As of right now, I am probably going to focus on the first one listed below, but i will also do the second one ; it'll just take more time:
Warrior Cat ocs *
Characters or Ocs *
* FOR THE WARRIOR CAT OCS, I HAVE A PREMADE TEMPLATE WHICH YOU CAN FILL OUT. PLEASE FILL IT OUT IF YOU WANT ME TO DRAW IT!!
Template below for the Warrior Cat OC:
Cat Name:
Fur base color:
Eye color(s):
Fur details:
Breed/Size:
Pose:
Background/scenery:
Day or Night:
Lined/Blank paper:
Extras:
* FOR THE CHARACTERS OR OC, PLEASE FOLLOW THE TEMPLATE BELOW!
Template for the Character/OC:
Character:
Fandom:
Background:
Lined/Blank Paper:
Extras:
My Book Trilogy Planning!!
OMG, a trilogy in the making??? Yes, you heard that right.
I am currently in the process of world building the trilogy and I have been for quite a few months now! There's just so many tiny details that you need to make just one book, but I'm making three!! So you can imagine my struggle of getting all those details LOL!
I may or may not be posting some information about the book and the world around it on occassion, so follow me if you want any updates I may post! Until then, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox and engage in the ask games I reposted! /nf
Thank you for choosing Arrowplane Dynamics. I hope you enjoy your stay.
For the emoji ask game: paperclip, purple heart, and fairy
I completely forgot about this in my inbox, been dealing with some shit, sorry about that. Uhhh, right, let's do this.
The asks were from this post
Paperclip: My favorite asks to answer are pretty much everything and anything rn when i have time, but especially anime related things, or things related to my special interests.
Purple Heart: Alright, 5 words or less... let's see..
Weird, creative, emotionally sensitive and also self-preservational
Fairy: My favorite characters of all time would be, in no particular order except the first one, he's #1 always...
Soooo... I've been collecting feathers and rocks and bones for awhile now and I don't think I'm gonna be stopping anytime soon because what do you mean I just collected my 500th feather today?? As for bones, I have 3 bird skulls, 2 ribcages for a pigeon, one of them having the leg bones still attached, 8 small bones, and a partial eggshell. Rocks? Too many to count (i say that as if I didn't count 500 feathers in one sitting, and i probably have less rocks if I'm being honest..)
I'm so fucking done being here in this stupid ass house because what the actual fuck do you mean that my sister, her boyfriend, AND their FIVE KIDS have been staying here for a YEAR and a few MONTHS?!
WITH, by the way, NO INTENTION OF MOVING OUT BECAUSE THEY GO THROUGH THEIR MONEY SO FAST AND BUY USELESS JUNK FOOD THAT BARELY GETS EATEN AND TRIPS TO THE ZOO AND SKYZONE THAT THEY FRANKLY SHOULDN'T BE SPENDING THAT MONEY ON BECAUSE THEY HAVE OVERSTAYED THEIR WELCOME.
My mom and dad were expecting it to be a few months until they moved out, as was I, but they haven't even been looking for a damn house the entire time they've been here. They were supposed to move out BEFORE school started for the kids, but whoop-de-fucking-doo, my nephews are in school now.
My sister yells at my youngest niece (she's 2) so much in the morning, I've forgotten what a quiet morning is now. Both my sister and her boyfriend ignore my nieces and nephews so much because guess what? She and him are always on their phones. If you have time to yell at a fucking 2 year old, you can put the phone down and actually watch her so she stops getting into shit!! She's even stealing food now because they let her snack all day. When it's time to eat an actual meal, she refuses. She knows how to open doors now, (she's went and opened the front door and walked out quite a few times, which is very alarming since she's 2 and the drivers going down the road are reckless.) I keep asking my parents for a lock for my bedroom door because I'll be damned if they take anymore of my privacy away. And I am so so SO tired of waking up due to yelling and screaming and crying that I wake up with migraines that don't go away until I go to bed, and even then they don't go away, despite taking medication.
