#amma (oc)

[infamouzsky]

Shamura doodles, tryna settle down with a way to draw them

I suppose this one works better than my first try x'D and the top left corner, plz ignore that ugly ass I wanted to see how crazy I could go-

Also OC introduction somewhat LMAO amma make a small comic about Mana someday, itll also be based on my own gameplay teehee

[gaynaturalistghost]

As my dear friend put it, “it’s about the yearning”. Sometimes you just gotta draw your very first dnd character Amma and she’s gotta be sad. Idk I don’t make the rules.

[shadelorde]

I love trying to make avatar characters in miitopia. this is my son Mii Kavik he has every disease

(don't mind the poor quality its a picture of my screen)

[noxious-fennec]

The ponderer's gift in the wonders of lands and the marvels of travels, "Salama Arrahala"

Entery #4: Fares, Fahlamais.

In the capital's rich and varied streets, Salama stumbles into souk Da'ak, the poets market, and accidentally enters an improvisation competition. The goal is to impress Al Yamama, a pragmatic scholar and scientist who does not believe in the romantic philosophy of the arts. Salama, flustered, recites an ancient sonnet from her tribe passed down by her mother. The novelty wins Al Yamama's favour, beating Badr ibn Amma Al-maghribi, the Sultan's sha'ir and the best in the trade, making Salama, allegedly, his rival.

Al Yamama, mesmerised by her apparent skill, hosts Salama during her stay in Fares, in exchange for a poem every night. Being that she isn't a poet, Salama seeks help from Badr. Every night, Salama recites a poem; every day, Badr writes a new one, growing more complex and sentimental. At the end of her stay, Al Yamama professes her love for her, only further complicated by Badr's own feelings, leaving Salama with a few hard decisions to make.

[its-me-frankie]

How smart are you, really? 💚💛❤️ Traffic/Life SMP AU announcement!!

Hullo everyone, I have some exciting news! I'm planning a Traffic SMP Smart College Kids Club AU, and it's going to be a rollercoaster! What happens when a bunch of freakishly smart college students come together for an academic competition beyond their wildest dreams?

These college students are ridiculously smart, each with their own specialized area of expertise. They're part of an exclusive, invitation-only club called The Watchers, and their ultimate goal? To win the Smart Life (placeholder name) Competition the toughest, most mind-bending. intellectually demanding academic competition in the world. It's got everything from physics to philosophy, pushing their brains to the very limits.

I plan to tell this story from the perspective of my OC, Amma. Amma knows statistics better than the back of her hand. She thrives in her small social circle and complex equations, so what happens when Amma and her best friend, Gemini Tay, get cryptic matching invitations to an after school club at the nearby coffee shop?

I suppose the bigger question is this: How smart are you, really?

Oh, this is so exciting for me! Right now I'm just in the planning stages, but I do want to hear your input! I have a few specific questions I'll ask, but I also want to hear your general thoughts, where this might be headed, etc. I am currently a very busy bee so nothing is set in stone. I'll probably take breaks, write little chunks at a time, and whatnot. This is also my first time using ao3, so we'll see how it goes.

Thanks for tuning in! See you soon!

- Frankie <3

[themagicbrew]

Quick concept artwork for another Kraang oc, no actual name for him yet but hopefully i can develop him further alter ;w;

[itashiro-hitsuchiha]

Mood has shifted a bit. Now accepting questions for Haruka and her newly added twin brother Yuuma. Have fun!

[alex-just-vibing]

having fun w this picrew

yra....... waow.....

rose!!!!

y'all know that one trend thats like draw ur oc as normal, genderbend, child, villain well i wanted to do that w amma but i can't draw so heres that (in reverse order but like whatever)

[chokedraven]

So, in short - I was brushing my teeth when it occurred to me (if you think about it like that, for some reason all good ideas come to me when I brush my teeth) but anyway

B lives alone in his house, he has a boring life and is lonely.

One evening he is sitting in a chair in his room and reading a book when he hears a hoarse whisper, barely audible: "Hey?"

Of course, he gets scared, turns his head, trying to find the source of the sound, when he sees two completely white eyes staring at him from the wall, glued to the faded shape of a human silhouette on the wall. Like a pale shadow.

