#worlds worst creator to my OCS

[pastelpaperplanes]

OC Art Dump!

if you remember them, I love you forever and sorry it’s been 84 years since you’ve seen these guys

[novemberhope]

sending some 🌹 your way

This is in reference to this post

Please remember to specify which character to include if you want someone specific.

Honestly... I never thought it would be this hard to write Monkey D Dragon. But it's good practice, too. Pity we know so few things about him.

Ellaria felt a knot of dread tighten in her chest. Her gift allowed her to glimpse into the future, and she had seen a vision that chilled her to the bone.

"Dragon," she implored, her voice trembling. "It's going to be a massacre. But it's not too late. It can still be prevented."

Dragon's gaze hardened. "Ellaria, you know this is a trap. We cannot risk our forces for this. We must focus on playing the long game. Those scumbags are not our target. The Celestial Dragons are."

"But does playing the long game entail sacrificing the innocent?" Ellaria countered. "Are we not bound to protect those in need, no matter the cost? And if we don't, aren't we as bad as those we seek to take down?"

Dragon sighed, his face heavy with regret. "The path to freedom is paved with sacrifice, Ellaria. We cannot afford to get sidetracked by every vision you see. I'm sorry."

"But what if it's not a distraction?" Ellaria pressed. "What if I'm meant to save those I see in danger? What if that's the reason I'm having those powers?"

Dragon's eyes narrowed. "Your gift is a powerful one, but it can also be a burden. You must learn to control your visions, not let them control you." "Yes," Ellaria said, slowly rising. "I thought so too once. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I'm meant to take a different approach."

"Meaning... what?" Dragon asked, watching her carefully.

"Meaning I'm sorry... but I cannot let this one go."

[kakusu-shipping]

Rät by Penelope Scott has been a Nezu song in my head for years. Glad to finally be able to put down some of the vibe of why.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── · 

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows? 

For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.

Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep. Priorities, right?

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── · 

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.

It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind: 

Crowe’s going to be there.

Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening. 

When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, thigh high socks, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment. 

“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Jericho.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, like I said he might notice.”

You roll your eyes, before releasing a sigh, “Britt, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”

“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”

“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?

“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But different heels and if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”

You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.

This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.

The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.  

Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”

You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.  

Crowe.  

He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.

You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.  

You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.  

Oh no.

Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.  

His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.

“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Britt made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”  

Crowe raises a brow, “Britney suggested this..?” then soft smile appears once again as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”

You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”

“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”

You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”  

Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.

“Excuse me?”  

“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”  

You rolled your eyes, “I look ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head away from his gaze.

It wasn’t long before you felt his finger under your chin to look at him once more, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, “I wouldn’t say that now,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him. 

“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? Like you said, half the room is staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”

“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.

“It’s way too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Let’s leave.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”  

Your eyes dart around the room, catching a few glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.  

“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”  

Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”  

You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.  

Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.  

“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.  

“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”  

The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.  

He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his blueberry cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.  

“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.  

“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.  

He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”  

The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.  

“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.  

“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”  

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.  

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.  

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”  

The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.  

His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.  

“Please tell me to stop…” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. “…before I do something I’ll regret.”

A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.  

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.  

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.  

You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze still lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His deep blue eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual warmth replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His soft smile was still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.  

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you move your body forward—out of the passenger seat closing the distance between you and him.

His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his soft smile faltering, replaced by a soft gasp for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs as you warp your arms around his neck looking at him.

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is filled with disbelief.He inhales quickly, his chest rising against yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly on the tight spandex of your bunny suitas though he’s testing the reality of the situation.  

You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but happily composed, but now? Now, his usual teasing and confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.  

“Don’t regret this…” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop, Jericho.”  

The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying.

His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.  

Soon his lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “I won’t.”  

May got a little carried away here…

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You don’t know how it happened. 

So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game at a party.

It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…

All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.  

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”  

And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”  

Big mistake.  

Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.  

“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”  

You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”  

His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”  

Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”  

And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.  

How the tf did Hyugo knew your size anyway?

The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.  

He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.  

The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?  

Bright red.  

Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.  

“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.  

You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the crotch area down to show less skin, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo from party earlier today,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.  

Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup— floppy bunny ears, the thigh-high socks, even a little button tie—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”  

“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”  

Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”  

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”

He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.

Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.  

You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.

“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.

Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.  

“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.  

“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.  

“Sure, okay,” you say, sighing as you settle deeper into the couch, before you mention, “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”  

“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.  

“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.

Fast.  

One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.  

“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”  

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.  

“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”  

“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”  

“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.  

You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.  

“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.  

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.  

His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This outfit isn’t practical.”  

“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.  

“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.  

“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.  

But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.  

And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.  

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.

Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.  

“Sol, I can do that myself—”  

“N-No,” he practically begged. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”  

You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.  

His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.  

“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.  

“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”  

He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.  

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.  

“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”  

“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”  

And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.  

Please don’t make him stop…

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.

You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.

Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.

The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.

A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…

You looked stunning.

Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. His brain? Absolutely empty. 

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.

You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”

Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.

You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”

“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”

“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”

Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”

You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”

“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."

“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”

Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.

Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”

“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”

“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”

You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.

“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.

He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.

“Hey! What the hell—”

You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.

“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”

You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.

“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.

“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.

Is he blushing?

Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”

“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.

His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.

“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.

“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery as you leaned forward slightly, one of your legs crossing just enough to invade his space. The toe of your heel pressed lightly against his chest, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”  

Geo, ever the picture of calm composure, froze mid-motion. His hands, which had been casually adjusting the cuffs of his jacket a moment ago, were now completely still. For a second, it was like time itself had paused. Slowly—deliberately—his gaze lifted, locking with yours.  

Fuck.

