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eddysocs · 1 year ago

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Of Wounds And Wendigos (Bobby Singer x OC)

Summary: Bobby and Krista are out hunting a wendigo in the area, but what they didn’t expect was two of them.

Word Count: 803

Warnings: Injury, Hurt/Comfort

The cry of the wendigo rang out through the dense forest as Krista held it up in their trap and Bobby torched it with the flamethrower they’d packed in the truck for just this very thing. As the wailing finally subsided, Krista dropped the remnants of the burnt up net, climbing down and out of the tree, pleased with another successful hunt.

The moon hung low in the night sky as the two of them started their trip back out of the woods. Bobby couldn’t remember anyone who’d been a better partner for him since Rufus. He might have thought Krista wasn’t much more than a reckless kid when they’d first met, but she’d proved herself capable time and time again.

As they reflected on their hunt and their partnership, the edge of the trees just within sight, a loud crack echoed from behind them. Both Krista and Bobby felt the hairs on their necks stand on end. "Too loud for a coyote," Bobby remarked.

"You don’t think…" Krista broached, hoping she was wrong.

"God, I hope not. One wendigo in a night is enough for me."

Krista cast a glance back over her shoulder. Shit. Just as they feared. Krista looked back at Bobby and nodded down to the flamethrower in his hand. "That thing still got enough juice?"

"Only one way to find out. Go. I’ll stay behind and torch the damn thing."

With that, Krista began to sprint through the underbrush, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to outrun the second wendigo. How had they missed it? Her heart pounded, and her mind raced, but fear and adrenaline fueled her every step. Her only goal was to reach the safety of Bobby's truck and gather more supplies should it come to that.

Just shy of clearing the trees, Krista's foot caught on a hidden root, and with a painful yelp, she stumbled, twisting her knee in the process. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her leg, biting back another cry of pain. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized she couldn't get up.

She heard the flamethrower start up and hoped it’d be enough to kill off the second wendigo and that Bobby wouldn’t have to worry about his own safety as well as hers if it didn’t take.

"Krista, hold on!" Bobby's gruff voice called out, not far away. The experienced hunter navigated the uneven ground to the best of his ability as he made his way to her. He’d heard her cry out as she fell.

Bobby knelt beside Krista, his face etched with concern. "Looks like you twisted your knee, darlin'. We need to get you back to the truck."

Krista nodded, trying to keep her composure. "Only one problem. I can't move, Bobby. It's too painful."

Bobby assessed the situation quickly. He knew they might still be in danger, even with the second wendigo still burning about a quarter mile back, yet his priority was getting Krista up and out of there. "I'm gonna have to improvise a splint to stabilize your knee. Just hold tight."

Bobby scoured his hunter's bag, pulling out a length of cloth and grabbing a sturdy stick from nearby. He carefully examined Krista's injured leg and wrapped the cloth around her knee, gently sliding the stick underneath to serve as a makeshift splint. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now.

Tears still glistened in Krista's eyes, but she bit her lip and tried to endure the pain as Bobby finished securing the splint. "Hang in there, sweetheart. I'll get you out of here," he reassured her.

With Krista's knee splinted as best as he could manage, Bobby helped her to her feet, taking most of her weight as she leaned on him. They moved as quickly as they could back to the truck parked at the edge of the road. It was maybe only a half a mile or so off, but it felt like one hell of a trudge.

Finally, they reached the safety of the old pickup truck. Bobby carefully helped Krista into the passenger seat and took a deep breath, relief flooding through him. "We'll patch you up back at the house and get you fixed right up. Might have to take you in if it’s anything more than a sprain."

Krista managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Bobby." Then, muttered under her breath, she added, "Fucking tree root."

Bobby chuckled to himself as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. They left the forest and the burnt wendigos behind. A job well done, all things considered. Now it was back home to rest. Krista needed it more than him for a change, so there may be a little playing nursemaid to do, but he’d managed with worse.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @bossyladies, @getawaycardotmp3, @misshiraethsworld, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw

#oc: krista parker #fc: bailee madison #fd: supernatural #krista x bobby #bobby singer #bobby singer x oc #supernatural

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ofhomeland · 5 years ago

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where the hell is james

@ofhomeland / dinah madani @crossxbones / brock rumlow + jack rollins soon to be high activity again @moriartywasreal / james moriarty soon to be medium activity @thiefthis / braegor / skyrim oc medium activity @anihiila / mokou attaev / star wars oc low activity @ofblackbirdsandmen / krista dumont hella low activity @levautour / multi hella low activity

#𝐨𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦 ❓ → 𝗼𝗼𝗰 #o.

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aliypop · 3 years ago

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Why’d You Only Call Me (Chapter 9)

Pairing: POC F OC X Frank Castle

Warning: mentions of blood, language, guns,

Word count: 3,536

A/N: So this is taking place during Season 2 of Punisher. POC F Oc x Frank Castle, Thank you to @herosneednotapply she helped with plotting of this and the character Addie who belongs to her amazing story!. If you like it let me

"You too..." Yonah smiled, "Oh and Matt..." "Yes, Yonah." the cocky tone back in his voice, "Tell Daredevil Pink Fury says hi." she grinned, walking towards her bedroom. Hell's kitchen was her city, and she'd be damned if she'd let anything happen to it."Did Turk give you any information?" Yonah asked her phone on speaker as she got suited up, in case he needed back up, "He's meetin the Russians tomorrow morning." he grinned, "So does that mean you can come over..." she asked as Frank laughed, "Somebodies needy... eh" his voice low as Yonah bit her lip, "I'm not needy, I just..." "Just what doll face," "Just need you here..." she sighed, strapping up her boots, looking at her mask, "Then why'd you leave..." he asked, "You told me you didn't want me a part of your bullshit Castle." she laughed as he grinned, "You listened to me, sweetheart." he questioned, walking down the street a bit, "Yeah I did..." she responded, "So daddy really left ya a penthouse, aye." "One, I didn't know it existed, two technically. It belongs to the company, and three remind me to change your name on my phone." she groaned, getting a text from Bruce, "Whatever you say, princess." she could hear the cheeky grin on his face. "Yes, sir..." she giggled, leaving out the door, a spare key on the under the plant pot,

