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soukeyed · 1 year

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my cool and epic oc masterpost

(names from left to right: nebula, lynn, ember, dia, z, mercury)

link to their folder on toyhou.se, but honestly this post is probably a more comprehensive source of info

hello hello i was gonna make one of these sooner or later! thank u to @loveismine for asking abt them this was the motivation i needed LOL . also tagging @eqqbyte @harvsbian since they asked :]

STORY SUMMARY:

my oc universe (3 years unnamed and counting!) is set in a universe where most people die twice; the first time, you come back with powers based off of the way you died (or rarely something completely unrelated,) the second time you die for real. this brings with it a bunch of new cultural norms; middle and upper classes have ceremonies to achieve specific powers, lower class families sometimes save up for these ceremonies and bank on having one child with practical powers to support them through work. ptsd from the 'first deaths,' especially if youre someone who was put through a specific ceremony for it, is extremely common but largely dismissed. etc etc there's a lot of pointless details i've thought out

the story is centered around nebula - one of the many 'children' (test subjects) of the very very corrupt government - her wife lynn, a pretty normal woman who works as a model, and lynn's childhood friend dia (and HER sister ember) who resents nebula because . . . : )

nebula is keeping secrets, notably her actual origin and why she and lynn even met to begin with; when ember gets kidnapped during nebula and lynn's wedding, the entire plot kicks off.

CHARACTER SUMMARIES (UNDER THE CUT):

WARNING: all of these discuss death a lot given the story's themes, more specific warnings are given per character

NEBULA

art cr. me + me again + mocakola on toyhou.se / gallery

WARNING: includes discussions of child abuse/child death

one of the few legitimate children to her science-obsessed parents, nebula was involved in their government research since she was a child. the government intended to create an army of extremely powerful individuals, and to do this carried out a series of experiments to see just how random someone's powers could be - and if powers could be specifically engineered to manifest in a certain way.

to nebula's parents she was just another test subject, so she was given the name NE-004 and at five years old left to suffocate in space as part of one of their experiments alongside a group of other children. she came back to life with gravity powers; she can alter the gravitational field strength of any object within a 1km radius, as long as it's within line of sight. this wasn't the intent of the experiment, and so nebula was deemed a 'failure' and spent most of her life until around 19 growing up in a government facility with dozens of her 'siblings', being trained in combat, weapons etc. so she could still be useful in the future as a guard. it was dehumanising, isolating, and nebula and her 'siblings' were often subject to abuse from eachother or their handlers, or painful/invasive experiments from the facility's scientists.

nebula was sent out as a sort of spy when dia's family caught the attention of the government (more about this in ember's section, but ember's powers manifested in a unique way that the government wanted to research.) her mission was to get close to the family, gain their trust and eventually obtain the information the government needed more discreetly.

and then she met lynn.

(art cr. orpiiment on toyhous.e)

lynn was dia's best friend; the two were basically inseparable, so she was the perfect way to get closer to dia's family without seeming too suspicious, especially to the now paranoid and distrusting dia herself. with lynn, nebula felt for the first time that she was being treated like an actual person; her own emotions were clumsy and her social skills awful from her lonely upbringing, but the two of them quickly fell in love and got engaged.

all the while, lynn had no idea of nebula's origins. neither of them liked to discuss their families, so she had no real reason to suspect. but in the background nebula's superiors were getting impatient. two years passed and with no helpful information gained in all that time, they sought to resolve the issue themselves.

which leads to ember being kidnapped at the wedding.

LYNN

art cr. iouquie on toyhou.se + mocakola on toyhou.se + furei on toyhou.se / gallery

WARNING: includes discussions of child death (drowning) and references to csa

grew up as the oldest sibling in a large working class family; had to take care of her siblings a lot while her parents worked toward the promise of a proper ceremony for her when she became a teenager. lynn's family intended for her to gain fire powers since they were pretty practical + versatile, and as a result set her and dia up on playdates so they could become friends and eventually train eachother's powers together.

at the age of 11 she drowned. as a result she gained the power to turn her hair into water to its roots; something her family obviously didn't want for her. lynn's relationship with her family broke down over the years, not helped by her coming forward about the actions of a 'family friend' from when she was younger and made all the worse when they didn't believe her. she left home to live with dia's family at the age of 15; she still considers dia's parents more family than anyone else.

passing school with alright grades, lynn went into modelling and quickly picked up traction thanks to her looks and powers. she met nebula a little into her career; they bonded strangely quickly, and despite dia's distrust of nebula lynn proposed to her anyway. her life was going good.

in reality, lynn's self esteem was extremely low; her powers were weak and good for nothing except aesthetics (especially in comparison to nebula and dia's), she still felt guilt over 'abandoning' her family, she felt stupid and naive for letting herself be manipulated as a child but refused to kill her trust in people for it.

all feelings that would spiral out of control after the wedding, and after nebula would be forced to admit the truth.

DIA

art cr. zidanetribal on toyhou.se / gallery

pretty tame middle class upbringing; her mothers both worked for the government (relatively low level civil servants though.) went through a ceremony at the age of 13, just like her parents had before her, and came out with horns and a devil-like tail that could materialise fire (she doesn't use the horns often though because they singe her hair lol) and also severe nightmares but that's supposed to be normal.

pretty upbeat and flippant about most things but is fiercely protective of her younger sister ember, especially after the media attention her family gained in the wake of ember's powers manifesting. she shelters her pretty severely in an attempt to protect her and this definitely won't come back to bite her.

EXTREMELY mistrustful of nebula from the start; mostly gets along with her for lynn's sake. her hatred reaches a peak after the wedding and in the main events of the plot.

not a lot to say about her tbh? i love her though : ) if there's a character whose pov you'd be reading from itd probably be her

EMBER

art cr. yuchino on toyhou.se

dia's younger sister! more of a side character but she is plot important. very sheltered upbringing (much moreso than dia since ... dia is very overprotective lol) very nonchalant about like.. everything, she doesn't have much of a filter but it usually doesnt get her in trouble because shes not a mean person to begin with. underwent the same ceremony dia did at age 13.

the clawlike hands (she can summon fire w them) are the manifestation of her powers; this got her and her family media attention because this was the exact same way her mother's powers manifested - an extremely rare occurrence the reason she gained the attention of the government. this was one of their points of research; if there was a link between family members' powers and if there was a way to ENSURE family members had the same powers. this of course leads to them sending nebula out and later ember getting kidnapped.

art cr. that_pitt on twitter + me + aquacanis on toyhou.se / gallery

i dont pick favourites but shes my favourite LOL. the girlie in my pfp!

scientist working for the government; plays a VERY minor role in the actual main story. her side story with her and mercury however is very dear to me. i'll just dump her toyhou.se profile link here because it has all her backstory etc written out anyway.

MERCURY

art cr. redline on toyhou.se + cookedshrimp on artfight + aquacanis on toyhou.se / gallery

WARNING: includes discussions of child death (via stabbing)

her and z's stories are like integral to eachother so i advise skimming z's backstory before this at the very least but i cant stop you lol

leader of the most high-profile resistance against the government. had a relatively happy childhood that was cut abruptly short when she was out with her family one day; they were mugged, and at 12 years old mercury was stabbed to death alongside her parents. she came back to life with the power to manipulate metals and was almost immediately bought into a prestigious school to train her powers, fully funded by the government. meanwhile her younger sister (being at home w a babysitter at the time) was put in foster care; their relationship was distant, though not from lack of trying on mercury's part.

mercury quietly grew to hate her powers; they were the reason she could barely see her sister, the result of her family's deaths, and yet they were treated like a blessing by everyone around her. at the same time they were the only advantage she really had in life, and in a way the last thing her parents had given her - so she trained like hell and graduated with top grades lest it all be for nothing.

somewhere along the line in high school she met z and they fell in love; z was smart and easy to talk to and about the only person she seemed to be able to have a real critical conversation with about their world - what these powers meant, why they happened in the first place. they both ended up in one of the country's top universities; funded and used personally by the government to scout new talent.

and then, at the start of her second year of university, z vanished. no goodbye, no texts, nothing.

mercury spiralled. she dropped out and searched desperately for z long after anyone else had accepted her death, devoted her life to that and nothing else and barely took care of herself at all. along the way she stumbled across forums; huge networks of people whose loved ones had vanished in the same way. then, even smaller networks talking about how they'd been working for the government months before and now their so-called 'employers' were acting like they'd never existed.

the rebellion was never meant to be what it became. it started as a sort of support group; a shoddily made up forum mercury created herself where people could freely discuss their loved ones and what might have happened to them. the group grew massively, countless stories of the very same circumstances; people digging up whatever proof they could, all manner of people contacting mercury asking how to help, offering funds, even those wanting to seek their own justice - and mercury can't say her encouragement of it was entirely selfless.

the grief had to go somewhere physical. over the years mercury's group outgrew it's original shitty webpage and became something else entirely. but despite being branded as the resistance's leader, most of its build-up felt out of her hands; she managed the funds and tracked members, sure, but she was never a leader. she couldn't give speeches or motivate any emotion but anger. violence was the language she spoke best, despite it all.

she never forgot about z. every time they raided a government facility or uncovered some new documents she looked for her face.

she found it, eventually - on the side that she'd been fighting against for years.

despite that, mercury still loved her. z was one of the only things she had left to love and she clung to her with everything she had. noone knew, of course, because the consequences for either of them would be deadly, but they still got together frequently. despite everything z had done, despite everything mercury knew she'd been capable of and despite how much they fought, now.

mercury is a minor character in the main story; she becomes a sort of mentor figure to nebula and her and z's relationship is sort of a parallel/worst case scenario of nebula and lynn's. i love her very very dearly.

if you've read this entire thing: thank you so much! have a mercurz image dump because they are truly everything to me.

(by redline on toyhou.se - right img is my current pfp!!)

(by aquacanis on toyhou.se aka the goat of mercurz art. they never miss)

(by twgp on toyhou.se . i just . explodes.)

tysm again if you took the time to read this entire thing. i love you and you are so cool

#my ocs #ellie talks #long post #umm feel free to ask any questions bc i love talking about them (if you couldnt tell OMEGALUL)

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writingishardpodcast · 3 years

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The Basics: Reader Insert vs. Original Character

Listen to the episode here.

Summary: Discussing the pros and cons of making your story a reader insert or creating an original character

Speakers: Bee (@negans-lucille-tblr) & Mads (@writethelifeyouwant)

Run time: 40:27

Tags/Warnings: Bee talks herself into reading even more fanfiction.

(x)

Episodes Masterlist

Note: We're starting a new thing we'd like to do every episode where we feature a story nominated by you, our listeners! To nominate your own/favorite story, click here to fill out the form and tell us all about it!

A rundown of some of the points discussed is below the cut! (And a POLL! Let us know what you think!)

Reader insert (RI) refers to stories written where the main character has few or no identifying qualities, generally using ‘Y/N’ as the character’s name, allowing the reader to insert themselves into the story. Original Character (OC) refers to stories where the main character is created by the writer with a name and specific characteristics.

Making your story OC:

Part of the challenge of OC is making that OC relatable to your audience. If your OC is not relatable, no one will get invested in the story.

OC can be freeing creatively because then you don’t need to regulate certain parts of your story simply to keep a character generic.

Making your story RI:

Reader insert is actually very hard, because of audience diversity. There will be readers from different cultures with different physical characteristics, and it’s impossible to have a truly generic character and still have an interesting story. There needs to be a balance, which unfortunately, will always alienate a portion of your audience. It’s impossible to cater to every single reader.

You can make an RI character that has some traits essential to the story. A warning in the tags of the story is usually enough to satisfy readers that, for instance, this Y/N in this story is a specific age or ethnicity.

RI gives the reader a familiarity with this ‘new’ character of Y/N, the same way fan fiction gives the reader familiarity with the world in which the story is written. We already know details of the world and its characters, so there are no mental gymnastics to be done. We already know things about ourselves, so a very generic reader insert character is automatically familiar.

There is a line when writing RI that you need to decide what details need to be included. This line will be talked about more in detail in a future episode.

Deciding on whether your story should be RI or OC:

Why are you writing? If for yourself, then do what you want. (Obviously, writing a request or commissioned story would be different as you would need to follow the prompts given.)

OC gives you greater creative freedom.

RI seems to be more popular, probably because it lets the reader insert themselves more easily into the story. Especially in fanfiction, readers want to see themselves with their favorite characters from the source material.

Some writers basically create an original character, but simply name them Y/N (which is the commonly used acronym for Your Name used in reader inserts). Other writers strive to make their Y/N character as generic as possible so they are relatable to a wider audience. Neither approach is wrong.

Don’t look at original characters as a bad thing, or think that completely generic reader insert characters are the pinnacle of writing. A lot of newer writers seem to be thinking this way.

Story integrity is more important than the popular tag you can put on the tumblr post to attract readers. Do what is most natural for you and you will gain an audience that likes what you write because your writing will be better. This will also prevent you from feeling like you will lose part of your audience later if you decide to switch from one to the other.

Consider your character and how they fit into the plot of the story. Are there certain things that need to be true because of the plot of the story? For example, if the OC is another character’s child, then there will be certain traits that will be expected in that OC. Turning this OC into a RI would lessen the effectiveness of the story.

If it’s PWP (Porn Without Plot), then RI is easier. Certain characters also tend to give people nicknames, so a RI is easier to write, and you can use those nicknames instead of Y/N.

How long is your story? One-shots and drabbles are easier to make RI. Longer stories tend to require an OC more often.

What POV are you writing from? Writing from Y/N’s POV makes it easier to be RI over OC.

People don’t use names as frequently in real life as characters do in stories. You can get away with just not using a name. (In a similar vein, how many times do you really notice someone’s physical traits in everyday life? Unless you’re gazing into their eyes, how important is someone’s eye color in everyday life?)

Fun exercise: create different characters and figure out if swapping out those characters changes the story significantly. If not, then that story would be good as a RI. If it would, then it would probably be better as an OC story.

There’s no right or wrong answer. Write what fits your story and makes you feel most comfortable.

Poll:

Which do you prefer? Reader insert or original character? A mix of both? Y/N with some specific traits? Do you read both? Do you actually insert yourself into a story or read a story like watching a movie?

Have you read some OC stories you love? Reblog with links so we can all read them!

That's it for this episode! Give it a listen and let us know what you think!

