#not a lot of my ocs will be that open about their feelings but ego is very good at communication and talking and stuff

[mixelation]

✨blood covenant✨ fic preview ->

for those of you that missed it, @tozettastone, @waffliesinyoface and i all agreed to do a blood covenant challenge where we write OC/character fics.

here's the potential first chapter of mine, which is OC/Minato

****

I’m going to fuck up that guy’s whole life, is the only thought in my mind as I leap through the trees. 

Every time I come down on a new branch, my right thigh screams in protest. It screams again as I come back up, hurling myself as ungracefully as a new genin to my next landing. WHat’s left of the fabric of my leggings is hot and sticky with blood. 

But, dear reader, I have advice for you: if you want to kill a medic, make sure you make a killing blow. Don’t just leave her for dead and assume she’ll crawl off and die like a good girl. I know, if you’re a megalomaniac with an ego the size of Hokage Mountain, this will seem tempting, to leave her to wallow and suffer while you go off to do something more important. Do not do it. 

I’m not Shisui, I thought furiously, pausing in my sloppy run as the temple I was aiming for came into sight. I’m not just calling it quits and giving away my eyes. Fuck off, Danzo. 

I lean against the trunk of the tree, panting heavily. Through the branches, I can see the curving roof of the temple. There are a lot of old abandoned buildings out here, dotting the forests of Fire Country, and this one doesn’t stand out as special. I only knew where it was because I’d previously found it by happenstance, and I only recognized it as important by chance knowledge. I have never been inside before. 

Pausing my run was a mistake. The loss of momentum means that I am abruptly and painfully aware of how shaky and weak my legs feel. I make a clumsy jump for the forest floor and have to turn my landing into an embarrassing roll. 

If anyone is following me, they’re far enough behind that I can’t sense them. I can see the spiral emblem on the door of the temple, the carved wood smoothed and faded with time. I limp forward confidently, using my left hand to push more healing chakra into the hole in my leg, which I would generously describe as “gaping,” but is definitely less gaping than when Danzo had stabbed me. 

I’ll get both his legs, I think as I push open the temple door. Ugh, it’s going to scar!

The movement of the door tosses an enormous amount of dust into the air, making my eyes water. The air smells stale and musty. The windows are boarded up, and only a few sickly strands of moonlight illuminate the innards of the Uzumaki temple. 

I have to stop my healing to activate my sharingan. I can usually do both at once, obviously, but I’d been running on nothing but adrenaline and spite for too long, and my body currently doesn’t contain nearly enough blood as it should. I’m starting to get dizzy. 

The sharingan does nothing to enhance color vision, but with it I only need the smallest source of light to make out the contents of the temple clearly. There are some hanging scrolls and abandoned, rotting furniture, which I ignore. My eyes go straight for the rows of masks hanging across the back wall. 

I limp into the temple. When forming this half-made plan on the way over, I’d had some trepidation about identifying which mask is the one I want, but looking at them, I know instantly. 

It’s not that the mask looks extraordinary or that my sharingan can pick up something special. The mask appears to be nothing but wood: paint peeling just slightly with time, a grinning demon’s face with curling horns, a jeering smile on its lips. Nothing is peculiar about its craftsmanship, and my sharingan can detect no jutsu or chakra on it. 

And yet, to look into its eyes, is to see the inevitability of your own death. 

A hint of fear tingles up my spine. A bad omen, my superstitious mother would have said. A warning to my most primal senses that this is a power not to be taken lightly. 

I step limp forward anyway. 

It’s fine. I’ve been staring down the inevitability of my own death for over two decades. The feeling still makes my blood run cold with terror, but it’s a feeling I’m used to. This is my last chance at defying fate. 

I pull the mask for the wall and lift it to my face. 

If you kill me, I think at the mask, make sure you bring those assholes down with me, will you?

xXx

Dear reader, here is what you need to know about me.

My name is Uchiha Renka. I was raised by a great aunt after both my parents died in the Second Shinobi War. My hobbies include reading, baking, and dabbling in make-up and fashion. After a lot of study and hard work, I have passed most medic-nin competencies and work mainly in the hospital. 

I am a painfully normal sort of young woman, as you can see. At least for a ninja. I work my shifts, and I treat myself to a new book once a week. The most scandalous thing I do, aside from occasionally going out on state-mandated missions that sometimes include various types of murder, is that every once in a while I go out drinking with my girlfriends, and even that isn’t too scandalous. The rowdiest I get is wearing unique shades of lipstick. We even have a three drink maximum. I did not do anything to merit the fucking headhunt after me except exist as an Uchiha. 

And… well, okay, I’ll admit something, just between us. Another thing you should know about me is that, even if my main goals in life are to not die, to help people at the hospital, and then to go home and read a good book over some hot tea on my balcony, I do have a bit of a fatal flaw. It’s nothing more than a basic Uchiha family trait, really:

I am just a teensy-weensy bit vindictive. 

It got me into trouble a few times growing up, but it’s really nothing too bad. It definitely wasn’t enough to make me deserve the absolute clusterfuck you just read about. You make one mistake, and next thing you know, your boss is calling you a vile woman and a disgusting, cowardly failure and trying to kill you. 

Well, fuck him, honestly. I’d survived everything up until him, and I’m not going down without a fight. 

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how the shinigami mask worked when I put it on. When I’d decided to try it, I thought I could maybe use the shinigami to chuck Danzo and-slash-or “Madara” into the afterlife for good. My second choice was to bring back Tobirama and have him tell off my enemies and maybe my clan for… whatever the hell they were doing. 

Honestly. All I want is to sit in my patio chair with a blanket and read…

I vomit up the Fourth Hokage instead. 

I know. It sounds gross. I know. But I’m not making any of this up. I put on the mask, and it’s like the shinigami is inside me, and then inside of the shinigami was this horrible squirming feeling. I want it out. I need it out. 

I throw up. It feels awful, worse than any vomiting session I’d had before, my whole body retching. The mask falls off my face. 

Then the Fourth Hokage is standing in front of me.

Reader, I assume that you are coming into this story with certain expectations for how pulling a soul out of the shinigami’s stomach should work. Well, toss those expectations. You’re basing them on people who knew what they were doing. I’m just one innocent little Uchiha. 

Namikaze Minato appears before me in a white funeral kimono, folded neatly right side over left, a white band with a triangle over his forehead around his head. Clearly instead of a fighting-fit Hokage like I expected, I’ve grabbed him… right out of the grave…?

He turns to me and blinks rapidly, like the sun is in his eyes, despite it being the middle of the night. Reader, this man is handsome. With this wide, dazed expression, he looks like a confused male model, not the most lethal ninja in history. 

My throat feels raw. I open my mouth to speak but can’t. His eyes move away from me like he hasn’t quite registered that I'm there.

He pats himself down absent-mindedly, his hands going down his chest and stomach like he’s surprised they’re there. I watch as his brows furrow a little as his hands approach his hips. Then he reaches down to his right thigh, his fingers moving toward the inner part of the front. He presses down. 

I scream. It’s like someone has stuck their fingers directly into my thigh wound. Pain completely cuts off all my thoughts and I finally topple over completely. 

I’m aware he’s moved over to stand over me, although my vision has gone white with pain. His gait is uneven, something of a limp. I fumble for my wound, pressing numbing chakra into it. Danzo had clearly been aiming for the femoral artery to make me bleed out, and I’d fixed it up enough to not endanger my life, but it still hurt. 

There’s no new damage to my wound, even though that definitely felt like that should have ruptured something. 

I feel the Fourth Hokage squat next to me, and his hand comes down over mine, pressing gently against my wound. It’s not enough to hurt this time, not with the help of the healing chakra numbing the nerves, but it increases the pressure over it markedly. 

“Huh,” he says. 

“What the fuck,” I croak out, and dust on the floor gets in my throat and eyes and makes me have to fight back a cough.

He removes his hand. Then, even though he’s clearly not touching me, I feel a pinch on the back of my hand. 

“Ow,” I say accusingly, and then give into the coughing fit. 

“You can feel that?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

He waits patiently while I sit back up, coughing again. He seems completely unrushed and unbothered, watching me with extreme interest. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. 

I stare back at him. I’m clearly a wreck. There’s dust all in my hair now, flooding my nasal passageways and making me sneeze. Between the sharingan and having to use Mystical Palm again, my head is swimming and my arm is barely strong enough to hold me up. 

He holds my gaze despite the active sharingan, studying me like he’s never seen another human face before. Brave man. But maybe being dead for eight years makes one brave. 

Or… who am I kidding? He’s the Yellow Flash. He probably thinks he could kill me before I could cast a genjutsu. 

(I think he couldn’t. But I’m obviously not going to test this theory unless I have to.)

After a few moments in which I let out several unsexy, wheezing breaths, he turns away from me and picks up the fallen shinigami mask. 

“So that’s how you did it,” he says, flipping it around in his hands. “I’m remembering now… I think I was hoping someone would come for this, at first, or another tool to let me pass on properly. But then… I forgot…” He frowns, deeper this time. “I forgot a lot of things. How long has it been?”

“Since you died?” I say. “Eight years.”

“Only eight?” he repeats and absentmindedly scratches the side of his face. I cannot feel this on my own face, I notice. Perhaps we can only share pain. “It felt so much longer, with nothing to see or feel or do…”

His head turns up, and it takes me a few moments of concentration to realize Danzo’s cronies have finally caught up with me. He hadn’t immediately sicced any on me, as he’d confronted me himself and then left me for dead. But likely he’d sent a team to confirm I’d actually died, and I hadn’t exactly covered my trail. 

The Hokage doesn’t look worried, just mildly curious. 

“They want to kill me,” I say, unsteadily getting my feet under me in preparation to stand. “I… you have to help me. You have to help Konoha.”

He turns his eyes back on me, and they still have that look of mild curiosity, like he’s watching a television show he doesn’t understand the plot to. 

“Why do they want to kill you?” he asks. 

“It’ll take too long to explain,” I say. “Please.”

I had thought that summoning the dead meant you got to control them. This doesn’t appear to be how it works. Instead of getting up to kill the team of ROOT agents outside, Minato tucks the shinigami mask into his white kimono and then leans over me to set his hand on my shoulder. A second letter, we’re on Hokage Monument, overlooking the village. 

“Wow!” Minato says, standing over the village with hands on his hips. “It’s been so long… look at all those lights…”

“Can we please focus?” I ask. I’m still squatted on the ground, and I don’t have the strength to stand casually. I fall back on my butt. 

Minato looks pained as he pulls his attention away from the view. 

“Right, right, the fate of Konoha or whatever…” he says, sitting cross legged in front of me. He smiles widely. It’s a beautiful, inviting smile. “Now you have time to explain it to me.”

xXx

When I graduated the Academy a little over ten years ago, Konoha was still at the height of war. I’m sure you’ll hear more about that if you stick around. 

Back then, I knew of Namikaze Minato because he was one of the Jounin sensei for our cohort. I never spoke to him, but I’d seen him talking with my sensei sometimes. Sometimes I had to talk to Obito about Uchiha related things, and he’d waved at us once or twice from a distance. 

My very first real impression of who he was came from an Iwa-nin. 

I don’t really like talking about this part of my life, but I want you to trust me, so I’ll be open. When I was thirteen, my team was captured by Iwa. Everyone but me was killed. I was only spared because I had some medical training, and they agreed to let me live in exchange for healing their wounded. 

One day I was treating a man with a nasty burns across his entire body, and he suddenly grabbed my wrist, which was all bruised up from being tied when I wasn’t actively healing people. 

“You’re one of those Konoha floozies?” he asked. His eyes were unfocused from pain. 

I didn’t say anything. Speaking rarely ended well. His grip on me tightened and I winced. I’m always surprised by how strong some people can stay, even when they’ve been beaten half to death. 

“Do you know the Yellow Flash?” he asked. “My whole platoon… all of them, gone in an instant…”

He gibbered on and on for several moments, eyes wide. He’d been towards the outskirts of his platoon’s camp when Minato had showed up, which was why he’d had the few precious seconds to realize what was happening. 

“We’re supposed to flee on sight,” he said, his whole body shaking. “What they don’t tell you is that once you see him, you’re already dead.”

“You’re alive,” I said diplomatically. 

“I used a suicide jutsu, tried to blow myself up,” he said. “I should have died. I would have preferred it, if he’d killed me…”

The man did eventually pass from his wounds. There hadn’t really been much I could have done. Even Tsunade herself probably couldn’t have saved him. 

