#oc: Major King

[liamthemailman]

Disciplinary action in 3.. 2...

What do you think Jack did?

[wrylu]

got bored and drew @liamthemailman's oc, king ... i hope i drew him well enough

i can't w the cropping, apologies about that

[szynkaaa]

Pingping is very cute, I wished we got more scene with the "real" her. In chapter 5 she hides and clings onto the Destined One few times and also calls him 好哥哥 (litereally transaltion good big brother).

In my head, with Oz she is the one who freed Pingping in her fox form fangling from the tree while the Destined One was battling. And seeing as there is another girl there, Pingping clings onto Oz and calls her 好姐姐 (big sister), despite Pingping being 500+ years older than Oz.

The Destined One is having none of that :d and that's how the Red Boy figured out his weakness

me too, Pingping, me too

also love how couple seconds before that when Pingping turns around to talk to the Destined One he visibly jumped back LMFAO

[meamiki]

mira !!! :]

[flowerakatsuka]

💕 kuroba first date outfit

OC OUTFIT DOODLE ASKS!

the place kuroba and karamatsu go on their first date to is a pretty expansive garden and requires a lot of walking so the outfit they go with is on more casual comfy side. they definitely put how comfortable it is to move in to the test after having to outrun the rest of the sextuplets trying to sabotage kara's confession plans.

( also, i envision him wearing the outfit from the 2nd anime paradise cafe collab on that date. )

[lazymonth]

I do like to thank you y’all for the love you guys have for my oc, Talus. So here’s is the draw of him in the bunny suit <3

[ Warning : Sexy man in the bunny suit so— ] ↷

Idk he’s sweating because of being awkward in the uncomfortable outfit, or the high heels is killing him right now.

[i-love-ropes]

I FOUND THIS STRANGE OLD MAN ON MY LAWN

Note:

(Unknown if this is cannon in the Rope MF timeline)

HE TOLD ME THAT HE WAS LOST AND NEEDED HELP FINDING HIS WAY BACK 

SO I AGREE TO HELP HIM

AND WHILE WE WERE WALKING HE TOLD ME ABOUT HOW HE IS A WAR MAN, A LEADER AND FOUNDER OF SOMETHING

I DON’T REMEMBER!

AND WITH WAR BEING ALL ABOUT SURVIVAL

I TOLD HIM THAT ROPES ARE GREAT TOOLS IN SURVIVAL SITUATION

BECAUSE IT’S TRUE!!!

DID YOU KNOW ROPES CAN BE USED AS A MAKESHIFT SLING FOR YOUR ARM?

IT CAN ALSO BE USED TO BUILD SHELTERS

IN MANY WAYS!!!

IF YOU HAVE A TARP, YOU CAN TIE IT BETWEEN TWO TREES AND PUT THE TARP ON TOP OF IT. AFTER THAT, YOU SPREAD THE ENDS OF THE TARP TO MAKE A TENT SHAPE AND NAIL OR HAVE SOMETHING HEAVY TO KEEP THE CORNERS DOWN

IF YOU DON’T HAVE A TARP, YOU CAN GATHER A BUNCH OF TWIGS AND USE TWO TWIGS TO MAKE A TRIANGLE SHAPE FROM THE GROUND TO TOUCHING EACH OTHER AND DO THE SAME ON THE OTHER SIDE, MAKE SURE THE TOP OF THE TRIANGLE CROSSES EACH OTHER A BIT. AFTER THAT PLACE A TWIG ON TOP OF BOTH TRIANGLE AND TIE A ROPE WHERE THE TWIGS TOUCH. AFTER THAT USE THE REST OF THE TWIGS TO FILL THE EMPTY SPACE BETWEEN EACH END OF THE SHAPE. USE LEAVES, OR ANY MATERIALS (I PREFER ROPES) TO COVER THE TOP AND TO COVER ANY HOLES THAT SHOWS THEMSELVES.

IT COULD BE USED TO SUSPEND YOUR FOOD IN THE AIR, SO IT MAKES IT HARDER FOR WILDLIFE TO STEAL YOUR FOOD.

YOU CAN ACHIEVE THIS BY-

(The rest was cut off. Simplified: you can also use ropes to fish, make snow shoes, build floating vessels, start fires, and make snares.)

WHILE I WAS TALKING ABOUT ROPES, HE INTERRUPTED ME!

WHICH IS VERY RUDE BY THE WAY!

I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF TALKING ABOUT ROPES!!!

