#random OCs

[harveywritings92]

[A random woman rudely shoves a guy towards R/n exclaiming “look, this is perfect! she’s a cutie and all alone have fun!” Before the guy could protest the woman runs back to her table to be with her date, the guy then nervously turns back to R/n who's staring him uncomfortably.]

Nervous guy:...uh, hey! there *ahem* I’m Ryan and you...

{A large shadow slowly cast over them and Ryan follows it, and shits bricks at the sight of Ghost and König standing before him, with a scary twinkle in their eyes, while holding ice-cream cones.}

Ryan: [terrified] *Gulp*...Are with t-two very big guys.

[cut to Ryan  atomically wedgied with two ice creams cones stuck to his head, waddling back to his friend and her date, both are gawking at him in shock.]

Ryan: Her husbands said no...

[harveyb-wabbit92]

[Hobie and his neighbor R/n accidently get thrown into jail (their just in Holding) after an incident, R/n was going over to Hobie’s flat to yell at him to turn down the music, while they’re arguing a woman comes rushing down the hall almost knocking R/n down.

the woman drops her bag in the process and R/n picks up the bag (Despite Hobie telling her not to touch it.) And calls out to the woman only for a scary amount of drugs & money to fall out of the bag, Next thing they knew, R/n and a facepalming Hobie were surrounded by Bobbies and hauled to jail for suspicion of robbery and drug smuggling.

the police chief believes that they’re innocent, R/n knowing how Hobie acts around the police, made sure he kept his mouth shut while they were questioned. but until they can get the footage from the building crappy cameras the two are stuck there. While they’re moping about it the chief’s wife comes in and while hugging her husband the wife looks at the guard standing in front of Hobie and R/n’s cell with bedroom eyes she blows him a kiss and winks.

Hobie snorts trying stifle a laugh while R/n’s jaw drops at boldness of the wife. Their guard smirks gives the wife a little nod than stands up a bit straighter when the Chief, completely unaware, turns to look at the stunned detainees and assures them they’ll be out soon.

Cut to an hour later Hobie and R/n are watching their guard and the chief’s wife vigorously making out in full view of their cell.]

Chief’s Wife: *breathless* Aron stop!

Guard *aka Aron*: Melissa you’re trembling, what’s wrong?

Melissa: Ian’s getting getting suspicious! You know he’s been asking questions at the gentlemen’s club! We have to get out of here!

*Hobie rolls his eyes as R/n follow them completely enthralled.*

Aron: … And say goodbye to all that money? I don’t think so.

*grabs Melissa’s hands*

Aron: We just need to bide our time.

Melissa: *slaps Aron hands away* How can I trust you Aron? when you haven’t even told Charlene about us yet?!

Aron: *appalled* have a heart Mellissa, the woman’s still in a coma!

*Melissa scoffs and looks away, R/n’s jaw drops, Hobie couldn’t care less.*

R/n, whispering in disbelief: a coma?

{Cue Ian walking in, Aron runs to the break room.}

Ian: Hi Honey! *Melissa smiles innocently at him*

Ian: *dropping the nice act* I just got back from the ambassador’s office, he thinks he going to kill our little real estate deal...

Melissa: We can’t let him do that, what about those pictures of him and that male escort?

Ian: There on their way to the news papers right now... We’re gonna destroy the old bastard!

Melissa: Perfect, Now all we have to worry about is Old man Jenkins... Maybe we should send your friend Eric to pay him a visit?

[They giggle to each other as another officer brings in a man who looked homeless, the man hurries into the cell and stands next to R/n excited.]

Vagabond: What did I miss? 

*Hobie shakes his head*

[later, R/n and her new friend are enticed listening to Ian tell Melissa a tragic story of his past, while Hobie stares at cell wall seemingly in his own little world.]

Ian:... And as I pulled her from the wreckage, She was so..*chokes up* d-disfigured, that I didn’t even know... It was my own sister! *breaks down crying*

Melissa: Don’t worry, Dimitri is the finest reconstructive surgeon in the world!

R/n: *whisper* Who’s Dimitri?

Vagabond: *whisper* He’s the head doctor at central Medical, him and Melissa had an affair last year then he-

Ian” SHUT UP IN THERE!

*R/n and the vagabond jump away from the bars startled, as Ian breaks down crying again.*

[later.]

Melissa, to Aron and Ian: We can still pull this off!

Aron: You’ll never get passed the DNA test Melissa, Even you’re lies aren’t going to be enough this time!

Ian: But Aron If you didn’t buy the mining rights, Than who did?

