#Fireeye (OC)

[boilingrain]

I wanted to put this in its own post because I like it, even though it's a little doodle

So behold, proof that Fire-eye didn't spring from the ground as a fully formed adult one day and that it was, in fact, a baby at some point

[almostvermin]

warrior cat oc her name is fireeye

Hi, I made something

I had free time during christmas break.

So I made a cat maker to add to the hundreds already out there, enjoy.

[sarah-kings]

I thought I could upload the comic soon, but there have been small problems that caused me not to be able to post it so soon after all.

Therefore I will post some drawings of mine that I drew once.

It's the second page in my sketchbook and in case you're wandering why there is a huge grey spot in the first picture, then it's because these two characters were looking alike the ones I used their reference from to make them, therefore it's as if I copied someone's entire work and I won't post them because of that.

All the other characters either are OCs from my story or fanart.

The theme I used on this page was demons.

Please only share/like/reblog, so that people can find the source of my content and find more more on my blog.

In the meantime stay tuned, because I still will get to work on my Unus Annus comic and post it as soon as possible.

[annazonart]

Sol! In a uh... more dismal setting than the one she was introduced in.

her big true form

shes real fun to color!!

[genevievemoondreamer]

I GOT MY BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN COMMISSIONED AT THE CON AND THE ARTIST UNINTENTIONALLY DREW THEM LOOKING AT EACH OTHER IS IT FATE OR WHAT

[heywoodvirgin]

Jackie Welles Fic Rec III

Time for another Jackie Welles fic rec ? SI ! 

1- Valentin. 

By : TacoTuesday on AO3

Pairing: Female OC x Jackie Welles X Male V 

Rated : Explicit 

This is very interesting not only because it depicts a polyamorous relationship, but because the Oc is a very important but innocent corpo girl... the rest is spoil so I’ll  shut up my big mouth ^^

What I can say tho, it contains one of the hottest smut  I’ve read for Jackie !!! 

2- Greek Tragedy 

By :  Dede Drabbles on AO3

Pairing: Female V x Jackie Welles x Misty?

Rated : Mature 

It’s like the perfect mix of painful and hot and sad? I don’t know yet, it’s just the first chapter ! but, certainly, I love the writing here ^^ 

3- No Markers That Line The Outcast’s Path 

By :  FireEye on AO3

Pairing: Female V x Jackie Welles 

Rated : Mature

Really enjoyed this one shot with nomad female V and a very protective and territorial  Jack ;) 

4- Mama Lo Sabe Mejor 

By : Xenosha on AO3

Pairing: none. 

Rated : Teen and up

You know what I can do for this man? translate a text in Russian so I don’t have to miss anything written form him ^^ 

And I didn’t regret it ! 

[twistedsinews]

Questions for an Author

Tagged by @chyrstis and @guileandgall

Tagging... @corpsebrigadier, @gatticus,  @faejilly, @ anyone who wants to do the thing!  <3

Name: FireEye

Top 5 Fandoms Written: I'm sitting here not knowing the answer to this question, so.  *shrug?*  All of them.  By numbers I have no idea (my fics are scattered across the internet, and my personal are behind in updating), by word count even more difficult for me to determine, by how much fun I've had?  *hands!*  Saints Row is probably up there, Cyberpunk is ticking up, can I count the Final Fantasy metafandom as one or is that too much?  :P

Top 5 Fandoms You Want To Write For/More: Moon Hunters, Ultima, Final Fantasy V, Trials of Mana, and what else am I gonna do with all of these Cyberpunk feels?

Stories You Wish More People Knew About: So I just took a glance at my AO3 stats, and... a lot of my stories are doing as well as could be expected, particularly for how many tiny, tiny fandoms I write in?  Granted, some of them have been there for a good long while.  But...

1. I remain stupidly proud of Thalassophobia

2. I still love the adventurous theme of Frightful Tides of Smoke and Ash.

3. To Catch a Thief got plenty of love, but I am still amazed at how it turned out and yet fuck that tense in particular, omfg.

Ship(s) Written The Most: No actual clue.  AO3 gives me Faris/Butz, but I think I've surpassed that with V/Jackie alone in the past month, so.  *sideeyes*

Character(s) Written The Most: See above, re: clue.  Per AO3, Butz, Faris, and Gat are tied for 15 each.  XD

How Many OCs Do You Have: At least 24 I can count off memory, some more developed than others, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some and there've been some I've misplaced over the years. (Tabletop characters, etc.)  Not counting random characters I develop solely for the sake of plot, or characters from original works.

