#oc: estella

[judesmoonbeauty]

My friend dropped this gift in my inbox when I was asleep. It’s such a sweet surprise first thing in the morning. My 2nd OC - Este. ⛓️🦋

A bit of lore about the black butterfly: This is Este’s soul after it has become fully corrupted. Her butterfly (soul), can consume the butterflies of the dead (their souls). Essentially, when she soul reads, she collects all memories, emotions, intentions etc. In time, her soul will warp and she’ll die coughing up and choking on the malice she’s consumed over many years. This is her metamorphosis. Her curse is based off the mythology of Psyche and other butterfly folktales.

Comm credit: @ reliafutu on X

[risingsh0t]

for the initial asks: f or e?

hehe thank you shell!! 💖

faye chapel: star trek. she's a xenobiologist and the younger sister of canon character, christine. always feels like she's in her successful sister's shadow and that's caused a huge rift between them... made even larger by the fact that faye decided to join the discovery crew when they permanently jumped ~900 years into the future. she struggles with coming to terms with her decision.

fitz: he was literally born like 2 days ago LMAO, so still a wip! dbd again <3 an android historian from the future. he's on the run from his creator, but ends up in the realm thanks to him.

elodie tabris: my dao warden. she's fiesty, she's full of guilt. everyone in the party helps her better comes to terms with who she is and what she's fighting for. and ofc she survives. she gets a happy ending with zev, so help me god.

estella hawthorne: my captain from the outer worlds. she's very charming, but also very goofy. she was previously a hacker, so it's still pretty new for her to be a leader and the Face of something. but she discovers she's kinda good at it.

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr Day Fifteen: Memory Loss

Fandom: Original work (secret of Brightwater) One day I shall figure out a plot for this story.

Word count: 700ish

__

Izzy sat at the edge of the camp. It was a quiet night, the evening bustle of the camp having settled into the slow comfort of nighttime. She could hear the soft pops of the dying fire not far away, as well as soft noises from the nocturnal animals in the trees surrounding them. 

Above, the stars glowed in a powerful light, casting the world in a strange, unearthly glow. The mood was just visible, peering over the tops of the trees and Izzy stared at it for a long time. It had shone in the sky for as long as she could remember, but every time she saw it she felt a strange awe, like it wasn’t something she was used to seeing. 

As long as she could remember wasn’t really an impressive feat anyway. 

Tonight was a good night, at least--she was pretty sure it was. When you can’t remember one day to the next reliable, it was hard to tell what was good and what wasn’t. But she remembered a lot. She remembered her name, she remembered why she was at this camp. She remembered that she often forgot. 

None of that was sure. So she would take the good and enjoy it. 

She was writing in her notebook, capturing the quiet evening while she could. Maybe tomorrow she would wake and this whole night would be gone, never to return. Best hold onto it while she could. 

Someone moved behind her and Izzy jerked her head up, glancing behind her. A shadow moved across the ground between her and the fire. 

“Hello?” she called softly. 

“Oh. Izzy.” It was Estella, slipping through the quiet camp. She shifted her route and moved to stand beside the log Izzy was seated on. “I didn’t see you there.” 

Izzy hummed, adding the note to her book. Estella joined me. I don’t know much about her yet, and I don’t think I ever have. 

“What are you doing wandering around so late?” Izzy asked. 

“Bathroom,” Estella said with a long sigh. “I was trying to find my way back to my tent.” 

Izzy nodded. Then she shifted slightly to one side, as though making room on the log, even though there was plenty. An invitation. Estella accepted it, taking a seat beside her. 

“Is it always so… rough,” Estella said with a sigh, running her hand through her hair. With a sidelong glance, Izzy could see it was lose but lightly curled. Well kept for. Her own hair was kept short, and was unmanageable enough as it was. 

“I’m not really the best person to ask about that,” Izzy said dryly. “But from my memory, yeah. That’s part of what you signed up for.” 

Estella sighed, a long, drawn out sigh. Izzy hid a smile. 

“How long have you been here?” she asked after a moment. 

“I’m not sure,” Izzy admitted. While it was a good day, there were still…gaps. There always would be, she supposed. Always gaps about what happened before, how she ended up lying on the side of the road with no memories. 

