#i rarely tailor make ocs but maybe this time i do

[plethomacademia]

I swear every day y'all make me want to write Gale stuff but I have no one to put him with

[shaampoo]

im probably posting too much about my OC's but its all i can think about rn lol, anyways, Mitchell Elliot, Hypnos!

"Could you guys keep it down? I'm trying to sleep here"

"Dude, it's 4pm, you should be awake anyways"

"Not according to my tired body,"

--------------------------------------

Meet Hypnos / Mitchell Elliot!

I named him Hypnos, after the god of sleep! Since his powers involve being able to calm people down and making them sleep, downside of this is that he's always tired (he needs to down a ton of coffee just to feel normal lol)

Since hes tired all the time, hes usually just at the hero base, he works at the infirmary (med place? dunno what its called), he helps by calming people down, or putting them to sleep when needed (ex. they're in immense pain, maybe surgery if it works like that, etc.). He rarely goes to battle, only going if it needs to end with no one getting hurt, like if a citizen was being mind controlled, someone's powers going haywire, a villain super close to a redemption, Jinx being a little fuck, or maybe a lot of people are panicking and they need to chill.

Yeaaahh, his costume is like pajama's, to be fair, he doesn't go on battle much, so he's fine. Also, he pissed off the tailor cause he kept falling asleep.

Hes about 20 years old (18 when he joined), uses he/they, and he's also albino! So he has white hair and light skin, he's also easily sunburned, and pretty sensitive to light, so he usually has sunglasses, and uses sunscreen and wears long sleeve shirts, and long pants

He also has pretty bad eyesight, so he usually has glasses (he isn't wearing them here since he just woke up), he doesn't wear contact lenses since he knows he can fall asleep at any time, and it isn't advisable to do that!

Mitchell was an accident child, so yeah, his parents were business owners, and they didn't have time for him, so he was usually left at home, or with a babysitter, Mitchell also didn't do well at elementary school, since he sleeps a lot, high school was a lot more accommodating since usually, high school is when their powers show up, so teachers there are trained to be more accommodating, (they also have a lot of teachers there and trainers, so students can get help almost 24/7)

Also, the backstory for Mitchell getting into the heroes is that one time, Mitchell's powers were flaring up, and everyone around him fell asleep, and the heroes got there, solved the issue, and saw Mitchells potential, and Mitchell joined them (which is pretty good, since most likely, Mitchell probably wont be able to get a job since he's always tired or falling asleep,)

Mitchells hair is pretty messy and fluffy, since he doesn't get much time to take care of himself

His plush bunny is named Pluff, he would love to have a real pet bunny, but he knows he wont be able to take care of it, he also gave Adrian the teddy bear in Adrians room!

hes Aro/Ace, his only love is the bed /j, he is Aro/ace tho.

Have trouble sleeping? Go to Hypnos! Have trouble calming down / need some comfort? Go to Hypnos!

Mitchell's room is really fluffy, with fluffy carpet, fluffy bed, fluffy plushies, etc.etc.

Mitchell can see the future a bit, kinda like, he can see the future in his dreams, but his dreams are a bit foggy,

He keeps in touch with his parents, he doesn't resent them or anything, nor does he feel anything to them anyway,

He isnt really a sidekick, since he usually works at the infirmary of the hero base, but if does go out, he's just partnered up with some other hero on the mission, a strong hero at best, since he's pretty vulnerable

Mitchell can sometimes come off as mean, he's just too tired to lie

For some reason, my thoughts want him to swear, i don't know why, like, the quote i was gonna make for him was like "Can yall shut the fuck up, I'm trying to sleep here" like, maybe calm down asdkjhk

Dream catcher because yes dreams, (it was a gift to him from one of his fellow heroes)

[nightwardenminthara]

stature, stillness, formal — grant!

thank you!!

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

Grant's body changes throughout the course of Dragon Age 2, as time passes and his circumstances change. He was always kind of lanky and lean as a teen, food was never in abundance in the Hawke household and he burned through it fast. Into the prologue, he's started to fill out now in his mid-20s but life is rough in Lowtown, they're struggling just to get by. It's not until moving to Hightown that he's really able to finally, consistently, have enough to eat. And thus, he puts on some weight. And then post Leandra's death, he takes to drinking in excess and puts on a lot more weight.

And even after getting some of his drinking under control, I think the weight stays, maybe fluctuates a bit. It is so nice to have the means to be well-fed, to not have to work himself to exhaustion daily. He's not going to deprive himself.

Lol all that to say, he is tall, somewhere around 6'0-6'2. He puts on muscle easily, probably from a lifetime of doing hard labor either in Lothering or when picking up odd jobs with Malcolm. Lots of muscle memory there. But he's also not a bodybuilder lol, he has a very functional physique and as he puts on weight, he has a pronounced gut, soft thighs, etc.

He isn't insecure about it really, makes no effort to mask it with his clothing. Grant is a tall, large man and sometimes that works to his advantage, especially around Kirkwall. He's not particularly vain about his appearance in general.

rest under readmore bc this got wordy

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Hmm... Grant isn't particularly fidgety but he does have a few tics. A lot of fucking with his beard, rubbing his chin, scratching his cheek, etc.

Drumming of fingernails on a table at the Hanged Man, impatiently twisting a ring around his finger, crossing his arms across his chest.

Stretching out his neck and shoulders would probably be his companion idle animation, in an... I slept poorly and my back is stiff kinda way.

In private, it's not uncommon for him to let a flame dance across his palms while he's thinking. It's also not uncommon for him to summon little bursts of fire when he's in private and angrily fuming over something or other, which he is very aware is a bad habit lmao.

He mostly wears loose, comfortable clothing. Something made to keep out the cold without much resistance to movement. At home, in Hightown, he likes loose silk finery.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

Is it a copout to say the MotA formalwear is pretty fitting lolll

I honestly think he does not think much about fashion, like he would probably just let someone else pick for him and probably did have a tailor or someone choose the cut and color of the fabric. He does care about freedom of movement. But as long as it's not overly stiff, he can manage.

Dressing up like that is a rare occasion (he wishes it was even rarer bc damn does he hate interacting with nobility)

Okay this is very long lol but thank you, I love talking about Hawke <3

[h-a-unted]

What are rare-pairs that you’re passionate about?

Who was your first OC?

Are you happy with how your favorite canon muse was portrayed in canon?

How do you describe writing / rp to others?

Questions for the mun!

Rare-pairs... oh my god I have so many of those that I'm drawing a blank right now. I think the one that comes to mind is strangely Da.igo Doji.ma and Goro Maji.ma from the Yakuza games lmao, maybe even Ichiban and Zhao from the same games, idk I just vibe with them. But Daiji.ma was my shit for the longest time. And also probably Kuroiwa and Yagami from the Yakuza spin-off, Judgment. OH! And also Soma and the professor dude or like... his subordinate Akutsu (but I guess that last one wasn't a rarepair) from the sequel of the spin-off. Does Maevelight count as rarepair? Cause they'd be my top rarepair as of now (and maybe Zack and Cloud if they count as rarepair) I'm wondering if I'll like Home.lander and Fire.cracker but that probably won't be a rarepair lmao.

My first OC, I am unsure if I can pinpoint... I think it was this servant girl called Lilian I made for a canon character, when I used to try and run from my male/male ships to be "normal" lmfao! My first OC here though was my AI, AIROS. My sweet bean, my lovely android who is trying to learn about the world without knowing he is a spyware watching over the people. I had a lot of verses for him... maybe I could add one for the boys, but he'd be too much of a good boy to be able to survive in that world... Though it'd be a good chance to give him a real-life FC I guess.

I have so many favorite canons that change with what I'm currently obsessed with. Like, before the boys it was Adler and I immediately 'hated' him as a mechanism of defense because I actually loved him a lot lmfao, his characterization was top notch in-game, so much that everyone really wants him to appear in the sequel despite the wrongdoings he did to the protagonist. Anyway, since right now I am obsessed with the boys and clearly But.cher is my favorite – it's safe to say I'm pretty satisfied with most of his portrayal in canon, as of Season 3. There is a leak that has me just a little doubtful about what they're trying to do with him going forward, but I'm hoping it's explained in a way I can get behind, they've done well, so far. Otherwise, I feel like they did a very nice, deeply flawed character that I adore. It hits all the spots I love in a character and, honestly, I feel it was tailor-made for me to love, at least the show rendition of him. I don't like the comics one at all. Aside from that, I think Raiden from Met.al Gear has been practically my sleeping agent all-time favorite or so, and I absolutely love what they did with his character (not me vibing with a "mood swings" type of character trying to do good, but also being unhinged). I miss him and his struggles a whole lot, wish they would've continued his games.

I describe rp as "I portray a character from a series or invent one and make up scenarios with friends on the internet who portray other characters. We keep the scenes going back and forth." Despite this, I don't think my mother gets it at all. My friends didn't get it at the start, until I made them rp with me via notebooks when we were in middle school, it turned into an obsession for all of us... Good times lmao.

[another-corpo-rat]

Bravely suppressing the urge to ask you all of these questions for Vic, but for the character design asks: stature, texture, and favorite? :3

do it you coward i dare you. i triple dog dare you but ty for the ask <33 😘💕

Questions are here for anyone who wants to do this themselves!

stature: What’s your OC’s body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

Naturally Victoria had a more pear-shaped body – hips a bit wider than her shoulders. When she got her cybernetic arms that sort of bulked out her shoulders to give her more of an hourglass figure. She missed the pear for a little bit afterwards, but her hips and ass are still great so she was fine. (She had to make some minor adjustments to her wardrobe following as well; a lot of her blazers and the like were tailor-made and sitting off because of the change.)

She absolutely wears clothes that compliment and draw the eye to her appearance and shape. She knows she looks good, and at 5'11 without the heels (she is rarely without the heels) she’s a bit hard to miss.

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can’t wear or don’t like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

While Victoria might initially strike people as having a simple approach of ‘the more expensive, the better’ it’s not the entire story, just a few chapters. She does lean towards more the pricier natural materials, but that’s because wool and silk feel better on her skin and are durable. Does she need to get wool exclusively from an alpaca farm? Maybe not, but that’s her prerogative. No, she doesn’t need an alligator skin blazer but fight her on it, it looks better than that shit Jinguji is pedaling.

She despises the feel of the synthetic materials that are more common in Night City, the threadbare fast-fashion that pulls apart simply by the mildest friction. It’s a travesty in her eyes, and explains the lack of taste in a majority of the street-scum if that’s all they have available.  

And sequins. She hates sequins. You look like a sentient disco ball—

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What’s the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Perhaps oddly for her, Victoria doesn’t actually have a favourite piece of clothing. She takes a brief liking to the newest thing in her wardrobe, a sort of excitement in seeing how she can work her older clothes into new outfits with this newest piece of the puzzle but it doesn’t claim the title of favourite.

She regards all her clothing as the same, but that just means that her viciousness if a single piece gets ruined is equal across the board as well.

However, if we count cosmetic cyberware (which I am for the sake of this,) then her throat cyberware would take that title easily. No specific or deep reasoning behind it though, it just makes her feel gorgeous and she still preens now and then when she catches a glimpse of a mirror.

[skinscribblesnomore]

*RUSHES IN HERE*

*TRIPS AND FALLS*

*DROPS MY BAG FULL OF:*

2. 🛏️ BED: What do your OCs dream about?

3. 💍 JEWELRY: What are considered luxury items in the world of your WIP?

4. 🐈 CAT: Does the world of your WIP have any superstitions or folklore?

