,

(Go to the item you chose)

The Golden Potion - This grants you immortality immediately once drank. You will not age past your current age and not die from anything that would kill you otherwise. The immortality can be broken at any time you choose, but you won't continue aging, you will instantly die.

The Silver Pocket Watch - You can use this to manipulate time. You can do this by moving the hands of the watch in the direction you want time to go. The time that shows on the watch will be the time in reality. You can also stop time by stopping the watch from moving.

The Black Notebook - Ah, the elusive death note. With this notebook any person in the world can be sentenced to death, all you need to do is write their true name in it along with how they die. No one will find out you did it. This version also comes with no consequences and no shinigamis.

The Rainbow Jellybean - The jellybean before you can turn you into any creature of your desires. Whether that be a vampire or a werewolf. A fairy or a mermaid. Or a mysterious monster made out of pure darkness. You can be whatever you wish to become. This lasts for the rest of your life, so choose wisely.

The Pink Sketchbook - With this sketchbook you can bring anything you draw inside of it into reality. Want a nice cake to eat? Just draw it in the sketchbook! Have an OC that you desperately want to be real? All you have to do is draw. The sketchbook works perfectly no matter the skill of your art. If you draw a really bad looking cake it will come out looking like the cake that you desire.

The Purple Book - This book is actually a spellbook! It contains all the spells you need in order to become a powerful mage. Want to become an evil wizard and destroy the world? This book can help with that! With spells ranging from destruction to conjuration, all you need to do is work hard to perfect the spells inside and you'll be the world's most powerful being in no time!

The Red Shoes - When you wear these shoes you gain the ability to be transported into any world of your choice. Whether that be from your favourite film or one you made up. But do not let that fool you, you can still get harmed and die in these worlds, choose carefully! You may take off these shoes once in the world, but you will need them to get back to this world, so don't lose them.

-

I made this more writing heavy that I should have as an excuse to practice writing. I'm not a writer but I want to try writing at some point and have no idea where to start.

I hope people like this and aren't put off by all the words. Thank you to anyone who takes part <3

[takingchences]

𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏𝟖

Where the descendant of a legendary quirk longs to rewrite history by becoming a hero. But in order to fulfill her dream, she must first face off against ghosts from her past and a growing attraction for the insufferable Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + my masterlist

It was nearing midnight as Sana sat in the floor of her bedroom, her half-empty suitcase sitting abandoned off to the side as she stared down at the two letters in her lap. One was her letter from U.A informing her of her recommendation. The other letter was from Monoma. Or, to be more specific, Monoma's mother.

Or, to be even more specific... her aunt.

She'd finally gotten around to reading it, having rediscovered its existence as she packed for the internships, then reread it again about half a dozen times as she tried to process the news. Despite the boy's claims that it would tell her everything she needed to know, she felt more confused than ever. The woman introduced herself as Kurumi Monoma, formerly Kurumi Takahashi.

Her maternal aunt.

Until that moment, Sana had no idea she even had an aunt. Her mother's side of the family—much like the woman herself—was a complete mystery. She'd never met her maternal grandparents, nor did she know their names. Her father and his family refused to even acknowledge that Suzume had existed... or that at one point in time, she'd been a Sakano herself.

We really are cursed. Sana almost laughed at the irony of it all. They were famous for their light powers, but there was so much darkness surrounding her family's history. It was just as Monoma said at the festival.

"It's kind of ironic, isn't it?" He'd laughed. "That the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows."

It sort of made sense now, why he'd taunted her like that during the cavalry battle. He must've thought she was aware of their connection and been offended by the fact that she refused to acknowledge him or his family even when they were standing face to face. Sana was still upset by some of the things he'd said, especially since he'd made such crude comments in front of her friends as well as his, but she could understand where he was coming from. Tensions were high the day of the Sports Festival and emotions ran wild with the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

Kurumi had gone on to explain in her letter how she'd recognized Sana while watching the program and had asked her son to reach out to her. The woman seemed nice, even including her phone number so that Sana could contact her if she wished. She was hesitant to use the number, not sure what she would even say.

The strawberry blonde couldn't fault the woman for wanting to get to know her. Maybe they both needed the closure, so that they wouldn't have to constantly wonder what might've been. Or maybe it was out of a sense of duty. If they were truly family as she claimed, then maybe the woman felt responsible for her. Maybe she wanted to see if she was well. The Sakanos were severely lacking in the loving family department. As her sister, Kurumi must've heard stories about what they were like from Suzume.

Maybe this could be something good. Sana reread the letter for what felt like the hundredth time. I could finally learn about my mom.

The solar girl was so afraid to hope, to move on from all the heartache and one day be happy. Katsuki and the others pulled her out of that lonely place. Her friends from U.A accepted her when no one else did, not even Shoto. To now learn that there are people out there that might care about her—not for press coverage and appearances, but real, genuine affection... It was terrifying. Because she'd experienced that feeling before, long ago, and having it all ripped away so suddenly had nearly destroyed her.

Setting the personalized letter aside, she turned her attention to the recommendation letter.

Dear Ms. Sakano,

We are writing to inform you of your status as a recommended student. The hero that sponsored you has asked to remain anonymous for the time being. As a recommendation applicant, you will be required to-

Sana sighed, tossing the paper away. The letter went on to tell her the date and time of her exam. There wasn't a single clue in the letter indicating who had recommended her to U.A. It wasn't like she knew that many Pro Heroes besides Endeavor. Her father's low opinion on the hero profession was made very public very early on in his career. She assumed that as his flesh and blood, the heroes would not take kindly to her either.

Except one did.

And she had no idea who or why.

What did they have to gain from recommending her? Why would they help her achieve her dream when her own father actively fought to end theirs? She groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Time for bed," she sighed, eyeing the clock. "I have a long day ahead of me."

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

The entire class of 1-A was gathered at the train station with their belongings. It was the wee hours of the morning, the sun hadn't even fully risen yet. They collected their train tickets from their teacher and were grouped accordingly by their destinations.

"You all have your costumes, right?" Mr. Aizawa somehow looked even more haggard than usual, probably because of how early they had to meet at the train station. After all, some of them would be riding the train for hours to get to their agencies. They would be traveling all over the country for their internships: Tokyo, Kyushu, Hosu, etc. It was better to send them off all at once. "Remember, you aren't allowed to wear them in public. Don't drop them or anything."

"Yessir!"

"Speak clearly! It's 'yes, sir,' Ashido." Their homeroom teacher scolded with a tired sigh.

"Yes, sir..." the pinkette slumped in defeat. Sana nudged her with a small smile, which Mina eventually returned.

"Make sure you mind your manners with the heroes at your internships!" His hair stood up and his eyes glowed as he activated his quirk threateningly, then he jerked his chin towards the trains, letting his hair fall back down. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "Now, off with you."

"Yes, sir!" They yelled, breaking off in different directions to find their boarding stations. Mina and Sana squeezed each other tightly before parting ways, promising to text and video chat when available.

The internships would last exactly one week, and it was strangely thrilling to think how different they'll all be when school starts back. In the next few days, they'll grow and develop under the supervision of real pros. It wasn't the same as learning from the heroes of U.A. Those lessons, while practical and informative, are conducted in a classroom in a controlled environment. This time, they would be actively patrolling the streets and gaining on-hand knowledge and experience.

The Sakano girl couldn't wait to get started.

A certain ash blonde stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets, purposefully avoiding her gaze. Sana stopped next to him and tilted her head. "Are you waiting on something?" She lifted herself on the tips of her toes with a cheeky grin. "A good morning kiss, perhaps?" She whispered.

He scoffed, pushing off the wall to walk away. "Shuddup and grab your shit."

