#( onyx ; inspo )

[charmingcaffeinatedartist]

I'm currently reading Onyx Storm, so it only felt fitting to paint an illustration based on that 🖤✨️🖌

[voidcat]

sometimes i see glimpses of my 666 event like in drafts or in my pinned and i feel like a bucket of cold water running through my system IM SORRY

[coxnuttx]

some of my art on the wall

[shnargo]

shoop-ing

pairings: john hancock x reader warnings: sexual innuendoes?? a little?? word count: 564 a/n: i have fallen desperately for this man, and i am very disappointed to find there aren't that many fics for him >:( so i'm adding to the pool. also sorry for disappearing, char.ai held me hostage for a long time and i'm actually finding inspo for writing again

"You're staring you know." The ghoul finally speaks after taking another hit of jet, tossing the now empty canister into a nearby bin that's similarly filled with various used chems and needles alike. All the trash bins in Goodneighbor were like that, a common vice shared by its residents. "You gonna share why or are you just gonna keep enjoying the view? Not that I mind, a'course." He ends with a rumbly chuckle.

"How does one exactly kiss you?" The words come out before your brain can catch up, and you watch as he manages to look surprised by you for once. You blame the old wine you picked up earlier, it was a gamble in drinking it to see how potent it really was. Your eyes end up drifting toward his nasal cavity as you try to sort the idea out in your head. "Wouldn't the noses just.. shoop?" You pair your improvised sound effect with a hand gesture that's a lot more sexual in retrospect.

Hancock barks out a full laugh at that, the sound resounding in his office room that you're sure that Fahrenheit can hear it loud and clear from the other room. You would manage to feel embarrassed at yourself were you any less piss drunk. "You got a thing for nose-on-nose action or what?" He asks, onyx eyes sparkling with humor as he sees the frown his words bring to your lips. "I'm serious, Hancock."

"How about you make yourself a scientist and test that theory of yours, then?" It's far less forward than any of the other comments he's thrown your way in the past, but whether it's the buzz warming your skin or how his hand creeps toward your side of the couch as he tries getting closer to you, he seems serious this time. Lifting yourself from your laying position, you figure it's good enough to try calling his bluff. And if he's actually serious about it?

Well, you wouldn't be complaining either way.

He doesn't shift much himself, but his gaze is intent on your every action. By the time your hands are on his chest, his find their place on your back. Respectful, but firm in making its presence known to you. As you raise your head in meeting his lips, you can catch the way his breath hitches, giving away his nervousness that he has about this situation no matter how well he tries to hide it.

It's mostly his nose bridge, or rather, the nasal ridge that juts out barely enough to keep your still flesh-covered one from dipping into the cavity nearby. Though you find yourself distracted by his chapped lips already working yours, that are no less chapped. Lip balm wasn't accessible in the apocalypse after all. But saliva is exchanged, smoothing the process in more ways than one as his other hand comes up to the back of your neck to edge you closer to him.

Once you mutually pull away, the next few deepened breaths are found in sync. Hancock's fingers play with the hair by the base of your neck, he was never a man to keep still for long. "How unfortunate." He finally rasps, lips quirking up as his gaze is held in yours. "I guess you didn't have your "shoop"-ing after all."

You grab the rim of his hat and shove it over his face.

[mistydeyes]

hi again! I was wondering if you could possibly do a Task force 141 with a reader that has been through a final girl/boy situation before they joined the military? I was thinking something like a Sidney from scream situation almost.

(I do apologize if your requests are closed, have a good night/day!)

thank you for submitting! i love horror movies (even when they have the final girl trope) so I took inspo from the campy stories! hope you enjoy :)

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summary: When Laswell recommended you to Price to join the 141, you readily took the invitation and left the US Army. However, when you return back to the states someone recognizes you as the surviving victim of a series of murders and you have to answer for your past.

pairing: Task Force 141 x gn!Reader (codename: Onyx)

warnings: swearing, violence/blood/gore, non-major character death

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Before the summer of '08, you used to love horror movies. With your friends, you would have marathons of Halloween, Scream, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Friday the 13th, and other campy classics. You would drink and laugh at the screen as the characters slowly got picked off one by one, leaving one character standing. "God it's always the final girl," you remarked as you watched the generally brunette, book-smart teen walk away before the credits rolled. It used to be just another movie trope. But there are some things the gym and therapy can't fix. After that year, you always walked on the lit side of the street and triple-locked your doors every night.