HI HMM. since my brain is rotting about them I will do it for both Courier and Nura! and also for the Hell's Deliverance universe in general

As for DREAMS:

Courier often has odd dreams. The occasional "I forgot something while going to work and I can only see at an odd angle" type of dreams, but they also dream of optical illusions, labyrinths, and places they cannot escape. Though, sometimes, their brain will be nice and let them dream of being back on Earth, living without worry of their work.... or of a certain place.

Nura doesn't dream often, usually floating mindlessly in a void of dull colors as she sleeps. Every once in a while, she'll have an actual dream. Half the time, it's your average dream of nonsensical happenings. The rest of the time, she's a porcelain doll, running as fast as she can through a wooded area as she screams someone's name. She never finds them. She hates that dream.

As for LUXURIES:

For vampires, it's often handcrafted work that has a high price tag. Of course, just having a plain t-shirt with some simple embroidery won't cost much, but if you're going for rare/high quality fabrics and detailed designs and embroidery, it's not gonna be cheap. This goes for anything that requires a skilled hand, really.

For demons, it's anything that's made of the stronger pests and dangers in the Greater and Lesser Mantle. Things like the Iron Snakes that threaten to break the links connecting the larger islands to each other, or the small and speedy Glitterhoppers that nip at demons like piranhas. Anyone who's able to catch and/or kill one of these will have some crazy demand for their bodies, as they have parts that are either rare or extremely useful, and they often are used for tools or to decorate jewelry and other ornaments.

As for SUPERSTITIONS/FOLKLORE:

All nonhumans who transform in some way are strangely able to have their clothes back when they become human again. No rips, tears, no nothing. This has been recorded very far back, so many legends and myths have sprung up, from a tailor heartbroken over their works constantly being destroyed praying for a solution, to a god of threads making the garments anew each time someone returns to a human form, and so forth.

The postmortals (demons, angels, etc) don't know how it happened either, but their guess is some higher power took mercy on people constantly losing their clothes and having to transform back behind a bush with spares or something. Maybe. But they do have a superstition that if you try to ruin or destroy someone's clothes after they turn back, you'll never get your clothes back ever again.

It might have just been a silly rumor to make people have decency for others, but hey, it does the trick.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 2: Excitement

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan, sort of Timeline: 1961 and some change, I think, after Partners II CW: smoking Rating: T Words: 1,549

***

The cigarette hadn't been in Ben's mouth for three seconds before Reagan produced his lighter from the breast pocket of his jacket. The shamrock lighter that meant more than it ever used to, now. The flame hugged the end of the stick, coinciding with the hotel room door falling shut behind them.

"You didn't have to come all the way out here," Ben said as if this was revelatory information. He puffed the cigarette until it was sufficiently lit, then shrugged his own jacket off his shoulders and motioned for Reagan to remove his so he could hang them up together in the closet. "I was comin' home in two days, anyway."

Reagan handed Ben the jacket after replacing the lighter in the pocket and moved his suitcase out of the way of the door, setting it next to the bathroom. "I've got shows here all weekend and I've been booked for a three-week stretch at Caesar's."

"Sunnuvabitch," Ben grumbled, jamming a hanger into the shoulders of Reagan's jacket. "Three whole weeks?! What's the point?"

Reagan thinned his eyes at the tobacco-scented, robin's egg blue carpet and wood-paneled walls. He was briefly transported to a time when they were lucky if they had the privilege to entertain the notion of staying in a destitute motel room for a single night in New York before making the commute back to their house. Ben rarely seemed to outwardly express his understanding of how far they'd come—what he'd had to put up with to get them there—and a pang of annoyance passed through Reagan's chest, disappearing as quickly as it'd appeared as he unfastened his watch.

"Lemme get backstage," Ben said, spiking a mental javelin through Reagan's pensive silence and evaporating the unexpected tension with his lightness. "Even if I can't catch the shows, I'll swing by at, oh, maybe dinner time and hope that you break several legs."

Reagan let slip a genuine laugh and dropped the watch on the desk before sitting on the double bed to pull off his shoes. "Careful—one of those legs is my best feature."

"You fucking monster."

Reagan waggled his eyebrows as Ben crossed to the ringing phone on the other side of the room. "Why, thank you. That's probably Maura, by the way. I was meant to call her when I landed."

"Yeah hello?" Ben cradled the receiver between his shoulder and his head, sinking into the desk chair. He tapped ashes into the darkened square of glass sitting next to the base of the phone. "Uh-huh. Yeah, well what the hell d'you want, Adrian?"

Reagan's brow furrowed. The passing of the phone, as anticipated, never happened. Ben listened to Reagan's manager with growing interest until his face went pale and he shot Reagan a look of a deer on the road, horribly prophesying the next and last four seconds of its life in the path of an oncoming car. A manic glee laid within the whites of his eyes on full display, though, and Reagan's curiosity piqued in earnest.

"Why are you tellin' me this?" Ben asked, his line of vision following Reagan's trajectory to the desk. "I do have a manager, and he—Mickey told you?"

"Do I have to worry about the safety of my manager and dear friend, now?" Reagan asked, perching on the desk and toying with a pen. The question was about forty percent serious.

Ben waved a hand to shut him up, full attention on the phone. "I got a tux. I—I can get a tux. Don't worry about the damn tux anymore, Adrian, it's under control!"

Reagan leaned over him to get closer to the mouthpiece. "I'll take him to my tailor, Age."

"I'm not panicking!" Ben yelped. "Yes, I'll tell him! What do you take me for?!" In direct contrast to his previous attitude, he gently hung up. He drummed his fingers over the receiver, the plastic of which matched in hue with the thick carpet of the hotel room, and nestled his cigarette into a notch on the ashtray.

Cocking his head, Reagan waited for him to channel the calming techniques taught to him by his psychotherapist. "…Despite my deep prayers and shooting star wishes and visits to all the witch doctors in Los Angeles, I can't actually read your mind."

"What kind of tux should I wear to the Grammy Awards?"

The pen in Reagan's hand started a rapid rhythm against the palm of the other one. "I think that depends," he said evenly, a good type of tightness rising in the back of his throat.

Ben locked eyes with him. "What kind of tux should I wear to the Grammy Awards?"

"Were you nominated for a Grammy Award?"

"I was nominated for a Grammy Award."

Reagan cuffed Ben's arm, his pride spilling over. "Ben Murray, Grammy fuckin' nominee!"

"Benjy Mertz, Grammy fuckin' nominee!" Ben howled, leaping out of his chair. "Can you believe these putzes are stupid enough to think I deserve a Grammy Award?! Let alone for album of the goddamn year!"

That pang of annoyance returned, this time in the company of surrogate hurt. Reagan dug deep into his acting talents to keep his smile wide. "Benny…that's my best friend you're talking about."

Ben, however, was too far into the stratosphere to notice the frosty tone, pacing the width and breadth of the entire hotel room and gesticulating wildly. "Not only do I need a tux, I need a tux bad. I can't show up in the same one I'd shown up in the first three times. I've gotta look good. I'm gonna lose, but I'm gonna look good losing, believe you me."

Reagan finally allowed his annoyance to show, frowning up at Ben, who'd somehow made his way in front of him again. "You're getting a Grammy if I have to convince the Academy myself."

To his surprise, Ben grinned. "Relax." He dropped his hands onto Reagan's shoulders and leaned forward. "I got the talent, not the luck."

A blink, as if struck. "If you only knew—"

"Knew what? What do you know that I don't?"

…And he couldn't tell him. Not now. Not ever, if Reagan had anything to say about it. Not a thing of what he'd put himself through, not a word of the only part of his and Ben's shared past that Ben didn't know about. "We've had too much go wrong for you to be sayin' shit like that."

"That include you bein' a cokehead?"

"I could drop you for that."

"Aw." Ben laughed, clapping his pianist hands around Reagan's head and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it too far, I'm just overexcited."

Reagan nodded, not budging his scowl. "One more for the road."

With the immediacy of someone who'd been conditioned into obliging that request his entire life, Ben kissed him again, slapping the sides of his head for good measure. "You comin' to this shindig?"

"No, I don't think I will." Reagan plucked the cigarette from the ashtray and took a long drag. "Sounds kinda square."

"Yeah, I dunno what I was thinkin'."

"I would've gone anyway, but now I definitely have a reason to be there. Maura'll be there too. We wouldn't miss this, you know that."

Ben turned from the bed. "What if you're nominated, too?"

Reagan tilted his head. "Well…then we're both nominated. And honestly, there's no one I'd rather lose to than you." He shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe Judy."

"You leave that poor woman alone." Ben pointed, forehead an accordion of worry and severity. "I mean it, asshole. Leave Judy alone."

Clearing his throat, Reagan took another drag of the cigarette and grimaced. "Okay."

"Damn it. When?"

"Probably ten years ago. She'd just divorced Vincente, and we'd had a couple of martinis—"

"I'm gonna puke."

"Why are you surprised?" Reagan couldn't stop the smile from crossing his face despite the fact that joy was nowhere near the emotion currently overtaking him. "Ben. It's a done deal. We haven't spoken an unprofessional word to each other since."

There was a pause, and Ben sank into a deep frown. "…You took a year to be with no one but Carolyn."

Reagan maintained eye contact with him, the outside ambience of Las Vegas traffic and quite distant sounds of big band music wafting into the hotel room. "It was a fragile time, if you'll recall."

"Did she know?"

"Yeah."

"Sure." Ben nodded, not as lively as he'd been mere moments ago, as far as his slumped shoulders and still frame were indicating. "That's fine."

"I'm stayin' here tonight."

"They wouldn't let you do that."

"And who's gonna tell 'em?" Reagan lifted his eyebrows. "Adrian'll have my ass, but I might as well have his name tattooed over the left cheek anyhow."

Ben looked at him in mild alarm.

"Alright, c'mon," Reagan said, squashing out the cigarette and standing before Ben could complete a thought. "We're getting a drink to celebrate your big moment."

One drink turned into several, and their celebration carried them onto the streets where they coerced strangers into celebrating with them, running up and down the entire strip, having the time of their lives. They regretted it very much the next morning, but it sure did get the job done.

[lady-starbind]

POKEMON LEGENDS ARCEUS RANT

So um... before we begin, Imma warn u dudes ‘n dudets that my rant will NOT be spoiler free so um, ignore this post once you’ve been spoiled OR proceed if u don’t care about being spoiled or not. SO FIRST THINGS FIRST... I HAVE ANCESTOR OCS THAT I’VE CREATED, WHICH I’LL BRIEFLY EXPLAIN: Anne Rose (my persona’s ancestor, sister of a grandparent on her paternal side): Fiery Scottish woman from Galar, has come to Hisui in search of gold.... Instead of gold, she finds Pokemon friends and learns the art of a tailor from Anthea (who becomes her mentor) ...Anne was originally going to be the MC I played as, but I’ll explain later why that is now SCRAPPED. (Rose is her middle name btw, her real last name is my last name which is none of y’all’s concerns lols) Angus Rothes (Timothy’s Very Great Grandfather, a direct ancestor from his Paternal side): Best friend of Anne’s and helps her with her studying for the Pokedex and such. Unlike his descendant, Angus is not near as timid and is pretty social and brave. Probably doesn’t look up to Anne as a mother figure, but she’s definitely his bestie. Angus is around 13 during this timeframe ig Bramble (Fan Ancestor of Thorton, he’s likely related as a Great Uncle of sorts): Bramble is a highly curious boy who loves tinkering with machinery! (...well, whatever machinery can be tinkered with in Hisui ig), Unlike his Atheist nephew, Bramble likely practices Shinto and worships his Bronzong. Bramble is also around 10 years old in this timeline. He has a crush on Anne that is never reciprocated. THERE WE GO, HAVE A PICTURE OF... HISUIAN GROWLITHE AS WE GO ON TO THE NEXT SECTION:

RELATIONSHIP CHART THINGY FOR MY OCS WITH THE CANON CHARACTERS: Anne: Angus = Best friend, Bramble = Close friend and study buddy, Melli = MORTAL ENEMY (lmbo deep down they at least respect the other's abilities.... and do care about the other... at least somewhat? In an odd twisted way perhaps?) Anthe = Mentor, probably teaches Anne how to make clothes? Two are close ...close-ish,

Angus): Anne = Best friend, Bramble = friend and study buddy... lowkey jealous of Bramble's friendship with Anne, Melli = Acquaintance ...he's not a big fan of the guy, Anthe = Probably friends or acquaintances,

Bramble: Anne = Close friend and study buddy ...develops a crush on Anne that is never reciprocated, Angus = friend and study buddy ...can sense Angus' jealousy and he's lowkey jealous of Angus's friendship with Anne,

Melli: Anne = MORTAL ENEMY (mutually respects one another's abilities... though would rarely be humble enough to admit it. Cares about her as well... just another human being ig, human decency if you will. His rivalry with Anne has left him with a scar where she bit him once, and has helped him be more physically tough... might come in handy for protecting his sweetheart/future sweetheart.) Angus = Annoying friend of Anne's ...at least he's not as obnoxious or barbaric though. NEXT SECTION

I HAVE LEARNED THINGS ABOUT THIS GAME I WAS NOT EXPECTING 1# Ingo in Legends Arceus is NOT Granpa/Uncle Ingo... No, he’s THE Ingo! The same fricker that you take on in the battle subway! I knew his clothes looked a bit too much like Ingo’s... I never counted on him being THE Ingo though... Hope he and Emmet can get a reunion soon :’( ....I MUST LEARN MORE ABOUT HIS BACKSTORY IF I CAN!

