#lethal company moodboard

[tumberkin]

hi !! asking for a buddy if you could do a masked from lethal company moodboard ? nothing in specific, go wild with it :]

Masked From Lethal Company Moodboard

I added stuff that i think would fit them so i hope you enjoy!

[tedloveshisbed]

Bracken Fictionkin Moodboard

First post :) plan to make more otherkin moodboards!

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The guard till the end

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!OC

Words: 7 543

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, fighting, swearing, a bit of fluff if you squint

Summary: Talia, an ex-assasin, and Oberyn Martell were sent on a mission together. A mission to the past for the girl.

A/N: This little piece is for the amazing @almostfoxglove and her #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge. This is the first time writing for Oberyn, so I hope it worked out. I am actually proud of this so I hope you all will like it.

The beautiful moodboard is also made by @almostfoxglove <3

The sun-kissed strands of her blonde hair swirled in the seaside breeze, moving in rhythm with the ocean's undulating waves. Her actions seemed to echo the water's rhythm, and in spite of her strenuous efforts, her breath stayed regular. Her gaze was locked onto something unseen, a spectre only apparent to her. Her hands, firmly yet flexibly clutching her weapon, were primed for any sudden change in combat dynamics. Her footfalls were soft yet assured, making her deadly battle routine appear like an elegant ballet to an untrained eye. 

A man observed her from a distance, a tender smile gracing his lips. She was his sword and his shield, a creature of terror to some, a vision of beauty to others. He was privileged to witness these intimate performances whenever he chose to visit her training grounds.

He was a beast in his own right, but his first encounter with her had instilled in him an unprecedented fear. He had been sure, for the first time in his life, that he would meet his end. Her lethal combat skill was as bewitching as it was horrifying, especially when the cold steel of her blade brushed against his throat.

And yet, here he stood, still among the living, watching the same formidable assassin execute her lethal dance. He remembered the change in her gaze when their eyes had first met. His dark orbs contrasted sharply against her gentle blue ones.

He'd asked her numerous times about what had transpired in that single moment when their gazes had locked. She always cleverly dodged the question, promising to unveil the truth when the time was right. However, that moment still hadn't arrived.

"Do you not have more pressing matters to attend to, my Prince?" Her voice softly interrupted his thoughts. Of course, she had sensed his presence. Nothing ever slipped past her. That was why she was the only guard he truly trusted, the only one he regarded as his equal.

"How many times must I request you to address me as Oberyn, my dear?" He watched as she turned to glare at him. She had never been one for sweet nothings. Yet, he derived immense pleasure from pushing her buttons, from eliciting a response.

"And how many times have I informed you that I would honor your request the moment you best me in combat?" His scoff was met with a soft chuckle from her. Talia, sheathing her weapons, approached him. Despite her petite frame, she held herself with an air of dignity, never allowing anyone to belittle her. "My Prince," she added, provoking a growl of mock irritation from him, which only elicited another chuckle. "I'm surprised to find you awake at this early hour. I presumed the men and women of the court would have kept you entertained till the wee hours."

"Are you envious, my rose?" His question was met with a hearty laughter. "I believe you are the only woman in all of Dorne who rejects me."

"I haven't rejected you, my Prince," she retorted, her gaze locked onto the ocean.

"Then honour me with your company tonight. I can make the necessary arrangements." He moved in closer, their faces mere inches apart. 

"I refuse to be another notch on your bedpost, my Prince." Her words made him recoil slightly, his gaze dropping to her lips. His attraction to her was no secret. "I'll consider your proposition when you make a genuine one," she added.

"I'm not the kind who settles down," he whispered, his lips perilously close to hers.

"And I'm not the kind of woman who indulges in frivolous dalliances." She shrugged and took a step back. "Not anymore, at least." His smile in response signified his acceptance of yet another defeat.

***

"You called for me, your Highness," she said, kneeling before the frail Prince. It was unusual for him to request her presence in his office. Their discussions usually took place in the gardens or his private chambers, where he felt most comfortable. As such, today's summons was likely a matter of business rather than personal.

"Stand, and please have a seat." He was a kind ruler, deserving of the utmost respect. After years of spy work and assassin training, she valued a place where power wasn't the only measure of a person. "How is my brother faring?"

"He's living life in his own unique way," she replied. The Prince chuckled, and she joined him with a soft smile. "He mentioned something about travel."

"Naturally," she quirked an eyebrow and he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "You two are inseparable, sharing every secret."

"I am his weapon, his shield. His guard, the last line of defence against those who dare to harm him."

"Yet he refers to you as the strongest," she offered a warm smile at that. Oberyn Martell was renowned as one of the mightiest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, yet he considered her his equal.

"He has never truly sparred with me, never unveiled his full power. I doubt I could withstand his spear." Doran nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his wine, and gestured for her to do the same with her cup, always ready for her when she visited.

Her life in Dorne had been full of first experiences. It was the first time she had disobeyed orders, the first time she had turned her back on her master. The first time she had shown her face to someone who didn't own her, and the first time she had tasted liquor. After a sip of Dornish wine, nothing else could compare.

"He entrusts his life to you as much as I do," Doran paused, gazing into the distance with a sigh. "We've discovered a small town violating our agreements." She furrowed her brow but said nothing. "We dispatched men, but none have returned. We suspect it might involve someone you know."

"Scorpion," she murmured, a chill running down her spine. The man who had forged her, imparted all her skills. The man who had sold her to a buyer who sought Oberyn's death.

"I need him gone." She met his eyes, understanding the significance of his decision. Doran Martell favoured peace over violence, resorting to the latter only when necessary. "You know him best. However, I can't send you alone. The kingdoms must know that we handle our own problems personally."

"So, Oberyn will accompany me?" She finally asked, to which he nodded.

"I see the way you look at him." Her head jerked up, but he stopped her before she could protest. The Prince of Dorne was more perceptive than most realised. "Personally, I would be thrilled to call you my sister, but we both know my impulsive younger brother." She looked away, swallowing hard. "I don't need to tell you, but please keep him safe. This might be the most perilous mission I've ever sent him on."

"Certainly, your Highness. I will ensure his safe return, even if it means my own life." That was his biggest concern. He had a sinking feeling that he might lose either his reckless brother or the woman he had come to consider a sister.

***

"I could use some wine." She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his petulant complaint. They had been journeying for quite some time, both of them garbed in the traditional attire of the desert dwellers. Black robes that concealed everything but their eyes, a necessary shield against the harsh desert climate and a safeguard for their identities. It was safer to merge with the locals than to draw attention as foreign travellers. Besides, Oberyn was too well-known to go unnoticed. "And a comfortable bed with…"

"A willing partner to share it with," she completed his sentence, smirking as he arched an eyebrow at her. "You forget, my dear Prince, that I know you better than anyone else out there. Maybe even better than you know yourself." He laughed at that, unable to deny it. It was true. She had seen him in the most compromising, unflattering, and downright ridiculous situations. She had listened to his drunken babbling more times than she could count. If anyone on this planet knew him thoroughly, it was her.

However, the same couldn't be said about her. He knew only the basics. He was aware of her past - to some degree. He knew of her fighting style, her weapon preference, and the fact that she had never touched alcohol before coming to Dorne. He also knew of her strangely reverent faith in his older brother, as if he were some deity. He knew her waking and sleeping times - unless she was occupied taking care of him. He knew all this, but still felt like he knew nothing about her.

No, that wasn't accurate. He knew that her touch was the gentlest he'd ever experienced. Despite having claimed more lives than any of them could count, her touch when she cared for him was softer than the most exquisite silk in the palace. He had always thought her touch was as tender as a calming breeze that incessantly pacified his tumultuous inner storm. She was the only one who could quiet his restless spirit with nothing more than a caring touch and a gaze as soft as the morning dew, acting like a lullaby sending his fatigued soul to sleep. The concern in her starry eyes always dissolved his fears, giving any doubts he had a new perspective. Giving his life a new purpose.

But that wasn't sufficient for him. He selfishly wanted more. He wanted to know her dreams, her likes, and dislikes. It was truly pathetic. He was Oberyn Martell, for goodness' sake. He was a man whose heart roamed from one bed to another, seeking delight in temporary affairs, never really looking, never longing for any kind of consistency. Until she arrived.

