#Most are not my ocs and belong to calamity

[unnoticedunawarestillhere]

Open your eyes.

I gripped the both sides of the sink, my knuckles turning white.

She can't be dead. She isn't.

The ceremony starts in five minutes. People are already gathering in.

And here I am in the backstage bathroom throwing up my guts.

I stare at the mirror, slowly tilting my head up.

There, a sick looking man just stares back. The rings under his eyes striking out on dull white skin and bleak looking freckles. There's a bruise right in the middle of the bridge of his nose, black, red and purple. His hair is dishevelled as well as darker than he remembers. His tux clinging to his frame, the tie slanted and the buttons loose. Red smeared across his lips.

That man is me.

I turn on the faucet, watching the crimson mixing with clear water as it spirals down the drain.

I cupped up some water and splashed it on my face, cold drenching my skin while it trickled down. I dry my face off with my suit's sleeve, erasing the blood and matting off the water.

I glanced back at myself, my eyes narrowing.

"I hate you," I hissed.

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People are beginning to take their seats now. I recognize a few people in the front row.

Cassidy, wearing a black gown and a tinted veil over her face. Her sea green eyes looking weary and bleak while her husband, Robert, whispered words of comfort and put his arm over her shoulder.

Like that's gonna bring her sister back, jackass.

Clifford, a sort of friend of mine, came as well. He's sitting next to Robert. His suit is a dark grey, looking well cleaned up, considering this guy couldn't give a damn about his appearance most of the time.

Florence also came. Her face looked upset and overwhelmed by sadness. She's wearing a black dress, white gloves and a black rose in her brown hair.

Weird. How do you grieve for a person you've never met?

Charlie's parents are here, sitting on the second bleacher in the front row. Their faces weathered from time, but now chiselled from grief. Her mother won't stop crying.

As people settle down, their voices hushed, the pastor began to speak. Something about her resting in peace and God is watching over her.

Behind the curtain, I visibly scowl.

He's lying. She isn't resting in peace. She isn't watched over by God. If God really was watching, he wouldn't have let this happen.

She was too young. Too smart. And yet too naive at the same time.

"Stop it, stop it, just stop it..!" I whispered under my breath as he continued.

"-may we all grieve for the loss of Charlie Forester. A good friend. A precious daughter-"

"No...no...stop it. You didn't even know her..!" I hissed quietly from behind the blue curtain. I can feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

"-and a wonderful sister," the man said,his voice steady as his words echoed through the church.

I froze, feeling like I've been hit in the stomach. My eyes are stinging. My heart is heavy and my chest is way too tight.

I can't breathe and I can't cry.

I can't cry.

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He finished his speech with a few prayers. His prayers are interrupted by quiet sniffles and a few whimpers from Charlie's mother. Does he stops and assures them? As a man of God, surely he cares for his people?

Nope. Just keeps on going with his worthless prayers.

Some prayers bring comfort to folks.

I don't judge. But to folks like me? They never really did.

He's finally done and motions me onto the stage.

I take a deep breath and walk slowly to the front of the stage, replacing the pastor. My figure was bathing in the light above while all eyes were now turned to me.

I can hear a few whispers.

"-he isn't suppose to be up there-"

"-not even related to the family."

"-looks a little young-"

I tense, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. My heart is now rattling against my rib cage.

I cleared my throat, my voice a little rough, "Charlie Forester was someone very dear to me. We weren't siblings by blood, but by a deep bond. And it brings me great...pain..to.." I trailed off.

What's happening?

Sweat beads down my forehead and my knees feel weak.

Stop it.

I continue on, "To have her gone. To have her ripped away from the people she loved and treasured. Even if...even if some of those people didn't deserve her love and time." My tone is still rough, but now it's unsteady.

My vision is blurred at the ends, fogging up almost like glass. The tips of my hands feel numb.

Stop it. Please.

My heart wants out. It's gripping my rib cage like prison bars and won't stop tugging on them, tearing at them. My lungs are getting too clustered and my face feels flushed.

I can't breathe. I can't cry. I can't feel my legs.

I watch as Cassidy looks at me with concern in her puffy eyes beneath the veil.

Clifford's mouthing something at me. Reassurance, maybe? I can't tell.

It's not that I haven't practice this speech. I practiced all the damn time before this day. Even in front of Jack.

I wish Jack was here. Here so he could tell me everything was alright. Here so that he could hug me and comfort me. "It's alright to cry, Hudson," he'd say.

But he isn't here to say that.

The pastor is whispering something to me. I think.

He places a hand on my shoulder.

Don't touch me.

"Are you alright, my son?" He asked.

Do I look alright?

"She's in god's realm. Resting peacefully," he assured me, his hand still resting calmly on my shoulder.

God's realm, my ass.

"Would you like to say a prayer for her now?"

I clenched my fists.

No.

...

I swung my fist, my vision still blurred.

Thud. Gasps. Yells. Heavy breathing.

Two men drag me away from my arms before I can finish the job.

Cassidy's telling me to stop.

Clifford looks horrified.

Florence is sympathetic.

And Jack would probably be disappointed.

They're yelling at me. The men behind me. Their grip forceful as they drag me off stage. Away from the pastor, who's also being dragged away. Not for the reason you might think.

I try and shrug their hands off my shoulders, thrashing as something streams down my face.

I'm crying. Yelling. Screaming.

She didn't deserve to die. She couldn't be dead.

My lungs are begging for air and my heart is still enraged.

My throat burns.

. . .

I̵̢̛͖̩̖͛͝ͅ ̵̧͖̩̹̦̰̲̆̃͑͘͜ḽ̸̢̣̘̭͓̉́̈́͊̇ö̷̢͕͓̘̲̤͇̱v̵̝̙͉̦̘͇̥̈́́͑̄e̸̟̲̼̼͉̜̠͚͛̑́ ̴̗̻́ý̷̨̭̥̲͉̳̦̓̎͑͗̐̂͘͜ơ̶̡͙̻̱̟͔̒ṷ̴͉͕̱̜͗̀͝ͅ,̷̼̭̐͌̃̀́͗̉̕ ̴̞̲͍͕̜͙͋̀͊̈́͐̎̏͑C̶̢̈́̈́͐͐h̴̦̥̻̎̏̌̉̅̏͛͘ä̸̦̬́̈́̏̇̂̌͜r̴͉̲̆̽̀��̱̞̮ĺ̴̟̳̠̦̱͙͊̔̄͗͂͐̉i̴̧̝̞̺̤̰̩̦̐̇̆̇̄̔ȩ̴̻͎͕̂.̸̮̥̥̖̬̔͌̀͋ ̸̢̰̻̬̩̯̪̗͒̀͋͑͛̈́̐̕ ̸̨̎̓̈́͛̋̒̿͌A̷̞͇̰̓̆͒̕n̴̜̿̄̄͒̚͘d̸̫̪̺̰̟̐̈́̈́̔ͅ ̸̻̅̓̽́͝͠I̷̧̢̳̦̟̾͆̈́̀'̴̤̠̤͆̏̒̑̌͑̒͝m̸̮̓̐̂͑ ̷̺͛̈́s̸̢̈́̀̇̕ơ̴͍͓̜̜̐̀̾͑͋r̵̞̤̹͍͍̠̅̏̓͛̒̅͝͝r̸̡̥̯̘̠̖̼̜̆͌͝͠ÿ̶̖̖̳̜̥̼̜͉̾́̀̕ ̵̡̣͖̪̰̔I̷̝̅̌̿͋̌ ̴̼̭̽̽̓̑̿̽̒͛ŕ̴͖̗͈͓̈́̈́̋̑ų̴̧͕͚͙͎̥̆̂̊ì̸̧͕͓̳̻̪̘͐́̌̇̾̿͜n̷̜͔̙̩̠̞̳̑̊̏̆̚ė̵̤̤͜d̵̨͔͉̜̫̜̽̅͋́̀̂ ̷̟̲͇̓ͅe̵͉͐̉̈̽͑v̴̬̰̊̔͊͘ḙ̷̞̽̑̈́r̶̗̣̣̄͊̈ý̵͓͆͝t̶͙͓̠̼̞̟̦̐̂̍͛͠h̵̡͖̦̻͍̄̋͑̆̽̌i̵̮̱͂̈̅͑n̶̯͓̈́̏͂͒̈́́̇g̵̝̟̃͛͌.̵̳̲̳̭̇̈́ ̸̻̲̅̾͊́̈́̒͘ ̶̤͐̔̐͋͌͆͝E̷͌̕͜v̸̭̲̳̀̊̄͜͠e̶̘̙̦̱͐̃̆͌̕̚͝n̶̡̠͎̮̂̈́̂̇͂͒͝ ̵͖͈̙̗͈̖̍͆͝y̶̢̹͚͇̯͘o̸̢͋̑͗̎͐͐̃͝ǘ̷͍͓̭̼͔̠̈́̐̐̎͝r̸̖̞̩̱̆̊͗ ̸͖̲͙͈̦͈̀̿́͛͊̎́̑o̷̡̬͍̞̰͔͚͆̽̽̅̆̔͝w̸̰̲̖̲͂̊͛̈͛̒͂̉ń̷̡̙̬͖͎͖̎ͅ ̸̥͎̎͒̑̏̍̓͝f̴̩̦̭̬̳̣̜̗͒͑̑̎͋ư̴̪̏̐́̽̍͑ń̷̨̜͓̟͓͉̠͎͗͛͆̓̕e̴͓̔͋r̵̳͍͇̿͌͐͝a̷̻͌͑̈́̎̑̚l̶̙̅́͝͠.̸̳̘̯̝̹̼͓́̐͋̉̅͝͠