"Say that again, princess..." "Say what?" "You know what ya said." he smirked as she laughed, "What, yes sir?" "Attagirl, sweetheart." he gruffed as her cheeks were red, "Francis David Castiglione ...I can not fight crime and be turned on..." she grumbled his laughter taunting her, "Then get your ass back here, baby girl." a shiver down her spine, "Mmm... Frank, stop it," she growled back, "Or what d'ya gonna do huh, bitch and whine like a brat in heat," "Goodnight, FrAnCiS!" she hung up, pressing the gems in her star earrings. She could hear Addie through the coms Yonah clearing her throat, "Any threats..." Yonah asked as Addie chuckled, "Just whatever you and Frank got going on." Addie smiled as Yonah groaned in embarrassment, "Ope found something. Feel like roasting some Russians?" "Oh, boy do I,"

Another late night of hard work, another late night of estranged lovers. That was how Allister lived his life. It wasn't that he chose to. I just happened, keeping his head down and searching for his keys, he'd felt the pressure of another body, one that he could recognize as "Billy..." his face had scars, But, still as beautiful as he remembered, Billy covered in blood looked like a deranged lost puppy, much like he did the day that Arthur tried to attack him. "I-I'm sorry..." he was a bit frazzled at what happened, but he knew they'd meet again. He was here due to Billy. "Allister, we're still on for our session on Thursday?" "Of course, Krista, you bring the Vodka. I'll bring the trauma," he joked, watching Billy walk in, "You have a good night then." she closed her door. Things were getting stranger by the minute, but he didn't mind.

"You're just as worse as Matt, you know..." Addie commented, hearing Yonah grunt. She had a few lower body scrapes and bruises, but man was some of these Russians kicking her ass. As two gained upon her, she focused on her magic, conjuring up a pink orb from out her hands blasting one with it as she sent the other into a concussion with her strength. It was the bit of her strength left, "Sweetie, you need to calm down, you're dealing with some major blood lost and-" "I can handle myself..." she groveled, "Alright, Batman."Addie nodded, she was nervous for the girl, and her blood levels were getting lower, "I'm fine..." she held her side, Yonah began to sway, landing in a rough pair of hands. "Frankster..." Addie rolled her eyes, "Where's this apartment of hers..." "Sending the coordinates now." she smirked, "I always wanted to say that..." he could hear the grin in her voice, who knew that Addie was her Micro. Yonah rolled around a bit in pain, arms holding her waist. She could feel the movements of a chest rising and falling as she wiggled a bit, "You're up, I see..." he whispered in her ear. Yonah chuckled, "So it seems you are too..." she rolled her hips a bit, "Keep it up, and I'll-" he grumbled, hearing his phone ring, "The kids calling..." he sighed, "I should get going..." "So soon?" she looked up at him, "I didn't get to have my fun with you..." she pouted as Frank rolled his eyes, "You'd fuck up my stitchin if you did..." he smirked, "Doctor's orders, sweetheart." "At least a kiss before work..." Frank laughed, cupping her cheeks, leaving a delicate kiss on her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips, "That'll hold you for now..." he growled as Yonah got dressed. She sighed at her reflection, the scars on her legs that were healing. And some that her speed healing wouldn't allow. "Hey, babe..." "Hmmm..." not noticing Frank behind her, a playful smack on her butt as she yelped, "Ya scares beautiful." he winked as Yonah blushed, tracing the one between her breast. "FRANCIS!" "See ya when you get back to Madani's?" Yonah nodded, "Don't get hurt..." "You neither..."

Ezra jolted up in her sleep as sweat soaked her skin, her heavy breathing waking up Allister. She'd been having the same nightmare for a month, the carousel with Billy by her side and Yonah's whip sword lodged in her leg as her bladed fan ripped at the skin of her neck, "Are you okay..." he asked, "Just been having nightmares..." Ezra laughed, "About..." Allister brushed his teeth, "Your damned cousin Yonah..." she sighed, taking her pain meds, "You know I know a good therapist named Krista Du-" he caught the knife aimed towards him, catching it by the hilt, "I see you don't like Dumont ..." he grinned, "And you still kept your skills from the academy." she sighed. Ezra had been living with Allister, where he'd take care of her, and she'd stitch him up from the pimps that he'd frustrate before he'd kill them.

"Will Madania be happy when she finds out that we didn't leave New York..." "When is that woman ever happy?" Frank joked, taking the key from under the plotted plant, "Who's place is this..." Amy sighed."I mean, can we even afford this place," she asked as Frank opened the door. Taking her earphones out, she grabbed a gun, pointing it towards the door, "It's on safety, sweetheart..." Frank laughed as Amy's eyebrow quirked, "Sweetie?" "Forgive me for gun safety..." she chuckled, " I was actually on my way to Madani's and..." her eyes landed on Amy, "Why isn't she at Madani's..." "Madani wants us out of New York City, and sweetheart, I thought you and Frank were just friends?" Amy mentioned as Yonah and Frank both let out a small chuckle, " What's so funny... who are you, are you really Emerald..." she asked as Yonah dabbed blood off of Frank's eyebrow, " Yonah Shanel Wayne... " "So you're his girlfriend?" she questioned, "A guy like you has a girlfriend..." Frank looked up as Yonah started patching him up, "Something like that," she added as Amy nodded. Looking around more at the penthouse, "Wow, Frank, you did good chose rich like super-rich." she nodded as Yonah shook her head, "Guess bedrooms upstairs. The shower has a remote to it, and don't break anything..." she sighed, watching as Amy smirked, Yonah knew that that meant trouble. After all, she felt as if she was the creator of the cocky teenager smirk. "So wanna tell me what happened..." Yonah asked as Frank grumbled, "Got in a fight with the Russians at the gym." he smirked, "Did ya win?" she asked, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on her stitching. "Kicked ass took a few names, kick their asses." "That's my boy..." she winked, "I better be." he grinned, "Why don't you wash up for dinner." "What's for dinner..." "Lasagna, it was going to be with a red tomato wine sauce, but uh don't wanna promote underage drinking." she joked, "The alcohol burns out, ya know." "You don't say..." she winked as he kissed her wrist, "You gonna join me or what, babe..." it was tempting, and she wanted to, "I have to start cooking and build a case on Fisk with the little information Karen sent me," she smiled, it was as if they were back to normal again, "Don't work too hard then." "Will you go already..." she laughed.

