#it’s another oc painting….but more of them at once…..

[murdleandmarot]

A quick bluebelle painting :))

[criminalyun]

cool for the summer (part two) | sim jaeyun

pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!oc

summery: summers over and if you thought hiding your relationship from your brother with jake when you were all together was hard, then you were in for a surprise when you’re forced to do long distance and not only have to stay up late hours in the night to talk, so that jay wouldn't suspect anything, but also have to question if your boyfriend even loves you.

genre: brothers best friend au, forbidden love, long distance, fluff, angst, smut.

warnings: minors dni!! virgin reader who overthinks a lot!

cw: violence, alcohol use, softdom!jake, sub!reader, piv, fingering, oral (f. rec), making out, pet names (pretty, pretty girl), foreplay, more to be added

word count: estimated 10-15k

release date: june 23rd, 2024

taglist: open !

read part one here

PREVIEW!

There he stood, Jake Sim, your boyfriend, looking as attractive as ever with his dark, messy locks of hair sitting effortlessly on his head, and his skin looking tanned and sun-kissed, and his usual brown eyes that now looked black with lust staring down at you with his plump, red lip tucked between his teeth.

He was clad in a pair of grey joggers and a black zip up jacket which had white writing written across the chest in cursive; the jacket loosely hanging off of him with his prominent collarbone peeking through the neckline.

You couldn't help but gulp at the sight of him, and it was like you were stuck in a trance as you subconsciously took a few steps backwards, allowing your brothers best friend into your room...

Quicker than ever, once your door had been shut tight — Jake pulling the lock across as he shut it with his hand, his eyes not leaving you once - you two dove into one another, your lips hungrily interlocking as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to you whilst his arms snaked around your waist, colliding your bodies as he walked you into the wall; your back pressing against the white painted brick.

"I missed you.." Jake managed to get out, parting your lips for a moment so that you could catch your breaths. "So much, y/n, you don't even understand." He shook his head, desperation seeping through his eyes as they eyed your lips.

“I missed you so much more." You spoke back to him, only earning a shake of Jake's head before he hurriedly attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at places that had never been touched before.

The sensation of his lips against your neck made a weird — pleasurable — feeling appear in your stomach and you slowly fluttered your eyes closed, biting down on your lip to prevent the sounds that were threading to escape from spilling.

"Not possible..." He whispered, grazing his mouth across your earlobe, goosebumps immediately forming on your skin as you accidentally let the sound — the moan — escape from your swollen lips.

Your sounds only caused the smirk on Jake's face to widen even more and he pulled back to look down at you, licking his lips as he brought his thumb up to caress your bottom lip.

"Be quiet, pretty, you don't wanna wake Jay up, huh?" He mischievously spoke, his voice just above a whisper as he teasingly played with your bottom lip, the certain area in his pants hardening as he watched as your eyes glossed over with submission.

Without another thought, the Sim boy quickly released your lip from his touch and hooked his arms beneath your legs, lifting you from the floor and heading over to your bed as he attached his lips to your exposed collarbone.

Once Jake was sat on the edge of your bed, you still being on his lap, he looked up at you in awe, reaching up to move a few strands of your hair away from your beautiful face and tucking them behind your ear as you unthinkingly ground your crotch into his; the weird, euphoric feeling making your stomach churn.

"Y/n.." Jake grunted out, a small whine lacing his voice as he squinted his eyes shut in pleasure. He quickly raised his hands, gently gripping onto your hips (afraid he'd break you if he held too hard) to halt your actions. "We don't have to go all the way, if you don't want to... I don't want to force you...

Immediately, you shook your head, denying the boy as your breathing became heavier and your body became needier.

You wanted him like there was no tomorrow...

COMING SUNDAY JUNE 23, 2024 !!

 criminalyun 2024

[borathae]

“They’ve seen the centuries come and go, watched empires rise and fall and witnessed the creation of society as it is today. And now you have fallen into their arms, showing them once again that change never stops.”

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Hurt and Comfort, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU, Polyamory!AU

“You change universities after moving towns. Your new university is an old, ancient building with secret tunnels and whispered ghost stories. There are two fraternities, which for some reason always seem to be in a quarrel. Alpha consisting of Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin and Min Yoongi. Handsome, porcelain skinned men, who act as if they are out of another century and for some reason everyone on campus seems to be scared of. And Sanguis consisting of Jeon Jungkook, Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok. Men with skin just as pale and their faces just as beautiful, who always wear sunglasses when it is light outside and who never seem to open their curtains. And for some peculiar reason you always find yourself in the middle of them….”

Pairing: OT7 x f.Reader with main Taehyung x f.Reader & Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Mystery, Fantasy, Romance, Smut, University!AU, Vampire!AU

《 To Book One 》

“When your endless game of hide and seek with Namjoon sends your little group all over Europe, you have to fight more than just vengeful witches and bloodthirsty demons. Different morals, beliefs and mindsets bring just as much struggle to your bond as your enemies. And soon you have to accept that the world you decided to live in is darker than you initially prepared for.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader & Jungkook x f.Reader + more as the story progresses

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU

《 To Book Two 》

“You and your lovers visit The Plains, a magical realm created for the souls of witches and warlocks and home of your dear grandmother. She welcomes you with raspberry pie and tea. You come with many stories to tell and eager hands to help on her cottage. Golden sunlight, blue moonshine and green forests await you alongside early morning snuggles and late night kisses with your lovers.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Jungkook x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook, Taehyung x Jungkook, platonic Yoongi x Taehyung

Genre: Magic!AU, Vampire!AU, Polyamory!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff, Romance, Smut, this is a spin-off meant to be read after the Duology

《 To the Spin-Off 》

#01 - What You Deserve [YG x JK]

#02 - The Piano Teacher [YG x OC]

#03 - Only For You ([YG x OC]

#04 - Mellifluous [TH x OC]

#05 - Safe Hands [YG x OC]

#06 - Rache [TH x JK]

#07 - Captured [YG x OC]

#08 - Illecebra [TH x OC] ​

#09 - How I Love You [YG x OC]

#10 - Stormy Nights [YG x OC]

#11 - Of Simpler Times [TH x JM]

#12 - Best Seat [YG x OC]

#13 - Deep [JK]

#14 - Painted Blue [TH x OC]

#15 - Drunk on You [YG x OC]

#16 - I Want Your Love Forever [YG x OC]

#17 - Between Friends [YG x HS]

#18 - Bed Head [JK x OC]

#19 - Don’t Tease Please [JK x OC]

#20 - Fade into You [YG x OC]

#21 - Rope Bunny [YG x OC]

#22 - Lavender Warmth [YG x OC]

#23 - The Scholar, The Princess and the Master [YG x OC x JK]

#24 - Picnics [YG x OC x JK]

#25 - Where Love Is [YG x OC]

#26 - Wake Up Call [YG x OC]

#27 - Devotion [TH x OC]

#28 - Bewitched [YG x OC]

#29 - wanna see myself inside you [JK x OC]

#30 - Princess Treatment [YG x OC]

#31 - Guilty Tears [TH x OC]

#32 - Moonlight & Campsites [YG x OC]

#33 - ILY [YG x OC]

#34 - Morning Hours [JK x OC]

#35 - Silly Fights [YG x OC]

#36 - Carefree [YG x TH]

#37 - Cozy Times [YG x OC]

#38 - Drive You Fucking Crazy [TH x OC]

#39 - FWB [HS x OC]

#40 - A Good Life [YG x OC]

#41 - Impatient [JK x TH]

#42 - Love Wins All [TH x OC]

#43 - Cozy [YG x OC]

#44 - Listen In [HS x JK x TH]

#45 - moonlight [TH x OC]

[cookie-crumblr]

Chubby F! Housewife Reader X M!Yandere Streamer OC Jasper

Part 3!

Part 1 Here!

MINORS DNI

CW: fem! reader, reader referred to as she/her, ML! Masturbation, HJ, pet names for reader(pretty, gorgeous, talks of creampies, live streamed torture, blood, gore, murder,

He sat and watched you at first, just watched.

Just like he promised himself.

That thought was thrown out the window the moment you laid over that chaise lounge, what a gorgeous sight you were. Your perfectly voluptuous body wrapped in a silken night robe, why wasn’t this a painting in his bedroom— Hell why not a mural on his ceiling that he could see every single night.

His hand is already in his pants, pulling out his long, pierced cock. He’s teasing the tip and playing with his metal ring. He can’t help but wonder if you’ve ever been with a guy that has their dick pierced… If you’ll be shocked.

Oh just imagining your little innocent housewife reactions to things like that has heat racing in the jet stream of blood that’s rushing to his dick.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” He wishes so badly you were with him.

How he’d fuck you up against this window so hard, your bare tits pressed up against the glass. Instead of staring at you down there, he’d be seeing your husband; shocked at his chubby little wife with her pussy spread wide, sheathing a man that can take better care of her. Best of all her elated expression at everything about it.

That’s the part that has pre mixing in with the lubricant, your expression. He wonders what you’d look like, brows hiked up, biting your lip.

“Oh f-fuck pretty, you’re so gorgeous” He wants you underneath him. Looking up at him with your pretty eyes, your arms hooked around his neck, legs locked around his mid section. He’s gonna fill you up so good. All the way to the brim and over.

He has at least some restraint… Oh~ the second he does fuck you, he’s going to be so pent up, he almost laughs maniacally at what he’s doing; edging himself to a pretty thing he “can’t” have.

~

You’ve been there for a while, and he’s been there watching you. He’s starting to really notice that something is wrong, even without knowing you for very long, he can tell you aren’t just napping anymore.

Jasper leaves for just a minute to collect a camera and cables from another section of the home before returning and setting it up facing you. He labels that one ‘sun room’ in his phone, and then heads out to his very conspicuously inconspicuous white van.

He’s gonna check up on someone real quick…

The tracker he put in your husband’s car pings him at an office building, but when Jasper hacks the security system his office is empty up there… Hmm, how curious indeed.

He calls your husband’s receptionist, and he tells Jasper that he’s in a meeting at the moment.

When he looks at the cameras to confirm it’s funny that he’s just not in the building anywhere visible at least.

He’ll just make a copy of your husband’s phone later. He’s got a feeling… Not all bad. He’s in a state of slight turmoil, on one hand he’d be ecstatic to find out your husband’s cheating or something else terrible so that he could swoop in, but at the same time, he’d rather you not get hurt.

He muses his hair frustrated as he contemplates problems and how to solve them.

For right now, he’s late for a livestream.

~

The clone he made of your phone lights up next to him, and he sees you typing a message. Before he can read it, he watches you erase it, and then it dims once more.

“Hey Y/N! hope you’re alright, what’s been up?” He texts you… Gods, he really shouldn’t have right after… That’s so suspicious! But, he’s so deathly curious! He wants so badly to know what was on your mind, and what you almost shared with him.

His heart thumps, and his face reddens. He puts his hand onto his fist as he waits for a response, watching both phones…

Nothing.

~

It’s been days.

The gnawing boredom has almost fully made its comeback, when your phone clone lights up on a table behind him, he isn’t looking.

“Count backwards from one hundred, everyone~”

“100”

“Fuck him up!!!”

“Can i have his underwear?”

“99”

“99”

“98”

“Oh shit! First time here! i cant wait!”