2# MC-CHAN IS NOT FROM HISUI?! THEY’RE APPARENTLY YEETED FROM A DISTANT FUTURE!? (Hence why my lovely fictional ancestor Anne will likely no longer be our MC rip ;w;) ...I’ve read online that said future is a future beyond the Modern Sinnoh we all know and love?! SO DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME MC-CHAN IS LIKE, BOTW LEVEL INTO THE FUTURE BEFORE THEY ARE YEETED BACC IN TIME BY ARCEUS!? GAMEFREAK AT LEAST LET THEM BE FROM MODERN DAY SINNOH... I COULD HAVE AT LEAST YEETED MY BOI NESTOR BACC IN TIME AND MAYBE HE AND INGO COULD BECOME BROS!!! (Nestor is like... from normal Modern day ig?) I may just say “frick u” and yeet normal modern day Nessie boi bacc in time to Arceus, I believe he’d have lotsa fun exploring a freaking new TIME PERIOD I just love the idea of Nestor’s cousin Neoguri and Ingo’s bro-bro Emmet going back in time in search of their kinfolk. Give them all a happy ending... TwT Ig I need to verse myself with the lore more before I go and make more fanlore but... ig any of u guys who have played, y’all think it too farfetched for a character from normal modern day to be yeeted back in Hisui? Or can I frick the story and yeet a modern day Nessie boi? OH AND HAVE A CURSED HEADCANON BEFORE I LEAVE YOU LOVELY PEOPLE

SO PEOPLE HAVE BEEN TALKING LIKE THIS FRICKER (Melli) IS AVERY’S ANCESTOR... WHICH HAS ME THINKING... DOES HE MARRY A POKEMON?! Now, before you guys throw off at the absolute absurdity of this headcanon, hear me out lol. Avery’s family naturally has like, Psychic powers... You know what else has naturally occurring psychic powers?! POKEMON Remember that lovely scene in DPPt where the player read about people in the olden days, MARRYING POKEMON?! THEREFORE, I HEADCANON THAT MELLI LIKELY MARRIED A PSYCHIC POKEMON, MAYBE A GARDEVOIR AND HAD A FAMILY WITH IT... THUS LEADING TO ALL THE WEIRD PSYCHIC PEOPLE THAT IS FREAKING AVERY’S FAMILY... Now look... I don’t really fancy the idea of Pokemon x Human couples persey but.... I mean, there is canon grounds that this cursed event could have happened. Yes you guys, y’all are very welcome for the nightmares I have bestowed upon you lol.

one thing I do appreciate about Melli, and Imma bet that this is a thing most of the dudes in the Avery family has went through: I honestly thought Melli was a girl before I found clarification that in fact, he was a guy. The same situation happened when I was first introduced to Avery... The men in this family are feminine and elegant no?

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

OC Kiss Week Day 2: Excitement

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan, sort of Timeline: 1961 and some change, I think, after Partners II CW: smoking Rating: T Words: 1,542

***

The cigarette hadn’t been in Ben’s mouth for three seconds before Reagan produced his lighter from the breast pocket of his jacket. The shamrock lighter that meant more than it ever used to, now. The flame hugged the end of the stick, coinciding with the hotel room door falling shut behind them.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” Ben said as if this was revelatory information. He puffed the cigarette until it was sufficiently lit, then shrugged his own jacket off his shoulders and motioned for Reagan to remove his so he could hang them up together in the closet. “I was comin’ home in two days, anyway.”

Reagan handed Ben the jacket after replacing the lighter in the pocket and moved his suitcase out of the way of the door, setting it next to the bathroom. “I’ve got shows here all weekend and I’ve been booked for a three-week stretch at Caesar’s.”

“Sunnuvabitch,” Ben grumbled, jamming a hanger into the shoulders of Reagan’s jacket. “Three whole weeks?! What’s the point?”

Reagan thinned his eyes at the tobacco-scented, robin’s egg blue carpet and wood-paneled walls. He was briefly transported to a time when they were lucky if they had the privilege to entertain the notion of staying in a destitute motel room for a single night in New York before making the commute back to their house. Ben rarely seemed to outwardly express his understanding of how far they’d come—what he’d had to put up with to get them there—and a pang of annoyance passed through Reagan’s chest, disappearing as quickly as it’d appeared as he unfastened his watch.

“Lemme get backstage,” Ben said, spiking a mental javelin through Reagan’s pensive silence and evaporating the unexpected tension with his lightness. “Even if I can’t catch the shows, I’ll swing by at, oh, maybe dinner time and hope that you break several legs.”

Reagan let slip a genuine laugh and dropped the watch on the desk before sitting on the double bed to pull off his shoes. “Careful—one of those legs is my best feature.”

“You fucking monster.”

Reagan waggled his eyebrows as Ben crossed to the ringing phone on the other side of the room. “Why, thank you. That’s probably Maura, by the way. I was meant to call her when I landed.”

“Yeah, hello?” Ben cradled the receiver between his shoulder and his head, sinking into the desk chair. He tapped ashes into the darkened square of glass sitting next to the base of the phone. “Uh-huh. Yeah, well what the hell d’you want, Adrian?”

Reagan’s brow furrowed. The passing of the phone, as anticipated, never happened. Ben listened to Reagan’s manager with growing interest until his face went pale and he shot Reagan a look of a deer on the road, horribly prophesizing the next and last four seconds of its life in the path of an oncoming car. A manic glee existed within the whites of his eyes on full display, though, and Reagan’s curiosity piqued in earnest.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” Ben asked, his line of vision following Reagan’s trajectory to the desk. “I do have a manager, and he—Mickey told you?”

“Do I have to worry about the safety of my manager and dear friend, now?” Reagan asked, perching on the desk and toying with a pen. The question was about forty percent serious.

Ben waved a hand to shut him up, full attention on the phone. “I got a tux. I—I can get a tux. Don’t worry about the damn tux anymore, Adrian, it’s under control!”

Reagan leaned over him to get closer to the mouthpiece. “I’ll take him to my tailor, Age.”

“I’m not panicking!” Ben yelped. “Yes, I’ll tell him! What do you take me for?!” In direct contrast to his previous attitude, he gently hung up. He drummed his fingers over the receiver, the plastic of which matched in hue with the thick carpet of the hotel room, and nestled his cigarette into a notch on the ashtray.

Cocking his head, Reagan waited for him to channel the calming techniques taught to him by his psychotherapist. “...Despite my deep prayers and shooting star wishes and visits to all the witch doctors in Los Angeles, I can’t actually read your mind.”

“What kind of tux should I wear to the Grammy Awards?”

The pen in Reagan’s hand started a rapid rhythm against the palm of the other one. “I think that depends,” he said evenly, a good type of tightness rising in the back of his throat.

Ben locked eyes with him. “What kind of tux should I wear to the Grammy Awards?”

“Were you nominated for a Grammy Award?”

“I was nominated for a Grammy Award.”

Reagan cuffed Ben’s arm, his pride spilling over. “Ben Murray, Grammy fuckin’ nominee!”

“Benjy Mertz, Grammy fuckin’ nominee!” Ben howled, leaping out of his chair. “Can you believe these putzes are stupid enough to think I deserve a Grammy Award?! Let alone for album of the goddamn year!”

That pang of annoyance returned, this time in the company of surrogate hurt. Reagan dug deep into his acting talents to keep his smile wide. “Benny...that’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Ben, however, was too far into the stratosphere to notice the frosty tone, pacing the width and breadth of the entire hotel room and gesticulating wildly. “Not only do I need a tux, I need a tux bad. I can’t show up in the same one I’d shown up in the first three times. I’ve gotta look good. I’m gonna lose, but I’m gonna look good losing, believe you me.”

Reagan finally allowed his annoyance to show, frowning up at Ben, who’d somehow made his way in front of him again. “You’re getting a Grammy if I have to convince the Academy myself.”

To his surprise, Ben grinned. “Relax.” He dropped his hands onto Reagan’s shoulders and leaned forward. “I got the talent, not the luck.”

A blink, as if struck. “If you only knew—”

“Knew what? What do you know that I don’t?”

...And he couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not ever, if Reagan had anything to say about it. Not a thing of what he’d put himself through, not a word of the only part of his and Ben’s shared past that Ben didn’t know about. “We’ve had too much go wrong for you to be sayin’ shit like that.”

“That include you bein’ a cokehead?”

“I could drop you for that.”

“Aw.” Ben laughed, clapping his pianist hands around Reagan’s head and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it too far, I’m just overexcited.”

Reagan nodded, not budging his scowl. “One more for the road.”

With the immediacy of someone who’d been conditioned into obliging that request his entire life, Ben kissed him again, slapping the sides of his head for good measure. “You comin’ to this shindig?”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Reagan plucked the cigarette from the ashtray and took a long drag. “Sounds kinda square.”

“Yeah, I dunno what I was thinkin’.”

“I would’ve gone anyway, but now I definitely have a reason to be there. Maura’ll be there too. We wouldn’t miss this, you know that.”

Ben turned from the bed. “What if you’re nominated, too?”

Reagan tilted his head. “Well...then we’re both nominated. And honestly, there’s no one I’d rather lose to than you.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe Judy.”

“You leave that poor woman alone.” Ben pointed, forehead an accordion of worry and severity. “I mean it, asshole. Leave Judy alone.”

Clearing his throat, Reagan took another drag of the cigarette and grimaced. “Okay.”

“Damn it. When?”

“Probably ten years ago. She’d just divorced Vincente—”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“Why are you surprised?” Reagan couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face despite the fact that joy was nowhere near the emotion currently overtaking him. “Ben. It’s a done deal. We haven’t spoken an unprofessional word to each other since.”

There was a pause, and Ben sank into a deep frown. “...You took a year to be with no one but Carolyn.”

Reagan maintained eye contact with him, the outside ambiance of Las Vegas traffic and quite distant sounds of big band music wafting into the hotel room. “It was a fragile time, if you’ll recall.”

“Did she know?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.” Ben nodded, not as lively as he’d been mere moments ago, as far as his slumped shoulders and still frame were indicating. “That’s fine.”