Aron: Don’t either of you see what’s going on? the perpetrator who bought the mining rights, is the same person who stole Ms. Margret’s diamond brooch, 

*R/n and the vagabond look at each other slack-jawed, Hobie pretending to nap cocks a brow.* 

Aron:...They're also the same person who framed Nathan for Andre's murder that horrid night! And that person’s name is...

Prison Guard: Okay Missy you and Your buddy are free to go.

R/n: Awww...

Hobie: *jumps off the cot outraged*What?!

Prison Guard: Move it.

[R/n complies while dragging a protesting and struggling Hobie behind her.]

Hobie: No! Five more minutes, You can’t just do this to me now! dammit!

R/n: C’mon... Brown, Don’t make this harder than it has to be.

Hobie: It was the Ambassador right? or Thurston?! No no The janitor...Wait no he’s Ian’s amnesic brother! Ekk! 

*He gets yanked out the office by one of the guards, while Ian, Melissa and Aron look at him like he's insane.*

[moonjellybeans]

I added my sea slug mer (sea slug taur?) to my modern fantasy collective, with my spotted gnoll, Uhren. I just...really like drawing orcs and gnolls and goblins in modern fashion XD

Maybe one day I'll actually figure out what to do with all of these guys, because I probably have a full cast of characters to play with, I just need to figure out what to do with them <3

[hecckyeah]

So This Crazy Thing Happened at the Terra Bella Mountain Lodge

.

The Bradfords were hoping for a nice, peaceful week off relaxing in the mountains to celebrate their anniversary. The Peralta-Santiago family just wanted a vacation somewhere new, with a view. It should have been a nice and simple week, filled with dips in the jaccuzi and rounds of ping-pong in the rec room. But nothing is ever simple when our two favorite sleuthing couples from opposite ends of the country cross paths. Trouble ensues in the lodge, and everyone must work together, and quickly, before everything goes horribly wrong . . .

.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandoms: Crossover - The Rookie / Brooklyn Nine-Nine

[owls-ocs]

Peridot, another OC

Don’t have a place for it currently

[sneetsnootyoit]

In His Bed

Dieter Bravo x gn!Reader

Summary: When you started working as Dieter Bravo's stylist, you were prepared for a diva with a drug problem. That's what you expected. You figured all you would be needed for was prepping him for awards shows and interviews, and occasionally used on movie sets. What you weren’t expecting was to find yourself in bed with him on more than one occasion, none of those occasions having anything to do with sex.

Warnings and shit: Drug use (obviously, it's Dieter), slight tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, swearing, bad trip, mention of throwing up, alcohol use, crying NO USE OF Y/N

Word count: 4k

When you started working as Dieter Bravo's stylist, you were prepared for a diva with a drug problem. That's what you expected. You figured all you would be needed for was prepping him for awards shows and interviews, and occasionally used on movie sets. What you weren’t expecting was to find yourself in bed with him on more than one occasion, none of those occasions having anything to do with sex.

When you were hired, you had to give Dieter your phone number. You didn't think much of it, since he was your boss and not some creep at a bar asking for your number. At first, he only ever contacted you when he needed you to get him ready for an event, and every so often he'd ask you to get him styled up for a date (if he really wanted to get laid). When covid hit, he didn’t have a lot of excuses to go out, and he resorted to bothering his staff. Well, that’s what some of the other people on Dieter’s team considered it to be. You didn’t really mind it. It started off annoying, but eventually became just part of your job. You could even go as far as to say that you and Dieter started to become friends. Something you learned quickly was that Dieter hated calling people on the phone. Something about brainwaves. So when you got a call from him at three in the morning, you knew something was up. And this was how you ended up in his bed for the first time.

When you answered the phone, he called out your name in a trembling, whispered voice. He said something else you couldn't quite discern, and you pressed the phone closer to your ear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you. Could you please repeat that, Mr. Bravo?" You replied blearily, trying not to sound annoyed.

"I fucked up. Need help."

That woke you up a little more; enough to make you perplexed as to why Dieter was calling you instead of Greg, his PA. "What? Sir, I'm sure Gr-"

"He quit. I called him and he quit. Please," he begged, sounding frightened. You'd never heard him sound that way.

“Where are you?”

He gave you the address and you typed it into your GPS, assuring him that you’d be there soon. You threw on a hoodie and some sweats, grabbed your keys, and headed out into the night. When you pulled up, you put the car in park and got out. It was a huge house in a neighborhood of other huge houses, and there were colored lights shining through the windows. You could hear the faint thrum of music from inside the house and the chattering of people inside. You looked around as you approached the door and you spotted Dieter huddled behind a car, looking like an animal hiding from a predator.

