#no physical descriptions of OC

[rennorthernlights]

Mustang Inquiries

A collection of Drabbles from my OC Mustang, that will span over the Call Of Duty universe. One-Shots and Short stories involving our favorite characters. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF HER WILL BE SHOWN ONLY THE NAME I’VE GIVEN HER!

Includes Smut, Fluff, Angst, and anything and everything in between. They will be tagged accordingly.

Requests are OPEN

Smut 🌶

Fluff 💞

Angst 💔

In-Between 🪢

As always, READ THE WARNINGS ONCE CLICKING ON A ONE-SHOT OR SHORT. MINORS DNI+18 AND OVER ONLY!! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breaking You In 🌶🪢 | One-Shot

Heatwaves 💞 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Maybe I Was Wrong 💔💞 | One-Shot

All Mine 💔🌶 | One-Shot or maybe Short?? Haven’t figured that out yet.

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

All Tender For Me 🌶 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

John “Bravo-6” Price

Insanity In Company 🌶 | Mini-Shorts

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

[acewitch-writes]

OC Fanon Remus is just an untagged AU version of him that is part giant since y'all insist on portraying him as this 6-foot-7 monstrosity with the physique of a professional bodybuilder next to his fun-sized twink boyfriend who is teeny enough to travel around in his pocket.

I will never understand how the canon description of Remus as worn, thin, shabby, half-dead looking, greying, and pallid turned into this.

[cambria-writes]

You've found the body of a serial killer's latest target. A friendly neighborhood Old Man. You're more honest than most of the kids that have run through the CBI offices. And you're a fortune teller. Alright, so Jane's found the honey pot in you. Now where's the hatchet?

Pairing: Patrick Jane x Original Female Character Overall Rating: A (adult content) Warnings: gun violence, murder scene, blood, mention of gore, kidnapping, implied sexual assault, gunshot wounds, panic attacks, dissociation, OFC goes through it tbh, reader is a fortune teller and vaguely clairsentient, alcohol consumption, probably unrealistic car traveling times (I'm sorry I'm Canadian), light dom/sub, Jane likes saying Good Girl, trauma and traumatic reactions, oral sex, sir kink, fingering, squirting, will update this when I remember what I have inevitably forgotten

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Chapter One: Gold Chapter Two: Tuscan Sun Chapter Three: Citrine Chapter Four: Sunglow Chapter Five: Chartreuse Chapter Six: Freesia Chapter Seven: Sulphur Chapter Eight: Dandelion Chapter Nine: Old Gold Chapter Ten: Solar Chapter Eleven: Yellow Chapter Twelve: Champagne Chapter Thirteen: Cider Chapter Fourteen: Mixer Chapter Fifteen: Chaser Chapter Sixteen: Lemon Water Chapter Seventeen: Oasis Chapter Eighteen: Respite Chapter Nineteen: Cadenza FINAL UPDATE

[viperwhispered]

And here she actually is

*jazz hands*

an actual sprite for Emi, if you can believe it

Smushed together from different bits and pieces thanks to @alchemivich's assets. Hair is from pngimg with a CC BY-NC 4.0 license, I'll put the link in the replies.

Thanks to Deuce, random dormless background student, Cater, Azul and random Styx scientist for their contributions for making this happen.

Tagging @scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If anyone else would like to tagged for Emi stuff, please let me know!

You can find more information on my yuusona Emi here on the masterlist.

[acesandocs]

Despite zzanimazz being deactivated i will still answer the questions they sent me. I hope they can see this wherever they are🫡

CW: physical and emotional abuse mention below

Desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Ace isn't really aware of what he wants, he doesn't really think about it long enough to come to a clear conclusion. In reality he just wants to be accepted and understood by someone, anyone really. But he doesn't think thats ever going to happen. She has a bit of a defeatist streak going on that she pushes down by living his life without regrets or shame. Part of that is also intentionally acting weird and pushing people away. Because the pain of being rejected by someone he actually cared about hurts more than just telling himself that he's never going to have the kind of conection he craves. Most of the way she deals is either by denying or not thinking about it.

Mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

Ace has made a few major mistakes though she is a bit to stubborn to openly recognize them as mistakes. One is running away from home. He subconsciously regrets it but if he admitted that, to himself it would be like admitting defeat. One she can however clearly see was a mistake was starting to work under her first boss. He was emotionally and sometime physically abusive. And was taking advantage of the fact that she had no life experience and that she was homeless. As to how she fixed it…

CW: visual depictions of strangling and implications of murder via stabbing under the cut

Though that one might mostly be out of spite, if he has already decided it was a mistake he doesn't have to feel bad about how the whole situation ended up.(of course he doesn't have gult ridden nightmares, what are you talking about)

Trying out something a bit different with this one. More dramatic lighting and pose. If anyone has any suggestion on improvement feel free to share! The line art is intentionally very sketchy and unfinished to add to the disorientation of the moment. Also avoided adding her eyebrows for similar reasons.

[bardic-tales]

Tumblr Games: FF Edition: Six Sentences

Thank you so much for the tag, @sliceoflifeshepard. I loved your response to this.

Rules: Share six sentences of your recent work.

Tagging:

@watermeezer @nightingaleflowlibrary @megandaisy9 @themaradwrites

@serenofroses @kricketbee @pinkevilwriter @asirensrage

So, I have been working on short flash fictions for Whumptober. This is from the Trust Issues. This Sephiroth is the caregiver, and his future self is the whumper. This Sephiroth is a fragment attached to Bianca's soul and only exists for this event.