“Welcome! i hope you enjoy your stay!” his chat is zooming by in front of him, but Jasper is still able to pick messages out and reply to them individually.

“Mmmf! mmmmmmf!!!!” A man with some socks stuffed in his mouth screams and writhes against barbed and razor wire restraints.

Jasper removes the leather strap that was wrapped and tied around the man’s mouth and hits the back of his head to get him to spit the socks out.

Guttural screams fill the van, and the docks they’re parked at. Birds in flocks fly off at the sound.

“Hey Jasper, you got a text from your other phone,” Issac bounds over, dropping them both into his (kind of full) hands.

“Howdy Jasper! sorry i went on a mini vacation! what have you been up to?”

He stares for a second thinking about how he’s been watching you through your windows for the past, oh, little over a week. You definitely did not go on a vacation. But he won’t ask, he doesn’t want to make you think about excuses.

Dev.In clears their throat, knowingly.

“I have to go.” is his answer as he slits the man’s throat and stops the livestream.

Jasper jumps into the driver seat and steps on the pedal.

In his van he’s going so fast the metal is rattling as he practically rolls over on every turn through suburb. Issac constantly “weeee!’s” in the back. In mere minutes he makes it home, and into the house before you can see him.

You arrive as he’s leaned up against the door, heart pounding in excitement making him almost dizzy! It’s exhilarating, he might have to have more torture streams just to give him that added bit of fun to his evenings when he has to feign innocence for you.

You knock on the door, and he answers it instantly. Shit. He’s so stupid, he thinks to himself, hopfully you don’t suspect anything.

Right away he notices that your eyelid is slightly more closed than usual and that you’re wearing a touch more makeup than usual in that spot making it more suspicious.

His mind instantly goes to your husband.

That might just be him pushing his own agenda onto you, so he doesn’t say anything yet.

However, it gets too hard not to when you’re walking away, and he almost desperately wants you to stay.

[midnightmah07]

Happy birthday to my oc: Perse Achillea!!

"As a lover of art myself I am very much looking forward to this museum's centenary... Come. I'm sure there's a bunch of stuff to see."

"It's foolish to try and open yourself to someone like that, poor girl's gonna get her heart broken... Not that I care. It's her fault anyway."

Happy birthday to my baby, Perse<33 I didn't write any vignettes because I didn't feel like writing BUT I made voice lines and a duo magic dialogue between her and Cater<33

Voice lines:

🪻: I wasn't prepared for just how absolutely grand and majestic this place is... Wow.

🪻: wha- hey, stop tugging on my sleeve, I don't want you getting my jacket all wrinkled, 'kay?

🪻: goodness me... Wait here, I think Mimosa (Cater -> mimosa is a type of flower that means "I hide my feelings") forgot his phone's flash on.

🪻: the King of The Underworld is so similar yet so different from Idia... Heh. I assume he was probably way more pleasurable to be around though (laughs).

🪻: imagine falling for a 'hero' whose only quality was his strength, talk about poor taste in men... The King of the Underworld's assistant should've been ashamed. But then again, I don't think I have the right to talk.

🪻: is that...? (Sighs) please don't tell me Aster (Kalim -> aster is a flower, its white version means "I love you more than you love me!") is trying to convince Ortho to drag us to another party after this... I cannot eat nearly anything because I'm vegan...

🪻: have you seen Dahlia (Vil -> dahlias are a type of flower that symbolize perseverance and determination) around? I want to take a picture of him and the Fairest Queen's portrait. It'll be my most prized possession.

🪻: this outfit is so absolutely stunning! I really do hope they let us keep it, I would love to wear it once again.

🪻: hm? You saw a painting of hyenas overpowering The King of Beasts...? (Smirks) oh, please do show, I would just love to share such image with Calendula (Leona -> calendulas are a type of flower that symbolizes insecurity, jealousy and anxiety).

🪻: Mimosa got me these really cute stickers of The Great Seven. I wonder where I should put them...

🪻: oops, sorry 'bout that. Weak ankles and stuff.

🪻: all these paintings are so detailed... What? You're curious about my art abilities? Nah, most I can do is a stick figure, my strength is in acting.

DUO:

Perse: let's go, Mimosa!

Cater: at your service, Persie!

[jeankluv]

Cherry Lips || Fem!Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: +18, modern au, roommates, best friends to lovers, masturbation, oral sex, sexual toys, fingering, female law, no use of y/n, no description of the oc

Notes: finally the queen made her debut on the anime and what a better way to celebrate it than making a lesbian nsfw one shot.

Materialist

She was her best friend, but she was so down for her. Hell she has been for years. She knew how she felt about women long before she met her best friend, but the moment of meeting her and becoming close had awakened something in her that she had never felt before.

She had tried every means to sink those feelings deep down, but she had been in vain. It didn't care how many dates she had or how many one-night stands she had, he could only think about her and her tattoos, her ear piercings, her short dark hair, her big gray eyes. her. Oh my god I was so screwed.

And now alone in the apartment they shared, she wanted to tear her hair out. She had left to go on a date with some asshole. But of course she couldn't blame her for anything when she did the same thing.

“Fuck it.” She sighed.

Besides, Law had never shown interest in her, or in any other girl. Since she met her she had only dated assholes, as she liked to call it.

“I should have gone out today…” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temple. “At least I wouldn't be here dying of jealousy.”

She could be spending a night with some girl but she was there alone, in her apartment watching a shitty movie. It was barely eleven at night, and I was not sleepy. What could I do?

An idea crossed his mind. Law probably wasn't going to arrive in a couple of hours. So he could take advantage of this time alone to enjoy himself. Normally she had to control herself, even though Law had told her more than once that it didn't matter. But that made her worse, she meant that she didn't feel anything from her when she heard her moan at night when she touched herself.

She got up from the couch and went to his room, it was hot. Thinking about Law and the dress she wore for her date had made her horny. And she needed to touch herself or in the end she would explode from helplessness.

She walked to her room and looked for the vibrator she had bought a few years ago. She dropped the black pajamas she was wearing and lay on her bed.

She began touching her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine as her cold hand collided with her nipple. And with his other hand he sucked two of his fingers to bring them to his entrance and then insert them.

Moans began to escape her mouth and she imagined it was Law, the one pushing her tattooed fingers into her pussy. She wanted so much for those fingers to touch her and for those lips, painted with a cherry color, to devour her.

“Fuck Law…” She moaned out loud.

It didn't matter how much she moaned, she didn't care because she was alone and her best friend wasn't going to know that she was fantasizing about her. She took her fingers out and picked up the vibrator from the table and began to pleasure herself. If I continued at this pace he would cum in just a few minutes.

“Fuck yes.”

Her breathing was becoming more labored and her pulse was even faster, she was so close, so close to arriving. Until she heard her name being called. She could feel how she paled in that instant. Law was standing in front of the door, mouth half open, looking at her. It was not the first time she had seen her naked, but it was the first time she had seen her in that situation.

“Fuck Law!” She screamed, trying to cover herself up. “Why are you here so early?”

“He was an asshole and I left earlier.” She said without stop looking at her. “Like you said.”

“Of course! I’m always right. You always match with the worst kind of guys.” She said, looking in another direction.

What’s up with that look on her face?

Law called you once again. “Did you came?”

She looked at her, of course she didn’t. “No.” She whispered.

Law nodded and left the room without saying anything. She looked at the spot where Law had been a moment ago and felt something in her chest vibrate. Why had Law been looking at her like that? There was something she didn't understand, something she was unable to decipher.

She felt Law's footsteps approaching her room again and there she saw her again. She entered her room and closed it behind her. Approaching the bed she climbed up, causing the mini dress she was wearing to ride up more than expected and probably expose her red underwear.

“Law, what are you doing?” She whispered when Law touched her leg.

“You said you didn’t came, so I’m going to help you.” She said, grabbing one of her legs and placing a kiss on them.

“Law! You don’t…” She was shaking, just one kiss had made her shake like that.

“I don’t what?” She smirked, getting closer to her. “You were moaning my name so prettily just a few minutes ago.” She held her chin and looking at her.

“I…” Shit, she heard her and now she was there wanting to make her cum.

“Tell me, you want me to make you cum?” She lend closer to her lips.

She swallowed and nodded, if she wanted it, of course she wanted it. "Yes please."

“That’s my girl.” She said leaving a kiss on the corner of her lips and laying her on the bed.

Law placed herself between her legs and began to devour her best friend's pussy. She began to moan, it was not at all what she had imagined, it was much better. Law's tongue entered and touched places that she thought were not possible, while with one of her hands she played with one of her nipples and with the other hand she rubbed her clitoris.

“So sweet.” Law licked her lips, once she came.

“Law…” Her chest moved up and down, trying to restore her normal breathing, trying to calm her heart. Because no matter how much she tried to deny it, she was so screwed by that girl with tattoos that at any moment, she would break.

“Yes princess?” She touched her hair approaching her.

“I… you.” She looked down, Law also deserved to be pleased.

She turned around, both of them, leaving Law behind. The gray-eyed girl looked at her with surprise and then with a smirk on her face. She lowered the straps of her dress, revealing more of the tattoo on her chest and then her naked breasts, decorated with a piercing in each nipple. She moved her mouth to one of them and started playing with it. She could hear Law moaning her name and pulling her hair. She lowered her hand to her entrance and without warning she inserted two fingers inside her, making her turn her back at the sensation.

She changed the nipples but kept moving her fingers in and out of her, while Law kept repeating her name and saying that she was going to cum. When she finally felt her cum on her fingers and Law's heavy breathing beneath her, she pulled away from her nipple and looked at her with a smile on her face.

If this had been a feverish dream she hoped she would never wake up. And if it had been reality, she wanted it to happen again.

“That was…” She started talking.

“Amazing.” Law smiled, cupping her cheeks.

“Law I…”

“Yes?”

“I like you.” It was out, finally it was out of her chest. “I know you don’t feel the same and it’s okay, I just hope our friendship isn’t ruined by this.”

“Who said I don’t feel the same?” She looked at Law with surprise.

“But you… You…”

“I have been trying to deny my feelings for quite some time but every time I see you those feelings come back to me, stronger than ever. Tonight’s date was just my confirmation, that it doesn’t matter how much I search, there is no one else like you.”

She was speechless, she felt the same way as her. “Law…I felt the same way. For so long, the only one I could think about was you and only you. And these feelings have been killing me.”

“Well princess, it’s over now.” She smiled and kissed her.

The kiss was sweet and slow, filled with all the love they had kept for so long

“Should I move to your room?” Law whispered into her lips.

“I think your room is bigger, I should move to yours.”

“That’s a good idea.”

[mrs-snape5984]

“It’s true! Look, how they shine for you…”

“Look, how they shine for you, and all the things that you do…” (“Yellow” by Coldplay)

Today, I want to share a personal story with you…something, I’ve experienced about two weeks ago.

As some of you might know, I’m living in my very own Snape-museum-like chamber, which is dedicated to my beloved Severus and the Wizarding World in general. Since I’m suffering from this cruel disease ME/CFS, I’m not capable of leaving the darkness and solitude of my room anymore. So, surrounding myself with my already 21 years lasting passion for Severus in memorabilia and artworks, is my way of coping with my loneliness and my sadness. Every single piece of my collection is like a patch of consolation…sewed together into a huge comfort blanket, which embraces me to soothe my troubled heart.