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(Gift for @creationandcalamityau . Inspired by our recent rp. @thelocalmoth 's Jack is mentioned as well)

[simplegenius042]

"What Kind Of Love Are You?" OC Quiz & "Every OC List Got The ___"

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman @imogenkol @voidika @shellibisshe and @aceghosts

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries and @nightwingshero + anyone else who'd like to join.

Four results for my OCs for this quiz and four OC Lists for four of my series.

JOAQUIN COBALT (THE UNTITLEDVERSE)

This feels accurate for Joaquin considering he begins The UnTitledverse as an adolescent, and the series follows his growth and youth to adulthood. Joaquin has the weight of the world (or rather multiverse) on him, but, he still has time to be a child, to be a teen, to be his own identity, with Maisie, Mario, Calvin and all his found family and friends to share the weight.

SILVA OMAR (THE SILVER CHRONICLES [FAR CRY 5 & FAR CRY NEW DAWN])

Religious themes (including the trauma) for Silva go brrr! Like what else is there to say?

HAOYU ANABUKI (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS)

Yeah this makes sense for them. Haoyu is someone who's not used to love and when it comes it is gonna be the most life-changing thing for them. For once something they will have to make a commitment towards keeping if they want it. Haoyu is also the type to go in a panic as well as overthink; including full-on denial.

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP (A RADIOACTIVE CALAMITY OF LOVE, BOMBS & GORE [FALLOUT])

While this definitely suits Ress at her best, I don't think it encapsulates everything about her. Because while Ress' love is bountiful and ageless and endless... there's also the fear of losing it all, because Ress will outlive everyone she knows because her own natural mortality outlasts everyone else's. The only person that would be around the longest with her (and meet her at what would be considered old age for a hybrid species like them) would have been her older half-brother, Ore... but even that is cruelly taken away from her by their father Urias and his Occult. Yeah, so while this definitely does shine a light on the happiness and thrill Ress would feel with her lover (prime example being Piper), it doesn't acknowledge the grief she'd eventually have to face.

Now for the OC List, I decided to go with OCs from all four/five of my series; The UnTitledverse, The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and a shared list with my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and my original series An Old Ballad Of Chance And Ember Hearts Trilogy (which includes my Wings And Horns WIP that this trilogy spins off from). So yeah... enjoy! [NOTE: This will include art/doodles, reference pictures (for the art/doodles that I still haven't been skilled enough to draw) and faceclaims]:

THE UNTITLEDVERSE

Lisa Cobalt | Malcolm Darling | Mario Emmet Jester | Madame Callaghan | Lillian "Lena" Elliot Greenpeace | Allyson "Alice" Darling | Edward Carmine Calvin Dearing | Joaquin Cobalt | Rick Thompson

[My (Incomplete) Art: Malcolm Darling, Mario Emmet and Jester]

THE SILVER CHRONICLES

Oscar Lapis | Father Adam Omar | Silva's Third Eye Elsa Omar | Paul Yellowjack | Silva Omar Azriel Omar | Nadi Sinclair | Kamski Neon Alexander Khaos | Gavin Turquoise | Mercy Omar-Seed | Ezekiel

[My (Incomplete) Art: Silva's Third Eye (or at least what its spiritual physically looks like if you're potent in the Third Eye... or a certain New God shitting bricks at the sight of this hungry symbiotic cretin)]

LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS

Yan | Frederick Rosemary | The Unity Hatter | Icarus Galatos | Hatsukami Hinode | Xavier Tulip | Haoyu Anabuki Rico | Eden "Evie" Bloodleech | Sonya | Sir Enigma Malvolio | The Court King Denise Redwood | Lora | Cecil Royce | Corvus Targaryen

[Image Reference Credits: Vecna from Stranger Things, The Stupendium in "The Toybox", The Core from Amphibia, an edited Mad Hatter from Alice In Wonderland, Kraang One's Exosuit from Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Movie and artwork of that Jester King done by CristianAC on Steam]

A RADIOACTIVE CALAMITY OF LOVE, BOMBS & GORE + WINGS AND HORNS

Elrand Brandt the Vault Dweller | Aggravor the Accursed | Arcane Urias Xiang Ba'al | Vega the Resident | Marissa "Ress" Bishop Alph Dolen the Lone Wanderer | Ryder the Courier Six | Discord the Mad Kin of Carnage Ortega "Ore" Brantley | Archangel Metatron | Finidy Mona the Chosen One | Nate Gust Sarid the Sole Survivor

[Image Reference Credits: Vecna from Stranger Things, Annihilus from Marvel Comics, Kagetane Hiruko from Black Bullet, LorenzoArt's Caedis from Instagram, NCR Veteran Ranger from Fallout: New Vegas and art of Archangel Metatron that I found posted on Quora]

[Faceclaims (which might or might not change): The UnTitledverse: Beanie Feldstein for Lisa Cobalt, Scarlett Johanson for Madame Callaghan, Elizabeth Gilles for Lillian "Lena" Elliot, Sean McLoughlin for Greenpeace, Anya Taylor-Joy for Allyson "Alice" Darling, Benedict Cumberbatch for Edward Carmine, Laurence Fishburne for Calvin Dearing, Isiaiah Stannard for Joaquin Cobalt and Aaron Moten for Rick Thompson. The Silver Chronicles: Mario Casas for Oscar Lapis, Brad Garrett for Father Adam Omar, Juliana Alves for Elsa Omar, Gabriel Garko for Paul Yellowjack, Mina El Hammani for Deputy Silva Omar, Aria Goodson for Azriel Omar, Aïssa Maïga for Nadi Sinclair, Andre Royo for Kamski "the Good Doctor" Neon, Taron Egerton for Alexander Khaos, Matthew McConaughey for Gavin Turquoise, Emily Tosta for Mercy Omar-Seed and Álex González for Captain Ezekiel of Security. Life, Despair & Monsters: Daniel Padilla for Icarus Galatos, Hatsukami Hinode & Xavier Tulip, Hikaru Utada for Haoyu Anabuki, Wilmer Calderon for Rico, Nathalie Emmanuel for Eden "Evie" Bloodleech, Rami Malek for Sir Enigma Malvolio, Odette Annable for Denise Redwood, Karen Fukuhara for Lora, Mia Goth for Cecil Royce and Daniel Radcliffe for Corvus Targaryen. A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore: Jason Statham for Elrand Brandt the Vault Dweller, Yvonne Strahovski for Vega the Resident, Beyonce for Marissa "Ress" Bishop, Sam Blanckensee for Alph Dolen the Lone Wanderer, Halle Berry for Ryder the Courier Six, Jessica Alba for Finidy Mona the Chosen One and Steven He for Nate Gust Sarid the Sole Survivor.

[impossible-rat-babies]

i was messing around w pre-ARR glams for eyrie and got thinking about the relationship between momodi and eyrie ;—; she just saw this poor wet beast of a viera coming to the guild on a regular basis and thought “dang i need to look out for this one”

[wordsandrobots]

While watching the sub of 08th MS Team over on Gundam Info's YouTube page (sans episode 12 because they are cowards), the thought suddenly occurred that you could move those characters into another of the shows with minimal effort, mostly because they are fairly stock and also because they're enough of a good unit dynamic to work elsewhere.