I am stressed out everytime i leave my room because its bug season and they leave out their food and trash in the open instead of throwing it away or putting it away properly. They're treating our house like it's THEIRS. My nieces leaves their toys laying around the living room, and even the hallways, so its like navigating a mine field everytime I walk through it. The boy's room was the spare room we had and omfg... it stinks to high heavens and not even air fresheners make a dent. You also can't even walk into that room without stepping on SOMETHING.
I just... can't anymore. When I try and help out, they snap at me and then make things worse. I am just so frustrated and irritated and so overwhelmed by everything that all my usual places I go to so i can escape the drama, don't help me anymore and I hate it. I want my privacy, and my safety back, and I want them gone out of this house.
💬 5 🔁 3 ❤️ 5 · Post by @chris-redfield-bsaa · 💬 3 🔁 3 ❤️ 6 · Disclaimer: This draft has been sitting in my docs for a while. I figured i
^^ Part Two
| Regular Day at the Office Part Three:
Chris picked up his list first, his calloused fingers gripping the crisp paper as his eyes scanned through the meticulously hand-written tasks. With each line he read, his expression darkened, jaw tightening with barely contained frustration. Of course Wesker had given him the absolute worst jobs—scrubbing bathroom tiles until they gleamed, disinfecting every surface twice over, and dealing with bloodstains that had probably been there since their last messy encounter with whatever nightmare creature they'd faced. His stomach turned at the thought. This wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, and he was certain the Captain knew it.
He let out a heavy sigh, running his free hand through his short brown hair in exasperation before his gaze drifted over to Jill's list sitting innocently beside his own. His eyes tracked down her tasks—kitchen duty, dishes, firearms maintenance. Not exactly a walk in the park either, but at least she wouldn't be elbow-deep in God-knows-what in the men's bathroom. Then his eyes caught on one particular line, and he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders: they'd be working on lunch together at 1300 hours.
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. At least there was that. Despite everything—the ridiculous chores, Wesker's impossible standards, the exhausting day ahead—knowing he'd have Jill's company for at least part of it made the whole ordeal seem slightly more bearable. He set the paper down with more care than he'd picked it up, already mentally preparing himself for the marathon of cleaning that lay ahead.
The double doors swung open with a familiar creak, and Jill stepped through, now dressed in the outfit Chris had carefully selected for her. The military green tank top fit her perfectly, and the olive shorts showed off her athletic build—a testament to the rigorous training regime Wesker put them all through.
"So," she said, striding over to the conference table and snatching up her own list. "Let's see what torture our beloved Captain has in store for—" Her voice trailed off as her eyes moved down the page, her expression shifting from casual confidence to mild irritation. "Kitchen duty. Of course. And firearms maintenance." She looked up at Chris with a wry smile. "At least I get to handle weapons. What'd you get stuck with?"
Chris held up his list without a word, watching as her eyes scanned the tasks. Her nose wrinkled in sympathy when she reached the bathroom cleaning portion.
"Ouch. That's rough." She set her paper down and crossed her arms, leaning back against the table. "Though I have to say, I'm looking forward to making lunch together. When's the last time we actually cooked something that wasn't instant noodles or whatever mystery meat Barry brings in?"
There was something in her tone—playful, but with an undercurrent of genuine warmth—that made Chris's chest tighten slightly. He tried to brush it off, focusing instead on the mountain of work ahead of them.
"Yeah, well, let's just hope we don't poison anyone. Wesker would probably add 'kitchen disaster cleanup' to our lists." Chris pushed himself up from the chair, the metal scraping against the floor. "I guess we should get started. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get back to actual S.T.A.R.S. work."
Jill nodded, but she didn't move immediately. Instead, she studied him for a moment, her striking eyes searching his face as if trying to read something beneath the surface. Chris felt suddenly exposed under her gaze, like she could see right through his attempts to stay focused and professional.
"Chris," she said softly, her voice losing some of its usual playful edge. "You okay? You seem... I don't know. Off."
