#Base Link in Desc

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Some Derpy Ahh Dragons Bcs I said so (+ Ad for my F2U Bases on TH)

Anyways some goobers I made using a base I created (for no reason other than I was bored). (Also kinda my own versions of the Canon Tribes so don't get mad at me just bcs they don't look somewhat similar to the Canon designs one bit)

These are the names btw lol:

Ice: Irves (Mongolian Name for Snow Leopard)

Mud: Tadpole (Baby Frogs/Toads)

Rain: Guzmania (A type of flower)

Sea (Not meant to look like Anemone btw >:( ): Squat (Hairy Squat Lobber)

Sky: Meteor (Space Rock)

Also since this is uh... A AD! Here's are the bases on Toyhouse.

The Bases are free to use. But if you do use them plz credit me, by either crediting my tumblr (aka this blog) or my TH (BubsTheeWeirdBlobbo).

Characters are mine. (They are random OCs btw not official unless you ppl want me to make them official)

Art is mine.

Program: Ibispaint x

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[chimura-arts]

1, 2, 3 SWAG!! ♦✨

[horse-shit]

i am. losing my mind

[the-foundation-sys]

☆SIMPLY PLURAL NOTES GAME

we really struggle with motivation 'n stuff , but we're trying to completely rework our sp at the moment and it's hard to do that so WE'RE GONNA TRY ONE OF THESE !! ( since we have ADHD and this is far more motivating to us then just knowing we need to do it )

Every 1 note = member profile added

5 notes = we jot down how we want the sp groups to look

10 notes = we make the base sp groups

25 notes = we make ALL the groups

35 notes = we add full descriptions with pictures and gifs to all the groups

50 notes = we remake our system desc and profile

75 notes = we make a rentry link for all our system terminology

125 notes = we rework our sp chats and categories COMPLETELY

let's see if sysblr works its magic

[etherealily]

ℙ𝔸ℝ𝕋𝕀ℂ𝕌𝕃𝔸ℝ 𝕊𝕆𝕄𝔼𝕋ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾 // f.odair.

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time. Based on this ask , as well as this one (@aestheticallygaming ) <3

Part 1 : Birds Of A Feather

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Finally wrote a happy ending. Are you proud?

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: beautiful souls and blobcakes.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Everyone knew where you lived. The entirety of Panem, surely.

It's a huge reason you'd been cooped up in your home since the Games, since Rue's death. You've been so terribly worried that the hatred for your failure during your first time as a mentor was a nationwide phenomenon.

In reality, no one cared much. As much as 11 were worthy contenders in the Games, some 12 year old girl who sang like a mockingjay but hid during the majority of the Games — not to mention, formed an alliance with District Twelve — wasn't exactly the national focus.

The only memory of Rue, unfortunately, was linked to the alliance, to the Twelve Victor.

Katniss had made a poster out of Rue, a form of defiance to the Capitol. And as much as you couldn't blame this sixteen-year-old-girl for grieving the way she did, you just wished she could have defied the Capitol and kept Rue alive.

Not like she couldn't, right?

She kept her District partner alive.

Fine. No use being bitter. Two Victors — yes, two! — was enough of a fuck-you to the Capitol. You were just glad you didn't have to see it all this while.

But now it's time. Victory Tour.

Rue's family couldn't follow you back into the Victor's Village, could they? So they couldn't come to shoot you in the night.

That's being harsh on them. Really fucking harsh. They were lovely people. They wouldn't do anything of the sort.

So, bravely, you stumbled out into the square to watch the speeches. It seemed that the boy recognized you, but didn't want to comment on it. The girl seemed like she was this close to commenting on it. It. Not you. No, it, the bottle you were clutching to your heart. She probably got deja vu, seeing as her mentor was married to the thing.

Another reason that the hiding away from everyone left you completely protected : Finnick Odair couldn't take your bottle away from you. Yeesh. It's been a while since you thought about him. Fucking weirdo, is what your muddled brain could recall. Holier-than-thou Capitol bootlicker. Right, that made more sense than the first impression you'd had of him — that he actually cared. Right. Like that thing could care.

And then the shot.

Bang.

Dead.

Oak!

You'd have gone and throttled that Peacekeeper onto the ground had Rue's dad not yanked you back and dragged your kicking and screaming form back home. His home, not your Capitol-sanctioned abode.

"Peacekeeper my fucking ass!", you shrieked, trying to have another go at the square again, see if you can't knock a couple teeth out of him at least, so he could never say 'Peacekeeper' without being mocked for his lisp.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, easy."

It took a couple more 'easy's for you to actually ease up.

And then it came all at once. The tears, the apologies, the trembles, the screams. And, in an entirely cruel and ironic twist of fate, it was Rue's family comforting you.

The guilt that came after that would never leave you, for sure.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Nearly a year later, and you're still clutching the bottle, but more in hopes that the glass would crack and you'd be declared injured. Or dead. Depends.

Seeder gently takes the bottle off your hands, and strokes your hair. "Hey. Hey, if you get reaped, I'm volunteering, baby, okay?"

She's gotta be fucking kidding. What is it with everyone and treating you like you were fragile? It'd be a much more dignified death if you died in the arena than if you died here, glass in your wrist and bleeding out in a fucking Capitol-crafted bathtub.

"No, I'm not letting you do that, Seeder, no."

"Hey. Listen, I'm not letting you go in there again, baby, okay? You've barely had any time to process losing your first set of tributes."

"Seeder, I can't let someone else die again when I could've stopped it!"

She sighs, smiling sadly as she lowers herself down next to you in the bathtub. "You couldn't have stopped Rue's death, or Thresh's, or Old Man Oak's death out in the square last year. You couldn't have, to put it simply. And as for me, it's my time, baby. Who knows, I could win. Fingers crossed that the other Victors are all senile, huh? All the Careers past their primes? Hm? I'll volunteer for you, baby."

No. You'd decided. You weren't fucking letting her do this shit.

"No, no. You're not—"

Both your heads whip around at the same time. The phone.

"How about you get that, alright? We'll talk about this later."

"Alright, but you're not volunteering!"

"Love you, baby, pick up, the ringing gets to me, you know that!", she grunts, standing up and dusting herself off.

"SEEDER! Listen to me, I— hey, I'm NOT letting you volun— fuck , shut up, alright, I'm coming!", you cut yourself off, ripping the phone from its stand.

You pick up the phone and he swears the universe paused.

"Hey." Discomfort. Not because of him, thank god, but discomfort was present in your voice nevertheless.

"How are you?" It's Reaping Day, you absolute fuckass, she's losing her mind.

"Okay. I mean, it's Reaping Day, so I guess as good as can be."

He smiles. He can work with that.

"You receive any more blobcakes?"

He's pretty sure he'd added them in, special request, to your monthly Victor-loot since he'd met you. He'd made it a priority.

"No. Why, you wanted some?" What the fuck? You hadn't? Oh, a couple ex-District 1 Avoxes were going to get a talking-to.

He shrugs. "Yeah."

Whoo, there he was, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance. He's glad Finnick, normal old District 4 Finnick isn't showing up. He's the kind that would have an aneurysm if he'd known a pretty girl like you had picked up voluntarily.

Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, his suaver persona, was active when the two of you were in the Capitol, and he's pretty sure that's the only reason you tolerated him.

"Well, y'know. Surviving Reaping Day was kinda higher on my bucket list."

"Right, right. Well, relax, you'll be fine. The odds are, like, astronomical."

