#now i don't mean that in the sense of ocs are cringe

[mavibonghostexpress]

I'm ngl the oc posting was my cringe era

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hiiii me again

Related to the post about the ownership of characters and the tags you put-

I just wanted to mention that you’ve given me a lot of confidence. I used to be the type of person who believed “if your oc even breathes in the direction of a canon character, it’s cringe and Mary Sue and you’ll be ripped to shreds for it.” I’d have to tread so lightly with characters I enjoyed and love them from afar because I felt if I made even a joke post someone would bring it up.

I’ve only just gotten into the cod fandom, found your blog a couple months ago, and it’s given me a lot of like. Idk!! Just “fuck it, do what you want” kinda vibes in the best way? It’s really hard to word this lmao. But since finding your blog I’ve made a 141 character, a shadow, literally shipping an oc with ghost now, and I’m having fun that I wouldn’t have if I didn’t find your blog

So thank you <3

Hello! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Well, It's been an apparent issue in this fandom. idk why, but when I visit other fandoms, the sense of ownership and possessiveness to the characters is not that high, like what's up with these people I don't know. Like, the characters in media, especially in games, don't belong to anyone except the studios that made them 😭

We as fandom members can create original characters, alternative universes, and stuff for them. I can't imagine a piece of media without fanarts, fics, and OC's really. Heck, that's what keeps the fandom alive. If there's one thing we can learn from history of media, is that you can't hold back people's creativity. OF COURSE, there are cringe ones and unhinged ones, but it's fandom, of course, it's filled with different types of people from normal to bizarre ones.

Here's the thing, just because one person has already shipped their OC with one character, that doesn't mean that character is LOST forever to that one particular OC like it's a damn popularity competition 😭.

I've also seen some people saying that they're so emotionally attached to this one character, that if they see him with someone else's OC. they get super emotional and super angry?? Okay that's just-- WOW.

If you feel uncomfortable seeing your favorite character being shipped with someone else, then that just means that you're NOT ready and not mature enough to be an OC creator and be in a fandom space. Full stop.

and if I may speak from experience, I've lost a few friendships due to being... quite popular OC shipper with Ghost 🥲 I personally don't feel anything when I see other's OC's with Ghost, or any character I like with other OC's -- I EVEN DRAW OTHER OC'S WITH GHOST FOR COMMISSIONS 😭

But yeah, before I yap too much, thank you so much for the good words in the last paragraph! It's very very lovely, and I'm glad you have your own OC to have fun with! Happy creating and happy drawing💖!

[shrekgogurt]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tags! @artsyunderstudy @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @monbons @larkral I'm eating up reading your answers because we're all so DIFFERENT.

How many works do you have on AO3? 9 (technically 10 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 99,978 (mine) + 7,531 (shared) + 9,991 (someone else's) = 117, 500 (total)

What fandoms do you write for? presently, Carry On but back during my high school ff.net days I did some Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus (Percabeth and some separate OCs), Alex Rider (OCs), The 100 (as an elaborate prank), Harry Potter (literally just a My Immortal parody), and Divergent (OCs) and if they weren't oneshots they were never finished.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES! I'm currently behind on my replies, but it's so fun! It's like a book club but for stuff I created!!???? Shit rocks. I fully didn't expect anyone to read IKABIKAM (my first fic on ao3) when I first published it and so every comment still feels like a miracle.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I love collaborating because it gives me something to bounce off of. A scene partner. A ticking timer. It's like lifting a heavy object by yourself versus getting someone else to bear some of the weight with you. It's easier. I also find myself constantly seeking collaboration with other people even with my solo fics. I'm all up in those DMs pestering people both as motivation and as external processing. And by GOD, do you fuckers have some good ideas. Y'all make me exponentially better.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz but also in a very real sense...Percabeth. (You never forget your first.)

What are your writing strengths? I got my start with rping, so dialogue is really comfortable for me. I also think my training in other art forms (dance, music, theatre, film, academia) positively influence my approach. When writing action, I often mentally frame it as 'blocking' the scene or 'choreographing' the movement. When crafting sentences, I'm constantly evaluating the rhythm and rhyme and repetition (not to mention alliteration) as if it's a song, always searching for the perfect word or metaphor. I also listen to actual songs and pull the emotion from them, using them as character studies or a musical soliloquy. I imagine shots and then write what I see from the perspective of a director explaining the actor’s motivating thoughts. I constantly revisit my thesis, grounding the narrative in callbacks and a cohesive structure like it's an academic paper. And all those things combined create this kinetic cause and effect style I'm really proud of and tangibly improves every time I write something new.

What are your writing weaknesses? I do not have a firm grasp on proper grammar. I'm also really slow and inconsistent with my output because my process is so physically disorganized and meticulous which often frustrates me. I'm also impatient. I don't do wholesale messy drafts; I edit as I go and when I'm done I want it published immediately. I also fall victim to the white room syndrome with physical descriptions. Establishing shots? Don't know them. What a guy looks like? What they're wearing? Sorry, I haven't told you because it felt weird to jam in there. Outside of fanfiction, I also struggle with creating something from nothing. I'm a theologian rather than a god. I much prefer playing in a sandbox and exegeting meaning from someone else's grunt work rather than conjuring the wood and the sand myself. My writing is also incredibly referential to pop culture which I'm not sure would translate outside of fanfic, but I guess I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

First fandom you wrote for? Divergent (big cringe)

Now tagging! @onepintobean @cutestkilla @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @mooncello @brilla-brilla-estrellita @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @prettygoododds @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife TELL ME HOW YOU WRITE YOU GENIUSES

[undeadvinyls]

idk but i like to think dick had a very sheltered childhood or smth akin to this so that's the reason that vera can be very not-disciplined at times. not spoiled, but lacking discipline.

i imagine knubbler in a way didn't want to shelter her just like his own upbringing, which did take like, a huge effort to even break the cycle. this was before he got "desentitized" to the music industry; before like, became the piece of work he is now. i mean im sure this man was always fucked up and never in the right mental place and in a way, given his criminal record, was a way to finally be seen when his parents and environment would never listen to him.

i feel it's in a way as to why he behaves like that as an adult - it's the way that he's given attention he craved his whole childhood, as a producer, albeit problematic. (that sounded cringe lol) but the problematic aspect is a part of it, i imagine knubbler can be at times addicted to attention, even infamous, because he's been craving it and needing it for way too long.

now w/ vera, yeah. he's absolutely like, the worst fucking person to be a dad - hell, vera is a literal accidental child. but like, in a way, it's weird how despite being so young, and already in the process of desentitizing to the world, there was a hint of humanity that he just didn't want to abandon her and her whatshername mother and actually be the bigger person with a sense of "guilt" hinging over him and going "okay, fine, i'm sorry it turned out this way. you don't want this kid, i'll take care of her, then."

as flawed as it was. because vera is literally one of the last things he truly loves and actually gives a damn about instead of doing the same old "okay cool, i get it, okay" response. plus, it serves him as a reminder - i was not ready for this kid. but i'm going to try my hardest and not do the same thing as my parents. because i want her to be something good.

tl;dr knubbler is an awful person to be a dad but he's trying his best

t;dr 2 it's 22:40 pm in my timezone and my brain is rotting because of some 2006 adult swim cartoon which should have never been taken this serious and this is literally all made for a fucking fankid oc

what daddy issues do to a mf

[phoenixisobsessed]

Does your black and red oc (Night Runner I think?) have any lore? Like I see you post them sometimes but I don't know much bout them

Also I've seen multiple designs, what continuity are those each from? Or are they all redesigns? I assume the big one is from prime because it looks really detailed??

Oh bro somebody actually asked me about this holy fuck. You better be SO READY.

So all of the different versions are from different generations yes. My ultimate goal is to make one for each continuity but yk.

So this would be Nightrunner animated ^

That’s Nightrunner IDW ^

Then there’s Transformers Prime ^

And of course, generation 1. ^

And y’all better be ready to hear extremely self indulgent “I don’t give a shit what other people think” cringe levels of lore.

So, I created Nightrunner with the thought in mind that he (and his twin brother, Nightmare) are made using Megatron’s genetical code. Which MEAAANS yes they are in fact sons of Megatron. Yaaaaaayyy!!!! Off to a great start guys. Basically they were created like mid-war, and heavily modified as sparklings to become weapons, and were experimented on to see just how efficient you could artificially make a Cybertronian, especially at a younger age. Imma be focusing on Nightrunner rn though.

(EXTRA NOTE: This is mostly within an AU I have so universe facts and shit may be different. 🔥 This is what I have made for funsies.)

(Blue text is gonna just be a bunch of fun facts of his systems/functions)

His pain sensors were turned way down, but to counter that bis system scanners are extremely sensitive and constantly activated, so he’ll immediately get alerted if ANYTHING is wrong. But, it means he can handle more abuse and last longer in battle. He’s a slight bit taller than your average bot at around 6-7m (depending on continuity I guess) and stands at 8 meters of height. He is in no way the biggest bot though, since he is specifically designed for stealth and speed. (He is surprisingly light for his size as well!!) He is also a triple changer, being both a jet and Ferrari GT3 296. (Don’t ask me how his designs make sense with that, they don’t and I don’t CARE.) So he lacks a bit in strength, but he makes up for all of that in speed. His morals have been turned all the way down as well, again having been designed as an actual weapon, and 99% of his life has been combat training and stealth missions. Like his dad is a warlord, what do you want. But he actually doesn’t get to spend that much time with his dad as a sparkling since, he is a warlord and is busy af. So instead he gets sent around to different Decepticon commanders for training and such. Or he’s forced to stick around his brother so he won’t run off and cause trouble. In his later years though, (post-sparklinghood I guess) he’s a great spy/assassin, who usually goes on high-profile or more dangerous stealth missions. He often does infiltration, or outpost-takedowns. Intel gathering is his main thing. He does though struggle with extremely horrible nightmares due to his difficult upbringing, and the war, but he’s usually nocturnal, going on missions after dark. Again, depending on continuity he very much enjoys spending time with Skywarp, or Knock Out. Some people he can gossip with. And he usually uses charm to get out of trouble if ever finds himself in deep shit. Horribly desensitised to violence and death. I’d say that’s mostly his lore though.