#writing is hard podcast #writingishardpodcast #podcast #fanfic podcast #episodes #the basics #reader insert vs original character #fanfic advice #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #negans lucille tblr #writethelifeyouwant

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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

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hi I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing atm but also would you mind sharing any more info on your ocs if you have it?? I wanna know more about pris (and whatever tf happened with her and michael in the past)

YES i would love to tell you more about pris. this ask made me so happy, i cant even begin to tell you. i always worry people don't care about my ocs but they mean so much to me

she is one of my most favorite ocs of all time, it's just i've been so hyperfixated on house of wax i haven't gotten to write much about her and michael - BUT i really want to and i probably will eventually

tag

some quick facts about pris:

priscilla catherine tate

born in 1958 (im terrible at having concrete birthdays for my ocs but maybe she's a virgo? not sure)

5'6", pear shaped (& gains weight and keeps it on after giving birth to audrey), pin-straight dark brown hair (gray when she's older) and dark gray-green eyes, long nose

american of irish and english descent

not religious; raised non denominational christian

aromantic spectrum, bisexual, but not inclined to go out and meet people; puts more weight behind blood relative connections

when she was a child, she and her parents were involved in a bus accident and subsequent fire. she was 7 at the time and was one of the only survivors

early onset depression and mental illness because of this traumatic event, which eventually led to a dissociative disorder, specifically a form of cotard's syndrome

her illness was manageable through therapy and medication but she believes she can't die because she's already dead

was fostered longterm but never formally adopted. doesn't feel a huge connection to her foster family though

has been both an inpatient and outpatient at various mental health facilities in the area for years; the mental health community of haddonfield and the surrounding area knows her pretty well by the time she's 20

nihilistic, prone to shutting down and appearing "emotionless" because of her anxiety (but that also means she can Get Shit Done when she has to), actually could be a deeply caring and wonderful friend if given the chance despite being a wet cat of a woman

showers 3-5 times a day because she fears her body decaying, so some obsessive compulsive tendencies. if she can't shower when she wants her neuroses become exponentially worse, which is one of the reasons she does much better as an outpatient

has a sphinx cat named soup

doesn't have many aspirations for life, understandably, since she thinks she's dead; however, still needs to pay bills, uses her mental health community connections to get herself a job in the healthcare community, becomes an RN

bounces around from healthcare jobs to secretary work to cleaning jobs, etc etc

hobbies include: puzzles (esp word puzzles), board games, miniature model enthusiast but no talent for it, absolutely adores just sitting back and listening to some old country (her FAVORITE) or 40s-50s music

now when it comes to michael, it would all depend on what timeline we're talking about. and for the record I don't really like RZ Michael so this would all be OG

if we're talking Carpenter's reboot (Halloween 1978 -> Halloween 2018):

michael and pris knew each other in passing from some mental health programs when they were younger, when loomis was still Trying with michael. basically a classmate type of connection, so they recognized each other but didn't really know each other?

she was living in outpatient/government housing at the time of the babysitter murders

michael kind of staggered to her govt housing neighborhood after being shot by loomis. michael's a creature of instinct so his first is survive -> prey

wound up staying with her because 1. she didn't call the cops on him 2. she's dead, there's nothing behind her eyes; she wouldn't be interesting to kill. we see time and time again that michael doesn't kill someone unless he's interested in them/likes how they are and wants to see them die or if they are in his way and she was neither. there's nothing exciting or interesting about killing something that doesn't care about dying

life finds a way! audrey was conceived ~3 months in

they lived together for a full year without being detected. but michael likes halloween, so while pris was at the hospital giving birth (on halloween!!!) he snuck out and decided to kill some more people (fun)

he was caught this time, as the whole town was on guard

pris was thoroughly inconvenienced by this, and also a bit sad because he had been her companion and she had gotten used to him. anxious as hell because now she's a single mom (thankfully she's very experienced with navigating government programs and was able to help herself pretty well)

managed to finagle weekly or monthly visitation with michael by going over loomis's head; this became much easier after loomis died, and they got even more privileges. knows sartain very well at that point

because of this, michael never forgot who she was. she has a connection with him

they just seem sort of drawn to each other, almost supernaturally. it's like she provides some weird equilibrium...and she doesn't ask anything of him, doesn't want anything from him. he's just in her life now

michael's parents don't speak to her and audrey (and eventually they die)

she and michael are never technically married but she considers him her partner, probably the closest thing she will have (or would ever want, she's quite aro) to a husband; she refers to him in that way often

people who know about her and michael think she's fucking insane. how the hell did she even survive that? most people don't know, though, and audrey takes her last name. it would be very hard to be a myers in haddonfield

she and laurie do know each other. she has nothing in particular against laurie but she did need to get a restraining order against her. it's unfortunate that laurie hates her because i think they'd be friends in another life

she doesn't have anything against people especially and doesn't particularly want michael to murder folks, but she's smart enough to know she can't stop him

when it comes to other timelines, such as the thorn timeline... when the curse gets involved, i figure she has to have some supernatural connection to it, but i'm not a huge fan of the thorn timeline, so i haven't smoothed that out!

@waxhouse and I have a fun crack type au where all the slashers live in the same neighborhood and there pris is:

best friends with amanda, jason voorhees's wife

audrey's mom obviously

part of amanda's book club but she never reads the books and it drives amanda insane

gets her weed from bubba sawyer

bo sinclair's object of lust and fear (she hates him and his vibes)

on good terms with freddy and pinhead (she and the Girls go to brunch with pinhead all the time)

always the designated driver (she hates driving tho and avoids it)

that one friend that you're sure hates you but actually has deep deep affections for you, they're just quiet

#pris #pris tate #michael #michael myers #michael myers x pris tate #michael myers x oc #slasher x oc #slasher oc

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trashcatsnark · 3 years

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OC Info

I was tagged by @shallow-gravy thank you so much for the tag!!!!

Tagging: @enchantedbythebidders, @boyish-fantasy, @catoinette,

Uhhhhhh, I can't remember everyones tumblrs but a few, SO UHHH SILVERV WHORENER FOLKS, IF YOU SEE THIS, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED

I'll be doing this for my Cyberpunk 2077 OC and my FC5 OC

GENERAL

Name: Aidan Violetta Becker

Alias(es): V (majority of people), Princess (Johnny), Little Merc (Johnny)

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Birthdate: November 12th, 2056

Place of Birth: Seven Devils, North Carolina

Hometown: NA, she was born a nomad, constantly traveling with no real hometown

Spoken Languages: English and ASL

Sexual Preference: Bisexual

Occupation: Mercenary

APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Gray

Hair Color: Naturally brown, dyed blonde

Height: 5’

Scars: Various scars from her life as a nomad and merc work; notably a brand on her wrist, customary from her nomad family. And a scar on her stomach from a forced sterilization procedure.

FAVOURITE

Color: Bright Cyan/Electric Blue, Black, and Burgundy

Hair Color: Despite bleaching her own hair, she's mostly attracted to people with dark hair.

Eye Color: She tends to find brown and green eyes particularly pretty

Song: Pre-Johnny, she didn't really have one, post him... Never Fade Away or Black Dog, he corrupted her taste.

Food: Toasted Marshmallows

Drink: Peach or Sakura Nicola, Mint Spunky Monkey, as far as alcohol goes, she likes cherry cola and bourbon.

HAVE THEY

Passed University: This girl has never seen the inside of a school, so no...

Had Sex: Yes and often

Had Sex in Public: Yes and probably too often

Gotten Pregnant: No, that was taken care of for her against her will.

Kissed a Boy: Many times.

Kissed a Girl: Many more times.

Gotten Tattoos: At the state of her story no, but Johnny takes care of that on his bender. After fix it/net/mikoshi shit, she gets a snake around her ankle that matches the one Johnny has on his hand.

Gotten Piercings: Yes, she has multiple ear piercings (has to be careful they don't catch her hearing aids though), her tongue, her nipples, and her belly button. She also had a lip piercing she let heal over.

Been in Love: When she was younger, she thought she was, but she knows now that's not what that is. Once Johnny slides into the picture... well...

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yeahhhhhh

ARE THEY

A Virgin: Nope

A Cuddler: While sleeping yes, but when she's not sleepy she's more shy about that sort of thing.

A Kisser: Yep

Scared Easily: Nah

Jealous Easily: I wouldn't say easily, but it does happen, and usually its a very sad sort of "I'm not good enough, they dont want me" jealousy.

Trustworthy: For a merc, she's more trust worthy than most... but she's definitely not above lying to get what she needs or wants, nor a few light hearted fibs for jokes.

Dominant: Somewhat, definitely more of a service dominant in terms of sex though, if that's what her partner wants she delivers it.

Submissive: Definitely leans more submissive during sex, especially with Johnny.

In Love: Ask her that and see if you keep your teeth

Single: Yes.... but she is fucking a clingy brainworm...

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

Have They Harmed Themselves: Both intentionally and not, yes.

Have They Thought About Suicide: Yes, numerous times.

Have They Attempted Suicide: Yes

Have They Wanted to Kill Someone: So many times

Have/had a Job: Outside of merc work, not really any like... nine to five kind of jobs

Have Any Fear(s): being controlled/used, being weak/worthless, people seeing her for who she really is.

FAMILY

Siblings: Eira Becker

Parents: Emyr Becker and Aoife Becker (deceased)

Children: None

Significant Other: Johnny Silverhand (eventually)

Pets: Nibbles, her sphinx cat.

GENERAL

Name: Dahlia Josephine Hale

Alias(es): Stray, Rook, Rookie, Probie, The Lamb, Dahl, Hale, Pup, Little Miss Wrath, etc.

Gender: Female

Age: 19-20

Birthdate: November 12th, 2056

Place of Birth: Alden, Louisiana

Hometown: Alden, Louisiana claims Reinette, Louisiana

Spoken Languages: English, little bit of creole French as well

Sexual Preference: Bisexual

Occupation: Junior Deputy

APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Dark Brown, nearly black, with some premature graying

Height: 5’

Scars: Various scars from her childhood abuse, including most noticeably a burn on her palm, several lash scars across her back. Across the game events she is given multiple words carved across her skin, including the infamous WRATH across her chest.

FAVOURITE

Color: Bright Red and Black

Hair Color: Dark hair, she guesses...

Eye Color: Green eyes are nice

Song: She loves so much music, its impossible to pick.

Food: Peanut Butter Sandwiches

Drink: Monster Energy drinks, slushies

HAVE THEY

Passed University: No, HS and the police academy, that's all.

Had Sex: No (This changes)

Had Sex in Public: No (this changes)

Gotten Pregnant: No, that would make her child the second coming of Jesus.

Kissed a Boy: No at the start of the fic (John is actually her firs kiss when she does, it is not consensual, damn you John)

Kissed a Girl: No at the start of the fic

Gotten Tattoos: Yes, she has two black bands on one of her biceps and a Sylvia Plath quote on her lower back/hip area (not quite a tramp stamp) the quote is: "And like the cat I have nine times to die."

Gotten Piercings: Multiple ear piercings

Been in Love: No

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yep

ARE THEY

A Virgin: Yes

A Cuddler: Yes... not that she'll admit it

A Kisser: Eventually

Scared Easily: Nah

Jealous Easily: Definitely not, its very rare and when it happens even she's surprised.

Trustworthy: Yes... unless you're a peggie.

Dominant: In personality at times, she can take control and be a leader, during sex when she gets to that point.... definitely not.

Submissive: Once she starts having sex, she definitely leans heavily towards submissive, cause inexperience.

In Love: No...

Single: Yes, no matter what the Seeds say.

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

Have They Harmed Themselves: Yes... at a specific point intentionally so...

Have They Thought About Suicide: Across the game events, yes.

Have They Attempted Suicide: In the game events, at least once.

Have They Wanted to Kill Someone: Once, but she's scared of having to do it...

Have/had a Job: Yes

Have Any Fear(s): being a bad person, that there's something wrong with her, that people will see that she's truly a bad person and leave her or hurt her for it.

FAMILY

Siblings: Genevieve Monroe (half sister)

Parents: Victor Hale (biological father, deceased), Bambi Monroe (mother) and David Monroe (Step-father)

Children: Currently no, but eventually

Significant Other: The Seed Siblings, eventually, yes, she will end up with a whole ass family.

Pets: Boomer, precious boy

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fc5 #far cry 5 #aidan becker #dahlia hale #aidan v becker

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carmichealroyals · 3 years

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CHARACTER INSPIRATION // C H A L L E N G E

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

I was tagged by this by so many lovely pals -- @thelockwoodroyals, @wa-royal-tea AND @ourwillowcreekroyals !!! I only feel bad that it took me so long but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be while taking time to fiddle with Photoshop more (thank you @royaldevilliers for answering my silly questions). Below the cut are the descriptions for the personality types and tropes for each of the main three kids of this next generation!

Not sure who’s done this yet, so if you see this and you want to do it, this is me telling you to do it!

CHARLOTTE:

The Protagonist: Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.

Spirited Young Lady: She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end.

Deadpan Snarker: A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves.

Politically Active Princess: The Politically Active Princess is a princess that takes active interest in and plays an active role in politics. Naive courtiers and commoners alike might view her only as a figurehead, but in truth, she discreetly uses her position and guile in order to achieve her ends. Skilled in diplomacy, she will usually attempt to solve conflicts via conversation or bargaining, rather than combat. Her defining trait is her involvement in politics or diplomatic matters, without letting herself serve only as a bargaining chip.

Inspired by: Mia Thermopolis (The Princess Diaries); Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Vex’ahlia (Critical Role); Jenny Lee (Call the Midwife)

PETER:

The Architect: It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

The Dog Bites Back: Unlike the Bastard Understudy and The Starscream, this character attacks as a crime of opportunity. There is no danger that he will take over the villain's place in the grand scheme of things. There is, however, a possibility that he will menace the others as a True Final Boss. The backstabber often ends up dead, but this is usually not Redemption Equals Death because their motive is not noble. Innocent victims who turn on the villain typically do it only for revenge, while evil victims prove that they were fine with all of the Big Bad's crimes except the one committed against them.

Middle Child Syndrome: Everyone loves the oldest child because the parents can rely on them, they watch out for their siblings, and they're so confidently attractive. The Youngest Child Wins because they're the "baby". But what does that leave the one in the middle? That's essentially the definition of Middle Child Syndrome, in which a child automatically may become The Unfavorite or the rebellious Black Sheep, specifically because they are the easiest child to overlook. They're not old enough to be given the responsibilities and privileges of the oldest, and the youngest child took their spot as the spoiled and doted-on "baby" of the family. This tends to be more of an issue when there are three children rather than four or more. Oftentimes in media, the middle child ends up becoming more of the Deadpan Snarker or the quirky one for this reason.

The Un-Favorite: Where there's an Alpha wolf, there's got to be a Beta. When there is a first banana, there is a second banana. This is the person in the family who can't get a break. For example, this is the child who's the big let-down to their parents, the daughter that was supposed to be a son (or vice-versa), the child the parents had by accident when they'd already decided they didn't need another mouth to feed, the adoptive, foster, or stepchild that came before the parents had a biological child, the illegitimate child conceived by infidelity on the part of one of the parents (if not even worse). But all in all, this is basically the kid who is always getting the short-end of the stick. In some extreme cases, this may cause Rich Sibling, Poor Sibling, especially if one sibling is forced into service to the other. A regular line that may be entailed with this is a variant of, "Honestly, [name], why can't you be more like [favorite's name]?"