"So you're a lawyer..." Amy asked, sitting on the barstool watching Yonah cut up tomatoes. "Yeah," she responded. The two had been pretty rocky, unlike Frank and her, "Did you always wanna be a lawyer..." Amy asked as Yonah chuckled, "I wanted to be Batman." cutting up carrots as Amy blinked, "I was seven at the time, but no actually, for the longest time, I wanted to be a detective." she sighed "Or so I thought, why do you ask?" Amy shrugged, "Just trying to get to know you, and why you'd end up with Frank and not some fancy-schmancy rich idiot." Amy grinned, trying to eat some of the shredded cheese, "Ah, drop it, and for starters, I regret nothing." "Cause you don't remember what you're supposed to. regret?" "No, because love has no regrets, but maybe you'll learn that if you live long enough, now help me make cinnamon rolls..." she commanded as Amy rolled her eyes. When Frank walked into the kitchen, he heard bits of laughter and an array of flour on the floor. Yonah, with an apron covering her, and Amy trying to dodge using a towel. It gave him a glimpse of what a future with her would look like, fits of giggles, good food, and, "How long have you been standing there..." Yonah asked, clearing her throat, "Long enough." he nodded at the oven as Yonah groaned, "Shit... anyone want Chinese?" Later in the evening, Yonah, Frank, and Amy sat on the couch eating. Frank would glance at Yonah. She'd glance. back at him, and Amy would pretend to gag, "Do you two always look at each other like that..." Frank looked over at the young girl as Yonah chuckled, "Like what, kid..." he gruffed, "You know all lovesick and stuff..." eating her rice, "It's kinda freaking gross..." "You'll understand when you grow a few more inches..." Yonah winked, "Good one, but aren't you shorter than me?" "She's shorter than everyone, kid." "Haha, very funny I'm taller than the average New York rat." she laughed. The night went on a bit cheerier than their New York return as Amy went to sleep, both Yonah and Frank burdened with their equal amounts of trouble, "I told Matt I can only help as much as I can..." Yonah smiled, cleaning up. Frank knew what that meant. She wouldn't stop until she'd think of everything and way of getting something done, "And I can help you as much as I can..." she turned to face him, Frank could see the stress in her eyes, the way the nerve in the right eye twitched under her sunkissed brown skin, "You're sister stopped by, didn't she..." "What! No..." her eyes shifting to the left. She was a good liar in the courtroom but not to Frank. " Bullshit..." he sighed, "This is my fault... I'm pullin you too close to my shit and-" handing her a plate, she kissed his cheek, "I thank you for it, Mr. Castle," she whispered in his ear. Frank pulled her to the front of his person, her back against his chest, her eyes looking up at him, as she stared at him, she could do that all day, and she'd love to. "Anyone ever told ya staring is rude?" "They have..." she snarked, "A rule breaker," he commented, "Just admiring art," she grinned, pushing up her glasses. Although she didn't need them much anymore, she still wore them from time to time. Taking her index finger, she traced the ridge of his nose, one of her favorite parts of Frank, aside from his soft persona that only she got to see. "Have I told you how much I love you..." Frank asked as Yonah giggled, "Let's see, you told me before work, texted me, patched me up last night... so yeah, you have." playing with his hair, "But I'd love to hear it again." she kissed his lips, the taste of whiskey, dried blood, and her lipstick on his lips, "Shit ... my neck..." "My nose keeps bumpin into ya stupid glasses." he chuckled. "They're Vera Wang, and they are not stupid. They are fashion!" she teased, taking them off as he sat her on the counter. "You're right, baby," he laughed, tilting her chin up stealing another kiss. The taste of lipstick, strawberries, and dried blood, nothing made more sense to him than when he was kissing Yonah, and he was okay with that. Her tongue wrapped around his, hands tugging at his hair as the kiss became more fiery and passionate. "Hey, I found a place to develop the-" Amy paused, "Am I interrupting you two..." Yonah sighed, pulling away from Frank, "No, what did you find..." "So there's this studio, ran by some creep right, and basically I can develop the pictures that the Russians are uh looking for." Amy cleared her throat, trying not to focus on their wrinkled clothes, "Yeah, we'll uh go by there in the morning Amy..." "I'll go with you. in case shit goes south." Yonah winked,

"HEY, ARE YOU TWO DECENT!" Amy shouted a bowl of cereal in her hand. Both Yonah and Frank had been a little groggy waking up. After all, it was cloudy and brisk, "Getting up now!" Yonah grumbled as she looked at Frank, "Is this what parenthood is like?" she questioned as Frank kissed her forehead, "Pretty much..." the growing hair of his 5" Oclock shadow tickling her sensitive skin. "Mm... hmm..." she shivered at the kiss on her neck. "Get dressed, ya big lug." she chuckled. "You're pretty good at disguises, kid..." Yonah complimented the three standing outside the studio. Amy dressed like a 12-year-old, and Yonah looked like a teenage schoolgirl, an idea courtesy to Addie. "You didn't have to dress up, you know..." "I know," she sighed, "I know..." forcing their way in the studio, both Frank and Yonah had been disgusted at the sicko's that one could find in the city, ones that he'd want to shoot and others that she and Red would kick to a trip to see Claire Temple. As Amy had her earphones in, in the heart of the studio were Yonah and Frank beating the owner blue, for once doing something that her father would be proud of, bashing his head against the table Yonah had her heeled foot pressing at his nape, while Frank had his gun placed at his face. "His crime's pretty borderline." Amy said, pictures in hand, "So maybe don't kill him..." she suggested, her glance on Frank, stepping away as Yonah removed her heel. Frank let the photographer go as Amy smirked, "We could set the building on fire..." "I like fire..." Yonah grinned a spark of pink in her eyes. "Arsonist much..." "You have no idea..."

