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sulfies · 24 days

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can you spill more abt that self insert of yours? 👁️👁️

Oh boy oh boy can I? (big yapping incoming) (typo and grammar massaccare of 2024)

He is a self insert OC Assassin from the Ottoman brotherhood (bc Im Turkish) and he is 23 (bc I am)

not a secret mentor or anything lol I was just joking in the first post making a mary sue.

I imagine he is similar or one above than whatever Yusuf’s rank is (I have yet to play Revelations :,p ) tho I do not know what time he should be in, Realistically if no time travel happened he would be in same time as Yusuf but I dont want Gilf Ezio (sorry) but if its Ezio, Alt and Desmon togather timeline probobly he is in around AC2 Brotherhood time. (maybe he came by Italy to do a mission and dropped by the hideout)

He is ethnically Balkan or/and Greek (bc I am) which probobly means he was taken to Constantinople as a teen or kid to eighter be sent to Jenniserrie training or the male-harem.

Small history lesson:

- Devşirme was the name of the practice where Ottoman empire basically enslaved young Greek,Balkan,Ukranian,etc etc boys and inserted them into an Elite military (Janniserries) even the Sultans themselves were scared of bc they were known to start coups and kill Sultans(they got a salary and are socially above the commonfolk but… military slaves non the less)

-Male-harems existed, again Balkan, Romanian, Slavic and greek etc people were often the main people in the harems (fun fact nearly no Sultan is Turkish due to this lmao they are all mixed), once again their status were above the common folk and they were well taken care of (the older males could even become gov officals after) but slavery non the less.

Idk if I want him to escape the harem or Jenniserrie for his edgy backgrund but maybe he did few years of training, cought the eye of the Sultan and escaped the moment someone was like “you have been promoted to an elite employeeee, u won harem lotterry” . Probobly wandered the streets a bit, got into hella fights till an Assassin picked him up escaping a group of soliders. Maybe it was an older dude who saw him when they were both in training

He is basically based off my own ethnicity and its context to the time and sociatal goings of that era lol (which was hella gay… very gay… too gay almost)

He probobly has some traditional slavic leg,hand and arm tattoos (bc I have em but also) mostly bc around those times (nearly always women) used to tattoo themselves in those motifs to remember their christian roots and their culture (that Ottoman tried to erease) and also to make themselves less appealing to Ottoman Harem/ Devşirme recuiters :,D

For his name, Maybe to be on the nose… Adem? (Turkish ver of Adam) so he is tied to the apples in a fun way? Or Poyraz (means a northern wind) since the meaning is similar to my own name?

He doesnt grow much facial hair (bc I am also stuck w a weak beard) but he refuses to get rid of it no matter how much others tease him bc he is like “I aint getting courted by random crazy men ew” (I dont irl also bc I desperetly believe it looks good…I refuse to open my eyes)

History lesson 2:

-facial hair was important in Ottoman times, It LİTTERALLY determined your gender and how you were approached.

-Socially and in Litriture Ottoman almost had 3 gender roles; Men, Boys (Oğlan) and Women. Once a man grew a beard he would “transition” from being a boy.

-Romantically having a beard versus not determined if you were to be courted or court. Bearded man were called “Lovers” while NON-bearded were called “Beloveds” (yes more often the boys were underage :/ for the sake of history lesson lets…. try to ignore that like ancient greeks)

there is many gay ass poems ^

He got all the mentall illness coctails that I got bc why not make it worse fr him. I imagine him sarcastic and catty, Claudia prob loves taking him to shop around bc he always got something to fckn say about everyone. Big gossipper. Hides the fact that he hates being as short as he is very well (im like… 165? 5’5-4?). If in Yusuf time, nearly BFFS (if im not inserting myself into the throuple (bc Its my self insert and I CAN BE AS CRINGY AS I WANT) he would end up w Yusuf)

Him about others:

Ezio: will never stop calling him de la la la,likes him a lot, loves pranking and teasing him. Enjoys fake flirting with him till he takes it so far Ezio has to throw in the towel. Probobly teached him how to Oil wrestle and Ezio was like “Are you sure this is a real sport…” and all he did was sigh and say “I am so glad it actually is” as he admired Oiled up Ezio

Altaïr: loves mocking whatever big words he uses all the time. calls him “Big boss” just to see his eye twitch with cringe. Knows he can get away with shit if he acts stupid enough. Altair knows he is not that stupid but is impressed(deragotory, fondly) how low he is willing to go.

Desmond: clearly his favorite (im biased sue me) obvious by how much softer he acts around Des. Ezİo falls he laughs, Des falls “My leige, hop on my back”. Is facinated by his piercings and begs him to help him get some. Desmond desperetly wishes he could invent some ADHD Meds for him. Des also finds him strangely comforting, can imagine himself back in 2010s almost…

————-

Idk im not rlly a self insert person so thinking about him was hard and I also dont wanna make my oc “the main character” in this au so I dont really wanna give him any secret powers or anything.

Maybe some edgy gnarly scars on his back from a past mission where he came in contact with an apple? Maybe when he touched the apple he was supplied that canonly he doesnt exist and he is just a fan created being and has a whole issue about it? I can imagine a sad scene of him crying like “You dont understand, You exist! even as some damn video game you do and people know you they cannot deny you exist. ME? all I am is some weirdos self writing, not even enough to be in canon. Does anything I do matter?” lololol

Thats all I got for him for now lol but feel free to ask more:p Im also open to ideas for him.

sorry for the yapping and history lesson… here is some more fun facts:

-Oğlancılık (male prostitution) was pretty respected they were seen like any other tradesperson in some parts

-a Paşa tried to ban under 30 males from being washers in Turkish Hamams due to them also being sex workers and litterally everyone was so mad he got replaced

-dancers in coffeehouses wore the same fit no matter the gender so boys and girls looked the same (once again they were also sex workers)

-one time a jewish boy caused such a big fight between janniserries the sultan had to threathen to kill 40 man from each side if they didnt stop

-Draculas are real people and RADU the beutyfull (his OFFİCİAL NAME) had a full on recorded relationship with Sultan Mehmet2 :p

- Gay shit was legalized in 1853 mostly bc they never rlly punished it….

for the girlies

-in harems the girls couldnt order things like cucumbers or carrots to their rooms w out it being cut up :p

#art #oc #sorry for the lenghty yapping #I wasnt lying when I said I have written pages upon pages on this lmoa #more than about my oc this became about the ottoman empire #once I Get to revelations I will be insufferable I fear #yusuf tazim #asks #ignore typos and bad grammar as always I beg

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cookie-crumblr · 1 month

Text

The Ghost of New Burrows

F!Reader x Masked Yandere OC

Part 5~

His Info📂☕️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: FEM READER, Reader has a vagina, reader smokes and drinks, unprotected sex, p in v, rough sex, breath play, pet names (good girl, ), public sex (kinda. in a separate room), Creampie, exhibition for a sec,

Note from Cookie: I was listening to this for this part,

06:38, The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

“Detective,” His feathery breath against your lips, and his hand wrapped dangerously tight around your throat.

Good Gods how did you get here…

“Detective,” Fiorentino gets your attention.

05:04, Outside The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

Even in the daytime, even without the rain, New Burrows is shrouded in hazel grey darkness from the smog that blurs the horizon, and blots out the sun.

Crime and seduction doesn’t wait for the night to happen here. It doesn’t have to.

He offers his arm to you, His suit jacket exposing his loosely worn watch, a dare to all to just try and steal it, see what happens.

“And where were you just now, Detective?” A soft smile adorns his lips, an unusual sight to you, since you’ve only ever known this man as evil.

You take the offered arm, “I don’t even know to be honest.” You cant recall what you were thinking about. Probably absinthe, and your next cigarettes and one night stand. You chuckle.

“I was going to accept your answer, but now you must tell me,” He leans down to reach just above your eye level.

Your face warms, “Get away, hah,” you playfully push him, you are his date tonight, and he’s not exactly making you uncomfortable.

This whole thing is just…

Weird.

But,

Maybe you’re not too good for the Underworld…

“alright,” he relents, “by the way, The dress looks amazing on you. Thank you for obliging an old man like me,” He takes his turn laughing.

He bought you probably the most expensive article of clothing you’ve ever seen. Of course you’d wear it. You didn’t want to look out of place, but with this dress you might look too expensive for even this event. Whatever it is.

oh well, better to look more, than less.

“I’d of been a fool not to, and i don’t even know how you got my measurements correct, it must have been some work,” You tell him.

“I’m good at more than a few things, Detective.” His head remains high on his broad shoulders as he escorts you inside.

05:49, The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

You were light headed as soon as you stepped foot inside the establishment. Never have you breathed air so fresh, even with most of the patrons smoking something in here.

They can afford to cycle fresh oxygen in a place this large!?

And is that… The sky?! You’ve never seen a blue so pure… The floor to ceiling windows all around you display the real sky! the sun, the white fluffy clouds you read about as a girl, the whole shebang.

He walks you over to them, hand on the small of your back, it’s truly breathtaking.

You remained constantly flabbergasted as the servers practically roll out the red carpet for this man. Attending to his every need, no matter how ridiculous it sounds to you.

A feathered cushion for you, whole bottles of expensive (and real) wines, crystal ashtray, you name it this man just made this place a second home. or third… “How many do you have?” you ask absently before thinking to stop yourself.

“How many what?” His smile is playful.

“Homes… do you have?” You make a somewhat shy gesture, for some reason you feel nervous around him.

“I only have one, but i do have a few offices” He takes a long drag of a real cigar.

You think of how unfair this world is, and all the innocent people you can’t even protect, living in poverty. You almost blurt something about it out before the lights dim.

Some people with masks eerily similar to The Ghost’s enter the stage, wheeling out something large under a thick cover.

“What’s—”

“Auctions” He answers simply. Smoke spills from his nostrils, like he’s a large, greedy dragon. You take note of his red jeweled rings, set in gold bands. One silver with an emblem that looks like it could have been a wax seal. You don’t recognize the symbols, but you try to memorize it to sketch later, and research.

Your attention is drawn back to the stage when they start to remove the thick black velvet cloth.

In a dramatic motion a cage is revealed, and inside…

Your eyes widen, as your heart pounds.

“What’s going on!?” You whisper loudly to Giovanni, “Why is there a person in a cage!?”

“You’re the detective,” suddenly his smile is much colder now.

You sip your wine, and look away, nerves becoming too much to bare. Your cloth napkin falls over and you notice something’s written on it.

It’s facing away from Fiorentino thankfully, so you take the advantage of his next distracted moment to subtly read it without moving it around too much.

“green door at 6” it’s written in a script that looks classy enough to be anyone here. They’re left handed, or at least ambidextrous, judging by a small smudge in the fabric.

“I have to use the restroom…” It’s already 05:58 now, if you want to find that door you need to, now.

His huge, thick hand pulls you back down, landing you in his lap. “Do you now?”

“Yesss, sir,” You squirm and give your best pout trying to endear yourself and really sell it. “I reaally have to go!”

He relents, but, “The bathroom is that way, Degective. Don’t go wandering now.”

