Pink

She/her | Requests are always open

[theflying-pink]

Guidelines/rules for requesting

What I'm currently working on

Fanfiction Masterlists

Call of Duty

DC Comics

Project Hail Mary

Red Dead Redemption 2

The Pitt

My Other Blogs/Accounts

My Ao3 Account

My personal blog: @pinkisinthecloset

My original writing blog: @pink-headed

My Stories/Original Characters

I get my dividers from @cursed-carmine | @strangergraphics | @saradika-graphics | @uzmacchiato | @starrliqhtt

[theflying-pink]

Slice Of Life

A.k.a.: Your life if you were dating the DC characters.

All of the pictures are directly taken from @gothamorphosis's series Picture Perfect and all of the blurbs are inspired by the pictures. Check it out, it is truly amazing!

Bruce Wayne as your husband

Dick Grayson as your boyfriend

Jason Todd as your boyfriend

Wally West as your boyfriend

Selina Kyle as your girlfriend

[theflying-pink]

Simon thought it would be best for everyone if he was muzzled and chained like a dog. After all he was a dangerous man, a weapon in the shape of a human, a wolf in sheepskin.

Talking was hard for him. He was always shooting out orders on the battlefield and couldn't really turn that off. Being loud was always one of his most prevalent instincts. It would scare anyone away that was trying to harm him when he couldn't defend himself. The only side effect was that it also scared away anyone who wasn't trying to hurt him.

Since he couldn't completely isolate himself from the outside world, he decided to just stop talking. He answered most questions with a simple nod or shake of his head and would write down more complicated answers or just ignore the person that was asking.

Along with silence came distance. Distance from human speech and social norms, distance from his hobbies, normal activities, anything and anyone outside of his job and, most importantly, touch.

He couldn't decide if physical contact with people he knew or complete strangers was worse. Strangers brought uncertainty, both for themselves and for Simon. He didn't know them, of course, and so they could be anything from friend to foe. With his teammates it was more complicated. They knew he didn't like physical contact and were disrespecting his boundaries, which Simon obviously wasn't a fan of. But he also knew that they probably meant well. An encouraging pat on the shoulder or a playful kick against his shin.

Still, one thing stood clear: Touch would resort in violence.

Some guy tapping his shoulder and sighing: "Excuse me, but that's my seat." Simon, already being overwhelmed by the loud music and heat in the bar, whipped around and punched him in the face. He hadn't meant to but he was on edge and being touched was the last thing he wanted.

During a medical exam when the doctor, instead of asking Simon to lift his arm, grabbed it and twisted it upwards. Simon pulled his arm back and pushed him away and aginst a drawer. In seconds he was out the door.

When Simon met you, he barely registered you. You were walking on the same trail he was running on.

It had been a hard, exhausting day and he could barely keep his eyes open. As he ran past you, you called out to him: "Careful!"

Just as he heard the word, he started slipping and face-planted on the ground. A root was still slightly coming out of the ground, a perfect trip hazard.

"Oh my god!" you yelled and went over to him. Gently you wrapped your hand around his arm, helping him pull himself up. "Are you okay?"

Simon slapped your hand and quickly scrambled up, breathing quicker. Not only was his cheek hurting now but he was embarrassed, felt violated and unreasonable for feeling violated.

You couldn't have known that he didn't want to be touched. You were trying to help. You were a good person. He could just go home and shower.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He brushed some dirt off his shirt.

"No, I'm sorry for touching you."

Simon blinked, looked at the root that made him trip, at his arm and back at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you swallowed. There was a slight flush to your cheeks as you bowed down slightly.

"Have a nice rest of your day."

You smiled at him before continuing down the road and Simon was left wondering how a stranger could make him feel more human than any therapist, coworker, friend or family member had ever.

A/N: This is so bad and makes no sense but whatever. Cleaning out my drafts. Part 2 incoming.