"Are you coming with us..." Amy asked as Yonah turned to look at her, "I have to get to the firm, but." she smiled, "But what..." Amy asked as Yonah looked at her. Yonah saw bits of herself in Amy when she was her age, which maybe was why they'd bump heads at times. "If and I do mean If... I get everything done. I'll join you on your crusade." she winked. Frank grinned, watching the two have a bonding moment. It was what Yonah needed, it seemed, someone to mentor, something else to get her mind off her unsettled memories. "Alright, cool." she nodded.

"You wanna tell me why you're late..." "You wanna tell me why you're here..." Yonah walked past Matt, "It's my office..." he smirked, "Correction Was..." she sat down at his desk, "What do you mean was..." he responded as Yonah chuckled, "Is that a new suit Matt..." she asked as he rolled his eyes, "Yonah-" "It looks good on you." she looked at him as she noticed the license sticking out of his pocket, "Stole it from Foggy..." he mumbled as she nearly snorted, "That's not very Catholic like..." she commented. He could hear the snark in her voice and the cocky undertone, "Neither is having a kid out of wedlock, but here we are..." he shrugged, Matt had been beating himself up lately, and Yonah could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice, "She still loves you, you know..." Yonah smiled, "She just wished you didn't choose Elek-" "Don't say her name..." he cut her off, "Sorry," she nodded, looking down at the papers he handed to her, "Karen's getting good at her journalisms skills..." she grinned as Matt waited for her to connect the dots. "Who the hell's grimy body is in your suit..." Yonah asked, "I mean, look at him... his ass lowers the value of it-" "Yonah..." "It's just flat and gross and gross and-" "Yonah, can you stop talking about it." he laughed, pretending to be annoyed, "I am a simple woman who spreads flattery as your ass spreads in your suits." she joked, "I hate you sometimes, Wayne..." "Mmm, do you, Murdock," she leaned in towards him, a smirk on his face, "Look, I'm not asking for much, but..." he leaned in a little, "You want me to find out who the Daredevil dud is, don't you..." "Please." giving her his soft puppy dog eyes, "For a friend..." he squeezed her hand, "ARGH, fine! " he kissed the top of her head, "Thanks, Yon." "Anything Mattie." she gave him a playful middle finger, "Did you just..." "I blew a kiss at you." "Blew a kiss my ass," Matt smirked, "Glady, but I'm not Addie," she winked as he left.

"How old would she have been... Your daughter, that is..." Amy asked Frank, the two doing some early patroling, "Fifteen, she would've been Fifteen yesterday..." he smiled, trying to suppress the pain. "Mhmm, would've had boys coming to your door and scaring them off, am I right?" she grinned as Frank laughed, "Damn straight." he nodded, "You know I think you should honor her memory... I mean, thinking about her keeps her alive, so keep her alive, Frank." she squeezed his hand as a tear almost fell down his cheek. "Always wanted to go to one of those types of schools..." Amy mentioned their target close at hand, "Rich kids in uniforms..." she teased, "Maybe we could have you enrolled by Monday." a familiar voice said to her, "I can pull a couple of strings, donate to a charity..." "Yonah, you made it!" she got excited, "I uh mean, cool, that's neat..." she nodded, "How was work?" "Still on the clock, technically on break, so let's get this Poloznev guy?" she suggested. Frank was stationed outside the restaurant as Yonah walked in the restaurant as a distraction, diamonds on her neck, the attention on "Yonah Shanel Wayne...." giving them a wink signaling Amy, dressed as a waitress, menu in hand, "I heard it's in season..." she whispered, the picture was in the menu, as the guards stood, Amy had left, Frank took care of business and there outside stood Amy in a school uniform, "Ready to go, sweetheart?" Yonah questioned as she pushed her cat eye glasses up, "Of course, Ms. Emerald." the two walked down the block as the guards left the opposite direction, "You're good at disguises." Amy laughed, "I used to sneak out when I was your age... got me in a lot of trouble..." she sighed happily, "And here I thought you were some perfect daddy's girl..." Yonah got in her car, "Oh, I was, at least I thought I was..." she sighed. Amy got into the car, "What happened..." "Love... it was my downfall..." she sighed, "I craved it, wanted it so badly..." she chuckled, "I did anything for it..." "Anything?" "Anything..." she sighed, "Take this advice with you." parking her car in the dirt, "Bad love makes you lose control, and sad love makes you lonely, but good love." she grinned, "What about it..." Amy asked, "You'll know it when you feel it." She winked, "What's that supposed to mean?" "I don't know, but I'll tell you when I do." she grinned, "Now you stay put, until-" "Can I shadow you..." Amy cut her off as Yonah looked at her, "I mean Frank's interesting, but-" "Grab your laptop. We'll stop by the penthouse to get you dressed, and don't tell Frank anything."

"Another round on me..." Allister smirked, standing next to the bar, his eyes on Billy and his squad of veterans, a few glaring at him, "He's okay. He's with me."