How Many Series Do You Have: ehhh.  On AO3?  One, properly.  It has the prologue of an old WiP in it that was supposed to be 1 of 4, and nothing else.  I could probably gather quite a few of my oneshots into series, but I’d have to sort them out.  Other than that, I have two series in progress (sort of), one being the one on AO3 as already mentioned that I plan to revisit and finally write out in its entirety and one being my Ultima thing.

What Do You Do With Fics You’re No Longer Interested In? It's less I'm not longer interested and more I get easily distracted by bright shiny objects.  Anything I haven't finished stays in my WiP folder, under the completely reasonable assumption that I'll finish them all eventually someday.  :P

Coming Soon: uh... cheesy confessions, Nomad!V's living in an apartment hijinks, T-Bug~♥, Kidnappings (plural apparently), The Quest of the Avatar (I've been saying for years), and a (one (1)) metric fucktonne of fix-it fic.

Not yet started? All of the above, and then some.  Keep in mind: I write most things in one sitting.  (Which is part of why I don't have that many longer fics to my name).

...actually, that's not the entire truth - I've had small snippets of my Ultima saga on paper for a decade or more and have bits of dialogue and "[premise]" stuff thrown into files for later.  It's just... not really started more than what's in my head, you know?

Line From A WIP: “Hath no one ever shown you compassion before?”

Do You Accept Prompts? ...yes?  I don't think I've ever gotten any when I wasn't explicitly asking for them or reblogging a prompt list, but *shrug?*  I will happily take prompts.  XD

How Do You Feel About Kudos? I do not in fact think Kudos are single-handedly responsible for the decline of comments on fanfics or comment culture in general, and I think they are a perfectly fine way of saying 'I liked the thing!' if you have nothing more of which to comment.  I have seen people talk about kudos that make me second guess, and I get a little irrationally worried when I get comments without kudos, but ultimately I try to trust that it's basically a like button and I am fine with that.  In short: I like them.

Do You Read Fic As Well?  Yes, although not as much as I used to.  Like, back when I'd go through pretty much anything that looked as though it would fit my fancy in any fandom I happened to enjoy so extensively that I'd not have anything left to read.  Recently, I've been reading mostly fic I get in exchanges or that I've prompted on Tumblr and not really that much else.  It's something of a dumb egotistical anxiety thing, though: I read other people's stuff and get self conscious about my own writing, feel super uncreative, my capacity to actually sit down and write feels inhibited, and/or I feel like I'm going to plagiarize something by accident (which I don't think is as far fetched as it sounds, how awkward - my creative brain gets stuck on weirdly specific things at random and doesn't always keep in mind where it got them from) or someone will think I got the idea from [already known fic].  It makes me sad I've fallen so far away from it, because reading fic is something I enjoy deeply, but... that's why I'm trying to make an effort to get back to it.

[wilhelmjfink]

COMING SOON...

2/9 - “was” pt. 13 (final part y’all!)

and introducing my very first OC x Daryl series....

follow Riley Herrington in this gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, angsty, mentally draining, brutally dystopic, terrifying adventure as she experiences her darkest fears (that she really didn’t even knobshe had) as they come to life, roll up to her doorstep, knock politely, and then take her away from her friends and family...... poor girl...

coming soon 2 a tumblr feed near u :)

~

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

[hanthesoul-blog]

[illshowyourhurricanes]

LAST ONE I SWEAR!! #2 for Season 2 Billy

Are you sure, boo? Are you sure?! (I am kidding, I love your requests!) Either way, I am so glad you requested this for who you requested it for because the way it popped into my head for our poor deserving of a redemption arc Billy felt right and I needed to reel in the fluff and get back to my angsty stuff. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Swan Song

Image prompt 2: Billy Russo x OC (I got permission for this, y’all!)

Rating: PG-13 to R-ish for language

Word count: 1468

Tag list: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @ms-delos @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

Follower event tag list: @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @witchygagirl @breanime

If you’d like to be added to/removed from/added to my permanent tag list, please just send me an ask!

Special thanks to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ for beta reading this (and for the cool conversation).

His inky, dark eyes narrowed behind his mask. 