“Mr. Bravo?” You said quietly, walking slowly towards him. His head whipped around and his terrified eyes met yours. He was breathing heavily and clutching his jacket to himself tightly. “I’m here to take you home. You called me, remember?”

He nodded slowly, but didn’t move, so you helped him get up and walked him over to your car. When you began driving away, you watched him out of the corner of your eye, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. You’d never seen him this way, and you knew he wasn’t an overly paranoid person. He looked truly afraid, and you wanted to get him somewhere he could feel safe as soon as you could. You weren’t exactly speeding as you drove to Dieter’s house, but you weren’t following the speed limit either. Once you’d pulled up to his oversized house, you helped him inside and brought him to his bedroom, depositing him onto his bed with a sigh. Is this what Greg had to deal with? Maybe that’s why he quit… You turned to leave when Dieter grabbed your arm, hand shaking.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he begged, trying to pull you back toward him.

“Jesus, what did you take?” You asked, brushing his hand away and facing him. In the light of his bedroom, you could see just how dilated his eyes were, telling you he was definitely high on something.

“I…it was something new,” he murmured, and he started looking very pale. “I don’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes widened and he made a beeline for the bathroom. You didn’t follow, mostly because you thought it would be inappropriate, then you heard the sound of him throwing up and you cringed. Instead of going to check on him, you went to his kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water, and you made sure the doors were locked. When you went back to his bedroom, you could hear Dieter calling for you from the bathroom.

“Sorry, I went to grab you some-”

“You left meeee” He groaned, slumped over the toilet with drool dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. He looked pathetic, and you honestly felt bad for him. You grabbed a couple washcloths from the linen closet in the bathroom, tucking one in your pocket and wetting the other. You walked over to him and flushed the toilet before you leaned over and wiped his face with the wet cloth. It was like caring for a child, and you honestly felt bad for him.

“You done in here or do you think there’s another round?” You used the dry end to clean his face a bit more before you opened one of the waters and held it up to his mouth, urging him to drink.

He only grunted in response as he slowly sipped the water, one arm hanging limp at his side while the other was draped over the toilet bowl, meaning you had to hold the bottle for him. You were about to ask him another question when he lurched forward and hung his head over the toilet, retching loudly while he gripped the edges of the porcelain for dear life. You shuddered at the sound and closed the water bottle, setting everything next to the bathroom sink. “Hold my hair,” Dieter gasped out, making you shake your head.

You knew what he meant, but it was still funny to hear. You approached him and brushed the hair away from his forehead, holding it back gently as his body expelled whatever it was that he took. After a while, he was reduced to just dry heaving, and when his body slumped over again, you cleaned his face and helped him get to his bed (you carried him). You helped him change into more comfortable clothes and actually put him to bed before you tried to leave again, and Dieter called out your name. “Don’t go…please.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone…I want you to stay,” he admitted softly, and it made your chest tighten. He reached out for you and you sighed, taking your shoes off so you could sit next to him on his bed. He didn’t seem satisfied by that, though, and you quirked an eyebrow at him. “Will you…”

“Will I what?”

Dieter seemed hesitant to say what he wanted to say, and he reached out to you, gripping your hoodie and trying to pull you closer to him. It gave you an idea of what he wanted, and you scooted closer to him. He moved his blankets so you would also be under them, and he moved himself closer to you, letting out a shaky breath. You cautiously wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he seemed to relax, fully leaning into you while he laid his head on your chest. You had to hold in the urge to laugh or chuckle, because never in your life did you think Dieter Bravo would be asking you to cuddle with him.

“So…something new?” Dieter nodded and shivered against you, making you instinctually bring him closer. “Bad trip?” He nodded again and you sighed, moving a hand to rest on his head without thinking. You didn’t realize you’d started running your fingers through his hair until you felt him physically melt against you and his breathing started to slow down.

“Fuckin’ scary. Definitely not taking that shit again,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch. You stopped when you realized, and his breath hitched. “I didn’t say you had to stop…please, don’t stop.”

You paused before you began carding your fingers through his hair again and you wrapped your other arm around him, hugging him closer. “Are you okay?” You’d heard things about bad trips and how scary they could be.

“I will be…haven’t had a bad trip in a while.” Dieter looked like he felt at home in your arms, but you could also tell that he was holding something back. “I lied, y’know…”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“I didn’t call Greg. He didn’t quit…I just…I wanted you to come get me.”

That surprised you, and you looked down at him with an expression that matched. “Why? I’m not-”

“Because I like you…you’re nice to me.”

