#Omc

[bidisasterevankinard]

Several sentences Sunday

I wasn't posting for a while again and words are not wording, but I miss comments so maybe posting the part from Justin knows best that i know i hadn't post will help me to get back to any wip

Justin (omc) is Tommy's nephew and Buck's student

“Yes, if you prefer Mr. Diaz’s ass.”

“I don’t prefer Eddie’s as… I just like Eddie’s company. As a friend. Eddie is a cool man and he asked me about my hobbies and army experience and we striked fast friendship. I haven’t even thought Evan is interested in me.”

“Why do you think he asked me to ask you about the Harbor tour? To look at the helicopters and listen to your boring lecture?”

“Hey, it wasn’t boring!”

“It was,”Justin exasperatedly rolls his eyes. “And your flirting during it was meh. You lucky Mr. B is so into new information, especially when it is said by his crush. But actually I doubt he was listening. Man was enamored by you,” Justin takes his chemistry book, trying to remember what Mr. B said about the chemical equation he needs to solve. “And then you leave us to fly to Vegas with your new boytoy.”

“Stop calling my friend and your teacher my boytoy,” Tommy moves to sit on the night table right near him, watching what he is doing.

“Whatever,” Justin rolls his eyes. “Congratulations on missing the chance with him. Now leave me alone. I need to do my homework,” Justin waves towards the door.

“What if I need your help?”

“With what?” Justin raises his eyebrow when he knows the biggest ‘I’m tired of you’ face.

“With the idea of how to ask your teacher out,” Tommy smiles, “And before you will give me concussion with this heavy book, I’m talking about Mr. Buckely.”

Justin puts the book back at his legs.

“I pass.”

I was tagged by @theotherbuckley

Np tagging @wikiangela @bewilderedbuckley @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @devirnis @queerbuck @queerdiaz @watchyourbuck @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @theweewooshow @thatmexisaurusrex @peppermintquartz @powersuitup @pirrusstuff @perfectlysunny02 @aspecbuddie @aringofsalt @saybiwithme @diazheartsbuckley @dr-shortsighted-owl @honestlydarkprincess @lavenderleahy @leashybebes @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @bi-buckrights @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants to

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

fisherman :]]

[troublerats]

Day 9 of posting two pieces of my old art a day The man by the red lake

[5phn7xb000zin]

Leave the demon to his own demons.

(also happy 10th anniversary fnaf :D, it’s been so long(pun MAYBE intended), and i can’t believe fnaf is actually 10 years old!!) (also real ones know abt the easter egg in the BG!! X3)

[lemonsbakery]

"The red crocodile took me on fishing trips and told me stories of the future."

closeup + more under the cut ;3

[raointean]

Elrond Week Day 7 - Sanctuary and Departure

In which Elrond is stubbornly refusing to speak with his parents after arriving in Valinor and Celebrían has a clever solution.

Celebrían sighed exasperatedly as she noticed Elrond reading his book on their couch, pointedly not looking at the letter-writing materials not five feet away from him. “Are you intending to ignore your parents for the rest of time?”

Elrond hardly even glanced up at her as he responded. “No, of course not. I am simply waiting for them to reach out to me first.”

Celebrían pursed her lips and sank down into a nearby chair. Her husband had been in Valinor nearly a year and a half already; this had gone on long enough. “I do not pretend to know Elwing’s mind,” she began, treading lightly on the delicate subject. “But do you not think it is possible that she may be waiting to see if you even wish to speak to her after all this time? You were very young when you were… separated, and she knows this. Perhaps she is trying to be sensitive of the possibility that you have moved on and is trying to give you space so as not to cause conflict...?” 

The ‘As you so often do?’ in her head remained unsaid.

Elrond shot her a look that told her he would not hear any more on the topic and said nothing. They were so much alike, Celebrían thought to herself, although she knew neither of them would admit it. She had only met Elwing once or twice, but even from that she could identify their similarities. Both of them were stern and intimidating people at first glance. Under Elrond’s commanding exterior lay layers upon layers of kindness and generosity and, while Celebrían did not know Elwing well enough to say the same of her, there was no way anyone could genuinely be that stern.