Talia wasn't one for short-lived pleasures, she was a constant, the only constant in his desire-ridden life. She was a puzzle, a beautiful mystery shrouded in the brilliance of her devotion. A devotion he imposed on her. She guarded her heart just like her emotions, deeply within the armour of her resolve. She was like a fortress that was impregnable and firm, something so alien to the Prince of Dorne. He found himself attracted to her mystery. He wanted to understand. No. He ached to understand her, to decipher this puzzle, this mystery that she was. But she never let him. She kept him at a distance, her fortress standing tall and her armour still unyielding.

"I can see the town," he was jolted out of his daydream and looked up to see the first signs of the small town that bore the scars of its bloody past. It wasn't easy to reach. It was hidden from the world by a daunting, ominous desert that seemed to choke the last bit of fresh air that was still left untouched. The buildings were made of hard, cheap stone, grey and decrepit, arranged in gloomy, narrow streets. The windows were dark and vacant, much like the hollow eyes of the dead. 

This wasn't a place where people came to start anew, to find new hope. It was a place where hope came to die, dragging the unfortunate with it. Every corner echoed with the whispers of the dead and the murdered, and those unfortunate souls who were forgotten even by death itself. The people moved about like ghosts, their faces pale and haggard, their eyes lifeless and dull, filled with their own pain and despair. There was no laughter here, even the children seemed mournful, deprived of a life they never had the chance to live. The days rolled on, and the customary laughter in their lives was replaced by the bitter tears of those who became orphans.

"You grew up here?" He asked quietly, unable to tear his gaze away from the pitiful sight of the people and orphaned children who looked like they hadn't had a proper meal in their lives. He didn't even want to imagine her living like that, enduring that kind of life.

"It wasn't always like this," Talia answered, scanning the streets for someone desperate enough to offer them assistance. "Before Scorpion arrived, Villion was like any other town." She bit her lip as the townspeople started to take notice of them. Not what they wanted. They needed to blend in. Ditch the horses, discard their travelling attire. Become one with the locals here. "Let's go, we need to blend in." Oberyn nodded and followed her, his eyes still glued to the streets.

***

The "Crooked Paw" was tucked away in a secluded alleyway, its dilapidated structure jarring against the town's overall sombre ambience. It looked more like a ruin than a refuge. The thatched roof was a mishmash of patches, with prominent holes that would offer no protection against the elements. 

Windows, if they could be called that, were broken, their sharp edges coated with layers of grime and dust accumulated over the years. A massive, neglected oak door served as the entrance to the inn, its creaking, rusted hinges discouraging anyone who dared to enter. The entire building seemed to stand as a stark warning about the dangers that lurked within the town. 

The innkeeper, a bent old man with a missing eye and a malicious glint in the other one, sat at the bar, observing his patrons with a predatory look. As his gaze landed on the newcomers, his face contorted into a grotesque grin that silenced the room. 

"Who do we have here?" He paused, looking at Talia. She hoped she still had some allies in this forsaken town. "Some travellers who've lost their way, I reckon, if they've stumbled upon my humble Inn." She sighed with relief and smirked at the man, signalling to Oberyn that they should approach the bar. 

"I need a place to stay," she said, rolling her eyes at the innkeeper's raised eyebrow. "I'll pay." 

"You've got quite a bill to settle, girl," he muttered, his eyes darting to Oberyn, whose face was concealed by his desert mask. "I have a room with a bigger bed. But there's only one." 

"We'll take it," The Prince interjected before she could respond. "The smaller the bed, the better." 

"Do you know this bugger, or do you want me to handle him?" She chuckled and shook her head. 

"I'll pay the bill and give you twice as much for a room where we won't be disturbed." The innkeeper nodded, understanding her meaning. 

"He'll kill you when he finds out you're here," he growled, handing her the keys to the room. 

"Not before I find him," she murmured, pulling Oberyn by the sleeve and guiding him to the room she knew all too well.

***

"Quite the friendly bloke," Oberyn muttered, finally able to shed his stifling clothes. The traverse through the desert had been both tiring and filthy. "And this place is quite delightful. Where exactly are we?" 

"My home," she replied, halting in her actions to turn and regard him. "Before Scorpion took me under his wing and trained me, I was brought up here." She sighed, clearly reluctant about divulging this information. "I can't recollect how I ended up here. I was too small to remember. But Hilt was the only person I could think of as family. He was home, and this room was a haven for me. Even when I joined Scorpion." 

"So, that's where you get that sulky demeanour from," he said, his grin broadening at her reaction. 

"I am not sulky!" 

"Of course, you're not." He laughed and ambled towards the window. "So, what's our move?"

"We can't delay. He will know we're here. He will know I am here." Her brow furrowed, unease welling up inside her. She had hoped she would never have to return here. The town stirred a flood of memories, each corner of each street holding a fragment of her past. Each memory was more powerful and painful than the last. 

Her heart twisted as memories played in her mind. She could almost hear the echoing shouts of her trainer, feel the lash of the whip on her skin, see the harsh disappointment in his eyes each time she didn't meet his expectations. Those days had instilled nothing but insecurity in her, the terrible sensation of never being enough wrapping a vice-like grip around her young, solitary heart. 

That constant nagging in her head made her feel unvalued until when she completed her first successful mission. The hours of gruelling work and painful training faded into insignificance as she stepped into the role she was created for. She felt invincible. She felt like nothing could defeat her again. She learned to handle her emotions by suppressing them. She didn't need them. Her life became void of meaning, her eyes devoid of life, because it was easier that way. It was easier not to feel anything since it was easier to die that way. It was easier not to form attachments, easier not to lead a life worth living. 

However, that all came crumbling down when she met him. It was a mission like any other - a name, a face, a life to be snuffed out. But this time, it all felt different. She was prepared to slit his throat, ready to extinguish another life, until she looked into his eyes. They were so full of life, brimming with joy and passion, something she had never seen before in her hometown. It stirred something within her, a feeling she couldn't quite understand.

She had him at her mercy, and could have ended his life with a single stroke. But she hesitated, for the first time in her life. Her hand quivered on the hilt of her dagger. His eyes never left hers. They were so pure and full of life that they pierced through her heart, a heart she believed she no longer possessed. 

When he asked her to come with him, to stay in Dorne instead of killing her, she was astonished. The only reason she had a chance against him was because she had observed him for a long time and learned his every pattern. She had been diligent and it had always paid off. She did not expect him to ask her to become his bodyguard. A man like him didn’t need a guard. He was the Viper. She was an assassin, a spectre of death. But as she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but trust and respect, she found herself accepting his offer. She found herself wanting to protect him, to keep him safe.

For the first time in her wretched life, she felt something powerful, something she had never felt before. Happiness, a profound happiness of being needed. Of being desired. It made her feel lighter than she had ever felt and yet it terrified her because he was tearing down all of her fortified walls, the walls she had learned to build. 

She looked up, recoiling when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Her name sounded so soft coming from his lips. The concern in his eyes twisted her stomach in self-reproach. She was supposed to be strong for him. She was supposed to be his pillar and not the other way around. 

"Forgive me, my Prince," she said, stepping back and letting his hand drop from her shoulder. "We rest today, and act tomorrow."

"You're behaving oddly," he said, his voice filled with concern. He rarely spoke to her like that, rarely showed such seriousness. "Are you sure you…"

"Do you question my abilities, your Highness?" His eyes hardened at the formal title she used, which she knew he detested. "I am more than capable of carrying out the mission your brother entrusted me with." She held his gaze steadily. "Pardon me for not behaving like an entitled child when I am fully aware of the perils that await us." She had never been so direct with him before. She had corrected him when he acted spoiled, but she had never been so forthright. After all, he was a Prince of Dorne, one of the most feared men not just on the continent but across the globe.

Oberyn's facial expression mirrored his current state of mind - a blend of irritation and worry. His eyes, usually lively and playful, were now clouded with annoyance. The twinkle that typically danced in his eyes was replaced with a glint of unease, a clear sign of his displeasure. His eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown. The crease on his forehead deepened, symbolising his concern. His eyes, often warm and inviting, were now cold and distant, indicating his preoccupied thoughts.

His lips, quick to form a grin or a smirk, were now pressed firmly together. His jaw was clenched, the muscles taut. It seemed as though he was grinding his teeth together, forcing himself to remain silent, to keep his composure.

"Talk to me," she said, surprised by his unusual calmness. Despite his apparent frustration, there was a gentleness in his demeanour, a compassion that was hard to overlook. The way he looked at her made her realise the depth of his feelings. He was willing to move mountains if it meant easing her pain and the turmoil she was experiencing. It was this kindness, this readiness to assist, that gave her a glimmer of hope. It reassured her that she wasn't alone in her battles, that she had someone who was prepared to stand by her side. He held that power over her, a power that frightened her.

