#anonymous mink anonymous ask

[anonymousmink]

Ship: Oshamir. Premise: What if Qimir was asleep when Osha went to talk to him disguised as Mae in episode? 👀

Oooh but this one got away from me - it’s been a few months since my last rewatch so hopefully it’s not too OOC! Enjoy Anon! 💜

Pairing: Oshamir || Rating: T || Words: 1500ish

The shop is empty.

Well, not empty - all manner of dried herbs and greenery fill the store, extractions and distillations lining the shelves in mismatched bottles as the scent of living things floods the air. Osha breathes through the unexpected wave of nostalgia that hits her at the smell of it, her mind swimming with yellow leaves on warm days as she tries to focus outward, on the one thing that’s not there.

The Apothecary himself.

She’s expecting a man but all she sees is stuff, her head on a swivel as she catalogues every shape and shadow for his whereabouts.

“Hello?” She calls hesitantly into the hush, silently cursing Yord for the faulty information as she edges deeper into the shop. She doesn’t know why she automatically blames him for it but it feels right so she goes with it.

The chair in the corner is empty and there’s no one crouched behind the counter or by a shelf. Her head swivels, fingers skirting over the worn edge of the counter as she looks for the stranger - or a trap, whichever she finds first.

The deeper into the shop she goes the quieter it becomes, the sound of the street fading away with every careful step. It’s almost like being underwater, her head filling with the heady scent of salt flowers and the whir of the ventilation fan as she approaches the open archway at the back of the store. The feeling squeezes in around her, shortening her breath and making her skin prickle beneath the coarse wool of her disguise as she takes the small step down into the back room and -

There.

She hears him first, a soft half-snore from the corner of the little living space at the back of the building. His breath is deep and even and, when she finally sets eyes on him it’s to find he’s out like a light.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Although, to be fair, there weren’t actually that many parts of the plan. The mission had seemed so easy, and so urgent, that they didn’t pause for much of a briefing - just go in, pretend to be Mae, try and get some information, and get out again.

As if it would ever be that simple.

“Uh… hello?” She tries again but her voice doesn’t break a whisper, unforgivably quiet as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. Does she wake him? Does she wait? What would Mae do?

Yes Osha, the quiet voice in her head pipes up unhelpfully, what would the murderous sister you thought was dead for sixteen years do?

Biting her tongue she silences herself, focusing on what she does know rather than what she doesn’t. She’s here, the Apothecary is there… still snoring apparently. She’s not sure what she was expecting but she doesn’t think he’s it.

He looks younger than she thought he would, only a couple of years older than she is, and kinda handsome in a shabby, greaserat kind of way. Dark hair, dark lashes, full lips half-parted on an exhale. His hand is clutched to his chest, one knee thrown out at an angle as he tries to squeeze himself in the alcove. Nothing about him really fits, the clothes too big for him, the bed too small, he’s like a character from a story their mothers used to tell them when they were kids.

Focus, she reminds herself sharply, shaking off the loose thoughts and stepping closer. As little as she knows her sister anymore she’s certain Mae wouldn’t stand around staring like an idiot in any situation. Mae would act.

So Osha does too.

She reaches out, her mouth half-formed around another greeting as she goes to shake him awake only for the words to leave her as a gasp instead. The world shifts so fast she can’t make sense of it - one moment she’s bent over reaching for his shoulder, the next she’s half pinned beneath his body, her back pressed to the wall of the alcove and her heart racing as he stares down at her with liquid black eyes.

Damnit.

“Wha…?” There’s a confused furrow between his brows, thoughts flashing over his face too quickly for her to follow as his hand tightens around her wrist. This close she can feel how warm he is, his heartbeat thumping against her own as the scent of him fills her head completely. Greenery and metal and an undercurrant of cheap liquor.

She’s not afraid, not really, even without the three armed Jedi circling the building she trusts her ability to take down one sleepy herbalist, no matter how quick his instincts are, but by the maker she’s embarrassed. This guy has well and truly gotten the jump on her, a damning reminder of just how out of touch she is… and just how right the Jedi were to cast her off.

All she can think about is what Yord will say when he finds out what happened, and even worse what Sol won’t say. His disappointment already palpable to her as she tries to get hold of a situation that’s rapidly slipping from her fingers.

“Uh…” she clears her throat, trying to read the stranger’s face as he blinks back into the moment, gaze fully focusing on hers at last, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Does he know who she is? Well, who she’s pretending to be anyway? Has this whole embarrassing nightmare been for nothing?