Damn.

“Thank you!” You try and sound relieved and think it works. He’s back to his cigars, and auctions.

Thankfully, you spot the green door, it’s right next to the bathrooms!

You look at your watch, 06:12.

He’s in a mask, but his mouth is exposed.

It’s him.

Your ghost.

You almost want to… Hug him?

“You were supposed to be here at 6” His lips move hypnotically.

You don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but you are undoubtedly drawn into him.

Your mouths almost collide, when you feel that familiar slender hand in your hair, yanking you back. He closes in around you with his body, bringing his mouth to your now exposed throat.

“Y/N, you think you can cheat on your date with me?” He tuts, grazing his teeth against your exposed skin.

“I… Can’t stop thinking about you…” You admit.

“What a good girl, admitting that to me,” His voice takes on a cutesy kinda lilt.

“Please…” Your body is burning, had you been expecting it to be him in here waiting for you?

You certainly hoped so.

You don’t even think about the human on stage right now, you can’t fathom it. Not right now.

In the city you tried so hard to protect… What horrendous things happen just behind the hideous guises of pretty faces and classy dresses. They’re animals.

You’re a star, he makes you burn like one, he orbits you like another. Right now the rest of the people outside are just the debris of planets, and moons, and asteroids revolving around you both.

Their gravity isn’t oppressive while you’re a binary star with him.

His hand wraps so tightly around your throat, that you see spots immediately, and your gasp is cut short before he loosens, and tightens again.

his mouth trails bites down your front, he’s moving the slit of your V neck dress off your shoulders and exposing you. Teeth graze your rib cage and you’re already drawing blood from your bottom lip. Eyes squeezed shut tight, as if you’re shy, and head turned to face away.

How does he make you feel like this?

You can’t even bring yourself to ask him any of the questions on your mind. Some detective you are, and right now you don’t even have a smidgen of remorse for it.

“Detective,” His feathery breath against your lips, and his hand wrapped dangerously tight around your throat. “I want you here with me right now.” He growls. “You’re always somewhere far away. Stay with me.” His hand tightens, and your mouth hangs agape for air you cannot get.

His lips take yours, tongue dancing with yours, making you so dizzy, you’d fall if he wasn’t holding you up with his knee between your legs.

Traveling down now, his fingers find the slit in your dress and tickle you on their way to your sex. They press down on you over your panties, rubbing hard between your already wet slit.

“You weren’t this wet last time,” He smiles into your kiss. Suddenly he picks you up and your dress is hiked around your waist, you’re on top of his erection and you grind down letting out pleasured moans, not even caring how loud you are.

The ghost chokes you again, this time as he bucks up into your core, a squeak is all that comes out of you, and he lets out an airy chuckle, at how cute that was.

“Last time…” You say, as he’s moving your panties out of the way and rubbing his thick head against you, prepping you for his entrance.

His breath chills your bones as he steals yours, staring into your eyes, his amber spheres through the mask hold you as if wrapping around you and squeezing like his hand on your throat, his eyes constrict something in you as well. You can’t help but keep staring back, as he slides up into you, and sighs into your open mouth, giving you the only air you can get. it tastes like him.

Dangerous, and intoxicating.

You wish this moment could last forever, have you ever felt this good? while the world around you crumbles, you’ve found something at least with this man.

He pulls out fast and thrusts up faster, you bounce onto him. He is leaning against the wall for more leverage as he fucks up into you with an increasing pace.

Before you know it you’re coming onto his cock, and he immediately slows down to an almost painful pace, picking you up and sliding you back down.

“How’s my good girl feelin’?”

“‘m not yours” You mumble as your head lols backwards, and sways to his rhythm.

He lets out an airy chuckle that has you clamping around him.

“If you stay this tight I won’t be able to move”

You clench just to spite him.

He smacks your hip hard.

In a split second he’s moving again, spearing you so deeply, you want to cry. His hot tip kisses your cervix with every upward thrust, and without even realizing it fully you’re coming again.

The way your spongey walls contract and pulse around him has him groaning into your ear now.

“‘Wanna stay inside you forever,”

“Then do…” You just say it, “please take me there… The Island” You gasp and moan but get the words out the same, and he slows down again this time seeming to contemplate.

“you mean it.” He seems to tell himself that.

His thrusts get jagged and swift, pelting your guts in just the way you always wanted, he has you screaming now.

“Gabriel.” He grunts.

“What?”

“My name. Say it.” his voice is a gruff snarl. Your brows peak with pleasure and your toes curl so hard you may cramp. “Say it.”

“Gabriel! Gabriel!! Gabriel!!! Fffuck!!!” You scream to the Mesosphere. The sunlight outside, not filtered through smog, the blue sky through the windows as you came in.

He comes loads into you, hot, thick ropes of his seamen paint your walls a beautiful new shade.

He’s still pummeling you, with splashes of your mixed juices hitting the floor, when that green door opens, and it’s your date standing in the way, napkin in hand, and eyes ablaze.

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

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𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 2 - Not Yet Corpses, But Still We Rot

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Maria felt comfortable to be around. At least, she felt more comfortable to be around than anyone else you had encountered so far. You wondered if she was the only woman in this entire place as you had only seen man after man after man. You found yourself seated across from her in a small room near the front gates.

It was chilly, but it paled in comparison to the hours you spent locked in the shed. The small bowl of soup and Tommy’s jacket that still engulfed you certainly helped you hold onto some warmth. You had tried to give his jacket back, but he insisted you keep it until they could get you one of your own. You can hear him pacing out in the hallway.

He was kind, but he was still unsure of leaving you with Maria alone. She catches your attention by calling your name – the fake one you had given when you were still too afraid to be honest about such a personal detail. And now you were too afraid to correct your lie, so you answer to your alias, although a bit too slowly still. You would need to work on that.

“I’m not going to ask what you’ve been through,” she started with a level tone and gaze. She leaned back in her chair and adjusted her legs to accommodate her belly. She studied you with a placid expression, taking time to carefully choose her words. “I don’t need to ask what you’ve been through because it’s clear that, whatever it was, was a lot.”

You make no measure to agree or disagree. You were still weighing your current predicament. You had refused medical attention upon entrance, and you tried to ignore the way Maria’s eyes zipped every now and

then to the injuries on your face and neck. After a few moments of silence, you decided you’re already in this deep and might as well return what kindness you could to these people.

You tell Maria there are no more in your group other than the party that had left this morning. You give her a rundown of Sam’s movements over the past 6 months. It’s to the best of your knowledge, but it’s limited information considering you were purposefully kept in the dark most of the time. “And, are there . . others, like you?” she carefully probed. You shake your head and focus on a dent in the tabletop. “No. They’re all gone now.” The memories of Mae, Sam’s sometimes secondary pet and sometimes group consolation prize, flooded your mind. You wished she could’ve held on a little longer. She could’ve been here with you right now. Instead you were alone, arguably safer, but that didn’t guarantee the safety would last. If your past experiences taught you anything, it was that things can get very bad, very quickly and with little to no warning. It was never wise to trust things would stay okay just because they happened to be at the moment.

“You know, your group was sizing up our settlement earlier today. Made the mistake of assuming we don’t have outposts and watchtowers to catch that sort of thing,” she revealed. Your eyes widened as they met hers.

“How do you know it was my group?” you challenged in a weak voice. Of course you had wondered what Sam had done when they made it back to the cabin and discovered you were missing. If it was truly Sam and his men that had been spotted by Maria’s people, you wondered who out of anyone had made it back to the cabin at all.

“All it takes is one rider to be lazy with their tracks. Makes short work of following their entire trek. That’s how we were able to locate that cabin out in the middle of nowhere. How we found you.” Maria explained this all in such a velvety way that you wanted it to make sense, but you were struggling to piece together all the new bits of information she was feeding you.

“Are they … are they here? Did you bring them back here?” you questioned, the last few words inching up an octave with fear.

“What do you mean? After the ambush? Did we bring any of their party back to Jackson? As prisoners?” she amended. You nod your head with a stiff jerk as you feel the sick creep of panic slip into your bones. There weren’t enough metal bars and locks in the world to confine Sam in a way that could make you feel safe, not if he was still alive. You would never be safe from him.

“Pointless to keep dead men as prisoners, don’t you think?” she posed with a weary smile.

“Dead?” you repeated. The word sounded hollow and unreal. “They’re dead?”

“Would’ve been a lot harder to pick them off if they hadn’t so quickly gone into ‘every man for himself’ mode,” she mused. “Caught them by surprise from the left flank, and they didn’t stand a chance with our vantage points and manpower.”

You cough in a choke, unable to lodge the thick lump in your throat. Maria pushes some water across the table to you, and you numbly take a few sips before looking at her again.

“How do you know it was them? How do you know they’re really dead? How do you know somebody didn’t get away?” The questions spilled from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t want Maria to be offended, getting the impression that you didn’t find her or her group up for the task of handling Sam and his men. They seemed very organized and established, but you knew what Sam was capable of.

“Like I said, we have our own patrol and watch groups to stop this sort of thing before it can even start. Each body matched with the headcount our first watch post clocked, about an hour before we ambushed them on the mountainside,” she clarified.

“You got Sam?” you pressed. Your lips were tingling and joining with the static haze in your ears.

“I’m not sure which one was Sam, but, yes, he’s dead. They’re all dead,” she confirmed.

Your mind was racing trying to remember what he was wearing this morning. “He had– There was a-a green jacket. Yes, gr-green. And, and his pocket! His pock-pocket has a m-missing button?” you said in a frenzy.

Maria sat for a moment, absorbing your uncharacteristically animated reaction. “Can’t say I was looking for any missing buttons on green jackets.”

Of course not. It was ridiculous to even consider she would’ve been focused on such a trivial thing while clearing an entire group of armed men.

“Can you take me to them? Can I see them? Can I see if it’s really him?” you begged. You had to see for yourself that Sam was gone. You had to know he couldn’t get you anymore. You needed to see the body. His body. Lifeless. You needed to see he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“Look, I understand if you maybe had some sort of… ‘attachment’ to some of these guys, but–” Maria started gently.

Your incredulous bark of a laugh hit the air so abruptly that Maria’s eyebrows rose straight to her hairline. “Attachment?” you echoed with revulsion. “No. They are going to come back for me. You, you don’t understand! Sam is not going to-to just let me go. He’s not going to just let s-someone else have me.”

You shook your head with a humorless laugh as you hugged yourself tightly. Your heartbeat was thrashing against your ribcage like a hummingbird was trapped in your chest.

“Stay here,” Maria ordered calmly as she stood and exited the room. You were preoccupied with the gripping possibility that Sam was still alive and was certain to come after you. He wouldn’t stop until you were his again. He would blame you for the deaths of the crew. You just knew it would be your fault, somehow.

You try to stop the shaking of your hands, but it only travels up your arms and rocked your chest as it made its way through the rest of your body.

Your teeth were chattering with fear when Maria, Tommy, and another man you recognized from the patrol group entered the room.

“This is Jason. He was head of the watch group that first spotted your old group. He said he saw a few green jackets out there today, and he is willing to describe the men to the best of his memory,” Maria explained.