“You like me?” You asked incredulously, and Dieter looked at you, the thought crossing his mind that he may have made a mistake. He began trying to think of ways to explain his way out of the situation and blame it on the drugs, but before he could say anything else, you simply used the hand in his hair to push his head back down and you kissed him on his forehead. “I like you too,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You weren't expecting to fall asleep with your boss in your arms, but it happened, and you were startled when you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. You had to replay the previous night in your head to make sure it wasn't just a dream, but then you noticed that your boss was still there, asleep in your arms.

He’s really cute when he’s asleep, you thought to yourself as you looked down at him. He looked calm and at peace. Something that you're not sure you ever got to see. You always wondered why he relied so heavily on drugs. Maybe you could ask him. You stayed that way for a while, just admiring him as he slept. You didn’t think much farther than that, so when Dieter awoke to you staring at him like he's the best thing you'd ever seen, he shot upright and looked at you like you were some bizarre fan who had broken in.

"What the fuck?! What are you doing in my bed?!"

You were startled by this and you moved back, furrowing your brows. "You asked me to stay with you, that's why. The fuck?"

"Why the fuck would I do that?" He spat, seemingly offended by the very idea that he would do such a thing.

"Because you went to a party, got too fucked up, had a bad trip, and called me to come pick you up. You said 'stay with me please' so I did. You said you wanted someone who would bring you comfort, and you told me that you liked me. And obviously you were so high out of your fucking mind that you forgot all of that shit," you spat back defensively, catching him off guard.

"I said that?" He asked, taken aback.

"Yeah. You told me that you didn’t call Greg because you wanted me instead…my apologies, I should have left as soon as you fell asleep and let you be alone. I'll be on my way. Hopefully we can forget this happened, that way I can keep my job," you replied, quickly removing yourself from the bed to find your shoes. You slid them on and began making your way through the house to the front door, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm.

You didn’t expect Dieter to follow you, and you didn’t know he did until he called out for you and grabbed your wrist, turning you around to face him. "Listen, I-"

"Don’t. I understand. We all say things we don't mean while under the influence."

"But I did mean it. I…fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. I'm sorry, just- can we start over?"

"'Start over'? Start what over? This morning? Or everything? Because that would be a lot."

"Just this morning."

"Okay, fine." You weren’t sure what to expect when you agreed, but you were willing to try. You really didn't want to lose your job.

"Thank you for last night…" Dieter murmured, reaching for your hand. You almost pulled it back, but you allowed him to take it, and he studied it for a moment. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were-"

"No, I know! But why? I helped you, I did what you wanted. So now is the part where I leave, right?" You didn't want to risk opening yourself up to the thought that something happened between the two of you that night. You needed to get out of there before you ended up falling for him more than you already had.

"Because I don't want you to leave yet. This house is always so empty…it's nice to have another person here…especially when that person is you."

Fuck, that sounds so sad.

"Please stay. Let me get you breakfast. We can…talk. Just talk, you know?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my boss?" You asked jokingly. He looked hurt, and you realized that he was actually letting himself be vulnerable in front of you and you were shooting him down. You sighed and placed your free hand on his hip to pull him closer to you, wrapping your arms around him and placing a hand on the back of his head. "You really mean that shit, don't you?"

He nodded against your shoulder and you sighed again, leaning your head against his. "I want to stay like this forever," Dieter replied, so quiet you almost didn't hear him. "I'd give anything to stay like this."

"So, what? You'd give up meaningless sex with random people in exchange for being cuddled?"

"By you? Yeah."

You weren't expecting his response, but it made you feel warm inside, and your breath hitched when you tried to inhale deeply. Dieter tilted his head up to look at you, your eyes meeting briefly before you noticed his eyes flitting between yours and your lips. You hummed and leaned your face closer to his, kissing him softly. He fully leaned into the kiss and you could feel his whole body relax against you, just like last night. When you parted, you looked into his eyes again and smiled.

"So, breakfast?" He asked, nose brushing against yours.

"Yeah, breakfast."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few months, Dieter started to open up to you more, sharing details about his personal life and how things were before he got famous. At first, you were confused as to why he was sharing all these things with you, but after a particularly fancy dinner at his house, you realized that this was his attempt at dating. When you breached the subject with him, for the first time, you actually saw him get flustered. It was cute. But he confirmed your suspicion, and when he asked if that was okay, you told him it was. That was how you ended up dating your boss.

It was actually really nice. And you began to notice how he started to change. He did less drugs, and he stopped day drinking. It seemed like he was trying to be better for you, and when you told him you were proud of him for it, he nearly cried. He was hoping you'd notice.