#frank castle #amy bendix #billy russo #matt murdock #ezra Shanel wayne #yonah shanel wayne #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher #oc x canon fanfic #oc x frank castle #poc oc x canon #nmcu fanfic #nmc #marvel daredevil

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lithium-screams-blog · 7 years ago

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Review Two: Manuyo Akuma

This character belongs to Manuyo-Kun on DeviantArt.

https://manuyo-kun.deviantart.com/journal/Manuyo-s-sheet-710294494

Well, I’m back again with my second review and to be honest, this kid is a Gary-sue.

No, I’m not holding back. Anyway, let’s get started.

Name: Manuyo AKUMA --

Kanji/Katakana/Hiragana: マヌヨ悪魔--

Meaning: Devil displeased

Nickname(s): Manu, Manuyo-san

Wow

Look whatever, Japanese names are whatever. But in this context, it doesn't make much sense for tons of Japanese named characters. Like, doesn't the AoT universe take place on an island that looks strikingly like Madagascar?

Now, if this theory is right, let’s look at the percentage of Asian people in Madagascar.

I’m not saying it’s illegal to make an Asian AoT oc, but it would make them a minority. I’m just saying, it would be more of a rarity.

This is more of a loose cannon since obviously, the AoT world isn’t identical to the real world but I digress.

Also, the meaning of his name is devil displeased?

I mean come on, that’s pretty EXTRA™️. Look whatever, if you're going to use a Japanese name, at least use one that exists and isn't just an edgy google translate thing. Anyway, here’s a link to some Japanese boy names you could use. (ps, They're real!)

https://www.domodaruma.com/blog/most-popular-girls-boys-japanese-names-in-2015

Age: 15 years old

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Blood Type: O+

Birthday: 30 June.

Birthplace: Unknown.

Not too shabby, but one thing. So it says his birthplace is “unknown” but there's an illustration depicting him as a Marleyan.

So frankly, we can assume he was born somewhere in Marley because, well,

that’d make sense, wouldn’t it?

Current Residence: Survey Corps.

Quickly.

SURVEY CORPS ISN'T A RESIDENCE.

IT'S-A BRANCH OF THE MILITARY.

Do you mean HQ? If so whatever, nevermind.

Sexual Orientation: gay.

Wow.

It’s a little weird most of the ocs I see are gay. I’m guilty of the same thing so I don’t care. It’s who he’s shipped with that's a problem.

You’ll see

Oh, you'll see.

Life-Long Dream: see everything beyond the wall.

Goal(s): become a corporal in the survey corps like Levi or Erwin.

Oh hi Armin, I didn’t know you were Asian.

All joking aside, that’s the most frequently seen dream I’ve seen with AoT ocs other than “KILL ALL TITANS.”

Spice things up! I’ll even give you a list of common human goals/dreams.

http://lesswrong.com/lw/mnz/list_of_common_human_goals/

Now, that’s a fine goal in all but FYI, Erwin isn’t a corporal, he's a commander (and dead).

Ok, so his affiliation is as expected. Survey corps ya know? Nothing to dissect…

B U T

Number of Titans Killed: 30

So my rule of thumb is to look at Levi’s stats to see if an oc is overpowered or not. So, shall we?

This kid as one more titan kill than

Well, must I remind you?

HUMANITY’S STRONGEST SOLDIER?

Must i also remind you that this kid is 15?! Almost half the age of Levi? It’d be almost impossible for that count to even be fathomable.

Get ready

Like(s): Sleep, eat, Kenny

Dislike(s): Titans. (?)

He likes Kenny.

Let me repeat.

HE LIKES KENNY.

AND FROM SOME OF HIS ART, IT’S SAFE TO ASSUME THEY ARE SHIPPED.

Now, let me express some facts here:

Ok so you may be screaming:

BUT SPIDER! MANUYO IS OVER 14!

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

As we already know, according to the creator of the oc, both Manuyo and Kenny are gay. So that makes the legal age of consent now 21.

According to my very smart friend, Kenny looks as if he’s in 40s, which I agree with. So that makes their relationship an example of rape (statutory rape). Which is just kind of sort of illegal. Look as mentioned before, the AoT universe isn’t a carbon copy of the real world. But keep in mind, this ship is a 15 year old boy paired with a 40+-year-old man. It’s just not right, ok?

Ok, I’m moving on.

Skin Tone: i dunno how it says but, it's like Eren.

Body Shape/Build: Like Eren.

“Like Eren” is not a valid description, it makes him look like a copy or wannabe Eren. I’m just saying, it’s not the best idea. Here are some better descriptions to use.

Skin tone: Tan

Body build: Skinny, yet muscular

Mental (Any problems? Example: depression): Blocking emotional, split personality, he got second personality's evil, sadistic or crazy, "twisted".

IF THERE'S ONE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ME IT’S THIS:

MPD FASCINATES ME

So I know exactly what causes it:

Past

Most if not all cases of MPD are caused by horrible childhood events such as rape, abuse, or neglect. So let’s skip ahead and see what his past is like:

Manuyo's mother didn't want him because of his sickness (schizophrenia),

so his mother forced him to carry the star on the brassieres and to have papers, when they see a grade, his parents go to see something and leave him alone

One day they denounced it to be a mahr so they threw it from the wall.

Around 12 years, he chooses to go in the training corps and then go into the Survey Corps or Military Police, he makes some friends like Searlait, Kuklo.

Also, he says to have been in an orphanage to the south of the wall not to awake suspicions.

It’s vague, ey? But it shows that his parents just sent him away. That isn’t as intense of the usual causes of MPD. MPD is literally the brain making a new persona for the person as a coping mechanism. To repress memories. Yeah his backstory does not cut it for “extremely tragic”. Look, either keep the MPD and make his backstory more intense, or just get rid of the MPD. Also, this kid is in the military mind you, they don't usually want mentally ill people fighting for them.

Also the personality itself.

Heres some missing info:

How many are there?

What are their names?

What are their ages?

MPD personalities almost always have a different name and or age from the host. Also, most have more than two personalities. It’s very rare for a person with MPD to only have one other personality.