"He is ruthless," she began, tearing her eyes away from his as she tried to choose her words carefully. Attempting to alleviate his concerns for her, to demonstrate her resilience, despite the haunting memories and the looming future. "He doesn’t allow anyone to escape. He always finds them and ensures they pay, and I am no exception." As she met Oberyn's gaze again, her eyes were a maelstrom of emotions. Her eyes, usually so full of resolve, were now a stormy sea of fear and defiance. They held a chilling portrayal of her ordeal, a silent plea for understanding seeping through her gaze. Yet, despite everything, a spark of defiance still burned brightly in her eyes. It spoke of her determination to fight back, her refusal to let anything happen to him. And it was this spark, this indomitable spirit, that only increased Oberyn's respect for her.

"You’re not an easy target, darling," he smirked, his expression turning serious when she shook her head.

"For him, it would be too easy," she held his gaze, unwavering. "It’s not his style. Torture is his delight, but more than physical pain, he revels in mental torment. He... " Her voice wavered slightly, but she never looked away. "He finds the one thing, the one person you love the most, and destroys them before your eyes."

"Well, thankfully you don’t have anyone you love, so no worries, sweetheart." He chuckled, but his eyes widened when she didn't break her gaze. It was as if she was challenging him, daring him to look away, daring him to understand what she was implying and to flee.

She shook her head and retreated a step, when he whispered her name. So gently, so affectionately that she couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She had lost again, this time in this emotional game.

"It doesn’t matter," she finally said, not allowing him to say anything else. "Tomorrow, we need to strike first. I will operate from the shadows, and I need you to gather information. Try not to draw too much attention. It wouldn't be wise to have all of Scorpion’s men on our..." But she didn't get a chance to finish, as he closed the gap between them in one swift stride. His hand reached out, gently cradling her cheek and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His touch was warm and gentle, in stark contrast to his usual intensity.

"My Prince?" she started, her voice barely a whisper. But he silenced her, pressing his finger to her lips.

"Do you ever stop talking?" He smiled softly, before continuing. "I need you to grasp one very crucial fact." He murmured, his gaze still locked with hers. She had never seen him like this. His eyes were a pool of emotions - fear, determination, hope - all intertwined. The intensity of his gaze was almost overpowering, yet she couldn't turn away.

And then he leaned in, his breath wafting over her lips, just a moment before his own brushed against hers. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, hesitant and tender at first, but it quickly gained intensity as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her dangerously close to him. His lips moved against hers with a passion that left her breathless, his kiss a clear testament to his feelings.

When they finally parted for air, she was panting slightly, her eyes wide with surprise and something else - something that mirrored the intensity in Oberyn's gaze. He looked at her, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"I care for you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The words lingered in the air, their weight undeniable. As he looked at her, his gaze unwavering, she knew he meant every word. And before she could say anything else, she was kissing him back, slowly moving towards the bed behind them.

***

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from a nearby candle casting long shadows against the stone walls. Oberyn found himself a world away from their troubles.

Lying on his back, Oberyn's gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts in turmoil. His chest rose and fell with each controlled breath, the rhythm a calming melody in the quiet room. The flickering flame reflected in his dark eyes, dancing in the depths of his gaze.

Beside him lay Talia, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Her body nestled against his side, drawing comfort from his warmth. Her fingers traced lazy patterns along his bare chest, a silent communication of her gratitude and love.

Turning his head to look at her, Oberyn's hand moved to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of her cheek before tucking the strand behind her ear. His touch was gentle, conveying a tenderness that words couldn't express.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. The concern was evident in his tone, his gaze never leaving her face.

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. The resilience in her gaze was inspiring, a testament to her strength. "I am," she replied, her voice soft yet firm.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. The flickering candle, the rhythmic sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies against each other - everything seemed to blend together, creating a cocoon of tranquility around them. In that moment, they were just two people – two souls seeking comfort in each other's presence.

***

In the hushed stillness of the room, the only light came from a thin slice of moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes. Oberyn lay asleep, his breaths slow and even in the tranquility of slumber.

She knew she had to depart. There was a past she needed to face, a journey she had to undertake alone. The thought of endangering Oberyn was unthinkable. She couldn't bear to see him ensnared in the web of her past.

With careful movements, she eased out of the bed, ensuring not to disturb him. She dressed in the dim light, her fingers deftly manoeuvring the familiar straps and buckles of her leather gear. Her weapons found their usual spots at her side. Pausing for a moment, she cast a final look at Oberyn. His peaceful face tugged at her heartstrings.

He looked so serene in sleep, his features softened, devoid of the usual intensity. She longed to crawl back into the warmth of the bed, to lose herself in the comfort of his arms. But she knew she couldn't. Not when so much was at stake.

Tears threatened to blur her vision, but she wiped them away, bracing herself for the inevitable. She leaned over him, whispering a faint "I'm sorry, Oberyn. I can't let you get hurt because of me."

The weight of her choices hit her then, leaving her feeling surprisingly hollow. She wanted to confess her feelings to him. She wanted to let him know how much he meant to her. But she didn't. Love was a luxury she couldn't afford. It was a weakness she couldn't risk. So she lay with Oberyn until he drifted off, treasuring the feel of his touch.

"I love you, my dearest Prince," she confessed in a whisper.

With those words, she turned towards the door, her footsteps barely making a sound. As she stepped out into the frosty night, a pang of regret washed over her. But she knew she had made the right decision, for both her and Oberyn.

And so, she melted into the darkness, leaving behind the warmth of Oberyn's bed and a possible future they might not have a chance to explore. She had a mission to complete, a past to confront. But as she walked away, she held onto the hope that one day, she could return to the man who taught her the true meaning of love.

***

The morning sun seeped through the weather-beaten shutters, casting a warm glow across the room. Oberyn Martell, stirred from his sleep, his mind still foggy from the night before. His eyes fluttered open, the room coming into focus. His gaze fell on the empty space next to him, the bed cold and untouched. His brows furrowed in confusion, a sense of unease settling into his chest.

Her scent still lingered in the room, a sweet and intoxicating mix of wildflowers and the sea. The night before flashed before his eyes, a whirl of passion and laughter, secrets whispered in hushed tones and shared smiles. But the tranquillity of the memory was quickly shattered by the harsh reality of her absence.

His heart pounded in his chest as he saw the note perched on the bedside table. It was hastily written, the ink smeared in places. He scanned the words, her familiar handwriting causing a lump to form in his throat.

"I'm sorry. I had to. Don’t follow me."

His heart sank. He knew what she had gone to do. The man they were sent to kill, the man who had trained her, twisted her into a weapon. He was dangerous, a viper in the grass, not unlike Oberyn himself. But she had gone alone.

His fists clenched, the paper crumpling under his grip. Anger flared inside him, hot and unyielding. She was stubborn, reckless, and brave. Too brave. He admired her spirit, her strength. But this... this was folly.

"How could you?" He thought, frustration seething in his veins. “You can’t just touch my soul and leave!” His mind raced, formulating a plan, a way to find her before it was too late. 

But what then?

Would she welcome him with open arms? Or would she see it as a betrayal, an invasion of her trust? He didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was that he couldn't let her face the man alone.

In a flurry of motion, Oberyn was on his feet, hastily dressing in his usual attire of black and gold, forgotten the desert clothing from the day before. His heart pounded in his chest, the anger giving way to fear, fear for her safety. But he pushed it down, steeling himself for the task ahead.

He had a girl to find, a man to kill, and a promise to keep.

***

"The prodigal daughter returns," he sneered, stepping into the faint moonlight to reveal a face marred by battles - the Scorpion.

He was a formidable figure, an entity that inspired fear and commanded the shadows of the underworld. As venomous as his namesake, he was a sinister whisper in the dark corners of the Seven Kingdoms.

His face was a testament to battles fought and won, etched with scars that indicated a life steeped in violence. One prominent scar, a vicious slash, ran diagonally across his face, distorting his features into a grotesque mask that instilled fear in the bravest hearts - including hers, even after all these years. His eyes, however, were his most terrifying feature. They were cold, cruel, and devoid of any humanity, reflecting the icy void where his soul should have been.