They punished me for it anyway. When I was sitting in the prisoner’s tent, cheek smarting from where the commander had slapped me and stomach growling from reduced rations, I thought about what the man had said. 

Once you see him, you’re already dead. 

That was the first time I’d really understood the sheer power that a singular ninja could have. 

xXx

One reason I think Konoha loved their Fourth Hokage so much, is that he’d go out and kill countless enemies, and then he’d come home and look and behave like the protagonist from a shoujou manga. He was devastatingly lethal, but in everyday interactions, he just had a way of making you feel safe and valued. 

Sitting in the cool breeze breeze on Hokage monument with him smiling back at me, it’s not hard to confess to him what had been happening. The planned coup, the proposed counter massacre, the way I’d been caught up in it all. I cry a few times. Beautifully, I might add. I’d practiced in the mirror. 

I might be… a little vane. That’s not important right now, though.

Minato nods along with a thoughtful look on his face, more like he’s watching a TV show than listening to a poor woman explain that his village is exploding. It feels off. I hope he’s appreciating my show, at least. 

“There’s also…” I turn my face so he can see my flawless profile, staring out over the village. The lights below twinkle in the night like always. There’s really no sign of my entire family— including me—  potentially being wiped out tonight. 

“There’s also the masked man,” I say. 

Minato blinks, his expression suddenly snapping into focus. He frowns at me. 

“The masked man?” he asks. 

“He claims to be Uchiha Madara,” I say. “He’s obsessed with me. He approached me, saying he’ll help me if I volunteer for the massacre–”

Minato stands, turning towards the village again. In his white kimono fluttering in the breeze, he almost looks like a Hokage again. 

“I think…” he starts. “I think I want to kill him. I was angry about him, before. I can’t quite remember…”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, a twinge of hysteria teasing at the edges of my mind. I try to stand, but my head is dizzy and my injured leg gives out. 

Minato turns to me, absentmindedly patting at his own leg. 

“This is really annoying,” he says. “Why are we connected?”

“I don’t know,” I snap back, the hysteria bleeding into my voice. “Of course you want to kill the masked man.” I want him to kill the masked man! That’s the whole point! “He’s the one who killed you and your wife.”

His eyes widen. 

“Ah…” he says. He sticks out his bottom lip. “I really missed Kushina, the first hundred years…”

“You’ve only been dead for eight!” I screech back at him. Honestly, what was the point of summoning the deadliest ninja in history if he’s a basket case?

I get to my feet for real this time, grasping at the loose pieces of his kimono to pull myself up. He makes no move to intervene, but he also doesn’t help me. Instead he pouts down at me, wincing when I put my weight on the injured leg. 

“You have to help,” I say. “Or I will throw myself off this cliff, and we’ll both find out how much pain an undead man can feel.”

He catches my elbow as if to stop me, face still all pouty. It’s a cute look, except that I want him to be a cool leader fixing all my problems!

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Look, I’ll help you. I spent hundreds of years with nothing but the dark pit of the Shinigami’s stomach, thinking about how I wanted to kill the masked man.”

I don’t correct him on his time period. 

He smiles brightly at me. “And the Uchiha coup is an easy fix!” he says. “I’ll just do what I did last time.”

“Last time…?” I repeat. I had no idea there’d been a “last time.” What on earth…?

“Mm, they tried this when I was Hokage,” he says. “What did I do again… wow, look at this tree…”

Red autumn leaves flutter off a scraggly tree a few meters away. Minato watches them in the breeze intently, like he’s never seen leaves before. 

“Hokage-sama,” I half yell, yanking at his kimono sleeve. “You can look at all the trees you want later.”

“Oh,” he turns back to me. “Right. Last time, I just put one of my Hiraishin markers on their heir. Fugaku’s son… what was his name… anyway, I put a marker on him, and said if the Uchiha tried anything, I’d simply kill their precious child.”

He beams at me. I stare back, mouth unfortunately gaping. It has to be a very unsexy look, but I can’t help it. I’d assumed… I’d assumed there had been no problems under the Fourth, that the Uchiha had been fine and at peace under him, and that he’d be able to make them see reason… 

“We can just do that,” he says, cutting through my anxiety spiral. His smile gains a reassuring quality. “I already have the marker in place. We can take the child hostage to make them back down, easy-peasy.”

“N-no,” I sputter out. “We can’t do that. Uchiha Itachi… Fugaku-sama’s first son is dead.”

[anjee0]

Road trip

Female!reader x 2000s!Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert)

Description - Y/n and her friends get invited by Marshall's and his friends for a road trip, where things take an unexpected twist between Y/n and Marshall.

Warnings - Light swearing, Y/n and Marshall hated each other, awkward and tense scenes, light smut.

Requested by @sweetmusicvoid

i thought it might be neat to have some sort of friend group where the reader and marsh are kind of enemies, and the group is going on a road trip together. but she’s forced to sit on his lap in this trailer that’s attached to the car. tension, light smut, etc. anyway, it was just a thought :)

“Y/n, please!” Carla begged as she tried to pull Y/n out of her bed.

“Please! It'll be fun!” Ashley exclaimed, also trying to pull Y/n out.

“Girls, I already said no. Especially if Marshall is going to be there.” Y/n replied, adding a dramatic scoff to the end of her sentence.

Y/n and Marshall hated each other's guts for as long as they could both remember. Something about his cocky attitude and bursting ego made her see him solely as an unlikeable person. And now that he had become famous, selling over a million records on his latest album, his attitude and ego only continued to inflate.

However, Y/n's friends and Marshall's friends were close with each other, meaning that the pair would see each other quite frequently. Him and his friends planned on going on a car ride with a trailer attached to the back. They'd also decided to invite Y/n and her friends.

“You know, for someone who hates Marshall, you seem to talk about him a lot.” Carla teased.

Ashley smirked, wanting to join in on the bantering fun. “And I see the way you both look at each other. Especially Marshall.”

“Oh my gosh. Guys, seriously, you sound like little kids. I don’t like him like that. I don’t like him at all.”

“Whatever you say.” Carla joked.

“And what's so fun about going on a car ride with a trailer attached to the back? Like what do we do?” Y/n asked.

“Well, we're going to drive to a quiet place first, then we're gonna hang out in the trailer. Have some drinks, eat some food and so on.” Ashley said.

“Hang out in a trailer? All 6 of us?” Y/n questioned.

“Yes.” Carla replied. “I know it sounds boring but it's going to be great!”

“Is drinking in a cramped space with 6 people a good idea?” Y/n asked.

“The trailer’s not that small. Remember, the guys are super rich so they were able to get their hands on quite a big trailer.” Ashley said.

“Y/n, please. It’ll be so worth it.” Carla pleaded.

“I still don't believe you but I guess I'll go then.” Y/n said, reluctantly giving in.

Carla and Ashley whooped cheerily as they jumped onto the bed with Y/n, happy to know that she was tagging along.

“But I'm ignoring Marshall.”

“Ignore Marshall all you want, we're just glad to hear you're coming. Alright, get changed.” Ashley said.

Y/n got changed into a mini black dress where the hemline sat just right on her upper thigh. It was decorated with small ruffles and tied with silky white ribbons in the back. She got changed into a shiny and stunning— yet comfortable pair of black boots. To top it off, she wore her hair in a half-up half-down, bringing her outfit all together.

A while later, Denaun, Proof and Marshall pulled up in front of Y/n’s house in their car. Denaun honked the horn repeatedly, letting the girls know that they were outside. The girls wasted no time rushing outside and opening the car door to let themselves in. Denaun and Proof sat in the front, whilst Marshall sat in the back. A grey medium-sized trailer was attached to the back. Y/n still had her doubts on how spacious it could be.

“Hey ladies.” Denaun greeted. “Are we ready to go?”

“Sure are.” Carla replied as she got in the car, sliding herself next to Marshall. 

Ashley followed up after her, filling up the seats in the backseat. Y/n caught a flash of a cocky smirk on Marshall’s face.

“Uh oh. Seats are filled up. You can stay back at home.” Marshall teased.

“Fuck you Marshall.” Y/n retorted. “Can you guys move up please?” She asked her friends.

Without any hesitation, Carla and Ashely moved up as much they could, only leaving a sliver of space for Y/n to sit on. She had a moment of hesitation before she sat down and closed the door. She'd have to admit, she felt awfully uncomfortable. Her body felt sandwiched between the car door and Ashely. The space felt tight, just like her chest as she struggled to take a proper breath.

“Jeez, how tiny is your car?” Carla asked. “I'm suffocating here.”

“Guess there's not enough space for 4 people.” Y/n muttered.

“What do we do?” Ashley asked.

“One of you can sit on my lap.” Marshall suggested with a smug look on his face.

“Wow Marshall. Honestly I'm not surprised, being the guy you are, of course you would suggest-” Y/n started to ramble.

“Chill, Y/n. I don't want you sitting on my lap. I was talking to Ashley and Carla.” He interrupted.

Y/n scoffed and muttered a small “Whatever” under her breath as she rolled her eyes. She couldn't help but feel a bolt of jealousy to strike in her system. She immediately shook her head of those thoughts, convincing herself that she wasn't jealous.

“I'll pass.” Carla said.

“Same here.” Ashley replied.

“Well, we're gonna have to figure something out.” Proof said. “And you'll have to do it quickly.”

“Well I guess Y/n sitting on my lap doesn't sound like a nightmare.” Marshall mumbled, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No way.” Y/n replied, feeling disgusted at the thought of even going near him.

Ashley leaned into Y/n's ear and softly whispered. “You're our only chance.”

“I am not sitting on his lap.”

“Y/n please?” Carla pleaded. “We will leave you alone after this.”

Y/n sighed, accepting her defeat and reluctantly giving in. “Fine whatever. But you guys owe me.”

Carla and Ashley immediately thanked her as she got out of the car and went to the other side. Y/n opened the door and gave a disappointed look to Marshall, who looked smugly thrilled.

“Hurry up, princess.” Marshall said with a dumb smirk on his face.

“Don't call me that.” Y/n replied sharply, making her way into his lap.

As Y/n sat on his lap, she felt a strange feeling brewing in her stomach, it only continued to rise when he put his arms around her waist.

“You don't have to do that.” She said, taking his arms off her.

“But you don't have a seat belt.” Marshall replied.

“So you're trying to be my seat belt?”

“Pretty much.”

“I'm fine.”

“Whatever you want.”

Moments later, the car started up and they were all driving off. Conversations emerged from the group as the car drive progressed. Y/n would put her two cents in every now and then, but would spend most her time listening.

During the car ride, Y/n could feel Marshall's eyes boring into the back of her skull. She could feel his eyes wandering all over the back of her head, probably pulling off a smirk.

Suddenly, the car hit a sudden stop, making everyone fall forward. As Y/n tumbled forward, she could see she was about to hit her face on the headrest in front of her. But before that could happen, Marshall wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to prevent any damage. Her back rested against his chest, his arms still around her. Luckily, everyone had their seatbelts on to prevent anything bad. 

“Shit. Is everyone okay?” Denaun asked, looking back.

“What was up with the sudden break?” Proof asked.

“Saw a cat run across the street.”

Y/n let go of Marshall's hold and sat up properly, fixing herself up. Marshall leaned forward slightly and whispered in her ear: “Are you okay?” His hot breath tickled against her skin, gliding down her neck. 

Y/n felt a strange airy feeling in her chest and stomach as she tried to keep her composure. “I'm fine.” She responded.

For the rest of the car ride, Marshall had his arms around her, holding her close. Y/n felt a sense of comfort and reassurance in his touch, something she would've never expected.

Eventually, the car stopped in the middle of a field, surrounded by a deep woods. Y/n stepped out of the car, feeling relieved. The sky was dark and littered with twinkling stars. 

“Yo there's a pizza place nearby here. We should head there. It's walking distance.” Proof said.

“Alright, let's go then.” Carla said.

“I'll stay here.” Y/n said.

“Are you sure?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired. I might just rest in the trailer then.”

“Let me open it for you.” Denaun said. He took his keys out of his pocket and fiddled around looking for the correct key. He finally found the correct one and put the key in the door to unlock it.

Y/n thanked him before stepping in and closing the door behind her. A wave of shock hit her when she saw the inside of the trailer. It was spacious and definitely had the capacity to fit 6 people in. The outside definitely gave it an different impression. There was at the door at the end that led to a cosy looking bedroom. There were two beds on both sides, making the bedroom a bit cramped, but still cosy.