Jason gave a quick nod in greeting and began recalling the first sighting. “First green jacket was on the guy we think was head of the group. Calling out orders and seemed to be making the decisions.”

You listened with rapt attention, desperate for any undeniable identifiers. Jason gave a physical description of the man that was eerily accurate to that of Sam, but you couldn’t let yourself believe it was really him, that he was really dead.

“He was easiest to remember ‘cause he was the leader, we think. That and he had a brown and white spotted horse. Rest of ‘em were all solid color or looked that way.” Your stomach bottomed out. Of course. Sam never let anyone else ride his horse, and you were all too familiar with the pattern of their coat.

“Oh my god,” you whisper hoarsely. Your eyes felt hot and wet, and you scrunched them shut.

“If that’s Sam, I’m the one that took him out. Wanted to clear leadership first. I’m sorry if you were, uh, close to him,” Tommy confessed. He had no way of knowing he was offering up condolences for killing the man who had kept you prisoner and subjected you to absolute torment for the past two years.

“You? You killed him?” you repeated, locking onto Tommy’s eyes with fierce concentration. You didn’t feel lightheaded, but your body was rocking back and forth in a small circuit. It felt like electricity was shooting through your veins.

“I did, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

The surge of relief exploded out of you in a loud sob and propelled you into Tommy. Your legs gave out, and you grabbed haphazardly at his lower legs and boots as you tried to remember how to embrace someone.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” you chanted in a strangled sob against his laces.

Tommy was rigid under your touch, unsure if he should react or return your gesture. Jason cleared his throat at the uncomfortable shift in the room, but Maria’s hand found its way to your back with a gentle pat.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam or anybody else. Not while you’re here,” she said firmly.

She and Tommy both helped you to your feet, and all you could do was mutter apologies for your outburst and try to pace your breaths. You shoved your hands at your face to wipe away the tears and winced when you hit a particularly tender area you had already forgotten about.

“Let’s get you to the clinic before I take you to meet your new roommate,” Maria encouraged.

You sniffled and shot her a confused look. “My what?”

Susan seemed pleasant enough, considering you had shown up to her doorstep at nearly 9 o’clock at night, looking like fresh hell and as skittish as a cat with a long tail under a rocking chair. She seemed thrilled to have your company for some reason, but you could’ve just been reading the situation wrong. It had been a long time since you had been around other people like this.

Susan was probably in her early 70s if you had to guess, although the state of the world tended to make everyone look older than their age. You were surprised when she shared that she had lost a daughter that would be around your age.

She had been a single mother and lived only a few hours from the settlement, which she identified as the only reason she had made it here alive in the first place after she and her daughter fled their QZ. As for how she survived and her daughter didn’t, Susan only offered a sad smile and a “wrong place, wrong time.” You didn’t press her for any further detail, and she was kind enough to not ask you a single thing about yourself.

“Susan lives alone but has been looking for a housemate for quite some time now. So long as the right candidate came along,” Maria explained. “It’s harder for her to get out some days when the snow picks up, so having a young set of helping hands will be appreciated, no doubt.”

Susan nodded in agreement, and her eyes sparkled with excitement when she caught your gaze.

“Don’t worry, though, about getting to work just yet. We’ll give you plenty of time to rest and settle. I’ll see to that.”

Susan spoke with such unyielding affection that it was hard to feel hesitant about anything. You nervously fidget with the cup of tea she made you. “Sleepy time tea” as she called it. All of this unsolicited goodwill still had you on edge if you stopped to think about it for more than 3 seconds.

“Tommy and I are just a few doors down. His brother and niece are right next door, too,” Maria informed you as she stood slowly and stretched her lower back against her hands. “There’s not much going on at this end, so you’ll be away from the busier parts of town. I know it will be a big adjustment.”

“You want some fruit leather for the walk home, dear?” Susan offered.

“That sounds great, Susan,” Maria replied. Susan shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving you and Maria alone once more. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re in good hands with Susan,” Maria uttered in a low tone so your new roommate couldn’t hear. “It’d be nice if you were able to find a way to let her indulge in some of those mother instincts. She lost her daughter, and she’ll be the first to tell you that she’s been sort of … ‘lost at sea’ ever since. Losing a child doesn’t mean you’re not a mother anymore. You’re always going to be a mother.” Something sad flashed for just a moment across her face when she spoke.

You nodded in understanding. The idea that you could fulfill someone’s emotional needs was just another outlandish concept that had turned out to be true today.

Susan sauntered back into the dining room with a small brown bag for Maria, and she placed a few pieces of dark burgundy squares on your saucer. You looked up to find her giving you a small wink and a quick squeeze on your shoulder. You must have been completely flummoxed by the day’s events because you didn’t even flinch at her touch.

“I’ll be by in the morning to check on you. Head to ours if you need anything overnight,” Maria instructed. Susan saw her out and then focused her attention squarely on you.

“Eat up, Lovebug. You’ve got a ways to go before I say you’re fit for duty,” she chuckled warmly, rubbing a swift path between your shoulder blades before clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. You were grateful for the first moment of real solitude since you had been discovered in the shed earlier today. The strange hum of electricity filled your ears, punctuated by the crackle and hiss of the fire in the living room. The cascade of water from the kitchen faucet was a white noise, just like the whip of the wind outside.

You nibble at the square of fruit leather Susan had left you, and it took all your remaining fortitude to not burst into tears at the heavenly sweet flavor of strawberries and apples.

Maria was right. This was going to be a lot for you to comprehend.

You tossed and turned for most of the night. The warm shower Susan got running for you had been an intense experience. The feeling of hot, soothing water running over your sore, damaged body was a foreign sensation, and your body didn’t know how to respond to such a pleasant thing. You lied and told Susan yes when she asked if the shower had calmed your nerves any.

The soft, warm clothes Maria found for you were a little baggy, but beggars can’t be choosers. You squirmed at the sensation of fuzzy, cozy fabric against your clean, soft skin. You felt like a different person, but your mind wandered back to your reflection from earlier.

The shower was heating up while you disrobed, and you caught sight of yourself in the vanity. You didn’t come across mirrors very often, and you tended to avoid them whenever you did. The frail, battered woman looking back at you in the crystal clear vanity mirror was unrecognizable. Was that you? Surely not. Why were your eyes so blank and flat? Was the mirror dirty? Were you so exhausted your eyes were playing tricks on you? Was it a trick of the lightning? But it was you. You’d recognize that heaping mess of curls anywhere, twirling and twisting every which way over your shoulders. It looked like a dark cloud around your head. Your fingertips grazed the muddled blues and greens across your cheek, a complimentary palette to the hues on your neck, chest, shoulder, wrists, backside, legs … You shut your eyes and turned away from the mirror.

You rushed through your shower, and Susan had somehow set up the spare bedroom in the time it took for you to get a shower and get dressed. She made no effort to hide her enthusiasm for tending to you, and after an hour or so of it you had gotten a little more comfortable with it. After all, you were doing this for Susan’s benefit, just like Maria had asked. Who were you to begrudge this hospitable, gracious woman, who hadn’t blinked twice at the notion of you living with her? She didn’t even know you. None of them did. Why were they so trusting? You knew you weren’t exactly in peak physical condition, but you were still much younger and wilier than Susan. You could overpower her if you really wanted to.

When she kept calling you “Lovebug” or “Bug” for short, you tried your best to hide the curious confusion at the nickname. Susan seemed to notice because she asked, “Do you mind me calling you that? Sorry. I have such a terrible habit with little nicknames. I can stop if it’s bothering you.” She was earnest, and you appreciated her willingness to address you by your own choice of name. “I don’t mind it at all, Susan. It’s really nice,” you promised, only partially embellishing the truth.

You had given them all a fake name, so neither one was even your actual one anyway. Maybe in the coming days you could work up the courage to introduce yourself properly. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to think you were a liar. If you weren’t trustworthy, you’d probably no longer be welcomed here, and you had nowhere else to go.

The twin size mattress in your room hugged every rigid curve and poke of your body. So much open, uncramped space was unsettling. You stretched your legs out, but it felt too strange, so you curled them back up into your chest. You silently counted the number of stars you could see from your window.

You jerk awake, and realize in a groggy haze that you must’ve fallen asleep after all. The stars you’d been counting had faded into the pale morning sky. You still and listen for any movement. Your new living arrangement slowly came back to your memory. You didn’t hear Susan. You didn’t hear anything at all. The silence was deafening and claustrophobic. There wasn’t a warning from your body before your breath began quickening in the quietude of your room. Your room. Another distressing pleasantry to add to the pile, right on top of hushed, peaceful house. The warmth of the quilt and your new clothes suddenly felt stifling. You shimmied Tommy’s jacket off you, but the oppressive heat only grew.

Locks of your unruly, kinked hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on your brow. You licked your lips, faintly aware of the chapped but not as dry as usual feel to them. You scanned the room for the glass of water Susan had left you last night. It sat empty on the nightstand. You must have drank it sometime during the night, forgetting about it just as you had forgotten drifting off entirely. A shaky leg hit the carpet followed by a firmer second leg. You tried to get your bearings through rapid, shaky inhales. The combination of plush fabric and cushy carpet on your feet was too much all at once, so you ripped your socks off.

Your new, light blue t-shirt hung loosely around your frame, but it didn’t offer reprieve from the creeping blaze spreading through your body. You gather your pants tighter, tying the drawstring in a snug knot, before prowling into the hallway and down the stairs. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you. A suffocating sensation grips your throat.

You fumble with the lock on the front door before wrenching it open and stumbling onto the porch. The icy wind that stung your face felt like a mollifying fog surrounding you, but your breaths are still coming in jolts and tremors. You clamor for the open area past the porch steps. The freezing bite of freshly fallen snow riddled your bare feet like glacial needles, and it instantly brought steadied breathing. The whip of a wintry, harsh wind collided into your body, wrapping you in a grounding clutch.

The crushing feeling of impending doom was subsiding, and you had enough of your senses to notice the dry, itchy thirst in your mouth and throat.

You surveyed your surroundings, an entirely new environment with the slow sunrise leaking faint light across everything. A large snowdrift against the side of the house caught your eye, and you trudged to it with devout focus. You were starting to lose feeling in your feet, but you managed to drop close enough to the pile of fresh snow to reach out and cram a handful of it into your desperate mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed at the quenching drip of ice across your tongue. You didn’t care that you were on your hands and knees in the snow – an oversized pair of flannel pajama pants that were getting more saturated by the second, a short sleeved cotton t-shirt, no shoes, no socks, no jacket.

You actually feel invigorated being able to flee the overstimulating house and sate your own needs. The corners of your lips turn up from all the excitement, and you hastily shovel more handfuls of snow into your mouth. You hum with satisfaction at the tranquility settling over you. The trees in your line of sight swayed gently with the gusts of cold air that make you feel present for once. For the first time, you lucidly contemplate your new situation. You’re not confined to the house anymore because you simply got up and left. You aren’t a prisoner to anyone or any place.

You push yourself back onto your knees, the tops of your feet planted firmly onto the ground on either side of your thighs. Your eyes flutter close one more, just briefly for the moment of peace that found you.

