#also I’m occasionally color blind

[spaceorphan18]

I’m a doofus *dabs*

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[oftenwantedafton]

Secret Santa - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

rating - explicit

~ just a little fluffy Christmas smut ~

also on AO3

When you’d drawn Steve Raglan’s name for the secret Santa gift exchange, you weren’t sure how to feel.

The tall man was a complete mystery. He didn’t socialize in the office, refused to have lunch in the break room, and had never even acknowledged your existence beyond a nod if you directed someone to his office.

You have no idea what to get him that won’t feel completely generic and thoughtless. You refuse to go the gift card route. You know he drinks coffee, but, again, that’s such a boring present.

You’re hovering just inside his office one day, guiding a nervous looking young man searching for a job inside, when you notice the wire rabbit that holds outgoing mail envelopes and a set of car keys set to one side with a rabbit’s foot keychain on the ring. So he likes rabbits for some reason. Okay, you could work with that.

He waves the client forward, already dismissing you.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon thinking about what you could get him that was rabbit themed but also had a practical use. Another prospect led inside and you let your eyes linger on the man himself this time. He’s probably early fifties, dark haired with some white brushstrokes at the temples and through his beard. Creased laugh lines and crows feet on his face, but it suits him. Wide set eyes that you think you could get lost in if he spared you more than the occasional glance—

“Is there something I can help you with?”

You realize the woman seeking employment has already sat down and the pair of them were waiting for you to give them some privacy. You’ve been standing there staring at him like a display in a museum. You shake your head and look away, blushing, but not before you see the twitch of one eyebrow, the dimples creasing the corners of his mouth. Your eyes dart over his striped dress shirt and matching purple tie and you suddenly know exactly what it is you want to get him for Christmas. You murmur an apology and exit the room, a smile on your own features.

***

You settle a pewter rabbit tie clip into a box lined with tissue paper, letting it nestle securely among the soft folds.

You can hardly believe you found something so perfect in such a short amount of time. It’s classy without being too elegant or gaudy, just simple and refined. You settle the lid on the box and affix a bow to the top of the package. You can’t remember the last time you’d been this excited to give someone a gift.

The office party always transforms the bland environment into something special. You love seeing the splashes of color and festive decorations. People are relaxed and happy. There’s an array of treats to choose from but you’re not concerned with that right now, too eager to give Steve his gift.

Of course he’s not among the crowd of your coworkers.

You instead find him lurking in his office, a plate with a cupcake sitting on the corner of his desk, one hand tucked into a pocket while he stares through the open blinds at the gentle snowfall outside.

You knock on the door to get his attention.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but…well, I drew your name for the gift exchange. I’m your secret Santa. Merry Christmas!”

He turns to face you, withdrawing the tucked hand and accepting the gift box you hold out to him. He lifts the lid and removes the tissue wrapped bundle and you hold your breath, rocking on your feet in anticipation.

The pay off is so, so worth it.

His thumb gently smooths over the polished surface of the bar, then runs over the carved pewter rabbit seated in the middle.

“Do you…do you like it?”

He nods slowly, still studying the jewelry.

You exhale in relief. “I’m so glad. I thought you would. I know how much you like rabbits…”

“Shut the door.”

“What?” You blink at the interruption. “You want me to leave?”

He clucks his tongue impatiently, shaking his head and stepping around you to close the solid wood door himself.

“By some strange coincidence, I’m your secret Santa as well.” He moves to the office chair behind his desk and sinks into it, taking a moment to slide the tie bar into place and remove his glasses, tossing them lightly on the desk blotter.

“Wait…really?”

He nods. “And unlike yourself, I was not so certain of what to get for you. Why don’t you come have a seat?”

You move to sit in one of the padded vinyl chairs across from him but he sighs impatiently again, halting your progress.

“Not there. Here.” He points to the broad stretch of his long thighs. “And tell me what you’d like.”

Oh.

You suddenly feel self conscious in your pencil skirt and blouse, sitting side saddle gingerly across his lap, feeling ridiculous and aroused all at once.

One arm wraps around your waist to steady you, the other rests on your knee, drawing soft circles over the nylon covered joint. You clutch one shoulder, the other hand curled around the bicep of the opposite arm.

“I didn’t think you’d ever notice me. I didn’t even think you knew I existed,” you whisper, gasping when the hand on your knee slides between your thighs, his palm hot against you.

He chuckles softly. “Of course not. You weren’t supposed to know.” He smiles, a Cheshire Cat grin that has your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “So what would you like for Christmas?”

The probing hand wedges firmly at the fork of your legs and you gasp. He captures the sound with his mouth, his tongue parting your lips. He tastes like peppermint candy, sweet and strong in your mouth. You moan in frustration when he interrupts the kiss, the hand between your legs abruptly vacating the space of your desire. “Well? I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“You.”

Another dimpled smile rewards you. “That’s my girl.” He moves as if to stand and you follow his lead, sliding down from your perch. His hands reach for the curves of your buttocks, squeezing, kneading, his head tipped down and his mouth back on yours. He fumbles impatiently with the button and side zipper of your skirt and you help him tug it down, stepping free of it quickly, eager to be in his arms again. The nylons exasperate him and he tears them open, working on a run that’s started along one thigh. The material separates, surrendering to brute force and he tugs until he reaches your panties, fingers dipping beneath the crotch so he can touch you.

The career counselor’s fingers slip between the folds and you moan into his mouth, one hand at his collar, the other working on the fly of his pants. The sounds he makes when you finally reach inside his briefs are exquisite when hummed against your throat, deliciously needy and appreciative.

He lifts you easily and sits you on the edge of the desk, your legs automatically parting to invite him against you. One fingers works inside, then a second, stretching your opening further. You love the scratch of his beard against your face, the sloppy wet kisses he plants along your jaw and ear, that hitch of breath when you reach for him again and stroke the underside of his cock just right, smearing precum along the meeting curves.

He shoves your panties to one side and pushes into you without hesitation or preamble, one smooth strong stroke inside until he’s completely sheathed.

You curse, one hand knotted in his hair, the other clutching the edge of the desk for balance. He withdraws, waiting, teasing, watching your expression when he slams back in. Your eyes roll back and you say his name, legs wrapping around him, encouraging him to continue.

“William,” he corrects you, his voice low against your ear. “My real name is William.”

You frown over this information but fuck, does it really matter if he wants you to call him William or even Daddy or whatever, you don’t actually care right now, you just want more of that cock to pummel you, for that hungry mouth to feed off yours again.

You say this new name and he renews his efforts with a fury, the time for teasing long past. Every wet collision brings you closer and closer to release. He fills you so good and hits you in just the right spot, battering until your orgasm hits hard.

You feel the telltale shudder wrack through his body before he spills into you, so hot and Christ there’s so much of it, you can feel it oozing out in a steady trickle when he finally pulls out of you. You’re both panting, shaking, hair plastered wetly to skin. The air smells like sex and cupcake icing and fuck, you’ll never look at peppermint candy the same way again, it’s all you can taste in your mouth.

“William.” You say his name again, trying the sound of it out.

He holds a finger against your lips. You didn’t think eyes that pale glacier color could go so dark. “Keep it secret,” he warns softly.

You nod. “I promise.”

“Good girl. Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, his mouth covering yours once more.

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

QSMP Zombie AU: Indoor Recess

(For as much work as I put in to make dialogue sound accurate to streamers, it’s gonna be hard for me to do that for everyone, especially some of the eggs. Chayanne here is technically ooc because he wouldn’t be as scared but more protective, but for the sake of this AU I’m gonna make the kids act more like kids in a real zombie apocalypse. So my apologies if some of them seem a little less irony poisoned or brave. Later on I’ll try to make the personalities shine.)

Phil scrolled mindlessly down the page of his unread emails. Bratty parents, board meetings, apologies for burning dinner from his husband, the occasional spam, none of it motivated him enough to actually get any work done.

His eyes drifted lazily to the digital clock mounted on the wall. 3:35 PM. Around 25 minutes more and he could pack up early, maybe go home to some nice warm hard-to-mess-up dinner and some sweet family time. Thank fuck it was Friday, he wasn’t sure if he could stare at one more random complaint without going batshit crazy.

The pounding of running feet in the hallway broke through the silence of the room. Phil groaned and stood up from his chair, getting ready to berate some trouble making kid.

He never got the chance as his door crashed open wide, a breathless Chayanne on the other side.

“Dad. There’s. There’s someone.” Chayanne gasped out in between puffs for air.

Phil walked forward, squatting down to the boy’s height. “Easy mate, take some breaths for fucks sake, you’re gonna fuckin’ pass out in here if you don’t breathe!” Phil laughed at the situation, secretly relieved at the break from his monotonous work.