"Onyx, we're here," Ghost boomed and you woke from your slumber. Your eyes adjusted to the morning sun of Colorado. "Air Force sent us a welcome party to escort us to base," Price commented, getting off the plane. Never would you have thought a mission would bring you back to the States. Despite being teased relentlessly for your lack of accent and inability to relate to growing up in the UK, you relished the thought of being thousands of miles away. "Onyx, you alright?" Soap asked as you piled into a large vehicle. "Yeah, just jet-lagged," you lied through your teeth. "Welcome back to the US," one of the Air Force privates commented and you couldn't help but frown. "Let's just finish this up for Laswell and head back to rainy London."

After a tour and briefing, you decided to head into town to get some dinner. Soap had made a big deal of wanting to try American food and you landed on a popular diner. The meal was alright as you scarfed down a burger and milkshake. You tried to join in the conversation as Gaz wondered if he should try the fried Oreos or get a classic American apple pie. Price and Ghost rolled their eyes, finishing their meal, while Soap tried to help his decision. You pinched your thigh as your scarred hands fell onto your lap. Just another mission, you told yourself, just another mission in another country. When your meal was paid, you walked back to the car casually. You were arguing over who was going to drive when a man did a double take upon locking eyes with you.

"I-I know you," the man yelled as everyone turned in his direction. At first, you hoped he was a mistaken pot head but your stomach dropped when he met your darting gaze. He paced up to you as you looked in fear. "You're that teen, the only one left alive," he continued, now getting closer to your face. "I don't know who you're talking about," you said roughly and attempted to walk away but he grabbed your wrist. "It is you, you were all over the news," his voice was now increasing in volume and people began to look over. "Get off of me!" you commanded but he continued to bombard you with questions. Eventually, as he held his grip, he was roughly pushed back by Gaz. "The fuck man!" he yelled, attempting to throw a punch but was quickly pushed back by Ghost. "Let's go," Ghost demanded and you rushed away from the man as he continued to shout at you.

"What the fuck was that Onyx?" was the first question uttered by Price as you arrived back on the Air Force Base. "Guess the secret's out," you mumbled in response as you sat down at a table. "What didn't Laswell tell us?" he edged and you avoided his piercing gaze. "Alright, boys sit down," you commanded, "better to tell you sooner than later." They had a mix of emotions ranging from confused to frustrated but they took a seat around the table. You took a deep breath as you unearthed your past. "It was in '08 when I was 16," you began, "high on life, good grades, thinking about going to college for international politics." "Get to the point," Price ordered but you let out a sickly laugh. "Captain, I'm about to tell you how I survived my entire friend group being murdered, I'll get to the point when I do," you said sardonically. That shut everyone up.

"Anyways, as you know I was from a small town on the East Coast," they nodded in response, "There were 9 of us, all friends from elementary school. We would do everything together until-." You paused for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to run away. "It all started with Logan." You tried to put the details into the best of terms but decided to pull the bandage off early. "They found his body with 9 stab wounds and 'Limbo' printed on a paper in his neck wound," Price's eyes widened as you looked at the shocked faces surrounding you. "Next was Ashley and the same thing, 9 stabs and a paper with 'Lust'," you continued, the realization began to set in as Ghost awkwardly shifted in his seat. You looked down at your shaking hands before you kept going. "After Ashley, the town was put on a curfew and they labeled the killer as "Dante" since the crimes were following his poem," As you kept reciting the story, you began to unravel further. "I remember texting the rest of my friends being scared shitless, my parents lived in constant fear and kept our doors barred."

Before you could continue, Gaz interrupted. "You don't have to keep going if it's too much," he began to say. "Ye we get the picture," Soap added but you shook your head. "After that, there were four more murders over the next two months," you spoke, "Nick, Amanda, Elizabeth, and Tyler all with the same wounds, paper, and the promise of more to come." "Did the police or FBI do anything?" Ghost asked, now folding his arms on the table. You laughed cynically as you remembered the shit show. "God they tried, they canceled school and kept patrolling but everyone was found either in their homes or after the constant fucking funerals." Tears were beginning to prick your eyes as you got to the last two victims. "They eventually connected us together after Liz and I spent weeks trying to think of anyone who would do this," you were now crying and your voice shook as you choked out the words. "Anyways, it died down for three weeks and we thought it was over with," you trailed off, "but then they found Miranda in her bedroom."

Price put his hat on the table and pulled out a tissue for you. You rejected the offer and wiped furiously at your face. "She was my best friend, had some trouble with depression and attempted suicide in freshman year but she was a good person," you said, almost in a whisper. You remembered the earth-shattering news delivered by the authorities at your door and how you screamed into the midnight air. They refused to give a public burial as it was just another hotbed of victims. You never even got to see her before she was cremated. "I think this is enough," Gaz said, now looking at Price with an angry tone of voice. As both the men exchanged bitter looks, you slammed your hands down on the hard surface. "No, I said I would tell you the whole story and I am going to fucking do it."

