#opal gets asks

[x-ladydisdain-x]

i am OBSESSED with yr desktop theme omg

Wait what’s my desktop theme I literally don’t even remember

[opal-owl-flight]

I think I just witnessed a live execution

[aroaceleovaldez]

Hecate ocs are really fun to make!!!!! they are literally just rocks. here are some of my rocks. Only some of them have names right now, some have partial names. Figuring out how to incorporate rocks into their names is half the fun though.

[oriopal]

opal what the hell did you seriously write toxic yuri rpf? yes. here's 2.1k of girl gax.

pairing: george russell/max verstappen.

what's ahead: they're lesbians, harold. george is kind of weird. so is max. mature content. smut. breathplay. and if i'm missing something somebody please tell me.

George is, for lack of a better word, dumbfounded. But unlike the men around her, she doesn’t have her jaw on the floor. It would be absolutely fair if she did anyway. 

Max Verstappen is in a dress. 

It's not that Max has not worn dresses before. It's that she shows up every year at the annual party in that same abysmal rag she calls a dress. It's ill-fitting and the most boring black piece of clothing George has seen in her life, and the hem pools awkwardly around Max’s feet (and every year Max looks beautiful and triumphant anyway). 

Today, however, Max is wearing a dress. George is not ignorant - she’d caught wind of the Alpha Tauri deal Max had sealed, had heard Lando crowing about it in the cafeteria, seen how Alpha Tauri had sent Max clothes, dressed her up so simple and pretty. Anyhow, George had not been prepared for this. 

George stares at Max across the room as she steps in with Liam. The white silk hugs Max’s body like flower petals. It's strapless and the corset presses against her chest in a way that makes her tits almost spill out of the neckline. It's toeing the line of decency. It is also the hottest thing George has seen in a long, long time. 

Somebody has styled the choppy layers of Max’s short hair in bouncy curls and her unnecessarily plump lips shine with gloss. She looks like she does in meetings sometimes - uncomfortable in her skin, but fierce enough to portray infuriating confidence. George thinks many things about Max and not even half of them are polite enough to say out loud. She’s unbearably rude sometimes and obnoxious when with the likes of Daniel and clever enough it grates against George. George has armed herself with rulebooks her entire life and Max memorises them only to skirt around them. Her skin looks as though it would bruise at a touch – milky and flushed, always. Her thighs are strong in her work trousers and her voice is thready and the mole on her top lip is usually curled in a sneer. She respects her own ideas above all else and her strong arms are crossed over her chest most times. No one in the office clashes with George more. George wants to kill her. 

(George wants to put her teeth to Max’s neck.)

Max navigates the venue in search of her table, oblivious to all the eyes that follow her. The bright lights shine on Max’s skin enough to imitate a pearl under moonshine. When George sees Charles come over to Max, not even bothering to pretend he’s looking at Max’s eyes, George turns around in her seat and drains her drink in one go.

-----------

Max wins Employee of the Year again. She’s won it enough times that they know not to announce Maxine Verstappen, Sebastian smiling wide as he calls out just Max. Max doesn’t give a speech and they don’t ask her to, letting Sebastian talk. Up on the stage is where she looks the most beautiful to George. Flushed pink and proud - the best out of them. Every year George looks at her up on that stage and thinks mine, mine, mine. She can never quite figure out whether she’s thinking about the award or Max. 

When Max gets off the stage, the others surround her immediately. George can hear her smug voice going high as she starts off on some agitated tangent. Max is known for her hatred for events like this, and George can only imagine how she’s faring dressed like a lamb. The blue of her eyes flashes in the lights when she opens them wide; her flat, angled features characterised by theatrical expressions as she talks. Carlos and Charles stare at her like idiots and nod along. George wonders if someone told her just right, would Max shut up? Or would she turn her slanted eyes sideways and fight like misguided prey?

“Someone’s going to think you’re planning to murder Max with how you’re staring.”

Alex looks just the right amount of amused in his tacky suit, sipping some disgustingly sweet looking drink.

“It’s not like I’m the only one staring. I’m not half as daft as the others either,” George tells Alex, who looks even more entertained. 

“And you’re staring with the same intent then? Come on Georgie, you can talk to her, y’know.”