At both of their cores, however, lay deeply wounded, anxious, and insecure people. Celebrían knew from long experience that, while a certain level of healing was possible, the scars of such wounds stubbornly remained. 

Upon their first meeting at a holiday party in Tirion, Elwing had pulled Celebrían aside as soon as she possibly could and questioned her about Elrond. How he was, what he was like and, most importantly, what his opinions of his mother were. Celebrían, taken aback by her directness and still recovering from her… ordeal, had unfortunately answered honestly: Elrond was occasionally curious about her, but usually changed the subject whenever she came up.

The woman had been heartbroken, but concealed it well. Celebrían had tried to reach out a few times after that, but Elwing had always respectfully declined. Now, Celebrían couldn’t help but feel that their current predicament was her own fault. If she had given a kinder report of Elrond’s feelings about her, perhaps Elwing would have the courage to reach out.

But it was no matter, Celebrían had a plan…

Not two seconds later, there came a knock at the door. Right on time.

Elrond rose from his seat to get the door and Celebrían followed close behind, saying, “That must be the geologist I told you about.”

Celebrían had met many of the elves that lived in their area, including a couple that lived on the far end of the valley. She and the wife, Amaurëa, had become dear friends and soon discovered that their husbands both shared a passion for rock, stones, and minerals. While Elrond’s fascination with such things had remained a hobby, her friend's husband, Elcair, had made a profession of it. 

Though they had been visiting Amaurëa's family for the past two years, Celebrían had invited them to call at their earliest convenience to see what Elrond had brought with him from Middle Earth. It was a giant chest of stone and mineral samples, all meticulously sorted, cleaned, and cared for. Elrond had decided to bring it just in case there were elements in Middle Earth that were not present in Aman. Despite the chest being two feet wide and four feet long, he insisted that he had only brought his favorites. 

Celebrían opened the door to see two elves. One, the woman, short and slender with a flattering green dress. She wore no cloak in the warm spring air. The other, her husband, stood head and shoulders above her, his athletic build honed by centuries of hiking, cliff climbing, and spelunking. He examined the ornately carved doorframe instead of looking Celebrían in the eye. 

“Welcome!” Celebrían cried, reaching out to clasp her friend's hand. “How was your visit? I know you have been missing your mother terribly.”

Amaurëa stepped inside with a courteous smile. “It was wonderful. Ammë is well, and so is my new brother.” 

Her eyes slid to Elrond, standing just behind Celebrían's shoulder and he was quick to introduce himself. “I am Elrond, Cel's husband. It is a pleasure to finally meet one I have heard so much about.”

Amaurëa's smile grew wider at his friendly greeting and Celebrían, who knew her well, could see her relax. “Well met, Elrond. This,” she gestured to her husband who had finished examining the doorway and moved into the hallway, “is my husband, Elcair.”

Elcair nodded to Elrond rather stiffly, looking almost nervous. “Well met.”

He didn't go on so, after half a beat, Celebrían invited Amaurëa to the sitting room. “Come, I think I still have some of your favorite tea blend. I daresay Elrond and Elcair should like to get to their rocks.”

At this, Elcair's eyes visibly brightened, although he tried to conceal it. Elrond also noticed and began leading him to his personal study. “Yes, I think we will,” he said to their wives. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Amaurëa.”

Amaurëa nodded her farewell and followed Celebrían into the sitting room. Celebrían set the tea to steep, inwardly rejoicing that her plan had gone smoothly thus far. 

“How long do you think it will take them to realize?” Amaurëa asked her. She was in on the plan, of course. 

Celebrían glanced in the direction of the study. “As clever as they both are, they are discussing rocks so, it could be some time…”

—----

“Do you think the geology of Middle Earth differs much from that of Valinor?” Elcair asked suddenly as they walked down the hall.

He was an odd elf, Elrond observed. Quiet, blunt, absorbed in his own world; Elrond could respect that, even relate to it at times, but still… odd.