"The 8th was supposed to be me," you mumbled as the room looked horrified. Your legs shook and you tried to steady your uneven breathing. "Tyler was a twin and Elle was his sister he left behind" Your voice grew more hoarse as you fought through the pain. "When Tyler died, Elle's parents were devastated and she stayed with my family for the rest of the Spring. She shared a room with me and I slept on a shitty air mattress." You remembered crawling into bed with her some nights, after long hours with the police, trying to reassure her they would find the killer and the nightmare would be over. "I think it was a Tuesday but I woke with Elle sitting on my stomach, She had this crazy look in her eyes," you looked down at your white knuckles that gripped the oak table, feeling the unwavering gaze of your team. "She-she told me how I was a fraud all these years for kissing her after some stupid party and never telling anyone about how we were soulmates. I thought this was some stupid lovers quarrel but she shut me up with a stab to the shoulder." You pulled back your shirt to reveal a silvery wound the size of a hunting knife on your left shoulder. You could hear the silence in the room as they looked at it.

"After that, I tried to scream but she told me she took care of my parents with some concoction of sleep meds and cough syrup," you closed your eyes tightly as you remembered trying to wrestle her off of you and her hands plunging the knife into your arms and upper chest. "How did you survive?" Soap asked, his voice sensitive and low. "I remember feeling immense pain when she stabbed me in the collarbone but she got the knife stuck," your body was on fire, almost as if the wounds were fresh, "so I took the opportunity to throw her off and pull out the knife." Even Ghost looked horrified as he knew what was going to happen next. "I stabbed her in the carotid and she bled out on the floor," you whispered. Your mouth felt metallic and you struggled to make eye contact with anyone as the room became blurry with a flood of tears. "After that, I try not to remember much but apparently she planned to kill all of us and then herself. Her notes lined up with things we did in the past and she was able to pick us off because we all trusted her," you unclenched your fists and lay your palms on the table as they shook violently.

"Fuckin hell," Ghost mumbled and you swallowed harshly. "I moved here away from the town after the media circus, joined the Army after all of it, and when the wounds healed," you concluded, pushing back on the table and getting up. "I'm sorry, Onyx," Price was the first to say and you nodded. "I'm alright now but it's hard when the past follows you," you whispered as you looked down at him. "We're here if you need," Gaz comforted and you felt your face fall into a frown. "Just don't tell anyone else, I don't need a fucking recruit telling me I'm like Sidney Prescott." Before you could leave the room, Price stood up and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. His fingers felt warm on your cold skin as you looked up at him. "No one fights alone," he said, almost as if it was some corny movie line. You let out your first relieved laugh of the night as his hand dropped. "Appreciate it, Captain," you whispered, "I hope to see her in hell."

[aeazure]

no one asked for this, not even i, but pink onyx would not leave my brain until i drew them so i did

theyre a plague on my mind like i love their design sm(lowkey was inspo for my own gemsona believe it or not) so obvi i had to doodle them a bit, their hair was so satisfying to do lowkey and i love drawing muscles(no i do not but anything for pink onyx)

idk how those horns work but i did my best(i did not i just drew two triangles and called it a day)

pink onyx belongs to the lovely @pink-onyx-au ofc <3

[bikananjarrus]

the barrier and the onyx cinder being the key to getting through it works so much like the stormwall i have to imagine they used it for inspo

[11vr1]

Morning ⭒ Shuri Udaku

Synopsis › A brief look into a rare morning waking up with Queen Shuri. 

Pairing › Shuri x Singer! Fem Reader

Inspo › “Morning” - Teyana Taylor, Kehlani

Includes › Fluff, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, they in love in love, tiny bit of insecurity, Shuri not taking care of herself, touch, skin to skin, they have good hygiene, reader is lazy, singer!reader

P.S. ›  I know the song is absolutely filthy and this is not but I’ve never written smut. Even this was a stretch for me. 

P.S.S. › This is the first fic I've ever posted. Pls, be nice to ya girl. She’s sensitive but loves any kind of feedback. Let me know how you feel about these two. They might become a little series.

You felt a warm pair of lips press tenderly against your skin, traveling along your arm, inching towards your sleeping face. The sun streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows, flooding the queen’s quarters with the white gold of its light. Shuri was always up and ready to greet the day before you. “Morning has arrived, sthandwa wami,” the raspy voice of your lover roused you from your rest. My love. 

“Tell it to go away,” you mumbled, shuffling underneath the satin sheets, finding warmth in her embrace. There was no place you’d rather be than in her arms. Behind closed doors, Shuri was yours and yours alone. Her title didn’t follow her here. During moments like this, she was simply a woman trying to wake her girlfriend. 