His aquamarine eyes, normally narrowed and calculating, were different now. They seemed darker, more intense, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t annoyance, nor was it the usual stoic indifference he wore like armor. Whatever it was, it had you swallowing hard.  

The teasing smirk on your face faltered just slightly as curiosity crept in. You tilted your head to the side, your lips parting faintly as you tried to read him, to figure out what was going on behind that icy stare. “Geo?” you prompted softly, your narrowed eyes searching his face.  

Still, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t seem to.  

It was unnerving—and kind of thrilling, if you were honest. Normally, a jab like that would earn you a dry, sarcastic retort, something sharp-edged that would put you right back in your place. But this time? Nothing. Whatever comeback he’d had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more uncertain.  

The silence stretched, tension thickening between the two of you like a coiled spring. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heartbeat hammering in your chest or his, but the moment felt impossibly fragile.  

“Seriously, say something,” you murmured, a hint of nervous laughter creeping into your tone. You pressed your foot just a little harder against his chest, trying to get any kind of reaction. “You’re starting to freak me out.”  

His gaze flicked briefly to your leg—the curve of your calf, the ridiculous heel perched at the end of it—before snapping back to your face. “You shouldn’t play games you can’t win,” he said finally, his voice low and even.

Your breath caught for half a second. His hand moved, wrapping firmly around your ankle—not harshly, but with enough pressure to make your pulse skip a beat. With one smooth motion, he guided your leg away from his chest.

“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.

The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your expression faltered. “...Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.

Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.  

“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.  

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”  

He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”  

Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.  

“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”  

Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”  

“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”  

Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.  

“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.  

“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.  

“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.  

Geo’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.  

“Geo, what the hell—”  

Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.  

The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.  

You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.  

“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”  

Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.  

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”  

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.  

“Oh,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.

“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.

“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe���s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”

“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”

“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.

“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”

You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”

Wow. Five minutes it is then.

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── · 

[skretnica2]

ive been thinking my intro post for bruce was pretty half assed, so this post will be dedicated to dive in a little more on his background, personality, etc etc Yay have his fits. Im so geeked on oc stuff rn sorri

bruce comes from a broken home, but he doesn't think about it too much, or just plainly denies it. he lived mostly with his dad in a trashy house in blue skies, safe to say he isn't dirt poor but they're not really accommodated, mostly cause mr jett spends his money on booze and cigs lol

he got sent to bullworth by his dad so as not to include him in the household expenses

talking about mr jett, he treats his son more as a friend than as a father, explaining bruce's bad manners and why he just be doing shit. his mom isn't really in the picture except for the emails and money she sends every few months, she's living in a different state. bruce still loves them both

aside from his family issues, he's pretty chill and chatty if unprovoked and when he's not beating someones face in, or getting his face beat in, he will literally agree to anything if theres guaranteed fun. bruce has the worst introspection in the world and combined with how rowdy he is it's only worse, always acts on impulse and rarely stops to think things through. Basically, he dislikes thinking, says he won't need it for the army anyways. one of his most notable traits is that hes kind of a hopeless romantic despite all his talk about love and feelings being lame, whenever he approaches a pretty girl or viceversa, he will imagine a future with her and then actually consider if its realistic or not. he's openly flirty but not in a weird way, he just says cheesy and shitty pick up lines

he's mostly known in the academy because a year before he used to go out with a girl, she dumped him and her brother gave bruce the beating of his life. this guy was later expelled for breaking bruce's nose and bruce became even more hostile when it comes to being a bully. he still likes this girl very much tho

He was expelled from his previous school because he liked to do pull-ups literally anywhere he could grasp onto to show off his calisthenics skills to girls until one day he ripped out a whole doorway

being a bully the most logical thing would be to beat on nerds, but he rathers mess with preps or anyone who can put up a fight with him. most he does to nerds is steal their money and homework, or stuff them in trashcans to get a cheap laugh out of whatever girl he's trying to pull. there was an incident where he threw a dissected rat at earnest and got suspended for three days

he lurks around the parking lot, main building, gym, and the in and out motel

i like to imagine his voice claim being tyler the creator lol

if he was an actual character hed be kissable

clique relationship chart woooooo

the townies chart because would be all black they hate bruce and bruce hates them

bruce's main intro

[another-delta-lover]

Hello!! Delta here!! Coming back from a long break!! :D

^ A lil about my blog:

CRADITS FOR THE HEAVY DIVIDERS: @sister-lucifer

PLEASE DON'T CALL ME AN ARTISTS!! MAKES ME UNCOMFY!! :( Call me someone that draw or anything else, be creative and have fun about it XD

This blog might contain some unappropiate stuff (swears, slurs [the ones I can say], sex jokes, and so on) but nothing nsfw!!

This is mostly an art blog! I do drawing requests A LOT!! They're open most of the time, but it's always kind to ask first!!

ASKS ARE OPEN most of the time! Say whatever you want idc! If you make me uncomfy I'll tell you or just block you! I'm always open to chat! :)

I get tired often T_T So some days I might not be as active as others, so please don't insist too much about it :(

] DNI!! if you... [ :

.- are a Zionist or Pro-israel, TERF, Proshipper, Trump supporter, are against the LGBTQIA+ community, are a pedofile, or very disrespectful in general!! . If you're any of these, please educate yourself better. If you don't, then block me/DNI. -.