Content Warning: physical abuse, bruising and injury, graphic description of wounds

“Why are you doing this?” Bianca shied away from his hand, as her breath hammered in throat. Ugly marks ringed around her wrist: crimson against the delicate skin. The raw skin ached when it was touched, as small, bloody lines amalgamated with the dark purple bruises.

“I would never hurt you, Bia.” Sephiroth knelt before her. A forest green haze oscillated around him, raising up off of his shoulders like fine mist before twisting around before descending to rejoin the rest of the wispy veil that covered his body. "I'm not him."

[xaintsero]

The year is 2024 and I have finally gathered the courage to expose myself so. Here is my Ikemen Prince self insert OC! Disclaimer for lore dumping ahead

My bellesona Candy is similar to Emma in many ways, but instead of having Mr. Akatsuki, Candy has Lady Flavia as her mentor. She is a dancer for Flavia's dance hall and although Candy’s story doesn’t follow a particular route, it is more slice of life with occasional angst (Luke). Nobody is end game as Candy doesn’t end up with any particular suitor (I can’t commit to one character without wanting another one) and the romance is dreadfully slow burn. But her two main interests are Rio and Clavis.

One fateful day, far off into Rhodolite's countryside, Flavia and her coachmen showed up at Candy's family farm in need of assistance regarding their carriage. And although the lady was not too impressed with the farm nor its inhabitants, one particular thing seemed to grab her attention. A 14-year-old girl with a youthful appearance. Recognizing the girl's potential to draw attention, Lady Flavia extends an offer of taking the girl with her, all expenses covered, as long as she works for her. 

Nine years later, Candy is still working for Lady Flavia as a professional dancer. Because of the many years Candy has spent with the Lady and around nobility, she is well trained for her time as belle and plays the role perfectly. Being the ladies favorite performer, she is absolutely spoiled rotten with dresses, jewelry, and accessories, so there is really nothing any of the princes could do to truly impress her. But luckily for Candy, because of her career and reputation, she is able to play off her time in the castle as a preparation for an event held by royalty. This allows Candy to leave Lady Flavia's scrutiny and harsh gaze of being a proper lady for a month and allows her to be as playful and as free as she'd like. 

Although Flavia is a noblewoman, she considers herself first and foremost to be a businesswoman. She is the owner of a dance hall where she recruits beautiful Rhodolitian girls from around the country to perform for nobles in events and parties. Despite Lady Flavia originally being from Benitoite, she brought her business into Rhodolite, seeing as their culture was more modest than that of Benitoite. This gives her the opportunity to monopolize in this business as she is the only one in Rhodolite providing these services. 

Despite practically being raised by the lady, Candy has a complicated relationship with her. From the money she earns in her performances, truly Candy only gets 20% of the earnings. 70% goes to the lady, and the rest goes into Candy's training, room, and board. A majority of the time, Candy's few earnings get sent back home to her family. And yet, she can’t bring herself to resent Lady Flavia, as she has brought her and her family lots of opportunities that she could never even dreamed of. She has grown to love dancing and only hopes the lady appreciates her as much as Candy appreciates the lady.

[hereticpriest]

Mercy Ch. 1 - Every Story Has a Beginning

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter Warnings: A bit heavy in exposition - I apologize, I have a lot to introduce. Minimal warnings, but there is some discussion of dynamics with children to prepare them for their future. Child abandonment?

Read on AO3

Masterlist - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

A floating holo of Haelstruum rotated in the centre of the room, followed swiftly by a couple of other planets from across the galaxy. Ryloth, Shii, Glee Anselm, Corellia, Stewjon, and even Coruscant joined Haela in a cluster before their teacher, Master Yoda, as he began a slow but engaging lecture on the history of each planet and the Jedi they had produced. Haelstruum was not a common addition to the lecture, and as such, was one of the planets which appeared to intrigue the students in the room most of all. You noticed several eyes glancing back at you, filled with curiosity despite having been taught together for many years now. Your pointed ears flicked with irritation, an unconscious habit you had still yet to gain control of despite repeatedly hearing from your instructors that it gave away your true feelings.

“... not many jedi, Haelstruum has produced. Curious, as many force-sensitives, Haelstruum has.” Master Yoda gave a hum of amusement at the way his students leaned forwards towards him. Their eagerness to learn was often his favourite part of visiting the Heloist and Kybuck clans of younglings for lessons. He looked around the room for a moment, admiring the yearning for knowledge of each youngling, before his gaze fell upon you. The only potential Jedi from Haelstruum in nearly thirty years.

A hand shot up directly to the right of you. Doa’su, a teal-skinned Twi’lek who had always been endlessly curious about your species. Haela were rarely found off of Haelstruum, and strangers were rarely welcomed onto the planet, so the Archives or lessons were the only way to learn more about where you came from.

“A question, you have?” Yoda asked, and Doa’su straightened her back to right her posture, trying to look more adult than she was.

“Yes, Master Yoda. I was wondering why there aren’t more Haela Jedi if Haelstruum has a lot of force-sensitives?” She asked with as respectful a tone as a six year old could manage. Your tail flicked behind you, winding in slow s-patterns like a snake through the sand. You were also curious, of course. You’d been taken from Haelstruum when you were only a babe - no more than a year old if your minder in the crèche was to be believed. Yoda’s gaze found you again, and you could have sworn a smile tugged at his lips. Maybe he’d seen your excitement evident in your winding tail.