"Weren't they astronomical for you, too?" Fuck.

"Yeah, but I'm me."

"Meaning? I can't win?" WHOA. Whoa, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance needed to be a bit more 'chalant'.

"No, I mean, like, bad luck kinda follows me around. So."

"Oh. But, um, on the off chance that I..."

"Whoa, no. You won't get picked."

You can't. Finnick would genuinely pass out.

"Okay, but if I do, you— uh, honestly, as a mentor. Do I have a chance?"

Finnick was at a loss here and so was Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling. He genuinely had no clue. "I haven't seen you figh—"

"No, like, I mean, do I have the ability to be a favourite?"Oh.

"Yeah. You do. You have a good personality, you look good, so I don't think you'll have trouble with sponsors so long as your physical prowess is alright."

"I hate the Capitol.", he hears you say.

"Shh. These lines are tapped."

"Right, like Snow doesn't know that we hate the Capitol." Valid point.

"You're fine. Can I just... I just feel like you..."

"I'm overreacting? Is that what you're going to say, Finnick?"

He was about to say 'I feel like you're the only reason I'm not hanging from the fucking ceiling right about now', but that might have just been a tad too dramatic.

"No, I just... I just think that you're not—"

"Because you do realize the position you're in, right? I've said it before, I'll say it again! You get everything, Finnick Odair! The adoration, the glory, the pity, the money, the— fuck, y'know what? You probably didn't even care about your tributes, but I actually liked Rue!"

And just like that, he's dragged back into the spotlight of reality.

You'll never see him as more than a Capitol sellout.

"I'll see you at the Games."

The phone slams. Fine, whatever.

But something Seeder had said dragged your mind out of a stupor, albeit momentarily. Careers. Careers. Ugh. Finnick Odair. Finnick fucking Odair! No, no, no, as much as you hated him — did you hate him? — you didn't want him to go back, his pretty boy self would never fucking survive in the arena after thriving on cushy Capitol beds and mushy Capitol meals for the past ten years.

Okay, now you 100% had to go in and bail his ass out.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

FUCK SEEDER. DAMN her to wherever the hell people go to get damned! You couldn't even argue, because the Capitol audience loves when a volunteer gets to become tribute and honour the Capitol. So, she'd volunteered, you yelled 'no, no, I got reaped, I get to go!', but all that was cut out, naturally.

You got sent home, she got sent to die.

You had to wait for a couple hours before you could see the rest of the reaped Victors, and when you got to Five, your breath hitched. Not because you particularly knew the Victors, but because next up was possibly Finnick Odair trying to be the same kind of hero you'd been denied the right to be in your own Reaping.

But for him, it was clean. Smooth. He'd been Reaped, his dimpled grin had emerged, and there. That's it. Everything was coming up Finnick, wasn't it?! You could scream. But that was redundant and stupid. You weren't seriously jealous that he got his way, were you?

No. He was, in fact, going to the Arena, again, and what fate's worse than that? But once again, he got to help his fellow Victors from facing that fate, and you hadn't been.

Restraining yourself from throwing the remote on the screen, you continued watching. Your own Reaping flashed before you on the reruns, and you scoffed, watching District 12's Reaping emerged. SEE?! Even Peeta Mellark got to save Haymitch! This was so unfair!

At least you'll get to be a mentor again, and possibly find an in to help out Seeder. Saving grace.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Finnick doesn't let you breathe for even a second when he sees you. He doesn't wave, he doesn't smile, he doesn't handshake.

He just makes for you with the determination of lightning to a tree, and embraces you with the desperation of the sea repeatedly reaching for the shore.

And you hug back. For no apparent reason other than this is a dying man's wish, evidently.

"I didn't get to watch your Reaping, did you get Reaped?"

There's no way he didn't get to watch it. It's the second fucking one that's aired. What was he, taunting you with the fact you couldn't protect Rue and Thresh, and now you couldn't even protect Seeder?

You shake your head, and he sighs in relief, now seemingly deeming it okay to kiss your temple. "I was worried."

Bullshit. But you don't comment. What's the point? Either he or your mentor or both were going to die in a week or so.

He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed as though trying to size up whether you knew something, a particular something, or not. "How you feeling?", he asks, pointedly choosing to ignore the fact that you were slurring, your eyes were droopy with sleep, and you seemed to be hurtfully bored of the conversation.

So typically Finnick. He's about to go back into the Arena, but no, of course he'll go ahead, keep up the 'charming' act. Buy yourself sponsors. Psych me out.

"Me? I wasn't Reaped.", you retort.

"Doesn't mean you're alright."

Finnick, for the life of him, can't understand why you're acting like this is a game. And not even a fun one. The kind where both players are trying to get something out of the other. And he's not sure what you're trying to get from him, because he sure as hell isn't trying to get anything from you.

Well, that's a lie. He is trying to get an explanation out of you, for how you talked to him.

Now, listen. He knows enough. The Mockingjay's husband, Peeta, told Haymitch — who told Finnick, of course — that you've been drinking. Guzzling. And he's seen this happen before —hell, he's gone through it.

But he doesn't like things like this happening to people he likes.

Watching a beautiful soul unravel isn't a pleasing affair. He should know. He's been the soul, and now he's being forced to be the audience.

"I don't look alright?"

He tilts his head, seemingly deciding that you didn't know the 'particular something' that he did. And you can't tell if he seems more relieved, or worried at that knowledge. But he covers it up pretty well.

"Yeah.", he nods, humming as he continues to hug you. "You've changed."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He pulls away, an odd amusement to his eyes. "Your voice is different. Don't tell me you've been ruining your beautiful voice with trying to take those bullshit 'singing lessons' from Capitol TV."

It's like he knew you, better than you knew yourself. What to avoid, what to say to make you laugh, make you cry, make you hug him. This was the 'make-you-laugh' one, evidently. You snort softly, and he kisses your forehead before wrapping his arm loosely around your shoulder. "Ooh, guess what I brought for you?"

"Blobcakes?"

"Psychic, Victor, Mentor. Wow. I'm impressed. Triple threat."

"What are you gonna do, Finnick?", you sigh. As much as your brain's muddled about whether you trust him or not, you do have some form of human decency that has you worried.

He cocks his head, brows furrowed. "I was hoping... give you these blobcakes?"

"I mean in the Arena."

Squinting up at the sunlight and instinctively pulling your shoulder closer, he shrugs. "Deal with it, I guess."

"Have I told you you're not even remotely funny?"

"No, but I've got that vibe from you. Very cruel, the Capitol adores my comedic genius."

"I'm not the Capitol."

He gazes down at you a moment, pride, amusement and possibly fascination seeping through his gaze, before he snorts, softly. "I know. Exactly."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

There's no way. There's no way you and Chaff just saw Finnick Odair talking to Haymitch Abernathy. An alliance between Four and Twelve? That's never happened before in the history of the Games, you don't think.

You're seconds away from storming up to him. Wasn't he technically supposed to continue pretending he cared for you? Shouldn't he be talking himself up to Seeder and Chaff?

Ugh. Teach you to trust a lapdog. This was probably the "particular something" he wanted to find out if you knew or not.

You're at the food stalls, subconsciously lingering at blobcake-laden-One and glancing subconsciously at Four. But overall, you were glaring at the monitor. There's no point looking at the scoring, because it's less likely they've gotten worse, actually. They're either the same score as their first Games, or better.