His physical strength was prodigious, honed by years of relentless training and ruthless combat. Every muscle in his body was a testament to his lethal prowess. He moved with the grace of a predator, his every motion a dance of death.

As an assassin, his skills were honed to perfection over the years. He was a master of the shadows, able to vanish and reappear at will. His fists were extensions of his arms, lethal and swift, pushing down his enemies with terrifying efficiency.

But his most dangerous weapon was his mind, as sharp and deadly as his blades. He was a strategist, a manipulator, a puppeteer who orchestrated events from the shadows. His cunning was as legendary as his ruthlessness, a combination that made him one of the most feared men in all of Westeros.

This was the man who had trained her, who had moulded her into the deadly weapon she was today. The Scorpion was a harsh mentor, pushing her to her limits, honing her skills until she became a mirror of his deadly efficiency. But she was more than just his protege - she was his greatest masterpiece, his most lethal creation. And now, she was his greatest threat.

“I doubt you came back because you missed me.” he mocked, revealing his yellowed teeth. His eyes roved over her form dangerously. 

“Reneging on deals with the Prince of Dorne isn’t your smartest move, Scorpion.” His grin widened, and he broke into a loud, sinister laugh that echoed around the training ground where he had once trained her. She knew he had been expecting her here. He had eyes and ears everywhere.

“Oh, of course, you work for him now.” Something in his gaze darkened. The air around him grew thick with tension. “Like a whore changing patrons. What did he give you that I didn’t?” His towering figure cast a menacing silhouette against the backdrop of the training ground, pulsating with raw anger. The air, heavy with the scent of sweat and steel, vibrated with tension, each passing second ticking by like a countdown to an inevitable clash. His icy blue eyes, typically cold and calculating, now blazed with chilling fury – a deadly storm brewing within his ruthless soul.

His protegee stood defiantly before him, her gaze unwavering. She had been his finest creation, moulded into a weapon of lethal beauty under his watchful eye. But now, she was a traitor, having left him for the Prince of Dorne and Oberyn. The bitterness of her betrayal was like a festering wound, gnawing at his insides, fueling his wrath.

“Respect. He doesn’t see me as just a weapon he can use.” She retorted, her hands slowly reaching back, searching for her knives. She knew he would attack any minute now. It was only a matter of time before his temper flared, as it always did.

“I didn’t raise a fool,” he sneered, irritation lacing his voice. “Pathetic, that you believe in that. I can take you back, you know,” a dangerous glint shone in his eyes. “Of course, I would have to punish you first, but it would be nothing you haven’t endured before.”

“I’d rather die!”

“That can be arranged!” His low growl echoed around them as he lunged at her, his movements a seamless blend of raw power and deadly precision. His fists, hardened by countless battles, were like iron battering rams, each strike aimed to incapacitate, to punish. His wrath was a tangible force, an unstoppable storm of violence and fury.

Yet, she stood her ground, her lithe figure dancing around his brutal onslaught. She was a wisp of a girl, nimble and swift, her movements a mesmerising spectacle of agility and grace. Her strikes were sharp, precise, aimed to hurt, not to kill. She was his creation, after all, shaped by his hand, and she would not be easily defeated.

Their battle was an electrifying exhibition of strength and skill, a deadly dance of fury and betrayal. The Scorpion, a hulking beast of raw strength and ruthless determination, clashed against a swift and agile force of defiance and resilience of hisprotégée.

With a swift, unexpected move, he swept her off her feet, sending her crashing to the floor with a bone-jarring thud. He towered over her, his icy eyes devoid of any mercy, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants. His scarred face was a mask of rage, the vicious slash across his cheek seeming even more grotesque in his fury.

Yet, even as she lay there, pinned under his merciless gaze, her spirit remained unbroken. Her eyes, defiant and proud, met his without flinching. He could see the resolve in her gaze, the determination that he himself had instilled in her. It was a testament to his training, a silent acknowledgment of his mastery.

But even as a hint of pride flickered in the depths of his icy eyes, the Scorpion’s fury remained unabated. He was a beast of wrath, a creature of retribution, and he would not be denied his vengeance. His roar echoed through the chamber, a chilling promise of the fury that was yet to come.

The Scorpion towered over the fallen girl, his colossal frame casting an ominous shadow over her. His breath, a harsh, ragged symphony of fury and betrayal, filled the air around them. His fists, hardened by countless battles, clenched and unclenched in anticipation, eager to deliver the crushing blow. His icy eyes, a chilling mirror of his ruthless soul, bore into her with a merciless intensity.

The room hummed with the anticipation of the kill, the tension so palpable that it was almost a physical entity. Talia sprawled on the cold, hard floor, defiant in the face of imminent death, met his gaze without flinching. Her eyes, a resolute blaze of defiance, mirrored his fury with her own determination. 

As the Scorpion drew back his fist, ready to end her life, a sudden whirlwind of movement caught his attention. Through the dim light, a figure moved with the grace and speed of a viper, intercepting his deadly blow.

Oberyn, the Prince of Dorne, stood between the Scorpion and his own private guard, his dark eyes blazing with fury and concern. His slim, agile form was a stark contrast to the Scorpion’s hulking figure. He brandished a slender spear, its tip gleaming menacingly in the low light.

His anger was palpable, not merely at the Scorpion, but also at the girl for leaving him and wandering into danger. Yet, his love for her was evident in his protective stance, in the way his eyes never left her even as he faced the Scorpion.

The Scorpion roared in fury, his wrath a palpable force in the room. However, Oberyn remained unflinching, his gaze steady, his stance ready for combat. With his love still alive behind him, he lunged forward, spear leading, his movements a blur of lethal precision.

Their battle was a breathtaking spectacle, a deadly dance of strength, speed, and skill. The Scorpion’s overwhelming raw power clashed with Oberyn’s swift agility, their weapons clashing and sparking under the strain. The room echoed with the sound of steel against steel, the harsh gasps of exertion, the grunts of pain.

Meanwhile, the woman, undeterred by her fall, rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the brutal spectacle unfolding before her. She was battered, bruised, but not defeated. She was a warrior, trained by the best, and she would not stand idle.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, she joined the fray, her movements a seamless blend of strength and grace. Together, they fought the Scorpion, their combined strength and skill a formidable force against his raw power. The training chamber, once a place of instruction and discipline, was now a battleground, echoing with the sounds of a furious struggle for survival.

She was a force to be reckoned with. Her every movement was a perfect blend of strength and grace, her strikes sharp and precise, her evasions a dance of agility and speed. Her eyes, alight with courage and determination, were fixed on the Scorpion, her spirit unbroken by the intense battle.

Their dance was a symphony of chaos, a ballet of death and survival. With Oberyn they moved as one, their actions a harmonious blend of speed and strength, their strikes and parries in perfect sync. Their eyes met in fleeting moments, silent exchanges of assurance and love amidst the brutal battle.

The Scorpion roared, a guttural bellow that echoed through the chamber, shaking the very walls with its intensity. The Scorpion, a monstrous beast of a man, lunged at Oberyn, his eyes gleaming with a lethal intent. Oberyn was ready, his spear poised to strike. But before he could move, the girl stepped in between, her weapon raised in defence. The Scorpion's fist descended upon her, a brutal blow that sent her crashing to the ground.

Oberyn roared, his heart clenching at the sight of his beloved falling. But she was not defeated. With a grunt of pain, she rose to her feet, her face a mask of determination. Her body was wracked with pain, her blood staining the cold stone floor. But her spirit was unbroken.

"Talia..." Oberyn's voice was a whisper, a plea. But she silenced him with a look. Her eyes blazed with resolve, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Finish this," she mouthed, her voice barely a whisper.

With a roar of fury, Oberyn lunged at the Scorpion. His spear was a blur of steel, each strike aimed with deadly precision. But the Scorpion was a formidable opponent, his movements a brutal dance of raw power.

Talia, despite her injuries, moved with a relentless resolve. She staggered towards the Scorpion, her weapon a gleaming promise of retribution. With a primal scream, she lunged, her weapon sinking into the Scorpion's back. The beast of a man roared, his body convulsing in pain.

The distraction was what Oberyn needed. With a swift, lethal move, he thrust his spear into the Scorpion's heart. The Scorpion staggered, his icy gaze meeting Oberyn's. A moment of surprise, a moment of realisation, and then he crumbled to the ground, defeated.

Silence fell upon the chamber, the brutal symphony of their struggle replaced by the harsh panting of the victors. Oberyn rushed to Talia, his hands cradling her face. Her eyes were dimmed with pain, but her spirit was as fierce as ever.