Billy’s leg was shaking, frustration and confusion further distorting the disconnect in his mind. Dipping his head, he ran the palm of one hand over the hair on his scalp as the other balled up into a fist. He squeezed and released, squeezed and released, yet the fist remained. He was nerve endings on fire yet unconnected, a maze of impulses uncontrolled, and his brain was squeezed too tight in a vise or fucking lies. His face hurt. He was wired and wild-eyed and overly exhausted from lack of sleep and those fucking skulls that haunted him and why— how? Why was he here, how did he get here, why did this happen, what happened, who happened, where was all this bullshit supposed to fit in his life? 

He stood too quickly, causing his chair to fall backward with a loud, echoing clatter. People turned to stare. Billy looked at each of them, sneering behind his mask, tilting his head slightly as his eyes moved from person to person to person. As they each looked away, he shuffled to the far wall, toward the barred windows that didn’t open, and he began pacing the length of the room. 

Though he looked straight ahead, he was seeing nothing. Instead, he was in combat. He was back in Kandahar, Lieutenant William Russo, out of breath, exhausted, covered in a filth of dirt and dust and gunpowder and sweat and blood. His entire body ached just from the effort of staying alive, killing anyone who stood in his way. It was exhilarating. It was a feeling of success and triumph that turned to a hot rush of adrenaline throughout his body, heartbeat felt throughout his chest. 

It was triumph, something that Billy could remember the feeling of but could not conjure up, not anymore.It was one emotion he could not bring himself to feel— what was there to be triumphant about? His face was ruined, sloppily sewn together like fucking Frankenstein. 

Frank. Where was Frank?

Billy stopped pacing, his eyes beginning to focus on his surroundings— sounds of some goddamn loon sobbing in group therapy down the hall, a doctor’s heels click-clacking down the tiled corridor. He slowly turned; they were still there, those intrusive cops that took shifts watching him, always fucking watching him. Billy Russo was a dangerous man, they said. He was a Marine, had gone through extensive training and spent time serving multiple  tours overseas. He was a Special Forces Scout Sniper, trained to kill. 

It was war. 

This life he’d woken up to without knowing how, it was war. But Billy did not have a gun. He didn’t have a sense of identity. He was not a dangerous man. 

His face hurt. Lifting his mask to softly run a hand over his face, his fingers swiped from his forehead down to his chin, over the thick scarring of defeat and ruin. Frank. He made his way to an empty table, noisily scraping the legs of a chair over the floor, slumping down, legs splayed and elbows over the table top. Billy sniffed, moved his head side-to-side, heard the satisfying cracking of his neck. Why hadn’t Frankie… where was he? Billy was locked up in this shithole, all for… for nothin’. Frank, he knows me, he’s my brother, he…

Billy bolted up from his seat, jogging toward the officers. The pair of cops straightened their backs, standing on alert, each of them reaching for the grip of their guns. Billy’s eyes caught the movement, and he swallowed past the immediate craving to have his own gun to use on these pigs. The realization of his hand itching for a handgun hit him, hazing his thoughts… why had he approached these cops? He stood dumbly. Wordless. 

“Frank,” he said finally. “Where’s Frank? Frank Castle, he’s my brother, he knows…” He let out a puff of air, closing his eyes, trying to gather and organize his words. His voice was muffled behind the mask, his tone falling flat like his affect. “You gotta get in touch with Frank.”

The policemen just stared at him, bored expressions on their faces, hands still on their guns. Billy stared back from behind the visage of his mask, clenching his jaw, challenging the chumps facing him. With a deep inhale he turned to retreat to his table, and that was when he saw her. She was sitting in the chair facing the windows, perpendicular to where Billy had been seated. It had been the only empty table in the room. Now, the tabletop was littered with a rainbow of paper, each sheet perfect squares. 

Her hair was the color of honey, and it was clean, brushed and pinned back from her face. Why is she here? Billy approached the table, resigning himself to possibly being presented with small talk. He didn’t do small talk. 

But she was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t look up when Billy sat. My fucking face hurts. He crouched down back into his chair, his head still but his eyes locked on the girl’s hands. She folded the paper, a shimmering silver, with exact precision. Edge to edge, corner to corner, unfolding and flipping. He continued to watch sideways, and when she was finished, she smiled in satisfaction, perfectly content, and plucked another square from the array of paper— a vibrant purple. She’d not once looked at Billy, nor had she said a word. She folded another bird, then another. 

Maybe she should be in here. 

When she set her fourth paper bird on the table and picked up an emerald green square, Billy spoke. “How many swans you gonna make?” he asked, his voice rough and laced with annoyance. 