"Hey, there."

Ugh. "Hey."

"Noticed you've been avoiding me."

"Noticed you've been betraying me."

His dimpled grin flashes, and he makes a point to chew slowly on the blobcake he's just ripped from your hands. "Yeah? How'd I manage that?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Never mind."

"Hey. Don't do that. What? How'd I betray you? I'll fix it right away."

"Abernathy? Really?"

"Why? You two at odds over who can drain the liquor supply fastest?"

Low fucking blow, but you know you deserve it. "Katniss and Peeta are both at scores of 12. Do you not think there's a reason for that?"

He gasps in mock astonishment. "It can't be... skill?!"

You smack his shoulder and he chuckles, rubbing at it. "The Gamemakers are singling them out, making them targets."

"Is this you telling me you actually do care if I live or die?"

"Do you really think Katniss is a good choice, anyway?"

He's fully smirking now, amusement and mock curiosity and perhaps even, again, a hint of fascination on his lips. As well as a bit of frosting. "Oh, please elaborate."

"Pregnant sixteen-year-old in the Arena, who we know cares only about Peeta."

"And this is the part you're going to say I'm not a good choice for her.", he mumbles, not even turning as he reaches back for a blobcake and hands it to you.

You nod, pointing in between swallows. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but fan-favourite Career, who has to take care of an 80-year-old District partner, and is most likely the one everyone's wanting in the spotlight, anyway?"

"You telling me you wouldn't want me as an ally?", he pouts, his elbow on your shoulder as he leans in. "Hurts my feelings."

You try not to instinctually shove him away, because you've already been unintentionally rude to him once this entire Games, and if he's going to die, least you can do is humour him.

Instead, you count to ten, close your eyes, take deep breaths, then open them. "Alright. How are you even going to convince her to ally with you?"

He shrugs. "Give her a blobcake."

"She'll hate them."

He frowns. "Or, you just hate the idea because blobcakes are a 'you-and-I thing.", he teases, waggling one finger to gesture between the two of you.

You scoff once more.

"I'll give her a sugar cube or somethin', then, alright? Relax."

Relax. Three out of four (minus Haymitch) of your "inner circle" (barely) were going back into the Arena, and one of them was telling you to 'relax'.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not sure what you expected. Logically, Seeder's past her prime, but... to not even make it past the bloodbath?

You're not sure how many tears you've supressed over the years — you didn't even cry after your games — but the fact that you're, for some reason, unable to shed any for Seeder, the woman who meant the world to you? It puts you in a special personal hell .

And your hell's confirmed when you realise Haymitch isn't even drinking this time. It's serious serious.

And one of your Victors is dead. It's all up to Chaff, now. Though, he does seem to be doing well, so you allow yourself one minute of checking-on-Finnick-time.

If you could fucking find him, that was.

"You lookin' for your fishy friend?"

It takes you a moment to register that Haymitch is talking about District Four. You're so used to people referring to Finnick as "Capitol Darling" or "Golden Boy", that you're thrown off, brows furrowing in confusion as Haymitch drags you to his screen. "There. He's with Katniss."

Death fucking sentence.

"She okay doing all that?"

"Yeah. District 12 ladies are crazy hormonal when pregnant, so expect hell for any attackers."

Well, at least Finnick's okay. Not that he can't hold his own, but you'd rather he use as little of his true skill as possible until it really matters. So if Katniss' pregnancy mood swings would help kill off other Victors without Finnick wasting his energy and his good arm, then great.

"You best stick by me.", declares Haymitch, spinning around in his chair as you attempt to go back to your seat.

"What?"

"I get the same controls on my screen as everyone else. C'mon, stay with me. Wherever you wanna see...", he punctuates, with two flicks of his fingernail on the screen. "I'll show you. Our priorities are together, anyway."

Our priorities. Oh, my god, this was why Rue had died, why Thresh had died, fuck. You lost sight of your priorities, so much so that even Haymitch thought you were on his side just because some District Four guy was with his tributes.

Fuck.

"No, I need to make sure Chaff's alright."

"Hey, hey, whoa, hey, sit down.", he mutters, offhandedly, as he navigates through the water-saturated expanse of the Arena. "There. See?"

Chaff's alright - perfect, actually.

"Now, let's get back to the pregnant one, the old one and the fan favourite."

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

The blackout, surprisingly, comes after the panic.

You see Brutus killing Chaff, and you're sure the scream you let out chills everyone's blood. It freezes yours, too.

But as it turns out, your grief isn't big enough, or loud enough, no, not compared to the Gamemakers' grief in losing the Arena.

All you know is that you're glad Haymitch forced you to sit by him the past three days, because he seems to be foresighted enough to shove you down to duck the second his tribute pulls out her arrow.

"We gotta go."

You'll listen to sober Haymitch, no questions asked.

"What happened? Are they okay? Is Finnick okay?"

"They will be, just lay low, c'mon, in there."

A door that you'd never noticed before. Haymitch gestures at you to run down these extremely odd, borderline creepy stairs. It's a stairwell. How the fuck?

"When did you even find these?", you pant as you rush down the spirals, checking over your shoulder that he's behind you.

"Finnick told me about them. He said that's what he used to come up to your floor last year, during the Games."

Fucking Finnick.

"What's the Capitol protocol for a fucked-up-Arena?"

"Well, when I was in the Games, it was to direct mutts onto a twelve-year-old kid and just pretend that the glitches were part of the whole thing, but, uh, they might have gone lax this time, I don't know. Don't stop, though, keep going.", he replies, fast and all at once.

"Haymitch, what's gonna happen to Katniss? The baby? Peeta? Johanna?"

You try your best not to mention Finnick, because he already thinks your priority is Finnick over everyone else, and though that's true now, with the deaths of Chaff and Seeder, you don't want to act like you're suddenly okay about said deaths.

You're still on the fence about what Finnick even means to you. He was a mentor, yes, he was a good guy, sure, but he was also a Capitol lapdog that you didn't want anywhere near the Mockingjay.

Because he could either get the only true whisper of a rebellion killed, or she could get him killed, which would suck for you either way.

"They're all going to be fine, they know what to do. Who do you think told me to keep you right next to me so that you're safe?"

Finnick. Fuck, it's always Finnick.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not sure how long you've been spinning the same coin on the table and counting the seconds until it fell, but it's probably a diabolically tragic amount of time.

So maybe this was the "particular something" he wanted to find out if you knew or not.

"Hey, he's done, we patched him up well."

"You fucking better have.", you grumble, shouldering past the District 13 medical staff. Alright, so you were being a bitch. But you have a right to be hostile. So many weapons, and not once, in seventy-five years did they try to rescue Panem? Shame.

The door gives way to a perfect view of his eyes. "Oh, thank god, they wouldn't let me ask around for you because it would strain my throat."

You sit opposite him, frowning. "You knew all that would happen? The blowing up?"

"Yeah, I mean... yeah. Well, not Katniss finding the glitch, but yeah, pretty much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to worry you." Alright, so that wasn't the "particular something".

"Worry me? Why would I be worried? The two people I cared most about in the world are dead, and you didn't even think to include them in your insurance plan."

"Too many people would have fucked it up."

You scoff. So, you were counted as 'too many people', as well as the Victors of your District, the ones he didn't seem to care enough to rescue, whereas you seemed to be rescued as an afterthought. Brilliant.

"Get well soon, Finnick."