Obviously, because this is me, I was imagining them in Iron-Blooded Orphans, either as a Gjallarhorn squad in some dismal backwater (with Shiro eventually realising being a member of the colonial police kind of sucks) or as some unaffiliated mercenary group, with Aina perhaps being from Gjallarhorn and that making for a conflict.

And since I'm rubbish at AUs but always need a ready source of OC inspiration for my style of fic-writing, that got me wondering who else you could readily transpose into the Post Disaster timeline.

Obviously the Shangri-La kids from Gundam ZZ are a freebie since they're the most clear-cut precursors to Tekkadan as a concept. You'd barely have to change anything about them except removing the newtype abilities.

Likewise, the antagonistic characters from Gundam Wing swap over with ease because Gjallarhorn is just OZ if it won and then became entrenched for 300 years. Treize, Une, Noin and Zechs just need new uniforms and we're done. You could probably fold in the Gundam boys too, and likely with minimal reworking at that. Heero probably wouldn't be augmented in the same way, but make him a space rat and we're laughing. Quatre can be from the upper classes/colony company side of things, Trowa's human debris, give Duo a spacer/pirate origin and Wu Fei . . .

You know what, Wu Fei as the scion of some kind of warrior monk group that's been maintaining a Gundam since the Calamity War could have legs as a concept. Maybe I should file that one away for later use.

Kudelia already retreads a lot of Relena's schtick in a more pragmatic/cynical manner. Dorothy, however, would make a perfect member of Gjallarhorn high society and Sally can be another disgruntled soldier who comes to realise the money isn't worth it any more.

Gundam 00 is hit and miss. Setsuna is superseded in every way by Mikazuki in terms of character concept. The Innovades and super soldiers are right out. I already kind of imagine Gundam Flauros' original pilot as a variant of Neil!Lockon, though, and Graham is the kind of lunatic who can go with anything if you're not afraid of fun.

Gundam and Zeta Gundam . . . nah. They're just too tied into that original conceptualisation of what the series is about. I don't think the White Base or Argama crews really belong anywhere else. And I feel somewhat similarly about G Fighter, although maybe you could redo some of the stuff with the Devil Gundam to relate to the original IBO Gundam development process?

'Tis an interesting game at least and if anyone else has thoughts in this direction, I'd love to hear them.

[mellowwhumps]

WWE 2025, Day 6: Doomed By The Narrative

Scheduled execution / Near death experience / “That was too close.”

[Verrill & Nivae (Twelve)] — 2290 words

CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!!!! (near death experience tag still belongs there for the other oc)

@whumperless-whump-event

——

Bells across the city ring clearly, carrying with its reverberations the salty scent of the choppy sea. It doesn’t make sense, of course. Here, where Verrill couldn’t see any of that shore, the persistent chimes were the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing louder than the crowd beneath the elevated platform. Once upon an almost distant time, he remembers telling that child about how he’d rather go out with a bang, sitting on the rooftop and looking at the same sky, now darkened by looming clouds. 

Wish granted. The most drama this city has ever had since the last festival and he owns front row tickets, one way trip.

Scenes flash before him, the recollection of times before, those days where people would celebrate their budding crops, their soon-to-be bountiful harvests. Instead of worried whispers and angry shouts, he recalls the laughter of the children, still too juvenile to have learnt about the perfect city’s little secret. He dreams of the dulcet tones of his childhood flute, carried by the slight summer winds as it brought light smiles to the faces of others. 

The crops dead, the laughter absent. That flute has long since been out of tune. Was that where it started, all those events that brought him where he was now? He thought this day wouldn’t come if it was already that late in its arrival.

He hoped he could at least see the sun one last time before he was dead on the gallows. Ah, what a pity.

“Not a single kind word spoken to this child, do you understand, dear child? All things in this world will fall apart instantly if not.” His grandfather’s words ring in his mind word-for-word, deafening in its accusations. “My warm winter, you must understand that this world isn’t fair to all of us. If only we could, dear, if only we could.” That’s how the world works, that’s how everything works! There will be no such thing as happiness, were the slightest good act given to this nameless child, that’s so obvious! It makes him want to laugh, cry, scream his lungs out and then some more, but the audience already deems him crazy enough as it already is. Dearest Verrill, loved by all, screwing with powers beyond his comprehension for his own curiosity, his own gnawing, all-consuming guilt. Is this the ending you truly wanted?

Stars, please let Nivae be okay, please, he can take all this responsibility and hold it close to his heart, but not them, this can’t be the culmination of all he worked towards. They can’t go back where he took them out from.

It would appear that some of the audience agrees, trained in the art of listening as he is, picking out voices amidst the chaos. If only they weren’t stuck in his mind afterwards, replaying and replaying like his mother’s broken record. Finally, the bell stops. A hushed half-silence befalls the city square, the bitter winds tousling his hair and the feathers of his wood-restrained wings. 

His audience is here. His end begins.

“Today,” the appointed speaker announces, loud and clear, “we make for the dawn of a new tomorrow, undo the wrongs we have committed. May our wheat grow steady and strong, our shores calm and clear. May our wants, desires and loves be had.” “May our wheat grow steady and strong, our shores calm and clear,” the audience recites in unison, “may our wants, desires and loves be had.”

Verrill shivers, rubbing his arms together for warmth. It’s too uncanny, too ironic. It doesn’t strike him as a prayer, no. What it does feel like is an offering. A sacrifice, in his kindest words. 

“On this day, the date of Querencia’s usual festival, we provide respite for the masses by quelling the source of this unprecedented calamity by its origin!” Cheers. Many of them, interlaced by the occasional jeering, whispers or flapping of wings. 

“I-I’m sure you recognize him, right? Haha, no need for introductions, let’s get right onto the main event!”

Now that he takes a good look at the speaker, he recognizes the face of their friend’s parent, hair now cleanly shaved. Small city, he supposes. He wonders where that friend is now. Somewhere in the crowd, maybe, cheering him on. It’s not as much a consolation as he’d like it to be, though he makes an attempt to smile nonetheless.

Surveying his surroundings, he makes the mistake of looking up. 

The large blade looms over him, glinting ominously in the diminished light, framed by the endless sky above. Despite being one of the only people allowed to carry a sword, they never could get used to that sharp silver, sharpened for the killing blow. They wouldn’t even give him the mercy of a clean death. 

It’s for the spectacle. Wings were located where the core of the being was, common rumors all said, evidence or not; to cut them off would be to purify anyone whole. A decently quick but painful passing, black blood unable to sustain the sheer amount of blood loss that would occur. It swells the hearts of the audience, waiting with bated breath for their luck to finally turn.

Breathe in, breathe out. All actions were the effect of other actions, which were in turn the effect of practically infinite more choices. This is his fate. 

He isn’t afraid anymore. In the end, he never could escape this city, could he? 

All he can do right now is close his eyes peacefully and wait. One, two, three… 

Verrill waits for ages. Nothing happens. Bated breaths exchange their tone for a tense murmur, a few hushed sobs hastily stifled, and he waits for the suffering to come and it never does.

Then, a different kind of agony breaks through his thoughts with the sound of flapping, eyes now wide and fixed on the person in front of him.

“Please, I go back in, please! Thank you, sorry, you’re welcome! Aah, uh–” Nivae, Nivae, who he told to hide for the time being has somehow or another made their way on the platform, wisps of curly, nearly floor-length hair wrapping around their little body as they continue shouting, wings spread wide in an attempt to make themself look bigger. “Listen! Let him go! Let him go, I go!” 

There’s no doubt they’re not used to that many people, isolated as they previously were. Still, they gather courage even he didn’t know they had, a jumble of the disjointed words and poorly-used pleasantries he taught them coalescing into a singular, desperate plea. 

They knew all along, didn’t they? Even without fully understanding. Nobody would put them back in, not when their own guilt overwhelmed them, so they picked the next best thing to do. In fact, nobody even moves to stop them, all eyes on this force of destruction and object of their selfish pity. 

He wonders what they all see, sometimes. That child in the repurposed tool room under his home who nearly forgot how to speak, frightened of any visitor? Or Nivae, running around in the city square, laughing as the two of them played catch? Else, something built completely out of their thoughts and imagination, perhaps; the worst option of the lot.

“Nivae,” Verrill speaks, voice choked, his calm pretense all but gone, “you can’t be here. They’re not going to listen to you.” “T-they are! They are! No, uhm, yes—”

“Nivae, please—” 

The crowd is silent. From his place on the platform, the people watch on, eyes glistening with tears, some of them breaking into hysterical crying and turning away from the act. Here, above everyone barred from using their wings for this day, Nivae flaps his own speckled ones and for a moment is more free than anyone else in the city square, pulling at Verrill’s arm as though the small action could somehow allow everything to return to those days where it was just the two of them.