Gaps about her childhood, about how she had come to be here, about who…

“You’re not sure?” Estella asked. 

Izzy nodded. 

“My…my memory comes and goes.” She waved a hand, pen still in it. “Gets frustrating.” 

“Oh. I imagine so,” Estella said. Izzy hid a grim smile, unsure if anyone could imagine what it was like to be unable to rely on your own memory. 

“Makes it hard to hold onto anything.” Usually, she would open up so much so quickly. Especially not to someone she hadn’t written about in her book. But there was something about the moon-lit air that made it easier to speak. 

Maybe tomorrow she’d have forgotten about this conversation altogether. 

“Sometimes I wish I could forget some things,” Estella said softly. Izzy glanced sideways at her, trying to remember exactly when she had joined the group. Recently, she knew. She was a friend of Ronan’s. From his past. 

It wasn’t coming, and she knew trying to force the memory wouldn’t help. If she even actually knew to begin with. 

“Everyone wants what they don’t have,” she said. Estella hummed quickly, and the two of them sat together in companionable silence as the night drew on. 

[desrukia]

hai im hab and i dm and play and stuff.

tag for the campaign i dm is #desrukia

most other things will be tagged #dmref or #genref

tags for any of the pcs in the campaign i dm will be #pc: name

tags for any npcs in my campaign will be #npc: name

tags for any of my personal pcs when im not dming will be oc:name

keep up...

[eatyourmaker]

The ocs I previously mentioned

Esther and Estella, the twin stars.

Both are dead, and have been sacrificed to the eyes

Now they cast a haunting presence over the town, mainly the old mansion on the hill, the forest and Skid's house.

They were traumatized in their death, and so often end up scaring people in accident by lashing out and causing some serious hauntings. But they're good girls at the end of the day and would get along well with Skid and Pump.

They have a crippling fear of adults though

I don't even have to state the source of inspiration for these two, y'all already know 😭

[kingspacebar]

Everypony loves a good sparkle

[jarbaje-dump]

upcoming project protagonist sketches (2/2)

[queercontrarian]

Eris Week OC Project: Estella

Estella was created by @sarawritestories for her All Too Well Series.

She's from the Night Court. She's kind, loyal and fiercely protective of her loved ones. She loves music and animals, two things over which she and Eris can bond with each other.

@erisweekofficial

[the-weirdos-mind]

Bad

Estella: This is bad… this is really bad!

Ace: Dude, what is it?

Estella: I kissed Jamil

Ace: Whoa, I owe Deuce so much money

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @fair-night-starry-tears @queen-of-twisted @achy-boo @abyssthing198 @fiendishfan

[illastrologist]

Estella-Marie Audrey

reblogs > likes

[judesmoonbeauty]

Estella Wist ཐིཋྀ

Introducing my second OC: Estella Wist.

Art: Neka site

Height: 5’5 Birthdate: 4/9 Nickname: Este Hair Color: Pastel misty purple Eye Color: Glassy Gray Markings: She has a beauty in between the left corner of her eye and nose. Weapon of choice: Baseball bat, Anything sharp. Likes: Social functions, cozy nights at home and black nail polish. Dislikes: Being in confined spaces.

Ships with: Ellis Twilight Ship name: Elles (Pronounced like: L’s)

Curse: The Butterfly taken by the mythology of Psyche and other folktales.

Ability: When people die, she can see their souls in the form of butterflies, and the condition of the butterflies (souls). She can then extract everything that makes up their souls, such as thoughts, feelings, memories etc. When she extracts from them(essentially information gathers), she’s feeding her own soul (butterfly), much like a butterfly sucking on nectar.

Fated End: Her own soul (her butterfly), will become warped and blackened from her soul-feeding on the departed, ultimately facing death.

Personality: She is an ambivert, but leans closer to the extroverted side. Very fun, outgoing, interested in people, kind and crazy.

