#oc: raine williams

[the-castle-of-dimitrescu]

"She's perfect, Alci..." Raine breathed, sitting beside Alcina in her hospital room, gazing at the newest member of their family.

"Just like her mama." Alcina replied with a chuckle, turning her blue eyes to Raine, her smile contagious, as she held the newborn close to her chest.

Raine blushed at the compliment, leaning in to press her forehead to Alcina's before pressing a kiss to her lips, trying desperately to convey every ounce of love she felt in her heart for the woman before her.

"We haven't named her yet, you know." Raine noted, brushing her finger gently down the newborns cheek, smiling lovingly as a yawn escaped the infant.

"Elaina. Elaina Grace Dimitrescu-Williams. Or Williams-Dimitrescu, whichever you prefer, draga." Alcina replied, gazing down at their little one, a tired smile once more coming to her lips. "We can call her Ellie for short, as homage to Elliot." Alcina chuckled, which Raine quickly joined in.

"I told mum you were in labor last night. I'm sure she's beside herself wanting to see her." Raine hummed, sitting back with a contemplative look on her face. "Dad and Eli too. Not to mention the girls and Karl."

"Ugh, don't remind me of my idiot brother-in-law when we're sharing this precious moment, darling..." Alcina deadpanned, fixing Raine with a stare that earned a short laugh and an apology. "Be a good daughter and call Wendy and Sam. I'm sure they can't wait to meet their granddaughter."

Raine did just that, ringing Wendy as soon as she fished her phone from her pocket, the camera for their FaceTime already trained on the newborn in Alcina's arms.

Wendy answered on the second ring, her face coming on screen as Raine settled in beside Alcina, both of them watching as tears began streaming down Wendy's face, followed by muffled yelling for Sam to come and see.

"Good to see you too, mum." Raine laughed, the camera still capturing Eliana as Sam peered over Wendy's shoulder at the newborn. "Meet your granddaughter, Eliana Grace."

"Oh my God! Oh, she's absolutely precious!" Wendy sobbed, propping her glasses on her head so she could wipe at her eyes, while Sam continued to smile lovingly at the newborn. "Oh, I called Eli as soon as you texted me last night. He's here too, just give him a moment." Wendy signaled Raine to turn the camera so she could address them as she wiped at her nose with a tissue. "Alcina, how are you feeling, dear? Has my daughter been good to you?"

Raine groaned before handing Alcina the phone, the woman expertly balancing Eliana in one arm as she took hold of the phone with her other hand.

"She's been so wonderful the whole night, Wendy. A truly wonderful pillar of support, even if I almost crushed her hand and cussed her out during the process of delivery." Alcina chuckled, looking over at Raine, who was flexing her hand to prove it still worked, teasingly flipping Alcina off before slipping off the bed.

"Yes, well, at least it wasn't the hand that mattered, darling." Raine teased, arching a brow at Alcina before grabbing her wife's phone to call the girls.

"Oh, do remind the girls to be quiet when they come by to visit. I'll hopefully be able to get some rest before they make their presence known." Alcina winced, earning a quick 'noted' from Raine as she stepped out into the hall to call the girls. "And speaking of visits, when can we expect you to come and visit?" Alcina questioned Wendy.

"Whenever you'd like for us to come. Though these first few weeks are really about you and Raine bonding with her. And I'm sure the girls are going to be more than thrilled to meet their new sister."

"We would love to have you whenever you can come out. I can have Raine purchase the flight whenever you'd like."

"Please don't trouble yourself with our expenses, Alcina. We can cover our own flights." Wendy chuckled. "Oh! Eli, come see! Look at how precious your neice is!"

Alcina quickly turned the camera back to rear-facing so Elliot could see the newborn, a new smile on her lips as she watched an uncle meet his niece for the first time. Raine stepped back into the room then, seeing her brother's face on the screen. Watching his expressions as he spoke to Eliana for the first time, the way his eyes lit up as he simply looked at her, made her heart soar.

"You know, Eliana was the perfect name for her. We needed an 'Ellie' to go with 'Eli'." Raine chuckled, watching her brother's expression change again, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears before he moved out of the screen, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, he's absolutely in love, dear." Wendy beamed as she came back onto the screen.

They talked for several more minutes until a nurse knocked to come in. Raine was absolutely over the moon as she watched Alcina cuddle their daughter close. And then those blue eyes were on her, her smile causing her nose to crinkle just slightly as she waved Raine over with a crook of her finger.

"Your turn, mama. Mother needs to get some form of rest before the three wildcards show up." Alcina chuckled, handing Eliana over to Raine, smiling as she watched her wife cuddle their daughter for the first time, her eyes overflowing with love as she looked down at the infant, gently rocking her in her arms as Alcina laid back in the bed, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

Raine smiled as she closed the distance between them once more, leaning over to press a kiss to Alcina's forehead, whispering sweet nothings to her wife until she drifted off to sleep, her skin kissed by the soft glow of the sunrise peeking in through the blinds.

[imagionary]

From a dream I had last night about a moment from Misty's past I guess

[nerdexer]

I realized that I never posted Spirits Room on my tumblr!! well, better late than never!

This took me a month and I published it like a week ago... i still can't believe i forgot to post it to tumblr...

Enjoy this little back and forth between Abraham and William over the ship spirits room. I'm hoping to make it a series that continues after the events of the story.

Read it if you like! It's the first story that I've published on AO3! Feedback and tips appreciated (on drawing and writing)!!

[devil-doll13]

Graves of The Father

Tw: Angst, Horror, Death, Blood/Slight Gore, Implied Neglect/Abuse kinda?, Descriptions Of Corpses/Body Horrorish, like it gets a wee bit disgusting, Mentions of Birth, Religious Themes

Proceed With Caution!

I’m rather proud of this one, actually. It’s the most horror oriented fic i’ve made for Abigail yet. Some backstory/lore in here. A bit Lovecraftian but only a little. I’m still experimenting here lol.

Horror/Slasher Oc Writing For Abigail Williams

Basically a songfic, lyrics are in italics

Summary: Abigail & Her Father.

Dividers by firefly-dividers

Art by Takato Yamamoto

Sextons of the churchyard

Have seen unblessed things;

Ground no longer hallowed

Has sprouted new graves

Lucina Williams was found dead at 6:27, on a frosty November morning, in Salem, Massachusetts, in an old, weathered cemetery. She lay in the befouled hollow of an aged grave, her glassy eyes rolled back, convulsing in agony. And yet her face was twisted in an unnerving smile, disturbingly serene. She had died in a state of euphoric bliss. Happiness so unnatural, so completely grotesque, that her face had to be covered up in pictures; for the elderly gravekeeper’s state of mind. He had seen many awful things in his lifetime, but none so horrifying as this.

Lucy was buried in that very same churchyard. Her lonely grave untended to, unloved. No mourners or flowers were ever present, for she was disowned for some despicable deed the family would not speak of. Only that they were certain, absolutely so, that she had been taken in by the Devil; Lucy was pure evil.

The child she had given birth to, a pale, frightful specimen, was later christened Abigail. Her conception profane, her birth unnatural, her existence forbidden. A daughter of the grave, a creature born outside of God’s holy light. The wretched girl began her unfortunate life in shame. In the ever looming shadow of her mother’s sins, unable to redeem herself. A blight unto all; the final curse of a dying witch.

(The art of veneficium, Lucy learned from Him.)

Blasphemy made flesh. Ungodly freak, dark defiler. She poisons the family tree. The cuckoo in the nest. The snake in the grass. The fatal tumour.

The holy Father, not her Father, condemns her to eternal damnation, for rotten children do not deserve heaven. To plead for salvation is hopeless; there is no God who could give her purity back.

She simply should not exist.

(All of this, she has been told.)

Her family are repulsed by her, instinctively, but compelled by unknown forces to shelter her. They die one by one, at her unwilling command.

… But as a young girl she lives in merciful innocence. She knows not what she does, lost in her world of make believe. Strange yet wondrous creatures speak to her in the darkened night, as she dreams of flying amongst the glittering stars. Waving silver wands, casting magic spells. Dancing with dryads under the pale moonlight, enchanted by faeries; elven beings only she can see.