“Fiercely loyal, Haela are. And fiercely insular, I’m afraid. Believe themselves capable of teaching their own to use the Force and control themselves, the Haelstruum council does.” Yoda replied honestly, and as Doa’su perked up again as if to ask a follow up, he raised a calming hand palm towards her, “While strong with the Force, Haela are, deeply superstitious they are as well. If born under a bad omen, a Haelan is, abandoned they will be. A deep connection to the Force, Haelan seers have, but not always clear these visions are.”

You had a moment of fear at the idea of being abandoned. Considered a bad omen, or seen through the Force to do something awful. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, breathing in deeply, then exhaling slowly and calmly until the ripples in the serene pool of your mind dissipated to nothing.

“How was I found by the Jedi, Master Yoda?” You asked, bringing your tail into your lap to further calm yourself. To your left, you felt a curious gaze from the Stewjonni boy whose freckles seemed as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. His curiosity seemed to rival that of Doa’su, and it was liable to make you nervous again if you gave either of them any attention.

“Ahh, a very interesting tale, that is. Born under a rare foreseen comet, you were. A bad omen, it was said, for a child with the Force to be born under the watchful gaze of this comet. If I recall, lifted a starfruit to your cradle, you did. In the neighbouring system, Master Dooku was, and contacted by the Haelan council, we were.” Master Yoda replied, and you took some comfort in the knowledge that despite being considered a bad omen by your people, they still gave you to the Jedi instead of whatever alternative might have been possible.

“Thank you, Master Yoda. I apologise for the interruption.” You said politely, quieting down for the remainder of the lesson. The boy beside you kept his gaze fixed on your face a little longer, and you finally looked at him, blinking in surprise at the toothy smile he gave you. He wasn’t in the same clan as you - Kybuck clan to your Heloist clan - but you recognized him all the same. Obi-wan Kenobi, a strawberry blonde ball of rebellion and mischief that you did not need to get involved with. You immediately looked away again, your pale pink cheeks gaining a purple flush as your blue blood rushed to your face.

~

“Names are important,” Master Mundi aurated, his voice soft and lyrical as always as he took ownership of the front of the classroom, “Some cultures use their family name until they are old enough to choose their own name. Some cultures have names that have rich meaning, and are meant to foretell their future, while others simply choose something that appeals to the parents. Some cultures name their children after relatives. There are even some who have a given name that they only use during their youth, at which point it becomes personal and only used between close friends and family. Haela are a wonderful example of this, like our dear youngling Y/N. When Haela begin maturing, they choose what is called a ‘virtue name’. This name can be an attribute that they wish to personify throughout their life, or a calling that they feel deep in their heart. You’re still a bit young for that, Y/N, but I will be very curious to see what you land on.”

You smiled sheepishly, embarrassed by the attention, though Master Mundi swiftly moved onto the topic of titles, and how their importance varied from planet to planet. He was a fantastic teacher, and while his work largely fell into that of a Guardian, he was skilled with introducing Consular matters to the younglings. You quite enjoyed his classes, as even when the topic was boring, his lilting voice managed to keep your attention.

Later that day, while practising with your training saber under Master Yoda’s watchful eye, you couldn’t stop thinking about virtue names. What would you choose? How would you choose something so important without any guidance at all? What if you chose something as a Padawan but found that it didn’t suit you as an adult? You were only eight years old - you wouldn’t have to decide for at least a couple more years, and yet you felt frozen with indecision as if you had to decide this exact moment. From your understanding, the previous Haela Jedi had always chosen their virtue names as they transitioned from youngling to Padawan. That was still years away.

Nearby, Obi-Wan and another human boy had been paired up to spar. The sound of their training sabers buzzed in your ears, though you didn’t look up from the kata you were moving through robotically, far too lost in your head. It was a soothing sound to you, helping you reach a moving meditation state that had you following the will of the Force more than you were consciously following your kata movements. A yelp split the air, and you blinked rapidly as you came out of your trance, ears still buzzing with energy as you turned to see Obi-Wan on the floor with his hand around his ankle. The other human boy whose name you couldn’t remember was apologising profusely, and you could see unshed tears in Obi-Wan’s eyes that he was trying to hide. Master Yoda began to make his way across the room towards them, but you got there first, crouching in front of the Stewjonni boy with a sympathetic smile.

“That looks like it hurts.” You murmured, gently pulling his hands away from his ankle and rubbing your wrists together comfortingly. Despite still being too young for your dynamic to emerge, platonic scenting was common between younglings for comfort and bond-building, even if you barely knew him. He blinked at you, but the tension in his body eased, soothed by your gentle touch. His ankle was already red and beginning to swell, so you placed a careful hand on the joint. You didn’t quite know what you were doing, or why, but you could feel the Force guiding you, breathing through you. You felt bad for Obi-Wan and wanted to take away his pain.

And so you did.

You watched as the swelling began to reduce as quickly as it started. The redness melted back into pale skin littered with freckles, and Obi-Wan’s harsh breathing slowed. He reached for you this time, rubbing his wrist against yours, his body instinctively leaning towards you as he wiped his face in the collar of his robes. You barely even noticed that the boy had clasped his hand with yours, your wrists together while your other hand hovered over his injured ankle. A tingle of connection and thanks shot through you, and you smiled at Obi-Wan shyly as you finished healing his ankle. You removed your hand from his ankle as Master Yoda approached, a fond smile on his wrinkly old face.

