#i have many calico ocs.

[snakes-on-skates]

hey look at this thing i made

hopefully tumblr doesnt fuck the quality or anything idk. I dont know how this works

anyways i randomly got really attached to my minecraft skin and ended up making them a whole character with lore and shit so he exists now. I hope you like her

its pronouns are literally just mine. So all of them

[togamest]

5,161 words. gn!reader, hybrid!au, hybrid!reader (calico cat), pirate!hayato. ownership, collars, penetrative sex, fingering (reader!receiving), pet names (angel, kitten), torture (not reader receiving). hybrid!oc side characters. reader is described as thin and malnourished. a/n: god i don’t know what came over me. jesus christ.

I’m gonna murder you.

That was the first thing you thought of when the smugglers stuffed you into this crate. It hadn’t been without injury; you’d gotten a chance to scratch and nip at some of the arms in your vision, with yelps and cursing following. One had swatted at you, which had been met with sharp teeth sinking into his hand. He’d howled in rage, holding his hand as the top of the box had finally been shut and locked. From there, you don’t know where you’d been put; the box was small enough where you’d been cramped, not allowed out unless it was in the captain’s quarters, and even then he’d expected you to sit so still next to him.

Financial success. That was a phrase you’d recognized, one that had been associated with your calico heritage, and was probably the reason why you were on a smuggler’s ship in the first place. Why you were really here was a mystery, kept from you, which suited you perfectly fine. You didn’t need to know why you were there, only that you had to escape somehow. Something deep within you had told you that this ship was cursed; and the growing quiet outside, eerily silent, did not speak of a smooth journey. Most ships in this star system were bustling, even during the long journey. This one was quiet…too quiet.

Sure enough, all of a sudden, there seemed to be a much more intense commotion going on outside. Cannons were going off, an awful, acrid smell spreading down to your little hovel in the base of the ship. It made your nose twitch, but you knew with a sinking feeling who it was attacking the ship. Who else could it be?

PIRATES.

Your hands were pressed over your ears, doing their best to hide the noise from outside but did little to protect your hearing. Your tail, tight around your body due to your confining box, couldn’t help but twitch whenever you heard a cannon go off. From the suddenly loud footfalls above you, it sounded like the pirates had managed to get on deck. Gurgling and heavier thuds permeated the sounds, as well as cackling noises from the intruders, and then…silence.

Gentle footfalls broke the quiet, and you braced yourself as they began to move around above you, stepping down stairs and sounding as if they were in the same room as you. You tried to make yourself small in the box, as small as possible in the corner as you hear someone scrabbling at the box. “Boss!” you hear a voice say, “Looks like they got some pricey cargo. Sounds like a smuggler ship to me.”

Another voice chimes in, smoother. “Open it.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, resisting the urge to snarl. You’d been hit for that, and you weren’t keen on being hit again over it.

A jingle of keys, and the box opens in the front. Light streams in, and you have to blink several times for your eyes to adjust before heads crowd the opening. You can’t make out details, but you do hear whispering between them; the special scent of other hybrids hits your nostrils, making you want to curl further into yourself. Hybrid and poor thing and why were they smuggling this are thrown around, before the heads clear and a singular man squats down in front of you.

He’s gorgeous.

Tasseled earrings swish as he kneels. The one eye you can see has nothing but kindness in it, a strange emotion to see in the eyes of a pirate captain. His garb is typical of a captain as well; a black coat with golden lapels, black pants and black boots scuffed from many adventures. The eye patch over his other eye is frayed as well, needing a good stitching.

He doesn’t say anything, only rakes his gaze over you. You don’t even realize you’re shaking until his hand reaches in, and you resist the urge to bite him. Unlike the smugglers, he doesn’t seem to have any ill will for you. His movements are slow, easy to anticipate, something you appreciate after the harsh, rapid movements of the smugglers.

“Good,” he whispers, as if he can tell you’re holding back.

His hand finally stops in front of your nose.

Is he…letting me smell him?

He doesn’t move, so you lean forward just a little, sniffing at his palm. It smells musky, like a strong cologne you’ve smelled before but can’t put your finger on it. It sends an electric shock through your system, almost as if you were meant to be found by him. Something about this feels fated somehow, and unconsciously, you move forward and push your head underneath his hand.

His touch is soft as he scratches between your ears, the contact forcing a rough purr out of your throat as you slowly move forward. You don’t leave the box, but you do let him pet you. That’s enough for you right now; feeling someone’s gentle touch against you, raspy purrs in your chest.

“Captain?”

One of the shipmates speaks behind the man in front of you, who looks back. “Yes?”

“Are we…takin’ it with us?”

“It?” The captain’s tone is sharp all of a sudden, like a knife. The atmosphere thickens.

There’s an audible gulp. “I, uh…them, I guess.”

The captain nods, turning back to you and coaxing you out of the box. Your legs feel cramped after having been stuck in that box for so long, and you can’t help but stretch out, groaning at the snaps and cracks and pops of your joints. Your tail swishes behind you, low to the ground, as you extend your arms out in front of you, your short claws digging into the wood as you wriggle out all the cramps.

“Can you stand?” the captain asks you, offering his hand. You nod, not up for speaking just yet as you grab his hand, standing on wobbly legs. You’re shorter than him, somehow, considering he can’t be more than five and a half feet tall, so you look up at him with big, brown eyes, waiting for what he’ll do next.

You go to take a step with him, and almost instantly, your vision blurs and darkens. Someone catches you, you presume the captain as he barks an order at the shipmates that had been surrounding him. The blood rushing to your head is too much, having not been on two legs for so long, that you let the darkness drift you away, hoping when you wake that you’ll be in a safer place.

A sentence meets your ears, causing them to twitch just before you go under.

I’ll take good care of you, kitten.

You awaken to fuzziness pushing against your cheek.

Immediately, you start, before grimacing and feeling the wooziness still in your head, your hand reaching up to press against the painful spot. It seemed to be a headache; you can’t recall the last time you’d eaten properly, only being forced to consume bathwater and moldy food. Your stomach felt small, so incredibly small, and you knew you looked thin as well. Not like you’d been chubby at any point of life, but starvation and malnourishment had done a number on you.

Upon inspecting the bed you’re lying on, it’s covered in fluffy, warm blankets that smell similar to the musk of the captain. There’s food as well, the scent hanging in the air and forcing you to lean over to the side table. A plate with piping hot food (what looks to be a stew) and a tall glass of water sit, ready to be devoured.

You can’t help but drool a little, wiping the spit on your chin as you go to take a bite of the stew. You’d never had stew before, only heard stories about how many ingredients it has and how rare some of them can be to harvest. As the food hits your palette, you can’t help but hum at the heartiness of it, the warmth spreading through your body. The water follows the food, eliciting a sigh as you take another scoop of stew—

You drop the spoon in the bowl as you hear the door open, chattering from the deck seeping in past the doorframe. Luckily, it’s just the captain as he shuts the door quickly behind him, before approaching your bed.

The draft from the open door hits your skin, and you pull one of the blankets around you, redness flushing your face. I didn’t realize he’d taken my clothes. Not that they were “clothes” in the traditional sense to begin with; they had been scraps at best, hanging off of your thin frame, but feeling them gone and you bare in front of him felt wrong.

He has a soft smile on his face, his earrings tinkling as he walks. He seems to ignore the fact that you’re naked, too, which you appreciate. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, and you nod, still a little bashful. You’re probably too trusting of him so quickly, but…something about him makes you feel relaxed.

He sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning you close. You move as if attached by a magnet to his hand, pushing your head underneath it and purring as he gives you some scratches. There’s a noise of a bell somewhere, and you feel his hand brush against the soft skin of your neck, reaching for the ratty leather collar that the smugglers used.

You almost forgot about it, but you can’t resist hissing as his hand goes to grab it, jerking back. “No!” you cry out, and he releases the collar immediately, holding both of his hands in view. There’s something sad in his eyes, that makes you soften again, the bristling on your head relaxing. “Sorry,” you rasp, “’m sorry. Just…sensitive.”

He nods. “Can I remove it?” he asks. You nod.

He asks for permission at every turn, asking to rub the redness from your neck when the collar comes off. He adds some medicine to the burn, tutting. “Those smugglers had no idea how to take care of you, did they?” he questions, mostly to himself, but you shake your head anyway. You don’t remember much before the ship, mostly hiding in alleyways and making a name for yourself. You’d managed to hide your hybrid elements for a while, but the smugglers always find out eventually. It’s how they work.

Your eyes slide closed at his movements, his firm touches against your sensitive neck, and his cooing voice in your ear, telling you it’s going to be okay. One sentence remains as you drift off, feeling yourself grow tired after eating your fill of the soup and being freed of that disgusting collar.

Call me Hayato, angel.

Hayato was as fierce as he was kind, however.

You’d gotten used to accompanying him to meetings, sitting next to him obediently. He’d given you a much nicer collar, a black one with a shiny silver bell on the front of it, tinkling whenever you moved. He’d dressed you in much higher quality clothes, as well; similar to his own garb, you’d gotten a black jacket, white shirt, black pants and black boots. Thankfully, he never found a reason to give you a leash, and you stayed close to him enough where it wouldn’t matter. You weren’t a canine hybrid, after all.

However, today, there was an interrogation.

Of one of the smugglers they’d captured.

You’d sat, curled up in your seat as Hayato stalked around the smuggler in question. He’d been beaten before he’d been brought in, sores and welts disfiguring his face. However, he recognized you, and that led to where he is now; at the bad end of Hayato’s whip, lashing out whenever the smuggler gave him an answer he didn’t like.

“What were you doing with them?” Hayato asks sternly, pointing to you. The smuggler clams up, shaking his head. “Can’t—can’t tell,” he stammers out, and the tension in the room skyrockets. It’s almost hard to breathe as you stare at the man through slitted eyes, your ears pinned to your head as you hiss at him. He winces again, and flinches as Hayato squats next to him. The shipmates around him are bristling, almost waiting for the command to tear him to pieces.

You’d noticed, recently, that many of the shipmates were also hybrids. There’s a wolf hybrid, always barking at one of the golden retrievers that never seemed to be able to mop the deck fast enough for him. He had a massive scar up his snout, crossing one of his eyes and rendering it blind, his ears and tail jet black shot through with red (that you imagined he dyed himself). The retriever was larger, more stout with big brown eyes, and much more of a yapper. It was like watching night and day.