Crown Relationships:

Ellis: She adores Ellis. She loves him very dearly. Since Ellis sometimes gets anxious about his past and certain memories he can't seem to recall very well, she does her best to soothe him. He was pretty taken aback by how bluntly asked him to *ahem* be her lover, but he agrees anyway. Este loves accompanying Ellis on his missions because.......she gets to read souls........ a lot.

Jude: He views her like an annoying, loud pest sister. He thinks she's almost as crazy as Ellis, and he hates the fact that she calls him Judy. He finds her ability quite handy for intel gathering, and he's disturbed that she does everything in her power to help Ellis make Jude happy so she can eventually read his soul and see it's form. Still, he'll protect her if he needs to do so. After all, Jude thinks Ellis & Este suit each other.

Isla: Isla is Este's first true friend, and even though Isla tries to avoid Este as much as possible at first, circumstances make that impossible. Este often tries to get Isla involved with school activites, as Este is the leader of the fundraising club. No matter how odd Este is, Isla accepts her and treats her with respect and kindness. Still, she tries to curb Este's desire to help Ellis make Jude happy.....

Roger: She gets on quite well with Roger the way Isla does, but for different reasons. While she doesn't want to suffer her fate, she now has Ellis who promises to end her before that happens, so she doesn't really care if her curse is broken or not. Essentially, she likes Roger because he has a soft spot for Ellis, and anyone who likes Ellis is okay in her book.

Harrison: She doesn't engage with Harry too often, not that she doesn't like him, but because he can detects when she lies. Not that she is a liar in general, but she doesn't like confessing the truth about how she really feels sometimes. While Este is outgoing, her mind is fragile like a butterfly wing. Being read so easily isn't a fun past time for a soul-reader.

Liam: Este's second real friend. When these two social butterflies meet, they quickly become BFFS. Liam also picks up on when Este is not feeling like herself as he does with Isla, and he listens to her. The two have a lot fun shopping together as well, and like trying out cosmetics together.

Victor: She loves Victor as the leader of Crown (especially since he encourages her evil), and adores his cooking. Sometimes though, she has issues with how secretive he can be, but ultimately, he loves his Crown boys and he adores Ellis, so anyone who loves Ellis is again - okay in her book.

Alfons & Elbert: She thinks Elbert needs to eat more. Like a lot more. She is often trying out new recipes and bringing them to him to eat, while Alfons tries to tell her it's a waste of her time since. While she doesn't mind Alfons on the whole, she doesn't care for his nonchalant attitude sometimes. They bicker quite a bit. And Elbert usually has to tell them to quiet down.

William: She thinks that William is someone to be looked up to since he often wants others to experience freedom. Este and William will paint each other's nails and William will often give her advice when she feels like she is being confined by her thoughts.

Vogel Relationships: (TBD)

Well, well, this turned out to be way more than what I thought it would be, but I've been cooking Estella for a while. I just haven't had anytime to actually pan out the details of her curse or who she is. I am very excited for her character as she is instrumental in Isla's lore. Now, I just need to spruce up my precious Isla.

[risingsh0t]

KERENZA, sw | OSCAR, rdr

CLIO, sandman | ESTELLA, tow

WREN, dc | NICOLE, st

thank you @confidentandgood & @dihardys for tagging me to use this really cute picrew! 💗

tagging @chuckhansen @indorilnerevarine @shellibisshe @jackiesarch @loriane-elmuerto @queennymeria @arklay @belorage @aartyom @girlbosselrond @florbelles @marivenah @leviiackrman @unholymilf @fenharel @roofgeese @shadowglens @denerims if you want to!

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr Day Ten: Whipping

Fandom: Original Work! Secret of Brightwater again. My boy Ronan backstory, as well as meeting two, arguably three, of the most important people family members he's got.

Word count: 1,741

___

The dawn air was cold, and Ronan’s breath billowed out in front of him like smoke. He huddled deeper into his thin cloak, wrapping it around the threadbare cloth that served as his clothes. The sun wasn’t even fully up, and fog filled the grounds. 

He shuffled along with the other slaves, woken up before first light unexpectedly. They were still yawning, eyes rubbed, faces drawn and bleary-eyed. But all dozen of them had been pulled out of bed. 