The silence drags for just long enough for Osha to curse every twist of fate that’s brought her to this place and time, then he smiles.

It’s a sunshine-on-a-rainy-day kind of smile, genuine and open and easy as he softens his hold on her but doesn’t move away.

“It’s okay,” he sighs, a laugh in his voice and a crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he grins down at her, “you know I’m jumpy when I wake up.”

Does she?

Does Mae?

Who exactly is this man to her sister?

She thought he was just a resource, a useful tool in her quest for revenge, but this… this is something else entirely.

They really should have spent more time on the plan.

“Besides,” he continues, his thumb sweeping the inside of her wrist in a gesture so effortlessly intimate it makes her heart stop, drop and roll, “I didn’t expect you back so early.”

Envy hits her like a fist.

It punches so hard it almost knocks the air from her lungs, a hot, shameful burn of feeling that she’s never been strong enough to block.

Sixteen years and the only meaningful relationship Osha’s managed to hold onto has been with a Pip droid, and meanwhile Mae has been - what? Cavorting around the galaxy with this handsome hobo? Sharing painfully sweet little moments like this between revenge quests? It’s all so warm and easy and everything Osha has never had.

It’s so unfair.

“Soo-” he teases when she doesn’t speak, her tongue stuck between her teeth, threatening to choke her as he brushes a loc from her face with another distracted smile, “did the poison work? Wait… you killed Torbin without the poison, didn’t you? He will be so pleased.”

Right.

Torbin. Poison. Dead Jedi.

The mission resurfaces and the shame doubles, hating herself for hating herself as she tries to find the thread of her thoughts.

She’s not Mae, she doesn’t want to be - no matter how pretty this stranger looks when he smiles down at her like that. This is a ruse, she’s playing a part, she’ll get her information then she’ll get out.

Simple.

“No, I used the poison,” she admits quietly, trying to keep an aloofness in her voice like she’s not sharing his air, hitching her eyebrow in a way she vaguely remembers her sister doing when they were kids, “I just… wanted to thank you.”

Damnit.

Not simple, not simple at all. She’s said exactly the wrong thing, the statement suddenly becoming a proposition as his eyes widen, gaze dropping to her mouth with a hunger that makes her stomach clench.

“Really?” His voice is so low she can feel it vibrating through her chest when he speaks, an entirely new panic filling her head as he leans slowly closer, like gravity. Inevitable. Unstoppable, “you mean…?"

How far is she willing to take this?

How far does she want to take this?

He kisses her before she can formulate an answer, which - given how she melts beneath him is pretty much an answer in itself. It’s pathetic the way she curls upwards, nerves on fire beneath her skin as all the loneliness inside of her surges up at once and swallows her good sense whole.

Her hands are in his shirt, it’s shabby and oversized and covers a deceptively strong frame, firm beneath her palms as she lets the moment last for one painfully long second. Lets herself be someone else. Someone… wanted.

Then reality kicks back in again. This isn’t her kiss, or her moment, or her man. This is an accomplice to a string of crimes she’s meant to be stopping. Like - right now. She pushes him back, breathing unforgivably hard for such a chaste kiss as they part. He doesn’t go far, a long strand of hair falling in his face as he reaches out to straighten her cowl.

“You should know…” he murmurs, an unexpected seriousness in his eyes as they meet hers, seeing way too deep for what he is as she catches herself waiting for his next words.

Is this it? Is this when he tells her everything? Spills his secrets and makes all of her mistakes worth while?

“I’d never do that with your sister. Osha.”

[baby-xemnas]

You know the law x bepo ship never crossed my minds until I found your account and let me tell you.

You make it work.

hell yeah brother

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society

summary: y/n receives yet another profession of love under their door—too bad the hallway is always empty when they open the door

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 591

i am back two years and one english degree later to write a fic that no one asked for! now that's what i call self care!

