Which OC of mine are you?
Not gonna lie, this is idea came straight from TikTok and I decided to bring it to my Tumblr as well because why not, right? This is fun and I am just really bored and in need of a distraction so...which OC of mine are you? Feel free to either vote on the poll or actually comment/tag to tell me because I'd love to know. eheh
Also, feel free to do your own posts with your own characters because I'd love to see more people doing this, not gonna lie. LOL
Anyway, here are the options:
Myline (Naruto/Boruto)
The angry one of the group, fuck the system! 🤬
Very introverted, breathing next to her should be illegal! 😒
Books > People
As cold as an iceberg
Is a time bomb, one never knows when she is gonna lose her shit and explode 💀
Mybuza (Boruto)
The extrovert of the group, always asking people to go out with them 🥺
Brute force, doesn't know how to play 💀
Mom's child, DO NOT DARE TOUCHING THEIR MOM! 🤬
A hopeless romantic 😔
CLAUSTROPHOBIC 😨
Aisha (MCU)
The nerd of the group, knows everything about technology and science 🤓
Feminist
Infinite IQ ♾️
Romantically delusional 🙃
Irony and sarcasm in person 👍🏻
Evelyn (Attack On Titan)
The troublemaker of the group, always getting into trouble ☠️
Endless battery
Shorty but lethal, has the fury of 10 bears and thinks she is one 🐻
Constantly in mortal danger because of her short attention span 😬
Very unlucky when it comes to love 😢
Luna (Pokémon)
The polite and straight to the point of the group, the word patience doesn't exist on her dictionary 😖
Is gonna judge you very effectively, believe me, you will know when you are being judged💀
Lives in her own world
Perfectionist, spends too much time self-criticizing everything she does
Focused on her goals 💪🏻
Masha (The Walking Dead)
The criminal of the group, believe me, you don't want to know why...🙃
Horny rock lover
Very questionable diet... 🧍🏻♀️ = 🥩 🤫
99% high, but that 1% is trauma that hits hard
Is always able to run away from her problems 🏃🏻♀️
Nirvana (The Walking Dead)
The friendly shoulder of the group, everyone vents to her 🫂
Too precious for this world 😭
If you farted, she will know, she always knows everything that happens 🙃
Naive and easy to deceive
Nature lover, she'd live in the middle of the animals if she could 🦓🐆🐅
Tirannia (Game Of Thrones)
The body guard of the group, quality protection guaranteed 👮🏻♀️
The one who drags you away from that toxic person, especially toxic men
Has a collection of broken hearts that she broke 😇
Zero tolerance for nonsense
Emotionally unavailable, your tries will be successfuly and completely ignored 💀
____________
So, who are you? eheh
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Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)
tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts
summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.
The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.
Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.
You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.
How long has he been thinking of you?
There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"
Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.
-
You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.
"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.
"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.
"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,
"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.
Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?
Lt. Riley"
You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.
You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.
"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.
"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."
Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.
-
There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.
He's sweet.
He's terrible.
You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.
You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."
You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.
"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"
You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.
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