#writing about my oc's world

[izzy-mizzie-boo]

Melody (Earth-0 or Retroboot).

Yes, these two are the same :^

I've been developing her in my mind for a few days now and- Jeez, she suffers a lot.

As I do with the other post I'm using to talk bit by bit about Cartoon Melody(and a few times about the other Melodys-), I will make this post be about Retroboot/Earth 0 Melody, giving a few facts about her and some useless things that I added on her because I like and I think that contrasts a lot with her personality.

1_ Melody can be very restrictive about some stuff, and this includes people trying to get into her privacy. It includes: Projects, her bedroom, her stuff, where she goes and more. She gets kinda annoyed when she's questioned where she has been at or what she has been doing. She stares at the curious person as if wanting to say: "Visiting your mom cause you haven't!" (Don't question her xd)

2_ Melody doesn't like to be called and neither calls her a "Hero". Whenever she says she's not a hero, someone always asks: "Then what are you? A villain?" She only replies: "I'm not a hero and neither a villain, I'm a Bellmont and that's all you need to have in mind."

3_ Liking it or not, the Melodys aren't the same, not only in appearance or characteristics, but also they have a few differences about their intellects. Melody Earth 0 is mostly better at Mechanic, Chemistry and Biology.

4_ Even though she's a Melody that has survived her fatal disease, she ended up with a few after-effects, such as: Hallucinations that get heavier with the time passing by until she panic and faint(or until she takes her medicine and calm down slowly as it makes effects) and the lack of energy to do much stuff, that's why she ends up falling asleep on the hallways with no reason.

5_ Whenever Melody starts to have hallucinations, it starts light, with a few small things appearing until it starts to bother her vision, affect her body and get her to panic. Even if she was already told that it is "psychological", she still can feel her body being affected by it every single time she has it. When it starts, she tries to keep herself as calm as possible, doesn't interact with anyone and just gets to her main task of taking her medication. In these moments, stress or anger can cause the hallucinations to worsen quickly, so if she ever was called to a mission, it would mean her task would have a quick timer, making her rush to her bag or bedroom.

6_ Unfortunately, due to these hallucinations getting heavy, Melody can end up having an anxiety crisis, which she can't really deal with alone, leading in crying and heavy breathing as she sits on the floor nearby a wall, desk, nightstand or whatever she can lean at. If the hallucinations ever get her whole reality distorted or her body too uncomfortable to do any movement, she just lay or falls down, to quicken the process of fainting and not dealing with this headache anymore.

7_ It may not seem like it, but she loves hugs. If you ever find her, give her a hug, it will calm her down and place a soft smile on her face. :>

[infernal-lamb]

Draw Neves at the bar , trauma dumping to heket (she's the bartender)

HFSLKJGKDGJLJKLDS pls this is so funny to me. Neves is a mess when she's drunk. she is now Heket's burden....here she is telling a very silly story

[crystallizsch]

🐍: —?! Prefect, is everything alrigh-

💜: Don’t- say anything. Please.

(oh lore? below the cut?)

(cw: nightmares, implied death/suicide <- ONLY AT THE END) — 800+ words — I DIDNT REALIZE IT WAS THIS LONG???

━━━━━━✦

the vice housewarden of scarabia, jamil viper, didn't think he'd be bringing the ramshackle prefect to stay over at his room, and much to his roommate's confusion. then again, the roommate knew better than to question his choices.

it was the end of the day and the vice housewarden was on his way back to his dorm after a late-night errand.

what he didn’t expect was the ramshackle prefect coming out of the shadows and tackling him in a hug.

jamil almost threw down the unassuming prefect out of instinctual self-defense.

but the prefect gripped his back as if she was holding on for dear life— quivering, her head buried in his shoulders, holding back sobs, profusely apologizing over and over and over-

“sorry, sorry, sorry—“

the prefect said she had a nightmare.

jamil just froze, entirely confused.

all this because of a dream? what is the prefect even apologizing for other than whatever this is.

━━━━━━✦

jamil didn’t really know what to make of all of this, but it was hard not to pity the state the prefect was in.

pity. that’s the right word.

he only clarified to himself because the word, concern, briefly passed his mind.

it was not concern. why would he be concerned?

and if it weren’t for pity, jamil would have been annoyed instead. he had to admit, he didn’t know which would have been the worse approach, even though he opted for the former.

plus, this was a side to the prefect that the vice housewarden had not seen before.

vulnerable.

very vulnerable.

as if her walls finally fell. and jamil was able to bear witness behind it.

to choose whether or not to step inside those walls is up for debate in his mind.

no, stop it. not again. there was no point in involving himself more with the prefect this time.

jamil could have walked her back to ramshackle. but they were already in the mirror room, and he didn’t feel like making that trek.

or he might have been too tired and too dumbfounded to think.

yeah, those were jamil's excuses.

━━━━━━✦

it’s not like the ramshackle prefect, yuusha tala, understood either. how this all went down.

why the first person she beelined towards was the one who played a part in her nightmare.

why she felt comfort at his mere presence despite recoiling the moment she looks into his eyes.

either because of fear, disgust, or… guilt?