part two

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped it's students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope—one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."

~~~

a/n: who could it possibly be?? 🤯

part two

[sodatabs-ontherun]

hello!

☆°hello I'm soda tabs!°☆

♤I go by they/he/ve/vem/void/voidthem (may change I'm gender fluid)♤

This blog is for my silly alterhuman stuff

Tags I use

Quaddrobics: jumping silly

Alterhuman rants: the cat is screaming

Mask/gear: cat made art

○☆My kin types are:

Theriotypes: grey wolf, fox (x2), African wild dog, aussie herding dog, tiger, house cat, mink, elk, snowy owl, ox, vampire bat, loin, koi fish, cheeta, clown fish,jipsy vanner horse, otter,crow, dolfin, spider, dingo, snake, whale shark,coyote

Other kin types: angel

Fictionkins:sandwing, nightwing, seawing, sentinels (md) livi (md oc) lizzy (md), cyn (md), n(md) key bugs (md) j (md) nifty (hazbin hotel) drift loom, nori (murder drones) Caine tadc, jax(tadc)

Plant kins:weeping willow, pumpkin, vernus fly trap,Marimo moss ball, tulip

Concept kin: liminal space, Halloween conspet kin,

Song link/kin: ghost rule, the vampire, anonymous m, bite me, this. P3t (by femtanyl)

Coping link/kin: beanie baby, pomni

°•☆53 in all☆•°

Questioning:,lilly pad, toucan, song birds, duck, jelly fish, death angel, godkin, hatsune miku,

☆•I do have past lives and things!•☆

If you have any questions ask via ask, or just statements in general,

And pedophiles, zoophiles, antis, Transphobes, homophobes, and all that fun will be blocked from my blog (Get away from me lol)

Please don't send me realistic pictures of insects or spiders and all that jazz (alive or dead) I'm ok with cartoons tho ♡

DNI IF YOU HAVE A NFSW BLOG OR ANYTHING WEIRD, especially on my quads vids I wanna keep myself safe from that kinda stuff

Dni if you discriminate against age

Example: "your 12 just shut up"

°•☆This is my other ask blog bc I'm a oc kin lol so check it out if you like lol☆•°

https://www.tumblr.com/livi-is-a-silly-guy

This is my indie show that I'm making and would love for yall to check it out!♡♡♡♡

♡☆○°have fun°○☆♡

[standfucker]

Requests are now open!

To celebrate my birthday month, requests will remain open for a few weeks or more, depending on how many asks I get. With that said, there are some rules to keep in mind

Rules

Be polite and courteous in your ask.

Please specify in your ask whether you want a drabble or headcanons. If you don’t specify, I will choose for myself.

Please specify in your ask the type of reader: AMAB or AFAB, and pronouns. If nothing is provided, I will default to a GN reader. 

Please specify whether you want a SFW or NSFW request.

I will not accept anonymous NSFW requests–they must be sent by a blog that’s over 18, with the age marked somewhere easy to spot.

Multiple requests are okay, but new people will be given priority (please don’t use anon to skirt around this–I do have work and life duties to see to as well!)

I will accept multiple-character requests, but with a limit of 5. Exceptions: when asking for general headcanons, it’s okay to request groups (E.G. “what are your headcanons for a free use situation with the Kid Pirates?”)

I will write for any character. If requesting multiple characters that don’t get along in canon (I.E. Vivi+Crocodile) I will not write for them together.

Characters must be of age (18) as of the time-skip for NSFW requests.

I maintain the right to refuse any request for any reason.

{This is not a rule, as it’s not required, but please–consider reblogging a request I’ve written for you. If you don’t reblog a completed request, I probably won’t write you a second one.}

I will not write the following kinks:

piss, scat, feet, hard vore, guro, A/B/O, intense humiliation, incest (step-incest is fine), age play (age gap is fine), lactation, pregnancy/breeding (creampie is fine).

-This list is not final, as I may discover something in a request that squicks me out. No judgment though.

Guidelines/Prompts/etc:

-Remember, specify whether you want a drabble or headcanon!

-Specify your reader and chosen blorbos!

-Specify whether you want a SFW or NSFW request.

-From there, you can think up a prompt on your own, or peruse the list to get some ideas. These are not required, but offered in case you’re having trouble thinking of a request. If you’re still struggling, feel free to throw a few kinks at me along with your preferred characters and I’ll figure it out from there, but being specific and detailed helps me out!

-I don’t mind a little or a lot of detail, but in the case the request is very open-ended and/or vague, I will fill in the blanks myself to my own discretion/preferences.

-Polyamory is okay.

-Dark content is okay.

-OCs are okay, but please link me to a description containing some information about them plus their personality. Same goes for self-ships–I need to know a bit about you before I can write you into anything.

-I will attempt to make these all consistent length, but no promises.

Preferred kinks/etc:

size difference, bondage, double penetration, anal, creampie, impact play/spanking, edging, age gap, roleplay, CNC, knifeplay, gunplay, biting, blood, threesomes/gangbang, group sex, free use, dubcon, noncon, power dynamics, toys, strap-ons, praise, light degradation, sex pollen/aphrodisiacs, drug use (weed only), monsterfucking (aka fish-men/mermaids/minks/giants/characters with monstrous features like Katakuri)