The pastel-haired girl easily caught up to him, practically skipping with excitement. "So... Best Jeanist, huh?" He arched a pale brow. "I just never pegged you for a fan." Sana innocently shrugged. "He's so polite and charismatic and you're so..." Vermillion eyes narrowed the longer the silence dragged on. "Not."

Bakugou tched, observing the passing commuters as they took their seats by the window. Their overnight bags and costumes were loaded into a compartment above their heads. "It's not about being a fan, idiot. He's ranked in the top five. If anyone can teach me something, it's him." Sana nodded, leaning back in her seat as the train slowly pulled forward. He turned away from the window to face her. "Why did you pick Mirko, anyway? Your quirks couldn't be more different." He knocked on the side of her head with his knuckles, making her hiss. "You were supposed to pick someone that could help you, dumbass!"

She glared at him, rubbing the tender spot. "Your quirk is just as different compared to Jeanist's! Besides, I wouldn't say there was a specific reason," she tried to explain. "More like, when I really thought about what I wanted to get out of this experience, she seemed like the best choice."

Bakugou perched his cheek against his fist as he gazed through the window, watching the sky go from a dusky purple to a hazy peach. Soft golden rays slipped through the gaps between skyscrapers as the sun crept higher in the sky. "What about your stupid drawback?"

Sana shrugged. "What about it?"

"You told Aizawa. You gonna tell her too?."

"I told Aizawa because he's my teacher and his quirk could help if something went wrong. Mirko's can't."

"If you'd gone to Endeavor's-" he grumbled.

"There's nothing for me there, Katsuki." She sighed, pulling her phone and earbuds out of her pocket. "No one knows how to deal with my quirk. I've accepted it and so should you." He begrudgingly dropped the subject, aware of her feelings towards the less glamorous aspects of her quirk.

"Where the hell are you even staying? She doesn't have an agency."

"We're at the same hotel as you." She stated like it was obvious.

He whipped around with furrowed brows. "HUH?"

Sana paid him no mind, her eyes trained on her phone as she played Candy Crush with one earphone in. He could faintly hear a Britney Spears song and he rolled his eyes. The peach-haired girl glanced up at him as her score was tallied. "What? It's like you said. She doesn't have her own agency, so Jeanist is letting us use his." The glint in her eye was wicked as she leaned over the armrest. "Just think, Katsuki. You'll get to wake up to this gorgeous face all week long." She pointed at herself with a gleeful grin.

He palmed her face, shoving her away with a grimace. "Fuckin' Hell."

She cackled, settling back into her seat. He turned back towards the window, frowning at the passing scenery. He didn't move as nimble fingers slipped an earbud into his ear. Didn't protest or make a fuss as girly pop music infiltrated his brain. Sana leaned into his side as she continued to play games on her phone, humming along softly under her breath.

And if anyone watching the two saw the tiny upward curve of his lips as he watched the oblivious girl with hopeless affection in his eyes... well, it was none of their damn business.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

The Genius Office was very modern compared to Endeavor's. Here, everything was brightly colored, the layout was more open, and the atmosphere was much more inviting. They were quickly ushered into changing rooms to wear their costumes. Jeanist was waiting for Katsuki in his office, but Mirko was nowhere to be seen. While Katsuki was escorted upstairs to meet his mentor, Sana was given a tour around the agency by some of the sidekicks.

"And this is-"

"THE HELL DID YOU CALL ME, YA DAMN FURRY?" Loud, boisterous yelling echoed down the long hallway, gaining their attention. Sana's head whipped around, immediately identifying the voice as Katsuki's. She hurried towards the lobby, the startled interns following after her. When they arrived at the scene, a woman with warm brown skin and long white hair stood smirking in front of a seething Bakugou. The boy was restrained by denim fibers as Jeanist stood behind them shaking his head in dismay.

Mirko's rabbit ears twitched and swiveled, her red eyes narrowing gleefully as she spotted her protege. "There she is!" In one mighty leap the pro landed right in front of the young girl. "Well?" Mirko tapped her foot, gloved hands on her hips. She twirled her finger in the air. "Turn and let me look at ya. I need to see what I'm working with." Sana did a slow, sarcastic spin with her arms out by her sides. Mirko smirked, crossing her arms with a snort of approval. "You're a little on the scrawny side for my taste," she scrunched her nose up. "But I can fix that no problem."

Sana huffed out a laugh. "Vlad King is scrawny compared to you, Mirko."

The rabbit hero pointed at her with one eye closed, her shit-eating grin widening. "Oh, this'll be fun, girlie." She threw a muscular arm around Sana. "See ya around, Number Four." Mirko saluted the man with two fingers, swiftly lowering one of her fingers to flip Bakugou the bird. "Teach that little runt some manners, would ya?"

Bakugou's fierce comeback was muffled as the threads wrapped around his arms and torso shot up to cover his mouth as well.

"Please refrain from such crude behavior, Mirko. You're setting a terrible example for our young guests." Best Jeanist swept his hair aside with a sigh.

The woman shrugged, unbothered by her coworker's mild scolding. "He can't get much worse, can he?" Sana covered her mouth to suppress her giggles as she was steered towards the back of the building, leaving Bakugou's muffled shouting behind them. She hadn't gotten to this portion of the tour yet, having been distracted by the arrival of her mentor. Mirko pushed open a set of heavy metal doors and strutted inside with Sana trailing behind her curiously. It was a massive room divided into sections by plexiglass. The farthest room had a large swimming pool, while the room next to it was equipped with weight lifts and workout machines. The rest of the gym was bare apart from the heavy padding on the floor and walls and long, padded benchs lining the walls. Another door was left unmarked, though it was most likely a locker room.

A training facility, Sana realized instantly. She was very familiar with the setup, having spent most of her free time in Endeavor's.

Mirko plopped down on the closest bench, crossing her ankles. "So," the older woman leaned back against her arms. "What made you pick me? And don't tell me it was because of my rank."

The light user was briefly reminded of Katsuki. She wondered if he was beginning to regret his decision. Best Jeanist was in for a hell of a week, but if anyone could get through to the bombastic blonde, it was him. "No, nothing like that."

Mirko cocked her head, scrutinizing her harder this time, as if trying to peer into her soul. "From what I saw of the Festival, you already have a pretty clear understanding of your quirk. It's useful for a variety of situations and it's super flashy, so you could go mainstream pretty easily if you wanted to. I guess the underground could work too, though Eraser would know more about that. You're good-lookin', too. That's good. A pretty face means more endorsement deals and merchandise. You're from a well-known family, though..." Mirko shrugged. "I can't say that will help you much in the ratings."

Sana rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Tell me about it."

Mirko snorted, bobbing her head in agreement. "What I'm left wondering, kid, is... what's the problem?"

"Problem?" The peach-haired girl repeated. "I don't understand-"

"C'mon, girlie. You wouldn't have come to me if you didn't want my help with something. Our quirks are incompatible, so I have no idea what made you decide to intern with me. Wouldn't someone with a similar quirk have been a better fit?"

"Maybe," Sana admitted. "But I didn't make my decision based on my quirk." The older woman sat up straight, intrigued. "I wanted someone I could model myself after. When I think about the kind of hero I want to become, I picture a strong, confident woman who doesn't take shit from anybody." Sana arched a brow. "Sound familiar?"

Rumi's lips curve into a smirk. "You don't seem like a pushover to me, kid."

"No, but I know what it's like to live in the spotlight. My ancestor is considered a historical figure, which means everyone thinks they're entitled to know every detail of my personal life. Anything I say in an interview or press conference will be twisted and warped to fit a narrative. Even now, people don't see me. I'm a Sakano—a cog in the machine, a part of the whole instead of a whole in my own right. The public already has a preconceived notion of who I am thanks to my old man. I can't have my public image tainted by the connotations that come with the name Sakano."