Shuri grazed the tips of her fingers across the flesh of your thigh. Her touch left a trail of fire in its wake. She slipped under the band of your lace panties, quickly pulling and letting it snap. The smirk spread was sly as you jerked slightly. “It's past time we got up. Besides, my arm is going numb.” 

“Ow! Fine. Fine. I'm awake.” Finally, you relinquished her arm from your capture, sighing long and deep at the loss of your pillow. The queen chuckled as she untangled the rest of your limbs with no help from your limp body.

“Griot?” Shuri spoke to the empty air. 

“Good morning, your majesty.”

The covers fell from her body, displaying the sculpted bronze planes of her bare back. You sat up to admire the view. All those years of agonizing pining were worth it, you thought. “What's on the schedule today?” 

The disembodied AI listed both yours and the queen’s agenda. You planned a relaxing, stress free day in the studio for yourself. The queen on the other hand was expected by the elders. 

It took everything in you to leave the comfort of Shuri’s enormous sized bed and make the cold trek to the bathroom. You turned on the shower, periodically checking its temp then stripped the little clothing you had on. “Are you going to join me?” you asked, leaning back to peer through the open door to see her staring at her kimoyo beads. “I thought I was the slow one.” The water from the rain drip head cascaded down the length of your body, effectively chasing away the rest of your drowsiness. 

Two tattooed arms draped around your shoulders. “I am here.” The stealth of the Panther often took you by surprise. The feeling of Shuri’s touch against yours was indescribable. Nothing could compare. You’d hardly noticed the soft beat of your shared playlist began to play. 

She took it upon herself to lather shea body wash across your skin, talking sweet nothings in your ear while christening you with chaste kisses along the way. “Do you have time for lunch today?” you leaned back to gaze into the depths of her onyx eyes, your own hopeful.

“I will make time.” 

“Griot, don’t let her forget.” 

“I won't, miss.” 

“You don’t trust me?” she teased, tilting your head further back, leaving suds across your cheek. 

You turned around to face her, eyebrow raised. “Hhayi.” No. Your response was straight forward, yet remained light hearted. She was working herself ragged these days, barely taking time to rest. More than once you found her in the lab, lids heavy, back hunched uncomfortably over her work station. “I know you too well to leave you be. You stand me up, I'm coming to snatch your ass.” The running water did nothing to drown out your shared laughter. She knew you meant it. 

You grabbed Shuri’s soap and washed her in return down the valley of her breasts to the toned abs of her torso. Each stroke carried your love. “I'm serious, though. Take a break sometime today,” you added. Caring for her was an honor. Bast knew she wouldn’t if it were solely up to her. 

The Panther ceased your motions by grasping your hand in her own. “I promise.” She closed the already small distance between you, brushing the tip of your nose, “I appreciate your concern for me. I don't deserve—” 

You promptly shushed her with your own lips. Her taste was irresistible, uniquely Shuri’s. No one in Wakanda could get away with interrupting the queen except you. “None of that. You deserve plenty.” 

Her arms snaked around your waist, feeling your natural contours, finding a place within the slope of your neck. Heady breaths stuck to the droplets dancing on your skin. She stilled to cherish this moment, already beginning to dread having to part. “I'm just blessed to have you.” 

“And I you.” You gave her one last peck on the cheek before turning the shower off. “You’re ntomb’am. While you’re going out there to save the world or whatever, I’ll be here for you.” My girl. 

“The legendary Black Panther’s protector,” she laughed, guiding you out of the stand-in. “It has a nice ring to it. My enemies will fear you.” She might’ve thought it was funny, but you couldn’t find the humor. Shuri was your intombi, your girl. What you wouldn’t give for the promise of more sunshine-flavored mornings like these.

[veneumfm]

⌜   background       /        pinterest     ⌟

[ … ]  ❀  you’re  not  from  around  here  ,  are  you ?  i  figured  because  you  totally  just  missed  {  ZAKIR  DRISSI  }  walking  by.  don’t  tell  me  you  don’t  know  who  { HE }  is  ?  they  kind  of  look  like  {  EMILIO  SAKRAYA  }  and  i  could  be  wrong  but  i  think  that  they  might  be  {  TWENTY  NINE  }  years  old  right  now.  they’ve  been  living  in  palmview  for  the  last  {  FIFTEEN YEARS  }.  and  i  don’t  know  if  anyone  has  ever  told  them  this  before  but  they  kind  of  remind  me  of  {  PATRICK  ZWEIG  }  from  {  CHALLENGERS  }.  if  you  stick  around  the  town  long  enough  you  might  catch  them  in  action  working  at  {  SHOREFIT  GYM  }  as  a  {  PERSONAL  TRAINER  }.  you  see  this  town  isn’t  really  that  big  of  a  place  ,  some  folks  like  to  call  them  the  { STUD }  of  palmview!  they  took  a  liking  to  the  name  too  after  a  while  ,  go  figure.  oh  crap  ,  they  must  have  heard  me  yapping.  they’re  coming  this  way.  i  got  to  warn  you  though  ,  rumor  has  it  they  can  pretty  { CAPRICIOUS }  at  times.  i  wouldn’t  take  it  too  seriously  though  ,  from  the  times  i’ve  spoken  to  them  they  seemed  pretty  { JOVIAL }  to  me.  we  see  each  other  all  the  time  since  they  live  in  that  { ONE  BEDROOM }  apartment  beside  me  over  in  {  CORAL COVE  }.  i  better  leave  you  to  it.  it  was  nice  meeting  you!  