“I’m stayin’ here tonight.”

“They wouldn’t let you do that.”

“And who’s gonna tell ‘em?” Reagan lifted his eyebrows. “Adrian’ll have my ass, but I might as well have his name tattooed over the left cheek anyhow.”

Ben looked at him in mild alarm.

“Alright, c’mon,” Reagan said, squashing out the cigarette and standing before Ben could complete a thought. “We’re getting a drink to celebrate your big moment.”

One drink turned into several, and their celebration carried them onto the streets where they coerced strangers into celebrating with them, running up and down the entire strip, having the time of their lives. They regretted it very much the next morning, but it sure did get the job done.

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 5

Pairing - Right now it is still General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner, when it switches to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner I mention it in the pairing

Summary - Everything is changing with rapid pace and it is up to Anna to keep up with everything that is happening. While she might be struggling at times, she is also to seep up a good front and make a friend along the way.

Word Count - 1800

-

Anna was taken to her new room by the Oprichniki of the Little Palace, once she was shoved inside the doors were closed behind her. The sun had already begun to set so she knew that there wouldn’t be a lot of time to explore. Deep down, Anna knew that she should be upset right now, her entire life was thrown out of control. However, she felt like there were no tears for her to shed, her time with General Kirigan had watered down her sadness. Anna walked around the room, she found an attached room with a bathtub, it was all very elaborate. She walked back into the main room seeing a desk, noticing that there was paper and a pen on the desk. Anna thought of writing letters to her friends so that they could continue to stay in touch, she hoped that maybe she would be able to get them to the Little Palace. Anna walked over to the desk and began to write a letter she would send to Mal and Alina.

Dear Mal and Alina,

If you are getting this then you know I have arrived at the Little Palace, everything is so fancy here, I even have a bathtub. I almost don’t know where to start, everything has happened in such a short amount of time it’s all too much. I want you two to be here so badly, everything just feels overwhelming and maybe if you were both by my side I wouldn’t feel like this. Hopefully I can get you two to the Little Palace at some point, maybe I could show you both around. Please, I need to hear from you two to know that you are both alright, I will try to make sure you are both able to get here to the Little Palace soon.

Sincerely,

Anna Mizeloph

After finishing her letter Anna decided that it would be a good idea to get some sleep, she had no idea what would be going on tomorrow. Before she got into bed Anna went through every compartment in her room and eventually found a knife. She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and took some of her clothes off so she would be more comfortable when she slept. Anna pulled the comforter back and got into the bed, once she got under her comforter and closed her eyes she began to dream. Snow, Anna had remembered how this dream went, she turned around and saw the magnificent stag. She had only dreamt of the stag when she felt lost. As Anna stepped closer to the stag she felt like everything was at peace and there was nothing to worry about. However, as soon as her dream had begun, Anna was awoken by a knock at the door. She quickly sat up and set her hand near the pillow with the knife under it, but as maids walked in she sighed and swung her legs over to the side of the bed.

Genya walked up to her and looked over her once “Saints, have you ever bathed?” she brought her hand up to Anna's face looking at a few scars “and what happened to your face? This is going to be a bit more of a challenge than I previously thought” she sighed and snapped her fingers to get the maids attention “fetch my kit” the maids in the room scrambled around and a few of them brought Anna over to the tub in the attached room

They began to undress her and Anna almost wanted to fight them but she knew that they were only doing their job. Still, she had never had this much attention so of course she was going to be feeling self conscious. Once she was out of her clothes she stepped into the tub that now had warm water in it. Anna had never had such a nice wash before, the water had always been cold, for the first time being clean was comfortable.

However, the maids were not being too kind in scrubbing her arms “hey! You don’t have to be that harsh, you’ll rub my skin off if you keep doing that” Anna said pulling her arm away from the maids “plus I can wash myself thank you very much” she took the spunge and began to wash herself glaring at the maids

Genya smiled a little, she hated having the maids around so it was nice to know Anna did not like them like she did “In an hour, you will be presented to King Pyotr and General Kirigan has asked that I make you look presentable”

“Wait, what did you just say? I am to meet the king? Oh my..” Anna could not believe that she would be meeting with one of the most influential men in Ravka

“Yes, in an hour” Genya said trying to stress that preparations needed to be done quickly

“Oh..” Anna realized that all of this talking was wasting time

“Yes ‘Oh’ so lets get on with it” she motioned for the maids to get her out of the tub and give her a robe

“Oh my, what is this material?” she had never worn something so comfortable underneath her fingers then put it on

Genya looked at Anna rubbing the robe “it’s Velvet”

Anna smiled holding the robe close to her body “this feels absolutely wonderful” she had never worn something that felt so nice

Genya could tell that the robe meant a lot to Anna, it crossed her mind, wondering what other luxuries had Anna been denied “alright.. Now where to start with you”

“I would start with her hair color, make her look less like she just got her head shoved in snow” some of the other maids giggled at the comment

Genya glared at the maid and clapped her hands “everyone out, Now!” the maids stopped giggling and quickly rushed out of the room

Anna watched them leave then grasped onto a piece of her hair, twirling it between her fingers, feeling self conscious about it again. She had hoped that maybe once she was in the Little Palace her white hair wouldn’t be something that people pointed at. Genya looked at Anna and noticed that she was touching her hair and sighed.

“Your hair is beautiful” Genya smiled a little approaching Anna

Anna looked at Genya “really? Thank you..” there was one boy who had once called her hair beautiful in Ketterdam, it had been so long ago. Alina and Mal always said that they liked her hair and that it was cool looking, but they hadn’t used beautiful before

“I am glad you hate those miserable maids as much as I do, I don’t pick my staff the Queen assigns them to me, I wish she wouldn’t, but there isn’t much that I can do about it” Genya started to get her things in order to help Anna look good

“Yeah they definitely seem like a rude bunch who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut” Anna said making Genya laugh a little, Anna laughed a little too “um.. Could you please not change my hair? It’s strange, but for once in my life I don’t want it to be changed”

“Well I am glad you don’t want it to be changed because I didn’t want to change it to begin with” Genya started to work on Annas face tailoring the scars she had “I want to make sure that you don’t look terrible, some of this is on the surface, but there are other pieces that run deeper”

“You are a Healer? I thought they normally stayed on the front lines with the Second Army” Anna asked as she was handed a mirror and saw that the scars she once had on her face where gone

“I’m a Tailor, I can fix and modify, the Second Army wouldn’t have much use for me on the front lines” Genya said as she continued working and went to Anna's hair making it look soft and well kept

“I’ve never met a Tailor before.. Why is that?” she asked, liking that she was learning more about Grisha

“I’m almost as rare as you, though I’d hardly say saving the Queen from sagging tits makes me as important as you” Anna laughed a little, Genya smiled and continued “This only last for a few days, but it be enough for now to meet the king, after we can work on that hair of yours to always keep it soft”

As Genya started working on the final touches to make sure that Anna was presentable for the king. There was more Anna wanted to find out about the Tailor who was working on her appearance. One of those questions was when she had been tested, for Anna she did not know much about being tested to be Grisha as a child. After all she had been thrown to the side when testing came and went, she never understood why and sometimes wished she had asked.

“So.. um how old were you when you were tested? You don’t have to answer, but I was just curious” Anna asked kindly not sure if it was a sore subject or not

Genya smiled at Anna’s kindness “I don't mind talking about it.. The testers found me when I was 11. That is when General Kirigan gifted me to the Queen, but I have been working on myself since I was 3”

Anna was blown away “3? Since you were 3? That is amazing” but then suddenly it dawned on her “wait.. Wait! I cannot go in front of the king!” she started to panic, Genya noticed and through of what she could do to help her calm down so she gently began to brushed her fingers through Anna's hair

“You can and you will, there is nothing to worry about” Genya’s fingers lingered through Anna’s hair

“I have done no formal training, I need to have more time to prepare, I haven’t even known I was Grisha for two days!” Anna in the moment felt Genyas fingers run through her hair and started to calm down

“Maybe you’ve only been aware for two days” Genya said, Anna looked up at her and took a deep breath feeling Genyas hands running through her hair. Anna smiled a little remembering when Kaz would run his fingers through her hair when she was scared. Anna was quickly brought back to the present “but you have been a Grisha your whole life” she continued to run her fingers through Anna’s hair making a mental note that this was the best way to calm her down when it is just them “and now you are here to tear down the Fold”

-

Author Note - Thank you so much for all of the support! I am extremely thankful to the ones who have been reblogging my chapter. I also love seeing the comments everyone is leaving so if you would like to write one I look forward to reading it! I also am thrilled about my growing tag list! If you would like to be added just let me know and I will try my best to add you! I just had someone added and their name is not popping up, but if this happens to you I will personally messages you when a chapter is added!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh

[princeneito]

I’m begging the BNHA community for good OCs. This fandom has so much potential for interesting, creative OCs and yet whenever i scroll around Instagram and whatnot i can't ever find any. So here are a few tips and tricks for good, interesting BNHA OCs {from someone who’s been making fan OCs for over seven years now}

obviously this is my opinion and I’m not stating facts, just throwing out tips from my own PoV.

number one: always, always do your research.

The quirks in BNHA are always well thought out, and always seem to follow a few unspoken rules. there are no quirks with demons or angels, and when mythical creatures are involved, {see: Ryukyu} they don’t become a gorgeous, hot dragon. Ryukyu becomes this lizard like monster. Quirks follow a level of logic most of the time, like Bakugo having nitroglycerin-like chemicals in his sweat. Aside from Deku, who has main character powers, no one has more than one Quirk. Someone who’s Quirk allows them to do multiple unrelated things also counts here. Example: the ability to manipulate fire, but also the ability to use telekinesis. Or the ability to control wind and the ability to control emotions. Linking them together under a random, usually somewhat cringe-y name like “Angelic Eyes” or “Demon Heart” isn’t going to fix that. There is no precedent for this in canon at all. Always make sure that there is some level of logic or canon information that can back your Quirk up. Deku is always going to be the exception because he’s the main character. 

Telekinetic characters are a grab-bag. Yanagi from Class-B is telekinetic, she can move objects with her mind. So while there is precedent of this sort of Quirk existing in canon, this is also just proof that this Quirk already exists. I touch on Quirks similar to canon Quirks below.  Next, be sure to research existing quirks. No more OCs with illusion creation Quirks {Camie has that}, or copy Quirks {Monoma}. We already know that Quirks are almost always hereditary, or biological in some way, and two people with similar or near-identical Quirks are amazingly rare. Make sure your OC doesn’t have a Quirk too similar to a pre-existing canon character.

Also, make sure to look into the world around your OC. If Shinso, someone who’s Quirk is useless against robots, didn’t make it into the Hero course, then an OC with healing powers is most likely not going to make it either. It’s already bending canon to put your OC into Class A at all {although that can be forgiven because of plot}, don’t try to push it any more than that. It’s already an unspoken rule of OC making in general to not make them related to an existing character. No more Deku’s secret twin sister or Aizawa’s long-lost daughter. If it’s canon that they have no direct relatives, then leave that be.

Japanese people do not have white/western names.

If your OC is meant to be a Japanese person, born and raised in Japan {like most of the cast of BNHA is}, then they’re not going to be names Erin, or Belle, or James. Horikoshi puts a lot of thought into the names of his characters. They always have a deeper meaning, usually relating to their Quirk in some way. 

For the heaven’s sake, give them a personality.