The bronze-skinned woman tugged on her snow-white ear. "Why choose the hero path, then? You're setting yourself up for a world of hurt."

Sana's answer hadn't changed since the first time Touya had asked her that same question all those years ago. "What about you, star? Why do you want to be a hero?"

Sana had beamed proudly, as though she'd been waiting for him to ask. "To protect Touya!"

The boy's ears had burned bright pink. If anyone else had said that to him, he would've gotten upset, insisting that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He knew Sana wasn't calling him weak when she said that she wanted to protect him. They were strong—much stronger than his father gave them credit for.

It was that strength that became their downfall.

Sana thought of how he'd been doomed from the start. No one had been there to save him in his time of need. Just like when Katsuki was held hostage by that Sludge Villain, people had gathered to watch Sekoto Peak burn with rapt attention, unwilling to step in and help.

No one had reported Touya's situation to the authorities despite the constant injuries along his arms and torso. Sure, they were self-inflicted... but shouldn't that have been a sign that something much darker was going on in the Todoroki household? No one had questioned the boy's mental state or why such a young child was stressed enough that his vibrant red hair faded into white in just two months.

Touya's own family couldn't do anything to stop it. Who protects you when it's a hero that's hurting you? Someone who protects strangers every day while also bringing such pain and turmoil to the ones they're meant to love.

"To protect the ones that go unnoticed."

Rumi sensed there was more to it than just a nice sentiment, but who was she to judge? She'd only become a hero to prove her strength. Sana crossed her arms. "What about you? Why did you pick me?"

Mirko shrugged. "That's easy. I want to fight you."

"... Huh?"

[dragon-flies-72]

I've seen a lot of theories on who the murderer is in TAoM (CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVENT ITS ONLY AN EP LONG BUT ITS SOO GOOD) but I've not seen one on Winn yet which surprises me because she was the first one I thought of.

1. First of I find it real strange that she didn't notice OC was missing when she woke up? I get that she was startled by being covered in water but her page is right next to OCs, you're telling me when she woke up she didn't even register the ripped page?? This is probably my biggest reason, the page being ripped seems to be a really big deal to all the characters so surely Winn would've made a big deal of it once she woke up.

2. Also, I hate to be that person but she was the first one to start pointing fingers. Instead of assuming something else she accused Albie seemingly out of nowhere? (Ive watched the episode a few times and i dont know why she immediately accused Albie? I get she was first to agree with Giogno but they all did so it cant be that)

3. Then there's the conversation we first here when they wake up

"So you're saying you just woke up like that?"

"Yeah what the fluff is this wet stuff"

From this conversation alone I think it's safe to say Winn woke up first (or second), if Albie did I think she would've seen Winn wake up and therefore wouldn't have asked that initial question. (For the record this is assuming she saw Winn wake up). From the sounds of this conversation anyone would assume Albie was either second or last to wake up, I'm betting on last because it makes the most sense that Winn wakes up first, then Souske and finally Albie. It also seems like Winn is typically the first to wake up as she awoke at 12:01 the first night so safe to assume she's usually first or second awake.

4. I haven't seen many people address this but there's also the possibility they didn't wake up dirty, we can see that they move around the room whilst Pip is asleep so it's plausible that the murderer could've woken up ripped the page out and whilst disposing of it they got covered in dirt or water, the dirt option seem less plausible because that would mean they left the room (its mud sooo) leaving Winn as the only option

Anyways thats just one of my many theories, i think it could genuinely been any of them (might start making cases for all of them lol been a while since ive gotten back into murder mystery) or Pip ripping it out, bullies ect (those just seem a bit too predictable to me). There no way of telling at this point all the characters are a bit too sus so we're just gonna have to keep speculating whilst waiting for the next sketchbook!

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Inferum

Prologue

Jake x OC (f)

Warnings: possibly spooky subject to some, talk of human remains

Quocumque ingrederis sequitur mors corporis umbra.

My story begins like any other I suppose. When I was small and staying with my Grandma Julie, as I did most weekends, I saw my first fantôme, ghost. As I lay sleeping, I woke to a woman sitting at the end of my bed. She was old, her red hair reminded me of a poodle and the way she dressed seemed out of place, even to a five year old. She lounged at the end of the bed, legs crossed, one arm draped across her lap and a cigarette in the hand of the other. Up until then my little mind had not thought to be frightened, just confused. 

Then, she took a drag of her cigarette and slowly faced me. She stared at me, unblinking. My heart began to pound and I could feel my throat begin to close from the sheer terror that coursed through my body. I wanted to scream, jump up and run to my grandmother, anything! But I was frozen in place. All I could do was screw my eyes shut and pray for her to go away.

The next morning, I told Grandma Julie about the woman in my room. She, like most adults, thought nothing of it and figured the woman was an imaginary friend I’d conjured up. That is until I began to describe her. As I recounted the details of the woman, from the color of her pants to the pattern on her sweater, my grandmother’s face slowly began to fall.

“Oh! And she had funny looking hair. It was red like yours, but looked like cotton candy!” I’d said.

All color drained from Grandma’s face. Her hand slowly raised and covered her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes and she whispered, “Oh, God!” I later learned that the person I’d described had been my grandmother’s mother, Ava. Not only that, but the way I described her was how she’d looked the day she told Grandma Julie that she had lung cancer. 

Since that day, I’ve never stopped pursuing the paranormal. It started with me asking my parents– or rather any adult– about ghosts. Were they real? Had the woman I’d seen just been in my head like my mother tried to convince me? As I got older, I would read any ghost story I could get my hands on, be it fiction, reddit forums; whatever form they took. Some would say that I was/am obsessed, but I’d like to think that I’m on a lifelong pursuit of knowledge. Albeit niche. 

Which brings us here, to Paris.

Paris, the city of love, the city of light, the city of the dead. It should be clear as to which name brings me here. The city of love… Ah, who am I kidding? I’m here for the Ossuaire Municipal de Paris, otherwise known as the Catacombs.

The Catacombs are steeped in mystery, the macabre, and stories of the paranormal. Which, how could they not be? They hold the remains of an estimated six million people. Not only that, but most of the remains were exhumed from their original resting place and dumped into the then abandoned limestone mines. 

But then there was good reason for this, as the cemeteries of Paris were overflowing by the mid to late 1780s. It was so overflowing and “unpleasant” to live near that it became a matter of public health and safety. So, the bones of millions began to be moved and continued to be until 1814 and then began again in 1840. 20 years later, the interment of remains officially and finally stopped.

Now, the remains weren’t left undisturbed during this time. Just before the Ossuaire Municipal de Paris was opened to the public, a man named Héricart de Thury was charged with heading the “decorative rearrangement” of the bones, that up until this point, were just pushed in the massive piles along the walls to utilize as much space as possible. So, Thury was the man who planned and executed the macabre and morbid designs and art that you see today within its walls.

These two things, the mass exhumation and further disturbance of the remains, are said to be the catalyst for the haunting of the Catacombs. Which in turn has brought thousands of urban explorers, paranormal investigators, and lovers of all things supernatural to the city. There are so many stories and urban legends told by those who have braved the uncharted parts of the catacombs. I’m sure they could fill a library's worth of books. 