“I might just murder her then,” George mutters, not taking her eyes off Max.

Alex shifts in his seat. He’s been itchy all week due to Lily’s absence. She’d had some tournament again and had to leave for Australia, leaving her miserable man behind. George can’t for the life of her figure out how someone can be lonely if they have a thousand and one pets. Even now under dim lighting George can see he’s tired. 

“How’s the project with Carlos going?” Max is at the bar now, lips wrapped around the straw in a glass of what is probably a G&T.

“Same old. He’s kind of fun actually. Plus now I have even more dirt on Lando.”

Back home at the farm, the sheep were George’s favourite. Even though most considered them dumb prey animals, they were clearly intelligent and had a very strong social structure with their flock. Max makes accidental eye contact with George from across the auditorium, eyes flashing in the light and face blank. George watches Max’s tense shoulders as she turns back around and laughs at something Charles is saying. Every year there is at least one incident that stirs the office chatter in the direction of mad max again. But George thinks of the way Max arms herself with some people and creates clear roles with some others, shoulders squared and plush mouth always tight with the anticipation of attack. Looks like even here George’s favourite is the sheep: even dressed as a wolf. 

“—They did go home in the same car and I have strong suspicions they weren’t going to different places. George? George, be serious.”

“There’s nothing new about Carlos and Lando,” George says, turning her attention to Alex. He looks just about done with her. She feels a little guilty for not listening more intently. 

Alex puts his elaborate fruity monstrosity down, brown eyes serious. “You know if putting a lid on it doesn’t mean it won’t boil over, don’t you? Your thing with Max?” 

“There is no “thing”. She’s insufferable.” George replies disdainfully. When Alex heaves a sigh, she asks him about Lily’s tournament. 

——— 

The problem is that there may very well be a “thing”. 

She knows she would not do this had it been anyone else. Alex maybe, but she’d be less mad. This is Maxine. George is standing at the door of Max’s apartment with a thick file in her hand at 09:45 on a Friday night. When she feels angry enough that she thinks pushing Max down the stairs on Monday would be better than whatever was about to happen now, she knocks. 

The door swings open and Max stares up at George. Her short hair is damp and curling against her neck. She’s wearing a tshirt that almost drowns her frame and shorts that are barely visible. She stands there staring at George with wide, blue eyes. George stands at Max’s door in her silk shirt, work trousers, and hair still pinned up. 

“Georgia? Did you miss me or something?” Max’s voice is thin, one eyebrow arched sharply. She looks as though she was already in bed, soft and tangible, but George can hear the music of a paused video game playing faintly from inside.

“It’s George. You left your pass in the office. I’m leaving tomorrow and no one was available to give it to you on the weekend,” George responds flatly. 

Max’s mouth twitches. She looks unbearably smug for some reason.

“Well. Come in. Don’t stand there like a ghost,” she says, already turning around and retreating back in. George stands there for a moment, jaw clenched. She’s here to hand off the pass for the Singapore conference and go home. Nothing else. She’s not part of the flock Max surrounds herself with. 

George steps in. The apartment smells faintly of chocolate and everything is illuminated by soft lighting. The furniture is mostly pastel and George sees a cat leap behind the sofa. 

“Go sit on the couch and I’ll get you some water.”

George moves apprehensively, stiff and out of place. This was not what she was imagining. Max and her soft, soft home and George sitting on the couch with her spine rigid and eyes on Max (prey? prey? predator?)

Max returns with a glass of water, putting it on the little table in front of George. She stands there with her hands on her hips, staring down at George with some sort of fallacious power. When she speaks, her lisp sounds sharper.

“Well? I have a life, Georgia and I’d like to continue with it of course if you’d get this over with. You know you could have just given it to Charles? He'd surely drop it by.”

Yes, because he’d like to stick his cock in you, George thinks, cruel.

“Or I could’ve come tomorrow and taken it from the guard. You, of course, did not need to come and be reminder of how I forgot–,”

Max tastes like chocolate. Her lips are unbearably soft under George’s and she makes a noise of surprise when George kisses her. Max strains her neck to kiss back just as feverishly and George slides her hands up to the base of Max’s neck, who shoves her hand up George’s shirt, just as impatient as ever. When George presses her hands against her external jugulars, the blonde twitches and rocks forward, keening into George’s mouth. Oh this poor, little thing. George could strangle her while she moans against George’s lips, head light and spinning. 