“Uhhh, you alright?”

You whip your head around to locate the voice. A teenage girl, no more than 15 or 16 at most, is eyeing you curiously from the neighboring house’s porch.

“You fall or something?” she called out, grinning despite herself at the strange scene she’d stumbled upon so early in the morning. Her face fell when you scrambled to stand and face her direction straight on, revealing your battered face and numerous bruises. Your hands ball into fists reflexively. This was the first person you had run into alone.

“Hey, whoa. You okay?” the girl asked in earnest. She kept her eyes trained on you as she took a few steps back, heading towards her front steps to make her way to you. It’s then that you see the large silhouette of a man coming from their front door. Your entire body goes rigid. Your feet feel like they’re cast in concrete, anchoring you in your spot. You can feel the tremble moving through your legs and up your body.

“Everythin’ alright over there?” His deep, booming voice sounds like thunder after hearing the small girl’s.

Your stone hold breaks with a frightened jerk at his question. He reached the banister at the edge of the porch, and the massive entirety of him seems to be looming over it to get a better view of you. His large, hulking frame wasn’t just a trick of the eye from your ground level view. He really was that broad and imposing.

Your gaze burns into him as his eyes travel to your arms, neck, wrists, cheek … You realize you must look incredibly unwell and probably in need of help. Your stomach clamps at the thought. If you were in a bad enough situation that you needed help, that only ever meant someone was waiting in the wings to take advantage of you.

Your lip quivered uncontrollably, and your teeth chattered now from fright more than frost.

“You from Canada or somethin’?” the girl playfully bids in a self-soothing tease. She’s clearly trying to downplay her bewilderment and tension at this injured, mute woman before her - outside, disheveled, and underdressed.

You hadn’t noticed the girl had already bounded down the steps and made her way right next to you. Your eyes dart between her and the man, who remained in his same place on the porch. You manage a shaky step backwards and raise your hands in front of you, palms out and waist high, in a motion of retreat.

Your brain is in overdrive. How quickly can you move before the man is able to close the gap between you? It’s stupid to even entertain the thought you could escape him. There was no doubt he could outpace you many times over. Your labored breathing is accented with errant, nervous whimpers, and you know it only serves to make you look like weaker prey.

The man on the porch gripped the railing under his incredibly large hands as he watched you closely, taking in your wary and terrified disposition. He could see the primitive terror in your eyes and face.

“Give her space, Ellie,” he commanded sternly to the girl. You jump again at the sound of his deep voice. He has an unfriendly face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something more gentle there. Not gentle enough for you to let your guard down, however.

“So, you got a name or . . .?” Ellie pressed, fascinated with her new wild woman neighbor.

Your cognition was on the fritz. You offered your name -your real name, not the made up one you had been giving. Your eyes felt like they were going to snap out of your head from zipping between Ellie and the man on the porch so fast.

Ellie didn’t seem put off by you whatsoever as she introduced herself.

“I’m Joel,” the broad, intimidating man informed you as he raised one of his hands from the railing to send a single, jerky wave. You recoiled at the small movement despite the fact that he was several feet away from you. His hand returned to the railing within seconds of your jumpy reaction. You had to stall for a moment, just long enough to buy yourself enough time to build up the courage to make a break for it. “Huh-Hi. Ellie. An-And Joel,” you grunted so quietly it’s a wonder how either of them heard you at all.

The sound of your name - the fake one you had given Tommy, Maria, and Susan - turned everyone’s heads to your front porch where Susan stood, looking very concerned.

“Oh dear, my little Lovebug, come inside!” she beckoned, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders tighter as she made to come into the yard to gather you.

“I-I’m coming, Susan. S-Sorry,” you croak. Your throat is back to feeling dry and scratchy again. Your steps are heavy and wobbly, but you cower away from Ellie who had kindly tried to steady you. “Jesus, sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what she did to make you so nervous. You walked faster now towards Susan, just in case Ellie - or worse, Joel - decided to try to help you walk.

“I’wa - Jus thought’a - Thought I heard s-something. Came ta’see the n-noise,” you lied through chattering teeth, making the short trip to meet Susan on your front steps.

“Bug, you’re safe here. It’s alright. You don’t have to go looking for noises. It’s not that kind of place,” she reassured you, rubbing a hand against your shoulder.

You felt safer next to Susan even though she was even less capable of defending herself or you from Ellie and Joel if she had to. You fidget nervously with your shirt and wish your feet weren’t numb from the cold so the freezing sensation could still be a distraction to you.

“Besides, if there’s any noise, sweet Joel here will come to our rescue. He and his sweet little daughter Ellie. Tommy is Joel’s brother, you know,” she added as extra encouragement, sensing your tense mood.

It was clear Susan was fond of both Miller brothers as well as Ellie. You glanced over to Joel to find him still studying you. His searching gaze made you uncomfortable, so you dropped it and looked the other way.

“Yeah, I th-think Maria had, uh, h-had said that,” you mumbled.

“Oh my word, you are out here with hardly a thing on! You don’t even have any shoes on! Bug, come inside this instant!” Susan scolded with no real malice behind her words. She ushered you up the steps with a wide arm.

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie called out in what sounded almost like a question.

You peeked back over to her and then to Joel, who nodded once in acknowledgement that he shared the sentiment. You snapped your head forward and headed inside with Susan.

Thank you everyone who read ch1 and have come back for this next one. It means a lot, and it really does make me happy that people seem to have a connection with it.

A quote I think fits really well with this chapter is from Sylvia Plath: "Is there no way out of the mind?"

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: feral woman #fw #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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kimberlyannharts · 5 months

Note

actually I would love a rant about how JJ sucks as a character

Merry early Christmas to you then, Anon!

Like I think what makes everyone clutching their pearls over the sanctity of JJ’s character and place in the canon so ridiculous is he is barely a character in the first place. He is a plot device in SotD, a narrative goal for Tommy, as the story wasn’t about JJ developing into someone worthy of the Dragon Shield or even an SPD cadet - he's already done all of that. The story was about Tommy realizing he should retire and hand over his stuff already. And you have a son who’s pretty good at being a ranger, so……….he should take it! Great! That’s it. I genuinely don't know why they didn't do some kind of Goofy Movie-esque father/son journey together, especially if you really wanted to discuss this idea of him feeling like he's in his dad's shadow. His existence in the show amounts to namedrops and one voiceover line in the Ninja Steel special, and the only bits of characterization these amount to are he’s a kid who goes to karate camp. To me it comes off like people are attached more to JJ’s POTENTIAL as a character rather than HIMSELF as a character, in like a “well, maybe one day they’ll give him his own book/show/whatever” sort of way, which….it’s been five years since SotD. Hasbro is gearing up to do a reboot and even then, as we’ve talked about many times, they don’t want to put focus on cop characters. Unless some stuff is getting retconned, I am not holding my breath.

The reason I call Minh the superior legacy character by comparison is because there actually was time and space dedicated to showing how she stands out as a person and a character beyond her being Trini’s daughter; in fact, her being Trini’s daughter is the least interesting part about her (in no small part because Trini herself was handled very badly by that special.) What makes her interesting is her personality, her relationship with Zack, how she’s suddenly thrown into the deep end of the PR world by way of great tragedy, and her arc from a vengeful kid to a true hero (the special’s shaky writing of this arc notwithstanding. But at least I get what they were TRYING to do here.) JJ did not have anything CLOSE to that.

Something else about him that’s funny but also frustrating because it’s obviously not intended by the writers, but still happens WAY too often for my liking, is how his existence is honestly a detriment to a lot of women in this franchise kjkfdj he was the catalyst for the old SPD ranking drama, as him being green meant Syd and Z had to stay as pink and yellow (and no, them throwing in some random female OC no one remembers as blue does not make up for it.) And then….Kat……well…..I think this belongs in a discussion that covers more than just JJ, as in a way how they handled Trini in OaA is a very similar situation, but the fact of the matter is that since JJ’s inclusion in the canon Kat’s existence has boiled down to being his mother rather than a veteran ranger with her own life and work, no matter how many times the show and books TRY to be like “No look! See! She’s a super cool badass wife who keeps everyone in line! She’s off doing her own things, too, we swear!” my brother in Christ the same 30th anniversary story that tries to show off how cool and independent she is ALSO has a scene where she’s like “it’s okay honey, you take care of the Ranger missions while I stay home with JJ, it’s fine :)” They’ve made it very clear that JJ is Tommy’s son, Tommy’s legacy, while Kat is his stay-at-home caretaker, WHICH IS FINE FOR A WOMAN TO BE, but not in this narrative, where Kat’s time as a ranger is treated as irrelevant compared to Tommy’s. (A good example is how, in SotD, only Tommy was listed as JJ's emergency contact, with no mention of Kat. I'm almost certain there was an early draft of this book where Tommy did not have a wife.) How do we have two (2) comic stories where we have married TomKat but Kat doesn’t morph. And not as a plot point or character bit or something (I think it actually would be very interesting if Kat not having much attachment to her time as a Ranger was actually intentional) but just in a “we don’t feel like involving Kat in her husband’s adventures” situation. Hello???????? I know that kind of feels off-topic to why JJ sucks but trust me, it’s partly his fault. And it’s why I’m making such a big deal over the potential mother/daughter Ranger teamup for Kim and Olivia, because the alternate mother of Tommy's alternate kid has gotten such a raw deal.

And the SPD/Dragon Shield combo is ugly.

#transmission #anonymous

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endereies · 1 month

Text

Fuck it - Matt Sturniolo - Part 6

Spotify playlist:

Summary: Fem!oc x Matt Sturniolo

Growing up with parents who make her feel isolated, what happens when she meets Matt. A person who introduces her to new people, new experiences and new feelings.

Authors notes:

I'm finally finished with school for the break so I should be updating a little quicker over the next 2 weeks.

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3265

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Is this something we are meant to do?” “Fuck it.”

“Okay, so, we submit this on Monday and we still have four scenes to analyse and then two exam questions to go through.” Matt mumbles as he places his back down next to me in the library and unsheathes a load of sheets, more are crumpled than ones that aren’t. The amount of them excelling the more meetings we had after school.

“We can get that done in a weekend, right?” My voice tainted with uncertainty. I had got to the library fifteen minutes before him so all my work was already displayed out in front of me with scribbles of different coloured pen one each of them.

“right.”

We were a little bit behind in our project since the majority of our meetups end in us just talking about random things or playing music with our home equipment. I would borrow Chris’s old guitars which was covered in a metallic red with black strings. The picks he bought matched perfectly dividing the red and black shades with lines of silver. Matt’s drumkit was similar to the school’s own designs yet on the base drum was the name ‘sturniolo’ in a faded midnight blue. Each drum fastened with the same blue wrapped around them. He had custom drum sticks too, fading from the original beige wood to a dyed neon-blue. The vibrancy capturing my attention every time, I bet he knew that to with the amount he’d smirk at me when he noticed me staring.

It's why we planned on staying in the library to finish the project, hopefully none of us get distracted. That’s if Matt stopped tapping his pen on the table.