This particular excursion of the city of the dead will fill mine.

taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf, @edgingthedarkness, @jakekiszkashangnail08

If you would like to be added to the taglist for future installments, let me you 🖤

[vulpixisananimal]

looking into tonfas (aka i watched literally 2 videos so far, one a tutorial and one a quick style showcase) bc im forever tempted to draw ramos and ohhhhh it actually fits them so well.........the bluntness mixed with the deadly precision (rock/scissors fr fr!!) integrating different martial arts styles....ESPECIALLY bc with their structure, tonfas have 2 style 'types': the 'defensive' styles that keep the long section close to the arm, and the flashy motherfucker i mean 'offensive' styles created by spinning the tonfas out. im very new to them so the names are more the impression i get than their actual offense/defense capability but GOD are they cool. and you tend to draw ramos in the 'defensive' style, which makes sense! they dont feel very Strong, so they focus more on protecting themself than flashy offensive moves, and they keep their cards close to their chest. or under their bandana, as it were.

GODDD i just love your story so much, from bonnie seeming to half-remember (what the hell is up with that, btw. why were they bleeding red that one time. that image has been in my head for so long. god i need to reread this au to organize my thoughts), to the mind craft (hehe. minecraft) star thats not Actually a wish at all?? to all the alters, to the Mystery theyre planning to invest hold on hold on its the two ocs you showed off!! theyve even got the silhouettes!! i nearly forgot about those fuckers. AND THE THIRD ONE MUST BE THEIR GUARDIAN ohhhhhh im so excited!!!!!! this is gonna be so cool

TONFAS ARE SO COOL FOR REAL!!!

Ramos I love Ramos and honestly I started with them not having as big a role but they grew on me and I realized they can be so much more like. Man. And them having a weapon that fits with both personality and fighting style, well, I like tonfas, they're cool, they fit.

In fact you inspired me to redo their ref!!

As for all the mystery? I'll admit there's some answers yet to be given, some connections not yet made, actors not yet met. But I know for a fact, you may find answers to one of those questions in the intermissions~

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Four

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Mentions of Death / Grief, Drinking, Sad / Anxious Themes, Shitty Dates, Potential spoilers for a rom-com that came out in 2006, brief conversation involving sex (very tame if you read fanfic regularly) and a tiny little taste of what's about to happen next week.

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary : Charlotte has the most unfortunate day ahead of her, but remembering fondly on better times helps her make it through. As one would say; the world works in mysterious ways.

Author's Note: I'm going to be so for real with you, I know the premise of this chapter is a bit on the heavier side. BUT- with that said, I did my best to not make it too difficult to read. I hope you enjoy learning a little more about my favorite red-haired beauty. 🧡 (There's very few HEAVY chapters in The Caravel Tavern Series and sadly, Ms Charlotte has at least 2 of them)

Portland Maine - Donovan Woods "Leave your bags in the car, keep it running, I won't pretend, That I won't miss this."

I never knew what people meant when they said they felt numb until today. It feels like I hardly slept last night, but I did end up lying in bed for a while this morning. After I convinced myself to get up, I reluctantly made some coffee, took a shower, blew out my hair, and made it look presentable again. 

I’m sitting in front of my mirror with all my makeup splayed out in front of me. Carefully clipped my hair back so I didn’t mess up the loose waves I spent time working on. I look at myself, taking a deep breath; my under-eyes are dark from the lack of sleep. God, I don’t want to do this. 

I slowly work through my makeup routine, pausing every so often to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. With every step, I look more and more like a normal person. I set my mascara tube back into its place, taking a second to look at how everything looks. I hold a breath, closing my eyes gently as it leaves my body.   

And then there I stood in my closet, staring at all the options. Choosing an outfit is usually a highlight of my day, but today was certainly not one of those days. I still haven’t said it out loud; it makes it too real. I never thought I would be in a position where I had to mourn a friend, a best friend. My best friend. 

Unfortunately, accidents happen, and generally speaking, I handle those well. I am not doing well in this specific instance, but she would want me to go stun at her service. The thought makes me laugh, even in the midst of the saddest time. 

I can hear her in my head, yelling, “Lottie! If you don’t wear a bomb pantsuit, I’ll haunt your ass!” I let out a small laugh at the thought. She always has a way of doing that. I pull out some tapered black pants, a black cotton T-shirt, and a blazer, I feel like she’d be happy with this, I think to myself as I put on the gold necklace she bought me.  

Checking myself one more time in the mirror, “Okay, I think I’m ready,” I mumble to myself. I grab my bag and my keys and head out. 

The drive feels surreal. It’s something that nobody is ever prepared for, and as much as I know that, I really thought I would be better at this. Trying to focus on anything besides the situation, I have the music turned up insanely loud, the window is cracked for fresh air, and I’m sipping on the coffee I brought. I enjoy the scenery as best as I can, trying to find the silver lining on this day. Thankfully, the weather isn’t terrible today, so there’s… something. I just embrace the feeling of the sun on my skin with the cool autumn breeze. 

I pull into the parking lot, shut off my car, and just stare at the building with others dressed in all black wandering in. I take a minute to just sit here, mentally preparing myself for the service. I won’t pretend that I won’t miss her, but in my head, she’s never really gone. She would be yelling, ‘Your ass is stuck with me for life.’  I let out a small laugh at the thought. 

I look up at the sky as I walk towards the door, “You’re lucky I love you so much,” I whisper to myself, and her, before grabbing the door handle to the funeral hall.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

3 Months Ago..

I carefully walk back into my living room, handing one wine glass over to her. She quickly cheers my glass as I go to sit down. I take a little sip before setting it on a coaster. 

“What are we cheers-ing?” 

“Actually getting to hang out, for once!” 

Truth be told, I can be a pain in the ass to plan time with. I spend a lot of my time working and ignoring my personal life. Not the healthiest habit, now is it Char?  

“I’m the worst. I’m sorry,” I cringe as I pull up Netflix. 

She laughs loudly, something I’ve always loved about her, “at least you’re self-aware.” 

“I’m choosing to pretend you didn’t agree,” I scroll over to our favorite movie, “shall we?” 

I don’t know why we became so attached to John Tucker Must Die, but now it’s almost a tradition to watch it if we have a night together. Maybe it’s because we both have had our fair share of terrible men in our lives or because we have bonded over the hatred of a single person. Regardless, we make it a point to always watch it when we have the chance. 

“So, are you still seeing that one dude?” She asks, a half smirk on her face. 

I can’t tell her fast enough, “Oh GOD, no. Never again.”

“He seemed a bit.. boring.”

“He had ZERO personality. About as exciting as the fourteen tan suits that he owns,” I feel a little bad making fun of him, but my god, he was dreadful. 

“He was also mid in bed.. and that’s giving him credit.” I shrug, taking a sip of my drink to hide my smile. 

“LOTTIE!” 

“CASSIE!” 

We both laugh until tears are falling down our faces. 

“I’m sorry!” I giggle, “But you shouldn’t start things you can’t finish.” Covering my mouth because I also can’t believe I said that. 

“Amen, girl!” 

We’ve spent most of our adult lives confiding in each other about everything. Every new job, family drama, bad date. We both know the ins and outs of each other’s sex lives because sometimes it’s so humorous that you have to tell someone. 

The two of us have been close since we met at our first job in high school. Dairy Queen wasn’t the most exciting place to work, especially during summer break, because you just can’t get the smell of melted ice cream out of your clothes. After countless shifts working together, we bonded and inevitably started talking outside of work. Realizing quickly that we were incredibly different, but it also made it fun. I kept her focused when it was busy, and she helped me to loosen up when we weren’t on the clock. 

“Have you tried just meeting someone organically? Or are you ‘too busy’ ?” She says the second half in a mocking tone. 

I roll my eyes quickly, “My job just takes up a lot of time, so dating apps seem to be easiest.” 

“I know you’re going to hate this, but,” she starts, “it’s just a job, babe. You’re allowed to take time for yourself or, in this case, to find someone.” 

“No, I know.. I just-” 

She cuts me off, “There’s no ‘I just’ anymore, girl. You’ll burn yourself out on this job if you don’t make time for yourself.” 