☆My alt blogs!!-

M...myself?- @lil-delta-delticus-guy

My evil self >:] : @another-alpha-hater

My Medic-Bot (and other tf2 robots) RP blog: @the-real-tf2-medicbot

My TF2 heavy and medic ocs RP blog!: @niko-n-frank-mailbox

My new tf2 ocs askblog...: @deltas-team-blog

☆ MY TAGS!!! -

Non art related:

Important stuff- #Deltas megaphone

Reblogs- #Deltas reblogy:3

Mutuals- #Deltas frens

My best friend<3- #Deltas bbf 🇦🇷 @coffeeboys-posts

My best she/her friend!!- #Deltas cloudy fren @darkcloudsatnight

My platonical crush- #Pootis Deltis @pootimedes

Random yappin- #Deltas yappin

Random RAGE/ANGRY yappin- #Deltas AUGH

Vent/Sad yappin- #Deltas cry for help

Asks- #Deltas consulting room

Art related:

Fanarts- #Deltas fangirls

Drawings- #Deltas pencil grabbin

Drawing req- #Deltas requesties:P

Doodles- #Deltas scribblings

Ocs - #Deltas children

SFMs - #Delta thinks he's Valve XD

Extra tags:

Posts about ma family :3 - #Deltas family posts

Me being obssesed with Heavy— #The Flower N The Bear

Alt blogs and I arguing- #Deltas voices getting louder

🇨🇱CHILEAN STUFF WHEN IT'S SEPTEMBER🇨🇱- #Deltas UYUI🇨🇱

OLD TAGS:

Drawings- #Deltas serious pencil grabbin

Doodles- #Deltas random pencil grabbin

Requests- #Deltas mercy on the poor

THIS BLOG'S CURRENT HYPERFIXATION IS:

Team Fortress 2

[ FANDOM TAGS UNDER THE CUT ]---

Tf2- #Deltas men obssesion

UT/DT- #Deltas cringe era

House MD- #Deltas medical malpractice

Mouthwashing- #Deltas Dental Hygiene

Gravity Falls- #Deltas reason to love triangles

Dandy's World- #Deltas fav roblox game

JJBA- #Deltas BUFF GAY men obssesion

I'm Scared A Pixelated Nightmare- #Deltas worst hear me out

SCP- #Deltas scientist complex

DHMIS- #Deltas fav scary series

The Sims 4- #Deltas God Complex

Regretavator- #Deltas WORSE roblox obssesion

Minecraft- #Deltas inner child

TADC- #Deltas YT brain rot

TNMN- #Deltas really unhealthy obssesion

Good Omens(I don't support the writer)- #Deltas june depression

Frankenstein- #Deltas book reading

Balatro + Inscryption + any card game- #Deltas Gambling

Some extra fandoms I'm in+ stuff I like that don't have a tag!!-

Untitled Tag Game

Cube Escape

Doors

Mandela Catalogue (I don't support the creator)

Bad Parenting

Life Eater

The Last Of Us game

Cuphead (show and game)

Nimona

Wild Robot

You can always ask me if I like more!! (I always forget XD)

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Hey y'all, I'd just like to genuinely thank you all for the supportive messages and the donations. Really, I cannot think of words that would justify how grateful I feel for everyone's help. We're still on the waiting list for the police to investigate the break in, opting to check if there were any CCTVs nearby in order to check the criminals fleeing the scene of the crime.

Other than that, I'm doing much better mentally than yesterday, so I can most definitely write the 2000 followers special again.

I also wanna say how awesome and amazing this community is. I've never been a part of a fandom that pushes my creativity to it's highest, while being supportive and not being at each other's throats because being in the FNAF fandom does things to you. I was pretty popular on the fnaf twitter scene, but it was SO TAXING AND DRAINING that I don't consider it worth going back to.

This is genuinely THE BEST community I've ever had the honors to be a part of (Shipwrecked 64 came very close), and I'm very honored to be at the spot that I am at right now, as creator of the Harlequin AU.

Thank you for supporting me, in my best and worst times. Thank you for being interested in the story I want to tell, and even asking about the world of it as well as it's cast. Thank you for always taking the time to reblog and comment in my works, because I love reading everyone's special inputs.

A very, very special thank yous to all my friends who inspire me to become a better writer and artist, to @thescarletnargacuga who is technically the co-writer for this AU at this point lmfao, to @nobody-nexus for being an amazing and loving partner <3, and to @sm-babie for getting me into showtime, which is the major reason this AU and it's story even exists.

And I know I don't always get to see it because of my incredibly short attention span (and tumblr's weird notification system), but I also would like to thank the other artists who've made fanarts, fanfics or OCs for this AU. There's A LOT of them, that it overwhelms my brain and I'm just- wow. I'm just really taken aback at how much people like this small, incredibly canon-divergent AU. My brain is getting FRIED at all this in the best way possible but woo I need a bit of a breather haha-

I hope I can continue to provide quality Harlequin (and showtime) content, and I hope to keep this train rolling. Keep being awesome, and keep being creative, everyone! The regularly scheduled content will be back rolling on track very soon. :')

- Ziku/E-Specter

[empressofthesunslittlecorner]

A rant about Aang and Byrke

WARNING NOT KATAANG FRIENDLY

CONTINUE WITH PRECAUTION

Hello my loves!

Here I'm with a new blog entry.

This time we will talk about Kataang, Aang and Byrke.

Since I'm writing a FanFic where Aang is paired with an OC, I thought I could tell you why I prefer Aang with OCs instead of Katara.

Just to be clear.

I like Aang.

I love Katara and would for this girl sell my liver.

But them together as a pair...please no!

Kataang is one of my NOTPs.

In my Let's Talk about Zutara post I pretty much said why I can't stand this pairing.

One is the age and maturity gap.

What does a 14-year-old want with a 12-year-old? It's just creepy, no matter the gender and it would have been better if they got together at like 22 and 20.

Even if I think Zutara is superior, I could grimly accept Kataang.

Second Aang and Katara are the worst version of their self together.

I haven't read the comics, but what I saw on Tumblr and on Legend of Korra was enough to make me angry.