For this reason, I get notifications, whenever someone offers another rare item of Severus Snape online. This time, I found an extremely interesting and beautiful sideboard, which was skilfully painted and decorated. Unfortunately, this object was 600 kilometres away from my home, so I couldn’t ask anyone, if they could pick it up for me. Despite the fact, that I wouldn’t be able to buy this cabinet, I contacted the owner of it with the only intention to congratulate her for her beautiful design of this unique piece of furniture….and suddenly, we found ourselves in a nice chat about Severus Snape and his meaning for us.

She showed me a delicate pencil drawing of Severus, which she had made and I was immediately in love with it. After presenting her my own art collection on my walls, she offered me her drawing as a present. And now, I’m allowed to share it with you all! Thank you, J. Holdman, for your act of pure kindness and compassion. You’re an incredibly empathetic and thoughtful person and I’m grateful for meeting you online.

Commissioning artworks has become my favourite coping mechanism, even though it’s currently more difficult for me, since my savings are shrinking and my regular income isn’t paid anymore, due to my disability. I feel bad, that I can’t add every single drawing to my walls, but my room isn’t very big (and some of them would also be inappropriate for my children’s eyes 😏). Sadly, I’m struggling a lot with the acceptance of daylight and illumination, lately. But once a day, I’m switching on a little lamplight to enjoy my art gallery for some minutes (by wearing sunglasses).

My beloved friend Miri helped me again to rearrange my whole gallery. You’re invited to grab a piece of my joy by having a glimpse at my collection. Please feel free to enjoy these masterpieces of art! Most of them are drawings of Severus and my, indeed, very self-inserted OC Jules! 🥹

Credits for these mesmerising pieces of art in my room go out to (there’s no order, I’m going through my gallery, whilst I’m writing this):

J. Holdman

My bestie Miri H.

@madfantasy

@mmad-lover

@turpinsimp-blog

@snake-queen7

@alinearthp

@dranna

@sleepybradipo

@capysnapeart

@hannisimp

@opalchalice

@pinklovecharm

You all…and all the other artists of Snapedom, I’ve already commissioned, but also all those other persons, I’ve met here on tumblr, are my lights in this dark time…my stars…my yellow! There are no words to express my gratitude…so I just leave it like that. Thank you. ✨

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x historian!reader: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

plot: the one where the both of you are within your walls.

warnings: marquis is different here to canon, expect oc behavior but like all fics he’s gonna be cruel museum worker! reader, entitled af french boi, unreliable sibling relationships/dynamics

masterlist

the rain pattered against the glass windows, ringing through the empty halls of the museum. you sat there deep in thought in front of your desk while the storm raged outside. the moon that had look delicately beautiful earlier had disappeared when flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder replaced the serene scenery, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here but surely it hasn’t been that long.

where was he? he should be here by now, you pondered.

a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

“ma’am?” your assistant calls out as he peeks his head through the door.

you look back at him but your lips stay still, not making a word but silently urging him to continue with the rise of an eyebrow.

“he’s here again, requesting a private viewing,” he informs.

oh. you almost forgot about that.

the constant visitor of the museum for the past few weeks was none other than the eccentric and affluent, marquis de gramont. recently, he frequented the museum for a private viewing for some of the rarest and beautiful pieces of art in french history. not that you’re complaining since he paid good money for his private viewings but his persistent requests to have a historian around him, explaining what the intricate histories and symbols drawn beneath the surface were an inconvenience sometimes.

truthfully, there’s no bad conversation with him. you’re quite eager to answer any additional questions or arguments he imposes upon you but judging by the exhibition of his wealth and power, don’t they teach these things to nobility at a young age?

you pull your feet up and drag them towards the door, your assistant gives you a weary smile knowing how long your discussions with the marquis would usually go, for hours on end. 

the walk to the private room was filled with footsteps, your previous thoughts emerging once again. your brother.

 he was supposed to be here to join you for lunch but he hadn’t shown up. lunches shared with the both of you were also your bonding and catch up time but as of late he missed at least four lunches in six weeks. you could understand that maybe it was just his busy schedule but the fewer times you saw him, he seemed anxious and jumpy with sweat beading on his forehead. as if he was always in a hurry, you consistently persisted in the lunches in an effort to get him to open up his problems with you, after all what are siblings for?

you approach the door cautiously, taking a deep breath to polish your mind before stepping into the role of gracious historian, a person that’s ready to deal with the marquis.

entering the room with an eager smile on your face, you greet the marquis who was sitting on a plush white leather couch, donning another dark blue suit with a jacket and tie to finish the look. he doesn’t offer any greeting in reply and comments on your lateness right away.

“you took a while to get here, mademoiselle.” he mutters, checking his watch.

“i apologize for my tardiness sir, i had matters to attend to.” you force a smile. he stares at you carefully, an amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before waving it off.

“let’s get started then.”

the marquis is a difficult person to impress, especially in keeping him engaged in a conversation. more often than not you find yourself exerting a lot of information out of your brain just to keep up with him. you don’t know why you always push yourself to be somewhat superior to him in terms of knowledge but perhaps that’s just what his aura demands of you.

“and that is the final painting for your private viewing today, sir.” you recite familiar lines you’ve been saying for the past six weeks, “are there any questions you have in mind?”

he eyes the painting cryptically before glancing at you and shaking his head, looking somewhat satisfied with the answers you’ve given him. you smile at him once again before speaking.

“if you require any refreshments or desire to make an appointment in the future, enzo will take care of it. thank you for coming to the louvre, sir.” you bow your head before leaving, knowing that the marquis liked to be alone.

once you make it back to the office, you see your phone light up and vibrate. you immediately make a beeline for it and before the ringing ends, unfortunately the call ends before you could answer it but a wave of messages floods your inbox, all from your brother telling you he was at the entrance of the museum.

you hurriedly run out of your office straight to the entrance when you see a faint silhouette by the large doors. you call his name out and he turns to face you, a faint smile on his lips.

”where were you? i’ve been waiting for you the entire day, are you alright?” you immediately assume the worst and begin to fret over your dearest younger brother, gripping his shoulders and checking his face for any possible injuries.

your brother is a good person. you know that. you watched him grow, you watched him become the man he is now but still a small whisper remains in the back of your mind that you are losing him to something , and you can’t do anything to help it.

you can feel it. it  started with the distance and excuses, how every single word that leaves his mouth feels less and less genuine and more like a set of lies meant to calm you down. you want to help him but he won’t let you.

”i’m fine, i just got caught up at work.” he verbally reassures you but pulls away from your touch. you bite your tongue from asking more, afraid of scaring him away. a fight is not what you need right now.

”oh…um” you mumble, taking a small step away from him, feeling your insides crush to the lack of familial warmth from a brother. he stands there unfazed by your movements, the small smile gone in front of you. instead, an uneasiness replaces his eyes and stares at the ground, seemingly too busy to deal with your emotions right now.

“do you want to have dinner together? i know this nice sushi place downtown.” you eagerly offer, his mouth opens to reply but a brief hesitation takes place.

”i can’t.” he replies.

“why?” you ask, annoyance in your tone.

”work, as usual.” he states with a humorless chuckle, worry still present in his face, “i’m here for a favor.”

“what is it? did you get in trouble? you know you can tell me anything right?” you gasp.

“no! no! i just need to borrow some money for this month’s rent. my new job doesn’t pay until the end of the month, my landlord said i’m way overdue for the past three months and he’s gonna kick me out if i don’t pay within this week.”

a silence takes over the conversation as your process the information you are given right now. the excuse feels flimsy and careless.

money isn’t really an issue for you right now. you’re not insanely rich but you are financially stable, yet you feel uncertain about giving your brother money. your brother’s landlord, a strict but yet a sweet old man often texts you whether or not your brother has paid his rent in each month and so far you’ve received no messages from him lately. 

”oh..yeah sure. it’s no problem, i can send it to you later.” you smile for his comfort, making yourself feel approachable to your own blood.

monitoring your sibling’s rent status is definitely odd but with what you’re dealing with right now, to be completely honest you’re just making sure your brother’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that.

”come on in, it’s raining outside.” you grab his arm and pull him in.

”no, seriously, it's alright. you might have some people inside-“

”it’s closing time, at least sit inside and wait for me, please?” you plead.

”okay, i’ll wait for you.” he smiles.

”good, because if i have to deal with another stubborn asshole under this roof, i’m going to lose my mind.” your brother chuckles and takes a seat by the door.

”dinner’s on me.” he adds, wiping the raindrops gathered on his forehead.

“on you? you can’t even pay your rent!” you jest.

”it was a one time thing!”

the amusement slowly dies down when you hear a large number of footsteps echoing through the halls, the door opens and it reveals the marquis. you immediately straighten up and face his direction, slipping in the professional manner that he is accustomed to.

”good evening, sir.” you greet.

the marquis doesn’t reply but instead whispers an instruction to his guards which they nod to and walk ahead of him. the marquis approaches you carefully, briefly eyeing you before glancing at the person behind you.

”it is quite late, don’t you think?” he starts.

”ah, yes it is. the night staff and i are closing the museum for the night, we were simply waiting for your departure. perhaps, you enjoyed your private viewings much longer than usual, sir.”

”you cannot fault me for that, miss. what hangs on the walls of this establishment is history, glory and beauty wrapped in one.”

”that we agree on.” you reply, “will you be here tomorrow? at the same time?” he looks at you again.

”for what reason are you asking?” he raises an eyebrow.

“so enzo and i can immediately arrange for your appointment and room, sir.” 

he pauses and a silence takes place, his eyes wander all over your face trying to see something through you. you keep your gaze on him, composed and calm. as it should be. you get a feeling he relishes on weakness especially people who have a lower pay grade than him or maybe that’s just how he is with everyone.

narcissism was a major takeaway you observed from the marquis the first time you met him, quite self-centered might you add and somewhat snobbish but then again his attention is not something to be exhilarated about.

”yes, miss. i will be here tomorrow.” a small smirk curves his lips.

”you are quite fond of the art around here.” you start.

”yes, what of it?”

”how come you never bought any of it? i’ve heard from a few auction houses that you have quite the art collection. i’m sure it is much more convenient for you, having the art within the comfort of your home.” you reason to him.

more reason to see him less in your life. you think.

“you are not wrong in that. it would be much more convenient.” he agrees.

so buy it then.

”if that’s the case, i must inform you that there are plans to auction that rembrandt you are so eagerly fond of, perhaps you might be interested in joining?”

”i will have to turn that down, miss. as much as i enjoy the comfort of my home, i appreciate the aura of the louvre, it brings a sense of fulfillment and eagerness to me. i would be a fool to rob myself of that. also, the people around here are not so bad.” his eyes rake over your frame carefully, you wonder if he’s looking at your brother. 

you look back and surprisingly no ones there. you shake it off when you hear a car engine nearby.

”oh, well it doesn’t hurt to try.” you begin to walk towards the door and he follows, outside his car sits with a bodyguard on standby waiting for him.

”i appreciate your service, miss. my private viewings have never been a dull moment during your enlightenments.” you lower you’re head slightly at him with a polite smile.

“i, as well must thank you for your service and approach. i tend to enjoy the art much more than when i am with myself.” the marquis remarks, extending his hand towards you.