That meant this was personal for Hayato. He had a stake in this.

You made a mental note to ask him why he kept rescuing hybrids, but it seemed as though he did it for justice more than anything else as he lashes the man once more, a wail tearing itself from the injured man’s throat as a massive welt appears on his bare back, blood oozing to the surface.

“Can’t tell me? You know your captain has been killed, correct?” Hayato’s tone is clipped.

The man gasps. “No! He’d never go down that easy to the likes of you,” he spits, and Hayato’s face splits into a smile. A smile that a carnivore would have, when its prey has caught itself in a trap right in front of it.

“Never? Well, he seemed to go down quite easily before the barrel of my gun.”

The smuggler gulps. “F-Fine,” he stammers after a moment, “what do you want?”

Hayato sighs. “I asked you already. What did you want with this hybrid? Come now, keep up.”

The smuggler looks back up at you, and smirks, having a lick of courage flashing in his eyes. It made your blood feel cold*.* “That one? Oh, they’re a pretty one. Pro’lly had it on there so the captain could stick his cock somewhere—”

The blow that lands on his face is loud, a crrrrrack echoing through the cabin as the man slumps, gasping, almost unconscious. Hayato’s face is stern, a rage in his eyes that looks like fire. He doesn’t shake or flinch, but moves in a calculating way as he shifts to be right in the man’s vision. “Disgusting,” he says, spitting on the man’s face, which is met with a faint groan, “fucking disgusting. People like you deserve nothing in this world. Would you have even asked for consent, or do you also think you’re entitled to that as well?”

You’ve curled inside of yourself as soon as you heard the words the man had spoken. The lust in his voice was clear, and you couldn’t help but want to hide, hide away from prying eyes and from anyone who saw you as a pretty little hole. It made you feel dirty, and thankfully nothing had happened before Hayato had arrived, but…what if he hadn’t? What would your fate have been?

The smuggler coughs, blood spraying on the floor. You look over at the wolf, and notice the drool dripping from his mouth. He can smell the blood, of course he can; and he looked like he’d want nothing better than to devour the man in front of him. His teeth are digging into his lip, and the retriever’s hand moves to grip the wolf’s, noticing his tail swishing.

The smuggler grins through the blood. “’Course ‘m entitled. It was my property, yeah? I could do whatever I want to it, and so could the captain.”

The rage that’s swirling in Hayato’s eyes only strengthens as he looks up and glances at the wolf, meeting his feral eyes. The wolf’s muscles are ramrod straight, and he’s shaking at having to hold himself back. The retriever does his best, but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

Hayato says nothing, turning on the smuggler and moving to you, instead, worry clouding his eyes as the rage dispels. He moves in a way where you can’t see the smuggler anymore, and kneels down in front of you, cupping your face.

He removes one hand, and snaps his fingers, the crisp noise echoing around the cabin.

Within an instant, you see the wolf charge in, claws tearing at any part of the man that he can get his hands on from the noises that elicited from the movements you could barely see. His nails are long, never cut but only sharpened and fine-tuned, like ten small blades attached to his fingers. Blood sprays all over the cabin, the man’s screams echoing around the cabin.

You see none of it. Hayato sits in front of you, taking up all of your vision, his big eyes staring deeply into your own. There’s safety there. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you comply, because how could you not when someone who barely knew you fought for you without needing a reason? Even if there had been a reason, you had a feeling that Hayato would have done it anyway.

The retriever moves in after the wolf is done and silence has fallen, cleaning up after him. The wolf staggers back, and you attempt to peek over Hayato’s shoulder, who gently moves your face back to look at him. “Don’t look at him,” he says softly, “I don’t want you to see this. Just know that he’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

You shivered. “Okay.”

That night, you can’t help but hear the man’s screams.

The clean-up after had been out of your vision as well, the retriever doing his best to keep you out of the cabin. It had been difficult, but due to his brawn there was no way you could have forced your way in. So, instead, you chose to lounge in Hayato’s quarters, which you’ve now discovered is where you’d woken up. You chose your own bed instead, having had it closer to the door, and you’d toppled onto it to sleep.

You dreamed of terror, horribly vivid dreams with hands touching you where you didn’t want them. Voices telling you you belong to me, I can do what I want echoing through your brain. You couldn’t talk back, or hiss or scream for help; your vocal chords were shot, tightened, frozen in place.

You’d woken up in a pool of sweat, shaking and shuddering in the middle of the night. The ship was moving gently along the galactic current, the stars outside bringing soft light into the cabin. There was a planet you were passing, its bright aura dousing the cabin in a pretty glow of orange and purple.

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you crawled over to Hayato’s bed. You felt terrible asking him to soothe you, but you simply shed your clothes and crawled under the covers with him, thinking nothing of it.

Instead, Hayato’s eyes fluttered open as you slid under the blankets, getting yourself comfortable. “Are you alright?” he rasps, blinking sleepily as he drags you to him, a soft yelp falling from your lips at the movement, before smoothing into his grip. “Nightmare,” you whisper, and his grip on your only tightens. The bell around your throat jingles.

“Oh, angel,” he whispers, scratching that space between your ears that he knows you love, “it’s alright. I’m here. None of those bastards will ever lay a hand on you again, I promise.”

It’s silent for a moment, before your mind begins to wander.

You can feel that Hayato is only dressed in sleep pants, and for some reason, that makes you feel warm. Something stirs inside of you, your stomach tight as you turn to look at him. Whatever is in your eyes makes his grow dark, and he grins. “Do you need me to take care of you?” he asks, and you nod. There was something about having Hayato do what the men in the nightmare did; call it reclaiming power or whatever you’d like, but having it with the person you trusted the most (currently) felt like it was wiping away the previous horrible ordeals you’d been through.

His lips slot against your own so gently that you almost don’t notice, and a purr is shared between your connected mouths as his tongue slides against your lips, asking for entrance. It licks into your mouth, hot and wet and strong, easily taking control from you. Your tail swishes against the covers, and your thighs clench at the motion.

“My pretty little kitten,” he murmurs against you, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

His hands drift, down to your hips as his nails sink into the skin. The motion has you trembling against him, small ah’s escaping your mouth as he breaks the connection between you two, looking at you like you’d hung all the stars in the galaxy. He looks at you in a way he doesn’t look at anyone else, and it makes your chest feel warm.

As he maneuvers above you, you can’t help but blurt out, “My first time. This, uh…this is my first.”

He stops dead in his tracks, gaze hot on your lithe body. “I’m your first?”

You nod hesitantly. “B-But I do want this. With you. Promise.” You don’t know how else to say it, or how else to beg for it because now that he’s kissed you, you need him everywhere. Particularly, between your legs, where you can feel wetness beginning to build between your thighs. Who cares if it’s going to be something you regret? Right now, it felt right to reward the person who’d saved you twice over.

He pauses for a moment, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate. Then, he smiles, moving back to your lips and capturing you in a long kiss, teeth clacking together. You sink your canines into his lip, just enough to indent the skin, and he groans into your mouth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, moving down to spread your legs in front of him. You feel your ears twitch as he does so, gazing at your center and how it drips onto the blankets beneath you both. There’s a flush on your cheeks, you can feel the warmth on them as he reaches out and runs a long, thin finger through your lips, from your center up to your throbbing clit.

As soon as his finger taps your nub, you jolt, your hips unconsciously bucking into his own grip. There’s a grin that splits across Hayato’s face, and he doubles down on the movement, leaning over you to get closer, his lips hovering inches above your own. His eyes are blown wide, almost black with lust as he watches you unfold beneath him.

The whines and whimpers that fall from your mouth aren’t in your control; you can only react to him, shuddering and shaking beneath him as he continues his movements. “Have you ever cum before?” he whispers, and you shake your head. You’d never touched yourself, either; it’s not like you had the time for self exploration, and Hayato can certainly tell with how sensitive you are. It’s almost like you’ve been pent up, all this time, your need pacing the grounds of a cage, yowling to be let out.

He smiles at you. “I’m going to make you, don’t worry,” he says gently, “get you nice and ready for me.”

You can feel it, the arousal, tightening in your stomach like a spring. It’s all so much that tears are pricking at your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks as you sob. “Feels ‘s good, Hayato,” you whine, and his smile only grows as he picks up the pace, his fingers rolling and pushing against you. “Good, angel,” he responds, “now, can you cum for me? Can my pretty kitten cum for me?”

You’d never been one to follow commands, being a feline hybrid, but something about his voice had you spurting all over the blankets without a second thought, a cry ripping itself from your throat as you cum. He watches you do so, his gaze a burning fire that’s tearing through you, watching your body jerk and shake and shudder beneath him as you ride out your high. You can’t tear your eyes from him, not with how intense he looks and how happy he looks, his pride for you written obviously all over his face.

His fingers leave you, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before he’s there again above you, lips attached to you.

“You did so wonderfully, angel,” he says against you, his hands pulling off his pants, “so, so good for me.”

Your head is light, as if there was a dam broken that suddenly made you feel like you were walking on air. When his cock brushes against your center, you wince, feeling the head prod against you. “T-too big,” you manage to get out, and he pulls you in close, bracketing your head with his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“We can stop if you want to,” he says softly, but you shake your head. Now that you’ve gotten a taste…you need to feel him inside of you. Claiming you. “No, it’s okay,” you manage to get out, and he holds you close as he positions himself, slowly breaching the ring of tight muscles.

“Just relax, kitten,” he says, “relax and let me in. Let me make you feel good.”

Your breaths are deep, following his motions as oxygen flows in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly, you feel him enter, and while it does burn, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, his cock slides in relatively easily thanks to the wetness lining your walls, and—God.

“S’ full,” you moan, and his forehead drops to your own as he pants. You can feel him restraining himself from slamming into you, adjusting to you. “You’re so tight,” he whispers, “hugging me so good, angel. Fuck.”

You stay that way for some moments, connected so divinely that you could’ve fallen asleep right there with Hayato’s cock keeping you nice and open, but that was a pipe dream. Instead, he slides out so slowly that every ridge of his cock rubs against your walls, and when he slides back in, the head hits this part inside of you that feels spongey and feels so good. You let out a shudder and a high-pitched squeal as he slides in and out faster, and when you look at him, he’s grinning. You don’t think he’s stopped grinning and smiling this entire time.