-I am open to writing other kinks, these are just what I personally like and will gravitate toward when choosing what to write for first. But I’m willing to try new things!

Prompts

(again, these are not required, just here for ideas!)

(SFW or NSFW):

-Reuniting after a long period apart -Scaring them (attempting to startle them just for giggles) -Scaring them (but they thought you were hurt) -Prank wars on the [insert ship name] -Having to teach them a new skill [what skill?] Or having them teach you a new skill. -One of you discovers the other’s secret identity -Starstruck: one of you is shocked to meet the other, who is in/famous. -Whump: one of you is comforted in the aftermath of a traumatic event [please specify] -Coffeeshop/Restaurant AU -Love confession [who confesses to whom? What were the circumstances?] -You stow away on [insert ship name]–and get discovered. [why did you stow away?] -Accidental Child Acquisition: one of you rescues a kid [insert character] and brings them back to the other for help -Monster AU: one of you is [insert monster] -Fake Dating: you have to pretend to date each other for whatever reason -Holiday Gathering: one of you brings the other to meet their loved ones, and is possibly overwhelmed by [insert family/found family/crew] -One of you stumbles upon the other one crying [what happened?] -One of you taunts the other one too many times, and the other decides to finally do something about it -Reader has [insert devil fruit] (fanmade ones are fine) -One of you discovers the other is secretly (or openly!) jealous -“You did all of this for me?” – One discovers the other has gone to great lengths for them -“YOU DID WHAT?!” – One of you does something risky. The other lets you know how they feel about it. -Your crewmates figure out your crush and try to help, with varying results. -Someone crosses one of you, and the other is not about to let it go. -“Let me do this, please.” – One of you insists on helping out despite the other’s protests. -“I’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.” – One of you keeps finding any excuse they can to touch the other. -”I’ll keep you safe.” – One of you makes it clear to the other that they’ll always be protected, no matter what. -“I’m not going anywhere.” – One of you reassures the other.

Specifically NSFW prompts:

-Something embarrassing happens during sex -One (or both) of you accidentally discover that you’re really into a kink -“Just let me finish this [activity] and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” -“You’re really good at that.” – One of you leaves the other a mess with how they’re treated. -They help you get over an ex by any means necessary. -“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

Prompts sourced and adapted from lists made by @tropetember and @writinginstardust

[hazelfoureyes]

🥺 Istg, ya'll are squeezing my heart right now, you and Mink and Danny. It makes me so happy to know that you consider me a part of the community even though I'm still anonymous, and it's really got me fighting back tears right now. Every single one of you: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You're so beautiful and wonderful and I just want you to know that I'm working on something. You've given me the confidence and motivation to come off anon, and I'm working on something for each of you! I'm gonna wait until I finish each piece to come off anon but until then, I'll be dropping more thirsts in your ask boxes as long as yall are okay with it. I'm having so much fun with the random drops right now, and I've got a couple lined up for you magnificent babes😉 Thank you my lovelies! Truly 🥰 😘

- ☄️❤️ Smut Santa (I LOVE this btw!)

:) very excited! Post what you want when you want. If you wanna just post dirty smut scenes like these asks, do it! You wanna make a whole lore and OC? Do 👏 it 👏

feed your inner goblin, write what makes you happy!

[bullet-prooflove]

WorkofArt! Series: Part One - Storm In A Teacup: Bobby Goren x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @id1ehands

It’s the letters that ruin Bobby, seeing his name written in your haphazard scrawl. His fingertips trace over the indentations of the ink and he imagines you sitting at the table in that quaint little house writing them out.

I love you Bobby, I think it started that day at the Met, you had written. You scored your name on my heart, and I just haven’t been able to shake it since.

He underlines the words ‘Met’ ‘scored’ and then ‘heart’ before he re-reads the letter all over again. He’s been at this for hours, sifting through the letters they found addressed to him in a safe house up in Rochester. Eames thinks he’s torturing himself, that he’s searching for clues that aren’t there, but she doesn’t know you, not the way that he does.

This thing the two of you have, it may be unspoken but its no less real. He knows you would never have committed your feelings to paper, that you would never have left them for prying eyes to see. You would have known that they’d be admitted into evidence when you disappeared, you would have known that…

He pauses for a second before he tilts his head slightly to the right.

Oh…

Now he sees it.

The code you’ve used.

He remembers how you teased him that day the two of you visited the Freud exhibition.