Y/n threw her shoes off and belly flopped onto the bed. Her head hit the soft cushiony pillows that brought her comfort. The thick blanket felt warm against her cold body. She relaxed against the bed, feeling calm and steady. She basked herself in tranquil atmosphere that surrounded her.

The moment was quickly interrupted when the door swung wide open, ruining the peacefulness. When Y/n looked up, she was confused to see Marshall standing at the door, looking at her with the same confused expression.

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled, sitting up.

“I'm tired so I said I'd go rest. They didn't tell me you were in here.” 

“Well I'm tired too.”

Marshall sat on the bed across from her and leaned against the wall with his knees up. He sighed and rested his arms on his knees whilst he dropped his head down.

“Whats up with you?” Y/n asked.

“Nothing. Just tired is all. Working on the next album.”

“Already? Didn't you come out with one recently?”

“Yeah I know-”

“If I were you, I would try to appreciate the moment, instead of working my ass non-stop.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” 

Y/n chuckled and shook her head. “You know I'm right, asshole.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Marshall lifted his head and decided to speak up. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Well, because you're annoying.” 

“Yeah right.”

“What?”

“You like me, don't you?”

“Excuse me?” 

“You like me. Romantically.”

Y/n scoffed, feeling a spike of annoyance in her blood. “Listen, Marshall. Just because you're famous now and you have a bunch of groupies jumping on you, doesn't mean that every girl that looks at you likes you. Especially me.”

She got off the bed and made her way to the door, only for Marshall to grab her hand, stopping her. Y/n turned to look at him, immediately noticing the realness in his eyes.

“Sit. Please.” He asked, his voice firm.

Something about his serious tone made Y/n give in and sit next to him. His hand let go of hers.

“You know I was just messing around right?” He went back to resting against the wall. “I was just teasing.”

“Right, is that why you stopped me from leaving? To tell me that?”

“Mhm.”

A moment of silence and hesitation hung in the air between them. Y/n looked around, trying to escape the awkwardness surrounding her in the room. 

They had a quick second of eye contact, in which Y/n was able to take a proper look at Marshall’s face. His eyes looked drained from any emotion, and looked hollow and empty of any feelings. His lips were lightly pressed into a small frown.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You seem off.”

“Just stressed.”

“From work?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why don't you take a break?”

“It's not that easy.”

“Maybe you need some to help you take your mind off it.”

“That's what this is for. Proof and Denaun were concerned I was overworking myself.”

“Maybe you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

Another beat of silence quickened in the air, although quick, it was slow enough to let tension build up even more.

“And you?” Marshall asked. “How are you doing?”

Y/n sighed and leaned against the wall next to Marshall. “I'm stressed with work too. My boss is driving me nuts.”

Marshall let out a quiet chuckle. “It can be like that. Maybe you need something to help take your mind off it too.”

“Maybe I do. But nothing ever works.”

“This is.”

“What is?”

“This. Us talking. It's nice to have a moment like this when we're not at each other's throats.”

“That is true. Very true.” Y/n smiled to herself, realising how tranquil the conversation was between them, the complete opposite to their many ones in the past.

“That dress looks nice on you.” Marshall mumbled.

“Sorry?” Y/n had to double check that she heard him correctly.

“The dress looks nice on you.”

“Oh.. thanks.” Y/n replied, still trying to process the moment.

“What, do you not believe me?”

“No, I do. It's just, I never would've expected that from you.”

Marshall let out a small hum in response.

“I know I said I hated it, but I think the blonde hair suits you.” Y/n said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She kissed her teeth and nodded slowly. “It's uh… cute.”

They both turned their heads to look at each other, making eye contact. This time, they didn't turn away in a second or disrupt the moment. Instead, they let it grow. The tension between them reached a high point, to which it grew thicker and thicker. Like a rope, attached to the both of them, bringing them closer and closer to each other.

As the distance between them shrunk, Y/n glanced at Marshall’s lips. She took notice of how soft and pink they were. And in that moment, the space between them closed, letting their lips touch. She brought her hand to the back of Marshall's neck, bringing him closer to seal the kiss.

Marshall placed his hands on Y/n's hips and moved her closer to him, placing her in his lap. As the kiss continued, with each second, they both realised that this wasn't a useless kiss that was empty of emotion. But rather, fill to the brim with sparks and feelings. They pulled away, intensely looking at each other, unable to take their gaze away. 

“Do- do you wanna carry on?” Y/n asked shyly, her voice quiet.

“Yeah. I'd like that. It'll be a while till they come back.” Marshall replied, his voice sounding eager.

Immediately after that response, they pulled in for another kiss. This time, there was desire and passion behind it. Marshall pulled the hem of Y/n's dress, asking permission to take it off. She took it off in an instant, leaving her in her lingerie.

Marshall pulled away to take a look at Y/n, admiring her. His eyes travelled along her body, taking in her curves and perfect figure. 

“Gosh, you're beautiful.” He murmured.

She couldn't help but smile as a deep splash of pink reached her face from the flattery of Marshall's compliment. The next few minutes were a blur, clothes came off in quick seconds and were tossed onto the floor.

Marshall kissed along Y/n's neck, murmuring a string of sentences under his breath as he laid her down on the bed. He cupped her breasts and massaged them softly in circles, watching with intent as Y/n squirmed under him.

“I need you Marshall.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marshall inserted himself into her, letting out a guttural groan from the pleasure. He started moving, first slow and steady rolls with soft pressure that soon turned into fast and hard thrusts, each letting a ripple of arousal through Y/n.

His dick moved against her velvety walls in smooth and quick motions. Y/n's airy moans and Marshall's throaty groans mixed with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other and the bed creaking. The temperature in the room increased, as their faces became more flushed and sweaty.

With one last thrust, Marshall came inside, letting his hot, thick spurts of white string squirt into Y/n and coat her walls. She let out a loud and pleasant moan as her eyes rolled back to the back of her skull, being overdriven from the delightful feeling. Marshall collapsed on top of her, his weight mode comforting than crushing.

“Wow… I really… needed that.” Y/n whispered, taking breaths in between her words.

“Gosh…yeah.” Marshall replied softly into her ear.

They stayed close to each other for a minute two, basking in the sweet moment between them as they tried to catch their breaths. That, however, was quickly stopped when the muffled voices of the rest of the group were heard outside, coming back with the pizza.

“Shit, they're back.” Marshall said as he got off from Y/n.

She wished he could stay on her for longer but she knew she couldn't risk letting her friends see her like this. The pair scrambled to put their clothes back on and fix themselves up before the group returned. They heard the door to the trailer clock open, Y/n decided to quickly jump over to the bed opposite.

The door to the bedroom swung open, revealing the group holding their pizza boxes. 

“Who's hungry? We've got pizza!” Proof exclaimed.

“Everything okay?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, yeah. We're fine. I just took a nap.” Y/n responded.

“Huh, well we're gonna have pizza outside. Come join us when you're ready.” Carla said.

And with that, the group left the room, closing the door behind them as they went outside, ready to start their pizza feast.

“Well, we should probably go eat then.” Y/n said.

“Y/n. I like you.” Marshall said, his voice barely audible and gentle.

In that moment, Y/n felt a mix of emotions bubbling inside of her. Confusion, shock and surprisingly a sense of happiness and relief too.

“You like me?” Y/n asked, her voice matching the gentle tone in Marshall's voice.

“I have for a while. I didn't know how to approach you with it since you hated me.”

Y/n felt a twist of guilt in her veins as she listened to Marshall. She sat on his bed and looked at him with intent, showing him that she was ready to listen and talk.

“I can't deny that what we just did definitely brought out some chemistry between us.” Y/n said. “I'd be an idiot to ignore it.”

“Are you saying that we should try… us? Like, us being a thing?” 

“We should. If that's something we're comfortable and ready for.”

“I am. Are you?”

“I am too.”

“Well then that's settled.”

“And if it doesn't work out, let's just try being friends then.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Y/n placed a tender kiss on Marshall’s forehead before sharing a soft and warm smile with him. “Come on, let's go eat.”

A/N: Finally got this request finished! Hopefully you enjoyed it :))

[gremio0]

your limbus oc looks SO cool do you have any info on him.... he compels me i want to know more about him

HI HELLO thank you for opening the floodgates I have a lot to say about Bentinho actually. in the wise words of oomf I’m like a vampire and need to be invited into talking about my ocs otherwise I physically cannot do it

Don’t expect any structure from this I’m not particularly sure half of the words I’m saying even exist

Alright. So.

He’s based on the book Dom Casmurro by Machado de Assis (actually my favorite author of all time! I have a physical silver medal from a national literature olympic on this shit). Though it’s not really possible to directly translate the title, “Dom Casmurro” is a nickname given to Bentinho in his old age, “Dom” being a mockery of his high status and “Casmurro” meaning something between “stubborn”, “spiteful” and “grumpy”. His full name Bento Santiago is also interesting with “bento(a)” being a rarely used word for “holy” (as in “holy water”/“água benta”) and “Santiago” being derived from the word for “saint”, neither of which actually fucking apply to him; “Bentinho” is the diminutive form of the name. As an LCB Sinner, Bento is kind of an insufferable little bitch who I created with the explicit purpose of suffering the consequences of his actions as much as possible because he doesn’t get nearly enough shit in the book for being such an asshole all the time.

The Sinner Bentinho has a rather erratic demeanor, always literally and figuratively looking over his shoulder. He’s an arrogant and bitter man who doesn’t seem to be looking forward to much in his life. Although he does his best to maintain an appearance of collected elegance, his paranoia and jealousy often slip through the very plentiful cracks for all to see. He’s distrusting of most of everyone, and a pathological liar; talking to him can be rather difficult if you’re not careful with your words, as he has a way of finding non-existent malice in every other sentence, but it’s not particularly difficult to gain his favor if you know how to stroke his ego.

As for general Limbus stuff:

He has Midnight Green (#004952) as his signature color, and I generally use ☕️ as the emoji to represent him. The reference should be clear if you’ve read Dom Casmurro <33

He does not have a sinner number yet, but I’ve been considering #18 (because Machado de Assis, and consequently Bentinho, lived around the 1800s)

The word engraved in the hilt of his rapier, “Desprezo” (NOT to be confused with “depressed” it’s happened too many times by now) is, in portuguese, the feeling of despising something or someone.

His base EGO is called “Tu Serás Feliz”; “You Shall be Happy"

In his LCB Sinner Identity, he has Lust, Pride and Envy sin affinities.

His Canto is called “The Truth Revealing”. It would be placed somewhere from mid to end game, as the way it’s structured would require Bento to already have established relationships with the other sinners. I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from the philosophy he presents in one of the earlier chapters in the book: “life itself is much like an Opera”. Notably, the majority of it takes place in a theater, visually inspired by the Rio de Janeiro municipal thetaer. I’ve reduced the cast of the book a bit to focus on the conflict between Bentinho, Capitu and Escobar, though characters like Ezequiel, José Dias and Dona Glória also play a part.

He has a lot of associations with opera and theater but it’s hard to elaborate on those without a full summary of his Canto. Maybe one day.

I think that’s just about enough information for a decent introduction but I’d be very happy to elaborate if there happen to be any questions. wink wink nudge nudge. He’s been very rudely occupying my brain without my consent for the past few weeks and I doubt he’ll be going away any time soon. He should die one of these days that would be great.

[hyper-cryptic]

⟢ Heart of Chaos AU: The Masterpost!

❛❛ Oh, great Master Emerald, please, I wish for a brave hero who is the balance between Chaos and Peace. One who never backs down in the face of danger, who doesn't stop fighting for their friends and what is right! Might a brave equidna warrior be their fiercely loyal friend, let them fight alongside as if they were kin. Seal this evil away, amending the horrors done by my tribe...❜❜ — Tikal The Equidna.

Welcome to the HoC masterpost! Here I'll give the bullet points on each arc and get down the basics of this AU!

Originally posted: 15/11/24 | Last edited: 15/11/24

◊—› So, what's Heart of Chaos about? . . .

In a nutshell, what if Sonic was The Master Emerald? We get Dark Sonic back and also, I am obsessed with werehog, so we get a redo of that as well as every single arc rewritten, for the most part (there's some I don't have enough knowledge about some of the spin off games heheo). There's a lot of themes of generational trauma, self-worth, losing the sense of yourself and finding it again, etc.

↳ Basic navigation . . . Heart of Chaos Tag | Heart of Chaos Bsky tag | Toyhouse folder ↳ Cast's tags . . . Patch The Painted Dog | Maple The Sable | Oakley The Opposum And yes the canon cast don't have tags because I thought it would be redundant since its all I draw...just search their canon names in my blog!