“Holy shit, kitten,” he pants, “don’t wanna cum too fast. Wanna feel you more.”

You nod, sighing as he sheaths himself inside of you once again. “Faster. Please, Hayato? Make me cum again?”

He pauses, looking at you questioningly. “Are you sure?”

You nod far too quickly. “Yes. Promise.”

The next snap of his hips has you seeing stars, bullying against that spot within you that makes you feel warm and tight and ready to explode all over him again. The pace is fast, but it’s not brutal; it’s like a ship, swaying and prodding and pounding rhythmically, like a song. Like a galactic song that’s been known across space and time.

He pushes himself up onto his palms, sweat dripping onto you as he rails into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says, cupping your face with one hand and keeping himself up on the other. Skin slaps against skin, and your moans and whines all but spur him on to moving even faster. Your mind is unraveling with every thrust, every prodding movement to that spot within you only making you wetter. Squelching noises echo around the cabin, and your thighs clench around Hayato, your ankles unconsciusly locking behind him.

“G-Gonna cum, Haya,” you mumble, and his eyes screw shut as he lets out a groan that’s so loud that you expect half the ship can hear you both (if they couldn’t already). “Cum on my cock, kitten,” he says, panting and opening his eyes and looking directly at you, “I know you can do it.”

And you do. This one hits you even harder than the last, your vision almost whiting out as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Along with your walls trembling around him, you can feel Hayato growing close; you’re not sure exactly what it looks or feels like when a fully-human man comes, but with the stuttering of his hips and the way his cock feels inside of you, it’s no secret he’s about to finish as well.

So, you find some crude bravery as you lean up and whisper in his ear.

“Cum inside of me, Hayato.”

He gasps. “Oh, fuck,” he gets out, trembling, before he’s spurting inside of you with a growl that makes every hair on your body stand up. He starts babbling against you, the dirty words weaving their way into your mind and making you shudder and shake around him as you finish together.

“Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little hole. You’re mine, you’re all mine, nobody else can touch you but me. Only me. This is my little hole, only mine, mine, mine.”

Eventually, his arms collapse and he drops onto your chest, heaving and panting as he presses a kiss to your chest. You’re no better, drawing in deep breaths as you come back to center, your vision clearing as you feel the blankets underneath you and Hayato’s body stuck to your own through sweat and other bodily fluids.

You lay like that for some time, his hand lazily scratching between your ears, pressing small kisses to your shoulder where he can reach without moving. He looks up at you then, a stupid grin on his face. It’s almost dopey.

“I never thought I’d meet a hybrid like you,” he says, and you scrunch your nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you shoot back, and he lets out a giggle that makes your chest feel warm and cozy. His hand cups your face, and he pulls you down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Only that I adore you.”

The sentence wraps itself around you, holding you comfortably as he cleans you both up, changing the blankets and producing fresh ones. You nestle into the bed, Hayato’s arms wrapping around you tightly, as if someone was going to crash into the cabin and take you away from him.

At least, that’s probably what he thought.

Feeling safe in his arms, you drift off, feeling more safe than you’ve felt in years.

He adores me.

And he does.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

[huramuna]

the calico bastard - chapter 1.

 aemond targaryen x strong bastard oc (series) part one | next part

summary: After his takeover of Harrenhal, Aemond encounters a dreamy-eyed, wistful bastard of House Strong, who piques his interest and changes the course of Westerosi history.

 warnings: smut (eventually), angst, canon typical violence, canon typical misogyny. will add more as I go through each chapter. 

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: alys rivers doesn’t exist in this universe, alysanne takes her place somewhat. a/n 2: this is my first fic, i got the courage to post it -- please be nice n' leave a like if this interests you!

wuthering heights - kate bush • leave me for dead - GAYLE

It was a chilly spring day when he arrived— atop his dragon that blotted out the sun. 

Harrenhal stood tall, foreboding against the horizon of the Riverlands. It was a tower with a known history of bloodshed and held many ghosts within its hallowed walls. 

Recently, it’d been a symbol of the Dance, a game of tug of war between the Rogue Prince and his One-Eyed nephew. 

Day after day with Daemon holding Harrenhal, Aemond taunted him by flying in the distance atop his mossy colored war dragon. 

Until, one night, Daemon acquiesced. He gathered his forces and left during the hour of the wolf, leaving the original denizens of the ancient stronghold behind.

It was all too fast that Aemond would seize the opportunity— and seize he did.

“Bring out every man with the blood of House Strong in his veins!” he cried out, his voice stringent and unwavering. His dragon grumbled in agreement just outside of the castle’s walls.

His soldiers ripped husbands from their wives, fathers from their children, and sons from their mothers. All were dragged out to the courtyard. 

A diminutive lady watched atop the castle ramparts, looking down at the scene. Alysanne Rivers— a bastard of House Strong, as far as she knew. 

She looked nothing like her Strong relatives, her hair being almost white in color, tumbling down in billowing curls, likely not been cut drastically since she was born, as it lingered past her bottom. The only reminiscences of the Strong bloodline was the errant streak of brown that ran down the front of her hair.

No two sides of her face were alike— one side had a violet eye with white lashes and a brown eyebrow, the other side having a brown eye with brown lashes and a white eyebrow. 

‘The Calico Bastard’ they tended to call her, mostly behind her back— but she didn’t mind. She was rather fond of calico cats.

As she pressed herself belly down on the ramparts, she observed the man below. Tall and chiseled, she could almost feel the hate and contempt eek from his being. It smelled of brimstone. 

Her brows perked as he reached to his face, ripping his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire prosthetic underneath. He spoke a few words, too quietly for Alysanne to hear.

Then he unsheathed his sword. She watched with widened eyes as he brought down the blade upon the neck of the first in line— Ser Simon Strong, the oldened head of Harrenhal; now beheaded. 

She didn’t retch, but she felt a pit of darkness settle in her stomach. Alysanne had been raised as a bastard usually was; hardly at all. She was treated like a dormouse, her chambers being a closet near the kitchens, her bed a pile of old mattress material. 

Her Strong family had treated her with contempt, for the whiteness of her hair and her violet eye— she could only wish to hope that her mother, whomever she may be, never received such treatment. 

She’d heard not much about her mother over her eighteen years of life, and such questions would earn her a slap to the face. 

She never felt love for the Strong family, not even her father, Lyonel Strong, who had left her for many years of servitude on King Viserys’ council. 

The only one to not treat her like dirt beneath her feet was her supposed half-brother, Ser Harwin ‘Breakbones’ Strong. He was the only kind person she’d ever known.

But he was gone now. And apparently, so was the rest of House Strong.

She watched the heads roll into the mud with a detached gaze. No tears would be shed on account of her blood family’s deaths, but she hadn’t seen such ruthlessness firsthand. The only thing comparable was when she heard the screams of her father and brother dying in a fire all those years ago— but she didn’t see them. 

As the last man fell, Aemond glanced up at where she was laying. He leaned over and said something incoherent to a Dornishman next to him. 

Then she was grabbed. She kicked and growled like an impudent animal, snapping her teeth at the soldiers that drug her from the ramparts, down to the courtyard and before Aemond himself. They let her go, then, and let her adjust herself as Aemond approached her slowly.

The bastard girl glared up at him. And he stared back, his one violet eye wide with a fading madness. 

“You were watching,” he started, his voice laced with authority but also… curiosity. “What do you make of this?” he asked then, his arms resting behind his back. 

She swallowed nervously as he got a bit closer, to which she took two steps back. “I see the dragon has come to deliver its reckoning upon House Strong.” she bowed her head, averting her gaze as if it pained her to keep eye contact with him. 

Aemond’s brow rose. The way she spoke was odd, mysterious, dreamlike, even. Not unlike how his own maddened sister, Queen Helaena, spoke often. “Reckoning,” he repeated, “House Strong has defied the crown for too long.” His tone held a touch of disdain for their audacity to challenge him—an affront that demanded retribution in the form of blood spilled upon already stained grounds. 

He stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them. His presence so close was almost suffocating, scalding— like being too close to dragonfire. “And what do you make of this reckoning?” he pressed, searching her mismatched eyes for any recognition that she understood— it was more likely she didn’t. 

“You smell of ash and musk, dragon,” she murmured, stepping back once more. She did not like having people in such close proximity to her, it seemed, as her eyes flitted nervously around.

“A reckoning within your right; mere mice burn before a flaming beast.” she said finally, seemingly in a riddle or poem. Her voice was soft, lilting and song-like; not unpleasant upon the ears, but could be unnerving if anyone actually paid attention to the depths of her manic mutterings. 

Aemond’s face stayed neutral, his jaw clenched slightly, “And what do you make of this flaming beast? What lies beneath its exterior?” he continued. There was something about this fidgety bastard that intrigued him— perhaps it was how much she looked and acted like his sister. His heart clenched slightly at the thought. 

She let out a huff, as if annoyed by his incessant questioning. “A dragon needn’t concern itself with the opinions of mice or birds,” she grumbled. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her dress. “Are you going to kill me, dragon?” 

He stared at her for a moment longer, “Hm,” he seemed to mull it over in his mind, “Mayhaps not, for the moment. I am in need of a cupbearer, and you are capable enough.” 

Alysanne bristled slightly but said nothing. She just stared down at her feet— they were bare, stained with dirt and dust. 

“It seems she knows the power of holding her tongue. I know a few bastards who would do well to learn such a thing,” he added before turning his gaze upward towards two of his men, “Find some handmaidens or servants and have her scrubbed and dressed— I shan’t have my cupbearer looking like…” he appraised her dirty form up and down, “that.” 

The two soldiers nodded their heads, “Yes, prince.” they hummed in agreement, one going to grab Alysanne once more. 

He roughly pulled her, the coarse leather of his gloves grating against her skin. She hated the feeling, the sensation of being grabbed and strewn about like she was nothing but a sack of potatoes or a bale of hay.

Aemond spoke once more, his voice cutting like a whip, “And treat her with respect— she may be a bastard, but she is still a lady, hm?” he glared at the pair of men, his icy stare boring particularly chilly into the one who had so carelessly handled her. 

The soldier straightened up, releasing Alysanne from his grip— he left harsh red marks upon her skin, “Yes, my prince— apologies.” he dipped his head. 

Seeming satisfied with the answer, he turned around and began walking away. 