“Matt.” My tone is stern as I frown still facing the pages of my book. He was too distracted in his ‘mini-concert’ that I grabbed his wrist firmly, which made his pen fall out his hand and onto the wooden desk below him.

He stammers a little as I glare at him and raise an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck did I do?”

“If you keep tapping that fucking pen on the desk, I will snap it in half.” I hold eye contact until I’m finished speaking and I let go of his wrist, watching his circulation fade back.

“And yet, you can do it all the time.” He smirks at me again and I retort by scoffing.

“When I’m in class and have nothing to do…you haven’t written anything for 10 minutes.”

“Normally by now we are playing music at our houses, this is a long ass day and this is only making it longer.” A sigh escapes my lips and I drop my pen, lean back for a moment and fold my arms loosely across my chest.

“Okay. If you work with me until six, I’ll buy you lunch all of next week.”

“Ain’t no way, you aren’t serious.”

“And you can get whatever you wish, no matter the cost, doesn’t even have to the food on campus.” I interject him by cutting him off and leaning closer over the table.

“Fine. Deal.” He holds out his hand in front of me and I look up at him with a blank expression.

“What are we, in 6th grade? I’m not shaking your hand.” I roll my eyes to him to just pick up my pen and start writing again.

“Damn, you’re no fun.”

“No…I just happened to hit puberty.” I click my tongue inside my mouth

I feel his glare on me before he continues to work on the papers in front of him. I take out my small white case and take out one of my headphones and pick up my phone to play some music in to them. I don’t bother checking what playlist I click on and immediately blast heavy dubstep into my ears, loud enough to make Matt pay attention to me again and giggle when I jump from the volume. I spam the volume control and turn it down rapidly until I can tolerate it. Matt immediately looks away from me, trying not to laugh when I hold my gaze on him for a few seconds.

“Is it nearly six, Alyia. My hand is fucking cramping up.” Matt whines for the fourth time in ten minutes.

“Like I said two minutes ago, no. Besides you have yet to finish of that question and it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve been writing for that long without taking a break.”

“I want to get this finished; I don’t exactly want all this effort to go down the drain. I’ve stayed up too many nights for this.”

“Really…?” His voice filled with concern as his smirk and joke-filled demeanour faded quickly.

“What.”

“I would’ve done more of you asked me to…you didn’t have to stay up for any of it.” I interject him before he can continue

“Matt. I have more time than you, the project’s getting done. Does it really matter?” I look up to him, dropping my pen for the first time in a while.

“Of course it matters, you need sleep Alyia.”

“I also need this project done.” He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, returning the glares I’ve been giving him all night.

“Promise me you’ll relax after the project is due and let me finish off the last two questions.”

“You really like your promises, huh?” My page fills the silence as it crumples, getting caught on itself, making me purse my lips as I try to fix it before continuing to write.

“Alyia.” He grabs the pen out my hand and places it far from my reach and I narrow my eyes at him again. “I mean that, let me handle the rest of it and get some rest. Please.” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“I’ll sleep appropriately, fine, but I’m writing the last question. You can happily take the other one if you so desire.”

“Thank you. I’m not having your sleep decrease because you don’t want to ask for help.” His words make me raise my voice at him.

“What do you mean by that.”

“I don’t recall me stuttering. You have been sacrificing your sleep because you didn’t want to ask me to do a little more work.” He leans in to me, as if he is mocking me and I scoff.

“Not true.” My words mumble, subconsciously knowing he is right.

“Whatever, look it has gone six now, c’mon. We can work on this later on.” He shuffles papers together and stuffs them into his bag, lacking organisation which makes me stare at his back with a slightly shocked expression.

I follow his actions, however, and with a heavy sigh I put all my work in a pile, putting the sheets in between two books to keep them straight.

“You want to hang out later or something?” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and looks back at me.

“Hang out, me and you somewhere. I would recommend my place but Nick is there with Chris and Madi.”

“I know a place we could go if you want? I haven’t been there in a while so I don’t know how overgrown it is.”

“Wait wait. Did you say overgrown, what kind of fucking place is this.” Matt waits for me to catch-up to him and I walk slightly faster so he doesn’t have to wait so long.

“Amery Grove? There is a line of old houses at the back that people kind of forgot about, maybe like twenty years ago? I’m not sure.” Matt gaze falls to me as I start to ramble, simply listening to my words.

“Well, anyway, about two years ago a few of my friends and I decided to fix a few of them up during the summer. We didn’t decorate or anything but we cleaned old furniture and threw out what we didn’t need. While it wasn’t the prettiest, we hung out there a lot.”

“So, you just went to abandoned buildings and fixed them?” He keeps walking and opens doors in front of me as I keep talking. When he does, I quickly walk through them and turn to face Matt, proceeding to talk with my hands.

“Yeah, it was fun, even if our skills were mediocre, it made for good hangouts and a few parties.”

“You go to parties?” He gives me a side eye and I roll my eyes in response.

“Not as much anymore, I went when I had more friends to talk to and less schoolwork on my back. Maybe at some point…”

“Cmon you are slow” I drag out my words and groan as I get more excited, wanting to jump up and down to reduce the amount of energy but instead I shake my hands around.

“Jesus Alyia, I’m just putting our bags in here, I’m not carrying all of this across the Grove.” He arranges the bags in the back seats like some real-life game of Tetris. After another minute or so he finally shuts the car door and locks it.

“Okay I’m done, let’s go.” He puts his keys back by his belt and returns to my side.

“I haven’t been here in a while, so no promises on how clean it’ll be.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He smiles at me briefly before focusing on walking through some reasonably tall grass.

The trail I normally use is more overgrown than what I used to walk through so as we walk, we use old trees to climb past different areas and our feet to stamp on brambles and stinging nettles. It is pitch-black outside by this point so we are using our phone’s flashlights to guide our way through the trail. Leaves hang down from nearby trees and I start to wish I brought my jacket with me.

I place my feet onto a tree stump and try to climb over a fallen branch, but when my weight switches feet, I slip on some moss and fall backwards from the stump. My phone drops from my hand and the flashlight goes into my eyes, making me close them. I place my hands back to support myself for when I hit the floor but I never do. Instead, a tight grip snakes around to the side my waist and upper back, slowly pushing my body back to stand straight.

“Woah woah, are you alright…” I open my eyes to see Matt looking down at me with concerned eyes. I can barely make it out since he dropped his phone and its flashlight instantly to catch me. His chain dangles above my face and once I stand up properly, he uses one of his hands to push his hair back, keeping the other on my waist.

“Uh huh…” I regain my focus and brush myself off and pick up our phones from the damp grass. “Thanks”

“Of course,” He takes his phone back, brushing off the debris, continuing to walk ahead of me and over the branch I just slipped on. “You need to be more careful, sweetheart.”

It’s that fucking nickname again.

“Here we are!” I run ahead of Matt and smile bright at the few houses on a quiet lit up street.

“Its still the same…” I smile to myself, remembering how I used to run around here.

“Yeah? I think it looks fucking awesome.” He circles around me looking at the few houses, clearly seeing a difference between the ones I fixed up and the ones I left.

“Really?”

“Really. Y’know…maybe one day we could fix one up?” I turn my head a little too quickly to face him, who was already smiling at me.

“You wanna? Like, for real?” He simply nods to me before walking off to look at one of the houses closest to us.

I run to catch up to him again and I grab his wrist to show him inside one of the houses. The inside walls occasionally spotted with carvings of names and dates, ripping through worn out wallpaper. Unfinished projects left abandoned, mostly within the kitchen. I pick up an old and now rusted hammer and spin it around in my hands, recalling the last use of it going towards a leg of an old chair that lay on its side next to it. A bittersweet smile covers my face the more I venture the house, with Matt always following right behind, dragging his fingers across old cabinets and cupboards.

“you guys did so much work in here…” He picks up old projects that remain unfinished and analyze them one by one, awe showing within his eyes. “Why did you ever stop this?”

“We stopped being as close I guess...nothing personal to one another, just different schools and points in our lives. I still have contact but no one really talks as much anymore.” I quiet my voice and sit down on one of the chairs and put down the hammer.

“None of us ever took that personally, we just drifted. Miss it all like hell though.”

Matt stays quiet for a moment, just looking at me with slight pity.

“That’s a shame, especially since nothing even happened that you could’ve changed.” The distance between us closes as I stand up again but I simply keep walking towards the bottom of the stairs before I slowly walk up them.

Matt pov:

I follow her up the stairs, stepping where she did in case any areas are weak enough to break, but once I put that focus into the decor upstairs, I stand still. The upstairs was so much nicer, covered in intact wallpaper and furniture that made it seem like someone actually lived there. More carvings were decorating the walls and less tools were on the floors. I take in more of what’s around me, admiring the hard work.

Hearing the stories about her old friends make me smile but also makes me wonder why she is more closed off to people now.

We start to wonder around the different areas that she decorated and I admire the craftsmanship and efforts they put in to it.

“We can chill up here if you want?” Alyia points to a balcony that is guarded by a wooden fence, a few old chairs are stacked up and leant against the glass door and I walk through.

“Can I ask why you took me here, not that I hate it or anything. Just…if this place reminds you of your friends, why bring me here.” Alyia’s face falters slightly and I feel bad for bringing them up.

“This place has many memories but I feel stuck whenever I come here, and I love this place. I don’t want to come back here and feel self-pity when I see those carvings on the walls.”

“I meant it by the way.”

“Meant what Matt?” I look up at her before looking over the edge and down onto the weakly lit street.

“Fixing a place up with you, could be fun.” I smile at her before looking back over the edge and laying my arms on the wooden fence, trying not to apply a lot of weight onto it.

“I have no idea if any of the lighting still works properly, a few faulty lights here and there but nothing major enough to set anything up properl-“

“So? We have already walked through here in the dark easily enough, besides we don’t have to come here only at night.”

I turn back to look inside the house but my vision is slightly impaired from looking at the street lights too long. I change my point of view and glance down to my phone to check the time.

9:24pm

“Shit, it’s kind of late, do you parents want you back at a certain time?” I message Chris and Nick an apology after seeing the copious number of texts and missed calls.

“Uhm no, I can be back whenever” She trails off and I remember the phone call she had at my place.

“Oh…is she not home again?” I receive a small nod in return.

“You can stay over if you want to?”

“No, it’s okay I have things to do anyway…” She avoids eye-contact with me but I try not to question anything

“Alright then, should we head back, I’m being attacked by Nick so much” I see her smile as I finish speaking and just stands up and starts to walk back to the stairs.

“Just here, okay?” I turn the wheel and look through my window for any parking on the edge of the road.

“Yeah, this is perfect, thanks again” She thanks me for the millionth time tonight.

“Kid, I’ve already said it’s okay to drive you places.” I finish parking which makes the car tilt slightly as it reaches over the curb.

“Goodnight Matt.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

The drive back to my place was quite bleak, even when I turned aux on, none of the songs fit the mood I was in. Whatever that mood was. I just focused on the road ahead and the way the lights shone through my windshield and lit up areas in my car like a mini disco. I sigh when I hit another red light and pull the cable from my phone and I resort to the radio music. It immediately blares and I turn it down quickly to a volume quiet enough for some background audio.