"Wait, where are you going? Hey! Hey, no. I...", he sighs, running his hand across his other one. "I'm alone here. I have no friends. Mags is gone, but... but I'm sure you already saw that."

You did see that. You sigh, sitting back down. "Listen, I just think you should have told me."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry. Truly." He reaches for your hand, and what were you going to do? Deny him? He'd break at that. Each knuckle receives a kiss. "I really am."

"Yeah, I got that."

"I'm sorry about Rue. I never got to tell you."

God, you need a drink.

You nod. "Yeah, it's alright."

"And Seeder. Chaff, as well, though I didn't see his death."

He's practically pushing you to a bar right now.

You nod once more. "And I'm sorry about Mags."

He smiles. "You forgive me, right? For not telling you sooner?"

What other choice do you have? Hold a grudge against the only person you trust here?

"Yes."

"Will you stay? With me?"

"There's a schedule here, it's strict, so I don't know—"

"They need me. So, I wouldn't worry about it. You get privileges when you know Finnick Odair.", he grins, clenching his jaw in pain as he shifts to the side, patting the empty space on the bed.

You sit by him.

"What other privileges?"

"I can get you one-on-one-time with the Mockingjay. Ooh.", he mock-gasps, nudging your shoulder.

"If she wakes up and doesn't detonate the entire District because hers burned down."

"You're so optimistic, I love it."

That coaxes a laugh out of you.

"You scared?"

"For what?"

"The war."

War? Whoa, you'd never... that had never crossed your mind. "Say it like that, it seems so real."

"Yeah, I mean... 'send children to kill each other in a closed environment' sounds worse, though, doesn't it?", he asks, his eyes roaming your face as though searching - once again - for the 'particular something'.

"You think Katniss will be okay with it? Being the Mockingjay? Potentially starting a war?"

"She already has.", he tells you, shrugging. "Oh, this is what's different. Your hair."

"Yeah, uh, for some reason they brought in a stylist for me.", you reply, thumbing at the door. This earns a frown and a kiss on the temple. You're not sure why he's so fond of kissing your forehead, but hey, you're not complaining. It makes you feel safe. And that's rare, in Panem.

"Why?"

"They said I'd need it." A spark, on his face. Alright, perhaps this is the "particular something" that he knew and you didn't.

"During a war. That didn't register in your head as odd?"

You scoff, looking out the window behind his head.

"I'm not an idiot, Finnick, I know what it means, they're going to use me to promote the rebels' side. What else?"

He seems to be happy, at that. What, he thought you were dumb, this whole time? "Yeah. And you're okay with it?"

"They'll kick me out if I don't do it."

He shrugs. "Okay, fair. But you, um... you will do it, right?"

"I'm the least interesting person here, I don't have any stories to tell, I don't ha—"

"What about your Games? Rue? Seeder?"

Alright, was he sponsoring the drinks at this place? Because boy, was he tempting you.

"You might be alright exploiting your trauma for District 13, Finnick, not me. I'm not saying a word about Rue, or Heath, or Seeder, or Chaff."

He sighs, shaking his head once more. "I'm not exploiting anything, I'm finally controlling my own experiences, my own story, how it's portrayed! Why don't you get that? Isn't that what we want? Freedom from the Capitol's narrative?"

"Well, I'm not you, Finnick. For me, this would be exploiting the deaths of people I love."

Cussing under his breath, he grunts a bit to sit up further, picking at his knuckles for a moment. "You and I are so similar that it's borderline terrifying."

"No, we're not. Stop saying that. That whole birds-of-a-feather, cut from the same cloth bullshit."

"Admit it, you started drinking because I can't be in your district."

"What?"

"You, you absolute idiot, started - well, continued - drinking because you don't feel comfortable enough to open up to anyone else but me, and I wasn't there. Guess what? I feel the same way."

You scoff. "What is this, an intervention?"

He shakes his head. "Just one friend checking on the other."

"Well, seeing as you're the one in a hospital bed—"

"But am I the one who needs checking-in on?"

Yeah, what the fuck? "Do you see tubes in my arms?"

He bites the inside of his cheek, a small, sad sigh creeping out of his mouth. He calls your name. "Please. Give me something."

"What?"

He looks like he's fighting the urge to say 'anything'. "Whatever you can."

You huff, your cheeks inflating before you exhale, shifting to face the wall opposite the bed. You're stuck in a hospital bed, in a District that people thought burned the fuck down, ready for a rebellion, with a Capitol bootlicker — who is somehow the only person in this District (possibly the whole world) that you trust.

The universe seemed to think you were a flashy toy that it could put in comical, ironic situations and laugh at.

"Should I tell you about Rue?"

You're not sure why you say it. Probably because you know that you will have to recount it anyway, for the propo. Because Finnick asked you to. Because it's important to him. Because Finnick.

A toothy smile. "If you can."

And so you do. You tell him about how she was the one that would sing the end-of-day-song, and how the mockingjays would carry her tunes through the trees.

"Like how our Mockingjay will carry her message."

Okay, Finnick.

You tell him how terrified she'd been that night. How her mother had told you to call her Rue-bird, and when you did, how you could feel her tension ease out of her.

"Rue-bird's pretty adorable."

Yes, it is, Finnick.

You tell him about all the times she'd written you a little thank-you note for donating money to their family so that they didn't need Tesserae, no matter how many times you'd told her she didn't have to.

"Oh, that's so sweet of her."

You're right, Finnick.

You tell him about the triumphant little smirk on her face when she managed to sneak past all the Peacekeepers and into the Victor's Village to see you.

"That must've taken her some time to perfect."

Probably, Finnick.

"You should tell Katniss all these stories when she wakes up. She'll love them. Might push her into getting into the Mockingjay role much faster."

You're about to ask him if he has the ability to talk about anything else, anything at all, but you refrain from it. Believe it or not, trust him or not, your main goal is not to hurt him. Hurt Finnick? Unheard of.

Instead, you tell him you can't figure out the "particular something" he'd wanted you to know. He tells you it's that he loves you.

The two of you laugh it off. Love during war? Please.

And then, it hits you. All at once, a tidal wave, a sucker punch. You'd never hurt Finnick, but other things could.

A misplaced banana peel, fuck's sake.

An exposed live wire.

A war.

Anyone you'd sworn to protect so far had died.

Maybe you shouldn't try to protect him. He was older, wiser, and clearly he'd gone through some shit and needed to get it off his chest.

He could protect himself.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

You're not exactly sure what Katniss is saying. It's something about the Transfer, which you'd learned were the tunnels under the Capitol. She's screaming is what she's doing, actually, and it's freaking everyone out, even more than they normally were.

"MUTTS!"

You're ready to throw the walkie-talkie into a fire. The one word you'd heard and the one word you'd never wanted to hear. Mutts. While your Arena didn't have too many, everyone around you had them. Haymitch. Johanna. Hell, even Katniss, on the other end.

"How many are there?"

Haymitch's voice is too clear, too precise, too calm for this situation.

"Too many, we can't fight them off."

"Quarter Quell them."

It takes you a second to realise he means blow them up.

"Brace yourself, kid."

You're not sure if he's talking to Katniss before she detonates, or to you, who has the walkie-talkie too close to your ears.

It's like a rip through the air, even though it's through a speaker.

Everyone in the room freezes, but not you, no, your foot's shaking, your fingers are rapping on the table.

"They're dead."

You know she's not only talking about Mutts. "Casualties?"

"I don't know."