The next time you ended up in his bed, it was after a red carpet event. You started offering your work to other celebrities for some extra money, and Dieter didn't seem to mind as long as you kept him looking good. It was a pretty great arrangement, and you were highly praised for your work.

Whenever Dieter had to travel for these events, he always booked you a separate room, but one that was close to his so you could go see each other after the events were over. You both knew how people loved to speculate about everything, and he didn’t want the paparazzi to catch on to your relationship. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, he just wanted you to be able to keep your privacy. Whenever you styled people for events, you usually didn’t accompany the actors to the event, but Dieter wanted you to be there for this one. You had to get three other actors ready after you finished up with Dieter, and afterwards, he insisted that you put on something nice so you could go with him.

When you arrived at the venue, you were practically buzzing with nerves, and Dieter tried to calm you as best he could while in a public setting. You still had no idea why he brought you. When it came time to start walking through and do the interviews, the first question people asked him was who you were. He introduced you by your first name only, and made a show of his outfit. "This is my wonderful stylist. They're the one keeping me so pretty for these things."

You beamed under the praise, and the interviewers seemed shocked. A few of them wanted to speak with you, mostly about how it was styling someone as eccentric as Dieter, and you tried to keep the details as vague as possible. Dieter deserved privacy too.

As the night went on, you were able to get a little taste of what actually went on at these events. It was pretty fun, but you kept to the side since none of it was really about you. Most people had no idea who you were, and that worked to your advantage until you remembered that with great praise over your work, also came hate. You always considered yourself to be someone who could take constructive criticism well, but what you heard wasn't what you were expecting.

Those who weren't making comments about how great you were at your job were talking shit, even going as far as to insult you for things that weren't even related. People accused you of sleeping with people to get booked as a stylist, and said that you put more effort into Dieter than you did any of the other actors who paid you to make them look good. One of them was someone you had styled for the event. You realized that half of the people you styled didn't even know your name. After a while, the hate seemed to overpower the praise that was floating through the air, and you decided that you couldn't take it anymore. You texted Dieter that you were leaving to go back to the hotel, and the driver would bring him back when the event finished up. Instead of going to your room, though, you went to Dieter’s. He had given you his extra key, and you knew that hotel staff always kept the celebrities' rooms stocked well.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of Dieter’s room, you started crying. You'd been holding back all of your emotions since you overheard the first few hateful words. You collapsed to the floor and stayed there for a while, stifling your sobs behind your hand just in case people walked by. After you'd managed to get your sobs under control, you got up and went to where Dieter kept his clothes. He never seemed to notice when you took his clothes, and if he did, he never said anything. You almost tore your clothes as you rushed to take them off, wanting to get into something comfortable as soon as you could. You took a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from Dieter's bag and put them on, eyeing the container he kept his weed in and the bag of 'brownies' he'd put in there before leaving for the event. You headed over to the mini-bar to make yourself a drink. You pulled out a few of the small bottles of liquor and opened them up, downing them immediately. You wanted to forget, and the only way you could think of that would aid you in doing so was getting fucked up. You took a few more bottles and went over to Dieter’s bed, once again looking at the edibles he had brought along. After a few more drinks, you reached the point of 'fuck it' and you took one of them, not thinking about how much he might’ve put in it, and you ate the entire thing. It wasn’t big, but you didn't think about how Dieter might put a shit ton of weed in his brownies. Luckily for you, he didn’t, but it was still enough to give you a comfortable high that left you feeling like you were floating. You had a few more drinks before your emotions hit you again and you curled up in Dieter’s bed crying quietly.

You were so out of it, you didn't hear your phone blowing up with texts, and you didn't hear Dieter come into the hotel room. You didn’t even know he was there until he was cupping your face in his hands and saying your name over and over.

"Hey, c'mon, answer me," he said softly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

"Mmm," you responded, hiccuping as you leaned into his touch. "What time is it?"

"About 1," he murmured, toeing off his shoes and climbing into the bed with you.

"Youuuu're missing the parties," you slurred, trying, and failing to look up at him.

"Rachel made me go to at least one of them, but I left early." Rachel was his publicist, and usually Dieter went to all the after-parties that happened when he went to an event. And he'd always return to the hotel fucked-up. It didn't occur to you that he left early because he was worried about you. "What happened? You didn't answer any of my texts."

"Was busy."

"Doing what?" He asked hesitantly, a little worm of insecurity crawling into his brain.

"This," you gestured around the room, trying to point out the bottles and crumbs from the brownie.

Dieter looked around, then his eyes fell to the drinks and crumbs. "Did you eat one of my edibles and get drunk?"