Inspired by: Edith Crawley (Downton Abbey); Fiyero (Wicked: The Musical); Logan Huntzberger (Gilmore Girls); Rafael Solano (Jane the Virgin)

PEGGY:

The Mediator: Idealistic and empathetic, Mediators long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. But because this personality type makes up such a small portion of the population, Mediators may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique.

The Baby of the Bunch: Being the youngest of your group typically comes with some perks and challenges. On one side you're probably the cutest, have a pass to act immature, people like taking care of you, and you can embrace your fun side, knowing that the elders are there to handle the serious stuff. And if there's anything you're na��ve about, you have plenty of others to give you the realest unfiltered advice without the generational gap and detachment that your parents or the Old Master have. On the other end, sometimes people don't take you seriously. There you're kinda stuck because no matter how old you get, you'll always be "the baby" in their eyes.

Indifferent Beauty: A character who is attractive, aware of their effect on other people, but doesn't care or at least doesn't value their physical attractiveness over their other traits. Often, this character is a consummate professional who is well aware of the fact that they could use their "assets" to get what they want by other means, but feels that it would be unprofessional or beneath their dignity, and is instead focused on proving that they can compete purely on skill, often to the exclusion of romantic opportunities. While such characters are not averse to dressing in sexy outfits, they don't plan on relying on or even exploiting their sex appeal - but the camera will often do that for them. Other characters' indifference is not due to regarding relying on appearance to be beneath their dignity, but rather that they consider it to be unimportant.

Spoiled Sweet: The Spoiled Sweet character is a naive, spoiled, rich or comfortably upper-class or upper-middle-class girl, who has everything they could ever want, but instead of being mean, she is as nice as can be to everyone. While still spoiled, slightly naive, perhaps shallow, maybe even a bit selfish at times, when it comes right down to it, she is a loyal friend and doesn't use her money or popularity as an excuse to treat everyone like garbage — though the trope Rich in Dollars, Poor in Sense is in play, especially since a particularly common sticking point is that characters of this type often believe their friends and other loved ones deserve to live just as well as they do.

Inspired by: Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Beth March (Little Women); Pike Trickfoot (Critical Role); Peggy Schuyler (Hamilton: An American Musical)

#sim: princess charlotte #sim: prince peter #sim: princess margaret

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secret-ssociety · 3 years

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Let me down pt.3

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Reader (platonically), Reader x oc

Warnings: I mean, in my eyes this is pure fluff, but who knows if it will hurt you

Summary: Peter and May have dinner with Y/N’s family, prompting a lot of questions to get an answer.

A/N: oKAY, I know that what happened wasn’t exactly what you expected and and it has taken me so long to write this but it's finally here. I want to thank you all, I never meant for this blow up like it did or to even become a series, honestly when I wrote the first part I was just in a really bad mood and I felt like writing something sad and that came out, but then people started to ask for a second part and well the rest is history. So yeah, I actually want to write even more parts to this so let me know if you would like it. Also, I tagged everyone who asked me to write more to this, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist

Masterlist

part one part two

Peter couldn't help but feel like his head was spinning as he walked back home from the metro that night. Claire had sat him down in her bed for almost an hour showing off all of her Avengers stuff. She had a replica of Thor's Mjolnir (and she knew how to pronounce it, which was even more impressing), she had the Spider-Man's Uno she had mentioned (it did make him kind of emotional to see a drawing of him on the package) and she had Iron Man's full suit.

Yeah, he did his best not to cry with the last one.

Even if she hadn’t ran up to you screaming ‘mommy’, he would’ve known that she was your daughter. Claire had your hair, your eyes, your nose, even when the rest of her tiny face was more like Mark’s. The corners of her eyes wrinkled the same way yours did when you smiled and she was as energetic as you, she got lost in her own thoughts just like her you used to do.

He had been counting the seconds to be out of your house and be able to break down on the guardianship of his loneliness, but when he found himself walking down the street after dinner... he just didn't.

Peter had gone to school that day being sure that as soon as he saw you, something would be okay, and even if it hadn't gone according to the plan, he hadn't been wrong. Something was okay: you were okay. You had a career, a good job, a loving husband, a perfect daughter, a beautiful family.

You had a great life and, most importantly, you were willing to welcome him in it, so yeah, maybe things were going to be okay.

So when Claire asked him to dinner with them again at the end of the week, and you said you wanted to say hi to May, he just couldn't refuse. That's how he ended up standing in front of your house again, with May by his side this time, holding a cherry pie they had placed and decorated on a plate as if to pretend they hadn't bought it from the grocery store.

As soon as the door opened, Peter handed the dessert to May, because he was prepared for the moment Claire jumped to his arms to greet him. You smiled openly at May, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes at the sight of the woman who had given you a place to call home everytime you felt like your own house was not it.

Both Peter and Mark noticed how you tried to keep your composure when her arms wrapped you in a warm embrace.

"Sorry, I'm a mess," you muttered in apology, trying to wipe your eyes without messing up your mascara.

"You look beautiful," May corrected, making your eyes wet all over again. "It smells amazing," she said suddenly, changing the subject to give you a chance to calm down, "what are you cooking?"

"Oh, I'm not cooking," you clarified rushing them inside, Peter still carrying the little girl in his arms, "Mark is. I somehow manage to burn the water."

"You could always make PB and jelly sandwiches," Peter said with an amused smile, earning a fond laugh from your lips, as if you shared an inside joke.

Only when Mark received the pie from May's hands did Peter notice that he was wearing a purple apron over his white unbuttoned shirt, and he couldn't help the sting in his heart at how perfect he was. He kindly apologized at the fact that the meat still needed a few more minutes on the oven, because he had been held back a little longer than expected at the office.

"What's that smell?" You asked, frowning.

"Daddy, the aspargaroos!" Claire exclaimed instantly, clearly unaware of how to pronounce asparagus, as she wiggled to let Peter know she wanted to be back on the ground. The tiny human ran behind her father into the kitchen, ready to do the damage control.

You decided to grab a bottle of white wine (and another Capri Sun for Peter) while her husband and daughter tried to resolve the asparagus crisis. He tried to pay attention to the conversation the two women in front of him were maintaining, but it was like they were talking in some foreign, alien, grown up language he couldn't understand.

This time, you took a little longer to finish your glass of wine than the last bottle you had opened, which had been a week ago when Peter had showed up in your doorstep. You were trying your best to hide your excitement talking to May, but you couldn't help the profound feeling of pride that took over your chest when you saw her eyes glimmer with amazement as they explored around the living room, where the pictures and prices of all of your family's accomplishments were displayed.

Peter was the first to notice Mark come out of the kitchen with a sheepish smile, "alright, so, the asparagus isn't salvageable, er, how do you feel about KFC salad?"

That's how they found themselves sitting at the round dinner table eating steak with a mushroom sauce Claired had been the one to think about, roasted potatoes and KFC salad, because apparently the always ordered some extra salad on their takeaways and stuffed them in the fridge.

"So..." May started, eyeing the young couple nervously. "There is so much to talk about. How... you... well..."

"How did I end married and with a kid at twenty three?" You finished for her, saving a sigh to yourself although you felt your husband tense a little beside you. The more you two heard that question, the more annoying it got, even when you knew May didn't mean to offend you.

Of course you knew you were young, and that many people your age couldn't handle such commitments, you didn't need people telling you that constantly. You had heard the same discourse from teachers, employers, even neighbors you had never talked to, it quickly got old and you tried not to become aggressive everytime you heard it.

Mark and you had a happy, healthy marriage, with a wonderful daughter that had brought light into a world as dark as yours was since the blip. You had good jobs that allowed you to have a stable economy and also take care of your family. You were happy, what else mattered? If you wanted opinions or needed help, you would certainly ask for it.

You never once had.

Still, you responded kindly, "well, we met in college, Princeton," you mentioned, earning two proud looks from your guests. "We were in different programs, so we met specifically through a praying group."

"That had never really been my thing," Mark picked up, "praying and all that God related talk bored me, but most of family and friends had been blipped... I was lonely. So I thought maybe I should give it a try."

"I honestly thought he had gone for the food, because when the meeting was over he looked like he hadn't understood a single word."

"Because I hadn't."

"A friend and I decided to come and talk to him, but after she left we hung out a little longer," you tried to hide the cheesy smile that took over your lips, but you looked over at Mark, who hasn't trying to hid his, and couldn't. "I don't know how to explain it, something about that moment just felt" you shrugged shyly "right."

The memories of you staying on the library, hiding behind the stacks of books so that no one would notice you trying to stay inside after it closed and talking the whole night long never failed to raise goosebumps along your skin. He would offer to read for you when your eyes got tired of working with the dim light that entered through the window, even when he was a law major and didn't understand a single word on the neuroscience and robotic books you were always studying.

It was soon after getting to know him, you just knew Mark had been made for you. There was something in the way you could see in his eyes that crowds freaked him out and that he tried not to cry after talking to his mom in the phone, something in the way he understood your whimpers in the days where anything above a mutter was just too much, that you knew this awkwardly tall curious guy was meant to cross your path.

"Things moved pretty fast after that," you continued, hoping you hadn't zoomed out for too long, "like 'we got married eight months after' fast."

May did her best to hide her surprise, while Peter choked on the salad. Was listening to your loving tone as you told the story easy? No, not at all. He wanted to throw up. Peter was still hopelessly in love with you, even when you were now five years older, even when you had a husband and a child, even when it was ridiculous and impossible, because for him it hadn't been years, it just had been months.

"Claire came soon after that," Mark concluded after pouring some more juice on Peter's glass and asking him if he was okay. "And all of this happened throughout college?"

"We had a really good support system," he nodded, smiling down at Claire, who had made a mess over her chicken sandwich. "A really good amount of friends willing to babysit whenever we had to work, understanding teachers who let us bring Claire to our lectures. My mom and Y/N's parents were also a great help."

"We were both on scholarships that gave us some allowances to support ourselves each month, too," you added. "It wasn't much, but it helped."

"And what are you working on now?" May switched to a conversation that would probably be easier on her nephew.

"Well, Mark is an associate on a buffet in Manhattan," you said grabbing your husband's hand. "What's your approach?" Peter asked, somewhat genuinely curious.

"Environmental law," he replied proudly.

"And I-"

"Mommy builds robot limbs!" Claire exclaimed excitedly, prompting a laugh on the others.

"Before I graduated, I got a job as lab assistant on a research for neuro prosthetics," you explained, "and after graduating, they hired me as researcher. Basically what we're trying to do is to create a non-invasive implant we can connect to the brain and spinal cord that controls robotic prosthetics for people who have lost limbs or return movement to paralyzed body sections."

Peter's skin prickled at the description of the research, for it was one he had known before it all went crumbling down. A memory flashed through his eyes, Tony helping his friend walk after he had been injured in Germany, on his first mission.

"That's..."

"A Stark Industries' research, yes," you nodded solemnly.

"Y/N told me you had an internship with Tony Stark before... it all happened," Mark commented carefully. Peter's head practically snapped in his direction, then, more subtly, in yours. You shook head slightly, almost imperceptibly, but clearly enough to let Peter know you hadn't told his secret.

"You met Tony Stark?" Claire asked him with a bright light in her eyes, one that Peter had seen thousands of times on other kids that, very much like himself, dreamt every night of robots and technologies that could change the world.

"Yes."

"How was he?"

Peter thought for a few seconds about his answer. What was Tony Stark? He was charming, sure, but he wasn't exactly friendly. He was a genius, yet he had never let that cloud his judgement. He had trouble expressing himself, but he always made sure the people around knew how much they meant to him. Suddenly Peter understood why Shakespeare was always making up words, there were just some things, some people, the english language wasn't extensive enough to describe, so he said the best he could come up with.

"He was the most amazing guy I ever met."

You smiled down at your nearly empty plate, it was impossible to forget how much had mr. Stark meant for Peter. Even when you guys broke up and cut off all communication, you still prayed for him to always be under the wing of his mentor. You couldn’t imagen what it was like for Peter to live in a world where Tony Stark was no longer there to help him walk through life.

Hopefully, you would be able to do that in his absence.

taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine @marvel4geeks @hedwigprewett12 @dummiesshort @alyssasanchezz14 @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme

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pixiedane · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review

Thank you for the tag, @ussjellyfish ! I don't know whom to tag so I will just say to all of you: TAG, you're it (scroll to the end to copy paste the questions).

how many works do you have on AO3?

187

what’s your total AO3 word count?

373,260

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

The count is 74, but they're not wholly individual (lots of "all media types" for example). I have pseuds for Star Wars (68 works), Star Trek (63 works), and Marvel (18 works). There are 38 works in other fandoms including Leverage, Killjoys, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, House MD, Game of Thrones, Once Upon a Time, Law and Order, Peter Pan, Willow...

16 more questions beneath the cut.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

512 kudos, Let's Go Steal a Family (Leverage), 2044 words | The Leverage team decide they don't need to settle down in order to start a family.

This was written for the "Leverage-a-thing-a-thon" run in August 2015 (making this fic almost exactly six years old). It's about found family in the most literal sense.

415 kudos, catch a glimpse of sunlight (Star Wars), 2324 words + a fanvid | What if Anakin listened to Padmé more than Palpatine and Obi-Wan listened to Anakin more than Yoda? tldr; galaxy saved

Created for the 2016 Star Wars Rarepairs exchange, a canon divergent au where Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padmé work together to take down the Chancellor and raise the twins as a triad.

253 kudos, and a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. (Star Wars), 726 words | Luke wants to know about his mother.

Written for PadMay 2018, for the prompt "How should Padmé be remembered?". Wow, I'm surprised this is in the top five given it's a tiny ficlet in a giant fandom written for a challenge I made up myself. But I'm pleased! Padmé deserves to be remembered, that's why I started PadMay.

247 kudos, Serendipity (Star Wars), 1914 words | That time Padmé accidentally walked in on the wrong naked Jedi.

Another ObiAniDala AU written for the Star Wars Rarepairs Exchange, 2018 in this case. Two years earlier I'd made a random photo manip of Natalie Portman and Ewan Mcgregor drinking tea and it eventually inspired the fic.

221 kudos, Your Beating Heart Tonight (Star Wars), 3121 words | Padmé develops feelings for her other Jedi protector.

And another written for the Star Wars Rarepairs Exchange in 2016! And also another AU based in a storm of emotions between Anakin, Padmé, and Obi-Wan. I have a specialty.

All five of these are about family first and foremost. Three and a half feature polyamory. Three and a half are canon divergent AUs. None breaks 3200 words. All were written for an event/exchange.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

For the most part. Sometimes I don't right away and it becomes awkward. And I generally don't respond to negative comments because who needs that.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Abduction, a mirror universe story vaguely inspired by The Handmaid's Tale. My author's note: "It is not a happy story for anyone and implies the extreme emotional abuse of a child, as well as the coercion and torture of adults."

