gnawing beauty

taku | she/her | mhyk, hpmi, twst

[armandology]

rice is like a best friend and a lover to me

[scottbaiowulf-deactivated201805]

Male writers writing female characters:

“Cassandra woke up to the rays of the sun streaming through the slats on her blinds, cascading over her naked chest. She stretched, her breasts lifting with her arms as she greeted the sun. She rolled out of bed and put on a shirt, her nipples prominently showing through the thin fabric. She breasted boobily to the stairs, and titted downwards.”

[m1ssc0mmun1cat10n]

‘ She breasted boobily to the stairs, and titted downwards’ is the greatest fucking sentence I have ever read.

[silly-activites]

THE ORIGINAL??

[dduane]

(smh) Never thought I’d see it in the wild. Yet here it is. :)

[browniejeane]

always gotta reblog the ‘breasted boobily’ post

[bold-baddie]

[animentality]

[ludicrouslybad]

guys why is it lowkey thursday today 😭😅

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🌸Describing Scents For Writers 🌸| List of Scents

Describing aromas can add a whole new layer to your storytelling, immersing your readers in the atmosphere of your scenes. Here's a categorized list of different words to help you describe scents in your writing.

🌿 Fresh & Clean Scents

Crisp

Clean

Pure

Refreshing

Invigorating

Bright

Zesty

Airy

Dewy

Herbal

Minty

Oceanic

Morning breeze

Green grass

Rain-kissed

🌼 Floral Scents

Fragrant

Sweet

Floral

Delicate

Perfumed

Lush

Blooming

Petaled

Jasmine

Rose-scented

Lavender

Hibiscus

Gardenia

Lilac

Wildflower

🍏 Fruity Scents

Juicy

Tangy

Sweet

Citrusy

Tropical

Ripe

Pungent

Tart

Berry-like

Melon-scented

Apple-blossom

Peachy

Grape-like

Banana-esque

Citrus burst

🍂 Earthy & Woody Scents

Musky

Earthy

Woody

Grounded

Rich

Smoky

Resinous

Pine-scented

Oak-like

Cedarwood

Amber

Mossy

Soil-rich

Sandalwood

Forest floor

☕ Spicy & Warm Scents

Spiced

Warm

Cozy

Inviting

Cinnamon-like

Clove-scented

Nutmeg

Ginger

Cardamom

Coffee-infused

Chocolatey

Vanilla-sweet

Toasted

Roasted

Hearth-like

🏭 Industrial & Chemical Scents

Metallic

Oily

Chemical

Synthetic

Acrid

Pungent

Foul

Musty

Smoky

Rubber-like

Diesel-scented

Gasoline

Paint-thinner

Industrial

Sharp

🍃 Natural & Herbal Scents

Herbal

Aromatic

Earthy

Leafy

Grass-like

Sage-scented

Basil-like

Thyme-infused

Rosemary

Chamomile

Green tea

Wild mint

Eucalyptus

Cinnamon-bark

Clary sage

🎉 Unique & Uncommon Scents

Antique

Nostalgic

Ethereal

Enigmatic

Exotic

Haunted

Mysterious

Eerie

Poignant

Dreamlike

Surreal

Enveloping

Mesmerizing

Captivating

Transcendent

I hope this list can help you with your writing. 🌷✨

Feel free to share your favorite scent descriptions in the replies below! What scents do you love to incorporate into your stories?

Happy Writing! - Rin T.

[p00pdev1l]

the fictional character that’s like the boyfriend you’d sneak in through the window because you don’t want anyone to know about him

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

SUPERMOON (EVERYTHING YOU WANT)!

❤︎‬ it's your job to wake shylock up on his special day. ❤︎‬ shylock bennett x sage! gn! reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 3.3k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): suggestive jokes

“What? Master Sage, you want to sleep with Shylock?” Your face burns. You doubt your ears for a split second. The question is both innocent as it is accusatory. You swivel your head around to see if anyone’s heard the question before your eyes land on a plate of lovingly crafted cream puffs Nero has set aside. You see Murr crack a wide smile, about to hurl another pointed inquiry at you, so you mutter an internal apology to the hardworking chef for what you’re about to do. 

Then, you swipe a cream puff and shove your fist into Murr’s mouth. 