For if anyone were to turn their uncursed eye upon such abominations, madness would destroy them.

(Her older cousins, aged seven and eight, refused to speak of the incident. They refused to speak at all. Until death.)

Descendants of a clan

That usurped maternity

Hear whispers in their blood;

This summons of their fathers.

In a loveless home, she yearns for love, as all God’s children do. But cold hearts yield only emptiness, and hateful whispers spur her on to look elsewhere.

The graveyard beckons, begs her to draw closer. An almost desperate compulsion. Homesickness. As she walks amongst decaying tombstones, she hears ghostly whispers call out, and feels wraithlike fingers comb through her hair. A spectral voice cries out for sweet nourishment; she offers it her milk to pacify.

There, in the dark recesses of the churchyard’s ancient yew tree, she begs for comfort. She lies coiled as foul, egg despoiling serpent.

(As in the garden of Eden, she is the great deceiver.)

Inside she feels the thrum of an old God’s heartbeat. It exactly mirrors her own; an inherited resonance.

So powerful is this connection, she sees in her mind’s eye the unearthly form of the Father. The yew tree His outstretched hand, their gnarled, malformed branches His fingers, toxic sap His blood, unending roots His veins from which His dark ichor pulsates.

Her fingers trace the ancient bark, recounting primordial treelore. Her blood stirs with eldritch knowledge. Visions echo from another world far back behind her eyelids and inside her mind, as the Father summons her from deep below.

(Far from God’s condemning eye.)

“Forgive me Father

For I know not what I do;

My grave beckons

As irresistible as drawing breath.”

In the old yew she sleeps and dreams of His majesty. The Underworld, home of the blessed dead. Outside of this mundane plane of existence, his shadowy domain. It is a labyrinth of catacombs, endless and unfathomable. It eternally devours itself, serpentine; the cycle of life and death unfolding. Forever.

She peers into the gaping maw of Hades, in which the Great Gravekeeper resides. He sits upon a throne of misshapen yew, a monstrosity of wood and decayed flesh, and He is wreathed in bloodsoaked thorns and cloaked in an abyssal shroud. Atop His massive head rests His magnificent Crown of Horns.

The spirits of the departed kneel before Him in worshipful devotion, their servile offerings reek foul miasma. They chant in feverish orations, invoking His accursed epithet:

(Father of The Graves. None So Vile.)

His true name is unspeakable in human tongue, yet it throbs deeply in her soul, as familiar as her own.

His countless reptilian eyes turn to watch her in curious amusement. Her body shivers, an instinctive fear. The Father observes His daughter, and in recognition, He reaches out an ashy, skeletal hand for her to grasp. It is kindly, almost gentle. Loving.

… But every time she awakes in tormented screams. Her mortal brain is seized by otherworldly forces. Inside her witchblood boils with poison. She feels unbearably empty. The hollowness is agonising; she does not belong here. But there, by her Father’s side.

(And yet, she serves a purpose here, for He would not create without reason. Between life and death, she acts as His median emissary.)

Nature abhors a vacuum

The same is true to a tomb…

A vacant grave must be filled,

For this the Father’s will.

On Hallowe’en, she prepares for the welcoming feast.

The chosen victim lies screaming on the altar, gutted in ritual sacrifice. Arterial blood fills the chalice, spilling onto her conjuring sigil. A sickly green cloud of smoke emanates from within; The Dark Ones are appeased. She murmurs incantations, praying in an eldritch language. Her Father’s tongue.

Another shrill shriek of pain fills the air as she continues the disembowelment. Unflinching, she rips through soft flesh; carving out her choicest cuts. They cry and beg her to stop, to please god stop and oh god please stop like a bleating, pathetic lamb.

(“Be quiet.” She hisses. She must have silence.)

Candles flicker, wavering in the late October wind. Thunder cracks the livid sky, wild forks of lightning split across a hellish landscape of her own design. Acid rain floods a barren wasteland, corrupting the once fertile soil and disintegrating crops to dust. There is no escape. Under His reign, all will wither.

A gaping chest wound as she extracts the heart, relishing in the final cry of a slaughtered pig. For a moment she holds it, admiring the coveted organ. Dark, warm rivulets of blood flow across her palms and through her fingers. Pure and untainted. So unlike her own.

The first time she has killed with her own hands.

(It felt good to be cruel. To eat her guilt and shame.)

She turns back to her altar, prepares the sacrament:

A black box, dripping vile fluids; her phylactery. Her shadowed grimoire, bound in dark, hard leather. Nightshade, hemlock, aconite. An hourglass of ash, pilfered from a funeral urn. An assortment of bones, human and animal. Her ritual sickle, seeped in gore and entwined in snakeskin. Objects of witchcraft.

Now joined by the heart, lungs, stomach, the entrails, the severed head and the tormented soul. All them are hers now. Her cabalistic hoard. Madness overtakes her then. It spikes in her brain like fever. She grasps the overflowing cup of blood with one pale, bony hand. And, with a decadent sigh, tips it into her open mouth. It trickles slowly into her throat. She swallows it. It tastes like copper, like iron, like death; a flavour gone sweetly rancid.

(She is without mercy. Without compassion. The Father’s will is absolute. She will sow the bitter seeds of His funeral empire and be rewarded in death.)

Sired in blasphemy

In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts

Filled with necrolatry

Reverse the life cycle, be reborn through death

Now the time has come. She must reap her harvest.

Autumn’s frost bites her face. A deathly chill pierces her bones, but she does not shiver. She is serene, so oddly calm in her unraveling mind. Twisted, maligned branches of the old yew tree find her again and guide her to the cobwebbed graveyard.

Under the midnight sky, the tombstones appear as a sea of desolate grey waves, blanketed in fog like a funeral shroud. In that misty gloom, she walks amidst weeping spirits. They reach out with icy phantom limbs, offering up sepulchral hymns to their unholy lich mistress, they plead for their salvation; to be granted life once again.

(For the first time she will answer their prayers.)

Tonight, she will pervert life’s sacred order. Tonight, she will defy the righteous fury of God. Tonight, the Father’s will is to be carried out, as the once dead shall be reborn from the womb of the earth and usurp the living. By His will. By her will.

A moment of silence as she contemplates the vastness of her actions now, the end result of a perfect tantrum. She remembers all the faces turned away, all that would sneer at her demise. All of the fear, disgust and hatred, eyes seething and spiteful. Their eyes. Her eyes.

Blackened slivers of ichor drip from her sickle. Her own blood, her venom. So impure, so violently cancerous. It taints the consecrated land below. Theirs. Hers.

(Its blade reflects the moonlight, pale and haunting.)

And so from her lips spills a forbidden spell. Her cursed blood is absorbed into putrid grass, where it slowly coagulates into an obsidian snake. It slithers downward, downward, downward, into the many awaiting, hungry mouths of a thousand corpses.

From below an eerie moan. Singular, then multiplied. A foul odour wafts through the air as the tombs unseal, dark fog swirling in a shadowy haze. The Underworld exhale, from the filth they emerge:

Undead victims of plague, riddled with disease, lift their filthy, maggot-infested bodies from the infected earth. A writhing mass of baleful poxflesh, leaking yellowed pus and choked with vomit. Frenzied, murderous abominations scream in rage and bloodlust, tearing apart coffin lid and shattering tombstone to dust. Withered and shambling corpses groan in despair, ravenous victims of starvation. Their mortal hunger torments them still. They salivate and froth desperately at the mouth, crying in their desire to consume flesh and suck marrow from bone; to devour utterly. The drowned are bloated, soaked in embalming fluids. Their skin is cold and their lips are blue. They are still. Lifeless, glassy eyes stare up at the evil moon. Frozen. Possessed.

(Pestilence. War. Famine. Death.)

Observing her resurrected horde, she is filled with an intense feeling of power. It is intoxicating, so alluring. She reaches up an outstretched hand, as the malevolent puppet master, and they are forced to dance for her on invisible strings. Her magic binds their souls in eternal undying servitude. Pawns of her twisted vision, ensnared in her web, bewitched by her black sorcery. They shall all be as one. Necromantic slaves. Forever in her chains.