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I love crossovers! I've completed a few and have fifty more in wip folders. The most ambitious is War of Stars, a Star Wars/Game of Thrones fusion with 26,480 words, thirty chapters, and five different povs (Cersei, Anakin, Daenerys, Ahsoka, and Boba). Niche, but I am very proud of how it worked out.

I've also blended Star Wars with Mad Max, Kelvin Star Trek, Star Trek Discovery, Deep Space Nine, Sleeping Beauty, and Black Widow.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've had a few mean comments but they're basically "I don't like this pairing and I want you to feel bad about writing it" and I won't.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

No. Just not my thing.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I've had a few translated into Russian, which just adds to the headcanon that I'm secretly Black Widow.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, back in the LiveJournal days I wrote many thousands of words with @vasnormandy. I am slowly posting those stories to AO3 under my Marvel pseud Amelia Danvers, my OC and main character.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

An impossible question because I multi-ship like my life depends on it. Anakin/Padmé is my most prolific ship followed by Rey/Ben, Kat/Lorca, and Carol Danvers/Peter Parker (the parents of Amelia above). But I've written alternate ships for all of the above.

You can read more about my shipping interests here.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oof. I have a lot of WIPs that I would like to finish but it's hard to get back to.

what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. Introspection. I'm good at writing a specific point of view. Characters addressing their issues. I like to pull at threads so I've built up those skills. I love mixing and mashing fandoms and pairings. Complex relationships and the discussion thereof.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Action, like sex scenes or fight scenes, and anything plot heavy. I'm more interested in character and it shows in my writing.

I am also terrible at follow through and finishing things. It's why so much of my fic is written for challenges with external deadlines.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm not fluent in any other languages and I wouldn't want to do it without extensive research.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Either Star Trek (TNG, mainly the adventures of Beverly Crusher - as a preteen, at the Academy, as a single mom, and because I'm me I also gave her a Romulan lover) or Star Wars (the adventures of Han and Leia's daughter who was ME but also Jaina Solo before Jaina Solo existed because she was a twin who wanted to be a pilot more than a Jedi). These stories were written on notebook paper in colored pen and I'd do dramatic readings in the backyard, in costume, with only the trees (all of whom I'd named, mostly after heroines in books, like Elizabeth, Jane, Anne, Alice, Mary, etc.) as the audience.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Well, the one I imagine as something more is Pas De Deux, my Jedi Dance Academy AU. I can picture the senes in my mind and I really enjoyed the adaptation process, melding two things I love into one. The characters and events are recognizable, but also very different and that's something I enjoy.

Questions for anyone who wants to complete it:

Fic Writer Review

how many works do you have on AO3?

what’s your total AO3 word count?

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

have you ever received hate on a fic?

do you write smut? if so what kind?

have you ever had a fic stolen?

have you ever had a fic translated?

have you ever co-written a fic before?

what’s your all time favorite ship?

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

what are your writing strengths?

what are your writing weaknesses?

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

#tag meme #fic meme #fic writing #pixie writes

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danifics18 · 4 years

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↪ Into the Unknown ↩

being awoken on a beach shore not knowing where you were was a scary thing, it was even scarier realizing you weren’t in the world you were meant to be in. with no recollection of your past life besides the backpack with a few of your items, the only thing you could do was adapt, and so that’s what you did.

Tags : Pirate! Ateez // OC Reader // Dark Themes of Death, Prostitution and Slave Trading // Themes of Deities and Spirituality // Alternate Universe // Eventual OT8xReader???

A/N : This is my first attempt at a multi-fic, and I’ve had this thought in my head for a while. The world that this takes place in is different than our own, although, time-wise is very similar to our 17th Century. My OC does have two names Adrie/Adrian, seeing that she does conceal her identity for a while Adrie is pronounced like A-Dree. I know most people would pronounce it as Audrey, but I’m trying to make the names make sense to use them that similarly. The next chapter will be a bit more fast paced, and will actually have a sign of the boys, so stay tuned!

As always, let me know about any mistakes I may have made, anything I should tag if i haven’t already, or let me know what your thoughts are !!

Word Count : 4416

General Masterlist Ateez Masterlist

Into the Unknown Masterlist

Next Part

One.

Sometimes I didn’t know if this was just some fucked up nightmare that my mind was tricking me to believe, or if I just had the worst fate ever. As much as I appreciate Dorian, and all the years he put into making sure I would actually grow up in a normal environment, I do wonder what would’ve happened if he hadn’t found me.

It was obvious that I wouldn't have made it out alive. A random fourteen year old, covered in pruned skin, and a sun bloated body found being washed up on the beach after a particularly bad storm. That enough would've made people suspicious, but to find out that kid was a woman as well? Witchcraft. I wouldn’t even be able to plead for a different outcome, I would’ve been killed in the courtroom.

Thankfully, no one really questioned when Fisherman Dorian Meadows started to bring a new face to the village, claiming that the boy is his son from a different island he frequented. Well not really everyone, his sister and town merchant Arcelia Meadow, knew better. She knew her brother was still heartbroken over the loss of his wife Gilda and son Augie, although their deaths had happened at least twenty years prior. So she knew that this new boy wasn’t biologically his anyways, deciding that she would offer support if he needs it, but would otherwise separate herself from the small boy in case he was bad news.

It took a while for me to really get my footing on learning how to live here on the island of Reindall. Not only from living in a new place, but also learning how to live as a boy. When Dorian had found me it was very obvious that I was just some really skinny kid who hadn’t hit the age of maturity yet. I hadn’t developed any curves or anything that most people would expect to see if they saw a woman. And I didn’t have any signs of sprouting facial hair, or deepened voice that you’d expect from a man. I just looked like a pretty faced child that could pass off as either sex, with green mid shoulder hair. At first, it even took Dorian by surprise when I had asked him why he kept calling me “boy”. I didn’t know if it was just one of this places customs to call all kids “boy”, regardless if they were or not, or if that was his way of speech. And with a paled face, he quickly stepped away from the pot of stew he was tending, and gave me a choice that changed my life forever. Present as a woman and have a difficult life on this island, or present as a man- and even though it would still be difficult, it wouldn’t be difficult in the same way. I wasn’t happy with choosing to present myself as a male, but even though I didn’t quite catch on to what Dorian had meant, I didn’t like the unsaid implications even more. And with that, I was given some old, patchy, oversized clothes that stank like coal and fish, and was given the name of Adrian- opposed to my actual name, Adrie.

Within the first week of me living on this island, I realized that Dorian was shit at explaining things, and he was also shit at keeping his emotions in check.His over all attitude felt vaguely familiar to me, a grumpy old man who would rather just do the thing himself rather then explain to someone else how to do it. He didn’t want to immediately send me off to work for some random person, knowing that I was probably useless, so instead he instructed me to spend the days chopping wood for fire, and taking care of his pet chickens and goats that were kept in separate pens on the side of the cottage. It took days for me to even be able to swing the ax hard enough to split wood, before I would always have my aim slightly off, or the ax would bounce off the wooden stump- instead of split it. After noticing I had improved with the wood chopping, he slowly increased the amount he wanted me to do- which ended up being not only for the cottage we were at but his sister’s as well. When it came to the animals, this is where Dorian would be frustrated with me. I could handle the goats, all they would do was headbutt my thighs- leaving some nasty bruises- and chew on my clothes on occasion, but I liked them. The chickens on the other hand scared me. It wasn’t until Dorian got pissed off enough that he just locked me in the pen for a few hours while he went down to the local tavern. That’s when I finally realized that the chickens weren't so scary, and their pecks weren’t too bad.

As the first few months of me living in Reindall passed by, I developed muscles from chopping wood, building fences, and carrying heavy items for Arcelia- while Dorian would go out to sea to fish. I’d also finally gained some weight, making me look more filled out, which made it even more difficult to hide the fact that I was not a boy. This was, however, the first time I was really able to connect with Arcelia- one of the days I had been finishing the chicken coop she wanted behind her house, she noticed a red patch on my trousers. At first she thought I had hurt myself, until I confessed to her what was really going on. She had quickly let me have a pair of new trousers, and when her brother came over after being done with fishing for the day, she pulled him to the kitchen and they had a long discussion.

From that day forward, she helped me hide identity even better. I was taught to double layer shorts and pants just in case my bleeding started without me expecting it, and to bind my growing breasts anytime I went out. I was also able to convince her to cut my hair off to my jaw, not that men only had long hair, but for the simple fact that building items and having long hair didn’t work well together.

There isn’t very much that I remember before waking up here, but I was told that I had a bag with me. A black bag with two straps and two zipped pouches with a ‘Jansport’ tagged in some type of fake leather. Inside of that bag I had clothes and a journal of some sort. The clothes, while not similar to what is worn here, were sized up so even as I got older, I could still wear them comfortably- although besides the pair of small black stretchy shorts (my double layering shorts) I never found a chance to wear.

The journal however had at least a little bit of information. My name is Adrie Ramona, I was born on April twelfth 1999, I never talked about any siblings, I did write about how my mother let me dye my hair green before I got enrolled into a big school, and apparently I like to travel to villages called ‘Target’- yet I still wanted to go to places such as ‘New York’ and ‘Italy’. The strange thing was the fact that according to the journal, my hair should’ve went back to it’s dark auburn color, and not stay green. Also, according to Dorian, he’s never heard of the places I mentioned, and the dates aren’t comparable to each other. My last recorded date was on September thirteenth in 2013, while the date I was found was on the fifth of Rain’s Hand. The people that Dorian associates with don’t exactly know the year either, seeing that only people of high status were allowed to know- even people like the main maid of the Knight’s Guild, Ms. Ophelia, and the ex-pirate turned fisherman, Eden, were forbidden to know- because it was, as the King puts it “A god’s gift to know so much knowledge of the world” . It wasn’t so much that the people didn’t know how long a year was, they just didn’t know things like how many years the kingdom had been alive and things like that. The most years that the other villagers have recorded was up to one hundred years- which was because the local tavern owner’s father had recorded his life from his childhood onwards, and instructed his children to do so as well.

With only my limited knowledge of my past life, I had no choice but to take up Dorian’s offer of letting me live with him as long as I worked to repay him. Throughout the years of living with him, and working for Arcelia, I learnt how to sew clothes and sails, how to hold myself up in a brawl, how to use herbs and some bandages for first aid, and how to use herbs with other foods to make more flavorful meals along with baking bread. As I got older, Dorian slowly let me have more of a say in what I did, so by the time I was sixteen, I had started my own garden next to Arcelia’s chicken coop, and I would sell my vegetables at the village market.

Eventually, Dorian had to stop working for himself as a fisherman and had to start working under the King’s local fishery, due to how many boats started to go missing because of pirates. It took weeks for Dorian’s stubborn ass to finally decide to join a specific crew though. He would never admit it, but he hated how so many of the fishermen were kiss asses to the King, because they felt they’d get a pay raise. It was very obvious that he was scared that he wouldn’t come back home to see his sister and I, it would be written on his face every morning he gave me a hug before leaving- although he would always claim the opposite. Dorian was always cold and rude, but after getting to know him, I had to learn that it was his way of showing compassion. Which I didn’t like, but I did deal with. I had faith that some day he’d openly start to warm up to me.

The crew that he joined was named ‘The J.R.’, being named after Captain Eden’s last boat before he got captured. It was a shock that he was never killed, being a pirate and all, but he was given the option of being hung at the Gallows for his crimes, or becoming the main fisherman at the local fishery. With, supposedly, his crew being dead, he decided to become a fisherman, and now he catches the most expensive fish to sell to the King himself. He must’ve been one lucky bastard though. His crew was the only one to not be affected by the pirate raids, every single other crew being raided and killed- sometimes their boats would float back to shore, sometimes only pieces would.

It wasn’t until I’d turned twenty that things started to change. The people on the north side of the island were starting to rapidly die off. It wasn’t hard to tell why. With the amount of crime that had to flourish in order for people in poverty to survive is outrageously high, on top of the Knight’s Guild using those people as someone to pin their personal crimes on. So with the north side citizens along with a lot of fishermen still being picked off, it was no surprise that the island started to run low on supplies. Not enough fisherman to catch fish. Not enough gardeners to aid their vegetables and fruits. Not enough herders to sell their animals. And most important of all, not enough running gold to keep the King happy.

Walking out of the wooden and stone cottage, I see Dorian perched against the wooden fence that surrounds the home.

“Aren’t you guys going out today?” I question as I walk towards him, seeing that he would usually be out by dawn. “No,” he replied before taking a deep breath “Listen, kid, the King has an announcement today in the village court. If it’s what I think it is, I need you to lay low for a while. There’s no telling what will happen, but it doesn’t seem good. Join Arcelia when she goes, I’ll be joining with Captain Eden.” And with that, he nods at you and walks towards the docks, keeping his eyes low.

As I trudged on the stoned path to Arcelia’s home shop, all you could think about what the King could say. It wasn’t very often that he actually went to a town square himself, he usually sends a courier over who reads on the scroll in an obnoxious loud tone. Kicking a rock and looking up ahead past the trees, I can see the door to Arcelia’s shop door wide open, with what looks like not intention of being closed.

“Huh, that’s not weird at all,” I mutter to myself “Why hasn’t Aunt Arcelia said something?” knowing that with all the food my adoptive aunt sells, she makes it a rule to always have the door shut if no one is coming in or out.

Jogging up, the sounds of yelling get louder until it was apparent who was making the ruckus. Mathew Roswell, the head knight’s son, and the nephew of the King. Mathew has a reputation of being a spoilt brat to any townspeople who didn’t work under his family, and my family definitely was not exempt. Growing up, I had fought him and his friends way too many times to count- and apparently getting older isn’t going to change the matter.

Walking in through the door, stepping over the clutter of items that looked to be thrown on the ground, a loud slap echos throughout the room, and Arcelia’s head snaps to the side with a red print. I didn’t take much time to think about what to do. Rushing over to big brute, I threw a punch at his jaw, making him stumble down enough for me to continue throwing punches. It wasn’t until one of Arcelia’s frequent customers pulled me off of him that I realized what I had just done. As Mathew and some other kids who were training to be in the Knight’s Guild were running out, Mathew gave me a dirty look and I just knew his father was going to be told. In all honesty, I could’ve been hung for touching that spoilt boy, but for some reason his father usually finds humor in it.

Snapping out of thought, I walk over to my adoptive Aunt to make sure she’s fine.

“Yes I’m fine. Adrian, you really shouldn’t defend me like that. The last thing me or your father need is for you to get yourself killed for messing with the head Knight’s son.” Noticing throngs of people walk by she huffs and says “You are cleaning this mess when we get back, but for now let’s go so we don’t miss whatever news if being brought upon us.”