Katara was reduce to Aang price, girlfriend, housewife and mother of his children.

The warrior girl we all loved, who never turned her back on people who needed her, became in the name of love (and Byrke) a shadow of herself.

Our real Katara would smack this wishy-washy version of herself to kingdom come!

Then we have Aang. The boy clearly turns into a Nice GuyTM when it's about Katara.

He kissed her TWICE, TWICE, without her consent and never said sorry for this.

He thinks he deserves her love because he is the Avatar (the hero) and that's how it be.

Till Season 2 Aang wasn't that worse about Katara, a lot of plotpoints pointed out that Aang obsession, I'm not calling it love, on Katara was not good.

He replaced the love for his people with Katara.

Erm, that's not healthy at all.

What Aang expierendec was traumatic, he is the sole suriver of a genocide, but he can't shove all his love for his people to Katara.

How can only one person hold this standards?

It's impossible.

Katara is a bandaid on a ripped arm.

A bandaid isn't going to fix Aang trauma.

He needed to really face it and accept it and let Katara go.

Guru Pathik told him he to let Katara go, but I don't think it was meant to say, don't love that girl anymore.

No, it was more like: you clearly are obsessed with her and think if she loves you all your hurt will go away, but this isn't the case!

Aang could still love Katara, he just needed to stop to put her on a pestal!

Then we know what happens, he let's her go, seems to get the Avatar State, but turn it down because Katara is in danger and he must save her.

Alright, we all would run to our loved one if they are in danger, but Aang, you are the Avatar.

The Avatar is the peacekeeper of this world.

Sadly he can't put his own desires forward, he has do to what was for the world right!

In the Crystal Catabombs he realizes this.

So he let's go of Katara to get the Avatar State and then gets shot down by Azula.

Then when the first episode of season 3 rolls around, you get the feeling that Aang learnend his lesson.

Because he was selfish, he lost his greatest eapan.

He needed to be better.

Only...after the first episode season 3 was really...bad.

I can't say it better.

If you compare it to the other two seasons...season 3 has mayor problems.

A lot of plotpoints get forgotten, Aang didn't learn from his mistakes, he acts entitled for Katara love and he gets his Avatar State back thanks to Deus-Ex-Machine Rock and even finds a way to handle Ozai thanks to Deus-Ex-Machine Lion Turtle.

How, HOW, did the creators look at this and want a golly what an awesome final?

It was not!

It was rushend and not earnend!

Because Aang is a selfinsert from Bryek.

They statet once in an interview that Kataang was reflection how they had a crush on their babysitter, who of course didn't wanted them and would go out with the "bad boy".

The bad boy here in question is Zuko, which is hilarious since Zuko is the most awkward dork.

So they wanted to create a story were the young hero gets the hot older girl.

No normal 14-year-old girl would date a 12-year-old and if she did call the police on her ass!

Avatar was only amazing because of writers like Aaron Ehasz, who turned Toph, who was supposed to be a boy and a love rival for Aang, into this badass girl who didn't let her disabilty stop her to become the greatest earthbender and inventer of metalbening in the world.

They truned Iroh into thee loveable and wise uncle and not like Byrke wanted into a spy for Ozai.

Also Azula was supposed to be a boy too, but she became the female villain we all loved and wish we would see in other media's too!

A lot of writer wanted also Zutara to happen and not Kataang.

If I remember right season 3 was so rushed and lacking because the movie-who-shall-not-be-named was in production and Bryke wanted the series to end before it.

A lot of concept were thrown out the window for it.

The writers wanted to make even a season 4, where Aang would even find other airbenders, but noooooooooooooooo we can't give Aang the healing he deserves, we must live out a fantasy trough this boy.

Looking at you Bryke.

Anyways we got, what we got and I'm so not happy about it.

Zutara should be canon and Aang should have found a girl who loved really, who was his equal and who didn't needed to be a broodmare for the air nomads, becasue there where still air nomads around.

Here we get back to my preference to ship Aang with OCs. Since I'm a big fan of the theoretical season four we would have gotten, it's only naturel to imagine own characters, since no canon characters exist for it.

I would have loved to see Aang with a descendant of Air Nomads. She learning from him, he learning from her, cute!

But let's be real if Aang is writing good he could work with a lot of characters.

Even canon ones like On Ji. I found her really cute with him.

The only thing I want for Aang partner is that the girl doesn't get reduced to a broodmare.

So the airbenders have always to come back/stop from hiding.

IT'S NOT THE COMPLICATED!

BUT WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!

WE LIVE IN THE DARK TIMELINE!

AVATAR COULD HAVE BEEN THE MOST REVOLUTIONARY CARTOON EVER, BUT NOOOOOO TWO MEN HAD TO MAKE THEIR WEIRD FANTASY REALITY AND DIDN'T LISTEN TO THEIR TEAM OF WRITER WHO WERE LIKE, FAM THAT'S NARRAVTIVLY SPEACKING HUGE STEPS BACKWARDS!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Yeah, I think you all guessed how much I hate Bryke.

Fricking pricks!

Also, people who make fun of their own fans because they ship a pairing themselves not like are the worst!

That shows have much respect they have for their fans.

Zero.

They just wanted to live out their fantasy and be done.

Again, fricking pricks!

So for now, that's from me, I needed to get it out of my chest.

Till next time my loves!

[amf-studios]

I decided to revamp and old oc!

A couple years back I was sort of giving lore to my cookie run kingdom, I came up with its own monarch, Midnight Cola Cookie

Course I didn't actually do much with it at the time, and the only concrete thing I knew was then midnight kingdom would be based on feudal Japan.