She manages to rid Max of her tshirt and shorts as they fall onto the couch and pulls apart long enough to take off her own clothes. Max watches hungrily, eyes hazy as if drunk. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, miles of pale skin and soft mass, flushed pink and dotted with moles. George lowers herself on top of Max and puts her teeth to Max’s neck.

“Not running your mouth now, hm? Moaning like anything, you silly thing,” George sneers, out of breath. Max whines when George swings a leg over her hips and lets the other rest under Max’s thick thigh. 

She snarls at George. “If you’d hurry the fuck up, maybe I wouldn’t be falling asleep.”

George squeezes one of her tits with her hand and lets the other rest over her neck. She rocks forward and grinds hard against Max’s weeping heat. Max hisses and grips one of George’s thighs, rocking in tandem. She hiccups whenever George put pressure on her clit and then latches her mouth to George’s nipple, biting. It feels terribly wonderful. For a momentary George thinks they're going way to fast, but the thought evaporates when Max switches to the other nipple and sucks.

George yanks at her hair and moans. “Good girl, so good when you’re at mercy.” 

Max slides down then and they both spasm when she grinds just right, biting at George’s collarbone. George sticks one hand down in the middle of them both to find and press against Max’s clit, feeling how wet they both are. 

Max screams. “Please, please- harder George, please!”

“Yeah? Look at you begging,” George pants, dizzy now, pleasure fraying her at the edges. She kisses Max wildly and presses down on her throat as Max scrabbles and scratches at George, gasping and bucking wildly beneath George before coming. A second later George’s body locks up, falling forward as she comes with a whine. 

———— 

George looks in the mirror, hair pinned back in a tight bun and her shirt tucked in her work trousers. She’d had to hunt down the iron when she realised she didn’t have time to change her clothes at her own house. Max, still eating her bowl of fruit from breakfast, sits on the bed behind George. 

“They won’t check if the stick up your ass fell out overnight just because you fucked me, don’t worry,” she says, bratty and beautiful in her sleep clothes.

“When does your flight leave?” George asks, turning around. 

“8 p.m. Why? Don’t want to see me there?” When Max looks up at her from the bed with a bitchy twist to her mouth, all George can think about is the sheep. When they were led to the butcher’s, they could always tell. They’d be distressed and fussy, making noise and bumping around. One of them in particular had been hard to send away because she’d ram into things and flail angrily. George looks down at Max, soft in her big tshirt and a hickey on her neck and smiles. She is fond of mistaken creatures. She puts her hand on Max’s neck and watches her flush red. 

“I’ll send you my room number.”

[sth-askverse]

So question for Sonic: What is your favorite song to listen to?

Also question for Shadow: Favorite gemstone?

Shadow literally got a migraine from your playlist the last time you two had one of your little roma-

ANYWAY, gun to my head, if I had to pick my current repeat? "Hard to Handle" by the Black Crowes. My favorite changes pretty frequently, but, I do love a good old fashion rock piece.

Interspersed with Norse metal, Broadway musical showtunes, modern pop, weirdly unnerving alternative.... and... old 50s jazz...?

What can I say, I'm a man of diverse taste. And the jazz is for Shadow, anyway, you know I don't actually listen to crooners...

... It doesn't... have to be green...

Mm but the mostly green ones are your favorites~

... I don't understand the point of this. Why do these.. entities want to know such... seemingly useless information about us? What advantage over us are they gaining here? It's... suspicious and unnerving.

Look at it this way, handsome. You know that journaling your therapists are always harping on about you doing? This is basically like that, only without the physical journal with all your "vulnerabilities laid bear to be used against you if it were found" you're so worried about with the actual journaling. Plus, who knows, maybe they're just fans of yours, did you think of that?

Tch, I don't have fans, bat, or don't you remember? I'm not exactly well liked, why would something like me have fans?

... GUN really needs to hire better therapists...