As we walk through the crowds, I noticed that the Gallows was reassembled in the off center of the town square, right beside the big tree that sits center of the square. It seemed like that was the stage for whoever was giving the announcement. Just as aunt Arcelia and I stop, whispers erupted in the crowd like a wildfire. The King’s court actually came to the town square. With the King’s Head Knight and brother, Kitt Roswell, walking up the stairs to go to the left side of the “stage”, he looks over the crowd with a blank face. Soon enough King Roswell himself walks to the middle of the stage and the whispers die off immediately.

“Good afternoon citizens. This is a brief get together, but one that will aid our island in many ways, so listen. It is an obvious observation to see that as a community, we are not doing well. We have lack of needed supplies and we need some way to get them. Looking upon other island villages, it is clear of what we need to do. Looking at the actions of our neighboring island village, Sternist, we need to make a big sacrifice. Any women who have made it to their matured woman hood are unmarried and do not have needed jobs, need to say goodbye to their families, if they have any, and turn themselves in for the greater good of our people.” The King pauses as gasps fill the air “I know, it is unfortunate, but a lot of people will sell much gold and supplies for women. Thankfully, I am King, and I do think of the greater good of our people, even in these hard times. Knights will be going door to door to collect those who are eligible. Think of it as serving your King. That is all.” And with that, King Roswell and his followers lead back to the Castle.

In the following weeks, there was a big absence of women that were usually in my daily life. The single woman named Mira, who usually blushed as she bought bread from me, would no longer show up. Quite a few mothers left, leaving behind their husbands and children. Even a girl as young as twelve years old met the requirements- and since her parents tried to hide her, they were met with the Gallows as the girl was shipped away. There was a solemn silence in the village after that day.

It wasn’t any easier on Dorian and the crew of ‘The J.R.’. Many men were imprisoned for not following orders of the King. Even more of them died as “traitors” for being against the trading of women. Or even not wanting to take women on board for the fear of their ship sinking. Somehow, even with their friends and acquaintances disappearing, their crew never had to take women. Some people think it’s because the King secretly respects Eden, but I know it’s because Eden and his crew has been the main source of fish coming in lately.

I thought I would’ve been left out of the crossfire of any of this, until Dorian told me that I no longer worked for Arcelia, but I would be working for Eden on the boat instead.

"Why didn't you fuckin' listen to me kid, that's all I ever ask of you, and you don’t do it the one fuckin' time I specifically ask you to," Dorian exclaims, slamming the door open to bounce against the wall " One thing is all I asked for and now I have to find a way to clean up your act"

I back from the pot of stew that was cooking for tonight's dinner, hooking the ladle on a rack, before turning to fully face the enraged- possibly drunken man.

"What are you talkin' about Dorian? I haven't done anything wrong, and we both know it. I've been doing what I always do, and I've been bringing in more coin, just like you asked," I retort, "Whatever your problem is, it can wait until later. Foods almost done; we can talk then."

He steps close, hands flying up to his grayed hair in disbelief "Talk later? Lass. Adrie, we will be lucky if we have the time for dinner at this point. From what Ms. Ophelia was talking, you caused quite the disturbance with Matthew, again. So much that there are whispers about how his father wants you in the Knight's Guild, Adrie. The fuckin' Knight's Guild! You just had to go and fight the damn boy didn't ya?" Each time he says my name, his pitch gets higher, and every word is more venomous than the next.

Thinking back to the past few weeks, when Dorian first gave me my warning, it dawns on me. The first thing I had done after talking to him was get in a fight with Matthew. I thought it would've been ignored- especially since I wasn't in the wrong. I guess I was proven wrong.

Looking Dorian in the eyes, my face pales as I attempt to explain myself.

"I wasn't tryin' to cause trouble, you could've asked Arcelia too! The bastard slapped her, and I wasn't going to let him get away with it. I was damn near the only one who could. Anyone else was too scared to, and I've done it before without getting in any trouble. It's not my fault I know how to fight, and he doesn't," I cry out. "It's too bad kid. You might be able to act and dress like a lad without people getting suspicious of you, but you need to remember how easy it is to be revealed you aren't one," the older man says, while looking down, before grabbing a sack to fill with water canteens and extra food we have in the small kitchen area," Yes, you can fight, but you wouldn't last a week in that Guild The first few months alone are learning how to be a team with one another. That means spending every single day with multiple men just to sleep, shower, fight, and live. Hell, you'd be found just by a quick bad and body check, and we both know it," he gravely retorts before tossing me two burlap sacks," Now gather all your belongings. Thankfully, I was with Captain Eden at the tavern, and he offered to let you come with us to the trip to Zetharl. We are supposed to be doing some trading there, and there's quite a few safe houses there that you can stay at, until Arcelia and I can escape as well. Captain does not know about you and we are keeping it that way. He may be kind, but he's still an old pirate who still holds a lot of those olden beliefs. He has a strict rule about women being on his ship. So, it'd do you good to be on your best behavior and not raise any suspicions. If you do, I'll throw you off the damn ship myself, you hear me?"," Yes, I understand," I reply, defeated, and turn to make my way to my room to collect my items.

Taking a final look around my room, I let my hand drop down to brush against the scratchy blanket on my cot. It feels strange that I'll be leaving the only place I've ever known. The only people I've only known. I had always had a slight feeling that I would leave this place someday, I just never expected it to come so abruptly.

With a sigh, I hike my two bags up over my shoulder, and walk through the small cottage one last time, and stopped in front of the gate where Dorian was with a big barrel resting inside a wheelbarrow.

"Get in kid,"," The…barrel?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. "Yes the barrel. Hurry. The guards have already been on the lookout for you. I don't know why they haven't checked here yet, but I'm sure they're on their way. Hurry up into the damn thing so we can get you on that ship unnoticed,". Resting my hands on the sides of the opened object, I hike myself into it, thankful that it's big enough for me to fold my knees to my chest. Putting the light bags inside with me, Dorian places the top back on, leaving me encased in complete darkness. With a huff- the older man straightens the wheelbarrow up, and starts walking us on the dirt path.

As we continued on, I found myself hoping that I wouldn't get this same feeling on a ship- the rocking motion making my stomach feel queasy, and almost grateful that I hadn't ate since lunch. Hearing a shout in the distance, I stiffen up, and press my ear against the wooden barrel in an attempt to hear who it was.

"Sir, under orders of the Head Knight Kitt Roswell, we need your boy to come with us now. Your son finally has a chance to bring some honor and glory to your family," a hidden gruff voice demands "My boy? Ah shit, Adrian? He's out in the forest picking herbs to sell this week. You see, I have a job to do tomorrow with captain Eden," My father figure pauses, before letting out a cough," I'm trying to get my stuff over to the ship now since we're leaving tonight, per Captain's request,".

Stifling a chuckle by biting my hand, I quickly thank the gods that these guards are idiots, as the main talking guard tells two of his guards to push the wheelbarrow for Dorian, while he and the others go to find me. Traveling at a faster pace, I hear the guards towing me try to make conversation with Dorian- which gets caught off as my world gets tilted to the side briefly.

"You fishermen really need this much shi- items on your journey?" One of the guards huff, clearly out of breath," Yes, we do. Pick the barrel up and place it over with the other, and take the wheelbarrow back to mainland- we're leaving now, and you two imbeciles need to get off my ship," A new commanding voice demands. Captain Eden. Inside my barrel, I curl up slightly as I feel myself being moved- and unceremoniously dropped with a thud that makes my ears ring.

I stay hidden in my barrel until I hear commotion, men yelling all around my barrel, with footsteps rushing all around me. Moments later, I see the moonlight creep into my barrel- the top lid being pulled off, before seeing a roughed hand pull the bags out, and then eventually catching onto my shoulder to pull me up. Standing up with my eyes squinted from the sudden light, I see it's Dorian who has a hold of me, with Captain Eden standing a few feet away.

"It's good to see you, lad, it's been a while," The captain greets me before continuing, " I hope you don't get seasick, because you'll be on this ship a while- and you're definitely going to learn how to help out around here!"

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (11)

Chapter 11: Set in Motion | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m slowly getting back on my feet mentally. I hope I didn’t disinterest you guys with how long I’ve taken to write stories. If you still stayed to tune in to the story despite the dramatic change in my posting schedule, A BIG THANK YOU TO YOU GUYS!! I’ll keep writing to make this story interesting.

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Part 10 | Next: Part 12 | Masterlist

12 of ?

17 BBY

A day after her full medical examination, the Anathema charted a course to the western arm of the Mustafar system.

For the first time in a near-month, Irele officially can wander around the ship. The first thing she did with the privilege was to find her way to the bridge, with HY-L33 by her side. Despite her plain-looking clothes, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She approaches the viewing pane of the bridge, a spot that most officers were accustomed to seeing Vader instead, and watches the bluish-gray moon come into size as they pass through the Imperial blockade. She didn’t listen to the standard exchange between officers from each end, her gaze remained on the moon. She allowed herself to close her eyes to get a feel of the planet—she felt it cold and brooding, and yet it was brimming with life. She started to guess what kind of terrain it had too, probably volcanic rock, she thought; but the closer the ship got, she realizes that it was mostly water.

Unaware that she’s connecting with the planet’s essence through the Force, to her, it felt like frolicking around someplace new and unexplored; for this particular moon, she could feel the cold water seawater freeze the nerves under her skin, she could the faint light of the bioluminescent creatures thriving in the depth as if like starlight, and the strong current that nearly swept her off of her feet. Her eyelids shot up.

“What is this place?” she asked no one in particular.

“We are approaching the moon, Nur, Lady Irele.”

Irele turned her head to the side to see who answered: a young uniformed officer with black hair neatly cropped at the sides. He donned the exact same garbs as his colleagues, the only thing that differed was the badges pinned on his left chest—which was relatively fewer than the seasoned admiral.

The same officer didn’t go far from her; as the Anathema got into the moon’s exosphere, he escorted her—along with HY-L33, whom she insisted to be allowed to follow her—to the hangar where the shuttle Zenith awaits its passenger. Irele made herself comfortable in the main cabin, furnished with only a small round table surrounded by a booth, across it is a slab meant as a bench for other passengers.

The girl’s curiosity grew at the same time the moon scaled in size as they descended into the atmosphere. At first glance, she’d think the gray and black surface would be high cliffs; the Zenith cut through the clouds, revealing much of the land mass, she leaned in by the window to find that there was none. All of it was water. The only other terrain that existed there was the fortress that sat in the middle of the ocean, it was practically an artificial island in its own right.

“What is that?”

“That is Fortress Inquisitorius, Lady Irele.”

“What’s in there?”

“This is the standard lodge and training grounds for Inquisitors.”

It’s the first time she’s heard the word, though she’s absolutely sure that she is none of that.

“Why am I being brought here?”

A pause came upon the droid, HY-L33’s neck whirred as to bow her head.

“My apologies, neither captain nor crew have uploaded their ship manifest into my database.”

Irele made a mental note to request for HY-L33 to have special privileges if it involved her. That is, if she can even make one.

The fortress’s peak pierced through the sky like a spear, standing tall and as deep as the ocean floor. The pilot gently curbed around, allowing Irele a closer look and all of a sudden she felt weary.

–

Irele exited the Zenith and was then passed over to another officer, though much older and appearing to be perpetually vexed by this fool’s errand. Nevertheless, the escort officer walked Irele and HY-L33 through the fortress. It was a metal maze underwater.

The vibrant blue of the underwater life reflected a sheen over Irele’s widened eyes. Mouth agape, she had forgotten that she was in such a foreboding, ominous place. Never has she ever dreamed in her entire life that she’d see a place this blue, after living of seeing nothing but golden-brown sand that stretched up to the ridges where the twin suns hid.

The escort officer kept on blathering about where was what, schedules—her schedules, specifically—of her routines and training sessions. Irele was having none of it, she walked by the glass wall staring at the shoals that swam past her. Her distracted giggling caught the attention of the officer and he snapped.

“Lady Irele, did you hear what I just said?!”

The poor, startled girl’s shoulders jumped and her heels sprang. She froze in place.

“S-Sorry, I was looking at the water…”

The officer sighed and switched his tone, “Would you want me to arrange a tour in your own personal pod, young lady?”

It didn’t take a genius to see that the officer’s words were drawling with a harsh breed of sarcasm. Irele’s fists balled so tightly that her fingernails dug curves on the skin of her palms. She glowers at him, refusing to speak. The escort rolled his eyes and sighed, further irritated by this mundane task given to him.

“Puh! Children!” he scoffed under his breath as soon as he turned away from Irele and continued.

Eventually, they arrive to a viewing room with a wide window that spanned from left to right. Irele was reluctant to stand beside the escort, the latter thought likewise so he stepped back himself. Below the viewing deck, Irele witnessed something intense, brutal, and oddly fascinating.

Two individuals, armored head to foot in sleek black, both wielding weapons but each a different kind. One held a pair of rods, and the other a weapon in the same fashion as a hammer. Violet electricity crackling along the ends of the weapons sparked at every collision and strike each fighter made.

Irele pressed herself against the glass when the fight was getting good. She didn’t place her bet on anyone, she had never seen a graceful, calculated fight such as this—even though this is a normal sparring session, to keep these fighters’ wits and skills sharp. The dual wielder eventually wins after staggering his opponent with a flurry of attacks.

“Come now, young lady, it’s time I bring you to your quarters.”

She looks away from the viewing pane and then to the escort, her expression served enough as a question asking for elaboration, though he didn’t humor her with an answer—even if she actually asked.

Her room in Fortress Inquisitor was a bigger version of the one she had in the command ship; and so she had to adjust all over again, but seeing that it was no different either way, getting used to the room was somehow easy.

“Well, HY-L33, I guess we’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Indeed, Lady Irele. I will be here to assess you medically if you are fit for your regular training sessions assigned in your schedule.”

“Why am I going to be trained? Are they gonna make me an Inquisitor?”

“In a way, Lady Irele, yes. But you will not be named an Inquisitor.”

“Then what’s the point of training me? I get that I will need to learn how to fight but for what?”

HY-L33 stood silent and incapable of answering her master’s questions. Irele apologized for barraging the droid with questions that may not have been—as she now mockingly calls it—“not uploaded into her database.”

Irele took rest for the day, not knowing what’s in store for her in the coming days.

The pawn now moves.

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

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I... I felt I was all alone being uninterested in kid fics so I'm very happy to see it's not just me. (Sorry I'm going to rant for a bit) It's probably linked to the fact that I personally don't want kids but sometimes... I just want to see people able to be happy without children? Even if they don't dislike kids or anything! And sometimes it straight up makes me uncomfortable to see kid fics for this exact reason. (Also it depends on the fandom but SW is definitely one where I generally dislike kid fics, which I think wasn't improved by all the Luke-as-Rey's-father thing)

HI I'M HERE TO VALIDATE YOU

and i have a whole fecking lot of feelings about this topic in particular, this is gonna get a little wordy, but i've tried to organise it somewhat

First: i don't want kids. i'm fairly to extremely confident i'll never want kids. partly because I do not have the mental/physical capacity to devote the time and energy and emotion that children deserve and need. someone on tumblr said it ages ago, "if I don't WANT a kid, if i'm just indifferent, im not going to have a fucking kid until i actively want one", because children are sentient beings and not cute things to make you happy or feel more put together.