You nodded and he snorted in disbelief, under the impression that you were just an emotional drunk. He, himself, was high, and had no idea what you'd been dealing with. "Overwhelmed by the people?" He asked, pulling you close to him while you sniffled and shook your head.

"They hate me."

"What? No-"

"I heard so much…they think I fuck around for work and that I don't put effort in my job because I favor you," you told him in a quivering voice, holding back another onslaught of sobs. "Someone said they think I'm a shit stylist and you probably only keep me around for sex."

"What the fuck? Who said that?" Dieter demanded, raising your chin to make you look at him.

"I don't know, it was all overheard…stuff people said as they passed by." You pushed down a sob and gripped his suit jacket tightly. You didn't care if the provider got pissed off. You'd come up with an excuse later.

"Listen to me," Dieter said firmly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't listen to those assholes, 'kay? You're fucking amazing. You make me look like a fucking god. If they can't appreciate your skill and how awesome you are, they can go fuck themselves."

You wished you could be comforted by Dieter’s words, but your thoughts were still swarming your brain and you were stuck in a fog. Dieter could see you were stuck, and he began pressing kisses down your face while he held you close, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He made sure he kissed every inch of your face, making you scrunch up your nose and giggle softly. Your lips were the last place he kissed, and he lingered there, allowing you to melt into him. His hands roamed your body in a comforting way, not grabbing or fondling, just exploring and caressing. "You deserve the world," he murmured, making your heart skip a beat. He'd never said anything like that, and you let out a quiet gasp. "You're perfect."

"Dieter," you whispered, catching his attention. He hummed in response and you pressed your forehead to his. There were words hanging in the air between you, and you didn't know if you were quite ready to say them, or if Dieter was ready to hear them.

"Yeah, me too," he responded, kissing you gently.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Amazing."

IF YOU WANNA SEE MY SHIT IT'S ON AO3 >HERE<

[huffle-dork]

I designed the adorable pumpkin girl a couple years ago while doodling at work and I’ve been meaning to finalize her design and name her since then! My friend @sparky-stunned helped me name her! Meet Jaqueline Lantern! A cute Halloween obsessed girl who’s nonverbal and very shy and worried about scaring people with her skull like vitiligo! Her design is so adorable she’d be perfect for a doll design god I wanna get back into doll making jghhh anyways! Happy Halloween!

[nugget-creates-things]

Fae girl enjoying some time by the side of the pond

[wildmtthyme]

Chapter 4: The Judge

Warnings: Mentions of the draft, obvious hints of war and death (minor).

Chapter Note: This is just kind of a little drabble. From the car's perspective. No, there's no supernatural stuff going on, just a kind of "what if" with a little ground work happening at the end.

Chapter Characters: The Judge (1969 GTO Judge), Morgan "Indiana" Turner, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Random OCs for the sake of the story, John "Bravo 6" Price

Story Synopsis: Ghost and Indiana have been best mates for years, partners on and off the field. And she's loved him for just as long. But she's never let on that she's felt anything more than friendly towards him. That all starts to change when Simon starts seeing someone for longer than a single night. Indie decides she's going to try and get over this annoying crush once and for all. Simon realizes that maybe he's been feeling more for his partner than he thought. Maybe a lot more. Partners to lovers with a sprinkling of smut, some fun and humor, a team that won't leave them alone, and a car that seems to weave it all together.

He was built in 1969 in a factory in Fremont, California… a man named Luis was the one to apply the decal that would mark him as special amongst the other GTO’s that came off the line. His shiny black paint that wasn’t just black caught the eye of many envious onlookers when he was unloaded at the small car lot in Sacramento, especially when he took pride of place in their showroom. But it was a young kid who saved all summer who finally came in and laid down his purchase price that rolled him out onto the free streets of his early years. The kid’s name was Tim, Timmy to his friends and Timothy to his father. He had just graduated high school and had a pension for going a little too fast, learning quickly that his ram air cooled engine was not to be taken lightly. But he never mistreated him and Judge knew right away that he had been this kid’s dream car. They spent three amazing years together, cruising the scenic highways and byways, enjoying the amazing California sun, sand, and surf. He didn’t even mind the temporary rack the kid put on his roof to hold his surfboard. That all changed when they called out those numbers during the last draft lottery in 1972. His father drove him back from the bus station and parked him in the garage, throwing a brand-new tarp over him once his engine had cooled down. He never saw Tim again.