He wanted to tell her everything was fine, that it was just another day of following Wesker's orders and completing whatever absurd tasks the Captain deemed necessary. But standing there, with Jill looking at him like that—like she actually cared, like his answer mattered—the words stuck in his throat.
"I'm good," he finally managed, though even to his own ears it sounded unconvincing. "Just... ready to get this over with… and possibly spend time with you one-on-one.
Jill held his gaze for another heartbeat, and Chris could tell she didn't quite believe him. But being Jill, she didn't push. Instead, she straightened up and gave him a light punch on the shoulder—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to ground him back in the moment.
"Alright then, Redfield. Let's show these chores who's boss. And hey—" She flashed him a genuine smile, the kind that could brighten even the dingiest corners of the S.T.A.R.S. office. "We've faced worse than dirty bathrooms and kitchen duty, right?"
Chris couldn't help but return the smile, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Right. Way worse."
As they headed toward their respective assignments, Chris cast one last glance back at Jill as she disappeared into the hallway leading to the kitchen. His mind kept circling back to that moment in her quarters, the casual intimacy of it all, the way she could make him feel both completely comfortable and utterly flustered at the same time.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he approached the men's bathroom. Focus, Redfield. Just get through the day. One disgusting tile at a time.
The bathroom door loomed before him like the entrance to some particularly unglamorous circle of hell. Chris steeled himself, pushed it open, and immediately regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment. The smell hit him first—a potent mixture of industrial cleaner, mildew, and something he didn't want to identify—and he knew it was going to be a long morning.
“God what the fuck died in here?!”
Chris felt his stomach churn with disgust, however it couldn’t compare to the vile creatures and events of death he had witnessed before with Alpha Unit.
With a resigned sigh, Chris grabbed the industrial-strength cleaning supplies from the utility closet—rubber gloves that went up to his elbows, a bucket, disinfectant that could probably strip paint, and a scrub brush that had seen better days. He snapped on the gloves with more force than necessary, the rubber making a satisfying snap against his wrists.
Just as he was about to tackle the first suspicious stain on the tile wall, his radio crackled to life. Jill had found a way to keep this dreadful day come to life; radio communication. Even on their days off, the pair carried their radios everywhere.
"Chris?" Jill's voice came through, slightly muffled but unmistakably amused. "How's it going in there? Need a hazmat suit yet?"
Despite everything, he found himself smiling. Leave it to Jill to check in on him when she had her own mountain of work to deal with. He unclipped the radio from his belt.
"You have no idea. I'm pretty sure something is growing in here that could qualify as a new B.O.W. species," he replied, keeping his tone light even as he eyed a particularly concerning patch of discoloration near the showers.
Her laugh came through the speaker, warm and genuine, and Chris felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. "Well, if you discover any new lifeforms, make sure to document them properly. Wesker would want a full report."
"Very funny, Valentine." He paused, then added before he could stop himself, "You know, the thought of cooking with you later is literally the only thing getting me through this right now."
There was a brief silence on the other end, and Chris immediately wondered if he'd said too much. But then Jill's voice came back, softer this time, with a hint of something he couldn't quite name.
"Is that so, Redfield? I didn't know I was such good motivation." He could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Tell you what—I'll make sure we cook something actually good for lunch. None of that cafeteria mystery meat. Deal?"
"Deal," Chris agreed, feeling inexplicably lighter despite standing in what could generously be described as a biohazard zone.
"And Chris?" Jill's tone turned playful again. "Try not to get too dirty in there. I mean, I know you're used to getting covered in zombie guts and creature blood, but bathroom grime is a whole different level of unappealing."
He snorted. "Gee, thanks for the concern."
"Anytime. Now get back to work, soldier. Those tiles won't scrub themselves." The radio clicked off, but Chris could swear he heard her still laughing on the other end.
Shaking his head with a smile he couldn't quite suppress, Chris turned back to face his nemesis: the men's bathroom. Somehow, knowing that Jill was just down the hall—and that they'd be working together in a few hours—made even this monumentally unpleasant task seem bearable.
