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seastarblue · 7 days

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Character Intro: Felix BonaDea

Moodboard:

“Yep, we’ve got this!”

Basics:

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Halfling (Fairy + Human)

Age: 25 (at death)

Nickname(s): Fel, Flick, Dumbass (affectionate)

MBTI: Idk yet

Voice Claim: Hunter from The Owl House

Physical:

5’5” (≈162 cm)

Build: Lean muscle

Skin: Pale-ish

Eyes: Pale gray, almost white

Hair: Black, slightly long (just above shoulder length)

Special Features: Small black and pale gray butterfly wings, black butterfly markings under his eyes, crooked smile

(Pics are at the bottom)

Personality:

Speaking Style: Being a nobleman, Felix has been taught how to speak like one. He does not enjoy doing that, however, and will be as informal as possible whenever he feels like it.

Likes: healing people, helping people, magic, friendship, alcohol, a goooooood fight, bees, food, his friends, his stepfather and Amaryllis, his siblings (Maria and Luca), doing good

Dislikes: leaving others, being left out, frogs, fancy talk (see above), liars, criminals, nobility and the rules that they put down

Main Goal: “I wanna help Kaids. That’s all. And maybe figure out why I’m. Here. In her head.”

Picrew refs: *coming soon!*

Backstory (under the cut):

Felix BonaDea was a nobleman from the house of BonaDea, known for their healing magic. His mother, Gianna BonaDea, was human, and his other mother, Amaryllis, was a fairy. Now, for most of Nialon, it's quite normal for humans and non-humans to mate, but this rule does not apply to nobility. He did get everything he could want, including gender surgery, as Gianna and her husband Antonio was not heartless. She also allowed Amaryllis a small secluded estate for her to live in. Despite this, Felix was shunned in life, and had no chance at being anything important to... anyone, really. Or so he thought.

One day, he was walking through town (glamoured with a trick Amaryllis taught him), and stopped by a tavern popular for guards and guards-in-training. He met someone there who would make him feel less lonely, and that person was Kaiden Evania, another alienated child shunned because of her curse. They got to chatting, and clicked immediately, pulling a prank on other guards-in-training who had been picking on Kaiden. Once Felix heard she was forced to be in the capital, Vespar, because of the draft, he resolved to learn how to fight so that she wouldn't feel lonely, as he always had.

The years went by, and despite Felix's nobility, he and Kaiden made an unstoppable team. They had succeeded in 'The Hunt', an annual challenge hosted by a House. Afterward, both attended the Aquamarine Ball, which was an event where graduating guards would learn of their placement, be in the city, or a House, or the outskirts of town. While at the Ball, Felix and Kaiden were approached by Lloyd Santhuff, the leader of the Azari Knightage, a warrior unit that only takes the best of the best. Lloyd was interested in the pair, and offered the both of them a place there. They accepted, and after a couple years of training, were full-fledged Azari. They chose to be put under the Fifth Order, led by another fairy called Saffron.

They took the Oath, which bound their souls together and let them think as if they were mere extensions of each other, but Felix thought it was bullshit and just for show. The pair (mostly Felix, to be fair) made friends with their unit, and all was well.

They were good. The best, even. But then on one mission investigating the Nikasa, Felix and Kaiden were caught and brutally tortured for weeks. When the rescue team finally found them, Felix was long gone. His corpse was missing too.

That should have been the end, right? Wrong. Felix now lives in Kaiden's brain, as the oath they had taken worked a little too well considering Kaiden's curse and Felix's soul healing magic. He tries his best to help Kaiden through her grief, but it's a hard battle.

#o(sea’s)#sea’s story 1 #character profile

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cymph-haven · 1 year

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PINNED POST!!

About me

Hi! I’m Gidget! I also go by fox, tord, and Charlie. I’m the creator of Cymphs and the blog runner! My pronouns are he/him, and I’m an autistic trans man. My special interests are Eddsworld and different species of weasels. I don’t really know what else to say about myself, haha

About the blog/boundaries/tags

You are free to submit posts on the blog and submit asks! In fact, I LOVELOVELOVE getting asks! You can ask about my cymph ocs, their lore, give me requests, etc. I plan on maybe making a comic about them, actually :)

DNI

Proshippers/com shippers

Bigots (Ablelista, racists, homophobes etc)

NSFW

TAGS:

#cymphoc if you make a cymph oc, tag it with this! I’d love to see them :)

#cymphcomic for my future comic about these guys!

#chymphhaven for my posts on this blog!

#chymphlore for my lore posts/info about chymphs

#asknilly for ask posts for my main cymph oc, nilly and my other ocs!

Our mascot, Nilly

Nilly is this blogs mascot and my main cymph oc! I’d love to receive fanart of her :3

What are Cymphs?

Cymphs are an open original species! I may make adopts sometime but other than that Cymphs are completely free to create! I even have a handy trait guide and some references below :) I’d love to see your creations so don’t forget to use #cymphoc, tag me, or submit the post here! The name is a combination of Nymph and cat. While cymphs may have stubby limbs, they are actually huge! Most Cymphs are the size of adult lions, but royal cymphs can even be as big as dragons! Cymphs are angel-like creatures that live beyond the clouds. Some defining features of Cymphs are their small angelic wings, swirl and star patterns, prehensile tails, horns, stubby bodies, round features and feathery ears

Cymph lore

Cymphs were created as magical guides. Some people or creatures are chosen as vessels for chymphs to pass their magic onto. Though they appear as cute fantasy beasts, they are sentient and can communicate with humans (or furries and other characters). Cymphs live in monarchist society, with royal chymphs who send chymphs off to the world below when they come of age. It is said if a cymph chooses to train you, you are special. Though cymphs are magical guides, they can retire and return home if they wish. Some cymphs do not wish to guide others in the way of magic, or rebel, which the royals dislike. These cymphs are often sent down below to the human world and become “Shadow Chymphs”

I’ll be telling about more lore soon, so stay tuned!

A guide to cymphs!

Pictured below is a guide to how to draw and create Cymphs/more info! There aren’t really restrictions, I don’t mind what you do with their designs. Just have fun! these refs were pretty rushed i plan on making better ones soon

#cymphcomic #cymphoc #cymphhaven #cymphlore #asknilly #original species #pinned post #open species #furry species #oc #ocs #art #please give me asks #ID LOVE TO SEE YOUR OCS!!

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marshmallowloves · 7 days

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🧵🎵🩺🕯️ for Cordula!! (@frankmillerturnonyourlocation :D)

@frankmillerturnonyourlocation

HELLO FRIEND I am so sorry I got to this so late 😭 I was gone for the whole week and my brain's kinda fried... but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things again skjdfg okay umm! Cordula! Haven't thought about her in a minute actually... or a billion sdjfghdf lemme see if I can't come up with some answers for you 👀

🧵Thread: What would you/your self-insert wear in the source your f/o is from? It can be multiple outfits or just one! Bonus: Do you have a weapon? If so, describe it or show it!

oh wait hang on this actually gave me the perfect opportunity to update/draw a new ref for her!

I've tried to design her a couple times, but she still always had some sort of white dress and red ribbons. I'm really liking how she turned out this time!

Also, I've always pictured her using the Angel Bow from the game! Maybe some other time I'll play around with the design to fit her more specifically, but honestly, it's quite fitting already~ (sorry this is just the whole AR card, it's the biggest image I could find kjdhfg)

🎵Music: If you/your self-insert had a theme song, what would it be? Bonus:An extra song that fits you/your self-insert and your f/o!

honestly I kinda struggle thinking of songs for my self inserts specifically -u-;; it's hard to find lyrical songs that I like! Though for both Cordula and Pit, I will say I have thought about Stupid Cupid a non-zero amount of times kjfhg

🩺Doctor: What is the worst injury that you/your self-insert has sustained in canon? If so, what was the cause and did you recover? What was your f/os reaction?

I have not actually thought about this before 🤔 so I kinda just. made this answer up just now for this ask sdkjfg

Cordula isn't as strong as Pit, so when Mistress Aphrodite suggests that she help him and Lady Palutena when Hades starts causing problems, Cordula does her best to lend him her (largely non-combative) support without getting too close. But after Hades tricks the humans into fighting each other, her job becomes much more dangerous - she's tasked with trying to soothe the warring humans by hitting them with special arrows crafted by the goddess of love herself.

During one of these trips below, as she's frantically flying about and trying to pacify as many people as she can, one of her wings is struck by a stray projectile. She loses control and tumbles to the ground, narrowly avoiding getting trampled in the chaos...but soon, one of the frenzied humans catches up to her and backs her into a corner, thinking that they could use an angel like her to turn the battle in their favor. But before they can hurt her further, Aphrodite sends some of her power to her little cherub, which dazes the human long enough for Cordula to escape to a safe place where Aphrodite could retrieve her.