“The gift of healing, you appear to have. A wonderful surprise, this is.” Yoda said as you used your grip on Obi-Wan’s hand to carefully help him to his feet. The young human boy rubbed his wrist against yours again a final time, reciprocating that comfort and silently thanking you for it, before he finally, reluctantly, let go.

“Does that mean I will have to stop my training and go to the Halls of Healing?” You asked your teacher with the beginnings of a pout, drawing a croaky laugh from the Master who had trained you for so long.

“Continue to train, you will. Want your help, the Halls of Healing may. But yours, the choice remains.”

~

You were nearly ten when you were brought into a cosy classroom that you didn’t think was still under use. Plants lined the shelving, and at the head of the room stood a Jedi you knew quite well. He often visited the crèche when he was stressed, playing with the youngest of the younglings or rocking the babies to sleep. He told grand stories of his missions, child-friendly of course, and you would always listen with rapt attention to his dramatic tales. Qui-Gon Jinn. Former apprentice of the man who brought you to the Jedi Temple as a babe.

Your fellow younglings shifted anxiously in their seats, all of you unsure as you had not been told what the lesson entailed, simply a time and classroom number. You held onto your tail to keep it from swaying nervously behind you, catching the eye of Doa’su beside you as she watched you. You offered her a shy smile which she returned, reaching out the short distance to rub your wrists together.

“Ah, a wonderful way to begin your lesson.” Qui-Gon interrupted you, making you jump in your seat. Your cheeks flushed purple, and Doa’su stammered an apology, but the Jedi Master simply shook his head and smiled at you both.

“Most Jedi are Betas, though scholars continue to argue whether that is because of the Force, or simply innately because Betas are far more common than the other two dynamics. I personally believe it to be a combination of both, however it is true that there are several wise Jedi who happen to be Alphas, or Omegas. Master Windu himself is an Alpha, as is my former master, Master Dooku. Master Sifo-Dyas and Master Yaddle are both Omegas.” Qui-Gon explained, “In this class, I will be giving you all a lesson in dynamics, including pack bonds, how your dynamic might affect your connection to the Force and the people around you, and dynamic-specific anatomy.”

After a quick look around the room, you gave a nervous giggle. You weren’t the only one whose face was flushed. Doa’su was as purple as you, and the Togruta youngling Orare seemed to be attempting to sink into the floor. Nanga, a Nautolan youngling was trying to cover her face with her tendrils, while Yaris, a Corellian boy simply pulled the front of his robes up over the lower half of his face. Qui-Gon watched you all with a certain fondness in his eyes, a kind but heavily amused smile on his face.

“All dynamics have scent glands, as I’m sure you are all aware. As demonstrated previously by younglings Y/N and Doa’su, pressing your scent glands together can be a way to comfort eachother, and display bonds of friendship. You have scent glands on your chin, your neck, and your wrists. It is generally considered that scenting via wrists is a platonic display, while scenting chin-to-neck is far more intimate. The glands on your neck are used for mating bonds, though only force-mates are allowed to bind themselves this way within the Jedi Order.” Qui-Gon gestured towards the appropriate glands on his own body as he spoke, and you reached up to touch the gland on your chin curiously.

“How do you know that someone is your force-mate?” Nanga asked, shy but very curious. Qui-Gon smiled indulgently.

“When you brush your force signature against your force-mate, it will instantly create a bond between you, stronger than any training bond or pack bond you may create. Should one not be taking blockers, the scent of their mate might be a good indicator, and might throw them both into early heat or ruts. It is said to be instantly obvious when you meet your force-mate, though only if you meet after presenting.” Qui-Gon explained as he walked leisurely around the room, “I have been asked to warn you that finding your force-mate is a very rare occurrence, lest you feel disheartened if you don’t find them. I have also been asked to remind you that while force-mates are respected by the Council, you must always put the living will of the Force, and the Jedi Code, first.”

The Beta Master went on to explain that heats and ruts were monthly, though many species have stronger heats and ruts during the spring and summer seasons. He explained that the possibility of pregnancy, and the genital anatomy of Alphas and Omegas was species-dependent and very complicated, but to be assured that it was very likely that whatever relationship dynamic you fell into would allow procreation, if you found your force-mate. To your immense embarrassment, Qui-Gon Jinn took the time to explain an Alpha’s knot, Omega slick, and general anatomy of each dynamic for each of the species present in the room. He explained Omega behaviour like nesting, and how it could be supported by their pack. You were relieved when he dispelled the misconceptions around Alpha commands, as they had always been unnerving to you. While a command was compelling, it was not all-powerful, and it was generally used to break through barriers like anxiety or fear. Even the worst, most vile Alpha couldn’t force their Omega or Beta into anything they didn’t want to do. 

Betas tend to have soothing scents, Alphas tend towards woodsy or spicy scents, and Omegas often have flowery or sweet scents, Qui-Gon explained as he went into how scent was as good as mind-reading for many people. It was an innate, biological knowledge that everyone shared. Sour smells indicated fear, tang indicated arousal, warmth indicated happiness or contentedness, and the scent of rot often followed anger or hate. Even as younglings, with very little scent of your own, you could recognize these scents in others around you - particularly adults.