━━━━━━✦

this phenomenon had happened before.

yuusha and ace got off on a horrible foot at the start, deuce was just another guy that got involved with them by chance, and grim was an annoying cat.

and yet, it felt like she’d known them forever despite having only known them a few months.

there was no way they were all that compatible of a friend group to end up that way.

but the soft spot she felt for all three of them was like they were longtime friends in another life.

and now it’s this… bastard. the one yuusha fell head over heels at first only to feel used and betrayed.

why she keeps giving pretty guys a chance like this is beyond her. yuusha knows she won’t learn her lesson for the foreseeable future, however.

━━━━━━✦

in any case, the prefect finds herself resting on the scarabia vice housewarden’s bed when she could have suggested resting in one of the empty rooms instead. to not trouble him any further.

oh wait. jamil could have brought her to another empty room instead. there’s no way that didn’t cross his mind.

did he assume that would bring up memories?

if so, why would he even care?

the scarabia lounge would have been an alternate choice as well. but would it have been considered rude to put a guest there? even though yuusha wouldn’t have mind?

well. that’ll be a topic for another day.

━━━━━━✦

so the night was pretty uneventful. other than the awkwardness.

wait, actually— jamil wanted to bring up how the prefect had the habit of hugging things in her sleep.

namely him.

even when unconscious, the prefect can’t respect personal space.

but then that would bring up the obvious fact that jamil could have easily woken her up and quietly tell her off. and that he didn’t.

because for some strange reason, jamil felt an odd sense of comfort in her warm yet crushing embrace. and thus pretended not to have known instead.

━━━━━━✦

what was the nightmare, so to speak?

yuusha barely remembered all the details.

except for the feeling of the cold wind tearing through her skin, gravity violently pulling her down—

—and the final, haunting vision of a desperate hand reaching out to her, with an intensely horrified look flashing from charcoal grey eyes.

eyes that belong to none other than jamil viper.

[jethrowest]

i feel alone in my body; i feel a silence underneath…

- jaded by spiritbox

eva (the boys oc)/homelander

for @blindmagdalena 🖤

commissioned art (full sfw-ish piece at the end) by @thevanityofthefox 🖤

mdni! 18+! homelander is a warning altogether.

It’s enervating being close to someone like Homelander.

At first, it had been deliciously overstimulating receiving the tiniest speck of his energy. What he’s comprised of. Every single experiment performed on him; everything he’s destroyed and killed in the process.

It’s addictive to Eva. She can pour all of her pain into him, and, in return, taste the bottomless pit he is. This shining beacon of macabre hope.

He reminds her constantly that she needs him. While that holds significant weight, she can extract nourishment elsewhere if she chooses to, just as she had before knowing what he could mean to her.

She requires life to sustain her own. Such sustenance can come from plants, insects, animals, people, Supes; anything that has vitality.

This is simply another aspect for him to control, and she understands that. If Homelander can feel his essence masking any and everything else in her their his world, then he’s almost as satiated as she is.

However, sometimes, it drains her more than fills. It’s a conflicting phenomena within her body. Electric currents that repeatedly shock her into rejuvenation, into a power she can hardly describe with words, and then, a heavy affectation that bludgeons itself across something that normally consists of the rarest gold. Parasites and mold and all things ugly masking what shouldn’t have become so tainted.

Homelander’s shadow, as she calls it, is what usually ruins the intense pleasure she drowns in.

She’s uncertain what might have caused him to shift, but that particular darkness now enshrouds him, and she picks up on it straight away. The warmth emanating from him fades, replaced by a cold, eternal sickness.

Eva can absorb energy through her hands. If she concentrates enough, she can use her mind as well. But that requires a lot more than she can often give.

He’s demanding of her abilities, slipping ungloved fingers inside her nightgown. He grips her breast with fervor while his tongue flicks like a serpent’s, whispering the oldest of sins into her burning ear.

He coaxes her own unsheathed palms to take so he can see himself reflected inside her shapes, dips, curves, and colors. So he can become one with something outside of himself.

So he can be more than he’d been promised. Than he’d been conditioned to believe.

It’s not the first time he’s fucked her to experience even a fraction of what and who he is.

It’s lonely being the only one like him. The singular star at the top of the universe’s Christmas tree, separate from cookie-cutter tinsel and baubles.

It’s lonely being someone who is a reflection of all they’ve gorged on and buried within themselves. Homelander digs himself out as much as he can, causing a pain so deep, it’s beyond bones.

Gradually, Eva has become his mirror, and she’s lost herself within it.

dividers credit

writing tag

[mylittleredgirl]

i realized this definition is missing from my mental glossary, and instead of just asking what it means, i'm making a poll!

none of this has to be an x-reader situation if you engage with your favorite characters in a different way! if you know what it means but don't have one of your own you can still answer with your definition, but i also included an i don't know option at the bottom.

if you have more than one & it's different for different characters i'd love to hear about it and get more confused!!

[deoidesign]

Been thinking about her recently.

[rileys-battlecats]

girl help I started writing down oc thoughts and have started contemplating the logistics of how a city carved into the walls of a ravine would have access to fresh water

[mammomlette]

People don’t talk about MC needing to wear a magical ring to not accidentally yk cause NATURAL DISASTERS with their powers??? Not only accidentally but without realising???