First | < Previous - Next >

[lobotomy-lady]

a dude in my state got mauled to death by his pitbulls but to be fair he was a back yard breeder

I can't say I have much sympathy for backyard breeders (lmao that autocorrected to backtard breeders which is...fitting) who get mauled, esp if they're breeding pits. bybs are so irresponsible. & I seriously do NOT get the point of breeding pits to begin with. shelters are already bursting at the seams with unwanted bully breeds, most of which will end up euthanized.

[jadetheblueartist]

Hi! Recent fan here!

Are you still doing your teenage superhero au? The one with the concept of 'autism is a superpower'?

Hello!!!!

This is impeccable timing bc I hadn’t been making anything for them bc of whatever reason BUT I just got an assignment in my art class that will lend itself nicely to them ^^ I have to make a short watercolor comic and those guys are my subject dhsjjdkskdj and I’m so excited

For now I only have sort of practice doodles for getting comfortable with how I’ll be drawing them and their movements and things but I’ll reblog this later when I make progress on the actual comic for sure hehehehehhehe

(I’m really hyped bc I have a small art class and my teacher alluded to creating this assignment with me in mind which I GREATLY appreciate bc the last couple weeks have just been soooooo many backgrounds and I haaaaaate backgrounds bro ughhhhhh)

The story is gonna be about Opal trying to push past her limits to win a school competition, but she ultimately has to learn that health is more important than winning or something like that.

OH OH AND I FINALLY GOT A NAME FOR THIS STORY!! SAY HELLO TO “CLASS PHOENIX” (which will probably make more sense later on but hey)

[freezinglemur]

Don't have energy to draw. You know what that means according to my ADD brain? We're writing angst! :D

[ask-the-secret-weapons]

So long as you don’t mind it, I do not mind calling you Birch, little acorn, hmhm. It’s a nice name (soft pat)

══════════

I am more or less one with it, but, as you wish.

I will answer questions and explain if you wish. I know this is not a normal sight to return home to.

(and bonus headpats :DDDD)

[dem0batz]

for the music ask 9, 13 and 24? pls and thank yoooou <3 <3 <3

Thank you for sending me some of these! I love talking about music to an annoying level 😂💖 And these particular asks were a challenge 👀

9. A song that makes you happy This one is hard to answer because most of my music is depressing and/or horny even the upbeat ones 💀 but we'll say Odds Are - Barenaked Ladies

13. One of your favorite 80s songs Bark at the Moon - Ozzy

24. A song by a band you wish were still together It's True That We Love One Another - The White Stripes

Music Asks List

[x-ladydisdain-x]

how do you feel about stained glass windows in kitchens?

I hold very very positive views of stained glass kitchen windows

[astralleywright]

hope springs enteral for 2ND summer of aabria with crownkeepers

god actually no Opal followup might be the thing that puts me off cr forever 😭

[freak-phone]

16 for opal. hi opal !

16 - What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

freakishly high? probably has something to do with being half alien, specifically being the child of an alien that was in the running to be a planetary defender. except opal doesn't do anything of benefit to others with his pain tolerance and just gets body modification surgeries for fun instead

[sincerely-sofie]

TW: child abuse and neglect (flashbacks and mentions), blood

•••

Twig learned a myriad of lessons before the few weeks she spent looking for the pair of siblings.

For one, Opal’s friend, disguised as a Gligar when Twig first found her, is actually a Zorua. The second Twig entered the house, the child still nestled into her arms, Opal had rushed to them and pointed out an injury that neither Twig nor Ark could see. The second she saw Opal, Zorua must have felt safe, because the disguised dropped shortly afterwards.

Second, Zorua’s illusions can hide injuries and the blood that came with it. Twig saw the red on her arms before she knew the wound was there. Only Ark could fully see it, and he bristled and recoiled on sight, turning Opal away from the scene and telling Twig “we need to get her help she needs it now Twig-”

The third thing she had learned was that whenever you think you’ve learned the maximum amount of stitches someone can have, know that there could always be more.

Fourth, you can be in a similar position as the child you saved, but still can’t answer your daughter when she looks at you with terrified, distraught eyes and asks you why while trembling. You can learn that you can always find new limits to your rage and fear when you hold your daughter close and she asks if this is her fault. You can learn you can find the words, be as outwardly as comforting as you can, but the intensity of the inferno burning inside you doesn’t fade.