Chayanne didn’t seem to find it funny, and actually seemed to be…

…genuinely scared?

His laugh petered out as his expression grew more worried. “Chayanne. Is everything okay?”

“Dad there’s a sick man stuck on the playground on the climbing bars and he looks hurt but also really scary and dangerous and I don’t know what to do can you please help please there’s blood and and-“

Firm hands settled on Chayanne’s shoulders, and steely blue eyes filled with seriousness met the teary gaze of the terrified child.

“Show me.”

A shaking hand pointed out the window, and Philza followed it, grabbing the rod that controlled the blinds as well.

Phil scanned the playground, searching for the man that Chayanne had described. The colorful structures were completely absent of movement, and even the climbing bars that Chayanne had mentioned were completely vacant.

No, not completely.

A single, muddied shoe lay sideways on the ground. It was large, too large to have belonged to one of the students, and was covered in mud and….hopefully not blood.

His heart began to beat faster, and he could feel his pulse hammer in his ears. Looking closer at the climbing bars, it was clear that something had happened there. The woodchips were scattered around and upturned, even dirt was shown in some places where the scuff marks got too deep. That also could not have been one of the students, because it was a school rule that kids were not allowed to drag their feet through the woodchips for whatever reason.

Other than that however, the coast seemed to be rather clear-

A bloodied hand slapped against the window.

Phil reared back, clutching his mouth to silence the scream that threatened to tear through his chest. Chayanne wasn’t as cautious though, and a startled yelp came from the child.

The hand twisted around on the smooth glass, dirty fingernails scrabbling on the smooth surface, clambering for purchase on the glass, slowly the ready of the body raised up, the…man must have fallen near the window just out of sight.

Phil lunged for the window, snapping the plastic lock into place and twisting the blinds, immediately darkening the room. He could hear Chayanne whimpering from behind him as he stumbled back.

“Fuck. Shit. What the fuck. Okay. Chayanne run back to Fit and tell him to get you guys into the gymnasium right the fuck now. I’ll get the rest of the teachers here and call the police. It’s gonna be okay, it’s just some…drunk, okay? Okay go go go.”

Chayanne bolted out the door, and Phil reached for the intercom.

//ATTENTION EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING, PLEASE HEAD TO THE GYMNASIUM RIGHT NOW, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. MR. HALO PLEASE COME TO MY OFFICE, AND BRING YOUR FIREARM, I KNOW YOU FUCKING HAVE ONE. THANK YOU.\\

The scrabbling at the window stopped.

Phil cursed under his breath, lifting the intercom one more time.

//MS. MOUSE AND MR. UNDERSCORE PLEASE LOCK UP THE BUILDING AS FAST AS YOU CAN AND PUT THE BOOTS IN.\\

Phil clicked off the intercom, and reached for the landline, eyes glued to the blinded window. There was a dark silhouette blocking out the little light from the cloud obscured sun, but it was moving away from the window, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The landline rang in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Five-

“Heyyy you’ve reached the Quesadilla Island Police Department, this is Sheriff Foolish speakin’, guess we’re busy so too bad for you I guess. Better luck next time bucko!”

Phil cursed again, running a hand through his hair, sweat starting to form under his striped hat. This didn’t leave them with much options but to wait it out and hope the man sobered up….if that was really all there was to it. He had no idea what drugs or substances that man was on, but it was best to be safe than sorry, and something…didn’t feel right here.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of Mr. Halo approaching as he snuck a look at the blinds again, the dim light now unmarred by any mysterious figure behind them.

Call it intuition, instinct, or just a hunch, but Philza Minecraft had a sneaking suspicion that this strange man wouldn’t be the end of his troubles today…

[mouschiwrites]

HIIIi love your writing so much so here i am making a request with promp 12. or 19.?? maybe combo or you can choose whichever youd like with the character Zane from Ninjago

when maybe with prompt 12 where Zane has some sort of panic attack so the reader is there to help him??? THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DO HAVE A GREAT DAY AND DONT FORGET TO DRINK AND EAT UP😼😼😽

YAH thank you sweets!! One Zane fic, compliments to the lovely anon!! <3

Word count: 1.3k

Ninjago - 12. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” and 19. “Your hair looks so soft.” (Zane) (300 follower event)

The market was alive with noise and movement. The torrent of people was thick and powerful; if you stepped into it, you were bound to be swept away. So you and the ninjas made sure to stay on the outer edge, using alleyways as they were available instead of braving the main street.

Zane was never a fan of large crowds. They caused him a faint anxiety, especially when he was with people, as that added the responsibility of keeping track of them. You, of course, knew about this, so you were holding his hand to ensure you wouldn’t be separated. You still saw the occasional flicker of worry in his eyes, but you knew it couldn’t be helped.

“How far did Ronin say it was?” You asked, getting a little impatient. “We’ve been wandering the streets for hours.”

“That’s the thing,” Lloyd sighed. “He didn’t say how far it was. He just said to ‘look for a cart in a caravan with a blue feather painted on the door.’”

Jay rolled his eyes. “How specific of him.”

“I still think our best bet is the market. Where else would a caravan be in such a huge city?”

“Nya’s right. We’ll keep searching here,” Kai agreed as they emerged from an alley into a new portion of the market.

Before you stepped into the noisiness again, you paused, leaning in to speak softly to Zane. “Doing okay?”

He gave a sincere smile, squeezing your hand. “Yes. Thank you.”

You smiled back, hurrying to catch up with the others before they got too far.

You traversed several more streets before you found anything; the market was like an endless maze, seemingly never ending no matter how many twists and turns one made.

Your blind trek finally came to a conclusion as the sun was beginning to flush the blue from the sky with orange, and the people were beginning to head home. Many vendors had also left, but fortunately for your party the caravan appeared inhabited still.

It was a posse of quaint carts, each not much bigger than your average camping trailer. The intricate blue feather painted on the door distinguished the one you were looking for, and Jay practically bounded up the steep stairs to pound on the door.

There was no answer. Jay’s fists clenched. “If Ronin sent us on yet another wild goose chase—!”

“Are you looking for Natalia?”

Everyone turned their heads to see a young boy peering out from behind the cart. After exchanging glances and shrugs among yourselves, you turned helplessly to the boy. “Is this Natalia’s cart?”

“Yes. I will tell her she has visitors. She will be a while. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you waiting inside.” The boy disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Jay opened the door just as you had opened your mouth to ask if it was a good idea to go inside. You hadn’t missed the way that Zane’s hand was tightening around yours, and you had a pretty good guess as to why. It had been a long day full of stress, and now he was being packed into a little cart with six other people. The strong smell of incense wafting from the open door wasn’t promising, either; you could tell before even stepping inside that you’d be choked by the smell.

And choked you were. The oppressive heat in the cart (partly from the several sticks of incense burning in the small space) only worsened the smell. The numberless trinkets and furniture impossibly crammed into the little space made it twice as claustrophobic as it should have been, what with seven people now crammed inside.

It was the smells. The colors. The heat. The voices of the ninjas. The voices of the remaining people out on the street. Everything. But most of all it was the stress of being on a mission in such a place. Zane had been trying to keep serious, knowing that what they were doing was important. But it was too much. It was all just so noisy.

Zane suddenly let go of your hand. Even the feeling of your skin on his was making everything worse. He tried to close his eyes, but it didn’t help, so he opened them again, and that didn’t help, either. It seemed that whatever he did, he was making the panic worse.

You knew what was up the second he stopped gripping your hand.

“Guys,” you spoke over the others, sounding as casual as you could. “Why don’t you go and keep a lookout for this ‘Natalie’ person?” You nodded at the door.

Jay opened his mouth to protest, but Kai, who seemed to suddenly notice Zane, smacked his shoulder before he could speak. He ushered the others out quickly, sending an encouraging look your way before stepping out himself.

You turned to face Zane when you heard the door close. By now his breathing was ragged and he was shifting his weight uncomfortably, his fingernails digging roughly into his palms.

“Hey,” you spoke quietly. “Zane. Just look at me.”

His head snapped up, distressed eyes wild as they bored into yours.

“Good. Now focus on me. Look in my eyes. It’s just you and me.” You seamlessly wrapped your hands around his, wedging his fingers out of his palms to entwine with yours as they relaxed.

He nodded subtly, but his breathing was only growing faster. You repeated your last line a few times, making sure to keep your tone calm and encouraging.

Zane’s hands gradually unclenched, and after a while his breathing finally began to slow.

“You’re doing great. Deep breaths. Here, just follow my lead.” You breathed deep too, letting him synchronize his breaths with yours.

Tears started to brim his eyes, and you could see the exhaustion of the day taking its toll on him: his knees wobbled a bit, so you guided him to a chair.