[theflying-pink]

The Projects I'm currently procrastinating working on:

The Ryland Grace request I got

Slice Of Life (various DC characters x reader, inspired by @gothamorphosis's series Picture Perfect)

Metaphor (John Marston x writer!reader)

Mechaniac (request I got for weapon maker!reader x Bruce Wayne that's been sitting in my mind for ages)

Saudade (Ryland Grace x reader)

[theflying-pink]

Random Arthur Morgan observations:

When he's worried, he starts talking louder and faster and gets more aggressive/rougher. He also gets more "touchy". Not because he craves physical connection or something but because he wants to help and moves people around how he thinks it should be.

Arthur obviously cares a lot about people and wants to help them (as seen by all of the stranger missions and the entire game) but he also really loves animals. He cares for them deeply and respects them (as in he doesn't only think they're cute and helpless but thinks they can be smart, strong, etc).

(More obvious) He is deeeeeplyyyy insecure and about everything too. About his background, about hos looks, about his lifestyle/the gang, about his personality, about his moral compass, about his decisions and past. Like naming one thing this man isn't insecure about is an impossible mission.

Continuation of this ↑: But he also doesn't like it and gets aggressive/mean/whatever you wanna call it when someone says that something he did was bad. (I think) He berates Mary for breaking up with him just because he's an outlaw but then when he's alone also says that he's a bad man for being an outlaw and that he doesn't deserve to be loved.

Low self-esteem, difficulty accepting compliments, general bad opinion of himself

He believes in the good in people and that they can change and tries to reason with their morality more often than just imidating them. Like he always first is like "think about what you're doing" and then threatens them if they don't do want he wants them to do. (He clearly doesn't have as much of a hate of violence as Charles but I do think that he doesn't like to hurt people)

Note: Pleaseeee don't say like "oh, we knew that" because I need to write these things down so that I get a better grasp on the character. Also: I'd love to talk about these things some more and see other people's thoughts on them so please share what you think/have seen!

[theflying-pink]

Thinking about having writer's block and meeting Arthur Morgan in like a bar or something and he just cures you. Like suddenly the words just flow out of your mouth. You can hardly believe yourself as you're just scribbling stuff down.

Arthur would probably be a mix of flattered, curious and overwhelmed. I feel like he also would want to read what you've written but then not really understand everything and just go like: "Yeah, this is... Good. Really, uh, brings out the... good? In me?"

Also: Wanting Arthur to tell you western stories so you can write about them and he absolutely delivers. Because he's seen so much and, even if he maybe doesn't have all the words to describe it, he knows what stuff feels like.

Maybe his hand is in your hair/on your head and maybe his arms are wrapped around you while he whispers stuff into your ears and you try your best to write down your ideas.

[theflying-pink]

What Are We?

A.k.a.: You use the triangle of friends, enemies and lovers like a track field. Ryland wants an answer to what you are.

Pairing: Ryland Grace x "mean"!reader

A/N: Send requests....... please............. thank you...........

Leading a space odyssey into another solar system was far out of Ryland's comfort zone, interacting with alien life-forms was even farther out of his comfort zone and understanding of the universe and trying to save earth was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn't see it from where he was standing.

But all of those cases where he felt scared and dreadful were nothing compared to what he was experiencing now. He had a crush on the only other person on said space odyssey.

Not just a small crush either; he was head over heels over you.

This manifested in many embarrassing ways. He started stuttering whenever you were in his vicinity (which was often since you were on a spaceship together) and he couldn't focus on anything (which was important because the lives of billions depended on him). What made this all much worse was that he had no idea what he was to you.

One morning (?) you were eating breakfast, sitting alone until Ryland came in. When he went to grab some food for himself, you made a displeased noise. He turned around where a portion of food was already lying there, waiting for him.

Another time you were both working in the lab, utterly exhausted and pissed off. It had been a long time since anyone of you had slept and annoyed slid into every movement you made. You slammed down your mug of coffee so hard that some of the liquid spilled out, you nearly cracked a petri dish with your strong grip and you had unintentionally - Ryland assumed so since the opposite was too harsh of an accusation - left red imprints of your fingernails in your arm from digging into the soft flesh. When Ryland went to hug you at the end of the night - something you and him had agreed on for the sake of satisfying both of your needs for touch - he expected it to feel forced and charged but it was quite different. Your arms wrapped around him gently and you even put your head on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. Your touch was so feather-light that he couldn't help reading more into it.