"Katniss? Katniss? Tell me who you see around you, past the smoke."

"Peeta."

Yeah, no fucking shit.

She coughs a bit, probably due to ash. "Pollux is alive. Uh... okay, Gale."

"Give it to him.", instructs Haymitch. Katniss is too shocked to give an accurate report, and it's vital. "Who'd we lose, Hawthorne?"

"Castor, and I think Homes."

This is infuriating. You're only in this stupid fucking room for one person, and it's like they're purposely avoiding mentioning him. In the darkest, loudest depths of your head, the mutts had ripped off his.

"Gale, tell me Finnick's there. look through the smoke, look on the ground, anywhere."

The soft crackle of the radio, the faint, buzzing sound of shuffling, it all just adds fuel to your raging fire, strengthens the fears that grip those depths of your mind. Finnick's dead, the mutts have ripped him apart, he'll never kiss your temple again.

There's another crackle in the radio, and heavy breathing ensues. Haymitch furrows his brows.

"It's me."

You can't help it. You cry. You've never been able to, not in your Games, not for your mentors, but perhaps that was because it was death. This is life. Finnick's alive. He has his life.

Finnick doesn't let you breathe for even a second when he sees you. He doesn't wave, he doesn't smile, he doesn't handshake.

He just makes for you with the determination of lightning to a tree, and kisses you with the desperation of the sea repeatedly reaching for the shore.

And you kiss back. For no apparent reason other than this is a living man's wish, evidently.

[borderlands-oc-hq]

GREETINGS, TRAVELERS!

What is this blog?

This is a place to share borderlands OCs!

We know not where you come from - let it be scorched deserts, neon-lit cities, or frozen wastelands - we are here to hear YOUR story!

This blog was created in order to celebrate amazing fan characters of the Borderlands community and help them see more light. There is not a lot to see YET, but with YOUR help, this place can thrive!

Submit posts with your OC's bios following the template below, and they will be shared here!

All sorts of Original Characters are welcomed - fankids, sonas, characters who weren't originally borderlands but are borderlands AU versions

Characters from the bio submissions will be added to the blog's banner in the form of little chibi goobers (if the authors want to, of course)

The template:

(feel free to remove/change points, it's just a guide to make it easier for you to share basics about your character! Feel free to tell more, too! Everyone will love it)

<DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR CHARACTER'S REFERENCE!>

Name:

Gender:

Pronouns:

Sexuality:

Allegiances:

MBTI: (Can change to a short personality desc)

Occupation:

Residence:

Time period:

Summary:

Toyhouse/artfight/info post link:

Tags to use: (Any additional tags you want me to use, they are listed below)

Want to be featured on the banner: (yes or no)

Below is a completed example of a submission, of one of the first two goobers to appear on the banner. They are feeling lonely here, so give them some company!

Name: Tom “Tommy” Lawrence

Gender: Male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Aro/Ace

Allegiances: Atlas

MBTI: intj 1w2

Occupation: Crimson Lance corporal, Pilot in training

Residence: Promethea, Meridian

Time period: Somewhere in the future after events of BL3

Summary:

The youngest son of the CEO and the General, the Little Prince of Promethea, all of this legacy and responsibility is crushing for him. Tommy fears he will forever live in his fathers' shadows, unable to keep up. He is an overachiever, and tries to be like them both, constantly overworking himself and falling into hysteria of not being able to meet his own expectations, ignoring achievements he already made. Often wondering if he was even worth the money spent on his creation, worried about becoming a wasted investment.

Toyhouse link: https://toyhou.se/23355799.tommy-lawrence

Tags to use: Fankid: Rhysothy, Cyborg, Corporate: Atlas, Time period: Post-BL3

Want to be featured on the banner: Yes

WHAT ELSE THIS BLOG DOES?

>If you want to share your OC, follow the template to submit a post!

>If you want this blog to share a post with your OC, send a link to the post via DMs

>If you have any ideas and suggestions, the ask box is open!

FUTURE PLANS:

>Week challenges (Aka art prompts for an OC-week)

>Sharing people looking for art trades/RP mates/friends/BnB groups (send an ask if you are looking for any of these!)

>Borderlands-Specific OC question sets (answers will be shared here!)

>Activity ideas (such as ”Draw your OC doing this and that” or writing prompts)

>Hosting massive collabs

>Hyping up ArtFight cards featuring Borderlands OCs

TAGS FOR THIS BLOG:

List of tags for this blog:

OCLandsINFO

Animal: (species name)

BnB character: (class)

Corporate: (insert corporation name)

Crimson lance

Crimson raider

Doppelganger

Eridian

Fankid: (pairing/character name)

OCxCanon

OCxOC

Sanctuary

Selfship

Siren

Sona

Vaulthunter

Robot AUofOC

(more tags will be added based on suggestions)

Have fun and thank you for coming!

[stariikis]

wordle wars | sim jaeyun

desc ; beating jake in any new york times game is nearly unimaginable. nearly. you've done it before, but it's a rare occurrence. so what happens when you surprisingly beat him in all the games there are to offer on that website?

pairing ; smart!simjaeyun x gf!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, hs setting wc ; 920 notes ; yes this is based on today's games lol. what was that mini crossword though...

“this is boring,” you mutter, probably a little too loudly because your physics teacher glances your way and frowns. lowering your voice, you whisper to your seatmate, busy copying down what’s on the whiteboard. “let’s play wordle.” 

jake gives you a half skeptical, half exasperated look. “we’re supposed to be doing practice 3.2, you know that?” 

unbothered, you stick your tongue out at him and taunt him, “you don’t play now, you automatically lose for today! ‘cause i’m going to get it right now.” 

it’s become a daily habit for you and your boyfriend to exchange a knowing look in the middle of class, and hurriedly type in the familiar link to see who’ll get the five letter word first. fortunately for you, your boyfriend just happens to be your seatmate, and it seems you have escaped the wrath of your teachers knowing about your relationship. because otherwise they would have put you in one corner and him in the other. 

it’s amazing how they haven’t separated the two of you, though, for the amount of noise generated from your side of the classroom. but you’re sure every outburst of uncontrollable laughter makes them regret their decision more and more everyday. 

usually, jake’s the one who figures out the word first, or with fewer guesses. you make a fuss, complaining about how he’s ‘totally cheating his way through’. ‘how?’ he asks, smiling in a bemused manner, and you’ll just accuse him of looking up the word or peeking at your screen. other times, when you win, you (obviously) make a fuss, and seize the chance to gloat about your achievement. 

he may be better at english, but you never lose when it comes to teasing him. 

so, threatened by your previous taunt, jake fiercely types in the link, sliding his laptop so you can’t see his screen. 

“it’s okay,” you jeer, turning up your nose his way. “i don’t need to see your screen to win. unlike someone.” 

“how many times do i have to tell you i don’t cheat??? i’m just smart. you have a skill issue.” 

oh, you’re so going to beat him today. 

you type in the five letters of your favourite starter word, 

heart

the ‘e’ is probably at the end. ugh, these words are stupid, it could be forever until i get it right. 

you sneak a glance at jake’s screen just to provoke him, and you’re met with a competitive glare. 

“no peeking. see? you always do this,” he whines, shoving your shoulder. 

rolling your eyes, you lean back and type,

blume

damn, the ‘e’ isn’t at the end. that’s funny. then it’s at the start. here… what word starts with ‘eb?’ 

ebony

when the letter tiles flip over to reveal a fully green word, you gasp a little too loudly and shake jake’s arm. which earns you a stare from your teacher again, but he says nothing. does he even care about what you do in class? probably not. 