Below are the arc bullet points.

Soon to be added: Illustrated timeline, trivia, and more!

"Origins" segment

Spikes Toodlerhood arc.

- Basically spikes being raised by Tikal and creatures of Angel Island. Tikal seals herself and Chaos in a pond next in Spikes' birthplace.

Ecoterrorism arc.

- Basically the events of Origins. Spikes gets civilized by Miles and Ames. Spikes meets Knux and then Ignis.

House arrest arc.

- SA 1 happens and Spikes feels forced to stay in Angel Island after being revealed to him that Dark Spikes is a thing. He spends the time there training his ass off with Knux. Predictably so, Spikes doesnt like staying in one place, so he and Miles sneak off to mainland, which is where he meets the babylon rogues for the first time.

- SA2 happens. Shade <3

- Sonic heroes happens. Spikes is super excited to have Shade back, he tries to bond with him... Pretty succesfully so.

"Godhood" segment

Speeding ticket arc

- This is basically the Sonjet, or how I like to call em, Speeding Ticket arc. Funnily enough, this is also where Spikes begins to realize he's aroace but not yet. I havent changed a lot bc I rlly like the riders games.

Dimensional travels arc.

- This is where all the weird shit happens with Rings and Black Knight. And also Snoutman. Snoutman is canon to the Heart of Chaos universe. Black Knight is the most focused on, it's more of an open world game, but in the same way frontiers is.

S2HT arc.

- ShTH happens. Eclipse The Darkling is in ShTH events and is presumed dead by the end of it. Sonic 06 happens and we discover what happens when The Master Emerald itself dies. There is Sonalise, this is where Spikes fully realizes he's aroace and only experiences queerplatonic attraction.

Sonic Colors happens after Sonic 06 and is where Spikes has is birthday.

"Happy birthday" segment.

Werehog arc.

- This is A Lot, but basically this is the arc where Spikes is given a wake up call and slap down to his ego. This arc is pretty grim, but it has a lot of good moments too. It spans for more than a couple months while they try to fix Mobius again.

Generations arc.

- After losing Chip and going through the horrors, Spikes begins travelling a lot and finding comfort in his friendnship with Shade. Then crazy shit starts happening, there is no classic spikes or anything, but Mephiles does come back as the Time Eater. More Sonelise and Milkshake moments and actually also Shadlise, YEAH YOU DIDNT SEE THAT COMIN DID YA-

Forces arc.

- Oh god. Well, lets start at the beginning. This is where my oc Patch The Painted Dog, "Sky's Spark", gets introduced. With him there is oc x canon with Howlite (Silver). He's also childhood friends with Tangle and Jewel. We also half meet Whisper during this arc.

- Spikes gets kidnapped by Infinite to power Eggmans invasion with Spikes' chaos energy aka, his life source. Spike is kept chained and restrained without the abiity to move his arms and legs for the majority of his stay there, so much that he loses the ability to walk which he realizes once he's being rescued. This is also where the frienemy-eggdad situation completely breaks as we learn that Spikes is inmortal, because Eggman attempts to kill him when he realizes that he doesn't need his power anymore and he can just create more Phantom Rubies to power his war.

- Pretty much the whole tone switches. During the war, a lot of the characters are forced to grow up, like Ames and Miles. Miles has almost a complete 180 from the cheerful kid he was before as he takes an important role in the war as the one who arms The Resistance. Knux basically makes him man up.

"Humbled" segment.

Post-war arc.

- Basically physical therapy arc for Spikes, he had to rush this slow progress for the sake of the war.

- We meet Whisper fully. Spikes and Whisper ond over being traumatized by war so much so that they feel they are no longer themselves.

- Mr. Tinker is a thing and Spikes has to deal with that. He ends up leaving Shade and The Chaotix on charge of watching him.

- Metal kidnaps Spikes bc he wants his awful dad back. She ends up running off after she realizes Eggman is gone.

- Starline happens.

Zombot arc.

- Pain, pain and pain! Spikes is not coping with this well at all. This arc is grim as hell. Shade sacrifices himself to save the few refuges left + Team Dark, he's one of the first ones gone. Spikes doesnt have his emotional attack dog anymore and he's always so close to losing it.

Milkshake & Co arc.

- Shade is back and now Spikes is codependent /j, he finally gets properly taught how to use his chaos energy in a productive way as well as help manage it.

- We meet Maple The Sable and Oakley The Opposum. Maple has a oc x canon going on with Cream!

Surge arc.

- Spikes gets a break? Too bad, let's break his peace. Starline's back.

- I dont have a lot written but basically, Surge and Kit are around for about 4-5 months. Starline gets fried and drowned by Surge and Kit before escaping.

- Surge and Kit are out to get Spikes & Miles.

- Kit and Miles do get in a fight. Kit loses, miserably.

- Surge is pissed the fuck off about it bc they kidnapped drippy and she's alone...with her thoughts.

- She attacks Spikes at night after following him, planning to kill him. They get in a fight, Surge "kills" Spikes but he's able to finish her in his Shattered form. She's dead for a while before she wakes up again.

- She tries killing Miles and Spikes again, Shade is fed up with her shit for trying to kill his weirdo and atom bombs her pretty much. Now she's gone forever.

- Kit and Miles actually do bond.

Generational trauma arc. - Knux and Spikes' beef finally hits the fan. Knux has been stressing about Spikes being almost killed again and he's just been being the worst pretty much. Spikes and Knux fight each other like dogs.

"Moonlight" segment.

Eclipse arc.

- To be added

Milkshake 2.0 arc.

- To be added

Crown of Thorns arc.

- To be added

[battingmyeyelashes]

hi. its tumblrs least favorite bill dickey enjoyer, the worlds WORST girl, here to talk about the man himself, AGAIN. but this time...its a little more 18+... quite a bit, actually. please dont open this up if you dont want to be jumpscared by the creepy psychoanalysis girls' ramblings...as for the rest of you, get a lil treat and a drink and come meet me under the cut, ok? ‪‪❤︎‬ does anyone even read these posts?

‪‪❤︎‬ so ive stressed quite a bit about bills personality type and i feel like its pretty clear that i obviously dont think hes the type of guy who would tolerate getting topped/dommed. if u dont understand why, ur gonna have to refer to my other posts about him..

that being said...i was specifically talking about hard domming. what i DO think he would actually secretly be into, is soft dom stuff.

well look at me, getting an education in nothing important ~ ‪‪❤︎‬ i see quite a bit of fics where bill gets hard dommed, and i understand why people like it because obviously the complex love/hatred for that man is strong and they wanna see him suffer. but just realistically speaking, i think itd bruise his ego too badly. dont think he could really get into someone just completely berating him, bc as i have said before, a person like bill always replies with doubling down and completely going overboard when backed into a corner or feeling like hes being overpowered.

however...with soft domming, i think itd be the perfect combination of feeding into his ego and introducing him to a guilty pleasure that he doesnt know he has + kinda knocking him down a peg. its abundantly clear that he has a strained relationship with his mother, so i think the more soft/nurturing/maternal & sweet type of domming would suit him so well.

sweet praising, gentle leading, reassurance, + soft control..

‪‪❤︎‬"those pretty brown eyes...you look so handsome when youre all sleepy...i know youre exhausted, sweet boy, but you can keep going...cum for me one more time, ok?"

‪‪❤︎‬"youre being so good..are you gonna keep being good for me?"

‪‪❤︎‬"you fill me up so well...you wanna cum in me? would that make you feel good, sweet boy?"

‪‪❤︎‬"i love when you moan for me like that...so pretty."

its kind of very mildly degrading masked with praises hehe. itd definitely confuse his poor mind to some degree, but i can just picture him warming up to it so well. itd probably start with a lot of resistance. for simplicity's sake + my own odd possessiveness over darth dickey, im using my lil oc isabella as an example, but u of course can pretend its anyone...

i can imagine her making little comments similar to the ones above ^ to him while theyre doing things in the bedroom, and just watching him become slightly disturbed over it, like, "youre praising me but i feel kind of emasculated for some reason," and he'd probably make some remark about it later on or try to shut her up in the moment...but itd sit in the back of his mind. and somethin would stir in him.

why did it feel...good? that specific kind of praise? of course isabella knows why, but he doesnt really get it. instead, he just waits for her to do it again...and when she does, he doesnt fight it. he just lets that warm feeling settle in his stomach, and he relishes in it... eventually it might even get to the point where he subtly asks for it. making little comments here and there.

"last night was really good...better than usual."

nothing more than that. he expects her to just get it. and she does. so she will do it for him again, and again, and again... eventually getting to the point of him letting her take complete control over whatever theyre doing together.

gently toying with ❤︎‬rgasm denial, ed❤︎ing, ‪‪

❤︎‬verstimulation...the whole thing. you know...

and o my. would that man feel things... emotionally speaking, as well. he'd definitely try to rationalize it to himself. he just likes that she's having to do all the work and he doesnt have to do anything. hes "tougher" for being able to handle it. hes just doing it to let her have fun for once bc hes just sooo nice. etc. etc. etc.

and of course it could never leave the bedroom. if anyone else found out, it would be completely over for sure. do not test that man. he has limits. besides, u wouldnt wanna break his heart and ruin his fun like that, would u? its ur fun too, after all. ‪‪❤︎‬

i know this is kind of an odd topic to talk about. ive never rlly gotten this explicit on here before, and im a little shy to, lol. but aside from the little stomach flutters when thinking about it, i find it just so interesting to wonder how these types of things fit in with his psyche. so...thoughts? ‪‪❤︎‬

o gosh. im gonna get pitchforks and torches over this, arent i?...i am ready for the bullying.

- xo.

[spectral-idiot]

Insomnia- Chapter one. IS OUT!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63984796#main

Fandom: Pokémon- Pokemon scarlet and violet

Words: 11.426

Chapthers: 1/3

Ships: Kieran x Original characther / Kieran x Noelle / SupernovaShippings /Mizuguri

Sumary: Kieran couldn't sleep, less that two weeks ago, he faced the death in the underpaths. His mind can't find the peace thinking about the dangerous journey he had alongside Miss. Briar, her sister and.. Her He is incredibly surprised when Noelle, the girl that emphasized all his inner problems, happened to have imsomnia too. Knocking his door at midnigth She went whit him. He, from all people. He won't survive this. But maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't go that bad after all. Maybe they could end up opening up, maybe they could start to fix this. No, everything can't be forgiven in one second, and it's still work to be done, but maybe, they can start

-Who is Noelle? Is an oc! My oc! I just love her so so much and I am so excited cause I got to write about her, give her the love she deserves and show her now.

You don't need to know anything about her beforehand, so you can just read this freely. This is my first work whit her, the only thing you gotta know is that she takes the place of Florian/Juliana/ ScarVio MC in the ScarVio story and that she was from Lumiose - Kalos before going to paldea.

Rant under the cut:

OHHHH FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY.

DUCKING FINALLY.

I GOT THIS OUT

I

GOT

THIS

OUT.

I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SICE AUGUST, OK?

Yes, I know, I KNOOOW that now it looks like I spent 7 moths writing just 11k words but, THE 2ND CHAPTHER IS ALSO LONG AND I GOT IT ALRADEY FINISHED AND BEING PROOFREADED AS I WRITE THIS, AAAAAHHH

I AM ALSO SO SO DAMM PROUD OF WHAT I HAVE HERE. OK? LIKE, I LOVE IT WHIT EVERY CELL IN MY BODY.

I worked so hard in it and overcame a lot of anxiety and blocks. AND THIS BEAUTIFULL THING ITS WHAT CAME OUT. ITS MY BABY

IF YOU DOUBT ABOUT THIS HARD WORK, OR IF YOU FEEL THE END WAS WEIRD, ITS BECAUSE IT WAS SO BIG I HAD TO SPLIT IT IN TWO.

WRAAAHHHH I FEEL SO FREE AND RELIEVED NOW. MAN. ALL THAT LOVE AND WORK. FINALLY POSTED. MY HUGE HIATUS BROKEN.

I JUST LOVE NOELLE SHE IS MY BABY OK? AAAAAA

SHE MY BELOVED, I LOVED HER SO MUCH I HAD TO WRITE HER AS GOOD AS I COULD.

YOU GUYS JUST CAN BELIEVE HOW HAPPY I AM.