“I am not sure,” Elrond replied, opening his office door and ushering Elcair inside. “I have not traveled widely yet, but what I have seen here in this valley is not at all different from what I am familiar with. Although…” he said thoughtfully. “Are there any volcanoes here?”

Elcair chuckled and shook his head. “Alas, no. I have never had the privilege of seeing them in person. My research on that topic has been limited to accounts of those who have seen them, and discussions with Aulë. He is a fountain of geologic knowledge,” he was quick to clarify, “but he has an unfortunate habit of failing to look at the bigger picture.”

Interesting, Elrond thought to himself. He had not thought that the vala of stone and metallurgy would focus on anything narrowly. Then again, Aulë was the creator of the dwarves…

“You are not missing out on much,” Elrond reassured him, unlocking his chest of geological samples. “I spent much time near the volcano, Oroduin, in Mordor during the War of the Last Alliance. I would be happy to share my observations with you, but I do not recommend going anywhere near an active volcano. It took decades for me to breathe easily again.”

Elcair opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly distracted as Elrond opened the chest. Several shelves unfolded from it: one for sedimentary rocks, one for igneous rocks, one for metamorphic rocks, and two for minerals. 

They were separated by type of course, but their order was… unconventional when compared to most geologists’ collections in Middle Earth. They ordered their samples alphabetically or by density, but Elrond- Elrond ordered his collection by Music.

There was Music in everything the Ainur had created, though few were attuned to it. In fact, Elrond had met no one else but his own son, Elladan, who could hear the music of stone as he could. The igneous rock with its quick tempos and sharp sounds, the metamorphic rock with its melodies that bent this way and that, the sedimentary rock with its slow tempos and melodies that told the stories of a thousand different deaths, the minerals with Songs as varied as the colors in the air.

Elrond could listen to them for an Age if no one disturbed him.

Elcair seemed almost equally enraptured, but he eventually turned to question Elrond. They spoke for nearly an hour of volcanic mechanisms and of the types of stone it produced (Elcair found a particular affinity for obsidian), and Elcair told Elrond of the many advances he had made in examining sedimentary samples; separating them out and identifying them one bit at a time.

Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, Elrond asked him a personal question. “When did your family come to Valinor?”

It was entirely possible that he had been born in Valinor, but with a Sindarin name like “Elcair,” his family almost certainly had its roots in Middle Earth or Beleriand.

Elcair gave him a strange look, almost meeting his eyes. “Do you not know?”

That was… an odd response. Elrond did not know who he was related to, although perhaps it was a well known family, but Elcair had not mentioned any family name. “Apologies, I do not. I do not know your family name, and your given name only tells me that you are likely Sindarin or Silvan.”

Slowly, carefully, as if explaining a simple concept to a child who should know better, Elcair said, “My mother is Elwing and my father is Eärendil…”

Oh, oh. Of course! Elwing and Eärendil had been very young when they had fled Beleriand; Elrond had always known that. They had been young and in love and had lost the chance to raise their children; it made sense that they would try again.

In a way, Elrond was happy for them. Happy that they had been able to move on with their lives after everything that had happened, everything they had been through. Alongside that, though, an ancient pit of bitterness reopened in his chest at the thought that they had been able to move on from him.

As soon as that feeling bubbled up into his mind, he tried to push it away. It wasn’t fair to them and it wasn’t helpful to him. He had lived well over six-thousand years without them and become a powerful and well-respected man, loved by many. That would not change, regardless of what his parents thought of him.

“So, Celebrían did not tell you?” Elcair asked tentatively. He seemed anxious, worried that he had offended Elrond.

“No- No, she did not.” This whole time, she had known. Known and said nothing! And yet, Elrond could not find it within himself to be angry with her. He had been stubborn in his refusal to speak to his family, he knew, and if she had mentioned a brother, Elrond knew he would have refused to see him as well.

“You… are my brother, then?” Elrond mused.

Elcair nodded, almost shy now. “Yes, and we have a sister between us, Elinn. I thought you knew about her, but since you did not know that you and I were brothers…”

His rambling trailed off as Elrond tried to digest all of the new information. He was an older brother, with two younger siblings. His parents had had two new children after losing their first two. Even if he did reach out to them now, what sort of place would he have in that family? That of a bastard son with no ties but blood?