“i got it, in three! it’s hard today,” you giggle, mentally crossing your fingers he doesn’t humble you by getting the word in two. (you’ll actually hide and repent.)

jake immediately turns your way and grins. you can’t tell if he’s acting, or if he’s actually beaten you. “i got it in one.” 

“no way, you liar!” you slide the laptop so you can see his screen. unsurprisingly, he hasn’t gotten it. in fact, he’s already submitted three guesses without figuring out the word. hence, you are victorious. you smugly reach over and flick his arm. 

“yeah yeah, i didn’t. but i’ll beat you in the other games.” 

when he finally gets the word, you move on to connections, and you beat him for this one too, though it takes you both some time. because in what world is ‘fathom’ a unit of length? why is ‘yard’ under that same category and not under ‘____ sale?’ jake mutters something under his breath about how american the system is when you show him the answers. 

strands is easy to you, but for some reason it takes jake some time to realise the theme. (‘you don’t know anything art related, do you?’ ‘obviously not. that’s why i’m in this physics class with you, stupid.’) 

soon enough, class is over, but you haven’t finished playing all the games. on the way home, you challenge each other to set a new high score on spelling bee, see who solves the hardest sudoku first, and battle to get the lowest timing for the mini crossword. 

you beat him for every single one. 

by the time you have to part ways and say goodbye, jake’s rolled his eyes enough times for them to stay stuck there at the top of his head. your teasing just never ends, even until the final moment. 

jake opens his arms for his routinely goodbye hug, and when you give it to him, you can’t help but to whisper, “i think i’m starting to get better at these dumb games. better than you.” 

instead of getting annoyed like you hoped he would, he merely replies with a short kiss on your cheek, “maybe you’re just a genius today, baby. must have donated some of my brain cells overnight. i’ll beat you tomorrow.” 

though the flirtatious quip he deadpans does throw you off a little, you can’t let it affect you. through a slightly blurred vision and warm cheeks, you laugh it off and wave as you walk your separate way home. “you can try.”

more of my works >

[thehandsresisthim]

“pleasant surprise”

content: nsft, link (totk) x reader, d/s dynamics, fem!reader, miss/ma’am, pegging, soft dom!reader, no desc. of readers body

word count: ~700

You feel him nuzzle against your chest - check pressed across your tight fitting shirt.

“Warm…” he mumbles in a soft voice.

As you reach over to grab something from your desk, he suddenly seems a lot less calm, hands that were softly grabbing onto your hips suddenly digging into your skin.

“H-hah… ma’am…” he whimpers out as he throws his head back . “P-please…”

“No.” you say in a firm voice. “You’re not getting anything until I’m done with this essay.”

“Mmh-mmh…” he nods in agreement.

He’s been like that for 20 minutes now, you buried inside him whilst you work on an essay - and he gets nothing. No touching, no grinding, no asking for more.

His hands rest on your hips, occasionally grabbing your chair, but he doesn’t dare put them even near his dick. It’s throbbing, but all it’s getting is the occasional rub of the fabric of your shirt.

He has been begging for your touch for the entire day - but long classes at your uni, and you working on an important essay afterwards had made it difficult.

But you had come up with a solution to keep him entertained. Your strap. He’s sitting on your lap, whilst you sit on your chair at your desk, working on your essay. It’s a different one than the one you usually use, a few more ridges, but there’s no notable difference in size.

You had smiled mischievously at him as you helped prepare him to take it. “It’s different from what we usually use. I hope that it'll make you feel even better.”

So far, he hasn’t noticed any difference. Maybe you were wrong? But still, the pressure against that spot and how close he is to you, mixed with the burning humiliation of you being completely dressed, and him being nude - it’s enough to keep him excited.

You move again, and he whimpers. A “Please, ma’am…” escapes him before he can stop it.

You put your pencil down. “Mmh, I just need to write a few more words.” You gently wrap your arms around his waist and lean down to kiss his forehead. He’s once more made aware of your size difference - how much smaller he is in comparison to you.

“We’re going to try something new now, sweetheart, and if you don’t like it, please tell me immediately, okay? Then we’ll stop.” you say in a kind voice. His heartbeat quickens, both with excitement at what you’ve got planned for him, and with appreciation for how gentle you are with him.

“O-okay, ma’am.” he replies shyly.

Although he knew that he liked having a partner in the lead since he started dating, there always came some insecurities with it - it makes him vulnerable in a way he’s not used to. But you have always respected and cared for him, always made sure that everything was enjoyable for him…

You reach down to the strap and press a small button at the very base that he hasn’t noticed before. The toy inside of him starts vibrating.

He’s never felt something like this before.

Sure, you thrusting in and out of him felt good, but this is different.

He moans, loudly, and can’t find it in himself to stop.

“Ah - hah - w-what is? G… good…” is all Link manages to say. He squirms around and a fucked-out giggle escapes against his permission. “Th…tha… thank you… feel… good!”

You smile at him and gently kiss his forehead as you continue writing your essay.

“Sweetheart?” you ask in a kind voice.

“Y…yes…” he looks at you with a blissful expression as the strap whirs away inside of him.

“You can touch yourself, feel free to move all you want.” you instruct, “but… no cumming, okay?”

He pouts, but nods.

After a few minutes of the strap vibrating against him, he lazily starts humping his own hand. There’s no more structure to it, he’s too dumbed down to think properly. Link is still murmuring phrases, and occasionally drools on your shirt - as you write the last word, he starts frantically begging to cum.

“Ple-ase… miss… feels- can’t hold it-“

“H-hurts…”

You put your pen down and your hands join his on his dick, gentle, planned out strokes and teases.

“Shh… you’re doing so well… I’m so proud of you, my knight…”

“You have my permission, sweetheart.”

This seems to really do it for him. “T-thanks…” he drools on your shirt. With a loud moan, he feels himself get pushed over the edge.

“Th..ank you, thank you, thank you- I love you!”

“I love you too, Link.”

thank you for reading ♥️

[muffins-saga-archives]

FNaP/Muffins: Inkie Pie

Artist: Reitanna Seishin

Date of Upload original: Mar 14, 2015

Original Desc:

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE THIS VECTOR. Do not use it in a game OF ANY KIND, do not use it in a picture, do not make it into a base. If I find that someone has used this, there will be repercussions. Also, if you see this vector ANYWHERE other than on my DeviantArt or YouTube, REPORT IT IMMEDIATELY.

I've decided to do a Five Nights at Pinkie's crossover with Muffins. note that I'm not very good with robots, so I'm just sorta winging it. I've looked at other people's FNaP vectors and gathered some ideas from those, but that's about it. don't ask where I found the original picture/base that I used to make these, I find my stuff on bing. if it came from deviant art, then I don't have that link.

who should I draw next?

-apple bloom -Blinkie pie

(apple bloom ALMOST won, it was really close, but inkie won by two votes. I feel sorta sorry for poor Blinkie.)

[musashi]

Hey, you ever drawn FranMaya?