HE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT NEEDING TO GO TO THE BATHROOM AND THEN STARTED RUNNING

HE’S BEEN GONE FOR A WHILE

I’M TYPING THIS WHILE HE’S GOING

IF I’M BEING HONEST HERE,

HE’S VERY LOUD.

(Link to the sequel at the Kirby OC tournament)

@quanblovk

[deckofcardau]

Here's Day 11/12!!

Remember when it was mentioned that Peter sneaks into Dice's dreams to protect him? No? Well, regardless, this was one of the dreams canonically.

Fun Fact: Peter's uniform here suggests he's an O-5 in the US Navy :)

[einsatzzz]

art time-lapse of this piece that i posted in IG b4 to try out doing reels. i really like how this turned out overall plus "yasashii suisei" (link for eng tl) really fit the vibes so im queueing this here too

[mantisgodsart]

Finally... posting our Art Fights to here. These two are our only finished pieces to be on full-sized pieces of watercolor paper, so we're grouping them up together. Also, coincidentally, the first two attacks we did this year. Thélo from @danspectorboy and Greenflight from @opossauce.

[wildflowercryptid]

the daughter of the king, xerneas's beloved child... she loved all pokémon, but floettes were undoubtedly her favorite...

[liamthemailman]

*puts them into your hands* be gentle with them

transparents under the cut so you can put them wherever you want

[supermarine-silvally]

Yara, which emperor of the sea would you have taken on if given the chance?

"He had my mother and grandfather killed. Liberating Wano is personal for me. ...He's got a cute son, though."

Ask Yara (or any of my OCs) anything!

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @chazz-anova @josephslittledeputy @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @adelaidedrubman @voidika @onehornedbeast @thewanderer-000 @corvosattano @derelictheretic @ec-10 @carlosoliveiraa @minilev @nightbloodbix @purplehairsecretlair @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @josephseedisdaddy @neverthesameneveranother @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @henbased and @ladyoriza

As usual three songs for three stories/characters/themes below.

First song up is for Abigail Emmet, the mother of Mario, and just as much as a terrifying alien soul-and-meat-eating shapeshifter as he is. She's been around for a while, even hitching with the Van der Linde Gang as the third founding (adult) member, sticking with it until she and Molly got the hell out of there after witnessing the effect Hosea's death had on Dutch and Micah being a rat. Saddening that Abigail outlived Molly (given her alien origins), but she never once stopped thinking fondly about the O'Shea poet, even when raising Mario. This song absolutely details her longing for Molly, while also letting go for the sake of Mario.

"Lately, I've been waking up In a dreamy state, calling your name Stayed up too late just thinking of you Now I'm knocking on every door 'Cause I heard you moved from twenty-two Has it been that long? I guess time just flew

I've got voices in my head and there's a deafening silence I've got voices in my head and I can't lie

I've been holding on to pieces Swimming in the deep end Tryna find my way back to you 'cause I'm needing A little bit of love A little bit of love, I need a little love Just like the air I'm breathing These open wounds ain't healing Tryna find my way back to you 'cause I'm needing A little bit of love A little bit of love, a little bit of love A little bit of love

I tried to fly but I used my wings too soon Now everything got me thinking of you I tried a million times to cut you loose."

Next up, a song for Silva's Hope and maybe a bit of Old Dusk, the two main stories for Silva in Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. I think it just fits the religious themes found in the fics' and the game, but also twisting it to reveal the darker and lighter aspects that not only come off as seductive but reveal what's exactly underneath the surface of the Voice's Prophecy and the Collapse, and whether it's better to choose the safer path and obey the prophecy while risking loss of identity and restricted by extremely controlling expectations that are unrealistic or take the risk and step out of the status quo for the sake of having the freedom to choose and to defy a fate other's push onto themselves and their neighbors, all the while having to contend with the possibility of being lost in the unknown.

"Call me wild, drinkin' up the sunshine Be my man and show me what it feels like Denim sky, unbuttoned down the middle Spillin' out little by little

Tiger on the prowl East of Eden Comin' for you now

Keep me from the cages under the control Runnin' in the dark to find east of Eden Keep me from the cages under the control Runnin' in the dark to find east of Eden

To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

If I wanted to stay You don't mind, you're a true believer (True believer) Take it up with the badlands Creep on in like a concrete fever

If I wanted to stay You don't mind, you're a true believer (True believer) Take it up with the badlands Creep on in like a concrete fever."

