#my oc is well..unhinged a bit

[losminerosinapatheticway]

Hmmmm

My chloe is in a bit of disaster. I would fix it..Idk when but I'd fix it (these two are quiet old)

[edns]

"You kill as if it means nothing to you."

Chapter 4 of Cerise Sun has been out on AO3 for a while! My health was too bad to make a proper announcement and it still kind of is but umm. Link will be in reblogs in a bit!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hiii! It's me :D

Anyways can I request a whitebeard pirates x fem child reader?

Reader is a clone of whitebeard having his haki and devil fruit ability (like the seraphims) basically reader is a little insane from being stuck in a lab

The reason why whitebeard has a clone because reader is a weapon for the Marines

Reader is a bit rude and a brat because she's scared of adults

Let's say back in marineford they tried forcing reader to fight back at whitebeard but whitebeard just scoop her up and took her back to the Moby dick (thatch, ace and whitebeard lives)

Reader has a brand on the back of her neck 'W. B CLONE' (whitebeard clone)

Reader also wear a pair of season earrings because she hated using her devil fruit abilities

So basically the whitebeard pirates are doing everything to get reader better because she suffered mental, emotional, and physical pain

(Can you also base reader of this? Reader is kinda base of my oc hehe)

Oh and reader has a sentient plush that listen to her commands and is mute

Don't forget to eat sleep and drink! Have a good day!

-Nobody knew why a child was on the battlefield at Marineford, one that looked like a little doll, holding a stuffed rabbit toy, dressed in a delicate looking dress with bows and lace.

-You were on the side of the marines, but you looked almost angry, like you were upset as the scientist beside you, your handler, shouted at you, “Attack them!!”

-The pirates were appalled, seeing a child soldier, one so young looking, being commanded.

-The scientist lifted his hand to strike you, to get you moving and the moment you flinched, Whitebeard’s giant fist slammed into his face, sending him flying.

-You could feel the pressure he was exerting, Haki from what you remembered as you were facing away from Whitebeard, seeing where the scientist landed, and Whitebeard saw the brand on the back of your neck.

-He had been hearing rumors that the government had been cloning strong pirates and marines, to create an unstoppable army. And this brand was something he had seen in the reports he had been receiving, realizing that you were a clone.

-You turned back, and you squeaked as he instantly scooped you up before leaping back to his ship, putting you safely on the figurehead, “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

-You didn’t believe him, all your life, despite being so short, you had grown not to trust adults, they were the ones who beat you, who locked you up, starving you, forcing you to hurt others, and with it, your mind broke, becoming a bit unhinged.

-You did stay however, as you saw the scientists and marines who had been so mean to you, trying to get to the ship, telling you to come back to them.

-This was your chance to escape and finally be free!

-When Ace was freed and all pirates were retreating, you grabbed your rabbit, feeling a little scared as all the pirates made it back, including the giant man who grabbed you earlier.

-As you started to sail away, many were looking over at you, before you heard a sound, “Let’s go back Y/N~”

-You turned, seeing Kizaru there and your eyes went wide as you took a step back in slight fear, not wanting to go back to the lab, while the men behind you were ready to charge in.

-Kizaru ran for you, and you clenched your eyes shut, throwing a hand towards him in a slapping motion and instantly he hit a wall, being blown back, just like Whitebeard’s ability, making jaws drop as you sent Kizaru flying.

-Everyone turned to you, eyes wide in shock as you sniffled softly, tears trying to well in your eyes. You hated using your ability, if felt weird and it made you tired.

-Marco came over and you instantly bristled, “Stay back pineapple head!”

-Your sassy words stunned everyone as quickly everyone was roaring with laughter while Marco was trying not to be mad at you as he kneeled, “What is your name?”

-You immediately bit back, “What’s it to you?” okay… you were kind of a brat, but Whitebeard spoke next, “You don’t need to act like this any longer, you’re safe here.”

-You didn’t bite back to Whitebeard, who was looking down at you like you were a shy little rabbit, now knowing that you were his clone, as you had his abilities, and his white hair. You knew this as well, as you had seen him fighting, using the same ability you had.

-Whitebeard turned to all the others on the ship, “Everyone- this is my daughter and your new sister, Y/N!” the ship was quickly filled with cheers, and you felt weird, why were they so happy you were with them as you glared, “Who says I’m your daughter?”

-He ruffled your hair gently, surprising you as you were expecting to be hit, your eyes going wide, which some of them saw, making them curious, and angry, about what you had dealt with.

-Whitebeard just chuckled softly, seeing the front you were putting up, “I do- so let’s go on an adventure together!” You knew about adventures, reading about them in your picture books as tears quickly welled in your eyes.

-Ace came over with a teasing grin, “Aww is our little sister crying?” you instantly glared, holding your bunny up like you were going to beat him with it, “I’m not crying!” They just laughed, thinking you were cute.

-You still didn’t trust them yet, but so far, they were being nice to you and not hurting you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay with them for a while.

[moodymisty]

*awkward cough*

Mother, I crave luna wolves smut.

(this is my first time sending someone a request *internal panic* so bare with me)

(I'm thinking about the luna wolves bullying a surf fic that you did and now have brainrot.)

Like, imagine being my height (5'1) and having a big "mean" astartes fully aware that I'm sooo horny I'm loosing my mind.

And something about space marines that I can't stop thinking about is how they smell. Like the amount of testosterone.. Their sent has to be immensely horny inducing for a female.

Like- damn. Gigantic, absolutely shredded, smug ass smile and, teasing comments, absolute bastard of a super human. Asking you to do stuff that requires a lot more physical closeness than normal. Getting absolutely wrecked by the astartes smell(TM).

Eventually deciding to "help each other out" hot and heavy Make outs, grinding, humping, neck kisses and neck bites, the absolute WETness, SERIOUS man handling..

Jeez sorry I'm so down bad. Feel free to ignore me lol.

Big fan of your writing, hope you're doing well.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: i am unhinged. Decided to make an actual Luna wolf oc for this one just cause. This idea is my fucking jam but for some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one, I think it's just because I'm getting a bit burnt out finishing the last of the requests. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationships: Artyom(Luna Wolf OC)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mild NSFW, Grinding, Groping, Some mild manhandling

“Careful.”

The Thunderhawk shakes as the air cools during its ascent, and Artyom puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you in your seat. You don’t have any risk for falling over, but he still does it anyways. You look up at him and give him a small nod in thanks.

The other refugees however are largely fending for themselves, grouped close together and muttering amongst themselves.

You don’t mind not being part of it. You barely know any of them; And throughout this entire ordeal, you've found yourself growing closer to Artyom than any of them. He doesn’t seem to mind, and if anything, seems to find it amusing. During the few times you’d see him wander through the base he’d always make a point to call you out, say hello before returning to his duties.

The other refugees found it odd. While Astartes are respected and admired, being in their attention isn’t seen as the most positive. They are mercurial and unpredictable on the best of days, intimating masses of muscle that can kill with ease; And enjoy doing so.

Artyom is an oddity among the Luna Wolves, to enjoy poking at a human. Even if it's only one, and he regains his stoic, almost sleepy expression when barking orders at any of the others.

Once the Thunderhawk docks into the landing bay of the battlebarge, everyone makes their way off. The Astartes leave silently other than an apothecary who ushers the refugees along to where they’ll stay before being placed. More than likely the first Imperium port they come across, where they'll become the Imperium Guard's logistical problem.

You move to follow along with them, assuming that will be your place, but Artyom grabs you before you have the chance. His hand claps your shoulder, nearly painfully heavy from the size and weight of his gauntlet.

“Come with me instead.”

You look up at him before following closely, halls rapidly becoming filled with only Astartes. They all look curiously at you, as if wondering what a baseline human is doing in this area. Clearly they're not used to them being here. You continue following Artyom anyways however and try to ignore the questioning gazes, until he pulls you inside a room filled with armoring equipment.

“Here. Hold this while I remove my armor.” He hands you his knife, while his bolter and rifle go on a rack made specifically for them. The knife clearly has more sentimental value, you assume.

“Why did you have me follow you?”

You say, holding the knife tight as machines slowly peel away plate after plate of ceramite. It's such an odd thing to see, watching him go slowly from a near machine in massive armor to something you would consider more human; Even if still very different.

“Those refugees are going into the serfs quarters until we pass by a human settled world. It will be a tight fit.”

The material of his black skinsuit is revealed bit by bit, until no armor remains. Your hands tighten around the handle of the large knife. The suit leaves nothing to the imagination as the name implies, stretching over his entire body other than his upper neck and face, and interface ports.

“So I won’t stay down there? Where will I sleep then?” You feel disrespectful for asking, you should be thankful his legion even bother to saved you. Artyom however seems to find no intentional disrespect, or at least doesn't point any out.