The worst of all your feelings for him was anger. It was not hot, not angry but quiet, bubbling under the surface and plausibly deniable. You gave him the cold shoulder, you pretended to not be able to hear him when you were clearly just ignoring him, you criticized any words that left his mouth but only in your head so he could see the sour expression on your face but never be able to call you out on it.

He didn't like it. Uncertainty was simply never the kind of thing he thrived on. Clarity was where the fun was at. Getting to play your role, knowing when you're being risky or even wrong and getting to sort every interaction into cases of usual or unusual.

You seemed to not care.

You kissed him after screaming at him for two hours, pushed him up against the wall, traced your finger over his cheek tenderly and told him he was the stupidest, ugliest, most awkward man you could remember knowing. Then you went to bed without another word and left Ryland spiraling.

You didn't speak to him the next day and neither did he. The day was spent still next to each other but you were seemingly each in a bubble, shut off from the other's world. If you communicated with Ryland, it was about the mission. You spoke in a monotone voice, professionality flowed through your every move and you refused to get within a two-meter zone of him.

The last part was especially frustrating because ever since you had gotten closer, he became used to your touch. Now he felt deprived. He was getting sluggish, too, thoughts and worries clouding his mind.

You had said he was ugly, stupid and awkward, certainly not quality anyone would look for in a partner, but you had also kissed him. On the mouth, full lip contact. That was usually only something that happened when you saw someone as a potential partner.

Mixed signals. Uncertainty. How long could Ryland live like that?

It turned out to be fifteen hours.

Those fiften hours were hard on him. The first few were spent in the lab studying, experimenting and trying to aviod you as much as possible. Then he moved on to making paper balls and using the trash bin as a basketball hoop in zero gravity. That was fun for about half an hour. Next he occupied himself by cleaning up. Five minutes later he had already moved on to watching a movie on the absolutely stacked archive that Stratt had put on the ship.

That was his worst idea. It was a cheesy rom-com which would usually be just meh. Not good, not bad, just something to turn your brain off to. But, because he was desperately in love with you and depressingly unable to express it, it was the saddest, most irritating film he had ever seen.

Back to the lab it was.

Now it was fifteen hours later. You were sleeping, peacefully unaware to the completely awake Ryland in the same room as you. The difference was like night and day.

You were deep into a dream, body relaxed and mouth slightly open. A bit of spit dribbled on your pillow, which Ryland only knew because he had gotten up from his bed and was now standing over you.

He blinked slowly, watching your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths. His hands were itching to reach out to you, maybe brush a bit of your brush aside or just touch your beautiful skin. Instead of doing anything, he simply sighed.

Just as he was about to make his way back to his bed, your eyes fluttered open. "Ryland?" you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows.

"Uh... Yeah," he whispered. "It's me."

"Why are you standing over me?" you asked.

His hands were already at his neck, scratching at nothing but regular skin that was not itching. "Well, uh," he answered, "I couldn't sleep."

"Why?"

Ryland sighed. "I... I don't like going to bed without talking about things."

You raised one eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah, like the fact that you kissed me," he explained, "and called me stupid and ugly."

Silently you sat up and turned towards him. Then you blinked twice. "I'm sorry."

He stared at you, blinked twice and nodded. Then he went to his bed. You also laid back down, trying to still get your last hours of restoration.

Ryland was back only minutes later. "I don't need an apology."

"Then what do you need?" you grumbled.

He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed. "What are we?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" You looked him up and down like you were repulsed at the idea of being anything with him.

"Are we teammates, friends," he continued, "enemies? Or do you... like me? I mean, you kissed me. That's... That's a thing that people don't usually do just casually."

You groaned, flopping back down on the bed. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

Ryland stared at you for a moment. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was squinting, not as if he was trying to look at something better but as if he was in pain. Slowly, he started nodding and swallowed once.

"Okay." Back to not sleeping.