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you," — it mutters.

B, of course, thinks he's going crazy and ignores the shadow as he goes to bed (yes, I think that's reasonable, leave me alone)

The next day, however, the shadow does not go away, on the contrary, it takes on a more intense dark appearance, and resumes timid attempts to talk to B.

B finally gives in and talks to it.

It turns out that the shadow was once a person, a human, A, and then was imprisoned in the shadow in this very apartment (I’ll think of this better later), and so - since then he has been wandering here in the form of a shadow, lonely and intimidated, until B appears.

B sympathizes with the shadow, and even tries to somehow console it, touching the dark form, until... lo and behold! The shadow crawls right out of the wall, taking the form of a guy!

A is too weak, which is clear, since he was imprisoned in his own shadow for a long time, literally. He is thin and lethargic. But, nevertheless, under the good supervision of B, he becomes stronger every day, gaining the strength to live a normal life. His demons still haunt him, but he's ready to move on.

Oh, and at a time when the weight of life and his painful anxieties becomes greater and greater, and B is not around to console him, A again turns into a faded shadow, after which he again needs to be taken out of this state, as a result of which he becomes even more weaker.

So B finds a roommate he never knew he dreamed of, and A a ​​friend he never had.

You know what, I really love this plot. I will write this, get ready. And I will draw it too. Aeh.

[freeusemuses]

Bored...

Taking asks for Aries Nikos, and Team CORE.

Everything is set in the Rewilding AU

[rotlix64]

A quick drawing of Liam! I wanted to practice dramatic lightening and i tough he would be a good example for it. The boy has seen some things...

[wiltf]

🔞 durge / gortash. that one letter about lady jannath taking out her family heirloom got me good.

at the rustle of the curtains, gortash affixes an expectant smile to his face. pleasant and most of all, a face of least resistance, despite the way he watches the silhouette trace the edge of the bed. it would not surprise him if such a woman as lady jannath were to return far earlier than intended. after all, one would only hunt for so long in the city for a painter before returning to retire for the day.

yet the shadow disappears as quickly as it arrived with but a whisper of air. reforming now, with the light of an afternoon sun hiding the form. but it could only hide so much, as gortash’s sigh was punctuated with disapproval. “my dear, we both know the outcome should you be found in here.”

unsurprisingly, he was met with a gasp that no doubt intended to mock the delicate sensibilities of upper crust ladies. widened eyes and a hand covering her mouth, shoulders drawn in. all at odds with the way she crossed to the edge of the bed, in nothing more than a rather heavily jewelled necklace. one that gortash could only hook a finger through, all but dragging her down to eye level.

“and?” amma prompts, as she adjusts to the position, caging him against perfectly plumped pillows and silken sheets. her nails greet the headboard, and gortash was not ignorant to note how she had dug in, daring to crack the wood.

so gortash holds up his other hand; the one carrying the coveted ring.

amma’s reaction is a delight to behold, as those eyes are lost in the jannath’s heirloom. releasing his hold on her, it is a strange notion to watch his fellow dead kin kneel so delicately, pulling the ring from his hand, and sliding it onto her own. holding it up into the sun, not unlike all the other debutantes gortash had watched over the years. how they preened in groups, gossiping with their painted faces and colourful dresses. such passing beauty, wrapped up in the glittering stones.

it would be an amusement to see if amma could move into a society such as that. for her eyes harden and her smile sharpens, wickedly, as she turns her attention back onto him. still that sparkle, one that seemed to pin him as only something to consume, but it was lacking that familiar edge. burning now, something else.

“if i had known that a ring was enough to wet your cunt, amma, i would have thought of this earlier.”

outstretched hand, and amma drops it onto his palm. not denying his statement, settling for pushing herself up, to move to the other side of the room. leave him, to his unfortunately abandoned journals and statements, while she rifled through drawers. shuffling things from side to side, in a manner not unlike the most careful gentleman thief. clearly on a mission, not wishing to give away that she had touched lady jannath’s intimates.

however, gortash was not so ignorant to know what she was looking for, when her knuckles rap along the bottom of drawers, as if trying to find the seal. so, he calls from where he still sat, if only to end amma’s suffering: “i will not ask what you are searching for, but if only because it is in the base of the wardrobe.”

a snort is his answer, as amma closes those drawers, pausing only to decorate herself with more jewels that did not belong to her. perfume sprayed, followed by a gag at one that he was quite fond of himself, before she was crouched before the wardrobe gortash had spoken of. idle taps, no doubt finding that false bottom, and she pries it open.