Naturally, since they had known each other for a while at this point, Pit worried for her until he knew she was safe back at her home (and encouraged by both Aphrodite and Palutena to help while she recovered... but he really didn't need to be encouraged to do that anyway dkfjgh). But they both understood that hers was an important job she still had to do, so they got right back into it... after they made each other promise to be careful dkjfg

🕯️Candle: Do you/your self-insert have a secret? If so, what is it and why do they keep it to themselves? Is it dark and mysterious or something small, yet impactful?

Cordula's only real secret, which is barely a secret to anyone at this point, is how she feels about Pit. Aphrodite was the first one to learn it - naturally, as the goddess of love and Cordula's boss, she'd know when her little love cherub was...well, in love ksjdfhg

But the way Cordula would act around Pit the first few times they spoke to each other - kind and sweet as always but clearly held back by an unusual shyness - didn't escape Palutena's keen eye either. The two goddesses have lot of fun not-so-subtly trying to set their favorite angels up together and watching the awkward magic unfold as Cordula and Pit continuously fail to realize they like each other 😂

#again I'm sorry this was late 😭 but I had fun writing this!#like I said I haven't thought about Cordula in a minute...even when I think about Pit kjsdhfg #so this was fun to think about 👀 thank you!#my art #ask game #Cordula

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hollowedwing · 3 years

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Are you still taking request? If you are, can you do an alpha hawks x omega phoenix!reader but the reader is a circus performer? Hawks just happens to have a day off and sees a famous circus is in town (cirque du soleil vibes) and decides to fulfill one of his childhood fantasies and see a circus show. here's one of my fave movie circus performances for some inspo => Malang Song | DHOOM:3 | Aamir Khan, Katrina Kaif

A/n: Omg, I've actually never gotten a request before :o sorry this took a little while also!

I uhhh, I've never ever written Omega Alpha stuff before? But I'll try my best at it! Thank you for the video refs also! I'm...going to kind of base the performance off of it? So uhh, here we go I guess! (Im also hoping by Phoenix reader, you meant, reader has a pheonix quirk...I sincerely apologize)

Alpha!Hawks x Phoenix!gn!Reader

⚠️Warnings: A liiitle suggestive?

Finally! Keigo finally finally got to take a personal day. He decided he'd take this chance to cross something off of his childhood bucket list.

He'd always wanted to go see the traveling circus. This type of circus was more like Cirque du Soleil. He was flying through the city one day when he saw a new billboard going up. Now, Keigo's always wanted to see a circus, but when he saw the billboard featuring another winged human with vibrant orange and red hued wings smack dab in the middle of it, he definitely had to go. To say the least you were absolutely stunning.

He eagerly walked in to the stands, with popcorn in hand, and took a seat in a special section with more room for his own wings. The area was dimly lit and there was soft chatter amongst the crowd, eagerly awaiting the performances.

Soon the houselights went out and stage lights flicked on with pyrotechnics going off around it. The male lead began the performance, coming out very strong and confident. The crowd watched in awe with all of the graceful dance moves and dangerous stunts happening on stage.

Soo it was your turn to make an appearance. The spotlight jumped to your firgure, gracefully perched on a hoop just hanging from a wire above the stage. You had your vibrant sunset hue wings spread magnificently to their full span. Your costume was jewled up, glimmering in the lights. It was very form fitting, allowing it to show off your slim, athletic figure.

Hawks could not take his eyes off of you. You're even sweeter scent leaking off of you smelled somewhere between pumpkin and vanilla. When his eyes locked with yours for a split second he knew he wanted you all for himself. He was absolutely mesmerized with your quirk too. You have a regeneration aspect and wings? Bloody brilliant mate.

As you spun and swung on your hoop, you started singing. The audience was awestruck by your voice. It was almost as melodic as a siren. Alluring with a hint if danger and power.

During your performance, when you would be swung over the crow, you reached out and brushed Keigo's chin with your hand when you got close enough to the stands. Eventually you leapt off your hoop, gliding down to the stage with your wings poofed out. You gracefully land in your dance partner's arms and begin the duo choreography.

Keigo feels a little bit of jealousy come over him as he sees the other alpha male getting to hold you in his strong grip as he swings you about. Throughout the rest of the show, Keigo couldn't stop from gazing at you. He was determined to meet with you afterwards. Your stage presence was overwhelming. Everyone could sense your confidence, which made it even more hypnotizing.

By the end of the show, Keigo wanted to scent you and probably mark you. He wanted you. Badly. He just knew he had to find you.

You on the other hand, were already planning on how you would 'coincidentally' run into the #2 pro hero before he might take off. Off course, your managers were having the main stars stay behind for about 1 hour to allow viewers a chance to pay to get a photo taken with any or all of you. You were either hoping to meet Hawks through that, but you figured you chances of that were so low, you were going to try to sneak out before hand for even just a few minutes.

Dashing out of your dressing room, you made a bee line for the main lobby area in hopes the Hawks would still be out there. You craned your neck in every direction just to catch a glimpse of his gorgeous red wings. After 5-10min of hunting, you could find him nowhere, or smell his scent that you had drank in during your perfomance. Your manager walked up to you, irritated, and huffed that you needed to go to the photo section this instant and to not run off like that again.

Keigo heard about the photo ops and immediately hunted for the location once he got out of the stands. He was willing to pay just about anything to be near you again. While waiting in the long line he took a feather off of his wing, made sure it was well scented, and attached a small piece of paper onto it.

About 20 minutes into the photo session, you finally saw large red wings in the line. Your insides jumped for joy and with nervousness. You wanted so badly to be near him again. The split second swing by just wasn't enough. A happy scent could be smelled leaking from you.

Keigo drank it in. Getting more and more impatient to reach the front of the line. Finally, FINALLY making it to the front. The moment you both locked eyes, it felt like time stopped.

With having to stay professional, as this was a public setting still, Keigo couldn't just pounce on you and nuzzle his face into your neck. You two didn't actually know each other and that would not make for great press yet.

Hawks walked up to you, a bit shy, but mostly holding his confident alpha stance. His smile was prsctically glowing.

You managed to keep your cool and posed with Hawks for a photo. You draped you arm around his waist and he put one around your should and youu both smiled for the camera!

He thanked you, gave some money to the photographer and then spun back around to slip something into your costume pocket. (yes Im saying your stage costume has pockets xD idk man).

Hawks was quickly ushered away by staff so that they could keep the line going. You were left a blusbing mess with a stupid grin on your face, very eager to be able to go back to the privacy of your dressing room and see what he slipped into your pocket.

What felt like forever, the photo session was finally over and you just abkut sprinted back to the dressing room.

Feeling around your pocket, you pulled out a red feather, with a little piece of paper on it.

Hawks had written: "Hey Omega! You can call me Hawks! Or maybe call me at xx-xxxx-xxxx °v°☆"

You softly laughed and hurriedly opened your phone to add his number to your contacts. Maybe shoot him a text once you get home. This was one of your best nights ever.

Keigo went home that night on cloud 9. He had trouble to not get too excited when he was near you. Again, he wanted you, very badly.

Bonus:

You guys did meet up after texting back and forth for so long.

You decided that going to a coffee shop would be a fun date

It really didnt take long after you both got acquainted, that he gave you items scented of him or scenting you himself. He marked you his.

_____________________________________

A/n: Oh geez, Im sorry xD, idk where I was going with this or what I was doing. I liked the idea of the prompt so I tried my best >.< Im not too familiar with Omegaverse stuff, but I read up on some stuff and hoped I did ok. Its very very light omegaverse though.

#bnha x reader #bnha x omegaverse reader #hawks x reader #hawks x gn!reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x gn!reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x gn!reader

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swearwolf-writes · 4 years

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Get On With The Damn Game, Dunbar! - A Briam Oneshot

“Either kiss or get on with the damn game, Dunbar!”

[CROSSPOSTED ON: AO3]

Devenford Prep Magpies vs Beacon Hills Cyclones

It’s almost the fourth quarter and things are getting tense. The score is 8-7 to Devenford. There had already been multiple arguments between the rival team captains and the ref was really close to sending them both off for fighting.

Liam Dunbar growls low, promptly getting elbowed by his co-captain, Nolan Holloway. His eyes glow gold as he hears Brett Talbot, captain of the Devenford Prep Magpies, chuckle under his breath.

“We’re gonna kick their asses - but if you get sent off, we’re gonna get our asses handed to us.” Nolan fixes his helmet, putting his drink down. “Next quarter’s ours. Yeah?” He looks him in the eye. “So maybe quit hounding him-” “If you don’t quit it with the dog jokes, I’m gonna bite you-!” Liam playfully half-tackles the human, ignoring his complaints. “Heel-” “Asshole-” He laughs and pulls the taller teen up to his feet.