"We did it," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. She managed a weak smile, her hand reaching up to touch Oberyn's face. "We did it, Oberyn."

Oberyn nodded, smiling even as tears filled his eyes. "You finally called me by my name, you stubborn woman.”

“I did make a promise," she responded. He chuckled at that, his hand moving to stem the blood seeping from her stomach, the aftermath of Scorpion’s punch. “It was your eyes," she said, her voice quiet, just above a whisper. Her hand gently caressed his cheek. “I have never seen such beautiful eyes. Eyes that radiate the joy of life. Eyes so soft and gentle. How could I kill someone who loves life so much?” She pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly. “You defeated me completely, my love. I never thought I would be able to fall in love with someone. I never thought I had it in me, to care for someone as deeply as I care for you.”

“You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?” She chuckled at that, wincing at the pain in her abdomen. “I have never and will never love anyone as much as I love you. If I defeated you, what does that make you? I’m ready to settle down, but only if it's with you.” Tears slipped down his cheeks, but a smile still played on his lips. “You turned the biggest bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms into a sentimental fool, my love.” 

“Will you take me home?” Her question brought a wry smile from him. “Will you still love me when we’re back?”

“Always my love.” 

As Talia's eyes fluttered shut, her breath slowing, Oberyn held her close, his tears a silent testament to their victory. They had triumphed, but the cost was heavy. Their love had been their strength, their bond unbroken by the storm of battle. But it was also their greatest vulnerability.

He stood, her body cradled in his arms, ready to return home. Back to Dorne. Together, no matter what.

[corpsey-moodboards]

nutcracker (lethal company) stimboard moodboard w/ themes of having violent urges/rage stims, clockwork, and blood for anon

[8-rae-rae-8]

My AgeRe And PetRe StimBoards/MoodBoards

Will be tagged with "justdreamypacis" for easy searching <3

Cottagecore/Mushroom

Tiny Thing - Pink Aesthetic

Baby Blue - Stimboard

Poisoned Apple - StimBoard

Moon Paci - StimBoard

Bloody Board w/ Paci

StarLight Board - Moodboard

Spooky Ghost Agere - MoodBoard

Bingo Agere - MoodBoard [Bluey]

Silver Moon - MoodBoard 

Starry Moon - MoodBoard

Screeeam Cat -  MoodBoard

Squishmellow Cow - Moodboard

Baby Giraffe - Moodboard

Baby Boy - MoodBoard

Mono And Six - MoodBoard [Little Nightmares]

Lethal Company Paci - MoodBoard [Lethal Company]

Starry Cat Paci - MoodBoard

Fairytale Paci MoodBoard

Bluey and Bingo - MoodBoard

Leon Kennedy Paci - MoodBoard

Poppy's Playtime Paci - MoodBoard

Shark Kitty - MoodBoard

Galaxy Pup - MoodBoard

Stitch Paci - MoodBoard

[more to come]

[sillykiisu]

Lethal Company worker caregiver moodboard 🔦 (special for my Baba since he really loves L.C.)

[kinformative]

🚀 mod dave's intro

heya, i'm 🚀 mod dave. i use he/she pronouns, bisexual boygirl. alterhuman/fictkin who takes it pretty seriously. also autistic w/ a side of adhd. i'm an adult. IRL of dave algebra class from devius ex machina/dnb amongst many others, doubles are welcome to still send in requests y'all are cool as shit. (previously mod prime) below are my tags, and what fandoms i take reqs for as well as what type of requests i personally fulfill.

tagging system:

#🚀 | ⤷ mod dave - requests/asks answered by me/posts made by me #🚀 | ⤷ in wine there is truth. - completed requests/asks #🚀 | ⤷ i can't let them find out. - denied requests/asks

fandoms i do requests for: rick & morty, fnf (+ most mods, mostly dave and bambi), hermitcraft/trafficsmp, homestuck, problem sleuth, garten of banban, other mascot horrors, minecraft/mcsm, roblox (any games are ok), baldi's basics (+ any mods/spinoffs), fnaf, dsaf, fortnite, pizza tower, nintendo games (primarily super mario, splatoon, pokemon, and the mother series), sega games, undertale, creepypasta, sonic.exe, backrooms, hfjone, animatic battle, lethal company, d:bh, everhood, sly cooper, club penguin, neopets, everhood, steven universe, rayman, cookie run, hylics, atla, toontown/ttcc, tf2, bugbo, sanders sides, madness combat, smg4, SML, my little pony, scp, petscop, kinitopet, pico's school, danganronpa, henry stickmin, gravity falls, spongebob, ockin, songkin, otherkin, and any other type of alterhuman/othertypes that don't fit into a fandom or any sort of media.

request types i accept: xenogender/kingender flags, name/pronoun suggestions, pokemon teams, icons, coin flips, shufflemancies, positivity messages, advice, userboxes, canon calls, art/doodles, sprite edits, stamps, blinkies, kin mem help, kinfessions, moodboards

specifics that i don't accept. these aren't on the main blacklist: - undertale AUs (no issue with them, i simply do not know enough about them to do reqs for em. sorry.) - skyverse characters of any type - henry miller from dsaf (i personally will not fulfill these if they are sent in, mod dirk can handle those, it is a personal reason sorry yall) - dandy's world

[the-silent-fool]

☆| lethal company reggresor moodboard! |☆

[thekinschoolhouse]

helloo,, i'm a Bracken/Flowerman (Lethal Company) alterbeing (unsure of anything more specific than that) and was wondering if i could get literally anything related to that ,, moodboard or stimboard or care kit i just want the lethal company kin tag to be a little less empty preferably with something to do with plants and no eyes please

and thank you for being awesome !! :3

☹️ — OVERDUE!

Sorreeyy.. I can't fill out your request due to lack of media knowledge and motivation to research, but thank you! And I wish you luck, emptiness in kin tags is painful

[alyunkid]

Requests for DNI banners, outfit boards, and moodboards are open :D I do general boards, but I also do lots of different fandoms. If I don't know your fandom well enough, I'll very politely deny your request so don't worry about gettin' it wrong or anything like that ! ❤️💙💛💚🦕🐛

Hi! We're Cyber. We're an autistic system, and this is our age/pet re blog. Regression is and has been a very important coping mechanism to us :D. We consider ourselves noncom and mostly use this blog for reblogs.

Our pronouns are he/it. We really like Good Omens, Lethal Company, Bluey, writing, nature, 2000s/internet history, kandi making, and Roblox. We aren't as into qsmp at the moment but we still like it and take rqs for it!

This is not a base blog, meaning we can't like posts or follow accounts from this blog. Our base account does contain swearing and adult topics but never nsfw material. Our tumblr can be a little laggy, so if we reblog a post more than once I apologize in advance!

Our base blog is @cyberv0rtex so if you see us like/follow from that blog,, that's us!!

Our partner system is @tinybopop !! Please do not dm us or send asks to flirt/ask to be our caregiver or little. Thank u :>

Do not interact - NSFW blogs/blogs with sexual content, "ageplay"/ddlg (and varients)/abdl blogs even if it's separate from regression, proshippers/anti-antis, MIK/MAPs, p0ppytwt/p0ppyblr, anti-agere/petre, ED/SH/Anti-reovery blogs, radqueer/transabled/transage/transrace, anti-xenogender, anti-neopronouns, or anti - contradicting labels, endogenic systems/non-truamagenic systems.

I know not everyone reads DNIs, so we use the block button pretty regularly

P.S. we don't tag "food" or put warnings on pictures of food/images that have toys based on food. We're working on our relationship with food, and putting a CW/TW doesn't help us at all. If this bothers you, please just block us :>

P.P.S. oftentimes, we block blank blogs with no posts/information unless they have any indication they're sfw. We use the block button a lot. Please don't be offended if we block you even if you're 100% safe/sfw.

P.P.P.S. we do not like to use the term "little" and you will probably see us avoiding it a lot. This is not meant to demonize the word little we just don't personally identify with it. We're just kidhearted and tiny ♡

Credit (in order)

Avatar by us !!!

Puppypaws/sfw interact banner by @ heavenspuppy

Golden puppy banners by @ puppershy

[tumberkin]

hi i'm a new guy around here erm . was wondering if you could possibly make a moodboard for the nutcracker from lethal company... go wild with it, just nothing too christmas-y and maybe throw in themes of meat and eyeballs too :]c

TW - MEAT & EYEBALLS & GÜNS!