The next day he looked absolutely horrible. Dark, long ovals had formed under his eyes and his hair was messy. Strands were sticking up into all directions and some uselessly fell across his forehead. He was yawning into his third cup of overly complicated coffee, head propped up on his hand.

"Well, you look" — You paused to take a breath and think of the perfect response that was teasing but not unnecessarily mean — "well-rested."

He didn't bother to respond and simply took another sip of his coffee.

"Look, about yesterday," you said and sat down next to him, "I don't have an answer."

Slowly, he looked up at you. "Okay."

You sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to find out with you."

Ryland blinked once, twice, thrice. A small smile formed on his lips and he chuckled.

"Do you want to find out?" you asked, trying to look at his face as he brushed his hand across it and into his hair.

"God, yes," he breathed. "As soon as possible."

[theflying-pink]

Ranking the Van Der Linde gang members (by how much I like them):

24th place: Dutch Van Der Linde 🤢

Good golly, I hate this guy with all my heart. I have tried to shoot him multiple times during missions just to see him die. Absolute lunatic. If you like Dutch, I don't like you.

23rd place: Micah Bell

He is yucky yuck yuck. Evil, disgusting, vile. He doesn't deserve to see the light of day. I think he also has a line about sexually assaulting women. So. Yeah.

22nd place: Bill Williamson

I mainly don't like Bill because he is loyal to Dutch and tells everyone else to be loyal to Dutch but, besides that, I also just don't like his personality.

21th place: Leopold Strauss

Bad Austrian representation.

20th place: Uncle

I don't like his personality.

19th place: Reverend Swanson

I'm anti-theist. His mission is also just kinda annoying. Not much to say about him.

18th place: Simon Pearson

He does his job and that's it. Not enough for me to like him.

17th place: Susan Grimshaw

I didn't like her shooting Molly. I like that she tried to fight against Dutch in the end. I don't like that she bosses everyone around but at the same time they kinda need it.

16th place: Molly O'Shea

I just didn't find out much about her backstory but overall I can appreciate her. I don't understand why she said that she betrayed the gang.

15th place: Josiah Trelawney

I don't really have any thoughts about him either. I like his outfit.

14th place: Mary-Beth Gaskill

I just didn't see her much in game :(

13th place: Abigail Marston

I wish I could like her more but I HATTEE when someone slaps another person.

12th place: Jack Marston

I mean he's just kind of there. But I love children so yeah. Cutie.

11th place: Karen Jones

I get sad every time I see her drunk. She's also very funny.

10th place: Lenny Summers

I like him. He's cute and kind.

9th place: Sean MacGuire

I also don't know so much about him but I love his personality. I was so sad and shocked when he died.

8th place: Kieran Duffy

He has so many good voicelines that brought me joy.

7th place: Javier Escuella

Don't get me wrong: I hate this guy. I also think that I could make him become a better person and see why Dutch is wrong.

6th place: Hosea Matthews

I wanna lay in his arms.

5th place: John Marston

I hated John at first but over the course of the game he grew on me. I'm contempleting buying rdr just because of him.

4th place: Tilly Jackson

Some might say this placement is too high but I do love her to death. I like that she's seen as more gentle usually but that she can still hold her own.

3th place: Charles Smith

He is always doing the right thing, how could I not like him?

2nd place: Sadie Adler

She is the perfect mix of chaotic and kind. I just love her so much. Her backstory is fire too, Idc what anyone says.

1st place: Arthur Morgan

Oh, Arthur. I don't think I have to explain this. Even though it is very common and basic, I love Arthur. He is just the kindest man and so relatable too.

Note: I just finished the game (including the epilouge) for the first time about three days ago.

[theflying-pink]

Fahna

Check out my super awesome Masterlist

[theflying-pink]

Outfits my OC (Lolizia) would wear

Check out the Masterlist

Don't mind the random cat shirt thrown in, I just thought it was something she would wear but also I don't think she'd have any more bottoms than what's shown.

[theflying-pink]

Thinking about Charles braiding your hair, feeling his fingers going through your hair and untangling it with care. Him accidentally brushing your neck. Holding a section of your hair to make it easier for him to braid.