”my pleasure, sir.” you respond as you shake his hand.

and it’s warm.

”will you be requiring a ride home? i am more than happy to offer it to you.” he offers when you pull your hand away from him.

”thank you for the offer sir but i will be here for later hours.” you retort.

“i do not mind staying here for a little longer.” he insists, you notice his line of sight eye your hand that shook his hand earlier. the cold rainy breeze must have taken control of the warmth of your palms and the marquis could have noticed the coldness of your hand. the marquis fidgets with his right hand as if it was itching to do something.

”it is not needed sir, i am more than capable of bringing myself home.” you state firmly.

”nonsense. i’ll send a car for you. it would be unfortunate if my favorite art historian was harmed in any possible way, how will i survive my viewings?” he urges with amusement in his tone but once again not wanting to back down.

”i would hate to waste your time and effort sir-“ you politely refuse again.

”it is late and unsafe for a woman of your caliber to be alone in the streets of the city. you will not have a choice in this, mademoiselle.” he states firmly this time as his voice hardens and makes it clear it’s not an offer.

it’s a command.

the marquis’ attention is not to be relished on. in this private viewings, the both of you have always maintained a polite and professional demeanor between client and host although there was some casual conversation here and there but you’ve never outright refused him, desiring to keep his temper from exploding and having his unpredictability in your space.

the marquis always gets his way. having private viewings at any time he desires with whatever piece of art he decides to have his eye on and more importantly taking up your time whenever he comes by at the louvre.

in the recent months you’ve spent with him, compliance is all he knows from you so it’s not unlikely that it’s easy for him to shut you down at the first hint of refusal. not to mention, he does not hesitate at confrontation. any small slight against him is somewhat remembered the next time you meet him.

complaints about making him wait slightly longer than usual for his viewings, comments about the apparently poor maintenance of the paintings  and your tardiness to attend to him are the most prominent experiences you remember from him.

the marquis feels entitled to everything within the walls of the louvre.

and that includes you.

another entitled rich snob that thinks he understands art more than you do is not a first time experience, but his insistence of having you brought home because of him somehow brings a chill to your spine.

entitled rich snobs can come to your work any time and however they like but the moment they try to step into your life, well it’s time to push them back. you have no interest in them unless it’s something to do with your job.

unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to do that right now.

“next time.” you think to yourself, “but never again.”

you back down and thank the marquis for this offer as his body guard opens the door to his vehicle, he flashes a small but pleased smile for your gratitude and bids you a safe trip home.

you return a smile at him and watch him leave until his car disappears from where you stand. exhaustion settles back into your nerves when you realized how late it is again.

oh and your brother.

christ. give me strength to deal with this tomorrow.

you sigh and walk back inside to close up.

later, when you get dropped off by the driver assigned to you, doubt starts to creep into your senses whether or not you told the driver where you live. after thanking him and shutting the door, you tilt your head idly at the car and think deep and hard.

”did you or did you not?” you ponder.

groaning heavily you shake it off as exhaustion for your lack of remembrance.

still weird though.

author’s note: kickstarting another series when i’m still not done with four reqs and one series…anyways enjoy and please feel free to like and reblog!

[crezz-star]

So… I finally made a One piece OC.

All due to the idea I've been imagining today. A what if Luffy and the crew met someone who, very uncanny, looks and sounds like Ace.

Thus… Jean was made. ✏️✏️✏️

Info at read more ( it is a messy ramble format so beware. )

He was born as a slave to the celestial dragons, after his parents was caught while his mother was pregnant to him.

He grew up with an isolated understanding that he really was just that. A slave, until he died. his parents would die just a few years in from the torture done to them. While Jean still lives on. He would meet Boa and the others who was like him telling him that there was more to the world than their servitude. But he was way too unmovable with his mentality that he will die like that, that he thinks they're just being dumb he would get depressed as time passed, so when the freeing of slaves at Mary Geoise by fisher tiger came, he was too weak to even move and being mistaken as already dead, he was left there.

but he is still alive and would later then be dumped on auction houses by his current owner. where he would, surprisingly be given better treatment by his fellow slaves as well as taken care of.

he would meet different kinds of people in the auction houses. where he would learn about the world and eventually wanting to be free.

Jean is at the auction house at sabaody, the place where luffy destroyed and punched a celestial dragon. he's in his cat form. and thats the moment he finally achieved freedom.

he hears about the man who freed them and made it his missiong to thank him. maybe even join the adventures of his savior if allowed the two years he spent wandering around, would be the time he would stumble upon the graphite graphite fruit, which what would also help him get stronger, learning to fight on his own as well.

once he deems himself strong enough, he would seek out luffy and his crew to finally and hopefully thank him and ask to join him. hoping to be able to create drawings of the landscape in the places they would visit.

how he met the crew:

after punk hazard. on the way to dressrosa ( they arrived at a small island where Jean is currently in, to restock ). Jean saw their ship, transformed into his cat/tiger form and went into the ship.

once the crew left the island. he's already there. and when everyone saw him. they just though he was some cat.

chopper was the first who was talking to him and chopper thought he was a stray and Jean just went with it for a while.

everyone treated him like some pet. until one morning where he poofed back to his human form.

everyone was in panic. but when he showed that he was their pet. ( he was VERY PROUD to be called the pet of the strawhats ) everyone was a bit freaked not because of that but he looks and sounds like ace.

everyone is very shaken especially luffy and thught he was some evil guy using ace's face

jean explained that they saved him at sabaody, that he was one of the slaves at the auction house.

he would always use his cat form after seeing how shaken luffy is with him. not minding being in cat from one bit. so long as he lets him join them.

luffy does eventually let him join. at first only referring to him as 'pet cat' to finally calling him by name 'jean'

Jean is part of the mature group of the crew.

he does have similar personality as Ace but he likes to tease the younger ones a lot. especially making Zoro feel jelly by being too close to Luffy

yes this is ZoLuccentric

Jean is pushing Zoro and Luffy to realize their 'feelings' for one another.

JEAN BITS

Jean is 28

Jean loves hot chocolate as it reminds him of his mother. the only thing that his mother ever made him.

Jean's weapon of choice is his foot. making his battle style a bit similar to Sanji ( careful not to harm his hands anymore, wanting to paint )

but he does still use his hands when he uses his devil fruit. he fighs like a martial artist'

Jean's devil fruit is a good conductor of fire so he always have a lighter with him. he sets fire to his graphite which creates the illusion that he uses fire. ( another thing that makes him unsettling for Luffy and the crew.

his devil fruit is logia type. his graphite can be sand like crocodile and or liquid ish like candle and or can be solid as well.

Jean would most likely always be found at high places in places they visit, to paint / draw

jean is 6'5"

he and usopp get along well because of their artistic side.

he can do recon missions well because of his ability to transform to a cat

[teyamsilly]

big baby and bigger baby

pairing neteyam x mom! oc, lo'ak x mom! oc, slight neytiri x mom! oc tags & warning i'm so down bad for neytiri, slight romance with wifey, lo'ak and neteyam are def mamas boys, mentions of blood and violence summary preparing for another raid, jake finally let his sons take part in it. veronica was proud but her concerns never left her.  word count 2.6k index skxawng [idiot], ma'itan [my son], prrnen [baby]

teyamsilly speaking ✩ idk if i'll ever be satisfied with how my stories are cause i keep coming back to it and it feels like there is something lacking :') hope you enjoy it !

"We hit them here. Assuming they will be waiting for us to hit them earlier in the transport because of our surprise attack last time, let's wait a bit more until they cross this-" Veronica circled an area on the map with red paint using her finger, "to attack them. Like we discussed before, Tarsem will place the bombs by the tracks and activate them. The track gets destroyed and the train breaks. Na'vi on ground will collect all the goods in the train. Everything that is of use to us. Na'vi on sky will handle the helicopters."

She observed all the warriors. "Am I clear?"

They all answered with a firm yes, a nod of respect sent her way. Veronica looked at Jake and nodded. The simple gesture from her told him that the brief was done.

"Warriors, get ready!" announced Jake. The tent was instantly filled war cries, filling each na'vi inside with determination. The RDA destroyed their home once, they wont allow it to happen again. One by one, they left. 

The Olo'eyktan watched as each of them exited the tent until his gaze stopped on two distinctive figures. He sighed, "Neteyam and Lo'ak, stay for a moment."

Veronica and Neytiri shared a knowing look. Their two sons weren't meant to be part of the raid because it was too dangerous. The first raid took five of their warriors lives and many injured, and fortunately Neteyam and Lo'ak weren't too stubborn about joining. This time they begged days on end about being a part of it. 

Every time, Jake replied no without hesitation. He might claim they weren't prepared or that it was too perilous, but his two wives understood deep down that it was just because he didn't want the sight of their blood out there. Heck, he was already worried about Veronica and Neytiri being part of the raid. Thinking about his sons in the field will give him a headache.

The brothers glanced at each other before standing in front of him. Jake eyed them intensely as he spoke. "You're spotters, you got it? Spot bogeys and alert us if there are any," he reminded.

They nodded. "Yes, sir."

Their response didn't ease him, however. Jake knew it was an automatic response just for them to be granted permission. He stared at his younger son a bit longer before he nudged his head to the door. The boys walked away from their position and exited the tent. Their absence filled the place with silence as the adults just stood there and watched where they left.

Veronica lay her hand on his shoulder, and squeezed them gently. She smiled, "They will be fine."

"Yeah, I hope so," he mumbled, his head down.

"I am still against it," said Neytiri. 

Veronica snapped her gaze towards her with furrowed brows. If there was one thing she knew about Neteyam and Lo'ak, it was that they would start to defy them little by little if they shielded them for too long.

"But," Neytiri continued, "our sons are strong. They know what to do."

Jake pursed his lips, his only response being a nod. The boys were too young for this in his eyes. Just because he wasn't human anymore, it didn't mean that he has forgotten his culture and beliefs. Neteyam's age may be considered the age of maturity, but to Jake he is still a kid.

Veronica tucked her knife in her sheath that was tied around her lower back above her tail. It was hard to stay positive in this situation because it seemed like Jake's anxiety passed to her. He isn't wrong to feel that way, no. She tried to overlook negative thoughts about them being there because the two were looking forward to this. They were driven to protect their home, and she doesn't blame them for that.

All the warriors crowded around the egde of High Camp with their ikrans. Vera, her ikran, stood out to her the most just because her colours are her favourite. She was painted with a mix of white, light blue, and green— colours that reminded her of the ocean.

"Can't believe we're spotters," Lo'ak grumbled. He shook the locks of the saddle on his ikran, making sure that it is fastened.

Neteyam sighed as he shook his head. "Be grateful. This is better than nothing."

The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Bet he only said yes cause Mama said so."

Lo'ak was sure that his life would have been more difficult if his mother wasn't there. She was the only person who understood him, who wouldn't yell at him for his mistakes and instead talk to him in a manner that he would understand what he did was wrong. His father's scoldings does give him a wake up call, but not enough to make him stop.

"And what about me?" Veronica arched an eyebrow as she approached them.

Neteyam smirked when he heard his brother curse under his breath as he was caught in the act.

"Nothing, mama."

"This skxawng said father only said yes because you said so, mom," said Neteyam. Lo'ak sent him a glare but he could care less. His baby brother was harmless as long as their mom was there.