“Just take it easy,” you whispered, pulling up another chair beside him.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulder, letting him put his head on your torso. You felt him start to shake, and though he was clearly trying to keep his breathing calm.

“Your hair looks so soft,” you murmured. “Can I touch it?”

Given a small nod by Zane, you reached up a hand to stroke his hair. This seemed to help keep him relatively calm as he trembled, working the remaining anxiety out of his system.

It was a while before he tried to straighten himself. He suddenly pulled away from your chest, looking into your eyes with a sincere smile. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice a little unsteady.

You just nodded, bringing the hand that was buried in his hair down to cup his cheek. “Of course.”

Zane placed his hand atop yours, adding pressure to quell the shakiness. He turned his head a little to kiss your palm as he leaned into your touch.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You blushed a little, making Zane’s smile spread wider.

“Do you want to go back?”

“No. I’d like to finish the mission. I feel much better.”

You eyed him warily, prompting him to grab both of your hands and hold them on your lap. “Trust me, I’m fine now.”

You didn’t like the twinge of exhaustion you saw in his eyes, but ultimately you respected his judgment. You gave a small nod.

Not two seconds later a knock came at the door of the little cart. You heard Jay’s voice on the other side. “Guys! Natalia’s coming!”

You both shot up, you scrambling to the door, Zane following a step behind. You paused as you grabbed the handle, looking back at Zane one last time.

“Let’s go out,” Zane insisted. “The smell in here really is oppressive.”

You laughed, affirming your agreement by swinging the door open and hopping into the fresh air outside.

When on flat ground, Zane held your hand once more, once again aware of the (admittedly smaller but still not insignificant) bustling market.

Kai sent you a look that asked: All good?

You gave a thumbs-up, earning a confused yet innocent smile from Zane.

“All good,” you said, kissing Zane’s hand quickly before getting down to business; Natalie was approaching, and the mission had to go on.

Thank you so much for participating in our event!! And thanks for reading, take care guys <33

(divider by saradika)

[xximperioxx]

Ooo could i request: reader doing makeup for the ghouls/ghoulettes (your choice) despite having NO makeup skills whatsoever? I thought it might be funny. Have a nice day! 🫶🏻

Practice Makes Perfect

Nameless Ghoulettes (+Swiss) x GN! Reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 600

Note: thank you for this cute and fun request! this was so much fun for me to write! I also know nothing about makeup lol. I hope you enjoy anon!

Sorry for the wait I had finals and then I got the flu so it’s been an eventful 2 weeks lol

Please enjoy and much love <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don't really know how you got in the situation of makeovers but you were having a sleepover with the ghoulettes. Cumulus was begging you to do her makeup.

“Oh, please (Y/N)!” She looked at you with her big beady eyes.

“Cumulus,” You looked away nervously, she knew you could never say no to her even though you have absolutely no makeup skills. Like at all. You sigh, “Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

Sunshine beamed, “I’ll get our makeup box!”

Your eyes widen, “Box?”

Cirrus nods excitedly.

Sunshine came back with the box a little too quickly. The four of you are sitting in the living room area downstairs in the abbey, where the ghouls lived. The fireplace lit up most of the room as music played from some channel on the tv.

You were nervous. You never really did anyone’s make up before. You barely did your own. You look at makeup in the box, wondering what to use first. There were so many products in there. You didn’t even know what half of these things were.

Cumulus sits patiently watching you. Grabbing a brush and an eyeshadow pallet, you move close to her. You take a pink shade and gently apply it to her closed eyes. You could tell she was excited, the ghoulette was practically purring beneath your hand. It made you smile. You knew the ghoulettes never experienced sleepovers with anyone other than each other so it was an exciting time.

“What’s going on here?”

You were too focused on eyeliner to see who it was. It didn’t help that your hand was shaking trying not to poke the poor ghoulette in the eye.

“(Y/N) is doing Cumulus’s makeup and I’m painting Cirrus’s nails.” Sunshine paused to fix a nail and to answer Swiss.

The ghoul takes a seat on the couch watching you struggle. You study Cumulus’s face. You try not to wince at your eyeliner job. The wings were uneven and sloppy. It looks better from far away. If you’re mostly blind.

You choose a bright pink lipstick as you see the ghoulette’s eyes light up at the color. You begin to apply it to her lips but try not to laugh as you feel Swiss staring.

“Do you want me to do your makeup, Swiss?” You joked.

He rolls his eyes at you, “Pfft. No.”

You finish applying the lipstick and wipe a smudge you had accidentally made. Moving back, you stare at the work you did. You were really trying not to make a face. You supposed it could be a lot worse as it didn’t completely look like a five year old did it.

“I hope it’s okay. I don’t really know what I was doing,” you begin to ramble as you hand a mirror to Cumulus.

Anxiety fills you as you watch her stare at herself.

A big grin grows across the ghoulette’s face, “I love it!”

She tackles you into a hug repeating ‘thank you’ over and over.

Relief washes over you and a laugh erupts as you hug her back.

“I’m next!” Swiss slides off the couch and sits in front of you with a big smile on his face.

Sunshine whines, “I wanted to be next, Swiss.”

He sticks his tongue out in response.

You let out a laugh before grabbing the eyeshadow before getting close to him. You hear his tail tapping the floor in excitement.

Swiss can’t sit still for too long and you were fine with him occasionally moving. Except when he happened to pinch your waist when you were trying to do his eyeliner.

“Swiss, I swear to Satan next time it’s your eye.”

He chuckles at you which causes you to mess up the other eye. You sigh.

Maybe you could do makeup at each sleepover. Practice makes perfect. Right?

[laminacore]

hello i saw your reblog so i’m here to bother you with questions!! do you have any thoughts on district 9/what life was like there during the original trilogy?

YES I DO!!!! im gonna break this down into sections because it's gonna be a LONG post (sorry in advance)

daily life:

district nine is the third poorest district of panem, with each person taking out approximately 4-5 tesserae each year. this means that their living conditions aren't necessarily the best.

most houses tend to be situated close to where jobs are done, with children choosing a trade to work in and eventually moving/building a house to where that trade is located. the main trades are farming, grain transport and mill work. there are other trades, though, inherited from parent to child such as bread making and alcohol production. the houses are very hut-like and are predominately made out of wood, which is quite inconvenient considering that the extreme heat causes fires quite regularly but wood is the cheapest material they can afford.

the food in the poorer part of district nine mainly consists of grain ration (tesserae) and things that are grown/scavenged from the land like wild onions, chives and such and things they trade with peacekeepers/people who live in town which is technically illegal but everyone turns a blind eye to it. though, starving is quite common among the poorer people of district nine. the richer upper-class tends to live in the main (and only) town, where the reaping happens. their diet consists of more expensive things like honey, some forms of meat and bought vegetables/fruits.

hunger games:

i personally headcanon district nine to have four victors (one deceased by the time of the 3rd quarter quell), here are their names:

- anona ryan who won the 20th games (deceased before quarter quell)

- angus flaxon who won the 39th games

- ceres miller who won the 46th games

- thérèse "thea" vaughn who won the 68th games

district nine didn't do the best in the hunger games, but not nearly as bad as some other districts such as twelve, six and eight. children in district nine start their profession at the age of thirteen, but have school trips and lessons to teach them how to farm grain before that.

they excel at scythe and sickle work and occasionally use pitchforks, which could be useful in the hunger games. they also know a vast range of knowledge about the grain they farm, and about food in general which could also come to use. they tend to be physically lean and can carry quite alot due to their profession, but tend to be on the smaller side due to their district being the third poorest.

culture:

district nine is a very musical district, which values bars and taverns and places like the hob for people to perform in. there will always be a singer and multiple dancers on the stage who also know gymnastics. it's more performance-based than say the covey in district twelve. those sorts of things boost morale among citizens of district nine, since their jobs are so rigorous. the love of music tends to come from the mockingjays, which exist in district nine as well as eleven and twelve.

there are also many festivals celebrated in district nine, such as harvest festival and new year. those are mainly celebrated by wearing the best clothes they own, having a day off of school and going to a performance where they honor the harvest.

weddings are also very important, with newlyweds weaving wheat into eachothers hair to signify their bond. there are lots of other rituals like this (similar to the setting the bread on fire in d12) that district nine citizens perform during other holidays such as birthdays or summer festival.

district nine's people tend to wear practical, but subtly colorful clothing during the day when at work, but when they are at home or if they perform they wear colorful skirts/clothing. they tend to make most of their clothing themselves, usually using the crochet technique.

sorry for the long rant, im definitely sure i missed something so i may add on to it later <3

[gravyhoney]

Cw// gun/weapon

Let me into your brain about the silly legos (hc’s) - ✧

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED ABOUT MY HCS‼️‼️

Idk which Legos you were referring to so I will make a HC post for Ninjago characters since it’s what I’m currently hyperfixating on.