“Mm!” The feline-esque wizard purrs, instantly distracted by the honeyed taste of smooth vanilla cream. You wipe your hand on your clothes, not caring if the fabric got stained with the cream-dough-spit mixture coating your knuckles. Murr begins to scarf down his newfound treat with relish, yellow-white custard cream generously coating the pink of his lips and the peach fuzz of his skin. 

The heat in your face is scalding. It’s no secret, within the expansive confines of the Sage’s Manor, that you’re indubitably in love with Shylock. You’ve never verbalized it, but one by one, the various wizards have picked up on your feelings. You’re not the most subtle with your emotions, and while you’re pretty sure Shylock, being the horrendously observant man he is, has picked up on everything already, he’s mercifully holding his tongue. Maybe it’s his way of making sure you can hold onto some scraps of your pride, though you don’t know how much of it is left at this point.

And then there’s Murr, ever the instigator. He’s the kind of wizard where if you give him one inch, he’ll take a mile. And boy, was he skilled at taking miles and miles out of any scraps he could pick up.

“Don’t phrase it like that! You’re making me sound like some kind of pervert!” You hiss, eyes darting around the bustling kitchen to make sure no one else overheard. You’d simply die of embarrassment if someone misconstrued your feelings for something so much more insidious. And no thanks to Murr, no less.

Thankfully, the other wizards seem too occupied with their own tasks to overhear any of Murr’s loud gossip. The clanging and whistling in the kitchen shows that Nero’s busy cooking up a storm, and there’s the shuffle of footsteps as Owen orbits around the chef, leering for the perfect opportunity to swipe a treat from under Nero’s nose. 

Today is Shylock’s birthday. It’s early in the day, with the sun’s rays only now dappling across the horizon, but a good chunk of the manor’s inhabitants are already awake to help with the festivities. Canaria runs the whole operation like she’s a naval captain, decisive and firm, and you can make out Rutile’s soft voice as he helps his younger brother hang up decorations. You’re hoping the noise isn’t too loud to rouse Shylock from his sleep and ruin the surprise, but there’s no sign of him so far which is encouraging.

(Last night, when he had temptingly invited you for some evening tea, you made sure to ask Rustica for his most potent blend of sleepytime tea. Shylock had gulped down the cups you offered him without a question, though your heart did skip a beat whenever he licked his lips to catch any lingering droplets of the specially brewed sleepytime tea. Regardless, you hope it’s enough to ensure a deep, uninterrupted slumber to allow for all of the proper festivity preparations.)

But back to the more pressing matter at hand. You swallow down the bubbling annoyance you feel towards Murr. You did not want to sleep with Shylock. What you wanted was to be the one to wake him up on his special day. It was only natural that you take a fascination with Shylock and his sleep. Though on second thought, phrasing it like that did make you sound like the wicked pervert Murr was framing you as.

You blame it on your infatuation. It has to be an extension of your growing feelings towards the alluring wizard. Shylock is perfect and poised. His weapon is his tongue, the same tongue that whispers something just shy of love and devotion and loathing all mixed together. Maybe his many years of experience both as a bartender and as a wizard has shaped him into the unshakeable person he is. In any case, no matter what spite his patrons spat at him or what affections his admirers threw at his feet, Shylock took it in stride and managed to seduce them nonetheless. Even the most hardened of travelers would find themselves falling in love with the coy bartender, so who were to even assume that you could find yourself to be immune to his charm?

In the corner of your vision, you see Murr give one last swallow and lick his lips with a loud smack. The distraction was bound to only be temporary, and you steel yourself unconsciously when his glimmering teal eyes swing back over to you. You can’t help but feel a little trapped, and you press your lips into a thin line as you brace yourself for whatever awful claim Murr is going to bat into your lap. He’s doing this to get a rise out of you, but he’s too good at provoking you.

“Murr.” A dry voice comes to your rescue. You let out the breath you were holding, and you almost cough when you inhale deeply. A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, and you peer up, eyes watering a little. Nero comes into your vision. In Nero’s other hand is a bottle of what looks to be expensive wine.

“Nero!” Murr greets the chef back. Nero raises an eyebrow and holds the wine bottle up towards Murr.

“Quit giving the Master Sage a tough time and give us a hand, won’tcha? We need all hands on deck,” Nero mirthfully remarks. He tosses the wine bottle into Murr’s hands as if it wasn’t made of glass, and you visibly flinch. Nero doesn’t acknowledge the movement, his gaze boring into Murr like he wanted to tie the cat-like wizard down to the floor. “Make yourself useful and go pour everyone some wine. There’s sparkling grape juice in the kitchen for the kiddos. And the Central prince is included amongst those kiddos. Let’s not have a drunken bureaucratic emergency on someone’s special day.”