“You can stay in my quarters. Unless you would prefer the serfs.”

Slowly he starts to peel away his black skinsuit, revealing bare skin. The farther down it peels away- neck, collar bone, chest, hips- the farther down it drops the more you force your eyes to remain at strictly shoulder height and higher.

Once everything is removed, he pushes his shoulder blades together and they let out a crack, flexing his shoulders and chest. You swallow a knot in your throat, the knife being strangled in your hands.

“Hmm?”

Artyom hums, grabbing one of the sets of trousers and pulling them on. You shake your head and try to dispel thoughts you are sure would get you into an unspeakable amount of trouble away.

“Oh, nothing. I'm sorry.”

Now dressed you can worry less about your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't, but not completely; the waistline of his trousers exposing a good portion of his hips and lower stomach. You hope he didn't catch the way your eyes lingered on the v of his hips for a bit longer than they should have.

He walks closer, closer enough that you have to take a step back. He gives his neck a crack, and for a moment you wonder if the armor is that intensive on them; In it they never seem to mind, almost as if it's a second skin.

“Are you sure? Your heart is loud.”

He can hear it? You're throat tightens; You wonder what else he can hear. Can he hear your ragged breathing? The way your blood is thumping in your ears and downward between your legs.

“Oh, I just… A lot has happened. It's a lot to think about.” Artyom gives a gentle, sleepy smirk, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do not worry. You are safe with me.”

Perhaps from physical dangers; but your mind is now a battleground between common sense and base instinct.

The way his shoulders make your body seem so frail, towering over you. The way his muscles stretch across his neck, his collarbone, the smooth taughtness of his stomach drifting into the v of his hips.

And perhaps he may not smell the nicest in first impression, there’s something underneath it that is oddly, not terrible. You find yourself swallowing a large knot in your throat as he looks down at you, his smirk shifting the taught skin of his facial scars. You skin feel like it's on fire, like you're boiling from the outside in, and you swear you've never felt this aroused in your entire life. The way you feel like your cunt has an actual heartbeat.

"You must still be quite unsettled, if your heart is still racing."

He steps closer, putting a hand on your shoulder; Though it's large enough that it pushes against the crook of your neck. He squeezes it just a bit, and you try to resist letting out an audible hitch in your breath.

"I'm fine, really. I thank you for your concern, though. It means a lot coming from you."

You feel like you're beginning to sweat, and your lower body feels tight and hot. You squeeze your thighs together subtly and instantly you can tell you're getting wet.

Artyom takes a step closer, and you didn't realize how close you were to the wall until your back presses against it and you're near entirely consumed in shadow. The armoring room is quite small, you can only assume because the battlebarge lacks the size of their larger ships.

"You are not a good liar," He says, his smile changing form. "I can smell you."

His hand moves from your shoulder to around your waist, easily able to cover a significant portion with how large it is.

"It took me a bit, to realize what that smell was whenever you were around me."

You don't suppose that's surprising; Being an astartes is surely a secluded fate, without much room for fraternizing. And the smell of someone being so aroused is probably unique and quite subtle, not an easily explainable thing.

He pulls your body forcing you to arch your back towards him, shoulders still against the wall. Your hands press against his body, and you can feel the overwhelming stuffy heat of his skin. He's nearly naked with only his trousers, yet he still feels like he has the body heat of a man who's just run for miles and miles.

His other hand also wraps around your waist, and you feel his fingers pushing up against the bottom of your chest.

It's bit awkward for him to lean down closer to you with his size, but it's easier when he forces his knee between your legs, rising you to your tiptoes. The feeling sends jolts of sensation right up your spine, and your cunt throbs. It's a intentional, painful act to not grind yourself against his thigh like you were desperate, no matter how in reality it was true.

"You're so small," He jokes, shadowing you. "Do you think you could even help me remove and put on my armor with those little hands of yours?"

His lips ghost over yours, the bow of his lip brushing against yours as he teases you. You can't help the way your hips twitch forward slightly, ever so subtly grinding against him as he moves in to kiss you. During so, his hands slide down from your waist to your hips, and forces you to push down on his thigh harder, as well as raising his knee up against the wall just a bit more to force your weight even more on him. His leg is still barely bent however; He could easily take your feet all the way off the ground if he wanted.

His hands grip your hips tightly and force you to grind against his thigh, causing you to moan and whimper. Your hands grip his own body weakly, leaning forward into him and pressing your face into his collarbone. You can feel the heat and hardness of his cock against your leg, and your cunt keeps tensing around a disappointing emptiness at the thought.

You want it so unbelievably bad. You would do just about anything for it. You don't care who hears or who sees, you just want him inside of you and you'll be more than willing to beg and plead and cry for it.

His lips pull away from yours, lips swollen and well kissed. You feel your spit mixed with your own against them.

"Be my personal serf. It'll be a far better life than whatever a refugee's will be, where ever you and your fellow humans end up."

You can't deny what he says is true. But the lust-driven cloud fogging your mind is more than a significant contributor to the 'yes' that you utter to him. It makes his smirk wider, and his eyes darker.

"Would I, still stay in your quarters?" His hands still grip your hips tightly as you speak breathlessly, trying to whimper and grind yourself against him further.

"There's serf's quarters right next my own I can requisition just for you." His lips move from your mouth to your neck, pressing against the pulse point just below your right ear.

"But if you'd rather stay in my own, I won't complain."

[leonenjoyer69]

@thedangerwizardparttwo hi I have many thoughts on Mind Jekyll 😋😋 my evil little freak

So!!!!! In my Lanyon takes the potion AU (with Elias, the little fella), Lanyon's mind scape includes both Jekyll and his father :3 not because they represent some perfect thing for him, but bc they're the most influential people in his life. He doesn't really obsess over becoming anything perfect like Jekyll does, nor does he really idolize people.

But!!! The silly--- (I need to draw him more fr 💔)

Mind Jekyll takes on a few traits from Hyde, since Lanyon knows that Jekyll and Hyde are the same guy and it kinda skews his perception of Jekyll. Thus, mind Jekyll is quite emotionally unstable at times. Otherwise, he's very manipulative, and what I like to call a living sparkle machine, bc holy shit does this guy try to abuse his charm. He acts quite posh, but can sometimes still act very,,, mad sciencey? Idk, he can get a bit unhinged tho, prone to succumbing to his temper if pushed too far or set off by something.

Hes definitely not a great guy, especially towards Elias (Lanyon's "Hyde"). He plays very nice at first, charming Elias up, making him feel safe, before finally kinda breaking and becoming the evil little shit he really is :3 he basically wants Elias gone, like Mind Lanyon did with Hyde, except he's much more cruel about it, kinda trying to emotionally destroy poor ol' Elias too. There's this whole little mindscape ballroom scene thing I've rambled about and drawn something for too, under the oc tag for this guy, but yeah, he's not great lmao.

He does like Lanyon tho, and is actually kinda genuine nice to him, though he still tries to abuse his charm to get Lanyon on his side about things-- especially the whole "we need to get rid of Elias" thing.

Mind Jekyll also plays on Lanyon's fear of potions and sciencey stuff, being kinda sinister with any "creations" of his. He's also quite the charmer around Lanyon's little mindscape ballroom, especially with the women, since Lanyon was scared of Jekyll leaving him for a woman in university teehee.

Uhhhh I think that's all I have for now?I know I've already said some of this, but yeah, Idk, I need to build him out more, as well as Lanyon's mindscape in general bc ughhhh it's so cool and fun, I love picking these silly guys apart.

[the-golden-comet]

✨Writer Questionnaire Tag ✨

Thank you for the tags @wyked-ao3 here, and @thatuselesshuman here and @nczaversnick here. Y’all are great! 💛✨

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

I’ve had this blog since….end of April? Early May?

What led you to create it?

When I set up all my socials, I wanted to use this as a way to build a writing community, share my stories, and exploring and sharing the ideas of other likeminded individuals.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

How kind and welcoming writeblr is. The community is supportive of everyone’s stories and OCs, and everyone has some wonderfully unique and fascinating characters.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

You are always. Always. ALWAYS welcome to tag me, message me, send asks, interact with me. I absolutely endorse the engagement and excitement in this community, and even though I may miss a few tags, just know that seeing you tag me to see your stories brings the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. Thank you for being you and sharing your creative minds with us 💛✨

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

Kindness, support, and creative stories. Keep writing, keep inspiring, keep on keeping on.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Your Wish Is My Command is my current WIP at about 75% complete. I have a little bit to share from Tenshito as well, but the latter will have to get majorly cut down and restructured before it’s ready ✨

How long have you been working on them?