As the doomed child moves to turn their focus towards getting Verrill’s wings away from this horrid contraption, piecing together the slightest notion of how it works, he catches the speaker eyeing the length of cord in his hands

The speaker is going to resume the festival. That child’s limbs aren’t outside its range of damage anymore, still preoccupied with trying to break him out, their head situated right beneath its edge. Any of his own instructions fall on deaf ears. Every scene after that plays out so quickly it almost seems slow.

One. The speaker releases the rope, the blade falling.

Two. Verrill sharply twists his body until he hears a loud crack, the humerus of his wings snapping, a copious but not fatal amount of soot-coloured blood dripping onto the wooden boards beneath him.

Three. He wrenches his limp wings out of the now slightly loosened restraints with a forceful tug, hands pulling Nivae away from the danger zone and into his arms.

Four. 

Chaos ensues.

Verrill jumps off the platform with Nivae in tow, crashing to the floor not long after. The crowd makes a grab for them. He, skilled at dodging and fighting as he was from all that training, dodges most of their hands as he runs on, trying to figure out where to go.

As they say, there’s only one way out of this city, the colossal gate marking the boundary of this crumbling place, the disappointment of that distant promise. They should always have left. They should have left at the first chance they got, the both of them, but they didn’t. That’s the fact, isn’t it? Well. Better now than never.

“That was too close, okay? Remember what I taught you, look at your surroundings before going in to try anything risky.” He adjusts Nivae’s position to be more comfortable, letting their head rest snugly on his shoulder, feeling the sensation of them nod. “You’ll need to run yourself the moment I get tired, so get ready.” 

For some odd reason, there seemed to be fewer people than usual in the city, buildings flickering in and out of his sight before disappearing altogether. Huh? 

He ducks behind a building, lowering the child gently onto the floor as he looks up once more at the sky. It’s clear with no clouds in sight. The sun casts tepid vermillion over the strangely deserted cityscape, shadows contrasting with their deep grey, winds blowing. 

Something’s wrong. He’s never seen the world like this before. Where is everyone?

With all that adrenaline rush now halting itself, he shifts on accident and pain shoots up his spine, bringing with it a bout of blinding whiteness. The bleeding had at least stopped slightly, now just the occasional splatter tainting the floor. A small mercy. He pretends not to check how tattered his wings now were, the occasional feather likely lying on the floor behind them. 

He’s not turning back to confirm it. They have to get out of here. 

“Come on. Exit’s not far.” Verrill squats down to meet Nivae’s height as he ruffles their hair, pointing at their destination. “See? I did keep my promise, didn’t I? We’re going. We can even play catch if you’d like, you can go and get your head start, alright?” 

“Okay!” The child looks up at him and smiles widely, giving one last wave back before breaking into a sprint. 

Having finished catching his breath, Verrill glances at the gate in full view now. The furthest point of the island, all the way on the other side. If he looked at it from the beach, it would have been nothing but a small oval on the horizon. He’d forgotten just how much of a marvel it was to stare at the intricate carvings on its arch, back when he was a child and the world, his city was ever so big. Was there even anything beyond? He supposed it didn’t matter anymore. 

Verrill bolts down the lonely streets, breeze whooshing past his ears, feet maintaining its steady rhythm against the pavement, slowly getting faster and faster. Nivae’s still not in his reach, far away as they were and he aims for where they are, any wound or ache all but forgotten in their childish game of chase, each worry slowly ebbing away. They’re nearly there.

He laughs, breathless and light, arms spread wide to catch the air around him. He rejects everything! The city, his fear, the turning of day into night! He will never return home, everything, he—

His ears ring as he stumbles, crashing to the ground and skidding a slight distance away, skin rubbed raw by the ground’s rough surface. The cloth of his tunic feels sticky, and he knows it’s blood before he even sees the scarlet seeping into the cracks of the floor. He’s already avoided his demise once today, but it seemed that it would claim him anyway. Doesn’t feel as bad as he thought. Must be all those hysterics.

Using the last bit of strength, he cranes his neck enough to see the gate. In the near distance, a figure steadily approaches him, their white hair stained as they crouched on the bloodied ground, small hands moving to grasp at his face. Nivae’s shouts fall on deaf ears as they hug him tightly, as though if they tried hard enough, they could somehow fix everything they think they caused. He’d hoped he could no longer see that same pained expression, framed by the setting sun and another unknown source of lightless radiance, now the only thing he wanted to focus on as he struggled to stay awake.

Verrill doesn’t want to die anymore. They were going to leave together, please.

They were so, so close.

[thevikingwoman]

🎱⚓⛓️ for Mery? <3

Thank you, Anna!

I have a opportunity to ramble in these 😂 🎱 what kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it?

Meryta is not really one to think too much about her future. She has, for a long time, accepted that she'll die fighting. That warriors die is both part of her heritage on the Steppe, but also part of her life. Ever since the end of ARR, she has accepted that she is one who is asked to do dangerous things. And she's come to accept part of her likes that. So what's the use to think too much about the future?

That said, she almost died of light poisoning after Mt. Gulg - but she didn't. She almost died at the end of of the universe - but she didn't. Where does that leave her? She's slowly becoming used to surviving, and though 'living to her old age' is still not something she envisions, she is, for the lack of better word, realizing that there is always a way to beat things.

After endsinger, she craved peace and rest. Needed it. She got it, in my head canon there's a long period of nothing happens. She went to Tural on a whim and - not really spoilers but she likes it there. The landscape, the adventure. She doesn't really crave settling down, she likes traveling and meeting new people and seeing new things. The ghost of Emet-Selch does echo in her head: Go and see things, go and live.

Does she crave adventure? maybe. She's isn't one to stay still. It's of course complicated by the fact that her lover, Tansui is firmly rooted in place. He belongs with the Ruby Sea Confederacy, and she knows it. It is - a mostly resolved - tension, but it's there, if nothing else then for Meryta. She can't envision a future without him, but she doesn't really want to live there.

Or does she?

For now, she wants to see this world, and as many others as possible, and learn every craft she can - while returning to Onokoro as often as possible.

and - obviously - she craves a future with no calamities! ⚓ what does “home” mean to them?

When Meryta thinks of home, she thinks of her childhood home. Home is the Azim Steppe, and to a greater extent Othard. While there's always a sort of 'back home' thought about where she grew up, coming back to Othard was such a homecoming for her. She'd picked up Samurai skills in Eorzea, but she didn't reflect herself over how it was the familiarity and longing for home that made her do it. But it felt right, to come home. The people, the clothes.

That said - she has the strange dual feeling of the Steppe feeling like home, and like Not Home. She has been away for too long and seen too much, to truly be able to feel 'at home' there (not me making all my OCs leave home and have a profound sense of both longing and alienation when going back, can't have anything to do with my own life in any possible way)

So, there are other places that feels like home now.

The smell of sawdust in Beatin's workshop.

The trees and roofs and stained glass of Gridania.

The cool stones of Mor Dhona.

The busy work of the Crystalline Mean.

The explosion of colors and soft silks of the rooms in the Meghaduta.

But most of all, a small wooden apartment of Onokoro, and the man that lives there.

⛓️ what does guilt feel like to them?

Hmm. In general guilt is not something I explore a lot, so it's not like Meryta carries a lot of guilt.

To her, guilt feels like an idea of needing to do something else, of having to be somewhere else. Like a nagging irritation and discomfort.

For bigger things - she's not one to dwell and wallow - but she wonders if she could have tried more, been better. Could more people have been saved if she'd been faster, stronger? It manifest in a need to fight, or train. A restlessness, on top of her usual one.

headcanon questions

[science-lings]

Gladiator hero OC is winning the poll so I'm gonna ramble about my ideas for them for a bit

I think an important part of gladiators as an idea is the lack of autonomy, the glorification and entertainment value of violence and death that no one would volunteer to be a part of unless there were extenuating circumstances. The classic origin story is that the gladiator is a slave or a prisoner of war, but those aren't the only options here.

But this could also go in the direction of the colloseums being for something more like medieval tournaments, since that fits more with the general European Knight thing going on. It's already canon that the knights of hyrule castle have to prove themselves by battling a Stalnox, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for more honorable knights to have to compete to earn higher roles or even just for entertainment.