Thinking about admiring it in the mirror and complimenting it. "Charles," you breathed, "this is beautiful." Hugging him and falling asleep in his strong arms, protected from harm.

Thinking about getting captured by Milton, him twilering his finger about your braid. "Come on," he said. "You know where they are." Disgust bubbling in your stomach, hot and heavy.

Thinking about lying in the dirt, your braid sticky with your own blood. You tried to cover your wound but the blood just spills through your hands. You reach up to touch your hand and try your best to focus on your memories of Charles. His warm embrace, kind words and helpful hands. Slowly, as the world got darker and your hope weaker, you closed your eyes.

[theflying-pink]

Lolizia

Check out my Masterlist

[theflying-pink]

CW: suicidal thoughts | Batman stops you from kys

You could already feel the concrete under you; the hard, solid emptiness that would take you away if you would just take half a step forward. You imagined the calm and the peace that would follow it. Black, silent, endless.

No one was here but still you felt like you had stage fright. Your fear went far beyond the pain of hitting the ground; it was the thought of someone seeing the aftermath. Maybe it would be a child, searching for their ball, just to find your dead, bloodied body in the alleyway. Maybe it would be a parent, now even more scared for their own kid. Maybe it would be someone else who's like you that gets pushed over the edge by your lead.

So you stayed on the ledge a bit longer, thinking, breathing, reasoning with yourself.

Your phone was in your hand. Help was only a quick call away and yet you didn't reach out. It's difficult. You knew that the world could be beautiful and bright but yet it had pushed you to standing here, staring down at the concrete.

"Don't jump," a voice called out behind you. It sounded deep, manly and like it was already preparing itself to watch you throw yourself off the building.

You startled, nearly tumbling over and down, down, down, but you grabbed the railing behind you. "Jesus," you breathed. "You know if someone is standing over a ledge, you shouldn't scare them."

"Can you please step away from the edge?" he asked.

You hesitated. A long pause where you thought of what you were really doing. You were standing on top of a building, staring down at an alleyway and about to kill yourself. If you would do it now, you would most likely traumatize the poor man behind you, which was never what you wanted to do to begin with, but if you didn't do it now, you'd have to muster up the courage to get back up here some other day.

"I know life is difficult," the man spoke again, sounding closer now, "but whatever you're going through can be fixed."

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, thought of everything that has ever happened to you, swallowed and carefully climbed over the railing to get away from the ledge. It was difficult, to say the least, and a lump started to form in your throat. You couldn't look up at the stranger so you opted to look at the floor.

"It's okay," he said, stepping a bit closer to you. "Do you need anything?"

You stayed quiet as his feet slowly came into your view. He wasn't wearing normal shoes but black, futuristic-looking boots that went all the way up his shins. You let your eyes glide up this strange man - grey spandex, black underwear on top of his suit, a utility belt fastened around his hips, black gloves and a black cape.

"You're Batman," you muttered.

"Yes," he answered. "Do you need anything?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Why did you do that? Aren't you supposed to be fighting criminals or something?"

"Usually but I also protect the vunerable."

You nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, I'm gonna go back to my apartment." You walked past Batman to the staircase leading back off the roof.

He nodded. "There are people who would be sad if you were gone."

You halted. "That has never helped anyone." You sighed. "Have a great rest of your night."

With that you shut the door and walked back to your apartment. You sat down on your bed and sighed. After a moment you stood up again to get a glass of water.

Even if you didn't want it to, your heart was pounding. It was embarrassing, the fact that you had failed, been interrupted, listened to a stranger who knew nothing about your life.

There he was again, in your living room this time, seeming just as surprised as you. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"I thought you might still need someone to be there for you," he admitted.

"God, I'm not gonna kill myself!" you yelled, pushing at his chest. "Go find something worth it to focus on!"

Calmly, he stepped back, giving you a bit of space. "I understand that you're uncomfortable with me being here and seeing you like this."

"What the fuck do you know?"

"That you were and still are in a vulnerable state," he continued, "and that vulnerable people need someone to care for them."

You sighed. "That means you won't leave, right?"

He stared you down. "Yes."