TLDR; Megatron’s son, created in the middle of the war, experimented on and made into a weapon, now a very successful spy with some kind of PTSD.

I don’t have any very specific stories of him really I guess. He’s just a silly little guy. I guess I have a few stories where they used him as an undercover spy before the Autobots found out about his existence, where he used the name Blacknova. That’s a kinda silly thing.

[personasdestinyy]

Sorrowful Love | Ch#5 | JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; All he desires is vengeance.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: thriller, angst, love at first sight, au! sexting

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook × Sena oc!

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This story contains explicit language, graphic violence(murders, blood etc), and other mature content, If you are easily affected by such themes, it might be best to avoid reading it.

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k+

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭⇢

Jungkook's Pov:

I penned down the message, my very first thread, to my first prey, and I can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through my veins. This moment has been a long time coming, a culmination of fifteen years of anticipation.

From my vantage point in the corner of the club, I fix my gaze upon him with a burning fury in my eyes. He's blissfully unaware, reveling in the company of those mindless sluts. He won't be able to savor these moments again, because this is the last time he will ever experience such joy. Here I am, eagerly waiting for the opportune moment when the whore beside me will remove her leg from my thigh. Her repulsive gummy scent makes me cringe, but I must endure the presence of these despicable people in order to witness the sheer delight on his face once he receives my message.

Finally ,she retracts her leg, and a frown creases her brows.

'shitty'

Clearly, my lack of attention has displeased her. But that's not my problem. She rises from the couch, stomping her feet on the ground in a silent plea for my attention, and thankfully, she leaves. Yet, being the man that I am, I once again choose to ignore her.

My fingers hovered over the 'send' button, With a sense of satisfaction and anticipation, I press the 'send' button, the message was on its way. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Just as i settle on the couch, he pulled out his phone, his expression mirrored the one I had hoped for. His face tensed as he read the message, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for me.

'Never. You can never find me.'

Don't know why but suddenly anger surged through me, my hands clenching into fists so tight that my knuckles turned white, my blood rushing to my ears in a violent surge, and my breathing quickened. I knew I had to leave before things escalated. I settled the bill with the bartender, shooting one last fiery glance at him before heading for the door. His head was bowed, lost in his thoughts.

'kill him'

The thought flashed through my mind, The desire to take his life now and here consumes me, my heart yearns to fulfill this violent urge.. but I knew I had to bide my time. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I am determined to make him pay.

The word 'Revenge' has consumed my thoughts completely, leaving no room for anything else.

As I make my exit in silence, leaving him in the sea of unease, I vowed to exact my vengeance in the most excruciating way possible. This time, they would know the true meaning of fear.

Her expression is a mix of dread, fear, and all other synonyms one could associate with being scared. She pleads for me to go away, tears cascading down her troubled face, making my nostrils flare with annoyance. God, women like her drive me crazy; it's why I can't stand them.

But, she was different. Despite her incessant chatter on the phone, she somehow managed to bring a smile to my face.

'fuck'

I can't dwell on these memories now. I need to stay focused on the task at hand and have to deal with the fucker who seems to have forgotten my warning, off enjoying himself with those whores.

As I stand up from the chair, she immediately senses my presence and her body starts trembling uncontrollably. The sound of my heavy black boots thudding against the floor fills the room, almost echoing her fear. I am completely clad in black, from head to toe, which only adds to the aura of darkness and intensity that surrounds me. With black leather pants hugging my legs, a full sleeve shirt and a sleek leather jacket covering my torso, black leather gloves covering my hands, a black cap crowning my head, and a black mask concealing my face, I become an embodiment of the shadows. Only my eyes are visible, but they reveal nothing except pure rage.

Stepping closer towards her, she becomes rigid, her body freezing in fear. Her voice quivers as she pleads, "Please, just leave" Her desperation hangs heavily in the air.

I raise my hand and she immediately shuts her eyes tightly, as if anticipating a blow. But I have no intention of hitting her, unless she decides to make a scene. Placing a finger to my lips, hidden behind the mask.

"Shhh," I hush, leaning in slightly. The next moments are crucial, and any sudden movement or sound from her could trigger an explosive reaction from me.

I was not like this, but the burning desire for revenge has consumed me to the point where all other emotions have faded away. I am like an empty vessel, engulfed in darkness.

She timidly opens her teary eyes, and I remove my finger from my lips.

"I have to make a call, so don't you dare to scream, If you scream, I'll make sure you regret it," I caution her, the threat evident in my gaze. Her body trembles even more than before, and I step back, reaching for my phone in the jacket pocket as I make my way to the door frame.

I dialed his number, eagerly waiting for him to pick up. After a few rings, he finally answered. As I brought the phone to my ear to listen to his voice, the woman behind me let out a loud scream.

'fucking shitty'

I glared at her, my eyes filled with anger. She quickly closed her mouth and burst into tears once again.

"What do you want, you bastard! Leave my wife alone, you asshole!" he shouted angrily on the other end of the line. The urge to silence both the husband and the wife by cutting out their tongues crept into my mind.

I cleared my throat and spoke in a calm, yet determined tone, "First of all, stop your motherfucking yelling, it won't help. Second, I need you to come home immediately. And third, if you bring anyone else with you, I will make sure your wife suffers a painful fate right in front of you. So, be smart and come alone in just 10 minutes,"

After giving him some specific instructions, I abruptly ended the call, leaving him to ponder my words in silence.

From my vantage point at the window, I observed his every move, how he maneuvered the car into the parking lot, how he swiftly snatch a gun from the dashboard before stepping out of the vehicle. The dimly lit surroundings failed to conceal the fear etched on his face, and I could almost feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

When I entered the house, I intentionally left the door ajar to make a dramatic entrance. I scattered furniture and belongings to heighten the suspense, and it seemed to have worked as I could sense his frantic footsteps echoing through the ground floor as he checked every door, desperately searching for any sign of his wife.

A mischievous chuckle escaped my lips. I hadn't anticipated finding pleasure in these twisted games, and I'm surprised by the unexpected enjoyment I derived from these sinister acts. Revenge had been my initial motive, but the sheer satisfaction of instilling fear in my target is an unexpected bonus. As I approached the door, she let out another piercing scream. It was clear that she too sensed the presence of an individual.

'fucking fuck'

My anger intensifying as I turn around and walk toward her with heavy step. And then, without hesitation, I delivered a forceful slap across her face, rendering her unconscious. Her head hung low, a testament to the power I now wielded. I swiftly held ber face in my hand and silenced her mouth with a cloth, even though it served no practical purpose now.

After approximately 10 seconds, he sprinted towards the room, completely disregarding my presence. His sole focus was on reaching his wife, and the expression on his face mirrored the exact emotions I experienced when I was just a child. Without hesitation, he dropped both the gun and phone from his trembling hands as he knelt before her, gently cradling her face in his palms.

"Honey, please, wake up. Please wake up," he pleaded with a mixture of worry, rage, and terror evident in his voice. Desperation laced every word as he attempted to rouse his unconscious wife.

As he tenderly shook her shoulders, he anxiously inquired, "Who the fuck…?" His question remained unfinished as I swiftly swung a heavy bat, connecting with his head. The impact rendered him unconscious before he even had a chance to face the person responsible for the blow, me. The mere sound of his voice had become unbearable, piercing my ears like arrows and causing them to bleed.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally began to regain consciousness.

During his unconscious state, I had taken advantage of the situation and tied him to a chair, and shut his mouth with tape, all for my own advantage, of course.

To add a little surprise, I had also switched off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

As he struggled to open his eyes, it took him what seemed like a hundred attempts before he finally succeeded.

'Thank fucking God'

Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he soon realized that his wife was tied up in a chair right beside him.

'Ah, the game is about to begin.'

From the door frame, I watched the scene unfold, feeling bad for them that made me want to cry my heart out for their beautiful love story. But I remained hidden in the darkness, so he couldn't spot me.

He desperately tried to free himself, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his futile attempts. How hypocritical of him to believe he could escape my carefully laid trap. After a few failed tries, he finally came to a halt and turned his tear-filled eyes towards his wife. Well, I suppose it's my turn now.

With a flick of a switch, I turned on the lights, causing the room to flood with brightness. The sudden change made him instinctively shut his eyes, momentarily blinded by the illumination.

When he finally opens his eyes, they immediately lock onto me. I can see the confusion and fear in his gaze as he takes in my appearance. His body tenses up, but he still tries to shout through the tape covering his mouth. Suppressing a wave of laughter, I chuckle at his futile attempt, feeling a mix of amusement and pity for him.

With my gloved hands tucked away inside the pockets of my leather jacket, I walk purposefully towards him. Coming to a halt right in front of him, I lean down, ensuring my face is at the same level as his.

"All right, I'll remove the tape from your fucking mouth, but please don't yell. My ears are incredibly sensitive", I speak directly to him, in a low, commanding tone and making sure my words penetrate his consciousness. The intensity of my voice resonates from deep within my chest, leaving no room for doubt or disobedience.

Taking a step back, I straighten up. With a swift motion, I rip the tape from his mouth, causing him to hiss in pain. Despite witnessing his discomfort, I remain unaffected, my eyes filled with a mix of anger and determination.

"Why have you taken us hostage? What is it that you want from us, motherfucker?" he barks, his final words dripping with anger and it was hard not to feel myself getting worked up as well. These two idiots really dared to raise their voices at me.

In that split second, without thinking twice, I swung my fist and delivered a powerful blow to his jaw. The impact was satisfying, but I felt the sting reverberate through my hand. Gritting my teeth, I flexed my fingers and massaged the soreness away with my other hand.