Now for the personality's personality.

second personality's evil, sadistic or crazy, "twisted".

NOT OK

That is so cliche! All “bad” ocs have an unexplainable “crazy/twisted side”. Look insane ocs are cool if they are fucking explained. This is making me mad for two reasons. One it’s not explained and two it helps boost the stereotype that all MPD sufferers are insane and crazy. Which isn’t true! Not all MPD sufferers have some crazy dark side that commits crimes. Actually, most of them don’t! Anyway, enough with the psychology stuff!

The stats are actually not horrible.

3D Maneuvering Gear:8- he learned to use his 3dmg, he at immediately love having to use his 3dmg.

Intelligence:7 - he read many books.

Martial Arts:8 - he trains with Reiner, Bertholdt and Eren.

Battle Skill: 8-

Agility:7 - he's quick.

Strategy: 3 - he needs teammate for strategy.

Teamwork:5 - he work sometimes alone but also he need help.

Passion:7-

Not too low, not too high. Seems fine to me.

LET'S ALL CLAP FOR THE CREATOR! THEY DID THE STATS OK!

Parent(s): mother deceased

father deceased

Sibling(s): __________

Other Relative(s):

Best Friend(s): Bertholdt.

Friend(s): Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Ymir, Krista, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Hanji, Levi , Kenny(?),

Oc friend(s):

Searlait: Mochi-Doll

Reiya: RiaSora27

Kuklo: youroreostruly

Elvina: Elvina-EXE

Ashuri : trash-ley

Dominique: Cupid-Traurigherz

Skyler: Hisamicchi-Oc

Enemy(ies):None.(maybe Titans )

Hero(es):Erwin, Levi.

Rival(s): none.

Alright, so they're friends with literally everyone. I believe that’s all the main characters in the 104th trainees. Being friends with all the canon characters is a Gary-sue trait. Seriously, take it down like 10 notches.

WELL, THAT’S IT!

Thanks for sticking with me through another one of these reviews.

Overall this oc is bad, I’m not gonna lie. There's a lot of work that has to be done here. But hey! With a lot of work, he might just turn out ok!

Anyway, until next time!

-Spider

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builder051 · 7 years ago

Text

Mike & Co Introductory Story (OC sickfic)

Alright, here’s the intro story for Mike, Jason, and Colby (well, it’s a story about Mike, with cameos from Jason and Colby). It’s the only story I have planned for them so far, so once you read this, feel free to send requests for any/all of these guys.

Trigger warnings: a little bit of eating disorder thought process, but no descriptions of ED behaviors. Also a little disrespect for the field of ED therapy. I don’t hate all therapy. I’ve just had a bad experience with that kind of therapy.

Mike sits heavily down on the picnic bench and unzips her blue insulated lunchbox. She has no idea what to expect; Colby had shuffled around the kitchen and then thrown the thing at her after she’d threatened to leave without it. The others around the table—Mike isn’t sure how to think of them. Clients? Patients? Other among the sick, weak, and damned?—sheepishly unload their packed dinners and surreptitiously glance around at what everyone else is either trying or pretending to eat tonight.

Mike joins in and dumps out a host of ominously heavy items. There’s a Tupperware of something salad-looking, a glass bottle of kombucha, a baggie of brownish clusters resembling granola cereal, a peach, and a banana bread muffin wrapped in a paper towel. She organizes the individual parts of her meal across her placemat and realizes with a pang of guilt that it’s probably what Colby intended to eat for tomorrow’s lunch. Now wasted on her. Mike’s even less inclined to tuck in.

She gets up from the table both to buy a little time and search down some flatware since Colby neglected to give her any. The journey across the covered patio and into the home-style kitchen is quick, but conspicuous. Mike’s barely back in her seat when one of the nutritionists, Krista, brightly asks, “What’cha got there, Michaela? Looks different from your usual.”

Mike shrugs. She pulls the top off the Tupperware and reveals a mess of greens topped with what looks like a whole avocado and two or three fistfuls of sunflower seeds. Although she knows the monounsaturated fats in the dish are actually quite beneficial to her overall health, the sheer number of calories within the clear plastic dish seems staggering. But then again, it was meant for a 6’2” teenaged man. Not for her.

Krista won’t stop looking at her, so Mike digs her plastic fork into the center of the salad and jams a wad of veg into her mouth. She takes her time chewing, tasting the bitter greens and creamy avocado and nutty sweetness of the seeds. She thinks for a second that she understands why Colby prefers these kinds of meals. It tastes a hell of a lot better than the false chemical sweetness of, say, pop tarts. But that fucking fat content…

When the allotted dinner hour is up, Mike waits in line. The mandatory after-dinner private conference with Krista or Deb or one of the other heartless fools who run the outpatient therapy program has to be the worst part of the 4-hour-a-day, 3-day-a-week torture. A degree in nutrition or psychology isn’t enough to give anyone the right to glance across a table and decide whether an independent, free thinking person should be forced to consume even more calories of dairy-based high-sugar “nutritional” drink.

Mike plays with the zipper on her lunchbox, hoping she won’t have to open it and talk through its remaining contents. She’d made a decent attempt on everything, but finished nothing. But she feels full. She almost feels overfull. Mike wishes she could go to the bathroom. She’s learned by now that when the digestive system’s been underused or forced to work in reverse for an extended period of time, it goes into the mode of something like a tiny, sick kitten. Indigestion just follows eating, and sometimes going to sit on the toilet or just stand around in the bathroom— and decidedly not purge—are necessary measures to deal with impending stomach pains. But that’s not allowed in the fucking therapy program. Apparently letting grown adults use the toilet on their own whims is too much of a risk. So it leaves Mike feeling like, well, like shit.

“Michaela, you’re up.” Deb lets the previous girl out of her office and beckons to Mike.