Diavolo or smthn is asking too much of MC or being a bit too annoying and their other hand slowly drifts towards the ring and they hold onto it while maintaining dead eye contact. Like continue to piss me off hoe I’ll blink and blow a hole in your castle idk

Obv they never do it (or do they?) but the threat is there and it’s a risk dia (or whoever but I’m using dia) can’t take

[jadelover69]

BRUTUS pt.1!!

THIS IS A SONGFIC RAHHH

summary: uhoh yu jie go a lil’ cray-cray 🤪🤪🤪 lil peice of lore drop!!

ive been watching him for my entire life

“Oh what’s that!“ my younger brother squeals digging through my cupboard filled with stories.

I try to supress a grimace, as he rips out pages hazardly. I want to shout, to scream. But I know I’ll be punished.

i hate the air he breathes, his foolish decrees

He grins up at me light shining in his eyes. Oh how desperately I wish to put it out.

his words so contrived

“When I’m older I wanna be just like you Yu Jie!“ He says splattered in colorful paint, while Father ruffles his hair and whistles. and i hate the way the townspeople gather outside “Wow! This is a work of art!“ My mother gasps as she holds out my brothers newest work of trash. A bunch of scribbles is what it truly was.

they hang on every breath, cling to his chest “Yu Jie! How dare you make fun of your brother!“ My mother cries, I clench my fists as I look down at the ground. “Answer me!“ She raises her hand quickly, and I flinch. My first mistake. She narrows her eyes down at me before pinching my arm, “Listen here young lady, we do not disrespect our male relatives“ Tears streak my cheak as I try not to cry from her grip. She pinches tighter. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.“ “...Yes Mother.“ home to his heart full of pride

“Awwwww... ʰᵃ́ᵒʸᵘ̀ this is a beautiful poem!“ Mother gushed over him while Father smoked a pipe and coughed all the smoke over the kitchen table.

’Why do I never get proper recognition? Just why?’

the oracle told him to beware the ides

He looks down clearly sad, I don’t care but Mother and Father would get on my case for not asking why.

“What’s wrong?“ I nudge him slightly wth my foot not wanting to get closer

“N-nothing...“

I narrow my eyes, he was always bad at hiding secrets.

and id be lying if i said i wasnt wishing

He giggles holding up a red toy, red.

Red was all I could see.

for untimely death or demise

“What do you mean Scarlett??“ I glare down at the girl trying so hard not to cry, creasing the newspaper almost causing rips in the paper.

Idiot. You can’t rely on anyone ever since the princess came to power...

“I- Well I just-“ She babbles on, I grimace and snatch it away from her and open it up.

He was on the front page.

I was not.

or am i wishing i could be like you

He grabs me by my ponytails and throws me in the cellar.

His beady eyes watching me.

Forever judging.

He wouldn’t do this to him.

Of course not! He’s the golden child after all...

that the people would see me too as a poet

’She ruffles my hair and looks down at me, the light shining in her eyes.’

’Oh how I ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ my mother...’

’And oh how she ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ me...’

and not just the muse

I woke up. Bedroom was as small and dusty as usual.

I should get a maid, but Mother only says ’dignified’ children get servants.

Then why does he have one?

Tagging!!

@babyghoul138 @cheerleaderman @twtysevapr @jewelulu

@beneathsakurashade @bunniehunn @the-rini-rush

@theolivetree123 @teighveepao @skrimpyskimpy @skibidibabygirl

@cloudiepuffs @kuragebride @4necdote @blood-red-bumblebee

@quartztwst @anonymousplant @gl00myb3arz

@imafrealinrainbow478484 @justyoureverydaytwstsimp

@angelwishezz @lavanda-fanstamal @amai-sakura-chan

@lpendergast @verysadsnail @ghostiidasponk @oya-oya-okay

@shinysparklesapphires @lilpainter123 @h0neybane

@buttholesparkles @day-dr3aming @mhedusard @tsubomisno1fan

@teighveepao @jadenui @rainesol

PLS LEMME KNOW IF U DONT WANNA BE TAGGED OR DO :33

[lillymakesart]

my new OC: cempaka!

she is based on the story/universe that my friend @haydardotjpg's OCs indra and yuwei exist in! pls go checkout haydar's art he is amazing!! his ocs can be found more easily on his ig but if you're lazy this is his oc indra (cempaka's one-sided love interest) and yuwei (indra's fated lover)

also, cempaka means "magnolia" in malay!! (she gets a flower name bc my name is lilly which is also flower c:)

bonus first iteration under the cut!

i accidentally had "poinsettia" flower in mind when i did this iteration instead of an actual magnolia, hence the color scheme. but yeah, this is as self-insert as it gets LOL like she's literally MEEEEEE but still very different and i love her as she is <3

[izzy-mizzie-boo]

Small update with pronounce of the lyrics and numbers. I still love it a lot.

[ehlnofay]

One day – as far-off as a century, as near as tomorrow – it will all be a grand old story.