Ronan wasn’t sure why. He’d learned asking questions was never useful though. For now, he shuffled along in the midst of the other slaves, listening to the muffled discussion of their guard. 

“Any idea what’s happening?” someone asked. Ronan shook his head, not wanting to answer. He was still new here, still finding his place in this manor. He’d arrived about a month ago, bought and sold like property, put to work in the small fields around the manor. 

He still hadn’t figured out the dynamics of the place. There were three hired guards, and under them two head slaves, in charge of half a dozen men each. For now, Ronan’s main efforts was to keep his head down and avoid being noticed. 

Usually, it worked. But usually they weren’t dragged out of bed before the sun even rose into a freezing morning. The ground crunched with ice as he walked over it. 

They were led to the back of the manor, a place he had passed many times but never really stopped at. It was a area separated off by a row of hedges, and in the center a small platform. Here, a crowd had gathered--all of the people on this property, Ronan realised. He’d never seen everyone in one place before. 

He found his place among the fieldslaves, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to keep as much warmth in as possible. Across the square stood the house slaves, mostly maids and cooks, huddled together. One of them--a middle aged woman, was clearly struggling not to weep. A third group made up the hired men--mercenaries, scribes and other higher up servants. Paid. Not owned. 

Standing on the platform stood Lord Bloodborne himself. Ronan had seen the many only a few times, a large, imposing figure with a full, black beard. He rarely visited the fields but when he did, made it clear the slaves were beneath him. Ronan had once seen him strike a man for even looking at him. 

He fought the instinct to lower his gaze. 

Beside Lord Bloodborne stood a girl, probably around Ronan’s age. Her dirty blonde hair was long, flowing the entire way down her back, held back by a intricately woven headband. She was wearing a blue dress, her hands folded in front of her, her face expressionless. 

Somehow, Ronan recognised that expression, or lack of. A schooled carefully designed mask that hid her true emotions. 

Kneeling at Lord Bloodborne’s feet was a boy. He looked maybe fifteen years old, not that much younger than Ronan himself, shaggy dark hair covering his face. Ronan had seen him around a few times--he was the son of one of the house slaves. The woman who was trying her hardest not to cry. Jasper, his name was. They’d exchanged a few words before. 

His hands were bound in front of him, and he was breathing heavily. Ronan felt a twisting feeling in his chest. He balled his fist in the fabric of his cloak. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all,” Lord Bloodborne said. He was holding a whip in one hand. His voice carried through the early morning fog, booming across the grounds. Again, Ronan fought the urge to lower his gaze. “This boy was found stealing from my home. That kind of behaviour will not stand.” 

Ronan gritted his teeth, anger burning steadily in his chest. He dropped his expression to the icey grass, wishing he could do something. Wishing he was brave enough to stop it. 

He’d never been brave though. Even as a child, running half-wild in the woods near his home. He’d always followed the lead of the others, been hesitant and unsure of himself. He’d never been one to stand up to bullies. 

Even still, the sound of rope on flesh and the shout of pain from the boy made him feel sick. 

“He’s just a child!” Jasper’s mother cried out, and Ronan looked up to see her stepping forward, eyes red and wet. 

Again, he felt sick. All of these people here, and no one was doing anything to help. Only the mother of the boy, one woman standing up to the cruelty. If he wasn’t so afraid of being the boy under the whip, Ronan would feel nothing but shame. 

“He is my property and will learn respect,” Lord Bloodborne snarled, and brought the whip down again. Jasper grunted in pain and Ronan squeezed his eyes shut. 

He remembered the stories his mother had told him when he was a child. Stories of heroes and saviours, swooping in at the last moment to save the day. But Ronan was not that hero, he was a coward. He was afraid. 

Three more times the whip came down, and Ronan didn’t look. He kept his eyes down, squeezed shut. But after the fifth strike, someone did speak up. 

A soft voice, a girl’s voice. 

“Father.” 

The girl beside Lord Bloodborne had laid her hand on his arm, and was staring up at him with a serious expression, pleading with him. He stared at her for a long moment, the scoffed, lowering his arm. 

“Let that be a lesson to you all,” he called. “You will respect my property and know your place.” 