Fifteen years later, the sun was brighter than he remembered it being. The auctioneer was loud and talked way too fast. The people that poked around under his hood, jabbed fingers into his seats to test their springiness, and checked to make sure he still had all his original parts were confusing. He was bought for half his original purchase price and loaded into a shipping container. He’d never see American soil again. Being exported to the United Kingdom was an adventure he hadn’t considered but one he was being sent on anyway. He couldn’t help but wonder if Tim had been this nervous when he went away. He was unloaded straight into a small, almost too tiny glass fronted metal building with other American imports. He wasn’t there long before a middle-aged man bought him for thrice what the importer paid for him. The man couldn’t stop yacking about how cool it was going to be to have a muscle car. But it wasn’t cool. He got a scratch on his fender the first day. Turns out… he was just too big for this country. Too big for the roads… too wide for the towns… and too loud for the villages. And too expensive to keep fueled. Within a year, the man parked him under a lean-to shed beside an old stone building. The man didn’t want to get rid of him but couldn’t afford to drive him either. The roof leaked and the wind blew the rain in sideways anyway. The mice from the fields made a home in his backseat cushions with the rubber from the wires they chewed through. What was once sparkly black pain turned dull and what was once beauty turned just as gray and drab as the country he found himself in.

With the new millennia, the Judge felt a small hand force the handle on his driver’s side door open, jarring him back to a certain kind of consciousness. The woman was slight but confident, had an air of knowledge when she popped his hood. She muttered under her breath, cursed the state he was in and by the end of the day, he was being loaded onto the flat bed of one of those strange flat nosed trucks. She called herself Indiana. It took her years to restore him. She took her time and did it right… sometimes it’d be weeks where he would see nothing but the closed door of her garage, nothing but a motorcycle for company. Then, she’d be back and it was like she never left. When she had to wait for parts, she’d just move on to fixing something else. It took her two years before she was turning her garage into a paint booth. He was nervous then… would she paint him some obnoxious color? Like neon green?! Or that gaudy orange?! But he needn’t have worried. She’d sent away for the special black. And finally, the last thing she did before applying a sturdy clear coat was apply his decal. If he could have purred, he would have. She brought him back. Decades of being left to rot, forgotten and neglected… and she made it all go away. The first time she took him out… the world had changed so much but she treated him right. She knew where she could take him and where she couldn’t. And though his anxiety spiked when she pulled him back into the garage… he quickly got over that. He became her daily driver. He wasn’t some fancy thing to keep locked up. He was a car. Her car. He’d hear people at her work ask to drive him and she’d shut them down right quick and in a hurry. Because he was her car. And that’s how it stayed. For a long time. He grew comfortable in that one, undeniable fact.

Until a fucking redwood slid behind the wheel. He called himself Simon. He didn’t care if he called himself the fucking Pope. If he could have not started, he would have done that. But he wasn’t going to embarrass all of her hard work. Simon was nervous… as he should have been, Judge had thought. But… eventually, he came to accept that sometimes this giant of a man would drive him. He only accepted it because he always came back to her. And for years, that’s how it stayed.

But then something changed. He wasn’t sure what exactly. But someone new climbed behind the wheel. Another man. An older man. He was respectful and reverent, not nervous. He seemed almost… giddy, in a certain sense. He didn’t go too slow but he didn’t see what he could do, either. He drove him like she did. Like he was just a regular car. It left him… wanting the man to test him out… let him show him what he had under the hood. Let him blow someone’s doors clean off. But he didn’t test him. He knew things were changing, things he didn’t understand. When they arrived at base that morning… and Simon was standing there, looking like someone had stolen something from him. Judge didn’t care what was going on with the men, as long as one of them made sure the keys found their way back to her hand at the end of the day.

Because he was her car… and always would be.

[venom2-theocblog]

THESE TWO

I love drawing them idk. They're sibling

[soulstrikes-blog]

DSP and you.

[databuser]

various doodles

[moonjellybeans]

My brain is full of merfolk and sea creatures thanks to Twisted Wonderland. I've done this critter before, but I wanted a different blue sea slug character. He pins his hair up for more volume, but when it's down it's actually a little long <3

Would this kind of creature even work underwater? Probably not, but it's magic, not science. It looks cool so I'm doing it lol

Bro needs a name, though, I'll have to play with him some more.

[kogetaikid]

Just realized I never posted this here. (I somehow got it a tad bit dirty, sorry 🙁)

Here’s Yahaira, with

…

her sister……….

(THE FOLLOWING MAY CONTAIN SOME VERY UPSETTING DIALOGUE AND THEMES. INVOLVING SUICIDE AND SELF HARM. KEEP READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.)

Melody???

What are you doing with my paper clips?

…

Melody, you’re bleeding.