Planning and ideas began a couple of years ago. Writing them down? For YWIMC since early May, and Tenshito since 2020 (took a hiatus to focus on work and big life stuff, like moving twice and getting married)

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

My love of storytelling, video games, and Disney. I wrote and published Peter Hart based off of a few of my favorite video games 🏴‍☠️💛✨

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

All the time. At least once a day, if not more. My stories help me get to sleep…when I eventually GET to sleep 😴💤

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

BL romantasy novels. It encompasses every person asking, and umbrellas many subgenres.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.  Side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

Oof that’s a big list. Let me just do major protagonists/antagonists from stories: Peter, Benjamin, Davey, Ali, Noah, Tenshi, Itazura, Yoji, Tyr, Gustav, Jak, Johnny, Nathan, X, Ollie, and Callum

Who’s the most unhinged?

Peter 🏴‍☠️💛✨

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Peter 🏴‍☠️💛✨

Do you ever cringe at them?

Sometimes….depends on what they do. I never cringe at my stories, but sometimes my characters make choices that personally make me go “😬”

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?  AKA, do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

(Slowly looks over at Peter)

Peter: …..What?

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? And do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? For example, as Asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on AO3, etc.

Oh always!! ALWAYS!! Any method is absolutely fine and encouraged by me, but I ALWAYS love when people leave AO3 comments on my stories 💖💫✨

On writeblr engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on WIPs, or vibes?

I scope out the content before I follow for sure. Because I write adult fiction, I look through posts to make sure that our interests would align, and that the blog mentions an age that is 18+. If I am ever uncertain or have a suspicion beyond a reasonable doubt that the blog is run by a minor, I won’t follow them (and unfollow if I get suspicious of their posts)

What makes you decide against following?

I use discretion on age, politics, and religion before following. Any homophobic, transphobic, or otherwise hateful conduct gets automatically blocked. The world needs more kindness and uplifting of one another. We need to bring each other up, not tear each other down.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I try to! Usually in the form of reblogs and ask games. My pile for work and tumblr keeps stacking though, so I find myself getting very busy very often (and that’s a good thing! ✨)

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

All the time, every time. To name a few mutuals: G.J, Jamie, Gioia, Casper, Tobin, Jay, Wyked, Gina, and Jev have characters that are my current hyperfixations. But there are SO, SO many that are so interesting that I want to learn more!! ✨

Thank you so much for tagging me, you two!! Going to alert the tag list on this one 💛✨

✨Tag list for writing snippets below. DM me if you’d like to be added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@jev-urisk , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @wyked-ao3 , @glasshouses-and-stones , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @fortunatetragedy , @deanwax , @dyrewrites , @honeybewrites , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes , @thatuselesshuman , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @far-cry-from-finality , @froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @thecoolerlucky , @willtheweaver , @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @mysticstarlightduck , @the-letterbox-archives , @theink-stainedfolk , @ominous-feychild , @saturnine-saturneight , @words-after-midnight , @sableglass , @cowboybrunch , @moltenwrites , @pixies-love-envy , @davycoquette , @writeahurricane , @greenfinchwriter , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees , @aintgonnatakethis , @thecomfywriter

[celebbun]

Rejoice, children, for I have decided that an unhinged rant is in order

I have come to the conclusion that, despite what much of the fandom would like to think, Legolas is, in fact, not a prince. My reasoning to back this up is based on two main pillars: the Woodland Realm’s monarchy system and Legolas’ lack of royal title throughout the books.

In regards to the Woodland Realm/Eryn Galen/Eryn Lasgalen: it was founded when Oropher and Thranduil arrived at the Greenwood with a handful of people and integrated into Silvan society, with the Silvan later making Oropher their king. Now, I can’t find the exact passage that describes Oropher becoming king. It’s not in the Unfinished tales of the Appendix B of The Return of the King; it might be in The Peoples of Middle Earth, but I can’t find a pdf of it to save my life. However, the Tolkien Gateway describes his ascension as him being “taken up by the Elves of the wood as their king” and “taken by the Silvan Elves as their lord” in the pages for Oropher and Mirkwood, respectively. The Thranduil page also uses very similar phrasing.

The implication here is that the Silvan chose Oropher as king, rather than he declaring himself as such, which led me to think that this could very well be taken as Oropher being elected king; and therefore the Woodland Realm would have an elective monarchy. In regards to Thranduil being king after Oropher, I’d chalk it up to a mere coincidence. After Oropher’s death at Dagorlad, Thranduil led Greenwood’s armies for almost the full 7 years of the Last Alliance, so it’d only make sense if he were the one  elected as the next king.

In an elective system, only the person who’s elected holds the title that they’ve been elected for, so there is no Royal Family, or titles adjacent to that of king. In the case of Oropher becoming king, only he would hold a royal title, which means Thranduil would be the son of the king, but not a prince. Later, that same pattern would repeat itself when Thranduil is elected king. Legolas is the king’s son, but that doesn’t grant him any titles or authority.

In fact, Legolas’ lack of titles is something that stands out quite a bit in the books. Despite him being introduced as the son of Thranduil, he’s never once called a prince, and his parentage is never acknowledged by any other character. Even when Aragorn introduces him in Rohan, he does so by calling him “Legolas of the Woodland Realm”, once again ignoring who his father is, and foregoing any weight or influence of name dropping the Elvenking. Sure, it can be argued that in this instance, Aragorn wasn’t sure of where Rohan stands in regards to the war, so revealing Legolas is the child of someone important might be risky, as well as that he emphasised the Woodland Realm to differentiate Legolas from the elves of Lothlórien, whom the people of Rohan distrust; still, it’s quite interesting.

“But what about the queen?” No queen. “Oh, but Thranduil had a child, so he must have had a wife!” Why? Because you believe in the myth of the nuclear family? Can a single man with not a drop of mental health not raise a child alone as though it’s his emotional support crusty white dog? He even followed the guidelines: adopt, don’t shop. “Oh, but the movies!” The Hobbit movies have dealt irreparable damage to Thranduil’s character and nothing they said matters to me. I was in this fandom before they came out, I remember the glory days of Thranduil’s tag on Tumblr and AO3 and, yes, I’m bitter.

Anyway, even if Thranduil were married to whatever “heart of gold, died tragically” OC the fandom has lined up, she wasn’t voted in, so no royal title for her.

But yeah, Legolas isn’t a prince, he’s just some guy who happens to have a very powerful dad and no authority of his own.

[littlejuicebox]

Midwinter Carol 7 / The Interrogation

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.3K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago.  Her arm is still deteriorating. Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night. 

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion's past trauma

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

A/N: And here comes AA with some absolutely unhinged behavior.

-----

At first, Astarion hires Delilah for several hours at a time. Typically, a half day, but sometimes more.

It’s always the same experience.

He pays her to morph into a likeness of Eirianwen, based on sketches from the Baldur’s Gate Gazette and his own descriptions. She never gets the vitiligo quite right, but the Ascendant, in his desperation, will take what he can get. 

In the beginning, he simply lays in bed as Delilah runs her fingers through his silver curls and hums. Sometimes he trances, sometimes he watches her without saying much at all. 

For the first time since Ani left, he experiences uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep.

And the woman is smart enough to simply follow instructions and not pry. At least at the start..

Eventually, Astarion has Delilah make private calls to the Palace. He pays a ridiculous amount of gold for this, but it’s no matter. 

Most nights, she’s still a glorified sleep aid; other nights, he becomes more physical. But the voice and the vitiligo are wrong every time, and it takes weeks before he’s able to fully commit to the act. Even then, something feels not quite right. But it’s as close as he can get.

And then finally, several months after their peculiar agreement first began, Astarion, after far too many bottles of wine, reveals he’s a vampire to the shapeshifter.

“As in a true, blood-sucking vampire?” Delilah asks, eyebrows furrowed as she assesses the Lord. It’s a rare moment in which she’s in her own chosen form, rather than the likeness of Ani that he pays her for. 

“Something like that,” He laughs, though it comes out quite wry, “I can drink blood; I no longer need to for survival.”

“Show me,” She responds, her curiosity getting the better of her. Delilah is wholly aware she is flirting with danger, but she’s never been one to shy away from an opportunity, especially one that comes with the allure of money or power. 

Astarion stares at her for a long while, finishing off the final bits of his goblet, his thoughts entirely imperceptible. He taps his cup with his index finger as he tilts his head and watches the woman. She thinks he’s going to reject her request.

And then, surprisingly, he nods, “Very well. But you must morph, first.” 

Delilah obliges, and at first the Lord brushes her hair from her neck and moves to sink his fangs there. But he retracts at the last moment, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. 

It’s not really Ani, he reminds himself. 

After a brief pause and a sharp inhale, Astarion takes her hand and turns it, finding the pulse point on her wrist. He keeps his eyes locked onto the distorted appearance of his ex-lover as he bites into the changeling’s flesh.