The stories will speak of a handful of champions, rushing headlong against time and logic to save the world; the last Blades, the last Septim, and his hanger-on Hero, carving a bloody path to the Temple doors. The stories will tell of skies like burned blood, of fire and ash and uncountable legions of monsters – hundreds, thousands, millions, the quantity rising with each telling – the city streets cracked and quaking, every civilian locked up in their homes and businesses and praying for deliverance. The stories will tell of the appearance of Dagon, red-hot and roiling, a gory perversion of the sun; they’ll tell that when all seemed lost, Martin Septim sacrificed himself in a blaze of glory, calling down the avatar of Akatosh and casting Dagon and his ilk back whence he came. They’ll tell that the golden dragon threw back its head and roared, and the sky cleared and brightened at its word; they’ll tell how it petrified in place, a magnificent pillar of stone, a sacrosanct statue. A site of pilgrimage. A shrine, to the grace and glory of the gods, and the bravery and benevolence of the last Emperor, the best of men.

It will be a good story. All splendour and triumph, a bittersweet victory right out of the epics; the pages closed, the crisis done, the world saved in as golden a resolution as could be asked for. It doesn’t get better than this, a perfect saviour, a hallowed end.

What the stories won’t tell is how, under clear skies and sunlight, the Hero of Kvatch falls at the statue’s marbled feet and howls like the world is still ending.

“You fucking coward,” Pax is screaming, as best as she can. Her mouth tastes like smoke. Her voice is hoarse. “Stupid worm, fucking – selfish bastard – what’s wrong with you?”

His head is swimming, a bit; he shouldn’t have tried to stand, but he – but – he’s dragged himself up to the dais, just about, and managed to sprawl himself over the edge, a snail’s trail of blood smeared along the floor behind him. The copper tang of it is strong in his nostrils. The statue stands, proud and silent, one marble claw dug into the cracked stone of the rostrum. His whole body is beginning to ache – just because of a stupid stab wound in his side, he’d swear he’s had worse, it’s not that bad, it’s not that bad. His throat burns. He isn’t crying. He isn’t.

The sky is so fucking blue.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, again, and brings the heel of his hand thudding against the clawed foot hard enough that he feels the impact down his arm, through his blurry head. “Why would you – piece of shit – sorry spit-gill – I thought –”

None of their thoughts will go through to the end. “I thought,” Pax says again, and she’s not crying, and it hurts so much it’s looped back around to not hurting, and it’s all getting fuzzy at the edges, all the world narrowed down to this and this and this and all fucking hell she’d rather be anywhere, anything else. The statue is cold. Her throat is scraped raw. “Come back,” she’s begging without quite meaning to, “come back,” and she drives her palm into the stone again, and the pain sets her reeling.

And all hell, the sky is so blue; the statue enormous; and here they are, at its feet, vision blurring, staring up at its cold marble face. It’s so fucking tall, so proud, face tipped up towards the new-appeared sun, away from them.

“How could you?” Pax says, and then they can’t even see it anymore, blood unspooling from them like skeins of madder-dyed thread. Red has never been their favourite colour. The shape of the dragon, glowing like the sun, is fixed forever on the backs of their eyelids; gold, they think, is worse. The world is detached and floating about them. They taste smoke and then bile. Stone digs fierce into their spine.

It burned like the sun, the dragon; like all the divine light of Aetherius come to earth just to sear the moisture from her eyes. Where it clawed Mehrunes Dagon, his blood boiled; when it screamed, the world moulded itself to its call. Pax hadn’t known what was happening, while it happened; sure as shit doesn’t know now. What they do know is that he’s gone. What they do know is that the dragon didn’t look at them once. They don’t taste ash on their breath, now; just fear, stagnant, sour, blood jangling bitter in their veins and seeping out to soak their gambeson.

It doesn’t hurt, anymore, there’s just this spreading, vague numbness. It doesn’t feel like their body. It’s just a thing they’re putting on. Their ears are still ringing from the crashing-in of the Temple, but there’s a faint buzzing of noise outside. They might be dying. They can’t be assed to get up.

Skeeving asshole. They’re getting blood on the dragon’s immaculate feet. The hollow sounds of voices feels distant. Could well be worse.

Then, “… a healer, here!” they hear, much closer than anything else had been before, paired with the faraway thudding of the door, and “Pax. Pax! It’s – where’s –” and there’s hands on him, a cautious manipulation of his neck, a shifting of his legs. Pressure on his sternum, and then his stomach, and a pained grunt slips out of his mouth, bound up with a slurred curse.

“Stay calm,” says an unfamiliar voice, soft and steady. “I’m just accessing the wound.”

“Go away,” Pax says, or tries to say, but his voice is whispering-hoarse and the dragon looms in the dark even still. He could open his eyes, but what would be the point?

The hands stay on him even when he bucks, holding him steady; they whisper over the stab in her gut, pulling at the drying blood, mumbling words that she can’t be fucking bothered to listen to, one voice known to her already, one voice not; pressure again on the injury, and they try, half-heartedly, to breathe out a swear – and then light, copper-bright, behind their eyelids, and burning heat, and pain pain pain eclipsing all else as something inside them wrenches back into working order, and then their eyes are open and the sky is blue and they are very fucking aware, thank you.

Pax sits up, fast enough to send the world dizzily whirling, and shoves the mage-medic away from them.