I put both of my hands up to surrender, “Okay, you’re right.” We both sink back into the couch and giggle through the rest of this ridiculous movie. 

Cassie is a free spirit, something I wish I could learn to be. She always had a positive approach to things, not in the sickeningly sweet way, either; just genuinely, she saw the good in the world. She did not care about other people’s opinions; she wore whatever she wanted, followed her dreams, and did whatever she wanted. 

It was always funny to me when we were out in public together. Her outfits were always fun and colorful, and she wasn’t afraid to try new things. Then there’s me, borderline-looking professional at any given point. I love neutrals and looking put together. Maybe it was just to give the front that I knew what I was doing, but nonetheless, I enjoyed a pantsuit. People would always watch her. She’s beautiful, to be fair, but how she carries herself is incredible.

She is really the only person I consistently keep up with. We text each other from the moment we wake up until someone passes out, usually waking up to a bunch of things unread from the early hours of the morning. Nothing would stop us from staying close, though, not even going to different colleges, having entirely different careers, or living two hours apart. 

Watching Kate throw cake at John will never not make us hard-laugh; he deserved every ounce of it. Both of us are kicking our feet over Scott, coming around to be her lab partner again, and calling her perfect. Ugh, he’s an angel. 

“Y’know, Lottie,” she giggles, “Maybe you just need to find a Scott of your own.”

Sitting up from my corner of the couch, “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s be honest here. You always go for the John type.. Maybe you need a Scott.” 

I can’t deny that I tend to go for that type, but I have my reasons. Because you’re a bit neurotic..? Excuse me? I just know what I like and don’t like. 

“You’re not wrong.”

“Just give it a try,” her voice changing into a more empathetic tone, “Stop thinking yourself out of happiness for once.” Her hand landed on mine, giving it a double pat before looking back up at me. 

“Alright, alright.” I can’t deny that she could be onto something. I’m just bad at accepting change. “If I run into someone who is giving ‘Scott’ vibes, I will give it a shot. But I’m not making any promises that it’ll work.” 

She lets out a feral squeal, “Oh my god, I can see it now! Some kind-hearted, nerdy, long-haired man just sweeping you off your feet!” She falls over dramatically with her hand on her forehead, like a Victorian woman in a silk robe falling onto velvet sofas. We fall into a fit of giggles as she tells me her entire vision of what my life could become. 

“You just deserve a man who’s as much of a hopeless romantic as you are,” she says through a laugh. 

“Hey now! Just because I read romance doesn’t mean that I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Lottie, I don’t know who you’re trying to convince here.” 

I hate it when she’s right. I do have a soft spot for romantic things. Something about finding the right person at the right time, just feels like it only happens in books or movies. Meeting the love of your life by chance feels so foreign in our time, because everything is through dating apps and the internet. 

“I just don’t think I’ll find a man who compares to any of the love interests in my books, you know? I have to stay realistic, Cass.” 

She rolls her eyes at me, “I’m sure one exists out there. You just need to open your eyes more. Stop dating Finance Bros,” she barks out a laugh, “They are definitely not written by women nor do they know how to treat one.” 

“Ugh.. I know you’re right,” I confess, “I don’t even know how to meet people organically.” Dramatically throwing myself back onto the couch, covering my eyes with my hands. 

“We will get you all dolled up and hit the Old Port one of these weekends,” she pulls me back up, “I’m sure we can find you a man in one of those bars. You’re too sexy– there’s no chance you won’t catch a few looks.”

My face hot instantly at her compliment, “As long as you approve of him, I’ll do it. That’s the agreement from now on.” She sticks her hand out, taking mine and rapidly shaking it. 

“Yes, yes, yes! This is what I’ve been dreaming of!” she hollers through my apartment, “I get to turn my shy little Lottie into someones WIFE!”  

We’re a few glasses of wine deep at this point. 

“So I went on a date with this guy,” Cassie starts, struggling to hold in her laugh, “I wish I could explain to you how bad.” 

“Oh god, PLEASE.” 

“The first red flag that I so nicely ignored was that he didn’t even dress cute! He wore sweatpants, girl,” both of us borderline screaming at the statement. 

“Also, his name is Jeff,” she cringes. “I feel like I should have KNOWN.” 

I finally cave, “What actually happened on the date?” 

“Literally nothing. He only like half listened to me, we went to a bar with TVs and he was fully focused on whatever sport was on.” Rolling her eyes as she tells me. 

“That’s SO annoying!”

She took a sip of her wine and swallowed it quickly, “HONESTLY— I even had the girls out, trying to look a little cuter than normal.”

“Well, that’s terrible that it didn’t work out. I’m sure you looked way too hot for him anyway.” She literally looks hot all the time, he’s a fool to not notice that. 

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, “Oh girl, I still invited him back.”

“CASS-“ I scream. 

“Hey— sometimes you just need to get laid!” She says matter of factly. 

“I guess I can’t argue that.. he couldn’t have been very good?” 

“Oh god- he literally didn’t even try to take control. A whole pillow princess if I’ve ever met one.” 

I can’t stop the scream that escapes me, making her laugh with me. 

After she comes to, “It’s okay, at least I know my way around. Still managed to get off even if it was looking like I had a small window before it was done.” 

“How fast did he leave after?” I have to ask. 

“Oh, he ran out of there. Definitely is just looking to get his dick sucked, nothing serious.” 

“Well, for your sake, hopefully, it was worth it.” 

After a few more hours, we fell asleep on my couch. It was a pretty typical situation for us. We just get so caught up in giggling and being around each other that we lose track of the time. We would always take advantage of the times we get to actually hang out since they were becoming less frequent. 

We spent the morning sipping coffee together before she needed to head back home. She pulled me into a hug, swaying me back and forth for a minute before getting into her car. 

“I love you, Lottie!” 

“I love you too,” I tell her, “Let me know when you make it home, okay?” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun feels good on my skin; I’ve been sitting in my car with the door open for 20 minutes. The slight breeze made it so it wasn’t too warm, just baking in the sun. Her service was beautiful, and the room was full of people there to celebrate how wonderful of a person she was. I couldn’t have asked for anything better except to have her here instead. 

Decompressing before I decide what to do next since I’m already in the city She would tell me to do some retail therapy to get my mind off of it, which is honestly sounding pretty good right now. She was always good at talking me down when I got into my head about something. Even if it was just trying to make me laugh because she knew that I was being dramatic about whatever it was. 

 I grab my phone out of my bag to see if I can convince myself to spend some money irrationally for a small dose of serotonin. 

Jacob: Hi there. I have been trying to get through this paperwork and I think I’m just lost on what I need to be doing. I don’t know if you are nearby and want to stop in or you can literally just call me that’s also fine. I just don’t want to mess things up again. Let me know whichever works for you.

I mull over the options of working right now or shopping; unfortunately, I know what my body is going to end up doing. I can’t not help him, especially since he was so nice to me about the whole thing anyway. I swipe out of my texts, pulling up maps and typing in the address. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Even just driving through Portland felt weird now. It was always the two of us; C2 is what we call ourselves. Even if she always called me ‘Lottie,’ leaving people confused most of the time. She lived nearby, so the biggest reason for me to come here was her. We would usually end up ordering takeout and camping out on her couch, but on the rare occasion, we would go to the Old Port for drinks. Never remembering much past midnight though, I can’t imagine how ridiculous we looked. I really hope nobody ever saw us.

I park down the street from the bar, giving myself a minute to mentally prepare. The clock in my car shows 3:15 pm; this shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully, I can get home before it’s too dark. I open my bag, seeing the ‘in memoriam of Cassandra..’ sticking out. I pull it out, looking at the photo of her on the front. 