Murr sticks his tongue out but scampers away from you thankfully. Only once Murr is out of sight does Nero shake his head and sigh, massaging his forehead with the hand that isn’t on you. You give an understanding laugh. You don’t need to explain your situation for him to understand it fully. The Manor does an excellent job of keeping everyone on their toes. When one wizard settles down, another acts up. It’s just a matter of time to figure out who it is that’s stirring up a ruckus.

“Thanks.” You shyly break the silence. Nero clicks his tongue.

“Don’t even mention it. ‘Sides, I didn’t come here to save you, Master Sage.” He peers at you, and he breaks out into his signature wry smirk. “What, did you think you were off the hook? Not so fast, ya rascal. I’m putting you to work too.”

You blink, nearly spluttering. “I-I have been working! I was helping set up! See, we’re almost done-”

“-Precisely,” Nero cuts it without giving you a chance to finish. He leans in, and the long strands of his cornflower blue hair brush against the outline of his face. “Party’s ready to go, and the star isn’t here. So won’tcha be a dear and go fetch that pesky Westie?”

Your face explodes with heat, and you want to punch Nero. Nero follows up with a short chuckle, before letting go of you and stuffing his rough hands into his pockets. Blasted moon, Nero definitely knew of your impossible crush on Shylock and was also poking fun at you. You thought Murr was bad, but you had basically jumped out of the pan and straight into the fire. At least Murr you could swat aside as a mischievous pest, but someone as lucid and as relatively good-hearted as Nero? 

You were cooked.

“Ugh… You’re the worst,” you grumble, burying your face in your hands and shaking your head. Nero shrugs, though you can’t see it.

“I didn’t say shit,” he huffs. “Don’t get cold feet now. Can’t have a birthday party without the birthday boy. ‘Sides, Murr said that you wanted to sleep with him, so… this might suffice?”

You let out a muffled scream into the swell of your sweating palms, and Nero slinks away back into the kitchen with yet another laugh. These wizards… Once the chaos of the birthday party was over, you were going to send the whole lot of them off on the most grueling mission you could find. That ought to knock some sense into all of their stupidly thick skulls.

…

…

…

You stop just shy of Shylock’s bedroom. Rustica’s melodic snores and Chloe’s panicked footsteps leak out from their respective rooms. Your hands are as clammy as death, anxiety overtaking your body. Your heart pounds like a typhoon in your ears, and you lick your lips nervously as you try to compose yourself before entering the privacy of Shylock’s bedroom.

This isn’t your first time here, but every time you do come close, your body kicks into overdrive. This is the material of your deepest, darkest, most obscene fantasies. You’re definitely far from the sleaze Murr likes to goad you into thinking you are, but you’re also not quite the angel that you want to believe you are. If you really were truly pure-hearted, you wouldn’t be drooling over the thought of what a groggy, half-conscious Shylock might look like.

A lump makes itself home in the middle of your gullet. It’s not like it matters, does it? Shylock would be an idiot if he didn’t catch onto how flustered and clumsy you got around him, and if anything, he’d probably lean into his role as a tempter, leaving you trapped in the vicious cycle of burning desire and painful penitence.

Whatever.

You let out a shaky breath as you wrap your hand methodically around the cool metal of his doorknob. You’re here to wake Shylock up for his birthday party. You’re here to creep on him as he wakes up. This task is utilitarian as it is selfish. Your chance to be a moral, upstanding Master Sage has long passed and disappeared, and you know better than to return to a bunch of expectant wizards without the birthday boy in tow.

The door swings open without any resistance, completely unlocked. It’s as if Shylock went to bed last night anticipating that you’d visit in the morning, and you silently slink through the slight crack you opened up before immediately slotting the door closed behind you. The room is bright as the rising sun peeks in through the window, the curtains having been already drawn open. The scent of warm spices, sticky tobacco smoke, the effervescent tinge of alcohol, and gentle potpourri press against the insides of your nose and mouth, and your stomach twists painstakingly slowly in on itself with flushed heat.