Alysanne observed him with a tenuous gaze. The way he walked was unnerving— a bit slow, but meticulous. Like a stalking predator. 

But he wasn’t just a mere predator, was he? He was the apex, the king of predators, hewn from brimstone and lava deep within the fissures of the Fourteen Flames. 

Alysanne had encountered the Targaryen house before— with Daemon having occupied Harrenhal just before. 

Daemon was an annoyance to her. She had a distaste for him, even if they did not speak. He would leer at her, looking as if he was undressing her with his eyes. 

But Aemond— he felt different. He didn’t leer, nor undress her with his eyes or look upon her as a commodity. 

No, he looked at her as if he wanted to remove her skin and see what lies underneath. To remove the outer layer of her being from the bone and tear out her heart— 

She snapped herself out of her reverie at the annoyed quip of one of the soldiers that were to escort her. 

“You deaf or something, bastard? Get moving,” the man grunted. 

A fitting noise for him, as he was nothing but a grunt, behest to a dragon. 

A dragon that interested Alysanne, for reasons she didn’t understand. There was an unconscious nagging sensation, deep in her gut when she looked at him. A feeling that elated her and made her feel sickly. 

She walked along, being escorted— escorted in her own home. She thought the idea silly, but let them do as they liked. They were stronger than she— let them have their moment of significance. 

Prince Aemond, as it turns out, left much of the staff in Harrenhal intact. Scared, but alive. 

Her mismatched gaze flitted around as they stepped into the Great Hall. The quivering, huddled bodies of servants, cooks and maids alike stood together. 

“Oh, girl, you lived,” the cook, Magga, cried. The older woman broke away from the conglomerate of clucking hens to go embrace Alysanne. 

She flinched slightly— girl, Magga had called her. She didn’t even call her by her name. She hardly ever did, and never with such… saccharine sweet reverie. 

She fought every instinct within her to run away, growl or do some other animalistic display of fear as Magga enveloped Alysanne in an all encompassing hug, practically suffocating her in her bosom. 

“We thought ye dead, girl,” Magga continued, “They said they were butcherin’ all of House Strong. They didn’t do anything to ya, did they?” 

Alysanne, once she was finally able to catch her breath, shook her head. She was still confused by Magga’s sudden maternal disposition. The cook always treated Alysanne as a nuisance, an extra mouth to feed that likely didn’t deserve it.

Witnessing death, she supposed, had a funny way of changing people. 

Alysanne would give the old cook a fortnight before she was back to calling her a bastard and trying to beat her bloody with a wooden spoon for pilfering honey cakes. 

The two guards that had led Alysanne in seemed unmoved by the reunion. One, apparently named Ser Daunton, spoke up, “Which of you is a maid? The prince has deemed that this…” he cleared his throat before speaking, “lady, requires to be bathed and clothed— befitting the station of royal cupbearer.” 

A few of the ladies spoke up. Flora and Beth stepped up— sisters from near Maidenpool. “Yes, ser,” Flora, the more talkative of the bunch, murmured, “We will… tend to Lady… Rivers,” she glanced over at her sister, who gave an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. 

“Very good. I’m sure that the prince will have need of his… cupbearer sooner than later— so do not tarry.” Ser Daunton nodded, his gloved hand rested on the pommel of his sword before he turned and left, a nod of his head commanding his companion. 

As they walked out of the Great Hall, there was almost a physical sigh in the room. 

Flora and Beth walked to Alysanne, the latter finally speaking, “What in the name of the Seven did you do to be spared?” she hissed, pushing Alysanne to the back room while Flora began to heat the water for the bath. 

“I did nothing— the dragon, he—,” her voice was cut short as Beth pinched the sensitive skin of her arm.

“He is not an actual dragon, you dumb girl,” she admonished, “He is a prince— more so even than the one that was here before. At least address him with some modicum of respect. You greet him as ‘my prince’ or ‘your grace’— no more of this foolish dragon nonsense.” Beth grumbled, stripping Alysanne of her clothes. 

“But he… he is a dragon, he—,” 

SMACK.

A sharp hit to her cheek by Beth, “I don’t care if he has horns growing out of his bloody head, or breathes fire— I won’t have you jeopardize our lives by spewing hogwash,” she paused for a moment as she began pulling Alysanne’s hair out from the errant braids she had them in, “I… He is unstable, look what he did to Ser Simon— poor lord couldn’t even raise his sword before the prince took his head. He was just an old man, shameful,” Beth continued, her fingers attempting to unknot her curls, “But we shan’t expect better from a Kinslayer.” 

Alysanne winced, her scalp prickly and heated. She didn’t say anything else— she would only dig herself into a deeper hole; it already felt like she was six feet under. 

The sisters dragged the odd-eyed lady to the copper tub, now filled with hot water and began to scrub her raw. Her skin pulsed red before finally settling into its normal pallor. 

Her hair was run through with a brush, more than half a dozen times before pulling it back into one tight braid that swept to her posterior. 

They stuffed her into a modest dress— a blue woolen kirtle with a white undershirt, the sleeves long and puffy. 

Alysanne, who hated being touched, squirreled and wriggled all throughout their prodding. She wasn’t a skinny thing by any means— she had a soft core and curvy figure, which was accentuated in the corset they strapped her in. 

“Cruel lot of chickens,” she grumbled under her breath, eyeing the two sisters with ire. 

“Hm— didn’t know you had a pair o’ hips under those mops, Calico,” Flora hummed, “This might be what the prince wanted you for.” 

Alysanne felt her cheeks heat up at the thought— she had been the receiving end of looks of leer and lust a few times, but she staved them off. She had no interest in romance, or whatever her twisted ideology of it was. Nor was she interested in being rutted into like a barn animal. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, her voice quiet, but with a tinge of sharpness, “A dra— a prince has no use for a calico bastard— mayhaps you should visit him instead of I, Flora?” 

SMACK. 

That earned her another red mark on her cheek— one from each of those shrewd sisters. 

“I’d knock you out if you weren’t meant to be somewhere, Calico. Now go, I’d imagine you’re being expected.” Flora snapped, leaving the room. 

Beth tagged along, giving Alysanne one last dirty look. 

She took a few deep breaths, smoothing down her dress. Once, twice, thrice. With as straight of a posture as she could give, she left the room as well, quickly swept up by Ser Daunton to be escorted to the prince. 

Into the dragon’s lair.

[honeypotdrops]

✿Note from Honey: this is just some crumbs i have to sprinkle for you on a new OC i’m working on, i’ll post more about her background and story soon if it’s wanted but i had to get this one outta the box first- consider this a light snack from me to you <3

✿side note: I REALLY hope you enjoy this- being new to this game, i was so hesitant to post this because i don’t feel as though my writing is to the quality to do so just yet but i just thought WHAT’S THE WORST THAT’S GONNA HAPPEN :) anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: literally nothing i don’t think? the slightest mentions of alcohol, soft soft, cute times of people reminiscing about home!<3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

♡ 𝒮𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝒟𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 ♡

OC Calico X Task Force 141

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Missing home was a part of calicos’ daily routine.

During the spare hours of the day she’d be thinking of the next time she’d get to cram onto a busy tube from Victoria Station.

She’d dream of the first time after a long time of standing in the cold and shielding from the rain with her friends outside an overpriced bar in Central London, sipping Prosecco, even though she’s always hated it, but never had the heart to tell them..

She missed the way home made her feel- Some days, more than others.

This was in fact, one of them days.

She was swamped head to toe in paperwork, deadlines, mission reports, “that person’s injured”, “this person wants to arrange a meeting” and the list unfortunately went on..

She huffed and moved away from her desk, throwing her head back and feeling tears form in her eyes and stress taking over her body.

her thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door- 

“Come in!” She called half heartedly.

Gaz struggled as he entered the room, holding a large box, covered in brown paper with small tiny illustrations of christmas trees and Santa hats all over it.

“this, my darling was left, for you” he smiled brightly, dropping the heavy package on the desk making a loud thump as it left his hands.

Calico furrowed her brows, inspecting the parcel on her desk.

“For me?” she replied in disbelief “What for?”

All Gaz responded with was a shrug “No idea, was just labelled as ‘special delivery’ and addressed to you” he smiled softly at her, turning to leave the room.

She forcefully ripped off the paper, the amount of sellotape on this thing was criminal.

with one last pull of the plastic, the box was finally open.

she delved inside, rummaging through layers of red and green tissue paper.

She found a small card, written on it was “To our Frankie”

she flopped back down on her chair, opened the envelope, and pulled out the card. 

There was a picture on the front of two penguins in hats and scarves ice skating around a Christmas tree. She smiled to herself and read the inside;

Frankie, 

Home feels strange without you here, we spend everyday missing you and thinking about you, we hope that this helps you in the same troubled times, and we hope it helps you remember the feeling of home..

P.s don’t eat them all at once, and remember to share, we know what you’re like!

All our love,

Mum, Dad and Freddie 

x x x

the tears that were looming over her began to fall, she smiled and held her hand to her chest, the warmth of love radiating inside her, like a glowing orb where her heart once was- 

she wiped her tears on the back of her hand, placing the card upright on her desk beside a picture of her, her parents and her younger brother. 

she got up and dove into the parcel without a second thought, she found all sorts of her favourite goodies and treats she loved from back home that filled the box to the brim.

Dairy milk bars, tonnes of them, so many she’s sure she could start her own trade here on base, wine gums,  boxes of Yorkshire tea bags, biscuits, the absolute lot.

as she dug deeper to the bottom, she found a small printed picture of her and her two friends, Shelly and Kate- it was one of the last pictures they had taken while she was on leave.

The three of them outside her childhood home, arms wrapped round one another, smiles and sunburned cheeks, all with glasses of whatever concoctions they were drinking that night.

she turned the photo over to another message, neatly written in bright pink and purple gel pen with small doodles of hearts and stars around it,

“WE MISS YOU TOO! CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU CALI” 

P.S- YOU DON’T HAVE TO SHARE THIS ONE!

LOVE YOU ALWAYS,

-YOUR GIRLS<3

 X O X O

Calico shook her head and huffed out a laugh, she peered into the box where there was two mini bottle of Prosecco and a tacky picture frame that looked like it fell and stumbled out of the nineties, the words “best friends” around the pink and green frame.

she slid the picture in and placed it next to her other ones that scattered across her desk, smiling at the reminders of the people who wished her a safe return home.