"Well, well, well, looks like you need a reminder to keep that mouth shut," I sneered at him, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "I warned you not to yell, but clearly, you didn't listen."

Well if this fool wanted a reason for their predicament, they were about to get one. With a theatrical touch, I placed my palm over my chin, pretending to ponder his question.

"Alright, Mr. Lee," I spoke slowly, my voice dripping with a mix of amusement and menace. "If you really want to know the reason, you're going to have to spill about Kim's family."

However, to my surprise, he bursts into laughter, causing my gaze to snap towards him with lightning speed.

"You think I'm foolish enough to tell you about them to the likes of you?" His words dripped with defiance, his tone unwavering.

"You've made a grave mistake, you moron. You've kidnapped the wrong person, and I will never, ever tell you a damn thing about them."

His statement ignited a fiery rage within me. How dare he mock me? How dare he think he had the upper hand? My anger intensified, my blood beginning to boil. This fool had no idea who he's dealing with, and he's about to learn a painful lesson.

"Alright, it seems like you're implying that you want her dead," I commented, gesturing towards his wife.

Without hesitation, he exploded in fury, bellowing, "You despicable bastard, just kill me and spare her!"

However, this time, I opted to just stand there calmly, my hands comfortably tucked inside the pockets of my sleek leather jacket. In that instant, I fixated my gaze on his wife, knowing that it was time for her demise.

Moments passed before Mr. Lee finally mumbled with his head lowered, "What do you need to know about them?"

'Bingo'

A small smirk playing at the corner of my lips. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

"Well, spill the beans on his family first, and then let's dive into his underground business," I replied, still fixated on his wife.

"He has a son and a daughter," Mr. Lee responded, causing me to swiftly turn my head towards him, my curiosity piqued.

"And a daughter too?" I exclaimed, genuinely surprised by the revelation of Kim's hidden secret.

"Where is she now?" I couldn't help but throw in the question, my curiosity overpowering my desire to remain silent. Unfortunately, he remained tight-lipped, leaving my query unanswered.

Glancing over at him, I catch sight of his downcast head. Curiosity piqued, I lower myself to the ground, positioning myself directly in front of him to get a better look at his face. And that's when I spot it—a solitary tear, glistening on his cheek. It's a peculiar sight, one that almost tempts a chuckle from me. But alas, the gravity of the situation prevents any laughter from escaping my lips.

"Oh, Mr. Lee, why the tears?" I inquire, my voice laced with a hint of mischief.

"I simply asked about his daughter. If you're unwilling to share, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands and kill your wife," I declare, my tone still gentle despite the menacing words, all while remaining on my knees.

"Please, spare her life. I don't understand why you're doing this. If you must take a life, take mine instead." His voice trembles as he pleads.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," I click my tongue disapprovingly.

"I had you pegged as a brave soul, but it seems you're nothing more than a timid mouse. It's a pity, really," I remark, rising to my feet.

"But you should know, even if you were to beg me now, I would still carry out my plan. First, I'll make you witness the demise of your wife, and then, only then, I will end your life," I state matter-of-factly as I make my way towards a nearby table adorned with a mysterious bag.

Opening the bag, I unzipped it and carefully extracted the knife, placing it meticulously on the table. Just as I did so, he erupted into screams of desperation and fury, his voice laced with a chilling warning. "Just kill me, don't you dare to touch her. I'll kill you if you touch her!"

Ignoring his frantic outbursts, the knife and tape practically begged to be in my grasp, so I calmly picked up the knife and tape. With a steady and purposeful stride, I approached his wife, positioning myself just behind her chair.

With a maddening calmness in my voice, I addressed him. "Mr. Lee, do you recall the time you callously took the life of a woman in front of her own child?"

The desire to slash her throat, and then his, coursed through my veins, creating an insatiable itch within me.

His expression twisted in confusion, he stammered out a response. "What… what do you mean? I don't understand anything," he managed to utter through his tearful pleas.

Smirking slightly, I seized a fistful of his wife's hair, exerting enough force to communicate my utter dominance. His threats and pleas fell upon deaf ears.

"Fucker, take your hands away from her! I swear I'll kill you!" he shouted, desperately clinging to a fading hope of escape through intimidation.

"Listen to me, I don't care who you think you are. You can do whatever you want to me, but spare her. She's innocent in all of this," he pleaded after a moment, his eyes pleading for mercy as I held her captive.

Ignoring his pleas, memories of my own past suffering flooded my mind. The image of my parents begging for their lives flashed before me, fueling my rage. With a swift motion, I pressed the knife against her throat and slit her throat in an instant.

In an instant, blood gushed from her throat, drenching everything in its path. She began to tremble uncontrollably from the sheer amount of blood she was losing. The floor, the chair, her clothes - all stained crimson with her life force. After what seemed like an eternity, the trembling eventually ceased. She was no longer among the living.

His eyes remained wide open, still in shock from the gruesome sight before him. The scene unfolding in front of his eyes left him utterly speechless. His happiness, like mine, seemed to vanish into thin air.

"Why? Why did you do this?" The words ripped through the air as he shouted in agony, followed by the piercing sound of his weeping. He moved in the chair, desperately trying to free himself from the pain.

I walked purposefully towards him, standing directly in front of his chair. With a firm grip, I grabbed his hair and forced him to look me in the eyes. My blood boiled with a desire for revenge, the name etched in my mind like a curse. The sense of accomplishment surged through me, yet a thrill still lingered in the air.

I watched as he struggled against the restraints, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and fear. The tears streaming down his face mingled with the bloodshot redness, a clear indication of the intense emotions bubbling within him. Despite his desperate attempts to break free, I could see the murderous intent in his eyes, but he was powerless to act on it.

I released his hair and used my teeth to cut through the tape binding his hands. As I tried to muffle his cries by covering his mouth with tape, he defiantly spat on my gloved hand.

"Fuck, it's suck", cursing under my breath, I wiped my hand on his suit before firmly gripping his face with my right hand and forcefully securing the tape over his mouth.

Stepping back from the chair, I walked toward the table and picked up the knife from the table. The blade was stained with the blood of his wife, a grim reminder of the gruesome act I had committed. I started cleaning the knife on the table, preparing myself for the next death.

"I pity you, Mr. Lee, but you left me with no choice. You refuse to cooperate, so I must ensure my peace of mind by silencing you as well. Before your time is up, think back to the innocent woman you callously murdered in front of her child. Reflect on your actions," I said, wiping the knife blade with a thick fabric as I gazed into his widened eyes. He tried to speak, but the tape over his mouth rendered him speechless.

His facial expression revealed his thoughts, indicating that he remembers. However, I simply didn't have the patience to listen to his voice again. I casually strolled up behind his chair, placed the knife against his neck, and let out a small chuckle before swiftly slicing his throat, much like I did to his wife. The sight of his blood made me queasy, causing me to take a step back.

As I stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of my actions, I couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation. I knew that this path was dangerous and morally questionable, but in that moment, I didn't care.

Despite that, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that I had successfully taken down my first target.

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐲 (𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝)

[fareehaandspaniards]

Ymir for the ask meme?

The Ask meme

Favourite thing about them:

Absolutely every fucking thing.

Least favorite thing about them:

Except for fingercreepers hanging above his head. I honestly would like to know the reason of it. Is Ymir so crazy that he puts them in cages until they die? Or are those who were born defective hanging in cages, and this is his way of trying to “immortalize” them?

And the fact I can't use the gesture "my lord" during battle with him and to swear loyalty to him until the very end

Favorite line:

One need only envision the romance of the stars above with adoration for stardust in one's heart to become a great sorcerer. Do so, and you will know love.

ohhhhhhh AAHHH

brOTP

Ymir x Jolan but.. Although they are not bound by friendship, the bond is still strong. And even though Jolan is a servant (she is a "cunt's servant" (c) fanart of incredibly cool artist buriedknight), I'm sure there could have been plenty of warm and even familial moments between them that Jolan would have taken too seriously and Ymir would have forgotten about almost instantly.

OTP

Ymir x Tarnished ofc. Tho I don't have that Tarnished myself. Tbh it's just my Elden Ring version of Damian, and yeah I am cringe...

It's just a case where a character you love becomes your OC, and that's TRULY what happens here, because I tried to put Damian into the context of Elden Ring and it's kind of still him, but a completely different character…

Anyway, since he's Tarnished, I gave him the name Caecilius. He's an elderly sorcerer from Liurnia, who served a Carian family and now wanders the Lands Between with his young servant… (sorry, I've inserted Gremia here as well)

This all sounds horrible and honestly I feel VERY EMBARASSED writing it, but I wanted to share it anyway.