Mike tries not to roll her eyes as she steps into the overly cheerful office with its yellow walls and daisy-centric décor. Deb is decidedly Mike’s least favorite staff member, and unfortunately, she’s the highest ranking. She’s a businesswoman, owns the therapy program, and despite not having the proper credentials, gets to tell everyone else what to do and where to go.

“Alright, what did we have tonight?” Deb’s supremely annoying in way she addresses Mike in the plural. Like she’s a pair of twin toddlers or something. “I think I saw some salad across the dinner table. You know that’s not part of your nutrition plan.”

Ah, yes, the nutrition plan, Mike thinks. The fucking spreadsheet that seems to place human beings as creatures that consume only macronutrients. “It wasn’t really a salad. It was a lot of nuts and avocado,” Mike defends.

“That’s still deficient in protein and carbs,” Deb says back with an overbearing, almost sarcastic patience.

“Plus fruit. And cereal. And banana bread,” Mike lists monotonously.

“Nutritionally, that’s not enough.” Deb scratches her flower-topped pen across a notepad, probably writing something scathing for Mike’s file.

“It was my brother’s boyfriend’s packed lunch,” Mike says, letting her forehead wrinkle into her expression of distaste. “Some people have a muffin or a cup of cereal for their whole meal.”

“You need to stick to your nutrition plan to normalize your eating habits.”

“Normal people eat what I ate.” Mike crosses her arms. Colby probably won’t appreciate being glumped together with everyone else on the planet, but to Mike, his calmness and ability to go with the flow places him distinctly opposed to her on the scale of anxiety. He’s as decidedly normal as Mike’s not.

“Michaela, I know you don’t like to hear this,” Deb says with a sigh. She opens the mini fridge behind her desk and pulls out a bottle of nutrition shake. “A muffin or a cup of cereal isn’t enough to keep a person going. We need to focus on eating the right things in the right quantity to actually meet your needs.”

“So you’re saying everyone is nutritionally deficient?” Mike snaps.

Deb uncaps the shake and pours out 8 ounces into a marked glass. She pushes it across the desk toward Mike. “Here.”

“Can you answer my question?”

“Please drink it,” Deb says, false patience thick in her voice.

“Fucking answer it.”

“Michaela.”

Mike’s stomach cramps a little under her folded arms. “No, I…it makes my stomach hurt. My stomach already hurts.”

“Your parents enrolled you in this program because they want to help you get better,” Deb says. “You owe it to them, and you owe it to yourself. Let’s lose the excuses.”

Mike tentatively wraps her hand around the glass, trying to crush it with her minimal grip strength. She almost laughs and shakes her head. “No, my parents enrolled me because they couldn’t be bothered to drive 2 hours out of the way to come visit, and they didn’t want to impose on my hardworking brother and ask him to babysit me.”

“That’s not true. Your parents are very caring people.”

“You’ve never met my parents. Just talked to them on the phone,” Mike snorts.

“Do you want to drink that and get back to the group session?” Deb asks, the false cheerfulness starting to wane.

“You wanna answer my question?” Mike reminds her.

“Michaela,” Deb says firmly. It’s that tone of voice, the kind that clearly betrays a desire for the other person to submit and obey because it’s somehow the right thing to do. It’s the way Mike’s mother speaks to her. The way teachers talk to students, the way people order around their dogs and horses when they’re forcing them to do something.

Mike lifts the glass. She’s already nauseated before it’s to her lips. She manages to chug down a sip of the blatantly artificial tasting vanilla beverage before everything comes screeching to a halt. Mike presses her sleeve to her mouth to keep from belching the milky fluid back up. She’s 20 years old. She doesn’t have to be here. Her parents will only lose money if she leaves. “I can’t,” she chokes out.

“You need to finish that.” Deb says it firmly, but then her saccharine smile is back. “You don’t have to take it all at once. I can get you some water. We can stay in here for a while.”

“No.” Mike gets on her feet. “No. I can’t do this anymore. Any of this.” She swallows the sour-tinged vanilla taste at the back of her throat. Her fist closes around the strap of her lunchbox. Mike towers over Deb, who’s still seated behind the desk. “You’re a liar and a fraud. You are the opposite of helpful. Fuck you.” She’s shaking with combined lightheadedness and anger.

“Michaela—”

Mike doesn’t hear her finish. She’s already out of the office and down the hall.

Her car’s parked on the street half a block down from the therapy program’s house-like building. Mike jumps in it and starts low-key speeding down the street before she realizes she’s about to fall apart. She just had a confrontation with someone. She cussed someone out. She was a total dick to Deb and that feels…amazing?

Mike’s hands are shaking and sweat-slick on the steering wheel. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. There’s a throbby ache behind her forehead that’s starting to push her vision into sparkles around the sides. She needs to calm down. She needs to breathe.

It’s a 15-minute drive back to the apartment. Mike’s stomach twists, sending a tendril of hot nausea up her back to erupt in prickles around her neck and jawline. She has to make it home.

But her breath’s not coming evenly. Each choppy inhale is shorter than the last, and after a few moments she’s almost gasping. Mike rolls down the window to invite the fall breeze into her Rav-4. When she looks up to the view through the windshield, her eyeballs feel foggy. There’s a siren behind her, and it sends disorienting flashes of red and blue into the car. Mike tries to pull over, but before she’s sure what’s happened, she’s sideswiped a half-dozen orange barrels and jammed her tire into the curb.

Mike lowers her forehead to the steering wheel, trying to comprehend what she’s gotten herself into while also swallowing the urge to be sick.

“Hello ma’am. Have you had anything to drink this evening?” The officer’s standing beside the already-open driver-side window.

“No, I…” Mike says. There’s entirely too much spit in her mouth. The still-flashing police lights are giving a strobe effect that isn’t helping with her ability to ground herself in time and space. She swallows thickly. “I just—” The words are lost in a gag that Mike tries to obscure with a hand clapped over her mouth.