She placed the items back in the box and slid it under her desk, taking one of the chocolate bars out and happily munching away while returning to the work ahead of her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Calicos’ day was now slowing coming to an end, she had made a cup of tea with the goodies sent from her Mum and sat herself down behind her computer, shoving another piece of chocolate in her mouth before tackling the last piece of work ahead of her.

Another knock at the door appeared causing her to almost choke on the mouthful of chocolate she had crammed in.

“Yeah- uh..come in” she muffled out.

“Heard you had a delivery love?” Price poked his head round the door, smiling at her with intrigue in his eyes.

Calico squinted “yeah…maybe..” she replied cautiously while swallowing the evidence to try not to give herself away, her Mum wasn’t wrong- she did not like sharing.

“what’d ya get then?” Ghosts’ body moved in behind Price, his dark eyes making her break and her previous innocent look start to crumble slowly.

“Aye don’t be all secretive bonnie, let us av’ a look then” Soap tried shoving his way past both bodies standing in her doorway but failing and only his head appearing below the Captains.

Calico put her head in her hands and laughed at the sight.

“It’s like you lot get the most minuscule scent of a good cuppa and suddenly become like bloodhounds searching for it” she chuckled, shaking her head “is there more of you or-?”

“Yeah, i’m here too i just- i don’t think anymore of us can fit in this doorway” Gaz called out 

Calico rolled her eyes and smiled, motioning for them to come in and sit with her.

the placed themselves round her little space watching intensely, like small primary school children during show and tell, while she showcased the goods she had been sent.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 Tea’s had been made and shared out between the group, biscuits had been dunked and wine gums had been shared, much to Calicos’ disgust but, part of her didn’t mind so much after seeing the happy looks upon their faces.

They spent most of the night snacking away as the sky got darker and the base got quieter.

Calico turned to the box and dug out a chocolate bar she had been keeping for herself.

She peeled back the purple wrapper and snapped it bit by bit, she handed a strip of it to each of them, smiling as she did.

They all savoured it, the taste that was so familiar to them all, reminding them of their childhood, Christmases with loved ones or anytime there was a bowl full of treats on the family table. 

Calico smiled at the sight, she nibbled the last piece and sat back in her chair next to Price.

He sighed contently finishing his last square and taking a sip of tea before speaking.

“tastes’ like home” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Note from Honey: If you made it this far thank yewww for reading <3 i really hope you liked it, i feel like it’s not much but BARE WITH, i have so many ideas for this character.. at the moment they’re all kinda balled up and bundled in a box lmao

Love ya!

-Honeypot<3

[missedditart]

Along with my Lackadaisy hyperfixation I've also become obsessed with under the devils moon by @libras-interactives. I absolutely love their ocs and can't wait to see more of them in the story. I made some fan designs of them and thought it couldn't hurt to share them. I had a lot of thoughts about their designs so anyone who is interested can read about that below. Also, English isn't my first language so please ignore any spelling mistakes and such.

Malwina

Malwina's design was really fun, also the first one I did. She is described as having black fur and hair and orange eyes. I knew if  I wasn't careful she could end up looking like Ivy, so I made her hair color brighter than her fur color and also made her hair curly/wavy. I also emphasized the eyes as they're often pointed out in the text as big and pumpkin-like. I wanted her to look curious but maybe a little unsettling if she stares at you too long. I also gave her soft shapes and rounded years since she is very friendly albeit a bit pushy.

Máire 

for Máire just mostly followed the description we get of her, calico, auburn hair and green eyes. The thing I had to think about for this drawing is what kind of clothing she would wear. I went between thinking she would prefer something stylish or something comfy. I'm not an expert on 1920s fashion so I mostly looked at old clothing catalogs to get a feel for the clothes she could wear. I settled on something more in between a comfy shirt with a stylish skirt. I based the tarot cards in her hand on Pamela Colman Smith’s designs. Also since she is wearing a shirt I couldn't show off the heart fur pattern on her chest but it's definitely there.

Sylvester

Sylvester doesn't have a very striking design but that's the point. For his facial structure i took some inspiration from Asa Sweet and Bobby Bastion from the comic but I also tried to make him stand out on his own. Other than that I kept close to the text, gray suit and graying fur. I was tempted to give him a colorful gaudy tie, maybe something his wife insisted he should wear. To make him more interesting but again he was supposed to be drab and unassuming. So I decided against it. (I still headcanon that his wife gives him gaudy ties and insists he wear them and he cant say no to her.)

Flynn

Flynn was the one I had the most ideas for but also the one I'm the least happy with the result of but might as well share it. We haven't gotten many physical descriptions of him and what we get is somewhat vague. I also haven't played all the backstories so there might be something there that I've missed. But from what we do get he is often described as odd eyed and two faced, this gives me the impression he has a chimera pattern. We haven't been given any specific color so I chose what I thought fit best. black and bluish gray to make him cold and dark looking, i gave him green as an accent color. I probably went a bit heavy on the devil shape language but it's fun so… I also wanted to color the tip of his shoes white or gray to make them look like goat hooves but they ended up looking too much like bowling shoes so I decided against it. He still has a hoof-like pattern on his shoes which probably isn't very historically accurate for 1920s men's shoes haha. And lastly his cane is only described as black and ivory but nothing specific on the shape. I figured giving it some interesting motif would be fun so I went with a snake. specifically a black mamba witch don't look dangerous until you get too close or they open their mouth. I'm sure a fitting metaphor could be made from that. My design for him will probably change if we get new info about him later in the story but so far this is how i imagine him.

[ourolite]

oc brainrot — nsfw, trans!male oc x amab!reader, implied missionary, implied incessant breeding, possession, implied heat cycle, mentions of blood, subtle feminization.

so, i recently concluded that cats tend to have the overwhelming need to scratch due to inexpressible emotions, to trim their nails, or to mark what’s theirs with the subtle sweat glands in their paws.

this wondrously explains as to why your muliebrous kitty, who is temperamentally self-serving and haughty, was destined to clamp his pearlescent-painted walls around your dick. your hips were battering into him to the point where his choked sobs and splutters were prevalent. his calico-printed ears that are generally pinned against his head to evince exasperation are now poorly coordinating with the rhythm of your strokes, not to mention that his mini tiered beige skirt journeyed halfway up his waist since it was too loose for him. then, finally, for it was the primary cause of your pained grunts, his bladed nails were performing an audacious act of abrasion; you were sure that there was nothing left of your epidermis.

“fuck me- fuck me please- fuck me- fff-mmmhm!” his whimpers were imbued with quivers and mewls that would only parrot a frazzled kitten imploring for solace from his distant mother. they were eventually subdued by the way you grabbed his face to focus his attention into another upcoming, sloppy kiss, but this didn’t deter the attention from your back. you were sure that the exterior of it was tainted with carmine, but you were too muddled with a lecherous adulation to address the manner. besides, if you were to stop now, you’ll definitely earn blubbered abasements and pathetic fingering from the poor kitty.

seriously, how many times did he need to remind you of who you belong to, and when will you start actually minding your blood loss?

[novastaar]

Good news, I am NOT dead! School has been kicking my ass, though (it's only the first week, and I'm already burnt out) so definitely less frequent posts. Especially art.

With that being said, I've been really excited to post about my Tiny Octonauts AU, so... yeah, that's what this is

(Long rant under cut)

This AU does include my OCs, but they're not really a necessary plot point or anything, and their roles could easily be swapped with any other cannon characters so far.

But the basic outline of it is that Shellington accidentally created a magic potion (look, if a teal bunny can build submersible gups that can withstand the pressure of the midnight zone, then my little autistic otter man can have a magic potion mishap) in his lab that, when it's consumed or comes into contact with someone, they (and all items on their person) become mini. A couple inches to a foot tall, depending.

Shellington found out about this effect after Kwazii knocked over one of the potions and spilled it on himself, shrinking him to a few inches in height. Of course, now, Shellington has to find an antidote for this potion while all the other octonauts (including him at some point) get shrunk one by one through accidents and mishaps.

While this is going on, the Octonauts are still going on missions. Unfortunately, it's really difficult to do much of anything at that size, so the un-shrunken crew members usually have to do all the heavy lifting (which worked pretty well until Barnacles was shrunk, too)

Not many of the octoagents get affected by the potion since they're not on the Octopod much, but a few of them (mainly Paani and Calico Jack) do get shrunk as well.

So basically, this AU is just a bunch of stress for Shellington, a whole lot of tooth-rotting fluff, a bit of angst, and the occasional near disaster every time a shrunken crew member is swept off by a current or almost (or actually) eaten by a sea creature. Fun times!

[sparkdoesart]

Hiii spark if I were to draw something for you which character wojld you like it to be. NOOO REASON AT ALL AHAHAH nothing suspiciosu going on here . Smiles

Alright...... i suppose hypothetically if you were to make art for me... which youre totallyyyy not gonna do...

Heres my main 5 ocs + extras

Spark/Gold

Can be anthro

Cat creature

Very anxious/always worried

HUGEE tail. Size of her body or bigger

That is a shackle on her leg that she cant really get off. She hasnt tried

Dont think of the black parts as fur patterns as much as some sort of growth (thats why the overlap at the white parts is so spiky)

The orange yellow lineart is a strange glow in the story but ive done those since before i wrote the story

Gay for marley

Marley

Can be anthro

Calico

Almost always wearing her collar

Pretty confident

Very caring

Will kick ass

Gay for spark

Exes/besties with rusty

Rusty

Can be anthro

Axolotl serval capybara hybrid

Tail is actually pretty flat

Always wears the bow

Calm and relaxed

Suspicious of Puzzle

Very friendly

Somewhat quiet

Paws dont have fur

Paw pads are just black

Tongue is red, since i forgot to add that

Ash

Can be anthro

Cat

Eyes always have tear-like melting effect

Ears, eyes, nose, tongue, paw pads, claws, and blood change with emotions

Controls what emotions are shown with mask on

Always wears their bandana around their neck

Easily startled

Very smart

Worries a lot

Presents as carefree

Likes to help others

Very good friends with puzzle

Puzzle

Can be anthro

Dog

Two forms - demon and angel

Demon form (black) is in control 95% of the time

Tail is an entirely separate entity

Colors can be toned down if they hurt your eyes, would prefer them very vibrant

Very mischievous and generally somehwat evil

Always has either an angry, serious or (most often) mischievous face. Often smiling with almost angry eyes

Manipulative

Seems to actually somewhat like ash

Dislikes rusty more than the others

Eyes always half closed

Tail can talk, rarely does in front of others

Tail is always excited and/or happy

Tail never stops smiling

Puzzle and Tail can sleep

And then theres Ghost ofc

Not many notes to add really

Feather is preferred

Andddd Me!