But, getting back into Cookie run recently, it got me thinking about it again! So I decided to flesh out the concept a bit more

My own kingdom in game has a lot of the Halloween themed decor, so I decided that the midnight kingdom, in addition to being Earthbread's Japan equivalent, is also a hot spot for monsters and the supernatural! I imagine all citizens would be either based on Halloween tropes, or different yokai.

After I got that idea, I had to rework Midnight Cola to match! I've now based her on Shutendoji, the Oni king of Japanese folklore. Once the son of a monstrous snake, Yamata-no-Orochi, his unfortunate parentage set him on a course that created one of the strongest demons in all of Japan.

As you can probably guess by her design, Yamata-No-Orochi's role in this story is filled by none other, then Shadow Milk Cookie.

In times of old, before the Beasts had fully become corrupted by their own power, Shadow Milk cookie created a deciple, to help foster knowledge in all Cookie kind.

The young cookie traveled far too the east, spreading her masters gospel. Unfortunately, whilst she was traveling, disaster struck. The beasts fell to their worst selves, and were soon sealed away.

Though far from home, word of her creators fate still reached the far east, and unfortunately, rumors spiraled. Cookies began to distrust young Cola Cookie. Her gospel of Knowledge was shunned more and more, as Cookies feared she would soon follow her master's path. He did create her, after all.

Eventually the rumors grew so out of proportion, the Shogun ordered her arrest. She was lead in chains to the palace, the cookies gawking at her misfortune. She could hear them murmuring to eachother, calling her a freak.

The deciple of the light of knowledge pleaded for the shogun to see reason, to show her mercy... she was denied.

She was imprisoned in the castle's dungeon for years. Left to ponder her fate as she waited to crumble. All the while she pondered her master's actions. How could he do this? Why were his decisions damning her?

After years of this pondering... she snapped. She understood her master now... this world didn't care about kindness... there were only two absolutely truths. Fear, the kind that damned her... and power that inspired such fear.

What happened afterwards was lost to time. No one is quite sure how she escaped, or what happened to the shogun... but now, Midnight Cola Cookie reigns.

The eastern land fell under her rule, now known as the Midnight kingdom, she allowed refuge to all those who were the victims of fear. It became a kingdom of monsters. A kingdom of Freaks.

Not much is known about the Midnight Kingdoms present state. Just that as of now, it seems to ally itself with the cookies of darkness, and that Midnight Cola Cookie readily awaits her creator's return...

I hope you enjoy, and if you do, commissions are open. Details on my blog.

[kairithemang0]

Alright Intro 2 Electric Boogaloo

Alright gang my name's Kai (or Kaiden, if you wanna be official or something) and I post really random shit that y'all apparently like.

I use exclusively he/him pronouns and I'm a minor

My asks are always open, I love answering them so feel free to ask some silly questions or send me art requests and stuff. I love doing them and it gives me an excuse to improve my drawing and stuff

Interests! (purple highlights are my mains atm)

Starcanwrecked (Spies Are Forever specifically)

Kingdom Hearts

Given

Disney

Heartstopper

The World Ends With You

Epic Mickey

The Art Of Murder

Arcane

Other musicals (ask. PLEASEEEEE)

@ask-agentscurtandowen <- Curtwen ask blog

@hetookthewoodblockinthedivorce <- Storyblock ask blog with @orangeslikesbread (he's amazing btw follow him or else)

@yourfavschappellroansong <- A blog dedicated to deciding what a characters favorite Chappell Roan song would be

@lawrencewilderanswers <- Saf oc blog! Ask me about him! <3

@confession-of-the-heart <- Kingdom Hearts confession blog

sw-5273-9425-2615 <- switch friend code! I mostly play smash bros and splatoon but I have other games too

#Kaiedits <- my edits!

#queue still don’t see do you curt <- my queue tag :D

#kai writes shit <- writing tag

#kairying in here <- vent tag (if you’re going to unfollow me because I’m venting, just block this)

#maze likes corn <- cat posts

#kai is gay <- horny posting/replying to horny asks

Taken anon markers <- <3, 🦕, 🧊, 🦈, 🐧, 🍆, 🐑

I'm normally not someone who will follow you first, but I'll likely follow you back if I like your posts

I have semi-frequent outbursts where I just vent for hours and in that time I will probably be an asshole, I apologize in advance and will send you an apology the next day if I say something rude and out of pocket

Tag me in Wilbur Cross posts, Curtwen posts, Storyblock posts or just any posts that you think I'd like

Uhhhhhhhhhh something something once a spy always a spy Mickey it's Riku they put bugs in him can I shit or will I drown?

Extra!

My pronouns page :)

My ao3 <3

Accidental creator/cocreator of:

Saf the world ends with you au

Spying in Wonderland (saf Alice in Wonderland au)

Transgender ACM Modern AU

Spydom Hearts (All my saf kh aus)

The kh worst live action cast (post)

Bracelet, edit, drabble, moodboard, and art requests are open!

[sazzujazzu]

oc time? oc time.

Looking at and reading about other people's amazing Star Wars ocs made me want to show to the world the two I've made, even though the idea of anyone seeing my creations is really anxiety-inducing 😆 but, I suppose the only way to conquer that fear is to just release them into the wild.

Introducing: jedi knight Nem (who seems to have lost both their legs in a tragic accident involving a lazy creator),

and their clone captain Shrieks. (included is a somewhat successful (i think? i can't draw a reg clone) take on the captain without his helmet. i really hope the ct number and the legion number i came up with are not in use already lol)

Nem was knighted a few months into the Clone Wars and, after the death of their master, became the general to the 357th Legion in his place. In the beginning of the war, Nem was shy and quiet, yet kind and friendly, quickly befriending the legion's captain, and the two became nearly inseparable. Due to their shyness, Nem is not the greatest at barking orders, often delegating that part of leadership to the captain.