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Nutcracker from Lethal Company Moodboard w/ Eye & Meat

Hope you enjoy :3

[johnlocsin-johnyakuza]

Me and my Father (the guy in the Crusader Armor) are currently stuck in the closet with, whatever that is outside because father began tweaking.

So we decided to open up a blog and travel to different universes to pass the time, and he forgot to turn on asks when we made this, so I did it for him.

Name: John, John Paul, or J/Jp for short, Jojo for Nickname

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 18

Nationality: Filipino 🇵🇭

Raised and living in New Jersey

Me and Fathers Fandoms:

Yakuza/Like A Dragon, Judgment/Lost Judgment, Call of Duty, Doom, Wolfenstein, Fallout, Devil May Cry, Bayonetta, Henry Stickmin, Minecraft, Roblox, Monster Hunter, Fallout, Skyrim, Wolfensetin, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Spy X Family, Dragon Ball Z, Metal Gear, Omori, God of War, Asura’s Wrath, FromSoftWare Games (Dark Souls, BloodBorne, Sekiro, Elden Ring, Armored Core), Nintendo and Sega games, Team Fortress 2, OverWatch, Madness Combat, Marvel, DC, Mortal Kombat, Tekken, Street Fighter, Ubisoft Games (The Division, For Honor, R6, Assassin’s Creed, Watch Dogs), Hollow Knight, FNAF, UnderTale, DeltaRune, Ace Combat, Project Wingman, UltraKill, Darkest Dungeon, Payday, Silent Hill, Telltale Games, Left 4 Dead 2, Halo, Nintendo and Sega Games, Bendy and the Ink Machine, Baldi’s Basics, Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, Uncharted, Infamous, SCP, Dragon Ball Z, Cyberpunk 2077, Resident Evil, Signalis, Dead Space, Ghost of Tsushima, Warhammer 40K, Until Dawn, The Dark Pictures Anthology, Forbidden Siren, Fatal Frame, LittleBigPlanet, Star Wars, Scriptwelder games, Hitman, House of the Dead, Time Crisis, Multiple Other RPG Maker Games (Yume Nikki, OFF, Oneshot), Sifu, Just Shapes and Beats, Lacey Flash Games Series, Persona Series, Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba, I Expect You To Die VR Games, Spec Ops: The Line, Borderlands, Earth Defense Force, Crysis, Danganronpa, GTA Series, Red Dead Redemption, Disco Elysium, Lies of P, Chainsaw Man, Killing Floor, Trepang2, The Amazing Digital Circus, Murder Drones, SMG4, RWBY, Red Vs. Blue, Lethal Company, FAITH: The Unholy Trinity, Needy Streamer Overload, Object Shows (BFDI, Inanimate Insanity, Etc.), Hotline Miami, Helldivers, Nier Automata, Superhot, The Liar Princess and The Blind Prince, Dead Rising, Until Then, Warframe, Ōkami

Me and Fathers Interests:

Video Games, Music, Martial Arts, Tabletop Games (Specifically Dungeons and Dragons), Art/Paintings, Horror, Action, Visual Novel Games, Vtubers, Anime, Manga

(Will add more Fandoms and Interests overtime)

Btw I make Moodboards as well, if you want to me to make one just let me know.

Blog won't always be Spoiler-Free

My Voice Reveal, doubling as a motivation Ted-talk I felt like doing:

[merigreenleaf]

Unexpected Inspiration Series Masterpost: About the Secondary Dorks

The Unexpected Inspiration series is lighthearted, lgbt+ high fantasy set in a contemporary world. If you're into magic, found family, and characters who like to cause mischief, I got you covered! The short stories are all available to read and you can learn more about the series here and about the main characters here.

Under the read more is information about each of these secondary characters.

Name: Ametrine Travellarri   Age: 12 Gender: nonbinary Birthplace: Galanvoth Occupation: kid Magic: none

Ametrine is a shy and quiet runaway from the neighboring country of Galanvoth. He rarely talks about his past, but from what the others have pieced together, his family replaced him. Galanvoth is a place where passing on a trade is more important than anything else, and it isn't uncommon for a firstborn to be demoted or kicked out of their family entirely if they're deemed not good enough. Ametrine was able to get away and made it to the safety of Concordia's capital city, where he was fostered with Sapphire and her carnival troupe. He meets Dray not long after this. Dray was also a runaway from Galanvoth and takes Ametrine under their wing, introducing him to their friends who immediately treat Ametrine as though he was part of their family. When he's asked if he wants to be adopted, he doesn't really understand why they would want him when his own parents didn't. He agrees without much hesitation, though, because the way he sees it, five people who love him unconditionally is a much better family than two traditional parents who didn't. For a while there's a fear in the back of his mind that he won't be good enough for them, but gradually this starts to fade. (Character tag- UI POV: Ametrine / moodboard  / Pinterest board)

Name: Skia (he has no idea what his name is, so Ametrine helped him pick this one)  Age: 14 (not that he remembers this) Gender: genderqueer Birthplace: ? (he has no clue) Occupation: haunting people Magic: he's a ghost, he does ghost things 

Skia is a mystery, even to himself. He's dead, that much is obvious, but he no longer has any memory of who he was as a human or how he could have died. He's been drifting aimlessly around both the real world and what Etri calls "the place of shadow" for an unknown amount of time, up until Camille summons him mostly by accident. She was aiming for a helpful shadow elemental who could possibly tell her where Rosalie went. What she gets is the ghost of a mischievous, cheeky teenager who she can't seem to banish. Fortunately for her, Skia soon grows bored with her company and decides to haunt Ametrine instead. Ametrine is frightened at first-- it's not every day that you discover a ghost followed you home. But when the fridge magnets and sloppily handwritten notes start to spell out an equal mix of kind words and stupid jokes that make him laugh, he realizes the ghost must be another kid who's also lonely. The longer Skia hangs around Ametrine, the more he's able to retain a memory. He’s never able to remember much about his past, but because of Ametrine, he’s able to gain a present and a future. I'd say you’d never see Ametrine without Skia, but no one can see Skia. (Character Tag- UI POV: Skia / Pinterest board)

Name: Feren Cole   Age: 19 Gender/sexuality: male (cis), bisexual Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: barista (when he can be bothered to show up) Magic: none 

Feren is a layabout who loves styling himself into a tragic victim. As one of the few unmagical Artisans, he has always felt like he deserved more than life gave him, despite having everything handed to him and multiple opportunities available at every turn. He was once Adair and Nina’s sentinel-intended, but the second things got slightly dangerous, he decided it was too difficult and he wasn't good enough for the role. He’s currently taking graduate classes on the history of magic, with no real career goal in mind. This was simply the easiest choice at the time and he has never had work to be good at scholarly pursuits. It's unfortunate, but also entirely on point for him, that he puts as much real effort into this as he does working at his girlfriend’s restaurant as a barista and delivery boy. It's a one in three chance he'll be bothered to show up on time and he lives there. If an easy road to recognition and leisure presents itself, he’s going to jump on it with no questions asked. He’s always seeking to improve his lot in life with the minimum amount of effort on his part. (Character Tag- UI POV: Feren / Moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Sapphire Age: never ask a lady her age (she looks to be in her early-mid 30s) Gender/sexuality: female (cis), panromantic greysexual Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: leader of a carnival troupe Magic: none (technically. She can see/sense magic, though)

Sapphire is Etri's former mentor and thieving partner, as well as one of his closest friends. She’s currently the leader of the carnival troupe in Silveridge, the capital city of Concordia, and coordinates the city's performers. This is about as effective as herding cats. When Sapphire isn't sorting out who's performing at which venue and breaking up arguments about costumes, she can be found in her other organizational role with the troupe. Many of the performers are also thieves who return stolen art back to the artists who created it. It's up to Sapphire to keep track of what each reverse-thief is doing so that they don't cross paths or get caught. Sapphire excels at this administrative role, being calm, competent, and experienced, while at the same time her strong desire to take care of the people she considers family makes them intensely loyal. Keeping her carnies safe always comes before anything else and there's nothing her troupe wouldn't do for her in return. (Character tag- UI POV: Sapphire / moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Talan Age: 3. It's complicated. Gender/sexuality: male (cis), demi/grey-romantic pan Birthplace: Montglace Occupation: errand boy Magic: none