And just in time. The teams move out to the field, Liam and Brett facing each other in the middle. A smirk plastered on his face as usual, Brett leans down, watching in amusement as Liam calms himself down with the mantra.

“The sun, the moon-” “The truth.” He finishes. Liam looks up at him in surprise. “Cooling down’s a smart idea - still gonna kick your ass though.” “We’ll see, Talbot.”

The referee blows the whistles and the fourth quarter begins. To Brett’s surprise, Liam swiftly takes the ball, easily dodging him and making his way to their goal. He tosses the ball to Nolan who runs forward, through the wing area and into the attack. Deftly dodging a Devenford player, he tosses back to a moving Liam who shoots. The crowd goes silent as the ball soars through the air, collectively holding a breath till- he scored! The Beacon Hills fans leap from their seats and whoop, the team patting him on the back as they move back to their positions, Liam meeting Brett in the middle again.

“8-8.” He huffs out a short laugh as Brett cracks his neck. “And it’s gonna be 9-8 to the Magpies soon.” “Really-?”

He’s cut off by a yell from Coach Finstock. “Either kiss or get on with the damn game, Dunbar!”

Said boy blushes brightly at the comment, getting into position. Brett winks at him, the ref blowing the whistle. He quickly goes for the ball. Liam, temporarily baffled, snaps out of his stupor and takes the ball a moment before the other wolf can. He body checks him, quickly escaping him before barreling his way up the field, easily sidestepping a defender and sending the ball into the back of the Devenford goal. The crowd erupts into cheers, the team congratulating Liam.

----------

The ref blows his whistle, signaling the end of the game. 11-9 to the Beacon Hills Cyclones. The crowd flooded from the stands to the fields.

Mason and Corey meet Liam, his helmet in hand. He shakes his head, sweat flying off of him. “Gross- but, dude, you killed it out there!” Mason shouts over the roar of the crowd, forgetting that Liam can hear him regardless. He winces, Mason cringing lightly before apologising, Corey laughing at the pair. “If Scott could see you now-” Corey pats his shoulder and grins widely. Mason looks behind them, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who you looking for?” Liam looks at him in surprise. “Huh- who, me? Nothing- no one.” He looks into the crowd again before turning back to them. “I gotta go- I’ll see you later.” He runs into the crowd, leaving a bewildered Mason and Corey behind him. “So what do you think all that was about?” Corey looks at his boyfriend who shrugs and tilts his head. “No damn clue.” They link hands and leave the field.

----------

Liam escapes the crowd, running straight for the locker room and changing out of his gear. He leaves, going back outside and inhaling deeply, countless scents invading his senses. He ignores them, focusing on the one. There. He follows the scent, moving from the field, around the school and there he is. Brett fuckin’ Talbot.

He leans against the wall next to the school entrance and he looks hot. He’s in sweatpants and an old tee and he looks hot. Liam kinda wants to punch him in the face a little. “Good game.” He looks up, tucking his phone into his pocket, a small smile on his face as Liam slowly walks to him, leaning against the wall next to him. “Uh, yeah, you too.” He nods a little, Brett laughing quietly. “We still lost though.” “Yeah, yeah, you did.” Liam grins victoriously, Brett smiling widely despite having lost.

They stay there for a moment in comfortable silence before Brett tilts his head and mumbles a curse. “Fuck it-”

He turns to the boy next and leans down, holding his face in his hands and pressing a short kiss to his lips. He pulls away after a few seconds and looks at the boy, seemingly frozen in shock. “Liam…?” He wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down, sealing the gap between their lips. Brett fumbles with hands before settling them on his hips. He melts a little. It was strange; his lips were softer than he’d imagined. Would he ever admit that he’d imagined kissing Liam Dunbar? Never.

And then things change. Liam’s hands are fisted in his hair and pulling lightly and he’s groaning against his mouth and- holy fuck- Brett gasps and pulls away to breath, Liam taking a shuddery breath.

“That- that was not how I expected that to go-” Liam’s eyes widen in guilt. “Did I fuck this up-? Shit-” “Wha- no. No, definitely not.” Brett breathes heavily and leans his forehead against his, a small smile on Liam’s face as he closes his eyes. Brett looks at him, smiling widely. Liam opens his eyes and looks up at him and- oh, God- He stares into his eyes and it’s like the breath’s been knocked out of him.

He leans down and kisses him hungrily, a small squeak of surprise escaping Liam before he relaxes and kisses back just as fervently. Brett groans loudly as he pulls his hair hard, Liam slipping his tongue into his mouth. He relaxes and lets him do as pleases, gripping Liam’s hips firmly.

“What- the hell-?” Scott stands in front of them, Mason, Corey and Kira standing behind him, all equally shocked. Liam scrambles out from between Brett and the wall and stands up straight. “Scott-! Hey, thought you were working tonight?” “I wanted to surprise you after your game-” Mason waves his hand in the air impatiently, cutting off the alpha. “I’m sorry- just, dude- what?” He motions to the pair, the boys looking between themselves. “Bi-pan solidarity?” Brett suggests, Liam nodding awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, that. What he said.” “God-” Mason pulls Liam by the shoulder.

“It was- nice, I guess, to see you. There’s a pack thing- do we gotta-?” “We gotta go.” Scott nods and steers Liam from the scene by the shoulders. “We gotta go.” Corey repeats, the group leaving the scene, Kira subtly giving Brett a high five.

“When were you gonna tell us you were dating Brett frickin’ Talbot?” Corey whisper-yells. “I’m not-” “Oh, come on- you were swapping spit like 10 seconds ago-” Liam turns bright red, making Scott and Kira laugh loudly.

“I’ll call you!” He calls out, Liam turning to look back, only to have Mason to turn his head forward. “Not so fast, lover-boy.”

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ientina1234 · 3 years

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[Dragon AU] - Ben Tennyson Reference Sheet

TW/CW: Gore (more specifically: organ showing)

I'm finally done with this! I decided agains making this ref sheet like the one I did for a bakugan with a bunch of tiny text with info in it.

If you want to know about his backstory, I'm unable to provide that atm as I want it to be part of the story. The big text thingy is on the photo so I won't repeat myself.

Ben is a dragon alien that's part anodyte. A herritage from his grandparents in genes. You'll notice that the design is close to the one of the dragon in Alien Force, but not entirely, because I prefer him like this and I would like to have my own take on his dragon form sort of speaking. Now let's start with the Hatchling Ben. Ben's marking are little and far in between, neither of them too textured. His tail end is inexistent while the antennas look like small horns because they will grow as Ben ages. The bones on his wings, mostly the ones on the inside, are thin and weak, allowing the skin on the surface to cover them entirely. They are prone to fractures and luxations until they get strong enough for flight and the body weight. The claws from the forelegs are small and fragile as well, soon to grow stronger as these baby dragons relly on their legs to move around, mainly the forelegs by dragging their body along until they learn to stay on all 4. (They can't stay on their backlegs due to the head being a little heavier than the tail, hence unbalancing the hatchling and making them fall back down) The little star mark on his chest is actually a little 'crack' in his scales that digs till the protective layer where the scales end. This is where Ben's mana is flowing, a mark of his alien powers. The black scorched earth-like parts around the 'crack' are formed from the mana. Mana here acts just like blood vessels with oxigen or CO2: They flow in the body and return to the 'heart', the mark on Ben's chest and then flows on the outside, where mana solidifies once they meet the scales and acts like lava, cooling down until these residual parts are left, which come off rather painlessly.

Grown Up Ben (maybe 18 years old but not a adult yet) has a developed body and markings. His body has adapted so he can sneak around at night. The markings on his back and wings are expanded, so when Ben sneaks in the dark, he can be pretty much undetected, if it weren't for his chest being like a lit fire in the dead of the night. The anodyte half is what Ben has to hide most of the time, as he keeps his wings around his lower body in order to hide the glow. Ben can easily remove the scorched parts usually with his claws by simply brushing them off, but sometimes they cool off and form bigger patches, which Ben has to use his claws and dig in, in order to remove them. At times is a painful procedure.