full name : zakir drissi. nicknames : zak. age : twenty - nine years old. career : retired semi - pro tennis player , current personal trainer. birthday : june 26th , 1995 ( cancer ). gender + pronouns : cis male / he + him. sexual orientation : bisexual. family : keir drissi ( father , deceased ) & leyla drissi ( mother , deceased ). character inspo : patrick zweig ( challengers ) , dain aetos ( the empyrean series ) , azriel ( acotar ) , floyd reynolds ( new amsterdam ) , scott mccall ( teen wolf ) aesthetics : onyx speckled hues, rippling muscle dripping in sweat, a knockout competition, teddy bear in lion's clothing, playful banter galore, tender lover with calloused hands, speaking with fists before mouth.

[sincerelyverena]

charles x american!reader? maybe like him making fun of the reader for their accent? inspo based off so american by olivia rodrigo lol

⟡⁺ SO AMERICAN

tysm for the req, anon! wow, i absolutely love basing fics off of song lyrics. keep it coming, y'alls. :]

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘but ain't it love? i think im in love.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒your tense relationship is tested with charles when the two of you are forced to bunk together for a roadtrip.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐american!reader﹐mutual pining ﹐idiots in love ﹐forced proximity ﹐reader has an attitude (charles loves it)﹐charles being a flirt (they secretly love it)﹐i saw a charles edit to this and my entire brain chemistry shifted﹐roadtrip!

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @arthursdonkeyears﹐@deadshowsagency﹐@no-baths-for-stan﹐@spiteful-summer-of-sixteen

‘If he makes one more stupid remark about my accent, Crystal, I swear I’m going to bind him with iron chains.’

If Crystal had a pound for the number of times you’d raved on about Charles – mainly about his tendency to make fun of your American-ness (or about how ridiculous his hair looks) – she’d be able to move out of the Tongue & Tail with a snap of her fingers. Lucky for you, Crystal took amusement in your rants, no matter how numerous they seemed to have gotten over the past few months.

The woman by your side flipped through the contents of her messenger bag as you spoke, raising her head in time for her to flash you a lopsided grin. Crystal abandoned the bag, arms crossed over the front of her chest as she observed you closely.

‘[Y/N]. I’m saying this with all the peace, love and light in the world. Please don’t try and kill Charles during our trip.’ Crystal made her words clear with a sweeping gesture towards the beat-down truck Charles had managed to snag a few days prior and refused to disclose where the hell he obtained it from.

The trip. You mentally facepalmed for letting the event slip your mind. Of course, the boys had to take up a case hours away from their makeshift office in Port Townsend, and due to the majority of the group being lucky enough to be alive, they had to do it the old-fashioned way.

‘He’s lucky he’s already dead,’ you grumbled under your breath.

Your eyes averted momentarily towards the ghost, who was examining the engine for the ninth time that afternoon. Ebony-clad curls ruffled atop his forehead. The cat-like nature of his eyes narrowed further in concentration. Signature jacket tossed in the back of the trunk. Your lips quirked upwards briefly as you scrutinised him. God, he looked so stupid. It made your heart batter between your ears three times harder.

And maybe the universe felt like playing a sick, sick prank on you. Niko’s wondrous planning skills were thrown out the window as Crystal announced shotgun next to the designated driver, Niko, whilst Edwin decided that sprawling out across the backseat with a plethora of his books was proper enough. Leaving both you and Charles to rot in the truck bed.

‘Looking forward to the road trip, America?’ 

That oh-so-familiar voice rang out behind your ears as you mounted the back of the vehicle, a plethora of chips and snacks tucked under your arm. For moral support, of course, as you met those dangerously daring onyx eyes. 

‘I was,’ you exaggerated those two words, lips upturning sweetly before they dropped into a scowl.