“what a dirty lady, that jannath is! i would ask who worked the leather, but—”

amma pauses, rustling giving way to her standing. holding in her hand that phallic shape gortash had grown familiar with, the other tightening straps at her hips and thighs. her eager movements give way to sloppy work, one that is still fastening and re-fastening in various places while she walks back over.

not to him, but to the mirror that had yet to be moved from it’s rather useful position. at the edge of the bed, across from him. those fingers of hers seem to work along the leather and wood, twitching tail giving amma away when they disappear underneath. slick fingers, idle thoughts.

“i have oft wondered what it would be like to have a cock. it is not simply enough to change shape into another, as i am limited in choice… but…” turning, to take in her profile. firm hand along the base. “well, perhaps i would like a cock to fuck you with.”

gortash snorts at such a statement, returning to his papers without so much as a look her way again. “after watching you fumble to wear such an instrument, i would not allow you to fuck me with it.”

“even if i were to beg? plead?”

“even if you were to beseech, my dear.”

amma’s laughter tinkles not unlike lady jannath’s. half hidden behind a coy hand, betraying the erotic display that moves towards him. nails drag along the wood, drawing a sound that was so purposeful in bringing a shiver about his spine. gortash persists in his penmanship, with another letter to lavish praise upon the weapons dealer — who too had managed to bring them one step closer to the vault. a pause, and he pulls away from the paper at an ‘e’ as amma slips onto the bed beside him once more.

a charming thought of sending her along, disguised as him, to properly thank the dealer would be entertainment for all involved. of course, there were concerns of an outcome, which had gortash arrange a day for personal thanks instead.

only so much bloodlust that could be contained, between the two of them, and he was oft better at holding his in.

“my calendar is filling up far too quickly,” he murmurs, once he signs off. picks up another, reviewing whatever he had begun before she had arrived, and continuing.

if she reads at his shoulder, amma does not speak up. partially sprawled, with an idle hand that moves up and down the wooden cock. gortash would ask where her mind truly sat, as the frown deepens. was she too, going through the steps? diabolists and plans and a crown, that waited for them in the hells? it was not enough to simply ponder, to question what it was that had her chew the inside of her mouth and frown until words no doubt blurred on paper. gortash was sure to find something to distract the child of bhaal until they were to truly descend, were that the perfect course of action.

however, he so deeply wished to crack that mind open, to understand but also to limit. horror and ichor lingered at his shoulder like a hapless maiden, and gortash had spoken with lord bane at lengths about bhaal’s unpredictable, insatiable daughter.

yet amma finally speaks, with a tinge of those qualities which made her voice sickly sweet. “it smells like you.”

and gortash returns the knowing smirk with his own, almost thankful at the way her mind seemed to twist away. amma lets out a low whistle — appreciative, suggestive. her hands on him and lips at his throat. biting, scratching, bleeding. left hand holding the letters out the way, as he could only afford to rewrite so many.

play the game, of turning in and out. of placing a gentle hand at the base of her tail, where her spine curves, until those teeth sink in too deep. until gortash can return the favour, nails digging into that tender spot, stage left. enough to coax a groan out of amma’s mouth, one that was bloody and sweet. sheet thrown back, writing tools scattered, and his thigh welcomes the heat from her.

new friction, with the leather straps that were between the two of them as well. were it not for the way amma had a handful of his hair, drawing his neck back further and further, gortash may have thought those gears of her mind were turning towards it. ever present threat of death that hung between them, as she ravaged throat and clavicle in a way he had learned to find delicious, until she pulled back.

removing the wooden cock from the straps, amma decidedly props herself beside him on lady jannath’s bed, breasts against his arm. passes the tip between lips and teeth and blood, tongue laving away not unlike how she treated his own cock more than once, until she was sufficiently pleased. and, without that flair for showmanship he had anticipated, amma presses the tip against her cunt, eyes turned downwards, pushing it in.