I completely understand wanting a self-insert character to make your feel like you’re in the canon of the show. But having a 2D character with a blank canvas for a personality just so you can roleplay as them is tired, and I figured we left that back in 2012. I understand that on platforms like Instagram, a powerful but “simple” character who’s only defining traits are nice and sweet is great for marketing because your audience can put themselves in the OCs shoes, but it’s just painful from an outside point of view. If you want to make a self-insert, at the very least give them your personality. Are you a quippy, funny kid with a tendency to goof off? Fine, assign those traits to your OC. But give them your flaws, too. Maybe you don’t take stuff seriously when you should, or you tend to lose attention really quick. Give that to your OC too. Don’t be afraid to make your OC human.  However, when making your OC’s personality, remember that in the BNHA canon, Quirks affect the personality of the character. Bakugo and Todoroki are the most obvious examples. So if your OC has a light-related Quirk, maybe make them bright and exuberant, or loud and cheery.  Leave Dementia Raven Way in the past. Edgy OC’s were very 2010′s-ish. Leave your daddy-issues, super edgy, demon-quirk in the drafts, or update them to feel less like an emo chick stereotype. Unless you’re only working for yourself, let them not be an edgy boring mess.  ??? as a replacement for Quirk names are not cool or edgy.

It’s not interesting to give your OC a crazy cool or edgy-looking Quirk and leave the name blank, like they’re just so mysterious and dark that even the high school they applied to doesn’t know their Quirk name. It’s just an odd plothole that makes no sense.

Keep canon characters characterized properly.

This is the part that will most likely get me flamed. But here goes:

Bakugo isn’t going to fall for your uwu girl babie OC, your over-the-top edgy OC, or even the cold, too-cool-for-love type. Todoroki is not going to fall head over heels and start buying your OC everything, smiling often, or giving them hugs and kisses all the time.

Let me debunk these bit by bit: soft uwu baby OCs are pushovers in Bakugo’s eyes. Super-edgy OCs are tryhards, or they get in his way. Cold, cool types are probably just going to get in his way, too.

Making Bakugo a blushy tsundere is not keeping him canon. Todoroki the shy soft boy is not keeping him canon. 

I focus a lot on Bakugo because he’s the one most OCs ship with. Here’s more. He’s not going to call something cute or adorable, he’s not going to blush at your OC’s exposed tits or ass. He’s not going to buy your OC food or give them hugs. He’s not like that. If anything, a relationship in high school is just going to get in the way of being Number One. 

That’s just a few pointers I have lying around. I’d be more than happy to beta-read for OCs, or give out some tips and tricks more tailored to your OC. But for now, I guess stick to this list, and keep it up.

[homeformyheart]

simply be mine - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: i needed to write a fluff piece after my last fic, “cottage by the sea,” and got inspiration while listening to a couple songs (see prompt line below) for a new years’ eve party fic. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles  – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 14+; descriptions of drinking  word count: 3.1k based on/prompt: “only girl in the world” by rihanna / “one and only” by adele summary: adam struggles to understand why anyone would care about human new years’ eve traditions, but when he finds out regina enjoys them, he finds himself intrigued.

simply be mine

when regina walked into the warehouse living room an hour before the agency’s new years’ eve party, she was pleasantly surprised to see unit bravo somewhat dressed up, even if they were standing around brooding like usual. she was both surprised and excited that she was invited to attend as well, without having to be someone’s plus one, even though she had been assured by both nate and farah that they would’ve invited her. she giggled internally at the memory of farah practically jumping off the walls of the warehouse living room in excitement, yelling what seemed like a hundred words per minute about going shopping and getting ready together.

she quickly learned that the rest of unit bravo hated attending agency work functions and avoided them as much as they could. however, everyone was “strongly encouraged” to attend the new years’ eve party, which she gathered from both morgan and adam that what the agency meant was “we better see you there or we’ll give you the worst cases next year.” she thought they were probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but let it slide.

perhaps to make up for the fact that they’d have to spend the night in a brightly lit and loud room for several hours with colleagues they didn’t care for, regina found that unit bravo had already started pregaming before she arrived, and they pregamed hard. she saw firsthand the sheer amount of alcohol they needed to consume just to feel a little buzzed.

another rare upside to being human, regina noted, a couple of shots of any brown liquor and she was good to go. of course, she only managed one shot of nate’s vintage prohibition-era whiskey before he snatched it away and started lecturing her on its rarity and history and had to settle for farah’s tequila.

“regina, do a shot with me!” farah practically screamed, bounding over to her with a half-empty bottle of tequila and limes in one hand and a pinch of salt in the palm of her other hand.

“who taught you how to do a tequila shot?” she asked incredulously as farah poured a generous shot for them both and handed her a lime.

“i looked it up online!” she said with such a proud look on her face that regina could only smile fondly at the person who had become her best friend on the team.

they both knocked back the shots and cringed, the salt and limes providing little relief to the burn; regina could only assume it was maybe ten times worse for farah. but then farah drained whatever was left in the bottle and let out a loud whoop before wrapping regina up in a big hug.

“i am soooooooo glad we get to celebrate with youuu!! you are the best person on this teammmmmm, after me, of course,” farah shouted and regina couldn’t help but laugh.

adam raised an eyebrow. “you mean she’s the best human on the team, don’t you, farah?”

“nopeeeeeeeeeeee. regina’s the bestttttttttt of us and you can’t convince me otherwiseeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, much to everyone else’s annoyance.

“hey farah, why don’t you put on some pre-party music?” regina suggested. farah’s eyes lit up and she sped away and disappeared before regina could blink.

she felt adam’s large presence behind her, casting a figurative shadow over her in the living room. the room was softly lit by the chandelier farah herself had selected, much to morgan’s annoyance. regina let herself lean back slightly without actually touching adam’s chest, knowing it would tempt him to wrap his hands around her waist.

except he only kept one hand hovering near her hip as he said in a low murmur, “you really shouldn’t encourage her, you know.”

the corner of her lips twitched as though it wanted to break into a smile, but regina knew adam wouldn’t appreciate being teased about being a ‘stick in the mud’ considering each member of unit bravo took their turn throughout the day telling him to lighten up.

“you know she’s not going to stop, so just let her have her fun,” she winked as a familiar song started vibrating through the walls, followed by farah’s vocals. “we’ll be heading out soon anyway.”

morgan let out a sound that was a cross between a loud huff and a growl as she stomped outside, cigarettes in hand.

“i want you to love me, like a hot ride,” farah sang out as she appeared in the living room, twirling gracefully as she leaped over the table to land in front of regina. “be thinking of me, doing what you like.”

regina laughed as adam sighed loudly, intending obviously for them to hear, before he walked over to where nate was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass of wine. she immediately missed the warmth of his body behind her, or rather, the tingle she got in her spine from the prospect of his touch. she took a long sip of her whiskey, willing herself to actually enjoy tonight and not dwell on the lack of progress between her and adam.

“come on, regina, sing with me!” farah grabbed her hand and started twirling her around, whatever was left of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass and on to the floor.

“want you to make me feel, like i’m the only girl in the world,” regina belted alongside farah, throwing her head back. “like i’m the only one you’ll ever love; like i’m the only one who knows your heart.”

farah grabbed the wine bottle on the table by nate before he could intervene and put it to her mouth like a microphone. “only girl in the worlddddd,” she crooned, before collapsing into a giggling fit on the couch, bringing regina down with her.

despite wanting to roll his eyes at farah’s antics, even nate couldn’t help but smile at how cheerful his family was and how nice it was to celebrate the holidays together.

“we should get going soon,” he said, finishing his glass of wine.

“no, wait, regina’s not dressed!” farah said, immediately standing and pulling regina up with her.

“what are you talking about? i am dressed,” regina protested, motioning toward her tailored dress pants and blouse.

farah wrinkled her nose. “oh honey, no. this is a fancy party and you need to dress like it. come on!” before she could protest further, farah had dragged her back toward her room.

* * * * * “you know, regina might appreciate it if you partake in some new years’ traditions,” nate said quietly, glancing over at his longtime friend, who was staring out the window.

adam looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “and what traditions would that be?”

nate smiled mischievously. “well, the one that seems to be really popular among humans is kissing someone at midnight.”

nate could feel adam’s shoulders tense a fraction of a second before he saw the physical movement itself. “that is an impractical and inane tradition. i would think the detective to be above such childish antics.”

now it was nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “and i think she’d appreciate the romantic gesture. it’s not childish to want to ring in the new year with someone you care for.”

before adam could retort, the sound of heels clacking along the hallway and the gentle swishing movement of fabric drew his attention toward the only thing that was capable of unraveling centuries of carefully architected walls with a single glance. regina appeared in the living room, farah’s arm looped in hers, dressed in a strapless black floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline and slit that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.

adam’s eyes followed the length of the slit; the creamy complexion of her skin drawing him in. his gaze traced the way the fabric clung to her curves, dipping at the waist before cupping her chest. her hair was styled in soft waves to one side, leaving her collarbone and neck exposed. he didn’t realize his eyes were continuing to trace the delicate lines of her neck and jaw, before they landed on her red lips. they were lighter than blood and yet, just as, if not more, enticing to him.

he watched as the corner of those luscious lips quirked up into a smirk, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his gaze shot upward to meet her teasing blue ones, not realizing that his feet seemed to move of their own accord until he was standing right in front of her.

“can i help you, commanding agent du mortain?” regina said, the low and sultry tone of her voice sending warmth south in an unfamiliar, but not wholly unpleasant way.

adam’s throat suddenly felt dry – an odd, human-like sensation that made him pause, until he realized that regina was suddenly very close. too close. he inwardly begged his legs to take a step back, but they wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.

“your… dress. it’s impractical. what if you were to get attacked?” he said slowly after clearing his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

regina smiled and gazed up at him knowingly, a look that was both infuriating and intoxicating. as though she could read every piece of his soul back to him and love all of him anyway.

“don’t worry, i have my volt gun strapped to my thigh, see?” she reached for his hand, her touch sending a jolt up his arm that would worry him for medical reasons if he were human, but instead was stoking a deep primal urge within him as she moved it toward the back of her thigh.

the familiar rectangular gun was firm underneath his fingers and even though regina had let go of his hand, he held on, not quite allowing himself to graze her skin, but feeling her body heat at the tips of his fingertips all the same.

“besides, i know you all will be keeping an eye on me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. adam could hear the flutter of each lash against the air and found himself wondering how they’d feel against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.

“of course, i— i mean, we, won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, moving his hand back behind him, flexing it once before resuming his stance.

“well, i only care that you are keeping an eye on me, commanding agent,” she said, giving him a flirty wink before putting on her coat and following farah out to the car.

adam let out an audible groan and rubbed his face with his hands. nate clasped a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see his best friend was smirking at him.

“it’s okay. but if you’re going to pretend like there’s nothing between you all night, then you won’t mind if we all take turns dancing with her, right?” his smile only widened as adam’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. “come on or we’ll be late.”

* * * * * adam stood, tense and rigid, in a corner of the ballroom near the balcony doors with morgan, who ducked out every so often when the lights and sounds got to be too much, while nate and farah took turns dancing with regina. it baffled him how an entire room full of trained agents could let themselves potentially be compromised by partaking in such celebratory activities. even his own team, although he would admit only to himself that they needed the break.

farah loved the upbeat songs that allowed her to twirl regina around as fast as she could, and he wondered how regina could handle what must be incredibly dizzying and nauseating for a human. and then there was nate, who took advantage of the slow ballads and classic waltzing music sprinkled throughout the evening, to lead regina around in simple box steps. it was very unlike adam to care what his team did during events like this, as long as they behaved themselves, but something about how nate would lean in every once in a while to say something and make regina laugh made him want to crush every glass in sight.

he crossed his arms and glared at the back of nate’s head, knowing he was doing this to antagonize him, somehow. he felt his gaze unwillingly soften, however, whenever he felt regina’s eyes glance over at him. he quickly looked away when he realized she was walking toward him, surveying the room as though he was being vigilant.