Okay, second: i very rarely see parenting written well (and i don't mean about perfect or unproblematic parents), i would even go so far as to call it trivialising. or maybe just completely unrealistic? it's either all honeymoon-period schmoop (which is not necessarily a bad thing) or it's hardly even about the kids and at that point, well, what's the point? especially if the kid is an oc, they can't just. exist on the sidelines of their parents life.

Third: if the kid is a canon character, their entire personality gets nerfed into one or two traits and are shoehorned to fit the narrative the author is trying to tell. this is a complicated issue because i sincerely believe in fun for the sake of fun and interacting with your fandom however you want, but i also just. kids deserve better?

Fourth: on that subject, i most often see the child in question be an oc. again, they're given one or two traits, but are then just a prop for whatever plot is happening to the actual ship. maybe i'm missing something, but i don't understand why you wouldn't use a canon character in the first place? very few fandoms don't already have paternal/maternal/parental relationships to play around with, ESPECIALLY if the author has already made it an au!! i'm not going to pretend a big reason i don't seek out kid fic isn't because they're almost always modern aus, which i already don't like. maybe this one is more petty, but i think kid characters deserve more time and attention put into them as characters, and tbh i've never once seen it done with an oc kid.

Fifth: if it's about adoption, i only EVER see babies (esp in modern aus). the implication that kids aren't adoptable past a certain age is horrendously damaging and i'm so uncomfortable with it that this is another reason i don't seek these stories out.

if it ISN'T adoption, then it's either a) cis mpreg, which is so incredibly transphobic and weirdly fetishising and blehhhhh, or b) transmasculine mpreg which i've. literally never seen written by a trans person so like... aight.

Sixth: the parents are out of character. i've talked a little about woobification before, about the hyperfeminising of one half of the ship and the hypermasculating of the other to fit the mother/father binary that is also inherently transphobic. the characters are sort of just replaced with an honestly hurtful binary rooted in systematic misogyny at the complete sacrifice of their entire personality, and it’s honestly exhausting as both a trans person and a romantically queer person.

before getting into prequel star wars stuff, specifically with mando ships, i don't think i even once read a kid fic where the parents felt plausible and in character, especially if it’s put into a modern au, and i've been reading fanfiction for a decade.

Seventh: i really don't know how to word this part without airing out my own trauma, but back to the trivialising bit, the way authors tend to write this honeymoon-phase type of parenting makes me feel really gross? maybe that's petty or very specifically personal, but the way kids are only in scenes to prop the parents' storyline hits a little too close to home. i'm the third child and the middle child, and that so many "takes" on parenting implicitly hold up the notion of kids only being worth mentioning/caring about/developing is when it's important or relevant to the parents. i dunno, kids deserve better than that.

Eighth: okay finally bringing this back to star wars. i blacklist any parenting anything from any ships from the Original Trilogy. for the prequels, I exclusively read adoption-based stuff, partly because I don't really have any cishet ships i read specifically about, but also because that means the rest is mpreg.

now, i've been positively spoiled by Mando and/or Jedi ships and their culturally important adoption. like i get to read stuff where the parents feel in character? and aren't one dimensional binary caricatures? and the kids are treated as characters and not plot props? AND they're usually older than ten?? to be fair, there are ships i still don't read kid fic for, CodyWan for example, for many reasons i actually haven't covered here, and Boba and Anakin are given the most justice as adopted kids (that i've seen; fingers crossed for more ahsoka and twins content) so there's a massive disparity in representation (which is a star wars-wide issue) but this is also the first time i've even wanted to write child characters.

your bit about characters being happy and having fulfilling lifelong relationships without kids is so incredibly important to me, because it feels exactly the same as an ace person constantly being told i'm missing out. so i'm also wary of fixits centered around parenting, or even "adopting the clones" themes because it's. there's so many more facets to family than parent and child, and i dunno. this is the second time i've written all this and i haven't slept yet so i don't even know if I'm making sense anymore so just basically

i feel you, anon. i'm exhausted by having to blacklist or exclude so many tags just to find content that doesn't make me uncomfortable, and i'm so so so happy to be in the prequels corner of the fandom, because i'm also seeing this problem improving as i watch it. so i have hope, but right now, keep kid fic as far away from me as possible.

(you are correct, the luke and rey dynamic was bullshit and has set us back a lot, though maybe not as much as the fandom's frankly horrifying reaction to kylo ren and blaming all his faults on leia, but that's another topic entirely)

i'll also add that i'm fucking terrible with kids, and reading how they're treated by authors upsets me greatly

#anon #long post #cj answers #hot take? unpopular opinion? d i s c o u r s e ?#i still don't think i explained myself properly #but hopefully some of you understand enough to relate #added a read more

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duskowithapen · 4 years

Text

Day Nine: Illness

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Platonic Din Djarin and OC (AySo)

Sequel to You Remind Me Of The Babe (The Babe With The Power)

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

Bedside Manner

“No, no, no, no, no! What in the Sith hells do you think you are doing? Were you raised by dire wolves? When you are this ill, you do not get out of bed, and you do not try to go bounty hunting!” AySo stood outside the closed refresher door. Even though the Mandalorian could not see them, they still placed both hands on their hips, channelling the demeanour of all the Rebel nurses they had so often not listened too.

The Mandalorian’s response? The sound of dry heaving.

AySo had only been travelling on the Razor Crest for a standard month and five days. They had largely avoided the bounty hunter, spending most of their time upgrading the ship and entertaining the infant – they had been banned from calling him ‘Magic Baby.’ The Mandalorian communicated with them sparingly. He would greet them in the morning with a handful of rations and a stern word to not shut the ship down while still in flight (which they only did once), and then would not speak to them until the night cycle. 16 standard day cycles ago, he thanked them for removing the infant’s data from the Imperial systems they’d found – thus preventing any more tracking fobs from being created. It did not impact those already in circulation, but AySo was also working on that. Five standard day cycles ago, the Mandalorian placed an extra blanket on them during their sleep cycle. They were still unused to the temperature drops on the ship, and as a cold-blooded individual, found it difficult to regulate their internal temperature. Neither of them have since spoken about the incident.

But today their dynamic changed. Today AySo was disturbed during their daily systems check by the infant, who had pulled them towards the closed refresher door with his Force. There, the Mandalorian and AySo argued through the durasteel as to the necessity of bounty hunting.

“We need the credits,” The Mandalorian groaned. It was strange for them to hear his voice without the modulator.

“You require rest, Mandalorian. You are in no shape to leave the ship!”

The infant agreed with them, patting the door with one clawed hand. He was looking distressed – perhaps he had never seen the Mandalorian in such a state. And speaking of seeing…

“Mandalorian, please let me in so I may determine what ails you.” They may not be specifically designed for medical procedure, but AySo could access the entire Holonet, as well as many enterprise systems – it was quite easy for them to download some of the necessary programming to administer first aid.

“No,” was the response, alongside the sporadic dry heaving.

“I understand that you are wary of me seeing you without your helmet, but there are ways –”

“No.”

“I can shift the perception of my eyes to infrared vision. With the sensitivity at its lowest setting, your facial features would be impossible to discern. I do not require my eyes to properly determine the cause for your illness.”

“I do not remove my helmet in front of others. This is the way.”

AySo’s capacitators were beginning to overheat in frustration. The excess chemicals were beginning to build up in their systems – they would need to shift it to their first stomach and purge it. “I am not completely organic, Mandalorian. I do not count as a humanoid to many societies and governments, and thus you would not be breaking your vow if you did remove your helmet before me. However, that becomes a moot point if I am unable to see your face.” More of their organic voice slipped through there, creating a vaguely uncomfortable pulling sensation where their natural vocal cords had been fused with a voice modulator.

There was silence. Then, “Put the kid back in his bunk first. And is there a way for me to tell if you’ve turned your eyes off?”

“I have been reliably informed that my eyes turn dark green when I activate the infrared programming. As I do not believe in abstract concepts as many humanoids do, I cannot swear by them, but I respect you too much to deceive you in such a way, Mandalorian. Please allow me a moment to secure the infant.” AySo looked down at the infant and the corners of their lips shifted upwards by five degrees. “It is time for you to relax in your bunk, tiny child.”

The infant didn’t protest as AySo shut the bunk hatch, ensuring that he had his toys – the silver ball from the thrust lever, a ball made of sticks and the pale blue padded creature (*Krill: A delicacy common on the planet Sorgan, it is cultivated in ponds with a water solution of --*). Returning to the refresher, AySo also picked up a small water container. The Mandalorian would probably appreciate it after involuntarily purging himself.

They took a deep breath, despite being largely unnecessary. This would not be comfortable. They sent the correct line of code to the subroutine directing all ocular operations, and a whimper was torn from their throat as a stinging sensation built up in their eye sockets. Changing the visuals to infrared required a shift of the equipment within the eye. It was not painless. Their nictitating membrane slid across the surface of their eyes three times. It did not register in their vision. The heat signatures of the ship were coming in correctly. Carefully AySo dialled the sensitivity down until their vision consisted of various red, orange and yellow blurs.

A small shape was faintly visible through the durasteel hatch of the bunk. A larger blur was visible through the refresher door. Interestingly, the figure appeared to be missing a head. The Mandalorian must have replaced his helmet – inadvisable, given the sporadic nature of his continual purging. It would create quite a mess should he be unable to remove his helmet in time.

“The infant is contained and my infrared vision program working successfully. If you would not mind opening the door?”

The figure did not move for a moment. Then two thin shapes reached up to remove the helmet, revealing the rest of the body. Then there was the sound of a door opening, and the figure became brighter. The Mandalorian was predominately shades of yellow and bright greens from torso to feet, but their head and hands lit up bright red. Immediate alerts were set off in their new first aid systems.

“Mandalorian, you are currently suffering from a fever of approximately 40 degrees,” They announced, before slowly walking forwards. “I will require skin contact to accurately determine your temperature and illness, but based off your symptoms, it seems to be a severe case of gastroenteritis.”

The figure shifted, taking a step backwards into the refresher. “AySo, your eyes…”

“I assure you, they are functioning completely at an infrared level. I cannot determine any of your facial features, or indeed, many details about your person at all.”

“The skin around your eyes is swollen.” The Mandalorian’s voice seemed worse now that the barrier of the refresher door was gone. He took another step back and twisted, leaning over the refresher bowl once more.

AySo stumbled forward, lower leg colliding with a box they had not detected, before catching themselves on the door frame. They reached in and pressed the flat of their hand against the figure’s back, rubbing in slow circles. “According to research and accounts on the Holonet, this assists in the purging process.” They ignored the tension in the muscles.

After a moment of hanging over the bowl, the Mandalorian pulled back with a groan. AySo passed him the water container and sat down themselves. Taking the figures unoccupied arm, they groped around before finding the fingers. They were so small in comparison to the rest of the body – with the sensitivity settings as low as they were, the fingers were barely visible. “You have clammy hands. You have been regularly vomiting across a two hour and 42 minute time period. You are experiencing a high fever. Are you also experiencing any cramps or other pains?”

“My head hurts,” The Mandalorian muttered after a moment. “And my legs…”

“Based on the evidence, and the lack of other symptoms, I believe you are indeed suffering from gastroenteritis. If you give me a moment to hack into the Felucian government systems…” A line of code snaked through the last firewall. They had been working on this program from the moment they entered the atmosphere at 1.14pm Felucian time, but it had not been a priority until now. Their unique multi-orientated probe – the one which gave them the hacker tag Hydra – began to send them data packets after securing a backdoor into the system for later analysis. “There has been a gastroenteritis outbreak among the general population as of one standard week ago. You must have come in contact with something you should not have while gathering information on the bounty.”

The Mandalorian groaned and the glowing figure shifted to press more of their exposed skin against the durasteel.

Ah. A headache. AySo manipulated their vocal modulator to speak at a lower decibel. “My apologies Mandalorian. I shall gather supplies – please drink as much water as you can stomach. You require the liquids. While I am adept at inserting intravenous lines, I do not wish to do so.”

Leaving the refresher made AySo appreciate the stabilisers in their legs. Walking with such a handicap was uncomfortable. In the small eating area, they found a larger container to hold water, a packet that hopefully held a bland ration bar, the first aid kit, and a cloth. Passing back through the hull, they collected their blankets from the corner.

While the Mandalorian had offered them a bunk, they had refused and instead bedded down on the floor. From what AySo had read of the Uraei, they preferred to sleep in ‘nests’ rather than beds like other species, due to their habit of curling and stretching their limbs during REM sleep. AySo preferred it because the tight area of the bunk reminded them too much of the augmentation pods.

AySo handed the Mandalorian the water container before trying to sit down themselves. The heat they registered from the idling engines and passive electronics threw off their sense of where the floor began. This made their slide to the ground much less graceful than preferred.

“Here.” They carefully submerged the cloth into the water before pressing it into the Mandalorian’s hand. “One suggested method of relief is placing a wet cloth across your forehead and eyes. It should help relieve your headache.” As the Mandalorian busied themselves with that, creating a blue area on their head, AySo placed down the ration bar and first aid kit.

“Once you are feeling better, I will require your assistance with the first aid kit. According to my records, there should be a blister pack of penicillin in there, but I currently lack the ability to find it.”

The Mandalorian’s head rolled a little on his shoulders. “Do you need some?”

AySo felt their nictitating membrane cross their eyes. “No, it would assist in reducing your symptoms. Why do you think I need it?”

His hand lifted in the direction of his face, shifting a little before dropping back down. “Your eyes. They were swollen.”

Another blink. AySo carefully probed the area around their eyes, relying on the sensors within their fingertips for information. Ah. There was some inflammation from the shifting mechanics within their eye sockets – the muscles and nerves were unused to the changes and had triggered a response within their immune system. The alert had been lost in the coding for the probe and deciphering the infrared information. It was the work of a moment to recover it. “It is simply minor inflammation from changing my ocular function. It will decrease with time.”

“Changing your eyes caused you pain?” There was something akin to concern within the Mandalorian’s voice – AySo couldn’t get a proper vocal baseline to accurately analyse any changes in his tone. He patted through the first aid kit and removed what AySo assumed was the penicillin. He then proceeded to swallow two tablets with a sip of water.

“Not a pain I am unused to,” they explained, “An organic body does not easily accept mechanical enhancements.” This conversation was becoming uncomfortable – they were not used to people inquiring about their state of being. “Are you feeling improved?”

“A little.”

“Then I ask that you relax. If you will please sit up and away from the wall for a moment?” Ignoring the Mandalorian’s confusion, AySo tucked their nest blankets between the figure and the durasteel. With prompting and assistance, he was even able to support his own weight enough to tuck the blankets beneath his body.