Charles feigned offence, hand clasped to his chest as he proceeded to gawk at you. And alas, without any warning needed, in the midst of your distraction of fluid annoyance, Charles stretched over and snatched the bag of crisps right out of your grasp. Popping them open with a snap of his fingers. Even though the undead couldn’t eat, it paid with just as much satisfaction to watch you glower. 

Your shouts of disapproval fell upon deaf ears, Charles merely responded by propping his feet up on a stray cardboard box, crisps prompt in his lap.

The group had well set off now on their adventures. The breeze had picked up on the road, ruffling Charles’s espresso curls as he reclined his head back, bathing himself in the glory of the whistling air around them. You, on the other hand, inclined yourself to check your phone every once in a while, refusing to let your stare wander any more than it must.

Nevertheless, you found yourself being continuously drawn to the dead boy by your side as the both of you fell into something similar to a comfortable silence. 

‘I can feel your eyes on me, y’know?’ 

Charles’s accented pique cut through the silence, causing you to look sideways with an exasperated look on your face. You crossed two arms over your chest, unwilling to admit you were in fact allowing your eyes to wander.

‘Don’t be flattered,’ you started at once, not wanting Charles to take the unnecessary attention the wrong way. Raising a hand, you gestured towards him with a singular finger. ‘Looking at you makes me feel less cold.’ He’s dead, after all.

Charles didn’t respond for a second. Some sort of amusement crinkled in his eyes before he inclined forwards, shrugging off the plaid-lined jacket at his shoulders in the process. Before you could even ask what the hell he was doing, he dropped the garment into the frame of your lap.

You stared at the piece of clothing momentarily, before turning back to Charles. ‘What was that for?’’

‘You’re complaining of being cold, werent’cha?’

‘Thanks, I guess.’

You took the jacket in one palm, hesitating for a few beats before you moved your arms into the sleeves, adjusting the garment against your statue. It was undeniably making you feel a little warmer. The only downside was that it smelt just like Charles, somehow. The scent wafted through your nostrils, churning your gut with something indescribable.

Charles watched you. He adjusted the collar of the shirt he wore beneath, leaning back against the vehicle they occupied. ‘You look pretty in that.’

You froze. Pretty? Did you hear that correctly?

Glancing upwards, you witnessed in real-time as a soft smirk wound up Charles’s lips. There was something foreign in his stare as he observed you from head to toe, the sudden attention was enough for you to flush under the attention. Going from cold to unbearably hot in a few seconds.

Those feelings were so maddening for you to feel. You weren’t supposed to like the fact Charles was highkey flirting with you. You were supposed to gag and take the piss out of him for even thinking he could get away with that.

‘I didn’t realise that was enough for you to go quiet, [Y/N].’ Charles was grinning now, taking enjoyment out of the fact his words got under your skin.

You steadied the erratic beating of your heart. ‘Oh, shut up.’ 

‘Oh, shuddup,’ he mocked, feigning a horrible American accent.

Sparing a final glare, you turned your back on Charles entirely.

The sun soon dipped beneath the road, and the horizon changed to a muted darkness. The cold you had felt simmered down, thanks to Charles and his oddly comfortable jacket. Having nothing else to do but listen to the stifled music Niko played from inside the vehicle and lay against the fluffy pillows she had set up. 

Accompanied with the thick blanket at the back of the truck, it was so easy to feel yourself drift off to sleep. And soon enough, you opened your eyes to see the night sky twinkling back at you. You stifled a yawn, gradually waking yourself up. You rolled yourself onto your other side, and you saw Charles lying up on the other side. Staring at you with those eyes. He was too close. Too close for comfort.

You looked away at once, feeling your stomach flutter. ‘That’s not at all creepy to wake up to.’

‘I was starting to think you were dead,’ Charles remarked in return.

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments. And suddenly, you were ultra aware of Charles. Of how he lay barely an inch away from you. His eyes were downcast, but they would flicker towards you every once in a while, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. There was something otherworldly in the air that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You placed your palm on the blanket beneath you, moving to push yourself up into a seated position. As you attempted, the vehicle you slept on drove over a bump in the road ahead. Your arm slipped, tripping over yourself at the sudden disruption in your movements.

You hadn’t realised your arm was caging Charles in until you regained your composure from the unexpected fall, witnessing the British boy’s eyes staring up at you with a look that you couldn’t make out. 

You needed to pull back, to put space between the two of you, but you just couldn’t.

It was a fleeting moment. One second, you were hovering over Charles and the next moment his lips were on your own. It felt like any other kiss. It felt strangely electric, not in a metaphorical sense but a literal one. It was addictive, pulsating with a heat you hadn’t experienced before.

His hand moved to your waist, steadying you as he continued to kiss you. There was something foreign that drove his movements, a need that you hadn’t seen in him before.