“Piss off,” he says – and it’s still hoarse, smoke-throated and scraped raw, but there’s more bite to it this time, more sound. The strange hands fall away from his side, and he looks down. His gambeson is hanging open, cords untied, the emblem of the wolf split clean down the middle. His undershirt is rucked up around his chest, too, so much of his skin is bared to the clear, bright air; all to get to the wound tucked just under their ribs. It’s an underwhelming thing – smaller than they would’ve thought, a thin short slash like a very red mouth has opened itself up in their gut. It’s stopped dribbling quite so much blood, gone scabby with rough healing, though the stuff is still smeared all over their skin, damn near enough to bathe in. It’s barely anything, really. They’re barely even hurt.

“I’m not done,” says the mage-medic, all stern. The wound itches, the taste of hasty magic gone sour in the back of their throat with all the rest of it. “I might have to find my suturing needle. It isn’t too bad, but it can’t be healed all at once.”

“Piss off,” Pax repeats – and all fucking hell it hurts, and he’s sitting up against the statue, legs lolling. He’s dizzy. He ignores it.

Ocato – his fine clothes sooty, face tight as a wound-up spring – says, “Calm down, please – he’s a skilled healer, he knows what he’s doing.” His eyes keep skipping around the room like he’s searching for another enemy lurking hidden in the shadows. “What happened? Where’s the Emperor?”

Ah – not an enemy, then.

Pax tastes bile.

“Not very quick on the uptake, are you?” she says, elbow braced against the statue’s massive marble claws (she hates touching it, she hates it, she hates it, she wants to set it crumbling apart, she doesn’t want to let anyone else touch it ever again). She can’t stop leaning because then she might topple back down again. Fuck, she needs to keep her head on straight – or lose it altogether, whichever happens faster. Her fingers feel cold. “How’re you going to run an Empire when you’re this fucking clueless?”

Ocato looks them in the face; his brow, high and slanted in that way elves have, furrows. “You’re hurt,” he says, in a tone like he expects Pax to argue with him. “Martin Septim–”

“Can’t you see him?” Pax demands, tone torn in half and uglier than they’ve ever heard it before, and they slam the back of their hand against the stone for echoing emphasis. (They want to shatter all the bones in their knuckles, break every piece in their hand one by one, like wishbones. They want it bloody and bruising. They want to scratch its polished-smooth surface until their fingernails tear. They want – they want – they want –)

Ocato, the Empire’s de facto leader, says, “Ah.”

In his plummy robes, all fruit-rich and stained with ash, he looks very stark against the Temple’s cracked marble floors.

“The Avatar,” he says. “If – the Amulet – joined blood of kings and gods –”

“Ocato,” says Pax, leaning heavy against the statue’s hateful foot, “shut up.” Their voice is bowstring-taut; he looks at them, his eyes too golden to meet. His mouth twists. They tip their head back against the stone, glaring up at the chips of blue sky shown in the crater where the roof once was, and try hard to ignore the tugging ache hooked behind their ribs.

It really fucking hurts. Worse than it did before, maybe, like some gauzy veil has been ripped from it. A veil has been ripped from the world. All the colours are too-bright, hideous. Pax breathes, because there’s no alternative, and waits for the pain to ebb.

(It doesn’t, really.)

“The Gates are sealed,” Ocato says, slowly, and he’s looking at her again, she can see out of the edge of her eye. “We will speak later. I’ll have you put up in the Palace until you’re healed. Ah – Quintus, does –”

“As long as she doesn’t go back into shock,” says the mage-medic, busily flipping through some kind of supply bag at his belt, “her odds are good. Lost blood, but I don’t think anything important was too damaged – get a proper examination, all I did was give her a second wind. Stitches, rest, fluids should do it, with luck.”

“Can she stand?”

“Can or should are –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Pax snaps, “I’m right here.” Her back pressed against the cold marble of the statue, her plait half-loose and knotted, filled with ash. The sky is so fucking blue. It hurts like hell – if the healer took her out of shock, then shit, she wishes he’d put her back in. She can see in too much detail. She can feel the skin, damp and ragged and angry. She presses the heel of her hand to the injury; her palm is crusted with dust, tacky with the same half-dried blood streaked over the floors.

Ocato, in the edges of her vision, shifts, all a blur of rich clothes and sympathetic eyes and solemn voice turned soft like he’s talking to an easily spooked horse. “I know.”

The mage-medic clucks his tongue. “Let me take another look first,” he says, and takes a step forward –

Pax kicks out at him before he even gets close. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Pax,” says Ocato – and why, why the fuck is the Empire’s de facto leader here, now, babying them like a whimpering little puppy instead of anywhere fucking else, why is he bothering to talk to them all patronising soft, why does he care? They’ve barely fucking met – talked twice, if you can call either of those times talking. Is it because they’re the Hero of Kvatch? Is this what they’ve earned – a bit of leeway as they throw a tantrum, bleeding out at the marble feet of that stupid bloody statue? Ocato looks so fucking tired; Pax wants to hit him in the nose. “You need care.”

“I need –” and Pax chokes it off in a puff of air. The statue looms behind them. There’s blood on the floors. (Traitor liar coward come back come back I hate you come down I’ll knock your fucking teeth in stupid selfish fraud come BACK. LOOK AT ME.)