The Witching Hour bell tolls, thirteen times, as it did on the eve of her birth. The dead surround her in undivine mass; their vile priestess. They lift her onto many decrepit, rotted shoulders, and upon her head they crown a wreath of thorns, a halo of briar and sin. Her face is white, vacant. She no longer feels pain.

Infernal legions rise. Under her command, they begin their dread march. Onward, towards the apocalypse.

(No regrets. No going back. The end has begun.)

Her tears flow freely now, her body numb with cold. She recites in hushed whispers a final invocation, one final goodbye:

“Forgive me Father,

For I know not what I do;

I leave a void to fill one,

Hear my prayers from far below…”

Once I finally get around to writing that backstory fic it’ll add more context to this one. Thanks for reading!

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

[mimimarilynart]

Day 23 - William & Anthony

@toastedbuckwheat new scarf in the making, they won't ever be cold <33333

[alwaysonf1]

are they flirting?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: And this my loves, is the end of 'A Week.' Forever is within reach.

Charles’ every thought is filled with things regarding the way Iman dances. The schedule meant that there were two games that would happen while they were filming. Everyone was given the choice to go or not to go, but all of them jumped at the chance to experience the energy of the first night.

And despite how even now Charles wants to deny it, he’s more than just fascinated by this part of college life that he never would have gotten to experience. No, most of his interest lies with the girl with the bright smile dancing along to the band’s rendition of New Edition’s “Can You Stand the Rain.” Every move is made with a fluidness and grace that most only attribute to ballet.

As it winds down, and the girls take their seats he finds himself wishing for a repeat of the same performance. Maybe then he could look at all of them and not just stare at Iman the entire time.

Movement to his left draws his attention and breaks him out of embarrassing himself if Iman caught him looking at her for so long. He sees Lewis embracing someone and he assumes it’s a friend of Iman’s mom, but when they pull away, he’s met with the smiley face of Logan Sargeant.

The young Williams’ driver is chatting it up with Lewis as if they’re best friends. All while Charles can’t remember a time, he’s ever seen them interact. He’s not even sure he’s ever seen them look at each other.

It’s confusing and as if sensing his gaze, they both turn to look at him. Lewis wears a smirk and Logan’s smile is just as bright as when Charles first looked their way.

“Hey, Charles.”

“Hello.”

The silence following that greeting is loud, even in a loud stadium. As seconds tick by Logan’s expression morphs into confusion and then Charles watches as he looks to Lewis and the lightbulb clicks on.

“Oh! Sorry for crashing. I had some time to fly out here and I like to visit Iman when I can. Lewis said it would be fine for me to come since this is the last day of filming.”

That answers so little, but it does give Charles an opening.

“You know her?” he asks.

The smile returns. “Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Met at some of the competitions here.”

His explanation makes sense. Iman seems to have been somewhat involved with her brother and mother’s line of work all her life, even if it was in a more covert way. That meant she probably crossed paths with many drivers, even him, without any of them knowing who she was or her relation to Lewis. But Logan seems to know.

“Hold on. Have you always known about her? Them?”

Lewis laughs and Logan joins in. The other drivers walk over, their attention drawn away from the game that restarted. Most seem as confused as Charles was, but they greet the American driver warmly, nonetheless.

“He didn’t know until they were like eleven or twelve. They were already friends and she wanted me to meet him. We trusted him to keep the secret and he hasn’t let it slip even a little bit. In fact, he was on my side about not doing this at first, but hey, you know how siblings are, they get their way.”

“Really? You both lost against her?” Alex asks, amused.

“I rarely win against her. She knows how to divide and conquer, so she made some good points and so I helped her convince Lewis.”

“Giving yourself a lot of credit there with that help, huh Sargeant?” Lewis jokes.

Logan nudges him and laughs. “She’s the one who tells it like that. We both know I was there to just nod.”

This comradery is shocking. Charles feels like he’s in an alternate universe as he sees them talk and laugh together. He turns to look at his teammate and sees the confusion he knows is on his face too. Somehow, he’d managed to just accept that Logan of all people has known, but this dynamic change between the drivers is the real stunner.

It takes a bit, but he zones back into the conversation between the two.

“Like that time, she called my dad an ass and some things I’m just not comfortable repeating,” Logan says.

“Is he still scared of her?”

“Yup. He said something dumb, that’s on him.”

That subject is one Charles is interested in, but a throat clear draws his attention to Daniel.

“Any particular reason you didn’t want to?” Daniel asks.

“She’s my baby sister, I always want to protect her from how things can get. Ya know?”

A chorus of agreement sounds because everyone gets it.

Charles definitely knows. What he often deals with in the industry and with the media was the same, but also different from what Lewis got hit with. Sometimes he wanted to keep his family far away from the spotlight, but he left the choices in their hands and did what he could to limit some of the stuff that people would write and say about them for clicks.

The arena erupts in cheers, forcing the groups’ attention on the field. Southern’s team is leading by far and they’ve made another touchdown. The joy of the players can be seen by the way they celebrate in the end zone and Charles is reminded of how much he likes the camaraderie in sports. It’s there, but not as strong in motorsport. An expected outcome when even your teammate is a rival for a win.

For the rest of the game, they’re focused on the football part of it. It’s a good game and though the team is running away with the win it has its tense and exciting moments. When it ends, they allow everyone else to make their way out, post celebration, and then head to the tunnel that Iman told them to meet her. She’s already there near the exit with her bag and changed into her outfit for dinner. The green dress she’s wearing compliments her brown skin and fits her perfectly.

As they reach the last few feet Logan moves to take the lead. He jogs to her, and Iman drops her bag to hug him tight. There’s an uncomfortable churn in Charles’ stomach.

“Hey, Lo. Didn’t know you were coming,” Iman says.

“I had time and Lewis said it would be fine. Plus, it’s your last season. Have to see my big sister perform as much as I can.”

Logan removes himself from the hug and puts some distance between them as he says it. From the way Iman’s eyes narrow Charles can tell it’s a wise decision.

“It’s less than a year difference, you dork.”

“Still a difference.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Lance asks.

“Uh…”

“She’s twenty-three,” Lewis says.

Daniel coughs. “Twenty-three?” 

“You don’t remember your age?” Charles asks.

Iman gasps and lightly slaps his arm, which makes him laugh. “It’s a fresh twenty-three. And there are too many numbers in my head to keep track. And to answer the question I know is there, I took a little over a year for a gap. It involved working as a mechanic and traveling. If I wasn’t in GA or deep within the Mercedes or Williams areas, you would have run into me at almost every grand prix.”

A weird feeling fills Charles. He doesn’t like that they could have met sooner and didn’t. He gets why, but for some reason he wishes he’d gotten the chance. Though if he's honest the reason isn’t that mysterious to him, he’s just pushing it out of his head. He can’t linger on it for too long or he’ll do something stupid.

“But enough about that. We need to leave now to get to the restaurant on time. All questions can be asked there.”

And with that she picks up the bag - which is then taken by Logan - and they all follow her out to the cars. She gets into the one Logan is driving. Lewis does as well and without question Charles follows them. He’s been attached at the hip to the Hamilton siblings all week, so he finds no reason not to be now. 

And he ignores the smirk on Carlos and Daniel’s faces as they watch him go.

Once inside Logan pulls off while Iman puts the address into the GPS. Then she turns up the volume to a song and both of them basically scream the lyrics as if they’re the only two there. Charles looks to Lewis who is amused and looks at them in adoration. He finds himself smiling and humming along to the song, but let’s them have their moment.

Minutes into the drive, and a few songs later, Charles’ eyes shift to the rear view mirror just as Iman looks into it. She sees him and winks, all while continuing what has turned into screeching.

The dumb smile on his face can’t be helped.

###

Laughter fills the restaurant, the three tables they’re using all having various different conversations but all in a happy, upbeat mood. Things were a little awkward when everyone arrived, no one knew where to sit and were clearly uncertain with how the tables should mix. Iman had to take control and get them to sit anywhere, even if that meant it was between two drivers. 

Iman found herself in between Logan and Charles, with Lewis right across from her. All three were carrying the conversation while she ate off her and Logan’s plates, her mind mostly consumed with eating as much as the oddly delicious asparagus while refusing to order more. 