Talan is equal parts cheerful and peculiar, with almost a lethal case of curiosity. He’s something of a magpie who collects various bits of everything in a personal quest to discover its purpose. He has a tenuous grasp on the concept of possessions and tends to think of anything that isn’t currently being worn or carried or nailed down as fair game. He’s Dray’s boyfriend, at least for a little while, and Dray’s malfunctioning moral compass hasn’t exactly been the best influence in Talan’s life. Relatively new to Concordia in particular and civilization in general, Talan struggles with things like laws, idioms, and telling people apart. He’s determined to learn these things, though, and wants more than anything to fit in and be helpful. (Moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Nina Pare   Age: 20 Gender/sexuality: female (cis), bi? hetero? (she’s only dated guys and I don’t know her well enough yet to guess which it is) Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: chef, cafe owner Magic: Savorweaving (culinary) 

Nina is a chef with culinary magic who owns her own cafe. As much of an honor as it was to have it passed to her when the previous owner retired, she'll be the first to admit that it probably wasn't the best time for it. This isn't to say that she's not a capable chef and businesswoman, more that Feren keeps messing things up for her and it would have been better if she'd had the chance to break up with him first. Every time she plans to do this, some disaster happens, and her personal life gets pushed to her back burner. She dreams of the day that she can take a break and travel, to gather new recipes and ideas, to visit the beaches she loves so much, to have five minutes to breathe. Someone give this poor, overworked woman a vacation. (Pinterest board)

Name: Wysta Larkspur    Age: 39 Gender/sexuality: female (trans), bisexual Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: healer Magic: healing/telepathy 

Wysta is the lead healer of Blythe, Etri, and Sol's carnival troupe. She was Blythe's first instructor in arcane healing and remained her mentor and friend after Blythe moved on to further study. Wysta is a former Protectorate and her shaved head is a sign of giving up the life of a guard. Specific braids designate status as a Protectorate and it’s a ritual to cut off the braid when you pick a different path in life. Usually a former Protectorate will let their hair grow back, but Wysta keeps her head shaved as a personal-- and practical, considering her profession-- style choice. While Wysta is efficient and sensible, contrasting with the flightier personalities of the carnies she calls family, she possesses both a great sense of humor and a friendly bedside manner. There are very few people Blythe admires and respects, so it says a lot that she holds Wysta in the highest regard and trusts her with information she doesn't give anyone else.

(Mobile-friendly) Unexpected Inspiration Series Tags & Links:

About the Series: Series & WIP Info / Short Stories / Moodboard Posts (Tag: unexpected inspiration aesthetic) / World Building Posts (Tag: about my world) / Series Tag: Unexpected Inspiration series

About the Characters: Main Character Info / Secondary Character Info (you’re here!)

Character Specific Tags: UI POV: Adair / UI POV: Blythe / UI POV: Dray / UI POV: Etri / UI POV: Sol / UI POV: Rosalie / UI POV: Camille /  UI POV: Sapphire / UI POV: Ametrine / UI POV: Skia / UI POV: Feren /  UI POV:All (Group/Multiple) / UI POV: Other (Non-Main Characters) / UI POV:Trio (Adair/Blythe/Etri OT3) / UI POV: Firelight (Dray/Sol)

[corpsey-moodboards]

Oooohhhh you really wanna do an inbox check ooooo

from oldest to newest:

lethal company moodboard for anon

triptaka and sun wukong moodboard for anon

jiaoqiu moodboard for anon

serperior moodboard for anon

triptaka and sun wukong moodboard (again) for anon

[8-rae-rae-8]

Lethal Company Agere MoodBoard

Paci on dreamypacis.com

[clumsybookworm18]

and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore) | pt. 4

Jossam + Ghost AU

Summary: Sam is hell bent on getting answers but when has Josh made anything easy?

Notes: So I finally got this chapter out! Enjoy :)

AO3, Moodboard, part 1 / 2 /  3 / 5

The blinding sunlight entering through the window was what awoke her. She wondered for a moment why her bed felt differently or why she wasn’t greeted by the faint smell of paints and art that would normally surround her room. Her confusion was short lived as last night memories came to surface, accompanied by a pounding headache. 

Sam let out a groan, pulling the pillow over her face. So it hadn’t been a dream. 

Damn.

Josh was dead. Of that she was absolutely sure. Mike saw him die and had given her the explicit details of what went down at the mines after she’d left them, making her regret even asking. Yet somehow… he was here. Had never actually left apparently. A ghost.

Sam wasn’t stupid. She may not be an avid fan of the supernatural- never had been- but she didn’t blatantly dismiss it either. Not after Blackwood. Not after what she had witnessed. Creatures made out of legends and scary stories that were very much real and very lethal. So the idea of him being here didn’t seem so far-fetched, all things considering.

And she’d knew it- had known it for a while now as much as she hated to admit it. Had refused to believe what was right in front of her. Dismissed what had been obvious because it was so much easier when she should’ve known better than that. 

Beginning to see that the relentless headache wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep anytime soon, she pulled herself up, blinking at the unrelenting morning light. The empty space next to beside her indicated that her mother had already left for work and a quick glance at the clock told her she had slept in but it was still too early for her shift at the yoga studio. After dropping out, Sam had started picking up some shifts as a yoga instructor to avoid being a complete dead weight around the house. As depressed as she might be, she couldn’t allow herself to just sit in her room to mope and weep and sleep… well, not all of the time anyways. 

She takes her time getting out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. No signs of jabbering or impish laughter or anything that might indicate Josh’s ghostly presence. 

Yet. 

She wastes no time stripping her clothes off and hopping into the shower. She was tempted to linger under the scalding heat of the water spray- and she would’ve had- if it hadn’t been for the impromptu temperature drop that turned her hot shower into a cold one. 

It was good while it lasted.

With a muttered curse, Sam turns off the water and puts on her bathrobe. As good as it had been, the hot shower hadn’t helped with the throbbing headache. She starts impatiently rifling through the medicine cabinet like a junkie when a lick of cold prickles the back of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across her skin. 

Sam breathes out a sharp sigh, calmly closing the medicine cabinet. This time anticipating it, she doesn’t jump when she spots a familiar silhouette in the mirror gazing back at her. 

Leaning against the threshold was Josh, insufferable smirk perfectly placed on his face.

Her heart skittered. The sight of Josh was freaking her out a little bit now that she was convinced that he was in fact here, a ghost. There was still a chance he could still be a hallucination, a sign that her mind had finally broken. But thinking that didn’t seemed... right. It scared her.

What scared her even more was that she didn’t want to look away. 

Ugh. It was too early for this bullshit. 

“Freezing my ass off in the shower wasn’t how I envisioned my morning,” she said by way of greeting.

“Someone’s in a lovely mood today.” His smirk grew, and Sam didn’t let anything show on her face as those vibrant green eyes looked her up and down. “You look like shit.”

Sam answered him with a vulgar gesture, walking past him without so much of a glance his way. 

Josh laughed, sauntering behind her. “Nothing to throw at me this time?” 

“Funny. I don’t remember you being so chipper in the morning.”

“I don’t remember you being such a sourpuss. And yet.” 

“Still a prick though. Not surprising,” she snipped, settling into their banter, searching for some familiar ground. It wasn’t that things were any different when he was just a voice, but now, knowing that Josh was here… it changed everything. 

Just as she reached her bedroom, Josh materializes in front of her. He clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Sammy.” He lowered his face close to hers, his warmth a whisper against her skin. “It’s not nice.”

“If it bothers you so much, go haunt someone else then,” she crooned, not backing away.

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam countered. 

His answering smile told her enough. Arrogant bastard. 

“That’s what I thought.” She brushed past him, somehow managing to keep her steps steady, trying to appear like she wasn’t running away from him. 

Sam ignores him as she searches her wardrobe but could feel his gaze burning on her back.  She paused, looking over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway.

“Excuse you,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “A little bit of privacy here?”

Josh shrugged, not moving. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Heat spread along her cheeks and neck, from both anger and embarrassment. Sam doesn’t deign to reply. Instead, she slams the door to his face. 

“You know I can just walk right through, right?” he taunts from behind the door.

She was very well aware of that.

After hastily throwing on some clothes, Sam sat at the vanity. She passes a quick brush through her damp hair and dabs concealer under her eyes before inspecting herself in the mirror. There. Now she resembles a normal person. Or at least gives off the impression that she still has her wits together, even if they’re still hanging by a thread. A very thin one. 

Sam was tired of everybody asking how she was doing. 