amma’s sharp inhale against his skin ran cold. gooseflesh rising, as her wrist moved at a controlled speed. as if it would leave him to run cold, when gortash can only encourage those lips to widen, pressing two fingers into her mouth. tongue that works around the digits, never quite letting her mouth shut, as sharp teeth threaten to snap and crack. as gortash’s own cock can only throb at the hard swallow, choke, groan, flurry of noises that leaves her as he presses his fingers in deeper. knees that buckle, heels that dig in, her own hands pressing that delightful wooden cock deeper into herself.

yet gortash cannot give her the satisfaction. frees his fingers from her mouth, despite the teeth that want to hold him. spit-slick grip on his own cock, now, maintaining that heady gaze. fingers slipping further south, to press into an already tender area from lady jannath’s ministrations hours prior. eyes do not move, as if they were only playing a game, of who could hold on the longer here. of who was the stronger, the more willing, the brash.

it gave him an odd sense of satisfaction to find himself the loser.

as at that moment, amma gives him a breathless enver, greeting him in a way that no one else could quite manage. twisting the rules, into her own battlefield, where gortash reacts. replaces her hand with his, as he is on her. sliding the wooden cock free from her cunt, back in place at the straps between her hips. if amma was to complain, he silences her once more, fingers, spittle, his own groan. stretching and lifting and gortash sits over her.

amma, amma, the bhaalist daughter. decayed and decaying and in a bed neither of them owned. sharp nails and sharper teeth, both that draw blood with only a brief touch. this would not be so easy to explain, later, as silken sheets are carrying the gentle rivets that spring from his thighs, yet. gortash does not consider his excuse, not just yet. not when he holds amma in place, and sinks onto wood with a rush of air.

takes his pleasure from her. she is merely a mounting frame for him to ride, with how gortash holds her down. amma may keen and whine, under the thin veil of deceptiveness, as she curls her tail around his cock. begs him, please, enver enver my sweet lord flymm. the name falls from her lips, and nothing amma does is for half measures — she knows to grin, as gortash finds her throat, her own hand wrapping around his.

gortash does not have enough of a mind to hold her at the precipice. can only lean his weight forward, until those breaths comes to a wheeze. where that grin begins to slip, and those eyes of amma’s almost lose their wonder. where they begin to allow fear to set in.

mouths his name as he comes. undone, over her. it hurts, almost, as gortash strokes himself until every part of him simply wanted to pack up and leave. yet amma’s sharp inhale begs him to continue, bruised skin and the lightest touch of lips along the curve of his jaw. at the sparkle, corner of his eye, as she had rescued the ring from the bedside table. laves her tongue over the stone, holds the metal between her teeth.

gortash raises himself from the wooden cock at her hips. kneeling over her, and one day the sight of amma splayed beneath him may do something other than stoke the fire in him. today was not that day, and when had the previous ones ever been either? gortash does not ask himself that, as he does not go to remove the straps on her legs. pushes in, two fingers, sinking into her cunt with a pace that even impressed himself.

“you had better not damage that setting, amma,” he says, voice level. rearranges himself, better angle for his wrist, and amma is moving her hips to meet his fingers. so earnest, fucking herself on his hand. “lady jannath would be most displeased.”

were he to perhaps let her breathe, to not push her through another orgasm, amma might’ve responded. gortash would not have been so fascinated, in how those teeth almost pass through the metal like it was merely bread — meat — and not an heirloom that was their most prized bargaining piece. amma does not scream or claw her way through the sensitivity, even as she arches and drives back into the pillows, hand on him, hand on herself.

only when gortash relieves the ring from it’s position between her lips, does amma speak.

“that ring was on your finger when you touched the lady’s nethers, wasn’t it?” a laugh, open mouthed kisses to the hands that hold her face. “i always was amazed at how she managed to satisfy you, but i understand now.”

licks her lips, licks his fingers clean. amma’s eyes follow the ring as it finds it’s perfect place on his finger once more. as it glides through the air, meeting her cheek. it stings, of course it does, but that groan was not for solely for pain, nor pleasure. a mixture of both, that has her burn for him once more.