Before she knew it both of theirs was gone and a pout formed on her lips. One that she’s hyper aware of to the point that she shakes her head a little and pulls it together. Reminding herself that she’s being silly.

Her stomach doesn’t get the memo though. It does a weird swirl, and it makes her wonder if she should order more of it. She shakes her head and tunes back into the conversation, focusing on the way Logan wheezes as he laughs at something that Lewis said. Something that Iman knows wasn’t that funny, but that the two of them clearly think lists her brother as king of comedy. 

It's almost a reflex as she turns to meet Charles' gaze and give him an eye roll about their theatrics. He’s wearing a bright smile and laughing softly, but with the way he looks at her Iman knows that laughter is largely because the two men are ridiculous.

Having that sort of connection makes her feel sane and pushes a laugh of her own out. But it causes an itch in her throat and before it can get any further, she reaches for her drink. Just as it reaches her lips her eyes notice her plate is no longer in front of her and instead it’s one that looks like it once held what Charles ordered.

Iman’s eyes move back to the man, and he’s immersed in the conversation with a producer and Lance. She stares at him for a while, lips parting to speak and then his head turns toward her. Charles winks at her, motions toward the plate, and then rejoins his conversation.

A soft grin forms on her lips and she grabs her fork, digging into what she promises herself will be the last of her new found addiction for the night. Mid chew she looks up and meets Logan’s gaze and he has a smirk on his face. His eyes twinkle with amusement and a knowing look that she hates to see on him. It’s the signal that he’s either going to say something she won’t like that he knows something that she doesn’t or something she doesn’t want to address.

Quickly she swallows the vegetable and glares at him.

“Shut it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar.”

His hand moves to his chest, and he fails an expression of faux hurt. “I would never.”

Yet again Iman finds herself rolling her eyes, but when she stops her attention is on her brother who wears a similar expression to Logan’s from moments ago.

“I’m sick of your shit.”

Lewis gapes. “Mine?”

“Both of yours.”

“Hey. I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s mean!”

Exasperated is not a fitting enough word for how she feels in the moment about their antics. Despite her ignoring certain signs and feelings herself she’s smart enough to not ignore them noticing all of that. And the fact that they want to comment and encourage it. No one ever tells the cons to having the world’s biggest cheerleaders by your side.

“Either of you open your mouths to say anything that’s running through those brains of yours when you speak again, and I’ll pop you.”

Both lean a bit away from her at that and a smile forms because she knows they won’t push it. At least not for the night. There’s no universe where she’s delusional enough to think that the subject is dropped forever. 

Lewis breaks the ice first, asking her questions about the rest of her season and making a joke that he’s going to be spend more time on the plane this season than he has all the others. From there it’s jokes and catching up with each other. Those close to them join in here and there, some even bring their chair to their part of the table to talk. At some point Charles joins back into the mix and he speaks like he’s been in on all the jokes as long as they have. And he ensures that her water is always topped off and slips her a piece of the cake she swore she wants none of.

By the time the night is over it’s like a peaceful high. They all head back to the hotel, Lewis got her a room for the night, and it’s both hard and easy for her to drift off at ease. In the morning they met for breakfast as their last meeting before everyone, except Logan, were headed to the airport. There were hugs all around and Charles is the last to embrace her, both of them lingering longer than the norm.

She and Logan wave to them until the vans are out of sight. With them officially gone Iman sighs and turns to head back into the hotel. Logan is giving her a look, his brow raised a little as he grins like the cheshire cat.

“Shut up.”

“Nope.”

She walks away and he keeps up with her quick pace and as the elevator doors close, he has a million and one questions and opinions on a situation he got to experience for less than twenty-four hours. 

[buckysgrace]

Every Little Thing Masterlist

Gator Tillman x Daphne Williams (Fem!OC)

Daphne Williams has slowly been filling the hole in her heart for the past three years. She poured herself into traveling, into meeting new interesting people and learning new tricks and habits. She’s finally moved on and found herself a caring fiancé who she’s sure her parents will adore. There’s only one person she could think of that would ruin her happiness: Gator Tillman.

(18+ smut, cheating, references to underage sex and homophobia, cheating, unplanned pregnancy)

The Bones

My Heart Can't Tell You No

Passionate As Sin

Religiously

December

Blue

I Keep Looking

Cowboys Never Cry

Butterflies

Springsteen

Sand in My Boots

Photograph

The Last Time

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

Colder Weather

Rock and A Hard Place

Forever and Ever, Amen

Why Won't You

Meant To Be

Bubbles

Life With You

Here Comes the Sun

Roses in the Rain

Take Your Time

Love Me Like You Mean It

Strangers

Slow Burn

In the End

Linda

Second Chance

Smoke & a Light

Extras :

Williams Family Lore

[shoshiwrites]

7 from the February Nosebleed Club prompts for Jo/Egan🖤 - @lostloveletters

7. "pinky," Bucky Egan/war correspondent OC. @mercurygray or @basilone didn't know they were collaborating with me on this but they did:)

If she’s keeping count, this is the second time Bucky Egan has acquainted his fist with someone’s face on her behalf. 

That she knows of. If she’s keeping count.

Someone. William. Her William. Was. If he’s anyone’s William he’s not hers anymore, as he stumbles back, his fingers grasping at the worn, smooth wood of the bar. Rubbing his jaw as it makes a noise that curdles her stomach. He tries to hit back but he’s too stunned, too fuzzy from the beer, and Bucky just leans back and lets him miss.

His shoulders slope towards her like an aside, as he demonstrates with his hand. Behind them, the publican starts making noises, about the lack of respect, the threat of throwing them all out. It’s all true. She’s seized by a sudden flight in her feet, but he’s standing here next to her, and she doesn’t move. “See, just like I told you, gotta keep the thumb in like this-”

William runs his tongue over his teeth, his voice ragged and angry and different. “Jo.” 

She opens her mouth to speak — to say, she doesn’t know what — but all John does is stand between them, the threat of more should someone dare try, the blood rushing in her ears.

The woman William had been chatting up — the one in the blue dress — the one whose name she does or doesn’t know — is gone. 

And he leaves. Turns and leaves like a coward before she’s had the chance to throw the ring in his face. Not that she's one for that kind of display, but considering that her companion, tall enough that he has to watch his head for the beams, had just been moved to fisticuffs completely sober, well-

It all sounds different now, in her voice. Breaking, light. “John.”

“You alright, Captain?” he says, before he catches himself, realizes what she’s just called him. She’s not a captain tonight anyway, and maybe that’s one in her army of mistakes. Her trousers, her blouse, the medallion beneath the neckline. She wears it now instead of keeping it safe.

Is it raining outside? It smells like it will, or did, when she pushes through the door, the air thick and almost warm. He follows her out, the bike or two parked outside and a jeep. Around the side of the pub, a quiet path.

“Jo.”

What is she supposed to say? William doesn’t think she deserves to be here. William doesn’t think anything she writes is any better than anything any man with a byline could spit up. And she’d agreed to marry him. She’d thought that was ok. 

And John-

The day they’d come back from the scrapped mission, the one she’d been allowed to observe. Observe. A miracle she can hardly still believe, in more ways than one. Dumb luck, more like. It still sets her heart racing, if she thinks too hard about it. 

The ground beneath their feet again, and her knees knocking together and her ankles, the relief. The scarf damp against her collarbone. I knew you’d get up there, he’d said. You don’t let us tell you no. Mention how good I looked flying past you n’ Buck, alright?

Like it wasn’t a question. 

“Jo, tell me you don’t think he’s got the right to do that to you.” She’s frozen, like something could wind back what just happened. Her eyes fill with tears. He sees them, she knows he does. She’s still wearing the goddamn ring. She shakes her head, the smallest noise.

"What do you want, Jo, huh?” The question moves through his whole body, his arms, his hands. He means it, every word. You want me to find him and hurt him? I’ll do it. You want me to go kill a guy, I’ll go kill a guy. I do it all the time, it’s easy. “What do you want?" 

You.

It’s a shock in her chest, for the times she’s thought it before. Like a match lighting in a dark room.

Quieter now, his eyes trained on her. “What do you want?”

“You to kiss me.”

He stops. Only a second, trying to see her in the dark-dusk, against the trees and the tangled hedges, the last slivers of fading light. 