And finally something for the antagonists. Ranging from the charming yet arrogant Edward Carmine to the callous and controlling Zachariah from The UnTitledverse. From the hypocritical monster that is Father Adam Omar to the fatalistic pessimism that fuels Paul Yellowjack's miserable self-loathing in Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. From the Court King who wants to conquer his worlds back, to the Director of the Midnight Rise, Sir Enigma Malvolio, who brings despair wherever his expeditions take him throughout Life, Despair & Monsters. From the well-meaning extremist Xiang Ba'al to the Mad God of Carnage himself, Discord in the originals works that will diverge from Wings And Horns. There are many more of interest, but the list is as tall as the rest of my original characters. But one commonality can be found with these characters... a question that evades an answer... will they ever be satisfied after reaching their goals? Or... will they go further until they've crashed and burned?

ALSO! TW: There is brief mention of suicidal idealization in one verse with probably more mature themes hidden in the lyrics. Just putting it out there to be weary listening and reading.

"I was pulling out my hair The day I got the deal Chemically calm Was I meant to feel happy That my life was just about to change?

One life pretending to be The cat who got the cream Oh, everybody said, "Marina is a dreamer" People like to tell you what you're gonna be It's not my problem if you don't see what I see And I do not give a damn if you don't believe

My problem, it's my problem that I never am happy It's my problem, it's my problem on how fast I will succeed

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life?

High achiever, don't you see? Baby, nothing comes for free They say I'm a control freak Driven by a greed to succeed Nobody can stop me

'Cause it's my problem if I wanna pack up and run away It's my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway It's my problem, it's my problem if I feel the need to hide And it's my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? Are you satisfied with an easy ride? Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

Sad inside, in this life Unsatisfied, praying Sad inside, in this life Unsatisfied, waiting

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? Are you satisfied with an easy ride? Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied? Are you satisfied?) Are you satisfied? Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied?) Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied?) Are you satisfied? Black, white."

[thekingofthenameless]

Day 1: Again

Length: 2.3K

Cws/Tws: Major (Temporary) Character Death, mentions of blood and wounds, non-consensual drugging

Ao3

Author’s note: started another thing! :D I'm not sure how consistently this will be updated since I'm still working on Flufftober 2024 lol. I also have plans for Whumptober after both of these. I may be cooked y'all /hj

Charlie:

“Merlin- please, I can’t do this again,” he begs, quickly shifting into his human form and pressing his hands to his familiar’s side.  It’s futile. Golden blood flows underneath his fingers, staining Merlin’s clothes, and his heart hurts. It’s an ache, cracking into a chasm too wide for him to cross, even though it will be journeyed through soon enough if he can’t save his companion, and he knows this is how Merlin feels when it’s him dying, even if he’s healed in the end because of his father. “Charlie,” Merlin whispers, somehow still awake. “It’s all right,” he continues, trying to soothe him even though he’s dying, dying underneath his hands, and he can’t do anything but watch because he’s not a god, not even a wizard, no magic flowing in his veins like Merlin. “No, it’s not,” he whimpers, sudden tears spilling down his cheeks, and he can barely focus on the strange sensation of crying, until his vision begins to blur and his body wracks with involuntary sobs. “Please- please stay awake. You’re going to be fine.”  Merlin’s hand reaches up to cup his face, stroking his cheek, touch gentle even now. “We’ll both be all right,” he murmurs, almost as if he didn’t hear his words. “I love you.” Merlin’s breaths are slowing, eyes slowly closing, and the pain in his heart worsens somehow (it makes sense, too much sense). He gives up on staunching the blood flow, hugging his father close as a grief-stricken wail comes from his throat. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I love you. His companion’s breaths stop. He doesn’t even realize at first, because he was trying to keep some semblance of calm (even though it was too late for that) until Merlin- and now he’s- He sobs harder, burying his face in his familiar’s shoulder, one of the few places not stained golden. Merlin’s dead, and it eats him alive, tears him apart into tiny pieces as grief consumes him. He can’t be comforted by them being together again until it happens.  He cries until he runs out of tears. He feels… hollow, now. How long has it been? Shouldn’t he be dead? Slowly, he releases his hold on Merlin, gently laying him onto the grass, and even that’s stained. His father’s expression is peaceful despite everything, how he’d died, how he’d gotten hurt- and he doesn’t- he doesn’t remember how it happened. It doesn’t make any sense, but all he remembers is begging, shapeshifting and attempting to staunch the wound, not how it came to be in the first place, what happened leading up to this. Why doesn’t he remember? At least he can ask soon. He wipes away what tears he can before shifting back to his true form, curling around his companion as much as he can and laying his head on his stomach. He can’t let anyone desecrate his father’s body, even if it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone around at the moment. People are already so invasive while he’s alive. Why would death stop some of them? He closes his eyes, knowing his own death will come shortly. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears a voice: “Charlie. Come back to me.” It’s too faint for him to decipher; he opens his eyes, and he isn’t dead- why isn’t he dead? He can’t still be alive, can’t be drawing breath without Merlin for this long. Their souls are intertwined. Why isn’t he- Merlin’s still under him, and his body is cold now. Why isn’t he dead? “Charlie,” the voice murmurs again. “Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” It isn’t Eleanor, at least, since her voice isn’t as deep or masculine, but why hasn’t she taken him yet?  He’s so tired. Why isn’t he dead?