Fifth, Grovyle never did forgive himself for Crystal Cave despite what he tells others and himself. Ark had spoken to Celebi, who had come with Dusknoir and Grovyle to go on a mission to hunt the siblings down. They had all gone pale when they saw the child’s state. Twig repeatedly caught Grovyle looking at his own hands and looking back at Zorua, and she can see the nausea brewing inside him as his mouth tightens. Zorua is much younger than Kip was that day — only a few months behind Opal.

She’s younger than Opal.

Six, miracles actually do exist beyond time traveling shenanigans, because Zorua pulls through. She is covered in bandages, her body is skinny, she is lethargic and tired, but she has defied all the odds and she’s alive.

Seven, she learns there are even more levels to her rage when Zorua immediately looks around wildly and then begs Twig not to tell her siblings she was here and that they’ll be upset if she doesn’t come back soon.

Eight, Opal, Lucky, Manaphy, Spindle, and Bud are more emotionally intelligent than Twig gave them credit for. They introduced themselves slowly and separately without complaint. They go at Zorua’s pace. Gradually, Zorua gets more comfortable, and there are mornings where encouraging her to come out of hiding is less difficult.

Nine, Zorua’s name is Ruby, but she can’t speak of her siblings without trembling. Reassurances that those two won’t even get near her again only do so much.

The tenth and final lesson Twig learned was that there is a point where you’re so angry you can’t feel it anymore. In the months that Ruby was recovering, no one had heard a thing about anyone looking for her. Grovyle tells her that in the times he’s checked Boulders Quarry, no one came back in search for her. Dusknoir confirms this. The siblings are no where to be found, or at least, they are, but they have taken on a different appearance and still aren’t even making an attempt to look for Ruby.

It’s one week, then two, then three, and Dusknoir makes the comment that the siblings have somehow made themselves harder to track down than Grovyle did in the Dark Future and present. They know they’re looking for two Zoroarks — Opal had confirmed as much — but things are more tricky when said species can illusion themselves as other Pokémon. Dusknoir suggested spreading a rumor that a little Zorua had been found and wanted to find her siblings again, but said siblings didn’t seem to take the bait. There was no way that they were going to make Ruby help in the search, and Twig had murdered the offer that Opal gave to help hunt them down. It would be over her cold, dead, unfeeling body before Twig ever let any children near those monsters.

It’s towards the end of the week that Ruby and Opal wake Twig up in the middle of the night, both transformed into Charmanders and holding hands, that they finally get something to blow open the case.

“They wanted me to go to another town,” Ruby whispers, squeezing Opal’s hand. “They’re going to be mad I didn’t make it and stayed here. They’re going to be really, really mad when they come back. They’re going to come back and take me away- and I don’t- I don’t wanna-”

“Ruby,” Twig’s voice is soft and firm, “I promise, nobody here will ever let them take you. They’re never going to hurt you ever again.”

“But what if they break in?”

Twig almost frowns, but she immediately schools her face into something cool, “do they break into homes a lot?”

Ruby slowly nods her head, looking at the floor, “they’ll look for a while, and when they find me, they’ll watch to know when the best time to break in is. Then they’ll grab me, and-”

She chokes and trembles, her eyes start going far away, staring into an abyss no one else can see. They are only stopped by Opal’s gentle squeeze and Twig’s words.

“It’s okay, they won’t,” a soft smile follows. “Do you want to stay near me for the rest of the night?”

Both Opal and Ruby are curled up beside her in that next moment. Ark comes into view, holding more blankets and pillows. He approaches, gently tucking in the kids and then whispers to Twig.

“I relayed Ruby’s words to Celebi and she passed them along to Dusknoir. He said three days.”

Something sparks up inside her, she’s unsure what it is, but it keeps her up all night as she waits.

***

Three days, and Opal yells “Mother! Dad! I had a nightmare! Come here!” and then as soon as they arrive, she points to the window while never taking her eyes off them, “we need to get rid of that window, Monsters can get in!”

From the corner of her eye, Twig sees it. She sees the silhouette of someone move away just a second too slow for her to miss it.