“not fond of dancing?” she asked, the words coming out in soft gasps as she sought to catch her breath.

“i don’t see the point,” he said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone catching even him by surprise. surely, he didn’t need to explain himself.

“sometimes things don’t have to have a point to be enjoyable,” she offered, her voice pleasantly cutting through the din of the party. “and i really like dancing.”

regina let out a soft hum as nate arrived and handed her a drink. she drank it gratefully, giving nate a gentle smile that made adam grit his teeth. morgan appeared next to her and swiftly took regina’s drink, finishing it despite her half-hearted protest.

“so, regina, what is your favorite new years’ eve tradition?” nate asked, hiding his smile behind his glass of wine and ignoring adam’s pointed glare.

“oh well, i always like how excited everyone gets and parties like this are definitely fun,” regina answered, pausing for just a moment to look down at her glass hesitantly before continuing, “but the best one is of course getting to kiss someone at midnight.”

“it’ll be midnight soon, do you have anyone you plan to kiss yet?” morgan asked, slinging an arm around regina’s shoulders. “i’m free at midnight, if you’re interested.”

adam cleared his throat. “that would be unprofessional, agent.”

morgan brought another cigarette to her lips. nate stopped her hand with the lighter and motioned to the balcony. “let’s get some air, morgan, and leave these two alone.”

“sure, if you think that means he’ll actually kiss her before i do,” morgan snickered, too soft for regina to hear but it was obviously directed at adam.

a soft romantic melody started playing over the speakers; a love ballad that regina was familiar with, judging by the way she started humming along and swaying gently in place.

i don't know why i'm scared i've been here before every feeling, every word i've imagined it all you'll never know if you never try to forget your past and simply be mine

regina blinked at adam’s sudden appearance in front of her, his large figure towering over hers and blocking the chandelier from her sight.

“you like this song.” it technically wasn’t a question.

“um, i guess?” she asked, puzzled.

“you should dance,” he said, his hands itching to reach for hers.

regina tilted her head to the side and looked up at him searchingly, her blue eyes delicately framed by her long dark lashes. “are you asking me to dance?”

he pursed his lips into a thin, straight line. “you would need a partner, and seeing as no one else is around, i can… dance with you. if you’d like.”

her eyebrows shot up in surprise. she was not expecting adam du mortain to willingly admit to asking her to dance. she quickly looked around and noticed that most of the agents had gone out on the balcony to watch the fireworks.

she smiled and tucked her hand gently into his and led him to the dance floor. they settled into a swaying rhythm as regina wrapped her arms around his neck. adam hesitantly placed his hands on her waist, and a sweet heat bloomed throughout her body, making her feel flushed.

“i thought dancing was pointless?” she asked teasingly after encouraging him to shift his weight between his feet to match her movements.

adam lowered his head, as if he didn’t want anyone reading his lips or hearing what he was about to say. “with you… it doesn’t seem that way.”

regina shook her head fondly. “you continue to surprise me, commanding agent.”

i dare you to let me be your, your one and only i promise i'm worthy to hold in your arms so come on and give me the chance to prove i am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts

“i hope so,” he muttered quietly. “i have lived over nine centuries, yet every day with you seems new and uncertain.”

regina was afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything and decided to step closer and rest her head on his shoulder instead. she smiled when his hands tightened around her waist, bunching the fabric in a way that she was sure would leave wrinkles.

“10…9…8”

her head shot up at the sound of the crowd outside counting down the last few seconds to the new year. “i didn’t realize it was almost midnight, we should go join everyone.”

adam’s green eyes bore into hers and she was close enough that she could see little specks of gold reflected in them from the chandeliers and ornate décor throughout the room. “you… you want to kiss mor—ahem, someone at midnight.”

“7…6…5”

“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. she tried taking a step back only to find that adam was holding her tightly in place.

“but it’s a tradition you enjoy.” it was a statement, but he was looking for confirmation while trying to maintain his composure despite his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he thought regina would be able to hear it.

“4…3…2”

she dropped her hands from his shoulders and let them rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his jacket nervously. “oh well, i— i suppose with someone i care for, yes.”

the final second and cheers from the balcony faded into the background as adam leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers; they were softer than he imagined, even with the layer of faded lipstick between them.

regina’s body instinctively arched closer to his as she sought to deepen the kiss, her hands scrambling for some part of his shirt she could hold on to. she barely registered that it was over all too soon as adam pulled back, her head spinning from the kiss in a good way.

“happy new year, detective,” he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back and walking away.

regina touched her lips to savor the pleasant tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. happy new year indeed.

* * * * * mentions:  @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;

[brandywine-tomatoes]

Hope was a Dangerous Game

Masterlist

Another oc fic

Characters: male!oc/Crosshair, the Batch

Prompt/Inspo: @keo-the-raptor was angsting with her oc and that gave me ideas

TW: depression, depressing thoughts, angst to loads of fluff, strong language

Word count: 1839

QUICK NOTE: Sinleo is my immortal cape maker/tailor.

Cross and him met on a peace treaty voyage with all the Naboo and Pantoran delegations since Sinleo is a long-time friend of the Naboo throne and besties with Riyo Chuchi. The Batch was stationed as part of the security detail.

They saw each other on and off over the years until Sinleo was encouraged to stay on the Havoc with Cross and the Batch (obvi without the Republic's knowledge).

--

Sinleo trudged through the busy streets of Coruscant, pushing and shoving his way through the gloomy crowd as everyone tried to get out of the pouring rain. He didn’t mind the intense downpour, it felt like a layer of grief was sliding down his shoulders, creating a thick sludge of sorrow being tugged along by his cheap boots.

He never wore his custom or expensive stuff anymore, not after the Empire took his trooper. He felt he lost a piece of himself, and without that piece, nothing else could fit. He had to pack away everything about himself into a mouldy storage locker. Crosshair had made his way into every part of him. He couldn’t think or look at those pieces without diving deeper into despair and isolation.

Force, he missed him. It hurt to even think sometimes. Everything everywhere reminded him that he wasn’t really in the galaxy, just a look-alike that tried to kill everyone close. Just a shell of something that used to love Sinleo. A shell of something that gave Sinleo something he never thought he’d get: Purpose. Hope. A future.

Hope was a dangerous game.

Sinleo dragged himself into the elevator, clicking the highest level and waited for the doors to slide open.

He tossed the drenched black windbreaker on the single wooden chair beside the door and made a beeline towards the mattress in the middle of the supposed living room. The ceiling fan was on full blast against the high ceilings, a sharp and cool wind blowing the dark greasy hair from his forehead. Cross used to do that. He used to hold Sinleo like he was his whole fucking world and brush the hair from his face.

He had to stop. Crosshair was gone. He wasn’t getting him back. Ever.

He’d survived for hundreds of years, he could survive hundreds more. But living them?

His depressing train of thought was cut off as an irritating beeping echoed off the bare walls from the windbreaker. Groaning, he stood and shuffled to the chair, taking out the comm device and flipping on the speaker and microphone.

“What?” He growled.

“You’ll want to hear this.”

“Hunter, I already told you, stop calling me.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to hear this.”

Sinleo paused and took a deep breath, defeated. “What do you want, bandana?”

“Are you sitting? You need to sit for this,” Hunter’s voice was growing more irritating by the second. Sinleo didn’t know if it was from pure annoyance of his past knocking on his comm device or how Hunter’s voice was filling with joy. Who the fuck could be joyful during this fucking time?

Sinleo pulled the wooden chair forward and sat. “I’m sitting.”

“Miss me, Sin?”

His heart jumped for a fraction of a second.

“Hunter,” he stood up in a rage. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is sadistic level shit. You really think I’m not in enough fucking pain without him? You think-”

“Alright alright, enough,” Hunter tuned back in. “Pack a bag for the next shuttle, I know you have senator-level security passes. Get to Alderaan’s National Spaceport, strip 3, by tonight. Private comm channels are unreliable for this kind of conversation.”

“Who the hell do take me for? A fucking fool? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sinleo. Please. For Cross. If you won’t believe it over comms, come see him yourself.”

Sinleo scoffed and practically snapped the comm device in half turning it off. The building in his eyes throughout the conversation spilt over. He let out a sob and crumbled to the ground. He shoved the palms of his hands into his eyes to try and stop the streaming of tears, only seeing a burst of crumbling light and a searing pain start to blossom.

He sat with his knees to the ground and let out sob after sob, grief-stricken memories of Crosshair giving one of his rare smiles or holding Sinleo’s face when everyone else was asleep making him sob even more. His muscles ached, his head pounded, he felt drained and empty and nowhere near better than before that conversation.

His heart leaped out of his chest when he heard his voice. It’d been almost a year since the love of his life used the nickname he gave him. His little sin.

He almost asked if it was really him, almost let himself believe he was alive and cut out of the puppet strings.

For just a second, he imagined seeing him again as Crosshair and not some Imperial mutt. His Crosshair. Hugging his Crosshair for hours so he wouldn’t slip away so easily again. Taking him to raid the upper-class district and leaving it in a flaming heap again like the first time they visited.

But then the ceiling fan pushed his hair from his forehead. The rainwater from the windbreaker was seeping through his clothes. His exhaustion from the last 10 months whittled its way back in.

He was gone.

But maybe he should pay his respects to his brothers. They were family after all. Maybe seeing them again, seeing the ship where him and Cross had their first kiss would offer a little closure. Offer a little piece of him back that Crosshair took. If he could get a piece of who he was, he might finally start working towards making someone new, someone whole again.

He made a few calls to senators and off-world shuttle security before he packed the few simple clothes he had and other necessities into a light duffle bag. The couple hours he had before the Coruscant guard came to escort him he curled up on the bare mattress and stared out the floor to ceiling windows numbly. He wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while, not after a breakdown like that, after what it uncovered.

Boy, would he pummel Hunter when he got there.

--

Sinleo fiddled nervously with the handle of the duffle bag on his lap as the shuttle gracefully touched down on the strip. The other passengers started undoing their safety harnesses as Sinleo sat there, paralyzed. He hadn’t thought of what he was doing. He only acted; he didn’t think of what would happen. What was waiting for him on strip 3? On that darkened and unused strip he passed seconds ago? Did his brothers fall to the Empire too? Was this all a trap for the Empire to finally nail him in jail for the shit he pulled in the past?

“Sir, we’ve landed,” a red-dressed bellhop gestured to the exit.

Sinleo fumbled with the safety harness and scurried towards the exit with the duffle in hand, accidentally ignoring the bellhop and descended the stairs. The passengers all left separate ways seemingly all over the tarmac towards groups of people or vehicles already waiting.

He walked in the direction of strip 3, pulling the same black windbreaker closer to him as a wind chill swept through the spaceport, ruffling his hair and lightly pushed him to the side. The tinted windows of the grand and beautifully historic spaceport building glistened softly against the pure black sky with Coruscant and Corellia on the other side of his view. The air was cleaner on Alderaan, it refreshed your lungs and brought a clear mind instead of the fogging effect the planet-wide city had.

As he neared the darkened strip 3, he spotted a group of moving figures, most likely the Bad Batch, and grimaced. This was a mistake; this was all a mistake. He should just turn back, save himself the embarrassing tears of seeing the crew again. He stopped dead in his tracks and seriously debating just getting a hotel and going back in the morning.

But one of the figures started walking towards him and he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t run away from them when they were right there.

He started his slow pace again, his heart beating quicker. That wasn’t one of the surviving Batch members. This was someone new. Or someone old.

“Sin!”

He stopped again, a heavy pressure resting on his chest. Oh my fucking god.

He dropped the duffle and started sprinting. “CROSS!”

His Cross kept the same pace as Sinleo closed the gap, already sobbing before they embraced. Crosshair spun Sinleo in a circle, a sputtering of a sob and a laugh escaping his choked-up throat. This wasn’t happening.