Shapeshifter that can be literally anything. I mean anything. Objects, plants, animals, humans, other people, characters from whatever, anything. I could mimic you almost exactly, even.

Base form is the one pictured above tho.

Can wear any outfit that doesnt have sleeves too hight above the wrist or pants too high above the ankles. They are uncomfy and icky to me. Can also wear gloves and whatever shoes. Prefer boots. Very rarely wears stereotypically feminine clothes (dresses n whatnot)

Very sharp teeths and tongue usually

All of these guys represent me in some way! I love them all<333 you could use any of em for something id go "hey thas me!!!! :DDD"

Any questions just ask me in messages or my inboxxx

[makedamnsvre]

what's going on with Moonpaw the warrior cat. its an incest kitty thats a calico but its not (according to the makers) cuz has black head?? i dont go there at all but im so curious

the erins (the writing team behind the author name erin hunter) are coming out with the 9th warriors series, (each series has 6 books)

at first the teaser only said this about the newest protagonist:

In the midst of the chaos, Moonpaw, an apprentice struggling to understand the mysterious voice in her head, thinks that she might be having visions. But the voice becomes increasingly sinister, and Moonpaw wonders if it’s a sign of darkness on the horizon.

and im not sure where or how but just from this and the other 2 paragraphs of teaser, people came up with turning the moonpool (small pool of water used as a sacred site to contact starclan (cat heaven)) into a . sentient? being. of sorts. that they are shipping with moonpaw. and mind you at the moment we only had those 2 sentences about moonpaw so it was mostly just people coming up with their own ideas based off of the limited info from the teaser and building off of other peoples ideas, like a community oc. people were also talking abt what they hope the next series does/doesnt do with moonpaw. like hoping that she isnt yet another boring gray cat, wondering what she would look like, making their own designs for what they think would be cool/what they would hope she looks like, hoping that the writers dont make her lame, brainstorming who her parents will be, etcetcetc

and then the warriors team released some stuff about moonpaw including this character sheet

and a few paragraphs introducing her a little bit, explaining her name, and teasing a bit of the upcoming plot to do with her.

but they also say that "Moonpaw is a chimera cat: a cat who, due to a rare genetic quirk, has different colored fur on each side of her face, divided by a nearly straight line." which irritated a bunch of people because in cat genetics, a split half black/half orange face is common in normal non-chimera tortoiseshell and calico cats, but its just because its widely believed misinformation and the authors fell for the misinfo on that because they dont really know a lot abt cats or cat genetics or dont care (even though they write books about cats??) so people are disappointed that they introduced their first canon chimera character but then gave her a very typical design that isnt limited to chimera cats since normal non-chimeras can have those exact markings

and the incest part is just that there are So Many warrior cat characters and the books have gone on for many many many MANY generations in the clans of only so many cats that rarely ever add new cats to the gene pool, and they barely keep track of family trees, so this is a mistake that they make literally constantly. most of the characters are related at this point, but people are especially upset about moonpaw because shes a POV character and not just some background nobody who dies offscreen, and there were many different characters that arent related that they could have used to be her parents instead

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 17: A Friendly Game

I love my job.

Well, most of it. My daytime routine isn’t exactly painless. The injuries I've acquired will never go away. Both physically and mentally. But the liberty of night makes up for it. The highlights of each evening’s… encounters make it the best factor of my job.

And I love it even more now that I have an official uniform. A title. 

The Reaper’s attire consists of a jumpsuit made of sleek, black fabric. The material is loose enough to be flexible but still outlines my feminine curves. Across my chest is a sash with pockets containing instruments of death. Knives, poisons, toxins, even a fold-up scythe. On my feet are plain black leather boots with a tiny heel to them. Inside each is a knife hidden in the heel. The article of clothing that completes the ensemble is the hood. I stitched a black hood to the neck of my jumpsuit, almost creating an assassin-like appearance. Thus the Reaper name. On my face I wear a Halloween mask I found on sale. Covering everything but my mouth, the mask allows me to taunt my victims before their conviction. My voice is the last thing they hear and my eyes are the last thing they see.

Such as the man sprawled on the pavement in front of me.

“It’s you! If- If it’s money you want I can-! Ow!”

I fling a small knife into his torso. This man, like many others, has been cheating his company’s employers out of a proper salary. Instead of rewarding the appropriate amount for their hard work he diluted the money to fund his new yacht. 

“Money does not save you from judgment,” my muffled voice grunts through the mask. “I’m here to further the process.”

I grip my scythe and lift it high. One swing and-

Slice!

The man’s speechless face gawks up at me as blood gushes from the fresh cut on his throat. He slumps over dead in less than a minute. Police will find the body in the alley in approximately twenty minutes. Just enough time to make it eight blocks over.

“Aahhh! No! No more! Aaaahh!”

Hm. Those screams weren’t caused by me. Which means-

“Ophidiophobia. How deliciously… normal. Do you know how common it is to have a fear of snakes?”

Which means Dr. Crane is back to his old tricks. Tonight he seems to have chosen a young man who looks more nerdy than Nigma. As usual he’s wearing that sloppy mask.

I lean the scythe against a dumpster and take out my whip, courtesy of Selina. I shouldn't butt into another villain's scheme, but just because I'm a killer doesn't mean I'm completely heartless.

Crack!

Both men’s heads turn to face me. I can’t see Crane’s reaction but the geek looks like he just spotted a ghost.

“Not another snake!” he screeches.

The Scarecrow lets out an annoyed groan. “I’d like to finish my experiment, if you please. So if you could make yourself scarce that would be the best for both of us, Reaper.”

“Now, now, be nice.” 

I shove him away and jerk my head to tell the man to scram. He takes off running as if I set him on fire. Crane isn’t taking it well.

“I assume honor among criminals doesn’t apply to you?”

Behind my mask I roll my eyes. “My my, you haven’t changed a bit, Dr. Crane.”

In one swift movement I swipe my leg under his feet and send him crashing to the ground. He tries to get up but I kneel down and push him against the wet ground.

Behind Crane’s own mask his eyes widen. “Wha- Calico?”

“Hello hello, Johnny.” I smile sickly sweet at him. “Seems like you’re in a bit of a pickle, eh?”

I can’t tell if he’s trying to laugh or yell. He wiggles and thrashes beneath me but I’m still stronger. He’s not going anywhere without explaining this.

“So. You drug college students now?” I snatch his mask off and his furious eyes glare a hole through my skull. “I never thought you’d prey against someone so similar to yourself.”

“Says the woman who drenches her hands in blood every night,” he seethes. “Now get off of me!”

“First I need to know that you’ll pick your test subjects more carefully.”

“Fine!” Crane hisses. “Happy now, Mother Teresa?”

My temper sparks. “Remember that I helped bring your consciousness back.”

He shakes his head. “No, you just walked away after I’d just escaped death. You left me!”

“You drugged me!” I bite back. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

Crane doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps glaring at me, almost as if internally debating if he should be sorry or pitiful. “Get off me.”

Very well. I stiffly rise and pivot to walk back to the dumpster, grabbing the scythe and warningly point it at the flustered doctor. 

“No more poisoning innocent lives.”

With that I rush back into the dark streets, back to home. What did he expect? That all is forgiven just because his sleeping mind trusted me? I will never forget what he did. That terrible feeling, those eyes…

I shake the dark thought away and make my way back. There’s no question that I will run into him again. The lingering question is on what terms?

Oh. Was that tomorrow? It is. 

Tomorrow night is the night I promised Nigma that I would attend a small card game. Since Batman’s been gone it’s easier to plan get-togethers without too much fuss. I guess abstaining from killing for one night to partake in some social time won’t hurt.

General POV

“You did tell her, right?” 

The Riddler groans. “Yes, Harley. Callie should be coming.”

“Selina won’t be here,” Ivy informs the two as she takes a spot at the table. “Said something about infiltrating Wayne Manor for a party tonight.”

“I could have attended,” Mr. Cobblepot inputs. “But there are far too many cops in attendance at tonight’s Dent memorial. Ms. Kyle is bold for attempting such a robbery.”

“Well, you know her. Always the risk-taker.”

The four criminals take on a comfortable silence and sip their drinks. Everyone can sense the changing tide in Gotham. Whispers have turned to rumors. The familiar League of Shadows might have set their sights on Gotham once again. It’s all a matter of time.

“Don’t all of you start without me,” a voice drones sarcastically.

“Sit down, sack-head,” Harley drawls and pulls the Scarecrow into a chair. “Why do ya look so glum?”

Nigma chuckles. “Probably because his fear toxin failed. Again.”

“Or maybe he’s still sour because he’s soft on Callie,” Ivy smirks. “Pity she isn’t so easily corrupted.”

Cobblepot sips his drink. “We’ll see about that when she gets here.”

Dr. Crane’s thinking comes to a halt. This whole time he’s kept his growing feelings for the darkened young woman deeply buried. He will never admit to it but he can’t shake the guilt that has also multiplied. Why, why did he have to give her that dose? To prove to himself that he didn’t care? Well… Joke’s on him. But the Penguin’s words have his thoughts swimming.

“Wait what did you-?”

“Hello everyone.”

All heads turn to see Dr. Prentiss strutting down the aisle towards the table. Only it’s not the Calico they remember. It’s the Reaper. 

“Deal me in while I order something strong.”

She lowers her hood and walks off to the counter. While she talks with the bartender Dr. Crane tugs on Nigma’s jacket.

“You devious lunatic! Why did you invite her? Need I remind you that she is not on our side?”

“She’s on no one’s side,” Harley intervenes and pulls the men apart.  “As long as she doesn’t kill us I say we’re square.”