“Stay with them so they’re safe,” are the only words she gives Ark before she turns on her heel and marches out the door. The Gardevoir and Gallade wave to her from their house, then turn back to speak to one another.

Twig knows that Gardevoir and Gallade would be asleep and staying indoors if they had awakened this late at night. Twig knows that Gardevoir and Gallade wouldn’t be whispering insults about Opal, promising to make her shut up for good if she gets in their way. Gardevoir wouldn’t whisper the words, “that brat is really going to get it once we get to her. I swear if she said anything I’m going to tear off all her fur.”

Twig marches up to them, grabs their arms, and yanks. Her grip is so harsh that “Gallade” squeaks and then joins “Gardevoir” in yelping when Twig pulls them. They stumble, almost tripping over themselves as the illusion finally gives way and reveals two Zoroarks. They look at her, and whatever irritation or defiance they had vanishes into dust as they gave into her eyes, illuminated by her brightly burning, purple flame on her tail.

Twig feels it. She feels the fury, pain, despair, and pure hatred that were building up over months, but had nowhere to go. The plan to have everyone surround the siblings and bring them to justice goes out the window, and Twig is positive that Ark is probably trying to make contact with Celebi so that there isn’t a double homicide. She doesn’t care.

“Six months,” she seethes. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for six fricking months — looking for six months. You hurt your sister, threatened to hurt my daughter, planned on hurting your sister again, tried breaking into my home — I’m going to tear you both apart.”

•••

Sorry it isn’t the best and I know Twig, Ark, Grovyle, and Dusknoir — actually, probably all of them — are probably ooc, but I hope it’s still a fun read!

Also, I chose Ruby for the name of the Zorua because I thought it fit at the time, but halfway through writing this I felt like it didn’t but I didn’t know what I would change it to. Feel free to rename this character — the fic is for you, so I feel like you should have most say in this. I also chose Zorua because I thought it would be cute if Opal had a friend who could also “transform” into different Pokémon.

It wasn’t at all too triggering— it was just so amazing that I was taking ages to finally gather my thoughts and react to it! It’s so poignant and impactful in all the most profound ways it could possibly be that I was absolutely flabbergasted by it all, and along with the gift of a new character I wanted to give it the thoroughly grateful response it deserves. I’ve reread it throughout the days since you sent it in and every time it left me floored by emotion. I’m sorry for not replying sooner— the writing is so impactful that I think I kind of forgot that the author might be worried about my silence indicating the subject matter upset me. I was too busy having stars in my eyes whenever I thought about it.

I want to make art of Ruby + a profile for her to go along with this, which is the main reason I’ve been taking a while to respond— but I want to reassure you that you did nothing wrong whatsoever, so I’ll give an art-free response now and make Ruby’s profile later!

The characters are all represented in such lovely ways, and the pacing and prose are both absolutely astounding. This was a phenomenal piece and it’s been keeping me company as I’ve come down with a bad cold— I’ve been feeling severely under the weather, and this fic has been a silver lining amidst that. Ruby is precious, and I’d kill for her… actually, hang on. Move over Twig, I want to get a few punches in.

Thank you so much for this fic! I’m sorry for the anxiety you must have felt in the time I didn’t respond— rest assured that this is something I adored the second I received it and will treasure forevermore :>

[lobotomy-lady]

Why do/did you work with dogs if you hate them? Honest question

ummm...bc I Don't hate them & I love them v much actually...which is part of why I dislike interacting w unknown pits (& their frequently very delusional owners). for every human mauled to death there's about a thousand beloved pets who have been lost bc some fucking idiot set their pit loose or took it on a walk despite not having the strength to control it or brought it to the dog park. my cousin has a pit lab mix who is sooo sweet but I would not let her interact w my baby brother bc its simply not worth the risk. plenty of pits who had sweet dispositions & who would "never hurt a fly" have turned on their owners out of nowhere.

anyways if I hate dogs so much explain why I have like 3000 pictures of opal just sleeping on the couch saved on my phone

[opalofoctober]

Love how Chihiro gets a trauma power boost whenever he's in a clutch. He's only alive out of hatred, spite, and trauma

and all bc they killed his dad for fifty dollars and a lighter smh😔