Buckle in for an extremely long post because I am insane. Cutting it to keep it organized for u guys 🫶

So one thing about me is that I love incorporating other people’s headcanons into my own. And sometimes that leads to some contradicting headcanons, so in my little brain I have like, multiple different sets of headcanons for a bunch of different characters while also having My Headcanons, those being the ones I believe in the most/came up with without outside influence. I will be listing My Headcanons, but I type that entire preface to explain why some of my posts might be contradictory of the headcanons I list here 🫶

It’s gonna go like this in no particular order. (The order of how excited I am to share my hcs for them)

Character name- gender/pronouns, sexuality

List of headcanons

——————————————————

General-

Their eye color aligns with their element, they all have their natural eye colors, but after realizing/unlocking their elemental powers, they began to change.

Adding onto the above hc, Kai and Nya's eyes are still pretty dull due to them being like, the last two to realize their powers, while Jay's are extremely bright and vibrant.

Jay- she/they (occasionally he) transfem + gender-fluid, bisexual

Hard of hearing, wears hearing aids. I think the hearing loss has always been there, but I think her elemental power just worsened it, bc you know. Thunder loud.

That being said, I think she was the first to get her elemental powers. I think they got them when she was like, a really really young kid.

Has heterochromia.

Came out as trans like, mid-prime empire.

Has psychosis and suffers from delusions.

Not rlly a Jay hc, but related. Their mom gave them up because she was desperately hoping they wouldn't have an elemental power, but if she did, they'd be near unfindable because she lived through hell and didn't want Jay to have to go through the same.

AuDHD

Nya- she/they transfem nonbinary, bisexual demiromantic

Has a tremor after un-merging with the ocean.

Her and Kai both have pretty bad anger issues.

SHE CAN BREATHE UNDERWAAAATTTEEERRRRR I believe she can ok?

For a long time after Hands Of Time she hates the way she looks because of how much she looks like her mom.

Still holds a heavy resentment against their parents, because even though it wasn't their choice to leave, them and Kai still had to grow up alone.

Fucking hates the taste of cinnamon.

Has time blindness, but only after un-merging with the ocean. She became disoriented and confused about the passage of time after being the ocean for so long.

Sometimes they still feel pulled back to the water.

Best friends with Cole (I believe this one wholeheartedly)

ADHD

Lloyd- he/they nonbinary, aroace

Has insomnia, and a sleepwalking problem when he can get to sleep.

Looked fairly human when he was young, but as he got older, his Oni and Dragon features started showing more.

The feelings he felt for Harumi was mostly confusion because she was the first girl he got close to that didn't have what felt like an 'older sister' role in his life.

Really likes bugs.

Has auditory processing disorder.

Their body doesn't regulate temperature regularly.

Religiously watches iceberg videos.

Likes wearing more loose fitting, baggy clothing.

High-empathy autistic.

Kai- he/him transman, bisexual

He and Nya both have pretty bad anger issues.

He likes occasionally dressing femininely, but usually decides against it because he’s afraid people won’t take him seriously.

HIS ASS IS NOT THE DESIGNATED DRIVER

Has burn scars that go pretty far up his arms due to his own elemental power.

Extremely high body heat, has to wear gloves to avoid burning people at the touch.

Has a pretty bad memory due to constant concussions (his ass got beat to shit CONSTANTLY)

Was stealth trans for a while, because he wanted people to take him seriously, but stopped caring after a while and is extremely open about his identity.

Has a deep paranoia that he’s going to hurt the people he cares about, and is constantly over correcting at ever little mistake.

ADHD

Cole- he/they, gay ace grey-aro

After the events of DOTD he has to use a mobility aid for a while while he gets accustomed to having a body again.

Body-image issues.

He feels like he’s supposed to be in charge of keeping everyone safe.

Best friends with Nya and Vania (I believe in this one SO hard.)

He loves cooking, and is very defensive about it. NOBODY is allowed in the kitchen while he's cooking (except Nya she's his taste tester).

Has constant night terrors and has a very detailed sleep routine to avoid them.

Super good with kids.

Girls girl (gender neutral).

OCD + ADHD.

Zane- they/them agender, panromantic ace

Will sometimes pick up little crafts or projects, jack of all trades type vibe.

Is actually SUPER up to date with every single internet trend or meme.

Can't taste (bc they're a nindroid...) but fr thought for years that all food just had no taste until the robot reveal and they're like 'ohh'

Has constantly wildly shifting morals.

Genuinely the scariest of the group, sometimes freaking out everyone else. This makes them sad. They present themselves in such a way to make them approachable.

Has a tendency to blame themself when everything goes wrong.

Refuses to talk about their feelings to anyone else, bottling it up.

Autistic.

Pixal- any pronouns agender, unlabeled ace

Runs every single online forum about the ninja, none of them know.

Always has to feel useful, or she gets stressed out easily.

Listens to podcasts when he works.

Wildly defensive.

Felt a little unworthy of the Samurai X title when nobody knew it was them.

Low-empathy autistic.

Skylor- she/they, lesbian

True neutral (generally looks out for herself, doesn't really do things for the greater good, but for her own sake)

Doesn't remember her mom at all, she passed away when she was extremely young.

After the events of S4 she completely uprooted her life, changed literally everything about herself to disconnect herself from her father. Renamed the noodle shop, and completely rewrote the menu.

Makes most of her own clothes.

Picked up painting, is insanely good at it.

Slightly self destructive, constantly trying to distance themself from the ninja, but Kai always drags her back.

Realized her elemental power at a very young age, mostly because of her father.

BPD + CPTSD.

Vania- she/fae/it/he transwoman, lesbian aromantic

Very talkative.

Writes to Cole a lot (she has both a phone and his phone number it just likes writing to him).

Plays a lot of instruments, faer favorites being the harp and the violin.

Extremely anxious that she's not going to be a good queen, constantly overcorrecting.

Really indecisive and always changing his mind.

AuDHD

Harumi- she/he bigender, pansexual

Probably bites people.

Because of how sheltered she was with the royal family, she doesn't know a lot of basic life skills, and had to teach herself near everything she knows.

He did learn how to sew, and mends his own clothes.

Has albinism.

Always blaming her problems on other people, that being a product of the extreme pressure he was under when princess.

ADHD + CPTSD.

Sora- she/they/various neos transfem, lesbian

Always has to be busy, or she will start spiraling.

Wildly protective of Arin.

Was constantly getting into fights in the early days of living in the crossroads, very quickly learned they'd have to constantly fight to survive.

Talks about xer childhood like 'haha yeah it be how it be :)' and everyone listening is completely horrified.

Views everyone she meets as a threat until they prove they aren't.

Really likes reading, her favorite genre being sci-fi.

Does some creative writing, but has never shown anyone her writing.

Love language is quality time.

Since realizing their elemental power, she's had a tremor in her hands. She hates it.

Low-empathy autistic + OCD.

Arin- he/they transmasc, unlabeled aroace

Needs people to be in the kitchen when he bakes, he's very social.

Wildly protective of Sora

Has night terrors, has never talked about it.

Actually really good at fighting dirty if needed. Bro kicks ASS.

Picks at his fingernails.

Has read Sora's writing, (she doesn't know) he finds some comfort in it.

Love language is physical touch.

Is always completely down to prank people, a devious little guy.

Nearsighted, but doesn't ever mention it because he doesn't know.

Craves validation from anywhere he can get it.

Low-empathy autistic + ADHD

Wyldfyre- he/she/they nonbinary, queer greyaro

Anger issues for days.

Really physically strong.

Love language is physical touch.

Has burn scars on their hands and thinks they make them look badass.

Talks loudly because he has hearing loss.

Doesn't know how to interact with people, seeing as she was raised by a dragon.

Low pain tolerance, but knows how to hide it.

It never came up until she started living with people, but he's deathly afraid of seeming weak or incapable.

ADHD

Euphrasia- she/her transwoman, unlabeled ace

Introverted as hell.

Can hold her own in a fight for a surprisingly long time (I know this is not canon compliant, let me be delusional)

Had really long hair, but had a manic episode and cut it all off.

Likes drawing.

Despite her job, she's not too keen on reading.

Autistic

[pandorias-box]

It appears that I have finally managed to sustain a stable connection to this "Rotumblr" database that I have heard much about.

Salutations and greetings, I am known as Pandoria, and I am a member of the Ultra Reconnaissance Squadron of the Great City of Ultra Megalopolis. My field of study within the squadron itself is that regarding the cultures and customs of different worlds, both near and far. I am also a Naganadel hybrid due to past experimentations that I would rather not talk about.

As of 3/28/24, I have adopted Akilia, a human-Xurkitree hybrid and attendee of Unova’s Blueberry Academy.