We know that there had to be many different families of knights with different strongholds across Hyrule, with Akkala Citadel and Fort Hateno and a training camp and multiple garrisons all around central and northeastern Hyrule. There were A Lot of knights for a long time before the calamity and there would've been Rivalries. Like sportballs.

But there's more angst in the more Roman interpretation of the existence of the coliseum(s). It also incorporates my idea to integrate the 'barbarian' outfit with an origin of being a caricature of a separate tribe of Hylians, with associations with the 'Zonai' in the Faron region. The set is so stereotypically 'warlike native' because it's literally more of a costume than an actual set of clothing someone would wear. The actual armor the Gladiator would wear would be inspired by Lynel armor and decorated in Lynel fur/leather. The royal family hosting the coliseum fights want to portray him as something closer to a monster than a hylian, does he have a choice other than to comply?

Another thing to consider is how all except one coliseum is in the depths, while most of the life down there, as we know it, belongs solely to monsters and the reanimated dead. Did Hylians even go down there? How did they get down there? Were there Hylians that lived down there? Did there use to be other people down there to watch? I am unsure.

That's all just about the basic setting and circumstances, what bout Gladiator Link? What is their specific lore? I may need help brainstorming lmao.

[glitterbuns]

WIP Ask Game

Thanks @haste-waste for the tag :)

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

[Note: Many have stupid code names. I also didn't bother with proper punctuation in many instances, so I'll transcribe the titles as they are, lol.]

1- the first = first chapter in my Hyrule ""History book"" (100% based on BOTW's map, with nods to the rest of the games. Zelink is central and romantic in this first part, however, it's not always romantic)). Fun fact: there are many Zelda OCs, since all the first born girls are called Zelda, so each of them has a nickname (or several) through which they are known to History (or should I say: Herstory?)

2- au = Orpheus and Eurydice Zelink AU (set in the BOTW/TOTK universe. Yeah, there's a pattern here... Oops)

3- Little Birds = post-TOTK (like 15 years after). It's an epilogue inspired by the last chapter+epilogue in Mockingjay. Guess the ship...

4- Post-Pre 1 & 1 (I just realised I wrote the same story twice in different files (they're not a 100% the same scenes, but they're different scenes from the same story) = post BOTW, pre TOTK. It's not very developed, but my idea was exploring Zelda's mental state after the Calamity, and filling gaps between the games. Yes, it's Zelink (in many different ways)

5- Summer Solstice /Yearning = post BOTW, pre TOTK. A lot of Zelink yearning, yes, but I started writing it because I wanted to write about the Soltice's mysticism and the traditions Hateno's people follow, so I focus a lot on descriptions of clothing, dancing, rituals...

6- Forbidden = pre-Calamity Zelink smut. Only there's no in-text smut and it's all about the emotional aftermath. It was inspired by a gif

7- Random Scenes = supposed to be part of WIP 2 mentioned above. The title is plural but there's only one scene of less than 200 words, lol

I am obviously ✨obsessed✨. Honestly, when it comes to FanFiction, I've always been a reader; my writing has always been about original characters and original stories, despite the amount of fandoms I've belonged to over the years. That is, until I played BOTW. It inspired me so, so much, more than anything I've ever played/read/watched before...

Anyway:

If we're mutuals, you're tagged (I don't dare to tag anyone, I'm too shy :( sorry)

[cheetoschildren]

WELCOME TO THE CHEETOVERSE!

Here, I have gathered all of my brain children (and a few grandchildren) into one place so you can ask them/talk to them about stuff!

**I AM WORKING ON CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS FOR THE INCOMPLETE ONES. THE MOST FLESHED OUT CHARACTERS ALREADY HAVE ONE.**

--If I accidentally reblog something over here, just ignore it. I'll fix it eventually.--

-RULES-

-Send as many asks as you like! :D

-Roleplaying is OKAY and ENCOURAGED!!!

-Asking as your OC is okay!

-Roleplaying as characters from the fandoms they're from is okay!

-NSFW topics are NOT OKAY and WILL NOT BE ANSWERED

-Anon asks are turned off so that if you decide to be hateful, I can tell who it is. To distinguish your RP characters, if you have several, pick an emoji for each, and put it at the bottom of the ask! :D

-Please do not fight with each other :) it is stressful for me

-I don't have many reaction images of the characters themselves to use. I need to work on that and do expression practice with all of em lol. I'll substitute with other images.

-Don't harass! :D

-Rules will be added as needed~

Universes They Belong To

Mila - 2012TMNT/Tangled the Series

Diana - 2012TMNT/ROTTMNT

Abigail - ROTTMNT

Nova, Mirror Mirage - MLP

Selene, Vidette, Hunter, Charlotte, Harper - Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

Egg - TDAC

Ashlyn - Dwampyverse (specifically Milo Murphy's Law)

Mei, Nix - Invader Zim Sky, Star, Venus, Holly, Saturn - TSAMS

Character Ages

Mirror Mirage - older than Nova Nova - 320+, but has the intelligence of a young adult. Selene - 23 (Married) Diana - 23 (rottmnt), 14 (2012 TMNT) Vidette - 21 (Married) Mei - between 16 and 19 depending on the storyline (Married) Star - 17 Ashlyn - 16 Venus - 15 Abigail - 14 Mila - 12 Sky - 10 Holly - 9 Egg - 9 Saturn - Technically a few months old, but has the intelligence of an adult.

(Occasionally existing kids)

Vidette's kids: -Hunter - 8 (Born first) -Charlotte - 8 (Born Second) Selene's kid: -Harper - 6 Mei's kid: -Nix - baby or toddler

✨OCS/DESCRIPTIONS✨

🐈‍⬛ #Abigail (Rottmnt) Abby charater description

🛸 #Mei Membrane (Invader Zim) Mei character description

🐈 #Mila Hamato (TMNT2012/Tangled) Mila character description

-Moodboard

🦢 #Diana Leery (TMNT2012/ROTTMNT) Diana character description (WIP)

-Moodboard

🦋 #Nova Calamity (MLP G4/5) Nova character description

🪞 -Mirror Mirage (MLP G4/5) Mirror character description (WIP)

🌦️ #Cloudy Skies (Fnaf/Tsams) Sky character description

✨ -Star (Fnaf/Tsams)

🐊 -Venus (Fnaf/Tsams)

👻 #Holly/harvest moon (Tsams) Holly character description

🪐 #Saturn (Tsams) Saturn character description

💔 #Vidette (Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss) Vidette character description

🐇 -Egg (TDAC) ( )

🕰️-Ashlyn Chance (Milo Murphy's Law/P&F/H&G) Ashlyn Character Description (WIP)

[prismaticstarshch]

some more muse rambling:

Terra, true to her cottonmouth motifs, has a white mouth, fangs (and literal venom), and can be semi-aquatic if she wants to be

Heartsong dated Candy Bomb in the past, but the two eventually drifted apart (while staying on good terms with each other)

Heartsong is the most likely to try to give people nicknames

LW!Bive’s concept came about because of a random combination of thoughts like “I wonder if she’d fit into LW” and “with her being a conspiracy theorist/self-proclaimed detective she’d probably wanna dig into what’s going on with Asgard, Lunar Events, the Underworlds, etc.”

the fact that 4 of my AO muses’ names begin with “A” is sheer coincidence, it never was intentional

if my AO OCs had their reputations inverted, Abigail would be deceptive and manipulative, Aisha would be boisterous and still chaotic while also being eager to do the right thing, Zoey, Aura, Amber, and Elvira would be pure nightmares to deal with, and Cleo would be shyer and more reserved

Elvira wields a katana partially because of Zoey

Zoey’s spirit weapons originally belonged to her father (who came from the Ryujin Dynasty)

The flowers on Zoey’s staff aren’t real and were added by her; they’re extremely durable so they don’t get damaged during fights

Abigail is extremely prone to self-neglect due to her prioritizing helping others over taking care of herself

Abigail and Aisha have the worst issues with being vulnerable (Abigail doesn’t want others to worry about her and Aisha doesn’t want to be seen as “weak”)

Abigail is conflict-averse and would rather talk instead of fighting, but is well aware that not everyone can be reasoned with (she also tends to apologize before fighting)

Abigail getting pissed off somehow would startle people because she rarely ever gets angry for any reason

Abigail likes collecting seashells and gemstones, which she’ll use to make things like jewelry to give to her friends (if she isn’t using them for brewing potions or jewelcrafting)

Aisha constantly brews insanity potions so she can play dirty in combat

Aisha is obsessed with being in control of situations and despises feeling powerless

Abigail never wants to fight Aisha, but Aisha always forces her hand

None of my AO muses are bad at cooking, but Abigail would be the best at it

In-universe, Abigail has a mosquito build

Aura being a glass cannon in-game applies in-universe as well

Zoey and Aura have a “straight man and wise guy” dynamic, where Zoey serves as the “straight man” (the rational, sane, and logical person) while Aura is the “wise guy” (the goofier person who presents wisecracks, puns, and wackiness and riffs off of the straight man)

Aura has the “golden retriever personality”

With the exception of Abigail (where canonicity with levels is applied to her), all of the skills my AO OCs use are inconsistent with their levels because yes

Soleil is a natural thaumaturge (miracle-worker) due to her divine lineage as a Celestial

Soleil is a direct descendant of Astralis Celestus, the matriarch of the four Columnae who the Aetherans refer to as the Aether’s “mother goddess”

Nadira was once a goddess, but fell from grace due to her use of black magic that eventually spawned the Aetheran Corruption

Both Komasa and Reviela are black mages, but neither of them have been driven insane by their magics’ influence due to their strong willpower

Lunae Lumen!Red is basically fully a robotic vampire due to some things that were done to her before she fled

Dianna would probably be the most likely to be asked “how are you still alive?”