THERE WAS A WHOLE CHARACTHER ARC POR ME AND CHARACTHER DEVELOPMENT AS I WROTE THIS, SINCE IT TOOK THIS LONG FYI, OK?. I LEARNED A LOT ABOUT BEING MORE CONFIDENT AND APRECIATTE MYSELF

I EVEN GOT A BETTER SELF STEEM ALL OF IT´S JUST AAAAAAAAA

-Runs wildly, gets tired, takes a sip of his water bottle, calms down-

Okay, now that I am calmer.

Thanks for giving this work a chance and I hope you enjoyed the first stage of this ride!

Also thanks to a person that kinda helped me and motivated me trough all this incredible journey. She is an awesome person that gave me a lot of support till I believed in myself

As you can see, this one was a LOT more personal. And I like to think that influenced it to be as good as it is. I swear it's not ego it's just I am so happy and proud.

The second chapther is days away or a week at most. Already written and sent to proofread. I kinda hope you stick whit me for it and can enjoy it too

Noelle was a characther that has been in my.mind and heart since literally last july. And that love got printed here

I really hope you enjoyed the reading as much as I found happines writing this. Seriously i loved this whole journey

I also kinda hope you like this NGL

Whit all of that being said, I retire till the next chapther

Thanks and bye :)

-The spectre - Spectral Idiot

Also: No, I wont rant this much in the 2 chapthers left, DW

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Jungkook (Part 1)

I realised whilst compiling this library just how many Jungkook stories I've read and recced. It's probably because Jungkook stories are far and away the most prolific on my feed and also probably because the maknae looks and acts like he does. I hope you enjoy these, don't forget to show these writers some love.

Rattled JJK x reader, single dad JK by @gukslut. The Jungkook in this story breaks my heart with his grit and humanity, and the MC is so relatable it hurts. If you haven't read this, do yourself a favour and be prepared to have your world rocked. Probably my favourite fanfic of all time.

The Cul-de-Sac Cons JJK x reader, JHS x reader, con artist AU by @bonvoyagenoona. I've read and re-read this a lot, the love story between JK and reader is fraught with intrigue and danger, and all the side characters - cuckolded husband Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, are fleshed out perfectly as well.

Lonely Hearts Club JJK x OC, dystopian sci-fi tattoo artist AU by @joonbird. A story that made me think about fanfic in a completely different light, angsty and terribly sad.

Ego JJK x reader, fuckboi college AU by @suga-kookiemonster. A series that had me hooked from the first chapter, a rolling romp, with the perfect ending. Adore.

Feels like summer by @badbhye is a sweet, funny, coming of age story featuring reader and an grown-up, glowed-up next-door-neighbour Jungkook. Also features the immortal line 'Fucking Aquarius bastard' which makes me laugh every time I think of it.

Blink and you'll miss it by @satnin-darling is a fun, fast-paced story with great scene-setting featuring a street-racer reader and rookie lawyer JK.

Spin Cycle by @miscelunaaa is a slow burn series where reader meets Jungkook in a laundromat and their relationship develops over a collection of fun-size drabbles.

Damsel in shining armor by @jimilter is a follow up to the equally great Knight in distress and features chaotic chaebol JK and a competent, take no prisoners reader. A fast-paced, hilarious caper involving reader trying to do damage control as JK wreaks havoc.

Burning bright by @snackhobi is a Pacific Rim AU featuring Jaeger pilots Jungkook and reader, and an unforgettable classic in my book. I love this, and it always reminds me how damn talented fanfiction writers are.

Ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg is about a Jungkook who has the ability to see ghosts set in a med school AU and features Yoongi and Taehyung as cockblocking spirits. Sweet and so, so funny.

Blackout by @bonvoyagenoona is set during one night when the entire neighbourhood loses power and Jungkook and reader navigate the neighbourhood block party. It's the perfect romantic almost first date.

Under the stars by @madbutgloriouspond is a sweet, cute, fluffy, real story about Jungkook and reader in a college AU that I love, love, love.

THAT nose riding drabble by @here2bbtstrash honestly doesn't even need a title. JK is sweet, clueless but willing, and Yoongi? He's the voyeur of my dreams.

Disaster management by @jimilter is gold. Unruly chaotic chaebol CEO Jeon Jungkook is back, and company President reader is right by his side as they try to avert disaster.

Leave the door open by @here4kpopfics is a strangers to lovers neighbours AU story that makes me think about how annoying and irresistible Jeon Jungkook would be if he lived next door.

Car sex by @musicloverxoxo7 features co-workers Jungkook x reader who flirt their way to a smutty, sexy encounter.

Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr is a beautiful study of life, love and mortality that is one of the best stories I've read. Unforgettable.

Part 2

[purple-obsidian]

Your fic and your Ak Jason man, aaaaaauuughhh it's getting the brainrot even harder

I wanted to know your take on your ak Jason with a reader that treats him with the most gentle touch, the sweetest words (probably a reader with a savior complex). Cause I got the picture of Jason being defensive as hell as he feels like some kind of 'healing project' for reader or a charity case

thank you, my dearest anon <3 I am so happy that you enjoy!

i think you’re right, jay would get defensive and possibly angry at reader if he felt like he was being treated like a charity case. he’s very much in a state of mind where he’s trying to restore his dignity [after joker stripped him of it, to put it lightly.] I don’t think jason is the type to care too much about what others think, but he does, at this point, demand respect from his men and reader, even if he doesn’t give respect back. so being coddled or infantalized has the potential of pissing him off.

but in the same breath, i think jason would secretly enjoy being doted on in such a way. in my own au/storyline, i imagine him and reader were dating before he died, but they were like 16 or 17, super young and still in the honeymoon stage. they never really fought a whole lot, every real memory jason has of reader is a good one, filled with the excitement of being desired by someone for the first time and reciprocating love. having reader be extra gentle and accommodating to him and his needs would reinforce that idealized image of her in his head, and make him feel even safer with her.

the reoccurring theme here is the back and forth, the mood swings, the instability of his mental state and ego.

a lot of his reaction would depend on the context. in front of his goons or other criminals, he would be embarrassed and pissed at reader if they were to be all sweet and gentle with him. [in ‘say it back’, I briefly referenced a time where reader told jason she loved him in front of his militia and he just laughed at her, same energy here.]

if they were alone, i think he would tolerate it or even play along until reader said something to set him off. in ‘let go’, we see him stay calm and level-headed while reader is patching him up, but as soon as she challenges him and his way of thinking, he’s triggered and has an extremely emotional response.

i didn’t want portray reader in that ‘savior complex’ way, though. thats one of the struggles for me with doing reader inserts instead of oc’s. for complex storylines like this, it’s hard to not imbue reader with some personality or assume what they would do. but i wanted to show that reader is also very much at war within herself, knowing jason’s treatment of her is wrong but being so in love with him and worried for his well-being that she can’t bring herself to abandon him, even if it would be well within her right to do so.

remember, jason was robin. the best of the best. a shining star among the ever-growing darkness that is gotham. he used to be her hero, everyone’s hero, and she still sees him in that light, and hopes he will find himself, hopes that her love and support will be enough to fill the dark void in his heart. not because she sees herself as his savior, but because she knows jason won’t let anyone else get close to him or help him, and she just wants him to be happy. which is why i am trying to write her as extremely tolerant but still confident enough to challenge him or correct him on things. she wants to remind him who he is, and encourage him to be better. she’s also, of course, somewhat scared of him now too, which brings up a whole other topic. i have another ask in my inbox talking about that so i’ll save it for later.

tldr; having reader be extra gentle and sweet with him would probably confuse his emotions even more, adding to his ups and downs, resulting in more yelling but also open him up to some more moments of vulnerability. deep down he craves such gentleness, but he struggles with allowing himself to accept it because of his deep-seeded insecurities that were exacerbated by jokers torture and manipulation.

thanks for the ask!

xoxo sid

[heyyypuddin]

Withering Petal (Armando x OC) Bad Boys chapter 5

Hey puddins! I finally have posted Chapter 5. Sorry about the wait I kept changing things up. Just know this is a longer chapter.

I really hope you enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts! Enjoyy 💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5 

Amora entered the black-and-white guest room that held a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, facing a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall surrounded by lots of paintings. Armando entered through the door after her, inspecting the room, looking at all the art she had in the room, and raiding an eyebrow at one of them.

“You can go use the bathroom to shower; the bathroom is right across the walk-in closet, and there should be towels and spare clothes you can use. They should be large enough to fit you for the time being. I’m going to go check on my dog, and then I’ll bring the first aid kit so I can start on your injuries.”

Amora finished explaining, and she looked at him, making sure he got everything or had questions. He gave her a curt nod and headed to the bathroom, where she heard the shower turn on, and she quickly turned on her feet, walking out of the room to go run up the stairs, giving multiple glances over her shoulder to make sure she didn't see him trying to run up on her.

She gets to the top floor and calls out for Bowser, hearing his whines coming from her room. She took one last glance behind her to make sure Armando wasn’t sneaking behind her, then glanced down her hallway to see the aftermath of their fight. 

On the wall was smudged blood, and littered on the floor were broken glass and soggy, wet food from what she had brought up for him originally. 

She sighed and ignored it for now so that she could check on her baby. Going to her room, she immediately checked under her bed, pulling up the sheets, and saw her baby giant Schnauzer hiding under there.

"Awwwww, baby, come here." She extended her arms out, and he slowly crawled his way out into her arms. She carefully picked him up and sat on her bed, cuddling him and telling him he did such a great job. “I love you so much, baby. You were so helpful. Such a good boy. I'm so proud of you.”

She kissed his head and gave him more rubs, feeling the sting of tears falling out of her eyes as she finally got to relax and grasp the situation she was just in. Silent sobs wrecked over her body.

“You were so brave. I'm so proud. I know you were scared,” she mumbled in his fur, half talking to Bowser and the other half talking to herself.

After allowing herself to sit for 20 minutes with Bowser, she finally got up and checked his leg that he was limping on. There were no open wounds, and it didn't feel broken; it may possibly be sprained.

"Okay, baby, tomorrow I'll take you to the vet so we can get you all fixed up." She took him off her lap and set him on a doggy bed beside her nightstand so he could rest.

She walked over to her vanity mirror, inspecting herself through her puffy red eyes, and saw that she had a small cut on her cheek and a deep purple bruise starting around her neck. Letting out a huge sigh, she walked out of the room to the hallway, grabbing the first aid kit and pain medication off the floor, and headed back downstairs to the kitchen, filling up two cups of water for them, and walked to the guest room.

Standing in the room, staring at the TV, was Armando wearing her old gray sweatpants, laying very low on his hips, exposing not only all his wounds but also all his muscles. Her eyes raked down his body, going over every last crevice of his and down past his v-line to where his sweats started. Her breath hitched softly when she saw his member slightly pressed against the gray pants. 

From the corner of Armando’s eye, he watched her ogle at him, feeling a swell of pride and his ego bloom. “Maybe this stay wasn’t so bad after all,” he told himself.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, he commented to the woman gawking at him, “¿Como lo que ves amor? (Like what you see in love?)

Amora quickly averted her eyes from him clearing her throat, embarrassed from being caught and putting her focus on what was playing on the TV to distract herself, but she quickly realized it was about Armando as they had his mugshot on the screen and news on police Captain Howard being fully exonerated after being framed by James Mcgrath, a former DEA agent who'd gone rouge. 

A light bulb went into her head as she was listening to the details of the news.

“Is that where you're coming from? She asked as she placed the first-aid kit and water on the dresser next to her. 

Without looking at her, he gave her a small nod, eyes now locked on the screen where a picture of the famous detective Mike Lowrey was on.

“Can you come sit on the bed, please? It's pretty late, and I would like to get some rest,” but she knew tonight she definitely wasn't going to be able to sleep with him in the house.

He moved to where she was standing, getting very close to her before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She stepped back away from him, not wanting to be so close since, truth be told, he intimidated her a lot. Amora reached over to the dresser, grabbing the kit and pulling out two packs of pain pills.

"Here, take these; they’re 500 mg each." He eyed the packets suspiciously and reached for them, only holding them in his hands. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed one packet out of his hand, ripping it open and taking the two pills dry to prove a point, and since she needed it for the headache she was gaining 

"Again, I didn't do all the work of helping you, just to kill you." She reached over again to pass him another pill packet and his water.

“Why are you helping me?” The quiet question came from Armando's lips. Amora slightly stilled before grabbing the alcohol wipes and the stitch emergency kit.

“When I saw you outside, I thought you were maybe someone who was sent to find me, and I wanted answers, but now... I don’t know.” She opened up the alcohol wipe and gripped his broad shoulder to inspect what looked like a stab wound that looked pretty deep but clearly didn't hit any main nerves, just his muscles.