"Well, I still need to eat dinner." You had already accepted that you wouldn't end your life tonight so what bad could the presence of Batman possibly do?

Half an hour later you were asleep on your sofa, sound, safe and with Gotham's best vigilante next to you. An abandoned bowl of pasta was cooling off on the table and the glass of water he had insisted you get was completely empty.

Making sure to not make much noise, Batman stood up and over you. He brushed a few hairs out of your face and whispered: "You're worth saving."

Swifty, he made his way out of your apartment.

A/N: If you're struggling, my asks and messages are always open.

[theflying-pink]

Original Character introduction: Fahna

in The Greek System

General Information

Sex: female

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 19 years

Birthday: 31st of March

Appearance

Hair: black, long

Eyes: dark brown

Body: rectangular, wide, muscular

Height: 206 cm / 6'9"

Facial features: masculine, slanted eyes, wide jaw, rectangular face shape

Personality

Important traits: loyal, determined, trust issues, self-reliant

Background/Lifestyle

Fahna grew up in the mountains and was raised as a hunter. She was one of the primary providers for food in her village from a very young age. After attempting to murder Lamb, she gets banished from and forced off the mountain. She begins walking towards the city where she meets Oltrezja Mega.

Other

Goal(s): finding out what happened with Lamb, getting revenge

What she smells like: smoke, ice, woody notes, metallic notes, wool

Songs that remind me of her: A Horse with No Name by America | Girl With One Eye by Florence + The Machine | Your Best American Girl by Mitski | I'll Believe in Anything by Wolf Parade | bad idea! by girl in red | Soldier Boy by The Shirelles | I'm Your Man by Leonard Colen | Brutus by The Buttress | One Way Or Another by Blondie | 500 Miles by Peter, Paul and Mary | Sue me by Audrey Hobert | Southern Nights by Glen Campbell | My Moon My Man by Feist

What actually happens with her

Our first introduction of Fahna comes from a story from Eploj. He tells us that, when he went out to get some firewood, he saw a creature. Tall, broad, completely covered in fuzzy, thick layers of clothing. He describes Fahna as a man from the mountains. Unruly, unkempt, primal, intimidating.

Our second meeting is Mega's first time he sees her. He's getting beaten up by a few rival gang members, completely hopeless as he lies on the ground, broken. He describes a shadow, wide, stretching, moving along the walls and fighting off his attackers. After all of them are dead or at least knocked out, she disappears.

The third time we see her is when she joins Miss Doir's Good Boys, a fight club. She is walking out of the shadows, face disguised by them, and you can only see her huge body. She is 206 cm tall in comparison to her opponent, Eploj, who's 182 cm tall. She beats him in the fight and immediately undermines the power structure.

[theflying-pink]

"To every phobia, there's a philia" with my ocs, Oltrezja Mega and Philia. Black & white text version because I couldn't decide what looks better. Oltrezja is phobia and Philia is philia as shocking as that might be.

[theflying-pink]

What my OCs would smell like

Part 1 | Masterlist

Olterzja Mega

Sweat | Wool | Lemongrass | Metallic notes | Limoncello

Eploj

Cherry | Smoke | White chocolate | concrete | rubber

Simson Sun

Blood | Watermelon | Pink Himalaya sea salt | Smoke | Alcoholic notes

Philia

Oakmoss | Violets | Pear blossom | Alcoholic notes | Apples

Lolizia

Powdery note | Pomegranate | Apple liqueur | Blackberries | Brown Sugar

Older Masnia Doir

Incense | Whiskey | Cigarettes | Burnt wood | Burnt sugar

Younger Masnia Doir

Cigarettes | Palm sugar | Coconut | Waterlilies | River notes

Bonnie

Rice water | Cumin | Pepper | Apple trees | Woody notes

Elba

Cotton candy | Rosebuds | Champagne | Red bean paste | Coriander

Belba

Banana | Milk | Jeans/Denim | Hibiskus | Vermouth

[theflying-pink]

What my OC (Philia) wears during her short time alive

Pajamas | Work "uniform" | other work unifrom (for bartending) | clothes for outdoors

Check out the masterlist