The last part of your lesson revolved around pack bonds and dynamic communication. Packs often fluctuated, and the pack you belonged to as a youngling would change as you became a Padawan, and later, a Master. Packs consisted of a variety of members of different dynamics, headed by an Alpha, and balanced by a strong Beta. Multiple Alphas could be in the same pack, however one of those Alphas would inevitably be stronger than the others, or at the very least submitted to. Alphas chuff when pleased, while Omegas purr. Alphas growl or roar when displeased, while Omegas hiss. Omegas make a chirrup sound to get the attention of those around them, a sharp, ear-catching sound. Betas can purr, and it can be incredibly soothing to be around a purring Beta. Betas also bark when displeased, and even the strongest Alpha would feel chastened by a Beta’s bark.

“When you present your dynamic, you will be given scent blockers, and heat or rut blockers as well. You will be given a birth control implant, which can be removed when you get older, should you find your force-mate. It is important to know that while your first heat or rut can be scary, you will be supported by those around you, and the effects will be swiftly soothed by taking your first round of blockers.” Qui-Gon showed you all the birth control implant in his arm to assuage your fears, letting each of you touch the small shape beneath his skin. You had to admit, it made you feel better to have a frank discussion of these things that you knew existed, but were kept so cloistered in the Jedi Temple.

By the end of the lesson, despite the uncertainty surrounding it, you felt a little more at ease about your future. Most Jedi were Betas, anyways, so you likely didn’t have much to worry about. And you likely wouldn’t present for a couple of years still - the average age for presenting was 12-14. It was a distant worry if anything. There was no way you would be an Alpha, or an Omega. There was no way.

~

Space was cold.

It was your first clear thought since you’d boarded the small cruiser that would take you on your first mission with your new Master. You stood proudly behind him and the pilot in the cockpit, feet carefully shoulder-width apart, your chin tipped up regally as your Master had instructed you. Your hands were folded carefully behind your back, hidden in your sleeves, and you relied entirely upon your balance to keep yourself upright for the journey despite any turbulence. Most younglings become Padawans closer to the age of twelve, however your Master requested you a little early, believing you would benefit from one-on-one attention sooner rather than later. At the tender age of ten, you looked up into the proud eyes of your Master as he carefully twisted the strands of your hair into your Padawan braid, and you knew you had been right to hope for him to be your Master for all of these years.

“Have you chosen a virtue name, my young Padawan?” Your Master asked as he got to the end of your braid, beginning to tie it off with a teal band.

“Yes, Master. I will be known as Mercy from now on.” You replied, hope stirring in your belly that you had chosen correctly. Your Master smiled fondly as he finished tying off your braid, tucking it back from your face.

“I’m pleased to know you, Mercy.”

~

“One must master oneself to master the force, my young apprentice.” He had told you as he helped you with your new Padawan robes, “and one must always present oneself the way they wish to be viewed. Project strength, and you will be seen as strong even when you do not feel it. Project regality, and you will be treated with the respect you deserve, despite your youth. Poise and elegance are important for not only consular abilities, but also your lightsaber training, and your force abilities.”

Your Padawan braid swayed against your neck, and you were tempted to tuck it behind your ear to keep it from tickling your skin, but you don’t want to move. You want your Master to know how seriously you take his instruction. You want to prove yourself to him. The journey is long, with a jump through hyperspace that threatens to knock you over, though you use your prehensile tail to balance yourself. Four hours you stand behind your Master and the pilot, who had initially attempted to argue on your behalf that you be allowed to sit. It was kind and thoughtful of him, though you had insisted that you would be perfectly fine standing before your Master could even respond. His approving smile warmed you enough to keep you standing even when your legs began to go numb.

Your arrival upon the small planet is greeted with much pomp and circumstance, and your Master rests a strong hand between your shoulder blades to support you as you walk through the streets of a bustling market. The sights and smells are nearly overwhelming after a lifetime of the cool serenity of the Jedi Temple, but you try to act unbothered and simply wrap your tail around your leg to keep it from getting in the way. You’re too tired for it to truly overwhelm you. Perhaps that had been the point. If you were being honest with yourself, you remember very little about your first mission considering it had largely been a diplomatic mission between your Master and the hierarchy of the planet. Your fondest memories are largely unrelated to your actual goal upon the planet.

Your Master calmly introduced you to the wealth of indulgences available in the small market, starting with a meal in a restaurant by the shipyard which he informed you was your first reward for your impressive standing meditation upon the ship. He ordered several dishes to share, calmly explaining what each food was and the way it should taste as you ate. When you mentioned that the Council might see it as an overindulgence, he simply smiled at you with an eyebrow cocked and asked, “Is the Council here, my young Padawan?” You giggled, taking another bite of a sweet fruit that made your mouth water to hide your excitement.

After your meal, your Master bought you a tin of candy from a booth with a shopkeeper who smiled bright as the sun as she handed it over to you. He bought you a bead for your braid to celebrate your first mission, and a lovely copper-coloured cuff for your tail that was originally meant to be a bracelet. He told you stories of some of his previous missions, and his last Padawan many years ago who was now a Jedi Master in his own right. After meeting with the leaders of the planet and completing the mission, he took you back to the cruiser, however he did not make you stand this time. Instead, he sat with you in the small cargo hold and showed you how to massage the pain from your legs after a busy day. He promised you that while he would demand a lot from you, he would always take care of you.

And you believed him.