“You might wanna embrace yourself; this is going to sting,” Amora grimaced before swiping over the cut. Painful hisses and grunts filled the silence of the room. Amora took a sneak at his face and saw that he squeezed his eyes shut, his jaws clenched. It's such a shame for him to be so handsome; maybe in a different life they could’ve met in a much different way, she admired.

“Dios mío, ¡apúrate ya!” (My God, woman, hurry up already) were the pained words, gritted from his teeth. 

Snapping back to reality, she quickly finished cleaning his wound up, picked up the needle and thread, and worked on closing up the 3-inch wound. This caused even louder, pained grunts and groans from him. She was halfway done to closing the cut when she felt large hands grip her hips, squeezing her tightly. Her eyes widen in shock, feeling a tightening in her stomach, but she doesn’t slow down, understanding this isn't an easy process.

Finally, she got to the end of the cut, closed it off, and started bandaging it up to protect it from any outside damage. He still had a tight grip on her and was breathing heavily, with his head hanging low and sweat dripping off his head. She grabbed more thread to work on the side wound he had been holding since she first saw him. 

“I’m going to need you to lay back, please, so I can work on this for you.”

Armando silently obeyed, sliding his hands off her and leaning back on his elbows. Amora looked around, feeling herself get hot and trying to focus on where she could get a good angel to do this, but where the wound was, she decided to step closer in between his legs.

Armando watched her intensely as she kneeled down between his legs so that she didn’t have to bend over, hurting her back. The image before him brings wicked thoughts to his mind. Does she even know what she’s doing? He wonders, but that all flew out of his mind as she started working on his wound.

Louder, pained groans echoed the room, as did a stream of Spanish cuss words spitting out of Armando's lips. Amora didn't understand everything he said, but she wouldn't be surprised if he cursed her whole family lineage.

She finally finished up that cut and stood up to quickly scan over him to make sure there were no other cuts that required attention. There was a slice on his arm, but it wasn't too deep for stitches, thankfully, but she still cleaned and bandaged it.

. “You should really go to the hospital; I know how to do a lot, but I'm not a doctor.”

He slowly sat back up, letting out a low groan. “No, I'll be fine; just pass me another pain pill." 

She quietly nodded and slid out from between his legs, doing as he told her. She felt his gaze piercing into her face, but he wasn't saying a word. She came to realize that he's just a man of few words. Or, at least to her, he is. 

She watched him take the pain pills and looked at him, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind, but Armando just stared, unspeaking. Rolling her eyes, Amora stepped away so she could go to bed until he finally spoke up.

“Who’s looking for you?” He watched her completely still at the question; he wasn't even sure if she was breathing. A heavy silence hung over them, the energy in the room going cold as the woman was clearly having an internal battle from the question he asked, but he didn't care. 

He wanted to make sure he wasn't getting involved in whatever drama she had going on, considering how paranoid the woman was to be so reclusive. "Probably a crazy ex-boyfriend,” he scoffed at the thought. If said ex-boyfriend tried to come while he was here, he would handle it personally; he wouldn’t allow anyone to disturb the freedom he finally has. 

Coming out of his thoughts, he realized another moment of silence had passed, and he felt irritation rise at the unanswered question. He parted ways to ask her again. “Who is Lo-?”

“-Vicky Ortiz,” she cut him off. Armandos face fell in shock; his eyes widen in recognition of that name—definitely not an ex-boyfriend problem.

“Vicky Ortiz? As in Victor “El Segador” Ortiz?” He questioned her darkly. Amora turned away from the man, trying to hold back the sting of tears that threatened to fall just from speaking that wretched man's name, but Armando stood up and grabbed her arm, spinning her back to him. 

"Why, of all people, would Victor ‘The Reaper’ be looking for you? A merc turned drug lord?” He grilled her face.

“What game are you playing at?” He seethed. He couldn’t help, but think this was some sort of set him up. Of all the people she could’ve named, she’s going with an enemy of the Aretas Cartel. 

Amora’s head snapped up, her eyes matching the flames in his. ”A game? A game! Do you hear yourself? Clearly, you know the man and what he’s capable of. What reason would I have to lie about something like that?” 

He continued to stare down at her before rolling his eyes and backing up. 

“Once I'm healed, I'm out of here. I don't want to be mixed up in whatever shit you got going on,” he told her, waving her out of the room. Amora's moth dropped at his dismissive behavior in her house for a question he asked.

“First of all, you asked me a question; I didn’t have to answer you! Second of all, nobody told your ass to pass out in my front yard; I was happily minding my own damn business till you came!” She raised her voice at him, but he turned around, dismissing her again.

“Callado. No quiero escucharlo." ( Be quiet. I don't want to hear it.)

“You know what? Whatever I don't owe you, A fugitive, ANY EXPLANATION! You’re welcome for saving your ass; I could've left you out there to die or called the cops on you—you selfish bastard!” And with that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut, but not before coming back and adding her door stopper to make sure he couldn't get out of the room again without her knowing.

Armando listened to what she was doing, not caring about the door stopper because that wouldn’t work on him but making sure she wasn’t on the phone with anyone or the cops, before laying on the bed, turning the news channel up, and looking at his father on the screen with some of the footage that came out of the battle zone he escaped from. 

The last thoughts floating through his mind before sleep took him were his father telling him he did well and that he was proud of him before sending him out on that boat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: guys this chapter made me so stressed, I was literally working on it alllll day and night yesterday even at work 💀 but I hope yall enjoyyy it 💕💕

Also if anyone knows a good translator website please let me know especially for (Mexican Spanish dialect )as I want to try to get as accurate as I can. Spanishdict and Itranslate been holding me down 🤞🏽

[space-writes]

oc deep dive tag

tagged many many moons ago by @talesofsorrowandofruin, thank you! he’s on my mind right now and I want to develop him a bit more, so I’m going to do these for my resident Underdark hot boy, Zeth’rinn Baenre.

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

Phobias and other fears

I wanna give him a phobia so i can poke at it later and make him Suffer…he’s afraid of being alone, like. really alone. solitary confinement without contact with other people would fuck him up. isolation, that’s what he’s afraid of. probably as an Underdark Boy he’s got a healthy fear of things like earthquakes and cave-ins, and of getting lost whilst exploring/scouting cave-systems.

Pet peeves

people who eat with their mouths open, wide-cuffed sleeves (yes you can hide a knife in there, they’re also really fucking annoying and get in his way), poets who don’t rhyme thinking they’re clever, anyone who says it BAN-ray instead of BEN-ray, and surface folk complaining about how bright it is when he and his sunlight sensitivity are standing right there

3 items you can find in their bedroom

sex toys

jewellery box

dagger

First thing they notice in a person

whether he finds them attractive. it’s just instinct, he looks and if he likes that gets filed away immediately under ‘potential avenues of interest to pursue’, and flirting will be a part of the interaction in one way or another like yeah he’s kinda shallow. but also, he gives a lot of compliments, and he usually means them.

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

I’m gonna put him at a 5 - he can handle pain, and can handle more if he has to deal with it alone, or the situation is very serious, but if there is even one other person around he’s gonna complain about it. But despite the fact he definitely enjoys a little pain play in the bedroom, it’s more the threat of pain there he enjoys, not the actual hurt itself. he’s not really much of a masochist.

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

hmm. i think fight mode, based on how he was raised. he wants to get out of the situation/solve the problem. sometimes this means he does stupid things and makes whatever’s happening Worse, but hey, at least he did something! he’s also more of a fawner as well - persuading or otherwise convicing someone not to hurt you by making them feel good, in whatever form that takes, is something of an instinct for him. growing up in Menzo and working with BD, where he definitely had to deal with a lot of egos and a lot of high-strung nobles and priestesses (along with Life Lessons From Jarlaxle) would have taught him the safety value in Talking Your Way Out Of Danger

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

Bregan D’aerthe is a pretty big family in its own right, I’d say, even if he’s only blood related to one of them. And he’s also a Baenre, however much of a bastard one, so all of House Baenre are his family, but I don’t think he really considers them family; just relatives. He loves having lots of people to care about though. He likes knowing things about what everyone likes and dislikes, having so many people he can spar with, talk to, go on adventures with—he’s such a people person, and even though BD and Menzo in general aren’t necessarily friendly to his particular brand of enthusiasm, he doesn’t let that stop him from loving his adoptive family.

What animal represents them best?

hmm…cat feels lazy, but also kinda correct. a very affectionate cat, who always wants attention.

What is a smell that they dislike?

he doesn’t like the smell of Lolthite sacrificial ritual incense. Not sure what those smells might be, and they probably vary from House to House, but the smell of the incense used during Lolthite sacrifices brings back bad experiences of having witness such sacrifices. He’s not a Lolthite, though he does respect the Spider Goddess, and he grew up in Menzo - he’s definitely lost people to the altar before There’s also the scent of a deep, dark cavern - more of a non-scent, really - that makes him uneasy for some reason. The way the darkness of a deep hole smells, maybe? He’s not sure why, but it unsettles him. (I know why; it’s because he’s not a born drow, he was ‘gifted’ to Jarlaxle by an Entity as a ‘reward’ for some aid.)

Have they broken any bones?

I don’t think you get to be in Bregan D’aerthe all your life and not break anything. I think he’s broken his ankles and arms before for sure, and gotten them all healed up. Probably fractured various foot bones, too, broken a toe or three or four; some ribs definitely. Managed to avoid breaking anything in his face so far.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Flamboyant, cocky, pretty, pretty annoying, flirtatious, and talkative. Should probably put a real shirt on.

Are they a night owl or morning bird?

I want to say night owl, but I do also think he switches. Sometimes you cannot get him out of bed and functional for love nor money; sometimes he’s up with the lark and way too excited about life.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Hate: hmmm, let’s go with beer. Wine and mead and spirits he will go all night, but beer? absolutely not Love: can i say cum lol no but for real, I’m going to say cherries.

Do they have any hobbies?

hmmm…i think he likes writing poetry, though he keeps that a secret from literally everyone. and painting nails - i can see him enjoying the focus and detail of making beautiful patterns and art on a small surface, though I suspect he also goes through phases of having the patience for it and not.

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

He’s so excited. He gets to be the centre of attention and he didn’t even have to whine about something first? Everything is now Directly For Him??? He’s the Specialest Birthday Boy?!?! Birthday surprises he loves. And other surprises; they give him a chance to try and show off if they’re dangerous, or to enjoy something if they’re pleasant.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Hell yeah! He’s got multiple ear piercings, loves necklaces a lot, especially chokers, and also bracelets and rings. Necklaces are definitely his favourite, though.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Absolutely it’s messy. Whenever Jarlaxle or Valas or whoever tries to get him to do any kind of paperwork, it’s a nightmare. No, he’s no doing it on purpose, he’s just got terrible penmanship.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Curiosity and overconfidence (also lust. because of course)

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Does leather count? Because I think leather, though I think he also has a soft spot for anything, well, soft. Cosy boy. But yeah, he likes leather: the smell, the texture, the feel and look of a well-crafted piece. The taste :p

What kind of accent do they have?

A Menzoberranzan one - so very much like Minthara in BG3, only I imagine, since he takes so much after Jarlaxle, he’s got a little more bounce to his voice, and is a touch more casual/less particular about pronouncing words I also think he’s probably a bit of an accent chameleon, and ends up mirroring whoever he’s talking to sometimes; so when he’s in Mythen Thaelas a bunch, he ends up with a touch of MT accent for a while on certain words.

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @foxboyclit @hagscribes @princessbonecrimes @lawful-evil-novelist @thegreatobsesso and anyone else who wants to share Blorbo Facts with me~

blank questions under the cut Phobias and other fears Pet peeves 3 items you can find in their bedroom First thing they notice in a person On a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance? Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or morning bird? What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewellery? Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favourite fabric? What kind of accent do they have?

[sketchbook-gal-xe]

Allow me to introduce a heckin lot of mews!

...and mewtwos!

I have some art pieces in mind for them and i might make a few comics of their story.

feel free to ask me questions about them or the storyline

lore rant/character info below (there's a lot!)

A quick rundown of everyone's natures, personalities, etc.

Melody- She/They, N: Naughty; Silly, childish and Adventurous, but she is trying to be more mature so she can protect themself and Mirror. Soda is her twin brother.

Mirror- She/They, N: Quirky; She was cloned from Melody, so they are very similar personality wise; but the older she gets more they want to prove that she isn't just a copy and is her own person.