He slowly moves away from Merlin to look at his leg, to make sure his mark is still there, that some wicked magic didn’t happen out of nowhere and sever their bond, so that he would keep living after Merlin’s death. It’s still there. It’s still there, so why is he- Is Merlin’s? The bliaut his father has on blocks him from seeing if it remains or if it’s disappeared, and the only way to know is to remove it. He’ll- he’ll understand, he’ll forgive him, even if someone simply touching him when he’s not expecting it is enough to make him startled, even if he’s hated his clothes being taken off, no matter the reason, since that day. His stomach churns, but he has to do this, has to know why he’s alive. The voice hasn’t spoken for a few moments, and he has nothing to guide him. He unsheathes his claws, and they cut through the bliaut easily. Gripping the fabric in his teeth, he gently pulls it away, revealing soft skin. It’s still there, still a lighter brown than his skin, like his is lighter than his fur. Their bond isn’t severed. Their souls are still intertwined. Why is he not dead? His wings flutter, not quite shaking, not yet, and he knows he should petition another god- someone, anyone, but he’s too shaken to think of anything that might resemble a prayer. Merlin’s dead, and he’s still alive and he doesn’t know why- “Charlie!” The voice suddenly shouts, and magic grips him gently even though he can’t see it. Then a hole opens under him, and he doesn’t have time to take off, much less fly away, before he’s falling. He falls, falls, falls, and the only light is his own glowing, and flapping his wings is as futile as when he tried to staunch Merlin’s wound, and thinking of that makes his heart hurt again (but the pain’s never left, really, settling in his chest). Then he feels nothing. Consciousness slowly returns, and his body is on some kind of hard surface. He feels drained, so drained, worn to the bone. His head aches, but the pain in his heart seems… better, and he doesn’t know how. Merlin’s dead. Soft hands are cupping his face, he realizes, and his head is in this person’s lap. Merlin would do this.  The pain worsens, grief sinking its claws into him. He can pretend it’s Merlin’s gentle touch, Merlin’s lap, if he doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t look into the face of whoever else is kind enough to touch a worthless dragon. The person feels him waking even though he isn’t moving, and they relax in relief. Why do they care so much? They don’t love him. They don’t know him.  Maybe they’re deceiving him with kindness before they kill him. Maybe they’re the one who murdered Merlin. Maybe they want to use him as a weapon. None of the possibilities he thinks of are enough to make him move. How can he? Merlin’s dead, and he’s alive.  Gods, he wants to hear his voice more than anything, nuzzle him and lay his head in his lap while his father strokes his face. Merlin would be fine if their roles were switched. No, he wouldn’t. He’d be able to get up and not let grief crush him in its jaws, and he wouldn’t be lying on a stone floor in the gods know where, letting himself be comforted by a stranger and pretending it’s his son. Yes, he would. The grief would tear him apart, and he’d be irreversibly shattered, just like he is. He can’t do this. Why isn’t he dead? “Charlie?” The voice softly calls after a while. (Or maybe it hasn’t been that long, only seemed like it.) Gods, he’s already going mad, because he’d swear on his life that they sound exactly like Merlin, and it isn’t him. He slowly opens his eyes, not knowing what to expect. Merlin looks down at him, hair still up in its ponytail, locs the same length and thickness from what he can see, the three scars on his face unchanged. His nose and beard are the same, glasses on his face, earrings in and necklace on his neck. His bliaut is the same green, cape the same blue, clasps the same silver, dragons still engraved in them. 