I should hate you – Gracie Abrams

It was already half way through the song but I let it play none-the-less, letting the calm guitar fill the car. The quiet and soft vocals relaxed me and I was able to take a deep breath that didn’t result from frustration.

I notice the song fading out just as I pull into the road that I live on so I turn the radio off completely as to not ruin my mood, but as soon as I step inside it gets dampened anyway.

“Oh my God, Matt. Where were you!” I drop my keys into a small bowl and I instantly get bombarded by Nick’s concerned voice.

“Out.”

“Out? Is that all you have to say. You said you were revising the project until six and then you would be home. It is nearly half ten and this is the first we have heard from you!” he starts to exclaim and honestly, I can’t blame him for the way he is acting

“I went somewhere with Alyia…that’s all. I guess we lost track of time.” I mumble quietly, knowing I’m in the wrong but I’m not going to apologize for having a good time.

“I’m not saying you can’t hang out with people, just let us know, okay? It could be three am for all I care but as long as I have some form of communication. You had us worried…” Nick takes a deep breath and looks down to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something…Where is Chris?” I try and change the subject to lessen the amount I get yelled at.

“He’s asleep upstairs, he wanted to wait for you but he was exhausted after hockey so I refused to let him.”

I look up to Nick and give him a tight-lipped smile, feeling guilt twinge inside briefly.

“You better go have a shower or something, you’re covered in dirt, Matt.”

“Yeah, I will…sorry again.” Nick simply hugs me tight.

“It’s alright, just don’t let me stay up again.” He punches my arm lightly and we smile at each other.

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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precious-little-scoundrel · 19 days

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What got you into writing/how long have you been writing?

What’s your writing inspiration?

Do you write in silence or need background sounds? Like music?

Do you struggle more with dialogue or detail?

Any tips for someone who wants to write fanfiction?

How do you differ all your OC’s so you don’t rewrite the same characters over and over?

Do you do research?

— from someone who would love to write their own stories lol but yours are great!

My darling. So many apologies for how tardy I’ve been in replying to this, I really wanted to give it due thought because I’m quite touched you’d even ask.

1: I’ve been writing since I was little, my mama was always reading me classics and my greatest ambition was to be some kind of author every bit as colorful as their characters, a la Oscar Wilde. 🥳

2. Writing inspiration? Oh that’s a hard one only in that I could cite a million things and chat your poor ear off, but to be boring and also frank -I just love stories. I think they’re so inspiring and healing and necessary for making sense of things, or else resigning to things that can’t be explained. I love to study love and how very human and fallible and also indestructible it is in its many forms. I love to dig through tragedy and find the refining purpose of it, I love to take characters through hells I’ve been through so that I can imagine their triumphs, too, and my own through them. If this can happen to -name your hero- then I’m no smaller for it happening to me, if -name your hero- can get through it and be loved and admired by a whole fandom? -I deserve the same commendation from myself at the very least. Stories are essential and fun and I never ever imagined I’d have a little group one day liking my own where we could all scream about these things together. I’m legit so humbled each time I log on here and find y’all ready and waiting and interactive. The community of it, that’s the biggest drive right now, tbh. What a sweet season.

3. I usually write in silence, or else at any chance where I have a moment, so that could be public transport or lunch breaks or in the loo during family holidays, ha. However I do find music to be an inspiring mood setter for writing later that day. Especially as i juggle many ongoing projects at once, the genre im listening to before may very well influence what gets worked on.

4. Detail!! Dialogue can be challenging but I hear it so clearly in my head most of the time that it’s not hard. Details can devastate me.

5. Ooof, I still feel like I’m a baby at it, this is only my second fandom to dare for. I’d say for sure write what you find inspiring instead of what appears to be wanted, i firmly believe that’s the only sure way to keep up any inspiration and the niche will draw its own crowd, one’s who will like it all the better for its specially crafted world. Also, for dialogue -replay and replay dialogue from the character before you write. Are they terse or do they ramble? Are they sarcastic or earnest? Do they have a word they repeat often? -I noticed the other day how Rosenthal uses “you know?” often in the show. Also, sometimes switch up sentence structure from character to character, it helps feel like hopping brains without a fully jarring POV change. All these are things I’m currently working at myself, but that’s the best I’ve got for advice.

6. Oh boy I’m still figuring this out myself. Three things come to mind as little helps I use- first off, read real biographies, it helps tremendously with crafting fully dimensional fictional people. Two -have a maturing arc for your OC during the story, separate from whatever adventure or romance that occurs, this will make it feel less like a inserted person into the broader story. Three, choose a personality type or something similar to both keep them separate from the next but also to ensure their virtues have corresponding vices.

7. I do research a lot. But I find that it’s a fine line for myself of when that drains all creativity or bravery. Im massively indebted to so many mutuals who generously share their own with me.

#best of wishes to you Nonnie! dare bravely!!#writing woes #about the author 💋

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auxiliarydetective · 2 months

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asker!Alvita reporting for duty!! could I have all of this ask game for Cora and Lily??

Oooooooh, long post incoming!

1. Can your OC admit to mistakes or weaknesses? Can they accept help?

Cora can do all of these things, at least around people she trusts. Mistakes are human nature, and she'll admit to making them. Weaknesses? Definitely. She likes to remind people that she is, in fact, not a swordsman, and that her devil fruit has limited battle usability. (She's somewhat wrong about this, but let her talk.) Also, she can definitely accept help. Otherwise, her relationship with Zoro would be in trouble, because the only way this man knows to express his affection is to conveniently do things for her. Of course, he's not doing them for her, he's doing them because he feels like it. Totally not in love. Never. Sanji also loves spoiling his princess. The man would bridal carry her everywhere if she asked. She also frequently calls both of them for help against stronger enemies if she realizes she can't beat them and knows they have time.

Lily is very good at all three of these things and she will cry about it. She'll be fighting on enemy three times her size one moment and run into Sanji's arms the next, crying in fear about how she's too small to fight and how she wants to go home. She's also still learning about the world, so there's a lot of things for her to be wrong about and she doesn't mind being corrected.

2. Is your OC more emotional or more stoic? How do their emotions show and how do they feel about them?

Cora is more emotional, definitely. Not overly emotional, but her emotions do show. Fun fact, she's an angry crier, which automatically ends any verbal fights she might get into, either because her opponent is Sanji and he folds instantly at seeing her cry (it's similar for Zoro but not as instantaneous) or because Sanji has come to her defense because the person she's up against made her cry. Generally, Cora has fairly physical reactions to her emotions, as in she shakes heavily if she gets scared and she cries easily. She thinks she's a bit of a crybaby and a weakling, but Sanji will immediately tell her otherwise.

Lily? Oh boy, Lily. Her whole devil fruit is centered around emotions. Not only does it contribute to her being very emotional and having intense mood swings, it also converts her emotions into various effects, such as making the lights flicker, changing the weather, and, most prominently, turning her back into five-year-old when she gets too scared. She doesn't really have an opinion on her emotions, they just... happen.

3. Does your OC cry a lot? Why or why not?

I guess I already answered this, didn't I? Yes, both Cora and Lily cry a lot. For Cora, it's partially because that's just who she is, partially because of trauma, whereas Lily has her devil fruit, her mood swings and her (mental) age to blame.

4. Does your OC talk a lot? Are there things they tend to ramble about?

Cora probably talks a regular amount, but she loves to ramble about fashion. If you want to keep her talking for whatever reason, ask her about fashion, or sewing, or designing... Just anything that has to do with her work as a tailor. She could also talk about her boyfriends for ages if prompted and in the right environment.

Lily does talk a lot. Or rather, she rambles a lot. She's the kind of person who will sit in a car and point at and name not only animals or landmarks you pass but also every car she recognizes or finds odd or funny. She just loves to learn and explore. It's not that she doesn't know how to be quiet. She does! But she's also talkative, so she'll talk if there's no reason for her not to.

5. Are they a romantic?

Cora is definitely a romantic. Not as much as Sanji, but she does love romance, so these two together are a walking romance novel. If you want to impress her, a candlelit dinner with good food and pretty clothes is the perfect way to do it.

Lily is probably a little too young to be a romantic in that sort of sense, but she does romanticize life, in a way. A more or less childish way. She just loves to be alive and to see the world and... Yeah. Does that count?

6. Are they dramatic?

Cora is very dramatic, but only as a joke. She usually swallows her problems until she has to throw them back up, but if she has the chance to annoy Zoro by being dramatic, she'll be dramatic as hell. It gets even funnier if Sanji or someone else plays along. Nami especially is a great ally for weaponizing the drama, second place goes to Usopp.

To be fair, Lily isn't very dramatic. She's just a kid, and Zoro has to constantly remind himself of that if he's about to call her dramatic for crying about him stepping on a bug or something.

7. How would they prefer to die?

Cora would probably like to die quickly and painlessly, but if it has to be long and painful, she'll take it, as long as it helps her friends in any way.

Not at all? Lily doesn't think about dying, she's too busy thinking about how many marshmallows she can fit in her mouth or how quickly she can climb up to the crow's nest. But she'd probably prefer the quick and painless route.

8. What is guaranteed to make them angry?

For Cora, it's pretending to be a member of the Akaito Clan. There are so many fakers out there and she intends to personally commit arson against every single one of them and burn down their bootleg clothes and designs. It's just a huge disrespect to her family, their tradition and their name.

For Lily, I'd say it's hurting her friends that makes her the angriest. Depending on how big and tough the enemy is, she may also be very scared, but if you want to find out the quickest way to have a feral fennec fox biting and clawing at your neck, this is it.

9. What do they get really petty about?

Cora gets extremely petty about the difference between swordfighting and fencing. She is not a swordfighter because she uses a rapier and a rapier is used for fencing. Sworfighting is what Zoro does. You wouldn't be able to start a proper fight between someone using a katana and someone using a rapier. Thus, they must be two separate fighting styles. immaculate logic. Also, sewing and fashion. This color is the color she says it is, not any other.

Lily actually doesn't get petty at all. Or at least not often. She's just happy to be talking. But if you call a Zoan user a Mink or the other way around, you might be in trouble. They're two very different things.

10. What do they identify as?

See, this is why I kept this question that open and didn't limit it to gender identity or sexuality. Makes it a lot easier to answer.

Cora is bisexual and proud, as well as proudly polyamorous. She has two hands, why not use them? She also strongly identifies with her heritage as a member of the Akaito Clan and being a member of the Straw Hat Pirates.

Lily doesn't really think about gender identity or something as weird as sexuality. To be honest, I don't think she has even had sex ed yet. Does she even know what sexuality is? I mean, she knows what sex is, probably, but... Does she know what gender is? Anyways, a huge part of her identity comes from her being a fennec fox mink. Well, half, but she likes to omit that fact. Sometimes, she just refers to herself as simply a fennec fox, as in: "Of course I'm cold! I'm a desert fox, not an Arctic fox!" That's why she also identifies with her epithet. Also, the Straw Hat Pirates. The moment she lies about being a part of their crew is the day that hell freezes over. That's her family right there.