She’s looking up at him, watching him, before he stoops, so close that she can feel the curls against his forehead. A breath, that shaking pause, before he presses his lips against hers. Seeking her. He doesn’t taste like the beer he hasn’t drank, only toothpaste and the smell of aftershave, and warmth, and a little sweat. 

Her top lip in both of his, her hands at his jacket, her fists balled like she’ll drown.

“Easy there,” he says, the words dancing with a laugh, the complete absence of meaning it. She can’t help it, the stupid grin on her face, his hand cupping her jaw, his thumb on her cheek. The way he doesn’t stop kissing her.

The smallest stuttered noise in the back of his throat, the kind she feels in her hips. God-

“John-”

“Say that again.”

She whacks her palm lightly against his shoulder, pulls it back slow as his tongue catches at her front teeth. “Won’t push my luck on a Bucky, then-”

“Since when-” she says, and he wants to laugh again, how breathless she sounds. He’s here, he’s here, for how long, for how long- “Since when don’t you push your luck-”

He smiles against her mouth. The noise of people leaving the pub, or coming in. She straightens up, but he doesn’t pull all the way back. “If that’s all it took to get you to smile-" The back of his neck is warm under her hands, the short hair. He’s a little breathless too, the kind that stops her heart. “Am I better?”

Her lips press the soft spot against the side of his mouth, so firm she feels the gums beneath.  “What do you think, Major?”

He’s beaming, here in the dark. “I think I like it when you call me Major.”

“Do you, now?”

“Or John.” He presses his thumb against her chin, her bottom lip.

“Or Bucky.”

Soft against her ear, his voice. “Or Bucky.”

[loveandplanet]

Bastard

A/N: When depressed, don't do it alone, make others suffer- (/j)

Pairing: F! OC Evelyne "Snake" Gray x Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, mentioned Moot! OC Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price, Moot! OC Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley-Mactavish x John "Soap" Mactavish

CWs: Canon MWIII, Major Character Death, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, talk of death, funerals, cursing, canon-typical violence, mention of past scars.

Kyle could see the stress on Evelyne's entire being, her body tense, and her eyes flickering across the tarmac, mind on high alert. Her body jerks when he steps out of the helo, instantly moving into motion. He's almost shocked when she throws herself in his arms; almost. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close. This mission was hard on all of them, and yet Makarov still got away. Evelyne pulls away from him when she deems his body free of major injury.

His heart aches when she looks over his shoulder, a mix of anxiety and confusion plaguing her features when she only sees Ghost and Havoc walk out of the helo after him.

"Where's Soap?"

Evelyne's voice cracks on the name of her friend. John steps into her line of view, face grim. The captain holds his hand out, Johnny's vest patch sitting in his palm, the British flag glaring back at her. When she looks up at him, she doesn't see John William Price, she sees the same monster she saw in her father. A bastard who doesn't give two fucks about those around them, making decisions based on how it affects them, damning innocent people involved.

"You bastard!"

Kyle barely has a second to react before his wife lunges and lands a solid right hook on the face of his captain. He can hear the crack of John's nose breaking upon impact, the smell of copper filling his own nose.

"You killed him! This is your fault, Price!" Evelyne screeches into the night as Kyle tries to hold her steady, failing until Havoc comes over to assist.

"It should have been you!"

John watches as a wailing Evelyne is carried away by Havoc and Kyle. He should start coming up with excuses to give Kathy as to how he broke his nose. He tightens his grip on Johnny's dog tags, coming to terms with what comes next. If Evelyne could bring even a SAS soldier to his knees with her words, Meabh could move mountains with her voice. There was nothing more powerful and fearsome than a woman who has lost everything.

Ghost rests a hand on John's shoulder as he walks past. Kate takes the patch from his hand, promising to give it to Evelyne when she calms down. John doubts that will happen anytime soon.

Evelyne was never one for poetic things in life, but it was damn near ironic that it was raining the day she visits Johnny- well, his grave, that is. She tries to imagine how his wife reacted; if she screamed, or if she was in too much shock to react. Her coils rest on the nape of her neck, hidden beneath the hood of her sweatshirt. Her hand shakes around the handle of her umbrella as she stands before the tombstone, her boots sinking in the mud. Her lower lip wobbles as she sucks in a breath.

"The intel was bad, Johnny,"

The ground beneath her moves as Evelyne falls to her knees, the fabric of her jeans darkening from the wet soil.

"I'm so, so sorry"

Next to the other flowers that rest there, Evelyne lays upon the disturbed earth a single rose.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah, love?"

Evelyne moves onto her side, slowly laying her head on his chest. Kyle's hand hesitates before lightly resting on her scarred back.

"Promise me you won't leave me."

She knows it's a cruel thing to ask, given their line of work, but she can't help herself. Hot tears stream down her cheeks when Kyle places a kiss to the crown of her head, holding her close, before uttering the words she needed.

"I would never,"

[the-whispers-of-death]

High School Teacher AU

So the results from this poll was to do the AU with both my OCs & the 141, but I want to clarify that while I might do Teacher!141 x Reader if asked, this AU is mainly a Kali x Stone AU. The 141 aren't really the main focus (though that's not to say they'll only appear rarely).

Anyways, I wanted to first to an introduction of all of the characters (because I finally named my newest OC). We're going to talk about what class they're teaching, a little bit about them in this AU.

We're going to do this by grades (because some of them are teaching the same subject ((ie history)) but they're different classes). It's important to note that this is a U.S. high school, not a British/UK one. Also, some of them still have their callsigns because those callsigns could easily be written as a nickname they got from students.

Okay now onto the cast:

Peter Williams, Personal Fitness (Grade 9)- Coach Williams is well-loved by the students and is a former Marine. He's not very strict, very much lenient, hence why the freshmen love him. He has a knife scar that goes through his left eyebrow and all the way through his left eye (but didn't blind him). He is known for gushing about his wife and daughters (though some students and faculty believe that Mr. Greene is actually his "wife").

Arun "Hellstorm" Khatri, Environmental Science (Grade 9)- Mr. Kahtri is a former Naval pilot and is known as "Hellstorm" because he once "rained hell" down on a teacher who humiliated a student by making them stand outside the classroom with a sign detailing how they misbehaved. That being said, he is known for looking like he's perpetually bored due to his face usually being neutral and his voice monotone.

Kyle Garrick, Creative Photography 1 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Garrick is a former SAS soldier who moved from the UK to teach kids how to get into photography. He teaches Creative Photography 1 only because he primarily works with film instead of digital cameras. Students often gush about how he makes them love photography and how his tips help them become better photographers.

John MacTavish, 2D Studio Art 1 & 2 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. MacTavish is a former SAS soldier and he moved from the UK to help American kids either start their artistic career or better improve their artistic skills. He's very out-going and he's a hit amongst the students. Don't tell the administrative faculty, but he often puts on movies for the kids on slow days.

Fariz "Heartthrob" Shah, Nutrition & Wellness (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Shah is a former Marine and he got his nickname due to being very charismatic. He is said to make all of the faculty swoon and even some students (though he stays away from students, even if they're eighteen). He teaches his students the joys of cooking.

Ashok Kumar, Chorus 1, 2, & 3 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Kumar is a former Marine and he is extremely tall at 6'8". He walks a fine line of being demanding in terms of choir performance while also having days where his classes are just watching movies to relax. He and his senior chorus class go to Disney every year to perform. His choirs have won more trophies than the football team.

John Price, World History (Grade 10)- Mr. Price is a former SAS soldier and he moved to America as a favor to the principal of the high school whom he had fought alongside with. He is considered to be a rather fair teacher, stern but not too strict. He's vying to be the favorite history teacher among the tenth graders, often clashing with Stone/Mr. Mishra who also teaches tenth graders.

Vasanti Singh, IT Systems and Applications (Grade 10)- Ms. Singh is a former information systems technical and she took this teaching job simply because it was easy enough to let her mind rest. She's known to goof around, being a hit among the students and the other faculty members. Most students take her class because they think it'll be easy, oh how wrong they are.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, Weight Training 1, 2, & 3 (Grades 10-12)- Coach Riley is a former SAS soldier and he is known for being a hard-ass. He's really strict and has made kids cry, but he was the best out of all of the potential candidates so he got hired. His nickname is due to him being able to just disappear without anyone noticing. He lowkey has animosity towards Coach Williams because he doesn't understand why Coach Williams is so easygoing with the students. He pushes his students to be the best they can be. He has declined offers to become the new football coach, despite his leadership potentially being the key to improve the football team.