What I want to say is that my neural activation happened when I imagined Ymir with a man of his age who has the same strong maternal instinct and desire to be a mother (but of a real human child), and the young servant is here to bring some symbolism and homosexuality to this club of not-so-young moms and fuck them both

Also Gideon x Ymir would be nice, RIP Nepheli <3

nOTP

None 😏

Random headcanon

Ymir had known Gideon Ofnir long ago, and they both genuinely despised Seluvis. So to say “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” They were spreading the energy of two angry high school girls around them being very mean to Seluvis lol

Gideon was very impressed of Ymir's studies and philosophy and was the one who told Ymir more about noxes and their story

Unpopular opinion

He is evil. Absolutlely manipulative. He has no good intentions. And though it was all born of a sense of pure grief for his poor Yuri, Ymir no longer has a chance for happiness, and even if he did, he wouldn't use it. If Tarnished had not killed him, he would most likely have died of natural causes, for the human body could hardly withstand the work a deity must do

^*affectionate*

Song I associate with them:

"Betray and degrade" by Seether

Favorite picture:

I am not putting here any of my beloved screenshots, we all saw that, but this is THE VIBE^

[siilvan]

fortuna redux

characters (ocs): mylène "petra" scholten de ridder, freya "mini" mactavish

summary: the medic of the 141 suddenly becomes two.

genre: general, fluff, light angst?, fem!oc

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of blood/injuries, mildly superstitious stuff, they're so sister-coded...

word count: 3k

note: “but navi we want bloodsport” i know babygirls, it’s gonna be my next post 😔 i just need to be cringe with my oc first…

also big shoutout to @sofasoap for giving me the much-needed confidence to write this AND for trusting me with her beloved mini 😌 this is going to get zero notes, but idc, i wrote it for fun lol

you let out a soft breath as you sift through documents, analyzing dossiers and combat records until your eyes burn and beg for a break. it's the season of new recruits, which means late nights, early mornings, and headaches for yourself. why did you offer to train them when price asked?

probably because ghost has a track record of sending new faces running for the hills. as the one-four-one's only other commanding officer, you're the only one fit for the job. fantastic.

after a much needed break – that consisted of you laying back in your chair with a damp cloth over your eyes – you grab the next document off the pile on your desk and scan it like you did with every other. you stop short before you even finish reading the name at the top, though.

freya mactavish.

surely, it can't be...

you flip through the pages of the dossier, blinking at the information that only served to confirm your suspicions. scottish, twenty-two years old, combat medic, has an older brother in the special forces...

"no fucking way." you mumble, staring at the picture attached to the file. you recognize her from pictures that soap's shown you over the years – she is, without a doubt, the "mini" he's told you so much about. why haven't you heard about the transfer request until now?

when you come across the combat records, the reason is glaringly clear. she hardly passed on all fronts; if she was any other recruit, this file wouldn't have even made it to your desk. she can't match the rest of the team in the field, you'd all end up slowing down to accommodate her. it's nothing that can't be fixed with dedicated training, but with how precious the task force's time is, you simply don't have the time to bring new recruits up to speed.

with a quiet groan, you push back from your desk and gather up the files on her, heading out the door and padding down the hall towards price's office.

you round the corner and spot him unlocking the door, his back facing you.

"captain!" you call out from down the corridor, catching his attention. price turns to look at you, pausing with the door held open as you approach.

"you're up early, petra." he comments, reminding you to glance at the time. five am— shit, you spent the whole night pouring over those files. "got something for me?" he continues, pulling your focus back to him.

you nod, waving the document folder at him. "i've got some questions about one of these recruits."

his eyes flick between you and the folder, before a low chuckle escapes him. "think i might know who you're talking about." he mutters, motioning for you to follow him into his office.

he shuts the door behind you and clicks the lock shut before circling around his desk and settling in his chair. you sit across from him and lay the files out, starting when he nods for you to speak.

"i'm assuming you've connected the dots between the surnames?" you ask, earning an affirmative hum. "you've known soap longer than i have, so maybe this makes sense to you, but—" you flip through the pages of the dossier and slide it towards him, pointing out the large boxes of redacted information with two companies logos plastered at the top of the page. "—i can understand mi6's involvement with this, but what does the cia want with a low-ranking british soldier?"

price leans back in his chair and drags his eyes from the document to you. "it's a long story." he shrugs, pulling a frustrated huff from you.

"come on, price, don't give me that." you reply, shaking your head. "soap's never mentioned anything like this. is there something i need to be worried about if we recruit her?"

his tongue darts out and wets his lips as he lets out a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "even i don't have all the information, scholten. all i know is that she's damn good at what she does." he sits up straight and thumbs through the dossier, glancing over it like he's already familiar with the contents. he probably is.

"you've been tripling as this team's commander, medic, and medical intelligence expert since its formation. you've already got ghost and myself to handle most of the leadership, but you need someone to help with the rest." he asserts, unclipping the picture from the rest of the stack and holding it up to face you. "you need the assistance and she's reliable. trust me on this."

you blink at the photo, then at him. "she barely passed any of the physical tests – even her marksmanship scores were average at best. there's other medics with better scores, captain. i know we cherish family on this team, but i'm not willing to send someone unequipped onto the battlefield."

price sets the picture down and sighs, low and heavy in his chest. "did you see what she's called?" he asks.

you furrow your brows at him. "something like... what was it, 'lady fortuna?' what does that have to do with this?"

"lady luck, lieutenant. she doesn't look like much on paper, but whenever she's in the field, people always come back. the only person that serves to suffer when she's working is herself." he smiles as a noise of confusion tumbles from your lips.

"never pegged you as the superstitious type," you start, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching the bridge of your nose. "that isn't reassuring, anyway. i can't risk having a soldier, especially family, die under my watch, even if it means the rest of the team makes it home unscathed."

price places a firm hand on your shoulder, jostling you and forcing you to look at him again. "it's your refusal to let her die that'll keep her alive." he mutters, and the plan in his mind finally clicks with you.

she'll keep you from working yourself to death. you'll keep her from dying in her work.

a mutual safety net.

price, you clever bastard.

"you were never going to let me say 'no,' were you?" you cock your head to the side, slumping back in your chair.

he shrugs, mirroring your position and producing a cigar from one of his pockets. "i always respect your judgement." he lights it and places it between his lips. you move to gather the documents and stand, before he snaps his fingers, remembering something. "a transport just picked her up, by the way. she'll be here in a few hours."

you pause mid-action and glower at him. "guess i should get started on the training schedule, then."

⋆⋆⋆

"corporal freya mactavish, reporting for duty, ma'am."

you eye the younger woman curiously, noticing the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, shrinking a bit under your scrutiny.

bright blue eyes, just like her brother. she's a few inches shorter than yourself, about five-four according to her files, and you feel yourself soften a bit at the glimmer in her eyes – a soldier desperately wanting to be acknowledged. again, it reminds you of soap.

"so, you're the new recruit?" you regard her with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. when she visibly relaxes from her stiff stance, you turn to price. "i'll take care of her, captain."

price uncrosses his arms and chuckles. "don't be so quick to write her off, petra. who knows, she might end up surprising you." he says, tapping your arm and giving mini an encouraging nod, before walking out of the room and leaving the two of you alone.

you turn back to her and rest your hands on your hips, silently studying her again. you don't miss the puff of her chest under her vest when she inhales deeply and opens her mouth to speak.

"you can call me mini, lieutenant," she utters, the stiffness from earlier returning, her shoulders locking up as she stands more straight. "i know i'm not much of a soldier, but..." she trails off, her gaze flitting from yours to the empty space between you.

your brows furrow as you tilt forward. "but?" you repeat, urging her to continue.

she drags her focus back to your face, but still avoids looking directly into your eyes. "my brother's told me a lot of stories about you, and... i swear, i won't disappoint you."

she's sheepish, hands flexing as she confirms her statement, and you almost let the pity you feel flash across your face. she's so similar, yet so different from her brother. every word is said like she has something to prove; to you or herself, you're not sure.

"we'll have to swap stories sometime," you start, stepping closer to place your hands on her shoulders. "soap's always going on about you, he's very proud." you assure her with a gentle squeeze. mini rolls her eyes at it, but smiles nonetheless.

"i hope he hasn't mentioned any embarrassing childhood stories..." she mutters.

you pull back, recalling the many stories the sergeant's told about his family since joining the squad. "just a few. we can share those later, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

⋆⋆⋆

you had hoped the combat records would be out of date, but to your chagrin, they reflected mini's performance well.

her shots are hitting the target... most of the time, at least. you've had to correct her stance and grip more than once, give her several basic tips— so now, you're standing behind her, eyeing the target over her shoulder, your fingers twitching at your sides as you watch her form slip again. before you can correct it, however, she pauses and shifts, fixing her posture and adjusting her grip on her rifle.

it's been three hours, but she's showing some improvement, you think to yourself, the edges of your lips twitching up.

mini lowers her gun after emptying another clip and lifts the headphones from her ears, turning to you. "what do you think?" she asks, searching your face for approval.

you take off your own headphones and step closer, squinting at the target. most of the bullet holes lie around the edges, near misses, or scattered around the torso of the silhouette. there's a handful of headshots, but for three hours of work, it isn't enough.

"you're getting better," you sigh, facing her once more. her face drops and you rub the side of her arm in a small attempt at comfort. "you just need more practice, is all. that's why i'm here."

she huffs and shakes her head, setting her rifle on the counter. "you're supposed to be leading me in the infirmary and the field, not holding my hand through the basics, lieutenant." she complains in a low grumble, crossing her arms tight over her chest. your eyes narrow as your hand drops back to your side; you know her frustration lies with her performance, not you.

mini trails close behind your right shoulder, listening intently as you rattle off the list of activities for the day. basic marksmanship, physical tests, close-quarters combat... things that the rookies even younger than her are working on.

"you aren't going to be seeing as much action as the boys or myself, but you still need to be capable enough to defend yourself if necessary." you say, stopping in front of the door to the shooting range.

she hums, standing in front of you. "i know i'm not as skilled as the rest of you, but i can hold my own." she replies, furrowing her brow.

"i'm not clearing you for duty until you show some major improvement." you assert. her eyes widen, pupils turning into small saucers, before the crease in her forehead returns.

"lieutenant, you can’t—"

"i can," you state, perhaps a bit too stern, as the rest of her rebuttal immediately dies on her tongue. "price put you under my watch for a reason. i can't in good conscience send you out underprepared." you continue, softening to a low murmur.

mini merely stares at you, the gears turning in her head. after several seconds of this, finally, she relents with a barely-audible exhale.

"let's do this, then."

the sound of an irritated groan brings you back to the moment. you look just in time to see mini lean back against a nearby wall, her head tilting back and knocking lightly against the surface. she shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, prompting you to go quiet as she steadies herself.

once her eyelids flutter open again, you speak. "let's take a break, yeah?" you give her a tight-lipped smile. "we can worry about the physical and close-combat tests later. we have plenty of time."

mini eyes you for a few seconds, deep blue irises swimming with about a hundred different emotions, cascading across the surface like waves crashing against jagged rocks during a storm. you've never seen so much conflict in soap, even in his worst times – whatever she's feeling clearly goes deeper than irritation over slow progress.