“I agree,” Ivy says and glares at the crazed doctor. “Thanks to you she’s been through enough to go off the deep end. Kind and caring Calico Prentiss is now the sinister Reaper. Bravo, Crane. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Talk about rubbing in shame. Crane doesn’t meet the green botanist’s stern gaze. Instead he’s trying to muster enough nerve to keep calm as Calico marches back to the table, a fresh cocktail in hand. It's not fair for someone to look so- so... captivating, and still be so-. Why does he hate her? Because she's good... But she's not anymore. She's a killer. A ruthless, cold-blooded... Stubbornly red-hot killer.

Dr. Jonathon Crane is wise in many things, but decrypting emotions is not one of them.

Calico's POV

Of course he’s here. I knew I’d see him again, just not… so soon. Fortunately I think the terms are in my favor. 

“Finally take a night off killing to see your old pals?” Harley chimes.

Her bubbly personality is a refreshing change from the usual dreariness I encounter.

“You know me, Harley. Always working.”

“And may I be the first to say that your new look is dynamite!” Riddler applauds.

“Thanks, Nigma.”

Penguin nods in approval. “Indeed, Ms. Prentiss. The upgrade in your criminal expertise is most impressive.”

Harley elbows the quiet doctor. “Whaddya say, Crane? Callie sure looks good!”

I can’t get a read on him. Is he sad, bitter, resentful? He lifts his head with a cocky gesture and pretends to scan my uniform for the first time.

“If you say so.”

Silence resumes and Penguin begins dealing cards. Harley’s subtle attempt to seat me next to Crane goes south and I inch closer to Ivy. No offense to the clown girl but the pathetic excuse for matchmaking has long sailed. 

The night goes on. Bets are made, money is lost. I never gamble anything other than my life so I keep clean. Eventually the hour grows into the early morning and we start saying goodbyes. First Penguin, then Ivy, then Harley, then Nigma… And now it’s just Crane and me.

“Have you-?”

“No, Dr. Prentiss. I have not drugged any ‘innocent lives’ since our last meeting.” He finishes his drink and dares to lean closer. “You don’t like the attention, I can tell. But off the record I do like that outfit on you.”

His intuition is surprisingly thoughtful. Not that I should care. But a fraction of me does anyway.

“A lady’s attire can be both elegant, captivating, and yet practical. It’s not as catchy as Selina’s but my goal is to not be seen. Still, the Reaper needs something to wear for the funeral.”

This gets a chuckle out of him. Why am I being so laid-back? I need to hate this psycho! 

“I never stopped thinking about your psychosis,” he murmurs after a while. “What new phobia you have, what makes you tick. What you find… arousing.”

In the corner of my eye I see he’s looking straight at me. I will not give him the satisfaction of eye contact. Even if he hasn’t diagnosed my phobia from that last hallucination episode I do not feel like addressing that nightmare again. Especially not with him.

And yet… There’s a hidden intention behind those blue eyes. He’s not asking only for his obsession with fear. Does Jonathon actually care about something other than fear? Or perhaps someone?

“While I appreciate that I’m the Scarecrow’s current unsolved puzzle, that almost borders on being obsessed. You need a new hobby, Dr. Crane.”

I give him a quick pat on the shoulder and excuse myself for the night. It’s been fun but now it’s back to work. Tomorrow I have to- Ugh. Right. I can’t wait.

[scary-flag]

Underrated OFMD fics!

So I've thought of compiling a list of good but unpopular OFMD fics. There are many recommendation posts going around, but they mostly feature the same 10 authors (who are great, do not get me wrong!) - I have thought, however, that less popular writers need some exposure too!

I have tried to keep the selection varied, with different ratings, fic lengths and ships. Feel free to reblog to increase the exposure of these creative people! :)

The Recommendations:

Snubs and Explanations by MzDany - T, 1,7k words, Ed/Stede. A funny little fic in which a Dutch merchant is offended by the Revenge not attacking his ship and goes there to investigate..

Le Bel Homme sans Merci by GeorgieBlossom - G, 296 words, Ed/Stede. A poem based on John Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci.

The Winning Prize by Birdie_Lo_Green - M, 24k words, unfinished yet, Ed/CJ, Ed/Izzy (unrequited). A multichapter story set when Ed, Izzy and Calico Jack are young and stupid.

Sunkissed by Spineless_Lobster - G, 709 words, Ed/Stede. A short ficlet full of tooth-rotting fluff!

Scylla's arms, Charybdis' mouth by Wrizard - T, 1136 words, no ships, Trans Izzy. A fic in which the Kraken is an actual deep sea creature and young Izzy Hands is a sacrifice for him.

Windward Passage by Consultingcrybaby - E, 4.7k words, Ed/Stede. To quote the author: "In which Stede is astonished by the existence of buttfucking, and Ed really needs a cup of tea."

WHERE'S THE LOOT?! A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Game by glitterpig. T, Ed/Stede. It is literally a game!

A Demon Lived in My Brow by Bazzle. E, CW: some non-con, 8.7k words, Ed/CJ, Ed/OC, Ed/Izzy, Ed/Stede. Snapshots of Ed's relationships - and sexual experiences - before he met Stede.

Leather by Chocolatepot. G, 100 words drabble with Ed and Stede, taking place in episode 04.

To Make Pan-puddings by Whatthefoucault. T, 2.5k words, Ed/Stede. In which Stede find an old recipe and wants to cook it for Ed. Fluff!

They Haven't Made the Color Yet That'll Paint Over Every Part of Your Past by Parsnips (trifles). G, 1.4k words, Mary/Doug. A lovely fic about Doug and his love for Mary.

Orange You Glad by Lesspale. Not rated but imho G. 3.3k words, mostly Roach. A wholesome fic about the origins of the 50 orange cake!

Just Let Go, My Party Piece by red-sky-in-mourning. M, 4.3 words, Stede/Ed, some Lucius/Pete and Jim/Oluwande. A ficlet inspired by the well-known s2 bts photo of a possibly special necklace.

Two pints of Guinness, a packet of crisps (and a bag of cans) by Buoymehome (Lilibel) - T, 3.4k words, Modern AU, found family. Wee John and Stede go for a pint for St Stephen Day and Stede strikes conversation with the handsome looking fiddle player.

Lucius Returns by Scaredycattales - T, 367 words. Lucius, Ed. Screenplay format! Criminally underrated.

Learning Curve by Lwwyrd - M, 13k words, Izzy-centered. Young Edward Teach and Israel Hands meet, and the rest is in the hands of Fate. Written for the Fate & Fortune challenge.

The Night That Has No End by FrazzledWriter - M, 1.2k words, horror. Frenchie POV. Everyone on the Revenge is being driven into madness by a mysterious fog, and only a few are still sane. Ambiguous ending.

The Other First Mate by Dorie22 - G, 1.5k words. After episode 05. Ed is confused about his feelings and Stede, and Buttons turns out to be an unexpectingly good listener.

Room People by Moonandsunlight - G, 1.1k words. A short fic exploring the queerplatonic relationship between Wee John and Frenchie.

Much Ado About Something by Winter_of_our_Discontent - T, 528 words, Ed/Stede. Shakespearean AU. Super hilarious.

A Lighthouse To Each Other; or, Cracking Up On The Rocks by Zmayhem - T, 12k words, Mary/Stede. A fic exploring the relations between Mary and Stede after their 10 years of marriage.

What Makes The Man by Unovis - T, 12k words, unfinished yet. A fantastic character study of Stede and the conversations he has with his barber.

Wee John Feeney's Excellent Day by Activevirtues - T, 2.7k words. A criminally underrated fic about a fantastic day that Wee John has and the joy it gives him. Super wholesome!

The Saint of Never Getting It Right by Goldblooded - G, 3k words. Ed's POV. Interesting choice of formatting, adding to the story. A short fic about Ed and his emotional issues.

Skeleton Crew Drabbles by Tipsy_Kitty - mostly T, a collection of short drabbles written for a Halloween event. It has canon ones, and AU ones. Some hilarious, some a bit more emotional.

One Thousand Sea Creatures: a Buttons OFMD SMAU by Idiotatsea, Loopydangerfrom and Otsanda - T, 23k words. A Scollection of posts from Buttons' twitter account, his Moon Journal and other media. He does try to list 1000 sea creatures, and it is hilarious.

Nostalgia by HopelessScribe - G, 1.6k words. A BEAUTIFUL pre-canon fic about Roach's childhood memories and his North African background. Criminally underrated so give the writer your kudo!

More recommendations to follow next week!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

A stardew valley headcanon:

One year the farmer gave Vincent a Pink Cake for his birthday and Vincent will NOT shut up about it. Jodi has slowly been going crazy trying to recreate it and has been begging for the recipe, but the farmer keeps turning her away.

Meanwhile, the farmer is trying to decide if they should confess to feeding Vincent some goodness knows how old cake they carved out of a purple giant slime in Skull Cavern.

God, I did the same! With the burglar ring, I got two pink cakes at once: I gave one to Vincent, the second to Marnie. Like, go on, eat, I got it from an incomprehensible slime monster, but the cake itself seems to be fine, just remove the slime and you'll be ok.

I have a silly idea for this HC, I hope you like it))) Also, I mostly make a neutral farmer so you can imagine your own OC Farmer. Enjoy!

Who could have known the pink cake that the Farmer found in their misadventures in the Skull Cavern inside a huge fucking slime, and thoughtlessly presented to Vincent for his birthday, would burn so many nerve cells? And not only the nerve cells of poor Jodi, who has been asking for a recipe for this damned cake for several days now, but also the Farmer's nerve cells.

Well, the Farmer must have known, because what were they even thinking? Find random food inside a monster and give it to a child?! Are they brainless?!

The Farmer put himself in Jodi's shoes and trying to imagine what if they tell her how they got that pink cake. Heh, they would tell their child not to talk with this creep anymore, and avoid them at all costs, that's what any normal parent would do. So this option is out.

The Farmer didn't want to torture Jodi by hiding the recipe. Yoba witnesses, the Farmer even tried to repeat the recipe for this cake themselves in order to find exactly the one that Vincent liked so much. Of course, nothing came of this, and if the selection method did not work, they must think differently.

"Okay, think, think, cake, slime, Skull cavern, slime, iridium, level 100, challenge, casino, slime, Mr. Qi... Mr. Qi!!! Eureka!!"

The Farmer ran faster than a bullet into the Calico desert, and before they could even say hello to Sandy, they almost kicked the casino door. The bouncer was about to calm down a highly aroused visitor, but the owner of the casino, Mr. Qi himself, stopped him, and approached his... friend? Can their acquaintance and all these trials be called friendship? It's hard to say, but Qi himself was happy to see the Farmer... until he saw a tortured face with bruises under their eyes. Yoba, how long have they been awake?