Nathan Greene, AP Pre-Calculus (Grades 10-12)- Dr. Greene is a former Marine and he has a PHD in mathematics. He could be teaching at a college and be a professor, but he loves to help improve younger students' love for mathematics. He is rumored to be Coach Williams' "actual" wife as he once popped his head in the gym and asked "how their girls were doing" while referring to Coach Williams' daughters. He has a son and most faculty members who believe Coach Williams and Dr. Greene are actually married swear up and down they can see similarities in both Dr. Greene's son and Coach Williams.

Vikram "Stone" Mishra, United States History (Grades 10-12)- Mr. Mishra is a former Corpsman and is a complete mystery to most people. He has managed to hide his first name from most faculty members and all of the students, as the scantrons they take in his class only refer to him as "Stone Mishra". No one knows where the nickname comes from, but every adult refers to him as "Stone". Students are in awe of his countless old battle scars, enough so that they take his class despite knowing how strict he is. He is often told to be the strictest teacher on campus.

Ivan Kohli-Petrov, AP English Literature & Composition (Grades 11-12)- Mr. Kohli-Petrov is a former Marine and is a man of few words. Despite being mostly silent, his teaching has helped the school's overall test scores improve with how much he makes his class seem more fun. Most juniors and seniors say he makes reading more fun than their previous English teachers. He's not known for his friendliness, considering the looks he gives whenever someone asks him how the right side of his body got severely burned.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Introduction:

Hi, Everyone. I'm Luna. I've been a wrestling fan since the early 00s and a Roman Reigns stan since the second he debuted with the shield. He was/is my first, current and forever wrestling crush 💕 I'm here to post fan art, fan fiction, edits and occasionally shitpost 💖

If you do not agree with any of the following statements, unfollow me expeditiously:

BLACK LIVES MATTER ✊🏿✊🏾✊🏽

Protect trans kids (and all lgbtqia2s youth) 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

Love is love 🏳‍🌈

Land back 🌿

Fuck the patriarchy 👸🏾

Free Congo 🇨🇩

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Free Sudan 🇸🇩

Destigmatize mental health 🧠

No abelism ❌

No one has to believe in or abide by standards set forth by your sky daddy 🙃

Favorite Wrestlers -

Roman Reigns (Obviously my #1 always and forever)

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

Solo Sikoa

The Samoan Dynasty as a whole (Zilla, Jacob, Journey, Lance, Thamiko, Ava Raine, The Rock, Tamina, Trinity, Nia, Rikishi, Umaga, Yokozuna, Samoan Storm/Manu, Black Pearl, Samu, Tonga Kid and more. I love that whole family.)

Seth Rollins

Jon Moxley

Damien Priest

Carmelo Hayes

Trick Williams

Bianca Belair

Jade Cargill

Lash Legend

Kelani Jordan

Jaida Parker

Edge

The Undertaker.

My other wrestling related accounts:

Black Women in wrestling - @blkgirlwrestling

Damien Priest - @allriseforpriest

Carmelo Hayes/Trick Williams/Kelani Jordan- @mrs-melodontmiss

Backup account - @tribalchiefsprincess

Other accounts:

Lokean devotional account - @lokirescuedme

Random shitposting / Megan Thee Stallion - @lunadoesshitposting

Criminal Minds account - hiatus

TVD account - hiatus

Hamilton account - inactive

Masterlist:

🌶 = Smut 🩵 = Fluff 💔 = Angst

Roman ☝🏾

Jealous - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

Good For You - Roman Reigns x reader (first person pov) 🌶

34+35 - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

There Goes My Baby - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

No Yeet - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶 🩵

Apologies - Roman Reigns x OC 🩵💔

Nonsense - Roman x OC 🌶 🩵

Worst To Me - Roman x OC 🌶 🩵💔

Solo 👍🏽

A Gorgeous Necklace - Solo Sikoa x OC 🌶

Water - Solo Sikoa x OC 🌶

Jey 🤙🏾

Sugar - Jey Uso x Reader (first person pov) 🌶 🩵💔

Jimmy 🤪

**COMING SOON**

Zilla 👎🏾

**COMING SOON**

[the-castle-of-dimitrescu]

"Alcina, we're literally trapped in the desert... I knew we should have taken my Jeep." Raine sighed, glancing out of the passenger side window at the vast expanse of open sky that gave way to as many stars as the eye could see.

Alcina tried to rock the car again, struggling as the tires spun uselessly on the soft sand beneath them, cursing under her breath as she shoved the gearshift back into park, raking her fingers through her hair with a sigh.

Raine looked over at her, her eyes softening, before reaching over to place her hand on Alcina's thigh, giving her soft skin a gentle squeeze, drawing amber eyes over to look at her.

"Hey, it's okay. We can call a tow to come get us out." Raine smiled, all teeth until her nose crinkled slightly.

"I'm sorry, darling. I wanted this to be a lovely date night for us. Unfortunately I wasn't expecting us to be nearly run off the road by a group of teenagers..."

Raine smiled again, shaking her head just slightly before leaning over the center console, pressing her lips firmly to Alcina's, drawing the other woman in to the kiss.

"I thought it was perfect." Raine smiled, her right hand now resting on Alcina's thigh, thumb gently stroking against warm skin. "But... I could think of a way that it could end better..."

Raine slipped out of the passenger side and climbed into the back seat, gazing at Alcina expectantly from where she was perched. The raven-haired woman followed her date's lead, climbing from the driver's seat and making her way into the back, shutting the door behind her.

Before she could even situate herself on the seat, Raine had tugged her over to straddle her lap, her lips immediately searching for purchase at the pulse in Alcina's throat, drawing a gasp that dissolved into a deep moan from her red lips. Alcina immediately raked her fingers through Raine’s hair, her knees digging into the leather of her seats, her left hand gripping the headrest as her hips began to slowly rock against Raine’s.

Raine eagerly pushed Alcina's skirt up, her hands coming to rest on her hips when she let out a low moan of her own against Alcina's neck.

"No panties? Naughty girl, Alci..." Raine purred, squeezing Alcina's hips just right as she raked her teeth over her exposed neck, drawing a mewl of pleasure from her lover's lips.

Alcina's hips bucked at the roar of pleasure coursing within her, her breaths coming out in ragged pants as she tried desperately to get friction against her swollen nub.

"Raine... Gods, fingers darling, please..." Alcina panted, leaning her head forwards, forehead pressed against Raine’s shoulder as the young woman complied, reaching between them, albeit awkwardly, to push two fingers deep within Alcina's wet core.

"Oh fuck...!" Alcina yelped, her hips rolling now, taking Raine’s fingers deep within her before sliding them back out, gasps and moans leaving her lips as she did so, feeling Raine’s lips and teeth and tongue against the exposed skin of her neck.

She pulled back, angling herself just slightly, now gripping the headrests of the front seats, gazing down at Raine as she felt the pads of her fingers press deliciously against her frontal wall, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her abdomen.

Raine brought her left hand between them, thumb dutifully circling Alcina's clit, fingers pressed just so against her pubic bone, grinning up at Alcina as she watched her boss and lover come absolutely undone from the pleasure.

When Alcina came, she came hard, crying out her release as her inner walls clenched and fluttered around Raine’s fingers, her thighs clenching and trembling against Raine’s, before collapsing against her chest, heaving gasps still struggling to fill her lungs.

Raine gently pulled her fingers free, immediately sucking one clean of Alcina's release, gazing at her lover from the corner of her eye as she did so. Alcina leaned up just slightly, pulling Raine’s other finger into her own mouth, moaning at her taste against Raine’s skin, before releasing her finger with an audible pop, her gaze focused intently on Raine’s.

Raine managed to situate them just enough in the backseat so she could kneel on the floor, Alcina's head against one door, one foot planted on the seat, the other propped over Raine’s shoulder, as the young woman greedily licked her date clean, savoring the taste of her on her tongue.