“You look good, Cass,” my throat tight as I whisper it into the quiet of my car, “I miss you so much.” I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry again. Get it together; you need to be professional. 

I set it down on the passenger seat, not wanting it to get crumpled up in my bag. I grab my phone and start walking to the bar. I really hope it’s quiet in there since it’s so early in the afternoon. The quicker I help him, the sooner I can get out of this city. 

I pull open the door to the bar, but only a few people are scattered throughout. Perfect, this should be smooth sailing. I walk towards the bar as Jacob turns around, pulls out his phone, and then disappears behind the bar quickly. It’s hard to deny that he’s a handsome guy, but it still catches me off guard that he is the owner of this place. 

“I didn’t think I would see you today,” is all I can really hear as he drops down, aside from the sounds of rustling paperwork. I can hear the vague sounds of his mumbling, but nothing is clear. I set my bag on the barstool next to me, deciding to not sit down just in case it’s a quick question. He stands back up, his eyes finding mine. He’s quiet for a moment, what feels like forever, as his face falters and his eyes scan all over me. Don’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask me.  Watching as his eyebrows pulled together, I knew exactly what was about to happen. 

He asked me that godforsaken question, “Are you okay?” in his soft, raspy voice. Shit.  It felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. I’ve avoided the question for two weeks because I knew the moment someone asked, it wouldn’t go over well. I really can’t even fault him for asking. If anything, it’s sweet that he noticed that something was off.

I breathe in slowly, feeling the prick of tears in my eyes again. Trying to muster up everything in me to answer confidently. For the love of God, don’t cry. 

“Um,” my shaky breath comes out as my voice fails me. Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, barely above a whisper. No, I’m not. Who am I kidding? My heart pounds in my chest despite feeling like it’s shattered. The silence between us felt like forever until I heard a door opening.

We both look over quickly, seeing Josh come around the corner before Jacob comes out from behind the bar. Grabbing my bag and placing his hand on my back, he guides me towards his office. He lets me into the small room first and sets my bag on the chair before turning to me. Oh no. The way his eyes are full of worry as they meet mine; I pull my hands up to hide my face, unprepared for my emotions to betray me. 

A sob escapes me, louder than I would have liked. My chest aches. The sound of the door shutting was immediately drowned out by the feeling of his arms pulling me into him, his hand holding my head gently against him before he whispered the words that I knew would haunt me. 

“Oh, honey.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Three

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reply or fill out this form to be added!

[jitteryjive]

Text ID: Fitzroy and Foster ©1936 Maurice Foster, a shamus with psychogenic amnesia, strictly adheres to reality— until a chance encounter inexplicably manifests a rubberhose cartoon named Fitzroy with his likeness! The two deduce they must solve how Fitzroy (and whoever created her) came to be. End ID.

FITZROY & FOSTER MAKE THEIR GRAND DEBUT!

HERE IT IS FOLKS!!! a shiny post just for the new stand-alone OCs!!! after watching the new trailer for mouse: PI for hire, i had the realization i don’t have any B&W toon OCs… this is my solution! this is also my opportunity to write a more noir-focused story X) there is plenty more art, descriptions of the cast, and a chart under the cut!

also my apologies for the lack of full alt text; i have never done a separate art and text description before, so if anyone has any suggestions, please share :-)

while not obligated i would appreciate reblogs for my troubles!! (silly)

WHAT IS FITZROY & FOSTER?

fitzroy & foster is a great depression-era, noir inspired fiction about a private investigator (shamus) named maurice foster and a rubberhose, b&w toon that looks just like him! along with the motivation from mouse to draw a b&w toon, i wanted to dabble in genre-typical archetypes being interrupted by a character who does NOT fit in (fitzroy). also, as i’ve been experiencing a lot of PTS, i wanted to write a character who’s centered around their trauma.

(the original concept art i did up)

WHAT IS THE STORY?

burnish avenue is the dusky, downtown home of a city’s anticipated activity: construction men, working parents, a moonlit cabaret, and a shamus office on its second floor. that little studio belongs to 34 year old detective foster, a gruff investigator specializing in private cases. he lives with the psychogenic amnesia he received from his unknown past, and due to his memory issues and sensitivity, stays toughened and grounded in reality.

that is, the impossible occurs. a night returning from an investigation ends with an attack by a cartoon wolf, and foster mysteriously wakes up in his office with a cartoon character in tow! after a scuffle of confusion, she introduces himself simply as fitzroy. they both deduce they must work together (despite their flagrant differences) to figure out who created fitzroy, who that wolf was, and how toons are real.

Text ID: Who are Fitzroy and Foster? Maurice Foster is the shamus of Burnish Avenue, as many residents call him. He is gruff and reticent, and due to a secretive past, he holds contempt for, but not limited to, daydreamers, hecklers, clowns, and absurdity. Fitzroy, on the other hand? She's the complete opposite! Where he came from, why he's got Foster's face, and how she's a living, breathing cartoon is an illogical mystery. He is devil-may-care and hates stoicism; all his solutions to problems involve the highest degree of cartoonishness! These two are a match made in heaven, but they both ask the inquiry— why is Fitzroy here, and at that, who created him? End ID.

according to the locals of burnish avenue, foster appeared with the wind some years ago. to this day, the only things people know is his name, his hailing from woodlawn, new york city, and his connections to the burnish cabaret. though he’s known for taking a tough fist to enemies, he is also known for his benignity towards his clients, and is trusted by the avenue.

fitzroy is just as enigmatic. the difference between her and foster, other than being a living, breathing, toon, is his kippy personality! she loves fun, can’t stand being serious for the life of her, and is unnervingly eager to knock down a criminal’s door with some wild weapon he’s made up. he doesn’t know where she came from, either, so she makes the most of it!

fitzroy and foster are two sides of the same coin— if those two sides could staunchly disagree! they may share emotions and the remnants of memories foster has of his past. regardless, to foster, fitzroy’s an unbearably wacky impossibility, and to fitzroy, foster is a killjoy who needs loosening up.

contrarily, they cooperate as well as they can when on a case together. fitzroy comes along for the ride, and though his abrasive, comical methods of investigation may irritate foster, an extra body and friend by his side aren’t taken for granted. (for being a silly cartoon, fitzroy’s weirdly handy with dynamite and pistols.)

eventually, the two will learn to see eye to eye, being foster opens up and fitzroy’s efforts thaw him. but, until then, they butt heads and get no closer to solving the case of the living cartoons.

WHO IS JO/JOSEPHINE?

Text ID: Josephine “Jo” Simon (She/her). End ID.

Text ID: Who is Jo? Josephine "Jo" Simon is one of the satiny performance girls of the Burnish Cabaret. A singer, dancer, and show-woman, she performs every evening below Foster's private office on the second floor. Jo is a debonair dish with the great ability of making all kinds of acquaintances! However, the friend and confidante she deems her closest is Foster. Jo contacted the investigator in early 1932 to help gather enough evidence of her then husband's abuse. She, in return, helped him find an office. In present time, they chat every day, or have a dil-ya-ble if they're busy. When Jo isn't romping with Foster or performing, she's drawing away! End ID.

the hijinks within detective foster’s office aren’t the only focuses of the story. a floor below his private studio is the burnish cabaret, the source of the avenue’s musical nightlife. there, you may see 31 year old josephine simon in the ensemble— but everyone calls the performance girl jo. she is a flirtatious, humorous show-woman who has always loved the arts since her childhood.

jo was drawn to the cabaret when she moved near the avenue with her then husband. as a young child, she was adopted by french immigrants, and eventually left home in search of her identity. the cabaret, which hires and houses chinese-american women, gave her the ability to reconnect with herself. when she escaped and divorced her husband, she fully joined the cabaret, and has lived and performed there to this day.

if you’ve read this far, thank you! while this isn’t replacing crime express in any capacity, and ruth and blu are still my favorites, F&F (as i abbreviate it) is another passion project in the making. keep an eye out for more of the new little guys if you’re interested! X)

as i’ve gotten a couple questions from irl friends about F&F, i will answer the relevant ones here for convenience:

Q: are fitz/fitzroy and foster related/twins/etc?