For a long, long time, it was true. Your Master taught you his preferred lightsaber form, Form II - Makashi. He praised your elegance with the blade, your prowess with the force, and your poise in the face of all obstacles. He bought you more small indulgences, like hair oils and creams with bacta that would help soothe your aching muscles after a hard day. He filled your datapad with countless books about the force, or history, or poetry. With each one you read, he would indulge you in grand, invigorating discussions that often gave you new perspectives and made you feel more equal with your Master. He brought you to see a couple of plays in the grand theatre on Coruscant, along with an opera for your eleventh birthday.

Your Master disagreed often with the Council, and had many indulgences unbefitting of a Jedi. He was stern when you made mistakes, and far more demanding than many of the other Masters, but he was so nurturing every step of the way that you truly excelled under his tutelage. He would drill you for hours in lightsaber training until you could barely stand, then make you sit in meditation for hours longer until your body ached. He pushed you further than other Padawans your age, and if questioned about it he would simply tell you that you were better than them, and thus more would be expected of you. He made you sit under waterfalls until your body was numb, or balance in a one-handed handstand while using the force to hold rocks in levitation. He expected perfection. And yet, he always rewarded you for meeting his standards. He would rebraid your Padawan braid with new beads and clasps with each achievement, and praise you for your skills. On a mission to a rather rich, lush planet, he bought you a new cloak in your favourite colour to wear over your brown and cream robes.

When you were twelve, you presented as an Alpha, and your Master smiled proudly as he wiped the sweat from your brow and tucked you into bed. He gave you scent blockers in the form of patches for the scent glands on your neck, and cream for anywhere else. He gave you rut blockers to take every day, and explained their importance. Not once did he falter or appear embarrassed in his explanations of your dynamic. Despite the heavy scent of your rut filling the room, he was perfectly composed as he braided your hair to keep it from getting tangled while you rested.

“I knew it.” He said, “You will be a strong Alpha, regal and poised. A paragon of your designation.”

Your Master brought you a robe of his, knowing it would provide comfort as the blockers took effect. Thankfully, you’d only have to endure a couple of hours of this torment. He brought you water, and your favourite foods, cheekily putting a finger to his grinning lips as if to shush you as he did. As if you’d ever tattle on him to the Council.

The following morning, after a long turn in the fresher, you finally felt like yourself again. You took your bedding and clothes to do the laundry, then applied your scent blocker carefully in the mirror. You were sitting on the cushion in the shared space of your rooms when your Master finally joined you. He carefully settled down across from you, his force signature brushing against yours through your training bond to assure himself that you were alright before he sank into meditation with you. When you were feeling calm and collected, and balanced within the force, you finally spoke.

“You have let me waste the morning away. I have training to get to. I am ready, Master Dooku.”

[blujaydoodles]

It was a strange figure—like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child’s proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.

“Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Scrooge.

“I am!”

[pankomako]

this is the closest ive gotten to drawing failing four fanart in years

[sleepyfan-blog]

Helping Hand

Author’s Note: This is another fic in Cedric’s Adventures in Astartes Husbandry! First. Previous. Next Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Zariel! 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @whorety-k

Warnings: past physical punishment, descriptions of physical punishment, panic, Alpha Legion Shenanigans, cw panic attak

Summary: Cedric and Zariel have a little chat after he returns to base after having a wonderful day out with two of his older brothers.

It was amazing how fast a person’s mood could change, depending on where they were. Cedric had spent the rest of the day with two of his firstborn Brothers and his anxieties over making a good first impression and how they might react to his existence had entirely melted away by the end of the first hour that he’d been blessed to spend in their presence. The young Apothecary hadn’t noticed the hours slip by until they’d guided him back to the base, well after sunset.

Apothecary Zariel was waiting for him at the entrance of the base, a small smile on the Ultramarine’s fair features as he waved a cheerful goodbye to Brothers Arnault and Roland. “There you are, lad. I was beginning to wonder if they’d decided to steal you away from us.”

Cedric shuffled his feet a little and blinked in confusion at the older Apothecary “Why would they? Neither of them is part of a Crusade of wandering Black Templars. They live with their bonded humans, and we’ve only just met.” He’d not make such a decision to leave lightly - especially not since Jophiel was still recovering in Cedric’s assigned quarters on base. He hadn’t quite informed anyone else that he’d found the injured Primaris Blood Angel… But given how weird they could be about Jophie’s wings… He felt that it was a bit too much of a risk just yet.

Besides, the firstborn marines knew about the other three Primaris Marines on base! And once Jophiel was back to full health, he’d promised to introduce himself to Captain Ash’val at least. 

“I suppose that’s fair. How was your outing with your older brothers?” Zariel asked, the warm smile on his face brightening a little further.

“It was great! They showed me to some of their favorite places around the city! I got to stretch my legs and see  more of Ancient Terra and I got to talk to firstborn Brothers who-” weren’t disgusted by me and wanted to kill me on sight. Was the rest of Cedric’s sentence. He bit that off, Claude’s warning about the Teal in Zariel’s armor ringing loudly “-were really nice and friendly!” He really hoped that the older marine hadn’t noticed the brief pause in his speech.

The slight narrowing of the other’s eyes as the older apothecary guided him with a hand pressing against the small of his back caused Cedric’s hearts to sink a little. As was the fact that the other led him to his office “I’m glad to hear that, Cedic. Now, there’s something that I’d like to ask you about. A little incident that happened earlier today, in fact.”

“Oh, what might that be?” Cedric asked, tilting his head a little as he looked at the other.