Since the children have two mothers, they called them with different names to not confuse the women.There were too many instances when they were babies crying out for their mothers, but the mothers would always attend to them simultaneously. So, Neytiri was mother, while Veronica was mom. Although, Lo'ak called Veronica mama since he was little and he didn't grow away from that habit.

"Just so you know, I don't feel as confident anymore for letting the two of you out there. There are still ways you could help the clan and I would gladly find them," she said. Her words alerted the two teenagers immediately. Veronica smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "However, I trust you not to do anything stupid. Am I right to do so?"

Lo'ak nodded, his boyish grin stretched on his lips. "Mama, please, as if I would do something stupid at a time like this."

"You don't really have a good record for showing obedience in the worst times, ma'itan."

Neteyam chuckled, "Don't worry, mom. I will make sure he will stay put."

Somehow, I doubt that, she thought. The eldest son always managed to be tangled in his mess even if he doesn't want to, but she felt reassured that Lo'ak wasn't alone. 

Looking at them stood at each others side made Veronica feel nostalgic. The image of them as children flashed through her head. They were yelling for her and running towards her with cheeky smiles, jumping into her arms. It seemed like time flew too fast. Now, they had matured and had a sense of responsibility. 

"When did you grow so big?" Veronica sighed, tears welling up in her eyes. She drew Lo'ak into her embrace.

"Mom, stop," Lo'ak whined. His eyes looked around frantically with his cheeks flushed. He did not want to be treated like a prrnen in front of so many people.

"Hm, why?" she teased. "Do you have a girl I don't know about?"

"No, but-"

"I thought so." Veronica tightened her arms around her son, planting a kiss on his temple with a loud sound effect just to embarrass him more. She laughed as she heard him groan against her.  "My baby is so big now!"

"Mom!" he complained. Veronica laughed as she took a step away from her son, seeing his cheeks flushed from embarrassment entertained her. 

She turned to Neteyam. "Ah, my bigger baby." Her arms were stretched away from her sides, an invitation. Unlike Lo'ak, Neteyam didn't shy away from her affection. 

He felt so nervous about the raid that his hands started to sweat, but his nerves weren't enough to scare him away. He wondered how Lo'ak looked so calm, excited even. They were actually going to witness up close the damages the RDA could bring. But being wrapped around his mom's warmth relaxed him, even if it was just for a little while.

"Mom, are you in sky team?" he asked.

Veronica shook her head. "No, I am part of the ground team. Your mother is the one in sky team."

Neteyam felt a gentle kiss against his temple. She stepped back, her hands squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "Everything will be fine, Teyam."

He thought hearing those words again would make him feel better, but it didn't.

Veronica wondered if her mother ever felt this way: her heart racing from anxiety, a knot in her stomach, and the palms of her hands sweaty just for being worried for her own daughters' safety. Although the chances are highley unlikely, it didn't hurt to wonder. She would consider her mother lucky if she had never felt that way because then she had nothing to fear.

The moment she didn't see her two sons in the sky like they were supposed to, panic started to kick in. She spotted their ikrans staying on the ground, their riders nowhere to be seen. Just as she was about to alarm Jake, gun ships came and fired at them. 

Veronica hurried to take cover, not leaving her any time to search for her sons. She prayed that they were safe, and that everyone managed to escape the shots. She only felt her worries fade away when she saw Lo'ak flew away on his ikran, but it soon came back when Neteyam was being carried by Jake. He had scratches on his back, blood seeping out from it. Did every mother experience this?

They were currently at High Camp. She carressed Vera's head before approaching the boys. 

"Mom! Mama!" Tuk ran towards the two women and tried to hug them both with her small arms. The youngest Sully would often call either of the mothers with different names, not that they mind. Like Lo'ak, Tuk didn't stray away from her habit in calling Veronica mama, but she does call Neytiri this sometimes.

Veronica smiled and pinched her cheek gently. She patted the small girl's back when she moved away, and continued to walk towards the boys. Neteyam stood in front of his father, his head hung low as he held his injured arm. Lo'ak stood still by his ikran, nervous for what's to come. How ironic.

"You're supposed to be spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call 'em in," Jake scolded furiously, his eyes dancing between them. "From a distance!" he emphasised. "Does any of this sound familiar? Get here!" 

Lo'ak obeyed and stood beside his brother, ashamed. Veronica observed her youngest sons' back before she went to Neteyam who was injured. She clicked her tongue gently as she surveyed his injuries. There were numerous scratches on his back, but some cut deeper than the others. Kiri rushed to her side once she saw the condition her brother was in.

"Jesus. I let you two geniuses fly a mission, and you disobey direct orders." Jake sighed, "Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?"

"My brother is wounded," she pointed out.

"Baby girl, please. Tuk, go with her. Go."

Kiri sighed as she shook her head, walking away with Tuk.

"Dad– sir. I take full responsibility," said Neteyam, his head hung low still.

"Yeah, you do. That's right. 'Cause you're the older brother, you gotta act like it."

Neytiri gave her husband a pointed look. "MaJake. Your son is actually bleeding."

Neteyam shook his head. "Mother, it's fine. I-"

"No, it's not," Veronica cut him off. She looked at Jake with an arched eyebrow.

His gaze shifted between Neteyam's face and his injured body. For a moment, his anger diminished. "Just go and get patched up. Go on, dismissed."

"Come," she whispered for the young boy to hear. Her hand held his bicep as they walked past Jake. She shot Jake a knowing look before walking further, passing by warriors who were getting situated.

They walked in silence, and Neteyam was not sure if it was comfortable or not. He hadn't experienced getting a scolding from his mom, it would either be from his mother or father. Usually Jake on rare occurrences. 

Neteyam pursed his lips. "Mom," he called weakly.

"How many times did you save your brothers back?" she asked softly.

He stayed silent.

"I know you are doing your job as the older brother, and you are doing it really well. But, a time will come when Lo'ak will have to grow too. He has to learn how to own up to his mistakes." Veronica held his shoulders, stopping him from entering the Tsahik's hut. She moved in front of him, cupping his cheek gently and made him look at her. "You do not have to try so hard. You are just a kid."

Neteyam's eyes widened, his eyes turning glossy. He wasn't so sure why his chest started to hurt. Maybe it was because his hard work was being acknowledged, or maybe it was because someone saw that he was trying. Couldn't his dad see that too?

As Veronica patted his cheek gently, she smiled, "Go on. I'll be right with you."

The boy only nodded, he feared that if he tried to speak, his voice would crack and tears would start spilling from his eyes. Her eyes searched for Lo'ak through the crowd and spotted him with the ikrans, removing the saddles. The upset look on his face made her sigh.

Mo'at crouched behind Neteyam's back as she applied medicine on his injuries. He would either yelp or hiss at the contact of his wounds. Spider was in the hut too, he would make jokes here and then about how Neteyam was acting like a baby out of it just to make him feel better. Veronica laughed quietly at his words. She was relieved that the tension wasn't there anymore, she didn't know if she could bare it.

Her eyes trailed from Neteyam's back then outside the hut, sensing a presence. She locked gazes with Neytiri before it shifted to Jake's back, busying himself with his gun. Veronica excused herself and told Kiri to take over, approaching Neytiri. The hair at the end of her tail brushed against her wife's thigh as she gave her a peck on the lips. 

Neytiri's hand caressed her arm, but her eyes stayed on the boys. Neteyam's grunts of pain could still be heard from where they're standing. He never had injuries like this, never this worse. Her tail swished behind her like something was on her mind.

Jake glanced behind him. He sighed, "What?"

"Neteyam and Lo'ak try to live up to you. It is very hard on them," said Neytiri. She faced her husband expectantly.

"I know." He refused to meet their eyes and focused on the weapon in his hand.

Neytiri kneeled beside him. "You are very hard on them." 

Veronica sat beside the other side of Jake to hear their conversation better. Their voices were low to ensure that none of the children heard it.

"I'm their father. It's my job," he pressed.

"This is not a squad. It is a family." Her voice remained soft, and it was enough to break his walls down.

Jake placed his gun on the ground, clenching his fist on his knees. "I thought we'd lost them," he whispered. Tears glossed into his eyes as he looked at the two women, the only people who he could feel vulnerable around with.

It was difficult to stay away from long-term habits. Being a marine meant seeing a lot of difficult situations, he was forced to keep it together and be tough. Seeing his sons affected by the explosion made him lose all of his composure and he didn't know how to deal with it. He was still learning, but everytime he felt like he was getting better, his progress ruins.

Neytiri's expression softened, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she held his hand. Veronica placed her hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. No word was said to one another except giving each other comfort. Each parents feared the same thing: losing their child. Parenthood was difficult, but if the three of them were in it together, Jake felt like he will be fine.

banner by @cafekitsune

[blackberry-s0da]

Gonna make a big post to try to answer this.

My characters are inspired by lots of thing things (and lots of artists), Machete wasn’t an inspiration in particular to be honest, it’s a fully fleshed character with a specific white-black-red aesthetic, catholic imagery, blood, violence, hate, guilt and by the latest posts, love too. Mercy barely has a name for now, I haven’t been able yet to make a story, place him in a specific historical context or do as much as design his clothes.

Regarding physical similarities I actually took most of the poses and general vibes for Mercy from paintings depicting naked women (mainly form renaissance) as i liked how soft and peaceful they looked;

(Machete lives on that time period if I’m not wrong so there’s also that. Mercy doesn’t have a spot in any timeline yet, but I’ve depicted him in modern clothes once and I think I’ll eventually place him in a modern setting)

Another inspiration was actually the artist Babezord, specifically for Mercy’s color palette and face pattern as seen in the image below. Many characters count with this mask like pattern and I’ve always loved it;

(funnily enough on this character it is an actual mask)

The similarities on style are due a few factors: I learned to draw dogs mostly from Canisalbus, I’ve been following their work since I was around 13 or 14 I believe? Maybe earlier, and I learned a lot of things from them for the most part. On top of that I also love sighthounds and mostly draw that type of dogs as I’ve been having them as pets since childhood and always found them very pretty. I currently have two greyhounds.

Another artist I’ve leaned from are Lilaira, putrid.hound, canisinfernalis and mischievousdog, amongst others so shoutout to them too.

I believe that Canisalbus characters are more stylized and fancy looking, they’re more lean and lanky for the most part, their hands are small and delicate, characters are very expressive and culturally rich, the clothing and pieces of background are beautifully detailed, their pieces usually tell a story, Mercy in the other hand was recently picked up from a mental trashcan I had him on as he’s my oldest and probably less used oc (he used to be a she but I decided to keep the name, that’s as much as he has for now, besides two scraped background stories). I designed them when I was a teen for lots of vent art and didn’t like how he looked (plus the negativeness I attached him to) so he’s been pretty much abandoned until September of 2023 when I redesigned them. Also gotta add that, while he isn’t a self insert he’s been used for the most part to reflect things about me and how I feel at the moment.

I believe my art is similar in many aspects to the one of Canisalbus, but not remotely close to being as amazing as theirs, I wouldn’t say were identical but I do take inspiration on them, amongst other artists.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

It's Lights Out And Away We Go

Natasha isn't the only one obsessed with the motorcycle her wife got her. Turns out it's perfect for knocking Katya's ego down a notch as well.

- Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost Series) - Wordcount: 1.4k - No warnings :) Masterlist

A/N: thank you @milfs69420 for the idea! Hope this is what you had in mind :)

Most men had a motorcycle to escape their wives, let's be honest. A reason to hide in the garage and go out for long drives. A hobby "for themselves" that their wives hated.

Natasha was the opposite. While she loved riding her bike instead of the car when the weather was nice, she didn't often go touring just for fun. Not alone, at least. After an hour, she was bored and missed her partner. 

But every now and then, it was a nice way to clear her head. The weather was beautiful today and Katya was at work, so she'd taken the opportunity to pull her shiny new motorcycle out of the garage, driving aimlessly until her fuel meter flickered red.

Pulling up at a gas station, Natasha turned her engine off and kicked out the stand. A group of bikers—black leather, long beards, broad-shouldered—watched her from a distance, half of them mounted on their bikes, half enjoying the shadows of the small gas station store. They were intimidating to most, the reputation of biker gangs not helping their image, but Natasha wasn't bothered, twisting the fuel tank cap by her seat off.

Her helmet gave her a sense of anonymity on the streets that she didn't often get to experience otherwise. While her long red braid peeked out from underneath, she wasn't immediately seen as Natasha the Avenger. Right now, she was just a woman, dressed in black, on a very, very nice motorcycle.

"Nice bike!"

She looked up from the fuel nozzle in her hand, her visor popped open just enough to see, but not enough to get recognized. One of the bikers had called out to her, an appreciative smile on his bearded face. It wasn't the first time people gave her bike hearteyes, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Thanks!"

As expected, he came over to her, leaving his helmet on his motorcycle. Men could never resist something pretty. "How fast does she go?" He asked. His plaid shirt was tight around his thick arms, his leather vest worn in as he held onto it. He looked nice enough.

"Do they ever go fast enough?" Natasha joked, hearing Katya's warning voice in her head that yes, the bike could definitely go too fast.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "No, they don't." Now that he stood closer, he gave her bike another thorough once-over, nodding appreciatively. "You take good care of her, she's like new."

"She is still pretty new," Natasha answered. Talking to strangers wasn't usually her favorite, but he had genuine interest in something she was proud of and enthusiastic about, so she was happy to chat. "It was a gift." 

"A gift?" The man whistled through his teeth. "You must have done something right."

Natasha grinned. "You'll have to ask my wife." 

It's a good thing her mouth was covered by her helmet, because her smile showed exactly how she felt about that wife of hers. To be safe, she averted her shimmering eyes too, watching the numbers on the pump climb as the gas poured into her tank. 

"Your wife?" The man exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, his beer belly shaking. Clearly he wasn't used to wives being supportive of this hobby. "You're a lucky woman. I wish my wife was into this." 

"She's not. Not really. But she knows that I am." Natasha pulled the fuel nozzle out of the tank, careful not to scratch the paint. He must be hearing the fondness in her voice as she spoke of Katya. "Cars are her thing."

"Then she did her research, because this is a beauty. Don't often see rare ones like these." Once more, his eyes glided over the bike, trying to take in every detail. 

"Yeah, sometimes in life you get lucky, I guess," Natasha joked.

"Some more than others." He laughed, offering her his gloved hand. "I'm Rufus by the way."

"Natasha." She smiled, firmly shaking his hand. It almost engulfed hers. This was such a normal, human interaction. A stranger who talked to her just because they both loved the same things. It was so refreshing and unusual.

"If you'd ever want to join us, it'd be great to have you. It's just us men today, but we have women riding with us too." Rufus followed her gaze to his buddies who were too busy joking with each other. "Promise they aren't half as bad as they look."

Natasha didn't expect to feel excited at his offer. This man had no clue who she was, but he hoped she'd stick around for her personality and shared interests alone. She couldn't wait to tell Katya this. "Thank you."

Rufus nodded once. "I'll let you get on your way." His heavy boots took a step back to make space when she kicked up the bike stand. "Thank you for blessing us with this today."

"You're welcome," Natasha mused proudly, turning the key over in the ignition. With a roar, the engine came to life, and she heard Rufus's delighted groan over the rumbling. For good measure, she revved the engine a few times, grinning widely as she shut her visor and shot away from the gas station.

As Natasha lazily weaved in and out of traffic, she couldn't stop smiling. Her interaction with Rufus was such a stupid thing to be excited about. Someone complimented her motorcycle, how exceptional! But it was way more than that. 

Rufus made her feel wanted and welcome. He invited her to join them. Someone wanted to be her friend for the simple fact that they had the same hobby, not because she was useful or famous. And she was as giddy about that as a kid getting an invite for a classmate's birthday party.

He'd also unintentionally reminded her of just how privileged she was. An expensive motorcycle between her thighs, the money she and Kat had to get themselves these nice things, but most of all a supportive wife who bought her the bike. It wasn't a given to have a partner like that. 

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered happily thinking about her happy, good little life.

Fifteen minutes from home, something colorful caught Natasha's eye in the distance. It was hard to tell because of the reflecting sunlight on all the car roofs, but as she came closer, she could start to make out the distinctive orange color between the rest of traffic.

Slowly, she came closer, squinting her eyes trying to make out the number plate, but it should have been pretty obvious that it was who she thought it was. Who in New York had the exact same car, in that color, and managed to drive it that shitty?

With a smirk, she sat up and called Katya, hearing the call connect through the earbuds in her ears.

"Hi! I'm almost home."

"I know." Natasha smirked, now only four cars behind.

There was a short pause as Katya processed that answer. "Are you stalking me?" She accused her with a chuckle. Right then, Natasha merged behind her car, weaving slowly to pull Katya's attention to her rearview mirror. She knew it worked when a gasp came through the phone. "Oh, hey!"

"Hello," Natasha mused, speeding up until she drove next to Katya's window, giving her a small wave. "Fancy seeing you here."

Katya stared at her for longer than was safe. "It has to be illegal for you to drive around on that thing. You're a distraction to all the other drivers."

"Is that why you drive like a drunk grandma?" Natasha saw her scowl through the window.

"Take that back."

Natasha's sly smile widened. "I'll take it back if you press your foot on the gas pedal."

"I can beat you home if I wanted to."

"Bet."

"Bet." Katya adjusted her seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "We start at the next sign post."

Natasha pressed her chest closer to her motorcycle, wrapping her fingers securely around the handles. "Enjoy the view off my ass, because that's what you're going to be looking at the whole way home."

"Prepare to have it beaten."

It was a losing game for Katya. Natasha was the better driver and she had a more agile vehicle that crept into places the car couldn't. By the time she pulled up on the driveway at home, Natasha had already parked her bike inside and pretended to wait impatiently on the porch. 

Katya woke up the next day to find a sticker on her car. 

"Warning: Slow moving vehicle."

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (6)

The Funeral

As the Targaryen and Velaryon households gather on Driftmark to mourn the late Lady Laena, Arianwyn is anxious about meeting not only her half-sisters, but her father for the very first time.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: 😬

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Emrys let out a primal roar, the sound reverberating over the waters of Blackwater Bay. He huffed with agitation as he flew his rider toward Driftmark. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre flew ahead of them, the king’s ship sailing below. As dissatisfied as he was with their slow pace – a necessity to prevent them from arriving at their destination hours before the ship – it was the roiling emotions he sensed from his bond with Arianwyn driving him mad.

Arianwyn had not slept the night before, her mind and heart racing with anxiety about the coming day. Today, after more than ten years of total absence on his part, she would meet her father – Prince Daemon Targaryen.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, she considered each story she had ever been told about the man—the picture painted by one was often immediately contradicted by the next.

The man who rebuilt the city guard of King’s Landing, at last raising the capital from lawlessness. But he achieved this through unprecedented brutality; rumor claimed that on his first night as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, multiple carts were required to haul away dismembered limbs and extremities.

The man who defeated the Crabfeeder almost single-handedly, restoring Westerosi rule to the long-besieged region. But his triumphant victory came mere hours after he beat a young squire to death, apparently without remorse, for the crime of delivering a message from King Viserys.

The man who, according to most, heroically swept into the Vale to rescue his helpless damsel of a wife. Whose heroics were so great that his wife could not help but finally succumb to him, eschewing nine years of barren marriage.

But Arianwyn knew the truth.

Daemon had not saved his wife – he killed her.

For beneath all his outward charms, the Rogue Prince was a man of selfishness and cruelty. A man who all but abandoned his firstborn before she was even born when he refused the Dragonkeepers offer of an egg for her cradle. Only weeks after Rhea’s death, he flew across the sea to start a new family with a new wife. Years later, he sent grand proclamations back to Westeros announcing the births of Baela and Rhaena, along with formal requests that dragon eggs be sent for their cradles.

Arianwyn’s heart clenched painfully as she remembered another story she’d been told. Just after Rhaenyra was named King Viserys’ heir, Daemon fled King’s Landing for Dragonstone. Six months later, he snuck into the Dragonpit to steal an egg for the child his mistress – some whore from the Street of Silk – supposedly carried. Fortunately, the princess was able to retrieve the egg safely. And in the process, discovered that the purported pregnancy had never been real.

Daemon had done more for the theoretical bastard of a whore than he ever had for his real daughter.

For Arianwyn, his only act of fatherhood was the rape of her mother.

In the days preceding their departure for Driftmark, her Septa had instructed her on what to say and how to act when she met Daemon.

She would do none of it, she decided.

The man never once spared a thought for her. She would happily return the sentiment. Let him defame her as he did her mother or beg her forgiveness for all his sins. She would not care. She would give him naught but the same cold indifference he had shown her for ten years.

But despite her determination, Arianwyn had still shaken with trepidation when she went to mount Emrys that morning. The trip across the Blackwater would be long, leaving her alone with her anxious thoughts.

She tried to have Aemond ride with her so he could keep her mind on other things. Emrys even seemed excited when the prince climbed aboard the saddle. But alas, the queen moved hastily to forbid it, and Aemond was forced to sail with his parents aboard the ship. He was likely being sick at this very moment.

So Arianwyn rode alone, almost thankful for Emrys’ restlessness – guiding him in circles around the ship helped divert her mind from what would happen when they finally landed on the island that was coming into view.

Driftmark had no Dragonpit nor caves or tunnels for the beasts to nest in. Instead, Aegon, Helaena, and Arianwyn landed their dragons half a mile from the castle High Tide on a rocky cliff overlooking a beach. Moondancer, Caraxes, and Meleys were already there, perched on some of the larger boulders as they lay in the sun.

The dragonriders were met by a small number of Velaryon guards, who quickly escorted them to a carriage sent to take them to the castle itself. The path they took was treacherous, winding uncomfortably close to the edge of the island’s cliffs. Each time the horses came too close to the sheer drops, Helaena would gasp, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned from the carriage windows.

Aegon scoffed, “You are a dragonrider, sister. Surely, a mere cliff should not scare you.” In the days since their betrothal was announced, his attitude toward his sister had soured. He no longer ignored her more peculiar tendencies, but seemed to take each as a personal insult.

Arianwyn was utterly exhausted by him. “The drop may be short, cousin,” she said, “but you forget that our carriage does not have wings.”

The prince huffed, blustering to find a witty response, but neither of the girls in the carriage paid any mind to his grumbling as they continued on to the castle.