Alcina's fingers found purchase in her hair once more, keeping her mouth pressed firmly against her core, a new wave of moans leaving her lips as Raine licked and sucked at every drop that tried to get past her hungry mouth.

When Alcina came again, Raine made sure to properly savor the taste, groaning against Alcina's slick core before pulling away and gazing up at her lover's glazed eyes.

"You just wait... Until I get you home... Draga mea..." Alcina huffed, easing herself upright before leaning down to take Raine’s lips with her own, her tongue immediately pushing past parted lips to explore Raine’s mouth, tasting herself on her lover's tongue.

"I'll drive." Raine hummed, climbing out of the backseat before walking around to the driver's side door, dropping into the leather chair that Alcina has been occupying previously.

She felt arms wrap gingerly around her shoulders and teeth at the shell of her ear, before Alcina's husky voice filled the space between them.

"When we get back to the vineyard, I expect you to properly fuck me, darling..."

[cervicrazed]

Can I get the whole hog for Wilton Rader pls

Oh man...the og...

I have been so evil to this poor guy and i will do it again

OC lore for the poster boy of suffering below:

^ This is Wilton Rader (late 20s & mid 50s respectively)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Wil here was the first victim of my 'W' name obsession

I didn't wanna give him a "boring" name like William, so I looked up variants that 'Wil' could be a nickname for + Wilton won

last name (Rader) was picked bc together his name means 'Wheelmaker Who Lives by the Stream' & it felt like a nice little easter egg foreshadowing his retirement

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

As of the Dead Wood storyline, he's in his mid-late 60s

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Walt!! They met after being recruited for a demonic civil war neither really wanted to take part in. They became nearly inseparable over the course of The War, but Wilton still had a hard time coming to terms with how he really felt. He was only able to admit his love for Walt many many years later, when he thought the world was about to end. your typical mlm confession

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Being the only member of his family that can't feed off of intangible emotions, he's forced himself to learn how to cook and is pretty good at it!

He's got terrible food anxiety regarding red meats, so he uses fish and eggs instead - he loves making quiches!

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Wilton is a woodworker! He goes into town every so often to sell his wares; anything from bed frames and cabinets to mini wooden sculptures

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Wilton likes to spend his free time reading, or at least practicing.

He never got the chance to go to school, so never learned to do it in his youth; a fact that he's embarrassed of but will never admit.

🎯 -What do they do best?

He insists his only talent is whittling & carving and will fervently refute anyone who says otherwise.

Unfortunately for him, it's hard for many to forget his fearsome and bloody past.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Aside from woodworking, Wilton loves to take long walks along the river, especially when it rains. It's a deeply calming experience for him.

He hates having to recall or talk about his younger years. Apart from meeting Walt, he doesn't believe there's anything good worth remembering, let alone telling his daughter.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Holding a baby Bambi in his arms for the first time. Well, "arms". She was so small that she fit into the palms of his hands and her teeth hadn't yet grown in; he stayed up all night just holding and rocking her.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

A tactical error during The War led to him and his troop being ambushed and his wings were ripped out for trophies. As punishment, he spent his entire recovery in a nightmare coma induced by the demon that lives in his brain.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

yes and no..

OG design is him as a youngin w/ a blue hoodie he never takes off (bc of the little antlers)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

an RPG i was apart of run by @/fvriva on Scratch, my first social media

He was originally a mlp horse(?) turned human if you can fuckn believe it....

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Fantasy Body Horror

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Cis(?) + Aspec

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Just Warren, but they don't talk much without interference from Bambi. After mauling him, Wilton doesn't feel like he deserves to have a relationship with his brother. He respectfully keeps his distance.

�� - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

TERRIBLE.

His father (Gindikouk) is a demonic spirit of decay who trapped and tortured him in his own mind for decades. Wilton wants nothing more than to forget about His existence entirely.

His mother (Fable Monroe) was a witch who only gave birth to him so Gindikouk could have a host body. She died before he could meet her, but that was probably for the best.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

The angst for sure, but also exploring how he heals from it.

It's pretty easy to traumatize a character but it's been more interesting to see how they put themselves back together.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

I used to write about and draw this guy all the time.

I've since let him "retire" so I can focus more on Bambi + co!

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I had a lot of drafts where I killed him off and none of em felt like a satisfying end for him.

He's technically dead in Dead Wood, but that's after getting a happy ending so it's fiinnee

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

That Gindikouk will somehow worm His way back into Wil's life

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Gindikouk. hands down.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Since 2013 i think!

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

12!

[waywarddreamerphantom]

"Can you love me... like this?"

Summary: The story tells us about Jack Smith (The Rippers) and Mikhail Romanov with his much worse past than Jack's. (Everything will follow the manga Record of Ragnaroc :Jack the Ripper Case Files)

! NSW? ¿ , Fluff, My oc(again), Angst, and more than I not know…😑.

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

"I can give you the opportunity to kill a god."

Valkyrie said to Jack, who was sitting and drinking tea somewhere in the garden.

"What is your answer?"

"Certainly, miss"

"I can't wait to see what color to the supreme being will be colored"

Jack said scratching his mustache and looking into a hot cup of tea.

"Are you aware of the consequences? Defeats mean total destruction."

Valkyrie said, listening attentively to Jack's answer.

"He-He"

Jack simply replied, looking at the tea.

"A coward dies many times to death, but a brave one…It inspires only once"

.....

London 1888 age.

"Oh... and now the rain has It's over"

Emily said, looking up at the sky, but then turned her attention to the two men.

"Thank you for waiting, Misters..."

"Thank you very much, Miss"

Suddenly, Jack lowered the newspaper that had just gone on sale. Emily was embarrassed at this, but then she felt the stern gaze of another man, Who leaned on his cane.

"Thank you!!! Here's your order!"

She put the apple cake on a plate and quickly ran back under the same menacing gaze of Mikhail.Jack just smiled at that and I started eating the cake under already more relaxed eyes and after swallowed the first piece, he said:

"Detective, please don't be like that to an ordinary waitress."

To which he was only a little embarrassed and grinned and said

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Jackie... it's just that if this happens again, I'll have to learn how to make your favorite pies myself. By the way Has this Jack the Ripper appeared again... I'm so scared"

He whispered the last part with a grin, looking at Jack who squinted and said:

"The fear is Explicit is nothing … before the horrors of the imagination "

"'Macbeth' William Shakespeare? "

"That's right, my dear."

Suddenly, a man's voice rang out at the next table, Mikhail turned his head and saw that it was Lock Evans shouting at his assistant who was already choking on his food. He wasn't interested in it until he heard that Evans was married.

"Married..."

He looked at his ring finger which had a ring imprint on it.

"Just like I used to... with Katya."

"Journalists are so busy, aren't they?"

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by Jack's voice asking him.

"Oh... yes! "

He smiled at Jack, who was watching the departing Lock and his assistant intently.

Time skip in night…

"Thank you very much Mikhail for deciding to help me take care of these animals!"

Mikhail's friend, who works in an animal nursery, said, to which Mikhail only smiled as he left the store.

"I just love animals... that's all...Goodnight my friend "

when he was walking back home at night. He could only think that Jackie would suit him. But suddenly a cloth was placed on his lips and blocked the passage to escape. And as luck would have it, his cane left it at home...

Time skip (again)

Evans hummed a song while cleaning his knife, while Mikhail himself lay on the medical table, only his lower body covered.

"As soon as I open this cute shell all their ugly guts will come out so that the whole world can see what shepherds they are."

Then he took a scalpel knife and looked at the unconscious Mikhail. I leaned over to him and whispered:

"You thought I wouldn't find out..."

At the same time, he applied a scalpel to his stomach..

"that you're not a man everywhere...I will cleanse you from your prophets... from the whole world... in the name of the Lord."

"The prophets us given by the gods… to make us human, not gods."

Suddenly, a mysterious man appeared in the room in the shade, who was sitting on the sofa next to the open window and sipping tea.

"Who are you!?"

Evans turned and pointed a scalpel at the stranger in fright.

"however..."

The darkness cleared and it turned out to be... Jack?!

"From these prophets, tragedy is born..."

Jack narrowed his eyes and looked at the ripper.