G̸̛̛̩̮̙̝͔̟̙̮̣͆͋̋̐͝ͅÈ̵̡̢̫̲̩̙̭̼͘ͅT̸̢͚̝̳͙̅̍͒͌̍̀̏ ̴̨̢̘͈͔͙͖̩͙̬͂̽̈͂̈́̓̏͑̕͘O̸̢͉̣̪̲̰̳̫̓͜U̴̥̠̻͉͇͌́̏Ţ̷̗̹̲̜̹͚͇͖̼͋̂͆ ̶̥̳̼̩̞̍̊̃̉̈̕̕̕Ȏ̴̝̣͒̌͌͋̐͆̌͝F̷̲̜̳̞̭͈̒͛́͊͜ ̵͕̜̅̀͑̀̐̓̅͘͘H̸̡̬̹͍͍́͌̃̉͠Ȩ̸̜̗̝̞̗̟̝̓͊́R̸̜̫̥̼̹͔̈́̌̊̓͒̿͂̐̈́͐Ḙ̶̺͎̱͗̏̒͋͊͜͠ͅ

Melody, why are you scratching yourself with my paper clips? You’re gonna get hurt!!

G̸̛̛̩̮̙̝͔̟̙̮̣͆͋̋̐͝ͅÈ̵̡̢̫̲̩̙̭̼͘ͅT̸̢͚̝̳͙̅̍͒͌̍̀̏ ̴̨̢̘͈͔͙͖̩͙̬͂̽̈͂̈́̓̏͑̕͘O̸̢͉̣̪̲̰̳̫̓͜U̴̥̠̻͉͇͌́̏Ţ̷̗̹̲̜̹͚͇͖̼͋̂͆ ̶̥̳̼̩̞̍̊̃̉̈̕̕̕Ȏ̴̝̣͒̌͌͋̐͆̌͝F̷̲̜̳̞̭͈̒͛́͊͜ ̵͕̜̅̀͑̀̐̓̅͘͘H̸̡̬̹͍͍́͌̃̉͠Ȩ̸̜̗̝̞̗̟̝̓͊́R̸̜̫̥̼̹͔̈́̌̊̓͒̿͂̐̈́͐Ḙ̶̺͎̱͗̏̒͋͊͜͠ͅ G̸̛̛̩̮̙̝͔̟̙̮̣͆͋̋̐͝ͅÈ̵̡̢̫̲̩̙̭̼͘ͅT̸̢͚̝̳͙̅̍͒͌̍̀̏ ̴̨̢̘͈͔͙͖̩͙̬͂̽̈͂̈́̓̏͑̕͘O̸̢͉̣̪̲̰̳̫̓͜U̴̥̠̻͉͇͌́̏Ţ̷̗̹̲̜̹͚͇͖̼͋̂͆ ̶̥̳̼̩̞̍̊̃̉̈̕̕̕Ȏ̴̝̣͒̌͌͋̐͆̌͝F̷̲̜̳̞̭͈̒͛́͊͜ ̵͕̜̅̀͑̀̐̓̅͘͘H̸̡̬̹͍͍́͌̃̉͠Ȩ̸̜̗̝̞̗̟̝̓͊́R̸̜̫̥̼̹͔̈́̌̊̓͒̿͂̐̈́͐Ḙ̶̺͎̱͗̏̒͋͊͜͠ͅ G̸̛̛̩̮̙̝͔̟̙̮̣͆͋̋̐͝ͅÈ̵̡̢̫̲̩̙̭̼͘ͅT̸̢͚̝̳͙̅̍͒͌̍̀̏ ̴̨̢̘͈͔͙͖̩͙̬͂̽̈͂̈́̓̏͑̕͘O̸̢͉̣̪̲̰̳̫̓͜U̴̥̠̻͉͇͌́̏Ţ̷̗̹̲̜̹͚͇͖̼͋̂͆ ̶̥̳̼̩̞̍̊̃̉̈̕̕̕Ȏ̴̝̣͒̌͌͋̐͆̌͝F̷̲̜̳̞̭͈̒͛́͊͜

!!

*You hear the sound of footsteps and the balcony door slam

*Your face feels wet. Your eyes are sore.

P.S. This isn’t the same person as EPIC CLUB MELODY. That version of Melody represents more of a distorted version of (IMLS) Melody, Yahaira and even their cousin, Darla.

Here’s a photo of Epic Club Melody

[owls-ocs]

Recently rediscovered Valhalla, a random OC

[teachyouhowtodothesponge]

Made several random doodles. These ones came out okay, so I'm gonna post em here.