“You like to think about the art, where I like to feel it.”

He runs his fingers over the paper again, seeking out the deeper inflections of your pen, the places where you’ve exerted more pressure, where the ink is slightly darker. He jots down each of the letters until it spells out a word and then he moves on to the next piece of paper and then the next.

Storm In a Teacup, it reads.

To anybody else it would be nonsense but to him it means everything because he remembers walking alongside of you that day in the Met, your shoulder bumping against his as the two of you stopped in front of that painting.

It was the first in a series called ‘Timeless Teacups’ by an anonymous painter. He could see how captivated you were by it. The hues were vivid, blues overlapping to form the restless sea inside of hyper realistic teacup. The contrast against the softer paintwork should have been jarring but instead it was bewitching.

“What do you see when you look at it?” He’d asked you.

“Perfection.” You had told him.

You meant it, he could tell by the tone of your voice. He had known that you couldn’t vocalise what you felt in that moment, the same way that he couldn’t. It was too raw, too powerful.

When your hand sought out his, he hadn’t pulled away, instead he’d clasped it tightly because everything about that instance was perfect. He was standing in front of one of the Met’s most stunning pieces of artwork, holding the hand of the woman he loved.

It doesn’t take him long to track down the painting.

It’s been loaned to a small gallery in Ithica called ‘The Mink’

The drive takes him six hours. He heads up there alone because he knows the reason you disappeared, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

When he enters the gallery, he sees you sitting there upon the stark white bench they’ve placed in front of the painting, a cane resting alongside of you. A reminder of the reason you ended up in Rochester.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He says as he sits down alongside of you, his palm coming to rest over yours. “The restlessness of the sea, the way it reflects off the porcelain.”

You smile and he can’t help but smile too because once again you’re both in the midst of another perfect moment, one filled with elation but marred with sadness too.

“I meant what I said in the letter.” You tell him as your fingers entwine with his. “I do love you, Bobby.”

“I know.” He tells you. “I know that’s also the reason you can’t come home.”

He knows that Nicole Wallace found you up at that safe house in Rochester. He sees the stark reminder of her violence every time he looks at you because you’re still gaunt, still weak from the neurotoxin she pricked you with on the steps of the courthouse. She hadn’t managed to administer the full dose, you’d pulled away at the last second, your attention turning to something that Carver had been saying as she’d moved in for the kill.

That had been the first time she’d tried to take your life, the next had been two days later while you recovered in the hospital. Her tenacity was why they had moved you to Rochester, to a safe house where you could recover without the threat of a sociopath hanging over you.

All that had changed when you had bumped into her at the diner you frequented for lunch.

We have something in common you and I… She had said when she slipped into the seat across from you. We're both in love the same man, we both want to give him our hearts.

Despite the damage she had done to you or perhaps because of it you had laughed in her face.

“You don’t know what love is.”

When she came for you a third time you'd vanished.

“I guess this is goodbye for a while.” He says, tilting his head towards you.

You look into those gorgeous brown eyes of his and you see everything that could have been. Rainy days curled up in his lap with a good book, hours spent seeking out the best Cannoli in New York and those nights, the ones you would have spent loving him until the sun rose and he would have laughed because time had gotten away from the two of you yet again.

“I love you.” He says quietly, his lips brushing over your cheek before he raises to his feet. “When this is all over, I’ll find you again.”

You turn your attention back to the painting, your eyes surveying the deluge of colour as you try to ignore the ache in your chest.

“I know.” You tell him. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Anonymous asked: I headcanon that Nami helped Ikakku to warm up to the Heart Pirate-Strawhat Alliance. Especially after she helped patch up Bepo and help the minks. Also it was nice to talk to another female pirate for a change. Unprompted (Always Accepting!)

"Nami was definitely helpful to getting me to warm up to the Straw Hats, even if I didn't trust her right away since she seemed interested in swindling the men on my crew. But she was so nice to Bepo, and helped patch him up, so that swayed my opinion in her favor. We didn't get to talk as much as I would have liked on Zou before she headed off to save the cook since we Hearts weren't allowed out of the Whale Forest until Law showed up, but her crew was able to hang out in the village. Still, it was nice getting to spend some time with another woman. I love my boys, but it was a pleasant change."

[opanimalszine]

Anonymous Animal Lover asked: Hello! What's the standing for minks? Do they fall into the animal category enough to be included in this zine?