On the right is also Unstable Ben. This is a result of Ben being thrown off-planet, on Earth, where he had no one to guide and train him to master his powers. As he grew up, Ben's anodyte powers tied up with his emotions. Mostly, his anger. When he gets angry, angrier than he should, the mana starts to overflow. Without the slow process of mana cooling off and going back into the body, the mana only goes on the outside, and it gathers, quickly expanding the mark on Ben's chest all along his underbelly and neck, basically burning out his body. Due to Ben being only half anodyte, the power can't take over his senses to absorb it back in his body in order to become full anodyte, so the mana starts leaking everywhere in solidified form like flames or less solid, energy (like it does to his claws). The mana changes colors as it keeps to overflow, and eventually until Ben dies. The mana that's overflowing will burn out Ben's body and end into a explosion, as Ben runs out of mana on the inside, pretty much like a dying star, but with Ben's instability, it's instant death. A way to prevent this is mana intake and calming Ben down, which isn't easy, but fairies (mainly Yugi, because this is for my crossover au) can provide mana well enough for Ben to be able to live until he calms down. There's also one more part to his instability, it being that Ben's organs, mainly his heart start showing, the chest literally being a see-through bubble, making Ben vulnerable for a clean kill. This would eventually stop once Ben learns to control his powers better.

#tw: gore #cw: gore #tw: organ #cw: organ #digital art #mouse art #dragon #dragon au #ben 10 #ben tennyson #reference sheet #ref sheet #yugioh x ben 10 #dragon ben #half anodyte

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witchy-anna · 5 years

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Ok, so I have this idea. I want Hawks to react to a horror manga artist/writer (Junji Ito but female) who stares at him from afar (using him as a ref for her protagonist) and when he tries to confront her about it, she either ignores him or runs in the opposite direction and he thinks it’s because she hates him but in actuality she’s too anxious to deal with a confrontation and doesn’t want to have a panic attack. Headcannons or scenario, please and thank you hun!

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k~

Warnings: Mentions of mental health (panic attacks/anxiety), mild cursing, mild gore

Playlist: Haunted by ADONA, Devil’s Playground by The Rigs, I See You by MISSIO

A/N: This ask is so dang interesting, this turned out much longer than I intended it to. I know everyone experiences panic attacks differently but I went with what helps me ground myself. Honestly, I’m not very confident with this one, nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Hawks’ stomach growled audibly. He sat far above the civilians walking and going about their daily lives below his perch. “Just a couple more hours,” he muttered to himself.

The swollen sun dipped low in the sky, reflecting off glass windows momentarily blinding him.

He throws his head back letting out a groan, “I’m hungry!” Coming to a decision he pulls his phone out to find recent calls and selects one. The line connects almost immediately, “This is- oh hey Hawks! Let me guess, your usual?”

“You know me so well,” Hawks laughs loudly.

“Give me five minutes,” the chipper voice replied.

“Great! I’ll be there,” he says ending the call. Standing, he stretches languidly eliciting a couple pops from his stiffened joints. Hopping off the building he glides easily to his destination. Making it to the empty restaurant in less than two minutes, and strolling inside like he owned the place. At this point he practically did as he was their most frequent customer.

The young man who answered the phone waved from the counter, “Hey! I said five minutes, I’m still working on your order so take a seat over there.” He gestured to the table by the window which Hawks raised an eyebrow at. “Please? You attract customers and it’s empty in here!” the man wiggled his own eyebrows.

With a dramatic sigh he settled into his seat pulling out his phone out to absentmindedly scroll through social media.

The young man who was the owner’s son dropped into the seat across from Hawks, “See, you do attract customers.” He slid a food tray containing Hawks’ opulent order of various types of chicken, including fried of course.

Hawks grinned, “You didn’t have to bring this out, I could have grabbed it.” Turning to eye the growing amount of patrons queuing up at the counter to order.

“Nah, my old man told me to sit here in case anyone tried to bug you,” he shrugged. “You’re doing us a favor anyway. Plus my sister can handle the orders.”

As Hawks ate, the restaurant gradually filled with more and more patrons. Soft whispers and chatter increased in volume. A loud shutter sound came from across the room followed by a curse. The owner’s son sighed and leveled a hard look at the offender.

“It’s fine,” Hawks said quietly. At this point people snapping photos of him was a common occurrence.

A little kid sat in a booth openly gawking, he spared a little wave at them and got a wide excited smile in return. He felt more so than saw all of the people staring.

A movement outside caught his attention, sitting across the street on a set of stone stairs tucked into the side of a building sat a person.

His eyes narrowed and rapt gaze took in a woman sitting partially obscured by shadows with her head down scribbling something into a notebook. A small penlight stuck between her teeth. Every so often she would look up to stare intensely at him before returning to the scribbing. He shoveled the food into his mouth faster because of the curiosity itching at him. An edge of worry creeping along behind it, what if it was a spy or someone out to harm him. What was she writing? He felt the small feathers at the base of his wings stand on end.

Just as he finished his meal he watched out of the corner of his eye for her head to duck back down. Shooting to his feet he startled the owner’s son from whatever was so interesting on his phone, “Woah, finished already?”

“Yep, duty calls!” Hawks gave him a cocky grin and moved to hand the food tray to the girl at the counter. He waved before slipping outside into the cool air.

~~~

As soon as your paycheck came in you hightailed it to the local art supply store. With your eyes sparkling as you drank in the wonderful sights of shelves and cabinets chocked full of goodies. The faint scent of graphite tickled your nose and the more overpowering scent of paints.

Your phone chimes, breaking you out of your happy daze, from a Twitter page you were ashamed to follow when you first discovered it. The photo with the attached location is luckily a short walk away.

You sigh, What an artist will do for inspiration. Rushing to ring up your purchases, you not so subtly run outside to get to the location before he leaves.

Why, why, why did your brain insist on Hawks of all heroes to use as inspiration for your protagonist. To late at this point.

Arriving at the restaurant you internally groan, it was busy. Very busy. Excitement constricted your throat at the sight of brilliant vermillion wings showcased in the bright window he sat in. The lights from the restaurant washing over the outside street and people impatiently queuing in the growing line.

You puff your cheeks out, What should I do now? Luckily you spot a secluded staircase across the street with a perfect view of the window. A little far but it would have to do. Unfortunately for you it’s out of the light provided from the street lamps and business windows. You make yourself as comfortable as possible on the steps and pull out a sketchpad and your favorite pencil to sketch.

In person sketching was substantially better than using random photos from online. Taking a photo of him without permission feels a little too invasive of his privacy.

The soft sounds of the pencil scratching over the rough paper fills your senses. His wings in person are so much more magnificent, folded behind him. Much different than the photos are red-tailed hawks you tried to use.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” a cheerful voice chirps.

A strangled squeak escapes your throat, Oh no. Someone caught me.

Ignore it (Y/n), he’ll go away. You jolt when inquisitive eyes come into your view and you visibly flinch away from Hawks himself. Well shit.

“Anyone home?” you watch frozen as his hand moves towards you.

“No!” you shout and scramble away, it echoes down the street. Pedestrians pause and turn towards the commotion.

Hawks’ eyes widen at your reaction and his voice drops to a gentle tone, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” He slowly withdraws his hand, eyes rapty watching your reactions. Maybe she wasn’t looking at me, he thinks to himself.

Hurrying to fold up your supplies and go to move around his giant wings. “Excuse me,” your voice comes out sharper than intended.

“I-, what?” his eyes follow your quickly departing form, completely dumbfounded. “That’s a first.” A soft tap of something falling from your grip diverts his attention. He bends and picks up a pencil, starting at it curiously.

The panic sets in, breathing sawing faster and faster from your mouth. The quick intake of breath bringing dizziness along with it, hand in hand with nausea. You slip into a nearby secluded alley and press your back against the stone.

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. After a few moments your breathing slows and to stop sounding quite as much like sandpaper is stuck in your throat. “Breath (Y/n). Okay, I see: my shoes, a cigarette, a flyer for a restaurant, a person with an umbrella, and a leaf. I feel: the scratchy wall, the hole in my sock, the breeze, and my sketchbook. I hear: someone laughing, a bicycle chain, and a bell. I smell: something grilling, and is that trash?” You wrinkle your nose, “Lastly I taste the (flavor) candy I ate earlier.”

Just as you are about to step out from your resting place, a small red feather drifts down the alleyway. Carried by its own invisible breeze. It stops for a moment before turning to move to you, causing your breath to hitch and panic sets back in.

Before it can reach you, you take off sprinting into the crowd of people making their way to the train station.

~~~

On the train home, you dig through your bag before upending it into your lap. “No no no, where is it!”

Great, if that pencil wasn’t like an extension of your own hand it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Running graphite stained fingers through your hair you groan at the situation. Do you accept its gone? Or return to the scene of your “crime” and risk Hawks still being there?

You check your watch resigning to suck it up and go back there; cursing at your clumsiness. Trains were still running so you manage to catch one back, twisting your fingers together the entire time.

Back at the scene of your “crime” you shine your pen light searching the area. Of course, you hadn’t lost the cheap little light but too late at this point.

“Hey you,” the familiar voice says cheerfully.

Nope, you pivot on your heels shoving the still lit pen light into your pocket. Please go away.

“Wait!” Hawks voice calls from behind you. “I’m just trying to return this to you!”