The Farmer told Qi about the strange pink cake inside a slime in one breath and maniacally asked where it came from.

"Well kid, I put the cake in slime"

"You... put a cake in that giant slime?"

"Well, of course. How do you think the cake stays so fresh? Unfortunately, there are no refrigerators in caves, so this is a good solution. I left it for you, kiddo, because my challenges is difficult, the sweetness will let you not die of hunger and get a dose of sugar for overcome obstacles."

Qi did not have time to tell the Farmer proudly how he came up with this brilliant idea, as the poor Farmer grabbed Mr. Qi by the collar and tearfully begged please, please tell them the recipe for this cake, they will go further than level 100, 200 levels, even 300 in Skull cavern, just please give them the recipe they beg him, they have already gone cuckoo foR FuCK sAKe plEAsE!!!...

Given the merits of the Farmer (as well as worrying about their mental health) Mr. Qi took pity on them and gave the recipe. Although it's nothing out of the ordinary, just the same recipe as Queen sause, but add a little ginger.

Jodi, finally at peace, has prepared a fresh, special pink cake for her family that makes Vincent squeak with joy. The Farmer was finally able to sleep after all this 'sweet saga', rejoicing that they kept their friendship and found this damned recipe. And Mr. Qi has not forgotten Farmer's promise to pass his challenges more difficult than before. But for now, let the poor youth sleep.

[art-o-bart-o]

Maxwell lore please holds out plate like a starved Victorian child

OC Lore Pt. 4

Sure!

I'll give some lore on Maxwell before how he is now!

Maxwell is a character apart of my Comic series called The Strangest Worlds. The side story he's in is called "Poppies of War".

Maxwell is a Brazilian minute man during the American Revolution during the 1770/1780s. Him and his friends, (Left to right) Northern, Jackson, Cicero, and Stefan...bonus for Jackson's dog Angel

He has many bullet and scar marks from many fights. Definitely the nurses were very familiar of him lol.

His mama and papa were both from Brazil but moved to Long Island close to New York due to issues with Portugal on Brazilian land.

(Doodle of younger Maxwell)

However during that time in Long Island, the British had rule over that land, and when Maxwell's dad joined the American army and left for a while (to join the Americans or aka "rebels" as the British called them), Maxwell was very defensive of his mom (because in some areas, British soldiers would sleep in people's houses and were taken care of by the citizens).

A fight then resulted between Maxwell and a British Major, named Hans Hawkeye (another oc of mine) and a couple other officers, resulting in Maxwell getting jailed, but not hanged.

(That's Hans on the left, still making a refsheet of him and the others lol)

Him and is mother, with the permission of his father (before he died), went to another area that was own by the Americans...a fictional place called "Vulkanin". This place is owned or known to the famous Vulkan bloodline. Which also where he met his friends and other friends such as Astron, Selene, and Sternal Vulkan (plus their male calico cat Aster). And others such as Uaman and Yaasmine

During the war, he gets with Northern D'Rose, the trans french major yoohoo!!!/pos as Northern confesses he loves Maxwell. Later on when Northern accidentally gets killed and turned into a ghost by Hans (FUCK YOU HANS I'M GLAD YOU DIE IN THIS STORY FUCK YOU (this is my own oc btw HDNSKS)).

Later on he married Sternal (cus she loves him too and has a similar personality to Northern), he has 3 kids with her. Later on in his life, Initially he was going to fight during 1822 for Brazil's independence agaisnt Portugal, but issues resulted in his health from all those years of bullet marks unfortunately led him to health issues.

When he dies (like most of my historical characters), he dies last out of all his friend group, with a big smile cus he knows he completed his life to the fullest. :)

Dw he gets brought back as a ghost like the couple others

(Left to right: Astron Vulkan, Sternal and Aster Vulkan, Yaasmin with Selene Vulkan) Bare with me I don't have any proper refs of them because I'm changing things 😭🙏 (Also rip Usman he cannot fit in here LMAO he went fishing)

Feel free to ask more of my ocs and story this is only the surface later

[emilythedog661-tf2]

New OC Time! I like to introduce y'all to Winnie the Witch!

She is the daughter of Merasmus and she can do magic like her father but she more of a mischievous witch then what merasmus is

Under the Cut is More Info

Name - Winnie the Witch

Age - 16 year old

Birth Place - Hawaii

Favourite Colour - Purple, Pink, Green and Blue

Personality - Cheeky, Mischievous, Funny, Polite, Thoughtful of others, Kind, Super intellagent and Super Obsessed when it comes to Magic, Spells, Potions and the Supernatural, Single Child Energy, a bit of a introvert but really wanting to have friends, Sassy and A little feminine but also a little Tomboy.

Hobbies - Doing Magic, Discovering New Spells while Abusing Old Ones for Fun, Making Potions both for Serious Things and For Fun, Baking, Sewing, Crafting Things, Artist, Reading, Dancing, Singing, Knows Many Languages due to Magic and Roller Skating.

Pets - A Calico Cat named Penny that she found as a 8 week old kitten and has had ever since

Story - Winnie is a One Night Stand baby so Merasmus didn't even know he got Winnie's Mom pregnant but she was also a cryptic baby so Winnie's mom, Heather, didn't even know she was pregnant untill she gave birth to Winnie while she was holiday in Hawaii, Heather looked after Winnie for a while but when Winnie was 2, Heather dropped off Winnie at a girls school and basically abandoned her there as she found out though the kindergarten Winnie was going to as well as some doctors that Winnie had AuDHD (Both Autism and ADHD) and Heather didn't want to raise a Special Needs child so she dropped her off at the girls school and when no contest with Winnie.

Since then, Winnie was raised in the school but it was a nice place for her to be, she had a nice caretaker named Miss.Molly, she also had some friends named Hannah and Skye, the only thing she didn't like about the school was the principal of the school named Ms.Swallow who was a old, strict and controlling principal and Winnie always ending up seeing her as she became sort of a celebrity at the school for being unquie, the other girls liked Winnie and they would always try and protect her like she is their child despite them being around the same age as them.

Winnie didn't start controlling her magic till she was 13, she always had her magic with her but she just couldn't control it until she became a teenager, her magic started to appear a few weeks after Winnie was dropped off at the girls school and it was most chaotic when she was having big emotions (e.g. excitement, sobbing, frustration, terrified and etc), Miss.Molly was always the one to calm down Winnie when she was having her big emotions as well as Hannah and Skye as they were the first to notice Winnie's special magic ability, Winnie's magic also got her into trouble a lot with Ms.Swallow but Miss.Molly, Hannah and Skye as well as the other girls at the school would back her up which always frustrated Ms.Swallow.

Growing up, Winnie knew who her mother was only by her full name and age as it was written down in Winnie's document that she peaked in when Miss.Molly wasn't looking when she was 4, she kept the name to herself just in case she runs into her dad one day as she knows he's out there somewhere or when she hears the name somewhere so it would help her find her mother but she never found her, but one day when Winnie was 13 a few days after her birthday, she found a article in a newspaper about a wizard named Merasmus with a picture of him next to the article, Winnie looked at the picture and she felt a weird feeling that she was connect to this wizard somehow so she shows the article to her friends, the 2 friends both agree that Winnie had similar features to the wizard so she decided to reach out to Merasmus as his address was on the article.

When Merasmus receives the Letter, he was stunned and shocked to realise that he could possible have a daughter and he keeps rereading the letter, the letter to him had a magic touch to it that felt familiar to the wizard and he also recognises Winnie's mom's name as she was a really nice lady he had spent the whole day with at a convention and he was also heavily drunk when they had the one night stand, Merasmus then went to get Winnie who was surprised to see him as she though the wizard would ignore her letter and the pair had a few days out where they just clicked instantly even if it did take Winnie a little time to warm up to Merasmus, Merasmus then does the DNA test thanks to Medic and it turns out that the pair were biologically related being Father and Daughter, Winnie was happy to finally have a family member in her life after being at the girls school for 11 years at that point while Merasmus is happy to have her but also angry with Heather for abandoning her due to her special need.

Winnie is now 16 and Merasmus has both been a good dad to her as well as a good teacher to her as Winnie and her Cat Penny are now living with him in his castle, he had taught her how to control her magic, do spells, create potions, how to deal with the supernatural like ghosts, ghouls, monsters and others, Winnie loves all the things she has been learning and she was alway eager to learn more even if Merasmus has told her he had taught her everything he knows, Winnie now uses her Magic for Mischief which Merasmus doesn't mind as long as she doesn't go too far with it, she also does good things with her magic and Merasmus is surprised how well and fluently she can use her magic.

the wand Winnie has was a gift from Merasmus when she turned 16 and she has adored it taking it almost everywhere with her, Winnie has also met the Mercenaries a few times since living with her dad as the 8 men and pyro always help Merasmus out during halloween with different tasks he wants them to do, Merasmus tells Winnie is mainly revenge on Soldier as he was a pain in the neck to the wizard but when Winnie met him, he was a shouty gut who loved america but also a giant love bug towards Engineer so Winnie didn't really understand why her dad hated this ex-military guy.

With Winnie's Cat, Penny, Winnie found the Calico Cat when she was a 8 week old kitten and Winnie was 12, Winnie found Penny in a box in the corner by a tree while she with Hannah and Skye were playing in the School playground, Winnie felt sorry for the kitten so with Miss.Molly's help, Winnie looked after the kitten until she was heathy and then kept her as she couldn't get rid of her now, she named the kitten Penny after a book she read called 'The Penny Fiddle' and Penny grew into her name, Penny is now a 4 year old cat and she is enjoying life to the fullest in her castle with her best friend and her best friend's dad.

That all for story and here is Winnie and Merasmus having a moment

I hope you all like her and i'll see you all soon for more SFM posts 😋

[hollylachat]

Molly oc page dump, pretend she is calico, i do not have many markers

[felikatze]

i'm thinking. abt. my ocs.

i keep noticing that devil's double has very much way too many dudes in the cast (and also calico, as well as bel & rem, who have one gender they share between them) whereas starlight wishes is exclusively women and one lizard. which represents what eras of Me i made those settings in but is also really funny.