“Well, as you’re well aware, the only humans allowed on base are ones who are bonded to a marine. As much for their safety as our own. This base is one of the places where we can truly get privacy, but that privacy only exists when our boundaries are properly enforced.” Zariel explains, gesturing for Cedric to sit down in one of the chairs in his office as he closed the door behind the younger Astartes.

“... Is there a reason why you are reiterating this, sir? I am well aware of all of the rules and regulations in this base, unless something has changed while I was out with my older brothers?” Cedric asked, deliberately staying still, not allowing his eyes to widen in anxiety, nor to hide his hands behind his back, or fidget them in his lap, betraying his rising anxiety. 

So he had been seen on one of the cameras with the teenage humans, despite his best efforts. Damn. But why talk to him like this, rather than order him to confess by one of the chaplains, where his punishment would begin? He could hear the whistling-crack and the familiar sting of an electro-whip across his back and chest already, and was silently bracing for the pain, before mentally dragging himself back to the present.

“I happened to be in the security camera room, as one of our watch officers had a minor arrhythmic episode with both his primary and secondary hearts - he has since recovered from that episode and is in the infirmary for overnight episodes for further monitoring. While I was tending to him, I just so happen to catch you, running as fast as you can with four baseline human teenagers holding onto you. Considering the speed at which you were moving, and the fact that I’d only seen you scurry around on a couple of camera edges… I can only assume you were sprinting around with the intent to not be seen. Care to explain yourself? I’m sure you had good reason, I just… I’d like to hear your side of things before I escalate this issue to captain Ash’val, or to one of the chaplains on base.” Zariel asked, his smile warm, his voice pleasant… 

And his armor ever so slightly the wrong shade of blue. 

Fuck. 

This was not the kind of situation that Cedric wanted to be in, especially as he had no idea if this was an attempt to give him enough synth-rope to hang himself, or a trap to snare him in, or a mixture of the two. Should he try and deny everything? But with… Him potentially still being on base and available to Pry The Truth from his lips should Cedric decide not to cooperate… And his Primaris brothers unaware of the.. Of the… of Him potentially still on base, waiting to find them like the threat he had categorically proven himself to be… Cedric’s mouth went dry and he hung his head, eyes on the floor. “I am absent of reason or excuse, sir. I found four baseline teenagers who had snuck into the base and aided them in leaving, rather than bringing them to holding to be properly processed.”

That was true enough. Cedric didn’t want to admit to the cowardice he’d shown in fleeing with them, rather than facing the monst-... Honorable Firstborn Brother Chaplain with them in tow. 

“Now Cedric, please don’t make things more difficult for us both. I know very well that there is nothing that you do without deliberate reasoning and intent. For example, I know for a fact that you are taking more dry rations than you normally do because you have hidden an injured Brother in your personal quarters. Again. Please tell me the truth, I can help you if you do. Explain to me what was going through your head, what made aiding these baselines the best decision in the moment.” Zariel sighed, shaking his head a little, one cool hand touching Cedric’s chin and forcing him to look upwards into the Firstborn’s eyes.

Eyes that were more teal than true ocean blue. 

“I… I heard Chaplain Feldarim speaking to someone nearby who I… I was not prepared nor ready to face. Who is heavy handed in his punishments of others and who would have taken a keen interest in the harmless intruders, even if I had taken them to another superior officer to be processed properly, sir.” Cedric explained, hating the fact that his eyes were swimming with treacherous tears that he refused to let fall, that his breathing was fast and shallow and that his hearts were beating rapidly at the back of his throat, making his voice small and trembling.

“... I see. What were you concerned that this… Strict disciplinarian would have done to these baseline teenagers, had he known that they were there and in need of punishing? If, say for example, they were neophytes who’d misbehaved to the degree that baselines had.” Zariel presses, raising an eyebrow at him.

“A thousand electro-whip lashes, followed by a salt and vinegar treatment of their injuries, orders to not seek treatment for those lashes and harsh physical labor and additional training, sir. Not just for them, but for their squads if they were from separate squads, sir. They would have been trained until they dropped where they stood and whipped awake after an hour of rest for weeks, with minimal food and water to sustain their basal metabolic systems.” Cedric answered in as a calm, measured tone of voice as he could manage. “I have no idea what he would do to Terran born baseline humans and had no desire to find out. He’s… I’ve been put in charge of the clean-up of his past… Punishments before. Before both of us were brought to Ancient Terra, and I’d rather not… Not do that again.”

Zariel let out a low whistle, and finally let go of Cedric’s face, gently patting him on the head. “Thank you for telling me about that. I’ve heard that Black Templars are particularly strict with each other, but I hadn’t known for sure, as I haven’t interacted with many Black Templars before, other than you, and by the Reputation of your chapter alone, I know that you are unusually gentle and kind. This particular disciplinarian, I suspect he’s going to be staying in this base for a couple of days… Which would make it difficult for you to avoid him, if you remained here.”

A low, panicked wheezing sound filled the room for several seconds. Cedric slowly started to slide out of the chair in abject embarrassed horror when he realized that he himself was making that sound. 

“Woah… hey, hey, hey… It’s okay… Okay, floor time, huh? Breathe with me, nice and easy. Follow my breathing pattern, okay young one? I’m not about to allow anyone to hurt you. Especially not someone who scares you this much. Shhh, shhh.. Shhh… it’s alright… Just breathe with me… In… and out… In… and out…” Zariel soothed as he knelt on the ground next to Cedric, slowly lowering him the rest of the way to the floor. He grabbed one of the younger medic’s hands and placed it on his chest, so that he could track more easily how he was breathing. One of his hands kept Cedric’s on his chest, the other started to rub soothing circles into the younger marine’s back.