Nope, nope, nope, you chant internally.

“Gotta be quicker than that!” Hawks’ laughing voice is suddenly in front of you.

Your yelp is muffled as you smack face first into a warm coat. His hands reach up to settle on your arms and steady you but also blocking any attempt at escape.

Unable to look him in the eyes you instead settle on the collar of his jacket. “Please don’t,“ you say weakly. “Please let go.” This entire situation has already spent your reserves of energy.

There’s a pause before he lets go and steps back, “You won’t run again?"

No promises, you think but shake your head anyway.

A long drawn out sigh comes from Hawks and you glance up at him with widening eyes. Your breath leaves you, creeping across the street was nice but standing this close is a whole different level. His eyes narrow slightly, "What were you doing earlier?"

"Wait! You saw me?!” you exclaim, then clap a hand over your mouth.

Hawks’ eyes study your face, seeming to settle on a decision and expression softens. “Here,” he reaches inside his coat to pull out the pencil.

“Oh, thank you,” you say genuinely. Some pent up tension in your shoulders lessens.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he presses.

“I was-,” heaving a sigh out you pull the sketchpad out that was tucked under your arm. “I was sketching you. I’m an aspiring mangaka.”

“Honestly I thought you were suspicious,” he laughs wryly. “But I definitely did not expect this.”

Hawks crouches slightly coming into your line of site, another squeak escapes your mouth and you quickly raise the sketchpad to cover your face. He chuckles and raps his knuckles against it, asking, “Can I see?”

“It’s Hawks!!” someone shouts.

Hawks turns to grin and wave in the general direction of the shout but says to you quietly, “Can I take you somewhere? I’d like to continue this conversation without interruption."

At your look of apprehension he offers, "I’ll let you draw me in person!”

“Really?!” you exclaim and again clap a hand over your mouth.

Hawks nods happily and moves to pick you up but stops when you flinch away. “Hmm, alright I won’t push,” he beckons you to follow. “This way.” Not waiting for an answer he turns on his heels and quickly leaves you behind.

“Wait,” you call weakly and struggle to catch up.

His pace slows and he spares a glance over his shoulder to check you’re following. Abruptly he takes a turn into a side alley between two stores.

“A-are you going to mug me?” you joke but your voice wavers.

Hawks spins causing you to crash into him again, which he laughs at loudly. Stepping backward he holds up his hands in a finger gun motion, “Gimme all your money!”

“Very funny,” your smile betrays you.

He gives you a dumbfounded look when you smile that morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Got you to smile, didn’t I?” he spins back around to resume the journey, weaving an impossibly strange route through alleys and streets.

“Here we go,” he says with his gaze traveling up a tall building. “Sorry, we need to fly for this bit.”

Before you can answer he scoops you up and strong wings propel the both of you straight up into the air. A choked scream is cut off and a moment later he set you down on your feet. With shaky hands you clutch at his coat and gasp out, “You could have warned me!”

“That’s no fun!” his laugh is close enough to ruffle your hair.

To close, you step away and try to distract yourself with the place he had taken you.

“Oh, this is..” you pause. Cut off from the gentle but still chilly breeze is a small oasis at a penthouse suite. A small greenhouse sits beside the glass walls leading inside the house. You frown, wondering if this is his place or someone else’s.

“No one lives here,” he laughs at your expression. “At least not at this time of the year.”

“Anyway, how do you want me?” he questions with a shit eating grin.

“Whatever is comfortable for you,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh! So like this?” he says and proceeds to strike ridiculous flexing poses.

Rolling your eyes again you settle down onto a grassy patch of the ground. Vaguely wondering how people afforded places like this, Must be a hero. Hawks follows you and plops down across from you crossing his legs with wings relaxed behind him.

You clear your throat, “Why are you letting me do this?”

He shrugs, “Boredom I guess. Plus you interest me.”

“I-,” you start but shake your head dismissing his teasing. You move to take out the sketchpad and supplies and settle them onto your drawn up knees. The familiar and comforting sounds of the pencil scratching against paper fills the quiet atmosphere.

“Why did you run?” he asks quietly, staring off at something in the distance.

You groan and he cocks an eyebrow at you, “I’m no good with confrontation.”

“So I scared you,” his easy-going expression drops for one of worry.

Shaking your head you say quickly, “No. No, that’s not it! I was already embarrassed to be sketching you without permission. I felt like I was caught with my hands in the cookie jar.” You smile sheepishly but it falls and you look down at your lap, “I got overwhelmed is all.”

“I can understand that,” he says with another unreadable expression. At his silence you return to your sketchpad, this time with a stick of charcoal. After some more time passes he says, "I find it difficult to believe you happened upon me by chance. How did you know I was there?"

You duck your head down to avoid his prying eyes and admit, “There’s a twitter account people post sightings of you.”

He hummed, “I would be lying if I said that wasn’t bizarre but I’ve seen worse.” His brow furrowed remembering something, “Much worse.”

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“No more apologizing, it’s not your fault,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m used to it,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Comes with the job. Why do you want to draw me? You still haven’t told me.”

A bright smile on your face leaves him with a dumbfounded expression again, “Oh! I’m working on a horror type Manga and wings are just so much fun to draw.” You gush and point at his wings, “Your emotions show through your wings! I want to convey that in my drawings."

"Can I see?” he asks again. “I mean, I am letting you use my body."

Puffing out your cheeks you sigh and reluctantly hand the pad to him, "Please don’t laugh."

"No such thing,” he tuts and greedily grabs at the pad. It starts off as simple lose sketches of red-tailed hawks, next focusing on the wings before evolving entirely to various positions of Hawks himself. He flips a page to reveal the first full body fleshed out design of your protagonist. The character stands with a cocky grin, wearing a victorian style suit and top hat balanced on his fluffy hair. Only his wings are left with a light outline and where his hands should be, are left blank.

The last and most detailed drawing eliciting from him a soft, “Woah.” The one you were most proud of, the dark-haired version of Hawks stood grinning maniacally and pulling the coat wide open. The abdominal cavity gaping wide open, empty of organs except for the heart hanging suspended. He hums, “You did say it was a horror.” He suddenly sits forward into your space, “You have to show me when this is finished! Please!”

Taken aback at his excitement you mumble a soft, “Okay.” Hawks bounces slightly in his excitement and hands you back the notepad. Adorable, you muse. He has an almost calming personality, even for as pushy as he is.

Focusing your attention on his face you touch up the corners of the character’s eyes. Muttering out loud to yourself, “Is it eyeliner or not?”

“They’re natural Little Mouse,” he smiles as bright as the sun. “Why didn’t you draw my hands?"

“Little Mouse?” you squeak.

"You squeak a lot. It’s cute,” he winks causing you to sputter. “Again, you didn’t answer my question."

Is he flirting? Haha funny (y/n), as if that would happen. Shaking your head you explain, "I want to draw your, I mean his fingers with talons. You sure ask a lot of questions."

An unreadable expression settles on his face, "Talons?” His brow furrows and after a moment asks, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone wha-? Oh,” you watch as Hawks slips a glove off to reveal his fingers sporting sharp black nails, much like his namesake. Abandoning your art you reach out to grab him hand, running your fingers over his nails and up over his knuckles.

“Full of surprises aren’t ya?” he quips.

“I’m sorry!” you cry tearing your hands away from him.

“It’s okay I don’t mind,” he hums and gestures at your hands to retake his.

Your mouth betrays you and you blurt, “You keep making me flustered!”

Mischief glinted in his eyes as he leaned into your personal space. His voice dropped an octave, “Afterall, my Little Mouse I am a bird of prey.”

#hawks x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #keigo takami #takami keigo x reader #witchy-anna writes

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gamergirl929 · 5 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You (Becky Lynch x Reader)

Anonymous Request: So I accidentally deleted the request. >.< BUTTT, basically the reader and Becky are far from friends, that is until the feud between Becky and Charlotte starts, Becky then gains an unlikely ally in the reader.

The sound of Becky’s music playing throughout the arena had you rolling your eyes.

The pair of you had known one another since back in NXT, and to say you were less than friends would be an understatement.

You couldn’t stand one another, at least that’s what you wanted Becky to think.

In all honesty, you’d actually looked up to the woman, or The Man rather, someone who’d come from being an Irish Lass Kicker to become the face of the company, but of course, you wouldn’t let her know that.

You also wouldn’t let her know that you were hopelessly in love with her, in love with her cocky smiles and her brash attitude, in love with the way her eyes shined every time she talked about what she’d been through to get where she was today, but of course, again you weren’t ever going to let her know that.

You’d watched, jealously coursing through you at the relationship Becky had with Bayley and Sasha Banks, but your luke warm blood came to a boil when it came to her relationship with Charlotte, the two were attached at the hip, inseparable and it made you jealous, jealous that you couldn’t have that with her.