And what a terrible decision that was. He’d just invited a devil onto his shoulder and a snake into his bed.

*

The constant bashing of Astarion’s fists sounds like a poorly played drum as he repeatedly swings into Edmund’s hanging body. The human is strung up by his arms in the office, dangling so that his toes barely brush the white marble floor. 

The bastard is annoyingly sturdy, and manages to stifle most of his grunts as the Ascendant continues his torment. This only angers Astarion further, and he begins to hit harder, now intentionally aiming for the man’s face every time and splattering dots of crimson around the room.

Great. He will have to call the servants into his private office to scrub the floor and walls. He might have to replace the curtains.

It’s clear that whoever turned this vampire has conditioned him quite well. It’s been an hour of repeated strikes and the human seems nowhere near his breaking point. 

Between the physical exertion of pummeling Edmund and the draining effects of his ring as Eirianwen continues to burn the poison through her system in the next room over, Astarion is beginning to tire. He is sure he must escalate his methods to rip any information from Edmund, but he refuses to give the spawn a single break in his torment.

So he barks an order at one of his own spawn standing guard not far behind him, “Thrak! Continue where I’ve left off. I have more important things to attend to than beating this disgusting vermin.” 

A final blow to Edmund’s face and then Astarion spins on his heels with a sneer, flicking his hand up to examine his cracked knuckles and bloodied nails in distaste. 

Thrak is a large half-orc with slashes running vertically down his chin. The marks are an intentional, cultural scarification, Astarion is told; his sister, Melga, has the same ones. 

Astarion focuses his eyes on Melga, where she is now watching her brother assault Edmund with mild interest. A few gestures of his hands, and the Vampire Lord communicates to the female orc that he wants to be informed if Edmund breaks. 

Melga quickly gestures her understanding. Astarion is not fluent in the sign language Thrak and Melga speak; it appears to be a mixture of Thieves Speak and something else he does not recognize. Perhaps they made it up themselves. But over the years, he has learned enough to get by and Thrak has always willingly worked as the translator. 

When the Ascendant first offered immortality to Thrak, the half-orc indicated he and his sister were a two for one deal. He would change with his sister or not at all; he hoped vampirism would restore the hearing she lost as a child. And the Ascendant, still thinking himself better than Cazador in that he did not change people against their will, agreed. 

Unfortunately, there are some conditions vampirism cannot fix.

*

Jaheira took leave to return home and check in on her wards. The druid indicated she needed to delve into her medicinal stores and confer with Halsin on the matter of Eirianwen’s affliction.

Mention of the wood elf’s name instantly caused Astarion to bristle. If Halsin had a solution, it would not be the first time the oversized elf helped Eirianwen in a way the vampire could not. The Ascendant is quite sure he loathes that man more than any of his other former campmates; he idly thinks it’s a bit of a shame it’s Edmund instead of Halsin strung up next door. 

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago. Her arm is still deteriorating.

Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night. 

Thrak continues to pound his massive fists into the foreign spawn next door, and now the Ascendant can hear the sounds of Edmund's resilience breaking. The pained grunts and sobs are music to his ears, and he smiles in sadistic delight at the spawn’s suffering as he simply lounges in his chair, continuing to watch the sorceress breathe. 

“We’ll figure this out, little love.” He whispers before he brings his hands together as if in prayer and analyzes the cries of agony from the next room. 

Not long now. 

*

He’s on the freezing marble floor. Cazador is straddled over him, pinning Astarion’s arms down with his knees. They’re in the spawn dormitory, in front of all his brothers and sisters. No one steps in to help him. 

In the end, it’s all about self-preservation, isn’t it? 

His master yanks at his silver curls and bends so close to Astarion’s face he can feel Cazador’s hot, disgusting breath on his skin.

“Where is it?!” The older vampire questions, pulling Astarion’s hair with vitriol and forcing a pained wail out of the spawn, “Where did you hide it?!”

“H-hide what? Master! Please, I don’t know what you’re–” 

A solid strike to Astarion’s face causes him to stop his defenses mid-sentence. 

“Petras! Leon! Bring me a barrel of water, rags, and a pillow case.” Cazador orders coolly, as his eyes briefly flicker to the elf’s siblings. The two other spawn quickly run to retrieve the requested items for their enraged Master. 

“You traitorous leech. Where is it?” Cazador asks through gritted teeth, gripping Astarion’s chin so tightly he is convinced the bones in his jaw are cracking under the force. 

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know where it is. If Astarion knew, he would’ve already spilled all his secrets. It never takes this much to rip a confession out of the elf nowadays. 

He’s stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at the older vampire, unsure what to do or say to make this interrogation stop.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can do or say. Astarion knows it and the thought fills him with dread.

Cazador growls and spits in the elf’s face before shoving a cloth in Astarion’s mouth and completely shrouding him in darkness with the pillowcase. Leon and Petras are instructed to hold the elf’s limbs as he emits gagged screams of anguish. He tries to break away from his brothers, but it’s to no avail. 

He was always one of the weaker spawn.

Astarion’s screaming is stifled by a shock of icy water filling his nose and throat as Cazador begins to waterboard him. He doesn’t need to breathe, but the sensation alone is terrifying. The silver-haired spawn continues to thrash against his siblings as their Master enacts his violent punishment. It feels like it goes on forever. The entire barrel is emptied over him before Cazador stops.

Astarion knew it was mostly for show. Cazador often made an example out of him to deter anyone else from committing the same act he was blamed for.

In the end, Astarion was thrown into the kennels for further torture. He never truly knew what it was, though he suspects he found it much later.

*

The Ascendant is straddled over Edmund as Thrak and Melga hold onto the foreign spawn’s bound limbs. Long, pale fingers grip the vermin’s jaw, prying it open with nearly enough force to rip the mandible from its joint.

“Last chance. Who is your master?” Astarion asks, tone low and coming across as far too bored for the violence that has recently ensued within this room. He’s watching Edmund with expectant, cold eyes. 

“Fuck you!” Edmund responds in a venomous hiss, glaring up at the Vampire Lord with what little expression in his face he has left after the hours of repeated blows.

“Wrong answer.” The elf sighs, and then he procures a spoon from his pocket and forces it into the spawn’s mouth.

Astarion chuckles sadistically as Edmund begins to thrash and twist against the half-orcs. The spoon is quickly wedged underneath the spawn’s gumline, and the Ascendant begins to slowly pry out the traitor’s left fang, grinning all the while. 

He could do this much faster, of course, but what’s the fun in that? The bastard deserves to suffer. 

The bastard deserves to die. And he will. Just not yet. 

First, Astarion gets to have his fun. A chance for him to make someone bleed was a rare, delectable thing nowadays. The temptation was difficult for the Ascendant to resist.

Edmund is screaming now, flailing around in agony and fighting for an out. But it isn’t going to work; three on one is never truly a fair fight. 

Especially as a starved spawn. 

“WHO. IS. YOUR. MASTER?” Astarion bellows over the tortured, terrified wails of the spawn. His curls are falling out of place, dangling in front of his narrowed scarlet eyes and obscuring parts of his vision as he continues to slowly peel fang from flesh, undeterred by the useless, pitiful crying and bucking underneath him. 

Eventually the left fang pops out with a spatter of blood across Astarion’s hand and he scoffs in disdain before cleaning his hand on Edmund’s barely recognizable, heavily swollen face. 

Disgusting vermin. 

“FUCK YOU!” Edmund screams, but his voice cracks at the end and he is no longer able to hold in the tears rolling out of two swollen sockets. 

Astarion tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if disappointed. Then he sighs a long, belabored breath as he rolls his eyes at the spawn, “You are strong, Edmund, I must admit. But what you have in brawn, you certainly lack in brains, don’t you?”

And then the Ascendant abruptly plunges the spoon into the human’s gum line just above his right fang. Edmund jerks his head at the last moment and the dull instrument slices against his mouth and tongue, still causing a laceration due to the amount of force Astarion is using on the manufactured weapon. 

Blood quickly pools in Edmund’s mouth and he spits it at the silver-haired elf in a final act of defiance. 

The switch is instantly flipped.

Astarion’s face contorts with pure, unfiltered hate. His heart starts pounding in rapid fire. Whatever modicum of control he had over his violent desires instantly slips from his hands as his grip around the spoon tightens. 

He doesn’t realize he’s wrapping his hand around the spawn’s neck and crushing it with the full force of his Ascendant power. He cannot think past his red, blinding rage as he’s stabbing into Edmund’s chest with the blunted instrument. 

He pierces through the spawn’s flesh over and over and over and over. 

When the Ascendant finally gains control of his senses, the first thing he sees is Edmund’s mangled body beneath him and his hands coated in scarlet. The first thing he hears, however, is a woman’s scream ripping through the office. 