Sodalite- He/They, N: Careful; The responsible older brother type but he's still an idiot, often getting lost on his own train of thought. twin sibling of Melody.

Silver- She/They/It, N: Calm; She is based on the beta mew design, and it has seen a little bit of everything. adoptive guardian of most of the mews, though they have more of a fun and caring aunt vibe.

Tabitha- She/Her, N: Hardy; The mom friend, considerate in an almost spiteful way, half sibling of Soda and Melody (Tabitha is the oldest)

Polaroid- He/Him (any), N: Hasty; smug, sarcastic, annoying the way of "I'm going make this more difficult purely for the sake of tomfoolery!" he's also psychic/ fairy type.

Apricus- He/They/It, N: Relaxed; Shy, cheerful, somewhat timid but very open with those he cares about, they're also a mew/worm on a string (btw, Apricus and Polaroid are dating)

Mettle- He/Him, N: Modest; Wise, stoic but can easily crack a smile and joke-around, as mentioned in his ref he is blind, but with his strong psychic powers he can still see auras.

Nesh- She/They, N: Gentle; They are very quiet, kind and caring, she was made as an experiment to create a dual type mewtwo, so she is psychic/grass.

Saccharin- She/Her, N: Adamant; She's aloof, bold and has a bit of an ego, she was made in the same lab Nesh was from, they escaped together, she is VERY protective of Nesh.

Sorry for wall of text, I'm very passionate about my oc's.

(also i already have like 6 more characters in mind aaaaa someone stop meeee)

[sophelisticated]

I know nobody follows me yet… but I made… someting for @bamsara, they don’t like being idolized but they are so cool to me they are my INSPIRATION. Shakespeare hangs its head in shame at how good Bam’s writing is

Anyway I made dis, it’s a oc insert in bam’s rehabilitation of death fanfic! It’s not very good, but I awoke in the night and brain exploded in ideas.

Word count: ~1.2k

(SPOILERS FOR THEIR FIC, PLEASE BE WARNED)

-Sleep Like the Dead-

The One Who Waits is patient. It’s in his title. Even so, ever since the entrapment of being in this mortal, lowly body, his… ‘nightmares’ have become more than a mere nuisance. Narinder has awaken with more bile in his throat, more of his godly blood spilled from his eyes. And most importantly—he has grown more irritable. The lamb had noticed that the god of death’s patience for their silly rants have been shut down sooner than usual. Though Lambert has pressed Narinder for information, the vessel is met with a sneering cat showing it’s back to them.

It was a night such as all the others. The former god of death sat in his bed, meditating, but found himself distracted. He did not want to go to sleep, but he felt tired. His ego already shattered from being in a mortal body, he felt himself even more pathetic. A god being scared of some mere ‘nightmares’? It made him cringe at himself. But he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t gain anything out of it. His mind cannot escape the traitor. The lamb. That wretched, awful excuse for a vessel.

But the exhaustion tugs at his eyes. And he complies quietly, though irritably. He lays down, and lays there with a grimace. Simply waiting until he falls unconscious.

He lays down at the trunk of the tree.

“Do not wander.” Narinder says firmly to Baal and Aym. They nod and go scurry off. They have been adapting well to the cult. The flock have been teaching Baal and Aym routines, but today? They get to wander. Narinder looks up at the beautiful tree he lays up against. The purple bark complimented its leaves and flowers. This year, it has exploded in color, more than it usual would. White leaves paired with multicolored flowers. The grass is warm underneath him. And strangely enough, it doesn’t decay. And he’s actually happy about that fact.

He looked out into the distance with a small hum of relaxation. He sees Baal stuffing flowers in Aym’s collar, and they go running off into a chase. But not too far. Just as Narinder asked.

“Is it nice?” A soothing voice comes from his left. Narinder doesn’t jump, nor get surprised. Like he somehow knew she was there.

It was a bird. A peacock. Her white plumage glittering in the sunlight, but glowing more on the rainbow feathers on her tail and the primary and secondary rainbow feathers on her wings. The flowing white dress she wore went further than her feet, but she walked with grace. The white dress did not get any grass stains as she walked from behind the tree. She nestled next to Narinder at the base of the purple tree. Her caring, rainbow eyes scanning his form. Whatever the peacock is thinking, the cat cannot place it. Her wings fold at her sides. He answers back in a casual tone. “I enjoy it. I get to have some privacy from the lamb.” He scoffed. The peacock chuckled softly at his words. “It must be frustrating. Even having him plague your dreams. Thankfully, he is not here.” She speaks gently, tilting her beak at him. Narinder opens his mouth to respond, and he feels a lot heavier as he processes her words, and then becomes aware of his surroundings. He narrows his eyes at the peacock, but finds his body too fuzzy and warm to move away.

“This is not my memory. Who’s memory is this? I don’t-“ “Tis no memory. Never was, my dear.” The rainbow stranger cuts him off with a gentle wave of her wing.

“I am Oneiros. I am the representation of dreams, imagination, and creation.” She says calmly. Narinder notices that his body had relaxed, and his mind calmer. Something about her voice. It just made him calm. He stared at her for a long minute. And she simply stared out at the fields.

“Have you come to torture me in my sleep, as the lamb has?” The god of death glowers at Oneiros, but the glare doesn’t have the fierce energy he wants it to. It doesn’t particularly matter though. She just hummed softly at his words. “No, One Who Waits. I believed you needed a fulfilling rest, a rest filled with softness and warmth.” She spoke patiently, plucking a couple of flowers and beginning to make a little banquet. But gods cannot dream. He knew that for certain. This woman spouts lies, manipulating me into getting me think I can trust her, until-

“I do not lie.” She interrupts his thinking. He snarls at the reminder that his thoughts aren’t safe in the dreamworld.

“Yes, gods cannot dream. But in special circumstances, i can bless them with a dream. The circumstances I will not share with you, little cat.” Oneiros booped his nose with a rose. Narinder snarled, swatting the flower away. “Are you mocking me?” He sneered, and Oneiros made a squawk of laughter. “No, dear. I like giving my dreamers nicknames. Little cat will be yours.” She hummed, her eyes upturned with light humor. The god of death sneered again. He bristled, his tail spiking in irritation. “I shall pluck your feathers out, one by one, if you ever call me that again.” He snarled, his tail whipping back and forth with attitude. She chortled in amusement. “I have worse nicknames, my dear. But I will just call you ‘cat’.” Oneiros hummed. He huffed, but didn’t comment any further. His usual malicious tendencies were toned down more in this realm, he felt less argumentative, he noticed. The peacock then handed him a mini banquet of multicolored flowers. Flowers of such bright colors, he assumed they were exotic.

“I will come again when you are at your lowest. For this safe haven will always look different each time you are here.” She cooed. Bowing her head to Narinder. He took the flowers, and they didn’t wilt, even if he wanted it to. The peacock huffed at his attempt. Not upset, but a tad disappointed at his attitude.

He then heard the yelling of voices familiar. He had seen them earlier, but now that he is more aware, he stills at the sight of Baal and Aym playing in the flowers. He is silent for many heartbeats. The pair stare at The One Who Waits, confused.

“Are they here?” He asked gruffly, but there was a tone of longing in his voice, which he cursed at himself for letting slip out. The question didn’t make much sense, but Oneiros understood. The rainbow peacock took notice of Narinders uncertainty. Almost desperation. At this, her eyes softened in pity.

“No, sweetheart.” She said gently, a motherly air. She put a wing on his shoulder, the softness of the feathers slightly against his cheek making him swivel his head to look at the bird.

“Nothing in this realm is real. I’m sorry, dear. Wake up, and be refreshed.” Oneiros commanded, blessed. Brushing her rainbow wings against his forehead, and his insides felt fuzzier. The warmth of the grass becoming unfocused as he felt his body drop.

He slowly sat up, and he checked his face and sheets. No bleeding. And he felt better than he had in weeks, probably even months.

He didn’t find the company unpleasant, Narinder just wasn’t used to it. He felt like he could handle 20 hours of the lambs rambling, and 10 minutes was already straining it. So to say he felt better was an understatement.

He’d be hoping to visit that realm again soon. Maybe see if the rainbow peacock has any insight on what to do when godly power is shared between two people.

[waternilly]

No Tricks (George Weasley x OC) - Part 7

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x OC Word count: 1.3k Warnings: None Ao3 link: here Summary: A tattoo shop opens across from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, immediately catching the eye of the youngest twin. The intriguing owner, though well-versed in the magical world, doesn’t quite belong to it herself. As they navigate their differences, their mutual curiosity blooms into something deeper. Harry Potter Masterlist

“Georgie!”

He looked up from the accounting book on the desk before him, eyes travelling to the door that led to the shop. That was his brother’s voice.

“Georgie!” he heard again, spurring him to stand up and hurry to the front of the store.

“What’s wrong?” George asked in a hurry, brows furrowed.

Fred did not bother turning his head, still leaning on his hand over the desk. Instead he only nodded across the street.

“Your girl seems a bit down.”

“First of all, she’s not my girl, thank you very much,” he said, walking closer to his brother, “and second, what makes you say that?”

“She hasn’t had a lot of clients since she opened. Looks like she’s turned to traditional portraits as a result.”

George’s gaze travelled in the same direction and noticed Oli sitting alone in front of a tall canvas, brush in one hand and paint pots spread on a small table next to her. His brows furrowed.

“That’s strange,” he admitted.

Still not averting his eyes, Fred leaned towards his twin and stage whispered: “You should go talk to her.”

Yes. He should. He was going to before his brother suggested so. But now, he did not want to satisfy Fred’s ego and matchmaker mannerisms.

Cocking an eyebrow, George turned to him: “And why’s that?”

Finally looking away from the window, Fred furrowed his brows.

“Are you being daft right now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Oli clearly likes you! Even if you insist that she’s not ‘your girl’, she’s at least your friend, yes?”

Repressing a smile, George sighed and admitted: “I suppose.”

Of course they were friends. They had dinner together five times over the two weeks since she moved in. And no matter how hard he was trying to repress certain other feelings, he knew he cared about her a whole deal. But it was too soon to openly show that to people. Yes, Fred was his twin, but ever since they moved out and he married Angelina, they had grown slightly apart. Nevertheless, he would be the first to know. In fact, George was sure he already knew.

“So?” Fred pulled him out of his thoughts.

Turning towards the window, George nodded.

“I’ll go talk to her later.”

“Why later?”

Motioning his arms as to show off the store, George deadpanned: “Because we’re working.”

“You know damn well I can man the shop alone.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

Fred pursed his lips.

“Besides, I’m busy with our accounting.”

Cursing under his breath, Fred stood tall. Sighing, he placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

“Stop making excuses for yourself, love.”

George opened his mouth to protest, but Fred did not give him a chance to. Leading him towards the door, he added: “It’s clear you wanna go talk to her. So just go do it. Now.”

Opening the door, he gently nudged his twin out.

“And don’t bother coming back until you’re done.”

Staring at the door, George blinked slowly then chuckled as realisation dawned on him. Fred definitely knew something.

Shaking his head and a smile plastered on his face, he crossed the street, trying to suppress the bounce in his walk. Having reached the familiar door, he knocked above the window panel in a reflex and waited with a hand in his pocket until Oli opened.

“Hello there,” she greeted, immediately walking back into her shop once she saw who it was, letting him close behind himself.

“You know you can just enter, right? This is still a store,” she pointed out with a smile.

“Of course, but it’s much nicer when you welcome me inside,” he replied, trying to be charming.

“Can I get you something?” she offered, already climbing back on the stool facing the canvas.

“No thanks,” George turned down politely. “I just came to chat.”

“As opposed to when you don’t?” Oli joked.

Stepping closer, George looked over her shoulder at the painting.

“New piece?”

“An order,” Oli nodded.

It was a landscape, most likely of the English countryside, George guessed. In the distance, a large white mansion was nestled between bright green trees.

“Some rich wizard’s country house?”

“More or less,” she sighed. “Got the oil paints out for this one.”

“Why not the watercolours?”

“Because that’s not what my client asked.”

George remained quiet, admiring the large canvas. The house and its neighbouring trees were bright, a warm yellow light bouncing off them on small, individual leaves and roof tiles. Below them, what looked like a lake was still only an indistinct mass, not yet reflecting the environment. Above, Oli was applying a cool shade of grey to white puffs against a light blue sky.

“Will this one be a moving painting?” George wondered, squinting at the trees, through which he could already imagine the wind blowing.

“Unlikely.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I never learned.”