She was fine. Really. 

A bang at her door. “You done?”

Although she could do without the poltergeist.

***

 “Don’t ghosts have better things to do?” Sam said, setting her cup of tea down on the kitchen table.

They were huddled on the kitchen table, Sam trying grill him for the past twenty minutes. She’d been set on getting an explanation- answers for the many questions swarming inside her head. 

Getting a serious answer from him was another story. 

“Probably.” Josh leaned back into his chair across from her like it was the most normal thing in the world. “But I wouldn’t want to deprive you of my company.”

Sam scoffed, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Pester me, you mean.” 

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Hey if it were up to me I would be having a joyride in the eternal siesta,” he said, shaking his head. Then muttered, “Just to buy me some damned peace.” 

She didn’t have anything to say to that.

Josh arched a dark brow. “You seem to be taking this pretty well, considering your reaction last night.” A sly smile. “Among other things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, your inherent fear of ghosts.” 

“I think we can agree that after everything that happened on your mountain, my fear of ghosts would be the least of my issues.”

Josh shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Sam takes another sip of tea. It was rattling to see him like this, the insufferable familiarity in which he acted, like this was all run of the mill for him. Like he wasn’t dead. She almost believed too, her hands itching to reach out and touch him. 

Sam gripped the mug harder. She tried to focus on eating the fruit on her plate to avoid looking at him. 

She could feel his gaze fixed on her, following her every movement. “You’ve lost weight.” 

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised about it,” Sam said, her tone coming out a bit more sharply than she intended. “Since apparently you’ve been snooping on me all this time.” 

He put a dramatic hand to his chest. “Me? Snooping? Never.”

“Says the biggest busybody I've ever met.”

“Can you blame me? Being a ghost isn’t as fun as the movies make it out to be.”

It is so not a ghost thing. Her eyes narrowed. “How is it that you’re here and not… the Great Beyond or wherever it is that dead people go?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said simply, giving her a one shoulder shrug. He didn’t elaborate.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? My head got crushed. I woke up. Found you guys looking like you just came out of a horror movie. No one would see me or hear me or talk to me. Next thing I know, I’m dead, and everybody else survived except for me because I never made it out of those damn mines.” Josh’s smile was cold. “Good enough answer for you?”

No. Not at all.

Sam’s mouth was dry as she asked, “Can you see them?” 

Josh knew who she meant. “No.” 

Abrupt. Sharp. Final. 

“Are there any other ghosts with you?”

“Just me.” His voice was rough. Bitter.

Sam studied him warily. “What is it that you’re not telling me?” 

He leaned back in his chair, his closed up expression instantly replaced by a lazy grin that didn’t meet his eyes. One of his favorite masks. “So many questions for someone who supposedly doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Fine- it was fine. It wasn’t as if she could count on him telling her the truth anyways. She’d learned that the hard way. “Like you said last night, I’m stuck with you. So excuse me for trying to understand what I’ll have to deal with.” 

“Can you let me know once you do? Cause I’ve been trying to figure it out myself for the past, oh I don’t know, eight months.” 

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

A roguish grin. 

Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick. “Can you stop being so difficult and help me out here?” Sam hissed.

“I could be worse.”

Oh, she was sure. “Why me? Why not Chris or Ash?” Sam lifted a brow. “I’ve never even touched a spirit board.”

Josh rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back. “For the hundredth time, I don’t know. Don’t ask me how or why or even what. I. Don’t. Know.” He had the nerve to sound like he was irritated with her.

“Do you actually know anything at all?”

“Cut me some slack. I didn’t exactly get a ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’.”

Sam studied him for a long moment in silence. “I’m wasting my time,” she muttered to herself. She shook her head. “How can I trust you’re telling me the truth- after everything? All the secrets, the lies, your spiteful prank-”

“You’re still going on about that?” Josh interjected, exasperated. “I thought we were past what happened on Blackwood.” 

“Oh don’t get me started on what you did to me in Blackwood,” Sam snapped.

Josh froze, the smug smile slipping from his face.

Sam furiously gets up and throws her dishes in the sink. “I’ve had enough of you for one day. I have to go but please feel free to not be here when I come back.” 

“We’ll have to talk about this sooner or later.”

“No, we won’t,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

“No probs. Let’s ignore it and sweep it under the rug, like everything else,” he called after her.

The sound of the door slam echoed through the house.

***

He was there when she got home. 

And the next day. 

And the next. 

Before she knew it, a week had already passed, almost in blur. Sam had found herself slowly- and reluctantly- acclimating to this new occurrence in her life.

In a way, it was hard not to, since everything about him reminded her of before- of a part of her she’d lost in the mines, that had never returned with her from Blackwood. She was still deciding if it was comforting or painful. Perhaps both. It was frustrating for sure, his uncanny ability to unsettle her, how he could bring out feelings she’d managed to keep locked down.

Today she found herself perched on top her rickety stool staring at the blank canvas, her lips pursed in contemplation. 

Bright sunlight pours in the room bringing in some warmth, and the perfect natural light for painting. Her phone was hooked to the small stereo in the corner, her classical music playlist playing softly from the speakers. 

Still staring. 

“If you’re having a hard time looking for inspiration, ” Josh drawled from whereever he was on the couch, and Sam braced herself for the stupid remark he was surely going to make. “You could always paint me. I’d make an excellent nude model.” 

Sam folded her lips, thankful that her back was to him so he couldn’t see the expression on her face. 

Putting the paintbrush between her teeth, she pushed the blonde strands back with a headband, not wanting to get paint in her hair. If it could just grow already so she could tie it up into a bun and keep walking.

She takes out the black and white tubes of paint, not in the mood to use colors- she hadn't been in a long time. A few heartbeats pass before she starts adding a considerable amount of black to the palette and brushing a first few hesitant strokes onto the canvas. She grabs the white tube, adding white paint on the palette and mixes it with some black to form gray. She doesn’t know what she’s going to paint yet, merely allows her feelings to take over and guide every stroke. Every movement of her brush turning bolder, until something finally starts to emerge, to take form. 

Sometime after she starts Josh manages to fall uncharacteristically silent, but she feels his gaze burn through her as she paints. As she pours the darkness that lurks inside her heart onto the canvas. Sam didn’t know how many minutes, if not hours, passed when she finally lowered the brush, letting it dangle between her legs as she surveyed her creation. She frowned. 

While it oozed sharpness and fear, the same type of eeriness that was present in all of her paintings, there was just something... different about it- felt wrong somehow. 

“Beautiful,” Josh said, peering over her shoulder. Usually, she never lets anyone see her painting but seeing how Josh was Josh, she didn’t have a choice on the matter. “Depressing as hell but beautiful.”

“Thank you” she said flatly, not looking away from what she’d painted. 

Josh barked a laugh. “Thank you? Whatever happened to ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion, Joshua,’ or my timeless favorite ‘Shut up, Josh.’?” He clicked his tongue. “What a let down.”

Her hands curled shut. He could hear himself talk all day for all Sam cared, but she’s not going to take the bait. She isn’t.

“Tell me, Sammy,” he said. “Why is it that you haven’t told anyone about me?”

Why would she? She was enough of a wreck as it was, and she didn’t need the others prying anymore than they already did. 

“You’re not gonna talk? Fine, I’ll answer for you. You’re in denial.”

Sam stood up so fast, the stool almost fell behind her. “I’m not in denial.”

“No? Then why are you wearing this?” Just as he said the words, her necklace levitated from where she keeps it hidden underneath her shirt. “After all, it’s just a stupid key. A useless knickknack. Isn’t this a reminder of everything that happened that night?”

“It’s none of your business,” she hissed, stuffing her necklace back under the collar of her shirt.

“Sorry, I forgot is better to bury your feelings and pretend that everything’s fine. Because that’s what things are. Right Sammy? They’re fine.”

“Yes. And they would be even better if you weren’t here.”

“Liar.” He stalked closer, a faint smile on his lips that was anything but amused. “Did you even tell the others what I did to you in the lodge?”

Why was he bringing that up? “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with them. Much less with you.” 

“Right because it’s so much easier to act like nothing happened and that you’re holding yourself together-” 

“I’m fine.” The words come out so fast they only gave weight to his argument.

“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Josh retorted.

“What the hell does it even matter to you?”

He said quietly, “More than you think.”

And then he leaves. The jerk just vanishes.

Sam stares at the spot he was just standing, then at the painting. It no longer feels wrong. 

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