You moved away to catch your breath, somewhat mentally frozen at the fact you literally just kissed Charles Rowland. The Charles that has been driving you insane for what felt like forever. ‘That was…’

‘Indescribable.’ Charles finished, looking just as starstruck as you felt. The pad of his thumb drew circles into the curve of your hip. With that motion alone, you didn’t hesitate to capture his lips with your own once more.

You might just be in lo-lo-love.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[charmingcaffeinatedartist]

Another piece inspired by the Empyrean series, same style and setting but somehow different ? 🖤💫 I will probably paint more of these though

[secret-spirit]

for the hollow dreams Au, is there a reason Clyde has the dream nail at the end of its tail? It it connected to the moth tribe in some way?

Nervously looking away

YOU SEE ABOUT CLYDE'S TAIL-

It was cut off. So we're it's claws.

Alr since I'm definitely gonna be forgetting this later, might as well explain some bits of lore:

-Veldigun while they are it's own species of bugs, are based on specific bug types that already exist in Hallownest, such as Simon in the comic looking like cloth(that was mainly my inspo of his design i love cloth), and Winfrey being a butterfly (because the antennas while not intentional reminded me of butterflies and also because yes) Clyde isn't based on a moth.

For the Ask:

-Clyde has the dream nail on it's tail to make up for the short length of the tail that had been cut off, and that me and Onyx decided that Clyde would also fight dream bossess alongside Alex (because their whole ordeal is being inseparable in this story)

I just wanted to explain some bits of Veldigun lore and this ask was the excuse i needed /lh /j

[dcbbw]

Red Pill: Perspective

Fair warning, this is not fanfic. It’s original content that came to me in the middle of the night after a day spent online perusing TikToks and reddit subs on red pillers and divestment groups.  

To provide some context, the term “red piller” is derived from a scene in the 1999 film The Matrix, in which Laurence Fishburne offers Keanu Reeves a choice: “You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

In a nutshell, it’s comprised of the most misogynistic men on the planet, including incels, who gather in online forums and groups to basically see who hates women more.

Divestment refers to the removal of oneself from people, places, and things that are toxic, stifling, and/or a detriment to one’s health (mental, emotional, physical). It is a prominent movement amongst black women.

I’m nervous about posting this, but my skin is thick, and my mind is open. I can take compliments, constructive suggestions, and criticism with equal aplomb. To everyone who read this over and encouraged me to post, THANK YOU! Your feedback was, as always, invaluable.

To those who will read this, THANK YOU! Your reads, likes, commentary, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any and all typos, extraneous/missing words, and grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.

Song Inspo: Rose Lineage (Yoga Remix), Marya Stark/DJ Taz Rashid, + others

Word Count: 796

I am a black woman, plump lips and full hips

My hues are a rainbow, ranging from the thickest cream to the darkest onyx

Pigmentation a reminder of transgressions against me from enslavement to rape

I make more with less, expected to settle for anything, and apologizing to everyone for not diluting who I am

Who I have had to become

I am held up for public shame and ridicule

Teased for my crown of kinks and coils

Seen as housing projects and food stamps

Smelling of hamhocks and collard greens

Called dumb and ratchet despite being in the most highly educated population

Despised for being strong and independent

Blamed for your cowardice and weakness when you abandon me and your children

Because I do not let you lead

I’ve seen where you go: jail, passport bros, your mama’s house

And still, my back supports you, your seed, my family, the church

And the foot on my neck that unsuccessfully tries to hold me down

*****

I am a brown woman, born of colonization

Speaking languages broken, in an accented voice that somehow makes me a stereotype

You eat at my table, your eyes feasting on my bosom and curves. You celebrate my holidays and try to take what culture I have managed to piece together, but I can’t call it appropriation

 No, it’s cultural appreciation while you call me and my people third-world country names

You try to dim my brightly colored clothing, deny me freedom, and steal my joy

You call my people slumdog millionaires who cross borders to take your jobs

Jobs you neither have nor want

I am considered only a slight step up from my black sisters because my skin is lighter, but not by much

My hair is silkier which is considered a win in your world

But who knows what it would be if the beginning bloodlines had remained undiluted, untouched by interlopers

My anger isn’t off-putting because it is seen as a reflex of sorts, born of my primitive ways

You take it as a challenge to make me submissive

To you

To trust your America: your ways, your English, your culture.