"how about we hang out? get to know each other a bit?" you suggest, brushing past the observation.

she seems to ease up at your words, her fingers interlacing in front of herself as she silently considers a response. a short, yet eager, nod of her head brings a more genuine smile to your lips.

you find yourself comfortably settled in on one of the worn couches in the common room after cleaning up the range, leaning back against the arm of the couch to face mini as you talk to her, mug of steaming tea in-hand.

"johnny's never been pleased with me following in his footsteps," she confesses after taking a healthy sip of her tea, her legs crossed under the blanket you haphazardly slung across your laps.

you hum, lowering your mug to rest atop your knee. "can't blame him. once you're in this field, you stop wanting your family close." you chuckle, before adding, "i wasn't particularly happy when my brother joined the forces, so i get where he's coming from."

mini grumbles into the rim of her cup and sends you a half-hearted glare. "i'm perfectly capable, though." she mutters, earning another curt laugh from you.

"i'm not saying you're not – even though there's still a lot to improve on – but, think about his perspective." you lean forward, motioning with your hands as you continue. "his little sister, who sounds very prone to injury and bad luck, going into such a dangerous line of work? i'm surprised he doesn't have you attached to his keychain."

you both pause, waiting to see who concedes in the argument first, before another thought crosses your mind. "speaking of luck," you start, catching the raised brow she sends your way. "ever since i read your files, i keep hearing about this whole 'lady fortuna' thing. even the captain's pretty convinced you're lucky."

another beat of silence passes as you both sip on your tea. you eye mini curiously as her eyes dart anywhere but your face, avoidant, but not nervous by any means.

"i don't want to sound like i'm bragging, especially in front of you," she trails off, only perking up again once you dismiss her concerns with a wave of your hand. "i guess, uh... i've been told that i've got this knack for bringing soldiers home unscathed, even on dangerous operations that should end with casualties. it's become something of an urban legend." she says, eyes settling on the steam rising from her cup.

"and yet, you are always getting injured. guess the luck comes at a price, huh?" you comment off-handedly.

her mug lightly clacking against the table nearby catches your focus, drawing you back to her as she wrings her hands together.

"when one person's fortune rises, another falls," she utters, looking focused as ever as the words leave her lips. "bearing misfortune is the cost of giving good fortune to those around me."

for a second, you almost think she's joking. harmless superstitions exist everywhere in life, but this is a new for you – not only is mini convinced of it, but even the captain believes it to some extent.

when her eyes drag up to meet your gaze, you feel a pang in your chest.

the zero-sum game. one party's advantage is equal to another's disadvantage. mini's misfortune is equal in value to the good fortune of those around her. what could possibly match the value of saving lives, though?

death isn't the opposite reaction; to lose the fortune entirely is a worse fate. suffering is a fate worse than death for the benefactor— it's perpetual, iterative, something that would stick around for the rest of her life. save a life and have your own ruined, it's an equal trade. you set your cup aside and reach forward to wrap your hands around hers, holding them in a loose grip.

"let's split the cost." you murmur.

mini blinks at you, confused. "what?"

you squeeze her hands gently, warming when she mirrors it. "there's no sense in one person bearing the world's misfortune alone. i'll carry some of it and you'll save some of that luck for yourself."

she shakes her head and retracts her hands, sitting up straight and leaving you leaning forward. "i don't think that's how it works, lieutenant. it's not something you can just give or take." she stutters out, stifling a nervous chuckle.

"it works that way if we say it does. you can give out as much luck as you need and we'll bear the burden of it together." you take another sip of your tea and let out a low sigh. "i won't take 'no' for an answer, from you or from fate." you add a moment later.

mini giggles, finally giving in with an affirmative nod and a "yes ma'am" escaping her amidst the giggles.

you don't believe in superstitions about luck or fate. the choices a person makes is what defines them, not a third party pulling the strings. however, if it'll bring her some comfort, then you're happy to bear whatever misfortune you can. at the end of the day, keeping your team safe is more important than shallow beliefs.

as a bright grin crosses her face, you make a silent vow with yourself.

you won't let her suffer.

whatever it takes, you'll bring her home safe.

[mysticstarlightduck]

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Thank you so much for the tag, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams!!!!

10.Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Well, in the negative sense of "haunting", I guess I am haunted by bad backstory ideas I've scribbled on a blank document at nearly midnight and that I look back at and physically cringe at the thought. But that's it - I try to write with the mindset that there isn't any bad writing, just things that can be edited later on. That has helped me a lot with my issues with perfectionism!

Now, in a positive sense of "haunting", when I get an idea I'm really, really excited about writing and thinking about, that idea follows me throughout the day - and if I'm lucky it'll grow into a writeable concept and spawn more of those ideas! So it's like a nice, curious little ghost "haunting" the back of my mind and giving me exciting new ideas to work on throughout the day! Lately, that spot has belonged to Augustus & Harriet's love story arc from my WIP Enchanted Illusions, and Evangeline Daemitya's backstory (+ family lore) from the same WIP.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

I'm not sure about which writing rule I love to ignore because my writing process is as chaotic and messy and weird as it gets - sometimes a rule that may be useless for one moment in a specific story might become my lifeline later on in the same WIP. It really depends!

However, I do know which writing tropes I love to smash, obliterate, and subvert in my stories though! (Disclaimer - My dislike for these tropes is based on my personal opinion and feelings towards them. If any of you like these tropes, that's okay too!!)

To name a few:

The Bad/Absent Father Trope - Look, I love writing some family drama as much as the next writer, but this trope has been overdone to the moon and back, especially in fantasy stories. So instead, I like to give my characters good and present father figures instead, dads who are a part of the characters' lives and want to keep them safe.

Evangeline's backstory was written with the main intent of subverting this trope - her main parent has always been her dad, who is very loving and present in her life - and is actively a part of it - having raised her basically by himself.

Miscommunication - By this, I mean miscommunication that wouldn't actually happen if the characters were being themselves and not just tools to advance the plot - especially if the plot depends on that one miscommunication to cause a big falling out with no other reason than the author wanting it to happen. I don't vibe with that.

Dark and Edgy Magic User who also happens to be an Awful Love Interest - I have a personal bone to pick with this one after some books I've recently read. If I'm going to write someone with the powers of darkness or death or the supernatural as a love interest, you can bet I'm making them secretly or openly be the dorkiest most supportive, "weird little gremlin energy" partner one could ever hope to meet. Yes, they may be chaotic murder hobos when it comes to defeating bad people/killing their enemies, but damn if they're not cheering on and being hopelessly in love with their SO! (Gomez and Morticia style!!!!) - just out of spite for the things I've read. This got very specific - I say as I look to my OC Augustus, the necromancer who fell for a (supposedly) normal girl who is also deeply weird herself. 👀

[radlymona]

(Don't post off anon) Your fandom artist reblog reminded me... I admit to being a loser & joining lots of fic exchanges and other fan creation event Discords lately, and I do NOT know how you can brush up against these spaces and not face the glaring reality that kids are picking up trans identities like emo fashion or sparkledog OCs. There are always places to pick your "pronoun role" and they're ALWAYS 50-60+% they/neopronouns. And as for the huge selection of "he"s? Sorry not to stereotype but I highly doubt a cis guy in his 20s is joining hyper fandom events to write slash fanfiction.

(Oh and also they all love to make characters trans and rape fic is progressive praxis. Of course. I feel like reading/writing porn of trans characters is its own fetish, but since they're armed with 'he/they' pronouns, it can masquerade as representation.)

(Ctd):

I completely get what you mean here and I wanted to expand about something related to this widespread gender crisis for teen girls.

While I don't want to oversimplify why there's been such a massive increase in female teens adopting trans identities, I think part of it is that it's essentially a substitute for being a part of subculture. Today's nonbinary xie/xir is yesterday's scene kid, is last week's goth kid.

The way that coming out of trans seems to spread rapidly within friend groups (I personally witnessed a version of the ROTG effect while in high school with former friends), feels like how one person would come out as goth (usually the 'leader' of the group) and then rapidly the rest of the friend group would come out as such so they wouldn't be left out of the group. It goes back to what you were saying about wanting to fit in. This isn't to say that everyone stops being goth after school/uni, but obviously let's be real - most do.

Moreover, the new names trans teenagers adopt often sound like the silly nicknames teens would use with each other in these subcultures like "blood" and "raven". I've lost the post but there was a trans activism insta page with a list of trans teens protesting the ban on puberty blockers in the uk. The list included names like "coven", which again sounds like something a 14 year old would go by in 2007 chat room. The difference is that 14 year olds now believe it's a legitimate name because of the online TRA slop they've been ingesting. It affects interests too, "Gender" was an interest a former friend of mine suddenly had, replacing all her other hobbies like writing and other creative endeavours. And I think this is reinforced by the isolation of the online spaces you've discussed above.

But the difference between becoming trans and becoming goth/scene etc. is that the former involves way more life changes, especially if you've medically transitioned. This of course promotes the sunken cost fallacy, because it's a lot more embarassing to change back to she/her pronouns after forcing your family to call you he/they for four years. A photo with a bad scene hairstyle is something you cringe at in your 20s, and laugh about in your 30s+. It's a lot harder to laugh about the time you thought you were a boy or a special genderless being.

And I have to wonder if this mass gender crisis would be as widespread if teens still had proper irl subcultures, not just online spaces to interact with other strangers who reinforce their delusions rather than naturally growing out of phases. Figuring out your identity and rebelling against social norms as an awkward teenager by adopting a dramatic fashion sense is a perfectly normal thing to go through. A 14 year old girl genuinely believing that she's a boy named Kai who needs to go on puberty blocks and cut off her breasts otherwise she'll kill herself is not.