With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, Nem basically grew up in the Jedi Archives, and spends nearly all of their freetime reading or researching something, taking notes, and sometimes coming up with new battle strategies with Shrieks.

Captain Shrieks, CT-1093, is a close combat specialist, battle-hardened yet secretly soft-hearted and kind trooper, who is best buds with his Jedi General. He cares deeply for Nem, considering them a vod as much as the men he grew up and trained with. The man's got the worst sense of humor imaginable, the quality of his jokes being a war crime on their own, but he doesn't care as long as at least one person laughs. (Nem. it's Nem. they always laugh)

Shrieks always tells everybody his name is short for Shriek-hawk, but it actually is just Shrieks because he was always shouting war cries during combat training and battle simulations.

I hope somebody will like these two idiots as much I do 😊

[waffliesinyoface]

actually i wanna post about one of my random OCs, who is a play on the "child character who is ACTUALLY an adult, no really" trope because im a firm believer in that trope being funny if its used properly. (when its NOT used properly, that is when i get Annoyed. fire emblem awakening my beloathed...)

ANYWAYS. The gist of it is that she's a mid twenties college student and low-key weeb. She gets killed/isekai'd by Truck-kun, everyone's favorite plot device, and then shows up in limbo with a disembodied voice talking about reincarnation and she's very excited because "holy shit this is just like konosuba" and immediately agrees halfway through its monologue. And then she's like, hey, if you're already going to the trouble of reincarnating me in a new body, does it have to be this one...?

She doesn't get access to a character creator screen or anything but The Voice is like "I don't see why not...?" and lets her make suggestions.

So she starts asking for things like "red eyes" and "waist-length hair" and "pointy ears" and "able to use lots of cool magic" and "ooh, can i be an elf or a half elf or whatever" and so on until she catches herself mid-rant and goes "ah, sorry, that's probably a little bit chuunibyou, huh?"

NOW, THE IMPORTANT BIT: the Omnipresent Divine Voice is not actually speaking english. It does not understand english. It doesnt even have context for language. It just "says" concepts and her brain interprets it as english. So anything she says back to it is translated back in a way it can understand. Normally this isnt a problem! It's like using machine translation for a simple conversation. A little clunky, but it works.

So, it doesn't hear the term chuunibyou as it's understood, it hears "中二病" and translates it as "middle schooler disease", after she spent several minutes listing things she'd like for her new body. It can't tell the difference between a request for traits and her admonishing herself for being lame.

She realizes her mistake when she wakes up in the new world and realizes she looks like a fucking eighth grader. Just the absolute worst. And THEN she realizes that, because she requested being an elf, she's going to look like that for a long, long time. (Longer than she thinks, even - it interpreted the "disease" part of that as "stunted growth" . Not that she figures that out until she actually meets other elves..) A key part of her outfit are boots with really big heels just so she can try to eke out just a little more height and respectability.

And the real kicker? Because she interrupted it mid-explanation, she didn't realize that the world she got isekai'd into wasnt a dragon quest-esque world with demons to defeat, it's like. Recettear. Atelier. Low stakes slice of life fantasy nonsense. She has enough magic capabilities to knock holes in a mountain, but there's no fucking use for it. (She's so overtuned that she makes runic glyphs and stuff appear in the air while firing spells. Not because magic requires it or anything, but because "it looks cooler". She makes illusions of special effects happen because she thinks magic should look like that.)

Instead, to make her way in this new world... she runs a shop. Because even though she's living in a fantasy world; she still has to work retail.

[redlenai]

agreeing with that past anon. i have been really big fan of yours for a while since you’ve carried us buddy daddies fans years ago and i’ve been saving up to commission you. i was disappointed to see you openly shipping your character with a rapist. sure exploring him as a character is one thing because he’s interesting but making a fresh character to pursue a romance with him, considering his actions, sits really badly in my stomach. i’m sorry but i can no longer support you or your artwork. please do better.

Hi there Anon, I apologize first for not attaching a drawing like I would have likely done with other replies.

I'm glad you have enjoyed the artwork of Buddy Daddies. A series about two hitmen, kidnapping a child, killing her human-trafficker father and causing the indirect death of her mother. I hope you enjoyed the cute, horny and funny drawings of the man raised as a weapon and the other man, a womanizer that even hit on a minor in one of the CD dramas. Oh, and I hope you enjoyed too the small AUs I've made as well, besides all the yapping in case you've seen me in the Kazurei discord server (Which I apologize for leaving without notice, I tend to leave communities abruptly)

I believe not commissioning me was a wise decision, I'm the type that works without questioning much the content of the job. I guess that's easily noticed once you check my Cafecito, the place where I save all the NSFW I've done (Or that I was allowed to post). Tho I would mention there were several times one could get free drawings from me, be it the art-raffles I've done on my social media or when I accept art requests via asks.

Regarding Jimmy and Derek... I'll focus first in clarifying something wrong you've said. I did not create Derek for Mouthwashing. Derek has been my oc since 2012, he has gone through many changes and has different versions depending the setting I want to use him, because I like his design and I play with him the same way I used to play with my Barbies and MaxSteel dolls. He has been my most beloved child and personal punching bag.

He has been an evil, immortal warlock Prince in a fantasy-zombie-apocalypse world

He has been an exiled morally gray klepto-Prince, now witch with celestial powers in a RolePlaying community (ViceVerseRPG)

I've turned him into an angel. A damsel in distress.

I've also turned him into a tv angel-brainrot nerd, terrified of love as he fears he'll die the same way as those characters.

I've put him first in the Supernatural fandom, as an angel from a different universe trying to get God!Jack to give him a happy ending, a fullfilling love story, a damn win where he gets the hero treatment instead of being someone else's character development.