It took Cedric minutes to calm himself down, and he found himself leaning into Zariel, face hidden in the other’s shoulder, tears soaking into the other’s scrub top.”S…Sorry sir… I… I didn't mean to lose composure like that.”

“We all have our moments of being overwhelmed, young one. Now, let’s get you out of this base for a couple of days, yeah? Hura needs help wrangling a panicky loyalist thousand son freshly transplanted to Ancient Terra, and I’m quite certain that you would be the best fit to check him over and help him calm down.” Zariel murmured soothingly. “The sooner the better. You wanna go in about… Ten minutes, give or take? I’ll fill out the formwork to give to the commander, and Hura will escort you to the Chaos Base the Thousand Son is at. It’s gonna take a couple of days to get there, and the wandering warband of Templars never stays in one place for more than three days if none of them are injured.”

Cedric nodded “I… Alright. I don’t… I don’t mind helping Apothecary Hura with tasks like that.”

“Good lad! I’ll go vox him. You stay put.” Zariel ordered him with another pat on the head and an encouraging smile. “Yes sir.” The young Black Templar agreed with a nod, content to wait, even if he was struggling with feelings of guilt and the creeping sensation that he was being cowardly by not facing him.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Quirks for your Characters: Faces

(Also doubles as a positivity post. You’re gorgeous whether you like it or not (this is a threat).)

- Faces that, in their resting state, look like they’re smiling on one side and frowning on the other; and thereby become unreadable

- Noses that are straight until the very tip, which is slightly rotated to the left or right to make one nostril appear larger than the other

- Eyes that are spaced unevenly from the nose, making their expression appear “wild” when viewed from specific angles

- Faces so symmetrical they activate the uncanny valley response

- Noses that are flat to the face from the side

- Tooth gaps! bonus points if it’s in a weird spot in the bottom teeth

- Extra-sharp canines

- Extra-sharp noses

- Deep, dark pit of a chin dimple

- Deep, folded-over smile lines

- Eye bags on top of eye bags

- “Mischievous” looking resting expression (like they’re up to something)

- Noses with that little vertical line indent up the middle of the bottom of the tip (think an extension of the philtrum that goes up the nose)

- Uneven folds of the eyes where one is hooded and the other is not

- Prominent, heavy brow bones that stick out from their head 😍

- Chins with no definition whatsoever that kind of fade into the neck unless their head is tilted back a great deal

- Tiny nostrils on a big nose

- Philtrums that curve to one side

- No philtrum

- Lips, of which the border isn’t clearly defined (it just kind of fades into the rest of the skin)

- Tall foreheads

- Squishy chins

- Downturned everything (eyes, brows, mouth, nose are all “droopy”)

- Long midfaces

- Short midfaces

- Wrinkles right between the brows (vertical) and between the nose and forehead (horizontal)

- Noses with big dorsal bumps (is that the right term?)

- “Messy” eyelashes that overlap each other in unique ways

- Prominent upper palates

- Hollow spaces between the nose and cheekbone

- Upper eye sockets so deep they look black from a distance

And again if you have any of these: you’re gorgeous! (Still a threat) And to hell with everyone who says you aren’t

[averagekindergartenfan]

Kayla's backstory :33 It's been like MONTHS since I made one

TW FOR IMPLIED EMOTIONAL ABUSE + (sometimes) PHYSICAL HARM

Biography and Personality

Kayla is an 18 year old girl (as of epilogue), who is born in the United States and is white. She's a Demigirl and has diagnosed ADHD. She usually is very bubbly and excited whenever she's out in public. In private she will indulge in her hyperfixations and read fanfics a lot. She's an artist that can do both furry art, oc art and fanart. Kayla is also a scene queen and is a big fan of Kandi, she's sometimes seen in her room making Kandi bracelets for her acquaintances. Kayla likes to help bring joy to people in any way they can. She has trouble focusing on her studies and has trouble making friends as people always saw her as the "weirdo"

Relationships

Her biological parents weren't very nice with her. They constantly saw her hyperactivity as a "disturbance" or "rude". They would call her insults and say things like "JUST FOCUS! IT ISN'T THAT HARD!". Sometimes if she did one thing wrong, she would get a slap. At one point, they put her up for adoption and luckily, a nicer couple took her in

Her adoptive parents are frankly much better than her bio ones. They supported her identity, would watch Bluey with her and would listen to her problems.

Her past friends would talk behind her back and always call her "annoying" and whatnot. Sometimes she'd hear some of it but tries to stay positive.

Aftermath and trauma

She frequently age regresses in her room and watches old cartoons a lot. She also likes to play pretend with her plushies and roleplay with them

She blocked certain memories out of her brain and cant remember much of what happened

I should end this on a neutral note as well so uhmmmm she would probably like yume nikki, indie horror games and be in most niche internet fandoms.

TLDR; She's basically a lot of internet kids personafied into a character

[pfhwrittes]

okay vogue by madonna just came on the radio and i have been beset by visions of plasterer!gaz and electrician!soap vogueing while on their tea break. gaz is throwing his whole pussy into it, soap is singing along loudly (and badly) while flash and price watch them with fond smiles and simon films it for tiktok

[oc-qotd]

Describe your character the way their enemy would describe them.