[roboyomo]

i might not be able to ocpost in form of a new drawing today (fucking damnit) but.,,,, have this more than a year old drawing of the oc lore mc,, (his name is yaku, or okazaki yaku if you wanna use the full name). pls hold this little critter as i try to give some tiny bit of oc lore info about this guy and the main antagonist below the cut

Yaku is more of a confused and anxious guy at the start as he literally knows nothing (he just died and got to afterlife, let him have a moment to adapt). Which then gradually turns into being more serious and (mostly) collected in specific situations, while also being a big overthinker that is nervous about anything sudden happening. He is a 20 year old man that slowly forms a family bond with like. everyone at his now "forever" job (Except for a few). That same job being fucking hand-picked out of the billions of people out there to become one of the warriors at the top company of what would be "Hell" to take on many different tasks and requests, as well as the protection of the world he now belongs to. Though at the same job, Yaku is considered as 𝘵𝘩𝘦 weakest employee/warrior, literally weaker than the fighter that is a child (All because of a certain lore mechanic for those same warriors or fighters but it is,,, too much to explain in one post). All the employees were supposed to be blessed by the Gods as to truly be worth of the role that grants great responsibility for the billion of souls living in the same world they are in, and Yaku did get his blessing, Blessing of Thunder.

Moving a bit further from that, Yaku has very big attachment issues in a way that he will get emotionally attached to someone a bit toooo hard if he truly enjoys their company (literally what happened with him and all of his coworkers he loves them all so much). The problem is that one of those of coworkers is quite literally the main antagonist, Kenix or Yi Dal if you prefer his real name (has lore mechanics attached to him based off one of the Deadly Seven Sins). Yea Kenix's and Yaku's relationship is fucking complicated, especially since Kenix is Yaku's uncle (i don't have the time to explain the confusing family tree okay)

Kenix has a brain rot going on, in the quite literal sense (He is cursed and with each day, he loses his sanity and detaches from himself more and more to the point of not being able to have full control over his actions if he is just. a tad bit more insane than usual), so he treats Yaku very badly in the first story arc. He wants to feel guilt over his actions, he desperately wants to be able to feel empathy for his nephew - but with every passing day, he is forgetting about his morals as he is losing 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. Despite all that, Yaku is already way too heavily attached to Kenix as he is his relative (some heavy found family shit is going on), so he tries to see the best in him, give Kenix a new chance each time to prove that he can get better. But that is not happening any time soon, Yaku,,,,

anyways ending the ocpost at this. I am sorry if this is a cringe premise for the lore but i swear. i poured my heart into this for more than two years and it means so so SO much to me it is my most comfort thing ever, it will make sense later on with more posts like these [screaming and crying] (and if you wanna,,, you can send asks about specific oc lore parts you want to know or just the ocs in general,,, just saying)

[sojourner-between-worlds]

A Totally Unbiased* Review of Yugioh Decks I've Played

Welcome back to "Posts No One Asked For" with your host -- me! This may or may not be an attempt to get back into anything at all after a solid four weeks of grief beating me with a stick back into depression. *cough* Anyway...

*Disclaimer: I am not a pro in any sense of the word and I can openly admit some (if not all) of these decks could be better built -- especially since I've gotten better at it the longer I've played but finding the right cards decks later is a pain in Master Duel so I will probably never rebuild any of the older ones -- and that contributes. I don't play competitively so this is based entirely on what I, personally, thought of playing them. Also there is no such thing as an unbiased opinion anyway.

1.Red Dragon Archfiend: Okay, yes, the first deck I built was based on Jack's. I was brand new to playing so I wanted a deck I was at least sort of familiar with so I already knew a bit of what I was supposed to do, strategy-wise, so I could figure out the game itself. RDA and Stardust were in the same pack (I think? I went for both at any rate, but this was...years ago at this point) so I went that route and ended up with more RDA-oriented cards so that was the deck I built. I very quickly learned the appeal of a Power Deck strategy and why Jack loved it. Especially considering later support like the (currently banned) King Calamity evolution of RDA. Overall, super fun and easy to pick up combos. Rating lower than maybe it should be simply because I know I could build it better now (if I had the time and patience to dig up the right cards) but still plenty high because even poorly built it still functioned successfully. 8/10

2.Lightsworn+Chaos: Admittedly, I fell in love with this combo with a very old and cringe-y OC I made way back in the day. This was her deck, and I wanted to make it. Except that once I figured out the game, I realized the deck I had made for her originally was terrible, lol. Anyway, this one was far better (though still not great, considering). I've always loved Lightsworns and the risk that comes with milling your own deck. The problem here is, as with many older decks that main-deck high-level monsters, the chance of bricking your opening hand is decently high. In addition to main-decking high-level monsters, there are also two that can only be summoned when milled. So. Yeah. Great deck when you don't brick your opening hand, but there is a decent chance of it. Yet another deck that might have squeaked out a higher score if I took the time to rebuild it, but the cards are buried in my inventory and searching is difficult. 5/10

3.Fortune Ladies: Yeah, I swung right over to building Carly's deck. Can't remember exactly if this was the third deck I built or not, but it's some where in this area. I wanted to love it; I did. And, yes, this is -- again -- a deck that I could probably have built better and would now if I tried to rebuild it, however... It's just Not Good, from a playability stand point. When it works, it works great, but it rarely does. The "ATK being based on level" gimmick is neat in theory, but it results in a lot of low starting stats that make it difficult to keep monsters on the field long enough to benefit from it. You basically have to get lucky enough to cheat out Earth or Dark by alternate means because your lower-level gals aren't going to stick around long enough to use them as tributes (or to be able to deal damage themselves). Sorry, Carly; too unreliable. 2/10

4.Ice Barriers: Sounded fun -- that was the reasoning behind this deck. And it was! A lot of the effects are amazing, and its not a difficult deck to learn by any means. The only downer is that Trishula (9*) is Super Awkward to summon with the other monsters you have available. But then again... you have plenty of others to work with (including the 11* Trish retrain that is ironically easier to summon and that, if destroyed, special summons the original 9*), so it's not all bad by any means. I may not play this one much these days, but it was fun while it lasted. 7/10

5.Weather Painters: The art is so gorgeous on these. Unfortunately, I could never get a handle on them. I blame that a lot on how Master Duel proc's effects, in that it's not always clear what effect it's asking if you want to use. Considering how many effects proc at different times and in different circumstances... its a lot to keep track of, especially when the deck is entirely new to you. So, in trying to learn it, I was constantly using effects I did not want to use because I didn't know what effect the game was asking if I wanted to use. It might be a great, really fun deck, but I will probably never know it. 2/10

6.Time Thieves: The only Xyz deck I have ever and probably will ever build. I hated the Xyz tutorial so much that I swore I would never use them. I only built this deck because I liked the art. It was... better than I expected. Like with the Weather Painters, however, the game has a habit of prompting you to use effects without a way of checking what those effects are before you decide. There are fewer with this deck than with the WPs, however, so it was easier to keep track of as I started to learn the deck, so it was less of an issue this time around. Still, not one I revisit often, though it was interesting to experiment with briefly. 6/10

7.Aroma: Favorite deck to play, hands down. I was overjoyed when I got on a few days ago to find Master Duel had finally added the new support at the beginning of the month (it only took...like, nine months 🙄). I dunno, man, there's just something about having 14k LP and gaining and completely shutting down your opponent because of the combination of those two things. It's a blast. I love it. 10/10

8.Blackwings: Yet another deck I wanted to love but... dang it, there's too much support. I started playing with just one copy of the structure deck which... not great. I knew that from the start but I wanted to get a feel for what cards I might want to use. Didn't work, really. There are so many options I just... never finished building it. What I played, I enjoyed, and the combos are wild. But it was just Too Much to figure out for this girl, haha. 5/10.

9.Dragunity: I wanted a new deck to learn, and at this point I'm starting to run out of synchro-based archetypes that interest me and this one looked interesting enough so I went for it. I still have not really gotten into it, months down the line. I've tried it out a fair bit, but dang it, this is the first deck I've built with synchro-tuners and that has bitten me in the butt more times than it has worked for my benefit, lol. It's a different strategy than I'm used to and I need to keep playing this one to get better at it, but I just. haven't. haha. Given that I've barely begun to learn this one, the rating is probably a little off (one way or the other) from what I would give it if I'd gotten it down, but.... 6/10

[vinetae]

Full Circle

Chapter 3: Just Sex

Summary: Namjoon warns Y/n of Jimin's toxic behavior.

Still,

she can't seem to fight his charms.

Genre: Angst, Anger, Smut, Hurt no comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy!AU, Roomates!AU

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: Toxic Traits, Hurt, No Comfort (yet), Angst, yelling, cursing, fighting, sex (but not with OC and she mad bout that lol), Bars, jealousy, manipulation and just triggering things so read at your own risk!

A/n: Guys I used to struggle to get to 10k words and that took me like three days. I just wrote 16k in under 40 minutes and I'm kinda scared now..

also! Not me having a daddy kink and being raised in the south- 0___0

Le CrINgE

Anyways- Enjoy!

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3

Chapter ...

______________________________________________________________

Oh fuck. 

Oh shit.

Oh-

"My god.." Namjoon's jaw practically sinks to the floor at the scene. Jimin's body knelt between your spread thighs, tongue grazing over your aching clit as he sucks some splotchy makrs along the lengths of your thighs, His head pressed deep against your heat as he lets out a few groans. 

"Joon.." Your voice is practically gone. You couldn't think straight. Your hands had become very sweaty in a matter of seconds, as Namjoon's eyes keep on the erotic scene on front of him. Your hand is quick to tug on Jimin's hair trying to get his attention. "Mmm impatient are we?" You unwrap your legs from around his head, practically having to pry his face from your dripping cunt. 

"Babe what's wro-" Jimin's eyes resemble one's like a deer caught in headlights. You all had your jaws on the floor practically, no one daring to speak. Well, 

Until Jimin had. 