Pax closes his eyes.

“My gratitude,” Ocato says, “ – our gratitude for what you’ve done cannot be overstated. The Crisis if over. The gates are sealed. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again.”

The knobs of Pax’s braid are pressing uncomfortably against their scalp. They can hear footsteps, coming closer. They don’t respond.

“It’s a great shame we had to pay such a price,” Ocato says, and Pax would fucking love to know who’s we here, “but it’s done. Dagon is defeated. We’ve won.” He’s much too close, now; his voice pitches softer. “Martin – is dead. But he died an Emperor – and a hero to rival Tiber Septim.”

Pax shoves him.

It’s a good fucking shove – knocks him right to the ground, his elbow hitting the marble with a painfully audible crack, Pax standing over him, shirt rucked up, their handprint on his shoulder marked in blood. “You useless, prattling jackass!” they spit, hoarse, and deal a swift, savage kick to his side. “How dare you act like this is a victory! It should have been me!”

Then their head swims, and they’re sitting again on the edge of the dais, palm pressed to their side, the sweaty cloth of their gambeson pushed half off their shoulder and its cord biting into their hand. The mage-medic is kneeling over Ocato, who still lies, stunned; Pax can’t see his eyes, now, but they remember them, brassy with shocked fear. Their bow is off by the wall where they left it. Pax’s palms are sticky with blood. The sky is so fucking blue. No matter how hard she rages the dragon won’t look down at them.

By the time the mage-medic has helped Ocato up, they’re gone. The Kvatch guard gambeson remains, smoke-smelling and crusted with blood, left like an offering at the statue’s feet. The Hero of Kvatch is never seen again.

[velbsy]

Heh >:))) redrew the FREAKS!!!!!

HARVESTMOON AND BLOODMOON SOFT RE-DESIGNS!!!!

[ruvviks]

// oc deep dive.

tagged by; @aztarion and @devilbrakers, thank you so much!!

tagging; @mojaves, @deadrlngers, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @adelaidedrubman and YOU!

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Nathan has a lot of fears stemming from his paranoia. Tangible ones such as getting captured or killed by MOBIUS, his friends walking away from him, or someone following him home; as well as more unrealistic ones, such as somehow ending up back in STEM, or getting stuck in a time loop, or a giant sinkhole all the way to the core of the earth opening up right at his feet.

It also happens often enough that certain actions don’t necessarily scare him, but make him uncomfortable or highly on edge (often with good reason); think of someone locking the door of the room he’s in– especially when it’s just them two– or getting too close without warning. He often fears people he gets too close to will end up treating him like the Administrator did, which is why it takes a while for him to let Sebastian get any closer physically, despite warming up to him relatively fast.

A more uncommon fear he has is waking up one morning and having lost one of his senses or his ability to speak. Aside from the mental erosion that had become a growing issue among Union citizens, MOBIUS observed a similar kind of process in its agents who regularly jumped in and out of STEM for general maintenance and the like– presumably caused by the constant changes in brain activity, which more than often led to exactly what Nathan’s fear mentioned above describes. While he was among the agents who worked both in and outside of STEM on the Union environment, he was lucky enough to never suffer the consequences.

Lastly, he is deadly afraid of Anima. Despite not having shown any other symptom of succumbing to the STEM domination process, Nathan would have started seeing her around sometime before Lily vanished– presumably got her attention after some of his escapades in the secret labs in the Marrow– and he has not been able to sleep soundly in STEM ever since. While his fear of her mostly acts up when he’s in a STEM environment, it definitely translates over to the real world as well; during bad mental health episodes he has auditory hallucinations of her, and she makes regular appearances in his nightmares too.

Do they have any pet peeves?

When people are too passive. Nathan can’t stand it when he’s expected to initiate everything, from conversations to taking action, both in a work context (scheduling meetings, deploying new code) as well as personal context (scheduling to hang out, doing household chores). He also doesn’t like having to constantly ask people to do what they’re supposed to do– though this irritation more than often extends a little too far, to things he is expecting of people but never told them about.

Loud and unexpected noises, especially when done on purpose. Fireworks would be a great example of this, and they piss Nathan off no end. He gets snippy when people raise their voice at him for no reason, or when they keep banging their fist on a surface to get others’ attention.

Getting cut off in traffic. Nathan’s road rage is easily awakened and he can get a little drastic with it. His reflexes are fast enough to brake on time to avoid ending up in someone’s trunk, but will in that same breath speed right back up to crash into them on purpose as revenge for pissing him off.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

A large ring binder full of old code snippets, notes from various projects he worked on back at MOBIUS, and all his research ranging from neuroscience all the way to electrical engineering. Nathan is a little old-school in that regard– he’d much rather have all his research physically with him than save it all to some online storage platform and risk losing it like that.

A jigsaw puzzle, made entirely out of different pieces that he’s collected over the years (stolen from others’ puzzles, found in various locations, stolen directly from the store, etc). The full piece would total up to nearly 2000 pieces, though it is still missing a large chunk in the center; the result is an abstract piece containing mostly darker colors, though with various bursts of color scattered around like flowers in a field. Nathan isn’t the artistic type, but the project keeps him busy and he considers it a type of self-expression.