The scent of Shylock’s room. It’s colored with deep brown wooden furniture and even deeper carpets, and burgundy accented seats and fabrics coo at you as you awkwardly pad across the bedroom. Your eyes meet the end of the bed, the wood of the footrest expertly carved into a titillating curve as if beckoning your line of vision to come closer, to climb up its spread body, to coax you into the roused sheets. Your mouth goes wet as your throat goes dry simultaneously. It hurts a little.

You find Shylock splayed out on his bed. He’s conscious, and crimson eyes blink leisurely as if still caught in between reality and dreams. You can’t read his expression, even when he’s fighting off the throes of sleep, but your stomach twists itself into another awful knot when your heart lurches with attraction. You’re beyond redemption. Your hopelessness only continues to reaffirm itself with each passing minute. 

“Mm…,” Shylock inhales softly, fragrant air glossing over the dip in his Cupid’s bow with each breath. His unfocused gaze lands on you, and you’re magnetized. A ghost of a tired but tender smile slinks its way onto his face. His fingertips twitch against his sides, and he lithely gestures for you to come closer. “Good morning, Master Sage.”

Shylock is the living embodiment of temptation in this moment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when fantasizing about catching him as he woke up, but whatever you were thinking sours quickly in comparison. He’s splayed out like a lounging prince atop his bed. Delicate ivory and ruby red colored robes enclose his body loosely, fitting snug against his figure like tissue paper embracing a bouquet of rich flowers. The neckline is generous, allowing you a gaze at the lascivious curves and bumps of his collarbones.

His meticulous hair is undone, and its long strands pool around his pillow, face, shoulders, and arms like undulating rivulets of water. Your eyes can’t help but follow their countless numbers, which inevitably leads your vision over every inch of his body. His bewitchingly lowered eyes catch yours for a moment, and your heart stops in your chest when you realize you’ve been ogling at him shamelessly like a freak.  

You shuffle towards him, limbs so heavy that they might have been made out of steel instead of flesh and blood. You clear your throat the best you can. “Happy birthday, Shylock.”

Surprise flutters across his sleep-laden face before he composes himself. “Birthday… Ah, right. It is my birthday. My very own special day. I was wondering why I had been so lucky today. The coveted Master Sage had been the one to stir me awake.”

You feel like a bomb that’s been set on fire. It’s been less than five minutes since he’s started making conversation with you, and you think you’re going to explode into a million little bits right in front of him with how much inner turmoil he’s stirring up inside of you. Your throat clams up on you, but you do your best to carry out the very mission you’ve been sent on. 

“I’m here to take you downstairs. It’s your special day, so… we’ve prepared something special for you,” you choke out. The ends of Shylock’s lips curl upwards into a subtle smile, and he tilts his head more towards you from where he’s laying down. 

“My very own special day,” Shylock quietly repeats, as if affirming the truth of your statement to himself. “That means it’s the perfect day to ask you to indulge my selfishness, yes?” A bead of sweat trickles down the back of your neck. It threatens to breach the top of your spine as something akin to a deadweight drops into your stomach. He exhilarates you. Terrifies you. He’s so effortlessly charming that he could ask you to hunt down a unicorn for him, and you’d slave away for the rest of your life chasing after the impossible beast if it meant making him happy. But he’s also selfish and horrible in the way every wizard is primed to be, he himself a captive to his own tumultuous romance.

It’s him. No matter what horror he might subject you to with the very own whims of his words, it’s still him. 

“Mhm. You can ask for whatever you want today.”

Shylock hums to himself, evidently in thought. “If that’s the case then…”

He pushes himself slightly upwards. Instead of fully laying down horizontally, he’s propped somewhat upright by his pillow. The spot next to him is now vacant, and he pats his bed and beckons you to come sit. You move mechanically, heart threatening to burst with every step you take. Right before you plop yourself down on his bed, your senses are filled with his scent again. It’s headier than the aroma steeped into his room. Something musky, something vulnerably human, something that wraps itself around you like a lover’s hold before bringing you down somewhere dangerously deeper and down under.

Shylock wraps an arm around your waist once you’re seated, sidling up close to you. You stiffen under his touch, which somehow manages to be both feather light and firm all at once. He lets his eyes flutter shut again before he inhales deeply through his nose, almost as if he’s trying to make out your scent amidst the many mingling balms of his room.

“What have they prepared for me downstairs?” He asks calmly.

“A bunch of stuff that you like… There’s cake and birthday desserts, and I think Nero’s opening up a bottle of wine even though it’s only breakfast.” You wring your hands in your lap. It makes sense for him to be hungry. He’s barely woken up, and the idea of basically a whole banquet prepared for him would be more than enough to stimulate his appetite. 