He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the scrub brush, and got to work. The sooner he finished this nightmare, the sooner he could see her again. And maybe, just maybe, he'd work up the courage to tell her what had really been on his mind lately.
But first: tiles. So many tiles. Scrubbing it with a toothbrush was his only option. Chris hoped that Jill was having a better time than he was but only time would tell.
💬 3 🔁 3 ❤️ 6 · Disclaimer: This draft has been sitting in my docs for a while. I figured if I posted the first bit, maybe I could get some
**PART TWO**
Before he could speak, a woman about 5'6" with short brown hair and striking eyes—the kind that could either uplift or intimidate—greeted him with a towel wrapped around her torso.
"Shit!"
He quickly averted his gaze, covering his eyes despite the towel covering most of her.
"What? You've seen me shirtless before, or at least in my bra and shorts. This isn't any different," Jill said with a playful laugh, opening the door wider to let her colleague and best friend inside.
Despite the mess, Valentine's quarters were noticeably tidier than Chris's. If they had more time, Redfield would probably get a lecture about the state of his room. Thank God it wasn't inspection day—otherwise they'd both be scrubbing bathrooms and cleaning weapons for the whole team until Captain Wesker was satisfied.
The unexpected encounter threw Chris off, leaving him momentarily speechless. She had a knack for catching him off guard more often than he'd like to admit. It wasn't a flirtatious gesture—or at least Chris didn't see it that way. Jill would punch him in the arm hard enough to leave a mark, but she'd also pour him an extra cup of coffee if any remained after Captain Wesker had his usual two pots.
"You have that urgency look in your eyes, Chris. Is everything okay?"
He stayed quiet, stepping into Jill's space. She was nothing like the other members of S.T.A.R.S. ALPHA—she wasn't afraid to get down and dirty when needed. Snapbacks in assorted colors hung from the walls. Her S.T.A.R.S. outfit and cap always hung in the same spot on the left side of her closet. Looking around, Chris spotted a stack of comics—the ones he'd gifted her a couple years ago for Christmas.
She still had those.
While waiting for Jill to finish dressing in the bathroom, he sat on her messy bed, covered in comics, snack wrappers, and soda cans left on the bedside table.
"Chris? Would you mind handing me a tank top, a pair of shorts, and some boxers?"
Frozen in place, Chris's eyes widened.
"You want me to go into your personal clothing drawers and shit?"
Jill's laughter echoed from inside the tiled bathroom.
"Again. You act like this is something out of the ordinary. You and I share a literal locker room with the team—except Captain Wesker because he is just like that."
Chris shot back,
"Well yeah, it's not like an everyday thing when a woman asks me to go through her drawers."
"Not just a woman, Christopher. I'm your best friend, and if you're that shy and nervous about going through my clothes, I'll grab them myself."
Without hesitation, Chris was already on his feet. Jill had a way of convincing him, and she knew she could have Wesker's golden boy wrapped around her finger at any moment. She knew she liked him, but Chris was too oblivious to figure it out himself. That just made it more fun to toy with him and watch him squirm under her words. Jill could hear the twenty-something-year-old ruffling through her drawers, debating which tank top she'd like, which shorts would match, and whether she had a preferred type of boxers for certain days.
Chris had a routine for his own clothes, so he figured everyone else did too. Captain Wesker wore the same three shirts and either black or blue dress pants—he never wore comfortable clothing around S.T.A.R.S. ALPHA. Over time, Chris had gotten used to it, watching how Albert imposed his attire standards on everyone else.
After a good ten minutes of sorting through different colors of tank tops and shorts, and finally mustering the confidence to go through Jill's boxer drawer, he selected a military green tank top, olive green boy shorts, and a pair of silky black boxers that would stick to her skin with no chance of sliding down or bunching up.
With the bundle of clothes in hand, Chris cracked the bathroom door open just enough for Jill to grab them.