He stared with satisfaction at Jasper, his back a mess of bruises, lying on the ground. Then he turned and stepped off the platform, returning to the manor. Jasper’s scurred forward, crouching beside him. 

Ronan stepped forward as well. He wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure what exactly caused him to move. It was a hypocritical action, now the danger was over. But ever since he was small he had always been unable to see something or someone in pain. 

Everyone else moved, heading back to the warmth of their quarters for a meal before the day’s work began. But Ronan couldn’t bring himself to leave, not quite yet. 

Bloodborne’s daughter stood for a moment, staring down at Jasper and his mother. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, then with a glance towards Ronan, elegantly hurried after her father. Ronan couldn’t help but watch her go for a moment, enchanted with the way her hair flowed behind her. 

“I’m okay,” Jasper said weakly. His mother crouched beside him, cupping his face in his hands. 

“What have I told you,” she said, her voice catching. “You need to be more careful.” 

“I’m super careful,” Jasper muttered. “He just wanted an excuse.” 

Ronan stood awkwardly, hovering above the scene. He wasn’t quite sure how to join it, not sure what to do--if he even should do something. Perhaps it was too late to do anything. He sat down on the platform beside Jasper anyway. 

“Can I help?” he asked, voice hesitant. Jasper’s mother looked at him with a start, her expression softening as she saw him. 

“We’d best get him inside so I can take a proper look at him. It doesn’t look like the skin was broken,” she added, addressing the last to her son. 

“I’m too tough,” Jasper muttered. But when Ronan silently helped lift him, taking most of the younger boy’s weight, he couldn’t help a few noises of pain. 

Between Ronan and Jasper’s mother, they brought him inside. Ronan hadn’t been inside the manor before--he spent most of his time in the small building that housed the slaves. It was strange, how much this place reminded him of home, of the kitchen quarters he and his friends used to--

No. He wasn’t thinking about that. The here and now was important. The past didn’t matter anymore. 

“Lie him down here,” Jasper’s mother directed, leading him into a small room. Jasper was silent now, breathing shallowly. His mother fussed over him, pulling medicine out of a cupboard, while Ronan stood awkwardly aside, still unsure if he should even be here. 

Jasper’s mother was satisfied a moment later, leaving him to sleep and she let out a long sigh, sitting on the ground beside the bed. She looked up at Ronan and smile. 

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. What’s your name?”  

Ronan blinked, suddenly surprised he was actually being addressed. He didn’t want to think about how long it had been since someone had spoken to him. 

“Ronan,” he said. It had been so long since he had spoken his name. That was all he remembered from his full title. 

“Thank you, Ronan,” she said. She grabbed the side of Jasper’s bed and lifted herself to her feet. “My name is Jen.” 

Ronan gave her a small smile, unable to fully meet her eyes. On the bed, Jasper groaned and shifted. 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said quietly.

“Whatever for, dear?” Jen asked. She crouched beside her son, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“I should have…should have done something more,” he said softly, voice a bare whisper. His mother’s stories were the only thing he let himself remember about before. The heroes and legends from those tales--they would not have let this happen. 

“Oh.” Jen stood, turning her attention fully on him. She stepped forward, reaching out to grasp his hand in her’s. “Oh, honey,” she said softly. “You can’t be blamed for that.” 

Ronan blinked, not sure how to process that, exactly. Her hands were warm, cupped around his, and he focused on that. He couldn’t meet her eyes, staring at the ground. 

“This life is hard and cruel. No one can blame you for keeping your head down.” 

A hand cupped his face, and she gently lifted his head and suddenly, Ronan remembered his mother. Not just her stories, but his mother, wrapping him in her arms, resting her head on his chin playfully, tucking him into bed, patching up a bruise.

His vision blurred. 

Jen pulled him into a hug. He was taller than her, and he wondered if he would be taller than his own mother now. The thought was enough to finally bring the tears to his eyes. 

[yuarose]

Hi! I was wonder What you had planned for Estella like relationships, things about her, ect

I will only show what I’ve already planned in terms of past interactions / relationships here.

And…

[eatyourmaker]

The sillies

[kingspacebar]

Yippee new ref for Estella!!