A: no. they’re not related in any way, despite fitzroy originating from foster and what not. i only clarify this cause they’re shipped in the story and don’t want any misconceptions LOL

Q: is F&F part of the crime express universe/tooniverse?

A: no. this is a separate universe entirely! unlike crime express, which is a toon-human world, this is a world unfamiliar with toons. fitz and the other toons not featured here are outliers.

Q: who is the ‘cartoon wolf’ who attacks foster in the prologue?

A: while i don’t want to spoil the story in the introductory post, i will say that their pseudonym is the big bad wolf, and they are responsible for several denizens of the avenue acting strangely or injured, including foster. their real motivations and identity shall be kept secret for now!

if there are any other specific questions, i will GLADLY answer them. i have a ton of lore i haven’t even remotely touched upon in this post that i shall happily discuss if asked!

border credit goes to @.steddiecameraroll-graphics

[chipchopclipclop]

love ur baldurs gate 3 oc so much. idk anything about the game but i genuinely likes him. i wish hes a real character bc i would buy the game for him

thank you anon i know this message is weeks old but ily and also im going to use this ask as an excuse to dump information about him now (swagdor lore (swaglore)) for anyone who cares

general stuff;

hes 49 years old as of game time

necromancy wizard, learned scholar, heavy interest in the boundaries between life and death and undeath, researching different types of resurrection unrelated to god worship (just not a big fan of asking for favours yknow)

stoic even keeled personality, reacts neutrally or stone faced to most things (this does not mean hes uncaring, hes got a curious nature). he used to be very showy and loud when he was younger, he finds that now very embarrassing

used to be a leader of an adventuring band in his 20s, fell apart when his group were defeated in battle leaving him lone survivor, wasnt a necromancer back then

has a distinct lack of self regard, half of him believes he'll be more of use untethered to the chain of mortality (undead in some fashion, or just thinking his corpse more functionally useful) the other half is just still struggling with survivors guilt (lol)

wanders around looking for old crypts and tombs to help his arcane pursuits, do-good's alot accidentally while he does, though most people get scared of him when he reveals the necromancy magic so hes got a mixed reputation (has some sort of misnomer like The Specter of so-and-so that wyll probably recognizes and laughs about)

will go along with just about anything if it amuses him, and has a weird sense of humour. hard to catch off guard or fluster, he yes-and's people alot to see how far they'll go with something or out bluff them (sometimes this causes them to try and beat the shit out of him)

truthful about his feelings when asked, but rarely volunteers his thoughts on things of his own accord, this gives him a weirdly mysterious image at first to most people

treats his raised corpses with care befitting living beings outside combat, and used to even raise some for company even if they were functionally just puppets.

he likes skeletons more than zombies (smell…)

his fake in game quest line is called 'The Wandering Necromancer' and involves inquiring about his old adventuring days of times past and learning why he's so into skeletons. He eventually reveals his past and you can bring up his groups old misadventures (oh my god you were the backstreet boys???) and he is very embarrassed by it. He reveals his group was felled by a lich, and he never found their bodies so hes always been curious on a way to speak with them again somehow.

plot continues BLAH BLAH eventually you find out that lich is still around and swagdor's old friends are now in its undead service so you go to kill it <3 but on the way he considers if he should take the lich's place so he can have his old companions around again (even if they're in his undead service) and try to give them some semblance of new twisted life again. You either help him with the preparations (yay phylacterys) or go bro you need to Move On. Man. and instead choose to release their souls when the lich is killed.

swagdor is stronger as a lich but also becomes even more detached from concepts of mortality (his sense of danger is basically nill now regarding others... its okay if u die ill bring u back somehow :) <- unnerving smile) and also all his dead friends are talking to him in his ear so he's constantly got a sense of being away from everything.

unliched swagdor moves on properly and begins The Healing Process (better late than never king) and seems more present in current ongoings, finding a place he can really set his feet. He's also less obsessed with death but sees his necromancy instead as a means to help and speak with wayward souls of the dead.

useless trivia corner: his names swagdor bc i based him off an old div2 oc i made when i was playing that game with aqua, where i used one of the randomly generated names they gave me and put the word swag into it (lol) i now am using his div2 swagdor's adventures as a semi basis for his new bg3 versions background thats why his younger versions outfit is based off that one captain armour set i never took off in that game

[petorahs]

hey hey hey, tell us more about the 🦚/🪽fankid(s?) please? 👀

omg heyy~ because of this ask i ended up expanding so much on the AvenDay fankids — including names!!

keep in mind this was all done on the fly in one sitting 🫡 STC!

1) Laikha (daughter)

Avgin name: Zulaikha

Halovian name: "Comet"

she's our lovely little ball of sunshine we saw in the art i drew before~ when she grows up she takes up Tarot and has Aventurine's mysterious-yet-flashy flair.

she is. unabashedly inspired by Xilonen from genshin LOL in terms of visual design, personality... coat. I gave her more to wear but the "vibe" is Xilonen. I always joked "so this is where Aventurine's sister went!" when i saw her bc of the bangs.

Following that, Laikha is very much "gifted" in that shes very smart and skilled and good at what she does... but because she's been spoiled rotten by a certain someeeeeeoneeeeeee she's a little lazy! she is very respected though bc shes as reliable and down-to-earth as they come~

Her name just came to me on the fly, could be Kakavasha's sister or mom's name idk :3 I just like it a lot. she doesnt use her Halovian name much bc she prefers Laikha too.

2) Eden (son)

Avgin name: Edreliz (!!! important)

Halovian name: "Eden"

his name I put some thought on, because its based on the real-world Romani celebrated festival Hıdırellez. depending on the region, it falls around the same date as the Kakava. see where I'm going with this... :)

in terms of personality, he's kind of shy. he prefers "Eden" as a name for reasons my mind hasn't made up yet (maybe someone else has some ideas?)

i roughly sketched out some of their designs + halos if you wanna see! :D

keep in mind im one of those ppl who are okay with OC comparisons with other characters for the most part~ i cant come up with decent clothing designs to save my life lol so if anything it's inspiration!

(i fucked up and forgot to include Eden's ear wings lol)

-Eden's halo is exactly like Robin's

-Laikha's is unique and i feel like if drawn, should have multicolors on it like a rainbow..(yes this is also inspired by Xilonen lmaoo)

-I still dont know how tf they get their halos which is why i held off on drawing them on their person LOL

fun fact! i've been told personally by one that Romani are big on Tarot which is why I decided Laikha's thing should be card fortune telling~ maybe she takes a page out of Black Swan's book..?

[tgirljessilina]

New intro post (Got tired of updating the old one)

I've been updating the same pinned post for way too long and I'm bored of it, so I'm just making a new one.

Name's Judith! You can still call me Jess if you remember that pseudonym, I don't care rofl. Still a Jessilina fangirl even now but honestly I'm a bigger fan of Jessilee (Shame that they both stopped performing :{ ) I don't think I'll ever stop liking either of them, even though its been years now.

I've been on this hellsite since 2012 and I unfortunately have no plans to leave.

I've got two Pokemon now! Good Ol' Perseus the corviknight's still here, but now I've got a Solrock too! Their name's Hylia.