Then in Mouthwashing, he is his worst self, that delusional prick who idolizes the idea of a man that no longer exists, yet stalks and mentally tortures said man in 2 different timelines.

I won't type much than what I've already written down. My biggest hater spent almost 27 years assuming things about me, trying to degrade me, guilt trip me and so many things while also demanding me to be up to their standard. I do not believe you're attempting on doing those things tho.

And... doing better? This isn't my worst moment. Far from it. It's probably the best I've been in a long time

Feel free to move on and enjoy other artists and creators, just... remember, just because an artist draws something you agree with or like, doesn't mean they can't draw things that you disagree with or don't like... and even worse when they can detach their own values, morals and politics from said drawings and still explore things, because damn right its better to do that than to pursue those things in real life.

[imogenkol]

— OCS AS CHARACTER TROPES

tagged by the lovely @corvosattano to do this uquiz! Thank you 💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

THE DISQUALIFIED

the disqualified [noun, origin unknown] refers to a character who's became too numb to the concept of the world, to the point of deeming oneself not able to express any sort of emotion, whether positive or a negative one. this state is usually the one to follow after feeling too much, as if to balance out the overwhelming sensation of human emotion. living up to their title, they often consider themselves 'disqualified' from being a human, forsaken and unloved, abandoned by the world they've never had interest in. they don't know where they belong or where should they go - every second of breathing air is a waste of oxygen someone worthier could use. the disqualified symbolize the constant state of feeling nothing but tiredness, state where all is merciless but the end. this is the one and only test outcome where i as the writer shall personally interfere - please, my most beloved disqualified, keep longing to feel again. there's so much you've never felt and so much you'll desire to feel again. in the words of Osamu Dazai (who's the creator of the title 'the disqualified' I so happily stole) - "Everything passes." a statement as short as it is true - everything passes, even the numbness. after it, you'll experience so much more beauty of the world - beauty that might pass just as the numbness did, but in it's temporary and unique nature lies the reason why it's to be cherished. so, please, try to hold on a bit. sometimes, holding on is the best we can do and most of the times, it's just enough. - a (former) fellow disqualified

THE ICARUS

[noun, greek origin] refers to a character, first curious and childish, who got so bored of the world's rotten nature they lost all hope in living. as the last resort to find the spark in the world of dying stars, the icarus may have attempted numerous times to touch the blazing surface of the sun, hoping to see any kind of redemption in the reflection of their face in the sun's flames. as a result, their wings were melted down and their bones broken by the harsh landing, yet that still didn't stop them from trying all over again. the people of icarus' nature often believe their place is with the stars and their desire to burn amongst them causes them to forget the beauty of the land they've abandoned, merely flying over it - the world has stored so much beauty for them they often struggle to see through the rays of sun and yet, it is still there. the most beautiful of flowers grow upon the lands their feet haven't even touched and maybe, just maybe, if they spared a bit of their time to give the (them forsaken) world another chance, they'd see that sky might not be the home they truly desire, but one they ve seeked just because they have seen only the worst of the world. - a fellow icarus

THE FALSE MUSE

the false muse [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that attempts to be perfect in order to receive certain amount of praise, or to inspire others to go in their footsteps. they tend to seek the spotlight, the podium, the gaze of the people looking up to them, with praise and validation being what keeps them pursuing the way of living they did before. the false muses surely have their goals, but the biggest one is to simply be better than yesterday and worse than tomorrow, to be in a constant state of self improvement they'll never deem enough. this is what leads them to the ocassional state of burnout, state one may describe as trying so hard to please the artist you become the opposite of a muse - hence why they're called false ones. the false muses might be tempted to think that they’ve never achieved perfection, but the truth is, there's no such thing as perfection, nor is there a way to achieve it. all muses could long for is merely the perfect version of themselves and they’ve achieved that already, over a thousand times.

THE SAINT

the saint [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that has taken upon themselves the role of saint via listening to prayers, concerns and troubles of others. characters falling under this cathegory are obviously merely metaphorical saints, which is a quality many people struggle to realize. the saints are said to be helpful and caring under any circumstance, believing that making themselves useful increases their self worth in the eyes of people they care about. they often forget that they are indeed humans in roles of saints, that they still have human limitations and problems that can potentially pile up until they fall from the metaphorical heavens they occupy...yet mostly, this doesn't stop them from taking burdens from people and putting it on their own back in hopes of being more responsible in taking care of them. there's strange naivety in the good they do, slight hope that they can take everything and anything they try to fix and help out with. this naivety is often replaced with denial and regret as soon as one realizes that sometimes, it's impossible to pose as a saint. but that's just the tragic cycle of them - trying to help out, getting dragged from heavens by the burden they voluntarily stole, falling, laying on the ground wide-eyed and tired before climbing back into the clouds again. as of now, there's no cure to being one of the saints - it is up to them to realize that they are not responsible for anyone's happiness apart from their own and that it's not selfish to put them before others. it's natural and - as much as they want to stray away from it - human. - a fellow saint

[tea-potato-gt]

Tea-Potato-Gt Master List:

My original story (The Biggest Heart), General G/t things (thoughts and recommendations), & G/t memes of other blog’s stories!

Things from my original story: "The Biggest Heart"

“It’s hard enough for anyone to fit in at high school… it’s even worse when you LITERALLY can’t fit into the high school building.”