So, when Becky had turned ‘heel’, something that really didn’t go the way WWE planned considering the fans only loved her even more, and attacked Charlotte, you were more than shocked.

Her persona change had thrown you through a loop and you absolutely loved it, The Man, would live on in WWE for decades.

So here you find yourself, standing stock still back stage as The Man is circled by not only Charlotte Flair, but her new buddy, Lacey Evans.

You close your eyes tight, teeth clenched.

“Don’t do it. Don’t do it.” You repeat over and over until you let out a groan that has everyone turning your way and you run through the backstage area and slip through the curtain.

Your music hits and everyone isn’t sure what to do, especially Becky, Charlotte and Lacey, the trio staring at you with wide eyes.

Becky’s eyes grow even wider when you slip in the ring and stand at her side, your posture ridged as you look from Charlotte, to Lacey and back.

Becky shrugs, the crowd cheering as the two of you stand, ready to attack whoever comes into the ring.

Though, of course in perfect heel fashion, Charlotte and Lacey make their retreat, backing up the ramp in confusion as they look at someone they’d known for a fact that was far from a fan of Becky Lynch.

The two make their way backstage and you turn, your Y/E/C orbs locking with Becky’s.

The Man stares at you, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed.

You give her a simple nod before wordlessly slipping out of the ring and heading into the backstage area.

***

“What was dat Y/N?” You hear Becky ask as she approaches you later into the night and you shrug.

“Maybe I just wanted to make it a fair fight.” You shrug and Becky scoffs.

“Ya hate me, I get it ya know. So why did ya come out set?” She throws her hands up and you turn to her eyes wide, it’s then you realize that a cameraman is standing right behind her.

You shake your head as you take a step towards her, your eyes locked with hers.

“I don’t hate you.” You say, voice barely above a whisper before you turn and walk away, leaving a confused Becky behind you.

***

Your relationship had remained the same, you had Becky’s back and Becky had yours, even coming to your aid when Charlotte and Lacey had targeted you.

The two of you had started to grow close and were growing closer with each passing day.

You’d quickly become one of Becky’s good friends, something you wouldn’t admit, that you’d always wanted.

“Hey, Y/N.” Becky says as she walks towards you backstage and you push yourself off the wall you were leaning against.

“Sup Man.” You smirk and Becky playfully rolls her eyes.

“I need ya tonight, Charlotte and Lacey versus me and you, ya in?” She asks and you grin cockily.

“You’re damn right I am.”

***

You’re in the ring, standing side by side with Becky as the crowd cheers, happy with your win against Flair and Evans.

You hold Becky’s hand in the air, grinning proudly before turning and throwing your arms around the woman, much to the surprise of not only the WWE Universe and Becky, but yourself, the obvious display of affection making your cheeks burn.

Abruptly, you pull back, rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you grin widely at Becky, who shakes her head with a grin.

You’re at the top of the ramp when Becky returns the hug and you couldn’t be any happier.

***

“Ya ever think da two of us would be roomin together?” Becky asks as she flops back onto her bed and you shake your head with a snort.

“Never.” You grin as you fall face down on your bed with a groan.

Becky shakes her head as she watches you with a beaming smile.

“Ya know, I never would’ve known you were such a dweeb if ya didn’t come out der to save my arse.” Becky laughs and you roll over, glaring across the room at her.

“I am not a dweeb.” You grumble, earning an arched brow from Becky Two Belts.

You grab your pillow and chuck it at her, missing the champion when it goes short, landing right in front of her.

“Yer not getting dis back now.” She smirks, sticking her tongue out as she hugs your pillow.

You grumble as you roll over, not realizing you’re at the edge of your bed, rolling completely off of it and onto the floor.

Becky throws her head back with a cackle, her arms wrapping around her middle as she laughs loudly.

“Shut up.” You grumble from your place on the floor, making Becky only laugh louder.

“Ya, yer a dweeb.”

***

Again, you fall on the bed with a groan, but for a different reason entirely.

Your body is been in welts, the welts now a dotted red lash across your back, courtesy of a kendo stick from Lacey Evans, who had bum rushed you backstage.

Becky walks towards your bed with a sad frown, placing a hand on your back.

You inhale sharply, your body stiffening.

“It’s okay.” She whispers as she runs a gentle hand down your back, the feeling of pain ebbing away slightly in favor of the feeling of excitement, your heart racing and the butterflies in your stomach excitedly flittering their wings.

“Take yer shirt off.” Becky says suddenly and you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks red.

Becky shakes her head, her own cheeks flushing as she motions towards you.

“I know how ta help, trust me.” She says before she heads towards the bathroom.

Surprisingly, you follow her orders, removing your shirt and laying face down on the bed to expose your bruise covered back.

Becky makes her way back into the room moments later, carrying a wet, cold towel.

“It’s cold.” She whispers, eyeing your bare back for a second before placing the cold towel on your lower back.

“I need ta, unhook yer bra.” She says, cheeks hot and red, thankfully for her, you can’t exactly turn around to see her.

On the bed, you’re no better, eyes wide and face blood red as you nod.

“Okay.” You whisper into the sheets.

Becky, gingerly unhooks your bra biting her bottom lip, her cheeks blood red as you let out a sigh.

Becky drapes the towel over your back and you inhale sharply, humming afterwards as the cold towel soothes the aching marks on your back.

You let out a groan as Becky presses the towel against your back.

“Did I hurt ya? I’m sorry.” She frowns and you shake your head.

“No, it. it feels good.” You mumble, cheeks darkening further, Becky’s cheeks also flushing.

“So just, keep dat on there for a while.” She stammers before making her way to her bed and you grin.

The two of you remain silent for the rest of the night, sharing soft smiles and glances until the two of you eventually sleep.

***

Unfortunately for you and Becky the backstage attacks don’t cease and soon you’re both back at the hotel tending to one another’s wounds.

You let out a whine as Becky places the cold compress go the side of your head where you’d smacked your head on a box backstage.

“We’ve gotta do somethin bout those two.” Becky says angrily as she paces the room, her own lip split after an attack by Charlotte Flair.

“I know I’m sick of them hurt…” You pause midsentence, causing Becky to turn to you, brow arched.

“Tired a what?” She asks and you glance away, cheeks tinged pink.

“I’m tired of them hurting you.” You whisper, cheeks now blood red.

Becky’s eyes widen before she takes a seat on the bed in front of you.

Ever so gently, she cups your cheek, her thumb running along you cheekbone.

“I’m tired of em hurtin you too.”

***

The something you did about the two of them was literally beating them down backstage.

You and Becky snicker as you look at your handy work, Charlotte and Lacey moaning and groaning loudly, refs racing towards them and putting themselves between the two pairs of women.

Becky looks at you with a growing smirk, you shrug the two of you grinning cockily as you make your way further into the backstage area.

It was later that night that the match had been made official, a no disqualification match, Y/N and Becky lynch VS Charlotte Flair and Lacey Evans.

“We ever going to get away from those two?” You grumble and Becky shrugs as she leans against a nearby wall backstage, one title around her waist, the other on her shoulder.

“Maybe after we throttle da little weirdos?” She shrugs and you grin.

You move to stand beside her and throw your arm around her shoulders, the Irishwoman blushing.

“And throttle them we will.”

***

And throttle them you did, weeks of pent up aggression, weeks of backstage attacks, and now you had them in the ring, No DQ, and you and Becky had the made the best of that situation.

Though you hadn’t escape unscathed, meaning you were both back in your hotel room, lounging around as a random movie played on the hotel’s television.

Becky literally throws an ice pack at you, it hitting you in the chest, leaving a wet make on your shirt.

“Ass.” You snort, taking the ice pack and placing it on your ankle with a growl.

“You alright?” You ask Becky who’s lying face down on the opposite bed. She lets out a grumble and you snort, leaning back against your bed’s headboard.

The wet spot on your shirt, combined with the ice packs makes you shiver, so without a second thought you take your shirt off and throw it towards your luggage, leaving you in nothing but a sports bra.

Becky just happens to sit up in that moment, eyes wide when she sees what you’d been hiding beneath your ring gear, but with the new skin revealed, it’s then she sees the damage done to you from your match with Charlotte and Lacey.

Your torso is covered in reddish purple welts, along with the occasional scratch here and there.

Becky stares for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she traces your defined muscles with her eyes.

Meanwhile, your eyes are as wide as saucers as Becky shamelessly ogles you, your chest flushing under the woman scrutiny.

Brown orbs eventually lock with Y/E/C ones.

Becky’s brown orbs widen, cheeks reddening.

The two of you both bashfully look away at roughly the same time, sure to look at anything in the room but one another.