Hi there! I'm Wendy Rocket, local autist and master behind hits such as "that time i talked for two hours about franziska von karma on youtube" and "wrote 45 individual sickfics about franmaya"

in my franziska video i reached out to some artists for the use of their pieces (with onscreen and in desc credit) as visuals for what essentially amounted to a character shrine about my blorbo.

i am going to need a lot more for my franmaya video! because franmaya is such a fanon-based ship, visuals are going to be something i'm hurting for, and i would love to showcase some of y'alls art!

i'm not a big famous youtuber just an autistic person who talks a lot. my videos get demonetized because i refuse to censor myself and don't really care about making a career out of it. i can show you my youtube analytics if you want. this is a labor of love it's not for monetary gain. yippee!

if you have drawn a franmaya and want to allow me the use of it for my video, please send me an ask here with a link to the piece and any of your socials/commission posts/etc! i'm going to be reaching out obv, but i figured i'd open it up to submission as well ^w^

[andredeyemii]

hey I just saw ur blog and u really so good

Can u tell what are the affirmations u used to improve ur sc

Can u share subliminals if u have used them too

S E L F C O N C E P T : : part two

:: this is the link to part one btww

:: READ DESC <3

I recommend y'all have a mind saturation routine for your self-concept, but you don't have to for it to work because I didn't actually mind saturate when building sc.

building your self-concept is a lifestyle. it's literally your new mindset so you can't waver because your mindset is built out of your behavioral patterns, environments, knowledge, and lifestyle choices so if you can't say you're pretty, what are you doing in life???

A F F I R M A T I O N S

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I have extreme (type of) beauty.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I am a pretty girl, that's why I deserve ___.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I love myself / everything / everyone.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : my life is too easy / my life is so light.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : manifesting is easy / I'm a master manifestor.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : having / getting (desire) is easy.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : everyone loves me because ___.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I am a princess / God's princess frfr.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I am so grateful that for (things you manifested)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I am so grateful for (things you want to manifest)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I am so grateful for (what a person did for you)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : there's so much abundance out in the world.

G E N E R A L T I P S : :

1.) since mind saturation is a lifestyle brain software, let your beliefs strengthen by connecting it to logic.

(i.e researching, proof based on experiences, other people's stories, or other beliefs : : you're a princess because you believe God is king.)

2.) you don't need to remember worded out affirmations, you can make them up as you go.

3.) do this when you remember and feel like doing it while doing something your dream self would do.

(i.e I play subliminals while walking on the treadmill for an hour while listening to an educational topic on social strategy cuz my dream self is charismatic)

4.) you can listen to subliminals, rampages, music and solfeggio frequencies.

5.) educate yourself for your self-concept. I learn about social strategizing and privilege stacking while using the treadmill.

6.) it's all repitition.

[ubiquitouscollarbone]

Everything.

Fandom: X-Men (comics)

Rating: Teen

Desc:

After so many times, Quentin should be used to having his head shoved in boxes.

From a jar on McCoy’s desk to his severed skull gripped in Sabretooth’s claws, there seemed to be no shortage of containers to stuff his mind into. The numbness, the long stretches of nothingness that threatened to pull him apart with it. This time would be different, though.

---

This is based on the plotline introduced in the latest X-Men run, where Magneto brings up Resurrection-Linked Degenerative Sickness and how it'll probably hit QQ like a truck, considering he's been resurrected by the five 19 times.

[fractured-courage-au]

a reference for traveler! details will be updated in the desc/pic as needed

games traveler is based off of - the legend of zelda - the adventure of link

[cozycomet22798]

I had ai make a desc for my oc in mind because I dont feel like doing all that writing, shes a goddess character from botw. I bended its words to how I prefer and I also added side quests for her because I can so here it is (do not come for me writing takes awhile but for now I have this and if you repost this give me credit.)

Name: Narella, the Tidebound

Title: Forgotten Goddess of Shores and the Sea

Domain: Beaches, tides, coastal winds, and shallow waters

Appearance: Narella appears as a graceful, ethereal figure draped in flowing garments that ripple like waves. Her skin has a sun-kissed, opalescent sheen, and her long hair shifts color from sandy gold to seafoam green. Seashells and bits of coral adorn her crown and jewelry, and faint bioluminescence glimmers across her body at night. Her eyes are a deep cerulean, swirling with ancient sorrow.

Personality: Once worshipped by fishing villages and coastal settlements, Narella was a gentle but proud deity. Now forgotten, she is wistful and soft-spoken, often seen alone along quiet shores, whispering to the waves. She is slow to trust but deeply compassionate, with a fierce protectiveness toward marine life and those who revere the sea with respect.

Lore: Narella was once honored with driftwood shrines and pearl offerings by early Zora and seaside Hylians. As time passed and her temples eroded, her name was lost to the tide. Some say her essence lingers in hidden tidepools and uncharted coves. During fierce storms, sailors whisper prayers to her out of instinct, not memory.

Abilities:

Tidecall: Can summon and manipulate ocean tides, creating paths or revealing sunken ruins.

Seaborn Veil: Cloaks herself and allies in mist, granting stealth and calming foes.

Echoes of the Deep: Communicates with sea creatures and reads the memories of the ocean floor.

Pearl of Remembrance: A glowing relic she carries that can restore fragments of lost history or bring peace to wandering spirits.

Location: Narella’s last known domain is a secret cove hidden beyond the Palmorae Beach in the Faron Reigon in Lurelin Village, accessible only during a rainy day at low tide. Worshippers:

🌊 The Wavecallers of Lurelin

Description: A secluded fishing community on the southeastern coast, the Wavecallers were known for their reverent relationship with the sea. They believed Narella blessed their nets and calmed storms.

Rituals: They placed conch shells at the water’s edge each full moon and sang “The Hymn of the Shore” while casting their nets. Elders taught that her spirit would guide the fish to honest hands.

Fate: As Lurelin modernized and adopted newer fishing techniques, their traditions faded. Only a few elders still hum her songs.

🐚 The Shell Maidens

Description: A secretive order of all-female monks who once lived on the remote Crescent Isles (now submerged ruins east of Eventide Island).

Role: They acted as priestesses, tide-readers, and guardians of ancient water scrolls said to be written in Narella's own script.

Appearance: Wore robes dyed with sea ink and adorned with silvered shells. Known for carrying coral-bladed ritual knives.

Beliefs: They believed Narella whispered fate through waves and interpreted dreams cast during high tide.

🌊 Common Offerings at Narella's Shrines

🐚 Seashells and Coral

Symbolism: Represent the sea's beauty and fragility.

Use: Arranged in spirals or circles, often forming patterns meant to mimic tidal flow.

Special Items: Rare, naturally occurring blue or pink shells were considered sacred and placed at the center of offerings.

🐟 Pearls

Symbolism: Purity, hidden wisdom, and the sea’s gifts to those who wait.

Use: Kept in small stone bowls carved into the shrine base. One legend says Narella wept pearls when she was forgotten.

🐬 Water from the Sea

Symbolism: A direct link to Narella's domain.

Use: Collected at dawn and poured into tidebowls—shallow stone basins built into shrines. Offerers would whisper thanks or prayers as the water evaporated or rejoined the tide.

🌾 Dried Sea Grasses and Driftwood

Symbolism: The connection between land and water.

Use: Used as incense or kindling in ritual fires. Shrines often had driftwood frames or chimes.

🪨 Smooth Stones

Symbolism: Longevity, patience, and memory shaped by time.

Use: People would write short prayers or names on the stones and place them at the foot of her altars, sometimes stacking them into tiny cairns.

🎶 Shell Chimes and Wind Instruments

Symbolism: Her voice carried on the wind and waves.