We will clarify it soon in our IC results graphics, but minks will be treated as characters, not animals in the zine—this means that like the other characters, they can be part of your piece, but should not be the focus, (one or several animals should be the focus). [Smile or comment on the answer here]

[tournesolepice]

anonymous asked ;;  do any of your muses have any special kinks?

answered ;; unprompted

a few of them, some more than others, this is kind of like, a working list? There could be more, idk

Arya Petroica - none that i’ve figured out Chip Maplewood - boy is a virgin, but he really likes the idea of bondage. also just being really submissive in general because every day he has to be the leader, so it’s nice to just sit back and let someone else take control of him.  Diane Foxington - knives, biting, mild sado-masochism Gladstone Gander - ha ha ha     but yeah he has a few, gladdy has a weird relationship with sex that i might get into later if someone asks, but basically the big ones are, objectification/ownership (where he is the object), both a praise kink and a degradation kink, and perhaps a daddy kink but only if he’s not the daddy but you didn’t hear it from me. he also really likes aftercare, but will never let himself get it, he’ll only give it to others if he was the top in the situation, basically it’s all a little fucky and he should probably get therapy instead of fucking out his feelings. Hiccup Haddock - oh probably of some sort, but i can’t think of any off the top of my head. Hugo Cabret - there is a long list here that i haven’t fully sorted out yet but he should probably also get therapy Kai - hes not overly kinky, he’s just really into his partner’s pleasure, so he’s willing to try anything once and will probably figure out things he likes along the way, but also food play. the boy really likes food.  Minerva Mink - objectification, worship, edging, exhibitionism Rev Runner - he’s a bratty bottom, he loves bondage literally so much, he also likes exhibitionism, biting, masochism, cnc, edge play, he can’t decide if he’d rather be worshiped or be forced to worship someone else, he also has daddy issues so like, ymmv

[anonymousmink]

Osha and Qimir (I loved your last one!!!)

Prompt... How about... soulmate mark on your soulmates body. Could be first words, matching mark, soulmates injury on ur soulmates body for example. What kinda soulmark au dealers choice 😅

I'm having flashbacks to ur amazing soul mate fic for reylo Skymarked Souls, so would loooove too see ur take on a soulmate mark with oshamir x

Omg okay this is 100% cheating because I wrote this when the show was airing and never posted it - and also I apologise because it’s based on the exact same scene as my last post - BUT have some first word Soulmate AU! ALSO - thank you for your kind message Anon, I can’t believe anyone remembers those old fics! It really made my day!💜

Ship: Oshamir || Rating: T || Words: 2100ish

Osha’s entire life has been defined by one word.

One incredibly, overwhelmingly, ordinary word.

Hello.

The small greeting, written in a messy, angular hand over the left side of her ribs has changed everything.

At first it’s a blessing, tangible proof that - no matter how much she loves her sister - she’s not Mae. She’s different, they’re different. She may be one of two but they’re not identical in every way, the word is hers and hers alone. It doesn’t matter how mad Mae gets, or how worried her mothers seem, it’s something just for her and she holds onto it - no matter how selfish it sometimes feels.

Then her world burns, she meets the Jedi, and the word becomes a curse.

The day Sol finds out is the third worst in her memory. Sol’s disappointment is seared into her brain, another Padawan tattling on her after they’d shared the showers after a training session. When he’d pulled her aside his expression had been so final - like a failure, another death.

Still, he’d softened the blow - explaining in his softest, most careful voice that the word was the mark of a soul mate bond, a perfect prophecy of her future partner's first interaction with her. It could happen to anyone, Sol told her, force sensitive or not. Her soul was meant to meet with another, to intertwine in a dance older and vaster than the galaxy.

“Why?” she’d whispered around the knife suddenly lodged in her chest.

“People are flawed,” he’d answered so, so patiently, “we don’t always recognise our match - we can be pushed, persuaded, blinded by our own prejudice… the words ensure we do not miss our moment.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, or the question she was asking. When she asked ‘why’ she hadn’t meant ‘why do they exist?’ but rather ‘why me? Why now? Why has the universe forsaken me again?”

It felt like a cruel trick, the council always said she couldn’t let go of her attachments and this just proved it.

It wasn’t fair. She’d wanted so much to be her own person, to forge her own path, but it had been snatched away from her again - set fire to by her own skin this time.

Sol had tried to console her, telling her that it wasn’t impossible for her to be a Jedi, that there were others with marks - they were rare but they existed. It just meant she had to work harder.

And she did.

She worked harder, and harder and harder and so damn hard, and it didn’t change a thing.