When Astarion jerks his head toward the source, he sees Ani standing in the doorway, both hands clasped over her mouth. 

He hates what he sees.

Terror. Pure terror. 

She’s terrified of him. And she runs.

[annabawritersdream]

So...today I answered an ask about my dream fic plot and I say that it would villain redemption story. While that is true, I am aware that I can't write it myself. I lack the experience to actually write it well and giving any villain a redemption arc kind of means that the story has a happy ending...? If you know me even just a little bit, you'll probably guess it's not really my cup of tea. I'm a sucker for angst and tragedy and that's what I feel most comfortable writing. Which is why I decided I will indeed attempt to write a villain story, but it will be more of a character study. The main character will be a fallen Maia named Moyeldë (one of the many OCs that will appear in my main WIP The Lady of Ithilien and additional one-shots/snippets related to it) who is basically Sauron's main love interest (or so she thinks) in the Fourth Age. Our little fiery Maia comes back and does some stuff, but that will be addressed in LOI.

This new project is about Moyeldë (her name was given to her by Morgoth when she followed him in the aftermath of his rebellion against Eru and it is Quenya for "slave-daughter"=> I combined Mól=slave and Yeldë=daughter).

She's always been in love with Mairon and had a major rivalry with Thuringwethil as the both of them wanted to be his one true love. It is my headcanon that Mairon had a whole Harem in Angband and enslaved Elf-maidens as well as Maiarin women fought one another all the time to be THE ONE FAVORITE. Since it is unclear how Thuringwethil died, it is my headcanon that it was Moyeldë who finished her with Mairon's full support and approval. (Huan only wounded her).

Moyeldë will be eventually killed by Eonwë in LOI, but this new fic will explore her whole life (or maybe just parts of it) and her descent into madness and her delusions as she becomes more and more ruthless. It's a character study basically.

Fancast for Moyeldë is Meryem Uzerli, specifically her role as Hürrem Sultan in the show Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century). She has a slightly unhinged, psycho quality to her that I think fits Moyeldë perfectly.

Crowns and jewels all made by Mairon himself of course.

Here is a little edit of the evil power couple by yours truly.

She doesn't need to know he doesn't give a flying f about her. She is just a concubine to him, a slave who happens to be more useful to him than others.

She's literally admiring him and he's clearly about to scold her. That's their usual dynamic.

Let me know what you think! Does it sound like something you'd like to read? (I will probably write it anyway, but I would like to hear your opinion ☺️)

Thanks!

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter v

the power of a found family heist saves the day (six of crows who??) (god these summaries have become rather unhinged over the course of this fic huh)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.3k

just wanted to say thank you to all you lovely people who've read and loved this fic! please lmk what you think, like reblog yadda yadda yadda. i'm euphrasiepontmercy on ao3 if you want to see any more of my near-embarrassingly escapist writing :) there will certainly be more wren coming in the form of playlists, pinterest boards, drawings, etc

so much love <3

part four fic masterlist

The next day, for half of a moment upon awakening, she thought the whole past month had been a dream. That she’d go on living in her unpierced golden cage, that there was nothing revealed and nothing to reveal, that things could be fine for a little while longer.

Then she heard the blaring vocal warmups of the comedian who lived down the hall.

…Okay, then.

It’s real.

She stayed up in Piper’s room, hoping to escape notice from the owners of the establishment, whom she’d never seen but hated due to their imprisonment of her friends. She’d warned them all the previous night that the Chocolate Cartel had seemed about to propose a surely sinister deal to Wonka-regrettably all but Noodle, who was asleep, and who she thought would probably take the hit the hardest, whatever hit that might be.

She wasn’t sure where to go from here.

Willy had wound up under the thumb of men who would gladly destroy him, the wash crew was nowhere near the freedom they deserved, and she herself was disgraced and thrown out by the only practical lifeline she’d had for two years, the man she’d thought she’d loved.

She realized, though, that the chain of actions that led to finally standing up to Felix was the first thing she’d done in two years that she didn’t regret.

That new sense of assurance, though, wouldn’t put any food on her family’s table.

Or her own.

And still, the thrumming in the back of her heart took the form of olive eyes, soft curls, and chocolate-dot freckles. How much danger was he in? Had he really lost all hope? 

Was he even alive?

The only venture she’d made that morning was a careful one to Lottie’s room; the telephonist had snuck her a bit of gruel and told her she could borrow some of her clothes for the day. When she got back to Piper’s, she heard a large clank against the wall, and opened the window to investigate.

She was met with those same olive eyes, accompanied by a tired but teasing smile.

“We have really got to stop meeting like this.”

Relief flooded her so thoroughly that every rational thought momentarily disappeared, and suddenly Wren realized that she was kissing him.

And that he was kissing her back.

And that he was very precariously perched on a very tall ladder.

“I, ah…”

She trailed off, struck speechless by the haze in his expression that could be described in no way but adoring.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “You’re here.”

“So are you.”

“And you feel the same way?”

“Very much so.”

Apparently unable to form any longer sentences, they fell into shaking, half-disbelieving laughter.

“Wrap it up, Romeo, a person can only keep this steady for so long,” came Piper’s voice from below, and Willy laughed again.

“Alright, I-well.”

“Yeah?”

She watched him run through the events of the past hours in his mind as he tried to sum it up, and he quickly shook his head.

“Come on down, we’ll all explain what happened. Then we need your help to rescue Noodle.”

~

And so they did. Once the whole crew had been informed of all that had happened, they planned and began to carry out their heist, and Wren-while still fully aware of the danger-allowed part of herself to be thrilled at finally having adventures with a found, created family like she’d read about all her life.

There were a few variables, of course-there was a plan for if Willy and Noodle were caught by the Cartel and a plan for if they weren’t, which, of course, they were. Wren flitted through various windows enough to throw a surely-still-reeling Felix slightly off his game, enough that he’d gladly drown his thoughts in the planted Hoverchocs. She also misdirected those who somehow weren’t distracted by the giraffe, allowing the Oompa-Loompa to enter the cathedral and do his part.

What she wasn’t expecting to do was help him to rescue the pair from death by chocolate.

She’d started to make her way out of the cathedral when she heard a shout of “thank you, little orange man!” from under the ground. Puzzled, she’d looked down to see a chocolate-drenched Noodle and Willy gasping for breath under a circle of glass and flooring as the brown liquid receded. She startled, then quickly came to her wits in time to break the surface and pull each of them through, all three falling into each other’s arms.

“What-”

“Oh, God-”

“What on earth-”

“Thanks, Wren-”

“What happened?”

“The plan,” Willy said, pausing to clear his throat of chocolate, “ran into a few setbacks.”

“I can see that.”

“But,” and here he reached into his vest to produce a large and somewhat soaked envelope, “I brought you this, from the vault.”

Wren opened it carefully to see that its contents were luckily mostly untouched by chocolate. Half of them she recognized as what she’d sent to her family, the things that Felix had withheld, but the rest of the envelopes were graced with her mom’s handwriting.

She’d thought she’d cried more in the past days than ever before, but apparently there were still plenty of tears left, and they all threatened to break loose upon that sight.

They’ve been writing to me all this time.

It was devastating and hopeful all at once. Her husband had spent two years keeping her from contacting her family and keeping them from the reassurance that she cared, but now that she had the letters, she could finally start to make things right.

Also in the massive envelope was a shinier letter, addressed to her from the city’s opera house, stating that a new artistic director had been hired: one who didn’t live in fear of the Cartel, had programmed Romeo et Juliette for the upcoming season, and wished nothing more than for Madame Fickelgruber to play the second title role. Not because of her association, not her relative fame, but her.

She hurriedly looked at the postage date; it wasn’t too late for her to write back and accept.

It’s not too late.

The thought, and its application to just about everything, filled her with light.

She didn’t know why Felix had kept all of this instead of throwing it out; possibly to feed his own ego, to know that his wife was in demand but he was the one that had her. Whatever it was, Willy had found the truth and held it even when he’d thought all was lost, and given it to her the moment he’d had the chance.

“And we found out why Slugworth was acting so weird,” Noodle said excitedly, still catching her breath. “We’re related, if you can believe it-but my parents really did care-and my mom, we-we found her!”

“Oh, Noodle, that’s wonderful,” she gasped, pulling the girl into a hug.

“Yeah, Willy managed to find her name in the ledger-but even after that, he kept looking around the vault until he found that envelope. Said it was for you-that we’d find your family, too.”

Tears brimmed in Wren’s eyes as she nodded to the girl with a smile of sweet solidarity. She then looked over to meet Willy’s gaze, more grateful than she’d ever been, and saw that he’d been watching her with a compassionate blend of sympathy and shared hope.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and kissed him again, heedless of the mess. “I know this will come as no surprise, but-”

“I taste like chocolate?”

“I could get used to it.”