"It's quite ironic..."

"Who…who are you?!!"

Jack suddenly got up and started walking towards him.

"Don't come any closer! … What the hell are you doing in my house?! "

"I haven't done anything yet..."

Jack smiled and pulled up his glove.

"But It's going to change soon!"

Evans thought about it and looked first at the floor, then at Mikhail, and already with a devilish smile, he smiled and looked at Jack.

"in that case... I'll have to kill you!"

Jack just looked at him in surprise. Suddenly, a Ripper with a knife ran into him, but he fell to jump away from the knife, hitting only a little of his hair.

"You're good with a knife... you killed a lot of people with it, right?"

Jack said with a smile.

"This is my first time with a man, but I don't seem to have any other choice."

Evans said. Then he stabbed forward again, but Jack jumped to the right. Then Evans stabbed Jack three times, but Jack only always dodged and suddenly he touched the backs to the wall with photos of the murdered victims.

"I do not know who you are or what you are doing here, but your demise will end here!"

Evans said, hitting Jack again, but Jack just smiled. But suddenly, in the hand that Evans was holding, the knife fell from something. Evans started screaming, not understanding how it happened.to which Jack only pointed out the bars of the piano.

"The piano bars are sharp enough to kill a man, that's how my love explained it to me..."

Evans looked at Jack in surprise and then began to run away, but Jack only stuck knives in his legs and Evan leaned against the wall restraining the flow of bleeding in his left hand. Then Jack bent down to him and pulled a knife out of his pocket and shoved it deep into Evans' head. And he died. Then Jack stood up and looked at his love and said:

"I think I'll need to ask you what he meant... But first! "

He took Mikhail's clothes and put them on, not looking down at what is between his legs. I took it on my wedding day and left Evans' apartment, which eventually exploded.

"London bridge is falling down

Falling down …

Falling down …

My fair lady! "

Humming, Jack brought his love home after all, put it in bed and wanted to go I was changing clothes when I heard a quiet mumbling, which means that Mikhail began to wake up. When he woke up, the first thing he saw was Jack, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and tracing the indifference of knots along his leg to calm him down. When he calmed down, before he even had time to open his mouth, Jack first asked his question.

"Why didn't you take your cane? You could have killed him right away. "

Mikhail looked at him with a smile and sat down so that he was comfortable.

"Because I knew that I would be kidnapped and that you would come to save me."

Jack looked at him in surprise and then smiled and asked the next question.

"Tell me, Misha..."

Then he crawled up to him and put his hands on both sides of his face.

"Почему Лок сказал что ты наполовину только мужчина?"

Misha was very surprised and confused by what Jack saw in his emotions. Then Misha, embarrassed, said that in music school he pretended to be a woman because of criticism. Jack just smiled and put his hand under his chin and kissed him deeply with his tongue. To which Misha leaned forward and closed his eyes and put both hands on the back of his head. But suddenly Jack started kneading his ass through his clothes with his free hand. Misha opened his eyes in surprise and pulled back, sighing and looking straight into Jack's eyes.

"Did you really think that you would get away from punishment, Misha?"

Oh…fuck.

Jack started to take off his blouse...

[can-they-lift-thors-hammer]

Hall of Hammer Wielders

Because Tumblr only lets a post have 100 links, I'm putting characters from the same fandom into groups/legions/pantheons/whatever you want to call them.

(Ignore the numbers, they're just for me, and they aren't going to make sense to anyone but me anyway.)

The Star Trekkers (6 members) 🥈

7. Chell

The Atlanteans (4 members)

The Space Explorers (4 members)

The Transformers (2 members)

17. Frieren

18. Sailor Moon

19. Izuku Midoriya

The Marvelous Marvels (2 members)

The Sonicverse (2 members)

24. Hatsune Miku

The Stargaters (2 members)

27. Marty McFly

28. Niko

The Wilds (2 members)

The Dragons (3 members)

34. Doomguy

35. Sir Daniel Fortesque

36. Gideon Nav

The Cats (3 members)

40. Ortho Shroud

41. Seyka

The Magic Schoolkids (2 members)

44. Newt Scamander

45. Goku

The Buffyverse (2 members)

48. Olimar

49. Zhang Chengling

50. Rare Thwok

51. The Collector

The Digimon (2 members)

54. Heavy

The Rains (3 members) 🥉

58. Ada Paige

59. Banhammer

The Programs (2 members)

62. SpongeBob SquarePants

63. Aeryn Sun

64. Shrek

The Half Lifers (2 members)

67. Arthur Morgan

68. Shoyo Hinata

69. Bau (OC)

70. Peeta

71. Sam Winchester

72. Kirby 🥇Highest percentage of Yes votes

73. Yugi Mutou

74. Luigi

75. Candace Flynn

76. Ash Williams

The Star Warriors (2 members)

79. Macchanu

80. Jonathan Joestar

81. Rodney Copperbottom

82. Coco

83. Gojo Satoru

84. Sam Carpenter

85. Eve Baird

86. Trucy Wright

87. Ali Abdul

88. Emma

89. Laios

90. Lord Yoshii Toranaga

91. Jak

92. Hank Hill

93. Soren

94. Tim Drake

95. Nico di Angelo

96. Thorfinn

97. Ri Jeong-hyeok

98. Judy Nails

99. Lucas Sinclair

100. Naruto Uzumaki

101. Tommy Oliver

102. Tyreese Williams

103. Ninja Brian

104. Thor (God of War)

The RWBY...um...whatever they ares (4 members)

109. Michael Jackson from the movie Moonwalker

110. Mickey Mouse (Kingdom Hearts version)

111. Kali the Red Mist

[bihanspookies]

About Me

Requests: CLOSED

Hi I’m Nat, 27 and I have a heavy dose of MK, JJK and COD brainrot rn.

This blog is mainly just reblogging fics + posting my own writing here and there (I got ocs that I’ve been dying to share)

There will be nsfw shit, possibly gore

I do my best to make the reader fics as gender neutral as possible unless a request would like specifics!!

I’m only reblogging/writing about characters that are of age/have a canonical time skip

I take requests for: JJK, MK, TEKKEN. Probably more fandoms to come later.

I can’t think of anything else bc I’m bad at intros but feel free to message!!

Masterlist under cut!

Masterlist

Mortal Kombat:

Bi-Han

Johnny Cage

Kabal

Kano

Kenshi

Kuai Liang

Kung Lao

Liu Kang

Quan Chi

Raiden

Smoke

Dumb Posts:

Havik Gray Hairs Appreciation Post

Rain Nose Appreciation Post

Reiko Nose Appreciation Post

Why’s It In A Cage

︵‿ ⊹ ︵‿୨ ♡ ୧‿︵ ⊹ ‿︵

COD:

Gaz

Graves

Ghost

Price

Soap

︵‿ ⊹ ︵‿୨ ♡ ୧‿︵ ⊹ ‿︵

JJK:

Choso

Geto

Gojo

Ino

Nanami

Sukuna

︵‿ ⊹ ︵‿୨ ♡ ୧‿︵ ⊹ ‿︵

Tekken:

Anna Williams

Claudio Serafino

Devil Jin

Hwoarang

Jin Kazama

Kazuya Mishima

Lars Alexandersson

Steve Fox

Victor Chevalier

︵‿ ⊹ ︵‿୨ ♡ ୧‿︵ ⊹ ‿︵

OC Stuff

Alora (MK):

Art

Bio

Face Claim

• Kyro (Father)

Featured Stories

Moveset

Music

Other Stuff

Outfits

Ship: HotShot (JJxAlora)

• Falcon Company Dossier

• The Bull and the Battering Ram Masterlist

Stories Masterlist

Tagged

Writing

Kasiya (MK):

Art

Bio

Face Claim

Garden of Lotós

• Aesthetic

Moveset

Music

Other Stuff

Outfits

Ship: The Pyxis and The Vela (KasiyaxKung Lao)

• Pyxis and Vela Masterlist

Tagged

Writing

Sapphira “Phira” (Tekken):

Art

Music:

Other Stuff

Outfits

Ship: BlueSteel (StevexPhira)

Tagged

Writing

MISC OC’s

Nellie Evans (Resident Evil)

Valerie Malone Moretti (DBD)