As if sensing his turmoil, Elcair picked up an oolitic limestone sample and pressed it into Elrond’s palm. It was highly textured, but the ooids themselves were smooth. More than that, its music was soothing like- well, like sediments coalescing in ocean currents. It brought him back to the present.

Staring at his shoes, Elcair asked, “So, since Celebrían did not ask me here at your behest, may I ask- Why have you not reached out to us yet?

Elrond sighed, examining the limestone in his hand. What he wouldn’t give to be an ooid right now; just a tiny ball of calcium floating in the sea. Things would be so much simpler. “I only knew Elwing- our mother - for the first six years of my life, most of which I cannot remember. Our father, I knew for even less time, and I did not know of you and Elinn’s existence until just now. I fear that forcing myself into… your family- I would simply take up space that isn’t there.”

Elcair looked over at him sharply, though Elrond did not meet his gaze. “Do not say that! Nana has been more anxious than I have ever seen her from the moment we got news of your ship. As soon as Atto returned from his sky-voyage at the beginning of last spring, he was much the same. Elinn has been urging Nana constantly to stop waiting for you to reach out and just write first herself because she wants so desperately to meet you! And I-”

He halted before going on, as if admitting some long-kept secret. “I have been wondering what you would be like ever since I first heard your name. For decades- centuries, I have listened at the docks for news and stories of you. I cobbled together an image of what my older brother might be like and, for a very long time, you have been my greatest role model, even though I have never met you.”

A breath of silence passed between them. Elrond could hardly believe that he had played so large a role in the life of someone he had never met. He knew that he was in history books and there were likely people who looked up to him based on their readings, but never so personally. 

Elcair wasn’t finished. “I never even dared to hope that you would share my passion for stone, however much I idolized you. I- There has always been room in our family for you, Elrond.”

Elrond was nearly overcome. He had only just begun to process the fact that he had siblings (siblings! plural!) and this was just too much. So, he pushed his feelings aside for later, focused on the feeling of ooids in his hand, and fell back on learned politeness. 

“I-” he was forced to pause and clear his throat, his voice was clogged with emotion. “I am sorry for not writing sooner.”

Elcair patted his hand, also feeling awkward and off balance after his burst of emotion. “It is no matter now. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

@elrondweek

[ozzy-lot]

[glamrocktiger]

OMC art i did for another anniversary collab, forgot to post it before so I'm posting it now! I also have tons of asks, i really need to answer them 🤧🤧

[liss-art]

"You fool! More serenity!"

Still here (fic) Now with OMC

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Fighting against the familiar compulsion to POST something as soon as it's written.

The grownup headcase equivalent of a child showing their parents what they did in kindergarten, I feel the need to show my stuff to strangers on the internet with a

"Look! I made a thing!"

And want someone to pat my head and tell me I'm doing great & they're proud of me.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Several sentence Sunday

more from Justin knows best or Tommy's nephew who matchmakes his uncle and his teacher:

“Justin, maybe I was flirting with him, and maybe yes, I suspect he did too, but it doesn’t mean he is interesting. And you’re still my nephew.”

Justin wants to kick Tommy for the voice he uses on him now. No one, even his parents, talk with him like that anymore. Like he's just a stupid kid. And it hurts even more that Tommy does it after so many years when he was the only one not making Justin feel bad about himself.

“Firstly, he will be my teacher only for 4 more months,” Justin bends his fingers with an arched eyebrow, using the same tone and Tommy’s face contorts in pain with apologetic eyes. Justin will make him grovel though. For a while. “Secondly, Mr. B is into you. Since I showed him your photos and was talking only the best things about you. He couldn’t even hide it. And after you two met? The man is smitten! But you should have destroyed it, making him believe you’re not interested in him and prefer his friend,” Justin lets his idea about kicking Tommy win and hits the man with his pillow.

“Stop, please, Justin!” Tommy takes the pillow from his hands. “How do you even know it?”