Boldly, you turn back to Becky, grinning when you realize she’s also turning back to look at you.

Becky throws her head back with a groan and practically leaps off her bed before jumping in yours. She shuffles towards the top of the bed until she’s sitting right beside you, her back against the headboard.

“Hey.” You smile, cheeks dark red as Becky sends you a beaming smile.

“Hey.”

First, it starts with her head gently moving to rest on your shoulder, and before you know it her hand is taking your own.

You intertwine your fingers and Becky’s cheeks flush.

Bravely, you turn, nuzzling into the top of Becky’s head, earning a giggle from the Irishwoman that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Are you okay?” You whisper against the top of her head and Becky nods, her eyes lids fluttering.

You close your eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of Becky’s head that has her face nearly splitting in half thanks to the size of her smile.

The two of you, once enemies were now something more than that, you were friends, friends who would soon become a lot more than just friends.

#Wwe imagine #becky lynch #becky lynch x reader #becky lynch imagine #becky lynch imagines

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oxnardsart · 4 years

Text

New Boxer Beats Chapters up!

(Multiple chapters, actually!)

I’ll still post one chapter at a time on tumblr and most sites - but the Boxer Beats website has a bunch of em posted so folks can check out a bunch of them whenever!

http://boxerbeats.thecomicseries.com/comics/25

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Round 1 Lesbuni and Nishi watched the show together until she was called up on stage to fight. The nervous bunny bounced on down to the ring - all set to battle. “Ring-a-ding-ding, let’th thtart thith thing~!” Lesbuni gasped instinctually. Something told her to get out of the ring. She hopped right up on the ropes of the boxing ring as she saw white goop fall from the ceiling. A cheerful alligator was swinging around above her. Disgusted, she yelled out, “Hey, you’re messing up the boxing ring!” Gaydar chuckled, waving down to her, “Actually, I’m thticky-fying it.” For this event, Lesbuni was going to have to fight her opponent in Gator Glue. Lesbuni winced down at the substance - she wasn’t so sure it was really glue. “In this match, Lesbuni will be fighting...” the hamster announcer began, “ I don’t know who.” He gave a forced laugh over the sound of himself ruffling through some papers. “Wow, there’s really no name for this opponent? Alright, Lesbuni versus the Nameless Opponent!” Lesbuni looked around the ring, still balancing on the ropes, “Is the other boxer even here?” As soon as she said that, two birds flew into the ring! One was the hummingbird referee, and the other was a blue bird with boxing gloves on its talons. “Tweet tweet,” the beautiful blue bird chirped. Lesbuni glared at it as the match begun. She and the bird both waited for the other to make a move. “Come on, do something!” Lesbuni yelled. The bird taunted her, flying its body back and forth. Tired of waiting, Lesbuni crouched down to jump and lost her balance. She was about to fall into the glue, so she grabbed out to the first thing she could - the referee’s wing. “Hey hey hey!! Watch it!” Aro panicked. This was his worst nightmare. He specifically became a referee so he didn’t have to fight, but now he was directly involved. “Let me go off! I mean- let go off me! No, ah, let... off!” Aro could barely flap his left wing with Lesbuni clinging to it like a baby, desperate not to fall in the glue. Aro kept fluttering his right wing as his left side started to sink downward. The hummingbird ref was now sideways, trying to stay safely afloat until... “Caw!” The blue bird dashed forward and started punching her little leg at Lesbuni’s face and arm, trying to make her let go. “Ahhhhh!!” the bunny cried, trying to kick her legs at the bird until one lucky rabbit foot bashed the birdy into the glue. But she sat up quick, and started trying to fly to escape the glue. Lesbuni had to attack while she had the chance. She looked Aro in the eyes. “I’m sorry.” “Wait, NO!” Aro cried - Lesbuni swung herself up on top of Aro’s body, causing him to fall in the glue. The rabbit hopped from on top of Aro’s back, and over to the bird. Her feet landed in the glue, stuck, but all she needed were her fists. She pounded the little birdy and sent it flying into the air! It landed on the floor outside the ring, the glue on its back forcing it to stay stuck in place. With a short count, the bird was out! “Weeeeee have a winner, folks!” Oxnard cheered as Lesbuni looked up with a grin. Everyone cheered for the little rabbit, but with her feet stuck, all she could do was raise her arms and wave to the crowd. “Haha, wait, wait! I have an idea... Gaydar, pull Aro up!” The giddy hamster giggled. The gator eased down from the ropes on the ceiling, landing in the glue, walking freely in it. Apparently his alligator scales were resistant to its stickiness! He used his tail like a spatula to swipe the bird free, holding him up to the announcer. “Thank you Gaydar,” Aro sincerely pat the gator’s nose. “Thure thing, thweetie!” he chimed in response. “Get some glue on his front side,” Oxnard ordered. Aro pleaded, “What!? No, don’t-” “You got it!” Gaydar scooped up some goop in his claw and rubbed is all over Aro’s bare belly. The bird whined, he couldn’t even fly to escape right now. “Aaaaand, feathers!” Oxnard announced over the speakers, as brightly colored feathers fell from the ceiling. “Hahaha! Now that Aro’s covered in glue and feathers, he’s going to look like a bird!” “But I am a bird!” the referee whined. Gaydar skipped around the ring to show off Aro’s newly feathered body. Everyone cheered and got a good laugh out of it. Aro was pretty confused, but it could have been worse, “At least I didn’t get injured. Even if this is gross and tough to clean out of my feathers, I was so worried about getting hurt while helping out... maybe I can put my fears to rest!” Oxnard teased over the mic, “Oh? We can help with that! Gaydar, which of his bones looks the most frail?” “What!? No no!” Aro yelped while Gaydar poked ticklishly around his body. When those three were done joking around, Lesbuni asked for Gaydar’s help in getting free and went to wash off her sticky fur. It took her a while to clean it all out! When she got back, her friend Nishi told her about the fights she missed while she was away. “You might not like this, but while you were gone, you missed a fight with this tall, orange fox lady...” Nishi grinned nervously. “What? Wh... do you mean... she already came out!?” Lesbuni whimpered. “Yeah, sorry buddy.” The fox that Lesbuni was waiting to see again had already come and gone. “But the good news is that she won! So she’ll be back in a few days...” Lesbuni frowned, this fox was very hard to get in touch with. And with the new rules, if either of them lost a match, they’d be out of the competition! It could be their last chance to talk to each other here. The disappointed bunny decided to leave early for the day. “I’ll see you next time, Lesbuni...” Nishi waved, “But, you know there’s another way to talk to her, right?” Lesbuni was excited about the possibility - but drooped her ears at the reality. “It’s too late. If I meet her that way, she’ll wonder why I didn’t do it earlier.” “I kinda wonder why you didn’t do it earlier...” Nishi mumbled as Lesbuni slunched the heck on outta there.

#boxer beats #lesbuni #nishi #aro usal #gaydar

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mermaidmafia-official · 5 years

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{PART I: SLEEPING EVIL}

written by: @interluxetumbra

outfit ref: for the first event (while asleep)

tag list: @bebemoon @ayzrules @vampirkaninchen @blubbingbeautifully

[AN EMPIRE OF DREAMS - INTRUSION]

She is dreaming as she has been for decades, all transitioning seamlessly between worlds and scenes that she dominates. She dreams of blood, girls in garters, pale rose buds, golden thrones, languid lounging and bathing in pools of bright shimmering waters sometimes aquamarine sometimes a dull pink but always laced with floating flora, a writhing sea of bodies in ecstasy. She dreams of the lives she has lived, the living and undead she has known, palatial estates she once called home. Sometimes she feels the constricting closeness of the cave that was very nearly a tomb but always, as in her life, she is saved. She drinks viscous blood from gold goblets and it seems to her that it is real as she can nearly taste it. She destroys a courtyard of peasants in a passionate fit of fledgling bloodlust and centuries later the location changes to a jazz club but the results are the same. It is glorious and she laughs, mouth full of blood and head muzzy from the high as she bears some anonymous mortal’s arm as a trophy of her feast. Other times, she flies, stretching sinuous wings, or barks and howls mocking Wolves and luring mortals.

She dreams seamlessly, all passing by at a lazy rate and she has no way of knowing the true world’s time. She forgets that she is asleep, and when the dreams start quickening to a dizzying pace, she wonders what is wrong with her world. And there’s the hand that reaches out through her dreams - it bears no attachment to any corpus, it appears of its own accord, reaching for her and dripping, always dripping thick, red blood. She tries to bite it in some instances, particularly when annoyed at being tripped from lounging in her bathhouse to ship deck to the ruins of her paternal home. The arm is unafraid of her, which frustrates her all the more.