None of which belong to you

*****

I am an asian woman, what you call the model minority because I study hard, and I work even harder

You consider my acts of service to others submissiveness, which makes me both fantasy and fetish

My quietude is mistakenly deemed as obedience

I labor hard in all workforces to make a better life for me and those who depend upon me to not be a disappointment

Yet you not being able to see me beyond the niche you have placed me in makes you the biggest disappointment of all

It makes no difference

I am seen as a doll, malleable and easily manipulated into sexual parts

Here only to serve you, to listen to you, to cater to your every whim and perversion

I powder my face to adhere to standards of beauty you hold dear, close

It makes up for my dark nipples that you conveniently ignore as you go in and out of throes

*****

I am a biracial woman, born of rape or love … sometimes both

I am no one, belonging nowhere

I am not homogenous, which you view as a flaw I refuse to correct

Hated by at least two races, I create my own ethnicity that no one acknowledges

Culture clash at its finest

You say my blood is sullied, my color a mixture that doesn’t blend well

I am an anomaly: different, exotic; fodder for disdain, envy, mistrust

Wondering when you look at me is it love, lust, curiosity

While you’re probably hoping I’m a “pick me”

All I seek is inclusion

In a world of black and white, brown and yellow

Where is the gray?

*****

I am a white woman, worthy of protection but not privilege

I am the standard of beauty … in your eyes

Thin hair, thin lips, skin that burns beneath the sun

It is I you parade publicly on your arm, it is I to whom you will make a commitment

A trophy of sorts

It is I who you want to bear your children

It is I who will never see the workforce unless you want me to

Barefoot and pregnant

Cooking meals, feeding children, leading the Harper Valley PTA bake sale

As long as I remain a size 8

I can’t be tall, that would emasculate your ego

The house must be clean, that accentuates my femininity

Aprons and pearls hide blackened eyes, bruised arms, empty bottles

Social media promotes my smile when you praise my meatloaf

You make others believe they want to be me

That my white skin elevates me somehow

But does it really?

Tagging: @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​​ @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys

[butterfrogmantis]

Additional: Divo gets ok with the other NG, it's just they've got such a stick up their own Smurf the others tend to prefer Crescendo. It's like that scene from spongebob where everyone cheers whenever SB is on stage and go dead silent when it's squidward XD Divo will sing the most elaborate Italian opera a Smurf can and get crickets and Crescendo plays the wii sports theme tune and everyone sheds a tear. Idk why musicians in Smurf village have so much beef tbh

Their special thing is opera but also likes dramatic show stopping ballads ('I dreamed a dream' from les mis and 'memories' from cats were inspo's though neither are technically opera, it's just that 'big and loud' singing that really gets them going)

Onyx gets to inherit her dad's Yorkshire accent bcuz I love the idea of a tiny yorkie toddler

Onyx is a steampunk gal before steampunk is cool <3

Smooth isn't called an uncle to Divo, but is viewed as a trusted adult in a similar manner. Skelly DOES get to be 'uncle Skelly' to Onyx tho "Oh I'm not sure I'm ready for this level of commitment" (gets hit over the back of the head by Archie)

Divo and Onyx are mine

[restwellsoon]

2, 4, 16, and 18

Thanks for sending something in, Onyx!

get to know your fic writer asks!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I usually write using a loose outline. By loose, I mean it's 90% of the time like:

Meet cute or meet ugly??? Romance/smut ??? profit

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

I draw a lotta inspo from the way things make me feel-whether it's movies, shows, or music-and a lot of life experiences too. I'm also chronically online, so memes are actually a big source of inspiration lol.

Stake Your Claim was inspired by Puppy Dog by Dreamer Boy and hating my old corporate healthcare job while Sugar Scorched was inspired by the manga Kitchen Princess. How Many Tuesdays was sparked by that 'See You Next Tuesday' bit from Spongebob while I loved the 'Haha, just kidding, unless...?' meme and immediately wrote Corn Dogs & Kissing Booths.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

I have a rotation of ten that I'm actively working on, but I have about 25 WIPs in the folder 💀

This one will probs never see the light of day or be published anytime soon buuuut

Title: between seasons Summary: Out in nature, you come across a haunting and ethereal spirit. Thinking it was a once in a lifetime encounter, you’re surprised to encounter him year after year, season after season. Pairing: Dabi x Reader (the focus is more platonic than romantic though) It was the places that your mother always told you not to go where you found yourself venturing towards, the crystalline call of the forest returning the sound of your heated breaths, saying something along the lines of come closer. You shouldn’t and you knew that, but you were a child then and you didn’t care. Fallen branches and snow crunched beneath your feet. The warm yellow-golds of your lantern hardly spread light across the woods despite the swing in your step. Here was a land of silver and shadows. This was the world of spirits and demons.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

It's usually during the writing process while I'm trying to jot down the vibe of the fic. Like any seasoned fic writer, I take a lyric I like and twist it to suit my needs. If that doesn't work, I try to think of a central theme or symbol, and theme the title around that.