Here she stands with the fruits of her labor, an out of work Meknek chasing her dead sister through a strange world on the orders of people she’ll never be good enough for.

Osha doesn’t flinch as she walks the streets of Olega through a hail of ‘hello’s, two dozen greetings in a half dozen languages as the street hawkers try and draw her attention towards their goods.

Hellos are a prophecy she no longer believes in, not after she’s heard so many of them. Yord. Jecki. Padawans and masters and mechanics and absolute strangers. She’s drowned in hellos over the years and none of them have changed a goddamn thing, they haven’t kept anyone from leaving.

Her soulmate, whoever the hell they are, has never bothered to show up and she’s long since stopped looking.

Swallowing down her feelings, Osha forces herself to focus through her discontentment, she sees a woman selling scarves at the side of the street and remembers her mission. Mae is alive, the focus of so much of her rage and hatred and love, Mae is alive and Osha has to stop her.

Fumbling with her credits, Osha swaps a handful for a length of dark wool, looping it around her neck in the way her sister has been seen wearing. She straightens her back beneath it, trying to carry herself like she imagines Mae would as she eyes up her destination.

She can do this, even if she’s not a Jedi anymore she can still do her best to save them. For Sol and his endless hope, for Kelnecca and his kindness to her, for Indara and Torbin who saved her even though she couldn’t save them.

Squeezing her hands tightly at her sides she strides towards the apothecary, the noise of the street fading as she ducks between the blast doors.

The shop is small, cluttered, the air heavy with a mix of herbs and extracts, sweet and earthy and almost nostalgic. The man she’s here to interrogate is slumped against the wall behind the counter, he’s youngish and scruffy looking with magnifying lenses covering half his face and a pale bloom cupped in his hand.

Clearing her throat she begins her ruse, “Hello?”

The stranger glances up with a smile and a wave, a brief noise of surprise followed by a cheery, “Hello..”

His voice is pleasant if unremarkable, and the fact he’s just repeated her word only makes her heart jump for a single beat, and only because she was just thinking about it. If anything it reminds her just how stupid the Force was to give her ‘Hello’ in the first place, the words are supposed to ensure she doesn’t miss her fated match and yet, for all the dozens upon dozens of times she’s been given that first hello, nothing ever changes.

He glances back at the plant again and she determines this particular stranger isn’t any different, the disappointment now a mild throb rather than the aching pain it had been a few years ago. He isn’t a good candidate anyway, not if he’s supplying poison to her murderous sister.

“Hi,” she says after an awkward pause where she tries to find her footing, the mission had sounded so simple when Jecki suggested it but now she’s here, sweating under the coarse wool of her new cloak, she can’t seem to wrap her tongue around the right words.

How does one successfully pretend to be the Jedi-killing assassin twin they’ve believed to be dead for 16 years?

“Hi?” he repeats, almost a question as his attention fixes on the flower again for a long moment before, with a blink and a shake of his head, he perks up, “hi!”

Kicking away from the wall he pulls the goggles off, casting the plant aside as he fixes her properly with his attention at last.

—-

The word has been there as long as he remembers, too long perhaps, a simple thing in a delicate, sloping hand. It is his only constant, the only thing that remains even as he changes names and identities like other people change clothes. It is his secret, his comfort, a tether to the world when all else fails and the universe threatens to crush in on him completely.

Hello.

A greeting, a start, a reminder that - no matter how long it feels like he’s waited - it won’t be forever. His match is promised, destined, waiting for him somewhere out there in the reaches of space and time. It doesn’t matter how many would-be pupils fail him, he knows she won’t.

His perfect partner.

His soul mate.

Her.

“Hello.”

It takes all his years of training to keep his eyes on the bud in his hands and his body where it stands, going through the motions of the charade even as something inside of him swells. Hundreds of people have said it to him before, maybe thousands in his too-long life, but not like this, not like she does.

The woman’s voice forms the slants and shapes of the handwriting over his heart perfectly, her presence filling his head like the smell of ozone after the rain. And, when he finally allows himself to look at her properly, fully, he finds it impossible to look away.

She’s magnificent.

She looks like Mae, structurally at least, but she’s not her, there could never be any mistaking that. She wears her face in a completely different way, all wide eyes and expressive lips, and the Force… it moves around her like nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s like a shoal of fish, a mass of living, breathing energy that twists and turns and follows her every breath. It’s as drawn to her as he is.

“You alright?” He makes himself ask, placing the goggles aside with a silly flourish and a distracted fumble, his hands are unforgivably clumsy, suddenly out of sync with the rest of him as he rounds the counter, “you’re back so early?”