She soon dreams of running from the arm, unsure of what it wants but knowing that it would rip her from her current state of dreamt comfort. But the arm flexes its digits and now it begins to sink into her hair, bent on clawing her toward it. She fights it but it is stronger than her will. She who submits to No One save The Bloodmother will not bend easily.

And yet …

The struggle makes her tired, more tired than she can remember being. Still she bares her fangs in attempt to intimidate and fight. Her resolve weakens, but still she fights until she is able to maintain form or substance in-dream.

[WOULD IT BE THAT EVERYDAY WERE THE SAME]

It has been four years, ten months, and thirteen days since Sabine completed her training as servant to the Mistress, replacing the old woman Marte who held the position for nearly sixty years of her own. Four years, ten months, and twelve days since she slit the throats of her sisters-in-training to prove her worthiness to the slumbering Mistress. It has been mostly quiet since the move - save for the hungry screams of the Mother’s new pet, of course, but she tries not to think about those - and now the house above is busy with party preparations.

The Mistress, sleeping peacefully, is haloed in flickering candles and black orchids (reputedly her favourites) - a delivery of fresh flowers is made every two weeks. They frame her beautifully, even in a state of decay (though the sickly sweet scent of their slow death makes Sabine wrinkle her nose and gag at times).

She slides an antique ebony comb through the Mistress’s equally dark hair - it is impossibly long, but the curls have become soft as down from a century’s worth of daily brushing and treatment. It is almost feeding time and she wonders if the Mistress can tell as she becomes near as restless as one can in the deep sleep of the undead. She watches while passing the comb closest to the Mistress’s face the twitching of her eyes beneath her dark eyelids - irregular until it becomes faster than she’s ever seen. When the Mistress’s mouth twitches into a snarl, she drops the comb, startled. This is most life (or rather, unlife), she has seen in her short period of service. She looks to the clock and confirms it is not feeding time yet (it is not). The combing process, now interrupted, has been forgotten as she sits, hands clasping tightly around the comb in worry.

Ought she tell someone? No, best not. (Fear of the Bloodmother and Grandmother Zhang immediately dismiss this thought.)

Ought she ring for Marte? No, definitely no. (The old woman is likely dead by now, and asking for her help would be a weakness and the Mistress must not know that.)

Is this normal? It could be. (The Mistress has been asleep for a century, as far as she knows.)

Maybe she’s having a bad dream? Maybe? (... maybe?)

One thing crosses her mind that she immediately shies away from in shame: perhaps the Mistress was beginning to wake up and she would have the honour of being the first servant in a century to well and truly attend the Mistress. She thinks about it wistfully for a moment, squeezing the comb tightly in her pale hands and pricking the tender flesh of her palms in the process.

Pondering this, Sabine decides that perhaps feeding time ought to come earlier than usual.

[AN EMPIRE OF DREAMS - EXPULSION]

Dreaming without knowing she is, she fights the arm as the landscape of her dreams cycle through, now reduced to background noise as she engages in battle. The arm - long, clawed, and bloody - has since let go of her hair but now has her by the wrist and she twists and screams like a hellcat, biting and spitting and wrenching her shoulder but its grip is more solid than a vise.

Soon the claws progress and move to grasp her forearm, claws sinking in, and though she feels no pain she howls, enraged. Finally, she decides to sink her own claws in and mirrors the grasp of the hand as if in greeting. Now so locked, a tear in the dreamscape opens behind the disembodied arm, blinding light burning her eyes, and the arm begins to drag her backward. She kicks and screams more, but it is in vain - she will not be victrix here, which all the more injures her pride in an empire of her mind’s own creation.

[SLEEPING EVIL - THE AWAKENING]

Being wrenched from a near eternal sleep is not quite so simple as the fairy stories would lead one to imagine.

It was unclear if she is indeed awake or still dreaming, but for the first time in what seemed like centuries, Amare feels a heaviness of form and substance. And she is all too aware of the lingering blinding light, so much so she keeps her eyes shut tight, hoping to dispel it in such a childish fashion.

#this is fairly long - apologies!#fanfan i hope you don't mind that i used your separation title style!#it worked well for this piece ^^#i got impatient with myself over amare's bio and decided to go ahead and publish the story #^^'#hope you guys like it!#btr #c o m p l e t e #btr: story #btr: sleeping evil #semp's writing #btr: amare

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eight-twenty · 4 years

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Eight Things (7.4.20)

1. Do you ever feel like you need to defend your life choices before anyone has even questioned them? I do. A lot.

I’m even writing this “Eight” things post to give justice to this blog’s name. When really, it’s just my birth date. You know that, right?

Sometimes I feel like I know exactly what I’m doing, and not—all at once. And I’ve been winging life that way. I’ve been okay that way. Now I’m in a new phase of: I know the right thing to do for me, but I just don’t do it. [shrug emoji].

So here goes nothing. Or everything.

2. I can’t remember the last time writing felt safe, or fun, or me. (writing = publishing words for the internet to see)

And now that the Anti-Terror Bill has been passed as a law in the Philippines, it now feels less safe, in the most literal sense of the word.

Every new online space I try to create is always an attempt at recreating what it was like pre-”blogger” or “influencer era--the time when talking about thy thoughts and thy self was art, and just that. There were no blueprints, no aesthetics, and no metrics to measure the value of words--anything that graduated from drafts to publish was enough. Having the space to share your thoughts to the void was enough; any feedback you get from it was just a bonus.

My brain’s rewired into thinking my words--or anything I create--only has value when money comes out of it. This is what you get from working in publishing-advertising industry, kids. Don’t.

Words combined with numbers has never been a good combo. From algebra all the way to the numbers of likes, followers, and engagement on social posts-- as someone who seeks validation (thanks, Leo ass), I hate it.

3. If there’s anything I need to learn about writing, I learned it from exercising. (yes, one that involves the yoga mat and the sweating it out)

Like everyone else in quarantine, I decided to work out. And it’s a privilege for me to say I didn’t do it to consciously lose weight, I just wanted to prove something for my self. My validation was in realizing I can now go on for a full hour of exercising when I was always about to pass out within 15 minutes of a cardio session on the first few weeks.

Why am I saying this. One, it’s really the showing up that counts; contemplating on whether to do things or not makes doing it only more difficult. It sounds like a cliche advice from self-help books, honestly. But there’s a reason as to why they’re “cliches” to begin with, they’re that true.

Why am I saying this. Two, not thinking about it and just doing it has helped me create a habit out of it; in a sense that a day doesn’t feel right if i don’t do it (UGH, I judged my self there); and if I can do such--why can’t I do the same when it comes to writing.

I guess when the metric is more personal than it is physical (or again, unnumbered) is when I’m at my best.

I tried being a quarantine “chef” too. And it’s when I’m at my worst.

4. Since talking about ‘exercise’ is out of the bag, might as well talk about K-pop, yeah?

Actually just Exo, BTS, and a bit of Red Velvet. Okay, maybe on a different post.

5. Let’s talk about my posters instead.

I’ve been living in a studio unit for three years. As a rule by the landlady, we weren’t allowed to put anything up on the walls. So for three years, it never really had a personal flair to it; it simply was just a space with furniture--with ref magnets and a disheveled stack of books to make it feel ‘homey’

At the start of quarantine have I decided to break the rule; and this little corner is one of the few things left that make me happy. Not because my ultimate bias is there (well, partially), but because it feels like having a “me” corner.

I have always been a poster child, by that I mean I’ve always had things up on my walls. My first poster was of teenage mutant ninja turtles (I was three!); and soon it was everything I find my self associating to. My room back in Cebu is filled with posters and cut-outs since I was seven, and it’s been stacking up since. A cut-out of Hamburglar is still there for some reason.

I’m trying to find a deeper meaning about this ‘desire’ to put things up in walls--is it a personality? a form of need for validation? or is just another one of those things I feel like I need to explain, but it’s not really that big of a deal anyway.

Anyway, unless you live alone; I don’t recommend living in a studio unit. Especially when you’re obsessed with gatekeeping things ‘personal’ as much as I do. (Taurus moon, indeed)

6. Being Twenty Seven feels nice.

It’s borderline late twenties and I’ve learned to resign the use of “adulting” when it comes to just figuring things out as I go in life. We have the rest of our lives to grow up anyway.

7. Quitting social media is a fantasy that keeps me going. *laughs nervously

8. Other things I look forward to: Eating cake, finishing my current read: Culture & History by Nick Joaquin, the three more books I ordered online, going full-swing on my personal projects, ukay-ukay irl, eating cake, traveling with my family, my family, posting a lot of unfiltered, unedited (and unproofread with an abuse of em-dahses) nonsense from here.

...and the feeling that everything’s going to be okay eventually (as it always has), because it doesn’t look like it’s going to be.

So please let me have this space devoid of reality.

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