I look forward for any conversations held in the future. May the Blinding One light our path.

And I’m Seira, Pandoria’s colleague and partner. And also girlfriend. I study Ultra Beasts and their behavior. Also, I almost died while trying to get samples for a Nihilego antitoxin, but the good thing is that I’m still alive. Probably won’t utilize this place much since this is her space essentially, but I’ll pop on in occasionally.

Pokémon:

Mira (Hisuian Typhlosion, F): Her Hisuian partner Pokémon gifted by Professor Laventon in order to accompany her on her expeditions. Timid and likes to curl up on Pandoria while she sleeps.

Themis (Staraptor, F):

Arco (Luxray, M):

Ishigi (Sylveon, M):

Ruynape (Hisuian Goodra, F):

Emusi (Gallade, M):

Hisui Team:

Usual Team:

Hyperion (Naganadel): A partner and companion of Pandoria since it was a hatchling Poipole. Used as a mount for interdimensional travel. Stubborn, but affectionate and loyal. Reported to “sing” on occasion. Calls Pandoria “brood-sister”. (Moves: Round, Dragon Pulse, Venoshock, Nasty Plot)

Porospis (Duosion, F): Initially encountered in Unova’s Route 5. Curious and inquisitive, but also has a single braincell (literally). Pandoria’s first non-UB partner Pokémon. (Moves: Psyshock, Light Screen, Reflect, Recover)

Lyko (Gliscor, M): Initially encountered in Unova’s Route 16. Literally ambushed Pandoria for food, but ended up “eating” some of Hyperion’s toxins instead. Very energetic and what humans would describe as a “goofball”. (Moves: Acrobatics, Quick Attack, U-Turn, Poison Tail)

Nayalia (Altaria, F): Landed on Pandoria’s head as a Swablu while travelling through Unova’s Route 14. By far the most sociable of her Pokémon. Hyperion thinks she’s a hatchling for some reason. (Moves: Disarming Voice, Cotton Guard, Swift, Dragon Pulse)

Corinus (Absol, M): Encountered on her way to the Giant Chasm and Lacusona Town and appeared to follow her. The most reclusive of her Pokémon. Seems to dislike conflict. (Moves: Night Slash, Detect, Swords Dance, Psycho Cut)

Seti (Elgyem, M): The egg Pandoria received from Professor Elm via Pelipper Mail. Has a distinct coloration compared to others of its species. (Moves: Confusion, Growl)

[blog run by @crimsonflowerss

no nsfw or magic anons, please. pelipper mail IS open, however.

this is my first time running a rp/in-character blog so my apologies if i'm not the best at it

this blog is primarily canon compliant to USUM, but will utilize several aspects of personal headcanons + lore

currently medium high-stakes atm, subject to change

admin is an adult (20 y/o)

basic DNI criteria: proshippers, racists, homophobes, etc.

previous arcs: The Road to Black City/Journey Begins, Frozen Heart (MMM Feb. 2024), Lifeline, Anon Anarchy (100 Follower Special), Revelations, Seira’s Soliloquies (April Fools), Metamorphosis (mini-arc)

current arc: Divine Decree]

[turtledude]

Personal headcanons for 2012 tmnt turtles. Fluff 🌸

(T-CEST DNI!)

Raph

-secretly loves rom-com but will never tell a soul

-bonus: Mikey found out when he snuck into raphs room and saw him crying while watching the titanic, he never let him live it down

-has way to many protein shakes

-doesn’t like chocolate but LOVES sour candy

-he loves punk rock but occasionally lets his inner swifty out

-color blind because I said so and it somehow makes sense

-hyper active adhd

-Donnie had to explain pronouns to him. He understood pretty quick but didn’t think much of it. He probably wouldn’t care if someone used she/her on him but he prefers he/him

-he doesn’t like to verbally apologize but if he makes one of his brothers upset on accident he’ll leave a note in their room saying he was sorry and that if they told anyone he apologized they would face his rath

-gets really sad if an animal doesn’t like him but pretends he doesn’t care. (Def a dog person but likes cats)

-I also see him as Demi-romantic and bi. He can’t see a relationship happening if he doesn’t trust you or know you well enough, so I think it fits him(yes I know he fell really quickly for Mona but that doesn’t matter shh)

Donnie

-loves cucumber water

-fav movies are horror films

-he always points out the mistakes if the gore doesn’t look accurate

-I headcanon that when Donnie was younger one of his teeth was loose and Raph like tied a string to it and a door to get it out but it was the wrong tooth. Raph still feels bad about that(I got this idea from a fan made comic but I forgot which)

-He’s autistic you can’t prove to me she’s not

-he’s had a wide range of special intrests which is why they know a lot of random stuff.

-they already knew about pronouns and think any fit him, but it took her a while to realize her sexuality

-bi king

-he’s scared of dogs, def a cat person

-doesn’t like the texture of meat that much

-he often makes things for her brothers to show he cares for them. Time and gift giving is the way they show affection

-not used to physical touch but loves hugs, especially Mikey’s hugs. She finds it really sweet

Mikey

-they love pickles so much (probably tried it on pizza while his brothers just looked horrified in the distance)

-lactose intolerant but doesn’t care (his brothers suffer for it)

-def still watches my little pony (me too it’s okay)

-innetentive adhd

-forgets things constantly but always feels bad about it

-Raphs gotten into the habit of reminding him about stuff and Mikey really appreciates it

-loves action films but thinks horror is too scary

-their pan like I just can’t see it any other way

-bros got rizz with everyone/j

-doesn’t really care about pronouns but prefers they/he

-he prefers cats over dogs but still thinks dogs are cute

-their very physically affectionate and hugs their brothers as much as they’ll let him cough* Raph

-listens to music when he’s upset

-if he makes one of his brothers upset they get really mad at himself, they’ll constantly apologize and try to make them feel better

Leo

-autistic and his special interest is space hero’s

-loves action and comedy movies(even better when it’s a mix)

-he hates mayonnaise, idk he just looks like he hates it.

-the type of guy to eat ranch on his pizza

-he’s gay your honor

-whenever he tries to act serious his brothers try to mess with him and make him laugh, it works everytime

-he’s trans and uses he/him cause I’m right

-literally cannot decide whether he likes cats or dogs more

-even though he tries to be mature, he can pretty hot headed sometimes. He’s also stubborn so if you make him mad it will take a bit before he apologizes

-but even with that if he calms down and realizes he actually upset his brothers or friends, he’s gonna apologize. He doesn’t want to ruin a relationship just because he’s stubborn

-he has scars from fighting and sometimes feels a little self conscious about them, but Raph always tells him they look cool and it actually makes him like them more

[lavalampstealer]

hello.

tell me about yellow and cyan please.

i am obsessed with your things

YAAAAAYYYY I GET TO DUMP ABOUT THESE IDIOTS!!!!!!!

game spoilers ahead, obv

They gave each other their nicknames, Cyan getting theirs first from the fact that they’re almost always wearing blues while nearly every other EOD field agent lean towards reds and oranges, and Yellow getting his from his love for the color (yellow sweaters and the like fill his wardrobe, his signature headset is yellow, he loves marigolds, daffodils, sunflowers, etc).

Whenever they’re next to each other and Cyan starts getting anxious or starts to spiral, they grab onto Yellow’s sleeve or the hem of his sweater or something to let him know ‘Hey I’m not doing okay.’

Cyan’s flowers are blue salvias and blue irises (thank god I was able to find blue flowers with meanings) and Yellow’s are daffodils and sunflowers. (flowernerdflowernerdflowe-)

Cyan’s shirts are almost always wrinkled (Yellow gave up trying to convince them to iron their shirts, they’d just shrug it off and say that they usually ruin them on missions anyways so what’s the point).

Cyan is a chronic tinkerer. Before the Agency, they worked as a car mechanic, and they can’t keep their hands off of things. They want to know how a thing works, what it’s made of, how it was made, etc. They absolutely adored having Friendly Skies as their first real mission, they spent so long looking around in every nook and cranny of Zor’s car. Anything with buttons and switches and plugs has them like a moth to a sparkler. The anti-grav machine in Winter Break? You’re telling them they could fiddle with sliders AND pretty crystals?? Some other ones they wanted to figure out: the chair in Seat of Power, the panels in Jet Set, Fabricator’s desk in Eaves Drop, and the map and hidden cabinet in Party Crasher. I could go on about how they were practically VIBRATING when they saw Robutler in House Call, but then this would turn into a whole essay lol. When they got their leg, Yellow had to stop them from disassembling the thing because they were fascinated by it.

Also adding to the above, even though Prism designed their prostheses, they hardly met her. Granted, most of the time when she was there it was to take their measurements and they were most likely unconscious.