“I heard him and Mr. Russo talking over tea during lunch break. Congratulations. Mr. B will go to blind date next week with the man Mr. Russo knows to forget his crush on you. You’ve missed the best man for fucking nothing!”

“Language!” Justin just throws another pillow into Tommy’s head, but man catches it. “He’s really into me?”

“Yes, and how I said he deserves better.”

“Better than your old man?” 

Tommy looks at him with a playful smirk, but Justin just thinks about really kicking him into his balls now.

“Yes, if you prefer Mr. Diaz’s ass.”

Tagged by @diazsdimples

Np tagging @wikiangela @hippolotamus @bewilderedbuckley @diazheartsbuckley @evansboyfriend @evanbi-ckley @saybiwithme @pirrusstuff @cal-daisies-and-briars @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @monsterrae1 @buckera @repressedqueen @devirnis @buckera @theotherbuckley @honestlydarkprincess and anyone who wants to

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

i love love love him

[umbrarkzoo]

Some stuffs i was requested to draw last one is an oc who belings to @queen0fm0nsterz

[5phn7xb000zin]

“Leave the DEMON, to HIS demons.” (WIP!!!)

I wanted to draw these 2 together lol

[digenerate-trash]

Clove bites down on his pen cap as he writes down the list for today. It's hard to keep track of everything 

He still charges the kids rent but he also works his ass off for Quinn to make sure no one has to be touched by any of the freaks in town.

Money is hard to come by, and every day, clove wonders how Baliey kept this place running like clockwork. Clove is barely keeping his head above water. Still, work needs to be done. And unfortunately, he's the one who has to do it. 

Names, lists, delivery jobs, and goons must be paid. The kids in the nursery need to be taken care of and the other kids need food too. He needs to sell his pictures again... and pick up makeup for his scars. And of course, he still has meetings with every depraved bastard in town 

Clove sighs again leaning into the desk more when he was a kid he always wanted to be where he was. Taking over the family business... somehow that dream felt hallow now that Bailey was gone

He'd given up so much for this poison and now he didn't even want it.

All his friends... his college ambitions, Whitney.... 

Whitney. Clove nearly tears up at the thought. He'd given up checking in on him a long time ago. Not even sure what he was doing anymore 

But God did Clove miss not being lonely all the time? He can't even remember the last time he felt like he wasn't alone… 

Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney Whitney… 

When Clove looked down his entire page was filled with Whitney's name. He had even scribbled over his regular notes. In favor of writing Whitney's name over and over. 

Clove huffs again tearing the page from his notebook and starting over. 

Clove needs to focus on his work, pay his bills, make sure Quinn isn't breathing down his neck, and ensure his kids don't starve… 

But soon clove is looking through all social media to find any trace of Whitney. Images. Announcements, details about his life- even obituaries though Clove hopes he won't find anything there… 

And then Clove sees it. Nightingale Hospital welcomes the first neuro-surgery team. Whitney is one of them… 

It's a bit strange to know he got his life together… how Whitney could ever pull himself up enough to have ambitions in the first place… in his late 30s now but still so perfect… now with glasses that made him look very charming… 

Clove sighs heavily and leans on the desk reading the article over and over again. Clove knows he isn't as pretty as he once was. He's aged so terribly his skin is pale. His hair is greyish now. Hes covered in scars and sunken marks. He could never approach Whitney like this… 

But still. Clove finds himself wondering what the quickest way to get a head injury is instead of working for the rest of the afternoon. 

[cilil]

Summer Stories

Prompt: Music | Airilin Synopsis: Even after everything is over, Airilin is still hunting. Warnings: /

There is song in the water. 

Weaving through currents, bouncing between pebbles, rushing down the stream, reaching the ears of those who happen to listen. 

There is song in the water. 

It beckons to stay, to come closer, to open heart and mind to the presence that lurks in the shadows, watching and waiting. With each note, each droplet of water dripping and flowing, the spell becomes stronger. 

There is song in the water. 

The Maia is hungry, though his kind needs no sustenance. He craves attention, admiration, the thrill of a successful catch, maybe some trinkets. 

Airilin is lonely. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings

@i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @numenhore @stormchaser819

@urwendii @wandererindreams