"Thanks, Chris."
She was blushing on the other side of the door.
"While I'm getting dressed, want to tell me what's going on?"
"Oh, Captain said we have operation 'make this place look like humans actually live here and not a group of crazed BOW killers.'"
Valentine burst out laughing.
"Yeah—okay. Gotcha. I'll meet you downstairs in a moment. We can start in the common room where all the briefings happen. Let's make sure not to knock over anything this time. He was so pissed last time.”
With that, Chris left Jill's quarters and made his way down the dimly lit corridor to the common room, his boots echoing against the polished floors. He pushed through the heavy double doors and found himself alone in the spacious briefing area, the familiar scent of coffee and gun oil hanging in the air. He settled into one of the metal chairs, drumming his fingers on the long conference table as he waited for the brunette to join him.
As if Wesker had known exactly what they were up to—which was already slacking off and chatting instead of getting straight to work—he had meticulously laid out a stack of crisp, typewritten instructions for the pair to follow through with. The papers were arranged in two neat piles on the polished mahogany surface, each topped with their respective names in Wesker's distinctive, precise handwriting.
Christopher Redfield:
- Clean Men's Bathroom (including scrubbing tiles, disinfecting all surfaces, and restocking supplies)
- Scrub any and all graphic images, diagrams, and bloodstains from the office walls and whiteboards
- Alphabetically organize all discovered B.O.W. files, reports, and specimen documentation
- Wash, Dry, Fold, and Hang up Laundry for the entire team
Jill Valentine:
- Deep cleaning in the kitchen (scrub countertops, sanitize all food prep areas, mop floors)
- Dishes (wash, dry, and put away all accumulated plates, utensils, and cookware)
- Christopher and yourself will be responsible for preparing and serving lunch for the others today at 1300 hours
- Disassemble all team firearms for maintenance and slide them to Chris for thorough cleaning and inspection
- Report back to Captain Wesker's office when all tasks are completed—no exceptions.
Disclaimer: This draft has been sitting in my docs for a while. I figured if I posted the first bit, maybe I could get some type of motivation
Regular Day at the Office
“Captain, you called?”
A young man in his early twenties lingered in the doorway, still half-awake, still warming his hands around the mug he’d just filled. The office break room smelled like burnt grounds and cheap creamer. Fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, making everything look a shade paler than it should.
“Hm. Yes.”
The older blond man didn’t look up from the paperwork spread across his desk. File folders sat in neat stacks, squared with the edge like they’d been measured. A pen clicked once, precise as a metronome. “I’m assigning you to Valentine today.”
Chris’s pulse jumped. He kept his posture neutral, shoulders back, face blank. Any hint of excitement when Albert was in work mode—which was twenty‑three hours a day, seven days a week—earned a lecture that could drain the life out of a person.
Wesker finally slid a folder across the desk with two fingers, as if contact with anyone else’s mess might contaminate his. “You and Valentine are in charge of keeping the office clean and staying current on incoming missions.” His voice was clipped and certain, the kind that didn’t invite questions. “Follow orders. You’ve been slacking lately.”
Chris swallowed. The word slacking landed like a punch. He’d been late twice this month. Once because he’d overslept. Once because Jill had convinced him they could beat Barry to the donut boxes if they took the stairs two at a time.
“If it happens again,” Wesker continued without missing a beat, “you and I will have a personal conversation. Understood?”
“Understood, Captain.” Chris kept his gaze level, even though his hands wanted to fidget around the mug.
Wesker never dismissed anyone. He simply went back to filing, eyes already elsewhere, as if the exchange had ended the moment the warning left his mouth.
Coffee in hand, Chris turned on his heel and walked out at a controlled pace. Only when he’d rounded the corner—and the door to Wesker’s office had clicked shut behind him—did he let himself exhale. He quickened into a jog, boots whispering against polished tile, then broke into a sprint down the main hall.