“return that necklace to its owner, amma, lest we both be suspected.”

and gortash sits up. slow movements to the edge of the bed, even slower steps to where a basin sat, towel still damp, water no longer warm. wiping himself down, gortash is aware of the way she moves, dropping the straps and wooden phallus with far too much noise. necklace in her hands, as she stands behind him, draping it over his skin.

in the mirror, it does not look unlike a gilded collar.

“be careful, o’banite mine… for it would not take much to bring you to heel, if i so desired.”

amma’s kiss between the blades of his shoulders was so deliberately tender, so gentle, that he does not catch the necklace as it falls. slips at the edge of the basin, the garnet sinking into the cold like a watery red eye — keeping him still, until that rush of magic was deep in his bones. and amma flew away, into the gate’s skyline,

leaving him empty handed, but having yet to deter the curl in his lip, as gortash laughs to himself.

[shadelorde]

my nine main miis in miitopia! (background characters include Iroh as the Great Sage, Yue as the Princess with Hahn and Sokka as her suitors, and Varrick as the Quizmaster)

In order:

-Wan

-Raava

-Amma (oc)

-Nisha

-Pavi

-Korra (she looks not great but mii customization options start running out tbh)

-Yangchen

-Kavik

-Vaatu (my main)

[diazuk-legacy]

May I present Jar Jar's parents. Geo Raszak and Amma Eena Binks. Geo is fishermen and a hunter of the oceans, while Amma is a well respected and high ranking member of the military.

Spoilers below and warning for some triggering topics ~

They are both A+ parenting. Geo Raszak is a abusive father that puts high expectations on his son. He uses physical and verbal abuse to discipline him. He also emotional neglects his son and often punishes him with starvation and isolation.

Amma Eena loves her child but because she is a full time worker she can't always be there. She punishes her husband whenever she catches him abusing her child but most of the abuse is kept quiet from her.

Upon Jar Jar's banishment Amma felt extreme guilt and felt she failed as a mother. Knowing that her son can't survive the surface world she believes her people sentence him to death. Amma believes that both her job and her pride cost her son's life and that she does not deserve her reputation.

And so overcome with grief she commits suicide.

[fetabathwater]

the jock vs nerd pull of sorc vs wiz is too much to handle.

[faerune]

S E A T for the meme!

Seth Brady is an OC for Vampire: The Masquerade! Seth was a Black Metal rocker in the 80s! He was a guitarist and frontman for his band Death's Head. After an overdose put him in critical condition, he was embraced as a Toreador and has been living in Los Angeles ever since! He'd be considered an anarch by most but he doesn't really give a shit about vampire politics and is just obsessed with perfecting his craft.

Edith Whitman belongs to Fallout! The resident doctor of Goodneighbor and no nonsense queen. Edith was raised by farmers/homesteaders but was adopted by Dr. Amari - who was traveling during her early career - when Edith's homestead was attacked by raiders and burned down. It's rumored the Mayor of Goodneighbor has a soft spot for his doc ;)

Amma is my first OC I played through Elden Ring with! Also known by her given name Amaiya Loux, Amma is the daughter of Horah Loux (Godfrey) born to one of his wives after he was exiled from the Lands Between. She was raised with the promise of possibly becoming Elden Lord in competition with Horah Loux's other children. Amma put her entire faith into the Golden Order in exultation of her father and her perceived destiny only to find it lacking when she reached the Lands Between. Amma goes through a journey of faith and also love when she begins to work with Ranni and eventually pledges herself to the Lunar Witch!

Thea Anaedius is my Commander from Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous! Thea is an angelkin aasimar and paladin sworn to Iomadae. Thea isn't sure where she was born but she was sold into slavery in Oppara very early in her life. Thea was raised by a pitlord as a gladiator and was a huge success in the arena there for her theatrics and bloodshed. Upon learning her 'father' was to sell her into a marriage and retire her, Thea murdered him and fled to the RIver Kingdoms. There she found succor in a temple of Iomadae and began to train with the templars. After her training, Thea vowed to die in glory and redeem herself in the Mendevian Crusade and that's where WOTR kicks off! Thea romances Lann and after the game travels in search of her parents with Lann and Lariel who she learned is her grandfather.