“Okay, WE GET IT,” came Noodle’s laugh, “you like each other, it finally happened, hallelujah. Now-look!”

They all turned to the door to see the unmistakable silhouettes of the Cartel, and Willy grinned. It was time for the final phase of their plan.

The three misfits helped each other off the ground and made their way to the cathedral’s entrance, just in time to hear Prodnose’s “in which they died” followed by the men’s laughter.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

All heads turned at his voice, and Wren grinned to see all three chocolatiers pale at the sight of them.

“Wonka!” shouted Slugworth.

“Florence,” formed Fickelgruber.

“What?” piped Prodnose.

“Officer, would you kindly take a look at this?”

Willy handed the ledger he’d held to Officer Affable, and Noodle smiled as she stepped forward.

“It details every single illegal payment these men have ever made. Thousands of them.”

“Affable, don’t listen to her. She’s lying,” the Chief said, but Affable had already opened the ledger.

“Well, of course she is,” said Slugworth, his clear nervousness betraying him. Wren smirked and looked back to Affable.

“She’s not, sir. She’s absolutely right, it’s…incredible.”

The Chief blinked, then tried as he might to take back control.

“Oh. Well. Then it sounds like a case for the Chief of Police. Give it to me, Affable, I’ll take it from here.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid, sir.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because your name’s written down here, sir. A lot. Gentlemen, you’re under arrest,” he said, addressing the Cartel with the latter statement.

Slugworth nodded slightly, his eyes widening, and barely turned to his colleagues when he spoke to them.

“Run.”

And run they did, but they didn’t get far. Gasps went up in the crowd as the Chocolate Cartel took to the air once again, and the other trio strolled down to the base of the fountain.

“Wha-what’s happening,” Slugworth cried, “why are we airborne?”

“You didn’t eat any of those chocolates, did you, Mr. Slugworth?” Willy asked, knowing full well that he’d won.

God, certainty looked good on him.

“Why?”

“Because they’re Hoverchocs! Delayed action. But extra strong.”

“Florence!-” Felix called, the adrenaline of flight having pitched his voice up nearly an octave as he grabbed onto Prodnose’s leg with one hand and reached to her with the other. “Just forget it all, my pet, I’ll forgive you in time, don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him again and all will be well-”

He always was one for the dramatics.

And that’s something I can easily match.

She looked straight at him, made a show of removing her wedding ring, held it aloft until it glinted in the sun, and let it go, allowing it to tumble through the air and land directly on the edge of a convenient storm drain.

Felix let out a strangled gasp, his eyes not on her but rather trailing the expensive ring as it fell. From his vantage point, it was gone forever in that drain, and she was happy to let him believe that; she’d pick it up later and send it to her family.

Though, perhaps, with her dream off to a real start, she’d finally be able to make her own way in the world and help to support her family on her own accord.

That thought was sweeter than any amount of candy.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Wonka?” Slugworth was saying. He went on to rattle off assurances on how the Cartel could still defeat him, a frantic gloat of their societal power over him, but Wren barely heard it; she was becoming progressively more distracted by Willy’s slight and slowly growing smirk.

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

Then, with something close to darkness, he looked up at them through the chocolate that framed his eyelashes, and Wren thought for a moment that she might faint.

Noodle gave her signal, the ground started to rattle, and Wren’s heart beat faster and faster.

No going back now.

She took a last look at Felix, feeling strangely sorry for him despite herself. In another world, perhaps, he could have been given the space to regard his humble past without shame, could have used it to become a more compassionate person.

Then she reminded herself that, in this world, he had tried to kill two people and had possibly already killed many more, spent his life prioritizing appearance over literally anything else, lied to her countless times, and allowed his chocolate monopoly to uphold an elitist society.

And this world was the one she lived in.

And this world was the one in which the frozen fountain burst with chocolate, rocketing the three men who’d clung to it up and out until they were sailing through the sky.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen!” Willy was calling to them. “You’ll come down eventually, I think. Probably.”

He then turned to her and whispered, “they will.” Through all of this, he still refused to completely harm anyone. The bare minimum, perhaps, but more compassion than the Cartel would have faced opposite any other foe. She smiled and squeezed his hand in silent thanks.

With that, he threw a few ingredients into the chocolate fountain, causing it to sparkle as it never had before, and invited the crowd to enjoy.

As the wash crew came together in relief and celebration, Wren realized that the teasing phrase she’d spoken earlier had more meaning than she’d originally known.

She could indeed get used to this.

~

Not too much of a time later, that same group stood in that same town square on those same cathedral steps, but there was something different in the air.

The Cartel had indeed come safely down from the skies after a few hours on that fateful day, and had promptly been arrested by the newly appointed and much more just Chief Affable of Police. There was more color in the town, more music; everything had seemed a bit lighter, or maybe that was just how it felt to be genuinely living in love.

Because now, Wren Matterson was able to write back and forth with her family again. Now, she was in rehearsals for a role she adored. Now, she was coming into a state of self-empowerment unlike anything she’d ever known. Now, she spent time not perched restless on a fainting couch, but laughing with and learning from a better group of friends than she ever could have imagined, and had even worked together to reunite one of them with her own mom, which they were just about to do.

And right now, in this very moment, Willy Wonka, with tears of grateful closure in his eyes, carefully broke apart his mother’s last chocolate bar, handing a piece of it to each of these dear, dear friends. He then looked to Wren with an expression she was still bowled over by every time, and reached into his pocket.

With a soft but sparkling smile, he opened his hand to reveal an emerald-wrapped, heart-shaped almond milk chocolate.

So, no, Wren Matterson was no longer fine. She was so much better than fine.

She was free.

[myrmyrtheorca]

Aye, this is honestly something I'd like to have some feedback on if you guys don't mind, it's about how I handle giving out information about my OCs in relation to the story's current state. (I'll probably reblog it too later, so bear with me...)

As many of you have seen I tend to keep some things about my OCs and KW as a whole hidden to avoid spoilers for the actual story. While this is good for safeguarding the story's development, while interacting with other OC creators I noticed it's kind of a shackle. I've heard you guys saying you're curious about their pairings, their habits and all, but the fact that the story is still in its early stages kinda limits my options because I have to answer keeping in mind their current level of character development and limited experiences (for example, I can only talk about the girls' habits as they are now that they are currently still in the Cavalieri mansion, where there are many activities that are prohibited and such).

It makes me fear that I've devolved too much into vagueposting. Like, the Entity's ask was VERY fun to me because I got to be a little cryptid, but it didn't leave you guys with much (I think?). It could be frustrating to keep having info hidden by the author. It's not like I fear that I won't be progressing with KW because the drive has never once dwindled (I might even be able to release the chapter on time if everything goes well this time) but I am afraid of making my blorbs feel a little bit dull until the story reaches a certain point and after (Varia Arc).

So I guess what I'm saying is...what is there for me to do? Should I just go full unhinged and post things regardless of where the story is, with spoiler tags maybe? I'd feel a little bad because it would take away the concept of growth one could experience following the blog, but maybe it's just a complex of mine? I'm a bit lost. Or maybe I'm just making up problems that don't exist.

Rambling on, rambling on, hoping it makes sense...

[hon3yra1nbowz]

Its Throwback Thursday!!

When i was first a part of the THSC fandom, i made two ocs. I only showed them off in an old discord server called the Simphat Clan. I've recently decided i might bring them back with redesigns and slightly modified personalities.

So meet Galen Matricaria and Ike Pennyroyal (or at least their old designs)!

Galen is the one on the left and Ike is on the right.

(Ike's hand is backwards, suffer)

I didn't have that much written for them except for the fact that they're both doctors and that they're pretty much exact opposites.

Galen Matricaria

Back then, he was meant to be the "straight guy" who has been done with everyone's crap since the dinosaurs went extinct.

And now... he's still the straight guy, but he's also a glorified babysitter for Ike.

Galen hasn't changed much. I've mostly been focused on Ike. Speaking of which...

Ike Pennyroyal

(TW for ORGAN THEFT and BODY MODIFICATION (i think that's what it counts as?), it will be colored red so you can avoid it and i added a Read More link under the old drawing)

Back then, Ike was just a sweetheart, plain and simple. He likes cute cartoony stuff and was also rather shy. Also he's albino.

He was a lot like Stuffy (or rather Stuffy is a lot like him).

Now, he's still a sweetheart but he's also... impulsive.

He genuinely cares about keeping his fellow clan members healthy, but his ways of doing so are a bit... unhinged to say the least. He's not allowed to perform operations on his own because he has difficulty resisting the urge to replace diseased and/or dying organs without permission. Last time he performed an operation by himself, he gave Ahnoldt Schwarz gorilla lungs... not sure if he ever got that fixed.

As for what he does with the stolen organs? Well, bad organs aren't good for much, and he has a pet vulture. So...