Kæmpe Stør’s Life:

Part 1 here / Part 2 here / Part 3 here / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / "Stor asks his father if he can go play with other kids" / Raising a giant child / 20 Years Later /

Character breakdowns:

Header / Meet Kæmpe Stor / Meet Hansa & Hasna / Meet Mizu / Meet Strega / Meet Suki / Meet Sunday / Meet Yilan /

Written works:

“Stor’s Job (part 1)” / “Stor’s Job (part 2)”

Comics:

"Messing with your brother" / Lilliput pt1 / Lilliput pt2 / Lilliput pt3 / Lilliput pt4 / Stor and Mizu and the sea /

Mizu & Stør:

"OCs: Mizu and Stor," / "He loves her so much" / "Stop flirting," / "Mizu falling from the sky" / "go for it Stor!" /

Doodles:

Strega flying around Stor’s head Here / "Stor and his friends," / "Old OCs" / “Stør’s worst nightmare” / “Plush” / The Baddest Heart AU / Suki & Sunday /

Memes:

"I'm just a kid" part 1 / part 2 / Every friend group has /

Asks:

Stor’s age / Simular to my story / Are there other Giants in The Biggester Heart? /

Art trade:

evieismol / pizzafish77

General G/t things:

G/t thoughts of the day:

Big Boys / Olympics / Lighthouse / Borrower Babies / I hope I don’t fall / fruit bowl / G/t creators be like / Gulliver's Travels / Pride and Prejudice / Hear me outs / Thanks / One bed / Fantasy Romance

G/t recommendations and Media:

Robotech / Borrowers Afeild / Godaigo Daigo / Transformers Victory / Midori Days / Nell of Gumbling / Avatar / Girl who traveled the world / Girls who love monsters / Rainbabies /

================================

G/t memes of other people's work:

I've decided to create a series of memes and fan art about G/t stories I absolutely adore and recommend! I want to show my love and appreciation for the artists work, plus it's just fun for me! ;D

“Adelaide & Ian Chronicles” by pocket-lad part 1 / part 2 /part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / sketch / Halloween

“The Art of Love and War” by fireflywritesgt part 1 / Part 2 here / part 3 here / “Happy”

"Beanstalk" by fae-of-the-forest01 Part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

“Big Bend” by evieismol part 1 / part 2 / “Art trade”

"Dumpling" by diddlesanddoodles here / here

“Pepper & Felix” by tinyundercover here

“The Restoration Program” (Book) by marydublinauthor and kendsleyauthor Here

“Shot in the Dark” (Book) by marydublinauthor and kendsleyauthor part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / predictions / Pirates AU⬇️

[iniziare]

🔥 GO WILD

Prompt: Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. // Accepting. // @ccaptain

I don't think that there's a single thing that I feel as strongly about, as my opinions of the following two lines: 'Every portrayal is equal' and 'There are multiple interpretations of a character'. I think that they both play into harvesting and perpetuating the worst mentalities on Tumblr: insecurity and egos. I disliked the PSAs about the former back in 2013, I hated the transition of the former to the latter in 2015/2016, and I hate how the latter still seems to resonate around the RPC as if it's some sort of bible that does anyone any good. And before any potential 'but Sae, those are two different things', no, not really, they play into the same concept, it's simply the phrasing that changes to make it all the more mentally inclusive and sound more socially welcoming. But a bad message remains a bad message no matter how pretty its packaging is. It all plays into not wanting to hurt people's feelings, which I fully understand and it's even a noble cause at its basis, but coddling doesn't help people, it never has, and it has and will only continue to make people more sensitive (which is a topic for a different salt send-in), all the while demotivating and utterly frustrating others. I'm sorry folks, but not every portrayal is equal, there are people who will create a blog merely because a character is hot, or for social political reasons of 'look at me', or because they simply ache to write a fandom's popular ship, and they disappear as quickly as they come when the 'urge' has been fulfilled. Those, for instance, are not equal to people who put a lot of time into their portrayals, and I'm not saying that everyone needs to live up to the latter, but don't be telling me that everyone is equal on the mere premise that they all 'exist' and we should 'all support one another'. Not every portrayal is equal, not everyone's writing is equal, and people's understanding of a character will not always be equal. And these things aren't subjective, they are factual. There can be such clear differences between portrayals and ignoring them is actually doing an injustice to every single depiction out there. If you tell a blog that does minimal writing and seems to not have a great understanding of the character (yet?), or the worst one: seems to really not care— that they’re equal to everyone else, then you’re telling them, for starters, that they could have nothing to improve on. And trust me, I’ve seen it happen time and time again, people will not put in effort to improve if you tell them that there’s nothing to actually better. And of course simultaneously, you demotivate the ones that have stuck around for years and put much time into what they do on Tumblr. And that sucks pretty hardcore.

Now luckily, that first line has somewhat died out, but now in its stead, we're left with 'There are multiple interpretations of a character'. I don't know whether it's worse, better, or just equally as bad of a take. I vote for... worse, actually. — No, no one will ever convince me that if they wrote an OC, and then released them to the world, that they'd be okay if RPers anywhere would claim that one can read their OC multiple different ways. I've seen RPers on Tumblr blow up over much less. What I need people to realize and remember, is that all creators and writers alike, have an intent with their characters, and that isn't subjective. Just like personality traits aren't subjective. For instance, one can't look at Veritas Ratio and go 'he's confident' and have someone else state 'he's insecure', and say that both are factually true and that both takes are equal in 'value' if we look at accuracy, because they're not. They cannot both be true, and I'm not talking about minor details that can be considered to be 'exceptions', I'm talking about the rule. What I need people to admit to, more often than not, is that it seems to have become a common take to conflate what they want a character to be like with what they actually are. I sometimes can look at a character and objectively go 'I wish they had done this instead, focusing on this and this, or this part of their personality'. but if I then choose to portray the character like that instead, it doesn't mean that it's what the character that we ultimately see on screen is actually like. And admitting that it's not the case isn't a bad thing, being canon divergent isn't a bad thing, but it is entirely different from intending to write the character based on what we actually see.