By the time they arrived in the courtyard, the party from the ship had disembarked. Viserys, already visibly tired from the trip, sat in a cushioned chair servants had brought out for him. Lord Corlys stood before him, deep in hushed conversation with the king. Alicent and Rhaenys stood to the side, engrossed in their own discussion. Aemond stood by himself, leaning against a stone wall.

Daemon was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Baela, Rhaena, or Princess Rhaenyra and her children. But it wasn’t the idea of meeting them that had Arianwyn’s heart racing.

Reminding herself again that she did not care about her father, Arianwyn walked with her cousins as they joined the rest of her family.

At the funeral, Arianwyn stood not with her father and half-sisters, but with the King and Queen.

It made sense, she told herself. She had never met Lady Laena. It was not her place to mourn the woman alongside those who had known and loved her. But still, she noted the stares from the gathered nobility on the cliffs above them, and their questioning whispers about why she was not with her father or sisters.

She took comfort in the fact that those whispers were quiet. At least, they were compared to those of Rhaenyra’s children.

They, too, had never met Laena. But still, they wept. It had only been days since Harwin Strong’s gruesome demise. Their tears were interpreted by many as those of sons mourning their father, serving only to confirm their long-held suspicions of their parentage.

Arianwyn pitied them. Ser Harwin had always been kind to them, bringing them gifts from the docks of King’s Landing and training with them in the castle’s yard. He would be dearly missed. Besides, she would have happily switched places with them, exchanging a loving bastard father for an absent, true one.

As the Maester spoke, Arianwyn watched her father. She could find nothing of herself in his face. She had always been praised for the softness of her features; Daemon was all sharp angles and straight lines. His mouth was small, whereas hers was plump. His nose was large and straight, while hers was small and curved upward slightly. The only similarity lay in the color of their hair, but where his fell straight as bone, hers curled in wild, elegant wisps around her face.

She, at last, turned away when the Maester finished his prayers. Vaemond Velaryon stepped toward the coffin as soldiers of his house began to fasten ropes to the steel anchors embedded in the stone.

He spoke in High Valyrian. “Tubī Velario Lentro Ābrāzme Laene iēdrarta mōrqittot, māzīlarē tubirri Elēdrion ziry umīsilza luo dāriot, hannagon Embrurliot gierūlti.”

Arianwyn looked at her half-sisters. Baela leaned against her grandmother, Rhaenys, while Rhaena stood beside them, fists clenched at her sides. They, too, looked little like their father. From the sweetness of their faces, Arianwyn imagined that her stepmother had been very beautiful indeed.

Vaemond continued. “Solion tolijor zijosy pradarose, Ābrāzma Laena rāeniot hen eglio ilvot lanto taloti hembis. Pōja muña hen zȳho solio āmāzīlus daor, yn ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi humbilza. Velario ānogro rȳ lopor ojāris. Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis.”

Daemon laughed then. A light, blithe chuckle – wholly out a place at such a solemn occasion. All in attendance turned their attention to him, even those who had been closely watching Princess Rhaenyra.

Arianwyn’s blood ran cold. As Vaemond had said those pointed words, “Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis,” Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin. Daemon had not been looking at Rhaenyra. Nor his wife’s coffin, nor even his daughters by his side. As those words were spoken, he laid his eyes on Arianwyn for the first time in her life.

And he laughed.

That afternoon, amongst the solemnity of the funeral reception, Arianwyn was seething with unquenchable rage. She knew she might face indifference from her father but had also entertained other possibilities. He may have taunted her as he did her mother or insisted she was a bastard. She had even thought that he might seek forgiveness for his years of neglect, repentant now that he had lost another wife.

Never once had she considered that he might find her laughable. Indeed, as he walked past her after the coffin had been lowered into the sea, an amused grin quirked on his face, though he did not turn his eyes to her. Nor had he approached her since.

Instead, Arianwyn sat with Helaena on the far end of the balcony, watching her cousin gently turn over a large spider in her hands as she recited words that seemed to have no meaning. She wanted to grab the spider and crush it in her hands just so she could make something hurt in the same way she did.

But she did not. Doing so would hurt not only the spider but Helaena as well. Arianwyn could never do that. So, she sat on the cool stone, anger crackling through her veins like lightning.

She knew Aemond was a few feet away, watching Helaena as well. But he did not approach, not even after Aegon left to chase after one of the servant girls. She wished he would. That he would say something – anything to make her feel better. But silence was his way. He would simply remain by her side as long as she needed him, as she had done for him countless times.

It was Princess Rhaenys who finally rescued her from her thoughts – and the presence of the spider. “Come, girl,” she said, her voice raw from days of weeping for her daughter. “It is high time you meet your sisters.” The Queen Who Never Was led Arianwyn carefully through the crowd, Aemond following discreetly behind them.

Baela and Rhaena sat on the other side of the balcony, hands entwined, on a stone bench and talked with Jace. Arianwyn instinctively dropped her gaze as they approached.

“Girls,” Rhaenys whispered, kneeling before her granddaughters, “I would like you to meet Arianwyn, your sister.”

Both girls’ eyes, brimming with tears, lifted to look at Arianwyn. She stood still and silent as they examined her, searching for familiarity in her face. Finding none, they mustered what smiles they could and murmured a greeting.

Arianwyn returned the smile, “You have my sympathies for the loss of your mother. I regret that I was never able to meet her.”

Rhaena nodded. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

“Me too,” Arianwyn answered.

Baela tried to respond but only gave in to her tears, her sister following swiftly behind. She and Rhaena fell into their grandmother’s arms, sobbing. “I don’t want Mother to be gone,” she cried.

Sensing that pressing the introduction further would only be unkind to the girls, Arianwyn dipped her head in place of a farewell and walked away, mourning that her first meeting with her sisters required such a tragedy.

When she turned, she saw Aemond standing across a brazier from Jace. The corner of his mouth turned up as if he were about to speak, but he said nothing. Rather he nodded and turned away from his nephew.

“What did he say to you?” Arianwyn whispered as she took his arm and led him away, her protective instincts rising like the hackles of a threatened beast. Before he had left the Red Keep, Jace had begun to taunt Aemond even without Aegon present to egg him on.

Aemond shook his head. “He said nothing. I was going to offer my condolences for Ser Harwin, but I couldn’t think of how to say it without… you know.”

Arianwyn smiled, at last feeling her anger begin to subside. “That was very kind of you.”

Aemond had only just squeezed her arm when Alicent approached them. Her face was grave.

“Come with me, Aria,” the Queen said, her hand extended. “Your father is waiting to meet you.”

[saturnville]

in the dirty south, III.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: last part! I just realized I was heavily inspired by Romeo and Juliet when I wrote this (in the sense of immediate connection with someone).

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim @cherry2stems to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

The night draped itself over the small town, casting veil of darkness upon the fairgrounds. A myriad of colored lights twinkled above, painting the scene in hues of red, blue, and gold. The once lively fair had transformed into a dreamscape, a place where reality and enchantment danced together.

Delilah stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, where the glow from the string lights met the shadows. The rhythmic laughter and distant carnival music were the background symphony to her contemplative thoughts. She couldn't shake the lingering sensations from the day—the warmth of the sun, the taste of poundcake, and the unexpected connection with Coriolanus.

Just as most young women her age, Delilah dreamed of experiencing an instant connection with someone. She longed to bask in the serenity of adoration that came from another. To be cloaked in desire was a wish of hers, and as the nightsky blanketed the sun, and the stars made an appearance, she knew that her wishes were grant.

In the midst of a sea of people, she spotted him. Coriolanus. A solitary figure, his silhouette etched against the radiant backdrop of the fair. A sense of anticipation filled the air as he turned, his gaze meeting hers. A subtle smile played on his lips, and he gestured for her to join him in the dance of shadows and light.

With a deep breath, Delilah stepped into the enchantment of the fair once more, the echoes of laughter and the distant melodies guiding her toward an unforeseen future.

Delilah's voice was soft as she muttered her pardons to the strangers who were engrossed in carnival games and deep conversations. The aroma was thick with beer, ice cream, and apple pie. As she approached Coriolanus, the bustle of the night seemed to quiet.

"Quite a sight, ain't it?" Coriolanus asked, his eyes trained on the artwork etched in the sky. His voice was filled with warmth, and Delilah couldn't help but to smile in agreement.

"It is." The stars were beautiful. The stage was big enough for them to dance without their shine being stolen or dimmed by another.

Coriolanus extended his hand, inviting her to join him in exploring the fair's wonders. As their fingers intertwined, Delilah felt a surge between them, a connection forged in the shared moments of the day.

They strolled through the fairgrounds, exploring pockets of quietude between the lively attractions. The game of ring toss to their left, and the stage with a blues band on their right.

Amidst the whimsical glow of the fair, they found a secluded bench. Coriolanus pulled Delilah closer, and they sat in a comfortable silence, watching the flickering lights and the shadows they cast.

"Delilah," Coriolanus began, his voice carrying a sincerity that echoed in the quiet night. "I wasn't planning on staying in 11."

Delilah turned to him, curiosity etched in her expression. She looked so stunning beneath the rays of the moonlight. Her lipstick was long gone and only a faint tint of red remained on her full lips. A thin layer of sweat adorned her forehead and loose curls stuck to her face. Breathtaking, he had to admit.

The night seemed to hold its breath as Coriolanus continued.

"I found something unexpected—someone unexpected," he confessed, his gaze steady. He sighed softly and caressed her bare shoulder with his thumb. "I was granted the option to go back to the Capitol within six weeks. I'd been spending time with the boys 'cause I made up in my mind that I was leaving. Until today. Until you and I crossed paths."

Delilah felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of surprise and joy. The carnival around them seemed to celebrate their connection, the lights flickering in unison with the beating of their hearts.

The revelation hung in the air. Coriolanus's words lingered, and Delilah found herself momentarily lost in the depth of his gaze. He had decided to stay—his path no longer leading him away from District 11 but winding through its fields, its people, and, unexpectedly, into her life.

Delilah blinked.. Her eyes traced the contours of Coriolanus's face, searching for any signs that this might be a jest or a fleeting decision. Yet, sincerity lingered in his expression.

"You're staying?" Delilah whispered, a mixture of surprise and curiosity coloring her words. The thought of him becoming a constant in her small town, a familiar face amidst the fields, stirred something within her—a quiet joy that unfolded like the blossoming of a rose.

District 11 was overlooked often. It was the last place anyone would consider finding something they'd been searching for. Except Coriolanus. He found exactly what he longed for. Away from the gltiz and the glam of the Capitol. In a town where everyone felt like family, where the was warmth in every smile, where not everything was a competition of wealth and fame. Life in 11 was simple. He enjoyed simplicity.

"I am," Coriolanus nodded. "Can't lose the opportunity of getting to know the prettiest woman in town. But again, that's only if you let me."

There is was. That charm. The corners of Delilah's lips tugged upward to a smile. Slowly, she brought her lips to his cheek, taking note of how they reddened like the beets in her Mama's garden. "I'd like that."

She rested her head on his shoulder and together, they embraced the radiant glow of the fairgrounds, that had witnessed the birth of an unexpected union.

[topazy]

Little dark age

Paring: Rick Grimes × oc

Warning: Swearing, zombie guts & blood, mentions of drug use

Chapter: 1.01

“Is Glenn really going down to get that guy?”

“Sure is.”