AySo flattened the fabric across the Mandalorian’s legs in a fashion they could recall seeing in the Rebel infirmary before standing. “Now, to assist in your recovery, I shall go and collect the bounty.”

That seemed to shock the Mandalorian out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, as he immediately began to struggle with the blankets, upsetting AySo’s work. “What? You can’t collect a bounty!”

“I may not find any kind of enjoyment in it, but I am capable,” they said as they crossed the room to the weapons cabinet. There was some kind of twisted pride running through their processor at their ability to correctly determine the position of the Amban rifle through touch. Twisted because it was something they did not wish to take pride in – if they never had to touch a weapon for the rest of their life, it would be preferable. “Please add more water to the cloth at regular intervals – it will be of no assistance to you when hot.”

“Have you ever taken in a bounty before?” The Mandalorian groaned, seemingly ignoring their words. He was now half in and half out of the refresher.

“I may not have collected a bounty before,” AySo began as they readied and holstered the rifle via muscle memory, “But I have experience in disabling individuals from a distance.” They turned in the direction of the red/yellow figure and smiled, revealing their sharp teeth. “You never asked me what my name was.”

The Mandalorian went stiff. “I was under the impression that your name was AySo.”

“That is the name I prefer to use. However, my full designation is CAI-AS097. CAI was the program I was a part of – the Confederate Augmentation Initiative. The 097 was my identification number – regiment and ranking. AS however? That stood for my position – Augmented Sniper.”

#The Mandalorian #ao3 #WritersMonth2020 #day 9 illness #sickfic #AySo #chapter one

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hcrofraid · 5 years

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Rules:

HALLO THERE! Here’s my rules! They’re a bit long, but hopefully you can push through ‘em and we can get a chance at interaction!

1. Themes might vary with this blog. Although I’m typically SFW, I might touch upon dark topics here and there.

Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.

That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.

I’m of age.

2. I‘m a little selective, but otherwise - I’m open to canon, au, crossover, and original characters! As long as their muns rp literately/write para.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too).

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!).

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

As I’ve said, I’m selective and as a result mutuals do take priority - but I don’t have to be following you for you to interact with me. It just means I’m more likely to interact with you if you’re a mutual.

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are! Additionally, life happens to be a thing.

Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

Just a reminder I hoard all your asks too, even weeks later. If I don’t respond to it, I’m either keeping it for a rainy day, or just can’t find the muse/interest for it currently. If it’s been a month or two though, just assume it wasn’t working for me unless I’ve informed you otherwise.

4. Shippings? Heck yeah I’m down for the fluffy content, as long as they’re of similar age to my boio.

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

Sontails will not be happening on this blog either, sorry.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately. Also, Tails is a child. So no.

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

Please don’t reblog my art unless I’ve drawn it specifically for you or said you can. I either have that as do not reblog for a reason, or I am planning to post it on my art blog at some point.

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.

If para roleplays aren’t your alley, I’m unlikely to roleplay with you. It’s nothing personal; it’s just finding muse for one-liner threads is incredibly difficult unless it’s dash shenanigans. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.

If you need further context on the AU, the link to it’s tag is here! Otherwise just ask me!

Tails’ AU is one I’m very proud of and very attached to, so please don’t force your headcanons about him on me. If you’re unsure how certain events play out in the context of his universe, don’t hesitate to ask me about them!

That said, anything that might take place on this blog obviously isn’t canon to the AU itself; I just like writing for this boio and it helps me develop his character. It’s all hypothetical.

Additionally! Don’t worry too much if the headcanoned relationships between Tails and other muses don’t match yours. Those are mostly just guidelines for how Tails would USUALLY interact with your muse. I’m open to altering these relationships to better fit our threads! Don’t ever feel restricted to what I put down; it’s mostly just for context purposes because, well, Tails is absent. I’m an IM away for plotting.

8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities:

I’ll have a permanent starter call somewhere for you to hit up; honestly though, if you’re a mutual? Pls feel free to hit it up.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If there’s a verse you’re interested in, please specify.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length works with mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;

Please don’t write para / novella starters up for me unless we’ve discussed something, sent something, or I’ve liked a starter call. I really don’t want to leave people hanging if I’m not interested.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.

I also have Discord! If you’re mutuals with me, feel free to ask for it!

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!

Please note that MAINS fall into two categories; one pertaining to Tails’ initial universe, and those pertaining to alternates. Although the latter is plenty, for clarity’s sake, there would be one alternate Tails might default to.

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me. GIMME’ ALL THE PRECIOUS BONDING CONTENT PLS. THIS BOY NEEDS FRIENDS.

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and sometimes even Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me! I just need a social breather every now and again.

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:

Trim their posts.

Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!

If you don’t have either of those, I’m likely not to follow you - so make sure that you do!

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything Tails might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

14. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

15. If you’re OKAY with threads being set in Tails’ universe (and acting as his inverse counterparts), please like / reply to this post! It just lets me know I’m A-OK to shoot you asks pertaining to it, rather than the usual alternate shenanigans.

16. These rules may be subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

#|| rules.

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our-smooty · 4 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 3

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

Crowley spent the two days drinking, thinking, and wallowing, in that order. First, he got rip-roaring drunk, then kept going past that into a maudlin type of drunkenness. That led to the thinking, which had been much harder than normal, but also much more honest.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and he watched as all of London was bathed in warm light. He was scared. He could admit that to himself easily, especially when he was so drunk. What he was scared of was a little more complicated, and Crowley had been thinking on it for the better part of three hours. Because on the one hand, he was worried about Heaven and Hell and the safety of any hypothetical little ones. He really was. But on the other hand, he’d said something during their fight that he hadn’t realized he’d been worried about.

Demon spawn were A Thing, and they were generally terrible. Sometimes a demon decided to have some fun on the mortal level and demons weren’t known for being the most careful of beings. Best case scenario was something that was essentially a demon, but mortal. Worst case whatever came out was some sort of writhing mass of demonic energy and hatred. Would that happen to any of his offspring too? Or would the angelic influences cancel it out? But the Nephilim had been somewhat monstrous too, so was it a lost cause from both ends?

And that was where the thinking transitioned into wallowing. Because he was also drunk enough to admit that he really, really wanted to give in to Aziraphale’s badgering, hang the consequences. They’d at least have some time before having to face what they’d done. Who knew how long demon-angel hybrid babies took to form, or gestate or whatever (Crowley only knew as much as he did from his time working on a London pediatrics ward. He was supposed to have been sowing the seeds of evil in the new generation, but he ended up delivering and caring for more newborns than anything else).

But the guilt would be too much. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it was doomed to be some sort of horror that never fit in. He’d love them, of course, whatever they were or would become but to imagine the difficulty of growing up in a world that would detest them... Well, at least Crowley had been fully formed and matured when it had happened to him.

He ran out of scotch on the balcony by noon of the first day. But he wasn’t done sulking so he moved back inside and on to the brandy. Brandy was the perfect spirit to drink while tormenting his plants, though there were only a few left in the flat. They were his favourite, and he kept them here to avoid the angel over-indulging and spoiling them.

“Yooooou lot,” he slurred, brandishing his spray bottle in one hand and the brandy in the other. “You don’t argue with me! Y-y-you’re all jus’ plants!”

A hydrangea, who had long exceeded it’s expected lifespan by several years and was one of the most verdant plants in Crowley’s collection, leaned towards him sympathetically. Most of these plants had been with him for years and had grown a kind of fondness for their tyrannical, but caring master. Crowley spared the hydrangea a glance over, inspecting it for blemishes. He found none.

“Yoooou’re not compli--complicated, you’re not good or-or-or-or evil. You’re jus’ plants!” The while lily near the door shuddered, knowing things were really bad if the demon was repeating himself. Crowley never liked to repeat himself.

“If you wanna have b-b-babies you can jus’ drop seeds!” His voice cracked at the end so he wet his parched mouth with some more brandy. “I like sssseeds, such ma-marv-maver--nice little thingss.” Four letter words, good Lord he was sloshed. Dropping the spray bottle and picking up the watering can Crowley deftly overwatered a nearby ivy. Luckily the ivy knew better than to wilt.

“Like little things, like babiesss, an’ kids. Not sooooo much t-teenagerss but they’ve got ssspirit!” All the plants were leaning in now. Some of them opened up a few extra blooms, offering comfort in the way only plants knew how. “Alwaysss thought I’d make a shit p-parent though, an’ look how Warlock turned out…”

“Could be different, though, raisin’ one and not t-trying to make it, you know, not the Antichrissst.” Indeed he hadn’t been so much raising Warlock as he had been coaching him. And if he and Aziraphale were to do it together properly this time who knows what could happen? “Still can’t though. Angel n’a demon, probably be smited for even trying. Smote? Sssmitten?”

He pondered that for a while, letting the last few glugs of water drip out of his watering can and onto the floor. It was a lost cause though because all he could think about was tiny angel babies with their soft, fluffy hair and little grabby hands. “D’you think they’d look like him? I hope they do.” Crowley was idly swaying back and forth, lost in his daydream. “Hope they have his nose an’ eyess at least, mine are terrible. But m’wings are nicer so…”

“I don’t wanna be sscared,” he said quietly to his favourite rose bush. “I want to--I want to give Azirahale what he wants. I want what he wantsss, and if I gave in we could both have it but I’m ssscared!”

The argument last night had left Crowley unable to sleep, but he was getting tired now. Maybe he should use his last day and a half--he checked his fancy watch; day and a quarter--to sleep this off. Tossing the spray bottle somewhere towards the wall--it would be back in its place the next time he went to use it--and heading towards his bedroom, Crowley realized he hadn’t yet texted Aziraphale like he’d promised. No matter, his phone was on the bedside table anyway. He could let the angel know he’d be back tomorrow, and they could make up. Nevermind how that was going to happen, since they both still had opposing views on the matter.

The first time he had come to stay at the flat after he and Aziraphale had a tiff, the angel had blown up his phone with calls and texts. Crowley had done the same the first time Aziraphale locked himself away in his study and refused to come out. They had since come to an understanding and formed a system of brief check-ins and hard time limits to ease each other's anxiety. They stuck to the rules, and it seemed to be a good way of letting off some steam and ending arguments, as long as they talked about it afterward.

This time, Crowley had been a little lax in his following of their rules. It had already been nearly an entire day of no-contact and Aziraphale had been sending worried messages for at least six hours. To his credit there were only a few voicemails, which Crowley would listen to later, and not the deluge there had been that first time. They were all standard fare, Aziraphale calling in the morning after Crowley left, then calling back around lunch. The angel was doing a good job of keeping the worry out of his voice, but Crowley could tell it was there.

Immediately Crowley sent off a text assuring Aziraphale he was fine and had lost track of time, complete with heart emojis, then fell into bed. As drunk as he was it didn’t take very long for him to drift off, even though he forgot to change into anything comfortable or get under the covers.

Crowley walked into their cottage in time for tea the next day carrying a selection of cake slices. He didn’t really have anything to apologize for, but coming back empty-handed felt wrong. Plus the cakes might distract from the hangover Crowley had. He’d meant to fix himself up before bed, but hadn’t and now his head ached too bad to focus on any demonic miracles.

“I’m home!” he called out into the foyer, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly out of the doorway. The house smelled like old books and tea, which was better than burning food. The second time Crowley had taken some time to himself Aziraphale had decided to take up baking to soothe his nerves. It hadn’t gone well. “I brought cake!”

Aziraphale came around from his study and stood in the doorway, hovering. “Welcome home dear. Did I hear you say cake?”

This was the routine when Crowley returned. Whether in the right or wrong he’d come back bearing treats and Aziraphale would flitter about like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. Eventually, they’d both sit down and talk about what happened, which had twice led to Crowley storming back out and more often led to lovely make-up sex. He wasn’t sure what to expect this time, given the thing they were arguing about. There wasn’t much to talk about, either Aziraphale dropped it, or he didn’t. Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen if Aziraphale didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, picked some up on my way over from that little bakery where they mill their own flour. Figured it was pretentious enough that you’d like it,” Crowley teased, none too eager to get to the heart of their issues. What if he and Aziraphale couldn’t move past this? What if this was the thing that ended them, not their former sides, or the Apocolypse, or their opposing natures? Crowley wasn’t sure he could survive without the angel in his life, but he also wasn’t sure he could concede on this particular issue. He also wasn’t sure if he could stick to his guns for too much longer, given what he’d realized last night.

“Oh hush you. Take it into the kitchen I’ll be there in just a tick.” Crowley nodded and went through, surreptitiously glancing around their home. Aziraphale was prone to fussing with the layout of things when he was left to his own devices, just like he had at the bookshop. There he’d been able to justify it as a tactic to confuse customers and discourage book purchases. In the cottage, however, it was obvious he did it from anxiety. Everything looked to be in order though, so Crowley continued on and set the cakes down on the table. With a snap of his fingers, the slices were laid out on plates and the kettle was boiling for tea.

“Early Grey or Twinings?” he called over his shoulder towards where Aziraphale’s office was. He could hear the angel moving about back there and assumed he was cleaning up whatever he had been using to preoccupy himself with while Crowley was away.

“Twinings please, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled. Must be messing with his book storage, Crowley thought, pouring each of them a cup with shakey hands. He really wished he’d spent less time drinking and sleeping yesterday, and more time actually thinking about what he was going to say to Aziraphale. All he’d figured out was that they had to worry about a lot more than just Heaven and Hell’s reaction and that if Aziraphale kept asking, he might not be strong enough to refuse.

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, taking his own and perching on the edge of a dining chair. Of course, Aziraphale still heard him and walked quickly into the room looking more than a little flustered. With an excited wiggle he took a seat and began to fawn over the cakes. “Take whichever you want, I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure dear? That dark chocolate mouse cake looks right up your ally,” Aziraphale pointed out, digging into his strawberry shortcake. He was right, Crowley had bought that slice of cake specifically for himself. It would have been not too sweet and everything he liked in a desert, but the worry about what needed to be said had ruined his appetite.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Aziraphale glanced down to his slice, then set his silverware down regretfully. “I said go ahead angel, I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a little, his hands disappearing under the table. Crowley knew from experience they would find their way under his thighs, crushed tight against the chair’s wood in an effort to keep them from flitting all over. Another habit from Aziraphale’s time with Heaven, where any stimming had been harshly discouraged. “No, I think we have a lot to talk about. And I want to apologize. Again.”

Crowley remained silent, knowing that Aziraphale had probably prepared what he wanted to say. As usual he was correct.

“I was wrong to keep asking you about… it when you told me not to. I was being selfish, and not thinking about how you felt and terribly rude. And then you came back after I was so horrible and you came back with cake!” Aziraphale’s voice was getting louder and more high pitched as he went. It was obvious he was getting upset with himself but Crowley knew that interrupting him right now would only make things worse. “I got excited, and then I was pushy and I hurt you, dearest. I’m so sorry. I-I know I can be a little, well, tone-deaf but you said I was making you upset so explicitly and I just ignored you! How could I do that to you? Oh Crowley I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Aziraphale had begun rocking back and forth a tiny amount, quick little movements that he probably didn’t even notice he was making. “You’re right, of course. It’s so very dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking about it when you obviously had. I want to make it up to you, Crowley, if I even can.”

It hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting, given how persistent Aziraphale could be, and it was honestly a little disappointing. He may have been secretly hoping that the angel would be able to convince him, or had maybe thought of something Crowley had missed that would give them the go-ahead. But this was OK too, this meant they wouldn’t have to fight anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it and they could move on.

“Oh uh, yeah. Apology accepted angel. I’m sorry I stormed out.” Crowley was always quick to forgive Aziraphale, it was like it was impossible for him to stay angry at the angel. Though the way Aziraphale’s disrespect of his boundaries still stung, Crowley didn’t want to hold a grudge and make things worse, so he wouldn’t.

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale stopped rocking but kept his hands firmly under his legs. Usually, this was the point where they hugged and made up, but his angel was still sitting, slightly tense. “Was your time away helpful?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally. Aziraphale didn’t ask what he did when he was he spent time away after a fight, and he was immediately suspicious. “Sure, checked on the plants, slept for a while. The usual.” He left out the drinking. Over the last 5 years or so Aziraphale had grown concerned with the amount Crowley drank, even if he was an immortal being incapable of experiencing withdrawal. He had cut back, but times like the other night were another story.

“Good, good.” The silence was back, and heavier. “And I assume that, from this point on, you do not wish to discuss that issue again?” The tentative nature of Aziraphale’s vice made it hard to hear if he was disappointed, or just being himself. Crowley cleared his throat.

“That's probably for the best yeah.” But oh he wanted, wanted, wanted. It was killing him to deny them this thing that any old human could have easily. They could have anything else in the world, with their powers, but not this.

“Alright, you won’t hear me speak another word about it. If you ever want to--well I’ll follow you lead dearest.” And Now Aziraphale was leaning over, one of his hands taking Crowley’s and squeezing. It was extremely warm from being tucked under his legs, but the demon still felt cold. “Now, if you’d like, I think you should try that ca--”

They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the front door. It was very rare for them to have guests and even rarer that they should drop by unexpectedly. The only other time anyone arrived was for deliveries, and even those were few and far between.

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Aziraphale seemed all too eager to have something else to focus on, and to be honest Crowley was as well. He rose from the table, cakes and tea forgotten, and bustled to the door. Crowley stayed in the kitchen, trying to collect the unspooled pieces of himself. It was over, they had Talked, and now they could move on and everything would be just fine! Crowley repeated that over and over in his head, trying to drown out the wanting; just fine. He was so focused on not wanting that he almost missed Aziraphale’s sharp “oh dear!”. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything alright angel?” He was on his feet and sauntering into the foyer. Sometimes a particularly brave canvasser for some local church or scam organization would show up and Crowley had to scare them off. Often Aziraphale was too polite to do so himself, especially if they didn’t take to his subtle hints. Only once had the angel gotten stern with someone, and that had been when they tried to good old ‘foot in the door’ technique. In that instance, Crowley had had to save the canvasser form Aziraphale.

That wasn’t what he found when he waltzed through the doorway. Standing there was Gabriel and Beezelbub in all their Heavenly and Hellish glory. They wore the same expression, of annoyance mixed with a large dash of disgust. “Oh shit.”

#fanfic #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #azirapahel #tw mpreg #mpreg #fbafs

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shellibisshe · 4 years

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all 20 oc questions for elenore 👀💞💞

This took me forever but thank you for asking!

CW- MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE

💀 Has your OC ever lost anyone to death? Multiple people? People close to them? How does the loss make them feel?

Elle has lost many people to death but the two that hit the hardest were her parents’ deaths. It not only affected her because of their relationship, but also because she was there. She feels responsible for it, she feels that she could have prevented it but she didn’t.

🙏 Is your OC religious in any way? Why or why not? Do they have other beliefs that govern them in any way?

Not really? Her parents never forced it on her, and she just didn’t think she needed a religion. Her own morals govern her more than religious beliefs.

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

She keeps her parents’ wedding rings on a long chain, usually hidden under her shirt so it can’t be ripped off or lost. She also keeps the Seeds’ bunker keys on a key ring, but she doesn’t carry them with her.

☄️ Does your OC believe in fate and destiny or do they think it’s a load of garbage? Would they ever get this fortune told? What would a fortune-teller tell them about their future?

I think Elle is a bit of a skeptic when it comes to this stuff. Some things she believes are fate, like love for example. But she also believes a good chunk of life is just based off the choices you make. A fortune-teller (in fc5’s canon) would probably try to warn her of the collapse but Elle wouldn’t believe them.

📓 Write a typical diary/journal page by your OC! (or if you’d rather not, describe their journal. Do they keep one, why?)

Elle’s journal, if she kept one, would be a leather notebook that her father gave her. She probably wouldn’t write in it too much when she’s younger, just because she forgets. I’d imagine when she gets older she’d be more consistent with it.

⚖️ What is the biggest crime your OC has committed? Are they a theif, a cheat, a liar? What is the smallest, most petty crime they’ve committed? Or do they not do crime at all?

Elle has definitely committed some crimes, small things like vandalism, which is funny considering her dad is the sheriff while she’s growing up. And while she probably wouldn’t be held accountable for it, killing anyone during the events of fc5 would be her biggest crime in her eyes.

💰 If your OC had all the money they could ask for what would they do with it? Where would they go and what would they buy? Are they the only one who benefits from this wealth?

She’d give it to a charity, put some away for her kids and emergencies. She wouldn’t know what to do with all of it.

🤕 What is the worst injury your OC has ever suffered? Do they have any scars or lasting physical reminders of it? Do they get sick often or have any lasting medical conditions?

I have an idea but I haven’t written it yet. Throughout all the events of fc5, Elle only received one scar and it was from Jacob. During their fight, he ends up cutting her cheek, giving her a long gash on the side of her face. It’s definitely not her worst injury, but it’s the one that lasts. Other than that, she was never prone to getting sick and aside from her disorders, she doesn’t have any other lasting medical conditions

🍵 Are there any rumours about your OC hanging around? Nasty ones or just good humoured? Got any gossip to share about them?

@madsismad talked about the one about Jamie being the real father of her kids in the normal au we have. There are some smaller rumors, only in the normal au, that she’s using John for his money or that she’s cheated on him before. She doesn’t really pay attention anymore.

🎨 Is your OC artistic? Can they draw or paint or do they prefer another medium? Are they a writer or musician or do they do something else? Give us a quick run down of what they can get creative with!

She’s crafty. She’s painted the twins’ nursery, it was a forestry themed room. And she can play some songs on the guitar and sing, but that’s about it.

💧 What makes your OC lose hope, what makes them give up and feel helpless? Have they ever given up on something really important or let go of a dream? What are some of their biggest regrets? Would they ever try again (if they’re able to)?

I’d say when she’s constantly beaten down, or when others lose hope in her, that’s what makes her feel hopeless. She’s always gotten back up, she’s not one to just lay down and die, but it can be hard for her to bounce back. As for regrets, the only one I can think of her having is getting married to Gabe.

🧠 Talk about your OCs mental health! Do they have any specific triggers or ways to practice self care? What are some things that are more difficult for them to do because of their mental health?

I’ve talked about it before but, Elle has ADHD and Depersonalization Disorder. As for triggers, I haven’t really thought of any. Her depersonalization picks up when she’s under stress though. It’s hard for Elle to focus a lot of the time.

✨ If your OC were a deity of some kind, what would they represent? What do they look like? How are they worshipped and what offerings would they expect? What are their places of worship like? Their followers? Their teachings?

If Elle were a deity, she’d honestly represent some cycle of war/destruction and rebirth. As for appearance I have no clue what she’d look like, and for offerings maybe she’d expect game? Temples would be built in mountainous, wooded areas, really out of the way and her followers could be anyone really. Although she would represent war, I think her teachings would include peace and diplomacy.

🎁 What would be the perfect gift to buy your OC? What would be the worst gift? Are they themselves any good at gifting things or are they really indescisive? How do they wrap their presents?

Tools. Or food or alcohol. A worst gift for her would be something extremely pricey that she probably won’t use more than once, like a fancy dress or shoes. I think she’s good at gifting, one of her favorite hobbies is making baked goods for her friends. As for wrapping, Elle can be very meticulous with wrapping paper or just say fuck it and get a bag.

💗 Relationships? Who are their friends, their family relations, lover(s), foes? What sort of personalities really tick them off and what others do they like? Is there anything that’d ruin a friendship for them?

Obviously, she’s dating/basically married to John and they have two kids. As stated elsewhere, Elle also has a brother, @madsismad ‘s Jamie, and a sister named Emily. She considers Jacob to be a close family friend, after the events of fc5, and she is extremely close to Whitehorse, Dutch, Hudson, and Pratt. She hates the general “douchey” personality in most people, and controlling behavior (when she notices it) can ruin a friendship for her.

🕰️ Has there been an event that happened in your OCs past that affects their future or one that they think about still? Is this a bad event or a good one? What are a few of their childhood memories they can recall?

Her arguments with Gabe will be something she always remembers, a few even turned violent. She remembers her childhood vividly, she remembers being happy as a child, she remembers when her sister was born, she remembers her mom’s side of the family busting every now and then.

🗣️ What are the most painful words that can be said to your OC to utterly break them? What are the words that you could tell them to cheer them up? Maybe some advice to give them the boost they need!

Something as simple as “I hate you” could break her depending on who it came from. “I’m here for you” would cheer her up greatly.

👽 Describe your OC as if they were an urban legend or myth!

I’ve always thought of Elle being tied to animals like deer or elk. She’d be some sort of creature, maybe half human half animal and she’d inhabit forests and mountains. She wouldn’t be scary, I think she’d serve as a guide to anyone who gets lost in the forest.

🗺️ Does your OC like going on adventures? Have they ever discovered something really interesting and significant or are they just too busy getting lost? Where is their favourite place they’ve been? Least favourite?

She loves going on adventures! She loves being able to just go somewhere, with no real goal or time restraint. In New Dawn, she will tag a long on expeditions the twins go on, both to sight see and to make sure they don’t get hurt.

⚡ What are your OC’s phobias? Is there any reasoning behind these? How do they calm themselves down after getting scared? What are they like when they’re afraid? Is there any chance of them overcoming their fears?

Thalassophobia, the fear of the sea or sea travel. If Elle is on a boat, she has to be able to see land in any direction she looks or she will have a panic attack. When she gets afraid, she shuts down. She’ll refuse to move and will cover her eyes, maybe even cry if she’s not moved fast enough. The only way she will calm down is if she is placed on land again, there’s a low chance she’ll ever overcome this fear.

#shellibanswers #fkingpeggies #deputy parker #far cry 5 #fc5

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nuttyrabbit · 5 years

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Out of curiosity, how do you think Trudy would interact with your OCs? :O

I needed to think about this one for a bit, so here goes

Out of all my OCs, Oliver would probably get along the best with her. He’d be the type to constantly ask questions about her, especially where she grew up, and especially about the stories she loves to read and the things she’s been through. I also imagine he’d tell her stories of his own, of magic and far off lands, and of days long gone. I also imagine he’d be interested by the nature of her disability, perhaps even offering to use a spell or two of his to make things easier for her. Perhaps he’d even ask her to teach him a thing or two about some of her hobbies in return, or even show him the forest outside her castle. And needless to say, he’d absolutely lose his shit over the castle In general, I imagine them getting along quite well, although I imagine at first Oliver’s excitability may be a bit much for her.

Newton is one I’m not quite sure of. I could see him being a bit of a condescending ass to her given both her disability and where she lives, but I could also see him trying to flatter her or get on her good side because of her apparent wealth, which he could use to help fund his projects. Either way, Lutrudis is not going to have a good time.

Please do not let Lana anywhere near this woman or her house. She is the living, breathing definition of “wild child” and would likely break everything by sheer accident.

Gambit’s interactions with Lutrudis are undoubtedly the most hostile of them all. He already has a deep dislike of those he perceives as “Stupid fuckin hero types”; which, given Lutrudis’ willingness to call out and fight perceived injustices, he would certainly throw her into that category. He’d likely also call attention to her castle and general fortune, deriding her for “bein’ a wannabe princess” and commenting on how sheltered she is, assuming her to be naïve and spoiled. His hostility carries a certain bitterness to it, and it may show more than he believes.I also don’t doubt he’d deride her for her disability as well, attempting to get under her skin and attack (what he assumes are) her insecurities. Depending on how she responds to this, the situation may escalate into a fight, lest she walk away. However, I think the specifics of their interactions are hard to pin down due to the fact that under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t likely meet in the first place.

Given that Forge is very much a “knight in shining armor” type who sees it as his duty to protect those in need, I imagine he initially offers Lutrudis some degree of assistance and/or protection when he initially meets her. Her refusal of such protection doesn’t really shock him, but the way she does it reminds him of his second wife, and it does spark an interesting conversation between the two, with Forge even showing some admiration for her desire and willingness for adventure despite her EDS severely limiting her.

I imagine her and Diva would get along decently well, although I don’t doubt that Trudy is at least a bit wary suspicious of Diva when she finds out she’s a reporter, a wariness that is ultimately justified once she figures out that the fox didn’t actually come here “on vacation” like she claimed, but rather for her. After all, to Diva, the horse would make for a perfect story: a lonely girl living in a castle in a “far off” land, crippled by a rare illness. Once she realizes that, I imagine Trudy’s opinion of the fox is not exactly glowing with positivity. Although I will say that as they talk, Diva does probably come to realize that the horse is actually a rather pleasant person to be around, and it almost makes her feel bad that she’s effectively exploiting her and her plight for a cheap headline. Almost.

Honestly, I imagine Cara would outright ignore someone like Trudy. Not for any particular fault of Trudy’s mind you, but given that Cara is so intensely focused on her “mission” and she’s not exactly social, I can’t really see them interacting outside of an incredibly coincidence.

Like Cara, I can’t imagine Frost would really be able to meet Trudy outside of an incredible coincidence or unusual situation. But if they were to meet, I imagine he would show her basic courtesy, albeit he’d come off as a bit…cold (Pun entirely intended) or even a bit imposing given his demeanor and the very noticeable sword at his side. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I imagine that if Trudy were to learn about the kind of person Frost truly is, she wouldn’t exactly like him.

Whew, sorry that took so long to answer. I really wanted to get this one right so I had to scroll through your Trudy tag and really sit down and think about this one. I hope it’s satisfactory and please do tell me if I missed something about Lutrudis I should know.

#oc stuff #Oliver the Barn Owl #Newton the Mouse #Lana the Pangolin #Gambit the Weasel #Forge the Coelacanth #Diva the Bat Eared Fox #Cara the Bombardier Beetle #Frost the Snow Leopard #asks

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