“Ma’am?” The officer yanks the car door open and frees Mike from her seatbelt so she can lean out. Mike retches, and a spray of whitish fluid hits the asphalt.

“Oh fuck,” Mike chokes. “I’m sorry.” She heaves again and brings up more.

“Ok, breathe. Try to calm down,” the officer instructs. “You ok? Just not feeling so hot?”

Mike takes a hitchy breath. “God. Yeah, I—” another heave forces its way up her throat, and a weak stream of bile leaves her coughing.

“Alright,” the cop says.

“’M not drunk,” Mike mumbles when she finally has enough breath.

“Yeah, I know. You don’t smell like alcohol.” The officer scratches his head. “You seem pretty sick. Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Mike whispers. “I’m ok.”

“You sure you don’t need medical attention?”

“Yeah.” Mike coughs and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I just…need to go home.”

“I don’t think you should drive right now,” the officer says.

“Huh?”

“I don’t think you hurt your car or anything, but you’re not in good shape to operate your vehicle.”

Oh. Yeah. The construction barrels. It already feels like ages ago.

“Do you have someone to call?” The officer asks. “I could give you a ride home, but we’d have to tow your car.”

“I don’t know…” Just the thought of asking for help is turning her stomach again.

“Or I could call paramedics.”

“God, no,” Mike murmurs. “I, uh, I can call my brother…” It’s about the last thing Mike wants to do. She digs her phone out of her back pocket and stares at the lock screen for a moment before clicking back into action. She fumbles her trembling fingers and selects the contact for Jason. She lets out an anticipatory sigh as she holds the phone to her ear and listens to it start to ring.

“Yo,” Jason’s deep voice answers.

Mike clears her throat. “I, uh…” How is she going to explain this?

“You’re supposed to be in your group until 8, right?” Jason asks.

“Um, I, uh, had to leave,” Mike explains. She’ll tell him about walking out later. Maybe. “I started feeling really sick, and I, uh, started driving home, but…Can you come get me?” Her heart is a stone plummeting down through her body into the car seat.

“What?”

“I got pulled over.” The admission’s bringing back the prickly nausea. “I got sick.”

“Why?” Jason sounds tired.

“I don’t know. I was swerving or something.”

“No, Mike. Geez. Why?” He’s not asking why she got pulled over. It’s another thing Mike’s learned the hard way. Once someone learns that she has one of those eating disorders, it’s like she’s not allowed to be sick for any other reason.

“I—It wasn’t on purpose. I’m fine. I just got nauseous. I’m fine. I…” Mike’s about to gag. “Will you and Colby come get me so the cops don’t tow my fucking car?” She holds the speaker into her chest while she leans over to let out a wet, belchy cough that doesn’t bring up anything. She’s almost glad her body’s deciding to rebel so she has something to focus on besides the shame of being week and needy.

Jason’s mid-sentence when she gets the phone back to her ear. “…on our way. Just, like, chill for a little bit. You’re probably all wound up.”

“Thanks,” Mike mutters. She hangs up, then leans back in the seat and closes her eyes.

“You’ve got him on the way?” the cop asks.

Mike nods. She realizes she stupidly didn’t tell Jason where she is, but she assumes he’ll just start driving toward the therapy center and find her pretty quickly.

She sits in awkward silence with the cop leaning against the car frame for a while. He asks once or twice if she’s ok, but stays mercifully quiet when Mike just nods and slumps sideways into the velour seat. Eventually she recognizes Jason’s black sedan as it pulls into a parking lot across the street. He jumps out, all pale legs in seasonally inappropriate basketball shorts, and dashes across the deserted road. Colby’s on his heels, looking like an overgrown loyal dog.

“Hey, thanks for looking out for her,” Jason says to the officer. He looks at Mike, and she can almost see his hardheartedness melting away. She must have no color.

“Alright, you look like trash,” Jason says by way of greeting. “I’ll get you home.”

The officer wishes them well and takes his leave. Mike feels like she can finally think a little once the flashing lights are out of her visual field.

“You wanna jump in the other side?” Jason asks, gesturing for Mike to vacate the driver’s seat.

She steps down unsteadily, avoiding the splash of vomit just outside the door. She doesn’t look forward to being stuck in the car with her brother. Mike can practically see Jason’s thought bubble. He’ll ask a lot of questions. Want to know what happened. Mike’s having a hard enough time reconciling it for herself, and she doesn’t anticipate her brother having a great understanding of the way certain foods and emotions tend to turn her sensitive stomach.

“You know, why don’t I drive this one?” Colby offers as Jason’s about to hop into the seat Mike just left. “You’re car’s too small for long legs.” It’s not a great excuse since Colby only has a couple inches on Jason. He meets eyes with Mike and raises his blonde eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure,” Jason sighs. There’s no way he doesn’t know what’s up, but he has the grace to pretend to be oblivious. “See you back home.” He crosses back to his own car.

Colby deftly climbs into the Rav-4. “You know he’s pissed cause he cares,” he says to Mike, who has her temple pressed against the passenger window.

“Yeah,” she says. “Just…feel like I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

“I’ll save the lecture, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mike repeats.

Colby stays silent for a while. Then he asks, “Was it the food I packed? That made you not feel good?”

“I don’t think so,” Mike murmurs. “I think it was probably…a lot of stuff.”

“Ok.” Colby knows not to press. He turns into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

As they’re gliding into a spot, Mike bluntly asks, “Why’d you care about me?”

“Cause you deserve to be cared about?” It’s less a question than a statement of duh. “I know you don’t always think so, but it’s true.”

“Huh.”

Colby puts the car in park and removes the keys from the ignition. “So, if you’re not opposed to my cooking, you wanna maybe join us for breakfast in the morning? I’ve convinced Jason to let me make him something other than pop tarts.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” Mike says. It’s too early to tell how she’ll be feeling in the morning. But she really does intend to think about it.

#sickfic #ocs #new ocs #mike & co #very small ED tw #emeto

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