// ooc under the cut

All blinkies above were made on blinkies.cafe! Go check it out! (And userboxes were made by @/teamskullgruntno12 :])

Hello! @act11as here again with uh. The blog that I was not planning to make! Yeah, oops!

My rotomblr hub account is @battle-subway-aftershow!

OOC posts will be green tagged as #ooc and #moth's yapping to avoid confusion, and all triggers will be tagged as #[word] tw for convenience!

The main "gimmick" of this blog is that it's not someone's new account, but instead an account that's been around for over 10 years. Feel free to pretend to be an old follower/mutual/etc, that's part of the fun!

Mod's a minor, muse is an adult. don't be weird, or die by my blade (get mocked relentlessly)

Boundaries/Guidelines:

*ALMOST ANY kind of Pokemon Irl blog can interact! Eeby deebies, sapient pokemon, evil teams, whatever! Judith will probably humor you! She's used to rotomblr weirdness.

*Self-Insert fallers, please do not interact. I personally cannot handle these kinds of blogs. Self-insert ocs are fine, but the idea of a real person on rotomblr being isekaid into Pokémon is not.

In-Character anon hate is fine! I have the right to not answer everything however, so don't expect your ask to get answered.

I dunno just don't be a dick? That's all I really have to say lmao- of course being mean ic is fine but just like, don't go too far yknow?

Organizational tags:

[name] the [pokemon] - Easy way to find posts about one of Judith's pokemon!

Judie rambles - General posting tag

From the archive - Will likely be used in the future! Since I can't create a 10+ year long posting history, "old posts" will be under this tag!

Extras:

Mystery Gifts are open! Feel free to send stuff to Judith, she loves it (and will try to send things back if its off of anon!)

Pelipper Mail, un-mail, and Malice are off! Feel free to ask her why, she definitely has a few words about it.

Musharna mail, (sending dreams) and Musharna malice (sending nightmares) are always on! Go ahead if you want to, this is really fun!

Magic anons are off, unless specified otherwise (will likely stay off forever)

[mintmatcha]

can u tell us what you didn't like about hazbin hot? I'm not a big musical person so I also tuned out when they started singing lol

Yes lol here's a long ass nonsense rant under the cut.

The creator of the show has done some really racist shit in the past and hides from criticism behind her queerness, but whenever that's brought up, it's immediately shot down and I'm told to separate the art from the artist.

that being said. here's my critique of the show itself.

but hazbin relies so much on material outside of the show. there's things you're supposed to know from twt and tumblr and other sources to make the show make sense. you can't say the show needs to exist in its bubble away from the creator and then make us dependent on the creator for information about the characters.

for me, it's less about "why is a show bad?" and it's more "what makes a show good?". Frankly, I don't think there's anything in this show to make it good.

First off- the show is ugly. The character designs aren't good and often repetitive (suits. same color palettes, same body shapes, etc) The animation itself isn't good either, unfortunately.

We have to stop pretending alastor isn't a crime to character design. He's so ugly. there's almost nothing redeemable about how he looks.

I thought the show itself had one of the weakest plots I've seen. it felt like the first draft of a 14 year old and tried to fit 5 seasons worth of ideas into 8 episodes, so the pacing was just awful. There's no semblance of time passing or real urgency in most episodes because vivziepop was trying to fit in all 50 of her OCs.

example: There was almost no reason for the V's to be in the show-- and the other overlords for that matter. None of them really do anything other than Valentino, who's just there to make Angel's story stronger in this season.

(not to mention Valentino and Vaggie, the series to latinx characters, fall into some fucked up stereotypes)

We are just told this collection of people is strong and scary, but we never really see WHY. It's a waste of time in a crammed show.

That being said, one of the main characters sir pentious had no real weight as a character and had less screen time than some of the nothing characters. Half of alastors time should have been used building him up, including, I dunno. all of episode three. There's no reason to introduce all of those characters other to give alastor the info that an angel has died, right? He's. The radio demon. he should just have some sort of news ability or connections to get him that info. (also that episode makes it really easy to know who killed the angel. there's no mystery to it.)

There are also so many things that simply don't make sense in the show? They are told almost immediately that their plan will not work, so they go to heaven to be told... the same thing.

Vaggie is amazed that angels can be hurt and killed when she is an angel who was hurt and almost killed. (Vaggie and Charlie have a super weak relationship btw. I think it's so poorly done. In a show about sucking dick and cock, it made me roll my eyes that the lesbians have such a pg relationship. how come everyone else gets to be horny other than the lesbians? Because its harder to fetishize? )

the ending was just. awful. Lucifer won the fight without that much of a struggle. It feels like he could have just done that. whenever.

Im going to get murdered for saying this but the songs aren't good, they just have a killer vocal cast. the backing music sucks every time.

[red-velvet-0w0]

boo. tell me about your ocs

oh dear this is going to take a while.

honestly im pretty tired right now so i might not go as into detail as i might normal but heres the gist of it

5 teenagers get trapped in a time loop mystery trying to figure out who trapped them in a time loop while being hunted down by a cult, the US government, and a varied collection of eldritch gods

to be more specific basicaly the five are trapped in a timeloop and loose most of their memoreis between loops, only really remembering their relationship with the people around them, though each have a special ability allowing them to remember one thing

the characters are:

(heres an old lineup i made of them for reference) (need to remake this at some point)

in order we have

Amelia Augur: genderfluid lesbian artist with an interest in the supernatural and a pet raven named Ray who keeps all memories throughout loops but struggles to communicate anything due to being a bird

Jane Hare: lesbian transfem writer in an abusive relationship with an eldritch mirror god who wakes up with a lymeric every morning crypticly outlining what happened the loop before

Ida Vidya: pansexual aromantic journalist who is obsessed with knowing everything even if it kills her (and it has killed her, many, many, many, many times) who has a camera that keeps 10 pictures over to the next loop

Jack Edmund-Kang: bisexual former jock son of the Mayor with self hatred issues, a dead mother, and a dad he wishes was dead, who has the ability to keep all physical changes to his body between loops, meaning he can grow muscle and learn muscle memory, but also keeps so so so so so many scars. also he can remember all the blood hes seen in any loop

Blake Payne: gay emo transmasc drummer with mommy issues and a knife, who can remember things based off of sound

Special Agent Booker, CIA: a secret agent sent to figure out what is going on in this one town and is given all the government resources and manpower she needs, only to immediately become worsties with a furry

Mayor Kang: jacks father, the mayor of the town, and also a secret cult leader who has lived for hundreds of years protecting an ancient magical artifact called the Pentagramic Pocketwatch that he was planning on using to revive his dead wife, only for it to get stolen and used to trap everybody in a time loop, and him assuming that his son had stolen it and trying to kill him

The Day: Minor god of days who dies every night and is born every day, who was the actual one who stole the Pentagramic Pocketwatch to try and escape having to die over and over agian, though thats not revealed until pretty late in the story

The Mask: Minor god of manipulation who dresses like a furry and manages to immediatly become enemies with the first two women dressed in blue it can find. its by far one of the physicaly weakest characters, but is just really smart and good at outmanuvering everyone so that it can get its hands on the Pentagramic Pocketwatch

The Beast: Minor god of hunting wants to steal the watch for itself and has toxic old man yaoi with the mayor

The Reflection: Minor god of mirrors who is by far the worst person i have ever created.

basicaly the plot is split up into 5 arcs of

the main five find themselves in a time loop oh no

they find out that actualy theres some other weird stuff going on in town

oh shit magic and gods and shit is real?

hey i wonder who actualy stole the pocketwatch if it wasnt us

hey the day has the pocketwatch lets get our hands on it before any of the other people manage to get their hands on it

anyways if you want more clarification you can ask me for specific details later, otherwise heres a link to a different post where i explain everything far more in depth