Dianna doesn’t fit one particular class because she uses both melee weapons and magic

Dianna has weapons that don’t exist in Calamity Mod, “Sunderer’s Ark” and her “Collector’s Grimoire”

Going off of the fact that Calamitas makes some morbid remarks in her dialogue, she has a very dark sense of humor, particularly when it comes to death

[nights-flying-fox]

✨️ Hi hi hello, welcome!! I'm Nighty, and I reblog a lot of stuff*, sometimes draw and write too. Both fanart & oc art!! 💖

*if you don't want to see most of my reblogs block my queue tag: #a pie for you & a queue for me

💫 For more art: @nightsfoxart ♡ For more writing: @nightyslibrary 🐢 tmnt side account (still a wip): @eughboi

⚠️ pr*sh*p / neutral etc. DNI ‼️

🪐 My ko-fi page!!

🌌 My commissions are open!!

🐾 My carrd!!

🦊 Art Tag: nighty arty ▪︎ Writing Tag: nighty write -y ▪︎ random posts: nighty talky ▪︎ lists and such: nighty archive

|☆ | ◇ | ♡ |

Linktree for more social media ig

🌠 Portal Fam Server!! Click here to join!!

🪻 I've made a list for TMNT Events!! Click here to check it out!! ♡

💜 AU Tags:

🐀 Animaniacs: Toons (Storks AU) • There's a Beast in There • Pirates AU

🐢 ROTTMNT: Dimension Hopper Leo AU MASTERPOST • Where You Belong (Separated AU) • Let's Grab a Slice Together • Hopelessly Surviving AU (Resurrected Leo AU) • A Turtle Like Me, A Turtle Like You Masterpost • GENERAL AU MASTERPOST

🌟 Fandom Tags / Masterlist ⬇️

🪶 Some of the stuff that I find myself thinking about them 7/24: tmnt/rottmnt (rise leo is the blorbo), hazbin hotel (alastor & rosie friendship aaa), warrior cats (longtail, hollyleaf, hawkfrost my beloveds), kingdom hearts (khux & days), the legend of zelda (miphvali & botw zelink), linked universe (legend is fav), animaniacs, pokemon (unova ftw)...

tLoZ - Breath of the Wild

Art - Fics:

-Warmth (Zelink / One-shot) AO3

-Christmas Together (Multichapter Modern AU Xmas Fic / Ongoing / Includes Zelink and Miphvali) AO3 [currently on hiatus]

-Following the Silent Princess (Modern AU / includes Zelink and Miphvali / multichaptered ongoing) AO3 [currently on hiatus]

Zines: By Your Side Zelink Zine

tLoZ - Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity

Art | Fics:

-Mountain Walk (Miphvali / One-shot) AO3 | Chinease Translation (AO3)

-For You (Zelink / written for Fated: Through Time digital zine / one-shot) AO3

Animaniacs

Art | Fics:

-Welcome Back, Doc (Space Jam: New Legacy crossover fic / multichaptered ongoing / Dad Bugs) AO3 [on hiatus but might finish it before the end of may <3 ]

-Years Ago, A Winter Night (Wakko's Wish fic / a lot of angst & hurt/comfort / multichapter & completed / XMas fic) AO3 | Playlist

-Happy Allergies Dot!! (one-shot / Dot centered) AO3

-Guilt Is Eating Him Up (one-shot / lots of angst & hurt/comfort / Wakko centered) AO3

-Toons (Storks AU / multichaptered ongoing / kinda on hiatus??) AO3

-There's a Beast in There (Beauty and the Beast AU but without any romance / multichaptered ongoing / *holds it gently* this one is my fav) AO3

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Art | Fics:

-A Friend Against Dark (Raph centered / fluff / pre-series / one-shot) AO3

-Finish the Tale, Ven, Please? (Where You Belong AU / fluff / one-shot) AO3 * tumblr

-finding your stellar association (for @/ashwii's Celestial AU / one-shot / fluff) AO3 * tumblr

-so I dive straight back in the ocean (hurt/comfort / post-movie / Leo centric / one-shot) AO3 * tumblr | playlist

-Little Talks with a Big Robot Turtle (for @/somerandomdudelmao's Cass Apocalyptic Series / Raph centric / fluff / one-shot) AO3 * tumblr

-Deep (Purple) Thoughts (and Realizations) (Donnie centered / post-movie / angst & hurt/comfort / multichaptered ongoing) AO3

-Last Resort (Mikey centric / bad future timeline / Let's Grab a Slice Together AU but you don't have to know about it to read it / angst (with a bit of comfort??) / one-shot ) AO3

Warrior Cats

Fics:

-One Last Night (Leafpool x Hawkfrost / one-shot) AO3 | Turkish Translation

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, OC First Encounter, Seven Sentence Sunday & Top Ten Songs on Repeat

Tagged by the lovelies @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @raresvtm @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard and @yokobai + anyone else who'd like to join.

Music for an original character, Rouske, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and The UnTitledverse, Seven Sentences for a Life, Despair & Monsters WIP, OC First Encounter for The Silver Chronicles and my top ten songs on repeat. Listen and read below the cut:

In my Fallout 4 WIP A Symbol For A Better World from my A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore series, I take a lot of joy in writing out my Sole Survivor OC Nate Gust Sarid being in charge of the Minutemen, especially with Ress' influence. Like Nate is pretty charismatic (in an odd sort of way) and has a fundamental understanding on how recruitment works, but Ress has been apart of her family's crime boss management and has witnessed how other factions use certain values to recruit others, including her own brother. Considering how low in numbers and scattered the Minutemen are, Nate devises a plan with Ress to start making advertisements (with the help of Piper) to convince people to join the Minutemen, a form of passive-aggressive combat against the Brotherhood of Steel's propaganda, with one core value being "belonging". This also helps Nate better convince Danse to join the Minutemen when the latter is found out to be a synth; especially since Danse has come across/heard the advertisements and even teamed up with Nate at that point in the WIP, that the idea of joining the Minutemen doesn't seem that far fetched of an option when presented.

"Young man, there's no need to feel down I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town There's no need to be unhappy Young man, there's a place you can go I said, young man, when you're short on your dough You can stay there and I'm sure you will find Many ways to have a good time

It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A They have everything For young men to enjoy You can hang out with all the boys It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A You can get yourself clean You can have a good meal You can do whatever you feel

Young man, are you listening to me? I said, young man, what do you wanna be? I said, young man, you can make real your dreams But you've got to know this one thing No man does it all by himself I said, young man, put your pride on the shelf And just go there to the Y.M.C.A I'm sure they can help you today!"