A smirk presses his lips, as his finger dances along the outer lips of your pussy, teasing your entrance by dipping the tip in and out at an annoying pace. You groan. 

"Learn to knock next time, hyung?" Jimin smirks, watching as Namjoon's throat tightens at your moans. The strain in his basketball shorts doing him no good of hiding anything.

"Learn to knock on my own apartment's front door? I don't think so, Jimin." Namjoon's eyes roll at his stupid trial. Jimin's smirk never faulters from painting his devious expression. Namjoon's eyes set on yours, silently asking if you were okay. 

You're quick to stand up, fixing your clothes before heading into the kitchen to make yourself a bowl of distracti- I mean cereal. Jimin smiles, prancing on over to join you at the dining table. "Like what you're eating, Y/n?" He questions, flashing you an innocent smile, watching as you nod silently. 

"Good." His voice lowers, leaning into your personal space bubble. "I did too." 

The clatter of the metal spoon you had been holding echoes the room as it falls into your ceramic bowl of cereal. Jimin internally smirks at that. He stands, pushing in his chair before biding you a goodbye. "Farewell, darling." He blows you a quick -yet frustratingly sexy somehow- kiss before walking out of the apartment. Namjoon comes to take his spot, resting in the chair from his long workout routine he'd just returned from. 

Silence should just be your personal song because that's all that's ever around you. 

"So.." He's quick to trail off, not sure if he's even allowed to ask you such things. You don't answer.. or deny. 

"You and... Jimin" you could hear the strain in his tone. 

"It was just a spur of the moment, Joon." You're quick to deny. 

This had been nothing but sex. 

He sighs. "I mean.. It makes sense. You two have a child together.." He couldn't hide the saddened tone in his voice. His hands toy with the fabric of his sleeveless top he'd just throw over to be a little conservative after his workout. The white sleeveless tee being torn apart by his fidgeting, jealous hands. 

"No." You stand, cleaning up your bowl of barely touched cereal. "I have a child. It just happens to be his sperm. Nothing more than that." Namjoon sighs. In some way, relief. In another, pity for you. He stands as well, walking over to start on cleaning the dishes. "Alright. It's just.. Be careful with him.. okay?" You slide the dish into the left side of the sink, flashing him a confused look. He takes in a deep breath, rubbing your shoulder in a friendly matter. 

"Jimin's not one to stick with one thing for long.. He's like a child with ADHD, but only thinks with his dick. Very smart and creative don't get me wrong but.. he's not the husband material you deserve, Y/n." You pull away from him, scoffing. 

"What if I'm not looking for husband material, Joon? Plenty of single moms out here making more than a two-income household. They're rockstars without a man so why do I need one? I don't. What Jimin and I have is just sex." You make your way down the hallway, turning around to catch his gaze once more before stating;

"That's it." 

_________________

The loud music booming through the club makes Jimin's ears ring. He sets the glass down, feeling the buzz he'd been looking for for the past half hour or so. People grinding upon each other, whispers and shouts echo through the thick atmosphere. He watches a few ladies twirl each other on the dance floor before making out with each other. He smirks. The thought immediately making his dick go hard. He stands, stumbling over a bit to the crowded area before grabbing a woman's hips, swinging along with the music and her rythm. Her hands reach back to touch his, head turning to meet with his lustful and clouded irises. He leans closer, lips dragging along the exposed skin of her neck. He could feel the way her throat vibrated at the sensation, as a moan slipped her lips. Soon he had her taken away from the crowded area to a more private and secluded place. His hands dig into the skin of her hips, as their lips lock in a passionate kiss. Hips grinding against one another's, while her hand comes up to run through his hair. He groans at the feeling, grinding his cock up against her barely dressed thighs. 

"You're so fucking hot.." He groans, lips trailing prominent marks along the side of her neck as she moans. "You're not so bad yourself.." He chuckles at the retort. "I wanna fuck you so bad." He whispers, brushing the shell of her ear with his hot breath. Her chest pitches at the motion, leaning forward to return the same gesture.

"Then do it."  

_________

Your body aches with all of it's new acquired weight. You groan, leaning over to make the small portion of your bed, getting ready to hit the hay. You finally lay down, tucking yourself into the comfort of your soft, comfy escape before a weird sensation trickles in your bottom half. 

"Gotta pee.." You sigh, standing to make your way to the bathroom. Once you're finished, you grab the bar soap to wash your hands. After you're done, you hear a slight creaking noise coming from the other side, as a fit of girly giggles soon follows afterwards. You peak out of the bathroom's frame, looking down the hall to see Jimin's door shutting, hearing the lock click in place. You sigh, making your way into the living room. Your feet stop when you notice a large figure curled up on the other side of your couch/bed, a book laid heavily in their grasp. His clear rimmed glasses frame his darkened features perfectly, as his head angles at the perfect height to get a good night's reading done. You smile, realizing that it was your bestie. 

You plop down next to him, as he chuckles, watching the couch's foam top sink down at the extra weight. You lean over, placing your head on his shoulder. "Whatchya reading?" He holds the book cover up as you read out the words. 

'1984'

He nods, fixing the book back in place so he can continue where he left off. You sigh, curling up to his broad shoulder, enjoying his warmth. His arm comes to wrap itself unconsciously around your figure, pulling you closer to his chest. You two sat there for a few minutes in the quiet comfort of each other's arms. The fireplace on low, while a plaid blanket had been thrown on top of the two of you. 

You had almost fallen asleep until a few noises sounded through the living room. Your eyes flash to Namjoon's who's ears had also perked up at the strange noises. "You hear that?" He asks, as you nod. "Sounds like a feral cat.." He chuckles at your response, countering it. "Or maybe like a dog in heat.." Your eyes meet to his before you two break out into a fit of laughter. 

"Does he always have to get girls that sound like fucking banshees?" You groan, laying back against his chest. He shrugs, not knowing his roommate's strange taste in women indeed. The room silences before he speaks. His tone is low and hushed. 

"Why did you sleep with Jimin, Y/n?" You pause, not knowing why yourself. "We didn't sleep together he just- well I was feeling really shitting at the time and he was there I guess." He nods, before continuing. "I'm sorry I wasn't there." You shrug. "You had work, Joonie. Can't quit that just because I was feeling a little down." He nods, letting silence take over for a hot second before interrupting. "You know if you ever just want to get your pussy eaten out Y/n, you can just come to me." His comment sends a wink towards you. You laugh, not taking it seriously. "Yeah right, Joon. Aren't you still dating that guy who works in the bakery? What's his name.." You snap, trying to recall Namjoon's lover. 

"Seokjin. And no, I'm not dating him. It was an experimental fucking in the storage closet, alright?" You both chuckle at the irony. 

"Even so. It'd still be weird if we fucked, Namjoon. I feel like we'd loose our bestie streak.." His body twists to face yours, a more serious expression settles around the two of you. "Y/n, I will always be your best friend before I'm anything else. I want to be here for you and support you like good friends do. That will never change, I need you to know that." 

You nod, not wanting to start a whole thing with the 'bestie benifits kinda shit'. 

He's hurt at your silence. Reaching out, he pulls your chin to meet his eyes. "Do you understand?" His tone is commanding and dark. Something you've never seen him express towards you. 

"Yeah." His eyes narrow at your choice of word. "Yes..?"

"Yes." 

"Not good enough." He bites back, a smirk tugging his lips. You don't get the jist. 

"Yes.. dude? I understand?" 

He chuckles, letting your chin go, watching your confused expressions. "Dude's not what I was looking for but.. I guess it'll work for now." 

"What, were you wanting me to call you something stupid like daddy?" 

His eyes darken at the word. "Sounds even sexier from your lips, darling." 

"Ew, Joonie. You have a daddy kink??" You watch the slight tint of red splotch on his cheeks. 

"Are you kink shaming me, Y/n?" 

"Well I aint lifting that up, now am I?" 

His chuckles deepens. "You're a little brat, you know?" 

"I'm not a brat. It's just a weird kink. Some people in the southern parts of the states call their father daddy. Their biological father!" His smirk fades at your serious tone. 

"You're being kind of rude right now, Y/n." 

You scoff at his comment. You're not rude.. You're just honest! He's dumb if he can't see that. 

"I'm not fucking rude. Rude would be me telling you how much I hate those stupid fucking shirt you wear all the time after working out. They make you look like a pasty Dorito." 

He scoffs at the bite. He stands up, taking his book in his hands before speaking; "I don't know what's gotten into you Y/n, but you need to calm it before someone drowns it for you." You rise, meeting the same height as his chin. "So. Fucking. What." His tightened lips form a smirk. 

"Check it, Y/n. This is peak brat behavior, you know." 

"I don't care! And I don't give a shit either about your damn shirts, or the way this couch feels like sleeping on a bed of nails, or how Jimin's fucking another girl right next TO ME!" His jaw tightens at this. 

"You're jealous." 

"What?"

You're jealous, Y/n." 

"I'm NOT fucking jealous. I don't give a rat's ass who that piece of shit is sticking his dick in right now!" Namjoon folds his arms across his chest, giving you a stern look. 

"Do you wanna just sleep with me tonight?" You sigh, finally feeling the rollercoaster of anger coming to a stop. You slowly nod, like a child getting lectured by their parents. 

He leans down to pick up the sheets and blankets on the couch before leading you to his room. 

Namjoon's snores hadn't been keeping you awake. It wasn't the way he sounded like a bear getting trapped under a train while it's going back and forth over the poor thing, no. It wasn't the nausea you felt every time you went to flip to another side, no. It wasn't even the fucking alarm clock that had been ticking down the moments until you had to start another fucked up day, no. 

It was the way you heard no commotion on Jimin's side of the hallway. 

No door creaking, letting you know that the skank is gone.

No moans of pleasure that let you know how well he was fucking that little whore. 