Furrowing his brows, George turned his gaze to the back of Oli’s head.

“What do you mean?”

She put down her brush on the small table, next to reference images of the mansion and countryside.

“I’ve never been taught how to make moving paintings,” she explained, shrugging and turning the stool to finally face George. “Besides, this is for a Muggle client.”

“Is that why all your watercolours are still?”

“What do you think?”

Oli had a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but George also noticed how she swallowed with difficulty.

“Would you like me to teach you?” he offered without thinking.

Smiling with brows furrowed, Oli asked back: “What?”

“If you’d like of course!” he added in a hurry. “I’m no expert but it’s nothing too complicated from what I’ve seen.”

“Uhhh…” she looked away, opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I- I don’t know, really.”

“Oh.”

“Like I said, this is a painting for a Muggle client anyway so could you imagine him opening the delivery box and seeing a tiny version of himself waving at him through the painting, he’d probably have a heart attack or at least faint, perhaps he’d think I’d pulled his leg and sent him a screen with a video playing or something instead of a painting haha!”

Oli turned silent, swallowing and licking her lips.

“Besides,” she said, meeting George’s gaze again, “I quite like the look of still paintings.”

George smiled gently at her, sitting low on the stool, shoulders turned inwards, making her appear smaller than usual. Then, slowly, he nodded, afraid any brusk movement would scare her off.

“So do I.”

Hesitant at first, Oli allowed a bright smile to cross her face. Suddenly blushing, she looked down and closed her eyes, laughing at the spectacle she had made of herself.

George chuckled quietly, trying to not make her feel worse about the situation, but unable to help himself. He never turned his gaze from her, finding her embarrassed reaction endearing.

Without thinking, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Oli’s shoulders. Still looking down and laughing nervously, she leaned into his touch, resting her head against his chest. 

As their laughter died down, her arms snaked around his middle. She relaxed into his embrace and George looked over her wild hair tenderly, brushing it back into place. In the silence of the shop, they remained like this, peacefully, but not escaping the watchful eye of the other Weasley twin across the street.

“How about dinner tonight?” George offered.

Still pressed against his chest, Oli’s voice came out muffled: “I don’t think I’ll have the strength for another class.”

“Not to worry,” he whispered, motioning to peck her scalp but ultimately holding back. “I’ll cook for you.”

Thank you for reading! Also, I'm starting something new: a taglist. If you'd like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters of this fic or any of my other works, feel free to DM me or send me an ask :)

[knightbrand]

⭐🌙🌼🍯🐝 for Loonpaw? ^_^

oh my god im so very happy to answer questions abt loonpaw/moon you have NO idea... my freak girl

⭐️ (star) - If your oc could wish for one thing to come true, what would it be and why? How would this change their life?

kind of changes based on her age. as an apprentice all loonpaw wanted was to be normal, to fit in, to conform. she tried so hard to want to be a warrior and when that didn't work tried to become a medic, but none of it clicked for her. she feigned interest in toms her age but could never have a real attraction. i think if this came true she would be boring and would probably be bored by her life.

as a late apprentice/full medic, she'd say she's probably content, but would have a longing that the moonpool could turn into a real tangible form of a cat so their love couldn't be hidden and would be respected by others.

at the later point of the story up until the end, she only wishes for the moonpool to be cured of the twoleg poison that is slowly killing it. she gets her wish i suppose (smile)

🌙 (crescent moon) - Does your character have a moral code or a set of rules they have for themselves? If so, what made them adopt these morals or ideals? If not, why?

loonmoon doesn't have a really complex idea of morals, considering she was raised with the warrior/medic code and doesn't even follow those. the only rules she follows is her own, and is dead set in her protection of the moonpool, and indifference in clan culture. she grew up wanting to conform to clan ideals of purity aka get a mate get friends become a strong warrior etc etc. she was already disillusioned with this even before she met the moonpool, and even more so after. basically has no morals except wanting people to respect the moonpool

🌼 (blossom) - When a stranger meets your oc, what’s the first thing they notice about them? What kind of vibes do they give off? Are they friendly and open? Cold and standoffish? Is the first impression people get accurate to who they actually are?

answer varies with loonmoon's age. as an early apprentice, she wanted to blend into clan life as best she could, even to her own detriment. other clan cats probably noticed that she seemed to force her smile and force listening to other people. as a late apprentice (after moonpool) she starts to grow unconcerned with how her clanmates see her, but still tries to be somewhat normal so she can pass her medic training (largely so she can legally see moonpool every half moon <3) as a full medic (around 16 moons and after) she's largely let her ego completely go, and appears intensely neurotic and standoffish to other clanmates, not wanting any interaction between them thats unnecessary.

🍯 (honey) - What are some reasons someone would like or get along with your oc? Are these positive traits something your oc is aware of?

despite her struggles with social interaction and codependency with the moonpool, i feel like someone could legitimately make friends or get along with loonmoon if they really knew her. a lot of the reason why loonmoon is standoffish and largely apathetic to her clanmates is that they don't really try to understand her plight, which is a huge disinterest in clan life and clan culture. loonmoon does have a few positive traits, she can genuinely be empathetic and sympathetic, along with being intensely loyal and passionate, and if a potential friend were a kittypet or loner i think she'd interact with them more and give them more of a chance than a clan cat

🐝 (bumblebee) - What are some reasons someone would dislike or not get along with your oc? Are these negative traits something your oc is aware of?

there are a lot of reasons to dislike loonmoon especially the fact that she's a medic that does not give a fuck about anyone lol. very much socially isolated, neurotic seeming to others, with a distinct apathy to her own peers. loonmoon is Very aware of these traits, tried to fake her way out of them when she was younger, but learned to embrace them when she realized that the moonpool liked them and didn't want her to change. she usually doesn't care about what her clanmates think of her anymore, but she still feels a familiar need to be normal whenever she overhears hushed voices discussing "the young medic's incompetence"

[taiyou-torikomu]

NAME: Kitsu❍Guru

PRONOUNS: He/Him, They/Them

MOST ACTIVE MUSES: Getou Suguru & Jujutsu High Students @jujutsu-fantasy

EXPERIENCE: Let's see, my first tumblr blog was a world of warcraft oc in 2015. But I've been roleplaying for two decades or more. I was there when go-gaia was born! As it happens, I met Sensei @mukagenborn online in the fandom I was in at the time, around '09? 2010? We starting writing together back then and now we're Best Friends. So be careful who you talk to online!  I started playing Megumi with Sensei in the Summer of 2021 after we watched season 1 together. I only played off and on when Gojo or Yuji came up in our rp. Much later, I was watching JJK0 with Sensei, because I wanted to know Okkotsu's character better, and realized: I need to be writing Getou immediately. I've been writing Getou since... September 28th, 2024. lol. But truly, these have been the most enjoyable 6 months and 2 weeks I've ever had with a muse, so expect to see a lot more of him!

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT: My favorite genre to write is Adventure-Romance! And I like to rotate all three of those themes in circles throughout, like delicious rotisserie.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: I'm partial to longer, but I can work with brevity if we're short on time or collective braincells.

PET PEEVES: I have two. Let fiction remain fictional and make sure that in offline life, a person acts with the same - or higher - integrity and social activism that they extol when it comes to another person enjoying their creative hobby. My creative space is not a platform for someone else's virtue signaling. I'm writing for fun, for self-expression, to explore my muses, and to entertain my writing partners. And two: “Comparison is the death of joy.” Embrace unique. Celebrate perspective. Resist total homogeneity. There is always an open invitation for discussion and clarification, but a person's writing is like their thumbprint - it was meant to be recognizable but relatively distinct to the individual. I won't imitate you, so don't imitate me.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE: It would be a pleasure and an honor, imo. I also obsess over meaning, the human condition, my best friend and my found family. In my birthchart, it warns that I can be too defiant and inflexible in my views, but because I like to take up and stand for righteous causes, that I should try not to become a cult leader or an eco-terrorist. Lmao. So in that, Getou offers something like... 'If I had leaned into the extremism degree of my values, would I have done the same things? What would those drastic measures feel like?' Thinking like that gives me so much to write because I can see how someone so soft would develop so much edge.      Possibly? There are some similarities, as I like my main muse to have a degree of compatibility with my thought process, values, and relationships. I like to take a look at life through a different but relatable perspective, to see things I might have missed about them - or myself, because sometimes I can miss forest for trees and all that. A fresh take can help add a little dynamism to creativity, but if the muse is a good fit, it can also help me express facets of my nature that are a little shaky because in our daily lives, sometimes we are severely limited in what we can demonstrate, and when, and for whom. It's within my nature to prioritize other people right along with my own importance. I think uplifting another person can be restorative, if it stems from the heart and not the ego. If I see someone suffering, and I can take the weight of a 'curse' off of someone, I will. If I can use that curse later, in defense of something precious or invaluable, I will. It took me a long time to learn how to survive my own empathy, and what to do with the burdens that I collected from others out of a sense of responsibility and compassion.     Getou has been a fascinating muse to me, in that the trait I was trying to refine in myself, was built into his character as his operative ability. If nothing else, it's been helpful to me when I start to feel overwhelmed by what needs to be done in regards to another person's situation, to pause and consider whether I want to take on their curse or not. Putting it in a voluntary sense helps realign my purpose for being involved in the moment. Are any of these similarities between mun and muse? That's so subjective, who can really say. But I do enjoy the hell out of his character and the insights I associate with him. I also like that Getou has a soulmate who just happens to be compatible with Sensei. We're at work together, on the phone with each other, writing to one another, playing online with each other, living together and reading or watching JJK together - we spend most of the day IC, and so sometimes it feels like we're just getting to live out a softer chapter of a long, enduring love story.

TIME TO WRITE: During the workweek, all bets are off, I am too dead even for Kenjaku to pilot. On my days off, though, I write best at about 2am-10am CST. If I get started on my drafts as soon as I wake up, I'll have the most success. If I get distracted by a single leaf outside and the weather is nice?? I'm gone. I'll be outside playing all day, gomen.

TAGGED BY: @musecurse TAGGING: @norowaretamuses and anyone else who notices this 7000 foot long essay unroll up to their feet.

[typophobiaart]

i remember you said you liked talking about your oc's habits and mannerisms and stuff so i'd love to hear more about it :D

-💥

YO I DID NOT SEE THIS IN MY INBOX I AM SO SORRY!!

But yes I love that!! It's so interesting to study characters under a microscope and see how they work and react to things hehe

Anyaways, my characters all have rather different mannerisms and habits to one another so we'll use Ahchah and Avery as examples.

(Absolute YAPFEST below the cut!)

Ahchah's mannerisms are quite sporadic depending on his mood, but we'll talk about this in a neutral setting;

He makes a lot of strong eye contact. In his culture, prolonged eye contact can be seen as a challenge of authority or intimidation. Ahchah likes to think he's all big and tough, though in reality he's an absolute scaredy-cay crybaby with a god complex. Because of purely his height, stature and a mean glare, people often end up avoiding eye contact with him— which only really boosts his ego.

When met with any real challenge however, he is quick to back down.

He has smaller common habits like lip biting, grinding his teeth, and bouncing his leg.

Some Sentitiors (even in a "human form") have moveable ears, which is commonly used to gauge mood. When his ears are tilted down slightly it often indicates a negative emotion, while upright is usually positive.

Ahchah's fear response also plays into his mannerisms. He tends to freeze up or begin fawning if he believes it will help his cause. Oftentimes this can play into him being rather manipulative, whether intentionally or not.

He can switch between being open and talkative (a little too much sometimes 😔🙏) and being completely shut off. It can change at the drop of a hat, anything that challenges his ego, reputation or image will cause him to go into self-defence mode. This can be stopping talking, beginning to snap back or show aggression, or freezing up.

When you're brought up following orders to keep yourself feeling a sense of security it can make it harder for you to reject that sort of thing in the future, I suppose.

On the complete other side, Avery is almost always open. She holds herself a lot taller and makes very casual eye contact. She's much less wary of people and enjoys talking.

She has her own little common habits, like biting her nails (or.. claws, LMAO) and skin picking.

She isn't easily angered but is incredibly strong on her beliefs on justice. She is willing to fight for what she believes is right, even if it means endangering herself— which is quite a lot of the time actually

Avery has a fight fear response and responds to action with action, while Ahchah on the other hand responds to action with inaction.

Honestly these things are probably why they have chemistry LMAOO they sort of compliment each other in many ways. What one can't do the other will fill in. Avery is still being developed so there's not too much on her yet! I plan to update :)