When i finally redesign him, i'm thinking his hair will be long and flat, and his eyes will be a light blueish gray color instead of red. The mismatched shoes will probably stay, but i may get rid of the bow on his hat.

But anyway, hope y'all liked my about 4 years old art! Have a great day/night!

[14dayswithyou]

Was your inspiration when creating Haruko Ren Sangonomiya Kokomi? Since they’re my two faves I just thought they looked quite alike

✦゜ANSWERED: Ren was originally based off of my old UTAU/Vocaloid OC, so there are no real visual inspirations for his design!! ^^ I just like creating pink/white-haired scrunklies who are perhaps a bit unhinged lmao

Also this isn't directed at you by any means, but just so others are aware: I'm not really comfortable with people comparing Ren to other characters (it diminishes all the effort I put into making his design and personality unique, and oftentimes leads to people mischaracterising him (i.e. if he looks like Kokomi then he must act like Kokomi as well)). It's not fun being put in another character's box when I wasn't intending to be there in the first place ;v; /nm /lh

[needle-noggins]

Since you are oc pilled.. what can you tell us about Fanny? I'd love to hear all about them!

OH FANNY MY BELOVED FANNY?

So. Frances Paine (Fanny Paine. pain in my fuckin' ass) is my beloved Trigun OC for a ttrpg I'm in. You have have seen me tag things as #gunsmoked; that's the game. Fanny is a thomas rancher by trade. She grew up in Hopeland. Her best friend, a girl from the orphanage named Nova, went away when they were 12. Nova got shipped off to the Eye of Michael and sent Fanny letters about how bad it was until the letters just... stopped. Fast forward 20 years. Fanny left Hopeland, starting ranching Thomases in a little town called Gunpoint. Killed her husband (backstory) when she found out he was trafficking kids for the Eye of Michael. I wrote a little thing for it.

Within the span of game.... well, Fanny has done some truly buckwild shit. First thing she did in the game was punch the mayor's boytoy so bad that the local gang burned her house down. She helped rescue another character's brother (it's amnesiac Millions fucking Knives) and in the process killed the mayor. Who ended up also being the gang leader. It was Brilliant Dynamites Neon.

Fanny in that moment became the town mayor and the leader of the Bad Lads gang. Like, okay!!?!? OKAY! After grappling with the extremely sudden new responsibility, she discovered that the neighboring town was a front for the EOM. She and her best friend, another sad cowboy named Charlie, went to fuck up the EOM base and quickly discovered they were outgunned and outmanned. It did not go well. Also, Fanny ran into her childhood friend Nova in there. Nova didn't recognize her. Come to find out Nova didn't remember her. At all. Cue Fanny panic. Fanny gets another character, a plant scientist named Aggie, to give Nova the old childhood letters. Aggie, love her dearly, decided to do this in the most unhinged way and just scatter letters around Nova's office for her to get jump-scared by emotions while doing her job. This also did not go well. I mean, it worked, but... Nova went apeshit. Murder mode angry.

Some fuckshit happens, the Eye takes over Gunpoint. Fanny and Charlie shenanigans continue (RIP Knife's beautiful tank), and they try to take back the town but Fanny gets a little too obsessed with making Nova remember her and she's on a suicide mission about it, actually. Because Nova is freaking out that she can't remember this person and is trying to kill Fanny. Fanny almost gets shot with a punisher laser just as Charlie shoots Nova, saving her life but putting Nova in grave danger. We discover Nova is part cyborg, now in a robo-coma, and it takes about a week in-game to find the parts to fix her. Fanny spends this entire time just losing her goddamn mind about it. She may be a little bit gay for Nova. Maybe. Perhaps. But absolutely obsessive.

Nova gets fixed and comes to, bounces, Fanny has a mental crisis about it but realizes she can't fix her childhood friend. Still wants to kiss her, though. But the party has got bigger plans, like saving the world, first. And she still has responsibilities to be, ya know, the town mayor and Bad Lads leader.

Fanny is an absolute idiot, chaotic as hell, with the second-highest known body count in the party (Tesla did July; hard to top that. Knife is a new man so his past crimes don't count. Wolfwood has not told us shit about himself). She wears some Orville Peck-esque Neon Cowboy shit. Her thomas is named Cash, after Johnny Cash. Her gun was her momma's and it's an ornate little thing. She thinks half of being a cowboy is about the drip (she's right). She's a coward, she can't hurt people she cares about - even when they're threatening to kill her. She means well, she's actually not half-bad at being a leader because she's compassionate, but she's impulsive and has no self-confidence. She cannot catch a fucking break. She's hopelessly in love with her childhood best friend, she blames herself for everything that happened to Nova, she thinks she failed her by not following her to the Eye at the age of 12. She's a small town girl who is finally realizing that the world is so much bigger than her small town drama, and other people have some much bigger problems. She's can be condescending and controlling, but she's also nurturing and wants to help. She's insulting and doesn't know how to comfort others, but she's loyal to the death. She just wants to save everyone. She cannot take her own damn advice. She is extremely accidentally Vash-coded. When I play her she and her goofy-ass southern accent just take over and I don't know half the shit I say. I adore her and the absolute disaster she is. She compels me SO much.

[kaledya]

I'm will mess the order of our conversations but I need to explain how the things happened !

So I was on Youtube, and i saw your post about you wanting to do some dark fantasy/steampunk story on your own world (and it is also my favorite type of book but with more fantasy politics I'm writing in my langage) and I was so hyped for the idea like putting some pom-pom girl outfit or whatever to encourage you to do it!!

Like let's go ! You have the potential and I will watch it all ! (Well not that my support can really help cause I have no influence on internet whatsoever but ahah) I will love it ! Like slayyyy🌸🌸🌸

And then I thought perhaps you had some concept art already on tumblr so I go here and then... IMMEDIATELY was attacked by your gift  and I was not ready. Kaledya *take my hamster* Like the doodles are so sooo cute !

First, Narrator is smooth. Ah ! My crazy baby. Just by the shape of his smile you know its over ahah

Second, Lolicia's second outfit (thanks bg3 again) and just, I just love how calm she looks.🌸 You did her so well, I need to try to do a profile like that for her!

Third, my favorite, the Human Lolicia. So pretty! First the doodles with the big eyes ! I love when you do that with the characters its very adorable. And her human face and the look is so Lolicia i think like soft and... unhinged a bit scary. Love it.

Fourth, Vittorio aaaah. So mischievous. *take my Astarion hamster back.*

Thank you ! I was not prepared! I know I was suppose to be. But I was not ahah. I will gift you back !🌸

_

I'm glad you liked the gift ! I will draw more and hopefully get better and better !

And fore the shape-shifting idea of Constantine for justifying differents type of horns is 🌸clever🌸. All questions of people answered just by that!

Also yes thank you, I just play doll with Lolicia's outfit and I justify it by saying its Velvette who makes it ahah

_

Anw I like your OCs too! And yes Narrator steal hearts of everyone I saw, good for him ahah ! Oh yes ! I think even if Constantine had a very strict and extreme education, even princes had time to go out with "friends" even if Constantine never really had friends before Serinity he still had guys of his age to spent time with sometimes and they just had a moment to be free a bit. So teen Constantine and Verdelet/Narrator we will see them in the short story !

I saw Turkish people weaponry in museum too! I don't like guns of our times but old riffles like that ? Yes. And don't mention Berserk like its not a trauma manga 😭 ahah

_

I love all of your designs I just don't say it all the time but I do!

_

I just love when you give all the comments about the chapters, rating about the songs and the ambiance (thank you again i just can't-) and then you just like :

You : So beautiful, I love it but now THE REAL DEAL, I don't fucking care, I want to know ABOUT LOLICIA...

And that just kill me with laugh. Every. Time.

_

Also for your exams (that is a damn important part) glad you made it to your first exam ! And for your boss exam just take an armor, focus on shading and proportion and just go for it. Slay! Everything will be okay *pom pom girl movement* Just slap that ART exam in the face.

The villain career just killed me twice ! Honestly, I can write your villain songs no problem. Let me just kidnapped a musician real quick just in case...

_

Thank you ! And you will do a fantastic animator once you are in that university of animation you want to be in. I'm not even worry, you have made a lot of progress since your first and last animatics on youtube for exemple, from the positioning of the characters, the dramatic effect linked to the music lyrics, the differents perspectives and the little details in the poses and camera work. So continue to be what you are !🌸🌸🌸

Now I will write !

OMG!!! Do you like the steampunk/fantasy theme too!!?? I'm so glad to hear that!! I seriously love this theme, both visually and in terms of the factors it adds to the story.

Right now, in my mind, the place where the first part of the story will take place will be a city that relies on technology and does not have much magic. Maybe it could be a region with class distinctions, a bit like the cyberpunk universe.