Your blood boiled at the thought of him cuddling that piece of shit to sleep. Wrapping his arms around her perfect hourglass figure. Her long blonde hair laid across his black satin pillows, as he falls asleep, spooning her in the most intimate way possible. Their legs tangled together, hinting to any other that they just had the best sex of their lives. It pisses you off at the thought of them taking a cute, coupley shower together, washing each other's backs and limbs like a fucking newly married couple. You groan, throwing the pillow over your head to silence your screams. 

It hadn't worked. 

You angerily slip out of bed, practically marching down the hall before stopping at Jimin's doorway. Your hand hovers over the door, waiting for your brain to signal the knock. 

Here comes the fucking good and evil little angels on your shoulders. 

'He's not yours, Y/n. You can't just march in there and tell her to leave. She might even be his girlfriend..'

'She slept with him Y/n. He's your baby's daddy. Are you just going to let him fuck some other girl?? What if she gets pregnant as well!'

'Don't listen to her, Y/n! Think about what's best for Jimin!'

'Don't listen to that little goody-two-shoes cunt, Y/n. Take. What's. Yours.'

Your hand shoos the little creatures away before knocking on the door three times. 

No answer.

'Try it again. We can't have that skank taking up our baby's attention! He's got responsibilities now!'

You sigh, knocking once more. 

You were about to give up before a sleepy figure cracks open the door. Her makeup is smudged, and she's wearing one of Jimin's oversized T-shirts. 

Your hands clench at your sides. 

Even after a rough fucking,

This bitch was more beautiful than a field of fresh flowers.

Her voice is low and crackly. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, smearing the black liner further into her skin. You internally smirk at the thought. 

'Hope you like milia, you fucking cun-'

"Y/n?" Jimin's voice echoes through the small corridor. 

Your body freezes at the sight. His shirt had been discarded somewhere along his bedroom floor, as his glistening abs show themselves proudly along his toned stomach. His locks having been greasy and sticking to his forehead. His eyes matched the same tiredness of hers. 

"What are you doing here?" He takes in a big breath, yawing in the middle of it. 

"Couldn't sleep. Probably the baby." You put emphasis on the word, giving the woman a glare. Her figure sends Jimin's a confused look. He pauses, not knowing how to respond. 

"Well anyways I was thinking of crashing here" You push past the two, walking over to lay on his queen sized bed. He stutters, not knowing what to do. "Y/n I don't think right now is a really good ti-" You sit up, giving him a fake confused look. 

"Don't you want me to be comfortable? After all, I AM carrying your child." He freezes. Your words directed towards the woman once more. You could see the confused bubbling up inside of her. Her eyes glance to Jimin's, meeting his statured figure. "Jimin..?" 

Shit. 

"Seina I can explain-" She scoffs, reaching over to grab her clothes from up off the floor, dressing herself properly. "No need." Her eyes glance towards you before walking out. You send her a smirk, watching her body leave the room. Jimin's eyes flash to your as you immediately change your expression to hurt. 

"Y/n, what the fuck." 

You pause. Why is he mad at YOU!?

"W-what..?" His body towers over yours, an angry expression pressing his features. "Why the hell did you do that! What is WRONG with you!?" Your heart breaks at his words. Your eyebrows knit together in pain. 

"Jimin I-" He rubs his temples, trying to simmer himself. It doesn't work. 

"I thought that you'd want an escape from her- An excuse for her to leave??" He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "If I wanted her to leave, I would've fucking asked her to. What the hell is wrong with you, huh?" Your hands clench at his tone. Tears threatening to slip from your ducts. 

"Me!? What the hell is wrong with you!' You have a family now! You can't just go off picking up whores off the streets like that!" His face reddens at your jags. "Whores!? I met her in a bar, not in a alleyway where she was selling handjobs for five dollars a jerk!" Tears sting your eyes. His breath finally calms down. 

"Y/n I said I would help you financially with the baby and stuff, but that doesn't mean you have any rights to say in who I choose to spend my nights with!" You scoff at his stupidity. 

"So what happened earlier today.. When you said you to be a good father, that you would give up drinking.." His eyes harden at your words, Hands starting to fist at his sides. You scoff at this. 

"You lied to me." 

"Y/n-" 

"And to think, I almost slept with you, you dick! I would've fucking gave my virginity to you! You know what??" 

You grab at his sheets, ripping them and tearing them apart, messing up his whole bed attire. 

"Fuck whoEVER you want, dickwad! I don't give a shit anymore! Don't you even THINK about asking for ANY parental rights neither!"

"Y/n! That's my stuff!-" You laugh hysterically. "Oh it's your stuff??? News flash, fucker! I actually bought Namjoon these sheets for last Christmas so technically it's MINE!"

"That's ridiculous, you gave it to Namjoon who gave it to me!"

You launch a pillow his way. "GO TO HELL, FUCKFACE." 

Once the room's a trashed mess, you walk towards the doorframe before turning around. 

"Fuck you, Jimin." 

You walk down the hallway, before yelling out so he can clearly hear. 

"I HOPE YOU GET AIDS FROM THAT CUNT, ASSHOLE."

[thespacelizard]

happy valentine's day! if you had to make oc specific valentines, what would they say? bonus question: would any of them do anything special for the holiday?

happy valentines fox!!

im at work rn so i can’t make those terrible valentine card things but let me throw out some bad ideas.

For Ashenivir, something like ‘I submit my heart to your love, valentine’. god i think i pulled something cringing writing that adsllsakdj

and Rizeth maybe…i can’t even think of one. he’s too serious. Love is stored in the finish your essay, valentine, before I tie you up and make you finish it.

Vizaeth… ‘My heart is yours (literally) (no, i’m serious, i have a knife ready to go just say the word)’. God, if he knew about valentines he’d just. send as many slightly unsettling cards to Pharaun as possible. Someone could send him a fake one from Pharaun and he’d treasure it forever.

Zeth’rinn is just. whatever’s the flirtiest possible thing. Even if it doesn’t make sense. ‘I’ll Bregan your D’aerthe, valentine’. what does that mean, Zeth. what does that mean.

and since I've got Rune brainrot (again), his would be like 'the fastest way to my heart is through the third and fourth rib. don't miss, valentine'

as for doing special holiday things:

Obedience boys are both kinda pretending the holiday isn’t that important and then both try and surprise each other with nice things. God, their first valentine’s, Rizeth would so overcompensate, try and have like. the Perfect Date. Flowers. Chocolate. The works. Ashenivir enjoys that stuff, but doesn’t need it.

They’re also going to spend as much time in bed together as possible, and after they’re done fucking each other stupid, Rizeth’s gonna feed Shen chocolates by hand. Because Shen’s still tied to the bed, obviously.

Whoever Zeth’s dating at the time would get treated to something elaborate. He’ll do the equivalent of ‘borrowing’ dads credit card to take someone on the fanciest, most expensive date possible. When he was with Menzova, I think he’d definitely get kinda sad to not be with her on the Love Holiday (she lives in Mythen Thaelas, and he was on the surface for a good chunk of their relationship. they seperated bc of it eventually, but it was friendly)

oh my god, additional thought: Zeth making valentines for every single Bregan D'aerthe member currently at the safehouse. Just painstakingly writing them out. Valas is bemused by this.

...i'm realising now that I think Zeth has a bit of a longstanding crush on Valas, who is never going to let anything happen because he helped raised that boy and thinks of him like a weird little cousin/step child.

Vizaeth daydreams about romantic times with Pharaun and then lies to himself about it, because love isn’t real and Pharaun hates him and romance is fake and everything is awful. he wants Pharaun to like. whisk him away to some fancy Menzo bloodsport and publically make out with him.

God, I want Rhylfein to take him on a vday date. @lawful-evil-novelist where would your boy drag his horrid boyfriend for a date?

Astarion tries to take Rune to a nice Upper City eating house and Rune mostly behaves himself, but he does snarl at a waiter for some kind of slight, and also it takes a lot of persuading to make him eat with cutlery and not his hands. they have a better time afterwards just walking to the beach in the dark, and chilling in the moonlight.

also, now you gotta tell me what the Nydalla’s are doing. how much of a valentines princess is Iphis. does he want that fancy chocolate. will he stab a bitch to get it.

[eldritch-omen]

18 FUCKING ETERNATUS TYPE SWAPS I DREW THEM ALL FOR THIS

I love my children. These are all detailed and well thought out characters even if I need to develop some more than others bc that's what happens when you have a favorite child. It's the flying types one. Camael is my favorite child.

But this took forever UUUUUGGGHHH (forever means 2 days it's a miracle I finished this. Especially bc almost all of the designs are still kinda a WIP lol.)

First one isn't type swapped, otherwise you can tell their swapped in type by the text color. Also aside from bug (who has his visor pieces on his back. They make sense in the pokemon design I SWEAR bc he's a crab they're a part of his shell) the 3 with no overlayed design pieces above the body lineart aren't real eternatus they're just allowed for character reasons and "yea close enough" woooooo. Normal's the guy baby radon (non swapped one) based their form on. They're traumatized about it. Ghost's body isn't one of an eternatus, and it's held together by a dead, lifeless core of an eternatus who had it's energy stolen and replaced with physical darkness (lore I'm not getting into bc I'm lazy). And typeless is lore I'm not getting into but with dark matter (yes the pmd enemy) now.

And then all the ones without the little rod doohickeys that turn into eter's finger heads in the emax on the overlay can't do that. They can't EMAX bc their bodies can't handle and spits out excess energy or their body doesn't ever need to go into overflow rampaging toddler mode bc they can actually handle endless amounts ykyk. The ones that can't also have "canon" in their sig move names and the others have "beam" in (at least one of) their sig moves. Unless you're normal type and don't have any sig moves. That'd be cringe.

Yeah I'd say I'm pretty normal and rational about this topic. Why would anyone imply otherwise. I'm so normal about eternatus and writing my ocs that are that obviously and I would never froth at the mouth and monstrously pounce at literally any chance to talk about them. No. Not at all.