“Gods,” you groan. “Make sure nobody steals my shit while I’m gone; that idiot is going to need back up.”

With one hand, you keep a steady grip on the shaky ladders while using your free hand to shoot at any dead person that gets too close to Glenn and the new guy. With tiny chips of yellow paint rubbing on your palm, nipping it, you become impatient. “Hurry the hell up!”

Glenn screams as he runs up the side alleyway before climbing up the ladders.

The new guy seemed slightly disoriented and was taking far too long, looking from side to side as the dead started to close in on him. You shoot at the ground beside him, causing him to jump. “Unless you want to die, move! ”

With the extra weight of two grown adults and walkers grabbing at the metal bars below, you shove your gun into your waste bands and quickly start to climb back up to the roof. When Glenn gets to the top, you snatch the baseball cap from his head, causing him to frown.

“Sammi…”

Once you shake off the large spider, Glenn was yet to notice, you toss the baseball cap back to him, “you almost got yourself killed, dumbass.”

“I was saving... the guy in the tank from the geeks.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be surprised if the others are pissed. You’ve just attracted a shitload of walkers.”

When the new guy gets to the top of the ladders, you take in his clothing, a police uniform with a couple of badges on it. You offer him your hand, “sheriff?”

He nods.

Once the new guy is up on the roof, Glenn leads the way back to the hatch and goes to the next building, where the rest of your scavenging group is waiting. Glenn opens and it’s going to step down, then suddenly stops. “There was something on my hat, wasn’t there?”

“No, of course not.”

He shivers before going down first.

—

While Andrea and Morales explain to the new guy that all the noise he made attracted the dead, you continue to shove things that you deem necessary into one of your backpacks. The class surrounding the bottom ground of the store starts to crack with walkers banging on the glass windows.

“I can’t get a signal on the radio,” T-dog says. “We are going—”

He’s cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Another one goes off, and Andrea pinpoints the sourness of the sound, “It’s Dixon.”

You look down at the rest of your group's belongings and frown. You snatch your other bag and begin to storm towards the staircase leading up to the roof. “That bastard has my gun!”

—

Merle laughs when the others tell him to stop firing at the walkers. Holding up the guy, he says, “Hey! You ought to be more polite to a man with a gun! ”

“My gun,” you snap. “You thieving little crackhead.”

Merle was one of the most vile, insufferable men you’d ever met in your life. He blows you a kiss and jumps down from the ledge he’s on. It only takes a matter of seconds for Merle to racially and physically attack T-dog. You try to pull him off but get backhanded, causing your lip to slip open.

Groaning, you push yourself up onto your elbows.

Merle spits on T-dog before standing over him. “Yeah! All right! We’re going to have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge. I vote for me. Anybody else?”

From the way his eyes are dilated, you can tell Merle was high on something. You watch as the new guy gets to his feet behind him quickly and creeps up on him.

“Show off your hands, huh? All in favor, huh? Oh, come on. Let’s see them! All in favor?” Merle raises his own hand and points the gun at the others until they copy his actions. “Now that means I’m the boss, right?”

The new guy picks up your gun that Merle tossed and hits him in the face with it, knocking him to the ground. He handcuffs him to one of the metal pipes connected to the ground on the roof.

“Who the hell are you, man?”

“Officer friendly,” he answers, grabbing Merle by the collar of his top. “Things are different now. There are no colored people anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. The living and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Screw you, man.”

“I can see you have a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah, well screw you twice.”

The guy presses his gun against Merle’s head. “I ought to be polite to the man with a gun. Only common sense.”

You wipe the metallic-tasting liquid mixed with saliva off your chin with the back of your hand. Glenn hands you a piece of ripped-up fabric. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You get to your feet, go to Merle, and kneel in front of him. “All of Dixon’s common sense was snorted away a long time ago.”

The man tilts Merle’s head back to see traces of white powder stuck to the bottom of his nose while you search his pockets. You pull out a little glass tube of white powder and ask, “What is it, cocaine? Ketamine? Heroin?”

“Put it back, you little bitch!”

“Suppose it doesn’t matter what it is,” you shrug before tossing the tube off the roof.

Merle kicks his legs and roughly pulls at the handcuffs. “When I get out of these cuffs, I’m going to make you pay for that! You fucking cu—”

He abruptly stops talking when the new guy clicks the safety off his gun.

—

You walk around the clothing section of the store to kill some time. With Glenn and Morales gone to scope out a potential way out, there wasn’t a lot left to do.

Hearing footsteps, your hand immediately goes to your handgun, but relaxed it when you realize who it is. “Hey new guy,” you say, putting your hand out. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

He shakes your hand. “It’s Rick, Rick Grimes.”

“Well, Rick, thanks for shutting that asshole up.” You push some clothes around on a clothing rack. “Honestly, if I wasn’t for the fact that I like Merle’s brother, I would have taken a shot at him a long time ago.”

His eyes land on your dog's tags, but he doesn’t ask about them. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Samara Rose Blake, but everyone just calls me Sammie Rose.”

Rick goes to say something but rolls his tongue and shakes his head. You go back to looking through the clothes, fully aware that you’re being observed.

“Do you have kids?” He asks, watching as you pick up two child-sized jackets.

“No, but there’s a couple of kids back at camp, and you can’t go wrong with lightweight jackets. You? I heard you say you’re looking for your family.”

“I have a wife and son, who I haven’t seen since... well, I haven’t seen them in the new world.”

Andrea comes into the room and says, “They're back.”

From the look on her face, you know it’s not good news.

—

“This is a suicide mission,” you grumble.

With the tunnel Morales and Glenn went down being a dead end, the group came up with a new plan. Someone would break into a vehicle, bring it up to the side of the building for the others to get into, and then drive away. The plan was easy enough, except for the part where someone needed to do all this without being spotted by walkers.

“A suicide mission your on, baby,” T says before rubbing zombie guts onto the king white coat that covered most of your body.

Rick had found gloves for everyone to wear while rubbing zombie blood and guts onto Rick, Glenn, and you. The smell was revolting, and the thought of walking outside amongst the dead terrified you, but you were so used to going scavenging with just Glenn that the thought of him going out there without you as backup didn’t feel right. To get the zombie insides on the outside, Rick had to drag a body from outside and cut it up with an ax.

Jacqui places a wooly hat on top of your head and tucks your hair underneath before putting zombie guts on your back.

After a few moments, you slowly twirl. “Do you think we have enough on?”

“Yes,” Andrea says, waving her hand. “You guys smell revolting.”

—

You let out a shaky breath before opening the door to go outside. “I sure hope this plan works; otherwise, I’m throwing you to do the dead first, Rick Grimes.”

“Noted,” he tried to keep a serious tone, but hints of a smile pulled on his face.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door for the three of you to take a gamble on your lives.

Mimicking the dead’s moments, you drag yourself underneath a few vehicles before coping with how they walk. You subtly look at Rick, wondering if he’s the same Rick Grimes you’ve heard Carl and Lori talk about. You thought about asking him before what his kid name was but didn’t want to give him false hope in case it was coincidentally the same.

Oh shit.

The sun disappears behind thick, dark clouds quickly, and rain starts lashing down. Washing the scent of death from your blood-soaked coats.

“The smell is washing off. Isn’t it?” Glenn asks.

"No, it’s not,” Rick says sternly. When a walker's stare lingers on him, he changes his mind and says, “Well, maybe.”

The second you hear a roaring sound, you know your covers are blowing. “Run!”

Rick manages to kill a few zombies with the ax before you reach the fence blocking off the parking lot from the rest of the street. The three of you make it into a large van just as the fence collapses and the walkers break through.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. They’re all over that place,” Glenn says, panicked.

“Our people are safe on the inside for now,” you attempt to reassure him. “They will probably have been distracted by the noise we made, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Rick says. “Glenn, you need to draw them away. Those roll-up doors at the front of the store—that area? That’s what I need cleared up. Raise your friends; tell them to get down there and be ready.”

“And I’m drawing the geeks away, how? I missed that part.”

“Noise.”

—

You smash the window of a bright red sports car, tripping the alarm, and swiftly reach inside and unlock the door before hot wiring it. You get out and squeeze Glenn’s shoulder. “You’ve got this man; I’ll see you real soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe.” Nervously, he gets in and speeds away, distracting all the walkers coming your way while you run and jump back into the van.

Rick gives you a questioning look.

“What?”

“Do I ever want to ask how you know how to hotwire a car?”

“Definitely not, sheriff.”

—

You climb to the back of the van, open the doors, and bang on the shutters, “Come on guys!”

Once your people start to enter the van, you jump back into the passenger seat and pull out your handgun, ready to shoot any walkers that come up the windows. T-dog pulls the van door shut and says, “Go, go, go!”

Rick speeds away from the building and out onto the highway. You look back to check if everyone is okay and notice someone is missing. “Where’s Merle?”

“I dropped the damn key,” T-dog says, his voice full of remorse.

Oh shit, Daryl wasn’t going to be happy your group returned without his brother.

[brb-on-a-quest]

I had a thought last night, and even though the only canon bat source I've had is WFA, and I've only *just* started getting into fanfic, so characterizations may not be accurate/have been done before, but IDK. I need this to exist out there.

Timothy Drake-Wayne writes fics sometimes.

It started off with the necessity of creating so many fake IDs. One thing led to another and Tim was coming up with backstories for all the Johns, Marys, and Joes that he invented while doing his Gotham digital surveillance. After all, he was trying to make these people's fake IDs look as real as possible, which meant more than just a name on a couple of sheets of paper.

It means creating a fake digital footprint. For each one.

So, on the rare occasions when things are calmer, and he's not immediately needed, he sits on his computer and types out head cannons for each of the OCs he has created. He spends a lot of time doing research on different cultures, neurodivergencies, physical abilities, and backgrounds to try and 1) paint accurate pictures and 2) learn. He hides the world building tidbits in a secret folder that he's taken so many measures to hide from Oracle (she already knows, but she doesn't actively look after finally figuring out what the folder of names, complete with physical descriptions, life stories, and preferences is out of respect for Timothy). (Also, all this writing knowledge actually comes in handy for crime-solving things, but he doesn't fully realize it at the time).

Tim even went as far as to make social media accounts for some of his favorites and posts bits and pieces of the head cannons to make them, again, seem like real people. Just in case. As a precaution. You never know.

Jason finds out somehow, in a freak accident and collision of siblings that so often happens. Tim is sweating bullets, trying to steel himself for the endless teasing. He is fully prepared to delete every single file that's in that folder and deny that it ever exists for all eternity.

Except Jason doesn't. Jason's too much of a literary nerd (granted, he prefers more classic literature than social media fics, but this is another thing he can connect with his little brother on- he's *excited*) to tease Tim about the writing. He kind of persuades Tim to take more time for his hobby because Tim has some markings of talent in his very specific creative niche. Tim may have also convinced Jason to try it exactly once, to create a fake Twitter profile for Mr. Darcy and create shitposts from his point of view. He has a great time with it once, and then he moves on (but sometimes he creates other accounts for other characters that Tim doesn't know about).

They make a pact between the two of them not to tell the others; they'd ask too many questions and make it less fun.

But every once in a while, Tim would walk into Jason's place to crash for a bit, steal all of his Red Bull, update Jason on his writing projects, and get writing advice.