Not-Mae’s throat moves as she swallows. Osha, his mind supplies to him as he follows the movement, this is Osha, the dead twin… only, not so dead it seems. Very much alive in fact. Thank the stars.

“I wanted to see you,” she says, her chin held up imperiously even as something in her eyes wavers.

I wanted to see you too, he thinks with a pang of yearning so deep it makes his bones ache, for so very very long…

Outwardly however he only allows a fraction of his surprise to register on his face, pointing to himself in confusion, “see me? Oh…”

His eyes dance over her again, thinking how easy it would be to snatch her away right here and now. A twist of his powers, a few shortcuts, and they could be out of the city before anyone even realized, somewhere far away where they can do this properly. Like they were supposed to.

He doesn’t of course, not just because she doesn’t seem to have realized the importance of their meeting yet, but also because there is the looming presence of the Jedi she’s brought with her waiting in the wings. They’re somewhere just beyond the perimeter of the shop and, he’s pretty sure, they’re listening. Which is really very annoying.

Still, eons have passed in the time he’s waited to meet her, he’s confident he can keep himself together for a little longer. Just a little though. Just long enough to play this game out to its conclusion then… well, then the galaxy is their oyster.

“Uh Mae…” the name sounds wrong as he says it but he reads the flicker of pride in her eyes just the same, so pleased with herself for her little deception, “are you ok? Did the poison work? Wait…”

He tilts his head, tasting his teeth with his tongue as he approaches again, voice dropping as he feels her excitement warring with her anxiety. Such a beautiful contradiction, “you killed Torbin without the poison… he will be so pleased.”

And he is pleased. So very pleased. He’s so close to her now they’re sharing oxygen, his eyes flickering over her again without his permission - wondering where beneath her layers his handwriting sits, is it over her heart? Her arms? Her stomach? Her thighs? His fingers flex, palms itching with the urge to touch her, to search it out himself right here and now.

Patience, he snaps at himself as he finds her eyes again, deep, true brown and fixed on him,

where they belong. Where she belongs.

“No, I used it,” she says, her outward confidence barely masking the waver in her emotions, how uncertain she’s become as he prowls towards her, crowding her space, “I just… wanted to thank you.”

He has to stop himself from imaging all the ways she might choose to thank him, she’s still pretending after all. Pretending in a way that makes it clear she hasn’t seen her sister in a very long time, Mae is many things - stubborn, stoic, fierce, strong, fickle - but grateful is not one of them. Desirable isn’t either, at least not to him, Osha however…

He bites his lip, moving closer before he can stop himself as he draws the charade to an end at last.

“You look exactly like her,” it’s almost a lie, for all their cosmetic similarities Osha is a different creature entirely, his eyes feasting on her without restraint as he presses into her space.

For a moment she lets him, lets him crowd her, lets him breathe her, her eyes wide as he considers if she’ll let him kiss her too, let him…

She jerks back, breaking the spell as she raises her blaster towards him and the Jedi flood in, leaving him to fall back into his bumbling persona. He raises his hands, all clumsy innocence as he picks up the game again, plays his moves like he had always planned, but his eyes never leave her - not for long anyway.

Everything has changed now.

[furrgroup]

I'm sorry for not asking you questions, I just don't have anything to say D:

I physically can not shut up about my OCs if you ask me about them.

I even made a database featuring all my girls to help people keep track of them while I'm ranting. (I still need to add Star) (edit: I added Star)

[thewarnerbrothers]

oh thank god, someone else who cant take angst in this fandom seriously. and i usually ENJOY unnecessary angst and adding it into shows but with animaniacs i just feel like a clown because pretty much 99.9% of angst is ooc. and i must have it in character or i will die. what was the point of this ask. anyway we share a lot of the same opinions thank god

anon are you me literally all of that is SUPER relatable

like. fans making the characters act ooc is nothing new to any fandom so i’m used to it. for some reason tho animaniacs angst is just really funny to me? yes i saw wakko’s wish and yes there is some great in character fanmade angst out there but. the fact that it’s animaniacs breaks me.

[tass3l]

I just wanted to say I really love Mink. He’s got one of the most unique storylines in the fandom, his character arc really resonates with me for some reason, and his design is super cute!

thank you!! i havent drawn him lately but i still love him a lot...

[basket-of-radiants]

Could we see your interpretation of the mink? He seems like a real motherfucker and i am here for it

Uhhhhh man I don’t really have an interpretation of him yet. Heeere you go?

[onepiecehcs]

Can we get Rouge as a badass lady tiger Mink?

Ma’am, you’re too cool please leave the premises-