Sinleo buried his face in the crook of Cross’s neck, his arms impossibly tight around his waist as sobs racked his body.

It shredded the sniper’s heart that his absence had crumbled his love. But he was finally there with him. It wasn’t some dream in the back of his mind. It wasn’t some daydream that CT-9904 didn’t know how to explain. He was fucking there. This was all real. This was all he ever wanted.

A few tears leaked into Sinleo’s matted hair as Crosshair returned the death grip, whispering that he was there, and he wasn’t leaving. They wouldn’t let each other go again, not ever again. This was it. They were it. They were done with being alone, they were going to stay together for as long as they had. Sinleo muttered a few words before Cross lifted his head gently from his shoulder.

“Didn’t catch that, Sin.”

That sent another sob escaping Sinleo’s lips. They returned to their bone-crushing embrace for a few more moments before Sinleo lifted his head to try again at forming words.

Words failed him for a second as he finally got a look at the love of his entire life. “Don’t- don’t leave me again,” his voice came out desperate and hoarse.

Cross ran his thumbs over his cheeks. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sinleo closed the space, desperate to make up for their lost 10 months. Sinleo’s soft lips against his finally convinced him that it was over. No chip, no orders to follow, no one to report to. There was only him and his Sin, his first and last of everything in the middle of an airstrip, trying to convey how much they needed each other through a sloppy and suffocating kiss. Cross cupped his face and kissed back with everything he had, everything he could give.

They separated and gasped for air softly, foreheads leaning against one another as neither of them wanted to open their eyes. They stayed, Crosshair holding Sinleo and Sinleo’s arms around his waist, keeping them together.

The sniper was the first to flutter open his eyes, feeling heart palpations at the sight of a tired but peaceful Sin.

He smirked. “This is getting sappy.”

Sinleo snapped his eyes open and tried to glare at him. “We can be sappy.”

“Hell naw, we aren’t sappy,” he pulled away, sliding an arm around his shoulders.

Sinleo pecked his lips. “We are now.”

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

“Oh no, we’re sappy now.”

Sinleo kept his arm around Cross’s waist, finally ready to approach the group far away at the edge of the tarmac. “I can live with that.”

--

A/N: I stayed up unit 5 in the morning writing this. It was an emotional ROLLERCOASTER, but I got it done in one day and I'm pretty happy with it!

please go easy on the critisism, this was the first time i wrote 2 characters sharing a kiss

If you want more of/about Sinleo or any other oc, just let me know! I love sharing my bbs!

[violetbaggins]

The Journey of a Lifetime .:Intro:.

~ Bilbo Baggins x OC ~

Since Violet was seven years old, she has lived in Rivendell amongst the elves, and she never imagined herself ever leaving. Never. Rivendell was a paradise. There was always plenty of food, and it was always so clean and fresh, the springs were perfect for taking relaxing baths in after a long day, and for a little hobbit, she still got to sleep in a bed made for a full sized elf in silken robes, tailored exactly to fit her size. On top of all that, Violet had a wonderful mentor, Gandalf, and while he was away, which he normally was, Elrond, and if he was gone as well...then Lady Galadriel might teach her a fun spell or two. It truly was an honor to learn the power of healing from such incredible people, and she has grown quite attached to them, and to everyone she has spent the last twenty-five years with. 

This is why it was so hard for the young hobbit to pack her bags right now. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grabbed a couple of extra tunics and leggings, folding them neatly and placing them in her bag before grabbing her brush, bandages, her book of herbs, and some rations she had made herself along with an extra loaf of bread that Lindir had made for her after Elrond told him that she would be leaving for the Shire to help Gandalf with an adventure of some sort. All Lindir knew is that it was something about a mountain, and that’s about all Violet knew as well. Gandalf wouldn’t go into much detail, but he told her where she needed to meet him at and when. 

Violet paused in the middle of packing and she sighed. She had to go to the Shire, of all places. She gulped nervously and placed a bottle full of dried chamomile in her bag and thought back to when she used to live with her adopted family back in Bree. For the first seven years of her life, Violet has lived so close to the Shire and not once has she ever been. From what she was told, she was born in the Shire, but she obviously has no memory of it since her birth mother had given her up at only a few days old. From what Gandalf has told her, the Shire is a beautiful, peaceful place with rolling green hills, crystal clear water, and it was full of happy hobbits. Violet dreaded meeting this hobbit of Bag End though, but only because she’s been so far removed from Hobbit culture that she knew for sure that she would make a huge fool out of herself. This Baggins guy seemed like he was very uptight, and she doubted he would be very fun to bring on a long journey. 

With a sigh, Violet finished packing her bag, trying to keep her load as light as possible so she wouldn't struggle later on. Elrond was already waiting by the entrance to Rivendell with her pony all saddled up and ready to go. Violet’s heart sank a little at seeing the horse ready to go and Elrond glanced down at her with a gentle smile. He knew that she didn’t want to leave, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for her, and if Gandalf said that it would be good for her, then it was something that the dark haired hobbit had to do. Gandalf had already made the decision for Violet that she would be going. So that was that.

“Try not to be so down, Ms. Violet. This will be-” Elrond started but was cut off by Violet as she climbed on top of her brown and white spotted pony. 

“A learning experience, I know.” Violet huffed and Elrond rolled his eyes. 

“You will also be visiting the very place you were born. Aren’t you excited?” the elf asked and Violet just bit her lip nervously. Her expression said it all to Elrond and he sighed softly. Violet never really got exposed to hobbit culture, and while hobbits were quite nice, they tended to stay away from individuals they didn’t know too well, or ones that seemed ‘strange’. She was sure that the hobbits of the Shire would find her very strange indeed, with her elven clothes and carrying products they have probably never seen nor heard of before. 

Violet hesitated before answering Elrond, turning her pony in the direction of the path in front of her, one that would lead her to The Shire. “I...suppose,” she said softly then turned back to Elrond and told him goodbye. Elrond waved her a farewell as she rode off. It was a three-week ride, and Violet has never travelled on her own before, so she was nervous. Elrond felt a bit nervous about it as well, but if Gandalf and Galadriel insisted that she would be okay and that she was ready, then he would try to push his worries to the side.

So, for about three weeks, Violet rode by herself from Rivendell all the way to the rolling, green hills of the Shire. It was just after sunset when she arrived, and she could tell her pony was begging for a rest and a snack, and so was she. Violet got off of her pony, who she had named Lily, and tugged her along by the reigns towards Hobbiton. 

As she walked down the dirt road, the occasional hobbit or two that would pass her would give her a strange look, knowing for a fact that they have never seen her in their village before. Violet did her best to ignore the passerby hobbits and looked for Bag End. “Gandalf said that Bag End is...at the top of the hill..with a large tree on top?” Violet mumbled to herself, looking up and instantly finding a lit up burrow with a large tree at the very top. There was also the glowing blue symbol Gandalf had scratched onto the green door with his staff just earlier that day. She made her way up the hill and tied her pony to the wooden post of the hobbit gentleman’s fencing and fed Lily a red apple before opening the gate and walking up the stone steps and to the large, circular, green door. 

Violet gulped, a good bit of anxiety taking over as she raised her fist to knock on the door three times. She heard voices inside and figured some of the company had already arrived before her. Then, she heard another voice. It sounded flustered and irritated and it was followed by the heavy sound of footsteps getting closer and closer to the door until it finally opened, revealing the master of Bag End himself, Bilbo Baggins. 

“If I see one more dwarf I’m-!!” Bilbo’s voice was rather loud and angry now as he swung the door open and Violet flinched and blinked a couple of times, her eyes wide as they were locked on Bilbo’s. He instantly froze. “Oh! I, uhm,” he stuttered and ran a hand through his messy, light red curls and glanced back at the ruckus going on in his pantry before turning back to the dark haired, female hobbit...dressed in elven clothing? “I-I apologize, are you-are you lost, madam?” Bilbo stuttered slightly, the tips of his ears turning red from embarrassment, making sure to address her more formally since he started off their meeting with his frustrated tone. 

“O-oh! Um, no, I’m actually not lost. Um-” Violet gulped and she remembered what Elrond had taught her the day before she left Rivendell. “Violet Newbury,” she began and bowed slightly before Bilbo and his eyes widened. This is exactly what the dwarves did. “At you service!” she proclaimed with a bit more confidence. “I am a healer, trained by Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.” she  explained. This certainly peaked Bilbo’s interest. A hobbit from Rivendell? The bachelor hobbit couldn’t believe his pointed ears and he remained silent for only a moment before coming back to his senses and stepping aside. 

“Well, come in then, Violet.” Bilbo said, motioning for her to come in. She glanced at Bilbo for a moment before taking a couple of steps inside and he closed the door behind her with a soft sigh. Violet looked around the hobbit hole and took it all in, only ever hearing of these from Gandalf when she would ask about the place she was born. It was just as warm and cozy as he said they were. She could hear the booming, joyous voices of all of the dwarves and she saw them bustling back and forth from Bilbo’s pantry to the dining room to set up dinner 

“Where is Gandalf?” she asked rather quickly, turning to Bilbo. This caught him off guard a bit and he pointed towards the dining room where the wizard was counting all of the dwarves, making sure everyone was here. From the face he made, it looked like there was still one dwarf still missing. “Gandalf!” Violet called out, a smile growing on her face for the first time in weeks. The tall wizard turned and instantly smiled as he saw the dark haired hobbit walk up to him, clearly very happy to see a familiar face. 

“Ah, Ms. Violet! I am very glad to see that you have made it safe. Grab a plate and eat something. You look famished.” Gandalf said, noticing that she was a bit thinner than the last time saw her. She must not have eaten very much during her journey here and that made Gandalf sigh. If she was going to be joining the company on the trip to Erebor, she needed to make sure to eat and keep her energy up. She was a very important asset to the company, after all. Having a reliable healer come along seemed to put the dwarves at ease, although they didn’t seem to like the fact of who she learned her skills from. 

The company wasn't exactly sure what to make of Violet yet, but they still welcomed her into their group with open arms. Fili, Kili, and Bofur decided to immediately become her best friends and had her sit with them at the table. ‘Maybe these dwarves weren’t so bad after all?’ Violet thought as she bit down on a chicken leg. She glanced towards Bilbo as he turned towards his pantry and froze, now finding it completely emptied out. She swallowed her bite of chicken and felt a bit bad for him, but...wow was this food good! Violet rarely ate meat in Rivendell, so this was quite a treat for her. Master Baggins was quite the cook! She would definitely have to compliment him on his skills later. 

Well, that is if he decided to come with them. 

~o0o~

Introduction - you are here

Chapter 1

[ghost-party]

Previous • Next

Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: illness, distant relationship with parents, cheating, low self-confidence A/N: As promised, this chapter is from Olivia’s perspective. I’m still trying to figure out the POV for Part 4. Possibly both...? We’ll see! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy. 😊

When Olivia wakes, it takes her a moment to figure out where she is. Definitely not in her bed. Slowly blinking, her TV comes into focus, and she can feel the early morning sunlight through the balcony windows. Okay. The couch. Easy enough. But why does it feel so... warm?

When she turns her head, she immediately freezes, eyes wide. Lying beneath her, head resting on a throw pillow, is Nanami.

Her brain is slow and sleepy as she struggles to recall the previous night. Soup. Medicine. Movie. And... Oh no. She had fallen asleep. And then he had fallen asleep. And now she’s lying on top of him.

To say she’s never thought about being in this position would be a lie. But now faced with the reality of it, she’s not sure what to do. Every muscle in her body feels rigid with nerves, and she can’t seem to look away from his face. His expression is softened by sleep, lips slightly parted, hair falling across his forehead... Looking this good so early in the morning — while asleep — should be illegal.