Cyan looked up to Prism in some respects, they knew that she was an amazing engineer and were really impressed with her work, so they were crushed when they got to meet her properly in ieytd 3 and it turned out that she hated them. Their heart nearly exploded when she called Phoenix her greatest creation in KBOOM (that or the traces of kinesium in their bloodstream wasn’t doing so hot near the lava and destabilizing core).

Oh also, Cyan has a tiny amount of kinesium in their blood from the implant. After Death Engine, the explosion from the gravity crystal messed with their TK a bit, destabilizing it ever so slightly. The main side effects were occasional headaches and their eyes let off a faint glow when they used their telekinesis in any way. They never figured this out themselves, poor Yellow was the one to discover this. They were both in a pitch black room and Cyan, thinking he knew they were there, came up from behind Yellow and used their TK to search for a light switch, scaring the shit out of him Freddy Fazbear style.

Cyan has anxiety and picks at the skin around their nails. Yes I’m projecting and no they can’t break the habit.

Cyan only wears their gloves during mission because it’s required by the Agency (something about not leaving fingerprints behind). They despise the feeling of any gloves but they found some bearable ones that they can deal with.

Yellow is pretty much blind without his glasses.

Yellow has a scar on the back of his neck, but Cyan (or anyone for that matter) hardly ever see it because he’s almost always in a turtleneck of some kind. Cyan only knows about it because Yellow told him the story about how he got it when they were bored in between missions.

Yellow went from handling 3-5 agents at a time to having 1-2, mainly because Cyan/Phoenix was being put on more assignments due to their success rate, but also because he stopped taking on as many because he was starting to become attached. To him, they were just more nameless Agents that got caught in Zoraxis’ traps and after bonding with Cyan, he couldn’t stand to listen as agent after agent was put out of commission.

Yellow really likes his headset and is hardly ever seen without it on. It’s comfortable, it dampens harsh noises, and he can hear people just fine with them on. When he’s not using it to talk to an agent, the mic is pulled aside and they’re switched off.

Cyan also likes headphones, although they prefer in-ear ones. When they’re not on missions, they usually have an earbud in playing some kind of music, like Frank Sinatra or some big band songs as background noise.

If they had access to modern music. they would both listen to Womanizer. and they’d both be girlbosses. Neither would tell the other about this.

Cyan loves any kind of animal, cats and reptiles especially. Yellow says he doesn’t like many animals, but he would absolutely melt if a cat jumped up on his lap.

Cyan very much has orange cat energy. Dumb. Dumb agent. Little braincells. /aff

[truebluewhocanoe]

okay fine ill assign each doctor what ffxiv job they would main

First Doctor - Scholar. He’s by the book. He’s a little silly. He doesn’t need friends, he has a fairy right here!

Second Doctor - Bard. Explains itself. “Oh my word Jamie, it seems I must either let my Barrage cooldown drift, or overwrite my Straight Shot proc! Whatever shall I do?”

Third Doctor - Monk. Also quite self explanatory. He shouts IKEAAAAA every time he uses Perfect Rush.

Fourth Doctor - Dancer. He’s a free spirit. He likes hitting the colorful buttons. Sometimes he En Avants off of the arena.

Fifth Doctor - Paladin. This is the most basic white boy in the universe and you can bet your ass he is maining the basic white boy sword & board job. He’s the only player in the entire game who enjoyed the 6.3 Paladin adjustments.

Sixth Doctor - Red Mage. Dramatic, colorful, occasionally blinding. Saves your ass with a Verraise and never lets you forget it.

Seventh Doctor - Black Mage. Did you know that the Seventh Doctor’s umbrella is canonically a magic staff through which astral energies can be channeled? This man knows exactly where to place his leylines and when to use his Triplecasts. Don’t look at his parse. Don’t look. 

Eighth Doctor - Reaper. Purely for the gothic edgelord aesthetic. Also, the simple rotation is perfect for one of the more ADHD Doctors.

War Doctor - Dark Knight. A lone warrior fighting because he must. And now I want to see John Hurt with a big fucking sword.

Ninth Doctor - Astrologian. I’m going to be real with you guys this one was based on pure vibes and also that one scene where he shoots the playing cards all over the room.

Tenth Doctor - Gunbreaker. Something something 3 DPS in a trenchcoat. And no, it’s not a gun, it’s a gunblade, there’s a very big difference. 

Eleventh Doctor - White Mage. Healer with a god complex. This man could not do a rotation to save his life. He just wants to wave his glowing stick at things and impress people. Demons run when a Blood Lily goes to war.

Twelfth Doctor - Sage. But not the kind of Sage who overestimates Kardia healing and doesn’t realize Toxikon is a damage loss in single target. More like the kind of Sage who can solo high-end Stormblood duties. A true Doctor of War.

Thirteenth Doctor - Summoner. Nice simple rotation, cool glowy friends! You bet your ass she lets her Energy Drains drift and drops her Ruin IVs. 

Bonus round: companions!

Jo Grant is a Ninja. Her Hyoshi Ranyus are to be feared.

Peri Brown is canonically a samurai.

Ace is a Machinist. It comes with a flamethrower. Enough said.

Dan Lewis is a Warrior.

This is the end of the post. Are you a fan of both FFXIV and Doctor Who? (If yes, please be my friend.) Would you be interested in reading a semi-serious fusion of the canons of FFXIV and Doctor Who? If yes, feel free to check out my fic The Award-Winning Expansion of Rassilon.

[fizzigigsimmer]

@mania-mono I had to move my reply so I can give this my best shot at an answer without worrying about a word limit. So here I go, and pardon any pre-coffee typos.

I don’t speak for every Billy fan, because I can’t, nor do I speak for every POC because I can’t do that either. Blanket statements, generalities, and opinions grounded in the belief that what you see in front of you - which can only ever be a sample size - is everything, leads to closed mindedness. We are all vulnerable to these things. I think it is human nature to accept what we see and what we are told, in order to make friendly in our groups. So that we feel accepted as well as acceptable and to never think beyond that.

So I understand where opinions like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is attractive [and white]” come from. Within those opinions I can hear the faint echos of social discourse that I as a woman of color have had to bring to the table at one time or another, and I recognize that there is a merit of thought there, that I am 100% sure some fans need to reckon with.

I will never be the person sitting out here trying to disprove that the general fandom is suddenly unproblematic and completely free of the persuasion of whiteness combined with attractiveness and a preference for men.

This black girl will certainly never tell you that she hasn’t run into Billy friendly hot takes and writing that did have whiffs of white washing and erasure that made her uncomfortable and irritated at times. I have no reason to be afraid or to hide from that fact because it’s my lived reality. Every day in every fandom, in every ship. It’s my reality. It sucks. And I am confident and grounded enough in my own thinking to say something when I feel it needs to be said, or to just move on and find something better to read for my own peace of mind.

Yes, some Billy fans are problematic. But that is not my whole experience nor even half of it, and that matters.

Because I will also tell you that in my year or more of engaging in Harringrove fandom I have experienced that type of blindness and bias less than I have in other fandom spaces I have taken part in.That’s why I am here. I do not subject myself to being in places that make me consistently uncomfortable.

My empathy for the character brought me, and I stay because it’s a lovely place to explore my thoughts & feelings and make friends. For the most part I have found this pocket of fandom to be filled with nice people who actually do think through the characters flaws and have conversations about culture and social issues as often as any other fandom space. We bond, we have fun, and occasionally I might get into a debate with someone who I disagree with or disagrees with me about how we perceive the character’s flaws and their cultural impact.

I will tell you that I avoid many other subsections of Stranger Things fandom because my experience was that the balance is not the same in other tags. Because I felt consistently attacked, provoked, and silenced. Not just where it comes to discussions about race, but also disability, fat phobia, and my experiences of trauma and surviving abuse.

The problem I see a lot in fandom is that people are very good at manipulating others. There are whole communities that thrive on the basis of taking popular progressive opinions and using it to bully others for their entertainment or to control their behavior, or both. They rely on the public memory of the valuable work other people have done within culture and use those talking points to invoke fear and shame in their peers for their own selfish reasons. To feel good in the moment. For more reblogs. To feel like they’re part of the winning “team”. To feel like they’re meeting requirements of acceptable behavior. And for many more reasons I’m sure.

Whatever their reason, these folks know when they type out, “people only like Billy because Dacre is attractive”, that most people will instantly remember every discussion they ever sat through on the topic of bias and think ‘I don’t want to be that guy’. Because that’s natural and good and without those natural and good instincts we couldn’t be manipulated into a fear response. But the reality is even just a little bit of critical thinking would make it obvious how biased and unreasonable this take is.

When I hear “People only...” no mater what follows, a little yellow warning light goes off in the back of my mind. Because yes we can joke about certain things and make dumb memes for the fun, but when it comes to making a serious judgment, “People only” is a dangerous place to start. More people need to remember that.