The corridor was quiet in the early hours, just the low hum of the building’s ventilation and the occasional crackle of a radio from a distant desk. The walls were lined with framed commendations and outdated mission photos, faces frozen in proud smiles that didn’t match the exhaustion Chris saw in the living versions.
He hit the stairwell and took it two steps at a time toward Jill Valentine’s quarters.
The best part about living in the same wing as work was access. Chris could see his best friend whenever they managed a spare moment, even if it was only long enough to trade a look that said survive the day. Better yet, he always had first dibs on the donuts Barry Burton brought in every Tuesday and Friday. Barry was reliable like that—big laugh, bigger heart, and a sweet tooth he loved enabling.
Halfway up the stairs—because, seriously, fuck taking the elevator—Chris caught the thrum of music through the corridor walls. A bass line he recognized instantly. Queen. Jill was already up, already loud enough to make the sterile hallway feel less like a facility and more like a place where people actually lived.
A grin tugged at his mouth. Heat rose into his cheeks as he followed the sound to her door, catching the faintest whiff of her shampoo through the crack beneath it—something clean and sharp, like pine.
He paused with his knuckles hovering over the frame, rehearsing the way he’d phrase it.
We’ve been assigned to a top-secret operation: Operation Make This Place Look Like Humans Work Here
Today’s “mission” might be cleaning and organizing on paper, but if you knew Chris and Jill, you knew nothing stayed purely professional for long. At best, they’d do the job fast. At worst, they’d turn it into a competition.
This is just a fun little thing I’ve been wanting to do since the dawn of time but could never find a post to reblog that satisfied what I wanted. So I made this, feel free to reblog and use it yourself!
❤️ how tall are you?
🧡 what is your sexuality?
💛 what is your favorite feature on yourself?
💚 where are you from?
🩵 do you have any pets?
💙 do you have any siblings?
💜 describe yourself in five words or less!
🩷 dream job?
🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog
🎂 when is your birthday?
🌙 your zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising)
💉do you have tattoos and/or piercings
🚗 can you drive?
✈️ favorite place you’ve traveled
🎤 have you been to a concert
🎵 favorite artists
🎧 last song you listened too
📺 last show you watched
📝 last thing you wrote
🔐 something no one would guess about you
🧟♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you
🔥 craziest thing that’s ever happened to you
🍓 favorite food
🍅 least favorite food
🍊 favorite season?
🍋 favorite genre to read / watch / write
🍐 if you could make one character real, who would it be
🫐 some place you’d love to visit
🍇 a word your friends would use to describe you
🍒 what is your earliest memory
🍌 what is one talent you wish you had
💌 why did you start this blog?
✏️ when did you start writing fanfic
🖇️ what are your favorite asks to answer
📚 how do you come up with the fics you write
📌 what is the fic you’re know for
🔍 what character do you enjoy writing for the most
🖊️ what character do you not enjoy writing for
💔 is there a fic you wish you didn’t write
❤️🔥 what character do you simp for most often
🧚♀️ favorite characters of all time
🪐 favorite shows / series of all time
🌝 a show you would recommend to anyone
🌚 a show you’d tell people to stay away from
🌹 favorite kinks to write for
🥀 kinks you would never write for
🌊 a kink you would like to write but you think you’d be judged
❄️ full fics, imagines or head canons
☂️ your favorite fanfic from another writer
A couple of in depth questions!
🍄 what is something that’s happened in your life that you wish you could go back and change?
⭐️ what is one of your biggest accomplishments? Why is it so important to you?
🪻what is the toughest thing you had to go through, but can say you’ve successfully overcome?
🌺 what is the best gift someone has ever given you and why is it so important
🍀 what is your comfort show/series and why is it your comfort show? How has it helped you?
🧸 if you HAVE posted something on tumblr today: are you artistic? OR if you HAVE NOT posted anything on tumblr today: how many languages can you speak?
(Post where the ask is)
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
Alright, I've been procrastinating this ask for a bit because of home life being crazy... but I can speak 2 languages, one more fluently than the other. English and a bit of Japanese!