Olivia feels heat rising in her cheeks the longer she stares. And it only intensifies when she realizes that his arms are around her, holding her body tight against his.

She knows she should wake him up. But he looks so peaceful, in a way she’s not sure he ever does while he’s awake. Since the day she met him, she has been learning him, from his body language to the almost-imperceptible shifts in his expression, including his rare, soft smiles. She has grown attentive to all of his details and mannerisms.

Because Olivia Vale has a bad habit. And his name is Nanami Kento.

• • •

It wasn’t every day that a man walked into her bookshop and just happened to pick up a copy of one of her favorite books.

During those two hours that he sat at the back window, completely immersed in Homer’s Odyssey, Olivia had kept busy, occasionally sneaking glances at him as she shelved titles — as if to reassure herself that he wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

It didn’t help that he was handsome. Dressed in a tailored tan suit and that speckled tie, his light hair combed neatly back from his face, which was sculpted like a piece of fine art — prominent cheekbones, strong jawline, serious mouth... Repeatedly, she reminded herself that he was a customer. Ogling him, while enjoyable, was inappropriate. Besides, if she had to guess — and when it came to reading people, she was usually right — he was in desperate need of some peace and quiet. And she was happy to give that to him, at least until she broke down and offered him a cup of tea.

And then something unexpected happened. He kept coming back. As the weeks passed, she learned more about him, and he became a friend rather than a customer. (But he still bought books, almost every time he came in.)

He worked as a consultant. He didn’t share many details, but it seemed like a sensitive subject, so she never pushed. Even though he always entered her shop wearing a peculiar pair of armless sunglasses — and had worn them through their entire first meeting — he would now take them off and tuck them into his jacket pocket when they sat down to talk. He wasn’t very close with his family. His parents split their time between Japan and Denmark, where his grandfather lived. He was an admitted foodie with a soft spot for bread. This was proven when he walked in one afternoon carrying a whole bag of baguettes from the café next door. He was generally patient, but he sometimes griped about an unnamed coworker — a man with plenty of talent but an obnoxious demeanor.

She learned that he’s sharply intelligent and earnest. But he’s also kind and thoughtful, asking her questions about her life and the books she loves most and things she’s always wished she could talk about with another person.

It took her a while to admit to herself that she had feelings for him that went beyond simple friendship. Now, she’s still grappling with the knowledge, afraid of ruining what they have between them. But it also doesn’t help that her last relationship completely crashed and burned. Finding out that her boyfriend of two years had been cheating on her for one of them, with her former college roommate... Well, it didn’t exactly leave her feeling eager to jump into something new. Instead, she was hesitant and nervous, doubting her perceptiveness for the first time in her life. Because if she had been wrong about him, what if she was wrong about the next person who came along?

She hasn’t been on a date in over a year, despite the florist next door continually insisting on setting Olivia up with her investment banker son. She honestly didn’t think much about it until now. While the fear remains, stubbornly persistent, she knows that Nanami is different. And she knows him — trusts what she sees in him every time he visits. They’ve spent enough hours talking and learning about one another to nearly qualify as several dates. Just minus the actual “date” part...

It was only a week ago that they sat downstairs, each reading a different book, listening to the faint sounds of jazz on her father’s old record player. And she decided there and then that she needed to take a leap of faith. Even if the idea of doing so was terrifying.

• • •

“Morning.”

Nanami’s voice brings her back to the present, and she looks up, meeting his sleepy gaze. Seriously, it’s criminal, how good he looks right now, she silently grumbles. And it’s impossible not to notice that he has yet to attempt to extricate himself from beneath her — or even loosen his firm grip around her waist.

“Hi.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, until her anxious brain interrupts. He’s still waking up. You need to be the responsible one here, before you do something stupid.

With a small, awkward laugh, she gently pushes away from him, and he releases her. She climbs off the couch, until she’s sitting on the floor beside him. “I guess we were both pretty tired.”

She watches as he sits up. Runs a hand through his hair. Looks down at himself, blearily taking in his wrinkled shirt and comically-loose tie. “Seems like it.” He looks at her with concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I sound, I promise.” It’s the truth. Although her voice is still weak from all the coughing, her body has fewer aches and chills than it did when she woke up yesterday. And much to her private embarrassment, she’s fairly certain she slept better here, on the couch with him, than she has in weeks.

“Are you hungry?”

“Why? Are you going to pull some breakfast out of your magic grocery bag?”

He snorts. “I was going to offer to cook something.”

Oh no... Her heart couldn’t handle this. He came over when she was sick, brought her soup and a literal armful of supplies, spent the night in her apartment (even though that was an accident), and now he’s going to cook for her?

She’s done for.

But what she says is, “Sure. You’re welcome to use whatever’s in there.”

He nods and stands, pulling his tie off and tossing it over his jacket. His movements seem different as he continues to wake up — less precise, softer. When he rolls up his sleeves, revealing lean, muscular forearms, she feels faint.

Okay, now she’s done for.

He ends up using some of the ingredients she had purchased for her next solo cooking adventure. And, in what seems like an absurdly short amount of time, they’re sitting at the dining table, eating rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and freshly-sliced fruit. When he pours her a cup of green tea, she feels like her heart might burst. She never knew he was so domestic, and it has her in a flustered panic.

“You’re an amazing cook,” she says, to both show sincere appreciation and distract herself.

“Thank you.” He smiles, pleased by the compliment. “I find it enjoyable. But usually I’m just cooking for myself.”

“Even when I keep you out late on Fridays?” she teases.

“Most of the time. Sometimes I pick up food on my way home.”

Say it. Just say it. See what he says and go from there... Olivia’s mouth manages to form the words, but she struggles to look at him as she says, “Maybe next time... we can eat together? Go someplace? You can pick. I’m sure you know all the best places...”

She has very rarely seen Nanami look surprised, but here he is, eyes widened, looking as if he’s struggling to make sense of what exactly she’s trying to say. (It’s adorably apparent that he is not a morning person.)

Before she can talk herself out of it, she continues, “Like a... a date, maybe. Dinner. Together.”

Realistically, she knows the silence only lasts for a few brief moments. But it somehow feels like an eternity, during which her brain begins to backpedal, thinking, What if he doesn’t want that? What if it’s too soon? You do realize you’re asking him out in your pajamas, right? Speaking of which, when’s the last time you brushed your hair?

And then: “Yes.”

She must look as shocked as she feels, because he lets out a short huff of a laugh, and... is he blushing?

“It’s a date,” he reiterates. “But —” He points his chopsticks at her. “— that’s only if you rest. You’re still sick, even if you’re feeling a little better today.”

She’s positive that she would do anything he asked at this point, with her whole body seeming to vibrate at the word “date.” 

They finish breakfast, and when she offers to help with the dishes, Nanami gives her a pointed look, silently banishing her to the couch while he cleans up. Once he’s finished, he collects his tie and jacket and stands there, looking somewhat reluctant to leave.

“If there’s anything else you need, tell me. I don’t live far from here.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” she assures him. “I really appreciate it.”

True to his word, not much time passes before she receives a text from him.

She falls back onto the couch, eyes glued to that one little word on the screen — date — and wonders how she’s going to make it through the next six days.

[northelypark]

Tagged by @101flavoursofweird (thank you!!) Tagging @chyouxart and @dappledwrites 

Answers under the cut!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Eight. Mostly Lamplight Letters related stuff. I want to eventually branch out and write about other PL characters, but there’s so many ideas I still want to explore with Clive, Amelia, Gemma, and Bernard, so... expect mostly them for the indefinite future.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 

59,512

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Rayman, Professor Layton, and I once wrote a High School Musical/Kingdom Hearts crossover as a teen wherein I shipped Ryan Evans and Aerith and I wish I still had it so I could laugh at it. 

In the past, I’ve written mostly original stuff. It takes a really special fandom to hit that sweet spot of me being totally obsessed with it and feeling like there’s room to explore and expand on characters or ideas. 

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lamplight Letters (22) - My current big project. Amelia and Clive solve mysteries at a boarding school together.

 Awakening (7) - The first of an ongoing series that explores an AU where Clive is turned into a vampire and inadvertently finds himself out of prison and in a London very different than the ones he remembers. 

Queen of Spades and Spoons tied for third (6) - Both Climelia fluff/angst so this makes me happy they’ve gotten a few kudos

Traces of Glitter and Taxonomy tied for fourth (5) - Both Gemma stories. I need to write more happy fluff for her, she deserves it. 

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes, and I’m trying to be better about responding quickly, now that I’m more involved in the fandom again. I had about a two year hiatus where I was figuring a lot of stuff out and it took me months to respond to comments. I’m going to try to keep up with them better, as best I can, because I really do appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment on my stuff. I never expected anyone to enjoy fics involving my OCs or my niche pairing in an equally niche fandom, but it means a lot to me and always makes my day when I see a new comment. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Awakening. I don’t want to spoil it, just in case anyone reading this wants to check it out, but Clive has an all around bad time. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not yet 👀 Though I am forever amused by the hate Clive/Amelia received on a Layton confessions blog a few years back. As one of the only people making content for the ship I guess that can be construed as hate toward my fics lolol. I’m just flattered I managed to produce enough content of them for someone to get angry.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, but nothing I’ve published. Maybe someday, if I ever feel confident and comfortable enough. Just older Climelia things. But I’d rather explore the story of how they slowly reconnect as adults before I dive into anything spicy lol. I feel like that’s something I have to earn. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of?? I would be kind of flattered I guess, because of how niche my stuff is. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but definitely impressed by those who take the time to translate fics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No and probably never will. Writing is challenging enough without adding collaboration to the mix. The closest I’ve come is the back and forth head-canons and drabbles me and my gf @chyouxart send each other. 

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Clive/Amelia. Don’t ask me how an obscure rare-pair grew to be my OTP. It started out with loving both characters and also thinking they’d have good chemistry and things building from there. I liked the challenge of writing a backstory for them and having to create their relationship from scratch.

I’m a sucker for the dynamic of too very cold, very proud people slowly opening up and becoming warm and soft towards each other through rocky, slow-burn friendship. And rivalry banter that turns into flirting. And both having difficult pasts that have eroded their trust and slowly learning to mend it through the things they go through together. And of course the angst that comes with Clive’s eventual decisions and what might happen to their relationship after that. Climelia is my tailor-made ship. It also has big sentimental value, because it’s the ship that allowed me to safely explore a lot of things I didn’t fully realize about myself and further connect with my now gf @chyouxart so it means a lot to me. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Lamplight Letters T_T I guess I should amend this question to I hope I’ll be able to finish it. I’ve just been working on it for so long, and now that I’m re-writing a lot of it, it’s going to take even longer. It’s been a bit discouraging, but also I feel a lot better about the early chapters and it is satisfying to see how my writing has improved. I just hope to one day complete it and be able to turn my attention to other big projects, even if that day is still far off. 

What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m pretty good at writing descriptions, especially for locations? I’m also always pretty proud of my metaphors and similes, though I’m trying to learn to use them more sparingly.  I’m a lot more confident in my internal monologues now after writing so many for Amelia.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Not something I’ve attempted yet, and if I did, I’d want to make sure I did my research and would be able to portray other languages respectively and authentically. It can add a lot to a character if done well, if done poorly it just comes off as a gross caricature. 

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Rayman. I was obsessed with the original PS1 game and created an entire expanded universe for it.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Lamplight Letters will always be my baby. I love it. I hate it. I could spend the rest of my life working on it. I want to throw it into space. I wrote the first chapter on a bored whim and it quickly grew into the most ambitious writing project I’ve ever worked on. Definitely served as a writing boot camp for me and I feel like I’ve grown a lot through it, including meeting some amazing people in the fandom.