Because I don’t think anyone actually needs to spend a great deal of time talking to Billy fans or researching much of anything at all to debunk this theory. If you replace Billy’s name with any aspect of his character that a person might relate to it falls apart. Because they are there to be related to. And if they are there to be related to, you’d have to be carrying some deep seeded rage and wearing some thick ass blinders to stick to the argument that you truly believe that nothing but white male attractiveness matters to anyone.

“People only care about that teenager because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child, whose mother left, because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that blue collar boy because his actor is good looking.”

“People only care about that child of divorce...”

“People only care about that boy who was forced to move towns right in the middle of high school because...”

“People only care about that kid whose dad was abusing him because...”

“People only care about that kid who was dragged into the dark by a monster one night and violated because....”

I think the ridiculousness as well as the danger of this thought process speaks for itself.

I think that if someone finds it easy to believe a blanket statement like “People only care about Billy because Dacre is hot,” and can’t think up a single other reason someone else might relate to the character and talk about it honestly while defending their opinion, that’s their problem and not mine or yours. Either this is someone who doesn’t think much for themselves and is just parroting others, or someone who knows what they are saying probably isn’t actually true, but doesn’t care because the aim is to hurt some and manipulate others.

[fragilemalachite]

Hello Outer Wilds nation, today I'm coming with some stuff. The open OW species! You can create your own OC, story, adopts(free and not free), but! Don't take ownership of the species. If you do, I will see it and believe me, you will have problems. Anyway, yall get that. About their spacesuits. Suits can be any color that you want, but mostly dark shades. You can put more accessories tho. Use your imagination! I have two OC's. Sympho(aka "Symphoricarpos albus" or Snowberries) and Viper. They both have stories, but Sympho have some connection to the new Universe story, so she have huge lore influence, hehe. I hope that yall will love them and have fun, I guess And don't forget to show me some of yours Lacerians OC's ^^                                   °Species. The Lacerians are smart and carnivorous reptiles with some mammalian traits. They very ancient species, like the Nomai. They see perfectly in the dark and have keen hearing and smell. They can easily hear various kinds of signals that can hardly be heard without special devices. Lacerians are very tall: 4-5 meters, and sometimes they can even reach 8 meters in height, these one's are usually called "Leviathans". The appearance can be different, like the length of the fur, hairstyles and other features. They can be albinos and melanists. Sometimes deaf, blind or mute baby can be born. Lacerians also have mental health problems, may suffer from mental illness or other issues.    °Appearance. Lacerians wear mostly baggy, comfortable clothing that does not hinder movement. The clothes have kinda a cyberpunk style but bright colors are rarely used. Sometimes different accessories can be selected for the image. Rings, bracelets, chains and more. Occasionally, Lacerians may get pierced, wear earrings, paint claws, or get tattoos.    °Biology, baby's. Lacerians are of different sexes, but they do not have the concept of "heterosexual", Lacerians are most often bisexual, but there are different orientations. Viviparous, but do not have milk. Cubs are born blind and with milk teeth, already able to eat meat. 5-10 year old cubs differ little from each other, only in fur and scales colors. From the age of 11, puberty begins.    °Close, biological relative. A close relative of the Lacerians is the Lizard Hound. When the Lacerians were still on the path of evolution, they split up. The evolution of one branch went into the development of the Lacerians, the other branch went into the development of the Hounds. But Lacerians most often hunt Hounds, because they are super-predators and are able to exterminate all Lacerians. Hounds are smart enough to create traps, ambushes, feign or lure. There are very rare cases of taming the Hounds, but this happens when the small cub is taken from an adult.    °Education. The Lacerians are very sensitive to education. They are most often hardworking and their curiosity leads to the discovery of something new. Children's go to school at 6-7 years of age, before that they are taught by their parents. A lot of books and time are devoted to the study of quantum mechanics and phenomena. Because of this, they know a lot more than the Nomai.    °Worldview and culture. The Lacerians are a warlike, skeptical species. They prefer to think logically and question everything they see. Because of this, they had no concept of "religion". They relied on science and, in principle, they are very curious. Despite their disposition, they love art very much and try to take care of the world around them. The culture of the Lacerians was built on doubt, aggression and war. They are good at blacksmithing and are good at crafting different types of weapons. In more modern years, they have even been able to invent firearms. The Lacerians love anything that involves dangerous activities. This is the production of weapons, hunting for dangerous predators, as well as every Lacerian from childhood is trained in hand-to-hand combat, how to handle weapons and sword fighting. Previously, when they entered the newly industrialized environment, the Lacerians mainly exterminated predators and poached, which is why there are extinct animals at the moment. But due to meeting with the *Mojeras, they began to change their opinions, the Lacerians began to treat others more friendly, and try to change their aggressive culture.    °Architecture. The architecture in older times was similar to that of the Hearthians. The houses were made of wood. Over time, new materials appeared. In modern times, houses are made of andesite, bricks, cement, concrete and other materials. Sometimes wood is used, different styles are applied, but modernism is mostly found.    °Relationships with other species. When they first went into space and found the Mojeras, the war started. The Lacerians were terrified, did not realize that there could be other intelligent species until they studied them. Having concluded a peace treaty, they tried to become better and make amends, helped and over time, several species began to live together on planets and study in the same schools. Despite this, the ingrained disdain of the Lacerians remained in the new generations, with some treating the Mojeras with disdain and not being friendly. The Mojeras responded by hating the Lacerians as well, but preferred to do it quietly. When the Lacerians first meet the Nomai, they react less belligerently, but not too friendly either. Sometimes there are disagreements and certain conflicts.    °Relationships with each other. Lacerians always try to be together. Everyone is accepted in society, with or without special features. They are social and do not tolerate loneliness. But sometimes there are cruel, manipulative reptiles. They also have conflicts with each other. Children who are very kind or quiet are more likely to become social outcasts or be seen as weird person. In Lacerian society, there is strict equality and violators can even get exiled.    °Origin of names. The names of the Lacerians come from poisonous plants and poisonous snakes.    °Planet. Planet of the Lacerians - Laceria is similar to the Timber Heart, but colder. On their planet, there is a change of seasons, winter is the longest period, so all Lacerians have warm fur. Gravity on the planet is slightly heavier than on Timber Heart. The star system of the Lacerians is located relatively close to the star system of Hearthians and, in fact, from the Eye of the Universe.    °Space age. In modern times, the Lacerians are able to travel not only between the planets of their system, but also through other star systems. When they met the Nomai, their technology improved markedly. Including, the warp technology was added like that of Nomai, but improved. They could choose and see the point to which they could move.    °New Universe. The Lacerians lived in both the old and the new universe. The history of how they could develop as a species in exactly the same way in the new Universe is unknown, or rather, it is unknown to anyone and probably will never be known. The Lacerians haven't quite transported themselves to the new Universe. They evolved in the same way, making the same mistakes, steps, as in the old Universe, it's just that their interaction is just going on with other species.

[jigsaw173]

I just realized this was collecting dust in drafts

planes/cars headcanons I have (u can see how biased I am)

okay so these are just what I like to think so don’t piss on me pls if u disagree or sm 😭 ))

I will add onto this list from time to time!

also will sort it eventually

- dusty and skipper occasionally visit the flysenhower and bring goodies, much to the enjoyment of the sea locked crew

Adding on:

Skipper tells them war stories and teaches them about history

Dusty races them

- the piston peak air attack team probably have snoring problems (idk what it is with firefighters but they always snore so bad)

- dipper once choked on oil because dusty once said “yeah I know I know!” to blade while he was warning him while they were rushing out to a thing

- vehicles are able to modify themselves all the time but it’s seen kinda like coloring ur hair or getting tattoos

also mod car guys are a thing and so are those car shows where everyone gets in a parking lot and pops their hoods

- redbull is on the same bs as usual

- Jackson storm does the thing where low cars gotta drive diagonally over speed bumps and when the older cars first see him do it they’re all like “wtf?” and think it’s a quirky thing until they see others

- the reason rhe crowds are all generic aircraft and cars bc the un-ordinary ones are all busy constantly working

also it’s kind of rare to see them out and about bc of that

especially rarer to see boats and planes in the middle of a city or sm because they aren’t as mobile as cars and forklifts

(car visits propwash, sees Corsair for the first time in person like HOLY)

(Wait would aviation museums still be a thing? Like an old hangar full of artifacts and war vets who live there that you can talk to)

Already mentioned by someone a while ago:

- boats sometimes accidentally swallow water if they’re talking in rough seas and they have to spit it back out cause they aren’t meant to consume seawater (they drink fuel(?)and fuel+water is a big no-no) so sometimes boats with big drafts don’t talk much if the weather is bad