Or a universe where there is a lot of life difference between the nobles (wealthy people) and the Lower class people. in Red Rising and Mistborn While one side lives a rosy life amidst wealth, the other side is drowned in misery.

And did I understand correctly? Are you writing your own story about this concept in your own language??

SHOW MEEEEEE (in niffty's voice)

And THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! AND YOUR WORDS MEAN A LOT TO ME, THANKS A LOT!!❤️❤️❤️ And it doesn't matter whether you have an influence on the internet or not, you are someone whose work I love very much, it is an honor to be supported by you!)

---

YAAAAAAAAAY *gently takes the hamster* I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!!! I wish I could draw them more now. I love all of them very much, and I love Verdelet more and more with each passing chapter! Lolicia is great as always and not to mention Abaddon. I want to draw him so bad and I'm so excited for Charlie's meeting with him!

*kindly gives the hamster back*

----

And definitely! Constantine was someone who thought that there could be alliances in hell, but even those he thought friendship was impossible, this changed with Serenity, but it was a very sloooooow process. Even then, at first, instead of calling Serenity a friend, Constantine says this "she is tolerable or I find her amusement."So it really was a long process of acceptance for him.

And yes! Although Constantine had no friends when he was young, he spent a lot of time with people at his age: his cousins, or other high nobles like Verdelet!

And I read that short story and loved it!!Constsntine's training sequence, the dialogues between him and Verdelet, everything!! I really loved the dialogues and dynamics of Verdelet and Constantine. It was great to read the little adventure between them!!

And I love brothel story arcs for some reason too.Strangely, very rich story arcs can occur in brothels. I always think of the Yoshiwara arc in Gintama, it was a really great arc.

Also, the scenes where Verdelet takes Constantine to the brothel and they live there were beautiful!

Con: These pants are not coming on tonight. *" You dont have my attention "by looking at the brothel*

Verdelet:HAH! I never said anything like that *rips out someone's heart and shows it to Con* We're just going to do a live anatomy lesson" *"well.. you got my attention now"*

The short story was a seriously fun read!

--

Definitely! In general, everything that is old seems more artistic to me, even the rain pipes on buildings.

Yes, it was a trauma (experiences traumatic flashback), but on the other hand, it was a masterpiece manga. It was a perfect manga, both in terms of story and drawings.(funny part is, I'm wearing a Berserk t-shirt while writing this part)

----

And (⁠´⁠⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠`⁠)⁠→of course I will do this, you always bless me in your writing

And LMAO I love Lolicia and your OCs in general. Sometimes I even say, "Damn the general plot, I want to see these characters."Looking forward to Lolicia and Con meeting *getting ready to draw ship fanart*

And all joking aside, I love the designs you chose for your OCs in general and I also love their personalities. They are so fun to read. On the other hand, if you write a story that is told only POW of your OCs Please send it to me, I'll be happy to read it! 🛐🛐

---

And thank you very much for the support!!!! I hope I can win by working hard But just in case *prepares rope for kidnapping*

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR KIND WORDS!!!!❤️❤️❤️

____

Now it's time to talk about short stories. The short story between Azrael and Abaddon was simply a masterpiece.I loved the dialogues between them, their protection details were very nice.I really liked Abaddon's personality, you really created a beautiful character.

Michael's idea of giving Charlie and Constantine a blessing to prevent them from going to the dark side was really interesting.At least it clearly worked on Charlie. 2x cinnamon rolls

And Azrael taking care of Lucifer's ducks was so sweet!!

I'm seriously excited to see abaddon in the future.

And I LOVED ABADDON'S DESIGN AND AZRAEL LOOKS AMAZING !!!

In short, thank you again for blessing my eyes!!

Have a good day❤️❤️

[adorablebanite]

OC Deep Dive Questions

Thank you @hippotooth for the tag, and giving me more excuses to blab about my dumb girl!

I'd love to tag some folks, should they wish to partake (if they haven't already!) @newtia @beecreeper @obuoliukai @melvinthedepressedrobot @ennissg @sankttealeaf @forged-by-fire @forlornghosts @walkerdraws @lizziemajestic @archduchessgortash @archduchessgabrielle @elinorbard @sunflowergem @threeofswrds @arianiziolek @defira85 @lillietea @kawareo @toobisa @kaava @asteria49 @demong @aurorawintersnight @archduke-enver-gortash (I'm sorry if I missed anyone! I'd love to see EVERYONE'S response, if possible!

(I realize Tumblr doesn't let me tag more than a handful of people but i'm stubborn and will do it in the replies, lmao)

Questions/Answers for my beloved OC ~Lilla~ under the cut

Warning - she's literally just a "made in a lab for gortash" trope, so enjoy extreme self-indulgence!

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

I don't know if there's much in the way of common when it comes to BG3, but I suppose Lilla's actually fairly brave! She's a Banite after all - though it took some getting there. Honestly her worst fear is getting "fired" by the boss - but that's a given. Lady Orin actually terrifies her, and maybe Balthazar a bit, as well (he's just mostly stinky and smug, though.)

Do they have any pet peeves?

You'll be sick of hearing this already, but given Lilla's nature, her biggest pet peeve is when people don't cooperate with Gortash 😅

Honestly just general incompetence - her standards rival the Chosen's, which are basically impossible, so good luck!

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

An emerald silk bathrobe, an alchemy station stocked to the brim with all the good stuff, and a small library nook!

What do they notice first in a person?

Visually not much (unless she's attracted to them, in which case she's just like the rest of us and looks respectively, or otherwise 😉).

Believe it or not, she doesn't judge much based on looks; she's learned from the boss that every person has the potential to offer some skill or opportunity that could benefit the Banites and their chosen - so she's always looking to see what she can exploit or harness from someone, and to see if she can delegate their skills to Gortash's cause.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Pretty high up there- gonna say at least an 8, but she's cheating because she was kind of intentionally 'made' that way. Once she got a pommel from a greatsword straight to the cheekbone during a tournament and she just kind of smiled bloody at the dude which freaked him the fuck out because she's so small and un-phased.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Depends on the pressure! She's survived/won a battle royal against some really grizzled Banites - though it may have mostly been luck -but it helped shape her ability to respond to fear fairly well! Again, the whole 'Banite blood' thing helps a lot!

She did have a massive panic attack when she thought her worst fear (see first question) was realized, which sent her into quite a state - so that would be the closes to fleeing she's ever gotten, really.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

If by "family" you mean "secret Banite sect at the outskirts of Calimport," then yes she comes from a fairly big family, but she doesn't remember them, since they erased her memory when she was five and gave her to an Ilmater orphanage (long story - sounds weird - it is). Not really a family person, but could be, if her path took a different turn! She's quite nurturing considering all things (Which may have been a point of contention with Bane, but she ultimately proved herself, eventually).

What animal represents them best?

This is such a hard question...I never considered. Hmm what could be considered regal and unhinged in the same stroke? Maybe I'll say Owl - because it's the symbol of knowledge, and she's a knowledge domain cleric? Also she can be fairly deadly if you let your guard down around her 😊 Also she doesn't shut up sometimes.

What is a smell they dislike?

Balthazar.

Have they broken any bones?

As mentioned before, she had her face smashed with a really heavy weapon. Would you be interested in a smol excerpt? (You get it regardless 😅 (as usual warning: amateur writing)

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Very prim, proper, and polite! Quite sweet as well! Unless you've said something uncouth about Lord Gortash (It is recommended to not do that around her).

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

She's extremely gort-coded, so whatever he wants (so both)

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Plump red berries are her favourite for reasons only the readers of AFI know :p. I don't know what she doesn't like! Maybe dirty/muddy meat and potatoes, which also only AFI readers will know why ^_^

Do they have any hobbies?

lol. lmao.

Alchemy I guess xD. Basically studying anything that makes her more competent/useful at her job.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

I think at first she'd think it was a waste of time, but she wouldn't admit that she loves it (and the attention).

Do they like to wear jewelery?

Yes! A black suede collar with a Banite charm! She switches it for an Ilmater charm when in public though >.>

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Very neat, very succinct, very efficient. Transcribing was the very first reason Gortash hired her - especially because she's able to use her Mage Hand to write (ie in unseen places for what may or may not be for spying purposes).

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

This is so lame and cringe but just general catharsis for fulfilling her purpose. It's a perk of the whole "made in a lab" trope. For a being conceived during a silly Banite ritual designed to make the perfect servant for Bane's chosen (whoever it should be at the time), she actually feels a great deal of love -it's up to individual philosophy if it's organic/genuine, or preprogrammed.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Emerald silk ^_^

What kind of accent do they have?

An English one, I dunno man. She grew up in an orphanage, but was taught by Ilmater nurses/clerics, so she sounds like a fancy lil bitch.