The woman finally looked up then, and she didn’t bat an eye at the sight of his stark white mask. It was going to stay white too. Billy thought of his doctor with disdain: what a joke. She wants me to fingerpaint. This joint is far from kindergarten, lady. She should be locked in here too. 

Then, the stranger had the nerve to smile, and so brightly that it lit up her entire face. Billy’s brows raised, not that she could see. Beginning to fold again, she brought her attention back to the paper. “Cranes,” she said finally. “They’re cranes.” 

Billy’s hand rubbed over his skull again, back and forth, once, twice, three times. “How many cranes you gonna make?” He corrected himself, voice dripping with sarcasm. A bird was a bird, he thought, but then he recanted. Raven, it’s Blackbird. 

“Legend says a thousand.” She interrupted his thoughts and it seemed like she was speaking in some kind of riddle. Billy didn’t reply; instead, his eyes darted around the room in paranoia, unconsciously shaking his leg again. His face hurt and it itched and he was hot behind the mask. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Slowly, he gripped the mask and slid it upward until his mangled face was revealed. Her eyes lifted to his face again, two seconds before looking back down. His nostrils flared and he set his chin, raising his head high. If someone was going to look down on someone, Billy was going to be the one looking down. 

“Orizuru— paper cranes—the Japanese call them birds of happiness or paradise. Legend has it they carry souls there. To Paradise.” Her voice lilted and fell like wind chimes. “They’re also a symbol of hope and healing.” She finished by folding the beak downward. She smiled again, and Billy just stared. She’s delusional. 

“Here,” she said, holding out her most recent bird. Sunlight from the false, imprisoning windows reflected off the jewel-toned paper. “For hope and healing.”

Billy stared at the swan, the crane, whatever sort of bird that she held delicately in the palm of her hand. His heart began to hammer against his rib cage, anger rising from his core and threatening to escape from his throat. 

Hope. Healing. Fucking bullshit. 

In one swift motion, he ripped the mask from his head with one hand and grabbed the stupid paper bird with the other. Standing, he caused the chair to clatter to the floor for the second time—third maybe, he’d lost count— and looked down at the girl menacingly. His upper lip was curled in contempt. 

“I don’t need your fucking swan.” He crumpled the perfectly folded paper in his hand, tossing it to the floor and turning to walk away. As he approached the cops, the ones who would be escorting him to his room, he heard her voice call out. 

“Cranes. They’re paper cranes.” 

He stopped short, standing perfectly still for just two seconds, and rolled his shoulders, inhaled deeply. Never looking back, Billy began walking again, throwing his mask to the floor to join the broken crane. He nodded to the cops, each one wrenching an arm back a little too roughly as Billy led them down the hall. 

[illshowyourhurricanes]

Masterlist

All fics are arranged by character name. An asterisk (*) beside a title denotes a current WIP.

Billy Russo 

Perfect Strangers (Billy Russo x reader)

Brooklyn Lager (Billy Russo x reader: prequel to The Capsize)

The Capsize (Billy Russo x reader; Lani’s 2nd Mystery Challenge submission)

Collision Course (Billy Russo x reader) Requested by @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​

Rewind, Restart* (S2 Billy Russo x reader) [ Prequel ] [ Part One ]

Guilty Kiss (Billy Russo x reader)

Snapshots (Billy Russo x OCs) (1)*

Five-word prompt drabble (Billy Russo x reader)

Easy (Billy Russo)

Ryan Brenner

Oh, Christmas Tree (Ryan Brenner x reader)

Bah Humbug (Ryan Brenner x reader)

A Familiar Face* (Ryan Brenner x reader) [ Part One ] [ Part Two ] [ Part Three ]  [ Part Four ]  [ Part Five ] [ Part Six ] [ Part Seven ]

Electric (Ryan Brenner x reader)

Growing Pains* (Ryan Brenner x OC) [ Part One ]

Benjamin Greene

Hopeless (Benjamin Greene x reader)

Logan Delos

Text Drabble (Logan Delos x reader)

Multi-Character Combos

In the Line of Fire (Multi-Character) [ Part One: Billy Russo ] [ Part Two: Ryan Brenner ] [ Part Three: Logan Delos ] 

Whispers in the Wind* (Multi-Character) *[Part One: Benjamin Greene]

Dani’s 150 Followers Event Masterlist

Dani’s 200 Followers Event Masterlist