Rouske is a character who is as covered in layers as he is full of contradictions. He's the archbishop of Yahar'ghul, practically it's leader, therefore representing Yahar'ghul itself (the violence, depravity, callousness towards life and just the horrible self-inflicted nature of it all) and yet, in spite of this horribleness that he acknowledges within himself, aspires to save people by taking them into the Paragon of Extinction's dreamscape while it burns the multiverse out once awoken. He is often the most calm, self-disciplined and speaks with a refined vocabulary, which contrasts him from his fellows. He is closer to the disposable Pthurmerian Snatchers who barely make a noise beyond a snarl than he is to his self-interested human cohorts who are either loud and obnoxious or as refined as he is, just with less politeness. Rouske both has faith in his plan and yet has various doubts, but in the end never backs down from completing it. But everything gets even more ambiguous with his relationship with a woman from his past. She isn't named beyond being referred to as a "yūrei" (hence the quotations), which if the translator is correct is a Japanese word for "specter" or even "ghost". Which by Rouske's POV, she is; an apparition from his past only ever viewed in one memory of his. In no other circumstances is she ever shown beyond this one muddled memory Rouske has of her. Sometimes the older cohorts of Yahar'ghul refer to her but their information on her are often contradicting and vague, merely rumor. Rouske is the sole person to even have an interaction with her, although the reliability of Rouske's memory of her is questionable. Descriptions of her often change, the setting too, and their relationship is intentionally left unclear; is she his mother? Sister? Family member? Her vocabulary is described as being just as refined and similar to his own. A friend? Lover? Crush? Rival? Enemy? Outcast? Stranger? Future successor or the previous Archbishop? Nothing is clear... and will never be clear, since Rouske has been alive for so long that traveling the Multiverse that his memories aren't what they used to be. The only consistent thing he remembers about her are her words to him; something that rattles him to the present day. Makes him question Yahar'ghul's horrible traditions. Regardless, his refusal to fully remember her and his interaction with her has a thematic reason; the main theme of this concept of a WIP I'm not going to write is "Memories" and "Remembrance", which also acts as a key to being able to "change yourself as a person". Whereas the protagonists succeed in this, Rouske is showing an utter refusal to do so; whatever pain he associates with "Yūrei" and the truth behind her words hurt more than acknowledging he has done wrong and should cease this destructive plan and face the unfairness of the multiverse instead of running and escaping from it. He refuses to remember "Yūrei" fully, and being the one person who even managed to crack his faith in Yahar'ghul's traditions, he also refuses to see himself beyond what he's been taught; only that he is from Yahar'ghul, and Yahar'ghul is nothing but horrible.

"I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole The old, familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time The feelings disappear You are someone else I am still right here

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

If I could start again A million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way."

And finally, some OC stuff on Leslie Who from The UnTitledverse series and how his bond with his son Samuel Who and his mentorship over Joaquin Cobalt shape their lives. For Samuel, Leslie's parenting of him allows the boy to carry the values of kindness and faith even in the Pride Ring of Hell, looking out for his loved ones (especially Charlie Morningstar) and the little guy. Meanwhile, Leslie's mentorship over Joaquin gives the young boy a stable adult figure in his life, one who instills in him the values of mercy and forgiveness and to focus on what matters (like his friends and family of choice) rather than his own short-term pursuits (instant vengeance against Edward Carmine and being of service to an authority that seemingly aligns to his moral ideals). Love my grandpa OC rising to his mid 70s who has a son that's an advisor to Hell's royal family and a kid he's basically a parental figure to who's the leader of a multiverse task force that regularly kick the asses of fascists and whatnot. And both Samuel and Joaquin are trans, so trans ally old man for the win.

("Hey!") "Once upon a younger year When all our shadows disappeared The animals inside came out to play When face to face with all our fears Learned our lessons through the tears Made memories we knew would never fade

One day my father, he told me, "Son, don't let it slip away" He took me in his arms, I heard him say "When you get older, your wild heart will live for younger days Think of me if ever you're afraid"

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind So live a life you will remember" My father told me when I was just a child "These are the nights that never die" My father told me

When thunderclouds start pouring down Light a fire they can't put out Carve your name into those shining stars He said, "Go venture far beyond the shores Don't forsake this life of yours I'll guide you home no matter where you are"

One day my father, he told me, "Son, don't let it slip away" He took me in his arms, I heard him say "When you get older, your wild heart will live for younger days Think of me if ever you're afraid"

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind So live a life you will remember" My father told me when I was just a child "These are the nights that never die" My father told me

These are the nights that never die My father told me

My father told me!"

Here's a six sentence snippet of my Guenevere WIP where recently married/crowned Guenevere ends up (somehow) lost in woods far from wandering in the kingdom's gardens earlier. So she takes aid from a noble gentleman who seems to know the way back. If only she knew what awaited her...

When I looked down and met his eyes, I found myself briefly still; never before had I seen such rings be as dark as the pupils within. I would go as far and say they were almost void.

A chill rippled across my skin, goosebumps summoned and a minor thought said, Run.

But it was fleeting, the thought, for how ridiculous it is that I should be afraid of such a short, non-threatening nobleman. Especially when he was wearing such an oddly square hat.

I didn't have much other option either, considering he was likely my only way back to the wedding and out of the woods. And I doubted he'd risk doing nefarious deeds on Camelot's newly crowned queen of a beloved king. At least I hoped not...

"Shall we get going, your majesty?" Sir Enigma asked with a smile, gesturing to his odd carriage, breaking me out of my thoughts.

And lastly my top ten repeating songs:

"This Comes From Inside" by The Living Tombstone

"Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

"Silence" by Marshmello ft. Khalid

"Let You Down" by NF

"Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow

"Skin And Bones" by David Kushner

"Outro" by M83

"Sweet Oblivion" by David Kushner

"At All Costs" by Chris Pines & Ariana DeBose

"The Line" by Twenty One Pilots

[everestseal]

I love your religious imagery concepts so fucking much! Perhaps an angel character? I'm very curious about how you'd design it

i've had a few angel ocs over the years! the most prominent one was probably Azrael, the angel of deah, who was meant to show up later on in the (now mostly defunct) project once known as Infernal Agents. their human design is in desperate need of a rework, should i decide to use them again, but here's a bit of their trueform design that i finally settled on at some point. they have a terrifying reputation, what with the plagues of egypt and all, but in present day they're very laid back and unbothered by the affairs of mortals.

then there's Jerahmeel, formerly Eremiel, aka my favorite little bastard. their whole concept is that they're meant to be an overseer to the damned souls of hell, presenting themself as a gentle guide who will lead you down the path to redemption; but in reality they are just another facet of hell's tortures, existing to dangle the metaphorical carrot from a stick. theoretically, one can redeem themselves and escape hell by completing the path that jerahmeel presents, but to do so is to face torment far beyond whatever level of hell you've been initially damned to, all the while being trailed by a sickly sweet, passive-aggressive commentator who delights in witnessing your judgement.

like i said, Azrael's project is pretty much scrapped, and Jerahmeel never belonged to any particular verse, so idk what i'm gonna end up doing with them besides weird art. maybe i'll incorporate them into Calamity Watch? that way i wouldn't have to take their lore too seriously.

[zelda-without-a-licence-plate]

I CAN'T BELIEVE. I FORGOT TO POST THE DESIGN SHEET FOR. OUR BOY. MY BOY??? MY PRECIOUS BOY!!!!!!!

Introducingggggggg Jacopo! An oc that we made for our botw-prequel/hwaoc-rewrite fic. He's a Watarara, which is a sort of very culturally significant magical bard for the Rito. He's the younger brother of Revali, and the youngest fully-fledged Watarara in several generations and is regarded within his village as an incredibly gifted musician and poet. He also ended up being the teacher of Kass, who, 100 years later, is the only remaining trained Watarara in once-Hyrule.

(more info, lore and design thought process under the cut)

King Rhoam thought Jacopo was gifted, too. On a customary visit to the northern Rito a couple years ago, he found Jacopo's bardic abilities very impressive and invited him to come live at Hyrule Castle as the royal court poet. Jacopo accepted, of course, because he was 14 and it was an incredibly glamorous offer from the King of Hyrule, what was he going to do, say NO? But this also caused a major conflict to arise between him and Revali, then 16, who believed it was an insult and betrayal for Jacopo to use his cultural gifts as a Watarara to serve the king of Hyrule, a conquering nation that had deeply screwed over the Rito several times over in the past and which Revali staunchly believed the Rito should be independent from. They got into a huge fight and things have been rocky between them since, they've barely spoken. Revali was technically right, of course, but that doesn't make Jacopo wrong, per se-- again, what was he gonna do, say no?

It all only gets more complicated when Revali later becomes the Rito Champion. These two brothers love each other very much but unfortunately are both so stubborn and so so dramatic.

Since then Jacopo has had a nice time living in the castle as the court poet. He's good friends with Zelda-- maybe has a bit of a crush on her but their friendship is much more important. He likes the food and the mild weather, but aside from the princess, he doesn't have many friends and often feels lonely and homesick. The thing he loves most in the world is Grand, Epic Tournaments.

Since the foretelling of the coming Calamity, he has been preparing to witness it all, the buildup and the ultimate showdown of the ages between the forces of good and evil, so he may write the epic ballads about the brave heroes that shall win the day and save everyone. He already has chord progressions in mind.