- all the navy characters heavily smell of fuel oil (if I had to describe it it’s what you’d imagine what sweaty asbestos smells like)(ok but real asbestos doesn’t have a smell btw)(unless I’m nose blind)

- nautical and aviation radio comms is a taught class like English is for students in the USA

- sparky is a plane spotter

- they say dinocar instead of dinosaur (I think this is funny even though proven wrong in cars 2)

- Mack and gray eat lunch together and hang out every time their racers are on the track

- strip weathers fin/intake look became an iconic trend at some point when he became a legend

- all the iowa class battleships like to make mickey of eachother and have a sibling-ish relationship, with missouri being like the spoiled child, all fawned over and popular, and New Jersey being like the oldest child with the hard work and is jealous of the Missouri’s attention. the others are like the middle children. wisky is called “anger issues” for ONE particular incident despite not being very angry

- when small(er) planes like dusty aren’t flying and push their engines enough to smoke its an intimidation tactic (also not seen often even while flying in non-racers bc it takes a lot of effort)

so when military jets use afterburner and stuff casually on takeoff or something others are terrified or think somethings wrong (the military aircraft use afterburners and push themselves to the limit so often they don’t really think about it compared to civilians who almost never have to full send it)

- road markings aren’t really paid attention to in smaller towns/communities

“It’s just a guide”

- the other ships in the flysenhowers strike group very much respect him because he’s pretty chill every time they interact

- in spirit of the movie-bravo and echo and the crew have DEFINITELY watched top gun together in the hangar

To add on: bravo was annoying everyone by pointing out the inconsistencies and inaccuracies and echo cried bc of *cough spoilers cough* goose

Highway to the danger zone was banned after tango kept singing it over comms

and delta kinda liked singing it too but refuses to admit it

- planes argue over the use of the word “tarmac”

- the bigger u are the harder it is to move around/express (less mobile/stiff) so that’s why some ships need tugs and some planes (like the airliners) needed the tows

(Again, just what I follow)

siblings/family can mean a lot of things from someone u were built with to someone u were just raised closely with

also the vehicles drink oil but also need to fill up with gas by pump bc they’re meant for diffeeent things

Vehicles can survive on oil without gas but can’t vice versa because the oil is what moves their organic parts while the gas is just meant for the MOVE part and that’s why lightning could still move slightly while out of gas

It’s also why they have bathrooms (for the oil) and gas just burns out instead of passing through

- the admiral likes to watch the horizon for ships or anything interesting and also has incredible vision despite having radars

ships can also somewhat see even with their eyes closed bc of them and so there have been a few blind operational ships

- bigger vehicles don’t need to sleep as often but the world runs on the small vehicle schedule

- cabbie and skipper bond over service stories after dusty introduced them after the airshow

cabbie also introduced skipper to radio scanning

- dipper is distantly related to a navy Martin Mars

- the carriers are publicly seen as nonverbal because they gotta keep up appearances while arriving/leaving port and for advantages during active service but can actually become quite talkative once relaxed/safe

bonus: cars that didn’t know carriers could speak and navy sailors that constantly try to get them to smile/laugh even on duty like the queens guards

- skipper knows how to navigate by stars despite not needing to

- ask sparky anything about warbirds and he will excitedly go into depth about them

- radiator springs used to have an ambulance and a firefighter forklift who worked closely with red before they all moved, leaving him alone

- many vehicles often use their builds/titles/companies as their name while simultaneously having a normal name and while it’s used more professionally it’s also commonly casual (ex: mack, skipper, sheriff, doc, sarge, etc)

- kittyhawk likes to sing sea shanties

he is also a very comforting presence to his crew

- jammer annually thanks the PPAA team as well as rake and Pulaski with a party at the lodge

cabbie gets sad (if he can’t fit) so they’ll bring the party to him and have it outdoors (following safety guidelines to not start a fire of course )

- rake and Pulaski met in training and have been best friends since

- the secretary looks like a deer on PURPOSE

- lots of carriers names are shortened by the crew if theirs is too long or to make them seem more alive

USS Constellation - Connie (thinks it’s clever)

USS Dwight D. Flysenhower - Flysenhower (yeah it’s just the same)

USS Carl Vinson - Carl (doesn’t mind the first name(?)(is it their names??) basis)

USS Saratoga - Sara(h) (kinda likes the nickname)

USS Kittyhawk - Kitty (keeps saying everyone should him ‘hawk’ instead purely because it sounds cooler)

USS John F. Kennedy - JFK (its not the shortest way to say it (john is) but everyone uses it cause they think it’s cooler and it won’t get confused for the john c stennis)(jfk doesn’t care)(rip kittyhawk tho)

USS Nimitz - Nimitz (its short enough already)(doesn’t care about the short name but doesn’t get to brag about what nickname the crew gave them ‘this week’)

And Etc…

- the boats actually kinda like being thought about from time to time and will talk about their crew with other ships

[onceuponalegendbg-rwby]

RWBY Retrospective - Volume 1

So, Volume 1 had a lot to prove when it was airing, and in the end, it serves as an interesting time capsule for the series overall. No longer were they dealing with trailers that could be as vague as they wanted with amazing action set pieces and incredible music. Now CRWBY had to get the audience invested in its world and characters. It’s a tough job for any first season of any show.

A word that comes to mind when looking back on this volume is, if you’ll forgive the cliché, Innocence. The central conflicts contain themselves on a smaller scale, lulling the audience into its high school/college age hijinks. There’s not a high sense of danger when dealing with the likes of Roman Torchwick or Cardin Winchester. The argument can be made that the Emerald Forest initiation has the big Nevermore/Deathstalker fight midway through the season but that falls more into the category of flashy spectacle. You’re more likely to get wrapped up in the hype of the moment than worry about the safety of any of the characters.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, however. It’s not uncommon for shows to allow for this type of comfort so that the audience has more time to get attached to and acquainted with the characters and have some fun with them before everything hits the fan.

The biggest problem for Volume 1 lies with the constraints RWBY had to deal with as it was starting out. The budget for the series was not much. The production and animation team at the company were also significantly small.

RWBY’s first outing as an actual show, because of this, consists of mostly four-to-five-minute two parter episodes with the occasional twelve-to-fifteen-minute episode sprinkled in at specific points. And it’s due to this that the pacing of the season suffers a bit. Things like how some arcs, that would normally be wrapped up in one or two weeks, get stretched out to four. But the opposite is also true. Some plot points that might have needed more time to breathe don’t get that and can end up feeling incredibly rushed, leaving some moments of character development feeling unearned. It’s this balancing act that the show hadn’t quite figured out at the time, and also did not have the tools to handle.

The characters, while still hinting at their deeper personalities, never truly leave their stereotypical molds this volume. Honestly, some of the main cast don’t get much screen time to begin with. However, I can’t say they don’t all play their roles well, allowing the audience to get more acclimated to the world and tone the series starts out with. Much like the voice acting they are serviceable for the passion project this all started out as and have plenty of room for growth and improvement.  

I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least touch on the art style of the show. RWBY starts out being animated in Poser and due to limitations of the software and not many people being trained in how to use it, any NPC is made into a Shadow Person. The characters themselves are very stiff in their movements and there’s not much for lip flap animation. Objects clip through other objects or people. The color saturation is blinding at points, especially on characters like Weiss who mostly consist of a white color palette. Backgrounds are, for the most part, very flat looking.

Despite these critiques, or maybe because of them, it was clear that Volume 1 had people behind it who undoubtedly loved what they were making. It felt ambitious and passionate.

Of course, Monty’s action was never disappointing, and the Williams Family’s music was a definite highlight. There were also moments where the voice acting could bring out a genuine, heartfelt emotion. The season had such charm and warmth to it. Looking back, it’s not hard to feel endeared to the show’s humble beginnings.

Some General and Unfiltered Thoughts

I’m not entirely proud of how this one came out. I still feel like I was far too mean to V1.

I had a hard time trying to be objective in this one. I have such a soft spot for the early volumes of RWBY but it’s hard not to at least acknowledge some of its less than great aspects for this project.

The animation is rough due to Poser but the action is, if I can beat a dead horse here, absolutely stunning. Not all the dialogue has aged well, but then you have the moment with Jaune where he talks about being an idiot stuck in a tree and Miles’ voice acting made me cry. Jeff and his team never miss. The animators even use the Shadow People for some fun little jokes. Like Jaune saying “where am I going to find another nice, quirky girl to talk to” and when he steps away you just see Pyrrha standing there… clearly an important character amongst the Shadows. Clearly nice and quirky. It’s just… Stuff like that is so fun. Volume 1 is so fun!

It’s rough at points and it has obvious flaws, but I don’t mind re-watching it. It’s so charming! Volume 1 is fine, we’re all just mean!