Despite having his eyes shut, the arm wrapped around you moves up your side and back, and before you know it, Shylock yanks you down into bed with him. You yelp audibly as you’re pulled downwards like you’re stuck in temporary freefall. Your back hits the mattress before you’re drawn flush to his body. Goosebumps shoot all over your skin when you feel the weight and warmth of his chest pressed up against your back, and his arms wrap tightly around your midriff. He’s determined not to let you go, even if you instinctively jerk against him to create some distance between your bodies to no avail.

“You’re so skittish around me, Master Sage,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. Your heart thunders inside of your chest. You’re a puppet stuck in the husk of your own body. Your brain won’t respond to reason or logic anymore, fueled in this instant only by the sheer panic and euphoria of being in such shamelessly close proximity to him. No amount of magic can replicate the feeling—a punishment so sweet that it circles back to being torturous. 

“D-Downstairs-!” You eke out, gasping over your words. “There’s food- Breakfast-”

“Hush, now. This is what I mean. So, so skittish. Like you want to get away from me,” he chuckles. He squeezes his arms, pressing slightly into the plush flesh of your belly. Heat flares up again, a secondary heartbeat thrumming deep in your gut equally as traitorously as the primary. His voice is low, husky, and yet amused all the same, the kind of voice someone would use when trying to win the trust of a coquettish kitten. “You’ll break my heart, and on my birthday, no less.”

His bed is silken and warm with his body heat, the middle indented with the silhouette of his body, a perfect cocoon for you to lull yourself asleep in. He cradles you as if you were meant to be held close to him, your two forms slotted together like two halves to a whole. He rests his heavy head against yours.

His voice dips a touch, no more than an intimate whisper meant just for you. “...Sage. Right now, I want you more than food. Would you mind if I went back to sleep with you?”

You know he won’t wait for your answer. You know your thoughts are one and the same as him. You know your words are going to fail you, like they always have when it comes to condensing and organizing and verbalizing the myriad of things that he stirs up inside of you, a cosmos of swirling emotions and instincts and histories all turned into nonsensical mush in the face of the treacherously seductive wizard.

You don’t.

You don’t mind at all.

x

[hauntedforsport]

"you are annoying about x & y" okay. this is the being annoying website.

[kalliopii]

yeah and they’re good games so like??? i will speak

[kalliopii]

wait

[xoiue]

[hanchewie]

literally half the reason i tag stuff on here is so i can go back and browse my own blog. i am my blog’s #1 fan

[zegalba]

[adelar-storytime]

OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

___

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

___

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

___

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

---

some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

[thesilverlock]

Fandom OC Ask Meme

⟢⋱⟡☾ a collection of asks for OCs belonging to specific fandoms

How does (canon character) feel about your OC?

How does your OC feel about (canon character)?

Has your OC ever made (canon character) laugh? / What about cry?

Do your OC and (canon character) ever cross paths?

Which canon character annoys your OC?

What canon character gets annoyed by your OC?

Which canon character respects your OC most? What gained that respect?

Which canon character doesn’t respect your OC whatsoever?

Which canon character does your OC respect a lot?

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Which canon character is pissed off by the general presence of OC? (we all have those people)

Does your OC have a crush on anyone?

Who would probably have a crush on your OC?

Who would your OC most likely to get a puppy-crush on? (but it can’t be the cc they’re actually shipped with!)

Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Who would call your OC their best friend?

Who has brought your OC to tears before?

Who has your OC made cry?

Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Is there someone your OC liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

Who does your OC hate?

Who does your OC love? (platonic)

Who does your OC love? (familial)

Does your OC love anyone? (romantic)

Has your OC ever had to let a canon character down easy?

Has your OC ever been rejected by a canon character?

Did your OC bear witness to anyone’s full character arc?

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

What is your OC’s ‘‘darkness moment’’ in the plot?

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

Is there a canon character that your OC needs to ask forgiveness towards?

Is there a canon character your OC needs to forgive?

Is there anyone who your OC would die for?

Is there a canon character who would die for your OC?

[takumipineapplexd]

wanted to post this here too but uwauauwhwuwh

[takumipineapplexd]

tbh my tummy HURTS

[takumipineapplexd]

icb im letting sasasama take over mu brain

[takumipineapplexd]

tryna rhink of hpmi prompts..