Anyways, Anon and I decided to make him a cardinal, because Revali is a bluejay and cardinals and bluejays are two birds that look like they belong in the same category but actually aren't related at all, they're completely different types of birds. They're both adopted, but are related by blood and were adopted together along with their older sister-- yes, Revali is the middle child. Their sister is also a similar looking but actually completely different kind of bird-- uhhh we just haven't settled on which bird yet haha.

Ultimately, the most important thing about Jacopo is he is a little baby potato chip sweetheart and I love him so so much and so should you

[nniiqs]

heres my terraria calamity character that became an OC, aka the world’s most fucked up cat girl 

other character belongs to @astral-cataclysm

[ohorishan]

a sudden blaze

A forger, a fence's guard, a late-night handoff gone wrong-- these two sudden allies don't remotely expect what happens instead.

1500 words, ~20 years pre-Calamity, oc x oc exact opposite of a slow burn. It's Ori's parents' backstory! Here Be Smoochin'.

-

Otan Ketan is having a very bad night.

He was sure there had been something fishy about the last-minute change of rendezvous, but Jannemont had insisted on making the handoff, and of course the old fraud wasn't going to do it himself.

So now here he is, backed down a dark alley at the business end of a blade, with two distinctly unfriendly personages looming over him. Bit overkill sending an extra, he thinks resentfully. It's not like looming over him is hard.

"Now, what's gonna happen, Professor–" the big Hyur's voice is all self-satisfied scorn– "is you're gonna hand over them scrolls, and maybe my associate here lets you keep an eye." The Miqo'te beside him draws a smaller, but certainly no less sharp, knife.

Otan Ketan clutches the round leather case and swallows hard. "I'm guessing you don't work for Tatashai, then," he says. "He'd never be this messy."

"Messy–?"

Was that movement, in the shadows behind the pair of thugs? "You're a big man," says Otan Ketan, reaching for a bluff. "Noticeable, you might say. Care to bet no one saw you come down this way? What are the odds, do you think?"

"He's stalling," the Miqo'te hisses. "I say we–"

There's a silver flash in the darkness, and the man drops his knife, clutching his suddenly bleeding wrist. "What in hells–" the Hyur starts, and then he folds knees-first onto the cobbled ground. He doesn't get the chance to yell before there's a dagger in his neck.

The mystery assailant turns, a second dagger in hand, but the Miqo'te has vanished already. "Thal's balls," says a surprisingly light voice. "Least he don't have the goods, right?"

She bends and retrieves both blades, her own and the abandoned one. When she stands up again, Otan Ketan finds himself face to slightly higher face with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

He wordlessly shows her the leather case for confirmation, still safely in his arms. "Huh," the vision says. "You was all talk a second ago. Ain't concussed, are you?"

She reverses the dagger deftly in her off hand and uses the pommel to tilt his chin up, then back and forth, tracking the movement of his eyes with her own. Hers are flawless jade, the kind of gems he only dreams of recreating, a clear and perfect green even in the scant torchlight. Those eyes belong in a palace somewhere, not the dingy back end of a Horizon alley. 

"You're all right," she says, more a command than a question. "Come on."

-

The apartment she takes him to is a second-floor back room, accessed by a precarious ladder, which she pulls up after them. The door on the other side is firmly bolted.

"Not back to Jannemont?" he'd said, when it had become apparent she was leading him in the opposite direction.

"He sent you, right? Can't be sure he ain't in on it," she'd replied. Then she had gestured very clearly for him to hush, and so he'd hushed.

"We can talk here," she says now. "'S my own personal saferoom. Even Tatashai don't know about it."

"Then why…?" Otan Ketan gestures to himself. "I mean, you don't even know me."

The woman plants her hands on her hips. Gods, she's even beautiful when she frowns. "I'm Ririzu," she says. "And you're–?"

"Otan Ketan," he says immediately. He could no more hold back an answer than he could stop breathing.

"There," says Ririzu, "now I know you and you know me. Sit down, Otan Ketan, you look half stunned."

Half stunned, he sits.

The room isn't much, and there isn't much in it. Ririzu rummages around among the sparse furnishings– low table, single stool, sleeping mat rolled up in a corner, a few chests and a lockbox– and comes up with a dusty bottle, half full. The liquor inside is stronger than he's used to and tastes of anise, and he sputters a little swallowing it, but it does help.

"What do we do now?" he says.

She paces, still frowning. "I don't know. Them two alley thugs– I never seen 'em before, and that concerns me some. Have another, it won't kill you."

He does, and he barely coughs at all this time. "Do you always get men drunk after you rescue them from assassins?"

"You're the first," she says, not missing a beat. "It ain't like Jannemont not to double check a rendezvous, either."

"You're right at that," Otan Ketan says. "He's a fool, but he's a cautious fool. And if Tatashai didn't change it, then–"

Ririzu fetches up by the table again. "Something's wrong," she says, thumping its surface, "and I'm taking you nowhere 'til I know what it is."

"You'll get no argument from me," says Otan Ketan. He passes the bottle to her. She takes a stiff belt and passes it back.

"Gods. All this for, what, some phony papers?"

"They're historical records," he says, pride a bit stung, "or, you know, they’re meant to be."

"Daft thing to try to kill a man over. Right– let's see them." And she begins to unfasten the case.

"I'm not sure you're meant to–"

"Oh, let a lady have her fun," she says. "Ain't often I get to inspect the merchandise." The wink she shoots him fills his stomach with a heat that has nothing to do with the liquor.

He's accustomed to waiting patiently while someone else examines his handiwork. He has to be, in this career. A nervous forger is a dead forger. Nevertheless, he watches with his heart racing as Ririzu slides the scrolls carefully from their case and spreads them on the table.

Her bright eyes widen. She gives a low and quite unladylike whistle, and Otan Ketan feels another wash of heat slide into his stomach.

"These are–" she breathes, and then trails off, transfixed.

"Good, I hope?"

"Better than good," she says. "I ain't an expert, but– why in seven hells are you working for an fraud like Jannemont? Hand like this, you ought to be in the cities. Or one of them fancy museums, maybe."

It's so exactly what he'd thought about her that he can't help but laugh. Those jade eyes snap over to him. 

"I don't say nothing I don't mean," she insists. "You got a talent, Otan Ketan. You could go anywhere." It isn’t what he meant, but– the way she says it, not flattery, simply a statement of fact, is better than any compliment could be. He opens his mouth to say something in response, although for the life of him he doesn't know what it'll be–

"That's it," Ririzu says suddenly.

He blinks away the surprise of missing the mental step. "What is?"

"We'll leave. Together. Tonight, if you want. You make the goods, I’ll be your guard–"

"But– your job here, and Jannemont–"

"Thal take Jannemont," she interrupts, in a sudden blaze of passion, "and Thal take Tatashai too, they’re gods-damned fools who don't know what they got. They can keep the damn scrolls, split 'em or sell 'em or toss 'em down the gorge– you and me, we could be something."

She ought to sound stark mad, but she doesn't, not at all. In fact he finds he's risen from his seat to meet her– to study her face the way he'd study a painting, to find and capture its every detail. "Gods," he says, "you really mean it."

"I told you, I don't say nothing I don't mean." He has it now, her expression. There's no word for it, but he knows it well– it's the look a person wears when they almost hope and don’t dare. "So, Otan Ketan… what d'you think?"

What does he think? A thousand thoughts fight for space, and the one that emerges first is–

"I think," he says, "you can probably just call me Otan."

The breath she lets out is half laugh, half unlooked-for relief. "Bit familiar, ain't it?"

“Well, you’ve already saved my life and proposed to sweep me off to fortune and glory.” She’s so close, the scant space between them all sparks. “I think– Ririzu– you can be as familiar as you like.”

“Is that so,” she says, and she takes his face between both of her hands and kisses him hard.

He hasn’t had much to compare it to, but he’s sure it’s the best kiss of his life. Her callused hands are warm on his skin, and her mouth is warm and shockingly soft and still tastes of anise, and he reaches his own hands for her and around her, overwhelmingly and delightedly aware of every place her body presses against his. 

“Come with me,” she murmurs into his lips.

“Anywhere,” he says, which earns him more kissing, his hips backed into the table and her hand firm in his hair. He’s distantly aware of her other hand starting to undo the fastenings of his shirt.

“Although I think,” says Ririzu, “it can wait ‘til morning.”

Otan Ketan just nods. He’s about to have a very good night.