Thank you so much for your ask, Alvita! Have a lovely day <3

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#one piece oc #opla oc #oc: akaito coraline #oc: felicity #ask #evie's ask extravaganza

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 6 months

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Hello!! For the ask game: ✏️🖋️🖥️

(It’s nice to meet another sapphic aspec!)

Nice to meet another one too! Thanks for the ask!

I ended up writing A LOT about this ask! Super excited to share everything (thank you!!!) but it's super long so under the cut. But I did format a bit to make it hopefully easier to read.

✏️"what are your current WIPs about?"

The main WIPs that I'm currently focusing on are The Secret Portal and School of the Legends, the former of which with more focus.

The Secret Portal is about a group of preteens/teens who discover a portal to another dimension. This dimension is full of people with powers with a minority of those without. After decades of protests from the oppressed minority, tensions rose, and eventually turned into a war of two extremes.

Hard to explain how everything connects, but I appreciate the nuance and multi-perspective approach this needs, but man is it hard. So much brainpower to make this story work, but I'm proud of what I have.

Despite a young cast this is a YA series (think Stranger Things in terms of age of characters vs demographic. This is TV-14 so to speak). I focus heavily on young perspectives because a) I was a kid when writing this for the first time (see later this post) so it just happened but also b) it ended up working thematically with a level of innocence needed there. Bonus, c) being in education I'm fascinated with young minds.

Still a long way to go and currently in the beta reading stage (see pinned post), which is definitely needed given a wide range of topics and fully appreciated to those who have given me their advice.

Planned to be a five book series that's essentially a long continuation from each installment to the next.

School of the Legends is a much easier story to write even if I don't have everything planned yet. It deals with various legends, stories, fairy tales, nursery rhymes, etc. in the same universe, but My Version, aka, things are based on the above, but not a direct copy.

The titular school is an international school meant for those gifted (people born with powers), magicked (people learning magic as a skill), and cursed (people who have powers thrust upon them).

I have an outline for the overall plot of the series (four books are planned) but not super far into it.

Have more characters planned than I know what to do with but most will probably be in the background no matter how sad that makes me.

🖋️"what inspired you to write your WIPs?"

Hm... Sometimes it's just impulse but let's backtrack.

TSP was first conceived as a grade school creative writing project. I just went overboard. Let's get into it.

Went into more detail on my website and tiktok, but the short version is that it was loosely inspired by a stuffed animals game from when I was a little younger which was in turn was loosely inspired by (drumroll) The Rainbow Magic fairy series. Don't know how that happened, so I guess that was a huge influence despite no similarities now.

My friends all inspired parts of it, as most of the OCs have their roots being friend inserts (gone now but it's funny the fragments that are left over from this).

What inspired me to keep going, however, was actually a bit of pride. I was super proud of the original assignment (15 pages!!! Twice as much as the second longest!! I got a 100%!!) and was also super invested in the world I made.

Admittedly when middle school me decided to turn this into a more """"grown up"""" series, it go really cringe...but I was so ambitious this would be published some day (HA).

TSP became what it is today due to an obsessive amount of writing in eighth grade (age 14) and hitting a block in all projects and deciding to start it over, very different from previous drafts.

SOTL was a bit of a passion side project that wasn't meaning to be #2 in WIPs, but I like where we are and it has more broad areas of inspiration.

What started my love for fairy tale adaptations were the Whatever After series and The Land of Stories series, especially the latter. I wanted to make my own version, so had some ideas for characters once again based on my friends. No plot ideas.

In early seventh grade I wrote a dreadful draft that included a "princess school" which was inspired by...I don't actually know I think I read a lot of princess school books but I don't remember the titles. So inspiration from there of course.

Other fairy tale retellings just increased my love for the subgenre, and I got more passionate about making my own, though each draft is so different it's hard to draw connections. It was basically an idea I tried until it worked.

🖥️"what types of writing do you do?"

Well, there's the obvious novel writing.

I love it. It's so hard but I live for the thrill.

Novels are more my thing because I have Too Many Ideas. I wrote a lot of short stories in my creative writing class and found them too limiting. Some may become novels, some maybe novellas. We will have to see.

Fiction is my thing but especially fantasy (I'm using this as a broad term that means "not realistic fiction" including sci-fi and other branches - I'm actually bad at high fantasy).

TSP has annoying sci-fi elements (I walked into this as if this project needed to be harder!), but SOTL is a more relaxed fantasy.

I love reading realistic fiction, but for my writing RF is too real sometimes, if that makes sense. That's obvious...idk how to get across what I'm saying, but I find myself able to express myself through fantasy when I'm doing my own creative writing.

Even in my creative writing class, I'd always make a fantasy story, since we never were told anything had to be realistic fiction. Never intentionally, that's just where my brain defaulted to. I can't think of a single realistic fiction idea I haven't scrapped completely.

It's not that I don't like RF, I LOVE reading it. But it's not for me writing.

I also tend to write geared toward Young Adult. Maybe I'll go for MG or New Adult but I think YA is my ballpark.

Outside of fictional writing, I mainly write reviews or analyses of other media.

I don't post these anywhere attached to this pen name, they're mainly just for me and my friends.

I don't need the world to know my opinions, but I need my opinions on paper. I am a writer by nature, so I feel a compulsion, an itch, to write down my thoughts on everything and anything.

And when I have super strong opinions about X media...well I gotta write about it. Whether it's short form reviews of movies, complex reviews of TV shows, rants about X subject, I gotcha.

I'm working hard on a review/analysis right now, so haven't worked on TSP in over a month, which is awful, but I need to reach a stopping point for this project before going back to it. I do think it is a needed break, though, since I find marathoning writing for TSP before needing to take a step back before another marathon.

I also find analyzing media, why I like it, why I don't, what worked, what didn't, helps me in my writing. By examining other works, I realize how I can improve my craft, by either doing something or not doing something or learning from another media. They're intertwined, to me.

I do writing for school, too. Education major and am working on a case study. I actually like it?? Combining two interests is interesting who knew?

And that's the end of this super long post!! This was so much fun thank you for the ask and thank you and anyone who actually read this far!

#writing blog #writers on tumblr #the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #wip #my wip #school of the legends #ask #writing ask #wip ask game #wip ask meme #wip ask #ask answered #writing community

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dayundying · 1 year

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can you tell us more about nort please im so curious about him :)

NANA I LOVE YOU YOU ARE MY BESTEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.

Um um ok for starters his name is Nort, obvs! And it is just straight up his name, im sure in character, to Nort his name is meaningful and important but to me? Nort just struck my mind! Im pretty sure it was inspired by Norm from PaF which haha is fitting cause Nort is my owb poster child, robots!!! Haha. Although it also makes me sad because my first fallout oc was named Norman actually... but he wasnt named after norm he was named because he was a normal man ANYWAHS NOT IMPORTANT.

He uses solely he/him and basically ONLY presents masculinely but like ive SOMEWHAT expressed before he feels kind of weird about gender simply because well, human gender is so human and he really hates being human, he does not feel male at all, but defintely not female, im not sure if hed know the term nonbinary but its him and he would be it (nort LOVES transgenderism.)

The topic of how he feels about gender i think is a good segway to whatever he has going on in the sexuality department, i feel like hes defintely had relationships in the past and has and does feel attraction for other people but after the whole getting shot in the head nd getting to affirm his person and ideals he hates himself for feeling that, he hates all of his human desires and needs, he stuffs basically all of his feelings like so far down deep. So what he is with that label??? Agh idk lol. Hed loooooove to be nonbinary but he gives no shit to label anything else

Now! What IS up with his beliefs? Well at first I envisioned him as a avid transhumanist but then when i actually made him my idea for him as a nerd went out the window and he became totally tough and gruff, he still is a transhumanist and believes in it very much, but he is also incredibly survival of the fittest thinking if that makes sense (i want to say he believes in survivalism but i realized the actual definition of it sounds dumb.) I kind of think of it like this: he is incredibly trusting in machines and technology, but due to the wasteland being the way it is, he cant just be a robot like he very much wants to be, he cant have robot arms and put chips in his skin, he has to be the human he was born as, and eat and drink and fight, so yknow, he does.

Idk, hes barely 2 days old, hes still being developed, this stuff IS subject to change

But i am not done!!!

Deciding how my ocs feel about stuff is great, i will never skip out on explaining their opinions on factionsss <3

Hoof, looking them up, i realize theres more factions in nv then i thought there were...Ill get into his opinion on the more minor factions another time cause id TOTES love to, but i think right now the main stuff is supes important!

He LOVES mr house, er like, his politics wise, he sits and nods to everything he says and thinks because he simply completely agrees.

Thinks the ncr are some bunch of cowards, he does have a personal intrigue with how its set up though. Sometimes he daydreams about if he was in charge of all of the ncr, the changes hed make.

He doesnt think an independent new vegas would survive at all and does not support it. He simply believes itd just crumble and cave into itself !

Similar to how he feels about the ncr, he alsp has intrigue with the legion, but hates its lack of progressiveness and movement, i dont think he believes he could save it, just one of those things hell certain will just blow away into the sands of nevada, as weird history of that one time that happened.

#long post #oc: nort

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sanssouci-sims · 1 year

Text

Those of you who have been to my main blog in the past year or so might recognize these familiar faces. The little girl is Karin Fjellvik, a character from the game “My Child Lebensborn” (I call it “MCL” for short), and the woman is Karita Omdahl, my MCL fan character/self-insert and Karin’s adoptive mother. I’ve made a few posts about them both on my main blog as well as my sideblog which specifically focuses on my OC x canon relationships, so take a gander if you’d like to read more about them!

I’ll probably mention a bit of the game as I talk about them in this post, so minor spoilers ahead!! Also, fair warning if you do decide to check out the actual game for yourself: it’s based on real historical events (specifically having to do with the end of World War 2) and involves prejudice/racism and violence towards a child (among other things). Needless to say, it’s quite emotional, and let’s just say that by the end of my play-through, I wanted to punt quite a few people into the shadow realm because of what they did to my poor daughter. 😭

While MCL was originally set during the aftermath of World War 2, I imagine my sims counterparts live in the modern day. Funnily enough, the developers of MCL are currently working on a sequel which will take place in a more modern setting! I would think the sims versions of Karin and Karita moved to this new place in Willow Creek after they’d gone through similar events that happened in the original game. All they wanted to do was to just... get away from their old town, from Karin’s old school, from everything their cruel neighbors had done to them.

Karin and Karita would start their new lives in this modest but pretty one-story home with a small outdoor area for the two to sit and for Karin to play. In the game, you happen to make contact with Karin (or her male counterpart Klaus)’s biological father, who wires you money to help you move out of town. I imagine Karita used much of that money to pay off this new house. They started with only $200 in simoleons, which was a nod to how you would start off with 200 coins (? - dollars? Or whatever they used in Norway during that time? I don’t think the game actually specified what that actual currency was lmao) in the original game.