The knife he killed his parents with when he was sixteen years old. He’s not entirely sure why he kept it all those years– perhaps to remind himself what got him to where he is now, or because it’s the only thing he still has from that time of his life. Either way, it’s kept safe in the top drawer of his nightstand, easy enough to reach in case someone breaks into his apartment.

What do they notice first in a person?

First: State of mind, overall mood. How approachable do they look; can he afford to lower his guard or does he need to tread with caution, can he get close without worrying about a knife to the stomach or should he keep his distance? Nathan rarely shows immediate interest in someone’s overall personality, he would rather want to know which of their emotions he’s gonna have to deal with during their interaction(s).

Second: Body language. Ties in with the first thing mentioned– cautiously watching for threats, waiting to see if they make a move to touch (or harm) him so he can step out of their range. But it also extends a little further; Nathan tends to mimic others’ body language in conversation to make himself appear more approachable. If someone gestures a lot, he will do the same.

Third: Their smile, if relevant. Smiling is an eye-catching action to him, since he’s not one to quickly do so himself. It’s attractive to him; if someone smiles at him, you’ll be able to catch him staring.

Fourth: Scars, and other (skin) details. Nathan isn’t one to ask about them, of course– but they’ll catch his attention anyway, for a brief moment, since some of them already tell a story on their own even without words.

Fifth: Nervous tics, if relevant. By this point he’s been in conversation long enough to pick up on the little details– a slight thrill or shakiness to their voice, a thumb running over the side of their index finger, a nose twitch. In some cases it eases his mind, knowing the other person isn’t confident in their conversation either; in other cases it sets off alarms in his mind, and makes him wonder if there’s more going on than what they’re showing or telling him.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Physically: 7. While he doesn’t quite look like it, Nathan can take a hit or two. Most of his injuries happen in STEM– though with the way the technology works, the pain is very much real, and in some cases the scars are lasting even in the real world despite the damage having been sustained in STEM. To an extent, Nathan even enjoys the pain; it’s grounding for him, and keeps him from dissociating. When it gets too much to handle he simply drinks it away.

Mentally: 10. Nathan’s life has been a constant downward spiral; sent to a youth detention center after being wrongfully accused of killing his younger sister, and he was bullied relentlessly there, which continued until long after his release both at school and at home. At MOBIUS, he was required to work shifts in their HQ as well as in the Marrow, in the Union STEM environment– he was required to be mentally strong, or he would have already started suffering from mental erosion by long-term STEM exposure after his first few trips in. It takes a lot to break him (or so he likes to believe).

Emotionally: 4. Once you get past all the barriers, Nathan is pretty sensitive. He doesn’t deal well with rejection or misunderstanding, and is prone to assuming things are all his fault the second something goes wrong. It’s easy to upset him, though he won’t easily show; but the damage often takes a while to repair.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

Fight, more than often; though it may appear as flight at first, since Nathan’s favored combat approach is stealth and he will always find cover before doing anything rash. In certain cases, however, he would be more likely to freeze; especially anything related to Anima or an enemy type like her, where fighting is out of the question, and he knows that a single wrong move can mean his demise.

It translates to non-combat situations too– often willing to talk to people but his initial response is to get defensive and close himself off, and if not given a moment to regain himself it can lead to either fighting or freezing; biting back with similar ferocity or shutting down altogether, unable to pick up his rational train of thought in the heat of the moment.

It really depends on the type of confrontation, though; taking his own state of mind and who else is involved into consideration. He’s known to fawn when a situation starts feeling a little too familiar– generally surrounding the abuse he suffered from partially his parents, but mostly the Administrator.

What animal represents them best?

Wolf; bordering on dog motif, but cautiously so, requiring infinite patience and understanding to win his trust. Nathan is loyal and guarding to those he cares about, but he values his freedom– his choices and decisions are his and his alone, and anyone who tries to take that away from him will suffer the necessary consequences.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Curious, above anything else. Distant, reserved; surprisingly well-spoken, almost technical in his interactions with others as if the whole conversation is pre-programmed in his mind. Nathan isn’t necessarily cold towards others, but people would also not be quick to describe him as kind; though there is a certain warmth to the way he speaks and looks at people, despite the fact he very rarely smiles and isn’t one to quickly compliment someone else.

Appearance-wise, people tend to notice the white strands in his black hair first. They’re clustered at the front of his head, and match with the white hairs in his left eyebrow and the white eyelashes in the outer corner of his left eye. Nathan has very pale and rough skin, patchy but dark facial hair covering up most of his acne (/scarring); and part of the skin around his left eyebrow is lacking pigment, though it’s a little hard to see. He has very pale and bright blue eyes, which can be a little unnerving when staring at them for too long. Many people cannot maintain eye contact with him for very long.

Do they have any hobbies?

Nathan’s career is directly intertwined with his hobbies, and he enjoys working on code even long after cutting ties with MOBIUS. Software development, application optimization– his laptop runs on an operating system that he coded entirely himself, and whenever he has some time to spare he can be found tweaking and optimizing it and adding new features.