Use: Hung around shrines so her presence could be felt when the wind stirred them. The melody was said to bring peace or attract sea creatures.

🌕 Offerings of Moonlight

Symbolism: Her connection to tides and hidden things.

Use: Shrines were often visited at night during full moons. Devotees lit small lanterns with pale blue flame or luminescent fish oil, letting their light reflect on the water.

📍 Shrine Locations

Her altars were typically found:

In sea caves carved by the tide

Beneath overhangs on quiet beaches

Atop cliffs where sea breezes blew strongest

On boats or docks, especially among traveling fishers

🌊 Prayer to Narella – “Whisper of the Shore”

O Narella, Lady of the Tides, Whose breath stirs wind and wave alike, Hear this shell-born voice of mine, Carried on salt and silver light. Guide our boats, calm our seas, Bring the fish, and hush the storm. In moon’s pull and ocean's song, Let your grace once more be born.

Traditionally, this would be said while placing a shell or stone at the shrine, and during full moons, it might be chanted by groups in a slow, rhythmic cadence to match the waves.

🐚 Questline: “The Tidebound Remnants”

A forgotten goddess stirs as the sea begins to whisper once more...

🌀 1. "Whispers in the Wind"

Location: Lurelin Village Quest Type: Discovery / Mystery

Description: Villagers report hearing strange songs carried on the sea breeze at night. An elder named Mara asks Link to investigate the cliffs east of town.

Objectives:

Climb the sea cliffs and find a shell chime swaying in the wind.

Examine a weathered shrine hidden in a rock alcove.

Collect three “Echo Shells” washed up on distant shores.

Outcome: The chimes sing when the Echo Shells are placed, revealing a poem that hints at Narella’s name. Mara speaks the name aloud—and the wind dies for a moment.

🌊 2. "Offerings to the Tidebound"

Location: Multiple coastal regions Quest Type: Gathering / Lore

Description: The shrine awakened in the first quest is dormant. Mara believes offerings may rekindle Narella’s spirit.

Objectives:

Place specific offerings at three ancient coastal shrines:

Lanayru Bay (Zora stone + pearl)

Martha’s Landing (seagrass bundle + driftwood fire)

Eventide Island shore (stacked stones + moonlit water)

Defend the Eventide shrine from monsters who were drawn to its reawakening.

Outcome: Each shrine gives Link a “Sea-Marked Stone.” When all three are placed in the original Lurelin shrine, a faint voice calls his name.

🌫️ 3. "Veil of Mist"

Location: Necluda Sea Quest Type: Puzzle / Stealth

Description: A ghostly figure is seen walking on the water during foggy nights. Locals call it The Sea Bride. Link must follow the mist path without disturbing the fog.

Objectives:

Use stealth and wind-based tools to follow the figure.

Avoid aggressive sea spirits (fog wraiths) by staying within Narella’s mist trail.

Discover a hidden island cove only accessible during fog.

Outcome: Link reaches a sealed shrine where Narella briefly manifests. She speaks in fragments—grateful, sorrowful—and asks Link to retrieve her lost relic.

🐚 4. "The Pearl of Remembrance"

Location: Submerged ruins east of Hateno Quest Type: Diving / Combat

Description: Narella’s sacred pearl lies deep in a sunken temple, guarded by ancient sea guardians. Link must dive and solve water puzzles using Cryonis, Ultrahand, or similar tools.

Objectives:

Navigate the broken, submerged corridors of the Tidebound Temple.

Solve puzzles using flowing water and reflections.

Defeat a cursed sea spirit: Abyssal Remnant, a corrupted guardian beast.

Outcome: Link recovers the Pearl of Remembrance, which glows with her divine power. Returning it to her shrine restores her full voice.

🌙 5. "The Tide Rises Again" (Final Quest)

Location: Original Shrine, Lurelin Village Quest Type: Spiritual / Reward

Description: With her pearl returned, Narella awakens in spirit form. She thanks Link, warning of growing darkness at sea—ancient monsters rising as the balance falters.

Objectives:

Help Narella sanctify her three shrines by activating protective sigils.

Witness a vision of the world when her faith was strong.

Choose to accept her blessing or let her spirit fade peacefully.

Reward Options:

Narella’s Blessing (Passive): Water-based enemies deal less damage, and sea creatures occasionally assist in battle.

Tidebound Cloak: A tunic woven from sea mist, enhances swimming speed and stealth near water.

Pearl Blade: A one-handed weapon made of coral and light, especially strong against cursed or aquatic foes.

With Narella’s shrines restored and her voice returned, she gently asks Link for one final act of kindness—not for her, but for the world.

"My name is a ripple in memory. But the tide flows both forward and back. If hearts still open to the sea, let them remember me... not as a goddess, but as a song."

She asks Link to carry her story across Hyrule, to plant seeds of remembrance—not in temples, but in tales, songs, and signs.

🧭 Quest Objectives (Can be completed in any order):

Tell the Story to the Rito

Location: Rito Village

Speak with Breoli, the songstress.

Help her compose a ballad of Narella using lines from the earlier poem and local lore.

Outcome: She performs “Whisper of the Shore” in the village square at night.

Bonus: Link gets a Shell Flute that can play a fragment of the melody.

Rekindle the Zora’s Memory

Location: Zora’s Domain

Find an elder named Laeren, a retired Tidebinder.

Bring him a Sea-Marked Stone and help him repair an old underwater shrine.

Outcome: He holds a quiet memorial, and younger Zora begin adding shells to their armor in tribute.

Inspire the Artists of Hateno

Location: Hateno Village

Show Narella’s Pearl to the painter Mondé, who sketches her shrine.

Outcome: He posts the painting at the inn, and rumors begin to spread.

Bonus: Travelers start humming a mysterious sea-song.

Restore a Shrine in Gerudo Territory

Location: Kara Kara Bazaar

Help an old sea trader named Nali, who remembers Narella’s name from stories told by her Hylian grandmother.

Rebuild a small shrine using coral tiles and shells.

Outcome: She leaves water every morning and starts a ritual greeting: “Salt and wind guide you.”

🌕 Final Outcome: “When the Tides Return”

Once at least three of the four tasks are completed, return to Narella’s original shrine at night under a full moon.

The wind carries faint songs from distant places. Narella’s spirit appears, not as a goddess, but as a figure formed from water and memory.

She says:

"You gave me no temple. You gave me no crown. But you gave me voices. That is enough."

She disappears into the sea breeze—leaving behind a small, radiant item: the Tidebound Sigil, which glows when near any coastal shrine or hidden memory related to her.

🏆 Rewards:

Tidebound Sigil: Illuminates faint glyphs and echoes of forgotten spirits by the sea.

Title: Bearer of the Saltwind – Some NPCs may now recognize Link as a teller of old sea tales.

Small changes in the world: children in coastal villages play “goddess of the sea,” a traveling bard sings about a "lady in blue mist," and more conches appear at docks.

[twstyuna]

What I wanted to share before I got distracted by the vid on what your fave twst character says about you. Interesting stuff, was listening to it while drawing Uninvited. It's a pretty neat look on things and was certainly A thing to listen to while doodling a self-indulgent brainrot-fueled comic haha.

Vid link

The desc

Falling in love with a fictional character is not abnormal. Neither by societal standards based on just how many people do and by psychological standards. It is a normal thing we sometimes do as humans; become attached to someone who doesn’t really exist. Let’s take a journey into the mountain of psychological research and real life pandemonium of fictophilia.