As money is tight in their household, Karita knows they’ll need it only for the most important items, and she’s made sure Karin knows that. There are times where Karin wishes she had the newest toys or clothes like the other kids have, and she’ll get upset when she can’t have them. Karita promises she’ll buy them one day for her, just not today. After all, it’s better to be selfless than selfish. Karin recently received a whole mini art studio set for her birthday, and she LOVES it! She plans to create lots of artwork to display in her room, and she even uses it occasionally in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep. She even says she hopes to help her mother earn money by selling her best artwork. 🥰

On certain days of the week, Karita works as a manual laborer as a way to bring in some stable income (I thought this was the closest to some kind of factory work, which is your/the parent’s job in MCL). The catch to this, though, is that she currently works during the weekend, which means Karin is left at home alone in the morning. :( Karita knows how much her daughter hates being by herself, so once she returns home from work, she makes sure they spend plenty of quality of time together. Their favorite activities include fishing (they can catch something to eat or Karin asks to keep one as a little pet), reading books, drawing pictures, cooking, and watching television.

See the little fish next to the television? Karin caught it and wanted to save it from being eaten!

Other than Karin’s idea to sell some of her artwork in the future, the two also already have creative ways to earn extra money on the side (or when they really need money fast). For one, Karita happens to enjoy gardening and has made a habit of exploring her neighborhood and harvesting wild plants to grow around their home. She may keep some to use as fresh ingredients/food, but most of the time, she’ll sell them when they’re fully grown.

Being experienced in manual labor, Karita isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty by digging for things as well. She’ll sell the majority of her finds along with things she catches through fishing.

Karin is also a keen explorer and likes to look for frogs. She’ll keep them as pets, too, but once she catches a new one, she knows she’ll have to sell the old one since multiple frogs is... kind of a lot to deal with in such a small home, lol.

This is her latest find, a spotted leaf frog!

So that’s basically how a typical day would go for Karin and Karita! Karin goes to school during the week, of course, and since Karita doesn’t work on weekdays, she’ll usually spend those days building her skills and doing the many things she’s already come up with to earn extra money.

Currently, Karita is hoping to save up for some renovations, including expanding the interior of their home so she will able to build a little writing studio! She wishes to write about her and Karin’s experiences and to send a message to the world to be kind to each other - something among those lines.

I like playing wholesome families like this, and I think the added challenge of reduced funds not only ties into the original game where the characters came from, but it also makes playing this household a lot more fun and interesting.

Oh, I forgot to mention, guess who came by their household while I was taking screenshots of them for this post?

a wild rose appears lmao

also i just realized you can spy one of dina caliente’s sons in the background

#the sims community #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 gameplay #the sims 4 storytelling #the sims 4 screenies #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 screencaps #the sims 4 screenshots #my child lebensborn #maddy's sims

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roseguided · 3 days

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knowing your partner can potentially make writing together a lot easier.

– BASICS.

✧ NAME: zandie ! but, my friends call me zan a lot of the time. ( fun fact: i was going to be named alexandria and just called zandie as a nickname. but, my parents went with zandie. its from a old black n white western movie. )

✧ PRONOUNS: she/her

✧ SEXUALITY: mostly bisexual. as time goes on, i think i lean more toward wanting to be with women. but, i do still find men very attractive. love me a good dilf & a specific type of my age guys lmao

✧ TAKEN OR SINGLE: single !

– THREE FACTS.

✧ i have two corgi's ! the oldest is woodie, he's 3 years old. he's more auburn, kinda tanned colored. he's got his own little personality that's so interesting to see sometimes. we got him after our family dog died suddenly, so he holds a special spot for us. the second one is dena, named after my 91 yr old grandmother. she's 1, about to turn 2, and more tri-colored: mostly black, the white chest/feet, and some tan on her eyebrows and nose ! she's a little love bug who wants to give her sister (me) kisses all the time. she makes me v happy, like woodie. they are my 'siblings', but also my kids lmao.

✧ when i was born i was 3 months early. so, a premature baby. i was so small that i weighed a pound and 2 oz. so small that when i was born my mom asked why there was a cat in the operating room and my aunt said 'that's not a cat, baby, that's zandie.' i stayed in the hospital for over a month and a half before i was able to come home.

✧ i live in a small, deep south town. i am, what the internat calls, the ya'll people. lmao. i always wonder if, to internet friends i talk to, my accent is noticable or thick in any shape or form.

– EXPERIENCE.

✧ HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): aboooout nine years. i started out on facebook as jane volturi, then it was a site called quotev, and then tumblr ever since.

✧ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: facebook, quotev, kik, twitter, tumblr.

✧ BEST EXPERIENCE: meeting some of my good/best friends through tumblr rp. i love all of you so v much.

– MUSE PREFERENCES.

✧ FEMALE OR MALE: i def have a pref for female muses. my muse list is 99% female muses w some male oc's and the rare male canon muse thrown in. sometimes i wanna write more men, but i really have to connect to the character to be able to do that.

✧ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: i love all of it ! fluff and angst happen a lot more. smut not as much, but im open to it ! on discord, through memes. whatever we want to do.

✧ PLOTS OR MEMES: i'm def better with memes ! memes=starters if someone decides to continue it. but, i also like plots. i'm just not always the best plotting.

✧ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: ever since changing my formatting replies tend to be longer and sometimes muses have a lot to say. i usually got for medium to longer replies just to give people smth to work with and to get the muses thoughts or action down.

✧ BEST TIME TO WRITE: nighttime !

✧ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): i have a few i am pretty similar too ! it's hard to name all of them. but, i also like writing muses who aren't like me in any way as well.

TAGGED BY: nobody <3

TAGGING: anyone who wants to steal x

#she's rambling again. ( out of character )#kisses ur foreheads #q

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gwilin-stay-winnin · 3 months

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ok u mentioned this in a tag game from a bit ago that u could see gwilin with almost anybody in the game, but im wondering if theres a perfect npc for him in ur eyes!! or u could tell me about him/ur oc lol. im curious what like personality traits u think would complement his

Oh you bet your bottom dollar there is. Or, I guess, 'are'? I preface my response here stating that this is all specifically regarding Farmboy Gwilin (of the FGCU).

Aicantar – He is well-read in history and archeology, like his uncle, which Gwilin loves, since his reading tastes are similarly inclined. Aicantar scratches a scholarly itch for Gwilin–he never the had the opportunity to participate in an academic setting himself, and isn’t even sure the experience would’ve been all that gratifying for him, but you just know he’d relish the chance to be able to live out that unrealized dream vicariously through Aicantar. Plus, think of all the steamy nights spent in that museum in Markarth, where you’re not sure which you like best: the heat coming off of your lover’s skin, or the heat being released from the steam of the Dwarven machinery turning all around you.

Urzoga gra-Shugurz – God I love her so much. And Gwilin would, too! He’d get into a tumultuous relationship with her after they bump into each other on the road while she’s transporting prisoners. “Outta my way, beanpole,” she’d say, and it would be love at first sight for him. Gwilin would learn that Urzoga isn’t as scathing as she seems, once you get to know her (she has a soft spot for theatre, and, like Gwilin, is a skilled woodworker). She’d propose after like three months of them seeing each other. Gwilin would say yes, but later realize they rushed into things, and they’d part ways. Later on, they’d bump into each other on the road again, and start in on that familiar, ill-advised script: “Why did we ever split up?” “How come it didn’t work out between us?” etc etc.

Lurbuk – They’d meet while Gwilin was staying at Moorside. Lurbuk would confess to him, after a few drinks, the deep insecurities he feels regarding his abilities as a bard, and Gwilin would assure him he’s heard worse, which would disarm him immediately. They’d totally hit it off because, despite having little musical talent, he’d discover Lurbuk is incredibly well-versed in musical theory, and really does possess the heart and soul of a poet. A few kisses later, and Gwilin and him would find themselves in a long-distance relationship carried out by courier. Lurbuk is a pillow princess and Gwilin is a sub vers, so the sex they’d have whenever they’d get to see each other isn’t explosive or whatever, but neither of them consider sex to be a focal point of their relationship and there’s a lot of love and trust, so it’s always fun for them, regardless.

More generally, Gwilin would have a FIELD DAY with the ladies in Riften. I’ve mentioned this before, but he often travels there with Temba to make deliveries and chummies up to the barkeeps of all the places he visits so they give him pointers for good spots to go to draw or people they think would be willing to act as models for him. I could totally see him chatting with Keerava at The Bee and Barb one night, and when he asks her who might be willing to be his muse, she's like “Well, it's just for art's sake, right? You ever draw an Argonian?"

Gwilin would go into it very professionally, but Keerava would come on to him halfway through the sitting and he'd fold like a lawn chair. He’d have similar trysts with Constance Michel, Marise Aravel, and Nivenor (who he’d later feel very gross for having slept with, because she’s an asshole). This happens for two main reasons: 1.) Gwilin’s got paramour energy out the wazoo and 2.) Riften is a city of corruption, greed, and paranoia where most folks spend their days either fretting over who might plunge a dagger into their back, or plotting who they’ll be plunging that very dagger into next. Gwilin is a sensitive artist who cares little for money or status and trusts easily. You can put two and two together here.

The two people from Riften he’d have more of an intimate relationship with are Threki and Valindor. He’d throw himself into Threki’s arms completely, falling head over heels for her and her commitment to speaking out against Ulfric even from within prison. He’d plan her escape with the help of Valindor, and end up falling in love with him as well, in the process–for many reasons, not the least of which is Valindor got to grow up in Valenwood, as Gwilin never did, and so being with him helps him feel connected to his culture. They would make a lovely throuple <3

Now in regards to Temba, Gwilin has a HUGE crush on her, which he would never ever try to materialize because he’s afraid of what would happen if they got together and then broke up. He doesn’t think Temba would be the kind to want to stay friends, so he’d probably lose his job and have to leave Ivarstead. He’d hate for that to happen. After all, Wilhelm and Lynly are his very best friends on Nirn :D

Final point insofar as NPCs: the College of Winterhold has an intricate polycule Gwilin has been trying to integrate himself into for years, but he never makes it past the initial screening process. Too intense for him. Doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying, though. hehe

In short, the personality traits which most meld with Gwilin are those that are reflections of, but at the same time extensions of himself. Humor is central to any relationship he maintains, romantic or otherwise, and he infuses it into the loudest, most exciting moments as easily as he does into the quietest, most intimate ones. He loathes affluence. He fits in best with people of an equally strong or stronger personality than his own. Any benign impulse he has, he absolutely must follow through on, though it's easy to talk him out of something that could get him hurt if you know him well enough. Finally, sexually speaking, he loves having his efforts to take the lead be frustrated (he enjoys being indulged in this regard).

Below you'll find some graphics I made to illustrate some of the personality traits/interests involved in the first three relationships I described, just to give an idea of how they'd bounce off of/complement each other.

can you tell i'm autistic

A heem heem anywayyyyyyy. This post is already kilometric so I won’t even get into my OCs. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, THOUGH!! It pushed me to organize all this info I had floating around :D

#it'd been a while since i made an effortpost like this 😭#tesblr #tes #gwilin #gwilingang #rentfree #depictions #hi1quastion

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