To no one’s surprise, he’s a gamer. Shooters, roguelikes, survival horror– he does not play all too often as his schedule often doesn’t allow for it, but he generally doesn’t have a hard time playing on higher difficulties and enjoys the challenge. Nathan has tried his hand at game design and development too, but stopped quickly when he found it too similar to developing the Union environment in STEM.

And last, surprisingly, would be writing. Journaling, some sort of attempt at poetry, or articles he would want to send in to some website or appropriate magazine but never does– a lot of Nathan’s writing is for his eyes alone, but it helps as an outlet, it keeps him grounded. For a while after leaving MOBIUS, he worked on writing tech manuals for various employers to earn some extra cash, which also ties directly into his interests.

[writingmochi]

character introduction via instagram profile BUT THE 2022 VERSION

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

message from the moon: i guess additional content(?) for the 1k+ notes for both parts. thank you so much for the support i swear. like, it's rare for anyone to get as much traction as one gets so i don't wanna take it for granted and this is how i repay it: by releasing unreleased content/behind-the-writing content here (though i have a blog for that one @interactivemochi but i'll be focusing that for the big series like time wave, smirch, and terra incognita) it's a short post but i think it's enough for another teaser for the new people who might have not seen the fic

read part 1 right here!

lissie: since i've already ideated this in 2022, character creation is the first thing i do and i'm glad i still kept this cause (i think) ppl might be interested in the difference between the 2022 version of the characters vs 2024 ver.

there aren't that many differences but a HUGE difference is me changing heeseung's sport from rugby seven to basketball. other than heeseung's real-life interest in basketball, i was also a former basketball athlete throughout my elementary-middle school age (hence my knowledge and how i reflect myself through mc)

(L/N)(Y/N) / KIM MINJEONG

SHIN RYUJIN / LEE CHAERYEONG

LEE HEESEUNG / CHOI BEOMGYU

YANG JEONGIN / LIM JIMIN

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2024. all rights reserved

[ev7nescent]

I... think I went a little overboard with their hair-

Ramble UTC:

HOUSE OF CARDS

[Or H.O.C]

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Have you ever wondered what lay beyond the pages of your favourite novel? Could there be a world different than ours, just a few words away?

—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-——-—-

The story revolves around three teenagers—

Akui Yūrei, Celine Hashimoto and Akarui Kurosawa (left to right).

Two of them close friends, one... not quite. Akui's existence is debatable, to put it simply. He's not quite 'human'.

Currently residing in Wonderland, the three of them try to get by without getting into trouble with the locals. The company is not very pleasant if you need to run for your lives every other second, is it?

Celine and Akarui had been waiting impatiently for a new novel anticipated for in the market— a retelling of the famous Alice in Wonderland, written by Louise Benetton. Advertisements looked promising, and promotional merch was already running out from high demand. The two teens had pre-ordered one right before it had sold out, of course they were excited. Their money was on the line. A month later, and, they recieved their money's worth in the mail—

House Of Cards.

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There's a lot more— but that will make this post too long... I'll post another one elaborating on this soon. Basically, the trio got sucked into the book when they had fallen asleep reading it. The locals are mainly divided, but not limited, to two categories-

-> Decks -> Cards

You see, in Wonderland (the book realm) the power (based on magic) hierarchy depends on how many souls you have collected, either dead or alive. Living ones have more value in magic, but are riskier to keep, considering they can topple you over with the right strategy.

Decks are those who have collected one or more living souls. Cards are the ones who live independently— those who have not yet collected any souls.

»» A Deck can become a Card if they lose all their souls.

»» A Card can become a Deck by collecting souls.

Where these souls reside are all variations of different pocket dimensions all Cards and Decks have. One is there by default, forever changing to reflect your life. It is possible to create others, and it is the favoured option. Locals have named them 'Weeping Lands', for the eternal somber melody they can hear from there. Some say it sounds like a forbidden lullaby, pulling them to a deep slumber, while others say it sounds of their lost loved ones, calling out to them in the distance.

Another thing special to Wonderland is a phenomenon observed as 'Carding'. This is something that takes place with very soul not native to Wonderland— an attempt by the world to adapt to you, and for you to adapt to it. Symptoms vary. The first one is memory loss and inability to recall certain events, in this case memory of the life before Wonderland. Then follows delusion that you truly do belong in Wonderland, have always lived here, and never had a life outside of it. Individuals having passed this stage never make it out of Wonderland. Because once the Carding process is completed, it is near impossible to escape, the world simply won't let you. After all, you belong here, don't you?

Then follows alteration of physical features... though what exactly and the extent varies from individual to individual. And, how long the Carding process takes also varies. Younger individuals are most vulnerable to it, however, given that they are naive enough to give in rather easily.

Story's mainly about the trio's shenanigans and their attempts to escape, thwarted time and time again by a certain someone and his right-hand man who will cameo soon.

—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-——-—-

This is basically what I have for now! I have a list of characters ready for the main cast— but only five of them are fully completed.... Gosh this one has a LOT of world building. Plus so many characters. I'm positively both excited and overwhelmed. Suggestions are, as always, welcome! This story has been on my backburner for far too long, I'll be posting about my other one too very soon.

That one has a more original plot line lmaooo

@liliallowed @salzab my writing moots, look at what I have conjured up this fine midnight.