But it’s not him.  If he had any strength, he’d shy away, demand why this imposter was taking on Merlin’s form so soon after his death, if they were the one who killed his father, why their bond is still intact and yet he draws breath. “Oh, Charlie,” the imposter murmurs, seeming concerned. “What happened?” Is his grief really that obvious? Of course it is. Merlin’s dead, and someone is wearing his face and body and they don’t understand why he’s upset. “You’re not him,” he finally whispers.They pause, clearly not expecting him to see through their ruse. “What do you mean?” They ask a moment later, and their confusion looks just like Merlin’s, but he won’t fall for their tricks. “Merlin’s dead,” he snaps, even if he’s unable to raise his voice, too exhausted to. To their credit, they don’t even pause. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what you saw, but it’s me. I promise.” He shakes his head, unable to produce any further rebuttal. Speaking and thinking coherent thoughts both feel like a burden too heavy to bear. “How can I prove I’m real?” They ask softly, offering. They’re not offended in the slightest. Could- could it really be Merlin? Why doesn’t he remember what happened? Why doesn’t blood stain his clothes? And why are they here instead of the forest? He stares at the imposter- but maybe they’re not one. He can’t think of any questions, of any way to prove that it’s really Merlin. “How about I tell you what I know?” When he doesn’t object, they continue. “Your full name is Charlemagne William Ambrosius. Your birth parents abandoned you when you weren’t growing fast enough for them. A bear would have eaten you, but I saved you. I raised you. I named you. I watched you take your first steps, heard your first words, taught you how to fly. I helped you learn how to hunt when you got older. And when I started getting sick, you took care of me. “You’re my son. You’re my companion, familiar, and best friend. Nothing could ever change that. I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you.” Snow-white magic comes out of the hands still on his muzzle, soothing his headache, making his body and heart feel less heavy. An imposter wouldn’t have the same color of magic. An imposter wouldn’t know all those details; they wouldn’t even know his full name. It really is Merlin. He nuzzles his father’s chest frantically, breathing in his scent of vanilla and lavender as Merlin hugs him tightly. “You died,” he whimpers, sure he’d be crying if he could. “Shh. Shh. I’m right here,” Merlin murmurs, pressing kisses to his head. “I’m so sorry you saw that.” Finally, he calms, the storm of emotions slowly dying down. Merlin lays down, uncaring of their surroundings being stone, and he follows suit, resting his head on his father’s chest. Silence, far more peaceful than before, encompasses them. They stay like that for a while, just… cuddling, taking solace in each other, and gods, he never wants to go through something like this again. ”What happened?” He asks quietly. “You were drugged again,” Merlin answers after sighing softly. “It was intentional this time. Some bastards drugged every deer where you were hunting, so no matter which ones you ate, they’d succeed. Then they brought you here.” His father’s hands clench in his fur, and he nuzzles his companion, knowing Merlin was as distressed as the first time he was drugged. Merlin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Must’ve have had a wizard in their ranks to get you here in the first place. I don’t know what they made for you to see me dying, unfortunately. Maybe it was an illusion of your worst fear?” He says the last part softly, like he needs to say it, but doesn’t want to exacerbate the experience. “…I’m not scared of you leaving me,” he responds after a moment, and it’s true.

“You’re not scared of me intentionally leaving you,” his father quietly counters, and he suppresses a shudder, burying his face in his companion’s chest as the all too fresh memories flash through his mind. Something gives him pause once he regains control. “Why don’t you know what was in the drugs? Or any of their names?” Merlin flushes a little, sheepish. “I might have… killed them before I interrogated them any.” “Very practical of you,” he responds, staring at him, and Merlin stares back like he’s being audacious. “Oh, like you have the right to say anything about that, Charlemagne ‘please, please, please let me kill that person because they looked at you wrong’-” He raises his head, nuzzling Merlin’s neck in the spot he knows is ticklish, and his father shrieks before dissolving into helpless giggles. “All right, I’m sorry,” he laughs, trying to shove him off, but to no avail. He takes mercy and relents soon enough, partly because another question came to mind. “You could just revive them,” he tells his companion, tilting his head as he looks down at him. “So why don’t you seem to want to?” Merlin sighs, sobering. “I don’t want to deal with them anymore. Not after they hurt you like this.” He nods, understanding. He doesn’t want to either. But for all they know, there could be more people dealing with that drug than inside these walls. Practicality matters more. Maybe they could bring in a few of the other gods to deal with them. If they were told what happened, they’d be all too willing to help with this. But… they can worry about it later.  For now, he readjusts his position on Merlin’s chest, and his father’s hands begin to stroke his muzzle again. He closes his eyes, letting out a small purr. Merlin is all right, and that’s all that matters.

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer

[boyybites]

Wanna do a species sheet or two of the races/species that live in my ocverse, I literally have the world map drawn out all I'm doing now is putting down names and using the map to figure out the lore and shit.